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| Jan 25 2009, 10:24 AM EST (current) | InstantEntertainment | 2578 words added, 2 words deleted |
| Jan 24 2009, 5:49 PM EST | InstantEntertainment | 14 words added |
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Coming Whispers Soon!in the tunnel said that death was not the worst that can happen to men… Losing your dignity was.
There was not a name he had not been called before. He had heard them all before. Nano-man, half breed, humachine, Mr. Tin Arm, just a few names on a list a mile long. Most people called him such names behind his back, out of fear, out of false shame. And then there were some who would blatantly call him those names to his face.
Like Derek Reese and his crew. They would look him up during downtime and provoke him into a fit of insane rage. Other like Kyle Reese would stand up for him.
Kyle was a good kid, who had never blamed him for trying to kill him. Somewhere along the way he had come to like Kyle as a friend. He was a smart kid – Tyler had the habit of calling anyone younger than him kid -, a little reckless from time to time, but a smart kid all the same. Did he understand that he had never asked for this?
“Is this seat taken?” Someone asked behind him.
He had grown used to eating alone at Home Plate’s Dining Facility, but from time to time Kyle would sit with him during dinner and they would talk about the war. At first he had thought that the young man was only interested in what he knew about the woman in the torn and faded Polaroid, because of their conversation shortly after he had tried to kill him. However Kyle told him about his battlefield experiences, wanted to know how he would handle certain tactical situations.
And where Kyle Reese held no grudge for the attempt on his life, his brother Derek was the exact opposite. Derek wanted to blame him for everything: for trying to kill his little brother, for taking up Robin’s time, for everything.
“Have a seat,” he mumbled before he casted a disgusted look on his meal.
“Cat-rat-stew on the menu again,” Kyle laughed when he sat down across the table from him.
“I’m not picky, but we’ve had cat-rat-stew for an entire week. Makes you miss what is supposed to pass for rice and beans,” he chuckled.
“Not really,” Kyle grinned. “So been bowling over cans today?” He asked before taking a hesitant bite.
“As always,” he smiled.
“I wish I was as courageous as you,” Kyle stated sincerely after swallowing the bite and grimacing.
“Kyle?” Derek’s voice echoed through the dining facility. “How many times have I told you not to look up metal mind? Come sit with us.”
He watched as Kyle hung his head in embarrassment: “It’s okay, kid. Go sit with them.”
“It’s not right,” Kyle mumbled. “They shouldn’t treat you like this. Why doesn’t the General do something about it?”
“C wanted to but I told him not to. I don’t care what others think of me, kid. I know who I am and what I have become. If they think it validates them, let them say what they want about me.”
It was the truth. He had never cared what others had thought about him. If people wanted to call him bad names or shun him, it was their decision. It said more about them than it said about him. He liked the loneliness. It gave him time and space to think about strategies and tactics. He wasn’t put into this world to make friends. He was here to help bring Skynet to its knees.
“Why do you sit with that half-breed?” Derek asked sharply.
“He’s not a half-breed,” Kyle objected while he threw his tray on the table.
“Did you forget that he tried to kill you?”
“It wasn’t him,” Kyle growled, sitting down at the table.
“He closed that tin can claw around your throat, practically slammed you through the wall and you say that it wasn’t him. Kyle, have you lost your mind, just like your friend?”
“Stop using him trying to kill me as an excuse, Derek. I’m done with that. It wasn’t him. He didn’t know,” Kyle grumbled. “He never wanted this, but that you wouldn’t know because you never have taken the time to sit and talk with the guy.”
“So he can try and kill me? No, thank you.”
He could see the look on his brother’s face and it did not bode well: “It was an accident. Let it go, Derek.”
“You’re my little brother, Kyle. I can’t let it go. He tried to kill you. And he would have been successful if not for me and my crew,” Derek stated matter-of-factly.
