Archive of Our Own

Tron: Adagio

By: Shadow Chaser

Summary:

Taken from the old system and put into a new one created by Kevin Flynn, Tron had to go through some adjustments. With new friends he sets out to create the life he had in the old system. But with the arrival of Clu and the Isos, Tron realizes that not all change and adjustments are good. The story of his cycles in the Grid and his ever increasingly difficult job of keeping the citizens safe under Clu's widespread influence; an adagio, if you will, to Tron himself.

Author's Notes:

This story covers the entire comic, Tron: Betrayal, and flashbacks from Tron: Legacy itself. The scenarios of the game Evolution are not mentioned in here as I did not play the game. All characters are not mine, they belong to Disney.

Story:

Overture

The Grid. A place of number, lines, codes, all of it programmed to do something, to create something. At least, that is what I was told by Flynn himself.

Flynn called The Grid a digital frontier. I called it a digital paradise.

The Grid was created in infancy, built from the ground up, a place where Flynn could test and build things that no one else had ever seen before, not even the programs themselves. I was brought in rather early, tasked by Flynn, the Creator himself, to protect and ensure the safety of the programs that were to reside there. He had told me that I was the best for the job, having defeated Sark and the MCP with the help of my own User Alan-One's data.

I was flattered when he had told me all of these things before inviting me to join him in The Grid. He had invited Yori too, to join me in this new beginning, but she had declined. I remembered asking her why and she cited that she was linked to the old system, too entrenched in its operations that she knew she would not be happy in this new and wonderful opportunity.

I had tried to reason with her, but in the end, she had bid me farewell, and told me that I should take the opportunity presented to me. I did not know what she had done, but the contact of our lips in the brief moment of our goodbye left me reeling and Flynn with an unusual smile on his face.

It took roughly twenty cycles when I entered a nether world of whiteness to where I emerged onto the dark hues of The Grid in its infancy. Flynn materialized soon after, about twelve cycles after I had arrived and guided me around, giving me an upgrade that Alan-One had built for me. I learned to memorize areas where trouble usually started, the places where new programs Flynn imported into The Grid went through orientation, even the places of entertainment and of commerce. The Guards were one of the introductory programs that Flynn had built to help me enforce the safety of the programs within and I was happy to work with them. The addition of new programs, new wonders had made The Grid grow exponentially, a limitless potential I had heard Flynn call it once.

But to me, the Grid was something else, a new beginning. A place of wonderment, of shared resources, a place of peace.

In the end, it failed.

* * *

The Grid

“This is where I saw them last, Tron,” Flynn's voice had a sort of feedback as Tron listened over his internal headset to him, mentally dampening the sound of their lightcycles to make sure his voice was loud and clear.

He looked around him nodding absently. “I can see the bugs now,” he replied, a frown on his face. “So many of them. Where did they come from?” he wondered out loud as he saw the gridbugs, attacking the newer sections and those yet to be built with ruthless vigor and intensity.

“Yeah, I'm still working on that,” was his friend's absent reply and Tron arched an eyebrow at the white lightcycle that was a bit ahead of him on the road. Even Flynn did not know where these...things came from? That was a cause for some worry to him. He suddenly sensed that something was wrong and glanced behind him to see that the gridbugs were advancing on their position, at a faster rate than he had thought possible. A new threat indeed.

“They're gaining on us!” he let the urgency bleed into his tone towards Flynn.

“Oh crap,” was the mild reply.

Tron's eyes widened in surprise as he refocused his gaze back upon the road in front of them, “The road ahead is disintegrating too.”

“We're gonna need to go off-road,” Flynn replied before jerking his lightcycle in another direction.

Tron was hardpressed to keep up as Flynn weaved in and out of the disintegrating section of The Grid. He knew that his own lightcycle had the potential to go off-grid, but his power supply was limited.

“Don't worry...this is gonna be good,” it was as if Flynn had read his thoughts and pulled his lightcycle up onto a collapsing building section, one of the new skyscrapers that had been recently built, the gridbugs voraciously eating at the codes and data streaming from it.

Tron followed him, gunning his engines as the two of them rode at a sheer vertical angle up towards the higher points of The Grid, trying to get to the relatively safe distance where the gridbugs dared not to go, yet. Gunning the engines at intervals, he and Flynn managed to “hop” to another skyscraper in the distance, halting with a squeal of their tires.

“You all right?” Flynn asked.

“Yeah, you?” it still amazed him that as a User, Flynn cared a lot for programs, even ones not created by him, like Tron himself. It reinforced his belief to always serve and fight for the Users, especially one as benevolent as Flynn. Though he would forever be loyal to his own Creator, Alan-One, he felt that Flynn was like a surrogate of sorts, someone he saw as a mentor of sorts, especially with all of the things he built in The Grid for the other programs.

Flynn barked out a laugh at his question, “Are you kidding? I'm having the time of my life, man.”

But definitely not a perfect mentor by any means, he thought as he shook his head. Sometimes he felt that Flynn took things in The Grid a little less seriously than he should. “But the gridbugs-”

“They're a problem, but nothing you can't protect us from,” Flynn got off of his lightcycle and stared out at the remnants of the tower that had fallen, the gridbug's harsh glow waning as their appetites were sated for now. “You keep The Grid safe, and Shaddox and the others will run the projects and the games.”

“But your very presence is required to help bring order from the chaos,” Tron protested. The Grid was still very young, very new. He knew that Shaddox and the others could handle things, but even still, it was good to have Flynn near by in case something happened – which more often than not, happened in some frequency with the infant Grid.

“Don't sell yourself short, buddy. You're doing fine,” Flynn turned and grinned at him, clapping him on the shoulder. “I brought you here from the old system because you're the best security force a guy could have.”

Tron appreciated the vote of confidence, especially from the Creator himself, but he was still worried. “And you?”

“I'll look further into the instabilities from the outside,” Flynn let go of him and climbed back onto his lightcycle and sped off, headed towards the portal which Tron knew was somewhere deep in the Outlands. Even his own programming restrictions prevented him from going towards the portal, but he knew that Flynn would be safe on his trip there and understood that he was not to accompany him.

His programming was to ensure the security and safety of the residents of The Grid, and it was a task that he was happy to perform. The curiosities of the outside world held little interest, even when Flynn shared some of the stories of Alan-One with him. He had just filed it away and took the stories as lessons to be learned.

A sigh escaped his lips as he turned and climbed back onto his own lightcycle, gunning the engine and sped back towards the heart of The Grid. He needed to see Shaddox and report to him of the new threat in this sector of The Grid. Construction would be delayed, but until he could ensure the safety of the other programs, Shaddox and his team would have to build elsewhere. Then he would have to assemble a squad of Guards to help him sweep the area.

The only thing he disliked about the Guards that Flynn had brought in to help him was the style of suits they chose to wear. It was not the black suits, but rather the coloration of them. He thought the orange glow that identified them as different from the regular programs looked too close to the sinister red hues that dominated the old system run by the corrupt MCP and Sark. But he had acquiesced to Flynn's request, not quite understanding what the User meant by having opposite coloration for regular programs and the Guard programs.

He arrived at one of the inner guard gates about thirty milicycles later and after asking the Guard that was on duty where Shaddox was located was given his position and sped off again. Turning onto several newly constructed pathways, the soft glow of digital building blocks illuminating his path, he abruptly pulled his lightcycle to a halt and stared up, his jaw dropping in sheer wonderment at the sight before him.

It was a polyhedron shape, not quite complete, but definitely familiar. The glow of the digital building blocks had already outlined most of the diamond-shaped building and he could only imagine what was happening on the inside. He could already hear the phantom roars and cheers filling the seats. The buzz and hiss of discs flying this way and that, shattering digital glass...

“The Arena,” he whispered, a sense of giddiness filling him. He never admitted it nor denied it, but he had enjoyed the disc wars arena back in the old system. The only thing he did not enjoy about it was derezzing the losing combatants. But then again, back then he did not have a choice – it was derezz them or be derezzed himself; and his instinct for survival had been greater.

“Thought you might like it,” Shaddox's deep booming voice spoke up from his right and he turned to see the dark-skinned program walking towards him, mirth on his face.

Tron shut his lightcycle off and twisted his wrist ever so slightly for it to materialize it back into its baton. He stuck it on the side of his suit and held out his hand to meet Shaddox's outstretched one. “Good to see you, Shaddox,” he greeted, the grin widening on his face.

“And to you, old friend,” Shaddox replied. He had been one of the earlier programs created by Flynn to help in construction of the The Grid, arriving soon after Tron. A serious program who took his responsibilities and assignments from Flynn with a stern face, Tron knew that the program wasn't always so. Underneath the professional exterior the program was a bit laid back during the times he was not working.

“When did you-”

“Flynn said it was going to be a surprise for you,” Shaddox shrugged, “guess he didn't anticipate you finding it so quickly.”

“I'll have to thank him when he returns,” Tron mused thoughtfully.

“He has left already? So soon? I thought the two of you were scheduled to do a complete patrol of the outskirts in this cycle?”

“We found gridbugs taking demolishing one of the newer towers recently built. Sector 105 by the looks of it,” Tron felt all of his previous humor disappearing quickly.

Shaddox cursed, shaking his head, “That was supposed to be the new residential areas too.”

“Flynn said he was going to look at the problem from the outside so there is hope yet friend,” he clapped the man on the shoulder, “but I wanted to let you know to keep your workers away from that sector for now, until I give the all clear. I'm taking some of the Guards there right now to deal with the infestation.”

“How long?”

“About several cycles at least,” Sector 105 was big, one of the biggest residential sectors, “I'm setting up barriers to prevent any of the gridbugs from reaching the other sectors.”

“All right then,” Shaddox nodded once, “you take care of yourself out there old friend.”

“I will,” Tron replied before grabbing his baton and broke it in half, making his lightcycle appear. His helmet automatically formed itself over his head as he climbed on and with a quick wave to Shaddox, sped away from him, headed towards Central Control where he would be able to pick the Guards to accompany him to Sector 105.

* * *

The Son of Flynn

Clu that was how Flynn had introduced him to Tron as he waited for the arrival of his friend and mentor that cycle. He had then told him that Clu was just an acronym for Codified Likeness Utility, essentially himself, but a digitized version. At first glance that was the belief held by Tron, but in the course of just a cycle, he could immediately tell there was a difference between Clu and Flynn – the likeness between the two of them only in image.

He had heard that Flynn was going off-grid to create something and had wanted to come with him to ensure his safety in case the gridbugs suddenly attacked while he was returning or leaving, but Flynn had forbade him to. He had vaguely explained that it was because of what he was doing could destabilize The Grid, but was necessary to ensure the future of The Grid.

Judging by him returning with Clu in tow, it was probably for the best that Flynn had went off grid. With his abilities, he could see the complex code that was in Clu, even more so than his own. They did not present a security hazard, but with a code that complex, he knew that some of the programs with a lot less coding in them would be attracted to Clu and perhaps even the gridbugs themselves.

For some odd reason, he could not quite see or make out the coding for the bugs themselves, their structures beyond his upgrades, but based on what he could see, they were simplistic enough, yet voracious in their appetite. Flynn had told him that Clu did not have his ability to create new programs, but rather could re-purpose them if they are done with their task and have nothing else to do. He would be able to efficiently manage the builders under Shaddox's direction and hopefully maintain the integrity of The Grid.

The cycle after he had been introduced to Clu, Flynn had abruptly left, giving a mumbled reason about the outside world and meeting with Alan-One and the board of Encom. Tron had bid him farewell as he made the long journey east to the portal before turning to Clu, obviously knowing that he had been left in charge to continue to build The Grid.

“If you want me to explain-”

“It is not necessary Tron, but thank you,” Clu waved his words away, stuffing his hands into the jeans he wore as part of the uniform he had been given. It definitely made him stand out from the regular citizens and combined with the fact that he looked like Flynn himself, made it all the easier for citizens to identify him. The only thing that was different from first glance according to Tron, was that Clu seemingly lacked Flynn's jovial personality and instead had adopted a more serious demeanor. He could only speculate that perhaps it was because of the task Flynn gave to him.

“Where is Shaddox right now?” he glanced at one of the Guards who immediately tapped his own black helmet for a couple of nanoseconds before straightening.

“Supervising the build of Sector 113 and the energy aquifers in that area,” the guard replied.

“Let's go then,” Clu grabbed his baton and activated his lightcycle, Tron doing the same as did the three other Guards that were with them before they all sped towards Sector 113.

Tron saw first hand that Clu definitely had Flynn's riding style on the lightcycles and briefly wondered if Clu could be considered a “son” to Flynn. He had never heard the term until Flynn had randomly talked to him about it the next time he was back in The Grid after they discovered the gridbugs. He had been babbling about the fact that he was going to be a father and was going to have a son.

It was the first time that he had seen Flynn happier than he could ever imagine. He did not feel any sort of envy towards the Creator, but rather was puzzled to why such words would evoke such an emotion out of him. His puzzlement must have shown on his face as they circled the sectors because Flynn had explained the definitions of what were a father, a mother, a son, and a daughter to him. He had then tried to give examples and it was only until Flynn mentioned that Tron himself could be considered a son to Alan-One that he thought he understood.

In a way, it made sense that Alan-One could be considered a “father” to him. He had created him, given him the knowledge he needed and even given him the gift of his current upgrades when he had arrived at The Grid. He had then asked Flynn if the Creator himself could be considered a “father” to him and saw an amused look on Flynn's face before he replied that in ways, yes, but their relationship was more of a mentor-student one.

That one Tron understood, he was constantly learning from Flynn's creations and from the knowledge that the User imparted each time he was in The Grid. Every time he left, he used that knowledge given to him and expanded upon it, hoping to show Flynn what had been accomplished in his absence. He understood Flynn's need to return to his world, especially after the news of the impending birth of his son, but could not help but feel his absence in a keen way.

It took a few cycles for Tron to realize that he felt like he was missing something whenever Flynn was away. A companionship of sorts. Granted Shaddox was a friend and someone he could occasionally talk to, but he realized that ultimately he missed Yori. Before the MCP had run rampant on the old system, he had been able to go to Yori's sector and talk with her, mostly about the games, work, and little bits of data, but felt that he could not do so with Shaddox or even with Flynn.

He did not want to burden either of them with the data in his mind, especially in Flynn's case – the User had too much to do especially now that The Grid was out of its infancy and well on its way to becoming the paradise that Tron believed it could be. With Clu's arrival he had wondered if the program could be a friend to him, but immediately could feel a distance between them.

Clu was the son of Flynn, but he was not Flynn himself.

More often than not, Tron wished Yori had taken up on Flynn's offer and joined him in this new paradise they were creating. Perhaps the next time Flynn returned, he could ask him to go to Yori and ask her again.

* * *

Recognizer

As a specialized security program, Tron did not need rest like some of the other programs. He had been created to completely sustain himself on the energy liquids and always keep his passive senses on alert for any disturbance within The Grid, but he did occasionally like just sitting in the small lounge in the corner of the End of Line club watching the comings and goings of programs who needed to relax or even meet with others. A program by the name of Pollux ran the club, providing needed sustenance and the occasional recreational and exotic sustenance to his patrons.

When he had first entered the club, Pollux had been a jittery program, immediately recognizing him, but Tron had ignored him and left him alone. He had learned from Flynn and from his time in the old system that as long as the exotic sustenances did no harm to others, he would let it slide. This was a place for programs to relax and he wanted to be treated like any other, albeit on a more passive scale.

The isomorphic algorithm program shown to him centicycles earlier was on his mind. Flynn had said that she had chosen her own name, Ophelia, and he had done nothing to usher in her existence in the Sea of Simulation. Flynn had said she was harmless to The Grid and even called her a miracle, but Tron wanted to make sure that she was not a threat to The Grid itself. Too many occurrences have been happening lately and the situation with the gridbugs had gotten worst.

Sector 113 where the aquifers were, had fallen a few cycles ago to a massive gridbug attack and it was only after days of combating it with at least two units of Guards with him that they were able to beat the gridbugs back. He had immediately erected a shield and Shaddox had started to quickly rebuild the aquifers. Clu had also added his own designs, giving the aquifers some needed firepower to ward of any future attacks. The effort had left Tron a bit disgruntled so he had taken to the Arena to work off some of the tension he had felt.

That was just centicycles ago, before he had been called by Clu to meet at Central Control and discovered the existence of Ophelia. He tilted his drink back, staring into its soft glow; Ophelia was housed in Sector 105, completely rebuilt after the initial gridbug attack and fortified with an advance shielding program that Flynn had designed himself. His passive senses sent a warning to him that the patrons in the club were shifting; something had changed. Letting his drink rest back onto the table with a quiet clink, he made no abrupt movements as he could feel a sudden shift in the mood of the club. Casually looking up, he let his hands rest near his sides in case he needed to draw either his batons or his disc, he saw what had made the patrons shift.

Ophelia herself had arrived at the club.

He was surprised, but did not show it outwardly, masking his own reactive code under a few layers of self-encryption. He watched her as did all of the patrons, Pollux included. They stared at her in open wonderment and whispered to each other as she passed by, a naïve look about her. She had a hesitant smile on her face, but her eyes showed no fear. Instead, they showed a hunger of sorts for knowledge, for learning and observing.

So this was what an isomorphic algorithm was, Tron thought as she made her way across the club, the music still blaring, but many of the patrons had forgone dancing and relaxing to stare at her. At first glance she looked like any other program, but Tron subtly flicked on his search parameters and found that her lines of code were completely different. In fact, he could barely see her code at all – as if she was shielding him somehow.

He found this disturbing and challenging at the same time.

“Kevin Flynn himself said it was rude to scan the codes of others,” Tron was startled from his processes as he looked up and saw that she had stopped directly in front of his little private corner. “But then again, it is your job to do so, isn't it, Tron?”

“Ophelia,” he greeted, gesturing for her to sit down as the rest of the patrons resumed their processes, thought some were still staring at her. He was not surprised that she knew who he was – after all, every program imported into the system or created from the Sea by Flynn were given basic knowledge that included his duties as The Grid's security enforcer.

“I tapped into the network after Kevin Flynn found me and learned about who you are. I knew that you were probably going to see me to ascertain the origins of my nature so I decided to find you instead.”

“How did you know I was to find you?” he asked, curious.

“I did,” she gave a small shrug, a polite, but confused expression appearing across her face. “Just like I can tell you that I cannot reveal my code to you. I do not know why I cannot, but I know that I cannot. Clu had tried to scan me when I first emerged from the Sea.”

Tron mentally switched off that part of his security protocol, deciding to take her for her word. She must have noticed the flashing change in his eyes as she visibly relaxed and her smile grew. The inability to figure out the Iso's code must have made Clu frustrated, but Flynn did not seem concerned by it, but rather was quite happy about it. That trust extended to Ophelia was enough for Tron; he trusted Flynn to know everything about The Grid, including the surprising appearance of a new and uncreated program – after all, he was the Creator.

“In the centicycles that have passed since my emergence, I have learned so much of this place, this world. I hope you do not think ill of me that I have started improvements to Sector 105 and the housing complex there.”

“Improvements?” Tron raised an eyebrow, surprised. He had thought Shaddox would have thought of everything a program needed to live in Sector 105.

“Yes,” she leaned forward, her smile eager, “the codes there could use some improvement for energy consumption and the aesthetics of the buildings would be modified for extra stability-”

“Would this affect the security parameters installed around Sector 105?”

“I believe so,” Ophelia's eager smile died a little and Tron felt a twinge of sympathy for her. She had looked so happy to present him with the ideas.

He quickly made his decision, “Don't work too fast or else you will attract the gridbugs. Sector 105 has been a problematic sector early in the development of The Grid. I will stop by with a squad of Guards later this cycle to reinforce the security protocols there to make sure you and the other programs living there will be safe.”

“You mean my brothers and sisters?”

“There are more?”

“I-I hope so,” she suddenly looked shy; “I don't want to be alone.”

Tron reached out and patted her gently on her hand, “Flynn welcomes anyone and everyone to The Grid. The other programs will readily accept you for who you are.”

Her smile was back in an instant, “Kevin Flynn said so as much. Thank you Tron.” Getting up, she gave him another quick smile before hurrying out of the club, once again drawing the stares of all of the patrons before they returned back to their business.

However, Tron realized that the mood, including the lighting in the club had changed since her departure. What were once dark hues of blue was now just ever so brighter and the patrons all seemed to be in a more jovial spirits. Could one Iso have so much influence on the other programs or was it Ophelia herself?

A beep on the table where his drink sat made him look down to see a command line summoning him to Central Control. Downing the rest of his drink, he got up and headed out of the club, taking the elevator down to the ground floor and immediately headed to Central Control via his lightcycle. He arrived milicycles later and hurried to the control room.

Just as he entered, Tron abruptly stopped a frown on his face. The projector in the middle of the room was lit, displaying the eerie image of a Recognizer from the old system. Clu was standing in front of the projector, one hand occasionally flicking the image in circles, his other one plugged into the projector itself. He must have been reviewing the data he had received from Flynn when he had been created.

“What do you think Tron?” Clu asked, his voice conversational.

“For what?” he replied.

“A more efficient way of getting the programs to their designated sectors if they are found in a restricted section?”

“There are no restricted sections in The Grid,” Tron replied flatly. He disliked Recognizers, seeing them as a holdover from the old system and related too much to the MCP and Sark. Why Clu was looking at the plans for one made him a bit angry.

“I'm designating Sector 113 where the energy aquifers are as a Restricted Section,” here the image of the Recognizer disappeared, replaced with an overall map of The Grid and highlighted was Sector 113, “so we would know first hand if the gridbugs or any unsavory...data...enters it and tries to sabotage the aquifers.”

