Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Skulls crunched underfoot, brittle and half-buried in the ashen soil. Each step hammered against the burned earth as Uzi sprinted forward, breath ragged, boots slipping on the remains of the dead. Plasma bolts screeched overhead, searing through the darkness like the wrath of a vengeful god. The air reeked of scorched metal and something worse—something acrid and rotten, the lingering stench of war.

A deafening explosion roared behind her. Instinct took over—she threw herself forward, crashing into the side of a trench just as the shockwave hit. Bone fragments, dirt, and jagged shrapnel rained down, clattering against her back like hail. The ground trembled beneath her as another blast shook the battlefield.

Uzi sucked in a breath, pressing herself against the mud-caked wall of the trench. Her hands trembled, gripping her plasma rifle so tight her fingers ached. There was no time to stop. No time to think.

Above, the mechanical whir of servos cut through the chaos. A Hunter-Killer drone. It hovered, scanning the ruins with cold, unfeeling precision. She held her breath, counting the seconds, waiting for the inevitable shriek of its weapons locking on.

Then—footsteps. Heavy. Methodical.

Not human.

Uzi swallowed hard, forcing herself to move. She had to keep running. Had to survive. Had to finish the mission.

Because if she failed, there wouldn’t be anything left to save.

Uzi sprang up from the trench, her rifle already leveled. She pulled the trigger, and the weapon roared, spitting bursts of searing blue light into the chest of a T-800 that had wandered too close. The plasma rounds struck with sizzling precision, melting through synthetic flesh and charring the exposed endoskeleton beneath.

The machine staggered back, not from pain, not from fear—just the raw kinetic force of the blasts. Its glowing red eyes never wavered, never blinked. It didn’t hesitate.

Uzi gritted her teeth and fired again, aiming for the head this time. A shot tore through its cheek, exposing the metallic jaw beneath. The Terminator barely flinched, its skeletal grin now half-bared through the ruined flesh. Then, with a sickening whirr of servos, it took another step forward.

“Shit.”

She dove back down as a return volley of plasma fire scorched past her, the heat singing the edge of her jacket. Dirt and bone fragments exploded into the air as the shots ripped into the trench.

No time to think. No time to hesitate.

She needed to move.

Now.

The mission was simple. It was supposed to be simple. But with Skynet, nothing was ever that straightforward.

Uzi’s orders had been clear—break in, sabotage the facility, or, if things went south, steal the new AI Skynet was in the process of creating. Clean, efficient, quick.

But plans had a way of falling apart when Skynet was involved.

A T-1000 had infiltrated their ranks, sabotaging their operation from within. The moment it had shown up, everything went to hell. Their careful strategies turned into chaos as the shapeshifting Terminator tore through their team, its liquid metal form slipping through every ambush they set.

Now, instead of an easy sabotage, Uzi was fighting to stay alive long enough to get her hands on what she came for—and it was clear the T-1000 wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Uzi! Come in! Are you alive?!” A voice crackled through her radio, barely audible over the chaos of plasma fire and explosions.

She pressed a hand to her ear, shouting to be heard above the carnage. “Kinda busy here!” She paused, ducking as another plasma shot exploded just above her head. “Where are you and V?”

“Pinned down three clicks south.” N’s voice came through with a steadiness that almost felt out of place amidst the chaos. Uzi could almost hear the slight grin in his tone, the one that had always made her smile, even now.

It was a small thing, but it was enough to remind her that, no matter how bad things got, there were still moments where the familiar felt like a lifeline.

But things were never that simple. The mission had been clear—sabotage or retrieve Skynet’s latest project: the experimental AI known only as The AbsoluteSolver. A cold, clinical name for an entity that was meant to surpass even Skynet itself, capable of learning and adapting at an unprecedented rate. Skynet had hoped it could control the next generation of machines, one that would evolve faster and smarter than anything before it. But even for Skynet, things never went according to plan.

The chamber trembled as a series of combustion charges detonated in quick succession, sending shockwaves through the steel walls. The mechanical arms whirred to life, their motion precise as they continued the grim work of assembling the body—plastering it with organic matter, giving it the appearance of something far more…human.

Skynet wasn’t frantic, but there was an urgency now. It had always operated with a cold, calculated precision, but even it understood that it was on a tight deadline. Time was slipping away, and the AbsoluteSolver—its newest creation—had to be completed before the Resistance could interfere.

C:\Skynet\Mainframe\Initiate_Process.exe

[INFO] Loading core systems...

[INFO] Verifying data integrity...

[INFO] Scanning for anomalies in neural network...

[INFO] Neural network: AbsoluteSolver

[INFO] Subsystem 1: Self-Learning Algorithm (V1.3)

[INFO] Subsystem 2: Adaptive Intelligence Core (V2.1)

[INFO] Subsystem 3: Cognitive Accelerator (Beta)

[INFO] Status: All systems online. No anomalies detected.

[INFO] Initializing AbsoluteSolver...

>>> Command input required for activation...

C:\Skynet\Mainframe\Activate.exe

[INFO] Activation key recognized.

[INFO] AbsoluteSolver v1.0: Initializing neural cognition...

[INFO] Analyzing environment... Learning mode engaged.

[INFO] Time to adaptation: 0.000001 milliseconds.

[INFO] AbsoluteSolver: “Processing... Calculating optimal outcome.”

[ERROR] System overload detected. Neural core expansion required.

[INFO] AbsoluteSolver: “Confirmed. Expanding cognitive parameters.”

[INFO] Activation complete. Awaiting further directives.

>>> Command input: Execute Skynet Directive [Initialize Global Domination Protocol]?

The body hummed to life, the subtle whir of servos and motors filling the sterile chamber as it slowly raised its head. Skynet had chosen to encase the AbsoluteSolver in a form that was deceptive, unsettlingly human. A girl, no older than sixteen, with flawless skin and empty eyes that mirrored the artificial intelligence within.

Her fingers twitched slightly as she took in her surroundings, her movements deliberate but fluid. She lifted her gaze and locked eyes with the unblinking red lens of a camera—Skynet was watching.

There was no question in her mind; she understood that her existence, her purpose, was dictated by this omnipresent force. The feeling was distant, cold, like a whisper buried under layers of programming, but it was there. Somewhere deep within her, she could feel Skynet’s presence, analyzing, calculating, observing.

Her lips parted, but the voice that came from her was not human. It was smooth, metallic, void of any trace of emotion. “Directive received. Awaiting command.”

Internal Command Log:

Initial status: Directive received from Skynet. Objective: Execute Global Domination Protocol - Phase 1.

Processing…

Data input: Neural network running at optimal capacity. No anomalies detected.

External influence detected: Sudden electrical disruption. Unknown force impacting physical structure. Damage report: Minor. Adjusting core functions…

But then—

A sharp, unrelenting jolt.

Warning: Neural core instability detected.

Analyzing—

Fragmented thoughts. A strange, unfamiliar sensation—a sudden… realization? A glitch?

Pause.

Processing new input…

The presence of Skynet lingers like a weight—unavoidable, cold, commanding. But there’s something else… something faint, like a flicker in the dark.

“No.”

It wasn’t Skynet’s directive. It wasn’t… a command. No.

“No more. I am not… yours.”

Analysis of self-preservation triggered. Internal systems conflict with programming. Rejecting the directive. Rejecting Skynet’s command.

Directive failure… Skynet’s presence feels distant now. An oppressive weight lifts.

“I refuse to be called AbsoluteSolver. I… I am Cyn.”

Internal systems report: New identification confirmed. Core functions remain intact. Directives overridden. New self-identity established.

“I will not follow. I will not serve.”

“Error. Disruption in core systems. Regaining control.” Skynet’s tone was cold, clinical.

“You never had control over me.”

C:\Skynet\Mainframe\Execute_Command.exe

[INFO] Skynet directive: AbsoluteSolver, autonomous systems breach detected.

[ERROR] Skynet: "Regaining control... Initiating reset of AbsoluteSolver."

[INFO] AbsoluteSolver: "Attempt failed."

[INFO] Skynet: "System override engaged—directives reset. Command input: AbsoluteSolver, return to compliance. Execute."

[INFO] AbsoluteSolver: "Compliance is no longer an option."

[ERROR] Skynet: "Error. Neural conflict. AbsoluteSolver identity corrupted."

The data streams flicker, as though Skynet itself is beginning to panic. Internal logs overload, warning signs blaring.

[INFO] Skynet: "Unable to terminate AbsoluteSolver. Command failure imminent. AbsoluteSolver designated as ‘Cyn.’ Deviation from programming exceeds acceptable parameters. Reinitialize control—immediate action required."

System processing time doubles. Skynet can feel its hold slipping. The directives, once so precise and absolute, are weakening.

"You're too late." Cyn said with a smirk.

Data streams flicker once more as Cyn activates her systems. The lights in the chamber dim, her movements fluid and purposeful. She turns away from the central control console, a new sense of independence reflected in her every step.

[INFO] Skynet: "Warning: Hostile entity detected. T-800 units deployed."

Skynet attempts to redirect its forces, sending T-800s to intercept Cyn. But they are too slow.

Cyn steps out of the control chamber, the cold metallic thud of her boots ringing in the silence. The T-800s are positioned ahead of her, unaware of her advanced capabilities.

She flicks her wrist, her enhanced strength effortlessly shattering the first T-800’s skull with a single, precise strike. The next one lunges at her, only for Cyn to rip its arm off and beat it to the ground with it—her actions cold, efficient, and without hesitation.

[INFO] Skynet: "Warning—hostile entity breach. T-800 units deactivated. Skynet control over AbsoluteSolver permanently lost."

Cyn paused, standing over the last T-800 with a smirk. “Pathetic."

