Third Photo: Tron and Kevin Flynn
Based on a image by Renvalentine, posted to DeviantART.
A/N: Alright, haha, I misled you a little bit in the first chapter when I said this was a 4-1 fic. Its more a 3-2 fic, since Ren's picture dictates that its Kevin that takes this third photo, not Tron, but I'm counting it otherwise.
Ooo-oOo-ooO
The new Grid was darker than the Encom system, undeveloped wilderness stretching out, just waiting for the touch of a User to create and build upon its base code. In the vast distance, Tron could see tiny spots of light where raw energy flowed from natural springs, and thought of Ram and Flynn and new Bits, a single bright moment in a sea of darker memories.
Even his template had changed. He could feel the differences in his code – a gift from Alan-One, Flynn had explained, to enable Tron to run efficiently in this newer, faster system. His armour was now as black as his surroundings, and his identifying pattern of four lights was smaller, nestled at the base of his throat. Seated on a flat rock, Tron examined the new circuit array with interest, flexing his fingers to debug the improved tracking and identification subroutines.
The only downside was that there was no extra room in the uniform to carry his collection of photos. The suit moved with him, as flexible and pliable as he desired, but it was flush with his body and there were no seams or clasps that could be undone to slip something in between suit and armour.
"Hey Tron, smile!"
Tron flinched automatically from the sudden flash that overloaded his optical circuits, and glared at the User who'd caused it. "I don't appreciate being photographed without adequate warning, Flynn."
"Aw, lighten up man, it's a special occasion." Flynn fiddled with the camera and grinned disarmingly. "New Grid to explore, new upgrades to test, new everything. It deserves to be preserved for posterity." He snapped another picture of Tron, who saw it coming this time and held up a hand to block the light from assaulting his sensors.
Flynn pouted at him as he pocketed the ruined photo. "What's got you in a slump?"
"The new uniform, it's perfect, except–" He paused, not wanting to criticise for something so trivial, but Flynn was looking at him expectantly now, and he sighed. "Pockets."
Flynn's eyebrow twitched up. Under his scrutiny, Tron felt suddenly defensive.
"There aren't any pockets. It's all one piece; it's too impractical," he pressed, plucking at the edge of his chest plate and grimacing. "There's no restriction of movement, which is fine, but there's no logic in making it completely seamless. You would have to derezz the entire thing to replace one glitched portion. And not all Basics require this much armour; it would be excess code to process and cause runtime lag for those not used to it."
Flynn smiled, amused, and nodded. "I can see what you're getting at. I'll see what I can do about fixing it; might have to program a function that'll outfit new programs, though, if it's not rezzing as a default template on arrival…" He trailed off, muttering to himself, making notes on a data pad.
Tron went back to studying his circuits, stroking a thumb over the blue lights idly, and was silent. After a nanocycle, Flynn seemed to pick up something amiss with the security program and sighed again, walking over and sitting down next to Tron.
"Okay man, spill. It's not just the suit that bothers you."
Tron looked away, grimacing. When had the User become so proficient at reading programs' moods? "It's just a large file to execute, is all. What you're asking me to do here, to protect this Grid and all the programs that will be rezzed here – it's bigger than anything I ever tackled in Encom's system."
He ducked his head slightly and interlaced his fingers, staring at the tangle of tiny lights. "I cannot help but think Alan-One would be ashamed of me, being fearful of this place."
Flynn scoffed and nudged his shoulder. "He totally wouldn't. In fact, I'd be surprised if you weren't at least a little nervous about this. It's a big job. But Alan wouldn't have written those upgrades and sent you here if he didn't think you couldn't handle the task."
Tron relaxed a little.
"That's the spirit," Flynn said with an enthusiastic grin, and wrapped an arm around Tron's shoulders. "Now c'mon, smile. This one's for Alan."
Tron squared his shoulders and imitated Kevin's wide grin as the User held the camera out and the double-flash of two consecutive photos overloaded his optical sensors again. When the spots had cleared, Flynn showed him the result: two friends, beaming happily in the face of new challenges. Tron was bemused to note that he looked shorter than Flynn in the picture. He didn't feel shorter.
"I'll hang on to this for now," the User promised, tucking the photo away in his jacket. "At least until I fix the armour coding and give you pockets."