“Why? The aquifers should be open to all programs to take the nourishment they need-”

“That is why there is a data system to bring all aquifers to the housing projects and businesses to the rest of The Grid,” Clu overrode his protests before closing the map and bringing up the Recognizer's image again. “Tron, think logically-”

“I am,” he shot back.

A mirthless chuckle from Clu made his frown grow deeper, “The Recognizer would make things easier for you and the Guards to transport anyone back without having to escort them on foot or by lightcycle.”

“We haven’t needed escorts,” Tron replied.

“The perfect system will have its flaws, you'll see,” there was something that Clu was not saying, but he could not discern what it was until it hit him; Clu's comment when Flynn abruptly left again after showing him the recording of Ophelia's emergence from the Sea. He had said that something new had appeared on The Grid and Flynn still left for the outside world, leaving him to wonder what was in the outside world that took his attention away.

“Is this about Ophelia?” he asked.

“No, no,” Clu looked at him, a smile on his face, “it most certainly is not. I am just ensuring the security and safety of The Grid itself.” He clapped him on the shoulder and for a split nanocycle Tron wanted to shake the program's hand off of him, but quashed the thought just as fast. “Tron, the Recognizers would greatly help you. You worry too much.”

Tron thought differently – he felt he did not worry enough.

* * *

Armory

“We've got a problem Tron, Delta Sector, Number 105!”

Shaddox's abrupt call to him made Tron screech to a halt on his lightcycle and head back to Sector 105 where the new Iso towers were being built. He had been on a patrol of the outer sectors near the Sea of Simulation, watching for gridbugs when his friend's frantic call had come in. At least once every so often, he went to the Sea just to see what it would produce or show him. Flynn loved the area, using it to create all of his wonderful advancements, specialized programs, or even just to watch its unpredictability. That had been the only unique thing in The Grid, the Sea could not be controlled by anyone or at least Flynn had claimed. Tron thought Flynn probably had some control over it, but chose not to reveal it to anyone.

Now, the Isos were another unique and seemingly uncontrollable element in The Grid. One where he was content to watch for now, but always passively aware that they could be unpredictable.

He arrived at Sector 105 in record milicycles hopping off of his lightcycle while throwing his disc as hard as possible towards a group of gridbugs looking to ambush Shaddox and his men from above. They shattered into pieces with an electronic hissing sound as Tron retrieved his disc and looked around, assessing the situation in less than a nanocycle.

He projected his senses out in a wide sphere, focusing his search parameters on the unique signatures the gridbugs had. The first time he had encountered them he had tried to scan their code, but like the Isos they were seemingly shielded from him. However, they did leave a very unique data pattern that made it easier for him to spot and neutralize them while he and the Guards were on patrol. The information came back to him almost immediately and he pointed to two of Shaddox’s men.

“Seventy-second floor cut the power now,” he ordered them, briefly grabbing their batons and overriding the protocols in them. He released it just as quickly and the two programs nodded once before taking the batons and held them towards the top of the oval-shaped building. The batons reacted by firing grappling hooks that latched to the top and the two programs shot upwards away from the rest of them.

“Shaddox, take the rest of the crew and cordon off this area. Put a quarantine alert out and make sure all of the programs get to the safety,” he stared grimly at his friend.

“Tron-“

“Clu and the Guards have been alerted once the call went out,” he calmly replied. He could see the data scrolling through his processors alerting him to each checkpoint that Clu and the Guards went through to get to Sector 105, “they will arrive soon.”

He could see Shaddox wanted to protest some more, but in the end complied with his orders and started to shout orders out to his own men. Tron left them, grabbing one of his two batons and headed into the Iso building under attack by the gridbugs. He could have accessed the mainframe underneath the Iso building and shut the power down himself, after all, he had the same administrator access like Clu did, but found that like the Isos themselves, was shielded.

He would have to discuss that with Flynn the next time he was back in The Grid. Flynn had ultimate control over the whole Grid so perhaps he could do something regarding the Isos’ shielding.

Pushing the process aside, he instead, touched one of the milky-white support columns in the building. Ophelia’s redesign of the building gave it an aesthetically pleasing and practical intention. A spiral staircase made the building hollow in the middle, with lattice beams crisscrossing the middle to support the structure and distribute the energy needed to the living quarters inside. Elevators hugged four long columns that were placed diagonally across from each other, enabling the programs to travel at their leisure.

Calling up the directory for door access, he locked all of the doors to the residential area with a single command query before adding a short and succinct note to the programs within to remain calm until the situation was dealt with. The glow that surrounded his hand while it was on the milky-white column faded away as he quickly scanned the problem floors.

<Sir, awaiting order to shut power.>

Tron filed the query from one of the workers on the seventy-second floor aside for a nanocycle as he found the source of the gridbugs attack within the complex. <Shut it down now.> All programs on The Grid had the ability to wirelessly communicate with each other, but it was forbidden by Flynn to do so unless emergency protocols had been established. With this gridbug attack, Tron had overridden the protocols around the area, enabling wireless communication.

The light that had surrounded the building suddenly plunged into darkness, leaving only the glow of suit’s color and-

Tron immediately fired the grappling hook, sending himself flying high into the air and landed on one of the energy struts, flashing an occasional blue as currents ran through underneath the conductors, covered by protective stripping. Activating his disc, he immediately tossed it at the glowing mass that was the source of the gridbug attack above him.

The disc hit the mass, but was repelled back to him and Tron caught it, eyes narrowed slightly. He did not expect it to be easy, but at least he had gotten its attention. The roiling mass of angry sparks screamed at him before launching itself down at him. Jumping easily out of the way, he leapt onto another of the lattices flicking his baton to slash at the mass as it attacked him.

Batting it aside, he tossed his disc after it and grinned as it sheared off a section of it, making it derezz and disappear. The angry mass cried out in an electronic whimper before it landed on one of the lattices above him, hissing and spitting sparks at him. It screamed at him again and lashed out with an extended and seemingly taloned arm. Tron held his elongated baton out like a staff as the arm wrapped itself around it and pulled.

However, instead of fighting it, he let the mass pull him in before kicking it in its center. He grimaced as he felt a spike of pain in his foot before releasing the baton and landed on a strut across from it. He watched as his baton was examined briefly then thrown away, the roiling mass snickering to itself. He glanced down at his boot and noticed that the edges of his sole had been derezzed. Not a good sign if he could not attack it directly.

He needed to get rid of it quick. He could already see and feel the structure’s instability with such an unknown quantity in it. Making his decision he put his disc back onto its holster and stood up, flexing his hands towards the mass. It gave an electronic roar of defiance before Tron acted.

He leapt out into the open air, diving towards the ground and twisted his body to watch the roiling mass follow him, multiple talons extended towards him. Dodging the spears by the barest of movement, he quickly grabbed his remaining baton and activated it, shooting the grappling hook towards the mass and felt it connect with its center. The mass screamed its fury, but Tron twisted again and grabbed his disc from his back.

The deadly blue blade activated around his fingers and he slammed it into the lowest level lattice, breaking the shielding around the conductors. The surge of raw and unabated energy traveled across his disc and into his very being, nearly making him scream from its overwhelming power, but instead, he shunted it towards his processes. Using the added strength he received, he tightened and shortened the grappling line and threw the roiling mass down towards the ground.

However, he was not done yet as he pulled his disc out and fell along with the mass. Positioning himself above the mass, he shunted the rest of the extra power he had absorbed from the conductor into his disc. Just as the mass slammed into the floor of the building, he landed right on top of it, spearing his disc all the way through its center. He felt the ripples of derezzing pain surge through his hands and arms, but pushed forward just as the mass writhed beneath him, its dying screams becoming even higher pitched.

Tron felt it happen before it did and reacted by leaping high into the air and landing a few feet away just as the roiling mass that was the head of this gridbug attack exploded in a messy shower of derezzed blocks of glassy inactive data. He stumbled back as a ripple of instability struck the tower. The explosion must have destabilized the tower to the point where it was going to collapse.

As exhausted as he was, Tron pressed his hand to the ground, ignoring that the outer layer of his suit was derezzed and that he was hurting all over. He needed to deactivate the lock he had on the doors and hope that the programs in the building could escape in time. Just as he was about to unlock the doors he felt another presence within the security protocols and looked up to see both Shaddox and Ophelia by the entrance, their hands on the ground.

A white glow enveloped the two of them and a few nanocycles later the shaking stopped. He saw bits of building codes rippling through them and belatedly realized that Ophelia had unshielded herself in order to stabilize the building. Shaddox must have helped her bypass the security protocols he had installed after Ophelia had wanted to improve Sector 105’s buildings.

Breathing a sigh of relief as the glow around Ophelia and Shaddox died and the power flickered back in, he secured his disc and baton and moved to the other side of the floor to pick up his discarded one.

“Tron?” he picked it up and turned to face Ophelia who looked worried.

“Everything is secure,” he pushed away his exhaustion and ran a scan across the whole Sector, taking everything in, “I don’t believe that is the last of the gridbugs, but with the death of this particular…leader…they will process twice before attacking The Grid again.”

“Not that,” she approached him as Shaddox headed out of the building. Tron knew he would have to talk to his friend later about not following his directives and orders. He would also have to thank him for getting Ophelia around the security protocols to stabilize the building. “Thank you.”

“Oh,” Tron did not know what to make of the worry frown on her face as she stood there. Instead of the black suit she wore when he had first met her, she now wore a white version, a sign of her leadership over the other Isos to whom she called brothers and sisters. “It’s not a problem, just my responsibility to ensure the safety of all-“

He stopped as he stared down at his hands where the outer layer, derezzed by the gridbug mass he had been fighting was being rebuilt as she hovered her hand over his. He opened his mouth and closed it as he could not believe that she had the power to actually repair his code-

“Not repair,” she furrowed her brow, staring down at her lightly glowing hands, “just adding to it.”

“Can you…” he trailed off before clearing his throat again, “can you do this to all programs?”

“Unknown,” she replied stepping back and staring at up at him, her expression unsure, “this is the first time I have tried it on a program other than my brothers and sisters. I do not believe so, though.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe it is because of your administrator access? The way you were built? I do not know,” she looked pensive, but suddenly brightened, “is it all right? I could undo what I-“

“No,” Tron smiled, patting her gently on the hand, “it is fine.” He looked at one of his hands, flexing it back and forth. It felt as good as new if not better. A quick check into his own code showed that Ophelia had not overwritten any of his protocols, but neither did she actually repair the damage. In fact, it seemed more like an update patch of sorts that was added to the top of his code, an added armor. How very interesting.

<Tron, everything secure in there?>

Tron frowned at the wireless interruption by Clu. It took the program long enough to arrive. Then again, his battle had been short, but at the time, it felt long.

“Wh-what did I do?”

“You didn’t hear that?” he asked, staring at Ophelia.

“Hear what?”

Tron was surprised. The Isos did not have access to the wireless interfacing that all other programs did? It must be part of their shielding. “Wireless systems, nothing to worry about. Thank you, Ophelia. You should see to the others in here.”

She returned the smile with one of her own, reminding Tron of the first time they had met before headed towards the spiral stairs, intent on reassuring every single Iso that lived in the building. “Goodbye.”

Tron watched her for a couple of nanocycles before turning around and heading out of the building where Clu and a contingent of Guards were waiting on their lightcycles. He knelt on the ground and deactivated the emergency protocols around the Sector before heading over Clu who was looking up and down the building with a flat expression on his face.

“Gridbugs?” Clu asked.

“And probably the leader of the attack; it was neutralized and quarantined,” he replied, “the remaining datashards are on the bottom floor should you wish to examine them.”

“Thank you Tron,” Clu nodded once before gesturing to two of the Guards to enter the building to collect the data. “Do you think the Isos caused the attack in the first place?”

“No, but they have been expanding so the gridbugs may have been attracted to the new and raw data that has been in the output,” Tron replied, “I will shore up extra shielding for the Sectors the Isos are building in.”

“So their expansion must be the reason why the gridbugs are attacking in such ferocity.”

“That has not been determined yet,” Tron didn’t like where Clu was going with that process.

“You are right of course. I will have to investigate it further,” Clu replied before looking at him, “excellent work Tron. Flynn would be pleased.”

Tron ignored the patronizing tone the program took with him and instead activated his lightcycle, “I will be at the End of Line should you need my services.” If Clu caught the sarcasm he meant with that statement, he put the process under a strict layer of shielding that Tron could not detect. It was easy for Clu to find and summon Tron so he did not even need to tell him where he was going.

“Of course,” the senior program waved him away and Tron sped off, intent on recharging his energy and processes.

* * *

Arena

The disc wars were always exciting, especially when the new programs wanted to challenge the veterans. Tron knew that he was one of the best veterans, but limiting oneself with just discs and batons was a disadvantage so he occasionally mixed it up. Therefore this cycle’s battle was just a little different. He had left his disc and batons inactivate in all of his battles, using only his hands and legs to defeat his opponents into submission.

Truth was he wanted to test out the extra layer of armor that Ophelia had patched onto him to replace the outer layers of his own suit and what a fine patch she had given him. It had made his movements and reactions quicker than he had thought possible. His latest opponent, a young program who usually spent her time maintaining the aqueduct in Zeta Sector was slowly rolling to her feet, winded from the last round.

He could hear the crowd cheering wildly at his victory, but Tron didn’t glorify in it and instead reached a hand out to help her back to her feet. She took the hand gratefully before shaking it and stepping back into platform which rose away, taking her back to the armory where she would be able to rest a bit before returning to her duties.

His platform, however, stayed where it was, and the growing roar of the crowd told him that it was the final round of this cycle’s matches. He loved the arena, enjoying the revelry and entertainment he could provide for the programs who were just looking to rest and relax. He also enjoyed the physicality of it, finding it somehow soothing to the increasing frustrations he had within him. His processes and functions were running normally, but with the random gridbug attacks and Clu’s increasingly Creator-like behavior regarding some functions of The Grid, he could not help but feel as if his responsibilities were being undermined and changed.

At least here, he was able to mask the frustration with joy whenever he fought and hopefully teach the other programs who wanted to fight in the arena a little extra in tactical fighting. Perhaps some of them would eventually request from Flynn to be assigned to the Guard or even to Grid defense if they fared well in the arena.

“Heard you weren’t using any weapons, Tron,” a jovial voice followed by the whirling sound of a platform connecting to his own made him resume his focus on his new opponent.

“Cesta, back here again? That’s what, fifth time in a row?” Tron grinned, happy that the program had made it to the final round. He and Cesta had a rivalry that extended back to the early days of the arena. Though every single time they had met in the disc battles or even in the lightcycle grid Tron had beaten Cesta each time. However, at least some of those victories were hard earned, the program readily adapting to each defeat.

Cesta’s responsibility was to oversee the distribution of the energy to the rest of The Grid; a simple enough of a task when one didn’t know what to look for. However, Tron had been there when Flynn had created Cesta and enabled him to find simple and efficient solutions to distribute the energy without wasting a single joule. That efficiency had been translated across the arena to enable Cesta to learn quickly and adapt the most efficient way of combating his opponents.

And it gave Tron the perfect opportunity to work and improve his own skills.

In the days that Tron was not in the arena, he had heard the programs chatter about Cesta and his prowess with the disc and was glad that the program, to whom he considered a friendly rival, was adapting well. But now, in the five times they had faced off, Tron relished the chance to see what Cesta could throw at him.

“Come on, you’re going to make this too easy for me!” Cesta hopped on the balls of his feet, waiting for the buzzer to start the round. The discs were mandated each time a competitor entered the platform to be on a stunning power instead of the usual derezzing setting they had out in The Grid.

Tron only grinned in response before settling himself in his ready stance. A nanocycle later, the buzzer sounded and Tron immediately rolled forward, ducking underneath Cesta’s thrown disc. Coming up from the roll in a run he dashed towards Cesta before jumping high in the air to avoid the returning disc.

His momentum took him to land at Cesta’s position from high above and caught the program’s surprised look before he barely scrambled out of the way. Tron landed on his feet and lashed out with a swift kick, catching the program’s legs and dumping him to the ground.

Just as he moved forward to strike the blow to end the match Cesta suddenly brought his disc up to attack him and Tron skipped a step back, arms up in a defensive position. The roar of the crowd grew louder recognizing that the stakes had grown as Cesta scrambled to his feet, disc held aloft in front of him.

“Not that easy to get rid of Tron,” his rival grinned at him before charging at him, swinging his disc this way and that.

Tron leaned his body from side to side, dodging the blows all the while backing up. He allowed Cesta to continue to push him back towards his side of the platform hearing the distant roar of the crowd growing in a frenzied pace as they thought that perhaps he was going to be beat today. Pushing the noise aside from his audio filters, he instead concentrated on Cesta himself.

Tron flicked his eyes back and forth, keeping a strict visual guide on his own position while noting that Cesta was tiring, his rate of attack minutely slowing. The program must have learned how to conserve energy during the battles he had missed out on. But he also noted that the program was so intent on scoring a hit on him that he had forgotten to pay attention to his surroundings. That was when he acted.

Tron suddenly ducked wider than Cesta had been predicting and saw out of the corner of his eye the program’s next slash go towards the back of the platform. The disc impacted the back and bounced off of it as was the nature of all of the platforms’ back to return the disc to its owners, and he took advantage of the momentary surprise that lit up Cesta’s face.

He lashed out with his right knee into the program’s stomach, making him gasp out and fold forward. Tron then grabbed his right arm where the disc had been bouncing back and quickly disarmed him with a flick of his own wrist, eliciting a slight yelp of pain from Cesta. As soon as that was done, he let go of the program’s arm and finished off with a firm smash to Cesta’s chin with the heel of his palm. The program immediately dropped to the ground, and Tron lifted a boot to place it gently on the program’s heaving chest, a grin on his face.

“Yield?” he asked cheerfully.

“Yeah,” Cesta gulped down a breath before nodding and resting his head back on the ground.

The arena exploded in a roar of cheers that Tron could not even filter out with his audio sensors. He lifted his foot off and helped Cesta back on his feet, picking up his disc and handing it back to him. Together the two of them waved to the rest of the arena as the platform returned to the armory levels.

In the dimly lit armory Tron shook hands with Cesta and several of the other competitors who had stuck around to watch the final match before heading out of the arena and towards the End of Line club. He arrived in short time and was readily admitted. The club at this time was nearly empty, save for a few patrons here and there. A majority of them were back in the arena, revealing in the replays of the cycle’s battles or preparing to watch the lightcycle grid come alive.

Tron normally would have continued to compete in the cycle’s games, especially the lightcycle grid, but he wanted some semblance of peace and quiet for at least a few centicycles. Here, without the gawking patrons, he could perhaps find some time for him to decompress and run an upgrade of his own systems.

“Marvelous job Tron, bravo!” the voice of the End of Line’s new proprietor greeted him as he stopped by the bar for a drink.

“Zuse,” he nodded a greeting to the Iso who was manning the drinks. Pollux had been derezzed in one of the gridbug attacks at least forty cycles ago, an unfortunate victim he could not save and had blamed himself for that. But what was Pollux doing in one of the unshielded Sectors that was still under construction was still a mystery to him.

In the interim, Zuse had taken over, having been learning from Pollux before the program’s untimely derezzing, and since then had added a few new additions to the club. There were two mp3 programs in a booth near Zuse’s own private rooms playing beats that most of the programs seemed to enjoy.

“And what can I get for you today?” Zuse was as flamboyant as he had ever seen in an Iso, but relatively harmless.

“The usual,” he shrugged and his drink was handed to him after a few nanocycles.

“If you want me to send over company?” Zuse asked, his eyes flickering over to the new programs in the corner, some occupying other visiting programs, others just hanging about, dancing to the beats. Most of them were female, but there were a couple of male ones.

“No thanks,” Tron understood programs’ need for companionship, but he usually wanted to drink alone, preferring the solitude. Spending time with one of Zuse’s program inevitably made him think of Yori which he did not want to. He had asked Flynn to ask Yori again and had received the worst possible news he could ever process. His friend had said that they had moved the old system and all of the programs, Dumont, Yori, and even Bit, to a different server to preserve it, but in the midst of all of this, the data transfer had become corrupted.

Flynn had tried to reassure him that he was working on repairing the corrupted files, but with his security knowledge, Tron knew that there was a good chance that he would never see Yori again. He knew his friend and mentor meant well, especially since Flynn had been stricken by the news too, but he had left it at that.

That was why he preferred his solitude.

Taking his drink, he headed to his little corner at the club and sat down, downing half of the glass with one swallow. The refreshing bytes of energy coursed through him, reenergizing him as he looked out of the window of the club, towards the eastern horizon. Clouds were gathering in the sky today, perhaps a chance of a downpour or even lightning. The lightning would attract the gridbugs, so he set his passive systems to scan all Sectors in case anyone sent out an alert.

There was no beacon lit up in the east…no Flynn.

“Can I sit here?” Ophelia’s voice made him turn to see her approaching him, her smile tentative, and a drink in her hand.

“Sure,” he gestured to the seat across the table from him and she sat down before taking a sip of her drink. He watched as her face immediately contorted with a grimace before she swallowed her drink and felt a smile creep over his face. “What did you order?” he glanced at Zuse who had a cheeky smile on his face before looking back at her.

“Zuse said I should try what you’re having,” she coughed into her hand before pushing the drink slightly away from her, “I did not know an energy drink could contain that much potent bytes.”

“That’s what the aquifers are for. They refine the energy outputs so that programs would be able to take it in without too much trouble. Though I have been given upgrades by my User Alan-One, I still contain the hardware from the old system to process a less refined upgrade. It’s actually better for my processes and systems,” he explained shrugging, “I’m sorry that Zuse tricked you that way.”

“No, no, it is all right,” Ophelia shook her head before throwing an impish glare at Zuse’s direction to which the flamboyant program feigned innocence before turning back to another patron. “I will have a little talk with him.”