“And that gives you the right to make fun of him, to call him bad names? You’re a bully, Derek. You need discord to make yourself feel alive and better. How many times have you ragged on me for my good luck charm? Is it jealousy? Because General Connor choose us and not you?” He asked furiously.
“At least I’m not in love with a picture,” Derek grumbled. “Or act like a motherfucking metal monster.”
At that remark, he rose to his feet and stalked out of the dining facility. His older brother was a very good fighter, but as a sibling he simply sucked most of the time. He had never meant to fall in love with Connor’s mother but he had. He reached for the chest pocket of his jacket and took out the yellowed photo. His right index finger followed the outline of the sad, young woman in the picture and he heaved a deeply sad sigh. Why didn’t his brother understand?
Whispers in the tunnel said that death was not the worst that can happen to men… Losing your sanity was.
“No! Tyler, no!” Robin exclaimed forcefully while she tried to push the Beretta away from his right temple.
Only minutes before he had suffered from yet another fit of insane violence. She had no idea what had brought it on this time and it worried her. It had started to occur more often and she had seen a considerable increase of intensity. The fits had become more violent and started to last longer. Was the machine finally really taking over?
When he had finally collapsed on the floor, she had thought it was safe to enter the cell but the moment she had knelt over him he had reached for her sidearm and had pressed it firmly against his temple. If he were to kill himself, everything would change beyond their reach. The future, the past, it would all be in jeopardy because he still had his destiny to fulfil. Just like her, he would be sent back to the past to make a difference.
About twenty minutes ago he had come to see her, begging her to lock him up again because the headache was killing him. Just like him, she knew it to be a sign of the machine. He had dropped on one knee and had pressed a hand firmly to the side of his head. The telltale sign.
Together with Ethan, she had brought him to a concrete cell in which he could do no harm. They had just locked the door when the machine had resurfaced, and Tyler had gone mad. As his left fist had pounded against the wall, bits and pieces of concrete had flown around. The outward dents in the metal door told a similar story. If the machine took over, there was no stopping him.
It was a huge reason for concern to her: he was becoming more and more destabilized and soon he would be a threat to all who lived at Home Plate, including herself. There was nothing she could do about it. The machine was inside of him. She had put it in him.
“Maybe he would like a sedative?” A monotone woman’s voice asked from the doorway.
She looked over her shoulder and saw the woman she once had known as Alley but now went by the name of Cameron stand in the doorway. It wasn’t Alley, but it was so easy to forget. Alley had disappeared, replaced by an infiltration unit that was an exact copy of her. It had tried to assassinate General Connor but he had disabled it first.
“He can’t have any meds,” she hissed over her shoulder.
“It might make him sleep,” Cameron said as she stepped into the cell. “Humans need sleep, don’t they? I never sleep.”
“Cameron, get lost,” she seethed, turning towards Skynet’s creation turned good.
“It is impossible for me to get lost. My navigation software does not permit such an order,” Cameron remarked, tilting her head a little and looking at them with what best could be described as curiosity or interest.
Whispers in the tunnel said that death was not the worst that can happen to men… Losing a loved one was.
The burning sensation in his brain had started to subside and he leaned back against the wall. Each ‘attack’ left him drained of all energy and all he wanted to do was sleep. Nevertheless he was afraid to sleep, because he would dream of her. As if it wasn’t painful enough that she haunted him in thoughts and memories, she would come to see him in restless dreams after ‘attacks’. Unable to fight off the sleep any longer, he slipped away into peaceful darkness, his head dropping to his chest.
“Ty,” her voice was soft and gentle, her touch on his shoulder tender.
He lifted his head and looked her in the eye: “Connor,” he whispered softly before hanging his head in shame.
“Look at me, Ty,” she said softly.
He felt her index finger press against the soft flesh of his chin so he would lift his head. She smiled crookedly when his eyes met hers again. Not a day older than the night he had come to live with the Connors. Dressed in tight blue jeans and a black blouse, wearing black multi-clasp boots and a black leather jacket.
“I know you’re hurting, babe,” she continued.
