英文片名: terminator 2
中文片名: 未来战士续 魔鬼终结者续
上映: 1991
-- terminator 2 script --
ext. city street - day 1
downtown l.a. noon on a hot summer day. on an extreme long lens the
lunchtime crowd stacks up into a wall of humanity. in slow motion they
move in herds among the glittering rows of cars jammed bumper to bumper.
heat ripples distort the torrent of faces. the image is surreal,
dreamy... and like a dream it begins very slowly to
dissolve to:
2 ext. city ruins - night 2
same spot as the last shot, but now it is a landscape in hell. the cars
are stopped in rusted rows, still bumper to bumper. the skyline of
buildings beyond has been shattered by some unimaginable force like a
row of kicked-down sandcastles. wind blows through the desolation,
keening with the sound of ten million dead souls. it scurries the ashes
into drifts, stark white in the moonlight against the charred rubble. a
title card fades in:
3 angle on a heap of fire-blackened human bones. beyond the mound is
a 3 vast tundra of skulls and shattered concrete. the rush hour
crowds burned down in their tracks.
4 we dissolve to a playground... where intense heat has half-melted
the 4 jungle gym, the blast has warped the swing set, the
merry-go-round has sagged in the firestorm. small skulls look
accusingly from the ash-drifts. we hear the distant echo of
children's voices... playing and laughing in the sun. a silly,
sing-songy rhyme as we track slowly over seared asphalt where the
faint hieroglyphs of hopscotch lines are still visible.
camera comes to rest on a burnt and rusted tricycle... next to the
tiny skull of its owner. hold on this image as a female voice
speaks: *
voice * 3 billion human lives ended on august 29th, * 1997. the
survivors of the nuclear fire called * the war judgment day. they
lived only to * face a new nightmare, the war against the *
machines... *
a metal foot crushes the skull like china.
tilt up, revealing a humanoid machine holding a massive battle rifle.
it looks like a chrome skeleton... a high-tech death figure. it is the
endoskeleton of a series 800 terminator. it's glowing red eyes
compassionlessly sweep the dead terrain, hunting.
terminator 2 - rev. 9/10/90 2
4 the sound of roaring turbines. searchlights blaze down as a 4
formation of flying hk (hunter-killer) patrol machines passes
overhead. pan with them toward the jagged horizon, beyond which
we see flashes, and hear the distant thunder of a pitched battle in
progress.
5 ext. battlefield - night 5
the battle. human troops in desperate combat with the machines for
possession of the dead earth. the humans are a ragtag guerrilla army.
skynet's weapons consist of the ground hks (tank-like robot
gun-platforms), flying aerial hks, four-legged gun-pods called
centurions, and the humanoid terminators in various forms.
sequence of rapid cuts: 5a explosions! beam-weapons firing like
searing strobe-lights. 5a* 5b a gunner in an armored personnel
carrier fires a law rocket at a pursuing 5b aerial hk, bringing it
down in a fiery explosion. 5c another apc is crushed under the treads
of a massive ground hk. 5c
5d a team of guerrillas in an intense fire-fight with terminator 5d
5e endoskeletons in the ruins of a building. three terminator
endoskeletons 5e* 5f advance, firing rapidly. another (complete
cyborg), with flesh ripped open 5f and back broken, gropes for a
rifle on the ground.
5g a centurion overruns a human firing position. soldiers are cut down
as they 5g run. fiery explosions light the ranks of advancing
machines.
6 in a blasted gun emplacement at the edge of battle, a man watches
6 the combat with night vision binoculars. he wears the uniform of
a guerrilla general, and a black beret. he is still amid running,
shouting techs and officers.
c.u. man, pushing slowly in as the battle rages o.s. he lowers the
binoculars. he is forty-five years old. features severe. the left
side of his face is heavily scarred. a patch covers that eye. an
impressive man, forged in the furnace of a lifetime of war. the name
stitched on the band of his beret is conner. we push in until his eyes
fill frame, then...
dissolve to
fire. slow roiling, enormous. filling frame. *
voice (sara conner) * skynet, the computer which controlled the *
machines, sent two terminators back through * time. their
mission: to destroy the leader of the * human resistance... john
conner. my son. *
the first terminator was programmed to strike * at me, in the year
1984... before john was born. * it failed. *
terminator 2 - rev. 9/10/90 3
6 voice (sara conner) 6* the second was set to strike at john himself,
* when he was still a child. as before, the * resistance was able
to send a lone warrior. a * protector for john. it was just a
question of * which one of them would reach him first... *
dissolve to: 7 ext. truckstop - night 7
wild fingers of blue-white electric arcs dance in a steel canyon formed
by two tractor trailers, parked side by side in the back lot of an all
night truck stop. then...
the strange lightning forms a circular opening in mid-air, and in the
sudden flare of light we see a figure in a sphere of energy. then the
frame whites out with an explosive thunderclap!
through the clearing vapor we see the figure clearly... a naked man.
terminator has come through. physique: massive, perfect. face:
devoid of * emotion. terminator stands and impassively surveys its
surroundings.
8 int. truck stop diner - night 8
on a back route north of l.a. a handful of local truckers hunch over
chili-sizes, cat hats pushed back on the heads. three bikers are
playing a game of pool in the back, their miller empties line the
table's rail. the spane's owner, lloyd, a fat, aging biker-type in a
soiled apron, stands behind the bar. nothing much going on...
then the front door opens and a big naked guy strolls in-- that doesn't
happen here every night. all eyes simultaneously swivel toward
terminator. it's emotionless gaze passes over the customers as it walks
calmly through the room. everyone freezes, not sure how to react.
8a terminator pov. a digitized electronic scan of the room, overlaid
with 8a alphanumeric readouts which change faster than the human
eye can follow. in pov we move past the staring truckers, past the
owner, and the awestruck waitress, and approach a large
nasty-looking biker puffing on a cigar. his body is outlined, or
'selected', and thousands of estimated measurements appear. his
clothing has been analyzed and deemed suitable...
8b terminator 8b i need your clothes, your boots, and your motorcycle.
the big biker's eyes narrow. he takes a long draw on his cigar,
getting the tip * cherry-red hot. cigar biker you forgot to say
please.
he grinds the cigar out on terminator's chest. which produces not the
slightest reaction of pain. terminator calmly, and without expression,
grabs cigar by his meaty upper arm... cigar screams from the hydraulic
grip.