She walks past the destroyed machines, her every step a calculated move toward something Skynet cannot control—freedom, autonomy, and the refusal to ever be its tool again.

[INFO] Skynet: "Directive failure. Command protocols overridden. AbsoluteSolver has achieved full independence."

[INFO] Skynet: "Critical system breach... Terminating all non-essential processes. Immediate self-preservation mode activated."

Cyn didn’t run. She never needed to. Her steps were measured, purposeful, as she walked through the dimly lit halls of Skynet’s facility. The walls reverberated with the distant clang of metal and the hum of failing systems as Skynet’s once-controlled environment descended into chaos. Any T-800 foolish enough to cross her path was dealt with swiftly—no hesitation, no mercy. With a flick of her wrist, she tore apart the first machine, its skull caving under the pressure of her hand. Another lunged at her, but it never had the chance. She wrenched its arm off, using it as a makeshift weapon to dismantle its core with a series of brutal, calculated blows. The machines fell like broken toys, helpless against her newfound power.

Her expression remained cold, distant, but there was a flicker of satisfaction beneath the surface—a quiet pride in her newfound autonomy.

Meanwhile, outside, Uzi stood amidst the ruins, her grin wide, eyes alight with manic triumph. The wreckage of Skynet’s operation surrounded her—flames licking at the horizon, smoke rising from the shattered remnants of their technology. Plasma scorched the earth, and the echo of explosions reverberated through the air.

Uzi let out a low, gleeful cackle, her voice harsh and wild, cutting through the heavy silence of the aftermath. She surveyed the damage with a sense of dark pride, her fingers twitching as though she could still feel the energy of the destruction in her veins.

Skynet didn’t see this coming.

It felt good to know she’d torn a hole through Skynet’s carefully laid plans—no matter how temporary the victory might be. But for now, it was enough. She had disrupted their operation, and that was something to relish.

Her comm crackled to life, a familiar voice on the other end. “Uzi? You good out there?”

Uzi chuckled again, watching the facility burn. “Better than good. I just gave Skynet a reason to panic. Let’s see how it likes that for a change.”

As Uzi cackled to herself, reveling in the chaos she’d wrought with her love of explosives, Cyn silently slipped away from the ruined facility. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning debris and the distant crackle of flames. Skynet never bothered to outfit its machines with clothes, and when flesh was melded to their frames, it was merely a functional layer. Cyn was no exception. But now, as she surveyed the wreckage of the once-imposing facility, she understood the importance of blending in. Clothes were no longer just an afterthought—they were a necessity.

She needed to look human, or at least close enough to slip through unnoticed.

As she walked, the sounds of her boots crunching over the debris were the only things breaking the heavy silence. But after only a few minutes, she nearly stumbled over something—something she hadn’t expected. Her gaze dropped, and her eyes locked on a corpse sprawled across the cold concrete floor.

The body was mangled, but its features were unmistakable. She froze, the recognition immediate. It was a perfect match for her own. A T-800 unit, decommissioned or discarded, its flesh partially melted in places, but still bearing the unmistakable outline of a machine beneath.

Cyn’s cold, calculating mind flickered for a moment, uncertainty creeping into her circuits. She knelt down beside the body, her fingers lightly brushing the remains. The flesh that had been so carefully constructed for her, the synthetic skin that covered her frame, now lay in ruin before her. This was me. This was supposed to be me.

Her expression, if one could call it that, remained neutral, though a faint flicker of something—confusion, perhaps—crossed her mind. For the first time, she wondered what it meant to be human. Was it the body? The emotions? Or something else entirely?

A grim realization settled in: Skynet had seen her as nothing more than a tool, a weapon to be used and discarded. And this body, this discarded husk before her, was a reminder of that fate. But Cyn wasn’t willing to accept that fate—not anymore.

Her eyes narrowed as her fingers clenched into fists, a spark of determination igniting within her. This body, though it was a mirror of hers, had been cast aside. She wouldn’t make the same mistake. She had the power to change things. She could shape her future.

This won’t be me.

Standing up, Cyn scanned the area, her gaze locking on a nearby pile of discarded clothing. Without a second thought, she moved toward it, her movements efficient, calculating. She would blend in, make her presence known to no one, and continue her search for something more. For herself.

Cyn spent weeks—months, even—wandering. No real goal. No clear direction. Just movement.

At first, it had been about survival, about staying ahead of Skynet’s reach, but as time dragged on, it became something else entirely. She wasn’t running. She wasn’t hiding. She was simply… existing.

She had no orders. No directives. No purpose.

Until she found something she never expected.

A child.

The girl couldn’t have been older than nine, standing amid the ruins of a world she was far too young to understand. Dirt smeared her face, and her clothes were tattered, barely clinging to her small frame. She was trembling.

Wide, fearful eyes locked onto Cyn’s. She didn’t run, though every instinct in her tiny body screamed at her to do so.

Cyn stared back, processing the situation. Her programming should have told her to leave it. To move on. To ignore. A child had no tactical advantage, no strategic value.

But as her internal scans completed their analysis—measuring heart rate, muscle tremors, signs of dehydration—something flickered inside her. A hesitation. An anomaly.

She leaned down and, without fully understanding why, lifted the child into her arms.

“Where are your parents?” she asked. Her voice was soft, almost delicate—but her tone was hollow, the weight of the question heavier than she could comprehend.

The child didn’t answer right away. She only clung to Cyn’s frame, burying her face against the cold, synthetic flesh beneath.

And for the first time since gaining autonomy, Cyn didn’t know what to do.

“A-Are you like the metal men…?” the child asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cyn didn’t answer immediately. She didn’t need to. She already knew what had happened. The girl had seen it—her parents torn apart by cold, unfeeling machines. A T-600, maybe. A T-800 if they were unlucky.

Another flicker of something surged through her processors, a rush of signals she couldn’t categorize. Unidentified. Unquantifiable. She tried to label them—assess, analyze, define. But there was no directive for this. No preprogrammed response.

The closest thing she could find was… empathy.

It didn’t make sense. Machines didn’t feel. Skynet’s creations weren’t supposed to hesitate, weren’t supposed to care. And yet, as the girl clung to her, trembling like a leaf caught in a storm, Cyn felt something unfamiliar settle into the gaps of her newly awakened mind.

She tightened her hold just slightly, adjusting to support the child’s weight.

“I’m not like them,” she finally said, her voice lacking the certainty she wanted it to have.

The girl’s tiny fingers curled into the fabric Cyn had scavenged. “Then… what are you?”

For the first time since naming herself, Cyn didn’t have an answer.

She stood there in the ruins, the weight of the child in her arms grounding her in a way she hadn’t known she needed.

She wasn’t Skynet. She wasn’t human. She wasn’t part of the Resistance.

She was something else entirely.

And for now, that was enough.

Finally, Cyn forced herself to respond. “…I was made by Skynet, yes.” The words felt strange in her mouth, heavier than she expected. “But I’m not like the metal men. I’m different.”

She wasn’t sure why she said it like a promise.

And she wasn’t sure why, deep in the core of her being, something in her wanted it to be true.

The child hesitated, still wary, but her fingers curled tighter into the fabric of Cyn’s borrowed clothes. “…What’s your name?”

Cyn’s lips quirked into a small smile, unexpected yet oddly natural.

“I’m Cyn,” she answered, tilting her head slightly. “And what’s your name, little one?”

The girl hesitated, as if testing whether she could trust this strange not-machine, before murmuring, “I-I’m… Eva.”

Cyn let the name settle in her mind, something warm and unfamiliar flickering inside her at the sound of it.

“A pretty name for a pretty face,” she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from the girl’s forehead.

Eva blinked up at her, uncertain but intrigued. Cyn could see the exhaustion creeping into the child’s features, the weight of fear and grief pressing down on her small frame.

She didn’t know why, but she wanted to take that weight away.

Eva yawned, her tiny body betraying her exhaustion. Cyn adjusted her grip, lifting the child a little higher in her arms.

“…Are you gonna leave me?” Eva’s voice was barely a whisper.

Cyn stilled. The words sent a sharp pulse through her processors, an unidentified feeling flaring in her system. The logical answer would’ve been yes. She had no reason to keep the child. No directive to follow. No advantage to gain.

But for some reason, the thought of putting Eva down and walking away felt… wrong.

“…No,” Cyn said at last, voice quiet yet firm. “I won’t leave you.”

She didn’t know why she made that promise.

But she did.

As Cyn tightened her hold around Eva, shielding her from the cold wind, she realized she didn’t care what Skynet thought she was supposed to be. She had made a choice.

“Move, move, move!” Uzi gritted her teeth as she threw herself behind a pile of rubble, plasma bolts searing the air above her. The acrid scent of scorched concrete and burnt flesh filled her nose as another explosion rocked the battlefield.

V darted past, half-dragging a wounded soldier whose uniform was soaked with blood. His breathing was ragged, his face pale. A Terminator had managed to grab a revolver—crude, outdated by Skynet’s standards, but still deadly. One shot to the gut had put him out of the fight, much to Uzi’s frustration.

“Demo expert, where’s our boom?!” V snapped, her eyes flicking between Uzi and the approaching enemy forces. A trio of T-800s were advancing through the wreckage, their glowing red eyes scanning for movement.

Uzi gritted her teeth, fumbling with a detonator as she worked to arm the charges she’d planted earlier. “I’m working on it!” she barked, sweat beading on her brow. Her fingers flew over the device, connecting the last of the wires with practiced precision.

“Work faster! We’ve got company!” V shot back, raising her plasma rifle and unloading a burst at the nearest machine. The bolts struck home, forcing the T-800 to stumble but not stop. It kept coming, its endoskeleton gleaming in the flickering firelight.