“I can’t do this anymore, Connor. I just can’t… Each time it happens, a part of me dies.”
She ran a hand through his tousled hair before resting the palm against his cheek: “You are so strong, Ty. Don’t give up,” she whispered.
He reached out to her, pulled her firmly against him and buried his face in her shoulder. He want to cry but found himself to be out of tears. She kissed him on his ear, on his temple before pressing her lips against his.
“I love you, Connor,” he muttered between kisses while he tightened his hold on her.
“I’ll need you, Ty,” she breathed, cupping his face in her hands before taking his breath away again with a passionate kiss. “Be strong,” she added after ending the kiss while she reached for his hands and looked at them.
“Don’t go,” he said in a whisper when he noticed that she was backing away slowly.
“The past needs you, Ty,” she smiled as she started to fade into the darkness.
He grabbed for her, his hands going straight through her upper arms. Watching her dissolve into the nothing, sent a heavy rain of daggers through his heart. Dreams were never real. They could tell you what was troubling you. They could tell you what you had done the day before. They could tell you who you missed but never would get back. He buried his face in his hands.
“Tyler Jess Devlin,” a mechanical voice echoed through the darkness, causing him to look up again only to be met by two glaring red eyes.
“How is he?” John asked concerned while he looked at Tyler who sat hunched up in the farthest corner of the cell.
“Out of it,” Robin answered wryly. “He’s becoming more and more unpredictable, John. He’s destabilizing at a frightening rate,” she paused. “One of these days he’s gone go off in such a rage that there’s no turning back… And he knows it. He’s tired of the war, tired of the inward struggle with the machine, tired of life.”
“Have you said your goodbyes yet?” He asked casually.
“When should I have done that?” She countered. “I can’t leave him like that, John. I can’t abandon my son,” she muttered tearfully.
“Don’t think of him as your son then,” he offered. “You’re not his mother. Not yet.”
“That’s not true, John. Don’t give me that bullshit of the other Robin. It’s my son in there,” she nodded towards the cell. “It’s my son who I have driven insane. It’s my son who I will have killed in an excruciatingly slow manner. It’s my DNA, my blood running through his veins. I wish I could say that I would never do it again, but this world, and you,” she emphasized you with contempt. “Need him in this state. You need him as this fighter, and it doesn’t matter that you made me destroy his mind to do so… Goodbye, John Connor,” she said darkly, looking at Tyler one last, blinking away the tears quickly before getting ready to leave this time.
Whispers in the tunnel said that death was not the worst that can happen to men… Losing your purpose in life was.
He had failed as a protector, as a friend, as a husband and as a father. The only things he had not failed as were being a fighter and a leader. The huge wall screen, on which a few minutes ago a pale face had still grinned maliciously, now remained blank. Skynet had been stopped. Finally they had managed to put an end to its tyranny that had started a little over sixteen years ago.
Everybody around him was cheering but he could not hear him. People grabbed his hand and shook it, but he did not feel it. It was like he was on the outside looking in while everyone else celebrated their victory over the machines. Euphoria all around him, yet the only thing he felt was a strange emptiness.
Had the defeat of Skynet changed him? Had it shut down those metal monsters in his mind? They had become such a part of him that he knew the answer already. The machine would never leave him until the moment he would take his last breathe.
He was a no hero. He was a monster, forged in the heat of battle, formed and defined by war, death and destruction. Now that the war against the machines was over, he had lost his purpose in life, at least in this time.
Someone gave him a firm slap on the shoulder and he turned to see who had been so foolish.
“We did it!” John exclaimed, offering him the bottle of tequila so he could have a drink. “We finally did it!”
He shook his head and tapped against the side of it with his right index finger: “Nano’s on the brain.”
“Com’on, man, take a sip! It’s time to celebrate! One drink won’t hurt you,” John insisted after taking another swig of the tequila.
