Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I can’t remember the last time ENCOM produced something original for the industry, whether it be a game or anything else. Every single project we’ve put on the market in the last several years has been a re-worked, upgraded version of something else we’ve already done or acquired the rights to remake. Hell, we haven’t even put out a new chapter in one of the five major franchises in at least four years. MacKee fired all the guys who used to do the story boarding. Nobody will take whatever laughably low-ball pay estimate he’s pitched. Without at least a basic script, we can’t send anything off to the dev teams. And, to top it off, MacKee has the nerve to be worried about the numbers we expect to see at the press release for Space Paranoids Online. One third of the attendees will most likely be the two news station and single radio station crews he actually has to pay to cover the event.

Putting me up on that podium is probably the icing on MacKee’s cake, too. He puts Junior in front of all the Tron re-works, but puts me up in front of Space Paranoids. Neither one of us actually does any work on the games, but Tron, Tron was mine. Sure, Flynn made the video game and the toys and everything, but he always asked my input, always got my approval even if it was grudgingly. I always had a hand in Tron, especially since it was my program that put Kevin on top in the first place.

All the fans of Kevin’s work know this. He wasn’t shy about letting it be known where he got a lot of the programs’ names from for the story. But, hell, it’s like nobody cares anymore. All these younger gamers are just standing in the parking lot in front of the stage, salivating over the next little breadcrumb MacKee and the rest of the board have decided to toss on the floor.

I won’t let them see how much this pains me, though. This is the cage I have put myself into. Lora decided not to come back to ENCOM. Roy was thrown out the door over a decade ago when I got demoted. One of us has to hang on, and I’m the only one left inside. I’m the only one the board and the share holders can’t actually pin anything on when it comes to the Flynn Lives movement. Sam probably doesn’t even know of my involvement. If he does, he’s sure done a hell of a job hiding it.

Lora’s got this look on her face like she knows something I don’t. MacKee’s up at the podium, saying his opening lines, getting closer to introducing me. I want to ask her what that twinkle in her eye is about. I want a reason to be genuinely happy when I get up on that stage, but there’s no time. MacKee’s holding his hand out towards me, beckoning me to the podium. Lora gives my hand a squeeze before letting go, her small smile threatening to break out into something more obvious. I’ll just have to ask her later.

I think I know what her internal laughter was about only a moment into my speech. Several people in the small crowd are pulling off an outer layer of clothing. Jackets, button up shirts, or other t-shirts come off, revealing graphic t-shirts underneath with Kevin’s face and the words “Flynn Lives” both written on their clothes and spilling from their lips in a powerful chant. This has happened before, but there’s a new twist. Even security guards and a cameraman have joined in.

It’s glorious in the saddest way possible. Nineteen years. My best friend, my wife, and I have been chasing the truth for nineteen years. If we haven't found him, what makes any of them think they will? But, I like their spunk none the less. I only make a small show of reluctantly giving up the podium to their chosen speaker as a helicopter hovers overhead.

Glancing up, I can just barely make out that it’s ENCOM’s own helicopter. Here I was, thinking Sam was going to sit one out for a change. Boy, was I wrong. The crowd went nuts for it. I can’t hide the smile on my face as Sam lands, gives me a quick wave, and jogs to a waiting SUV. There’s no way he got a permit to BASE jump within city limits this time. He never bothers.

Security, those not in on the Flynn Lives stunt, quickly surrounded Lora, MacKee, and me, ushering us to other waiting cars. I’ve still got an ear-to-ear smile, my face aching with mirth as I settle in beside Lora in the back seat. The “protestors” have completely taken over the press release. I don’t blame them for this stunt, nor Sam for his. I just hope it’s worth it.

Then, my pager beeps for the first time in over a decade.

Chapter Text

For all of her training, strength, and endurance, Paige couldn’t keep up with me in a fight. It’s not her fault. She was a medic, meant to save lives. She’s a whole lot better in combat than any other medic I’ve met. That’s because she received some of the best training possible. But, as a mechanic, I was coded for a more physically demanding job to begin with, and I got the benefit of Tron for a mentor.

The strength and speed of her movements faded, became less precise. I could keep this up for a while longer before getting anywhere near as sloppy. It was strange. This was the hardest she’d come after me since we first met.

