A/N

So the T-800 is a character in Mortal Kombat now, with terrible voice acting to boot. Well, anyway. Drabbled this up.

Cybernetically Enhanced

"Jesus Christ on a fucking pogo stick."

Captain Perry shot Private Jeshido a look. So did Reese, but he suspected not quite for the same reasons. The 132nd, what was left of it, was a tight unit with a tight captain, and that meant tight mouths as well. Reese, for his part, still didn't completely get who Jesus Christ was, and from what he understood, he had no idea why JC would be using a pogo stick. Not when he could already walk on water and come back from the dead. And considering the number of Terminators he'd fought over the last three years, how those fuckers kept getting back up no matter what the Resistance threw at them…yeah. The whole resurrection thing wasn't his cup of recycled water.

But right now, in the depths of Outpost Sierra-8 (a fancy name for a factory that had survived Judgement Day better than most structures in Los Angeles), thoughts of resurrection and pogo sticks were rapidly receding from his mind. Instead, what was on his mind was the man walking towards them. The man who was very big, very broad, and walking over to Captain Perry without even wearing a shirt, a pair of dog tags dangling above his neck. Upon the man's arrival, Perry saluted.

"Sir."

The man saluted. "At ease Captain."

Reese couldn't help but stare at what the man had saluted with – a metal arm. His entire right arm was cybernetic. And as confronting as that was, he couldn't help but notice that the man's left arm was likewise cybernetic. He glanced at Perry, and noticed that the good captain was trying to keep his unease at bay. Trying, but for the unit's senior NCO, not really trying.

"This it?" the man asked. He looked out over the unit – thirteen men and women out of what had been a hundred.

"More or less," Perry murmured.

The man grunted. "Seems like less."

"Spend enough time on the frontlines Major, you make do with less."

"Actually the whole Resistance is having to make do with less," the man said. He looked at Reese, and the sergeant felt like a child again, if only for a moment. A child who looked up into the optic units of machines in the knowledge that his life was in their armour-plated hands.

"You're Sergeant Reese?" the man asked.

He nodded.

"Hmm." He looked at Perry. "Captain, I need you and your sergeant to come with me. Rest of the unit can take five."

Reese glanced back at the remains of the unit. Upon the major's words, they'd already started to flop down, unbuckling their armour and putting their rifles aside. A factory floor wasn't the best place to take a nap, but that was what they were doing. Nine days of constant combat against the machines had cut a wedge deep into Skynet's territory, but they'd paid a price for it. A price heavy enough to stay with Reese as he followed Perry and the man further into the factory.

"This guy on the level?" Reese whispered.

"That guy is Major Jackson Briggs," Perry murmured. "And, yeah. He is."

"A guy who gets cybernetic grafts is 'on the level?'"

"No, a guy who's a major and former US Special Forces and who's been in this fight since day one is on the level," Perry said. He gave Reese another look, and even if his voice didn't carry reproach, his eyes did. "He deserves respect."

"Oh, I'll give him respect sir. Doesn't mean if I have to agree with his life choices."

"Tell you what Sergeant – when you stand on the high ground, you can take a piss from it for all I care. But in case you haven't noticed, we're all standing in rubble here."

Reese wanted to say that right now they were standing in an old car factory that didn't actually have much rubble in it, but decided not to. In part because he knew when to shut up around the 132nd's captain. In part because Major Briggs had led them to the far end of the factory, specifically to a small office. A trooper saluted and opened the door for the major, who beckoned Perry and Reese to follow.

Probably can't even work the lock with those arms, Reese thought as he and Perry walked in. Reese guessed that the office had used to belong to a factory foreman or something, but whatever its old purpose, its current one was clear. Maps were laid out on tables, pinned up on walls, and techies sat at terminals while a radio-operator was speaking to a group called Patrol Lima Three. Looking at the maps specifically, Reese could tell that they were of Los Angeles and the surrounding areas, various pins marking everything from Resistance groups to Skynet's remaining hubs in the city.

"This Perry and Reese?" a voice asked.

Reese looked at a woman approaching them and stared. And she must have noticed he was staring, because she said, "something wrong, Sergeant?"

He shook his head. "No ma'am. Absolutely not ma'am."

Briggs laughed. "Lay off the kid Sonya, he's just come out of Hell."

"Yeah, and brought the bats with him." She turned round to one of the maps and placed a pin there – it was purple, corresponding to a destroyed HK. A potential salvage site.

"Sorry about Captain Blade," Briggs said. "She can be…intense. That's what happens when you marry an ex-Hollywood star."

Reese saw Blade give Briggs a finger.

"Anyway," Briggs continued. "Concerning you two…"

Reese wasn't listening, too focused as he was on Blade. Her eyes. Her face. Her hair. The way she carried itself. Funny as it was, she reminded him of Sarah. Of a woman who was long dead, and whose photo he still carried with him. Who'd survived like he had, while dozens of people died around him. It was insane, he knew, but the whole world was insane. It had gone insane before he was even born. And looking at Blade now, as she-

"Sergeant!"

He spun round to Briggs. "Sorry sir?"

Briggs, whose giant hands were on his giant hips, like some kind of giant, disapproving grandpa, looked at Perry. "This really your best man, Captain?"

Perry shot Reese a disapproving glance (which made Reese feel like he had two grandpas) before looking back at Briggs. "Yes sir. Ninety percent of the time, Reese has been the best I've got. Sir."

"Hmm." Briggs leant back against a wall and folded his arms. "Well then. Since he's so good, perhaps he can tell us what he thinks about his new assignment."

Oh fuck you. Reese glared at Briggs. Briggs smirked at him. Slowly, he said, "I think my new assignment is…is one that I will take on without hesitation."

