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Imperial Junke Yard, Friday night

Marcus had walked very casually from the bar to the junkyard. Anyone watching would think he hadn't a care in the world and was completely oblivious to the two who'd been following him all day.

This was not the case. He knew they were there; he didn't want them to know that. If they thought he didn't see them, they'd get careless.

Marcus wandered into the junkyard, moving deep into the piles of old car parts and abandoned furniture, and disappeared into the shadows.

Waiting.

[Specifically for the two shadows, but open after them if anyone wants.]

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Kyle checked his pistol at the entrance to the junkyard, and then looked over at George. "Ready?"

"Aye," George agreed, hands loose but ready. T'were th'man Kyle's metal, twasn' like his knives would be doin' much good, but they were loosened in their sheathes anyway.

He nodded and slipped in through the entrance, immediately breaking to the side to take cover. He turned and signalled to George, using the system they'd worked out over the past few months, directing him to a good position to the right.

Following Marcus hadn't gotten them the information Kyle needed. So now he had a choice - leave and wait some more, or take a stand and figure out what he was doing here before he hurt someone.

George was - completely happy leaving this up to Kyle. He detoured to the right with a nod to Kyle.

The man was in here, he thought. Just - couldn't see him quite in the dark.

Marcus had watched both of them enter the yard, watched them split up. He could see better than he should have been able to, and he was absolutely silent as he circled behind the kid who knew who he was.

He was carrying a large metal pipe, the end of which was resting on his shoulder. Would he actually use it on two kids? No, not without extreme provocation, but you wouldn't know that to look at him.

"Help you with something?" he asked as he stepped out of concealment, voice casual, almost friendly.

Kyle spun around, gun raised and teeth clenched. He only had a pistol this time, not a shotgun, but this was bringing about a case of deja vu. "I want my coat back."

Edited 2010-04-03 03:29 (UTC)

Marcus just looked at him, not fazed by the gun. Facing down the business end of a pistol actually made him feel more at home. "Yeah?" he asked, slowly easing closer, just a step, easy and casual, the hand not holding the pipe held out from his side.

"Stay where you are. I know that look. You hold your hands out to the side when you're trying to get close enough to grab the gun from me. Not this time, Marcus. You need to start talking."

George wasn't going to interfere with this unless Kyle needed the help. Th'cove was from Kyle's world and meant something to him.

Instead he moved as silently as possibly through the junkyard as they talked to find a position that would allow him to flank Marcus for Kyle - if at all possible.

Marcus stopped, jaw clenched, ignoring the movement. How did this kid know him? He was talking like they'd met before. "You point a gun at someone, you better be ready to pull the trigger," he said flatly. "You ready to kill me over a coat?"

His expression lost its intensity when Marcus said the words he'd heard before. He bit back on the confusion. Confusion could get him dead in a situation like this. "Not over a coat, but I will if I have to. I said I didn't know why you were here. I still don't. Do you? Stay where you are."

It was hard to be calm when anger borne of frustration was bubbling up inside him, hard to hang onto control, and his fingers clenched tight around the pipe. "Don't know how I got here or what I'm doing here or why I'm not still dead," he said matter-of-factly. "You're the only one who knows me, kid, so I guess you're holding all the cards."

Kyle composed himself and nodded. "Do you know who I am?" He guessed not.

"Apart from a pain in the ass?" He nodded at the gun. "Either shoot me or point that somewhere else."

Edited 2010-04-03 04:10 (UTC)

George emerged quietly behind Marcus. There wasn't much point in staying hidden still. The man obviously had been watching 'em, and he'd rather back up his friend openly at this point.

...besides he had no idea what was going on other than a lot of history that had less than positive immediate implications.

Kyle looked at George quickly, then back at Marcus. "You're faster and stronger than me. Tell me why I should."

Marcus noted the movement, marked the kid's position, and went back to ignoring him.

"I could have bashed your head in before you knew I was there," he pointed out. "I'm not gonna hurt you." He carefully set the pipe down and slowly straightened. "You want answers and so do I, but you're not getting them at the end of a gun. Truce, kid. Tell me what you know."

With reluctance, Kyle lowered the pistol, slowly first, then a little more. He left the safety off. "Your name is Marcus Wright." He wasn't about to mention the metal in case it triggered some kind of hidden programming. "I know that because you told me. We've met before and it was a lot like this, only eight years from now in LA. Well, what used to be LA."

That made no sense. Marcus' jaw worked as he processed it. He believed the kid believed what he was saying. "Name's right. Little problem with the rest. Last thing I remember before here it was 2003. In Texas. And I don't know who you are."

"I'm Kyle Reese." He sounded tired. "I don't know why you don't remember, but it happened. Or it will happen, for you. I don't know. It's complicated. You don't know why you're here? Who sent you?"

