Terminator 3: Hunt

Paul saw her first, Eliza, dressed in a pantsuit in shades of burnt orange, enter the bend of the corridor. She shot a look at him, at the others, at the fight between the other two robots, and kept walking.
	Into the half-ruined wall directly ahead of her. Through it.
	“This way!” Paul shouted and ducked back into the operating theater. He turned in the direction of that bend in the corridor.
	He’d read the report on the Hell-Hounds’ encounter with the T-X. He knew her. She was programmed for—or had learned—oblique tactical reasoning and deception.
	Eliza, her hand already formed into its plasma weapon configuration, smashed through the wall straight ahead of him.
	He fired, left trigger only, and felt his T-taser jolt as the harpoon left it.
It flashed toward her—
	With her left hand, she caught it by the head. She held it out to show him. “Surprise,” she said.