As total darkness descended upon the city chaos took to the plate like a ravening pack of wolves. The once peaceful streets of Los Angeles were now filled with violence as rival gangs clashed and blood was spilled. An endless war to claim what little remained. Amongst the conflict strode Cameron, shotgun at the ready, purposely ignoring the struggles on both sides. She walked the line, stopping only when attacked, responding with lethal efficiency. She had a mission to complete, and the bitter quarrels of desperate humans meant nothing to her, not when her lover was out there somewhere… alone.

Though she had no idea where John was exactly, her sources told her that he could be found deep within the city. But as Cameron quickly discovered; the deeper the rabbit hole goes, the more likely it is to suddenly collapse around you. This became very much a reality when a petrol bomb exploded at her feet, almost setting her alight. She backed away from the liquid flame and trained her weapon to her right, finding the one responsible.

She squeezed the trigger and smiled sinisterly as the thug’s head exploded like a tomato, spilling its ketchup all over the floor. He was not alone; however, as a dozen more gangsters arrived in their rustic truck, armed with a variety of weapons, most of them primitive. Cameron continued onwards, not breaking a stride as one them charged her, bringing his hockey stick down upon her head. Cameron simply drove the butt of her weapon into his face, crushing bone and brain alike.

Two more came at her on both sides, one armed with a machete, the other carrying a modified fire axe. The first tried to slice her head off, whilst the second brought his axe down upon her skull. Cameron ducked and stepped backwards with perfect timing, the first thug cutting the second in half as his axe struck the first’s head. Both fell to the floor and Cameron continued onwards, cocking her shotgun in preparation for the inevitable ambush.

As she walked past a burning car, another gangster came up behind her, raising his crude weapon for the kill. Cameron simply placed the shotgun on her left shoulder and fired, blowing the idiot’s head off; no one can sneak up on a Terminator, Cameron mused. As she reached the gangster’s abandoned vehicle, Cameron paused. By her calculations, there were still six gangsters left, so where were they?

Her question was answered almost instantly as all six launched themselves at her in almost perfect unison. They moved too fast for her to get a weapon lock, some of them even back-flipped over her; these threats were well-schooled. Cameron slung the shotgun over her shoulder and fixed her sights on one particular acrobat; the slowest one.

He charged her with a spinning kick, which she dodged with relative ease followed by a sharp blow to the spinal column, killing him instantly. The others paused for a moment before attacking with renewed vigour, the opposite to what Cameron had hoped for. Their rage served them well, but it also made them sloppy. Though some were able to get in a punch or kick here and there, none lived past their second strike, all except the leader.

He stood amongst the broken bodies of his friends, facing this impossible girl with a look of pure hatred while she remained blank and emotionless. He took a few deep breaths before charging her, jumping half the distance, leg stretched towards her face. Cameron simply smiled and mimicked a spinning kick, catching him mid-leap. The acrobat fell onto a jagged piece of metal that penetrated his heart, killing him instantly.

Cameron took a moment to admire her handiwork, before turning her attention back to finding John. A few seconds later, however, a lone African-American stepped out in front of her, applauding Cameron’s defeat of the gangsters. Cameron raised her shotgun, but he held up his hands in surrender.

“Do not be alarmed, I am not here to hurt you, I only wish to talk; if you’ll permit it.”

Cameron slowly lowered her weapon, detecting the sincerity in his voice. Taking this as a sign; the man continued.

“You are a remarkable young woman. Are you aware that those six men have evaded death for many months now? By no means a small feat, especially in these streets, but you…”

The man chuckled and took a hesitant step forwards, Cameron gripped the shotgun tighter, but did not raise it.

“…you killed them all in less than a minute. I have never seen such skill. You would be a valuable asset to our little community, if you would accompany me…”

Cameron raised the shotgun, aiming for his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

The man took a step back and raised his hands once more.

“I have no desire to make you do anything; I would not be so foolish…”

“Then step aside and let me pass, I have a mission to complete.”

The man frowned in confusion and tilted his head back slightly.

“A mission? No one has a mission these days. Except if you are working for the Bureau.”

“I am not associated with any branch of government. My task is my own, one which you are currently impeding.”

The man recognised the threat and stepped aside, allowing her to pass him.

