Fic: -Nocturnal Transmission II- *Terminator Salvation*
Title: Nocturnal Transmission II
Author: phyncke
Fandom Terminator Salvation
Character/Pairing: OMC, OFC, John Connor
Betakeiliss
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: A resistance fighter listens to John Connor’s nightly broadcast as he cleans his weapon.
Disclaimer: Based on the Terminator movie verse started by James Cameron and in its latest iteration by McG (Salvation). No profit is made here.
Author Notes: Triple drabble of 300 words exactly. Second in this series.
Nocturnal Transmission II
“This is John Connor and you are the resistance.”
Ryan listened as he sat at the table and clicked the safety on his gun. He always felt nightly maintenance was important to his effectiveness as a soldier. He oiled his cloth and diligently wiped down the metal, looking for the dust and dirt he knew was caked in the crevices.
“You can destroy the Hunter Killer with a blast to their power source, but you will have to get close to it and that is very dangerous. They are vulnerable, however, and can be taken out with a carefully targeted shot to the fuel cell…”
He nodded, knowing that was true. He had found it out himself accidentally in a recent battle above ground with a few of those deadly machines from Skynet. The HK had erupted in flames and shattered into about 20 pieces, falling to the ground. Lights out, mother fucker, lights out.
He glanced to the corner where Chris was sleeping. Her face looked very peaceful, no trace of that tell tale sarcasm.
“You must stay alive. Without you, we are nothing. Always remember that. This is John Connor, signing off.”
Ryan got up, flipping off the radio and noticed she was shivering under that pathetic blanket. He hated to think that she might wake up later. It was damp and cold here in this tunnel, but it was safe, no windows, no outside access for those deadly machines to find them.
He found a sleeping bag, one of those synthetic thermal things. Half of the stuffing was gone but it would do. As he draped it over Chris’ curled, sleeping form, she turned over and hunkered down further. He smiled slightly and went to finish up with his equipment, only turning in after it was cleaned and ready for tomorrow’s patrol.
*same broadcast, different character*
First in series:
http://phyncke.livejournal.com/354773.html
Author: phyncke
Fandom Terminator Salvation
Character/Pairing: OMC, OFC, John Connor
Betakeiliss
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: A resistance fighter listens to John Connor’s nightly broadcast as he cleans his weapon.
Disclaimer: Based on the Terminator movie verse started by James Cameron and in its latest iteration by McG (Salvation). No profit is made here.
Author Notes: Triple drabble of 300 words exactly. Second in this series.
Nocturnal Transmission II
“This is John Connor and you are the resistance.”
Ryan listened as he sat at the table and clicked the safety on his gun. He always felt nightly maintenance was important to his effectiveness as a soldier. He oiled his cloth and diligently wiped down the metal, looking for the dust and dirt he knew was caked in the crevices.
“You can destroy the Hunter Killer with a blast to their power source, but you will have to get close to it and that is very dangerous. They are vulnerable, however, and can be taken out with a carefully targeted shot to the fuel cell…”
He nodded, knowing that was true. He had found it out himself accidentally in a recent battle above ground with a few of those deadly machines from Skynet. The HK had erupted in flames and shattered into about 20 pieces, falling to the ground. Lights out, mother fucker, lights out.
He glanced to the corner where Chris was sleeping. Her face looked very peaceful, no trace of that tell tale sarcasm.
“You must stay alive. Without you, we are nothing. Always remember that. This is John Connor, signing off.”
Ryan got up, flipping off the radio and noticed she was shivering under that pathetic blanket. He hated to think that she might wake up later. It was damp and cold here in this tunnel, but it was safe, no windows, no outside access for those deadly machines to find them.
He found a sleeping bag, one of those synthetic thermal things. Half of the stuffing was gone but it would do. As he draped it over Chris’ curled, sleeping form, she turned over and hunkered down further. He smiled slightly and went to finish up with his equipment, only turning in after it was cleaned and ready for tomorrow’s patrol.
*same broadcast, different character*
First in series:
http://phyncke.livejournal.com/354773.html