Can Terminators feel fear?

Five months since Uncle Bob got a new CPU and T-3000 being returned to his timeline. One quiet night in Florida things come to a abrupt change. Skynet, somehow in the future, locked on where Uncle Bob was and sent a T-850 after him. Oh and Hannah is pregnant. Uncle Bob quickly takes out the T-850. Our story goes on with this one question: How on Earth is Skynet locking on Uncle Bob so often?

Because that is NOT the only Terminator going to be sent after Uncle Bob.

Alternate Universe; if this story isn't as good as the previous you can disregard this story as a canon sequel.

The story begins in 2016.


1. Terminators do not sleep

..January 1st,2016..

..Florida...12:48 AM..

Uncle Bob taps on the screen to the device.

"You have lost," came a rolling gray bar of text.

Uncle Bob frowns.

"Mind games?" Uncle Bob repeats. "So not what they are hyped for," He narrows his eyes towards the screen. "Try again."

Uncle Bob taps on the screen.

Radar: Detecting Terminator outside.

Reasonable assumption: T-1200.

Uncle Bob is sitting at the kitchen table tapping on the square machine ever so carefully that he does not crush it in. There is a kitchen window aligned to the kitchen table. There is a kitchen right across highlighted in beautiful yellow light illuminating from a unique gadget that Uncle Bob had constructed similar to a disco ball merged into a mass of candle sticks replaced by completely circular balls.

The living room is dark and so is the hallway.

Hannah had insisted the light be on in whatever room Uncle Bob is in at night. Uncle Bob can be carried away what he is doing. One time Uncle Bob watched a marathon of crime procedural shows and scared Hannah by a simple 'good morning' when it was still night.  A sound from outside catches Uncle Bob's attention. Uncle Bob turns his head towards the window swiping his fingers lightly across the screen. He reattaches the keyboard to the small square device  then puts it on the counter.

He lowers the blinds.

"Oh," Uncle Bob said.

Uncle Bob pulls away from  table, takes out a pan from the drawer to the kitchen,and then held the pan in the way of the window. A sharp b--bling is heard belonging to a gunshot. Three more bullets crash into the pan. Uncle Bob puts it on the table alongside the square device resembling a datapad out of Star Trek. He goes to the closet adjoined near to the passageway leading to Hannah's room. Uncle Bob takes out a long rifle with a silencer at the top.

Uncle Bob hears a bullet tore through glass followed by a thump off a elevated surface.

Just not in this part of the house.

Uncle Bob's head turns towards the hallway.

"BOB, WHY DID YOU FIRE A FIRECRACKER?" Came Hannah's tired but otherwise furious shout echoes through the building.

Uncle Bob goes down the hall towards the front door wrapping his fingers around the trigger.  Uncle Bob opens the door to the front yard, raises his gun up, took aim, and fired upon the distant target behind a van. The gun shot rang through the air but otherwise lands misses the target.  Uncle Bob frowns at this development. It became obvious--as Uncle Bob steps out of the building closing the door behind him--who this is. More to be accurate; what it is. The Terminator energy signature is coming off this figure.

So not T-1200.

It did bring questions into Uncle Bob's processor what T-1200 is doing.

Our scene transfers over towards the bedroom where Hannah staggers up using the bed as her provider.  Hannah feels  ill. What did she eat last night? Oh right; roasted rice with chicken,broccoli, with cottage cheese at the side. Maybe it is her fault that she over cooked for two only for Uncle Bob remind her 'Cyborgs do not eat'. What is left of the leftover is in the refrigerator.

"I ate too much, again," Hannah assumes, going to the bathroom door.

No, you are not going to puke on the freaking carpet!, Hannah thought to herself covering her mouth grabbing onto the door handle.

Hannah turns the handle and opens the door.

She lunges for the toilet feeling last  night's dinner coming up.

Oh, how gross for a late nighter.

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