"Dyson… Why?"

From where he was bound to the table, Tron's gaze was drawn to his former second-in-command with a look of disbelief. Dyson, who had always taken personal accountability to close gaps and handle problems; who was dedicated to the safety and security of the Grid beyond the scope of expectation… He'd had concerns about the intentions of the ISOs, Tron knew - perhaps some legitimate ones that had been overlooked - but the Grid's chief of security had not seen this coming.

CLU had always been impatient, with a rigid mentality about how things must be done and the way to go about doing them. Still Tron hadn't expected him to go this far, but Dyson…

The red light from the thin energized strips on the walls cast dark shadows on the officer's face as he looked up upon hearing his name. "I'm sorry, Tron," he said, and the way he looked down, the tension in his features suggested that he may have been true to his words.

"My function is to protect the Grid… Yours is to fight for the Users. The security of our system is not, and can never be, your primary directive."

He glanced at Tron with a sad expression - almost pitying - as if to say, I wish I could help you, but you're a lost cause.

"Your User was unkind to create you this way."

Tron's eyes widened. His mouth was open slightly as he fumbled to find the words to respond. It shocked him to hear Dyson - any program, really - speak that way about the Users. They knew what they were doing; they had their methods and their reasons… Back on the Encom system, when the MCP brutally oppressed programs to gain power, the Users' intentions had not always been clear, but everything had ultimately worked itself out.

"I know you have your issues with the ISOs," the system monitor said finally, "but the 'solution' CLU has proposed is… is genocide, Dyson. We need to do better than that. It's our duty to do better than that."

Dyson's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to say something, but Tron cut him off. "If you stop this, we can resolve the matter the right way. We can talk to Flynn and come to some kind of agreement–"

The now red-circuited program shook his head, the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward, regarding Tron like a child with a puzzle just a little too grown up for them to figure out. "How many times have we tried to reason with Flynn? How many times were you off conferring with him while I was out in the field, trying to manage the riots and stop the ISOs from damaging our energy supply? Look at where that's left us."

Dyson turned away from his former supervisor. For a moment he was silent, giving the older program some time to think about what he'd said. His focus shifted downward.

"I have another matter that requires my attention," the security officer said finally. "I urge you respectfully to take some time to think about where your allegiance lies. Despite your contraindicated directives, you are an excellent security program. CLU wants you on our side, and if you won't work with us willingly, I'll have no choice but to use… other means of persuasion."

Dyson breathed in and exhaled slowly. "I don't want it to come to that," he said wearily before he walked away and exited the dark room without looking back.

The soon-to-be director of system security headed down a long, narrow corridor. He stopped in front of a forbidding metal door, entered an activation code, and it slid open with the sharp hiss of pneumatic pressure. In this room was an ISO the patrols had captured the cycle prior, also shackled to a table, with several long, thin cuts along his torso and arms that glowed blue with energy. A single Black Guard stood in the corner, still and silent, watching.

"Has he given up the location at which the escaped ISOs are being harbored yet?" Dyson asked as he approached. The Black Guard shook his head in response.

"I see," said the officer. He came to a stop directly in front of the ISO, staring with eyes that pierced like daggers. The prisoner glared back with a look of equal hatred.

"You know, there are certain things that my directives do not permit me to do to programs under interrogation, as I have a duty to protect them…" Dyson spoke in a low growl as he reached out and delicately traced his fingers over the jagged edge of the exposed voxels across the ISO's midsection.

"However, you serve no useful purpose, which means you are not a program."