The DEADLY I.V. running into his arm.

CONNOR (V.O.)
The future is not set.

Marcus' eyes dart FASTER. He does not want to die.

CONNOR (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I've been told I said that once.
Many years from now.

FINGERS turn the VALVE to release LETHAL CHEMICALS.

CONNOR (V.O.) (CONT'D)
It was a warning. That I was
going to hell. But if I fought
hard enough, I could escape.

As the injection takes hold, Marcus' POV moves to BRIGHT
LIGHTS overhead, losing FOCUS and BLEACHING TO WHITE...

CONNOR (V.O.) (CONT'D)
I believed it for a lifetime.

From the WHITE SCREEN, a FACE emerges, backlit, blurred --
It's Serena. In focus for a moment, leaning INTO CAMERA -
- then moves out of frame. Is it real? A dream? Or the
last thought before a brain is extinguished?
CUT TO BLACK
SUPER ON BLACK:
SOUTH-CENTRAL SECTOR, NORTH AMERICA, 2018
3 EXT. DESERT - AFTERNOON 3
Floating through white we tilt down and reveal desert.
The light dissolves into sun flare as our speed increases
to reveal a very large array of massive satellite dishes
in the distance.
We are in the POV of a speeding MISSILE. Its low res
image shows us its trajectory.

CONNOR (V.O.)
Now I pray I was wrong.

Hundreds of giant satellite dishes line the desert floor
below. A LONE FIGURE patrols the area. We only make it
out in SILHOUETTE, but it carries a HEAVY RIFLE.
A single anti-aircraft bullet PINGS off the MISSILE'S FIN
-- momentarily compromised but quickly corrects and gets
back on track.
The bomb nose dives towards its target -- A BARE PATCH OF
GROUND in the middle of the array--
4 EXT. SKYNET COMMUNICATION COMPLEX - AFTERNOON 4
--FWOOM! A MASSIVE CONCUSSION as the BUNKER-BUSTING
MISSILE BORES into the earth at high-velocity, burrowing
deep--
--then a HUGE BLAST - FLAME and DIRT are thrown high in
the air.
A FLAMING BODY hits the ground IN FG, BACK TO CAMERA. A
SECOND BLAST CONCUSSION flips it around to face us -- the
skin looks strange. The heat from the surrounding flames
melts the face off to reveal -- a STEEL TERMINATOR-- its
METAL SKULL SCORCHED, its RED EYES FLICKERING. This is a
T-600.

CONNOR (V.O.)
Because now I am in hell. We all
are.

A-10 WARTHOGS -- stubby attack planes -- SCREAM from the
sky, These aircraft no longer bear traditional U.S.
Insignia-- they're painted in WILD COLORS, graffiti
lettering all over...Resistance fighters.
A single ANTI-AIRCRAFT cannon pivots with a speed and
proficiency we are not used to. It targets the attacking
planes. BLASTS one out of the sky with one shot.
Motley military and civilian CHOPPERS cut through
swirling smoke and LAND in the array, disgorging
RESISTANCE SOLDIERS. These are human troops in cobbled
together military gear, carrying disproportionately heavy
ASSAULT WEAPONS.
A chopper's skid lands square onto the T-600's skull --
crushing it and depressing deep into the ground.
CLOSE ON A BOOT coming down next to the MUTILATED STEEL
SKULL of the terminator. The T-600 writhes, mechanics
failing but still set to kill. The BARREL of a RIFLE
comes down and BANG -- one shot into its head BLOWS HALF
the skull clean off.
Tilt up to reveal -- JOHN CONNOR.

CONNOR (V.O.) (CONT'D)
And the future I used to dread is
the only hope I have left.

Connor looks down to the dead T-600 beneath his foot.
Its pieces try to magnetize back together, but it's
seriously damaged.