It was at MC01:47:16 that her functions launched since the emergency shutdown prior to that exact amount of time.
"And to think they found you harassing Basics in the streets…" The comment had a distinct, regal air about it, one of smug indifference. As her systems slowly recovered, she sneeringly recognized the voice.
Visual Interface System: Online. Her vision lapsed into focus. She blinked repeatedly, believing at first that the lights she was flinching from was the lingering visual imprint of her last moments in the arena.
The Disc Arena! Oh, User.
Fear swelling within, she jerked herself into a sitting position, frantically feeling her left arm with a tenuous right hand. Relief flooding her sensors, she gripped and examined her left wrist, forearm and hand with bewildered eyes oblivious to her surroundings. But it was with horror that her eyes fell upon what was left of her once-bright and proud high-caste ISO circuitry.
"We have restored your forearm and recovered all core data, as well as supplied you with an ample amount of energy," the dull voice sounded from the shadows surrounding her. Metallic gaze sweeping the room, she decided that she was in a temporary barrack which acted as a prisoner's infirmary, in her case. Several bright lights beaming from overhead were the only form of illumination. "Now, if you will come with us," the room's single door slid open and Jarvis stepped through the frame, "His Excellency would like to have a word with you."
The ISO didn't even have time to process his words before two sentries took firm hold of her arms and shoved her to her feet. Although startled, she complied with little protest; to violate commands here, of all places, would be an act even she would regret.
The sentries flanking her, Jarvis led them through hallway after yellow-lighted hallway. Her discomfort doubled; given its association, the color was, to a certain extent, oppressive. She curiously eyed her suit and, to her surprise, armor. Black Guard armor, complete with batons fastened to her forearms, extending at the elbows for quick access, though no auxiliary pair on her thighs, or light grenades. Occasional dots and lines of white circuits decorated the otherwise threateningly black bodysuit. Anger flared within the ISO. How dare they modify her! Had the circumstances and setting been a slight bit more in her favor, she wouldn't have hesitated in slicing Jarvis in two.
As the group entered an elevator, the ISO contemplated striking now, as the doors would close on them. She wouldn't mind fighting with limited space. The sentries carried staffs, which, despite being melee weapons, weren't meant for close quarters combat. And Jarvis never seemed to be much of a threat from the start. She leered darkly, feeling the sycophant's discomfort as he warily glanced back at her. She looked to each of the sentries; unmoving and inanimate, she could only catch one of them stare back at her for a moment. In any case, the gesture did nothing to settle her nerves.
All too quickly, Jarvis strode out of the elevator just as its door slid open. She followed shortly, her companions at her heels as they passed through an operations room. The ISO narrowed her eyes as they met that of a couple anxious crew members', who upon noticing averted their gazes back to their circular work stations. She took note of the security stations at each corner of the room, each holding a battle-ready sentry. Once guided through a brightly lit connecting corridor, they entered what she doubted any commoner saw twice. A soft, almost roseate gold hue lit the command deck of what was known as the Throne Ship. Before a broad, extensive window stood "His Excellency" himself, clad in a flowing caped coat and gazing into the vastness of the Grid.
Blinded with anger, the ISO's attention was deliberately drawn to the source of a slow, mechanical growl. Hands held formally behind his back, Rinzler stood just to the side of the path leading up to the dictator of the TRON system. His erect posture suggested obedient belligerence held back by nothing more than the word of his leader, carried in tandem with an indifference to all inferior.
Morality tossed aside, the ISO lunged, one hand raised to her back as she tried to draw her identity disc, the other reaching for the enforcer's neck. But her disc wasn't there, and she wasn't fast enough. Jarvis and his superior turned to see the sentries struggling to restrain an enraged ISO. She jerked and shook the two violently, a free hand spastically trying to claw at the enforcer. Rinzler simply took a step back and looked to his leader, who wordlessly nodded. Thus, the enforcer drew a baton and from it formed a nightstick. Dropping their staffs, the sentries used all their strength to hold the thrashing ISO in place as Rinzler dealt a heavy blow to her lower abdomen. She weakened slightly and the sentries felt it, though they all knew too well that it'd take more to break her. Four more hits followed before she was kneeling on the ground, arms held tightly behind her back and face in a grimace. Clicking his baton into place, Rinzler positioned himself aside from the group once more, his growl ever-present.
"Well, aren't you lively," his voice was gratifyingly sinister. She couldn't help but wonder how that was possible as the two sentries heaved her to her feet and shoved her a few paces ahead. Staggering awkwardly, she had to recover quickly from the beating at the risk of appearing weak before Clu himself. Said program took another step toward her, his smile unnerving, hinting at amusement. "Welcome, ISO."
Her breathing still laborious, she gave Clu a grimly inquisitive glare. "Why was I spared?" She could only consider it appalling to see the almighty program grin darkly and look to Jarvis, then the sentries.
"Leave us." With that, the sentries released the ISO and robotically exited the command deck, Jarvis hastily following without complaint. Clu slowly turned back to the window. From his coat, he retrieved a white-lighted identity disc, activated it and began scanning through. Projected in the disc's aperture, file after file of chronological visual memory twinkled rapidly as his finger traced the disc's circuits. "Do you remember who your last opponent was in the Disc Arena?"
"All too well." She need not look back to him to know of Rinzler's irritation; his growl had grown louder with her words, and for once, she could admit that it terrified her.