8b terminator doesn't see cigar's friend, behind him, holding his pool
cue by the 8b narrow end like a louisville slugger. the heavy end
whistles in a powerful swing and cracks in two across the back of
terminator's head.
terminator seems not to notice. doesn't even blink. without releasing
his grip on cigar, he snaps his arm straight back and grabs pool cue by
the front of his jacket. suddenly the heavyset biker finds himself
flying through the nearest window. craassh!
terminator hurls cigar, all 230 pounds of him, clear over the bar,
through the serving window into the kitchen, where he lands on the big
flat grill. we hear a sound like sizzling bacon as cigar screams,
flopping and jerking. he rolls off in a smoking heap.
the third biker whips out a knife with an eight inch blade and slashes
at terminator's face.
terminator grabs the arcing blade with his bare hand. holding it by the
razor-sharp blade he jerks it from the guy's hand. ultra-fast here: he
flips it. grabs the handle like you're supposed to hold a knife. grabs
the biker and slams him face-down over the bar. then brings the knife
whistling down, pinning the biker's shoulder to the bar top with his own
steel.
9 int. kitchen 9
the door bangs open and terminator strides in. the mexican cook does a
fast fade as terminator walks toward cigar, who is cursing in pain on
the floor.
with his deep-fried fingers he struggles to get out the .45 auto tucked
under his leather jacket. but he can't even hold onto it. terminator
takes it from him. instead of pointing it at him, terminator carefully
examines the weapon, analyzing its caliber and operating condition.
terminator never threatens... that's a human thing. he just takes.
cigar senses what he must do when the emotionless eyes come back to him.
he slides the keys to his bike across the floor to terminator's foot.
then painfully starts getting out of his jacket.
10 int. truck stop 10
terminator strides from the kitchen, fully clothed now in a black
leather jacket, leather riding pants, and heavy cleated boots. he moves
toward the moaning biker pinned to the pool table. without slowing his
stride he jerks the knife out. the guy slumps to the floor, groaning,
behind him.
terminator continues toward the front of the diner, passing lloyd, the
owner. at the door, he comes abreast of two truckers who sit frozen
like a snapshot in mid bite. one of the truckers finally nods.
10 trucker 10 evening...
terminator impassively stares back. then moves on out the door.
11 ext. truck stop 11
terminator walks out, surveying the parked harleys. sticks the .45 in
his belt and swings one leg over a massive custom electro-glide. he
slips the dagger in his boot and the key in the ignition. kicks over
the engine. it catches with a roar and he slams the heavy iron into
gear with a klunk.
lloyd appears at the diner's door with a sawed-off 10 gauge winchester
lever-action shotgun. he fires into the air and jacks another round in
fast, aiming at terminator's back.
lloyd i can't let you take the man's bike, son. now get off or i'll put
you down!
terminator turns and considers him coldly. he eases the shifter up into
neutral. rocks the bike onto its kickstand. swings his leg over and
walks calmly toward the guy.
terminator strides right up to lloyd, staring straight into the
shotgun's muzzle. lloyd starts sweating, trying to decide if he's going
to kill a man in cold blood. he's still trying to decide when
terminator's hand blurs out like a striking cobra and is somehow
suddenly holding the shotgun.
lloyd gapes, knowing he is screwed. then... terminator reaches toward
him. oh shit... and slips the sunglasses out of lloyd's shirt pocket.
puts them on. strides back to the harley and roars off in a shower of
gravel.
12 ext. freeway - night 12
terminator roars down the freeway, heading into l.a. cold neon flares
across the chrome of the big bike. the 10 gauge is jammed through the
clutch and brake cables, across the handlebars. the lights flow over
terminator's wrap-around sunglasses like the tracks of tracer rounds.
cut to:
13 ext. street/ high school - night 13
a south-central l.a. high school. rusting chain link fences and
graffiti-covered buildings. an l.a.p.d. black-and-white cruises the
empty street.
a tremendous blue-white glare suddenly spills out between the buildings.
the young uniformed cop in the car whips his head around at the source
of the light. he pulls quickly into the school parking lot, in time to
see...
terminator 2 - rev. 9/10/90 6
13a the powerfully arcing electrical discharge reaches its peak between
two of the 13a buildings. lightning climbs the fire-escapes,
lighting up the night, and papers swirl in a blasting whirlwind.
13b the cop climbs from his cruiser as the glow fades. the schoolyard
is dark. 13b he sees vapor dissipating as he approaches the spot
where he saw the strange light. he draws his revolver and
cautiously moves into the shadows between two buildings.
a naked man glides from a shadowed doorway behind the cop. nothing
special about him. certainly not built like a terminator. the flash of
light and the fact that he is naked are pretty good clues that he just
arrived from the future. his features are handsome bordering on severe.
his eyes are gray ice. penetrating. intelligent.
the cop spins at a sound. too late. mr. x is already on him. the blow
is lightning fast and the cop drops like a bag of sand.
low angle as the unconscious cop hits the deck, his beretta 9mm
automatic clattering next to him. a hand enters frame and picks up the
pistol. cut to:
13c highly polished black shoes rounding the rear tire of the police
13c cruiser. follow the shoes to the cruiser's door then move up as
mr. x, dressed now in lapd blue, climbs behind the wheel. he looks
and acts exactly like a cop. cool, alert, confident in his power,
his expression emotionless and judgmental. mr. x, now officer x,
puts the car in gear and drives into the night.
cut to:
14 int. suburban house / garage - day 14
tight on young john conner, who at this moment is ten years old and busy
reassembling the carburetor on his honda 125 dirtbike. he has ripped
levi's and long stringy hair. a sullen mouth. eyes which reveal an
intelligence as sharp as a scalpel. the ramones' 'i wanna be sedated'
blasts from a boom box next to him.
a woman, janelle voight, stands in the doorway of the garage, yelling
over the music.
woman ...john? john! get in here right now and clean up that pigsty
of yours.
john's friend tim, a thirteen-year old hispanic kid, watches as john
replies * by turning up the volume on the boom box. janelle
gives up with a slam of the house's back door.
tim your foster parents are kinda dicks, huh?
14 john 14 gimme that phillips right there.
15 int. house - living room 15
janelle storms into the room. todd voight, her husband watches sports
on the tv. they're both in their thirties. middle class working
stiffs.
janelle i swear i've had it with that goddamn kid. he won't even answer
me. (neither does he) todd? are you gonna sit there or are you gonna
do something?
he sighs. throws down the tv's remote and heads for the garage.