She threw her disc, it soared wildly. I had half a nano to react to her fist aimed for my mask. She put on a new burst of speed out of nowhere. Getting in close, she came at me with a full on assault of fists, feet, elbows, and knees. When her disc arced back around from wherever it went, I didn’t have time to block it. I could only just pull back enough so that it didn’t slice right through my head. Instead, it shattered my mask.

We both went still in shock. I fought to recover from nearly getting decapitated. She grappled to make sense of what she saw… who she saw.

Neither of us moved, frozen as the weight of reality sinks in. She’s stuck in disbelief, eyebrows coming together, lips parting. I wanted to reach out. I wanted to explain. There’s just no way of knowing if she’d continue trying to derez me, or if she’d finally listen. I couldn’t chance it.

Her grip on her disc faltered. It clattered to the ground at her side, fiery edge dimming to neutral black in deactivation. The sound of it was loud in my ears, amplified by the silence that fell around us in the graveyard of Flynn’s failed and abandoned projects.

I’ve run here a thousand times to escape her or other soldiers when the odds were stacked against me. It’s where I first met Tron. He knew to come here if I’m missing for too long. Now that Paige saw my face, knew this place, I could never return. I couldn’t even go back to the garage or any other place I used to hang out. She knew all of them, all of them except the mountain base. But, I couldn’t go back there, either. Paige could find a way to follow me there, too. I really didn’t know what to do.

I’m pretty sure Clu and most of his followers, if stuck in a similar situation, would just derez their opponent. I can’t do that. I don’t kill unless I have to. Even in this moment, even though I really should have, I would not kill Paige. Despite our differences, I still loved her. I still had hope.

“You really aren’t Tron.” She finally said something. I almost missed it.

“No.” I didn’t move. There was no knowing what she’d do next. As far as she’s concerned, I just committed the ultimate betrayal, told the biggest lie on the Grid. I had to set it right. “Paige-”

“NO!” She stepped back from me, fists clenched even tighter. “How could you do this, Beck? How could you convince everyone that Tron’s alive like this? How could you turn against Clu and incite rebellion like this? I trusted you!”

“He’s not dead!” I stressed, moving a step closer for every one she moves back. At the very least, she was getting farther away from her disc. I didn’t think she had any other weapons. “Who do you think taught me? Clu is the liar, Paige. Tesler is the liar. Please… please believe me.”

Paige’s expression shifted. A flicker of something—doubt, perhaps—crossed her face, quickly hardening into renewed fury. Her gaze flickered to her unresponsive disc on the ground by my feet. I knew this dance; she was weighing her options, calculating if she could get to her weapon.

I held my breath, not wanting to believe she'd try it. “Paige…”

Her mouth opened for a second, then snapped shut again as her eyes found mine. The fight seemed to drain from her, replaced by a devastating ache that mirrored my own. I’m the one who withheld the truth from her, not the other way around. I had plenty of excuses, but none of them can possibly matter any more. She had to choose between loyalty and… whatever we had before. It was always complicated for me, being two different figures in her life. It wasn’t complicated for her until now. She honestly believed that the Renegade and Beck, the mechanic, were two entirely different people.

A low, distant hum caught both of our attentions. Lightchoppers were approaching, probably on the search for her. Again. Every time we got into a fight, we had a bad habit of ending up in the most random, almost out-of-reach places. Tesler almost always had to send a search and rescue party out for her. She could make it back on her own, with a little help from me, if she were allowed to. But, the longer I’ve known Paige, the more I realized she’s like a prized pet to the general. He often held that particular leash tight. I hate it.

Her gaze snapped back to mine, sharp and unreadable. A decision, swift and silent, seemed to pass between us. I knew, with a fresh wave of dread, that she couldn't afford to be seen with me. Like the fool Tron sometimes accused me of being when it came to Paige, I turned and ran.

My fate rested in her hands now.

Chapter Text

Tron POV

Within the ENCOM system, programs respected me greatly, treating me almost like a user. Yori was the only one bold enough to tease me, and apart from Alan One, she was the only person I ever completely submitted to. In my move to the Grid, I fully expected Yori to follow. I knew it in my core code that Alan One would continue to guide me if I began to falter. Flynn had said it would take time, and I gave him all the patience I could muster.

Alan One was completely silent.

Yori, however, did come. It was thirty cycles of waiting before I got to see her beautiful face again, and it was worth every nanosecond once she was in my arms.