“I’m sure he meant no harm,” Tron realized that as the Isos’ leader, Ophelia had a lot of clout with the other Isos.

“Even if he did not, it is still childish to play such a trick on his own leader,” she shook her head before gesturing to his half-downed drink, “it does explain why I was able to add to your code though.”

“Pardon?”

“Your hands. I see my patch has served you well today,” she looked pleased.

“Yes,” he rotated one of his hands back and forth, flexing his fingers slightly, “they did indeed. You were watching?”

“Not in the crowd. I cannot go to the arena without attracting a lot of attention. I thought the programs there should watch the combatants, not pay attention to someone like me.”

“If you want, I can create an identity subroutine that would be able to mask your signature and enable you to move through the crowds at the arena or any other public place without much notice,” he offered. He did not know why he suddenly did that, but wondered if it was because he felt a bit sorry for her. She had been the first of her kind, unique even amongst the Isos because of her leadership. A little like him, he supposed, different amongst the normal programs.

“You are willing to do that for me?” she looked surprised and he nodded once again. “Why?”

“Because you should be able to enjoy The Grid itself,” he replied and saw her smile return.

“Thank you, so much, Tron,” she grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it, “you have done so much for me and for the other Isos…” She continued to talk, but Tron didn’t really pay attention so much to her words as to her expression and gestures. He was struck at how much Ophelia at the moment reminded him starkly of Yori. Her constant enthusiasm, the politeness they both carried, even Yori had given him patches in the old system.

He should have been horrified at himself for even considering Ophelia in the same light as Yori, but for some odd reason, the process didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Yet, he knew that Ophelia was different, unique in her own way. She was not Yori nor would she ever be her. He realized that he was still waiting, hoping for Yori to be somehow alive, waiting for her to arrive to The Grid where he could show her the wonders that he, Flynn, and Clu had built.

Suddenly he tensed as his passive senses went on full alert, detecting a gridbug attack. He looked out of the window just as a bolt of lightning flashed by and scanned the source of the attack. It was right below them, on the shaft that the elevator took to get to the End of Line. Several patrons screamed as another bolt of lightning raced across the sky, impacting an area near the elevators, sending rivets of energy in a circular pattern.

Tron snatched his hand out of Ophelia’s grip and placed his other one on the wall, overriding the local protocols and shutting down the whole club, plunging it into near darkness. Only the glow of the suits they all wore illuminated the area. “Stay here!” he ordered Ophelia and looked at the other patrons, “stay put! Gridbug attack!”

Some of the patrons screamed and clutched at each other, but Tron was already on the move. Patching in a call to Clu and the others at Central Control, he said, “Gridbug attack, End of Line club. Requesting two units of flyers as back up!”

“Acknowledge Tron, they’re on their way. We’re receiving other attack reports now. I’ll deal with the ones by the conduits,” Clu replied, his voice grim.

His data feed lit up with the flyer units’ data as they traveled as fast as they could from the nearest Guard tower to the End of Line club. However, Tron was already on the move, grabbing his baton and disc and activating both. He leapt out of the window, using the baton’s grappling hook as an anchor as he shot down the outside part of the shaft gently, but quickly lowering him to where he pinpointed the source of the gridbug attack.

Ophelia was not Yori, but he would protect her just the same.

* * *

Rinzler

The Sea of Simulation was always a mystery to Tron as he shut off his lightcycle and stuck his baton on the side of his suit. His patrols always took him to the Sea, but this was one of the rare times that he had stopped to stare out at its gentle, but unpredictable waves. It always instilled a sense of calm in him that not even his moments in the End of Line club or even the arena could do for him.

He remembered that Flynn had called it a zen-like paradise, a figure of speech from the real world that he did not quite get until his friend had explained that staring at something that was randomized usually made one think. Such was true for the Sea as his scans came up with an error read and when he had told Flynn so, the User had laughed so hard that he had nearly fallen into the Sea.

Flynn had then told him that he took things too seriously and made him promise that whenever he decided to stop and stare at the Sea, it would be a place where he could think, not process, just think like Users did. He did not know what it entailed, but perhaps Flynn was right, staring at something that was randomized and not even functioning as part of The Grid, the Sea of Simulation did provoke some very User-centric style of thoughts.

He stepped to the edge of the Sea, wondering what he should be finding. There was no light to the east of the Sea, no Flynn this cycle. The gridbug situation was under control, but he had a feeling that it was getting out of control, especially with the booming population of Isos and Clu’s newest restrictions. Tron suddenly frowned as he noticed something out of the corner of his eye…

A gridbug? He carefully unhooked his disc and activated it, its reassuring hum echoing in the emptiness of the Sea. There! There it was again! Tron lashed out, swiping the ground with his disc and was rewarded with a feeble electronic scream. It was a gridbug…but what were gridbugs doing in the Sea of Simulation unless…

Could the Sea itself be producing the gridbugs?! The process jolted through him as he looked around the edges of the Sea, searching for anymore signs of gridbugs. They were a nuisance, annoyance-

“Destroying everything Flynn worked so hard to bring together to The Grid!” he growled out in frustration as he scanned as wide and as far as possible, ignoring the multiple error warnings he was receiving back. He did not care about the Sea itself, just the coastline. He needed to know if the gridbugs were truly coming out of the Sea of Simulation!

“You’re destroying the ideal world and you want to hide in here?!” he shouted out loud, the frustrations that had been building up in him finally letting loose. His scans had come back negative as he bellowed an inarticulate roar at nothing in particular, slamming his disc into the ground, before glaring at the Sea itself; glaring towards where the portal was usually lit. “How do you expect me to think?! To guard the programs and The Grid itself?! They even named the city after me! I can’t protect them like this! I can’t-“

Tron froze mid-rant as he saw an armored figure reflected back at him from the Sea. It only took half of a nanocycle for him to realize that it was his own reflection, yet, very different, almost alien. Gone was the blue hues that colored his suit and instead it was bright orange, reminiscent of the colors that designated programs loyal to the MCP and Sark.

“Wha…”

He reached up with his hand to touch his face, watching as his reflection mirrored his own gestures, but his face was not there. Instead, the Sea was showing him with a jet black helmet, bullet shaped and inhuman.

He looked at the disc he held and saw his reflection do the same, but somehow, the gesture was not comforting. It was sinister and seemed almost forced. “What…are you showing me?” he whispered, horrified at what he was seeing.

As if answering him, he saw the image dissolve as a wave lapped against the shore, but just as the wave retreated, another image dissolved in and Tron thought he heard phantom voices in his head.

“Take the shot!”

He vaguely recognized the voice as Clu’s. But what would Clu be telling this orange armored program-

“Rinzler, take the shot! Finish the game!”

Tron stumbled back away from the Sea as he shook his head, tripping on a rock and falling to the ground. He managed to catch himself and was shocked to see that his hands were shaking. Curling them into fists, he forced himself to calm down and hooked his disc back into its holster. To quote Flynn, he wondered what the hell that was about as he stared at the spot where he had been standing. He shook his head wordlessly, unable to come up with the correct solution to what he saw.

Who was this Rinzler and why was he wearing his armor or even listening to commands from Clu to shoot down someone? Was it part of the arena games that enabled a flying contraption that he did not know could even exist?

For the first time, Tron realized that he felt a very User and human emotion, fear. He was afraid of this Rinzler.

* * *

The Game Has Changed

“Clu, you can’t do this! The Isos-“

“All evidence so far points to them being the cause of the increase in gridbug attacks!” Clu stomped through the central area of the Central Control, glaring at nothing in particular.

“We don’t know that. All we know is that-“

“They are putting a significant strain on The Grid itself, I know!” Clu finished Tron’s sentence as he followed the senior program in, a frown on his face.

That had been the point of contention the last time Flynn had been here, before he had left in a hurry without finishing expanding the code in The Grid, something about a baby. Tron had instantly understood that Flynn wanted to be there for the birth of his real world son and so did not voice his protest. He was, however, surprised that Clu knew nothing about this new baby or son that Flynn was about to have. The senior program had been focused on the fact that Flynn had been contacted by the real world outside The Grid.

He hadn't found it that unusual, after all, he was always able to answer Alan-One's summons whenever his User needed to give him some upgrades or tell him a problem area that he had missed on his initial patrols. He would have thought Clu would have this knowledge from Flynn, but apparently he did not. So he had tried to reassure him that Flynn knew what he was doing. The reply he had gotten back was even less encouraging than he had believed it to be, leading them to this latest confrontation.

“Clu, you can't go around and set up security barriers forbidding the Isos from the rest of The Grid!” he shook his head as the program circled around in a wild circle, his long jacket-like armor whirling around him.

Tron had seen him alternate between the two armors he had been given, his original short jacket that made him look like Flynn and this new long one that apparently was more authoritative. He had only worn it when he was making significant improvements, but lately it seemed that he only wore that and rarely went back to the old look he had been built with.

“If it will help stabilize The Grid, then I will do it,” Clu stared at him, pressing his hands against the sides of the inactive projector in the control room.

Tron stood on the opposite side, his arms folded across his chest. “Clu, this isn't the right solution. You're only going to cause chaos and confusion in The Grid. We have trade and commerce with the Isos. What message would it send to the other programs if you do this?”

“I am not having this discussion again Tron. You heard what Shaddox said cycles ago, we need to address this gridbug problem and the solution to that is to isolate the Isos and if they are the source of the gridbugs, then steps will be taken to find a proper solution.”

“And if they are not?” Tron dared not touch the other question that was lingering on the tip of his tongue. He did not want to do something he would regret. After his scare at the Sea of Simulation he had realized that the Sea was perhaps trying to show him not this mysterious Rinzler, but perhaps a past where he had been the MCP's lackey and be cruel, thinking everything just a game. After that scare, he had vowed to ensure the safety of everyone in The Grid, including the Isos themselves.

“The Isos are a product of uncertainty, a quantity we cannot control. The balance of order is getting out of hand and natural order needs some regulation. The bugs are a product of that uncertainty. The data we have been collecting since the appearance of the gridbugs have shown that neither you nor I can scan them. They are shielded, just like the Isos themselves.”

“The difference is that the gridbugs never unshielded themselves, the Isos have,” he replied shortly.

That immediately got Clu's attention, “When have the Isos unshielded themselves?”

“When the first of the Isos towers was under attack by the gridbug leader. Ophelia unshielded herself to preserve the stability of the tower,” Tron replied, wondering what Clu was getting at.

“And?” the gesture the program gave him was eerily like Flynn when he was impatient, but Tron resolutely ignored it. Clu was not Flynn and will never be. He was created in his image, but the stark contrasts in their personality were so clear now.

“And what?”

“What did the Isos look like unshielded? I thought you would have submitted this in your reports!”

“I did not scan her!” Tron frowned, slightly angry. Granted it was the heat of the battle and he had been exhausted, but it was so easy for him to set one of his passive systems to scan the leader of the Isos, yet he did not, feeling that it would violate her privacy.

“Tron!” Clu was furious, “do you think that this is game?! That this is-”

“Of course it isn't a game! I know the difference!”

“Well to you apparently it is a game!” Clu gestured violently at him, “and let me tell you, the game, the game has changed! We're dealing with a crisis situation here and you are telling me that you deliberately withheld information from me?! That you did not scan the leader of the Isos because of what? Some sense of honorable morality? Because she's the leader of the Isos?!”

“Because she doesn't deserve to be scrutinized for every action that isn't her responsibility!” Tron shouted back.

“Her responsibility?!” Clu barked out an astonished laugh, “her responsibility?! You're sounding like, like Kevin Flynn every day!”

“Is that a bad thing,” he narrowed his eyes, his voice instantly cold.

“In this case yes!” Clu roared, “he is too busy with his real world to deal with ours! Tron, I'm trying to ensure our survival here! If you won't scan the Iso, then I will! I need to know whether or not they're behind the gridbugs and the increasing instability in The Grid!”

“Don't,” Tron suddenly felt the same flash of fear that he had felt back at the Sea of Simulation and stepped forward, his hand held towards Clu, placating him. “I'll go and ask her, all right? Just...don't make things worst than what they are.”

There was a very User-like snort of contempt from Clu before he ran a hand through his hair and whirled around to stare out at the rest of the city and The Grid. “Fine. Do what you need to do Tron. I'm giving you this chance to make up for your...lack of efforts. Just bring back the information.”

Tron resisted the urge to bristle at Clu's implied slight about his abilities, knowing full well the program had done it to try to goad him into another shouting match. He knew all of Clu's capabilities and Clu knew all of his; the deliberate insults hurled at each other would only serve no other purpose than to waste cycles and potentially exacerbate any emergency situation that arose. They needed to work together, that was what Flynn emphasized, for the greater good of The Grid.

He left without another word, and half of a centicycle later was at the Isos' section of The Grid. Frowning underneath his helmet at the Guards stationed by the borders of the section he rode past them and towards the main tower of Sector 105. He stopped by the base of the beautiful tower and got off of his lightcycle, sticking the baton back into its regular spot on his suit.

Walking up the majestic stairs he had to admit this section of The Grid was beautiful, even beyond his own words. He wished Flynn could have seen this before he left. His friend and mentor would have been so proud of the Isos and their accomplishments, no matter what Clu said. “Tron here to see Ophelia,” he spoke to one of the Isos who stood by the door.

“Standby,” the Iso pressed his finger up against a column by the door and a few seconds later Ophelia's voice spoke from it.

“Yes?”

“Giles here, ma'am. The security program Tron wishes to speak with you,” the guard, Giles, replied.

“You may send him up,” was the reply.

“Scans-”

“Are not necessary Giles. Tron is an old friend,” the rebuking tone in Ophelia's voice was evident and Tron saw Giles shrink back before lifting his finger away from the column and gestured gruffly for him to continue in.

“Elevator to your right will take you directly to her quarters,” Giles seemed a bit embarrassed.

Tron nodded his thanks before proceeding in. He took the elevator the Iso had told him to and prompty arrived at the seventy-second floor. Stepping out of the elevator the first scene to greet Tron was a spectacular view of The Grid itself, glittering like a shining jewel in the dark expanse of the Outlands and the multiple ripples that was the Sea of Simulation in the far distance.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” Ophelia spoke up and he turned to see her walking towards him, the same gentle smile on her face that he was used to seeing now.

“That it is,” he had to admit that even Zuse's bar had nothing against the panoramic view that had greeted him when he stepped out of the elevator. “Did you design this?” he asked.

“Yes,” her smile brightened a bit as she gestured for him to follow her, leading him closer to the windows. “One of the first things I noticed when I was assigned to Sector 105 for my housing needs was that all of the buildings had bare walls and nothing to emphasize the beauty of The Grid and the city itself. I wanted to show Kevin Flynn this, but he has not been here for a very long time.”

“He arrived several cycles ago, but had to leave again. He said that his son was being born,” Tron knew that it was no apology to Ophelia, but hoped that she could take his words for what they were.

“Oh, a son! I remembered learning from Kevin Flynn about them. Please, if you do see him, convey my wishes and hopes that his...son...would be able to grow like we do and learn everything,” she had furrowed her brow slightly, trying to find the right words, but Tron nodded, understanding what she was trying to say.

“I'll do that,” he replied before clearing his throat slightly, “Ophelia, I have a request I wanted to ask you. That's why I'm visiting...”

“Ask me anything Tron. You have done so much for me, for my people, for The Grid. I should have been the one to ask if you needed anything in return long ago instead of having you come to ask me!” Ophelia laughed lightly and as much as Tron wanted to keep the smile on her face, he knew that his next question would probably wipe it completely away.

He didn't want it to come to this, but Clu had backed him into a corner and he did not want the senior program to hurt or even create unneeded tension that was not already there between him and the Isos. That was why he had agreed to Clu's request...if it was coming from him, he hoped that Ophelia would not put up much of a fuss as if it was coming from Clu.

“I...” Tron scratched the back of his head, “I need to scan your code.”

The smile on her face froze for half of a nanocycle before just as he had predicted, it disappeared into a puzzling frown. She looked at him, curious, “Why?”

“We...I need to establish,” Tron hesitated before plunging on. He had always been honest and truthful with her and it wasn't in his nature to lie to anyone, not even to Flynn or to Clu. His User had taught him to always tell the truth; even if it did hurt the ones he loved, because if the truth was shaded, then it would be the first step in destabilizing the integrity of the system. “We need to establish that the Isos are not the cause of the gridbug problem and it would help us to patch the integrity of The Grid itself.”

“We need to establish?” Ophelia's lips were pressed into a thin line, “You mean Clu, don't you?”

“Yes,” Tron grimaced. He knew things were already testy between the Isos and the Guards assigned to the Sectors the Isos inhabited. “Clu just wants to make sure-”

“That we are not a threat?!” she whirled around, glaring at him, “Tron, we are not!”

“I know, I know,” he held up his hands to try to placate her, “I know you're not a threat, but we just want to make sure and the best way to do this is to at least have an Isos' code in the central system so we can make sure that better measures are taken to protect you and the others in the system in case the gridbugs do come back in full force.”

“Then tell Clu to take the Guards away from our Sectors! He has us under constant surveillance and asking for each one of my people's whereabouts each time we step out of the Sector! What's next? Will they ask us where we are going in our own buildings and homes?!”

“No...I don't no, no...” he shook his head, throwing up his hands in frustration, “I know you resent the Guards-”

“No you actually do not,” Ophelia cut him off stepping up and tapping a finger in his face, “you do not understand because you have not been here the whole time. Your duties take you everywhere in The Grid and you have not experienced it! You are free to roam The Grid, not be trapped like us, having someone question our every move.”

“That's not fair,” Tron trapped her fingers with his hand and tried to reason with her, squeezing her hands gently, “Ophelia, that's not fair.”

“Of course it is not,” she scoffed, but did not pull her hand out of his, “it never is.”

“I just,” he released her hand as he ran a hand through his hair, the frustration building in him again; “I want to make sure that the Isos are safe, that the other programs are safe. Clu has a valid point. The gridbugs have been attacking Iso sectors with a lot more frequency than the other Sectors.” He looked away, towards the glittering expanse that was The Grid, “I...thought I found evidence of gridbugs coming out of the Sea of Simulation.”

“What?” that got Ophelia's attention.

“I don't really know, but all I do know is that the gridbugs are shielded, like you are to me. Even with the upgrades given to me by my User, I can't read you well,” he admitted, not knowing how she would react to his confession that he had been trying to scan her.

“And what about that time when you saved my tower?” her back was towards him, her arms wrapped around her white armor.

“I didn't,” he replied, “my concern then was to make sure that all of the Isos were safe before the tower collapsed.”

“You had your chance, why did you not take it?” she asked, her voice neutral.

“Because...” Tron looked down at the ground, “I cared for you, more than I probably should. Because I didn't want to violate the privacy you had and I wanted to ask you properly, but never did because Flynn said that the natural order of things should not be categorized and I believed him.”

The moment of silence stretched between them and Tron heaved a sigh. He should not have asked Ophelia in the first place. He should have put in a formal request or even gone back to the Sea of Simulation and waited for an Iso to appear before quickly scanning the program before they were able to get their natural shields up. Maybe he should have found a nest of gridbugs, ripped their shields apart as best as he could and scan those things instead...

“Tron,” he looked up to see her standing before him, her expression neutral, but he noticed that there was a sadness in her eyes that he never noticed before, “in the spirit of the friendship and all that you have done for me, including the security cover you have provided me, I will give you this.” She took her disc and held it up before calling for an image to appear in the middle of the disc.

He noticed that it was her unique code, yet there were so many unfamiliar lines that he did not recognize. However, he understood what was being given to him and reached a hand out, spearing through the image, his own security protocols absorbing the brief information he had been given. He knew that it was not the scan Clu wanted, but it was some information on the Isos and it would have to do.

As soon as the information was downloaded onto his disc, he retracted his hand and watched her put her disc back onto her mount.

“Ophelia-”

“Please, never return here. Our friendship has change and it has ended,” she looked sad, but resolute and he nodded in understanding. His asking of such information had forever changed who they were to each other. He had asked her to give him the ultimate sacrifice and she had done so out of the remnants of what was once was that was between them.

They were now strangers, he the security program within The Grid, her, the proud leader of the isomorphic algorithms.

He headed back to the elevators, taking one last look at the view before him, and of Ophelia who stood by the window, a sad expression on her face. There was no wave of goodbye or much of anything else as the doors closed behind Tron and sent him back down to the ground floor. If anything, he felt even lonelier.

Clu was right, the game, if it could be called that, had changed and he had helped change it.

* * *

Outlands

The Outlands were a deserted wasteland of jagged rocks, boulders, mountains that would soon be eclipsed by the ever expanding city within The Grid. Tron had no idea what Flynn had in mind for the wastelands when he first designed The Grid, but he supposed the glittering cityscape would soon take over the bleakness of the scenery. However that was not the case as he noticed that when the city grew so did the Outlands. Flynn had offered no explanation, except for a shrug and said something about chalking it up to expansion.

It was here that Tron felt somewhat at home now, away from the glittering confines of the city and of the recent events that he did not want to process. Ever since he had given Clu the data received by Ophelia, the Isos had been more resistant to the Guard's attempts to keep the peace in the area. Clu had eliminated most of the Guards patrolling the Isos' perimeter, but Tron had noticed one or two of them stayed.

The Isos themselves had started growing a bit more rowdy and taunted the guards that stayed. Once or twice he had personally gone in and tried to keep the tension down, but it had been hard. Then there were the mysterious attacks on the infrastructure of The Grid itself. At first it seemed like harmless pranks, but more and more the incidents had gotten serious to the point where even Tron was gravely concerned. There had been no proof that the Isos were to blame, but Clu had already begun calling it terrorist attacks. Surprisingly, the Isos had not even denied it which made him worry all the more.

