Author's Note: Hello all, I'm very new to this. I've never written a fiction before, much less with a pairing. I'm quite aware of the small slash commnity pertaining to Tron and the rain of negative reviews that could come down on my head, but for some reason, I just had to write this story. Please review, I'm not going to demand reviews for another chapter, but they do give me motovation to write. I welcome reviews and constructive critizism, I would, however, appreciate no flames. If you do not like Tron, like Tron slash, of Tron and Flynn as 'together', then please exit the fic, don't take the time to tell me excessively how it's wrong and that you don't like it. So for the saving of time, this is SLASH: a man in a relationship with another man. And no, I don't know Tron or any of the characters.
Blue eyes scanned the crowd of the End of Line club. All programs of various types and designations were there. Many danced on the light-pulsing floor, bodies mingling together effortlessly to the loud beats and strums of the music playing, seemingly without end. The lights from their circuits, reflected off the other programs dancing next to them, high-lighting their features with a luminescent glow, all the while swaying in a cohesive rhythm. Those not participating in dancing were off to the side, glasses in hand, speaking with other programs animatedly, receiving an occasional laugh or other such positive reaction.
One particular pair of programs sat at a table with drinks untouched; huddling next to each other, speaking in hushed voices. The male program would occasionally touch the female, a gentle sliding of his hand across hers; a passive action that could be explained away if confronted on. Though the other program didn't seem to mind the caresses, she even appeared to be encouraging them. Perhaps that was the point of speaking so softly, so the two programs engaged in conversation would have to be closer together, so one could touch the other, as surely they would be unable to hear one another with such noise blasting from the DJs and filling the room, almost competing with the programs already occupying the space.
Whatever the reason programs felt the need to speak to each other in a place that was obviously not meant for efficient conversation was of no matter to the security program known Tron, who found himself sitting on a stool at the bar area, with an uncared for drink, and trying to understand what the purpose of him being there was. He drew his eyes away from the two programs, looking at each other in a way Tron could not fully comprehend and rested his gaze once more upon the dancers in the center of the club.
In a sense, Tron did know why he was at End of Line, and such reasons could only be traced back to Flynn, Flynn who insisted that Tron needed to 'get out more'. When Tron attempted to explain to Flynn that he 'went out' all the time, as was necessary, for he was a security program and it was his purpose to patrol the Grid carefully and with precision. Flynn, however, laughed and said that wasn't quite what he meant, that he felt Tron should be more social with other programs, outside of what his security programing offered.
So now Tron found himself at End of Line, a place that he was sure Flynn would dub 'sociable' as he was surrounded by multiple programs, most of who had no qualms interacting with each other. What had Tron questioning his presence in such a place was why Flynn felt he needed to intermingle with others. Was it something that could interfere with his efficiency as a security program? Tron wouldn't believe so. He was updated continuously with better software and data, and ran self-diagnostics regularly to ensure there were no problems that could hinder him unable to be a proficient protector of the Grid. Tron found no decline in his capabilities and came to the conclusion that being more social would have no great impact on his functions.
Tron assumed it was Flynn's way of trying to get him to embrace the behavioral evolution that the User was seeing starting to take place within the programs. Programs that were now interacting with each other for no other reason than to talk, spending time with each other for no other reason than to just be with another being, acting both physically and emotionally in a way that Flynn described as "Being more and more like the Users that created them every day". Tron, however, was content with just being as he was designed, no more, no less. He only wanted to carry out his prime directive to the best of his ability, and found no reason to explore User ways. But Flynn insisted and Tron found himself complying with Flynn's request. The security program found he hardly if ever, didn't go along with something asked of him by Flynn.
Tron presumed he'd spent enough time at End of Line and moved to leave; hoping this detour of his regular routine would be enough to placate Flynn for a time.
"Leaving so soon, are we?" A voiced asked from a little ways behind and Tron turned to see the End of Line club owner himself, Zuse, descend from the DJs box.