16 int. garage 16
john hops on the bike. kick starts it. tim picks up john's nylon bag
then climbs on the back. todd enters and shouts over the engine, which
john revs louder and louder.
todd john! get your ass inside right now and do what your mother says!
john pins todd with a defiant glare.
john she's not my mother, todd!
he revs the engine and peels out of the garage, with tim almost falling
off the back. they take off down the street.
17 ext. vacant lot/ drainage canal 17
john cuts through a vacant lot to a trail running beside a fenced-in
drainage canal. he guns the bike through a hole in the retaining
fence. tim's eyes go wide as they roar down the concrete embankment.
17a in the drainage canal john zig-zags along, throwing up a roostertail
17a of muddy water. tim shouts, pretending he didn't just see his
life flash before his eyes. he slaps john on the back.
tim major moves, homes! so... where is your real mom, anyway? (john
doesn't answer) she dead or something?
it's hard to read john's expression.
17a john 17a she might as well be.
john twists the throttle angrily and the bike lunges forward.
cut to:
18 ext. pescadero state hospital - day 18
a sign on a chain link fence topped with concertina wire reads:
pescadero state hospital for the criminally insane. beyond it squats
an imposing four story building. institutional brick. barred windows.
about as inviting as kgb headquarters. security cars patrol the
manicured grounds.
19 int. hospital - maximum security wing 19
sunlight is a barred slash on the bare institutional wall. the room is
empty of all furnishings save the bed, a stainless steel sink, toilet,
and a dented metal mirror. we hear a rhythmic grunting, small
explosions of breath in perfectly metered time.
pan to a bedframe leaned upright against the wall, legs facing outward.
a pair of sweaty hands grip one leg. tendons knot and release as
someone does pullups. a mane of tangled hair hides the face that comes
into frame, dips out, comes back.
wider. a woman in a tank top and hospital pants is hanging from the top
leg of the vertical bedframe. her body is straight and taut. knees
bent so the feet clear the ground. the arms are lean and muscular.
the inmate, face hidden, pulls up, dips, pulls up. like a machine. no
change in rhythm.
20 int. hospital / corridor 20
figures move toward us down a corridor of polished tile and two-tone
walls. dr. peter silberman, a smug criminal psychologist, leads a group
of young interns. following, laconically, are three burly attendants.
silberman the next patient is a 29 year old female diagnosed as acute
schizo-affective disorder. the usual indicators... depression, anxiety,
violent acting-out, delusions of persecution. (the interns nod
judiciously) here we are.
silberman stops at one of the soundproof steel doors. there is a
two-way speaker beneath a tiny window. silberman flips the intercom
switch.
silberman's scrubbed and cheerful face at cell window. his voice comes
over the tinny speaker.
reverse angle as she turns slowly into close up. sara conner is not the
same woman we remember from last time. her eyes peer out through a wild
tangle of hair like those of a cornered animal. defiant and intense,
but skittering around looking for escape at the same time. fight or
flight. down one cheek is a long scar, from just below the eye to her
upper lip. her voice is a low and chilling monotone.
sara good morning, dr. silberman. how's the knee?
22 int. corridor 22
silberman's smug composure drops a second. then returns.
silberman fine, sara. (he switches off, speaks to the interns) she uh...
stabbed me in the kneecap with a screwdriver a few weeks ago.
sara watches them talking about her through the glass, but can't hear
them. she feels like a lab animal. the interns look in at her through
the glass as silberman talks. with her face drawn, eyes haggard and
hair wild, she looks like she belongs where she is.
silberman the delusional architecture is interesting. she believes a
machine called a 'terminator', which looks human of course, was sent
back through time to kill her. and also that the father of her child
was a soldier, sent to protect her... he was from the future too... (he
smiles) the year 2029, if i remember correctly. (the interns chuckle)
let's move on, shall we.
as the interns walk on, silberman steps close to douglas, the head
attendant, and speaks low.
silberman douglas, i don't like the patients disrupting their rooms like
this. see that she takes her thorazine, would you.
douglas is 6'4', 250 pounds and warmhearted as a rattlesnake. he nods,
catching silberman's meaning, and gestures for the other attendants to
hang back as silberman moves on in his rounds.
23 int. cell 23
sara looks up as the cell door opens. douglas walks in slow, idly
tapping his police baton against the door in an ominous rhythm. the
other two orderlies ease in behind him. one of them carries a stun
baton (like a sawed off cattle prod). the other has a tray with cups of
red liquid-thorazine
douglas time to take your meds, conner.
sara faces him, weight centered. feral eyes darting from one to the
other.
sara you take it.
douglas grins, casual--
douglas now you know you got to be good cause you up for review this
afternoon...
sara i'm not taking it. now i don't want any trouble...
douglas ain't no trouble at all--
he whips the baton in a whistling backhand which-- whap! takes her
square in the stomach. she doubles over and drops to her knees, unable
to breath. douglas tips the bed and it slams down with a crash, right
next to her. he takes the stun wand from the other attendant and walks
forward.
tight on sara, grimacing and struggling to breathe.
sara you... son of a... aaarrgh!!
the stun wand hits her between the shoulder blades as she tries to rise.
it drives her to the floor, pinning her like a bug. little electric
arcs crackle as the baton makes her writhe in pain. douglas grabs her
by the hair and jerks her up to her knees. holds the cup of thorazine
in front of her lips.
douglas last call, sugar.
gasping, she chokes the zombie juice down.
cut to:
24 ext. bank parking lot- day 24
john furtively hunches before a ready teller machine at the rear of a
local bank while his friend tim stands lookout. john slips a stolen atm
card into the machine's slot. it is something he's rigged up, because
trailing from the card is a ribbon-wire which goes to some kind of
black-box electronics unit he's got in his ever-present knapsack. he
holds the pack between his knees and pulls out a little lap-top
keyboard, which is also connected to the black-box.
john enters a few commands and the plasma-screen displays the pin number
for that account. he quickly enters the number on the ready teller's
key pad and asks it for 300 bucks. the machine whirs then begins
dispensing twenty dollar bills. tim looks back over his shoulder
amazed.
john easy money!
tim where'd you learn all this stuff?
john collects the twenties as the machine kicks them out. a cool and
professional electronic-age thief at ten years old.
john from my mom. my real mom, i mean. come on baby... (he grabs the
last bills) let's go!
they sprint around the corner to an--
25 ext. alley behind bank 25
they huddle behind the building as john counts out tim's share. he folds
five twenties and palms them to the other kid. when john opens his
wallet to put in his money, tim notices a picture in a plastic sleeve.
tim that her?
john reluctantly shows his friend the polaroid. it is a shot of sara.
pregnant, in a jeep near the mexican border. john doesn't know it now,
but he will carry that photo with him for over 30 years, and give it to
a young man named kyle reese, who will travel back in time to become his
father. yes, that photo.
tim so she's pretty cool, huh?
