Fandom High Alumni

John was crouched on top of the fridge, clad in tight-fitting clothing and trying his best to meld into the corner to be invisible. His hair was flopping in his eyes but he dare not even try to blow it away for fear of giving away his position.

Almost silently, the metallic monstrosity creeped forward across the kitchen floor, stopping as if to sniff the air; the long flexible tail swished back and forth, almost touching the linoleum. Catlike, it crept a few more paces, almost under John, almost into the dining room.

John could feel the sweat pouring off of him, taste the salt in his mouth as it dripped off his nose onto his lips. Almost ready... He concentrated, bringing that small ball of chi up in his hands, ready. It wasn't a leap, it was a controlled fall.

It reacted instantly as the fridge shifted slightly, moving away on four spiderlike legs, but it was too late as John Connor landed on its back, releasing his chi as a blast like an electromagnetic pulse to disable anything electric.

"Tag. You're it," he said, as he rolled off of Scorpy, who kicked the floor in frustration. It turned and pounced on John, acting for all the world like an excited puppy. "Heeelp! Heeeelp!" John mock-shouted as he wrestled with his 'bot. "Sparky! Bring the EMP!"

Sparky just sat on the corner of the countertop, shaking its head until it fell backwards and flailed its little limbs like a turtle.

[Perhaps someone wants to call/visit and rescue John interrupt?]

"No, Officer," John was saying, standing outside his house wearing fluffy fuzzy bunny slippers, blue bathrobe, and a shiteating grin of innocence, "I have no idea why the airbag went off when the radio was removed. Isn't that kind of dangerous?"

The officer glared at John. "I had it installed professionally," he continued, "at a place downtown. Receipt's still in the glovebox. You don't...you don't think they miswired it, do you?" Nevermind that the receipt was for a shop that closed down at least six months ago, and no reputable place would cross the airbag wire with anything remotely connected to the radio.

"Do I need to press charges, Officer? I mean, he cut a hole in the window here. It's only plastic, but it's still vandalism. And he cut the battery wire, too."

"How do you explain how the airbag went off if the battery was disconnected?" inquired the officer, not able to belive a second of John's story.

"Oh, I had the batteries relocated to the back there, behind the rear seat," he said, sipping his coffee and placing the mug on the fender. "The one up front is just for the winch. Two deep-cycle batteries; put that in when I converted it to diesel. Helps balance out the weight, put more at the rear where it's needed."

The cops had a field day searching John's car, asking way too many questions about why someone would need a locking rifle case (empty, "for fishing rods"), rope ("mountain climbing"), a stack of MREs and water bottles ("Survival camping. It's a hobby"), and an exploded airbag, complete with woould-be robber taking a gurney ride to the hospital ("Don't know. Guess he wasn't paying attention when he was trying to steal my radio.").

John was 'released' after a few hours and told not to go anywhere. It would take time for him to go anywhere anyways, now that he had to re-pack the Get Out Of Dodge equipment back into his bug-out vehicle. Serves him right for parking on the street. All that, and still time enough for him to sit on the couch, 'working', and watcing whatever bad movies were on all before lunch.

[open for visitors and/or phone calls]

John had put in a day around the house, making sure a few projects were well in hand. Making sure those projects would never be picked up by anyone outside the house, or ever see the light of day.

Not that he had a secret workshop in the basement for anything that may be related to what his destiny was. Not at all.

So now, he was snoozing on the couch, TV turned to the Weather Channel, nice and comfy.

Be a shame to interrupt that, no?

[open for phone calls or visitors]

To: studentlist, alumnilist, teacherlist
From: John Connor
Subject: Holiday Party

Hey, folks, this is the reminder that the First Annual Connor Holiday Thing is still planned for tonight. I've set up an account with Portalocity and they should be dropping you right into the backyard here. In fact, let me make sure that it's working...

Yep, it's working.

Again, bring a dish, bring yourselves, and friends don't let friends drink and portal.

Ta!
JCon

John was telecommuting.

...Okay, he was actually swordfighting Scorpy with those foam pool noodles, but his laptop said he was at work, and by golly, he was working!

And sparring with a clank he built himself.
And taking a break from working on Ane's 'project'.
And planning a trip to haunted houses and roller coasters and all that fun stuff.
And hacking his neighbors just for fun. Hey, their fault if they left the WEP wide open. Oooo, Warcrack!

Today was Wednesday. He'd be safe to call people back home (and it was weird to call Fandom 'home') and they'd be done being traumatized.

He called a few people.

Just then, the phone rang.

[Come pester John. Or have him pester you!]

John signed in to check his e-mail. Huh. Nothing new. No, he didn't need a larger wenis. No, his moobs were fine. He was not transferring anything to anyone claiming to be royalty with cash flow problems.

He sighed. Still no contact.


From: john.connor@gmail.com
To: Fandom High list
Date: July 6, 2007 9:41
Subject: I'm coming home

Hey. Not sure what the date is there, but it's just after July 4th in 2007 here. As best I can tell, it's been about 2 years since I graduated. Had some fun. Not much, but it was there. If I can get there, I'll tell you all about it. I've been shot, stabbed, arrested, 'released', and beat up. So it's just like every other road trip I've been on. I think I've solved the Skynet thing for now, but there's crazy things going on in Detroit. I don't think it's Skynet, but it could be the same group of people. f'n cyborgs.

Has anyone heard from Sister Rosette Christopher?

Or Sarah Connor?

John

It's taken John some time to get there, but he's finally there. The Magdalene Order of the....Sign Not Visible. Wha?

He opens the door and pokes around. Empty. Okay, if there was supposed to be a gun-totin' blonde nun here, waiting, there should be banners and cupcakes and and and festivities of all sorts.

This? Looked surprisingly like a church. Depressingly like a church. He tossed his helmet from one hand to the other, wandering farther in. Off in a distant corner, a young priest is tending to candles.

"Excuse me, Father," he said softly, approaching the man.
"Yes, my son?"
"I was... I'm supposed to meet someone here. Rosette?"
"Yes?" The man looked puzzled.
"Sister Rosette. Is she here?"
"I'm not familiar with the name, I'm afraid."
"Sister Rosette. Christopher. She's blond, about yay tall," he holds out his hand, "has a guy tagging along, named Chrono?"
The priest's face was impassive. John must have imagined a flicker in his eyes at the name of Chrono.

John left, after lighting a candle for his mom, feeling confused. This was the church, was the address Rosette gave him. Just... she wasn't there.

He sighed, put his helmet back on, and drove away on the bike. Might as well check out that school in Westchester, since he's in the area...