Wie fühlt man sich eigentlich so, wenn man einer der wenigen Überlebenden des Krieges gegen die Maschinen ist und eben kein John Connor in Sicht ist, der eine Rebellion anführt? Wie ist es, wenn man als Kuriosität gehalten wird?
↳ „Yes, about RAW. How it started,“ he said. He felt a few tremors as he recalled being a child, watching a craft in the sky start to turn and spit fire at a building nearby. A building where a few friends lived. And the explosion blew his hair back and filled his chest and the warm breath of the fire caressed his face as screams made their way to him. His elder brother ran to help and was chopped to pieces by bullets from the same craft. He, of course, had remained planted, his feet refusing to move. That’s what saved him, for anyone who ran towards the building died. As he grew up, he promised to fight back, that he would never be scared again, and for the longest time he wasn’t. Yet here he was. Defeated. Timid. Perhaps when a man is a child and old he reverts to what he truly is; everything between is pretending.
Oh, Teil 2 der Geschichte gibt es natürlich auch: