A/N: PLEASE READ: Hey all! This is my first attempt at writing a full length Tron fanfic. So far it's going well...except I feel like people aren't giving it much of a chance because of my fairly bad prologue. So, I'll tell you a little more about it here: basically, this fanfic is a rewrite of Tron Legacy (and, trust me, the further in you get, the more it diverges with the movie). It blends flashbacks (always in italics with the date) and the present to give a complete analysis of the characters, in particular Ram, Flynn, Tron/Rinzler, Clu and Quorra (there is some Sam and Castor/Zeus as well). The chapters do get longer (and more in depth) as you go on and there is a lot of action (i.e. lots of fight scenes, etc.). So please give it a chance! Read the next chapter...I promise you'll be pleasantly surprised! Anyway, R&R and enjoy! ~Moore12~

Prologue

1989

"I wanted to build the perfect system but I needed help, man," the man smiled down at his son, a sense of pride in his own accomplishments washing over him. "So I brought Tron over from the old system to help out. And I created a program in my own image…"

"Clu!" his son exclaimed, beaming because he was able to actually participate in the story rather than just remain a passive listener.

"That's right, man," the man handed his son an action figure that lit up, one that's resemblance to him was uncanny. He has my good looks, he thought to himself for a moment, snickering to himself. "I created Clu to be an admin, and he helps me oversee the creation of this perfect system…this is going to change the world, Sam."

Sam looked up at his father, practically quivering with anticipation. "I want to go there," he blurted out suddenly. "Please, dad, will you take me there!"

His father smiled at him and then ruffled his curls affectionately. "One day, Sam, one day," he said softly before adding, "But you have to let me finish my story first."

Nodding seriously, Sam decided it would be best to hold his tongue and allow his father to finish. Besides, he had implicitly promised he would take him, hadn't he? Regardless, he was intrigued to learn that there was more to the story. Clearing his throat, the man continues, "It's not just me, Clu and Tron in there. There's a fourth. I like to think of him as our moral compass—the voice of the programs, man. But even he couldn't have seen what was going to happen next."

"What?" Sam asked, the excitement building inside of him.

"The miracle," his father said almost reverently; Sam couldn't help but notice that his eyes widened in awe at the mere mention of it.

When he didn't continue, Sam asked, anxious to hear more, "What miracle?"

"And that's for another time," his father chuckled as he ruffled his curls once more. "I have to get back to work, man. But don't worry; I'll take you to the Grid soon."

And even as he listened to the roar of the motorcycle starting, even as he listened to his father drive off into the darkness, he was certain that his father would never break his promise.

2009

Too many lines to count lined the walls, and he stared at them dully, unable to recall why he even bothered to track how many torturous cycles he had been there. Snickering to himself weakly—he was as exhausted as always after yet another disc battle—he tried to remember the significance of those lines but found that he couldn't. It's been so long, he thought bitterly, the exact number doesn't even matter anymore. Because all he could remember were the empty promises, the treachery…and the fact that the "great" creator failed to listen to his own moral compass. It doesn't matter now. I'm going to derezz here soon enough, he thought bleakly. And then it will all finally be over…

A guard banged on the wall of his cell, and a gruff voice called, "There's someone here who wants to speak with you."

Slowly, he hauled himself to his feet knowing all too well that he wasn't allowed to refuse a visitor. He was a conscript yet again, and he wasn't allowed to make any decisions about his life. But that reality couldn't keep him from wondering who wanted to talk to him badly enough to come here; this was, after all, a dark place, a place of such evil it surpassed even the old Game Grid he knew all too well.

As soon as he made it to the entrance of his small cell which served as a window to the outside world he couldn't escape to—he had tried that once in a more desperate moment cycles ago only to be zapped by the force field—he was confronted by a program he had never wanted to see again. "What in the name of the users do you want, Clu?" he snarled, unable to contain his rage.

"And I thought you were the nice one," Clu laughed dryly, "the reasonable one."

He wished that he could tell that program—if he even deserved to be called that, to him he was more of a virus, bent on corrupting all the good in the Grid—what was truly on his mind, but he bit his lip and kept quiet. Clearly realizing that he wasn't about to talk, Clu continued, the sneer still present in his voice, "I was charged with creating the prefect system, man. I did what I had to do to eliminate one of many threats to that perfection. You of all programs should understand why I did what I did. Wasn't it your function to act as the voice of the programs?"

The last thing he wanted to do was to have to listen to Clu pompously justify his terrible actions so he snapped, "What do you want? I know you; you didn't come here just to rub your 'successes' in my face. You came here for a reason."

"You're as sharp as ever, man," Clu laughed, not even attempting to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "Of course I came here for a reason. I need your help."

"My help?" he snarled, fully repulsed by the suggestion. "You want my help? After what you've done to me? After what you've done to the Grid?"

Clu smiled at him then, and he knew that didn't bode well. The last time he had seen that wicked, sadistic smile, he had been dumped in this horrible place to rot and to, one day, derezz. He didn't even want to know what Clu was planning because he knew it couldn't be good. "Here's the thing, Ram," Clu snickered, still smiling that smile at him. "You don't have a choice."