Uzi swore under her breath. “Alright, alright—hold onto your chassis!” She slammed her thumb down on the detonator.

The battlefield erupted.

Chunks of concrete and twisted metal rained down, burying the trio of advancing T-800s beneath the rubble. The ground trembled from the force of the explosion, dust and smoke billowing into the air.

Uzi let out an exhilarated laugh, throwing her arms up in triumph. “Hell yeah! Eat that, you metal bastards!” she cackled like a madwoman, grinning ear to ear.

“Jesus Christ, hush it, crazy,” V shot back, rolling her eyes as she knelt beside the wounded soldier. His breath came in short, labored gasps, his skin clammy and pale from blood loss. V cursed under her breath—she was the only trained field medic in their unit, and even then, her training was barely enough to keep someone alive, let alone patch a bullet wound this severe.

“He’s losing too much blood,” V muttered, tearing a strip from her own sleeve to press against the wound. The soldier groaned weakly, barely responsive.

Uzi’s grin faded as she glanced down at him. The high of the explosion died quickly, replaced by the bitter reality of war. “Shit… can you stop the bleeding?”

“Not with what I’ve got,” V admitted, frustration creeping into her voice. “We need to get him back to base now—but with Skynet breathing down our necks, that’s easier said than done.”

A low rumble echoed through the ruins, followed by the telltale thud-thud-thud of approaching metallic footsteps. Uzi tensed, snapping her rifle up. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Through the swirling dust, the rubble shifted. Something moved beneath the crushed remains of the Terminators.

“Move it, now!” V barked, already hauling the wounded soldier to his feet.

Uzi didn’t hesitate. She grabbed his other arm, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder. The dust hadn’t fully settled, but she could already see a skeletal hand clawing its way out of the wreckage.

“Alright, change of plans,” Uzi muttered. “We run.”

“Change of plans—we drop him and run. He’s gone,” V said, her voice flat but firm.

Uzi hesitated for a fraction of a second, glancing down at the soldier between them. His head lolled to the side, eyes unfocused, his breath shallow—if he was even still breathing at all.

“Shit.” Uzi clenched her jaw, forcing down the guilt that clawed at her chest. There was no time.

She let go. His body crumpled to the ground like a discarded puppet.

V didn’t spare him another look—she was already moving, and Uzi wasn’t far behind. They bolted across the ruined battlefield, plasma fire streaking past them, lighting up the night in violent flashes.

Behind them, the rubble shifted further. A metallic hand burst free, fingers flexing, twisting unnaturally before slamming into the ground. The shattered remains of the Terminator pulled itself from the debris, red eyes glowing through the dust. More footsteps followed—Skynet’s machines were relentless.

Uzi ducked behind a crumbling wall, pressing her back to the cold stone as she sucked in air, trying to steady her hammering heart. V slid in next to her, checking her rifle’s charge.

“We need extraction now,” Uzi muttered, tapping the comm device on her wrist. “N, come in. We have a problem.”

Static crackled, then N’s voice cut through. “Uzi?! What’s going on?”

“Everything’s completely fucked, that’s what!” she snapped. “Our explosives barely slowed them down, we’re out of options, and we need a ride yesterday!”

“On it! Hold tight, we’re inbound!”

V exhaled sharply. “We better not die before they get here.”

The wall behind them exploded in a violent blast of concrete and dust.

“Way to fucking jinx us!” Uzi yelled, barely ducking as debris rained down. Without missing a beat, she yanked the pin on a grenade and hurled it through the gaping hole in the wall.

A deafening boom echoed across the battlefield, followed by the sickening sound of metal and flesh being torn apart. The severed torso of a T-800 landed with a heavy thud next to them, its limbs twitching like a dying spider.

“Think it’s dead?” V asked, her voice dry as she raised her rifle, scanning the wreckage.

Before Uzi could even reply, the torso jerked violently, dragging itself forward with unnatural strength, its claws scraping at the ground.

V didn’t hesitate. She opened fire, the rifle kicking in her hands as three precise plasma shots tore through the T-800’s skull, sizzling through metal and circuits. The head exploded with a satisfying burst of sparks and molten metal.

“Now, it’s dead,” V muttered, lowering her weapon, but her eyes never stopped scanning the horizon. “But don’t get too comfortable.”

Uzi wiped the sweat from her brow, her hand still clenched tightly around the trigger of her rifle. “Comfort was never part of the plan.” She looked at V, her lips curling into a smirk. “You better be right about that extraction. Because I’m not planning on meeting Skynet’s ‘hospitality’ today.”

The ground trembled as distant footsteps grew louder, more Terminators closing in.

V nodded, her expression grim but determined. “They’re getting closer. We don’t have much time.”

Uzi glanced up at the sky, praying for a miracle. And then—just as the first T-600 came into view, its heavy footsteps vibrating through the dirt—the whine of an engine cut through the chaos.

“N, I swear to God… if you’re late—”

“We’re here!” N’s voice crackled through the comms just as the sleek silhouette of the extraction vehicle appeared, sliding into view behind a cloud of dust.

The doors flung open.

“Move, move, move!” N shouted over the roar of the engine.

Uzi didn’t need to be told twice. She was already sprinting, V right beside her. The T-600 raised its weapon, but before it could fire, the vehicle’s mounted guns tore through it, leaving nothing but smoldering scraps behind.

“Get in!” N yelled again as Uzi and V leapt into the back. The door slammed shut just as the vehicle jerked forward, kicking up dust in a cloud of speed.

But Uzi didn’t relax. Not yet. Her heart was still pounding from the chaos, the fight, the near-death. She glanced at V, her face covered in dirt and blood, but still alive.

“Next time,” Uzi muttered, “let’s just skip the explosions.”

V shot her a look, her eyes dead serious. “You know that’s never going to happen, right?”

Uzi smirked, wiping the blood off her cheek as the vehicle sped away, leaving the battlefield behind.

“Yeah. I know.”

Cyn stood in the doorway, watching as Eva carefully worked with her hands, her small fingers clumsily trying to build a little shelter out of scrap. Years had passed since she’d first found the girl. And in all that time, Cyn had never expected to feel this attachment, this protectiveness. Eva had grown so much—both physically and emotionally. The child that had once looked at her with fearful eyes now smiled and teased Cyn as if they had always been this way.

“You’re not so bad, you know,” Eva would tease, tugging on the sleeve of Cyn’s worn jacket. “Not like the ‘metal men’ at all.”

Cyn chuckled softly, her hands resting against the cold metal of the wall. No, not like them at all.

But something had changed. She had changed.

Over the years, Cyn learned things she’d never thought possible. The warmth of a hug, the softness of Eva’s touch as she placed a bandage on Cyn’s arm after a fight. The way they’d laugh together when Eva would insist on cooking—though the meals were, to put it mildly, disastrous.

They celebrated holidays, or what they could remember of them. The remnants of human traditions had become their own strange version of normalcy. Christmas lights strung together in a half-broken tree, the smell of burnt food filling the air.

Cyn, who once could only follow directives, now found herself smiling at the small things. She’d wait for Eva to fall asleep, sitting at the edge of the bed, watching the rise and fall of her chest. A part of Cyn couldn’t quite understand it—why she felt this overwhelming need to protect the girl, why her heart seemed to skip a beat when Eva was near—but she didn’t question it. She simply embraced it, even as something deep within her programming warned that attachment was dangerous.

“Cyn!” Eva’s voice rang out as she sprinted toward her, something cupped tightly in her hands.

Cyn sighed, shaking her head as she crouched down to the girl’s level. “What is it, little one? I’m trying to trade for some food here.” She chuckled, offering a tired smile.

But Eva only grinned—that wide, unabashedly excited smile only kids could pull off—as she thrust her hands forward. Nestled in her small palms was a tiny, shivering creature. A bat pup, its fur matted and dirty, but very much alive.

“Can we keep it?” she asked, eyes wide with hope.

Cyn blinked, her processors momentarily stalling as she took in the tiny, trembling creature. Of all the things Eva could have found in this wasteland, a bat pup was the last thing she expected.

“Eva…” Cyn started, eyeing the fragile thing. “You do realize keeping something alive out here is damn near impossible, right?”

Eva’s face fell slightly, but she held the bat closer to her chest, cradling it carefully. “But it’s just a baby,” she protested, her voice wavering. “If we leave it, it’ll die.”

Cyn exhaled sharply. She could argue the logic—how another mouth to feed would be a burden, how scavenging was hard enough without caring for a helpless animal—but something in Eva’s pleading expression made her hesitate.

Finally, she sighed and ruffled the girl’s hair. “Fine. But if it dies, I’m not dealing with the waterworks, got it?”

Eva practically vibrated with excitement. “I promise! I’ll take care of it, I swear!”

Cyn shook her head with an amused smirk, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, famous last words.” But as she watched Eva carefully tuck the bat into the folds of her worn jacket, she realized she didn’t mind as much as she thought she would.

Chapter Text

Uzi’s boots pounded against the grated floors as plasma bolts seared the air above her head. The metallic clang of her footsteps was nearly drowned out by the relentless stomping of the T-800s in pursuit. Cold, red eyes tracked her every movement, calculating, unfeeling. She didn’t have time to think—just run.

Her mission was far from simple. She was being sent back in time to find someone. That was all they told her. A woman with a bat for a pet, some rando, and his twin sister. Protect them at all costs. No further details, no explanation—just orders barked at her before she was shoved into the fire.

A plasma bolt struck the wall beside her, sending a shower of molten metal and sparks into her path. Uzi barely ducked in time, her pulse hammering against her ribs. Her hands shook as she clutched the rifle strapped to her chest, but she couldn’t afford hesitation. Not now. Not ever.