The way Kyle sounded convinced Marcus the kid had nothing to do with him being here. Whatever was going on, Marcus was going to have to look elsewhere for the person responsible. "No idea," he finally said, relaxing a little. "I woke up over there." He pointed back behind Kyle. "Like to know how you know I died, though."

"Because I was there," Kyle replied, struggling as he remembered waiting outside the tent. "But if the last thing you remember is 2003, and you don't remember me, you wouldn't remember that."

Marcus remembered dying. It was burned into his memory, as were the faces of everyone who'd come to make sure the State put him down. He would have remembered Kyle. "I don't remember you," he said, voice flat. "Something's going on and someone knows what. Whoever they are, they're screwing with both of us." Marcus was getting angry again, but this time Kyle wasn't the target.

Kyle's grip on his gun tightened. He shook his head. "I'm probably from further ahead in the timeline than you." Or he wasn't really Marcus but thought he was. "I don't know how you ended up in 2018. You never told me. We were a little busy rescuing each other from the machines."

He couldn't have been in 2018. It wasn't possible. Except Kyle knew him, of that Marcus had no doubt. Rescuing each other from the machines? His head was starting to hurt. "You want to explain that?"

"Only if there's a little more space between us so I don't have worry about you rushing me when my guard is down." He looked past Marcus again and gave a hand signal to George which said to give the guy some room to move away.

George nodded and stepped back, staying obviously alert and on Marcus' flank but giving him room to move.

He was staying until Kyle sent him away, yes.

"You're smart, kid," Marcus told him, tinge of respect in his voice. It was what he would have done. Never taking his eyes off Kyle, he backed up, putting another ten or so yards between them. "Good enough?"

Kyle looked around at the junk yard and, once he was satisfied, nodded and lowered the gun completely. "Yeah. We met after you almost got yourself killed trying to have a conversation with a T-600. A Terminator. Me and Star destroyed it and then you started shouting at me, asking me the date, asking me what happened to the city. It was like you'd missed the last 14 years altogether."

At least he was consistent, if Kyle's story was right. Now it was seven, someday it was going to be fourteen. Already had been fourteen. This made no sense, but then neither did anything else. "Okay."

Edited 2010-04-03 05:32 (UTC)

"We went to look for the Resistance, but the machines found us before we had a chance to get too far into the desert." The whole part about explaining Judgement Day had slipped his mind, because they'd had this conversation before from his perspective.

Resistance. Machines. Marcus shook his head, decided to accept it, at least for the moment. "I take it we escaped." We. Why had he been travelling with this kid, anyway?

Kyle shook his head. "Skynet got me and Star. You found the Resistance. The next time I saw you, you were with them. You came after us. Then we got out of there. Then you died."

Marcus stared at him. "You know how that sounds, right? The future and escaping from machines and me coming after you?" He moved a few steps closer to Kyle, but only a few. "It sounds insane. And that's not how I died."

He raised his chin in defiance. "It will be."

Insane. It was insane, and he was starting to believe it was true. Listening to Kyle, watching him. It was hard to doubt. Marcus had years of practice spotting both liars and the truly crazy. This kid looked like neither. "Right," he said after a long moment of silence. "Time for you to go."

After all this, Kyle was no closer to having a definite answer than when they'd set out this morning. He had more information, and was still waiting to hear from Connor, but he still didn't know what he was dealing with. "And if we don't?"

"Then you get to spend the night in a junk yard," he said. "Knock yourself out." He dropped his gaze briefly to the gun. "Unless you've decided to shoot me after all, I'm out of here."

"We'll go," Kyle conceded. He looked at George and jerked his head towards the exit.

George nodded sharply, giving Marcus a wide, wide berth as he moved back towards Kyle. Whether or not Kyle was more comfortable with the guy now or not, George was still on guard, and he passed Kyle then waited, guarding his back and the entrance to the junkyard.

Marcus watched him, then flicked his eyes back to Kyle. "Hang on." He ducked briefly out of sight, returning with a bundle of cloth in his hand. "Catch," he said and tossed it towards Kyle.

"He- hey!" Kyle called after him, not liking the sudden movement. He was very conscious of his gun again, but didn't raise it. He grabbed the the coat that was tossed at him with his free hand. After looking at it for a moment, Kyle hugged it under his arm and looked at Marcus, but didn't make eye contact. "Thanks." He started towards the exit.

Marcus watched them walk away, kept watching until they were out of sight. With a final look around the junk yard, everything the kid--Kyle--had told him spinning through his head, he too left, taking a different direction from the kids.

Kyle hadn't fired when Marcus grabbed his jacket, Marcus had figured he wouldn't, but following them just might push the kid over the edge. And he didn't want to do that.

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Imperial Junke Yard, Friday night

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