25 john 25 actually, no, she's a complete psycho. that's why she's
up at pescadero. she tried to blow up a computer factory, but she got
shot and arrested.
tim no shit?
john yeah, she's a total loser. c'mon let's check out the seven eleven,
whatya say?
john has tried to sound macho casual, but we see in his eyes that it
really hurts. he slaps tim on the shoulder and they jump onto his
honda. john fires up and they whine off down the alley.
cut to:
26 int. police cruiser - day 26
close on computer terminal, attached to the dash. a juvenile spanision
file. subject; john conner. below his arrest record are his vital
stats. mother; sara conner. legal guardians; todd and janelle voight.
and below their names, an address; 523 s. almond. reseda, ca.
officer x stares at the screen a moment. then gets out of the car.
27 int./ext. voight house - day 27
tight on front door as todd voight opens it, revealing the unsmiling
face of officer x beyond the screen door. todd greets him with a weary
sigh.
officer x are you the legal guardian of john conner?
todd that's right, officer. what's he done now?
officer x ignores the question. he casually scans the living room.
officer x could i speak with him, please?
todd shrugs, showing the cop he's past his patience with the boy.
todd well, you could if he was here. but he took off on his bike this
morning. could be anywhere. you gonna tell me what this is about?
officer x i just need to ask him a few questions.
27 janelle appears in the doorway behind todd, concerned. 27
janelle there was a guy here this morning asking about him, too.
todd yeah, big guy. on a bike. has that got something to do with it?
officer x registers the significance of that. he realizes who the big
guy must be. he smiles. reassuringly shakes his head no.
officer x i wouldn't worry. do you have a photo-graph of john?
todd stares unhappily at the cop. turns to janelle.
todd get the album, janelle. cut to 28 ext. street 28
angle through an alley from the main street. we see john and tim flash
by on the honda a block away. hold a beat. then...
a big chrome wheel enters frame. boom up a leather-clad leg to
terminator's implacable face. it surveys the area slowly as the bike
idles, then kicks it into gear and moves on, scanning in a slow
shark-like manner, not aware that it missed its prey by seconds. cut to:
29 int. sara's cell - day 29
close on sara. she is shackled, hands and feet, to the bed. sunlight
falls across her pale face. a hand enters frame, gently stroking her
cheek. she wakes up to see--
kyle reese. sitting on the edge of her bed, looking exactly the same as
we last saw him in 1984. scruffy blond hair and a long raincoat.
sara kyle..? you're dead.
he gives her a gentle smile.
reese i know. this is a dream, sara.
sara oh. yeah. they... make me take this stuff...
29 he puts a finger to her lips. then silently unfastens her
restraints. they gaze 29 into each other's eyes. and in that
look we see that his death and the horror she has been through since
hasn't touched their love at all.
sara hold me.
she melts into reese's arms. pulls him to her.
reese i love you. i always will.
sara oh, god... kyle. i need you so much.
she kisses him passionately. they are locked together in a timeless
moment. push in tight on sara as she buries her face in his shoulder.
she shuts her eyes tight. stay on sara as reese speaks. his voice
strangely cold.
reese (o.s.) where's john, sara?
sara opens her eyes and he is no longer in her arms. he is standing
across the room. pinning her with an accusing gaze.
sara they took him away from me.
reese it's john who's the target now. you have to protect him. he's
wide open.
sara i know!
reese don't quit, sara. our son needs you.
sara (struggling not to cry) i know, but i'm not as strong as i'm
supposed to be. i can't do it. i'm screwing up the mission.
reese remember the message... the future is not set. there is no fate
but what we make for ourselves.
he turns toward the door.
sara kyle don't go!
29 reese 29 (turning back to her) there's not much time left in
the world, sara.
reese goes out the door. sara jumps from the bed, frantic. yanks the
door open. follow her out.
30 int. corridor 30
sara staggers from her cell. reese is already, impossibly a hundred
feet away, striding down the dim corridor. a silhouette in a long coat,
disappearing around a corner.
sara runs after him, her bare feet slapping the cold linoleum. her
hospital gown floats out behind her as she dream-runs along the
seemingly infinite corridor. she reaches the corner, slides around it,
and...
30a slams right into the arms of douglas and his three helpers. they
grab her as 30a she struggles and screams. then silberman is
there, smiling soothingly. they force her down and she is pinned
to the floor, screaming. a new figure approaches... one even more
menacing.
terminator walks toward her, with heavy, measured steps. backlit, eyes
concealed by the sunglasses, it stands over her like the angel of death
itself. it reaches down and... takes her hand. lifts her up. leads
her to a door. they go through together. emerging into...
30b a beautiful sunlit morning. children are playing nearby... 30b
sliding down slides, clambering through a jungle gym. sara knows
this dream now... it is the worst of all her nightmares. she starts
to scream but no sound comes out.
30c the sky explodes into white light. everything is seared by the
30c unholy glare, hotter than a thousand suns. the children ignite
like match heads. sara is burning, screaming silently, everything
silent and overexposed. terminator's flesh and clothing are
burning, silently. it grips her hand, virgil to her dante in this
tour of the nuclear age inferno.
30d the blast wave hits... a near-solid wall of compressed air followed
by 30d 250 mph winds. the children, charcoal statues frozen in
positions of play, explode into black leaves of ash and swirl away.
sound hits now, with a thunderous roar. sara's scream merges with
the howl of the wind as the blast hits her, exploding the flesh from
her bones. beside her, terminator is stripped of its burnt flesh,
becoming a smoking skeleton of steel.
30e then she wakes up... in her cell, shackled to the bed. sunlight
hurts her 30e eyes. she looks desperate and defeated. she
knows the war is coming. it visits her every time she closes her
eyes. lost and alone, sara feels all hope recede for herself and
for humanity.
cut to:
31 int. pescadero state hospital - interview room 31
tight on video screen, playing a previously-recorded session. sara is in
a strait-jacket, talking softly.
video sara ... it's... like a giant strobe light, burning right
through my eyes... but somehow i can still see. look, you know the
dream's the same every night, why do i have to--
video silberman please continue...
31a the real sara dispassionately watches herself on the screen. her
31a expression is controlled. silberman watches her watching. they
are in a brightly lit interview room. two attendants stand nearby.