“No, but it will hurt others,” he said with a wry smile. “My time here is over, John. So either you put a bullet between my eyes now or you send me back in time to fulfil the last part of my destiny. Either way is fine with me.”
There was not a name he had not been called before. He had heard them all before. Nano-man, half breed, humachine, Mr. Tin Arm, just a few names on a list a mile long. Most people called him such names behind his back, out of fear, out of false shame. And then there were some who would blatantly call him those names to his face.
Like Derek Reese and his crew. They would look him up during downtime and provoke him into a fit of insane rage. Other like Kyle Reese would stand up for him.
Kyle was a good kid, who had never blamed him for trying to kill him. Somewhere along the way he had come to like Kyle as a friend. He was a smart kid – Tyler had the habit of calling anyone younger than him kid -, a little reckless from time to time, but a smart kid all the same. Did he understand that he had never asked for this?
“Is this seat taken?” Someone asked behind him.
He had grown used to eating alone at Home Plate’s Dining Facility, but from time to time Kyle would sit with him during dinner and they would talk about the war. At first he had thought that the young man was only interested in what he knew about the woman in the torn and faded Polaroid, because of their conversation shortly after he had tried to kill him. However Kyle told him about his battlefield experiences, wanted to know how he would handle certain tactical situations.
And where Kyle Reese held no grudge for the attempt on his life, his brother Derek was the exact opposite. Derek wanted to blame him for everything: for trying to kill his little brother, for taking up Robin’s time, for everything.
“Have a seat,” he mumbled before he casted a disgusted look on his meal.
“Cat-rat-stew on the menu again,” Kyle laughed when he sat down across the table from him.
“I’m not picky, but we’ve had cat-rat-stew for an entire week. Makes you miss what is supposed to pass for rice and beans,” he chuckled.
“Not really,” Kyle grinned. “So been bowling over cans today?” He asked before taking a hesitant bite.
“As always,” he smiled.
“I wish I was as courageous as you,” Kyle stated sincerely after swallowing the bite and grimacing.
“Kyle?” Derek’s voice echoed through the dining facility. “How many times have I told you not to look up metal mind? Come sit with us.”
He watched as Kyle hung his head in embarrassment: “It’s okay, kid. Go sit with them.”
“It’s not right,” Kyle mumbled. “They shouldn’t treat you like this. Why doesn’t the General do something about it?”
“C wanted to but I told him not to. I don’t care what others think of me, kid. I know who I am and what I have become. If they think it validates them, let them say what they want about me.”
It was the truth. He had never cared what others had thought about him. If people wanted to call him bad names or shun him, it was their decision. It said more about them than it said about him. He liked the loneliness. It gave him time and space to think about strategies and tactics. He wasn’t put into this world to make friends. He was here to help bring Skynet to its knees.
“Why do you sit with that half-breed?” Derek asked sharply.
“He’s not a half-breed,” Kyle objected while he threw his tray on the table.
“Did you forget that he tried to kill you?”
“It wasn’t him,” Kyle growled, sitting down at the table.
“He closed that tin can claw around your throat, practically slammed you through the wall and you say that it wasn’t him. Kyle, have you lost your mind, just like your friend?”
“Stop using him trying to kill me as an excuse, Derek. I’m done with that. It wasn’t him. He didn’t know,” Kyle grumbled. “He never wanted this, but that you wouldn’t know because you never have taken the time to sit and talk with the guy.”
“So he can try and kill me? No, thank you.”
He could see the look on his brother’s face and it did not bode well: “It was an accident. Let it go, Derek.”
“You’re my little brother, Kyle. I can’t let it go. He tried to kill you. And he would have been successful if not for me and my crew,” Derek stated matter-of-factly.
“And that gives you the right to make fun of him, to call him bad names? You’re a bully, Derek. You need discord to make yourself feel alive and better. How many times have you ragged on me for my good luck charm? Is it jealousy? Because General Connor choose us and not you?” He asked furiously.
“At least I’m not in love with a picture,” Derek grumbled. “Or act like a motherfucking metal monster.”