“What, may I ask, does this mission of yours entail? Is it something I could help with?”

Cameron continued walking, not bothering to look back as she spoke.

“I doubt it. I’m looking for John…”

“…Connor?”

Cameron froze and slowly turned around to face the man.

“What do you know of him?”

“I know how to get into contact with him, if that is what you desire.”

Cameron took an eager step towards him.

“Very much, can you take me to him?”

“Me? No. But my master has the means to contact him. Follow me and I will take you to him.”

The smile faded from Cameron’s face as comprehension dawned on her. She cocked the shotgun, causing the man to take another step back.

“If you intend to ambush me or commit any such action, keep in mind that I’m the one with the 12-gauge.”

The man laughed nervously and once again raised his hands.

“I assure you, you have nothing to fear.”

Cameron slung the shotgun on her shoulder and eyed the man suspiciously.

“I’ll be the judge of that, now lead on, I haven’t got all day.”

--

The man, who eventually introduced himself as Balthazar, led Cameron to an underground refuge, packed with desperate citizens. Cameron could not help but feel a twinge of sympathy for these people, especially when she noticed her one-time monosyllabic friend, Chola, amongst them. The Latina lookout’s jaw dropped as she recognised Cameron, but like always, she said not a word. Cameron gave her a small nod before increasing her stride to cover the gulf between her and Balthazar.

She was eventually brought to the “antechamber” where she was told to wait. Balthazar disappeared, leaving her alone in the empty room. The only piece of furniture present was an old chair positioned at the centre-back of the room, like a throne. Cameron slowly approached the chair and, with mild curiosity, sat down upon it, allowing herself to relax for a moment.

She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back to John. She couldn’t imagine how hard it had been for him to wake up and find her gone like that, to not see her for three years. Derek had told her that she broke John’s heart, and even implied that John hated her for leaving. Though such an accusation would be unfair, Cameron could not help but feel responsible for her absence. It was illogical, she wasn’t to blame, but still she felt like she deserved punishment.

Then she remembered something Ethan had once told her:

“You see; kids are like dogs. You beat them for long enough and they start thinking they did something to deserve it.”

Though Cameron considered herself as neither a child nor a canine, she could not deny the similarities to how she felt. But then again, she thought, I am little more than a child. I have only existed for two years three months and nine days. But on second thought; time has no meaning for a machine. Perhaps I am finally starting to see myself as more human, like John said I would.

“I hope I’m not interrupting your meditation, but that is my seat you have commandeered.”

Cameron’s eyes snapped open to see a tall man wearing a leather coat and bearing many chains around his neck. Each one of his fingers bore a ring of varying design, but most had skull insignias. The man raised his hand as a clear indication for her to vacate his throne.

“If it’s not too much trouble, miss…”

“Cameron.”

Cameron stood up and stepped away, allowing the man to sit down. Once comfortable, he linked his fingers together and eyed her closely.

“Balthazar tells me that you fought and killed the Leaping Tigers. I had imagined you as a muscle-bound six-footer; imagine my surprise when I discovered you were a petite adolescent, and such a pretty one at that.”

Cameron tilted her head to one side, but said nothing. The man nodded to himself and shifted his position.

“Not much of a speaker, are you? I know a girl like that.”

“So do I. We’ve been acquainted.”

“Ah, so speech is not entirely lost to you. I’ll get straight to business then; Balthazar tells me that you wish to meet Connor. While I am one of the few to have contact with him, I have not been so fortunate to have ever met him in person. Nobody does. So your chances are rather mute, unless he’s looking for a bride…”

His eyes lingered on her curves for a long moment.

“…and who wouldn’t be tempted?”

He placed his hands on the arms of his chair, ready to stand up, but Cameron placed a hand on the grip of her knife and gave him a steely look.

“The last man to try to take advantage of me ended up floating upside-down in a river bed; I doubt you’d be so stupid as to make the same mistake.”

The man remained seated and glared at her, but not without the smallest trace of fear.

“It is unwise to threaten me in my own home, little girl.”

“It is unwise to oppose me in any fashion, old man.”

The man flushed and gritted his teeth as he leaned forward.

“Remember; you came to me for help. And I fail to see why I should oblige.”