He wished he could talk to Ophelia, but respected her wishes that he not appear before her again, their relationship cooled to the point where they acknowledged each other as formalities whenever within the vicinity. He had thrown himself deeper into the games, finding some solace and distraction on the cycles where the petty disputes and power grabs by Clu were more of an annoyance than an actual problem.

He still felt confident that his abilities to safeguard The Grid and safeguard this growing paradise was the best, but he couldn't help but feel deeply frustrated whenever Clu or even the Isos tried to undermine all that he had done. More than once, he wished he could sit the two groups into one room and knock a few heads together to try to get them to see things his way.

Perhaps when Flynn returned, things would calm down. Flynn usually knew what to do...

“Massive gridbug infrastructure attack, Theta Sector,” the electronic tinged voice of one of the Guards spoke in his ear and he tapped back.

“Evacuation plans?”

“In place sir,” was the swift reply.

“How many contingents?”

“Three.”

“For a whole Sector?!”

“Clu deemed it not necessary to current efforts, citing that Theta Sector is still being built,” was the emotionless reply.

“Dammit,” Tron gritted his teeth as he gunned his lightcycle to go faster. “Prioritize the evacuation of programs. Set up shielding to the energy recyclers in the area. We can't lose them.”

“Yes sir, transmitting orders now. Shall I input an emergency override?”

“Negative, upload the latest HUD display,” he completely understood why Clu wanted to allow Theta Sector to fall to the latest appetite of the gridbugs. The energy recyclers were an Iso idea, put forth to Flynn many cycles ago and construction by Shaddox and his team had only recently begun, albeit after the other programs of The Grid heard about the new initiative.

“Transmitting now sir. Good luck sir,” was the reply before a slight click echoed in Tron’s ear.

He brought up the display on his helmet's visor and saw that indeed the dots that were all programs, including the Isos living there were being evacuated into the safety of Epsilon Sector next to Theta. Even before he entered Theta Sector he already saw the waves of gridbugs voraciously eating every single structure in there. The brightly lit shields dispersed in few places told him that the three contingents of Guards that had been sent there were doing as he ordered, but the rest of the Sector looked like a complete mess.

His HUD pinged with the distress calls of two signals that were surrounded by converging red dots a few levels above him. Two programs had been trapped, probably stragglers who had tried to save whatever possessions they had with them. He rode hard and fast to the designated point, ignoring the warnings his own security systems were giving off and saw the two figures, one of which was supporting the other, a female program.

“Both of you hold on! I got you!” he shouted as he grabbed the two of them and revved the engine, speeding off the collapsing bridge and landing on top of one of the shielded energy recyclers, skidding to a halt with a screech of his wheels.

Releasing them he stepped off of his lightcycle and turned to face them. “Are you all right?” he asked the female program first.

“Yes, I think,” she sounded breathless and scared, but seemed to be recovering her composure fast.

“Sir,” he turned to the other program, “are you-”

The program gave a very tired sigh and pushed back his hood, “Tron, it's me.”

Tron blinked in surprise at how haggard and worn Flynn looked. “Flynn? Goodness, you look...”

Flynn snorted, “That bad huh?”

Tron waved one of the Guards over who took the other program away before turning to Flynn. He had not seen the portal light over the east side, but then again the towers of The Grid obscured some of the view and he hadn't been the most vigilant. “Listen, Flynn, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but things have gotten worst. The tensions between Clu and the Isos are...”

He stopped talking as the two of them turned to hear the whine of multiple lightcycles coming towards them, Clu's lightcycle in the lead followed by a contingent of Guards.

“Speak of the devil,” Flynn murmured, the corner of his lips twitching.

“I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay?” Clu asked as he stopped his lightcycle in front of them. Tron resisted the urge to say something sarcastic in response. “Was it another attack by the Isos?”

“We don't know that they're behind it,” Tron replied, “all we know is that it's a gridbug attack.” The information he had provided to Clu did not clearly define whether or not the Isos were the originating point of the gridbug attack, but Clu had used it to reinforce the patrols and random checks of Isos in parts of The Grid other than Sector 105.

“Are you really so blind Tron? You know as well as I do, the system was working,” Clu gave him a steely look, “then they came along.”

Tron bristled, but it was Flynn who spoke up his voice quiet and thoughtful, “Coincidence isn't proof, Clu. How do you know the Isos are behind any of the problems here?” Granted it was an Iso's plan to build recyclers and it would help manage the electrical output and currents within The Grid itself, but this gridbug attack was neither planned nor deliberate. Tron was mostly certain that Ophelia's people would not do something like what Clu insisted on implying that they were.

“Look around you,” Clu got off of his lightcycle and gestured to the city, “they are the only thing here you didn't make, and they're spreading throughout The Grid. The problems of The Grid gravitate to them. What is it you always say?” The program tilted his head, “If there's smoke, there's fire, right?”

“Now you're trying to talk like him?” Tron could not believe what he was hearing. It was one thing for Clu to look like Flynn at times, but wholly a different one to start using his User euphemisms like he was the Creator himself.

“Clu,” Flynn sounded exhausted and caused some concern to Tron as he saw his friend run a hand over his face, scrubbing his stubble, “things aren't always neat and tidy.”

“No,” Clu said, “no, they aren't.” That admission got Tron's attention as he stared at Clu, “Sometimes things have to be excised to make room for perfection. You asked me to build the perfect system.” Clu gestured to the decaying remnants of Theta Sector, the gridbugs appetite finally sated as they disappeared, “Does this look like perfection to you?”

* * *

It was later that Tron and Flynn were on their lightcycles, headed into Sector 105. Tron did not want to return, but nonetheless was obligated to follow and protect Flynn as he made his way deep into the heart of the Sector.

“What do you hope to accomplish, Flynn?” he asked over the hum of their lightcycles.

“I have to listen to Clu,” Flynn sounded resigned, “I should have paid more attention to the Isos from day one. It's been too long since I've been to one of their cities.”

Tron had to admit that his friend did have a point. Even Ophelia had commented on Flynn's absence, ever wistful and curious. Clu had made his presence known, but he hoped that the Isos did not alienate Flynn just by the fact that Clu looked like him. He looked up at the bridges and walkways where hundreds of Isos were going about their lives. Some had stopped and stared at them as they rode by, but more than one had frowns or angry expressions on their faces.

“I don't think they're happy to see us,” he muttered mostly to himself.

“What do you expect? It's like we're from different planets. Well, I guess we are,” Flynn replied.

“That's just it. They want to be independent. They want their own little world,” he sort of understood what the Isos were going through and Ophelia's anger when he had asked her to consider letting him scan her code. They wanted a world away from Clu, it seemed, away from the restrictions he was trying to put on them. “They want to split away from the rest of The Grid,” he continued, looking up at the towering spires and unique building patterns the Isos were always trying out, “in a way, they have.”

“I'm happy to let them develop independently, but we need to help Clu find some balance between their needs and his,” Flynn pointed out and Tron had to agree with him. At this rate if the two sides were to continue to bicker and argue his job would become that much harder and the innocent programs of the other Sectors would be affected.

They arrived at the tower that Ophelia resided in and Tron was surprised to see her and Giles waiting for them outside. “They're waiting for us?”

“Word gets around,” Flynn stepped off of his lightcycle and Tron did the same, the two of them taking the steps up towards the entrance, “let me do the talking.”

He did not protest in the least, feeling awkward to be seeing Ophelia again after she had requested for him not to see her again. But his ultimate duty was to protect and fight for the Users, and Flynn was his charge. He would go wherever Flynn went.

“It's been a long time, Flynn,” Ophelia's armor had changed in the cycles since they had last talked he noticed as they stopped a few steps below her. She also now wore a headdress of sorts that brook no argument as to who was the leader of the Isos.

“Ophelia,” Flynn offered up a hesitant smile, “it's good to see you again.”

“Hmph,” Giles stepped forward, “Flynn, the so-called Creator. You look smaller than I had imagined.”

“They are both guests in our city, Giles, be nice,” the rebuking tone was evident, but Tron noticed she did nothing to restrain him. He realized that she was not pleased to see either of them, but tolerated their presence for the sake of peace.

“They may be guests, but are you here to apologize for you lapdog, Clu?” Giles obviously held no such restraint and Tron narrowed his eyes. Was Giles actually speaking for her? “Ophelia doesn't want to acknowledge that things have changed. That we're better off alone.”

He looked at Ophelia who avoided his gaze before back to Giles. He was presuming to speak for her! And she did nothing of the sort to stop him! What had happened to the once proud leader that he had known?! “We're not here for any of that,” he directed his ire towards Giles, disliking the Iso from cycle one, “we're here to talk about the terrorist attacks.” If there was one program he knew that could be the source of the happenings within The Grid, excluding the gridbugs, it must be Giles. The program had so much contempt for Flynn that it angered Tron.

“You come here,” the program laughed bitterly, grandly gesturing to the spires, “to insult my people? Have you no shame?! Your programs have derezzed innocents, and you have the gall to come here and call my people terrorists?!”

Tron opened his mouth to retort when Ophelia suddenly stepped forward, her eyes flashing a warning to Giles who looked like he wanted to continue. “Flynn,” she turned to address his friend who looked so tired and saddened, “I'm sorry, Flynn. But this is a problem we need to prepare for on our own.”

The dismissal was evident and when she turned to meet his gaze, he pursed his lips and nodded once. He understood that she was being kind to at least hear them out, but as far as she was concerned, she and the others had already made up their minds. He shook his head and gestured to Flynn to follow him down the stairs as they returned to where his lightcycle was parked.

“That went well,” Flynn murmured as Tron activated his lightcycle and climbed up on it, Flynn doing the same with his and the two of them sped off, away from the spires and unique buildings that made up the Isos' Sector.

He let Flynn take the lead. “I'm sorry. I should have let you do the talking. I'm no diplomat.”

“Neither am I,” Flynn snorted lightly, “I'm still just in awe that they're actually standing there. They're amazing.”

For a nanocycle, Tron thought that Flynn was talking about the Isos letting them go unharmed, but realized his friend was talking more about the fact that the Isos were something he did not create, but rather had watched The Grid itself create. The pull of a smile was on the corner of his lips. At least his friend and the Creator could still see something good out of this. Perhaps he should start emulating him a little more.

“I didn't make them,” Flynn continued, “but I feel responsible for them.”

There was a brief moment of silence between the two before Tron noticed something unusual about Flynn's helmet. It was as if rain was dripping down on the inside...tears. He had asked his friend about them during the early days of The Grid, noting that Yori had the same marks on her face after they had parted. Flynn was crying? But for what?

“And I forgot their birthday,” he barely heard the whisper over the whine of the lightcycles, even with his audio filters on, “It wasn't supposed to be this way.”

Tron wanted to reassure Flynn that everything would be fine, but could not. Even he felt that things were changing, that things were not supposed to be like this…

* * *

Adagio for Tron

Tron walked down the busy pathways of a heavily trafficked Sector of The Grid. This was where programs went to and fro on their business, doing what they had been created to do. He walked opposite of them, and though his face was easily recognizable and his armor design even more so, he had ran an overlaying design feature to disguise himself so that he would not be recognized. It was the same type of program he had written and given to Ophelia, but her version had been strictly modified for her own unique shielding system.

His passive systems were constantly scanning for any problems, but Tron did not expect any. Something in Theta Sector’s destruction had halted all gridbug attacks for the moment, but what it was he did not know. However, he was grateful that peace had been kept for at least the last thirty-three cycles since then.

But even with the peace kept, all programs safe, he sensed that everything was changing. For once in all of his operational service, he felt he could not catch up. He felt like he was missing something vital and was watching The Grid leave him behind.

Tron sidestepped a program that was rushing in the stream of others. A quick surface scan told him that it was one of Shaddox’s builders, late to work on rebuilding Theta Sector. He paused for a moment, letting the flow of traffic move past him in the opposite direction, wondering if he should alert his friend that he had an incoming builder who was running late, but decided against it and continued on his way.

A program running late was no harm done, considering that his surface scan had also shown him the origin point where the program had run from, the arena itself two Sectors away. He knew the program could have used the baton given to him when he was created, to create a lightcycle, but his path had been joined with several others, the program’s friends, all of whom had origin points to the arena.

Cesta must have been putting up a great match if that particular program was running late.

A brief smile crossed Tron’s face as he continued on his patrol. He had not talked to Cesta lately, having been too busy with his other duties and with the whole mess between Clu and the Isos. Even keeping up with Flynn had been taxing to his systems. Granted he had not even talked to Shaddox lately either, but hoped that the two would understand that his duties were far more important at this juncture. Perhaps he would stop by the arena in a few cycles to challenge Cesta again.

It would certainly be a wonderful distraction, he surmised, yet… Tron shook his head. He couldn’t afford to let the arena distract him now, no matter how much he wanted it to. He needed to keep the peace. Tensions were too high now between the Isos and the Guards. He had even overheard derisive rumors from a few non-Iso programs and even Isos themselves that they had begun to call the Guard the Black Guard, a damning name if there ever was one.

If only…

No, he would not go there. Yori was good as derezzed to him now; Ophelia did not want anything to do with him anymore, too engrossed in the plight of her kind. Shaddox was too busy expanding The Grid, a commendable effort, and Cesta, he would not understand.

Tron suddenly stopped, nearly making a few programs collide into him as he realized that out of every single program here, there was no one that would truly understand where he was coming from. As far as he knew, he was the only one imported from the old system. Flynn had promised to bring over Dumont and the others, but after the disaster with the transfer and corruption of the files, there was no chance that those who were liberated from Sark and the MCP’s influence would be able to enjoy the paradise he had worked so hard to build and keep safe.

All of the other programs in here were either created by Flynn or imported from elsewhere.

Only Flynn would understand, but after seeing the state his friend was in the last time they had met, Tron could only guess that something terrible had happened to him in the outside world. Perhaps something had happened to his son in the other world that made him so worn? It did not seem that way, but then again, Flynn did not seem as talkative or expressive as he used to be when The Grid was in its infancy.

The two of them were going through changes and trying to adjust. To him, he felt like as if The Grid one day decided that he was going to be left behind; and it was a very lonely feeling.

The sudden increase in the audio around him made Tron look up to see that most of the programs had stopped walking and were instead staring towards a particular point further up the wide pathway. He triangulated the point and had to smile a bit as he recognized Flynn’s unique white lightcycle speeding down the pathway. What was surprising was that the lightcycle halted near him and the hatch open just slightly for Flynn to peer out.

“You, are not really as hard of a program to find as you think Tron,” Flynn looked directly at him and Tron raised an eyebrow, knowing that his security disguise was still in effect.

Around them the murmurs of the programs grew, but they were not hostile. Instead, some where clapping while others were pointing and even giggling to programs next to them, treating Flynn’s appearance as if it was a rare sight – which in retrospect, it was.

Tron stepped forward towards Flynn, letting his disguise drop and heard the sharp increase in murmurs as the programs around him realized that they had been standing right next to him and did not even noticed him.

“Easy to find?” he took his baton and activated his lightcycle as Flynn waved to the crowd before gunning the engine and speeding off, Tron following him.

“Yeah,” Flynn seemed a bit happier as he led them towards the outskirts of the city and into the Outlands. Tron immediately set his cycle for an extended battery use as they went off-grid. “For a security program, you don’t exactly blend well.”

“The others didn’t notice me,” he commented mildly.

“Yes, well, they’re…um…programs,” though Tron could not see Flynn’s face, he imagined the frown on the Creator’s face, having been used to his User and human expressions all this time. “Bad example, I know. But you go against the crowd. That’s way too easy to spot.”

“For a User it is,” he replied.

The small bark of laughter lifted Tron’s spirits as he recognized where they were headed towards. Though the Sea of Simulation had shown him a vision of sorts, whether past, present, or future he did not know, he did not fear the place. Rather he welcomed it, a place where he found the calm he needed to recharge and even upgrade his own systems whenever the cacophony of noise at the End of Line club became a little too much. Zuse had upgraded the two mp3 programs with extra features so they played more up-tempo music that occasionally distracted Tron from his own thoughts.

“Could be for a User, but you probably want to try Alan’s randomized pattern upgrades so the others don’t catch on,” Flynn stopped his lightcycle near the edges of the Sea and got out, Tron doing the same. He wondered why Flynn had brought them here.

“You certainly do look better than the last time I saw you,” he smiled as Flynn turned to face him, shaking his hand in greeting. The distant glow of the open portal shined across the Sea, a welcoming beacon. “Are you leaving so soon after you arrived?”

“I have to. I just came in to give you a message,” Flynn looked reluctant, but shrugged.

“Message?”

“Yeah,” his friend handed him a small disc, half the size of his palm, “figured you could use this.”

“What is-“

“Just, you know,” Flynn shrugged again, “look at it.” He clambered back onto his lightcycle and sped off without another word, headed towards the path that would take him to the portal once more. Tron did not follow; staring down at the small disc he had been given.

He did not need to scan it to know that it was safe; after all, it was from Flynn and ran the command line through to activate it.

“Hello Tron,” the small image of his User, Alan-One popped up on the holographic display. Tron blinked in surprise as he stared at his User. He looked a bit older than he had imagined, and with funny round things perched on his nose too. But Tron could see where he was made in the image of his User, right down to the same smile they both had.

“Flynn told me that you’ve been doing wonderful things in the new system he’s built. I don’t know exactly what, but the stories he tells are pretty interesting at times,” Alan-One clasped his hands behind his back, adopting a posture that Tron occasionally used himself, “to me, you’re just a program, lines of ones and zeroes with a purpose that I’ve built into you, but Flynn tells me you’re more than that and I believe it. The last time we communicated was when you needed information on how to defeat the MCP.”

Alan-One grinned, pushing the round things up his noise a bit, “I think that’s when I believed that you have the ability to grow and learn more and more than even I can imagine. Flynn’s stories about your heroism, your efforts to make sure peace came to the system and to the other programs inside seem like wild tales, but I guess I do believe in them which is why I wrote your upgrades and gave you the best that I could think of…”

“And I truly appreciate them, Alan-One,” Tron whispered as he felt the corners of his lips turn up in a smile.

“…So Flynn was telling me that the last time he saw you, you seemed a bit distracted and frustrated,” his User continued without hearing him and Tron realized that it was a recording, not an actual conversation between him and his User. “He didn’t know what to do to help you, so he enlisted me to say something. I…uh…I don’t know exactly what to say, but I know you are doing the best with your abilities. I guess what I’m trying to say is that if things are confusing and frustrating, just take a step back, think, process, whatever it is you programs do and know that you will make the right choice in the end.

“I know you have the gift to make things right, Tron. You were created in my image and I am very good at what I do. You have the resources around you to maintain the peace and stability of this new system that you are in,” Alan-One suddenly looked thoughtful and serious, “don’t ever give up. The first thing I was taught was never to start a fight, but always finish it. Do what you feel is right and know that I will always approve of it. Know that Flynn will always have your back and know that you are doing the right thing.”

The recording ended, leaving Tron to stare at the small disc for a few nanocycles before he looked towards the horizon where the portal’s light was fading away, Flynn having successfully returned to the outside world. After all of his concern and reassurance for Flynn when they had last met, the Creator had turned the tables on him and had tried to ease his frustration.

He shook his head wordlessly, amazed at the ingenuity and depth that he did not know Flynn had. Users would always surprise him. The next time Flynn was in The Grid he would have to thank him for the uplifting message. It was just what he needed and it served to reinforce his commitment to his duties and to keeping the peace.

Securing his disc in a very safe place under his armor, he reactivated his lightcycle and sped off, headed back to The Grid; his first stop, to try to talk to Ophelia one more time and resolve this conflict.

Thank you, Alan-One.

* * *

Nocturne

Spurred on by Alan-One’s reassuring message given to him by Flynn, Tron rode his lightcycle into the heart of Sector 105. He ignored the jeering shouts by some of the more radical Isos as he drove by and skidded to a stop at the base of Ophelia’s tower. Hopping off of his lightcycle and immediately putting the baton back into its holster, he headed up the steps, eyes set and focused on his task.

“Programs like you are not allowed here,” Giles stepped forward from where he had been standing by the doors to the tower, flanked by two other Isos. Beyond them he thought he saw Ophelia talking with a couple of other Isos within the tower. It looked like his timing had been good; she was probably heading out.

He held up a hand, palm faced outwards in an attempt to show them that he meant no harm, “Let me pass, Giles. I need to talk with Ophelia.”

Giles smirked, “She does not want to talk to you.”

“And do you presume to speak for her now?” he asked, taking another step forward. The two Isos held up their inactivated discs in warning, but Tron was too experienced to let such idle threats intimidate him.

Giles had a flustered look, but he drew himself up and nodded once, “Her words are my words.”

“Then I’m sure you don’t mind if I-“ he started to move past him just as Giles snapped his fingers and the two Isos leapt to restrain Tron. Tron easily evaded their attempts, but made no move to strike back at them. If he hit them, then he knew he would have no chance of maintaining the peace between the Isos and the rest of The Grid.

“Get him!” Giles had backed away, a slightly panicked look on his face as he saw how easily Tron had eluded the initial two Isos.

Tron narrowed his eyes as he noticed a few more Iso guards hurrying towards him, intent on restraining him. His senses told him that the two he had initially evaded were getting back up after stumbling down the stairs. Just then the doors to the tower opened and Ophelia stepped out, pausing at the top to stare down at what was happening.

“Ophelia-“ he started, but was cut off by Giles.

“Nothing to concern yourself about,” Giles waved at her, “please, the others are awaiting your presence.”

“Ophelia! Dammit-“ Tron felt hands grab him, but didn’t fight the hold the other Isos had on him. “Ophelia! I need to talk with you!”

