A/N: Not to copy the note from Fallen and Faceless but I once again urge you to look up RED's song Faceless and listen to it, since these fics are based off that song.

Personally, I like this part of the story better, despite it being shorter. I finished it first, then had to slave over the other part to get it up to a publishing quality. (Bleh!) I'm not fully satisfied with either oneshot, but writing any more will spoil the idea of writing a three-part fic revolving around this (see bottom A/N for details).

Warnings: Character death?
Other notes: Companion fic to Fallen and Faceless; designed to be read as a pair.

Fallen and Faceless

By

Scribe~Of~RED

I once was a Program called Tron.

I wish I could say I still am the same Program Alan-One wrote into existence all those thousands of cycles ago: a Program that every other being on the Grid admired and looked up to and trusted, but I'm not. Time has worn me down, leaving me broken and battered in its passing, a mere fragment of the Program I once was. Too many things have happened during that time. Unspeakable things. Things that the protector of the Grid would never have done.

Things that ensure I no longer deserve to carry the name Tron.

And what hurts me the most is the knowledge that I can't even blame CLU's reprogramming for my actions. At least, not all of them.

I've committed murder. . . Hundreds — no, thousands of Programs, both Basics and ISOs, have fallen under the lethal curve of my discs. Most of those poor beings were innocent, their only crime being in the wrong place at the wrong time. CLU, driven by a form of logic that I never understood nor was permitted to question, would order them derezzed, and the disorderly, splintered mess of coding that held Rinzler's existence together obeyed without question, dutifully bringing his master's words into reality like the perfect slave he was.

But that abomination CLU so carefully exploited into being cannot be blamed for all of my sins. A part of me wants to blame him. It would be so easy to redirect the guilt for my past deeds in the direction of my other half — even now, I can feel Rinzler's desires clashing against the ones that belong to Tron, clawing desperately against the sudden reversal of power; he doesn't seem to realize that there's no reason to fight, that Tron actually isn't the one in control — but I can't bring myself to do such a cruel thing, not even to the one who's turned me into a savage, mindless beast.

Correction: Rinzler isn't the reason I became the Program I now am. CLU is. Flynn's digital copy is to blame for the state I'm in. He hurt me, he, twisted me, he tore apart my coding and forcefully introduced his own desires for the Grid into my very being. I tried to fight back — I did fight back — but he was so strong and I was so weak. My defenses held for only so long before he broke me down, beat me into submission, then ripped my very existence into so many pieces I feared I would never regain myself.

Somehow, in spite of all the cycles of torture I was forced to endure under CLU's harsh rule, the worst thing that has happened to me is learning that I am right. I will never regain myself. I will never be Alan-One's perfect little Program again.

I tried. I really did, but CLU has once again proven to be the stronger Program. Whatever of the Program called Tron that remains inside of me, fighting back despite being crushed time after time, it acted to protect the Users one last time, finally breaking past CLU's loathed alterations and prompting me to crash my lightjet into the system administrator's: my final attempt to rid the system of its tyrannical leader.

But I have failed.

Now I fall. I have no choice. The Program I once saw as my master, my creator, my savior — he's abandoned me, betrayed me for the second time. The final time.

At least this betrayal doesn't hurt like the first.

The disc slashes across my face. . . Pain overwhelms my processors. . . Darkness claims me. . . Waking with delightful horror to my new master. . .

I can still see him. He's flying towards the portal, only a very small, golden dot now. He is on the cusp of finally defeating the User he's been obsessed with destroying for one thousand cycles.

I'm flying, too — entirely the wrong way. The Sea of Simulation looms in my vision, a vast, inky expanse of untamed data. Directly below me, waves collide recklessly together, sending their dark froth of pixels spraying up in my direction. They seem eager to catch hold of me, to mercilessly drag my body into the depths of wild, untapped information.

To Tron's disappointment and Rinzler's silent, seething fury, I can't bring myself to care that I'm micros away from derezzing. Protector of the system – of the Users – I am no longer. I deserve no mercy for what I've done.

An emotion sparks within me, a barely noticed tingle as it crosses a circuit I'd long forgotten existed, a surge of warmth I haven't felt in cycles. I can't remember what it means. Maybe it's remorse, a heavy guilt for all the lives I've taken. Maybe it's joy; I'm finally going to escape the anguish that's become my existence.

My last memory — a whole memory, not just the bits and pieces of fragmented files I've allowed myself to accept as good for me — is of a beautiful face, gorgeous blue eyes, and soft lips against my own, scarred ones. They taste bittersweet.

And now the memory is gone, forever washed away by the chaos of the Sea as its overwhelming surges of data tear me apart, unraveling my code with nothing but its sheer magnitude until I no longer exist as myself. Tron is gone. Rinzler is gone. There is only the Sea.

I once was a Program called Tron. Now I am faceless.

A/N: I've been thinking of writing a threeshot revolving around some of the memories hinted at in these companion fics, but I won't write it unless there's some interest shown. If you want me to write such a thing, please leave a review to let me know. Thanks!