This new system was wonderful. The threats of gridbugs were challenges, surely, but never more than I could handle. When Flynn introduced his version of the games, I had the time of my life. Every program on the Grid was competitive, but not all who wished to participate could handle it. So, I took it upon myself to train up a handful of programs, even a few ISOs, that showed promise. Some of them became rather creative. One or two actually got the upper hand on me in a match, even if they didn’t win in the end. Life was never dull.

The best part had been getting to call it a millicycle and go home. I worked two millicycles for every one I rested. She only had to work when Flynn called her to the laser controls for his visits. Even if I was working or playing in the games, I could take short breaks to spend time with her. Granted, that was only possible when there were no threats to conquer.

Over time, though, things shifted. Yori was called away more and more. I barely got half a millicycle’s rest for every four I was on duty. Clu was getting more moody, showing greater distain for the ISOs. He even had the nerve to yell right in Flynn’s face about it. Ophelia tried to be more accommodating from the ISO side of things, but Giles often ruined her efforts. More and more, I was being reminded of the cycles leading into the MCP’s complete takeover of the ENCOM system. My fears were fully confirmed when I infiltrated a Black Guard squad that planted a bomb in the ISO city of Arjia.

I went home first. Yori had to be protected. I had to beg her to just get to the portal and stay on standby. I made her promise not to leave it until I came to her myself. There was no telling what Clu’s ultimate plan was, and I didn’t want her to be caught up in it. Out over the depths of the Sea of Simulation, she’d be the farthest from anything that could happen.

I never saw her again.

Everything moved fast from there on. The sea was poisoned. The ISOs were purged. Clu and Dyson cornered Flynn and I.

Flynn got away, thankfully. I needed a savior.

Training Cyrus was a serious mistake. I thought he would prove be like Ram. I was in such a hurry to make him into my replacement that I didn’t see the warning signs. Able did.

Life after that was… it wasn’t good. All I could do was cling to life and watch as the Grid fell city by city, outpost by encampment to Clu’s occupation. Time was running short. I needed to hurry up and do something!

Beck thought I found him by chance. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Able had told me all about his employees at the garage. I had my eyes on a few of them, Beck and his friends included. Able didn’t know it, but I disguised myself a few millicycles before Tesler showed up to take over Argon City. I followed Beck and his friends from their favored club to the game field. When one of them needed a break, I took the opportunity to challenge Beck to a game.

He wasn’t anywhere near my level, even injured as I was, but he was the best fighter of the group. He and his friend that I stepped in for were the only two that seemed to actually believe I was alive. They could see through Clu’s lie. That’s what I needed.

Planting a tracker in his disc was simple.

When I went back home, to the mountain base, I watched Beck’s every move. I saw it when he took out the statue, wearing my symbol on his chest. Soon after, the perfect opportunity to confront him came. He was headed over the outlands, locked in battle on a lightchopper.

I wasn’t able to miss him for long, after Clu came to Argon and got us separated. I didn’t know which way Beck went. All I knew was that, one moment, I was guarding his escape, and, the next, I was surrounded by far more soldiers than I had the energy to fight against.

I woke up again, over the sea, in a lightjet. In front of me was a lightfighter with a broken turret. Manning the guns was a figure I somehow instinctively knew was a user. Behind me, I could hear Clu shouting, “Rinzler, finish the game!”

I didn’t know who the frag Rinzler was, but I sure wasn’t going to fire on a user.

Clu, however…

That viral glitch had no backup. Whatever had led us to this moment didn’t matter. We were headed towards the portal, towards Yori, and at least one user was on the run. I would make sure he made it.

Moments later, as I sank beneath the water’s surface, my vision blurring out, I wished, one last time, to hear Alan One’s “good job, program.”

Chapter Text

Mara POV

Despair and anger fight for control over my whole being. Before me, Argon City, my home, burns. Blue flame reaches up into the sky, so hot that it twists around itself up into the smoky sky above. Beside me, Zed is motionless.

Beck sent us this way. He gave us the coordinates to a graveyard of abandoned vehicles in the outlands. We weren’t told how he found it. The thought process was that we could dismantle the ship Tron and the Renegade brought down, break it into transportable chunks, and move it to the junkyard. Whatever its intended purpose was, the army wouldn’t be able to use it if they couldn’t find it. We could, though.