She stared at him, her gaze unreadable as he struggled against the Isos who were trying to pull him down the stairs. He dared not break away from the grips of his captors lest he injure them on the steps from his own force. His passive sensors told him that they were attracting a rather large crowd of Isos now, gathering to watch the happenings. Any sign of him moving to escape his captors and he knew that the Isos would take it as the wrong message.

“Ophelia!” he shouted, suppressing the command protocols that were automatically routing through his own systems to escape.

“Ophelia, really, there is no need-“

Tron saw her hold up a hand to stop Giles from talking before waving her hand at the other Iso guards that held him captive. “Let him go, please.”

“But-“

“I said, let him go,” her voice was hard and the guards abruptly released him, nearly making him fall to the ground in their haste.

“Thank you-“ he started, but she cut him off.

“I will allow you to state your request and then leave,” she raised an eyebrow at Giles and the other more hostile Isos, “peacefully.” Gesturing for him to follow her she disappeared back inside and Tron complied, ignoring the glare Giles sent to him as he passed by the other Iso.

As soon as he stepped inside the tower, he saw that she had retreated to the side near the spiraling staircase, giving them some privacy though Giles and some of the other Isos could clearly see her. He appreciated the gesture, how ever small, and made his way towards her.

“Ophelia-“

“You cannot keep doing this Tron,” she cut him off softly; “I know you are sworn to protect Kevin Flynn whenever he is in The Grid, but you cannot do this.”

“I know,” he spread his hands out, “I just wanted to see if there was any way we could come to a medium without anymore escalation.”

“Clu was the one who escalated things first,” her soft demeanor instantly hardened as she glared at nothing in particular, “he was the one who started to derezz my fellow brothers and sisters. Talk to him if you wish this escalation to die down.”

“I will,” Tron promised, “but I wanted to talk to you first, because I know you know how The Grid was before all of this happened. I want to know if there is anything you or I can do to return The Grid to what it once was.”

She shook her head, “Things have changed too much, even you know that as well as I do.”

“But the Isos…”

She looked up at him, her hardened expression melting into a more compassionate one, “I will try to reign in Giles and his group, but they have the right to do what they are doing. Can you not see that?”

“What they are doing is disrupting the safety and security of The Grid itself, Ophelia,” he shook his head, “they are making my responsibilities harder.”

She laughed lightly before reaching up and touching his cheek, “Ever the responsible one.”

Tron grasped her hand with his own, reminding himself of what she had done for him the first time he had entered the building and defeated one of the gridbug leaders. There was an undercurrent of sadness that ran through him, the same kind of sadness he felt when Yori had declined to join him in the new system. He realized that this was truly the last time he would probably ever talk with her, even though she would still be in The Grid. Their pride, their responsibilities, her duties to her people, his duties to keep the integrity of The Grid would constantly put them in conflict with each other if things kept up this way.

In a way, it was like losing Yori again, but this time, it was Ophelia.

There would be no compromise and in that moment of clarity Tron realized why Yori, who had loved him so, had given him the parting physical contact, a kiss was what Flynn had called it. It was because she probably knew what was going to happen and wanted him to remember her as she was, not what could have been. She had known that she was too entrenched into the old system and could not leave like he was able to. She had known that whatever means Flynn tried to bring her and the others into the new system, they would not be compatible.

Her kiss was to release him from his duties to that system and to send him to his new future.

Tron made his decision and tightened his grip on her hand before leaning down and kissed Ophelia fiercely on the lips. He would release her from her perceived duties to him, to be free of treading the line between his responsibilities and her own. He would continue on his own and keep the peace as best as he could. Flynn was right, the Isos would grow into their own and perhaps, somewhere in the future, their paths would merge again and this time, their responsibilities would be the same. But for now…

He finally understood that this was a farewell, and hoped that she would remember him as he was, not what could have been. Releasing her just as he heard the doors to the tower wrenched open, Giles and some of the other Isos perhaps thinking that he had attacked her, he gave her a sad smile.

There was nothing to be said and nothing that was said as he turned around and walked past Giles and the others, headed out of the tower.

He did not look back as he activated his lightcycle and sped off. They were now on separate paths.

* * *

End of Line

“You okay Tron?” Shaddox polished a glass as he stood behind the bar at the End of Line club. He had been covering for his kindred program Shaddix who wanted to enjoy a day at the Arena.

Tron swallowed another mouthful of the liquid energy in his glass before answering his friend, “I’m fine.”

“That’s at least five glasses you’ve had now,” his friend pointed out, indicating the neat row of glass that he had put aside each time he was done.

“So? It’s been a long cycle,” Tron did not want to talk about it. He had spent the whole cycle stopping a massive gridbug attack that occurred in Sigma Sector in all of the Numbered areas. The Arena of all places had nearly been breached by a gridbug invasion.

They had appeared with little to no warning and even Clu had been shocked by the sheer amount that had appeared. A mass of spitting energy associated with the gridbug leaders had also appeared, and Tron had immediately engaged it, deflecting its attention from commanding the other gridbugs which made the Guards’ jobs easier to help the programs escape to the safety of other Sectors and away from the perimeter of the Arena. All of the others within the Arena had been ordered to stay inside for their own safety as they dealt with the problem.

What had been surprising was that the original patch that Ophelia had given to him had held up against the mass really well. He had immediately exploited its code and applied it to the rest of his body, giving him an extra edge as he went toe to toe with the gridbug mass. The mass had reacted with some surprise at his willingness to engage it in close quarter combat, but had fought back furiously. It had taken almost every trick Tron could think of without harm others and utilizing the structures in the Sector to defeat the thing.

In the aftermath, he had reexamined his armor’s code and saw that he had also taken some of the diskette’s own unique codes, given to him by Flynn and recorded by his User Alan-One, and had applied it along with Ophelia’s patch. That unique blend had probably saved him when the mass overloaded and exploded, trying to take him out at the same time.

But in the end, it was the losses that had sobered him and made him realize that even with his best efforts the gridbug problem was growing larger and larger. Several programs that had not heeded Clu’s warning to stay inside or stay in the protected Sectors next to Sigma had perished during the attack. He wanted to examine the area that they were in, but it would have to wait as Shaddox had sent his men out to immediately rebuild the area. Sigma was a heavily trafficked area so repairs could not wait. The evidence would not be gone, only covered up. He would have to dig through a few layers of The Grid’s code, but it would still be there by the time he got around to examining it.

Right now though, right now he just wanted to recharge his energy levels and not process anything.

“Another one, please,” he pushed the emptied glass towards the row.

“Tron-“

“Shaddox, I don’t want to talk about it,” he cut his friend off.

He heard his friend sigh before putting another glass of the unrefined energy bytes in front of him. “You’re over energizing. I know you don’t need this many bytes in your system.”

Tron stared at the still full glass before absently picking it up with a hand and swirling its contents. Shaddox was right; he was already over energized, even with a full cycle’s work cut out for him. “I guess, call it a revelation.”

“Are your command lines scrambled?” was the dubious and slightly sarcastic reply.

“I was able to scan the gridbug code today,” Tron finally admitted, looking up at his friend who had a shocked expression on his face.

“Does Clu know?”

“No,” Tron replied before staring pointedly at his friend.

“I did not hear anything,” his friend gave him a sideways grin and Tron nodded once. “So…?”

“The Sea of Simulation is creating them,” he sighed; having been able to trace the origin point when the gridbug mass had tried to trap him in its self-destruction. He knew very well what the implications were if Clu were to find out. There was still no connection between the Isos and the gridbugs, but both of them had come from the Sea of Simulation. It was not that he refused to believe that the Isos and gridbugs were related, it was because he did not have all of the facts in front of him to make his judgment.

But Clu would not see it that way. He would take the proof that the gridbugs came from the Sea and use it against the Isos. He would use it to oppress them and make sweeping changes to The Grid as a result.

“Tron…”

“Flynn needs to be the first to know about this, not Clu,” Tron stared hard at the glass he swirling around slowly. “He would know what to do since he created the Sea.”

“I agree, but it will not be easy to keep this information from him,” Shaddox replied.

“You’re right,” Tron agreed, setting the glass down before suddenly grabbing Shaddox’s hand, making him drop the glass he was polishing. It shattered with a resounding crash, but Tron was already moving.

“Shaddox!” he shouted as the other patrons turned to see what the commotion was about. He ignored them and continued on his task, his protocols fully activated and enhanced by the many glasses of bytes he had just consumed.

Ripping through the flimsy layers of codes, he purged the concealment code from the bartender, as the real Shaddox raced from where he had been sitting at a table behind Tron and helped him hold down the program impersonating him.

The program screamed his voice gargled and static as Tron dug deeper, ripping away layers and layers of code, getting deep into the heart of the program’s memory files and found what he was looking for. Destroying the recently recorded file on the Isos and of the conversation he just had, he replaced the file with a doctored one of his own. At the same time he erased any knowledge that the program had of using a shoddily constructed concealment codes before pulling back out and let the program’s hand go.

Shaddox released the program at the same time and together they watched him slump back into the rows of glass before righting himself, shaking his head. Tron held up a hand towards the crowd and released a general command line towards the other programs in the club, making them all turn back to what they were doing as he watched the spy program get his bearings.

The music started back up and as much as the other programs wanted to see what was happening, they could not ignore the command line he had sent, using his override privileges. They would talk, he knew that, but he did not want them to hear this part of the conversation. As far as they were concerned, he was doing his job as the security program on The Grid.

“What-“

“Guard TK-421, you are far from your command post,” Tron narrowed his eyes, “and you have not been released from your duties. Why are you here at the End of Line club?”

“Uh,” the program grimaced slightly rubbing his forehead, “I…uh…I’m sorry sir, I will return as soon as possible.”

“Do so,” Tron gestured grandly towards the exit, “consider this a warning.”

“Yes sir,” the program hastily jumped across the bar before hurrying out of the club.

Tron and Shaddox watched him go before he picked up the sixth glass of unrefined bytes and dumped it in the sink behind the bar to be recycled.

“You were right,” Shaddox picked up one of the emptied glasses and sniffed it before making a face and putting the glass back down. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“The next time Clu scans him for information, he’ll give him the false recording,” Tron shook his head, “it looks like he’s trying to get every single scrap of information he can to use against the Isos.”

“What you told him, all of it true?”

“You heard?”

“No,” his friend shook his head, “just speculated. Your audio filter was really powerful. I could not even hear a single word you or what my…doppelganger said until you called for me.”

“I rarely over energize, but it does help my protocols whenever they are needed. I just wish I didn’t have to do it right now,” Tron sighed shaking his head. Between the Sigma Sector battle and Shaddox coming to him with rumors that Clu was sending the Guards out as spies, maybe it was good that he had taken five drinks of bytes. His processes and runtimes were feeling much better and a bit more stabilized now that he had bled some of the excess energy off in his successful hacking attempt on the Guard.

He knew he could have done the same thing without the aid of excess bytes, but he needed to be extremely quick in planting the false conversation before the program could recover. That process took a little more energy than he had at the time, which was why he had consumed the excess bytes.

“So what are you going to do?”

“My job,” Tron replied. He got rid of one spy, but he knew that there were plenty more. Spies were not conducive to the safety and peace of The Grid. All they added was chaos and made his responsibilities that much harder to execute. But things were changing and he had to adjust; this latest incident proved just that.

* * *

Derezzed

The sharp clangs of his disc hitting his opponents and stunning them resounded in sharp echoes across the Arena. Still, more came at him with a ferocity that he had rarely seen in the Arena. A crooked smile worked its way up his lips as he readied his disc and tossed it once more. The first shot was blocked, but Tron was already moving as he kicked another one in the chin before leapfrogging over his fallen opponent and jabbed his elbow into the stomach of the next.

He caught his disc and blocked the one thrown at him aiming it back towards its owner who could not catch it in time and was eliminated from the competition. Tron stood on his feet, looking warily at all of his opponents, all of whom sported minor dents indicating where he had struck them. The minor derezzing would heal soon enough, but it looked like he won the final round.

Around him the rest of the crowd had exploded in loud cheers and he raised his disc towards them in acknowledgement as several Guards helped the defeated ones off of the combat floor. He gave the crowd one more wave before disappearing back into the armory, intent on talking to some of the defeated programs about recent improvements.

“Hold him still!” the sharp voice of one of the Guards made Tron pause mid-step and turn to head towards the source of the command.

“No, don’t!”

Tron’s jaw dropped as he saw two Guards holding one of the defeated programs in place while a third one raised his disc to derezz him. “Get away from him!” he shouted as he ran forward and shoved the Guard away, “what are you, barbarians?!” He glared at the Guards who had stony looks, “This is not how the games end!”

The Guard that he had shoved away rubbed his head from where he had fallen to the ground and replied testily, “Clu told us to derezz all failed combatants. We were just following orders.”

“Get out of here,” he growled at them as they walked away, seemingly unconcerned. As soon as they were out of his sight he turned back to the program whose life he had just saved and helped him back to his feet. “Cesta, what the hell is happening?”

“You tell me Tron,” the program shook his head, “thanks man. I thought I was a goner.”

“Get yourself checked over by the Sirens,” Tron shook his head, “I need to talk with Clu about this new rule of his.”

“Will do,” Cesta clapped him on the back, but did not release him. Tron looked at his rival, curious. “Tron, be careful. I have a nasty feeling that this isn’t all that Clu’s capable of.”

“He still is answerable to Flynn,” Tron replied as Cesta released him.

“I hope for everyone’s sake, you’re right.”

Those words haunted Tron as he arrived at Central Control a few nanocycles later, having pushed his lightcycle hard and overriding several pedestrian commands on his way. It was a violation of protocol, but he was too furious with what had almost happened to even acknowledge his misuse of his privileges. Even before his lightcycle had fully derezzed back into his baton he stormed into the building.

“Clu!” he shouted, interrupting what looked like a meeting between him and a contingent of Guards. Black Guards indeed, the dark thought crossed his mind, but he pushed the derogatory term to the side. “We need to talk.”

“…and I think this position will give us the optimal yield,” Clu continued to point at something he could not see on the projector, “yes, go with that.”

“Now!” Tron put as much force and command into his tone, finally catching the senior program’s attention.

“Tron,” Clu drawled his name out, “what an unexpected pleasure to have you visiting me; what with all of the turmoil on the streets and the vigorousness of the games.”

Tron ignored the intended insult and stepped forward, “That’s what I’m here about. Your Guards were derezzing losing programs after their matches. Did you order them to?”

He was expecting Clu to deny it, but was shocked by the program’s next words, “Yes. I did. Do you want me to alter our new policy?” He stared at him with a simple and condescending gaze, “I’d be happy to discuss it with you.”

This time Tron let his anger show on his face and Clu smirked at him, knowing that he had won that little round.

“The Grid is changing,” he gestured to the area around him, “and we must be the shepherds of that change. We’re staring into chaos and we need order. Sometimes, that means force.” Clu shrugged slightly, “Like Flynn says, we have to be flexible in the face of imperfection. If our system of dealing with losing programs in the games isn’t perfect, we must change it.”

Tron could not believe what he was hearing, especially Clu’s casual use of Flynn’s name after calling him by his full name for the longest time. He opened his mouth to protest, but Clu continued on.

“We must be willing to do what it takes to keep our world safe, Tron.”

“The games aren’t about force, Clu. This is wrong,” he shook his head. The possibility that Clu believed that losing programs needed to be derezzed in the Arena was appalling to say the least. At least half of the combatants were first time programs, those who wanted to learn extra skills or test out their knowledge against veterans such as himself. He had been willing to teach the programs what he knew to protect them from the gridbug attacks and other unforeseen problems. And Clu wanted to derezz them just because they failed in their first match?!

Clu tilted his head, considering his words before stepping away from the projector and clasped his hands behind his back. “I see you’re not willing to budge, Tron.”

Tron only glared at Clu, sure that his expression was all that conveyed his answer to the program.

Clu nodded once before extending a hand out, “I apologize if you feel I’ve gone too far. The games will be kept as they have been.”

Tron just wordlessly shook his head and headed out of the room. It had taken an actual talk with Clu just to change the rules? That was unacceptable. Clu should have known not to change the rules, especially the ones concerning the Arena without Flynn’s permission.

But he could not help feel worried as to what else the program was planning to do in Flynn’s long absence. The only thing he could do right now was to protect everyone as best as he could and if that meant protecting Clu from himself, he would do so.

* * *

Fall

“Tron, you my new escort?” Flynn’s jovial tone marked by a tinge of sarcasm was not lost on Tron as he entered the garage under Central Control tower. He could see the Creator tinkering with his lightcycle, but was apparently bored with it as it looked like he had run the same command lines over twenty times.

He hated bringing bad news to Flynn, especially since it concerned Clu. He knew Flynn had a slightly protective if patient streak with his created program, but hoped that his friend could see that his own creation was starting to get a little out of control. He knew that could reign in Clu if necessary, but did not want to overstep his bounds, especially since Clu was Flynn’s creation. He felt that Flynn should at least be the one to talk some sense into his program.

“Flynn, I think Clu’s guardsmen are the ones planting explosives in the Iso cities,” his disturbing find on Clu’s main interface had shaken him.

“On whose orders?”

“I don’t know,” Tron wanted to say that it was probably on Clu’s orders, but he did not have enough proof or facts. It was like the Iso connection to the gridbugs. Not enough facts, but just little tantalizing hints that there could be a connection. “It could be a rogue element, but that seems highly unlikely. But that’s not all. They have something planned for the Sea of Simulation.”

That got Flynn’s attention as he stood up and faced Tron, “We need to find them.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea to put you in harm’s way,” Tron was surprised to see the amount of anger in the User’s eyes. He knew Flynn rarely got angry at anything, especially within The Grid, but it seemed like something had changed in the interim before Tron had found him working on his lightcycle. “Maybe I should…”

“Now, Tron,” it seemed that Flynn wasn’t buying his evasive answers and seemed to think that Flynn was planning something for the Sea, “I know Clu is frustrated, but he’s still me. I know he’ll do what’s right.”

He closed the diagnostic board and got onto his lightcycle, starting up the engine with a reverberating hum. “And I’m not going to lose this world, too.”

With that he sped off and Tron hastily followed him on his own lightcycle, the two of them headed towards the Sea of Simulation. Their ride was in short silence, Tron sensing that Flynn had a lot to think about. He did not know what had happened, but hoped that Flynn and Clu had talked about the Isos and the new rules that Clu had implemented without his Creator’s approval. Tensions were skyrocketing to the point where Tron hoped that Flynn would be able to reign in his creation.

His proximity sensors alerted him to at least two contingents of Guards doing something by the Sea. Without a second glance at Flynn, he sped past him, trusting his friend to stay behind him as he dealt with the traitorous Guards. He hit a small ramp and flew towards the Guards on his lightcycle. At the last second, Tron leapt off of the cycle as it smashed into two Guards, derezzing them immediately and snatched a baton that flew through the air while grabbing his other one and landed on the ground with a crouch, ducking the swipe of a Guard’s staff overhead.

He pushed forward, launching himself up towards the Guard and smashed him across the face, derezzing him. Pivoting on his foot, he lashed out with his other baton, catching another guard straight in the chest, puncturing through armor as he fell backwards, dissolving into a pile of inactive data.

Tron grunted as he was hit from behind and barely avoided an overhead jab to his head. Shoving the Guard off of him, he lashed out, scything his legs through the Guard’s, knocking him to the ground and batted him with two blows to his head and shoulder, instantly derezzing him.

Tron let some of the anger at what the Guards were doing bleed through as he gave a war cry and whipped his batons across their faces and chest, taking several out with critical hits. How could they even think of doing something to the Sea? He looked to move towards the other contingent of Guards all whom were charging at him when suddenly several discs came flying out of nowhere, derezzing them.

Tron instantly recognized the yellow disc amongst the Guards and looked beyond the falling data blocks to see Clu and several Guards headed towards them. “Clu! What are-“

“Wipe them out, men. Those maverick guardsmen cannot be allowed to continue,” Clu’s amplified voice echoed loudly in the stillness of the Sea.

Tron watched in horrified awe as the Guards behind Clu obeyed his orders and took out their very own. He stood up as soon as the last of the traitorous Guards were derezzed and holstered his batons.

“Clu,” Flynn sounded shocked as he stumbled into the battlefield, having stayed out of most of it, “what have you done?”

Tron however, instantly recognized what Clu had been doing and stepped forward to confront him. His fury at how manipulative the program could be grew, “You think it’s that easy?! Set up your own men and wipe them out?!” He glared at the other Guards, “This won’t work out, Clu.”

Clu only stared at him, his face impassive, “It already has, Tron.”

“Look,” they both barely heard Flynn’s whisper as he wandered away from them. Tron was too focused on the smug look the bastard wore on his face. He opened his mouth to yell at the program when Clu shook his head.

“You are so shortsighted Tron. It has to be this way. The terrorists are defeated. Who could argue with that?” Clu laughed bitterly, “I have acted out of love. I have acted because I care. I have been tasked with protecting all citizens of The Grid, even the Isos.”

“You don’t even want to protect-“

“I am protecting us, and them, from themselves. I will protect them, but I won’t let them tear The Grid apart,” Clu overrode him easily and Tron felt his jaw drop.

Of all of the- some of the most vulgar User swears that he had heard from Flynn over the years ran through his processes. He had never understood why Flynn said those particular words and in context, did not get them, but at this moment, he finally understood why they were used in such a way.

He could not believe what he was hearing. “You haven’t saved anyone,” he shot back; “you’ve just created your own villains and wiped them out. That isn’t a victory.” He gestured to the Sea and to the fine grains of inactive data blocks that were once two contingents of Guards. “They could have taken care of themselves! All you’ve done is force the issue until something gave out. You pushed it until it broke…”

“Can you hear yourself?” Clu looked at him as if he was a simple program, “You sound like one of them, Tron. Is that what you want said about you when you’re gone?”