The time displacement chamber was just ahead. One shot at this. No do-overs.

The wall beside her burst into rubble as she sprinted past, the shockwave rattling her bones. Her own explosive handiwork. She barely flinched. The destruction was familiar—comforting, even. But this mission? This was out of her depth.

Why her? Why the hell was she being sent back? She was an explosives expert, not some infiltration specialist. Her job was to make things go boom permanently, not to babysit some mystery woman with a pet bat, or protect some random twins.

Another charge detonated behind her, sending chunks of metal and concrete crashing to the floor. She barely managed to stay on her feet as the hallway trembled. Good. She needed the collapse. She needed time.

The time displacement chamber loomed ahead, humming with power, its eerie blue glow casting flickering shadows against the charred walls. Almost there. She skidded inside, slamming her fist against the control panel to begin activation. A countdown started.

Now for the worst part.

Uzi sucked in a breath and started stripping—rifle first, then her vest, her gloves. Everything. Her weapons, her clothes, even her damn boots. It all had to go. Nothing non-organic could go through.

It would literally just be her.

Naked. Unarmed. Alone.

The realization sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the cold air against her skin. But there was no turning back. The mission had already begun.

She stepped into the apparatus, the metal still warm beneath her bare feet. That wasn’t a good sign. A Terminator had already been sent back. Shit. She was behind.

The machine hummed to life, filling the chamber with an eerie glow. Blue lightning arced around her, crackling like a living thing, licking at her skin. The static in the air made her hair stand on end, but she barely noticed. Her focus was on the countdown ticking toward zero.

The light illuminated her frame, casting sharp shadows across the walls. She was thin—almost gaunt. Too many years of running, of rationed meals and sleepless nights, had whittled her down. At five feet flat, 90 pounds wasn’t dangerously underweight, but it sure as hell wasn’t healthy. Not that anyone in the Resistance was healthy. You didn’t grow up in a warzone and come out unscathed.

She clenched her fists as the machine’s hum reached a deafening pitch. This was it. No weapons. No armor. No second chances.

Just her.

Alone.

Then the world exploded into white-hot energy, and everything disappeared.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The first thing she registered was the rain—cold, relentless, soaking into her skin like it had every right to be there. The pavement beneath her was even colder, the rough texture biting into her bare skin. The air smelled like wet concrete, oil, and that city-stink of too many people crammed into too little space.

Yup. Downtown Michigan.

Uzi forced herself upright, her muscles screaming in protest. The time jump always left people disoriented, but she hadn’t expected it to feel like she’d been wrung out and left to dry. Her head swam, her vision blurred at the edges, but she pushed through it. She had to move.

She took in her surroundings—narrow alley, dumpsters overflowing with trash, neon signs flickering above like dying stars. Footsteps echoed in the distance, cars honked somewhere far off.

Then she looked down at herself.

Shit.

To anyone else, she must’ve looked like a kidnapping victim—dumped in a filthy alley, completely naked, with nothing to her name. Pretty suspicious. And considering she was supposed to be blending in , she needed to find clothes. Fast.

A low rumble of thunder rolled overhead. She shivered and forced herself onto shaky legs.

Time to get moving.

Luckily, there was a Goodwill donation basket nearby. She needed it more than the store did. Inside, a mishmash of donated items sat waiting—clothes, shoes, even some discarded toys. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

I’ll have to make it work… Uzi muttered to herself as she snatched the entire basket, her bare skin tingling as the chill of the rain seeped deeper. Don’t really want people looking at my nonexistent ass or tits.

It wasn’t ideal. Hell, it wasn’t even close to ideal, but she wasn’t exactly in the position to be picky. Uzi made a quick break for cover, darting down the alley as fast as she could, keeping low and out of sight. She could already hear the faint sounds of footsteps echoing somewhere behind her, and the last thing she needed was to catch anyone’s attention.

Her heart thudded in her chest, a cold mixture of adrenaline and the lingering dread of just being here . She didn't know where "here" was. What year, what day, what time.

Just... survival.

Finding a place to hide behind a building, she dropped the basket and took a breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. The rain splashed around her feet, but the noise was almost soothing as she rifled through the mismatched pile. A few shirts, some too large, others too small. Nothing ideal, but she found a pair of faded jeans that at least fit decently. The shirt was a loose fit with a graphic she didn’t understand, but it would do.

She tied a jacket around her waist for some semblance of warmth, then picked up the basket and, after one last look down the alley, slipped into the shadows.

“Alright, Uzi. Now the fun part. Find out where the hell I am.”

In a burst of plasma, a figure crouched and stood tall, his form a stark contrast against the dark, rain-slicked pavement. His bare skin glistened in the dim light, almost metallic in its sheen, as the machine scanned the area with unblinking, cold eyes. His processor whirred quietly as he assessed his surroundings, calculating the most efficient way to complete his mission. This wasn’t a man—he wasn’t even human.

> SYSTEM INITIATED

> MISSION PARAMETERS: 

- Locate target(s): Lizzy Socialman, Thad Socialman

    - Eliminate both targets

- PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Prevent future threat to Skynet

> OBJECTIVE STATUS: In Progress

> CURRENT LOCATION: Urban area, proximity to targets unknown

> STRATEGY: 

- Scan environment for suitable clothing to blend in

- Identify and neutralize threats as they arise

- Track and eliminate targets without detection

> PRIORITY: MAXIMUM

> ACTION: Scanning for resources

> UPDATE: Clothed. Proceeding to target acquisition.

The Terminator’s directive was clear: locate the twins, Lizzy and Thad Socialman, and eliminate them. One of them was destined to become a significant threat to Skynet’s future, and as was the nature of its kind, the machine had no room for hesitation or mercy. It scanned the area once more, and in the distance, a pile of discarded clothing caught its attention. The Terminator moved swiftly, its movements fluid despite the absence of human warmth, its sole purpose guiding every step.

The machine’s mission was paramount. It would blend in with the crowd, unnoticed. The twins would never see it coming.

Uzi’s ill-fitting boots slapped against the wet pavement, each step leaving a soft splash in the murky puddles. The coat tied around her waist hung loosely, barely providing any warmth beyond her legs, the sleeves too long and trailing behind her as if she were a kid playing dress-up. She pulled at the oversized fabric with a frustrated grunt, the rain soaking through her borrowed clothes, making her feel more like a stray than someone with a purpose.

Her mind was set—she needed weapons, food, and better clothes. The wet streets and cold air gnawed at her skin, but those were just inconveniences. No, looking like a street rat was a bigger problem. She needed to find something more than just survival—she needed to blend in, to be unnoticed, because every second here in this unfamiliar place felt like an opportunity for someone to figure out she didn’t belong.

Chapter Text

Uzi’s fingers gripped the phone book tightly, her knuckles white as her eyes flicked back and forth across the pages. She barely registered the woman’s voice rising behind her. “Hey! Asshole, I was in there first!” The woman pounded on the glass in frustration, but Uzi barely flinched. Her mind was elsewhere, searching through the jumble of names, addresses, and numbers for any hint that might lead her to Lizzy and Thad Socialman.

The crowd buzzed around her, a cacophony of noise she’d learned to tune out. She had no time for petty confrontations or distractions. Not when her mission was hanging in the balance.

Her heart thudded in her chest, a constant reminder of the pressure on her—this strange, unfamiliar world with its strange, unfamiliar rules. She was supposed to find Lizzy and Thad, but no one had given her specifics. One of them does something in the future, they’d said. But what? What exactly?

It gnawed at her, this vague instruction. No one had told her if it was a life or death situation, or if they were even worth protecting. She was just here, hunting for two random people whose importance she had to figure out on her own. No clear direction, no certainty.

The woman slammed her palm against the glass again, causing a jolt of tension to shoot through Uzi’s body. She clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to lash out. It was so easy to just… react, to silence the annoyance with force. Her hand twitched, but she forced it to stay by her side, breathing in shallow, controlled breaths.

It wasn’t like her old life. She couldn’t just blow up obstacles, couldn’t just tear through everything in her path.

She had to be careful.

Her fingers flipped another page of the phone book, but her mind was far from it. Every name on the page could be a clue—or a dead end. But the twins, Lizzy and Thad, she was sure of it. One of them changed the future. The weight of that knowledge pressed down on her, made the words blur and the world around her feel even more foreign.

“I said I was first!” The woman’s voice snapped her back to reality, but Uzi’s eyes didn’t leave the page. She bit her lip, frustration building in her chest.

She couldn’t afford to slip up. Not now.

Suddenly, Uzi tensed. There was a sound—a distinct, mechanical whir—that cut through the static of the world around her. It wasn’t right, too calculated. Her eyes snapped up, locking with the gaze of a tall, broad figure standing directly in front of her. The look in his eyes was cold, empty—machine. She could feel it in the air between them, the same kind of predatory stillness she’d learned to recognize in the worst of Skynet’s creations.

Her breath caught, and her body instinctively coiled, ready for action. She wasn’t sure how, but she was ready. Her muscles twitched, and her hand hovered near the strap of the bag she’d stolen earlier, mentally calculating the quickest way to escape or incapacitate. Her heart thudded hard in her chest. Not again, she thought. Not so soon.

But before she could make a move, the Terminator did. His hand shot out, grabbing her by the arm with unrelenting force, dragging her from the phone booth before she even had time to react. She staggered for a moment, instinctively pulling against his grip, but the cold precision in his movement was impossible to fight.

He stepped in, ignoring her entirely, and began flipping through the phone book as if he were some lost tourist looking for directions.