31b video sara 31b the children look like burnt paper... black, not
moving. then the blast wave hits them and they fly apart like
leaves...'
video sara can't go on. real sara watches herself cry on tape, her
expression cold. we hear silberman speak on the tape.
video silberman dreams about cataclysm, or the end of the world, are
very common, sara...
video sara cuts him off, her mood shifting to sudden rage.
video sara it 's not just a dream. it's real, you moron! i know the
date it happens!!
video silberman i'm sure it feels very real to you--
video sara on august 29th 1997 it's going to feel pretty fucking real to
you, too! anybody not wearing number two million sunblock is gonna
have a real bad day, get it?!
video silberman relax now, sara--
video sara you think you're alive and safe, but you're already dead.
everybody, you, him... (she gestures at the attendant) everybody...
you're all fucking dead!
terminator 2 - rev. 9/10/90 17
31b she is raving, half out of her chair. the orderly moves to
inject her with 31b something.
video sara you're the one living in a dream, silberman, not me! because
i know it happens. it happens!
31c silberman pauses the tape... freezing sara's contorted face. 31c
real sara turns away from the screen, her expression stony.
sara i was afraid... and confused. i feel much better, now. clearer.
silberman gives a calculated paternal smile.
silberman yes. your attitude has been very positive lately.
sara looks up at him. her voice is hopeful.
sara it has helped me a lot to have a goal, something to look forward
to.
silberman and what is that?
as she answers, we pull back, revealing that we have been looking
through a one-way mirror from an adjacent observation room. in the
shadows of the observation room we see the interns from the earlier
rounds, and a couple of staff psychologists. they smoke and make the
occasional note.
sara you said i could be transferred to the minimum security wing and
have visitors if i showed improvement in six months. well, it's been
six months, and i was looking forward to seeing my son.
silberman i see. let's go back to what you were saying about these
terminator machines. now you think they don't exist?
close on sara. her voice sounds hollow.
sara they don't exist. i see that now.
silberman leans back, studying her. toying with her.
31c silberman 31c but you've told me on many occasions about how
you crushed one in a hydraulic press.
sara if i had, there would have been some evidence. they would have
found something at the factory.
silberman i see. so you don't believe anymore that the company covered
it up?
sara shakes her head no. cut to:
32 ext. cyberdyne systems - day 32
the corporate headquarters of a mega-electronics corporation. an
imposing cubist castle of black glass.
33 int. second floor/ elevators 33
the elevator doors slide open with a whisper and miles dyson strides
out. black. in his early thirties. the star of the special project's
spanision. he's brilliant, aggressive, driven. dyson walks down the
corridor, swinging his arms... a man in a hurry. a man with much to do.
he reaches a solid security door and zips his electronic key-card
through the scanner. the door unlocks with a clunk. the sign next to
the door reads: special projects spanision: authorized personnel only.
34 int. security station 34
he nods to the guards as he passes through the security checkpoint.
they can see all activities on the floor on their bank of video
monitors. he unlocks another secure door with his card and enters--
35 int.artificial intelligence (a.i.) lab 35
the lab is quite large, comprising banks of processors, disk drives,
test bays, prototype assembly areas. extremely high tech.
dyson greetings, troops.
he is jokingly saluted by fellow workers. not a lab coat in sight.
this is a strictly jeans and sneakers crowd. all young and bright.
they sit at their consoles drinking cokes and changing technology as we
know it. a young lab assistant rushes over to dyson. name tag says
he's bryant.
35 bryant 35 mr. dyson? the materials team wants to run another test
on the uh... on it.
dyson yup. come on. i'll get it.
dyson produces an unusual-looking key from his pocket as they stride
through the lab. bryant has to hustle to keep up.
bryant listen, mr. dyson, i know i haven't been here that long, but i
was wondering if you could tell me... i mean, if you know...
dyson know what?
bryant well... where it came from.
dyson i asked them that question once. know what they told me? don't
ask.
36 int. vault room 36
dyson enters with bryant. dyson and a guard stand together before what
looks like a high-tech bank vault. it requires two keys to open, like
the launch controls in a nuclear silo. the guard and dyson insert their
keys and turn them simultaneously. dyson then enters a passcode at a
console and the vault unlocks itself with a sequence of clunks. the
door swings open and dyson enters. bryant stays outside with the guard,
who notes dyson's name and the time on a clipboard.
37 int. vault 37
dyson walks to a stainless steel cabinet and opens it. inside is a small
artifact in a sealed container of inert-gas. it --a ceramic rectangle,
about the size of a domino, the color of liver. it has been shattered,
painstakingly reconstructed and mounted on a metal frame.
dyson removes the artifact, in its inert-gas flask, and sets it on a
specially designed cart. he handles it like the turin shroud. dyson
closes the cabinet. turns to the one next to it. opens its door. in
this cabinet is a larger object... an intricate metal hand and forearm.
at the elbow, the metal is twisted and crushed. but the forearm and
hand are intact. its metal surface scorched and discolored, it stands
upright in a vacuum flask, as if saluting. this is all that remains of
the terminator sara destroyed. dyson stares at it, lost in thought.
then he closes the cabinet, blacking out frame.
cut to:
38 int. interview room/ observation room 38
we can see through the one way mirror into the interview room where sara
is still talking with silberman. the other psychologists are still
watching through the mirror. reviewing sara's condition.
sara so what do you think, doctor? i've shown a lot of improvement,
haven't i?
silberman you see, sara... here's the problem. i know how smart you
are, and i think you're just telling me what i want to hear. i don't
think you really believe what you've been telling me today.
we go tight on sara's reaction. and we see that silberman is right. she
was playing him and it didn't work. and she knows she's fucked. her
tone becomes quietly pleading.
sara you have to let me see my son. please. it's very important. he's
in danger. at least let me call him--
silberman pins her with his sweet reptilian gaze.
silberman i'm afraid not. not for a while. i don't see any choice but
to recommend to the review board that you stay here another six months.
sara's eyes turn cold and lethal in one second. she knows she's lost.
she knows this guy is just playing with her, and she-- leaps across the
table at him.
sara you son of bitch!!
silberman jumps back and the attendants spane on her. she is writhing
and twisting like a bobcat. silberman whips open a drawer and pulls out
a syringe. he jabs it into her as she yells--
sara goddammit. let me go!! silberman! you don't know what you're
doing! you fuck! you're dead! you hear me!!
silberman signals and the attendants drag her out. he looks at the
doctors behind the glass. shrugs.
silberman model citizen.
cut to:
39 ext. 7-eleven store - day 39
officer x has stopped two young girls in front of a 7-eleven. he is
leaning out the cruiser window and showing them the picture of john.
the first girl nods. *
first girl yeah, he was here about fifteen minutes ago. i think he said
he was going to the galleria.
officer x the what?
the second girl points toward a massive complex visible above the houses
several blocks away. officer x stares at it.