Zed and I were returning from the junkyard when the sky over Argon City ignited, bombs falling like a sudden, fiery rain. We pulled our transport to a stop, powerless to do anything but watch.

Going back now would be suicide.

I don’t even realize I was shaking until Zed grasps my hand. I’m pretty sure he’s trembling, too. If anyone ever asks, I’ll blame it on the bombs themselves. Some of them are big enough to send shockwaves all the way out here. The transport shutters around us at odd intervals, and I’m worried the ground under our wheels might just give out.

I try to focus only on the fact that the buildings are burning. Acknowledging the fact that there are programs trapped in there might be too much. Oddly, trying not to think about them makes me think about them. I feel the tears start to fall from my eyes, Zed’s grip on my hand growing tighter. There’s no way everyone comes out of this alive. Those who do probably won’t be intact.

“What.. why?” Zed’s voice wavers beside me, breaking. “Our friends…”

Somewhere under the concussive explosions, there is a familiar hum of an engine. It’s not ours. I shut down our transport when we stopped. And, as I listen more carefully, I think I hear two of them. Lightcycles are approaching at high speed, I realize as the whine grows higher in pitch. Fearing that it could be soldiers searching for survivors, I restart our transport. If we need to run, I don’t want it to be with a cold engine in a large transport against agile lightcycles running at proper temperature.

Ahead of us, I see two lightcycles crest a snowy hill. Both of them are sporting friendly colors. One is white, the other a pale blue. My foot retreats from the accelerator as I hesitate. The riders spot us, skid to a halt well in front of us. I recognize the riders’ lightline patterns and do a double take. Zed sucks in a breath beside me, seeing the same thing.

One black figure and one white figure both wear the mark of Tron on their chests. They don’t move to dismount their lightcycles. I can’t blame them. If our roles were reversed, I wouldn’t expect to be fleeing a city under bombardment only to come upon a transport headed directly towards danger either.

At least I know they made it out. But, why isn’t anyone else with them? Didn’t they at least try to save anyone?

Anger overtakes all other emotions as those questions burn in my mind. The door is open, and I’m stepping out of it before I even realize.

The black Tron figure jerks upright, startled more by my appearance than the destruction going on behind him. I march up to him, demands already forming on my lips. I don’t even get the first word out before he’s rushing at me, arms wide, and then crushes me in a tight hug like an old friend. I’m too shocked to know how to respond.

“Mara!” a nearly familiar voice breaks from behind his mask as he scoops me up off the ground. “You’re alright! Is Zed here? He told me he was coming with you.”

I’m so confused! Why do I recognize this voice? Why does he know about me and Zed? Zed and I have both only experienced the white-clad Tron. Instead, it’s the black-suited Tron that’s worried about us. It doesn’t make any sense!

“We’re okay,” I tell him anyway.

I hear the transport’s other door open, Zed’s quicker footfalls crunching in the snow as he jogs up to us. He must have tapped this Tron on the arm, but all I can hear is him clearing his throat to say, “Hey! Mind getting your hands off my friend?”

The arms that held me so close a moment ago release to pull Zed into a similar embrace. “Zed! Oh, thank the Users! Is anyone else with you?”

“Beck!” I hear a deep, sharp voice call out from the white-clad Tron. “We have to get inside.”

I can’t even begin to acknowledge what I just heard. There’s no way he just called this program “Beck.” Is there?

“Right,” the black-suited Tron agrees reluctantly. He pulls me into another quick, tight hug with one arm. “Just trust me, okay. Get back in the transport and stick close.”

Chapter Text

Dyson POV

Clu could repurpose programs from the moment he was created. Programs like Shaddox fell to lesser demand cycles ago, so he repurposed them to fill new roles that opened up. The thing about that was, Clu had to have a direct link to the disc of whatever program he wished to repurpose. The job with the highest demand opening up was that of the soldier. If Clu worked at it for cycles on end, ignoring all other duties, he’d have to work for cycles on end to create the army he required.

That’s where I came in.

He kept me awake through the process of repurposing as he worked his miracle into my disc. I was allowed to monitor as he manipulated the code of other programs that pledged themselves to him. Once I was sure I had enough data to work with, I began tinkering with artificial methods.

To be honest, my first dozen or so attempts were clumsy at best. Clu had to repurpose me again, this time granting me direct privileges to manipulate the discs of others as I saw fit. He trusted me more than anyone else, enough to grant me the highest gift he had received from Flynn. With that at my fingertips, I was finally able to make it work.