Tron instantly felt his command lines reacting to the perceived threat, his self-preservation protocols coming into play. But he did nothing to suppress them and instead, made very well sure that Clu could see it in his eyes and in his posture. Even though Clu was created in Flynn’s image, he was still a program and programs needed to know that he took every single threat against himself and against The Grid seriously. “Are you threatening me?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“ENOUGH!” Flynn’s uncharacteristic anger silenced the two of them and Tron turned to see that his friend had waded into the shallower ends of the Sea.

“What’s going on,” he wondered what had gotten Flynn so upset.

“He can see it now,” the quiet note of triumph in Clu’s voice made Tron glare at the program, but the hint of a smile was still on Clu’s lips, “he can see the truth.”

Tron realized that Clu had planned it…planned everything. “What did they do?” he whispered, looking back and forth between Clu and Flynn who was staring at the Sea, his hands dipped into it.

“They’re trying to destroy Seneca,” Flynn murmured and while Tron did not understand who this Seneca was, he had a feeling that it was very important and very foreboding at the same time for the Sea of Simulation. “They want to kill the place where ideas are born,” Flynn sounded so brokenhearted, “they didn’t know any better, so they tried to kill it.”

His next words sent chills down Tron’s processes, “They did it before we arrived. They poisoned the Sea of Simulation.” Flynn lifted his hands from the Sea and Tron saw that instead of the glittering clear waters that was the Sea, it was inky black and it looked sickened. “It’s an isomorphic virus.”

“Fight fire with fire, Tron,” Clu whispered and Tron shot a dark look at him.

“Look, it’s them,” Flynn started walking out of the Sea, pointing beyond them and they both turned to see hundreds of Isos walking towards them. “They can feel it.”

Tron looked away, unable to bear seeing the shocked expressions on the Isos’ faces, on Ophelia’s face as they approached the Sea. This was not the future path he had hoped to cross with hers. Not like this…

“Citizens of The Grid, this is indeed a dark day,” Clu’s booming voice nearly startled Tron as he looked up to see the program trying to rally the Isos, “a group of rogue terrorists poisoned the Sea of Simulation. Luckily, those terrorists were destroyed so they can harm no others.”

Tron looked towards Flynn to see if he would stop this sickening farce, but it seemed that even Flynn’s spirit was broken by this event. He curled his hands into fists, frustrated that he could not do anything. He could not do anything to shut Clu up without Flynn getting involved.

“One of our most precious resources has been attacked. This is a devastating blow, but I know we can work together to overcome it. Together, we can still create the perfect system,” Clu finished, but to Tron’s dark humor, it seemed that almost none of the Isos had even been paying attention to his little speech. Instead, they were still shocked and some were even leaning on others for support.

“Kevin Flynn,” Ophelia’s voice sounded tiny, desperate, broken as she reached over and grasped him, “What did they do? What’s going to happen to our future brother and sisters?”

Tron turned away from the conversation. He did not want to see Ophelia like this, he wanted to see her as she was the day he had given her the parting kiss. He did not want to see what she was now. However, even as he turned away, his audio filters still picked up on Flynn’s reply.

“I don’t know, Ophelia, but we’ll make this right somehow.”

There was a slight hiccupping gasp before Ophelia replied, “It’s not your fault, Flynn.”

Flynn walked past him headed back to his lightcycle and Tron followed him, wanting nothing more than to put the saddening scene behind him. “I’ll find a way to make it right.”

Tron put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed it in silent reassurance. The two of them would find a way to make things right. However, as they left the area, his sensitive audio filters picked up on Clu’s mutterings behind them.

“He still cares more about them. We are the only future left, and still he doesn’t care about the world he created.”

Tron glanced back as he activated his lightcycle to see Clu glaring at Flynn’s white lightcycle, already speeding away. He met the program’s gaze with an equal one of his own before activating his own lightcycle and sped away. Clu was starting to become a major problem and one Tron knew he would have to eventually deal with.

If only Flynn could see that.

* * *

Solar Sailer

Given the events they had just witnessed, Tron had expected Flynn to leave The Grid as soon as they were back within the city’s limits. But he was even more surprised when Flynn insisted that he accompany him on the ride to the portal. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth Tron had agreed. Plus, he figured it would give him the chance to talk to Flynn about Clu’s deliberate sabotage of the Sea of Simulation.

The mode of transportation Flynn took for the trip however drove the initial processes out of his mind as he saw a solar sailer before them. It wasn’t exactly like the solar sailer in the old system, but it was still beautifully rendered. The two of them had climbed aboard and Flynn had directed it towards its destination, using the guide line to head towards the east where the light from the portal shone like a beacon.

“This is how you returned to the portal each time?” Tron asked as looked around him, the glittering lights of the city slowly shrinking behind them.

“Not exactly,” Flynn pressed his hand to one of the panels on the sailer itself and made a few adjustments before lifting his hand up and nodded mostly to himself, satisfied with whatever he had done. “It’s a project I’ve been tinkering with on the side. Only was able to import the file itself recently. Figured you and I could make the inaugural trip.”

“I appreciate it,” Tron grinned, “does bring back memories.”

“Ah ha!” Flynn’s eyes crinkled with humor, “you said memories!”

Tron pursed his lips and nodded, “I guess I did. Consider this a successful effort then, in trying to make me say User styled words.”

“Of course I’m considering it. It took you long enough, old buddy,” Flynn reached over and hit him on the shoulder good-naturedly before leaning back and sighing loudly, looking around him. “Just wish Clu could be like you sometimes…”

Tron stayed silent, knowing Flynn would continue when he wanted to. It had been a while since he and Flynn just talked, but he still remembered the User’s peculiarities in terms of conversations.

“Tell me Tron,” Flynn suddenly leaned forward, a more serious expression on his face, “do you really believe that Clu had something to do with the poisoning of the Sea?”

“It was in his headquarters,” Tron replied, “and while some may consider it indisputable proof, it is not entirely concrete. There could be discrepancies in the fact that someone could have planted the information there or it could be Clu really poisoning the Sea of Simulation.”

“You seemed to believe it,” Flynn stared at him.

Tron opened his mouth to protest Flynn’s words an automatic reaction to try to protect his friend from the truth, even though it was painful. It was the only time he had ever gone against the command lines that Alan-One had programmed within him, to always tell the truth, no matter how much it hurt. But closed it again and considered Flynn’s words. He could not scan Flynn like he could any other program, even the Isos or gridbugs. At least his scans told him that they were shielded. To him, Flynn came back with a complete and utter error message, an anomaly within the system.

So he had to rely on Flynn’s words, demeanor, everything he had learned and observed about his friend. He frowned for a moment before deciding that Flynn needed to know the truth. “I believe he deliberately poisoned the Sea of Simulation.”

“Even with what you said just before about not having concrete proof?”

“Hey may not be directly involved, but the Guards report directly to him,” Tron replied, “and someone is changing the Guards’ programming to commit acts such as these.”

“Maybe it could be the presence of a virus within the system? One caused by the gridbugs?” Flynn pointed out.

Tron had not considered that possibility and nodded once, “I’ll run a scan of the whole system when I return.”

“Thanks,” his friend replied, “but like you said, we can’t discount the fact that Clu may be doing a few things that I didn’t realize were part of his view of perfection.”

“I believe in his eyes, it is the only way to achieve harmony in The Grid itself,” Tron could see that Flynn was conflicted with what had happened, but made no move to defend Clu. In fact, he wanted to do the opposite, but knew that Flynn considered Clu like a son. And like Alan-One had defended him, Flynn would do the same to Clu.

“I guess I have a lot to teach him still,” Flynn laughed, a sarcastic tinge to the sound, “he reminds me so much of Sam.”

“Sam?” Tron asked, “is that the baby’s name?”

“Baby?” Flynn looked at him, surprised, “dude, not a baby anymore! Sam’s growing up…fast.” For a moment his friend looked wistful before shaking his head and his infectious grin returned, “Tron, I wish you could see him. He’s already six, nearly seven-years-old!”

It had taken a long time for Tron to understand the concept of aging, the difference between a young child, as Flynn liked to call small Users, and an adult, which was what his friend was. But he had noticed that between the times Flynn had arrived on The Grid, there was a slight difference in his features. For programs like him and the others on The Grid, there was no aging. Sure they were subjected to upgrades and the like, so perhaps that was a form of aging, but as far as Tron knew, programs’ features never changed.

“Perhaps the next time,” Tron would really like to see Flynn’s real world son, this little Sam that made his friend look so happy when he talked about him.

“Yeah,” Flynn looked out at the scenery before them as the sailer continued on its course, “maybe next time. I want to first make this the perfect place though.”

“Then I look forward to meeting him,” was the only thing Tron could say without voicing his own processes on how he thought Clu, Flynn’s other “son” was utterly destroying the paradise and peaceful place The Grid used to be.

They sat in companionable silence for the rest of the way until the clouds parted enough through a rocky canyon for him to see the platform housing the portal’s light. He stood up and stared in wonderment at the sight before him.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, the portal’s pulsating light even more glorious than the I/O port he had used to communicate with Alan-One back in the old system.

“Yep,” Flynn had also stood up, stretching his limbs before clapping a hand on his shoulder, “always gets to me each time.”

The solar sailer slowed down and docked against the platform. Tron stood where he was, even though he could go with Flynn to the portal, he knew that as a program he should not approach the portal. He knew his place in the system and had no desire to even visit the real world that Flynn and the Users lived in. He was content with his world, able to help mould it into a paradise of his own.

“Hey, buddy, I don’t know when I’ll be back, but in the mean time, can you, you know, look into the codes and see if someone else is giving the Guards any new commands?” Flynn looked at him and Tron nodded.

“I will,” he promised.

“I know Clu’s probably over extending himself, that’s probably why he’s been so testy lately. He has too much to think about and make sure that The Grid’s running smoothly. I finished upgrading the system so it should be stable for now and hold the Isos’ code along with any others if they come from the Sea for now…” Flynn glanced back towards the direction where they had passed over the Sea of Simulation, but just as quickly turned back and released him.

“I’ve also programmed the sailer to take you back to the origin point so you don’t have to worry about overriding its commands or whatnot,” as soon as Flynn stepped off of the sailer and onto the platform, the sailer itself started to move slowly away. “See you next time Tron!”

“You too, old friend,” Tron raised a hand in a farewell as Flynn waved his before turning and jogged towards the portal. Tron watched as he approached the luminescent beam of light and with a flaring burst that traveled up the column, he knew that the Creator had returned to his own world.

Tron turned back to the front as the sailer made its journey back to the heart of The Grid. Flynn still believed that Clu was somewhat infallible and while Tron was reluctant to point out otherwise, it was still his duty to make sure that the safety and peace of The Grid itself was ensured. He would look into what Flynn wanted of him, but if he found anything to the contrary, anything that pointed to Clu as the instigator of what had happened at the Sea and other things occurring, Tron knew that he would not hesitate to do his job.

He would protect Flynn from his own creation and if that meant eventually derezzing Clu, he would do so without hesitation. He would not allow Clu to become like the MCP.

* * *

Rectifier

As an imported program and one of the few in The Grid not created by Flynn, Tron had some unique codes and command lines within him that enabled him to bypass the newer system that he had been brought to. It was very useful for his duties as a security program and right now, he used it to dig deep into the archived files that Clu had kept in his headquarters in Central Control.

However, he was not in Central Control, but rather in one of the armory rooms in the Arena. He had cordoned off the room he was in; sending out a vague command line that testing was being done on the conduits in that room so no one would bother him. Using his access codes and abilities he then routed the voluminous traffic of Sigma Sector and the Arena to mask his search query through Clu’s headquarters and was able to find a backdoor into the archived files with little problem.

As long as he kept sending out false signals to the systems, Clu would never know that someone was discreetly looking into the files. He spooled off a dedicated process to make sure the signal was consistent and continued his search deeper into the files.

Lines of code ran through his vision as he stopped at one and opened it up. This was rather interesting…

“Why are you looking at the plans for Sark’s carrier?” he muttered mostly to himself as he projected the image with his left hand so he could look at the file and notes in it in a bigger setting than just within his eyes. His right hand was still held against the conduit column he had used to gain his backdoor access.

Tron manipulated the image that was projected with his fingers, and pressed his lips into a thin line, recognizing Sark’s carrier from the grainy images that were clearly from what Flynn had given to Clu during his creation. He had been nearly derezzed when the carrier had plowed straight into the solar sailer him, Yori, and Flynn were on. It was only through his reflexes and cycles in the games that he had managed to survive and hitch a ride to the heart of the MCP.

After a few more spins of the image, Tron put the file back in its spot and continued his search. His next few picks came up negative. He wasn’t looking for anything overtly named, knowing that Clu was probably a lot more subtle than that, so picked at innocently named files. Flipping open another one Tron was about to put it back when he noticed that something was off with it.

One of the tags seemed innocuous enough, but why then was there a random encryption on it? He stared closer at the file and ran it through his decryption processes. After what seemed like a long time, the file finally opened and Tron brought it up with his left hand.

It looked like a list of Isos, not all of the Isos, but definitely a list of Isos. He recognized both Ophelia and Giles’ name on it along with some of the others to whom he had met their acquaintance along the way. A few were highlighted and he saw that there was something next to the names, a pattern he vaguely recognized.

In fact…he remembered seeing this kind of pattern the day that he had finally scanned the gridbug code and flushed out one of Clu’s spies. It was the same exact pattern.

He copied the pattern and placed a tracer of his own on the file before closing it and re-encrypting it. He knew that this was the best lead he had gotten and to pursue it would enable him to get all of the answers he needed. But would the answer point to Clu or to another force, perhaps the gridbugs themselves that were ordering the Guards?

His proximity alert suddenly sounded and Tron immediately pulled out of the whole system, making sure to cover his tracks as he pulled his hand off the conduit column and hastily donned an identity subroutine that massed his unique signature. Only one program could trip his proximity alarms and dismantle the command line he had built around the room.

Just as he felt the last of his signatures placed under the subroutine, the doors to the armory room opened and Clu walked in, dressed in his armor followed by several of the Guards, two of them carrying what looked like an semi-conscious program. No one paid any attention to where he stood against the conduit column, the electrical discharge the column gave off reinforcing his masking subroutine. It made him seemingly invisible to the others in the room, but Tron dared not move in case it gave him away.

He knew that even Clu could not penetrate this subroutine, having been created in the idleness of time spent in the old system whenever Sark did not have him playing in the games. Not even Flynn knew about it nor did he really have a chance to test it in their escape. The only time he had used a part of it was when he was making his way through Sark’s carrier and even then he had not used it fully.

“You’ve been a very bad program,” Clu stopped and turned to the program being held by the Guards.

“Go derezz yourself,” Tron’s eyes widened as he recognized the voice. It was Cesta’s.

What had his rival done to make Clu say those words? He knew that the rules had been changed back so that none of the defeated programs were derezzed. He would have definitely known if Clu had once again tampered with them. So what had Cesta done?

“Cesta, what are we going to do with you?” Clu circled around the program, held fast by the two Guards. The other Guards in the room were silent, but their postures said that they were enjoying the little show Clu was putting on.

Tron nearly deactivated his subroutine, wanting nothing more than to free Cesta and demand what was happening before Clu produced a small diskette, similar to the one he carried within his armor from Alan-One. The image shown was shaky, but it was unmistakably Giles, shouting wordlessly to the camera before tossing what looked like a fiery cocktail towards one of the Guard towers near the edges of Sector 105. The footage whirled around showing more Isos and even some local programs getting into the act, when it suddenly froze and zoomed in on one particular program, Cesta, in the middle of tossing his disc at the Guard tower.

Tron held off on deactivating his subroutine, shocked at what he saw.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” Clu asked, his tone simple and friendly, his expression anything but.

“You’re corrupting the system,” Cesta spat out, “you’re like a virus that we don’t need.”

“Virus? A virus?” Clu sounded shocked, but Tron frowned as he recognized the mocking tone the program had, “really, a virus was the best insult you could come up with? And what makes you think I am a virus?”

“This was supposed to be a free system! You were tasked-“

“I was tasked to make it the perfect system. And in that perfection, there can be no room for riots or rebel programs such as yourself,” Clu replied, “I stand to unite the Isos and create the perfect system, yet here you are, trying to destroy it. I believe that you have been corrupted, Cesta.”

Tron watched silently as Clu stepped forward and unhooked his disc from its holster. Activating it with a sinister buzz, he reached up-

“Stop!” Tron deactivated all of his subroutines and stepped forward, one hand on the back where his disc was, his other one held out, ready to defend himself if necessary.

Everyone in the room froze and stared at him as he advanced forward and unhooked his own disc. However, he did not activate it and instead, faced Clu who had a blank expression on his face.

“Tron, what an unexpected pleasure-“

“Shut up,” he glared at Clu, “just what the hell do you think you were doing?”

“Rectifying him,” Clu narrowed his eyes, drawing himself up, “Cesta has obviously overstepped his bounds as a program and has gone rogue. Those command lines need to be purged and reprogrammed.”

“Not like that,” Tron shot back, his grip on his disc tight with anger, “Flynn will be the judge-“

“Kevin Flynn,” Clu hissed angrily, “is not here! He is never here! I have to serve in his stead! Make the decisions that he won’t make!”

“Because that’s not the right decision! And it isn’t yours to make!” Tron swiped his free arm down angrily, “you were given your powers to rectify only in an emergency!”

“This is an emergency!” Clu shouted, “cannot you not see that the Isos are conducting terrorist attacks?! That I have lost at least four contingents of Guards to this attack that he participated in?” The senior program stabbed a finger towards Cesta.

“Put him in quarantine until Flynn can-“

“Flynn, Flynn, Flynn! Always Flynn! He is not here!” Clu’s eyes blazed with fury, “and if you think otherwise, then you’re not doing your duty.”

“I know what my duties are,” Tron replied dangerously, “do you?”

“To make the perfect grid,” Clu replied equally quiet, “and I will rectify this program and you won’t stop me.”

“Really,” Tron suppressed the command line to activate his disc and attack Clu for what he was doing. He knew could easily take out all of the Guards and free Cesta, yet he also knew that without an administrator to oversee The Grid, what he and Flynn had worked so hard to build would crumple in less than a cycle. Even he could not maintain the integrity of The Grid. Only Clu could in the stead of Flynn.

His revulsion and realization must have shown on his face as Clu gave him a small smile of victory before slamming his disc down against Cesta’s chest. The program screamed, but instead of derezzing, he just shook and twitched against the Guards who held him. Tron forced himself to watch the whole process, all the while silently apologizing to Cesta for not being able to do what he wanted to do.

It was soon over as Clu lifted the disc away from Cesta’s chest, his armor healing itself before the Guards released the program and he stood up, his expression blank.

“I am Cesta 234.981, assigned to the energy distribution center in Zeta Sector. I was created in Cycle 1,254 by Kevin Flynn. Shall I report to my station now?” the monotone voice horrified Tron as he stared at what was left of his rival. He scanned the program and saw what had been a series of complex learning modules that Cesta had garnered over the cycles in the Arena had been wiped clean and his friend seemed to be reset to his original operational state.

“You may report to your station, Cesta,” Clu seemed pleased and gestured to the Guards to escort the program away. Tron watched as they walked out of the armory, bitterness welling up in him.

“Tron,” he turned back to face Clu who had placed his disc away and walked over to him, “you know this is for the best. If the Isos have corrupted any of the local programs here, then they are the problem. I clearly did not expect them to react this way because of the Sea of Simulation, but if this is how unpredictable they are, then they will become a serious threat to The Grid itself.”

He could not deny that perhaps Cesta had been corrupted into attacking the Guards and perhaps Clu was right. But he still thought that there could be a peaceful medium between the Isos and the rest of The Grid.

“Think about it, Tron,” the familiar words that sounded so like Flynn were so foreign coming from Clu as he clapped him on the arm before walking away.

Tron heard the door to the armory open, but did not shut and turned slightly to see Clu with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“I wonder, though. Are your loyalties to the Isos?”

“What?”

“Well, some of my Guards reported that you were seen many times with Ophelia, the leader of the Isos. I’m just wondering-“

“That is none of your business,” Tron cut him off.

“Hmm,” Clu hummed to himself before waving a jaunty goodbye at him, “might want to recheck your loyalties, Tron. The game is changing.” With that the door hissed shut behind him, leaving Tron alone in the armory still clutching his disc.

* * *

Outside, as Clu walked away from the armory his smile grew wider when he heard a muffled inarticulate roar from the armory followed by the sound of a disc hitting the wall. He opened a secure command line and sent a series of instructions before closing the line. The game was definitely changing.

* * *

Disc Wars

Tron sat on his inactive lightcycle, blending in with the darkened bridge that led into the Iso city that was formerly Sector 105. He had activated a masking subroutine to dampen his armor’s lights as he waited. The pattern he had copied many cycles ago from Clu’s files had finally manifested itself. It had proven what Giles had been saying all along, the Guards were derezzing Isos that supposedly did not cooperate with Clu’s new rules. He disliked the Iso from day one and had ignored what the program had said when he and Flynn had tried to talk to Ophelia, but it seemed that the Iso was correct in the long run.

What Clu was planning to do was wrong; attacking a rally the Isos were holding just so he could eliminate some of the rogue elements was wrong. There had to be due process and there had to be another solution. Peace must be kept in The Grid and for him; it meant that he had to stop this attack, no matter what. His job and duty was to ensure the safety of every single program, Iso or not, and the Guards’ actions were contrary to that.

The attempt to console himself and process the fact that Cesta had to be rectified because of guilty footage showing him attacking one of the Guard towers had just left him angry. He could not stop Clu from rectifying Cesta, but he could at least prevent hundreds of innocents from being derezzed by the Black Guards. He felt that there was no need to call them by their former name anymore; after all, they were like the derisive name given to them by the Isos. Black-hearted, cruel, all led by Clu and enjoying what they did.

