T.K.O.

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Beck's every sense was on alert. His wide brown eyes darted back and forth behind the dark visor of the helmet that closely encapsulated the contours of his face, all processes on edge and circuits tense as he crouched and readied himself for the next attack. The young program was decked out in the sleek white battle armor of the Renegade, Tron's distinctive T-shaped emblem of square circuits emblazoning his chest. His shoulder and knee ached where Tron had caught him off guard one too many times and smashed him into the floor of the training room. Beck knew he should have reacted sooner, but had serious doubts that a program such as himself was even written with reflexes capable of that kind of speed. Tron had watched him get up with scorn and barked, "Let's go again, and focus this time!" as if repetition would change the laws of physics. And go again they did. It seemed they had been going at it for an eternity.

The training room was running a simulation of Purgos, the twisting back alleys of inner-city Argon where they had once tracked down Beck's identity disk after it had been stolen. He knew that Tron had chosen this simulation to force him to confront his insecurities and the jumbled memories he associated with the place. The graphics that the training room program used to render environments weren't quite as detailed as the real thing, but close enough to get lost in. Neglected, claustrophobic spaces were stacked and crowded together in a dank and disordered urban sprawl that teetered on the edge of deresolution. A single yellow light guttered somewhere above him, casting long shadows that played tricks on his eyes. Soft rain fell in the areas open to the sky, making surfaces reflective and misleading. In this simulation he didn't just have to look out for Tron, he had to be on guard for the computer's VR riff-raff as well. Fortunately, the computer could be relatively predictable. Tron, however...

He caught a fluid movement in the shadows out of the corner of his eye and spun, kicking out a leg in its direction. Tron, circuits blacked out collar to toe on his stealth suit with only his head bare, easily grabbed his outstretched limb and pulled, using Beck's momentum against him. Users, he was strong! As Beck hit the ground again, he cursed and rolled, letting his already pummeled shoulder absorb the impact. Tron never ceased to amaze him. His design, where graceful form followed function, was immensely powerful, tall, and broad shouldered, yet lithe and flexible- a deadly combination. Despite the fact that his face was all angles, and his profile striking and square jawed, there was a certain elegance to his features embodied by his noble nose and the smooth brown hair he neatly swept back from his temples. Often his gray eyes seemed suspicious and scrutinizing, casting hard glares that only rarely hinted at disguised vulnerability underneath. A faint, pixelated scar running up the left side of Tron's neck was the only outward evidence that he wasn't invincible. Physically, Beck was of an average build, and although he was a lot leaner and not quite as tall as his mentor, he liked to imagine he made up for what he lacked in stature with dexterity and speed. Over the past several decacycles under Tron's training, he had learned to push the boundaries of his programming, but now he seemed to be hitting a wall. Beck narrowly avoided blows aimed towards his vulnerable spots as he attempted to get back on his feet. They sparred, Beck fighting to keep up. Tron was written to be a gladiator, the stuff of legend. He just made it all look so easy. It was simultaneously inspiring and disheartening for the young mechanic. The security program may have been written using an older form of BASIC- obsolete, even- but his User had created him with timeless precision and one objective: victory. And right now, victory against this beast of a program seemed like a delusion to Beck.

"This isn't really a fair fight," Beck panted, grappling with the more experienced program. It felt like he was wrestling one of General Tesler's tanks. He got in a swift jab, which only served to make his hand sore. Tron's response was to put him in a choke hold.

"I know," Tron said, his voice maddeningly even despite his exertions. "I don't understand why you don't use that to your advantage." Beck strained in Tron's iron grip, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

"I obviously don't have any advantages." He grunted with effort as he knifed his arms up through Tron's, breaking his hold and managing to stumble out of the way just as Tron lept at him again. "I'm just a mechanic!" He blocked and parried, feeling the last of his energy drain out of him. The security program looked like he could go another twelve rounds. He paused mid stance and glared down at Beck with piercing eyes and a severe frown.

"Are you whining, Renegade?" Tron scolded. Beck felt his circuits burn with shame. Tron relaxed into a casual standing position and crossed his arms over the broad expanse of his chest. Unsure if the fight was still on or not, Beck wavered, then stood at attention.

"No, sir." he replied. Tron nodded.

"That's what I thought. Do it again, and do it better." He turned on his heel and disappeared into a new configuration of the simulation. Beck groaned internally. How many times was he going to have to hear that?! His shoulder was fried and he wanted to quit already and go soak in an energy pool for the rest of the night. And of course, he was scheduled for the early shift at the garage tomorrow. He should have expected he'd be up late either training or on patrol, and judging by the way his circuits ached, he knew he'd feel utterly wrecked in the morning. Still, Tron had a point... Tesler and his minions wouldn't rest, so neither should he… and complaining wouldn't change that. There was only one way to end this simulation. Focusing his resolve, he cautiously crept down the maze of dimly- lit alleyways, eyes peeled.

Two helmeted figures converged on him and he easily held them back. Computer generated opponents… they must be there to distract him. It was tricky, but he simultaneously scanned his surroundings while he kept them at bay. They were able to get in a few stinging punches but nothing he couldn't take. And there, reflected in the slick puddles, was Tron's dark form, pouncing from a hidden angle. Beck made quick work of the sims ganging up on him and met the leaping program head on. He reached out, grabbed dense handfuls of bicep and belly, and hauled him over his head using the program's weight and momentum against him, as Tron had done so many times with Beck. To his surprise, it actually worked. The security program hit the ground like a megabyte of data bricks, and stayed down. The other programs flickered, then disappeared. Beck retracted his helmet and leaped into the air, whooping in victory- he had finally succeeded! Reveling in his moment of glory, he confidently beamed down at Tron, putting his fists on his hips.