Strays, loyalists, even those who supported Flynn as the highest being, were all converted into perfect soldiers. So what if their personalities didn’t survive? Clu didn’t need that from them. He needed an army of soldiers that wouldn’t question his authority or stray from orders in the slightest. I gave him that, on mass scale. Hundreds could be repurposed at the same time.

The greatest test, though, was Tron.

When he appeared in my… office…

Clu’s order was to get Tron to comply no matter what methods I had to use. We used to be friends. I couldn’t just let him go the same way as everyone else. He had to be made to see the same truth I already knew. Clu was superior to Flynn. Flynn was the enemy. Clu was our savior.

I told him. I was honest about it. “I’d rather you join Clu willingly.”

“Never.”

That one word damned him in ways I wish it hadn’t. I had hoped he would have seen reason by then. Instead, I had to hurt him even more. I had to make him even more imperfect before he would break. Every cube of code I had just stabilized was ripped open again. He still resisted. I added my own mark. He still resisted.

So, I had to add the virus, too. If there was anything that could make the mighty and proud Tron bend to Clu’s will, it would be constant hunger, the inability to heal, and a slow decline into death. It would take a long time, but it would work. He had to be brought low, lower than I once was.

I just wanted him to give in. I wanted him to accept perfection, the only true liberation possible. None of the regular soldiers could appreciate it like I did. Tron could, if he would have just listened to reason. I gave him so many opportunities. His ego won out for the moment.

One program seemed to take pity on Tron before my work could truly take hold. I never did learn who it was. We lost several soldiers in the crash. Erroneously, I thought Tron died in the wreck. Many cycles later, I was proven wrong. Clu didn’t show it, but I knew he was both pleased and furious. He was happy to know that Tron, the biggest prize he could win from Flynn, was still on the table. Clu was furious with me for my following failures to recapture him.

We got a lucky break after bombarding Argon City. Tron finally came out into the open, dared Clu to face him one on one a second time. Of course, I couldn’t allow that. My more advanced soldiers and I surrounded Tron, incapacitated him a second time, and put him straight into a proper repurposing chamber. I wouldn’t make the same mistake of trying to talk him into it a second time.

Clu handled this one himself.

The result was… well, it wasn’t like any other repurposing I’d ever seen. It wasn’t perfect, and I think that was the point.I got the feeling that part of Tron was still in there—watching, waiting, biding his time—behind the broken, stuttering visage of Rinzler.

Rinzler was never allowed perfection. Clu couldn’t risk it, not as long as some of Tron remained intact. Yet, it was because so much of Tron was left untouched that Rinzler became the most effective enforcer of the whole army. Clu and I were the only ones who held any real power over him.

Whereas Tron would show mercy, Rinzler gave no quarter. If Tron would have forgiven, Rinzler derezed. If Tron would have killed fast to get the execution over with, Rinzler dragged it out, playing with his victim. When Tron would have given a simple, inspirational speech to calm a situation, Rinzler took the first and last shot.

Is it wrong of me that I have to keep convincing myself I did the right thing?

Chapter Text

Tron (inside Rinzler) POV

If anyone else knows I’m still in here, watching, listening, feeling everything, they don’t show it. Clu and Dyson are the only ones. It’s Dyson who breaks into my code over and over again, chipping away at what’s left of me. It’s Clu that re-writes and mends my body when I’m damaged. In private, they both still speak to me, not Rinzler.

You might think it’s the killing I hate the most. Or, possibly, the lack of control over my own body. You’d be wrong.

What I hate the most is when I’m being healed and fed energy.

I have no right to feel this good. Yes, I’m broken in several places, places Clu has decided will remain malfunctioning. I am neither allowed to speak or remain completely silent. Clu wants there to be some sort of warning bell when I’m near, in case I do break free. If it were me in his place, I’d want that, too. I really do want to derez him now, consequences to the Grid be damned.

The revitalizing rush of energy fills my circuits as Rinzler greedily drinks from the cup of pure energy in my hand. I wish it was slightly more.