"J'adore ca garcons, j'adore ca!" called the white haired program to his musical prodigies as he finished the last few steps and re-focused his attention back to Tron.
"Yes, actually,' replied the security program, 'I have spent sufficient time here and need to return to my duties." Tron stood up, but his forward action to leave the club was halted when Zuse came swiftly to his side, grasped his shoulder, and pushed him back into a seated position.
"Spent sufficient time?' Now Trony merely sitting at the bar for half a micro-cycle is hardly what I'd call 'sufficient time'. Zuse flashed the brunette program a cheeky smile and made his way behind the bar and let his elbows rest on the counter, with his head nestled in his hands. "Why don't you stay a tad longer and really enjoy the club life of us 'standard' programs?"
Tron gave Zuse an indifferent look, only being mildly thrown-off from the show of strength the white-clad club owner used to force him to sit. "Because', started Tron, 'I am only here because Flynn wished for me to . . ."
"Ah, yes,' interrupted Zuse, 'as it is written, so it shall be. My, my, our great and omniscient Creator certainty has you wrapped around his finger doesn't he? One would think he hadn't gone and abandoned us for twenty-or-so cycles."
Tron's eyes narrowed. "I would not be speaking so flippantly about Flynn were I you, Zuse, he could have merely let your coding drift endlessly beyond the outskirts of the Grid, but he did not, he re-uploaded you, when he had very little reason to do so."
Though no indication of discomfort appeared on Zuse's face, the flamboyant program raised his hands in defense. "Oh don't get me wrong; O' great defender of Flynn, I am more than knowledgeable of out Creator's disdain for me. You sell out his son to his malicious clone once, for completely justifiable reasons, such as the continuance of one's existence, and the next thing you know you're active again with the Creator in your face threatening permanent de-resolution if you ever 'pull a stunt like that' again.' Zuse grinned, 'Trust me; I'm under no delusions of how Flynn feels about yours truly."
Tron nearly rolled his eyes, trust Zuse to say things on to get a rise out of him, it seemed to be the exuberant program's favorite past time.
"That does, however,' starts Zuse, his eyes looking slyly to the left of Tron, his index finger making circular motions on the bar top's smooth surface, body language coming off as though he was beginning an offhanded observation, 'Segue into another fascinating topic."
"Such as?" asked Tron dryly, at this point, though, he was really only humoring the other program.
Zuse's eyes flitted to looking upwards. "Such as,' began Zuse, stringing out his words to an almost riling drawl, 'how our creator feels . . ." Eyes then suddenly staring directly at Tron, Zuse's lips curved into a self-satisfying smirk, and he delivered the finish. " . . . About. You."
Tron could only raise an eyebrow to Zuse's statement. Just what exactly was he inferring? "What do you mean, Zuse?"
Zuse's smirk broke out into a full beam. "Oh don't play coy Trony, you and I both know exactly what I mean."
The questioning security program could honestly say he did not know what exactly Zuse meant, and Tron could tell from the glee brimming in club owner's eyes that he would have to be direct with Zuse if he was going to get to the point.
"Zuse . . ." It was little more than a warning, Tron did not appreciate being toyed with. The afore mentioned program's eyes widened delightedly. "So you really don't know, hmmm?" Tron made to get up, but was quickly stopped by Zuse.
"Okay! Okay. I can see your sense of humor is still non-existent, let's imagine a little scenario, shall we?" Ever the showman, Zuse stretched out his arms, calling up his charismatic nature, and began telling his tale, a slightly impatient Tron teetering between curiosity and annoyance.
