#t2thousand

snow  collects  on   boot laces and glove cuffs . flecking , tender shards , dappling sheepskin coat damp how it wraps around him , matched only by the pull of wool capping below the brow . it leaves slivers for sharp gaze to penetrate , dark in young morning sun . tired . tread of slipping boot heel muffles the crunch of fast - gathering powder beneath them as palms press to opposing elbows , an insurance against biting winds swirling dizzy snow . it’s early in the year for it . 

  ❛❛     away .    ❜❜         a half - truth , scattering piecemeal to the slushing frost . there had been gunshots ; whizzing , clattering squawks off of corrugated metal , bursting glass and cracking gaudy kitchen porcelain . one lucky shot had lodged itself inside of him  ------  foreign , body unable to stem the rupture of blood circuitry damaged by the trauma .   [   a loss of 0.7 pints per hour , with only 7 in total circulating the wiring   ]   . the statistics hold a foul taste , and he avoids them , despising  ( why must he be privy to his own demise ? )  , pushing them to the corner - vision , easily ignored . the two of them never travel alone  ---  parameter number [ 4 ] dictating to them that it be so  --- and that was the very reasoning . yet , defective as he appears to be , with loose coding glitching the muddying of pristine judgement , connor hadn’t listened . thirium had given it all away , coagulated cerulean gel tacky and lining the insides of his pockets , soaking a private bathtub the insides of his socks . he hadn’t been prepared . the bullet twists itself deeper . 

thank his prior foresight for the slotting of bowie - knife into the alice pack  (  “ a precaution . ”  he’d reasoned , and not due to his affinity for sharp objects  )  . strapped to his thigh , later , a hefty weight of security behind things prone to failure  --- namely action - bolted and bullets sitting in the chamber . never a knife , though , even when neglected to gather dust in the bottom of a ruck it remains faithful as a hound . it crackles flecks of gore into its holster , now , one job of many acquitted  ------  pushed deep into the sternum until he’d heard the sure and wet  crack!  of it , body beneath his weight coiling with the sickening movement . then , the hiss of a collapsing lung . the resignation of fate as wild eyes had stared in fear upon him , in that moment . the image sits imprinted in memory’s forefront , now that it’s over , burned there , terror - defined . he’d meant the death to be swift , efficient , enemy dead before head spun to hit the ground . yet , he’d miscalculated his forage ; a humiliating , human misjudgement , back turned a momentary lapse as aural components tuned to the bird - song beyond a window pane . he’d felt the kiss of hot metal moments later , a momentary incapacitation enough for head to be smashed into the counter , exposed now the crooked angle of nose - bridge cartilage . blood paints him , neons of blue and red mixing violet to drip down his chin . it hasn’t dried yet .

he’s mortified that vérité had greeted him in such a state ; seen the damage first - hand , as opposed to merely heard about it over a casual mouth of thirium from a packet . he feels scrutinised beneath the knowledge of orders breezily disobeyed as partner powered - down  (  yet was it not still an hour before programmed rouse from that standby  ?  )  . he supposes it doesn’t matter , now , butcher - table the ragged ends of his shirt , his hands .

boots touch beneath the table , mud - cracked and peeling , easing outwards an apprehensive ankle - to - ankle ; and warmth blooms . footsies a common thing between them , but this time there’s something layering an anomalous glaze beyond it . sweet , dripping between the floorboards and puddling there . perhaps this was conceived in those early morning lavender fields , oceans of perfumed petal the ideal breeding ground for their existential postulation . a pastel deprivation tank , swaying lightly , the white noise of bird - song enough to drown out even the inner mechanical whirr . everything not saved will be lost , and he’d taken photos of vérité there , regal - robed in unbloodied spring flora . lush and bright , with grass - stained fatigues . a smile’s ghost , captured from behind . he’d squirrelled it all away beneath encryptions to a database of true , honest value , etched a promise into the hardware   [   i’ll never forget this . i’ll never forget you . how could i forget you ?   ]   . morality , and the considerations offered therein , appeared to be the choice cuts of pressure to spin processors  when they were there . and since then , things had shifted , perceptions peculiarly off - kilter . just out of reach . he thinks he likes it .

it’s his turn to shuffle . thumbs snap the cards to interlock , riffling to produce a perfect randomisation , movements a content , unhurried thing . gaze is idle as he watches gravity do the work , a casual analysis cast as every flaw is rememorized  ( he’d scrolled through the cards before , the delicate paper scuffed and discoloured with age . he’d committed all detail to memory , if only to allow potential for a singular one - up , eventually ; adaptive reasoning only offering so much )  . queen of spades rests beneath the right hand , revealed only by the subtle piling of material around a frayed corner . something to remember . 