"I think we're done for the day," Beck announced. "I don't know about you, but I could use a couple drinks." He raked his fingers through his short black hair, transforming it from helmet-head back into his usual tousled faux hawk. He then waited for Tron to predictably nag at him to stop gloating and go through the simulation yet again. There was always something Beck neglected to notice, some minuscule detail he could improve upon. However, Tron failed to deliver his usual lecture. He was still lying face down in a crumpled heap. Shifting slightly, Tron braced the ground with his elbows, propping himself up, and shook his head as if to clear it.

"That was... very good, Beck..." the deep rumble of his mentor's voice sounded rougher than usual, and slightly breathless. Beck sensed something was off. Tron was usually on his feet by now.

"Hey...you all right?" he asked, bending down to check him out. Tron waved him away.

"I'm fine." He slowly rolled into a sitting position, grimacing.

"You don't look fine."

Tron glared at him the way he always did when he wanted Beck to back off.

"It's just some old injuries flaring up. You should go unwind. You've earned it." Tron ordered the simulation to end. The holograms of jumbled streets and crevices dissolved into the featureless, parallel planes of backlit panels lining the ceiling and floor of the training grid. Beck looked towards the exit, then back at his mentor, who was still sitting hunched over on the floor.

"You're so stubborn, you know that?" Beck said, ducking down on one knee and draping one of Tron's long, powerful arms over his shoulders. He wrapped his other arm around Tron's back, gripping his waist, and pulled him to his feet. The security program winced and let out a stifled groan. Beck felt guilt stab at his core. "Geez...I'm so sorry... I never meant to cause any real damage..."

"It's not your fault. You followed your instincts," Tron replied. He leaned on Beck heavily. "Bravo... You're improving." Those last few words sounded a bit too tinged with amazement for Beck's liking, but he let it slide. They made their way towards the healing chamber, but the injured program dug in his heels and forced Beck to put him down on a diagnostic pallet instead. Tron sagged into the 45 degree angle of the pallet, mussed brown hair hanging in his eyes and jaw clenched in pain. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but Beck could've sworn that Tron's normally pale scar had lengthened, running from his neck all the way up to his left eye, and was becoming more livid by the minute.

"How is this supposed to do you any good?!" Beck exclaimed. He felt frustration bubbling up inside of him- frustration with himself, with Tron's hard-headed nature, and a deep seated resentment of the coup that had torn him up so badly. Beck was vague on the details, but he knew Dyson and Clu must have done something brutal that left deep scars that went beyond physical. "Let me see," he said in a lame attempt at a commanding tone. Tron grunted.

"Last time I checked, you weren't a medic," he said, his mouth set in a firm line. "I'll be fine. Go hang out with your friends. Blow off some steam."

"Don't try to act so tough," Beck retorted. "Besides, it's way too late to even meet up with anyone." He turned his head and nervously glanced at the glowing tank of energy at the back of the room, thick eyebrows knitting together. "We should really get you in the healing chamber before-"

"Dammit, you have no idea how much I hate that thing!" Tron snapped, making Beck swallow back the rest of his sentence. Barely masking the bitterness in his tone, the older program muttered under his breath, "It's like being trapped in an aquarium."

"A what?" Beck had never heard that term before.

"Never mind," said Tron.

"Just tell me...unless you think I'm too stupid to understand?" Beck challenged. He was done with Tron's condescending attitude, which always seemed to surface when Beck was only trying to help.

"No-but-well..." Tron noticed a flicker of hurt pass across Beck's face and fumbled for an explanation. "...It's a glass container that holds water... and a simulated environment for shiny little entities called 'fish'..." he saw that he was already losing Beck.

"Entities...like...ISO's?" Inquired the trainee, his expressive brown eyes wary and belying his confusion.

"No." Tron sighed. "It's something from the User world...so it's hard to describe."

Beck was stunned. He looked upon the injured program with awe.

"You know about the User world?" he asked, leaning forward, intrigued.

Tron chose his words carefully.

"As you know, I worked closely with Kevin Flynn. He explained many details of his world to me, that's all."

Beck didn't look convinced.

"You've actually been there, haven't you?" he asked.

Ignoring Beck's inquiry, Tron reached back behind his shoulder blades and removed his personal disc. Holding it parallel to the floor in front of him, he brought up a holographic schematic of his system made of pinpoints of light hovering above the interface. "Beck, If you don't mind, I need to take care of this," he said impatiently. He swiped through several skins he had programmed for himself and chose his default setting. Streaks of pixels in his suit flipped and melted away, revealing broad symmetrical lines of glowing circuitry. The injury was immediately apparent, as one of the main circuit lines on his left side sported a geometric web of flickering teal cracks. Beck grimaced.

"I'll go get you some energy." He stood up and Tron looked relieved, as if hopefully this whole line of questioning could be avoided. Beck had gotten to the doorway when he turned around and called out, "Don't think you're off the hook- when I get back, you're gonna tell me what a fish is." Tron huffed in response.