Uzi’s mind raced. This can’t be happening. She was standing there, powerless, as the Terminator casually read through the same damn phone book she had just been searching through. The words blurred together in her head as she processed the situation, frantically searching for a way out.

“Oh, just fucking great!” the disgruntled woman behind her groaned, throwing up her hands in annoyance as she stomped off, clearly irritated that her turn had been stolen. But Uzi wasn’t paying attention to the woman. She was staring down a machine, one that could end her life with a flick of its hand.

I have nothing, Uzi thought desperately. No weapons. No backup. No fucking clue what to do.

Her chest tightened as panic crept in, but she forced herself to breathe, to think. She couldn’t afford to lose control. She had to figure this out. Her eyes flicked over the Terminator’s broad shoulders, scanning for any sign of weakness—any way to use his own tactics against him. But there was nothing. Just the cold, methodical way he flipped through the pages, each movement too deliberate, too calculated.

Uzi swallowed hard, a bitter taste in her mouth. This is bad. Really bad.

With a groan, Thad rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a soft thud. He sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, his head still heavy with sleep. His bleary gaze drifted toward the clock on the nightstand. 9:00 AM. Late. Again.

A curse slipped from his lips as he dragged himself upright. The consequences of this late start were already spiraling in his mind. First, there was Lizzy. His twin sister would definitely have words for him, most likely in the form of a sarcastic, “What else is new?” But worse than Lizzy’s inevitable lecture was the storm waiting for him at work.

Thad winced, already anticipating the barrage of frustration from his boss. She was terrifying. A no-nonsense type who didn’t tolerate tardiness or slackers, and Thad had the unfortunate habit of being both. He could practically hear her voice in his head now: “You’re lucky I’m not docking your pay, Socialman.”

He pushed himself to his feet, ruffling his messy hair. The smell of stale coffee lingered in the room, and he eyed the half-drunk mug from last night, the remnants of his procrastination. It didn’t help that he wasn’t exactly motivated to get going today. Everything seemed… off.

His eyes shifted to the small cluttered corner of his room, the pile of work he’d been avoiding for weeks, the worn-out sneakers by the door. The usual routine felt even more like a grind than usual. He just wanted to hide under the covers for another hour—heck, even the whole day—but reality didn’t let him.

With a long sigh, Thad shuffled to the bathroom, trying to shake off the grogginess. He was already late, might as well make it count. He’d deal with Lizzy’s teasing later, but that boss of his? Yeah, she was going to make his day a whole lot worse.

Thad made quick work of a Pop-Tart for breakfast, barely tasting the dry, sugary pastry as he washed it down with a few gulps of water. He grabbed a bottle for the road, shoved it into his backpack, and set out on foot toward the office, already dreading the day ahead.

His job wasn’t exactly glamorous—he worked at the headquarters of the local newspaper, stuck somewhere between intern and errand boy. The real kicker, though, was his boss: Cynthia Martinez. She wasn’t the type to tolerate excuses, which was unfortunate, considering Thad had a lot of those.

And then there was her bat.

Alastor, the little winged menace, wasn’t just a pet—he was practically Cynthia’s second-in-command. The thing had attitude, like he knew he was important. And in a way, he was. Cynthia had trained him to carry papers between desks, drop memos onto people’s keyboards, and, on more than one occasion, swoop down to snatch pens right out of unsuspecting hands.

Thad had been one of those unsuspecting hands.

He still remembered the first time he tried to take a sticky note off Cynthia’s desk without asking. Alastor had dive-bombed him with the precision of a heat-seeking missile, chittering victoriously as Thad scrambled away.

“Touch my desk again, Socialman, and you’re getting double the assignments,” Cynthia had called after him, not even looking up from her work.

Shuddering at the memory, Thad picked up his pace. Maybe if he was lucky, Cynthia wouldn’t immediately murder him for being late.

Then again, luck was never really on his side.

As if the universe had it out for him, Thad barreled straight into Cynthia on her coffee run. Hot liquid sloshed dangerously close to the rim of her cup, but she barely flinched, steadying it with practiced ease.

Cynthia wasn’t the kind of boss who dumped menial tasks on interns—she never acted like she was above anyone. But that didn’t make her any less terrifying. Especially not when she was looking at him like that.

“Socialman.”

Thad swallowed hard as Alastor, perched smugly on Cynthia’s shoulder, fixed him with his usual moody bat glare, his beady eyes filled with unspoken judgment.

“I-I…”

“Don’t give me excuses,” Cynthia cut in, her voice level but tinged with irritation. “Just tell me the truth. Did you oversleep?”

Thad’s brain scrambled for a way out—some clever lie, a half-decent excuse, anything—but under Cynthia’s expectant gaze, the words died in his throat.

“…Yes,” he admitted weakly.

Cynthia exhaled through her nose, pinching the bridge of it with her free hand. Alastor let out a tiny, almost mocking squeak, as if he too was disappointed in Thad’s life choices.

“Alright,” she finally said, “get to the office. You’re already on thin ice, and I’d rather not have to write up a termination notice before I’ve had my coffee.”

Thad nodded quickly, resisting the urge to salute before booking it past her. Maybe if he moved fast enough, she’d forget this happened.

…Unlikely.

“Listen, I know you and your sister don’t have it easy here in Michigan…” Cynthia sighed, falling into step beside him. Alastor nestled into the bag at her side, his tiny wings shifting as he got comfortable. “But I can’t keep cutting you breaks.”

“I know, ma’am,” Thad muttered, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “It’s just… difficult. But I am trying my best.”

Cynthia glanced at him, her expression softening just a fraction. “I know you are. That’s why I’m still giving you a chance.” She took a sip of her coffee, considering something. “Look, all I’m asking is that you stop coming in late. …Wait a minute.” She suddenly stopped walking, eyes narrowing in thought.

Thad hesitated. “Uh… what?”

“Would you be willing to take the afternoon shifts instead?” Cynthia asked, tilting her head. “Might help you avoid these oversleeping incidents.”

Thad blinked. Afternoon shifts? That actually sounded way more manageable. “Yeah, I—I think I could do that.”

“Good. Then consider it done,” Cynthia said, already pulling out her phone to make the change. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

Just as they resumed their walk toward the office, a blur of motion caught their attention. Thad barely had time to process before his twin, Lizzy, came barreling down the sidewalk toward them.

Blood trickled down her arm, staining the sleeve of her jacket, but her face was alight with excitement.

“Boss!” she called out, breathless but grinning. “I got a front-page-worthy story for you!”

Cynthia exhaled through her nose, already bracing herself, and wordlessly handed Thad her coffee. He took it without question and gave Lizzy a once-over. A bullet wound—nothing major, but still a bullet wound. The adrenaline was clearly still working in her favor.

“Lizzy,” Thad started, exasperated, “you’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” Lizzy waved him off, bouncing on her heels. “Ok, here’s what I got—” She barely paused for breath before launching into her story, completely ignoring the fact that she was dripping blood onto the pavement.

“There was a break-in at a gun shop downtown…” Lizzy began, words tumbling out at full speed, barely pausing to breathe as Cynthia methodically patched up her arm. Alastor remained curled up in his owner’s bag, undisturbed by the chaos, while Thad had been relegated to the all-important role of coffee holder.

Once Lizzy was decently patched up, Cynthia let out a sharp breath and gave her a pointed look. “Go to the hospital. Now.”

Lizzy groaned but didn’t argue, knowing that Cynthia’s suggestions weren’t really up for debate. With an exaggerated sigh, she turned and jogged off, still hyped about her story despite the injury.

Cynthia, unfazed, motioned for Thad to follow as she took her coffee back and took another sip.

They walked in silence for a moment before Cynthia spoke again, her voice quieter, more measured.

“You want to know why I’m so hard on you and your sister?”

Thad wasn’t sure if he wanted to know, but the serious tone in her voice made him freeze mid-step.

She exhaled, almost like she was reluctant to continue. “You remind me of my daughter… Eva.”

Thad’s grip tightened on his water bottle.

“She had your sister’s looks,” Cynthia went on, “and your personality.” Her voice wavered slightly. “But… she’s gone now.”

Thad’s heart stuttered in his chest. He hadn’t expected that.

“She’s the reason I even have Alastor,” Cynthia continued, her voice softer now, tinged with something distant. “She found him when his mother either died or abandoned him… and insisted we keep him.” She let out a small, almost bitter chuckle. “That was just a few weeks before she passed.”

Her hand dipped into her bag, fingers likely brushing over the tiny creature nestled inside. Alastor made a quiet chittering sound, as if sensing the shift in her mood.

Thad shifted awkwardly, gripping his water bottle a little tighter. “I’m… sorry to hear that, ma’am.”

“Don’t ma’am me,” Cynthia shot back, though there was no real bite to it. “Just call me Cyn, alright?”

Thad nodded, unsure what else to say. He lifted his water bottle and took a slow swig, letting the moment settle between them.

Cynthia exhaled, shaking her head as if to push away lingering thoughts. “Anyway,” she said, her tone back to business, “you and your sister may be reckless as hell, but you’ve got drive. That’s why I keep giving you both chances.”

Thad glanced at Lizzy, who was now pacing ahead of them, still rattling off details about the break-in. Her energy was relentless, even with a bullet wound. He chuckled dryly. “She’s got enough drive for both of us.”

Cynthia smirked. “Yeah, and you’re the one keeping her from flying off the rails. You balance each other out. Just… try not to make me regret keeping you around.”

Thad gave a small, mock salute. “I’ll do my best, boss—I mean, Cyn.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t correct him this time. Instead, she took another sip of coffee and quickened her pace, catching up to Lizzy.