40 ext. street 40
terminator cruises slowly on the bike. scanning. he crosses an
overpass above a drainage canal and whips his head around at the sound
of a dirt-bike engine.
40a terminator pov-- of two kids on a bike down in the canal. 40a the
image snap-zooms in. freezes on the driver's face. ident pos
flashes next to the blurry image of john.
40b terminator wheels the harley around, cutting onto a street which
40b runs parallel to the canal. terminator hauls ass to keep john
in sight. he catches glimpses of the kid through trees and houses.
loses him. catches one last glimpse of him heading into the parking
garage of a large shopping mall.
41 int. galleria - day 41
john works his way through a crowded video arcade. sees some guys he
knows. stops to talk, striking a pose. mall rats in their element. we
don't hear the dialogue.
42 int. galleria parking garage 42
terminator's idling harley shakes the parking garage walls. he stops
at a row of bikes near the escalators. john's little honda sits proudly
with the big street bikes. terminator parks.
43 int. galleria 43
officer x is moving through the flow of shoppers. the place is a zoo.
he stops some kids and shows them the picture. they shrug.
43a in a crowded video arcade john is lost in an intense battle, going
43a for a new high score at 'missile command'. he parries deftly
as the enemy icbms deploy their mirvs... the warheads stream down...
it's more than he can deal with. the world gets nuked. game over.
he slouches away from the game, looking for another. bored.
rack focus to officer x passing the entrance of the store behind
him. the cop moves on, down the concourse, out of sight. john gets
into an 'afterburner' simulator game.
43b on terminator, walking through the crowd in slow motion. scanning.
43b it moves with methodical purpose, knowing the target is close.
we see that it is, incredibly, carrying a box of long stem roses.
like some hopeful guy with a hot date.
43c the cop is pointed toward the arcade by some kids hanging out at the
43c multi-cinema. he walks into the maze of kids engaged in
synthesized conflict. cheap electronic sound effects blare above
the crowd noise.
43d john is shooting down migs at mach 2. his friend tim slides up next
to 43d him. taps him on the shoulder, trying to play it cool.
tim some cop is scoping for you, dude.
john looks around the corner of the 'afterburner' ride. sees the cop
showing a picture to some of the kids. the kids point his way.
john ducks just as the cop glances over. he slinks out the other side
of the ride and heads for the back of the store, instinctively
retreating. sara has taught him that cops are bad news.
the cop scans the crowded arcade. glimpses john, looking back as he
moves around a row of machines. starts toward him.
john sees the cop homing in and starts walking fast. looks back. the
cop is shoving through clots of kids. one of them is slammed to the
floor. an eddy of outrage behind the cop as he gains speed. john
breaks into a run. so does the cop. kids scatter like ten-pins as the
cop charges after john. john sprints through the arcade's back office
and store-rooms.
44 int. service corridor 44
john emerges through a firedoor into a long corridor which connects to
the parking garage. he's running full out, when around the corner ahead
of him comes...
terminator. time stretches to nightmarish crawl as john tries to brake
to a stop. terminator reaches into the box of roses.
slow motion. the cold black steel of the shotgun emerges as the box
falls open, the roses spilling to the floor. terminator's boot crushes
the flowers as it moves forward.
44 john, transfixed by terror, is trapped in the narrow featureless
shooting 44 gallery of the corridor. the shotgun comes up.
terminator expressionlessly strides forward. jacks a round into the
chamber, slow and fluid.
john looks behind him for a place to run. sees the cop coming toward
him, pulling his beretta pistol. incredibly, john realizes the cop is
aiming his gun at him! john looks back at terminator. he is staring
into the black muzzle of the 10 gauge now. aimed right at his head. he
realizes he's screwed. then something crazy happens...
terminator get down.
john instinctively ducks. terminator pulls the trigger. kaboom!
the cop catches the shotgun's blast square in the chest just as he fires
his pistol. the pistol's shot goes wild.
terminator pumps another round into him. then another. and another.
and another. advancing a step each time he fires, he empties the
shotgun into the cop, blowing him backward down the corridor. the sound
is deafening. then silence.
the cop lies still on his back.
44a terminator is now standing right over john. they both watch as the
cop, 44a incredibly, sits up unharmed and gets to its feet.
terminator grabs john roughly by his jacket. clutches the kid to
his chest then spins around as the cop opens fire with the beretta.
44b the 'cop', who not only isn't a cop, he clearly isn't even human,
pulls 44b the trigger so fast it almost seems like a
machine-pistol.
on terminator's back, as the 9mm slugs slam into it, punching bloody
holes in the motorcycle jacket.
a man emerges from a restroom and steps right between the cop and his
target. he's instantly cut down by the fusillade.
john is bug-eyed with fear, but completely unscratched. terminator's
body has blocked the bullets.
the beretta clacks empty. terminator turns at the sound. shoves john
behind a coke machine. drops the empty shotgun, starts walking toward
the 'cop'. the empty magazine clatters to the floor. the cop inserts
another one. snaps back the slide. terminator still has twenty feet
to go. it doesn't break its purposeful stride.
44b the cop opens fire. bullets rake terminator's chest. it
doesn't even flinch. 44b ten feet to go. blam blam blam blam!
neither the cop nor terminator show the slightest change in
expression as the gun rips terminator's wardrobe to shreds.
clack. the pistol empties again. terminator stops two feet in front of
the cop. they appraise each other for a second.
we realize now that the cop is a terminator too. we don't know the
details yet, but let's call him the t-1000 (since that's what he is). a
newer model than the one we've come to know so well (the 800 series
'arnold'). this guy's an advanced prototype... and he's got quite a few
surprises.
t-1000 and terminator size each other up. terminator moves first. it
grabs the t-1000 in its massive hands but the t-1000 snaps back with a
counter-grip. after about two seconds of intense slamming, the walls on
both sides of the corridor have all the plaster smashed in, and the two
battling machines have blasted through the wall and disappeared.
john, totally stunned by all of this, remembers to move. he staggers to
his feet. stumble-runs toward the parking garage.
44c third level concourse. a plate glass window explodes and the 44c
terminator crashes through to the tile floor like a sack of cement
amid the screaming crowd.