Briggs snorted and patted Reese on the shoulder. "Well played. Bullshit, but well played."

Reese felt cold – the sensation of metal touching him at all wasn't one he welcomed. He'd seen Terminators tear men and women apart with their bare hands. Days ago, one of the metal fuckers had grabbed his leg after losing its own, and had refused to let go until Corporal Richards had managed to unscrew its head and take out its CPU.

"Well, since you're such a good soldier, I'll just give you a re-run," Briggs said. "One-thirty-second is being disbanded. Perry is going to be joining General Connor's command staff. And Reese here is going to be assigned to Tech-Com, working recon and security."

Reese's eyes widened. That was a lot of information in not so many words, but nevertheless, he was able to look at Perry. "You good with this Captain? I mean, the thirty-second, it…"

"No longer exists," Perry murmured. He looked at Briggs, making Reese wonder if that was his assessment, or the major's. "Certainly not without a supply of fresh blood."

"Then we-"

"Which we don't have," Briggs said. He looked at Reese. "What about you, Sergeant? Recon, sabotage? Given how good you are at smashing the machines, should be right up your alley."

"I dunno Sir. Is it up yours?" He gestured at the major's arms. "You smashed anything with those?"

He almost regretted the words immediately. Key word being almost. Because on one hand (an organic, human hand, thank you very much), he knew that being assigned to Tech-Com was an honour. It was the best of the best, soldiers with years of experience operating in small squads, taking out Skynet's machines whenever the opportunity presented itself. But on the other hand, this was an assignment being handed down from Major Briggs - man with giant cybernetic arms. He couldn't keep overlooking that, and he wasn't going to stay silent either.

Perry shot Reese a look. "Sergeant, you better-"

Briggs rose a hand. "No, Captain, let him talk. Chances are we won't see each other after today."

Reese glared at him. "That a threat?"

"No, just reality. You're being assigned to Tech-Com, I'm on Skynet's termination list. Chances are one of us is going to die within the next few years."

"Duly noted," Reese said. "But before that happens, can you tell me what's up with those?" He pointed at the major's arms.

"These?" Briggs asked. "You mean these beautiful babies?"

"Major, dunno if you're noticed, but I've spent most of my life fighting machines. Over the last few years, some of those machines have been cyborgs. So, when I see a cyborg before me-"

"I ain't a cyborg kid. I'm cybernetically enhanced."

Reese scowled, barely seeing a difference.

"But as for you fighting machines?" Briggs asked. "Well, your record speaks for itself, and General Connor's vouched for you. But shitty as it was being in a camp, some of us were fighting the machines before Connor did his Jesus Christ Superstar thing."

I thought Jesus was on a pogo stick?

"And fighting other crap you could barely imagine." Briggs looked at Captain Blade for a second, who gave him a look that Reese could only describe as sympathetic. He looked at back at Reese. "So, yeah. I've got these arms. Skynet wants to make cyborgs, fine. We can still take out its factories, and at times, use the goods ourselves. Ain't for these babies, I wouldn't be alive."

"Yeah, sure," Reese murmured. He tapped the pulse rifle he had slung over his shoulder. "Still, this little baby's kept me alive out in the field, while you get to be surrounded by…"

He trailed off. The guard outside was screaming, before being cut silent with a wet thunk.

The hell?

The door to the office burst open and in the doorway stood a man. A tall man. A heavy man. A man who looked human…and who Reese knew to be a Terminator instantly. And not only because it had clearly killed the guard outside, and had raised a pistol.

Reese raised his plasma rifle, his mind racing, his heart pounding. But it didn't matter as Briggs let out a yell and dived into the Terminator like a wrestler, sending it out of the doorway.

Holy shit.

Before using his arms to lift the Terminator up before slamming it down on the ground.

Holy shit!

And then grabbing its neck with one hand, while keeping the other raised. "Hey bitch. Remember me?" Briggs asked.

The Terminator said nothing. It tried to raise its pistol but Briggs grabbed it out of its hand and tossed it aside, before using both of his arms to keep pummelling the machine's head.

"Holy shit," Perry whispered.

Reese and the other soldiers exited the office and pointed their guns down at the machine. No-one looked sure about what to do, and Reese couldn't blame them. He'd seen Terminators pummel people to death before, he'd never seen one on the receiving end. But Briggs kept pounding the machine's head, to the point that its organic tissue began to give way to the exoskeleton underneath. The Terminator tried flailing around with its arms, but it couldn't get a good grip on Briggs. And eventually, at last, it came to the point where Briggs ripped the Terminator's head off and turned around to face the Resistance members. Reese stared at the face, at one eyeball dangling out, and the other having disappeared, revealing the red ocular unit beneath it. One that was getting less red, and more black.

"Fatality," Blade murmured.

"Um, don't think Terminators are alive," Reese murmured.

Briggs chuckled. "Old joke between the captain and me. Don't worry about it." He tossed the Terminator's head into Reese's hands. "Here. It's model one-zero-one. This fucker keeps popping up more than any other unit."

Reese gingerly held the head in his hands. He wanted nothing more than to get rid of it, but got the sense that Briggs wanted hi m to look at it. To really look at it. To see the first of hundreds of Terminator models. To see the face of flesh and steel, staring back at him. Even so, it was a relief when Blade took the head from his hands before tossing it to a techie.

"Shame about Amata," Briggs murmured. He walked over to the guard who'd been outside the door, now lying in a pool of blood. He looked back at Reese. At Perry. At the remaining members of the 132nd, who'd come to see what the hell had happened. "But you want to know why I've got arms like this kid? Here's your answer." He walked over to him. "Anything you want to add?"

Reese shook his head and Briggs patted his shoulder.

"Good man."