on killing machines & avoidance of them
WHO: Sarah & _________
WHAT: Avoiding T-X (probably unsuccessfully) Getting coffee and probably food.
WHERE: Kitchen and then probably the deck.
WHEN: Very early in the morning.
WARNINGS: Connor mouth.
She wasn't wearing a nametag. She didn't carry a neon sign that read: SARAH CONNOR HERE, but the machine was smart enough and the Barge wasn't big enough. One day, they'd be face to face. She wondered, as she watched the coffee pot drip, if it would still be metal or if it would bleed and die like a human. Sarah wasn't afraid of death. Not anymore. Not after years of running, fighting, taking shit out. The T-X was a new model, with unknown capabilties.
There was a very real chance that death was an outcome to any sort of encounter.
As a machine built for infiltration and assasination, Sarah had little doubt that the goddamn tin Barbie would have anything less in mind once she matched face to voice. Her fingers curled around the heavy white porcelain cup in her hands. The taser was small, easily holstered and clipped to the waistband of her pajamas. The hang of her robe hid it for the most part. Taking the advice she'd been given was something she'd done well--she was never unarmed.
"Brew faster, coffee," she hissed. The most annoying thing was that the coffee maker in her cabin had stopped working and despite two hours of tinkering, refused to work. Sarah suspected it was shit wiring from the look of the cord and the fried smell coming from its electronic components. She was going to request new innards for that damned room.
And she swore a roach had scurried across the kitchen floor the other night.
WHAT: Avoiding T-X (probably unsuccessfully) Getting coffee and probably food.
WHERE: Kitchen and then probably the deck.
WHEN: Very early in the morning.
WARNINGS: Connor mouth.
She wasn't wearing a nametag. She didn't carry a neon sign that read: SARAH CONNOR HERE, but the machine was smart enough and the Barge wasn't big enough. One day, they'd be face to face. She wondered, as she watched the coffee pot drip, if it would still be metal or if it would bleed and die like a human. Sarah wasn't afraid of death. Not anymore. Not after years of running, fighting, taking shit out. The T-X was a new model, with unknown capabilties.
There was a very real chance that death was an outcome to any sort of encounter.
As a machine built for infiltration and assasination, Sarah had little doubt that the goddamn tin Barbie would have anything less in mind once she matched face to voice. Her fingers curled around the heavy white porcelain cup in her hands. The taser was small, easily holstered and clipped to the waistband of her pajamas. The hang of her robe hid it for the most part. Taking the advice she'd been given was something she'd done well--she was never unarmed.
"Brew faster, coffee," she hissed. The most annoying thing was that the coffee maker in her cabin had stopped working and despite two hours of tinkering, refused to work. Sarah suspected it was shit wiring from the look of the cord and the fried smell coming from its electronic components. She was going to request new innards for that damned room.
And she swore a roach had scurried across the kitchen floor the other night.