"Our great Creator, the User Kevin Flynn, is the Grid's equivalent of a god, no? Whenever that dazzling white flash of light appears, signaling his arrival, every program within the immediate vicinity looks towards it, awe etched in their innocent little faces. Such is the effect of Mr. High-and-Mighty himself. Kevin Flynn goes walking in the streets and programs will bow, on hand and foot even, in his vast presence. The whole of the Grid looks onto him, Tron, his powers inconceivable to many, and he is looked at as this incredible being. Yet, when he is surrounded by these programs that look at him with nothing less than admiration and astonishment, do you know who he looks at with such similar and far more profound emotions in his eyes? Who is the one thing, that when all eyes are on him, only his attention is for? You, Tron, only you."
Zuse finished, looking satisfied, and Tron sat there, his head down, staring at his hands now firmly gripping his drink, unable to think of anything to say. His first move was to simply ignore what Zuse said, he could hardly be a reliable source for anything, much less an expert on the emotions for Users. But the club owner's words held to Tron, getting to him in a way he didn't know words could.
'It's impossible,' Tron thought, 'I may not have an excessive knowledge of emotions, but I know Flynn does not regard me in such a way.'
But, Zuse said it with such conviction . . .
Whatever internal battle was taking place within Tron must have been easily read by Zuse, for his voice suddenly registered. "Believe me Tron, all the admiration and affection from all programs of the Grid pales in comparison to you." Then, offhandedly said, "I'm rather surprised you haven't noticed, even being as unobservant on these matters as you are . . ."
Tron suddenly jumped from his seat, backing away. These things Zuse was saying were not true, not true! They were either mis-observations on the white-haired program's part, Zuse's taking actions out of context, or intentional fabrications intended to cause disarray within him. Either way, they were falsehoods, Flynn saw Tron only as a friend, a confidant, nothing more. Even more so, Tron was utterly incapable to feel as deeply as Zuse claimed Flynn felt. A friend was one thing, a companion, something entirely within his security protocols to understand and interact with, but something more? To be seen as something more was unsettling, because it was not something, that as a security program, Tron could fully understand.
The End-of-Line proprietor merely looked at Tron, knowing the other program didn't believe him, his denial coming off of him so clearly that Zuse could see precisely why Tron hadn't picked up on Flynn's feelings before. "I assure you Tron,' Zuse said, 'I am not lying, but I see you for naivety's sake I'm going to have to spell this out for you. Kevin Flynn, Creator and User of the Grid, is in deep, un-abolished, and most likely unbearable, love with you."
The security program froze with those words hanging in the air, the whole club suddenly seeming far too quite, despite the overbearing music that still continued to play. Tron now found himself somewhere between being sorting through the plague of information that now rushed his system, and being unable to string together a coherent thought. He was sure his processors must be malfunctioning, for this place of limbo, of in between, seemed far too still, far to quite to be acceptable. 'It's impossible, it's not true . . .'
"Tron."
A voiced alerted the motionless program, and Tron was extraordinarily grateful for a distraction from his sudden purgatory. Tron turned and faced a familiar program that donned jet black hair and glowing orange eyes.
"Yes?" Tron responded, surprised by how tight his throat felt and how difficult it seemed to extract that one single word. The other program observed him thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. "There is an attack on the 12-G communications tower; the aggressors are rouge programs that are still under the allegiance of Clu."
"Then we must go." stated Tron. Pushing past the program he made for the door to the elevator, not taking a single look back, more than ready to leave End-of-Line.
The other program watched Tron leave for the elevator and made to follow him, but not before turning back to note the club's owner.
"Zuse." said the program, more of a statement than an actual acknowledgment, in a wholly unenthusiastic voice, accompanied by an unimpressed look on his face.
Zuse stared back at the orange-eyed program, his own face revealing the disdain he felt for the program in front of him. Only one word could properly address and convey his contempt all at once, and so he replied;
"Rinzler."
Hope you enjoyed the 1st chapter, the 2nd one will clear up, hopefully, any confusion. This does take place after Legacy.
*J'adore ca garcons, j'adore ca- I love it boys, I love it. 'Cause ya know, the DJs are Daft Punk, and Daft Punk is french, yeah.