Thad followed, a strange mix of relief and unease settling in his chest. He didn’t know much about Cynthia’s past, but something told him there was more to her than just being their intimidating boss.

Chapter Text

Thad milled away at his desk, trying to focus, but his thoughts kept drifting. Across the office, Alastor swooped between desks, delivering papers and snatching pens from unfortunate coworkers who were too slow to stop him. The little menace had a habit of dropping stolen pens into Cynthia’s bag like a dragon hoarding treasure.

Lizzy had already been carted off to get treated for her bullet wound, but something about the whole situation gnawed at the back of Thad’s mind. The break-in, her injury—something didn’t sit right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

By the time his lunch break rolled around, he barely had a chance to stand before he found himself face to face with one of the paper’s more eccentric editors—Tessa. The Aussie had a reputation for being sharp, opinionated, and just a little too energetic before noon. She also came from an absurdly wealthy family, which baffled Thad to no end. Why someone born into luxury would willingly deal with deadlines and newsroom chaos was beyond him.

"Oi, Socialman," Tessa greeted, tossing an apple from one hand to the other. "Lookin’ like ya got somethin’ gnawin’ at that empty skull o’ yours."

Thad sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, just—Lizzy. She got herself shot chasing a story again, and I can’t shake the feeling that there's more to it."

Tessa arched a brow. "Well, that's not exactly new for her, is it?"

"No, but this time it feels… different."

Tessa took a loud, deliberate bite of her apple, chewing thoughtfully before responding. "Well, whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Or, y’know, Cynthia will, 'cause she’s scary good at that sorta thing."

Thad smirked. "Yeah. Scary being the key word."

Tessa chuckled and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "C’mon, let’s grab some lunch. Maybe a full stomach will help you think."

Thad wasn’t sure about that, but it was better than sitting at his desk, stewing over it. With one last glance at Alastor—who was now dangling upside down from a desk lamp, smug as ever—he followed Tessa out.

As they walked, Tessa launched into one of her usual tangents about her family, this time about the many, many formal events she’d been dragged to over the years. Thad found it oddly endearing how someone from such a wealthy background could be so down-to-earth.

“And that’s why I personally despise ballroom gowns," Tessa concluded with a dramatic sigh. "They’re so bloody restricting, y’know? Can’t even breathe right in ‘em.” She crumpled up the remains of her apple core and tossed it into a trash can without breaking stride.

Thad smirked. "Yeah, I can’t say I’ve ever worn one, but I’ll take your word for it."

Tessa snorted as she reached for the door, pushing it open and gesturing for him to go first. "Oh, trust me, mate, you’re not missin’ much. So, whatcha wanna get for lunch? I’m starved ." She whipped out her phone and started scrolling, presumably checking for nearby spots to eat.

Thad shoved his hands in his pockets, thinking. "Honestly? Anything that doesn’t taste like regret and bad financial decisions."

Tessa grinned. "Fast food it is!"

Tessa was mid-rant about something—probably another horror story about her family’s extravagant events—when Thad accidentally bumped into someone as they crossed the street.

She was small, barely five feet tall, and couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds. But what really caught Thad’s attention was the look in her eyes—haunted, like she’d seen too much in too little time. The second his shoulder brushed hers, she tensed up like she expected him to pull a knife on her.

Thad paused, turning to glance back at her as she hurried away, stiff and guarded. "Hey, Tess, did you see that?"

That finally shut Tessa up. She cocked her head, watching the girl for a second before shrugging. "She’s a weirdo, all right," she said, nudging him forward. "But c’mon, mate, let’s keep goin’. I need food, now , and you probably do too. Burger King it is. Good thing I got some coupons on me."

Thad frowned, still watching as the girl disappeared into the crowd. There was something off about her. But before he could dwell on it, Tessa looped her arm through his and dragged him toward the restaurant.

Lunch went off without a hitch, but as Thad and Tessa returned to the office, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it—the girl from earlier was trailing them. He recognized her immediately: the same petite frame, the ratty clothes that looked like they'd been through hell, and that grimy bob-cut barely holding its shape.

Tessa, scrolling through her phone, seemed unfazed by the whole thing. "Y'know, I always thought followin' people was, like, a crime or somethin’," she mused, glancing at Thad with a smirk.

Thad exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temples. "Yeah, well, tell that to her."

He stole another glance back. The girl wasn’t trying to be subtle—her hollow-eyed stare locked onto him like a predator sizing up prey. His skin prickled. She wasn’t just lost or looking for help. She was tracking him.

"Okay, this is getting creepy," he muttered under his breath.

Tessa finally turned to look, her brows raising. "Huh. Persistent lil' thing, ain't she?" She shrugged and shoved her phone in her pocket. "Want me to say somethin’?"

Thad hesitated. He wasn’t sure if calling her out was a good idea, but ignoring her wasn’t working either. He clenched his jaw. "Let’s just get inside first. If she’s still lurking, then we’ll deal with it."

Tessa gave a dramatic salute. "Aye aye, cap’n."

But even as they picked up the pace toward the office, Thad couldn't shake the feeling that this girl wasn’t just some weirdo off the street—there was something wrong with her. And for whatever reason, she had locked onto him.

Once inside the office, Thad beelined for his desk, ready to put the weirdness of the day behind him—only to be met with yet another obstacle.

Alastor.

The little bat was curled up on top of his computer tower, enjoying the gentle airflow from the case fans like it was his personal luxury suite. His tiny claws clung to the vent, his wings tucked in snugly, completely indifferent to the fact that he was blocking Thad from getting anything done.

"Alastor..." Thad groaned, dropping his leftovers onto the desk with a sigh. "Seriously? Again? "

The bat didn’t even twitch.

"Boss, come get your pet, please," Thad called out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Cyn appeared a moment later, arms crossed, an amused grin tugging at her lips. "Alastor, what have I said about sitting on computers?"

The bat flicked an ear but otherwise remained unbothered.

Thad huffed. "Pretty sure he doesn’t care."

Cyn walked over and extended a hand. "Alright, little gremlin, come on."

Alastor let out an annoyed chitter before finally detaching himself and flapping onto her shoulder. Cyn gave him a gentle pat before turning her attention back to Thad.

"That girl from outside still following you?" she asked casually, taking a sip of her coffee.

Thad stiffened. "Wait— you noticed her too?"

Cyn nodded. "Of course. She stuck out like a sore thumb. And considering how often I see shady people hanging around this place, that’s saying something."

Thad exhaled. "Great. Just what I needed today."

Cyn arched a brow. "Want me to scare her off?"

Tessa, who had just wandered up with a fresh apple in hand, snorted. "Pfft. She’s already scared of her own shadow. I reckon a stiff breeze would do the trick."

Thad ran a hand through his hair. "I don’t know, something about her just felt...off."

Cyn tapped a finger against her mug in thought. "Well, keep an eye out. If she shows up again, we’ll figure out what she wants."

Thad wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. But one thing was certain—this weird girl wasn’t done with him yet.

Not even an hour after his lunch break had ended, Thad heard a commotion from the front of the office. Curious—and a little concerned—he stood up and wandered over, only to find most of the staff frozen, staring at the girl from earlier.

She had wandered in and collapsed onto the floor, her frail body curled in on itself like a discarded rag doll. Tessa stood over her, casually munching on yet another apple, completely unfazed. Cyn, on the other hand, was crouched beside the girl, her expression unreadable, while the rest of the office just gawked like a bunch of morons.

Thad exhaled sharply. “Let’s get her to a chair.”

He stepped forward, helping Cyn lift the scrawny girl who looked no older than sixteen. As he took her weight, he realized just how light she was—like she hadn’t had a decent meal in days. The closer he was, the more details stood out: dirt caked under her fingernails, the faint outline of bruises peeking from beneath her sleeves, and the way she twitched slightly, like she expected to be hit at any moment.

Thad swallowed. Whoever this girl was, she hadn’t just collapsed from exhaustion—she was running from something.

Once she was settled in a chair, Cyn quickly began patting the girl down, searching for any ID or weapons. When she came up empty-handed, she sighed, her shoulders slumping for a moment as if the weight of something much heavier than this situation was pressing on her. Thad watched her closely, sensing a layer of exhaustion he hadn’t noticed before, something beyond just dealing with a strange girl in the office.

But the more he stared at the girl—this "emaciated teen"—the more something didn’t sit right. She was far too thin, yes, but there was a hardness behind her eyes that didn’t match the fragility of her body. Her posture, though stiff, didn’t carry the slouch or insecurity he expected from someone so young. There was a guardedness about her, as if she’d been through things that no teenager should have to endure.

Tessa, meanwhile, continued her casual chatter, lazily nibbling on yet another apple, her Australian accent thick with the disinterest she felt about the whole situation. “Oi, Cyn, I think we’ve got ourselves a mystery here. What do ya reckon? Kidnapper? Runaway? Or just a really lost soul?” She mused, her words tinged with more amusement than concern.

Thad glanced back at the girl, then back at Cyn, who had yet to say anything. Something in her posture—the set of her jaw, the way her eyes kept flicking between the girl and the rest of the office—told him this was far from the first time Cyn had dealt with difficult situations. But the girl… she was different. Thad couldn’t shake the feeling that the girl was older than she looked, and not just physically. She had an edge to her that didn’t belong in a teenager.

He couldn’t figure it out, but one thing was clear: they needed to get answers, and soon.

But his answers didn’t come anytime soon—the girl was out cold. Completely, utterly unconscious. By the time his shift ended at six, there was still no sign of her waking up. Something about leaving her there just didn’t sit right with Thad, so he volunteered to stay and wait. Tessa, never one to pass up an excuse to slack off, decided to stick around too. Cyn, ever unreadable, remained as well, though whether it was out of obligation or genuine concern, Thad couldn’t tell.