Chapter Text

POV: Beck

Post “No Bounds” and pre “Terminal”

Tron refuses to tell me whether or not he derezzed Cyrus. I don’t know if that’s because he did or he didn’t. I mean, we both know I’d be a hypocrite for trying to stop him from derezzing Dyson and then being happy he derezzed Cyrus. It’s just that… Dyson is bad, yes, but he doesn’t intend to destroy the Grid like Cyrus. Dyson is a monster. Cyrus is a monster and a murderer.

Mara blames me. She doesn’t know she blames me, her friend, and I wish I could just tell her the truth. I wish I could tell her everything about why she and Zed were kidnapped, that Tron was taken, too. I wish I had the guts to tell her she’s kind of right. If I had just stuck to the road instead of trying to skirt around a storm that one time, this wouldn’t have happened. Cyrus never would have escaped Able’s prison to begin with.

I lie in my quarters at the hidden mountain base outside of Argon. I should have gone home, back to the garage, but I’m not ready to face everyone there just yet. I’ll just have to lie again, pretend that I don’t know. I’m not capable of that right now.

What I do instead, is lie here and study the scars on one of my wrists. I got them the first time I fought Cyrus, the first and only time I ever won against him. It wasn’t that I’m actually better than him in any way. He was simply bound to the confines and structures within the prison. His bomb was made from structures within the prison. I could jump off. He fell with it.

There’s something in the sickly green of the scars that catches my eye. It pulls a perplexing memory to mind.

When the bomb Cyrus meant to power with our energies spun fast enough, I lost consciousness. I saw things that shouldn’t have been possible. Light and sound streaked by, but it wasn’t the landscape of the outlands we were in. It was something else entirely, beautiful and bright. For just a moment, I thought I saw Tron reaching out for me, heard him telling me to stay with him. Then, there was a flash of white, and it was Clu standing before me, calling my name.

I don’t know what any of that was. I just remember that I couldn’t breathe. It was beautiful for a moment. Then, I felt like I was being torn apart by opposing forces, Tron on one side and Clu on the other. I will never choose Clu over Tron, even if Tron and I are having a fight.

I’ve tried a stint in the healing chamber myself. Every little scratch I had vanished, but not these scars. They did not repair or degrade. When I showed them to Able, he said they might not be scars at all. He said they might be an alteration. Into what, he had no idea.

Dropping the minimal disguise I usee to hide them, I really take a look at the marks now. If I stare at them long enough, I can see that other world again, the one right before I saw Tron and then Clu. It’s not… It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen on the Grid. I may not have traveled that much of the Grid on the whole, but I just know it’s something else. Even the most chaotic remains of a landslide in the mountains of the outlands has more order to it than the world I recall from that brief memory.

I fall asleep at some point, still contemplating the beauty of the otherness.

An eye stares back at me. Its pupil is round.

Chapter Text

I can’t believe this. Pavel was bad enough when General Dyson was around, but I figured he’d get his act together now that Clu is in Argon. Clearly, that isn’t the case. The sniveling glitch that he is, he set me up again. I’m sitting in a holding cell again because of him.

Okay, maybe he had a good enough reason this time… Maybe he didn’t completely set me up all on his own.

I am the one who decided to reach out to Beck again, after all. But, how was I supposed to know? Beck? The cute, sweet, slightly mysterious mechanic without a mean bone in his body? Yes, it was clear from the moment we met that he was brave, smart, and self-sacrificing. I could tell he’d been through a lot after only a few moments’ conversation. It wasn’t what he said, exactly. More, how he said it, how he always seemed to be holding a little something back.

I should have figured it out sooner, with his distaste for Clu and the Army.

Beck, my counterpart, a civilian…. The Renegade.

He was manipulating me the whole time. I fell for it and never even noticed.

Now, I’m the one sitting here, waiting to go back into the Games, while both Beck and Pavel run free.

Pavel has his high praise from Clu. The Renegade—Beck—escaped one more time so that he could keep stirring up insurrection in Tron’s name and image. Rumors from the guards say that I’m going to be facing off against Clu at the end of this millicycle.

I’m going to derez.

I won’t strike the Administrator.

He won’t hesitate to make an example out of me.

I’m guilty. Guilty by association.

But, how did Pavel know before I did?

Chapter Text

I remember how difficult it was for Flynn to describe the Sun. He said it was an entity unto itself, a massive object far away, burning blazingly hot and bright. He explained how there were planets that rotated around the ball of fire, and how the Earth—his system—orbited at just the right distance around the Sun to get the right amount of heat so that the waters didn’t freeze, or too close to make them boil away.