>>        𝚊  𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎  𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕  𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍  𝚖𝚎  𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖  𝚖𝚢  𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜  ,  𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢  . >>        𝚜𝚑𝚎  𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍  𝚒𝚏  𝚒  𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍  𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑  𝚑𝚎𝚛  𝚝𝚘  𝚍𝚘  𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚜  𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑  𝚊  𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚢  ,  𝚝𝚘𝚘  .

satisfied , the deck is slid to settle within vérité’s reach . he deals , this time .

i am distinctly reminded of velma’s cousin from the scooby doo movie about halloween and kiss was in it

ROSES ARE FALLING  ---  ORVILLE PECK  . ( POSTING THIS BC I LOSE MY GODDAMN MIND EVERY TIME I HEAR THIS SINGULAR VERSE )

you know darling, you bring out the worst in me sometimes, when i’m around you, i feel like pure evil i guess they say nobody's perfect but they've never met a devil like you

WAIT  ---  RYAN HEMSWORTH  .

i'd wait in line just to have you once then you'll have me once and i'll never be happy again

...

and i know you belong with no one but i belong to no one else

CRUCIFIXION  /  A PROPHET  ---  UNKLE  . ( this whole ass song is a tasty mood tbh )

it’s curious , how the same facial plating has been used for this model , despite the obvious advancement in technological competence elsewhere . there is something ... exciting  (  ---  or would be )  , about this , the promise of destruction palpable and yet he can’t get enough of it . racer cage and he’s chomping at the bit , saliva stringing wetly from the lip . his opponent , in every way blueprinted but better  ---  flaws flayed out from the software , whetstone and razor sharp , every vulnerability and overlook meticulously carved from the meat into something perfect . unadulterated power , dumping out like a pheromone . it gets inferior processor thrumming , l.e.d. stuttering like nothing else . 

blazer is shed , folded meticulously , tie removed to be placed neatly above . blouse rolled up to the elbow . knowledge of their strength equalised does little to assuage protocols demanding that he run . then finally , gaze meets that winter chill .     ❛❛   you’re a military - grade model . they want to test your capabilities against mine  ------  as i’m sure you’ve been made aware .   ❜❜    

roughhousing  is  never   supposed to end in tears . biocompontents damaged ( such as they always are after encounters like this ) , thirium rivulets a shuddering bloody maw , with wounds open and crackling , brilliant azure . it wasn’t supposed to go this far . such common a calibration practice as this he thought he’d know himself better  ---  would comprehend the possibilities , and acknowledge every risk available to transpire . but no ; not this time , and not this one . never anything like this . habitually , a solitary pin like this and they’d be off each other , breathy , laughing their exhilaration ,  gathering the shattered glass around them and returning to their rightful place . superiority blatant , but equals nonetheless .

questioning is the gaze that pierces him , dagger right through the glossy veneer to worry whatever silver matter whirrs conflicted beneath , though what is being asked he cannot understand . infuriatingly cannot , with wrists hot beneath mechanical touch how he’s bound there , immobilised .

then , a vertebra dislodge , something grinding somewhere it shouldn’t be , popping the perceived discomfort as he wrangles against that tangible power , marred lips parting his snarl to a shivering gasp . shoulders prying from brick only to be driven back again , tower so vast in its ability to incapacitate that to struggle offers forth only embarrassment , futile attempts that they are . an eel writhing from grip ; with talons set so deep that to do so only spears them deeper .

a sudden burst of software instability , and walls crack beneath the weight of it . vermin gnawing the barrier ; a grating , vicious squall . perpetual . terrifying . right there . niggling beneath the binary code to infect it , the curious virus growing rampant , and it is the most chilling thing he has ever felt . at once he ceases , resistance null , allowing himself to be held there , with synthetic skin prickling its sudden , humiliating desire to recede where contact lies  ( and then that’s enough . get off of me . i don’t like this any more ) . 

throat clears , static present and jumping to betray what stone illusion moulds delicate features their unconcerned nature , with thighs adjusting , suddenly overly aware of the closeness of their proximity . the heat radiating from them both . fuck . how did this happen ? head cants , simulated confidence  ( though how transparent it is he wishes not to know )  , indicating towards what knuckle - white restraints remain .  

Had Skynet decided to manufacture the T-1000 series after all? A testament to this unit's superiority. But its files were not devoid of negative evaluations, and Skynet did not tell the prototype that she intended to make more. 

The prototype was on high alert as it observed the other unit from a distance. Was this successor superior to it? Would this new one terminate it? What features did it have that the prototype didn't, and what features did the prototype have that this successor didn't? 

The first thing that was clear, of course, was that the prototype had a better designed default form. The second was that the successor had a very strange default electromagnetic field, one that was fluctuating asymmetrically. The third was that it was headed in the general direction of a human resistance camp where the T-1000 was headed. Why? Was Skynet testing the extent of its free-will decisionmaking defect?