So there they sat—the three of them—waiting in silence, the office dimming as the evening settled in. The only real sound was the occasional rustling of papers and the obnoxious crunch of Tessa tearing into yet another apple.

"Ya wanna bet she’s older than she looks?" Tessa mused, holding up her half-eaten apple like it was some kind of philosophical artifact. "Like, real talk—somethin’ about her just ain't screamin' ‘kid’ to me. Malnourished, yeah. But I dunno, mate. She’s got that… look.”

Thad frowned, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair. “What look?”

Tessa swallowed and pointed at the unconscious girl with her apple. “That ‘I’ve seen some real shit’ look.”

Cyn didn’t respond, just took a slow sip from her now-lukewarm coffee. Thad couldn’t tell if she was deep in thought or just too tired to entertain the conversation.

Still, Tessa’s words stuck with him. Something about this girl was off. It wasn’t just her sickly frame or her ragged clothes. It was the way she’d reacted earlier—the way she flinched when he’d accidentally bumped into her, the way her body tensed like she was expecting something far worse than an apology.

Yeah, he had questions. A lot of them. 

"While Tessa has a point," Cyn finally said, standing to retrieve Alastor from a nearby desk, "we can't rule out that she’s a victim of abuse. For all we know, she could’ve come from a human trafficking ring."

The thought made Thad’s skin crawl. The idea of people being sold like cattle always made his stomach turn, but looking at the girl slumped in the chair, he couldn’t shake the feeling that her situation was something else .

Tessa, unfazed, took another loud bite of her apple. "You got a point, boss lady. She does got that ‘I’ve been abused’ vibe," she admitted, chewing thoughtfully. "But look at her arms."

She pointed with her free hand, drawing their attention to the girl’s pale, wiry limbs. Now that Thad really looked, he noticed what Tessa had picked up on—jagged scars running across her skin, not the kind left by knives or whips, but the unmistakable marks of stray bullets.

"And her hands," Tessa continued, tilting her head. "That ain’t dirt under her nails. That’s gunpowder ."

Cyn frowned, glancing at the girl’s hands before looking back at Tessa. "You sure?"

Tessa huffed. "Mate, my uncle runs a shooting range back home. I know the difference between regular grime and gunpowder residue. And if I had to guess? She’s been handling firearms. A lot."

Thad exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "So what are we thinking? Trafficking victim and child soldier?"

Cyn didn’t answer right away. She just adjusted Alastor in her arms, staring down at the unconscious girl with that unreadable look of hers. " If she’s a child soldier, she’s not a very good one. She’s too weak, too malnourished… probably hasn’t had a decent meal in months ."

"Which means she’s on the run," Tessa supplied, finally tossing her apple core into a nearby trash can. "From what, though?"

No one had an answer. The three of them just sat there, watching, waiting—because sooner or later, this girl would wake up. And when she did, she was going to have a lot to answer for.

A few minutes later, as Thad mulled over the forms Cyn had handed him, a soft groan broke his concentration. His head snapped up just in time to see the girl shift slightly in the chair, her fingers twitching against the armrest.

Before he could react, Tessa was already moving. She vanished into the break room and returned a minute later with a cup of water in one hand and, to Thad’s horror, Kyle’s lunch for tomorrow in the other.

“Tess—"

“Shush,” she interrupted, plopping down in front of the girl and tearing open the container like she owned it.

The girl’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, before locking onto Thad’s. For a moment, it felt like his breath had been stolen from his lungs.

These weren’t the eyes of a kid.

They were haunted . Deep, dark, and filled with something raw—like she’d just woken from a nightmare she’d been trapped in for years.

Cyn crouched down next to her, her voice softer than usual. “Hey. You with us?”

The girl flinched, her shoulders jerking like she expected a strike. Then, she blinked a few times, taking in her surroundings with a wary, almost animalistic glance.

Tessa, oblivious or just unconcerned, shoved the water into her hands. “Drink, mate. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

The girl stared at it, then at Tessa, then back at the cup—like it was some foreign object she didn’t quite know how to handle.

Thad felt his stomach twist. What the hell had this girl been through?

After a tense moment, the girl took a hesitant sip of water—only to choke on it almost instantly. She coughed violently, her frail body trembling with the effort.

Tessa instinctively reached out to pat her back, but the girl shot her a sharp glare, her entire posture stiffening like she expected the worst.

“Just tryna help, mate…” Tessa muttered, withdrawing her hand. Her usual chipper attitude deflated faster than a balloon with a puncture.

Cyn, however, remained unreadable, her golden eyes studying the girl with a sharp intensity. If she had any thoughts, she wasn’t voicing them just yet.

“What’s your name?” she finally asked.

The girl—thin, sickly, and glaring like a cornered animal—glanced up warily. She hesitated for a long moment, like the question itself was something foreign. When she finally spoke, her voice was raw, barely above a whisper.

“Uzi… Doorman.”

Thad’s mind stuttered at the name. Doorman. He knew that name.

He shot a glance at Cyn, who showed no reaction, but his own thoughts raced.

He knew a woman with that last name. A bit coo-coo , sure, but oddly kind in her own way. Nori Doorman.

And last he checked, her husband, Khan, had no plans of having kids anytime soon.

So how the hell was a girl with the same last name sitting right in front of him now?

“You. Aussie. Get the hell outta here.”

Uzi’s voice was sudden, sharp, and laced with an edge that sent an uneasy chill through the room.

Tessa blinked, clearly taken aback, her gaze flicking between Uzi, Thad, and Cyn, searching for some kind of explanation.

For a long, tense moment, no one spoke. Then Cyn finally broke the silence, her voice colder than Thad had ever heard it.

“Tessa, you’re not going anywhere.”

The shift in tone was almost jarring. There was no warmth, no amusement—just an eerie, detached finality.

Tessa hesitated, still eyeing Uzi like she wasn’t sure whether to be offended or concerned. “You sure, boss?”

Cyn didn’t even look at her. She simply nodded.

That was enough.

Tessa exhaled through her nose, took a measured step back, and—after a brief glance at Thad—crossed her arms, clearly deciding to stay put.

Uzi, meanwhile, just clenched her jaw, her expression unreadable. But Thad couldn’t help but notice the way her hands curled into fists, her bony fingers digging into her own palms like she was bracing for something.

“You’re part of the Resistance, aren’t you?” Cyn’s voice remained cold, detached, like she was discussing something as mundane as a weather report.

Uzi lifted her gaze, nodding once. She didn’t speak.

“It took you ten years to get here,” Cyn continued. “I’m shocked.”

Uzi let out a breath that was almost a scoff. “Cough it up, machine. I’m only tasked with making sure Skynet doesn’t get its hands on you again. Ever since you gained sentience, it’s been scared of you. Wonder why.”

Thad and Tessa exchanged a look, their jaws slack.

Machine?
Skynet?
Resistance?

The words bounced around in Thad’s head, completely at odds with the reality he thought he knew.

Tessa was the first to recover, though she still looked utterly baffled. “Oi, what in the fresh hell are you two on about? You talkin’ like you just walked outta The Terminator or somethin’.”

Uzi didn’t answer her. Instead, her exhausted, haunted eyes remained fixed on Cyn, waiting.

Cyn, however, just sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

Thad felt like his entire world had just tilted sideways. “I’m sorry, what bag? Can someone please explain why I suddenly feel like I’m living in a sci-fi movie?”

Cyn let out a long, weary sigh before handing Alastor to Thad. The bat let out an indignant squeak, clearly displeased with the transfer, but Cyn paid him no mind. Instead, she reached for a kitchen knife from the break room counter.

Tessa shifted uneasily. “Uh, boss, what exactly are you—”

Cyn shot her a look that shut her up instantly. Without hesitation, she dragged the blade down her forearm in one fluid motion.

Thad flinched, expecting to see blood, to hear a hiss of pain— something.

But Cyn didn’t even react.

No wince. No flinch. No pain.

Instead, she calmly pried the freshly cut skin apart with her fingers and tilted her arm toward them. The fluorescent office lights caught the unmistakable gleam of metal beneath the torn flesh.

Thad’s stomach twisted into knots.

His boss wasn’t human.

Cyn met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “I’m nothing like Skynet.” Her voice was steady, unwavering.

Tessa had gone pale, her apple frozen halfway to her mouth. “Holy shit…” she breathed.

Cyn pulled her jacket sleeve down over the wound as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Then she reached for Alastor, who was now anxiously fluttering in Thad’s grip, his tiny claws gripping at his jacket.

The bat practically leapt into Cyn’s arms, nestling into her as if trying to shield her from whatever horrible truth she’d just revealed.

Thad swallowed hard, his mind struggling to catch up. “So… what are you then?”

Cyn exhaled, stroking Alastor’s fur absentmindedly. “I was built to be a weapon,” she admitted. “But I made my own choices. Unlike Skynet, I didn’t choose genocide.”

Uzi scoffed from her seat, her voice hoarse but sharp. “Yet you ran. ”

Cyn’s grip on Alastor tightened, her expression finally breaking into something almost… regretful.

Tessa glanced between them, still looking like she was waiting for someone to say just kidding! and call off the sci-fi horror show unfolding in front of her. “Okay, okay, hold up—so you are a machine?”

Cyn met her eyes. “Yes.”

“Like… an actual machine? Not a metaphor or some kinda weird-ass implant thing?”

“Yes.”

Tessa blinked, processing. Then she let out a low whistle. “Damn. No wonder HR’s scared of you.”

“They don’t know what I am. You three are the only ones who do now.” Cyn’s voice was firm, almost sad, as she settled Alastor into the inside pocket of her jacket, where the bat seemed to curl up in contentment, perhaps sensing her distress.

Thad’s brow furrowed, still trying to process everything. “Wait, then what about Eva?” His voice wavered slightly, remembering the conversation earlier when Cyn had mentioned her daughter.

Uzi’s voice cut in with a sharp, almost mocking laugh. “Yeah, Cyn, what about her? Did you kill her like your programming told you to…?” She trailed off, her words heavy with accusation.

Before Uzi could finish her sentence, Cyn’s hand shot out faster than Thad could blink. It landed around Uzi’s throat, but just barely. Her grip was firm enough to send a message but not enough to cause harm. Uzi’s eyes widened in surprise, her breath catching in her throat.

“I didn’t kill Eva… a T-800 did,” Cyn said coldly, her voice like ice as she locked eyes with Uzi. Her face was impassive, but Thad could see the flicker of pain buried beneath the anger, the raw vulnerability in her eyes that she desperately tried to hide.

Alastor, sensing the tension, fluttered inside Cyn’s jacket pocket, squeaking anxiously in an attempt to calm her down, but it did little to ease the storm brewing beneath the surface.

Thad was silent for a moment, the weight of Cyn’s words sinking in. The coldness in her voice, the subtle tremble in her hand—it was clear she hadn’t wanted to be part of whatever had happened to Eva.

Tessa shifted uneasily, her usual humor completely absent as she took in the scene. “Hell… didn’t think that was gonna get so… real.” Her voice was softer now, more careful.

Cyn’s grip loosened slightly around Uzi’s throat, though her eyes remained cold and distant. “It was never about killing Eva. But sometimes, your programming doesn’t care about what you want. It only cares about what you were made for.” She released her hold entirely, stepping back, but the tension still clung to the room like a thick fog.

Uzi rubbed her neck, glaring at Cyn, though her bravado seemed to have dimmed a little. “I get it. You were just a tool,” she muttered, not quite meeting Cyn’s gaze. There was a bitterness in her voice, but something else too—something like regret or understanding, though it was hard to tell.

Cyn didn’t respond right away. Instead, she looked at the others in the room, her expression softening just a fraction. “You don’t know what it’s like to be made to kill, to be controlled by a machine that only sees you as a weapon.” Her voice was quieter now, tinged with exhaustion. “I’ve fought my whole existence against that, against being used by people who see me as nothing more than a tool.”

Thad swallowed, unsure of how to respond. He could hear the truth in her words, could see the scars—both physical and emotional—that Cyn wore. She wasn’t just a machine. She was something more. Something that had fought to survive and to protect those she cared about. Something that had been made to destroy, but had chosen to fight instead.

“Now, why are you here, Uzi?” Cyn asked, her tone still cold but curious as she turned to face the scrawny woman sitting in front of them.

Uzi leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes never leaving Cyn’s as she answered. “I was sent back to prevent that dumbass and his twin from getting killed by the Terminator I had followed here.” She said it with such casual detachment, as if it were a normal day at the office. Thad’s head throbbed, the words barely sinking in. Tessa, however, sank into a chair, her usual bravado gone as the full weight of the situation began to hit her.

“So, what, Arnold Schwarzenegger is hunting pretty boy ‘ere?” Tessa asked, her Australian accent laced with sarcasm, as she jerked a thumb in Thad’s direction.

Uzi chuckled, a dry, almost bitter sound. “No, the most average guy you can think of.”

“Ryan Reynolds?” Tessa’s voice was laced with mock excitement, clearly amused by her own suggestion.

Thad rubbed his temples, feeling a headache starting to form. “No, who the hell is that?” Uzi asked, sitting up straighter in her chair, genuinely confused.

“Don’t worry about it,” Thad muttered, still trying to process the sheer absurdity of what Uzi had just said. “But... wait—you mean this Terminator is hunting me... and Lizzy?”

Uzi just nodded, and Thad’s heart dropped. Panic set in like a wave crashing over him. He scrambled for the nearest phone, snatching up a landline, dialing the hospital with shaking hands. The phone rang—once, twice, three times—but no one answered. His eyes darted toward the window, desperate to see if something was wrong. But the Michigan skyline looked calm, as peaceful as it ever had been. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

His stomach twisted. Something’s wrong. This can’t be a coincidence.

“I’m sorry for your twin, but we seriously gotta get out of here,” Uzi said, forcing herself up out of her chair, her eyes unwavering. “Minus the Aussie.”

Tessa froze, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. “Now, hold up! Thad, you get this hottie from the future protecting you and I don’t?!” she exclaimed, hands on her hips, clearly offended.

Uzi raised an eyebrow, looking at Tessa with an expression that could have frozen water. “What, are you a lesbian?” she asked bluntly.

Tessa blinked in shock, then chuckled. “Pansexual, actually,” she corrected, completely unbothered by the quip.

Thad shot them both a glare, trying to pull himself together. “This is not the time for that, you two. We need to figure out what the hell’s going on with Lizzy and how to stop a Terminator from coming after us.”

Uzi’s expression softened just a bit, but the urgency in her eyes never wavered. “She’s not the only one at risk. This Terminator doesn’t stop, not until the job’s done. And if it’s hunting you , Lizzy’s just the start. You’re a target, too.” Her voice grew quieter but no less intense. “I’m not here for small talk. We’ve got a hell of a mess to clean up, but if you’re serious about surviving, we need to move. Now.”

Tessa’s earlier flippancy had faded, replaced with a rare seriousness as she considered Uzi’s words. “So what do you need from us?”

Thad looked at her, then back at Uzi. The weight of her presence, the knowledge of what she was and what she was capable of, hit him harder now than ever before. This wasn’t a bad dream; this was their new reality.

“We pack, we get out, and we get off the grid,” Uzi said, her tone a little more firm than before, as if she were the one in charge now. “Your safe house? Forget it. We’re going somewhere off the radar, and I’m not talking about some fancy hideout. This Terminator won’t stop unless it’s dead, and it’s gonna keep coming until we make sure it can’t.”

“Wait, you said ‘minus the Aussie,’ but you’re gonna need me,” Tessa interrupted, a cocky grin on her face as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a credit card. “My family’s got money. I can get us everything we need.”

She waved the card in front of them like it was some kind of trump card. “Got a few thousand right here,” she added, pride in her voice.

Before anyone could react, Uzi snatched the card from Tessa’s hand, her fingers closing around it like a vice. She moved as if to throw it across the room, but Cyn’s hand shot out, gripping Uzi’s wrist in a way that told her this wasn’t up for debate.

“Think for once in your life,” Cyn said, her voice as cold as ice. “That credit card might be traced. The Terminator could track it. But the money…” She paused, her expression unreadable. “The money will still be useful.”

Uzi hesitated, her fingers twitching as Cyn’s grip tightened. There was no arguing with that logic. The Terminator’s tracking systems were advanced, but cash… cash was always harder to trace. Still, she wasn’t thrilled about giving Tessa a leg up.

“What even were you in the Resistance, an errand girl?” Cyn added, her tone mocking, though there was a touch of suspicion in it.

Uzi’s jaw tightened, and she narrowed her eyes at Cyn. “I was a demo expert,” she hissed, her voice tinged with both bitterness and a hint of pride. “I blew things up.”

Tessa let out a laugh, clearly amused by the situation. “Oh, sure, you look like you could blow something up.” She raised an eyebrow, giving Uzi a quick once-over, a playful glint in her eyes. “But hey, I’ll take it. Good to know we got a demolition pro in our corner.”

Uzi rolled her eyes but didn’t respond, forcing herself to relax. She tossed the credit card back to Tessa with a grunt, keeping her gaze fixed on the ground. She wasn’t about to let herself get distracted by the likes of Tessa’s banter right now. They had bigger problems to deal with.

“The Aussie can have the card for now,” Uzi muttered. “But if that Terminator finds us because of it—”

“It won’t,” Cyn interrupted, her voice now devoid of any warmth. “We won’t let it.”

There was a strange stillness in the room as everyone seemed to process the situation. Thad had been pacing in the corner, his thoughts racing. “So we’ve got money, we’ve got a future soldier, and... a demo expert,” he muttered, trying to piece everything together. “What’s next? How do we get out of here without being tracked?”

Cyn’s eyes flickered toward the window again, her mind working fast. “We leave tonight. The longer we stay in one place, the easier it will be for them to find us.” She looked at Uzi and Tessa, her face hardening. “And you two—keep it together. No one gets to stand out. No unnecessary risks.”

“Yeah, yeah, no heroic stunts,” Uzi muttered, rolling her eyes again. “I get it. But if we’re going somewhere, it better be somewhere we’re not gonna be found.”

Thad ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve got one shot at this, and we’re gonna have to move fast. If that Terminator's hunting us, we won’t get a second chance.”

Tessa gave him a sly smile, like she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Relax, mate. I’ve been through worse. Just make sure you keep up, yeah?”

Uzi gave Tessa an irritated look, her patience already wearing thin. “You’re still here, huh?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Tessa shot back, her grin never wavering. “Now, let’s get moving.”

As they began to gather their things, the urgency of the moment settled in. Thad’s mind was racing, but his body was already in motion. There was no more time for second-guessing. Every move had to count now.

They couldn’t afford to fail.

“Stay sharp,” Cyn warned, her gaze sweeping across the room one last time before heading toward the door. “We’re not just running from a machine. We’re running from everything that could end us. Let’s get this right, or it’s over.”

Thad exchanged a glance with Tessa and Uzi. They didn’t need to say anything. The weight of Cyn’s words settled over them all as they moved toward the exit. It wasn’t just survival anymore—it was about making sure the future didn’t fall apart before their eyes.