When I asked Sam the same question, he gave me a very different description. He had never tried to describe it before. The Sun was something so commonly experienced by Users like him that it was practically needless to try and define it. Everyone he knew already understood the Sun. He tried anyway.

I figured, since the portal used so much power, was so bright and warm, that the Sun must be like that. Bright white, sending out light that could be seen over nearly half the Grid.

That comparison is worthless to me now.

The big ball of fire in the bright blue sky hurts my eyes to look at it. While the Users are seemingly immune to the effects, it heats my skin to uncomfortable levels of pain if I am exposed to its light for too long. It’s almost like standing within a blazing fire myself. Still, it is beautiful and necessary in this system. I appreciate it, even if it harms me.

But, I have come to understand that there is more than one kind of Sun in this world.

There is the Sun that Flynn described, the ball of burning gasses the planets orbit. Then, there is the Sun of people…

Every star in the night sky, I have learned, is a Sun. More accurately, the Sun is a star. A great many stars have planets orbiting them. People can be stars or planets in any world. Leaders are stars. Followers are planets.

Sam is my star, keeping me close at all times. He is a star for many more Users, too. He is the Sun of ENCOM. The people who work for him have people that work for them. I guess, perhaps, those people would be moons, rings, or even asteroid belts. I’ve been learning about them as I read up on how this system functions… all the planetary bodies, the solar systems, the galaxies… I can’t help but make the comparison.

And… when we are alone, I remember how Sam described the Sun.

Big, warm, bright, and beautiful.

There was a power outage after a rough storm during the night. I’m not used to the brightness of this system, but nor am I accustomed to total darkness. On the Grid, there is always a little ambient light to be found. I’m not sure if the quiet and dark scared me or Marvin more. But, within moments, Sam had little lights glowing here and there, more than enough for me to see by.

The rain was still pouring so hard that, for a moment, I thought we were in the middle of the Sea of Simulation itself. I was terrified.

He could have admonished me for that, could have ridiculed. Instead, he reached out his big hand for mine, led me to his bed with Marvin, and held me close. He talked to me until the rain slowed and I was able to fall asleep.

Sam is warm, bright, orbited by so many…

And, I think, Sam really is the Sun to my world.

Chapter Text

I’m free…

Oh, Users! I’m free!

Minor damages logged, self healing underway, I stand at the edge of the Sea of Simulation, not really sure how I got here. The last thing I remember is waking up over the waters, heading for the portal. There were users ahead of me, and I had to protect them. Them, and Quorra… I have some missing memory after that. I definitely had a full virus scan, purge, and reboot. Whatever triggered it, I’m grateful to be back in full control of myself. It’s been a long damn time. Too long.

Lightjets incoming… some belong to Clu. Others… they’re civilian!

What is all that noise? Why does it sound like bombs…?

I turn around and find out fast.

I’m at the edge of the capital city. It’s a war zone between soldiers and everyone else.

There’s no question which side I’m picking.

…

Until there is.

Pretty much everyone on both sides of the raging conflict scatter when I get close. I do my best to pick off soldiers, to look for a commanding officer to take down and weaken Clu’s forces more. What I end up finding is a very familiar masked program blocking my path, a disc in each of his hands. It’s… me?

“Tron?” The program is wary, but not backing down. “Or Rinzler?”

I can’t help the proud smirk on my face. I know who this is. I thought he derezzed a long time ago. “What do you think, Beck?”

Beck, hidden behind my original suit, slumps in relief, then holds out my white disc. “I think you will be better off with this. What do you think?”

I reach out, take the disc and dock it for synchronization. It feels so good to be back in my own skin…

“Good… now…” I open my eyes, focused and clear headed for the first time in hundreds of cycles. “Dyson wasn’t going with Clu to the User system. Are you going to try to stop me this time?”

“Stop you?” Beck laughs. “I’m joining you.”

Chapter Text

Every member of the board is looking at me like I’ve grown another head or something. I’m so damn tired that I can’t remember what I just said. Whatever it is, it’s got Alan and Roy on edge. They share a glance, worried and knowing, before Alan stands up to take over for a moment.

“Sam, uh…” His lips press together in a thin line as he pats me on the back. “You’ve been burning it at both ends a lot lately. None of these changes can happen over night. We’re all well aware of that. Maybe we should come back to this next week. Call it an early day for now.”

