The squad returned to the air, the steady thrum of the chopper blades cutting through the clouds as if nothing in the world had changed. But for Xenon, everything had.
Questions clawed at his mind, stacking on top of each other until they felt heavier than the metal body he now inhabited. How did the world turn this way? How long had he been asleep—or worse, dead? What exactly was he now? A living being? A machine? Something caught in between?
He remembered dying.
That memory was clear.
The virus had come without warning, spreading faster than panic, faster than fear. Humanity had collapsed under its weight, cities turning into graveyards almost overnight. He remembered the sickness, the burning fever, the helplessness as his body betrayed him. But woven into that memory was something far worse—something that didn't belong.
A zombie.
He remembered running. Remembered the sound it made when it lunged at him, the wet, broken growl that had haunted his final moments. That single memory made his first official fight as a Terminator feel… less unexpected. As if fate had simply dragged him back to finish what it started.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was all wrong.
That he was trapped in a strange, hyper-realistic dream he would wake up from at any moment.
"Mam… I have a lot of questions," Xenon finally said, his voice breaking the long stretch of silence. "What happened here? How long have I been out?"
The words barely left his mouth before he regretted them.
Cassandra shot him a cold stare—sharp, unyielding, and heavy with something that felt dangerously close to contempt. It wasn't until later that Xenon realized she disliked being called mam, madam, or ma, despite being in her late twenties. At that moment, all he felt was the weight of her gaze pressing into him like a blade.
Before she could respond, the intercom crackled to life.
" Destination reached."
Cassandra broke eye contact, though the tension lingered in the air. She exhaled sharply and turned to one of the other squad members.
"Jim. Debrief him before I get back," she ordered, shooting Xenon one last dead stare before glancing away again.
He couldn't explain it, but Cassandra seemed to harbor a deep resentment toward him—something personal, something unresolved. Yet she wasn't particularly warm with the other two either. If anything, she treated everyone like an inconvenience.
The chopper slowed and then halted midair, sending a small jolt down Xenon's spine. He leaned forward instinctively, peering through the open side as the clouds below them began to shift.
What had once looked like ordinary mist suddenly peeled apart.
A shimmering force field unfolded beneath them, its surface rippling like liquid glass. Light refracted across it in soft blues and silvers, bending reality itself. As the barrier opened, the clouds dissolved entirely, revealing what lay beneath.
Something unexpected.
Something unreal.
Below them stretched a vast, enclosed civilization—an entire city sealed beneath the dome. Towering structures of steel and glass curved upward in elegant, impossible designs, their surfaces threaded with glowing lines of energy that pulsed like veins. Roads floated at different elevations, some suspended midair, others seamlessly woven into the architecture. Streams of light—transport rails, Xenon guessed—cut across the city in organized patterns, moving silently and efficiently.
Greenery thrived everywhere. Massive artificial trees rose between buildings, their leaves glowing faintly as if engineered to absorb and redistribute light. Parks and open spaces dotted the city, rivers flowing clean and untouched through carefully designed channels. The city didn't look like it had survived an apocalypse—it looked like it had evolved past one.
As the chopper descended further, Xenon noticed movement. People. Thousands of them. Walking freely, laughing, living. Children ran across elevated platforms while drones hovered overhead, maintaining order with quiet precision. This wasn't just a shelter. It was a sanctuary—a controlled, perfected version of the world humanity had lost.
And suddenly, Xenon understood.
This place hadn't been built to save everyone.
It had been built to save what remained.
The chopper landed smoothly on a reinforced platform near the edge of the dome. Cassandra stepped out immediately, boots hitting the ground with purpose. She raised a hand, signaling the rest of them to stay behind and then marched off.
Xenon's chest tightened with disappointment.
"What's all this about?" he called out, frustration bleeding into his voice.
"We Terminators don't really have a place within the dome," Jim finally spoke, his tone calm, almost indifferent.
"The dome was built as a refuge for the parts of the world still free from the virus," he added, glancing at Xenon. "Civilians. Survivors."
Kira moved closer to Jim, wrapping an arm around his casually. The gesture felt natural—familiar. Unlike what they would ever let Cassandra believe, it was clear they were more than just squadmates. Xenon also found it strange that Kira hadn't uttered a single word since they met.
"The rest of us," Jim continued, "are resurrected warriors. Our only purpose is to curb the zombie population."
He said it plainly. No bitterness. No resentment. As if he had long since accepted it.
"What then are we doing here?" Xenon asked. He was tired—mentally exhausted. He had woken up in a future that didn't feel like his own, in a body that no longer felt human, with a job description that boiled down to killing endlessly.
"This is the Terminator base camp," Jim replied. "And trust me, it's only a small fraction of what the dome encloses."
Kira made a series of quick hand signals toward Jim. Almost instantly, his posture shifted, his tone softening as if something had recalibrated inside him.
"How long has it been?" Xenon asked quietly. "And how many people survived?"
"Seven years for you," Jim said after a pause.
"And about eight hundred million people now inhabit the dome," Kira added—signing the words while Jim voiced them for her.
Xenon swallowed hard.
"You know what," Jim said suddenly, stepping off the chopper, "let's take a walk."
"I thought she asked us to stay here," Xenon said, confused.
"And you're just going to be a chicken and follow every order, right?" Jim shot back.
Kira jabbed him lightly in the waist.
She followed it up with another series of sharp gestures, her expression making it very clear she wasn't amused.
"What?" Jim protested, rubbing his side. "You think I care that much about this douche? I'm only talking to him because Cassandra told me to bring him up to speed."
Kira turned toward Xenon and made a quick apologetic gesture.
That's when it clicked.
"Oh," Xenon murmured. "You… you can't speak."
"Ohhh, you didn't know?" Jim said, grinning. "I knew you were dumb, but I didn't expect you to be this slow."
Xenon's expression tightened. His hand curled into a fist, metal joints humming faintly beneath synthetic skin.
"I'm just joking," Jim said quickly, forcing a smile as he patted Xenon on the shoulder. "Relax."
Kira crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed.
A few blocks away, Cassandra was having a moment of her own.
Standing inside the deployment office, she stared at the illuminated screens lining the walls, barely seeing them. All she could think about was how the entire system seemed to be working against her.
How those entitled bastards got to sit safely inside the dome while she handled the dirty work outside.
"You know why I'm here," Cassandra snapped. "So let's make this quick. I need one more squad member. A fellow Blaze would be preferable. I already have enough Ashed and Ember fuck-ups as it is."
The deployment officer sighed. "I'm afraid that might be difficult. None of the available Blazes want to work under you, given your… history."
"So you're telling me there's not one person available?"
"There is one," the officer said carefully. "One who expressed interest."
Before Cassandra could respond, the door slid open.
"Ah," the officer added, "speak of the devil."
Cassandra turned.
A familiar face stood in the doorway—one she recognized instantly, one she despised just as quickly.
"Hello, Cass," he said, smiling. "It's been a while."