John Connor suddenly appeared with a BAMF! was in Exam 2.

"Oh, shit," John muttered as he wondered if the sheet pulled up over his head would be convincing camoflage. "John no here."

"I... dunno? One minutes I'm dancing to Stevie Wonder, the next I'm a few pounds lighter with ventilation holes."

John sighed. It was easier now, what with meds. To sigh. "I don't know what happened. I was in my room listening to music, doin' a bit of dancin'. ANd then...I was back. But it was different. Couldn't move. Couldn't think. I'd only felt that way once before."

John shrunk into the bed a bit. "I..." He doesn't say anything more. HIs eyes are a bit less hollow, and his flesh has pinked up. The marks are clean, but will leave some scarring from whatever was done to him.

"When..." John shakes his head violently and closes his eyes.

John's eyes focused back in the present. "Yeah. I know what happened the first time. This? No clue. Random Fandom, I suppose."

John gave her a look. Not a look that was indignant or haughty or spiteful, but the look of someone who's been places that people aren't necessarily supposed to go.

"My mom. The former Principal. She... We were. She left to do a job. Gun running, cartel hit, whatever. She left me with one of my 'uncles', my trainers. Guys she'd meet doing the whole Soldier of Fortune bit, trying to train me to be a better soldier. This guy. Nam. POW. Decided it would be fun to stick me in a hole in the ground, put a pallet on top, weigh it down with an engine." He paused. It was a silence where you're not sure if it's gonig to be continued.

John broke his reverie and gave Agatha a ghost of a smile. "I was there for about three days, maybe four. He kept trying to make it more real by poking at me with a stick and speaking in fake Vietnamese."

"It happened. To our guys. POWs. To him."

"So what brings you here?"

"Wait, who'd you bring here? Someone get hurt?"

"Billy? The ninja? He's brought his leg into the shop. I made him a wooden one."