I know what he’s doing. He’s saving face for me, and I should go with it. The old man has no idea what I’ve actually been up to, but he damn well knows his way around a corporation. If the other share holders or the board members get too nervous about my direction, I’m going to be in big trouble.

“Yeah, Alan, you’re right.” I try to fake a yawn, but it turns into a real one pretty fast. My gaze flickers around the room, at each of the faces watching us. “I’m probably not making any sense right now, am I? An extended weekend should do the trick. For all of us. Let’s come back to this on… Tuesday, maybe?”

Thankfully, everyone leaves without comment, everyone but Alan and Roy. Edward hangs back a bit, looks like he wants to say something. Whatever it is, he decides against it and leaves the three of us alone in the boardroom.

“Sam…” Alan’s voice is stern. I feel like he found out my report card had a C+ on it or something. “We’re overdue for this talk.”

I hesitate, trying to understand which one of the many talks we’re overdue for that he wants to have now. “Is it about me going back to college?”

“Did you not hear yourself earlier?” Alan asks, eyes narrowing on mine. “You said we would have to code in a new facility for the solar farm… You talked about where the best place east of the current location would be to rez up a new one, asked Katie how many programs she thought we would need to hire…”

“Oh… oh…” I laugh nervously, crossing my arms for a bit of a barrier. “Is that what I said? That’s weird.”

Roy shrugs, still seated at the table. “I’m actually surprised you didn’t waltz in here and say ‘Greetings Programs!’ instead of ‘Hey, everybody’ like usual… You’re turning into your father, and not in the kind of way that the board will take to.”

Alan doesn’t give me a chance to respond to Roy. “It’s time you came clean, Sam… What did you find at the arcade that all the rest of us missed?”

I can’t lie to them. They’ve known me my whole life, and my parents and grandparents before that. But… “This isn’t the place to talk about it. Let’s…”

I stall out, nervous. I’m still not ready for this. Quorra’s been bugging me to meet Alan, Roy, and Lora for a few days now. I know, I told her that it was up to her when they found out, but I… I’m not so sure I’m ready for them to find out.

My voice catches a little as I try to put it in a way that they’ll understand, but anyone listening outside the door won’t. “I found the miracle. I can show you.”

Chapter Text

I am frozen on the couch in Sam’s home. Quorra sits ins a chair, browsing a text file she calls a “book” quietly, ignorant of my growing unease with the educational files on the “television.”

Birds of prey, sharks, wolves, big cats, spiders, snakes… There’s literally no place in this system that is safe to simply exist.

Even things that should be considered good for you, like many energy sources, can be deadly.

It seems like sheer luck that even the Users survive their own reality.

I’d almost rather go back to the crumbling Grid. It's much safer back home.

Chapter Text

I needed it to be perfect.

Everything had to be exactly so before I could let anyone else in. Sam would probably be so fascinated with the bugs, but they were dangerous. Alan, once he got over Tron, would probably take over trying to root out the source of the bugs and fix that himself. Lora, well… I needed Alan on my side to ease the blow on her. Jordan… Jordan was the only one I ever considered bringing in before it was finished. But, well, that never happened. I never got to show her how amazing her designs really were in the Grid.

I was so close to showing them. Of course it had to fall apart.

Just another visit, just another damn problem to stall progress. But, between Tron, Anon, and that ISO girl, Quorra, and all Clu’s Black Guard, the virus should have been contained and neutralized in short order. Of course it wasn’t.

Ten minutes in the real world was hours in the Grid. But now?

Ten whole cycles have passed. Only months out there. It feels like eternity, staring into the distance, knowing that every eye on the Grid is looking for me, for Quorra. I feel like I’m staring into an abyss. It’s definitely staring back at me. I always thought it was a fun quote until now.

The hell of it is, I have a way to contact Alan, a way to get help. Doing so is probably the worst idea ever. He doesn’t have a clue what to expect, how to navigate it. Just making my way to the tower to send the signal will get me caught. Quorra and her friends in the rebellion could do it, if they had the permissions. I could give her the permissions, but I’m scared she’ll get caught and used for them before being derezzed.

Eternity takes on a whole new meaning after another thousand cycles have passed. I’ve given up on ever seeing sunlight again.

Then… it walked into my home and gave me a hug.