The hum of lightcycles coming his way made Tron snap out of his processes, no, thoughts, as he lifted his head slightly to watch them pass by. Three lightcycles followed quickly by a Recognizer, all deceptively white colored, shot across the bridge. A part of him thought that they should be red, signifying the deed they had been sent out to do, but quashed it just as fast and gunned his lightcycle, slipping in behind the Recognizer’s blind spot.

He activated his disc and threw it towards the center of the three lightcycles, angling it for a low blow. Grinning behind his helmet, he saw as his disc hit the first Black Guard and instantly derezz him. As the remnants of his lightcycle spun out of control, Tron caught his disc and swerved to avoid the tumbling second lightcycle that had gotten clipped.

The second lightcycle exploded behind him, sending a wash of energy past him as Tron gunned the engine and sped ahead of the Recognizer, chasing down the last lightcycle. The Black Guard on the lightcycle immediately lit up his light ribbon to try to distract him, but he was too experienced to let the sudden appearance of a deadly wall of white light throw him off.

Instead, he focused his attention on the Recognizer behind him as his passive systems went on alert, the Recognizer speeding up in an effort to catch him and shoot him down. Tron weaved in and out of the blasts, a part of him thrilled at having the chance to test out his skills against this newest generation of Recognizers.

He noted that they were coming towards a narrow spot and the Black Guard in front of him seemed to have noted the same thing as he immediately threw his lightcycle and light ribbon into the middle of the road. A quick scan behind him showed that the Recognizer did not realize that it was headed into the narrow section and used that to his advantage.

At the last possible second, with the Recognizer still firing furiously behind him, he lifted the two ends of his baton together and derezzed his own lightcycle just as the Recognizer slammed into the walls and rode the explosion high into the air. His feet touched the sides of one of the Isos buildings at the end of the bridge and Tron ran over the open and exposed energy conduit that had been sheared away by the explosion.

The raw energy coursed through him, but Tron ignored the spikes of pain and instead took the excess energy and pushed it to make his runtimes and command lines that much faster. Leaping off of the conduit, he snapped his baton in half again, rezzing his lightcycle and landed on the ground behind the lone Black Guard’s lightcycle and continued his pursuit.

Tron bled the rest of the excess energy into his lightcycle, making it go even faster and activated his own light ribbon as he rode over an overpass ramp and went flying into the air. Tron shifted his weight and landed right next to the Black Guard who twitched in shock before ruthlessly swerving and cutting him off at a corner.

He glanced behind him to see the Black Guard’s lightcycle instantly derezz against his light ribbon as the program tumbled to the ground, stunned, but not derezzed. Tron deactivated the light ribbon and hit the airfoils, coming to an abrupt stop before turning around and headed back to the fallen Black Guard who was attempting to crawl away.

Jumping off of his lightcycle, but not holstering the baton, he instead twisted it and a staff formed to which he pointed one end against the back of the Black Guard, halting him. “Going somewhere?” Tron asked, nudging the program with a foot.

The Black Guard squirmed under his staff and turned over onto his back, his arms held up in an effort to ward away his staff. “Nowhere, sir,” the program sounded scared, but Tron did not allow himself to be fooled.

He knelt down, and grabbed the program’s hand, instantly activating his purging protocols to strip away the layers of code from the program. He felt the program twitch under his grip, but focused on his task. Digging deep into the memory core, he finally found the information he was looking for and released the program’s hand. The Black Guard immediately stopped twitching and his face was scrunched up in a mask of pain. This time, Tron felt a little sympathy for the program and deactivated the staff, turning it back into a baton.

“Get out of my sight,” he growled out before turning around and activated his lightcycle.

Without a second glance, he sped off, headed deeper into the Isos’ city. He had to get there before it was too late to save them. The Black Guards were only a distraction to the real threat that was occurring. He weaved in and out of the streets before stopping abruptly as he saw that hundreds of Isos had gathered for the rally. A quick scan told him that he would not be able to navigate his way through in time and looked around him for anything that could help him.

There! The lattice work in the building nearby provided the perfect opportunity for him. Hopping off of his lightcycle, he hurried into the building and immediately placed a hand on one of the columns inside. It had been designed like Ophelia’s tower, and Tron was glad that there was at least some consistency within Isos’ buildings. He was able to bring up a grid access to the whole city, but was not able to penetrate any further, the Isos having used their natural shielding ability even on their own buildings.

Gritting his teeth, he sent a search query out for what he had discovered in the memory core of the Black Guard he had scanned. His query came back with numerous pings and Tron triangulated the points. A frown formed on his face as he realized that there were too many of them for him to deal with…too many bombs within the area for him to disarm in time. Hundreds of Isos were going to die unless he could-

He cut off that particular thought and delved deep into the circuitry of The Grid itself, pinpointing the location of each bomb. Deep scanning one, he found that it was shielded, but recognized the shielding pattern. It was the same as the gridbugs. Why would the bombs be shielded with gridbug coding layers unless…

“Unless the Isos have the same exact shield,” he whispered the revelation pulling him out of his deep scan. Despite all of his efforts, when Clu ordered the poisoning of the Sea of Simulation, he must have also had the Black Guards bring back data from the Sea and using the information he had gotten from Ophelia, plus the inevitable discovery that Tron had tampered with one of his spies, had figured out the connection between the gridbugs shielding and the Isos.

The gridbugs were the exact opposite of the Isos, an unwelcome menace, while the Isos themselves were heralded to be the miracle of The Grid by Flynn. He realized that there had to be balance within The Grid if someone so spontaneous was created, that was the medium between the gridbugs and Isos. The Isos were not the cause of the gridbugs, nor were the gridbugs the cause of the Isos. They were both the attempt by The Grid itself to regulate what was happening.

And so both shared the same shielding; Clu thought that by getting rid of the Isos, he would forever get rid of the gridbugs and make the system perfect. But by poisoning the Sea, he had introduced a new chaotic element within The Grid. Who knew what would happen now to the Sea. “Clu, what have you done?” Tron murmured as he delved back into the layers within the Isos’ city.

He had an idea that he wanted to test out and plucked the pattern he had copied off of Clu’s files. Merging it with the bits of upgrades he had gotten from Ophelia so long ago, he touched one of the clusters of code that was a bomb and to his credit, was able to bypass the shielding and get deep into the heart of the bomb’s codes. He quickly disarmed it before sending a query to the other bombs. They pinged back with the countdown and Tron knew that even though he had discovered how to bypass the shielding, he still would not have enough time to disarm all of the bombs the Black Guards had already set up.

It was time for another approach.

Tron steeled himself as he took the pattern and used it; overriding the emergency protocols within the city, enabling wireless communication. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, something he had been used each time he was within an Iso city or Sector. Then a cacophony of noise thundered across his filters and Tron nearly stumbled back from the pillar he had been linked into, overwhelmed by the noise of all Isos within. The sheer amount of data running through each of their processes nearly took his breath away, but Tron fought through the strong tide and reached out to the one program he was most familiar with.

He found her data path and connected to it, sensing with his passive scans that she was already speaking to the gathered crowd, her words and passion reverberating through her. She was magnificently beautiful.

<Ophelia, you need to evacuate the area.>

His scanners told him that his contact had made her stumble a bit in her speech before she recovered nicely and continued on as if nothing had happened.

<…Tron?>

<The Black Guards have placed bombs all over the rally. I can’t shut them down in time->

Tron’s proximity warnings sounded and he looked behind him to see a contingent of Black Guards racing towards him, intent on stopping whatever he was doing.

<Clu set this up to take out the rebel Isos! You need to evacuate the area!> He uploaded the data he had gotten to her before pulling his hand away from the pillar and activated his disc as the Black Guards surrounded him.

There were no words exchanged as Tron surveyed them. He knew that they were here to derezz him, and they knew that he was here to stop them. He needed to finish this battle fast and make sure that the Isos had evacuated. Suddenly, he flicked his wrist, sending his disc flying towards a Guard, instantly derezzing him before catching the disc back and leapt towards another one, his baton in his right hand.

Smashing the faceplate of another, he leapt off of the program’s body and flipped into the air, sending his baton’s grappling hook deep into one of the lattices and swung around. Half way through the apex, he shot his disc towards another Black Guard who managed to bounce it away from him, but into another one of his comrades who derezzed with an electronic scream.

Tron completed the loop and released his baton, flying down towards the ground. He landed on his hands and knees, the force of the impact creating a small crater in the ground. Two of the Guards took the opportunity to strike with their staffs, but Tron raised his baton in a parry of one before twisting away from the other staff, rolling to the side. He got to his feet and held his baton and disc in his hands, watching the three remaining Guards warily.

Flipping the grip of his disc towards his inner wrist, he suddenly threw it towards one of the Guards who ducked underneath the disc before throwing his own. Tron flipped over the flying disc before his own ricocheted off of the wall and smashed into the back of the Guard who fell forward, disintegrated into a pile of inactive data. Tron caught his disc mid-air before landing and flicked it in an upwards curve towards one of the Guards still holding a staff, snapping it in half.

He charged forward, stabbing the Guard in his helmet with his baton before catching his disc and turned to face the last of the Black Guards. The Guard seemingly quailed as he backed away from Tron, holding his staff out in an attempt to ward him away.

<Clu! We need->

Tron immediately threw his disc as hard as he could, splitting the program’s head in half, cutting him off before he could send anymore messages through the emergency protocols. The program fell to the ground, data bleeding out of the fatal gash before derezzing at his feet.

Tron retrieved his disc and hooked it back onto his back before activating the grappling hook and shot it towards the highest lattice of the building he was in. It took him to the top and Tron exited to the roof of the building. He holstered his baton and looked towards where the rally was supposedly held. There were already pillars of smoke in the area and Tron scanned the area. Several Isos were amongst the casualties and there were many more injured, but he saw that most of the Isos had escaped, Ophelia having told them what had happened.

<…Tron…>

Tron nearly started when he realized he had still left the emergency protocols active and smiled as he heard her voice in his head.

<I’m glad you are safe…>

<Thank you. You have saved many of my brothers and sisters’ lives today. I want to let you know->

<I have to go, Ophelia.> Tron noticed the portal in the eastern sky had suddenly lit up. Flynn was back. <Flynn’s returned. We’ll talk when all of this is over, all right?>

<I look forward to that.>

Tron hastily shut down the emergency protocols before grabbing his baton. Splitting it in half he revved his lightcycle’s engine and sped down the sheer vertical side of the Iso building, aiming for the sloping design that sent him back onto the main pathway and from there, down to the solar sailer’s platform.

Flynn was back and this time, Tron had the proof of Clu’s treachery.

* * *

C.L.U.

1989

Tron met Flynn as the sailer halted to a gentle stop at the platform, noting that the User looked a lot better than the last time he had seen him. “Got some new things I want to try out with The Grid,” Flynn hopped off of the sailer, completely excited, “will probably bring Sam around next time too. The boy's gotten big, seven-years-old, can you believe that man?”

“Flynn,” Tron hated being a downer to Flynn's infectious mood, but the Creator needed to know that things were terribly wrong in The Grid.

“I managed to find something in the code a couple of days ago that I think will revolutionize The Grid and my world itself and just need to test it-”

“Flynn,” Tron's tone became even more insistent as the two of them headed away from the sailer platform and back towards the elevators to take them to the main ground levels. “Clu's been orchestrating everything. I have the proof.”

“Come on Tron,” Flynn shook his head as they walked through the central area, “you worry too much. Clu's just-”

“Kevin Flynn!” Clu's booming voice made the two of them stop where they were and Tron narrowed his eyes as he saw Clu standing near one of the alternate entrances, dressed in his yellow-black armor. “Am I still to create the perfect system?”

Flynn looked bemused for a second before nodding, “...Yeah?”

There was a moments’ pause before Clu stepped back, activating his disc with a buzzing hiss as his helmet clicked into place. At the same time four elite Black Guards, all lit up with blood red-orange coloring, stepped out of the corners of the room; having hidden by a masking subroutine with Clu's signature all over it. He had planned this, planned to ambush Flynn, possibly even derezz him, Tron realized as he grabbed his disc and activated it, looking warily around at the advancing Guards.

“Go,” he flicked a look at Flynn who stood frozen in shock, as if he could not believe that all of this was happening. He would fight for Flynn; there was no question about that. He would make sure Flynn escaped this ambush by his own creation and the Black Guards. Clu had gone too far now...

“Go, Flynn!” he shouted, “Run!”

He struck out at the first Guard, stabbing him in the chest with his disc, derezzing him before punching another one in the face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Flynn running towards the exit before focusing back on the Guard he had stunned. He parried the desperate blow by the Guard with his disc before taking his outstretched arm and threw him over his shoulder and down onto the ground.

At the same time he ripped the Guard's disc from his fingers and slammed it into its owner's chest, instantly derezzing him. Tron glanced at the red-orange disc he held in his right hand, a grim determination filling him. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he stood and held the two discs aloft, his stance set and sure. The other two Guards circled him carefully, seeing how fast their comrades had fallen to him.

The first one struck with his staff, in an upward sweep, but Tron blocked with both of his discs, shifting his feet in a lunging move that took the guard out with two quick hits. He spun around and smashed his disc into the face of a second one before digging his left one into the chest and twisted him to the ground. Pushing his discs in further, he saw the program choke and twitch for a second before derezzing underneath his fatal blows.

A sudden muffled cry made Tron look up to see Clu advancing menacingly on Flynn who had fallen in his haste to escape. He wasted no time and launched himself at the rogue program, knocking him away from Flynn. As the two of them tumbled to the ground, Tron managed to kick Clu away from him and roll to his feet.

“GO!” he shouted as Clu charged at him, his disc arcing downward in an overhead blow. Tron barely managed to block the blow, shocked at how powerful it was and how much more strength Clu had.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Flynn scrambling to his feet and disappeared around a corner, hopefully escaping the battle. The idea that Clu could even think of attacking his own User, the Creator was unforgivable. Tron gritted his teeth against the sheer amount of strength that Clu was pressing against him, seeing none of the malicious expression that had to be on the program's face, hidden behind his black helmet.

There were no words exchanged and none needed to be as the two of them stared at each other through the hiss and buzz of their discs making contact with each other. This battle, however long or short, was long in coming since all of the small resentments, problems, and annoyances between the two had appeared. Everything Tron hated about Clu and everything Clu hated about Tron would be decided here and now.

Tron finally broke the stalemate by lashing out with one of his discs towards Clu, feeling the skim of Clu's disc derezzing part of his armor, but ignored the pain and struck with his second disc. However, Clu kept up, blocking and parrying as he tried every fast strike he could think of. The program was good, but Tron knew that he was even better, so why could he not strike the finishing blow?

It only took him half of a thought to figure out that he was still trying to see Clu as Flynn's protégé, not as he was, a corrupted threat. His belief in Flynn and Flynn's belief in Clu was keeping him from striking that blow.

That had to be changed.

Tron reached deep into his own core and unlocked everything Alan-One had given to him, everything that Ophelia had given to him, every single restriction within him. He fought for the Users and Clu's actions went against his mandate.

This time, Tron lashed out, free of the restrictions that had bound him and struck with everything he had against Clu. He allowed himself a grim smile as his disc found the center of Clu's armor, but his smile faded as Clu did not even stumble back or derezz.

He only had a fleeting warning before his arm was trapped under Clu's and suddenly Tron found his world flipped head over heels as he was slammed into the ground. His vision crackled in static and error messages and he felt one of his discs clatter to the ground. He struggled against the sluggish response time, trying to hasten his command lines to get up and continue the fight, but they were slow to respond.

The sinister buzz of Clu's disc made him look up to see the program holding it above him. “No,” he whispered, realizing what Clu meant to do to him.

“NOOOO!” he screamed as the disc flew down towards him, shattering through his armor, rewriting his codes, his memories, everything that he was; it burned through him, scorching every fiber of his code-

Tron's last coherent thought was that Flynn had escaped. The User had escaped...Flynn lived.

Then, there was nothing but darkness.

* * *

Arrival

Command Line: Activate Rinzler.

Command Receipt: Awaiting command.

Command Line: Games, Disc Wars.

Command Receipt: Understood. Protocol query.

Command Line: Derezzing of all losers. No change.

Command Receipt: Understood. Black Guards at optimal capacity.

Command Line: Your sarcasm is not welcomed, Rinzler.

Command Receipt: [unintelligible electronic feedback]

He fought, that was what he was good at. That was what he was created for. He ignored the random feedback and error messages he received from some of his runtimes and command lines. It was of no consequence to him. Nothing mattered except for the commands he received from Clu and defeating the opposition.

Scan Query: Error 404. Unable to scan. Suggest intimidation.

Command Protocol: Amateur program, attempted escape from Games.

Command Protocol: Gravity fluctuations resulted in strike against program. No data chips fallen.

Scan Query: Error 404. Possible upgrade needed to scanners.

Command Protocol: Trapped. Deresolution imminent-

He looked towards the wound given in the short fight and saw the red liquid drop to the ground, the program pinned underneath his discs grimacing in pain.

Scan Query: Blood.

Identification Protocol: User.

Search Query: User.

Search Return: Unable to complete query. Error. Error. Error. Error.

“User…” Rinzler resisted the urge to shake his head against the constant droning of the error messages and misfires of processes that his search query had gotten through his own command lines and processes. He hated when that happened and it only served to increase his anger at his own dysfunction. Clu had created him to be a fighter, and yet here he was misfiring on just the simplest of commands.

However, he could not help but shake the feeling that he knew what a User was. A new type of program?

Search Query: User, Clu, display results.

Search Return: False deity who enslaved The Grid. Any claiming allegiance with Users brought to Clu before placement in Games.

Rinzler hauled the program up roughly to his feet, spinning him so that he faced Clu’s command carrier. Protocols demanded that Clu examine this…User.

Audio Scanner: Approval drop in Games-

Command Protocol: Approval drop noted, ignore.

“What’s your name, program?” Jarvis’ sycophantic voice boomed across the mostly silent Arena.

“I’m not a program,” the voice was exhausted, but strong, “my name is Sam Flynn.”

Command Protocol: ERROR! ERROR! ERROR! ERR-

Visual Protocol: Static.

“It’s time I leveled with you. I’m what you guys call a User,” Flynn’s infectious grin was plastered all over his face as he-

Command Protocol: ERROR! ERROR!

Visual Protocol: Static.

“Baby?” Flynn looked at him, surprised, “dude, not a baby anymore! Sam’s growing up…fast.”

Command Protocol: ERROR! ERROR! Override. Flynn. Sam. Sam Flynn…

Command Line: -nzler! Rinzler! Report!

Command Receipt: Process interrupted, reporting as requested.

Command Line: I already told you; escort the User up to my carrier.

Command Receipt: Understood.

* * *

Flynn Lives

The error messages were compounding and building to Rinzler’s chagrin as he escorted the female isomorphic algorithm up to Clu’s command post in his carrier. She was shielded, but he had easily ripped through the codes and scanned her. That was when he had realized she was an isomorphic algorithm and brought her before Clu. There had been an outstanding command that all isomorphic algorithms be brought before him and had obeyed it.

Clu had ordered her taken to his cruiser and he did so without a second’s hesitation. He had already failed twice to recapture the User Sam Flynn and did not like to fail. Everything was about winning the game and Rinzler knew he was the best at the games. He scanned her again as they rode the elevator up to the command carrier. It was puzzling why Clu seemed interested in this isomorphic algorithm when he had killed all others. Was the mandate wrong then? Was he not supposed to kill the isomorphic algorithms?

Scan Query: Match found.

Rinzler was a little surprised when his passive scanners picked up whatever was matching before bringing it up on his HUD. It was the remnants of an identification subroutine. Heavily modified yet it matched something within him. How could he have such an identity masking subroutine-

“If you want, I can create an identity subroutine that would be able to mask your signature and enable you to move through the crowds at the arena or any other public place without much notice,” he offered.

But the leader of the isomorphic algorithms had died after he had been given the upgrades to hunt them down. It had been a boon to the game he was playing enabling him to seek them out without too much trouble, even with the identification subroutine they had tried to overlay their systems with to avoid detection.

“I know you’re in there somewhere,” she gave him a sad, yet surprisingly hopeful smile as he raised his disc. She was magnificently fearless, a part of him processed, before he wondered where the process came from. “And I want you to know-

Rinzler immediately sent a shut down command to that process. He had no idea where it came from and glared at the isomorphic algorithm he was escorting. She was disturbing the game and he did not like his game disturbed. Ever since that User Sam Flynn had entered the Arena, the increase in glitches and error messages had grown exponentially. He hated it.

Just as they reached the entrance to the carrier, a general alarm sounded and the door opened to reveal the User Sam Flynn holding what looked like the Master Key Clu had at the top of his command list to retrieve at all costs. Rinzler immediately acted, shoving the female isomorphic algorithm to the side and activated his discs.

He flipped over the first disc thrown, using his hands to cartwheel- and suddenly lost his footing as he felt a swift kick to his hands, sending him tumbling to the ground before managing to right himself in time to barely block the second thrown disc; the force of the impact sending him tumbling out towards the elevator and beyond that the open air of the carrier-

Command Protocol: Survive!

Rinzler grabbed onto the edges of the elevator at the last second, holstering his main disc on to his back as he pulled himself back up, landing on the ground. He looked up just in time to see the User and isomorphic algorithm jumping out of the window, a dorsal wing attached to their backs.

Command Line: Failure.

Command Receipt: Re-assessment of failure status. Combat with User Sam Flynn prevented Master Key from being retrieved.

Rinzler looked behind him to see Clu and several of the Black Guards arriving on the elevator and stepped aside as his master and Creator examined the place where the Master Key was being held. He saw Clu look at him and tilted his head before looking at Jarvis who stood nervously across from him. That program was a hindrance to the games in his opinion, but he would never voice it, not even through the wireless, to his master.