"And she fails to see the gravity in it!" With a dry chuckle, Clu glanced back at her, "How often do you calculate an ISO—a program, even—survives long enough to duel Rinzler, much less pose a threat?" Clu faced her suddenly, eyes intense. "You're the first in many cycles, Xana."
Finally managing to calm herself, her gaze glinted as she straightened herself. "I can only view that as further justification for him"—she cocked her head in Rinzler's direction—"to have derezzed me." For just a moment, the enforcer's growl faltered with what sounded to her like a laugh marked with derision.
"Ah… But that outcome would've been rather inefficient, on my part." At that point, she recoiled slightly. "You've noticed the recent upsurge in resistance forces, have you not?"
Silence fell. Xana drew in a short breath, knowing that he awaited her response. "Basics have begun to aid the few ISO fugitives that escaped the Purge. Those of us that remain on the Grid face brutal discrimination and little hope in surviving on our own."
"Precisely," lips parting in a smirk, Clu fell upon intriguing information as he sifted through her disc. "Speaking of which, you seem to be a popular target… My patrol had found you scrapping with Basics. Fisticuffs and whatnot—you guys were really going at it."
Another pause—this time, waiting to hear the truth from her, for he already knew it. Her anger gradually subsided to the pain of betrayal, but that, in turn, gave rise to new ferocity. "They were ISOs, and they ambushed me." Now, she was sure that she heard a break in Rinzler's growl.
Nevertheless, Clu's grin grew wider. The disc's coding lit. Streams of white ciphertext glittered as they appeared and slid downwards, like digital rain, back into the disc. Using his primary functions as a hacker program, he began overwriting and re-encrypting the code, morphing it to his liking. Extending a hand, he motioned her to approach the window, and she did so. Still, she kept her distance as she glanced at the view; evidently, they were atop the End of Line Club. A spark went off in the gloom below. Xana could only assume that the sector was still on lockdown after the bombing from a cycle ago. "I want you to look down there, in the streets of TRON City," he took another step towards the pane, as did she, "See those little bursts of light? What would you presume they are?"
"Derezzing programs—ISOs, mainly… At least, whatever is left of them. I suppose a system scan is in order," she answered, voice unfazed. Clu looked up from his work, studying her movements.
"How about that dark space to the west of the city limits, hm?"
"The sector where the ISO Towers once stood, not too many cycles ago." At this, her brows furrowed in aggravation. Clu took note of it.
"And that empty area on the Grid over there, along the codestream nexus…?"
"…The former location of Arjia." Xana shifted uneasily, realizing with a start that she was being watched, tested. She sneered, her patient, collected will fading. What did he want with her? Why was she still alive, here, being interrogated with these unsystematic questions?
Clu smiled, returning his attention to her disc. "Tell me… How does all this make you feel?" He pinched a strand of code from the hologram, throwing it out and replacing it with one of his own creation, one that shone a faint red.
"I—…" she began, yet broke off instantly, unsure of how to approach the question. Disturbed, she scanned the city, refusing to look back at the jagged sectors on the Outlands that were once Arjia.
"The killing of your kind, how they've mistreated you, anarchy, deception, death, my regime…" As the process continued, the disc's white lighting flickered. Curious, Rinzler looked their way. "Everything."
Tension crackled through the air like electricity. The mere silence ate away at her. She shakily tightened a fist. Contemplating the amount of truth she'd state, her visage darkened in a scowl. With newfound audacity, Xana squared her shoulders and faced Clu. "Be they Basic or ISO, I have no sympathy for those who wish me dead. Even if they do not, my concern is reserved solely for myself."
Clu satisfyingly grinned. As he wrote in the last bit of coding, the ciphertext retreated into the disc, and for a moment, it deactivated. Another lapse in the lights, and the identity disc's patterns lit with dark crimson. Shocked, the ISO watched the disc with wide eyes. "To answer your question from earlier… You were left alive because power like yours should not be wasted, but rather, repurposed." Her gaze lifted, met his. "Yes, repurposed to a more dynamic cause. I'm offering you authority over others, the ability to strike fear into any program at the mention of your name, power on the Grid, all in exchange for your loyalty. Best part is I won't be wiping your memory and taking away your will; all I did to your disc was change the color. You'll still have your autonomy." With a final smile, Clu handed her the identity disc and stepped back. "Think of it as perhaps a challenge, to test the extent of your devotion to revenge."
Xana pensively examined the new color of the disc. What Clu offered conjured the darkest of avarice within her. Limitless revenge was in her hands, and if revenge is a confession of pain, her disc was an anesthetic. She deducted that refusal would end with her deresolution, but accepting this seemed, to a degree, immoral. Adamant at heart, she would never allow herself to become a mindless servant like the enforcer across the room; she'd rather die wandering in the outlands than become a political and military instrument. But if that wasn't the case, if she would willfully serve Clu…
The two programs witnessed the ISO lock her identity disc in. Her metallic eyes glazed over with light as upgrades installed. Just as her disc had done before, her circuitry flickered quickly, then flashed, once, twice. From her disc, dim crimson circuits crawled through her bodysuit like digital lightning. Finally, her eyes fluttered and vision was restored once more. She looked to Clu and was welcomed with a clap on the shoulder. Rinzler appeared disapproving, yet at ease.
A renegade ISO, Xana was made Clu's secondary enforcer.