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Old December 31 2008, 05:10 AM   #24
nx1701g
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Location: Aboard the Executor...
Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

nx1701g wrote: View Post
For those who were unable to watch the YouTube clip I present to you the section in written form:


Allison Young was in the dark. For years she had thought herself to have been a learned woman who was over the demons from her past. She was a Major in the Human Resistance, a leader intent on smashing as many machines as she possibly could. Ever since the darkest day of her life – Judgment Day – she had lived with a singular purpose of raging against the machines that had oppressed them. Her own thoughts and feelings, memories of past pain had been pushed aside to make her into a soldier that could take on the forces of Skynet and win. In many respects she had become what she had hated all along. Now all of that had changed.

The pseudo therapy of the machines had unlocked the doorways of her subconscious and allowed her access to secrets she had learned to keep even from herself. Her family her friends, each and every one of them were locked inside the rooms of her memory. Allison sat here in her dark cell aboard the Skynet prison ship Enterprise remembering everything that she had seen and heard from ages past. In a futile move she tried to run from them again. During a session with the machine she ran passed it and through the corridors of the rusted and deteriorating Carrier. Alarms cried out drawing the machines to her. She saw others in cages but knew they were beyond help. Right now she had to survive. Allison had to warn the Resistance. She had to warn John. That was her mission now. The Resistance Major ran across the flight deck looking for a way off, only to find no gangplank or means of escape. There was only one option. She jumped. If luck were on her side she would die in the attempt, or maybe even escape to Kansas.

Luck wasn’t on her side. They captured her again in an ancient net designed for this very purpose. A Tin Can – an older 600 series – dragged her back to her cell and locked her away in the room with her interrogator. The infiltrator revealed itself to her; the demon becoming a mirror image. It told her how special she was and talked about her hair. Then it asked for the impossible. It asked how to get to Kansas (claiming to be a diplomat). Allison told – neglecting one key fact. The pass key, the bracelet she wore on her left hand. It thought it was a family memento. It was stupid and that would be its undoing.

The darkness was instantly replaced by a blinding light. Before her dressed in black and wearing a purple jacket stood the infiltrator wearing an Allison mask. Major Young stared at her as the blood crusted over in the hair the machine had complimented not long ago. It couldn’t have been the same one as before. Kansas Bunker was over two hundred miles from here. It couldn’t be back already. It had to be another one. It was the only thing that made sense. Allison stared down at the barcode tattoo that the machines had given her as a memento of her time as a prisoner. She wouldn’t let herself be a puppet for this machine. The fighter had to return. Allison needed to box her memories once again.

A replica of her voice cut through the quiet in a disturbing monotone, “You lied to me.”

Something inside the human stirred. Flashes of her mother and father on her birthday in Griffith Park flashed. It was a happy memory, but Allison couldn’t afford it. To fight she imagined the worst possible moment. Judgment Day returned and engulfed her parents in the nuclear twilight. Allison looked up from her seat and let the light burn her retinas, “I told you where the camp was.”

The machine didn’t move an inch nor did its tone change. “You told me that your sister gave you the bracelet.”

In opposition to the machines questioning Major Young returned. Like a dog curious about something she pivoted her head but kept her eyes locked at the machine in the room. “What does that have to do with anything?” Her tone was filled with bitterness and spite. If it were tangible it could be cut with a knife.

The skin job with her face stepped forward in perfectly human steps modeled on Allison’s own muscle movements. It walked right to the table’s edge and stood in the light – forming a haunting halo around the machine’s head. The tin can lifted its hand up toward her face revealing its incriminating cargo. It gently rubbed them before Allison’s eyes.

“We found these on some of your friends,” five bracelets fell from her hand and smacked against the table. The machine stared at them with detachment as her eyes returned to Allison’s. It mimicked Allison’s earlier head pivot as it continued its probing. “Why are you all wearing them?” Allison could only stare at the bloodied bracelets. “It has something to do with the Connor Camp.” The last part was a damning statement.

“NO!” Major Young yelled in defiance. It was a lie but a genuine cry of sorrow. If the machine had deduced it then that meant that it would be going, and if they could replicate the last human defense they could take down everyone. General Mason, Perry, John. The demon with her face would kill them all. She kept shaking her head and mouthing, “No.”

The machine stayed perfectly still staring down at her like a hawk ready to land on its evening supper. Inside its computerized brain Allison knew what was going on. Binary codes were scrolling rapidly through numbers, scenarios, calculating the meaning. It took moments until the skin job said what it knew to be true.

“A pass...” Allison felt as if the machine had hit her in the stomach with all the force it could muster. Like a frightened dog she looked up into the machines synthetic eyes – her eyes – the machine digging deeper. “… to get into the camp.” In continued deadpan, “You were going to send me there without it. They would have known what I was.”

Allison cocked her head again in rebellion. It was over, it was all over. It knew everything. With incredible speed it moved forward and grabbed her neck one handed. It lifted her upward without breaking a single sweat and pulled her close. Their noses were separated by mere inches. Major Young had served too long in this war and knew what was coming. Where others would be in prayer, to her death had come a long time ago. She was like the zombies that Skynet used, but it happened years ago. She’d become a zombie to the Resistance and let it blind her.

“You lied to me.”

It was getting harder and harder to breathe a single breath. The skinjob moved her around with incredible grace without even showing any difficulties. Allison didn’t care. Her thoughts were still on everything that had happened. Images from her long life flashed once more in rapid fire. Her parents, her birthday, the kid on the bike, judgment day, Haven, John, all before her. Memories of John lingered longer than they should. Her brain was crying for more air, but all she could do was deliver one last blow against the machine.

With a gasp, “I’ll never help you get to John Connor.” In a split second as she stared into the cold, heartless eyes, she understood everything. The mission was never about a Skynet supply line. It was about this machine. The Infiltrator was right. Allison Young was special and she was chosen. John Connor had built an army and now he was supplying that army with enemies forced into his allegiance. The machines had been going back in time – Allison had seen it with her own eyes. This was one of them. This was the one he’d called Cameron.

Cameron snapped her neck and Allison fell to the deck.

C715.P ripped the bracelet from Allison Young‘s lifeless corpse and attached it to her own. It watched her for a moment and answered her dying threat, “You already did.” It turned and walked out of the room to allow an Auto Pallette a chance to clean up. Cameron had a mission and her mission was death.
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