“Death to the Us-“

Rinzler allowed himself the satisfaction of the elimination of Jarvis. At least that was one hindrance dealt with.

Command Line: Activate lightjet, shoot to kill.

He obeyed the directive and leapt out of the carrier’s window along with the others, activating their lightjets and pursuing the bigger three-program lightjet. As they weaved in and out of the black spires that shot from the Sea of Simulation, Rinzler hung back, setting his scanners on the bigger lightjet and the area surrounding it. He ignored the numerous error messages he was receiving from the Sea; somehow knowing that he could not scan the Sea.

He sent out a search query as to the reason why, but received an error message in return. He should have known. It was part of the glitches that constantly ran throughout his imperfect system. He was the best at the games, the best at fighting, the best Clu had said when he Created him so why was he so faulty?

Command Line: Rinzler! Get your head into the game!

Rinzler shot forward on his interceptor as he saw the last of the Black Guards had fallen. Good riddance to them, he processed, the Black Guards did not play the game well. He would finish the game for them. Triggering a burst of fire, he saw his light bullets score hits on the heavier fighter, stopping the User sitting in the back from firing. Pleased with his own success, he put more power into his interceptor and whirled around, wanting to savor one more look at his opponents before finishing the game.

He saw the User Sam Flynn with a desperate expression on his face, the female isomorphic algorithm, a grim mask of determination and the last passenger, a very aged-

Command Protocol: ERROR! ERROR! ERR-

“It’s time I leveled with you. I’m what you guys call a User,” Flynn’s infectious grin was plastered all over his face as he faced them.

Command Protocol: …

“It’s a project I’ve been tinkering with on the side. Only was able to import the file itself recently. Figured you and I could make the inaugural trip.”

“I appreciate it,” he grinned, “does bring back memories.”

“Ah ha!” Flynn’s eyes crinkled with humor, “you said memories!”

He pursed his lips and nodded, “I guess I did. Consider this a successful effort then, in trying to make me say User styled words.”

“Of course I’m considering it. It took you long enough, old buddy,” Flynn reached over and hit him on the shoulder good-naturedly before leaning back and sighing loudly, looking around him.

Command Proto-

“Tron, what have you become?” Rinzler could clearly read the words off of the old man, no, off of Kevin Flynn’s lips as he completed his loop and returned to where he had the optimal firing solution. He shook his head…Kevin Flynn…Flynn, but…Flynn was-

“Go,” he flicked a look at Flynn who stood frozen in shock, as if he could not believe that all of this was happening. He would fight for Flynn; there was no question about that. He would make sure Flynn escaped this ambush by his own creation and the Black Guards. Clu had gone too far now...

“Go, Flynn!” he shouted, “Run!”

Flynn lived. But that meant… Rinzler- no, he was. He was…

“Rinzler! Take the shot! Finish the game!” Clu’s angry roar was barely heard over his audio filters as he looked behind him to see the yellow-stripped program pulling in behind him.

The game? But, he was…

Comma-

No! There were no more command protocols! No more queries! Not even the game! Nothing! He viciously cut the wireless communication off. He was-

Rinzler abruptly pulled away from the battlefield, unable to comprehend what was happening. He could feel sharp spikes of pain rushing through every fiber of his being, burning through the layers of his code, digging deep within him. Why did it hurt so much?! Who was he?! He was Rinz- No! He was not!

He was…

“Took you long enough Tron!” Flynn was already there, standing in Central Control, a grin on his face as he arrived.

He was…

“I know you have the gift to make things right, Tron. You were created in my image and I am very good at what I do. You have the resources around you to maintain the peace and stability of this new system that you are in,” Alan-One suddenly looked thoughtful and serious, “don’t ever give up. The first thing I was taught was never to start a fight, but always finish it. Do what you feel is right and know that I will always approve of it. Know that Flynn will always have your back and know that you are doing the right thing.”

He was Tron.

“I fight,” Tron shook off the remaining bits of what was once Rinzler and pushed his speed to the maximum as he spotted Clu about to fire the fatal shot to down the aircraft carrying Kevin Flynn, Sam Flynn, and the Iso named Quorra. “I fight for the Users!”

He slammed his interceptor into Clu’s and the last thought he had before blackness claimed him was that Flynn lived. Flynn survived…

* * *

Tron: Legacy

Tron slammed into the murky Sea of Simulation with code-jarring force, unable to move from the paralytic kick that Clu had delivered to his chest before snatching away his spare baton to create another lightjet. He had passed out after derezzing both of their jets, but had woken up mid-air and immediately set to make amends. He had to find forgiveness from Flynn after what he had done for so long as Rinzler. But Clu had stopped that; Clu had ultimately won, again, and left him for dead.

As he felt himself sinking deeper into the murky waters, he wondered should he even consider asking forgiveness or would Flynn even accept it? He mentally shook his head, such despairing thoughts were not him, he could not let Clu win like this! Tron closed his eyes behind the black helmet he had lived in for so long and set out purging the rest of his systems from the remnants that was Clu’s Rinzler within him.

Only then, perhaps he could combat the paralytic that enveloped him and hopefully swim his way out of the Sea of Simulation. There was no risk of drowning as the armor and helmet did its work in keeping him from being derezzed, but Tron couldn’t help but feel the murky and still poisoned Sea trying to latch onto him, as if somehow trying to grasp that he was alive and a pure source.

He fought it off as he felt his processes slowly return to normal. Flynn was right, what had he become since Clu had rectified him into Rinzler? He had…he had become...

The Iso towers, the Iso city, everything about it was what Clu hated. Rinzler knew that to please his master, he would have to destroy the threat it represented to The Grid, yet he found himself hesitating, staring up at the spires a sense of foreboding wrong that spread through his very being. Perhaps the Isos were that source of wrong; perhaps they were the source of the error messages that occasionally flashed before his eyes when he was idle.

“Sir, tower secure, we have their leader on the top floor. She has not resisted arrest, but wishes to speak to whoever was in charge before we executed her,” one of the Black Guards spoke up and Rinzler nodded once before heading into the tower.

He unhooked his disc, but did not split them, staring up at the lattice of semi-thick beams that crisscrossed the whole building. Power conduits, a design that was not needed in his master’s perfect Grid. It would soon be dealt with. Taking the elevator up he exited at the top floor and signaled to the Black Guards on duty to stand down as he passed by. Jarvis, a sniveling program that Clu had sent to observe him shuffled up next to him.

Even if this…Iso, this disease, was a threat, he would be able to neutralize her just as easily. Clu had told him that he was the best combat program ever written and gave him access to numerous abilities, though his master and creator had cautioned that some of his abilities may be too advance for him to properly handle and would produce error messages. He did not like that.

He exited the elevator and saw that she was standing by the windows, looking out into the glittering city that was marred by smoke and by half derezzed buildings, her back facing him. “As the leader of the Isos and this rebellion, you are afforded the courtesy,” Jarvis barely kept his contempt down, “of last requests. Speak them.”

“I wish to see the face of my executor,” she did not turn away from the window.

“Your executor is here,” Jarvis replied.

She turned away from the window and her breath caught in her throat as a delicate hand reached up to cover her mouth in shock. She stared at him with wide, almost frightened eyes. “Y-You…” she stuttered, her composure fading fast, “but no…no, it cannot be. How…?”

“Ah, so the rumors were true,” Jarvis took a step forward before his image shifted and wavered, breaking down and revealing that it was not Jarvis who was waiting, but rather Clu himself. Somehow, Rinzler was not surprised, expecting this out of his master. “There was something going on between the two of you.”

“You cannot be serious,” she looked at him, her eyes wide with horror, “what did you do?”

Clu stepped around her, a malicious gleam in his eyes before putting a hand on Rinzler’s shoulder, “Ophelia, meet Rinzler. Rinzler, this is Ophelia, the leader of the Isos.”

“Shall I execute her now, master?” Rinzler did not understand what was going on, a sense of terrible oddity pulling at him. Better to execute the program now then let the feeling grow, he supposed. Yet…

“No,” Ophelia shook her head, her expression broken as she stared at him. He wondered why she was looking at him in such a way that made him want to do nothing more than to drop the disc he was holding and hold her tight. He was her executor, not a comforting program! “Creator no…”

Beside him, Clu lifted his hand up and gestured towards Ophelia. “You know something? You were quite difficult to find,” he smiled, “but after I…well, created Rinzler here, it was easy. Turns out your lover, such an odd User word, had all of the information I needed to find and triangulate the masking subroutine he obviously made for you. Too easy after that.”

“How could you?!” her eyes suddenly blazed with fury, “that was his own-“

“He, is loyal to me now! He is my soldier and my right hand! He,” Clu barely restrained himself, “knows where his loyalties lie!”

Ophelia drew herself up and stared haughtily at Clu, “At least he will never become you. You are a monster.”

“A monster?” Clu looked sarcastically appalled, “no. Not a monster, dear Ophelia. I am what the Creator should have been, a benevolent dictator.” He abruptly turned on his heel and waved to Rinzler. “You may kill her now.”

“Understood,” Rinzler replied before stepping forward activating his disc with a buzzing hiss. There was no need to split the disc so he approached her, a part of him marveling at how calm and composed she looked as she met his gaze behind the black helmet he wore.

“I know you’re in there somewhere,” she gave him a sad, yet surprisingly hopeful smile as he raised his disc. She was magnificently fearless, a part of him processed, before he wondered where the process came from. “And I want you to know that I forgive you, Tron.”

He froze at the name.

Hundreds of error messages pinged throughout his system as he kept staring at her, unable to move. Something was preventing him from taking any action, yet he could not find the source of it. His processes were screaming at him to strike the killing blow, yet he found that he did not want to. A quick glance up towards where his hand was raised spiked concerns within him. His hand was shaking, badly.

“Rinzler!” Clu took a half-step forward, “what are you waiting for?”

“I…” all of a sudden he found it hard to talk. Something within him was fighting, yet he did not know why. It had to be that name that she had spoken. It had to have done something within him? Perhaps it was an override command? Who was this Tron? Who-

He lowered his disc, frantically querying all of his functions. Why? Why was this happening to him? Why did she hold the power to stop him with that name? He barely heard the Clu’s own disc activating before he clenched his teeth together and looked back up at Ophelia, a pained expression on his face, even though he knew she could not see it behind the helmet he wore.

She was the cause of it. She was hurting him. And the only way he knew how to get rid of the pain was to derezz the source of it.

An electronic howl emerged from his lips as he suddenly struck her, burying his disc deep into her chest, breaking through the shielding she had, the lines of code, everything-

<I forgive you…>

His breath hitched in his throat as he abruptly stepped back, his disc still embedded in her as little bits of liquid data trickled from her lips and from her fatal wound. The smile she wore was beatific before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell to the ground, collapsing into little pieces of inactive data.

Rinzler found himself staring at the pile, the error messages slowly disappearing within him. She had been the source of the pain and the error messages. But what was this sudden hollow feeling he had? What was this feeling that he should have remembered her as she was, not what she could have been?

“Good job Rinzler,” Clu stepped forward and he looked at his master with a sideways glance before staring down at the active disc in his hand. “However, I think we need to resolve some of the bugs in your system.”

“I do not understand,” he had done as requested so what was his master talking about?

“Just a little maintenance. I still see that some of my codes aren’t quite perfect. Don’t worry,” Clu gave him a quick smile before picking up what was left of Ophelia’s own disc and stared at it curiously before picking up his fallen one, “we’ll have you better in no time.”

“Sir,” Rinzler nodded. Perhaps it was for the better he let his master rework his code. He did not like the error messages.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll have a lot of fun in the Games too,” Clu pulled him around, handing him his own disc back while keeping Ophelia’s. Together they headed back towards the elevator, the Black Guards following them.

Tron stiffened as he felt that part of Clu’s code purging from his system, bracing himself against the sharp shooting pain that started from his disc and spread through his system. The rogue program had re-rectified him again after that incident, turning him into a mostly silent warrior who only either communicated by wireless or barely spoke. The feedback to his filters had also grown and Clu had rectified him into a program who thought everything was a game and needed to come out as the winner.

But Ophelia…proud, beautiful, Ophelia. He had derezzed her with his own hands and in the moment of her death, she had forgiven him for his actions. She stood there, accepting her fate while he could not prevent his own. Clu had made him derezz her knowing that it would cause him the greatest anguish should he regain his former self. He had done so many things as Rinzler, so many horrific and terrible things in all those time as Clu’s brainwashed lackey. But Ophelia…Ophelia’s death was the worst.

He had caused her death. Everything he knew, everything he had on his disc, Clu had stolen from him; the knowledge of where the portal was; the knowledge of the solar sailers, the masking subroutines for the Isos, even the Isos’ shielding. Clu had taken his knowledge, his skills and turned it into a weapon of his own.

He was as guilty as Clu for bringing down The Grid itself.

As Tron felt the remnants of Clu’s programming disappearing from him, he looked up at where the surface of the Sea would have been, feeling himself sinking deeper and deeper. A part of him wanted to swim to the surface, but another part of him wondered if he should open his helmet and allow himself to drown in the Sea, forever derezzed.

Ophelia was incorrect in saying that Clu was a monster. Clu was only capable of rectifying programs. It was himself that was the monster; he as Rinzler and as Tron. He could have stopped Clu before all of this had happened, yet he hesitated; too focused on finding evidence for Flynn, too focused on the fact that Clu was in a way, Flynn’s son. Too focused on the good that he hoped was within Clu. The unlocking of his own restrictions and code came too late when he had fought Clu. If he had done it earlier… His actions, or lack thereof, had created this nightmarish hell for every single program in The Grid.

Yet…

“I know you have the gift to make things right, Tron. You were created in my image and I am very good at what I do. You have the resources around you to maintain the peace and stability of this new system that you are in,” Alan-One suddenly looked thoughtful and serious, “don’t ever give up. The first thing I was taught was never to start a fight, but always finish it. Do what you feel is right and know that I will always approve of it. Know that Flynn will always have your back and know that you are doing the right thing.”

Tron patted the area where he had originally kept the diskette Flynn had given to him from his User, Alan-One. It was still there! All of the cycles as Rinzler and it was still there! He bit his lip, looking around at the murky Sea of Simulation. Ophelia would have wanted him to go on. Shaddox and Cesta would have wanted him to rebuild. Flynn would be back and he would want to see this place rebuilt.

Tron made his decision and kicked his legs. He would help rebuild his home, his paradise. It would be a place of peace once more and this time, he would not fail.

* * *

Finale

The Grid was a place of infinite possibilities. I learned that the first time Kevin Flynn imported me into the system. It was a place of new wonders, new life, and a new rebirth. It was a place of hope.

It was my paradise and my home and I would defend it until I was no more.

I fight, for the Users.

* * *

The first awareness Tron had was the sound of gentle waves, crashing into one another, a random pattern, yet not at all violent. The second was his passive sensors slowly coming online. They pinged back with the error messages that defined the Sea of Simulation and Tron allowed himself an inward smile. The Sea was starting to heal. During the time of the poison, the Sea never came back with error messages and in his memories as Rinzler; he remembered being completely puzzled about it, unable to comprehend why.

He allowed himself to listen to the Sea’s random sounds through his audio filters, before his passive scanners picked up on three anomalies, all of them quite close to him. They were not threatening, yet, they seemed oddly familiar…Users...

But what were Users doing here, unless-

Tron forced his eyes open and looked up into the face of Sam Flynn who had a hesitant grin on his face. He almost sat up from where he was lying on one of the shallow rocks by the Sea before he realized that Sam looked a little older than the last time he had seen him as Rinzler.

“Hey, easy there,” an extra pair of hands helped him up and he looked to his right to see that it was the isomorphic algorithm Quorra, surprisingly slightly older looking, kneeling down next to him as he shook his head trying to get his bearings. His scanners had indicated that she as a User, not an Iso. That was odd.

“Tron?” Sam asked hesitantly and he rubbed his forehead before looking up at the younger Flynn.

“You, all of you escaped?” he asked.

“Yeah, we did,” Sam looked relieved and Tron realized that the two of them had feared that he was still Rinzler, still Clu’s lackey. “Well,” Sam looked wistful for a second, “except for Dad. He…sacrificed himself to stop Clu.”

It took a moment for Tron to realize what Sam was talking about shook his head grimly, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize for it. We know you did your best,” Sam clapped him on his shoulder and Tron was surprised at how like his father Sam was. “Saw some of the old footage Dad had on his disc of his conversations with you.”

Tron rubbed his forehead again before someone tapped him on his left shoulder and a small vial of pure energy was handed to him. “Thanks,” he took the proffered vial and downed it, feeling his processes and command lines smooth out.

“Don’t mention it,” the voice sounded exactly like his and he froze, blinking in shock before turning to look up towards his left.

“Alan-One,” Tron breathed out, stunned to see his User, standing near him, a lot older than the message had shown him to be, but with a still ever youthful confidence to him. He was dressed, not in armor, but rather a similar style as Flynn had whenever he had entered The Grid.

“It’s finally good to meet you, Tron,” his User stuck out his hand and Tron absently took it, still reeling from the shock of seeing his own User here. “Alan Bradley.”

Tron was utterly speechless, his command lines nearly short circuiting before Sam cleared his throat and he turned to face the younger Flynn.

“We were hoping that you could help us. Just only arrived from the real world, you see, but I believe that Dad may be still alive,” Sam shrugged, “I figured since you know The Grid the best, you could give us that edge we need to find Kevin Flynn.”

Tron nodded as he got to his feet, still a bit dizzy from the low energy reserves, but otherwise good. “Flynn is a good friend of mine. If there is any chance that he may be still alive, then I would help you in any way I can.”

“Good, because The Grid’s in chaos and we’ll need all the help we can get,” Sam held out his hand, “welcome to the team, Tron.”

Tron took it and shook his hand firmly, “I never left.”

~END~

Author’s Notes:

And so ends my story. I would like to thank my beta reader, Algae09 and fellow reviewer sharinganavenger for being sounding boards to parts of this story.

Next, I would like to thank all of you, especially those who have been with me from the beginning or near the beginning and read this story through. I thoroughly enjoyed your comments (and catapults/cannons with remotes of hearts – yes you know who you are!) questions, concerns, rants at how Tron needed to get his butt in gear, rants about one more perfect moment with Ophelia (you definitely know who you are ^_^), etc. I enjoyed all of the comments and responding to those comments too. You have made me laugh each time I read one of your reviews, no matter how long or short they were.

And so before I proceed to what is my usual next step in each story, the author Q&A, I ask for those of you who have not yet written a review to give your feedback. Anything is welcomed, whether or not you hated it, you liked it, whatever was on your mind as you read this, anything. If you choose not to leave a review, that’s fine too, I just ask that if you liked it, please let others know about this so they can also read it. I’ll take seeing my hit counter go up in lieu of a review. Tee hee. ^_^

Author Q&A:

Q: What made you decide to write this story?

A: A lot of factors actually. The main reason was that I was a bit disappointed at the lack of more Tron in a Tron: Legacy movie, even though Rinzler was there, it still wasn’t Tron. But I didn’t want to do a post-Legacy story since I knew that was where a majority of fanfic writers were going to gravitate towards to. It was only after I picked up the comic Betrayal that I realized I could form a story within the plot holes left in the comics.

Q: How did you come up with the idea of using Daft Punk’s soundtrack as chapter titles?

A: I really like the soundtrack, even though I confess, this is my first time hearing some of Daft Punk’s stuff (I heard of them before but wasn’t quite interested back then). I realized that I could use the soundtrack not only as little plot points within the story; I didn’t have to even think of clever titles or whatnot for my chapters. It was all there for the taking. So using the soundtrack I started my outline for each chapter and what it would contain. Hence, the story you have just read. Note, this isn’t my normal writing style or my normal storytelling style. I usually go in a more linear fashion with a lot more attention to details and character development.

Q: What gave you the idea for pairings with Yori and Ophelia?

A: My beta reader, Algae09 has read the novelization of Tron, but I haven’t as of this posting so I was just speculating what could have happened to Yori. I wanted to emphasize the relationship Tron had with Yori because of the relationship Alan Bradley had with Lora Baines (to whom he eventually married in canon) so that was a major point. I wanted Tron to feel the loss of that and slowly perhaps allow himself to fall in love again with another program. Originally it was going to be an original character, but then I realized, Ophelia would be a good choice. The first self-created program and the only imported program from the old system pairing up. My beta says that Ophelia reminded her of Delenn from Babylon 5 to Tron’s John Sheridan. ^_^

Q: Your combat scenes are well scripted do you really plot it all out?

A:Some of it yes, in my head and going through the physical motions shadow sparring. Being a 9^th Kyu in Shito Ryu Karate-do as of this posting, I am expected to at least have some knowledge if not more about defensive and offensive moves (including using a bo and sai) and be able to take down an opponent quickly. I applied this to Tron’s programming as a security program – they’re designed to hit hard and hit fast and eliminate the problem as fast as possible before it could corrupt a system. The disc battles themselves had to be done with a little imagination and Ultimate Frisbee/Disc Golf knowledge from my cousins and uncle who are world champions. Other battles I either take from the comics, or from Legacy itself as what was scripted/shown.

Q: Are you going to continue the story that you hinted at in this chapter?

A: That remains to be seen. Like I said in the previous chapter, there is a tentative title, but it is subjected to change. And right now, I don’t have any plans for a post-Legacy story. I don’t want to do one until I have a very solid plot that would not be a rehash of all of the others on fanfiction.net. So, we’ll see.

Any other questions or comments can be directly PMed to me. If you enjoyed this story, please feel free to browse my other offerings to different fandoms. Thanks and see you next time!

-Shadow Chaser