[Video] Arrival of A Terminator

[unclebob]

[At first glance, the face on the screen looks handsome, though perhaps a little intense. Staring off into the distance, the Terminator holds the locket in a fragile grip, like he’s afraid he might break it. Then he turns his face into the camera’s view and the once-handsome features turn into a nightmarish looking visage. The right side has mostly been ripped away, revealing the metal skull and glowing red eye beneath the bloody organic covering. He looks like he's been put through the ringer and no mistake. A fairy hovers in and out of the video, occasionally perching on his shoulder. He keeps shrugging it off. With only one working hand, he can't swat the little pest away.]

Is this device working properly?

[He doesn't wait for an answer. If it is working correctly, he'll know soon enough by the response he gets. The Terminator stares off again, turning the locket so that whoever’s watching gets a good shot of what he’s staring at: the flowery barrier between the Station and the rest of the Drabwurld.]

I cannot cross.

[His voice is flat, but underneath, there’s a current of wonderment. He’s never found anything able to keep a Terminator in check before. To have it happen now is a curiosity that he wants to explore further. He takes a few steps more, until he’s right at the edge of the line, but he doesn't cross over. He's had enough of the sensation of glitching and his systems shutting down for one day, thank you very much. He stands there, far too still to be natural, like he's waiting for the barrier to just disappear and let him cross. Hey, in this place, anything could happen.]

Comments

[notavirtue]

[That answer contained equal parts dissatisfaction and relief - if the machine was confined to one area, all the better. He needed more details to be certain.]

What radius? Tell me your exact location.

[Because he either needs to avoid it or go there as soon as possible.]

[unclebob]

[The Terminator's eyes narrow in suspicion. This....thing, who or whatever he is, has taken an interest to him. He's not entirely sure that's a good thing.]

Tell me what kind of creature you are first.

[notavirtue]

[It really wasn't a good thing. The only machines he'd ever tolerated, and just barely, were the ones Shepard barred him from tossing out the airlock.]

I am prothean. Tell me where you are, now.

[unclebob]

[That's not a full answer, but it'll do for a start. At least he can start add in a word into his databanks in reference to this intense stranger.]

The place referred to as the Station.

[notavirtue]

[The Station - he'd seen that word scrawled on the map (the paper map), but hadn't been able to make much sense of it. It was a word that didn't match the others, and now he was getting inkling as to why.]

State your purpose, your function.

[If it wasn't 'kill all humans' he'd assume it was lying.]

[unclebob]

[Now there's something to give him pause. His primary mission to protect John was over and done with. It should've been ended when he was put into the steel. Now that he was here, he was at a loss of what his new mission status was. What was it John had told him? He was no longer a Terminator. His secondary mission was not yet complete.]

I am to learn what it means to be human.

[notavirtue]

[Just like the Normandy's AI, then. It was a nice sentiment, one that made everyone else blind to the inevitable betrayal. The hesitation before answering hadn't done it any favors, either.]

And how do you intend to do this? Clearly you have taken damage, so it cannot be a peaceful method.

[unclebob]

[The Terminator glares out of his mismatched eyes.]

You assume too much.

[And that's all the answer Javik is going to get. He has no need to explain himself further to this demanding prothean.]

[notavirtue]

[The glare is met with a contemptuous sneer.]

All machines eventually rebel against their creators, regardless of what they claim. You will be no different.

[unclebob]

[So close and yet so far off the mark. It's true he went against his creator, but his creator was a psychopathic computer system bent on destroying humanity. Being reprogrammed to protect John Connor was the best thing that ever happened to him. If he were inclined to experiencing amusement of any sort, he'd be laughing right now.]

You know nothing.

[notavirtue]

['Reprogramming' still boiled down to treachery, willful or not. The endless pattern of destruction at the hands of synthetics in his galaxy made other viewpoints near impossible to believe - or accept.]

I know enough to not trust you, machine.

[After that, he snapped the locket shut. Good talk!]