At that remark, he rose to his feet and stalked out of the dining facility. His older brother was a very good fighter, but as a sibling he simply sucked most of the time. He had never meant to fall in love with Connor’s mother but he had. He reached for the chest pocket of his jacket and took out the yellowed photo. His right index finger followed the outline of the sad, young woman in the picture and he heaved a deeply sad sigh. Why didn’t his brother understand?
Whispers in the tunnel said that death was not the worst that can happen to men… Losing your sanity was.
“No! Tyler, no!” Robin exclaimed forcefully while she tried to push the Beretta away from his right temple.
Only minutes before he had suffered from yet another fit of insane violence. She had no idea what had brought it on this time and it worried her. It had started to occur more often and she had seen a considerable increase of intensity. The fits had become more violent and started to last longer. Was the machine finally really taking over?
When he had finally collapsed on the floor, she had thought it was safe to enter the cell but the moment she had knelt over him he had reached for her sidearm and had pressed it firmly against his temple. If he were to kill himself, everything would change beyond their reach. The future, the past, it would all be in jeopardy because he still had his destiny to fulfil. Just like her, he would be sent back to the past to make a difference.
About twenty minutes ago he had come to see her, begging her to lock him up again because the headache was killing him. Just like him, she knew it to be a sign of the machine. He had dropped on one knee and had pressed a hand firmly to the side of his head. The telltale sign.
Together with Ethan, she had brought him to a concrete cell in which he could do no harm. They had just locked the door when the machine had resurfaced, and Tyler had gone mad. As his left fist had pounded against the wall, bits and pieces of concrete had flown around. The outward dents in the metal door told a similar story. If the machine took over, there was no stopping him.
It was a huge reason for concern to her: he was becoming more and more destabilized and soon he would be a threat to all who lived at Home Plate, including herself. There was nothing she could do about it. The machine was inside of him. She had put it in him.
“Maybe he would like a sedative?” A monotone woman’s voice asked from the doorway.
She looked over her shoulder and saw the woman she once had known as Alley but now went by the name of Cameron stand in the doorway. It wasn’t Alley, but it was so easy to forget. Alley had disappeared, replaced by an infiltration unit that was an exact copy of her. It had tried to assassinate General Connor but he had disabled it first.
“He can’t have any meds,” she hissed over her shoulder.
“It might make him sleep,” Cameron said as she stepped into the cell. “Humans need sleep, don’t they? I never sleep.”
“Cameron, get lost,” she seethed, turning towards Skynet’s creation turned good.
“It is impossible for me to get lost. My navigation software does not permit such an order,” Cameron remarked, tilting her head a little and looking at them with what best could be described as curiosity or interest.
Whispers in the tunnel said that death was not the worst that can happen to men… Losing a loved one was.
The burning sensation in his brain had started to subside and he leaned back against the wall. Each ‘attack’ left him drained of all energy and all he wanted to do was sleep. Nevertheless he was afraid to sleep, because he would dream of her. As if it wasn’t painful enough that she haunted him in thoughts and memories, she would come to see him in restless dreams after ‘attacks’. Unable to fight off the sleep any longer, he slipped away into peaceful darkness, his head dropping to his chest.
“Ty,” her voice was soft and gentle, her touch on his shoulder tender.
He lifted his head and looked her in the eye: “Connor,” he whispered softly before hanging his head in shame.
“Look at me, Ty,” she said softly.
He felt her index finger press against the soft flesh of his chin so he would lift his head. She smiled crookedly when his eyes met hers again. Not a day older than the night he had come to live with the Connors. Dressed in tight blue jeans and a black blouse, wearing black multi-clasp boots and a black leather jacket.
“I know you’re hurting, babe,” she continued.
“I can’t do this anymore, Connor. I just can’t… Each time it happens, a part of me dies.”
She ran a hand through his tousled hair before resting the palm against his cheek: “You are so strong, Ty. Don’t give up,” she whispered.