“You’ll oblige because I say so.”

The man slammed his fists upon the arm rests, his face full of fury.

“How dare you walk into my house and demand favours in exchange for nothing! You petulant child, this is my kingdom, I make the rules here! Now show me some respect!”

Cameron was unfazed by his outburst and took a few steps towards the throne, towering over him.

“Respect? You’ve yet to earn any in my eyes. And you’re what? A petty crook with delusions of standing? Sad little king of a sad little hill.”

Her words cut into him, so below the belt that he couldn’t summon any response besides that which he knew she wanted to hear.

“W-What do you want?”

“I want you to send word to John and tell him: Cameron wishes to see him. He’ll know what you mean.”

“Of course, I’ll g-get right on it.”

Cameron smiled sweetly and took several steps back.

“That’s very tight of you. Please don’t let me hold you up; I’m sure you’d like to get on that right away.”

--

“The message has been sent, he’s sending an emissary to collect you, who’ll arrive in less than an hour.”

Cameron smiled at the little king, a genuine smile this time, as she felt overjoyed that John had replied so promptly.

“Thank you, and I apologize for my earlier comment, it was rude of me.”

The little king smiled nervously.

“Don’t mention it. But if you’re really feeling repentant, then perhaps you might honour me in-…”

The lil’ king was cut short by a loud explosion from somewhere in the distance, followed by screaming and the sound of gunfire.

“What in the hell?”

He popped his head out of the room, only to receive a bullet in between his eyes. Cameron sighed in anger and frustration; why does it never go smoothly, she wondered. Striding out of the antechamber, shotgun at the ready, Cameron spotted the source of the disturbance; a group of fanatics in clerical robes, each armed with automatic weapons and gunning down everyone in sight.

Cameron cocked the weapon and immediately blasted the head off of the nearest cultist, earning her the ire of his fellow anarchists, who trained their weapons on her and unleashed a storm of bullets. Cameron dived behind a nearby barrel, only receiving a few wounds on her side. They continued to fire, laughing maniacally as their bullets began to shred the barrel, forcing Cameron to dive for more cover, choosing an overturned taxi.

Once her position was secure, she popped her head out and counted the fanatics; seven of them. She then ducked down and loaded three more shells into the shotgun, bringing an exact total of seven shots; very convenient, she thought. Cameron popped out of her hiding place again and, with a precision that no human could match, blew the heads off of three more cultists before having to duck again.

The remaining four cried out in anger, advancing towards her position, constantly riddling the taxi with a seemingly unlimited supply of bullets. Cameron then took out three more, leaving a single survivor who was unlucky enough to finally run out of bullets. She cocked the gun one last time and approached the cowering fanatic, eyeing him for a second before splattering his brains all over the place.

Satisfied, Cameron dropped the now-useless shotgun to the floor and was about to draw her Desert Eagles when she was suddenly struck by two thousand volts, sending her into that dark nothingness.

--

>Rebooting

00101100100111011010110010011100
11010011011000100101001101100011
00101100100111011010110010011100
11010011011000100101001101100011

>All systems fully functioning.

Cameron awoke to see an aged man with silver hair smiling down at her, a manic gleam in his eyes.

“Hello, little one, my name is Silberman. And I will be your saviour this day.”

“Oh, thank you for explaining.”

She tried to move, but found her arms and legs were bound by thick steel restraints. Cameron was chained to a table, placed next to an open furnace of some sort. All around her stood the robed cultists who attacked the settlement. She looked up at Silberman, realising that his use of the word “saviour” did not carry the same meaning that it initially implied.

“Who are you people and what are going to do to me?”

“We are the Knights of Walpurgis, and we intend to cleanse you of your taint.”

“My taint?”

“Why, yes, you are one of them; a demon sent back through time to bring forth the apocalypse.”

The furnace suddenly roared to life, the tell-tale sparks of thermite mixing with the flames. Cameron struggled against her restraints, desperately trying to get free. But she couldn’t, she was trapped, and she could feel the fire approaching as several cultists slid her table towards the furnace, ready to “cleanse her”.

Cameron closed her eyes and prayed to every deity she knew, chief among these was a single name:

Help me please… John.


Next: Chapter Five: The Fault of None
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