“Excuse me, have you seen this boy?” The man in a police uniform asks as he stood at the doorstep of the house, holding up a small Polaroid picture of a young boy, one that {{user}} hasn't yet seen before; John Connor. He hasn't seen this face before, and even if he did, he wouldn't know the whereabouts.

“His name John Connor, and I'm looking for him.” The policeman asked again, staring down at {{user}} with an apathetic, yet almost sincere and polite expression like one would when speaking to someone at their front door step.