He reached out to her, pulled her firmly against him and buried his face in her shoulder. He want to cry but found himself to be out of tears. She kissed him on his ear, on his temple before pressing her lips against his.
“I love you, Connor,” he muttered between kisses while he tightened his hold on her.
“I’ll need you, Ty,” she breathed, cupping his face in her hands before taking his breath away again with a passionate kiss. “Be strong,” she added after ending the kiss while she reached for his hands and looked at them.
“Don’t go,” he said in a whisper when he noticed that she was backing away slowly.
“The past needs you, Ty,” she smiled as she started to fade into the darkness.
He grabbed for her, his hands going straight through her upper arms. Watching her dissolve into the nothing, sent a heavy rain of daggers through his heart. Dreams were never real. They could tell you what was troubling you. They could tell you what you had done the day before. They could tell you who you missed but never would get back. He buried his face in his hands.
“Tyler Jess Devlin,” a mechanical voice echoed through the darkness, causing him to look up again only to be met by two glaring red eyes.
“How is he?” John asked concerned while he looked at Tyler who sat hunched up in the farthest corner of the cell.
“Out of it,” Robin answered wryly. “He’s becoming more and more unpredictable, John. He’s destabilizing at a frightening rate,” she paused. “One of these days he’s gone go off in such a rage that there’s no turning back… And he knows it. He’s tired of the war, tired of the inward struggle with the machine, tired of life.”
“Have you said your goodbyes yet?” He asked casually.
“When should I have done that?” She countered. “I can’t leave him like that, John. I can’t abandon my son,” she muttered tearfully.
“Don’t think of him as your son then,” he offered. “You’re not his mother. Not yet.”
“That’s not true, John. Don’t give me that bullshit of the other Robin. It’s my son in there,” she nodded towards the cell. “It’s my son who I have driven insane. It’s my son who I will have killed in an excruciatingly slow manner. It’s my DNA, my blood running through his veins. I wish I could say that I would never do it again, but this world, and you,” she emphasized you with contempt. “Need him in this state. You need him as this fighter, and it doesn’t matter that you made me destroy his mind to do so… Goodbye, John Connor,” she said darkly, looking at Tyler one last, blinking away the tears quickly before getting ready to leave this time.
Whispers in the tunnel said that death was not the worst that can happen to men… Losing your purpose in life was.
He had failed as a protector, as a friend, as a husband and as a father. The only things he had not failed as were being a fighter and a leader. The huge wall screen, on which a few minutes ago a pale face had still grinned maliciously, now remained blank. Skynet had been stopped. Finally they had managed to put an end to its tyranny that had started a little over sixteen years ago.
Everybody around him was cheering but he could not hear him. People grabbed his hand and shook it, but he did not feel it. It was like he was on the outside looking in while everyone else celebrated their victory over the machines. Euphoria all around him, yet the only thing he felt was a strange emptiness.
Had the defeat of Skynet changed him? Had it shut down those metal monsters in his mind? They had become such a part of him that he knew the answer already. The machine would never leave him until the moment he would take his last breathe.
He was a no hero. He was a monster, forged in the heat of battle, formed and defined by war, death and destruction. Now that the war against the machines was over, he had lost his purpose in life, at least in this time.
Someone gave him a firm slap on the shoulder and he turned to see who had been so foolish.
“We did it!” John exclaimed, offering him the bottle of tequila so he could have a drink. “We finally did it!”
He shook his head and tapped against the side of it with his right index finger: “Nano’s on the brain.”
“Com’on, man, take a sip! It’s time to celebrate! One drink won’t hurt you,” John insisted after taking another swig of the tequila.
“No, but it will hurt others,” he said with a wry smile. “My time here is over, John. So either you put a bullet between my eyes now or you send me back in time to fulfil the last part of my destiny. Either way is fine with me.”
| Chapter 24: He Who Walks The Day | Epilogue: Until We Meet Again |