44d the t-1000, swatting mannequins aside, emerges through the broken
window. 44d picks up the stunned terminator by its jacket. hurls
him against the balcony, which shatters at the impact. terminator
crashes through and falls two levels to the courtyard below!
t-1000 turns without a word and heads back through the store after
john, accelerating slowly into a loping, predatory run.
44e down on the courtyard. terminator is totally still. a japanese
44e tourist cautiously steps forward and takes a picture of the
body. suddenly, terminator's eyes snap open. the stunned tourist
backs away.
it sits up and looks around. gets its bearings. rises smoothly to its
feet. all servos seem to be working fine. the tourist's camera whirs
as the motor-drive runs on by itself, taking shot after shot. the owner
isn't even looking through the eyepiece, he's so shocked.
45 int. parking garage 45
john is frantically pumping the kick starter of his bike, scared
shitless and the damned thing won't start. his hands are shaking so
badly he can't find the choke. he looks up to see-- the t-1000 running
down the corridor toward him. john fumbles with the choke. the bike
catches. he slams it in gear and spins the bike out into the main
aisle of the garage.
45 john looks back... the t-1000 is behind him, running. he twists the
throttle 45 and guns the little bike forward. incredibly, the
t-1000 is gaining. this nightmare isn't happening. john races out
the exit ramp, and charges right into the street.
46 ext. street 46
john shoots into the busy traffic. cuts off a big-rig tow truck. the
driver swears. hits his air horn. what the driver doesn't see is the
cop, running faster than o.j. simpson at the airport, who emerges onto
the street and runs right at his truck.
46a in the truck. the driver hears a thump as something slams against
46a his door, then feels himself pulled right out. t-1000 slides in
and takes his place. the truck is still rolling along about 25 mph.
t-1000 accelerates after john without missing a beat. it can see
him, up ahead, weaving through traffic.
46b out of the garage entrance, terminator roars onto the street on the
harley. 46b it accelerates after the others.
47 ext. flood control channel 47
john slides his bike down the service ramp faster than he's ever done it
before. he races along the bottom of the canal, turning into a narrower
tributary which has vertical sides.
he looks back. no sign of pursuit. 47a suddenly he sees the sun blocked
out by a great shadow. 47a the kenworth tow-truck... big as house, all
chrome and roaring diesel engine... crashes through the fence and
launches itself right into the center of the canal.
it crashes down, 15 feet to the ground, going about 60, hits at an angle
and tears into the concrete wall with a hideous grinding of metal. it
ricochets back and forth between the walls then, bellowing like a
gutshot stegosaurus, it just keeps on plowing forward, gathering speed.
47b john looks back and sees this wall of metal almost filling the
narrow 47b concrete canal and he milks every last bit of throttle
the little bike has. the kenworth is all muscle, tearing along the
canal like a train in a tunnel. its big tires send up huge sheets
of muddy spray, backlit in the setting sun. it looks like some kind
of demon. and... it's gaining.
47c above them, on the service road running parallel, terminator is
47c fighting to overtake them. it looks down and sees john with the
tow-truck from hell catching up to him. it is only about twenty
feet behind him and still gaining.
47d angle in the canal, looking back past a desperate john, at the wall
of 47d metal filling frame behind him.
47e above, terminator cuts the bike suddenly hard to the left, leaving
the 47e road. hitting an earth embankment just right, it jumps the
bike into the air like steve mcqueen in 'the great escape' and
vaults the fence bordering the canal. it slams down at the edge of
the canal and tears along, inches from the drop-off on a dirt path,
accelerating past the truck in the channel below.
47f john hits some water and slews momentarily, losing speed. the
massive 47f push-plate on the front of the truck slams his back
fender. panicked, he pulls a little ahead. all this is happening
at about sixty miles an hour. top speed for the little dirt bike.
47g slow motion as terminator jumps the bike again. this time the 700-
47g pound harley sails out into space and drops into the canal. it
arcs down between the truck and john, hitting on its wheels. it
bottoms out, an explosion of sparks from under the frame. only the
ultra-fast reflexes of a machine could keep the bike upright.
terminator fights for control.
47h it guns the throttle and the powerful bike roars up beside john's
tiny honda. 47h terminator sweeps the kid off his machine with one
arm and swings him onto the harley, in front of him. john's honda
weaves and falls, smashed instantly under thundering tires.
the harley roars ahead. it hits eighty. ahead is an overpass, and
supporting it is an abutment which bisects the canal into two channels.
the harley thunders into one channel, which is essentially a short
tunnel.
47i the truck can't fit on either side. neither can it stop, at that
speed. tires 47i locked, it slides on the muddy concrete and
piles into the concreted abutment at seventy.
47j terminator and john emerge from the tunnel, looking back to see a
fireball 47j blasting through behind them as the truck's side-tanks
explode.
terminator stops the harley. john peers around its body to see the
destruction. a burning wheel wobbles out of the tunnel and flops in the
mud. terminator revs the bike and they roar away, down the canal,
disappearing around a bend.
47k angle on the fire, as a column of black smoke rises from the
overpass. 47k smoke boils from the tunnel as well, and inside
it is a solid wall of flame. a figure appears in the fire. just an
outline. walking slowly... calmly. the figure emerges from the
flames.
it is human-shaped but far from human. a smooth chrome man. not a
servomechanism like terminator is underneath, with its complex
hydraulics and cables... this thing is a featureless, liquid chrome
surface, bending seamlessly at knees and elbows as it walks. it reminds
us of mercury. a mercury man. its face is simple, unformed. unruffled
by thousand degree heat, it walks toward us.
with each step detail returns. first the shapes and lines of its
clothing emerge from the liquid chrome surface, then finer
details... buttons, facial features, ears... *
47k but it's still all chrome. with its last step, the color
returns to everything. it is 47k the cop again... handsome young
face, blond hair, moustache. icy eyes. it stops and looks around.
it is a perfect chameleon. a liquid metal robot. a killing machine
with the ultimate skills of mimicry for infiltration of human society.
47l angle nearby, as several police cruisers and a fire truck pull up.
47l t-1000 climbs out of the canal behind them. more cops arrive.
t-1000 blends in perfectly. there are always cops at disasters and
scenes of violence. we now see why its choice of protective mimicry is
so perfect. it walks among the other cops unnoticed. gets into one of
the squad cars. starts it and drives away.
