On the outskirts of the city, the silhouettes of two programs briefly interrupted the otherwise slick, geometric skyline. The female's dark crimson circuitry clashed starkly with the male's bright viridian, as well as their surroundings. They seemed to be caught up in a conversation as they sat on the ledge of a roof; both watched the bustling city below with mild interest. He'd laugh occasionally, muttering vaguely humorous nonsense, only to make her sip from her bottle of energy and snicker lamely.

Vox was the one exception in the entirety of her life, the one risk she'd ever been willing to take. As much as he was an informant, he was a friend.

"There was much talk of you far after you were taken into the Throne Ship," Vox mused, "'Why was she taken in?' 'What's the point of harboring an ISO?' 'Is she going to be rectified?' 'Why wasn't she killed? I came here to see Rinzler derezz a finalist!'" With a smile, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "But they all knew that wasn't the case. The majority rested on two thoughts: either you were saved for examination and, hopefully, deresolution, or…or you'd been selected for a far more adverse purpose. Still, most prayed for the former to be true…"

"And they were right to do so," she chuckled as a sneer came onto her. She held out her free hand, studying the skeletal circuit patterns that ran from the back of her hand to the tips of her thumb, index and middle fingers. "Soon enough, they'll see what'd become of me for themselves. The games are scheduled to begin within the next two millicycles, assuming that I do manage to catch a few of these accursed sprites."

Vox's attention was fixated on a distant sound: a chorus of segmented droning, powerful and deep. He hid his discomfort well. "With sentries on your side, it shouldn't take long."

She didn't have to reply to the truth. Even if she was here, exchanging pleasantries, the sentries were scouting the Grid, sector by sector. The roar of eight recognizers echoed from an area known to screen more illegal functions then the rest of the Grid combined. They'd received word that certain factions of the resistance movement often visit and even reside there. Presumably sixty-four sentries were marching through the streets, searching housing complexes, light mobiles, alleys—anything capable of concealing the target. But Xana knew she'd have to join soon; she'd spent enough time here as it was. This was dangerous. This was illegal.

"You haven't been to the End of Line Club since it was destroyed in the Purge, huh?" The question seemed to be a bit of a tangent. She shook her head no. "That was cycles ago—practically four hundred! It's completely reconstructed. There's even a new host: Castor. He doubles as Zuse's secretary. Oh, and you have to see the new MP3s."

The ISO glanced at her friend, a certain curious flicker in her eyes. "There's more than one?" She latched onto the subject, trying to avoid speaking of the Purge, Zuse and anything relating to those times.

He nodded, eying the area where the EOLC Tower stands at the heart of downtown, virtually dominating it. "Two, neither offsetting the other. It's not conventional, but they're more popular than the guy before them. They operate together, each taking part in writing and modifying the sound scripts. Codependent functions; it's fascinating, really."

"Sounds like it."

"It is." Vox looked thoughtful even as he yawned. "Still, I'm surprised you haven't gone yet. I remember, way back, it was the second place you'd spend too much of your time in. The bouncers kicked you out once for staying too long!"

She was well aware of how he tip-toed around the subject about her old interests, and didn't like it. "Yeah, that was definitely something," she knocked back the remaining mouthful of energy, "I didn't even drink that night."

"Think you might want to go for one sometime later? Without me, of course." he urged. As she was about to protest, he curtly added, "Shaddix wonders why you're not around anymore."

"After the games, I honestly doubt any program will appreciate the sight of me. Besides, my functions pivot critically around loyalty to Clu's orders now. Technically, I should be guiding the sentries right now, and apparently idolizing them," she admitted with a derisive smirk, gesturing in their direction with her empty bottle before throwing it down into the streets far below..

"You mean your buddies over there?" His grins were becoming irritating to her. He suppressed a jubilant laugh. "They're amongst the most frequent clientele."

"…"

"Castor calls them his 'refined denizens'; takes care of them quite well, if you know what I mean." She tried not to look directly into his leering green eyes.

Just then, the drone of the recognizers singled out into one and slowly grew louder, deeper. Both froze to glimpse a single recognizer headed their way from a distant sector.

"I ordered them to report their findings to me," she muttered, still watching the aerial vehicle approach with a bit of relief. She turned to her friend with a stern look. "Better leave before they catch sight of you."

"Oh, please. You're forgetting who I am, Xana." He clipped off his only baton and stood at the edge of the building. Xana walked over to the center of the roof, assuming the recognizer would land there. They watched each other for a micro before Vox smiled wryly. "Let's hope they give us all a good show, eh? You're a difficult one to please."

"Oh, I'll make sure of it," she snapped. Garnering her regality, Xana donned her rigid gaze. "After all, desperation breeds ingenuity."

With that, the program dove off of the ledge, his dark hair fluttering as he disappeared from sight. A micro later, the ISO's silver eyes followed a light jet with no light ribbon steadily climb into the sky, far higher than the range of any recognizer.

"Mistress," a lead sentry stepped off of the bottom level of the crew compartment as it touched the ground. She couldn't resist smiling as the formality she was being addressed with. "Four targets were located and detained. Several more are trapped on site, though we are struggling with them."

"Then we'd better hurry," Xana commented as she stepped onto the platform of the recognizer. Three-fourths of a millicycle had already passed; she wasn't willing to let any more time slip away. Once all sentries were locked in place, the pylons roared fiercely, and soon they were well on their way.