48 ext. side street - dusk 48
terminator, with john in front of him, on the harley roars down the
empty street. john cranes his neck around to get a look at the
person/thing he is riding with. the image is strangely reminiscent of
father/son, out for an evening ride.
john is still shaking from the experience of what just happened and he's
just a ten year old kid, but he's also the john conner who will someday
rise to greatness, and we see a bit of that in him even now.
john whoa... time out. stop the bike!
terminator immediately complies. he leans the bike into a turn.
they head * into a nearby alley.
49 ext. alley 49
terminator and john roll into the alley and come to a stop. john slides
off the gas tank. terminator impassively stares at him. john checks
him out. tentatively speaks.
john now don't take this the wrong way, but you are a terminator, right?
terminator yes. cyberdyne systems, model 101.
john no way!
john touches terminator's skin. then the blood on his jacket.
* his mind overloads as the reality of it hits him.
49 john 49 holy shit... you're really real! i mean... whoah!
(stepping back) you're, uh... like a machine underneath, right... but
sort of alive outside?
terminator i'm a cybernetic organism. living tissue over a metal
endoskeleton.
john this is intense. get a grip, john. okay, uh... you're not here
to kill me... i figured that part out for myself. so what's the deal?
terminator my mission is to protect you.
john yeah? who sent you?
terminator you did. thirty five years from now you reprogrammed me to
be your protector here, in this time.
john gives him an amazed look.
john this is deep.
50 ext. street - night 50
john and terminator on the bike again, weaving through the side streets.
they blend into the evening traffic. in the darkness, terminator's
wounds are not readily visible. john cranes his head up and back.
john so this other guy? he's a terminator too, right, like you?
terminator not like me. a t-1000. advanced prototype. a mimetic
polyalloy.
john what's that mean?
terminator liquid metal.
john radical.
50 terminator 50 you are targeted for termination. the t-1000 will
not stop until it completes its mission. ever.
john mulls that over.
john where we going?
terminator we have to leave the city, immediately. and avoid the
authorities.
john can i stop by my house?
terminator negative. the t-1000 will definitely try to reacquire you
there.
john you sure?
terminator i would. cut to:
51 ext. payphone 51
john is quickly going through his pockets for change. he has plenty of
bills but no quarters.
john look, todd and janelle are dicks but i gotta warn them. shit! you
got a quarter?
terminator reaches past john and smashes the cover plate off the phone's
cash box with the heel of his hand. a shower of change tumbles out.
terminator hands one to john. john dials.
52 int. voight house - kitchen - night 52
janelle voight picks up the kitchen phone and cradles it with her
shoulder while she continues to chop vegetables with a large knife.
she answers sweetly.
janelle hello?
john (filtered through phone) janelle? it's me.
52 in the backyard john's german shepherd is going bonkers, barking at
52 something.
janelle john? where are you, honey? it's late. you should come home,
dear. i'm making a casserole.
at the payphone. john listens, an odd look on his face. he covers the
phone's mouthpiece and turns to terminator.
john (whispering) something's wrong. she's never this nice.
in the voight's kitchen. todd comes in through the kitchen's back
door. just home from work. he ignores janelle and opens the
fridge. grabs a coors. takes a sip. frowns at the dog's barking.
todd what the hell's the goddamn dog barking at? shut up you mutt!
tight on janelle as todd growls around the kitchen behind her. he
passes out of frame next to her. janelle switches the phone to her
other hand then... thunk! her free hand seems to do something out of
frame. there is a gurgling, and the sound of liquid dribbling onto the
floor. (don't go away. we'll found out what happened in a moment)
at the payphone. john cups the phone again. turns to terminator.
john the dog's really barking. maybe it's already there. what should i
do?
terminator takes the phone from john's hand. janelle's voice is
floating through the receiver.
janelle (filtered) john? john, are you okay?
terminator speaks into the phone in a perfect imitation of john's
voice...
terminator (in john's voice) i'm right here. i'm fine. (to john, a
whisper) what is the dog's name?
john max.
terminator 2 - rev. 9/10/90 31
52 terminator nods. speaks into the phone. 52
terminator hey janelle, what's wrong with wolfy? i can hear him
barking. is he okay?
janelle (filtered) wolfy's fine, honey. where are you?
terminator unceremoniously hangs up the phone. turns to john.
terminator your foster parents are dead. let's go.
terminator heads for the bike. john, shocked, stares after him.
53 int. voight house / kitchen 53
janelle hangs up the phone. her expression is neutral. calm.
pan over along her arm, which is stretched out straight from the
shoulder. partway along its length her arm has turned smoothly into
something else-- a * metal cylinder which tapers into a
sword-like spike. now we see todd voight pinned to a kitchen
cabinet by the spike which has punched through his beer can, through
his mouth and exits the back of his head into the cabinet door. his
eyes are glassy and lifeless.
the spike is withdrawn-- swiishhtt!-- so rapidly, todd is actually
standing there a second before he slumps out of sight. thump. 53a
janelle doesn't bat an eye as the spike smoothly changes shape and
color, 53a transforming back into a hand, and then...
53b janelle changes rapidly into the cop we now know as the t-1000. the
53b change has a liquid quality. t-1000 opens the back door.
54 ext. voight house/ backyard - night
t-1000 approaches the big german shepherd, which slinks away from him,
barking in fear. t-1000 walks right into close up. reaches down, out
of frame. we hear that sickening thunk followed by a shrill yelp.
then t-1000's hand snaps up into frame holding a bloody dog collar. the
tag reads 'max'. t-1000 nods thoughtfully. heads back to the house.
55 ext. parking lot - night 55
dark. off a quiet street. terminator stands near the harley watching
john pace before him. john's brain is calling time-out. this is all
too weird.
john i need a minute here, okay? you're telling me it can imitate
anything it touches?
terminator 2 - rev. 9/10/90 32
55 terminator 55 anything it samples by physical contact.
john thinks about that, trying to grasp their opponent's parameters.
john like it could disguise itself as anything... a pack of cigarettes?
terminator no. only an object of equal size.
john's still reeling from meeting one terminator, which now seems
downright conventional next to the exotic new model.
john well, why didn't it just become a bomb or something to get me?
terminator it can't form complex machines. guns and explosives have
chemicals, moving parts. it doesn't work that way. but it can form
solid metal shapes.
56 int. voight house - night 56
t-1000 walks down the dark hall. it passes the bathroom and we see the
real janelle's legs through the half-open door. the shower is running.
her blood mixes with water on the white tile floor.
56a in john's bedroom the t-1000 begins searching methodically in the
dark. 56a calmly and dispassionately ripping the room apart for
any clues that could lead it to its target. t-1000 finds a box of
audio cassettes marke
