Thunder rumbled, quieter than the Grid rattling booms of the early quarter milli. From his place high above Argon, command ship circling the city, Clu watched out the window with his hands behind his back. The energy fire in what remained of Tesler's command ship still burned, vibrant blue flames cracking and leaping towards the clouds despite the pouring rain. It was hard to tell in all that chaos, but it looked to Clu that the main fuel tank had been breached—probably by one of the many smaller explosions—and that had just sent the entire thing into a fireball, destroying everything parked in the three kilometer radius of Argon's highest point.

Of course, by the time that had happened, the command staff were long gone. They had all joined the hunt for Tron and his escaped apprentice, following from the ground as the pair flew above the city. He and Dyson had returned to the command ship to join the pursuit, but by the time they'd gotten airborne, the fire had spread too far. Almost fifty thousand of the troops in Argon, all of Tesler's contingent and half of his own, were nothing more than fire scorched cubes. Tesler had lost his base and was now in the briefing room of the command ship, awaiting further instruction.

Honestly, if things kept up this way, he'd just send Tesler down and let Tron finish him off. For such a small city, Argon had far too many places to hide. Best to let the trash get taken out down there.

With a sigh, Clu rolled his shoulders back. If he stopped to think about it, it made sense that Tron had been hiding out here the entire time. Argon was tiny compared to even other edge of the Grid cities, and absolutely minuscule compared to the Capitol. No one, not even Clu, would have ever thought that Tron, Protector of the Grid, would hide in some backwater out in the middle of nowhere. It was good thinking.

It was annoying, and a waste of manpower. What remained of his forces were visible down below, a wave of red-orange combing the city door by door, the remaining light jets and recognizers flying search patterns. They were looking for dissidents, for signs of rebellion reckless enough to still be outside despite the storm and explosion.

They were looking for Beck and Tron.

Not that he was counting on finding those two so quickly. Tron knew decidedly well what Clu was after by now, and if the data he'd received from the mobile repurposer was correct, he'd stay hidden. He'd take his apprentice, disappear, and be gone for cycles. The thought made Clu frown, his core spinning faster and faster as the anger came again. Apparently sending Cutler to do the job just wasn't good enough. He hadn't wanted it to come to this, but here they were. The city would be scanned from corner to corner, Tron would likely never be found, and Argon would be under quarantine for the next five hundred cycles.

He was going to enjoy what peace he could get while he could.

Not that there was much of that to go around. He sighed quietly as the door swung open behind him, the hurried footsteps familiar even before the [ident] protocol registered Dyson.

"Just once, Dyson," Clu sighed a bit more loudly, "I wish you'd come to me with good news."

"But then…I wouldn't be doing my job, sir," Dyson replied. It was old habit, an old game from the cycles before, and yet he sounded nervous. Raising an eyebrow, Clu turned around. His General wasn't shaking, but his eyes were still wider than normal. He was…rattled. Again.

Tron seemed to have that effect on him.

With a wordless gesture, Clu turned back to look out at Argon. Dyson's reflection in the glass watched him. "Let me guess," He said, "Tron and Beck managed to dodge their pursuers and escape. Is that about right?"

With a grimace, Dyson's reflection nodded. "Yes, sir. I've got squads looking for them, but…Argon's twistier than I first thought." His grimace deepened. "It's taking longer than expected."

Or maybe he wasn't looking hard enough at all. Ever since Dyson's first visit to Argon, the very mention of Tron had his General shaky, on edge. The idea of going out to hunt for him likely had Dyson quaking in his boots. Clu just sighed again, hands coming to rest at the base of his spine.

"That's alright. The checkpoints are manned around the clock now. They won't get far."

"Of course not, sir." And if Dyson sounded relieved, neither of them drew attention to it. But when Dyson lingered rather than saluting and leaving the chamber, Clu turned his head just enough to let his face become visible. Dyson swallowed hard, then said, "Sir, if I may?"

"Of course, of course. What is it?"

"In the interrogation chamber, you seemed to recognize Beck's designation." Dyson paused for a moment, took a steadying breath, then said, "Did you…know him personally, sir?"

"Ah, that." Clu inclined his head up, old memories flitting back. Beck and call. Second Tron. Damaging the code the moment he'd found a way to access it. One he'd managed to repurpose, but the other…He shook his head. "No, we never met. Flynn had planned to bring him onboard, but that plan changed. It was just nostalgia." He'd been so sure that plan of Flynn's had derailed, but apparently he hadn't done the job well enough. "It's of no consequence. Tell me—has anyone discovered the cause of the explosion?

Dyson was silent for a moment, but then shook his head.

"I'm afraid not, sir. The one survivor has mentioned he saw grenades around the area before the blast, but he had to be put into an induced shutdown so the medics could work on him." Not the most trustworthy source of information, then. Clu frowned, but nodded. It made sense. The blast had destroyed the power circuits, allowing Beck to free himself. When he hadn't been able to escape, Tron had been close enough to come to his aid. It was a solid plan, he had to admit, for two programs acting on their own. And of course it had the added, if perhaps unexpected, bonus of removing half the convoy from play. Clu closed his eyes.

"I suppose it doesn't really matter." He said finally, listening to the thunder and rain roar overhead. "We have bigger things to take care of."

He heard Dyson take a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was steady.

"One more thing, sir. Programs are already talking about Tron appearing like that. Should we…"

"Let them talk." With a final breath, Clu turned and stalked away from the window. "This is something we can use."

The storm roared overhead, showing no signs of slowing down or fading away. Rain poured down as if someone had up-ended the Sea over the city, pooling in dips and creating a second roar as it drained into the tunnels and rushed out to Sea. The only real benefit was it kept the civilian populace of Argon inside, hiding away from the one thing that didn't want them derezzed this cycle.

Tron wasn't a civilian. Despite the rain, he walked on, one foot in front of the other. He'd spent a very, very long time just outside of Argon in the cycles between the Coup and now; he knew the city, knew the streets well enough to know several routes through the back-end of the city that would take him safely to the Outlands without running into too many soldiers.

Of course, that had been before. Before Clu's arrival, before the storm, before the explosion.

Before Beck had fallen into hard shutdown and not roused for anything. No amount of shaking, shouting, or trying to get him to stand had brought the young mechanic around, and so Tron had slung him over his shoulders and started walking. One foot after the other, corner after corner. Streets that would have taken micros on his single-seater bike felt like kilometers, rain streaking his helmet in the dim light of Argon's back alleys. Every injury he'd taken between the destruction of the Garage and the explosion and subsequent crash ached as he plodded along, straining to keep his breath even and not overheat. He'd be useless in a fight if he didn't stop and rest soon, but he couldn't stop. He needed to get Beck somewhere safe before they were found.

Overhead, a Recognizer rattled past, flanked by two lightjets flying search patterns. In the distance, the throaty rumble of tanks on the highway played chase with the thunder and random explosions from the hill. Clu was pulling out all the stops in order to keep Argon under some semblance of control, and to search for the two of them. There had to be hundreds of programs out here, combing the streets. Tron coughed to clear his intakes, legs trembling. If it came to a fight…Users. They needed to get inside. Now.

The thought got stuck on repeat, carrying Tron towards the outskirts of Argon, towards the last residential block before the gates that Tesler's forces had set up. There were no soldiers here, this area having obviously been swept clean already. And yet…something was wrong.

Tron's pace slowed as he came to a junction between four alleyways, the crossroad lit by a flickering pole and silent were it not for the clicking. The familiar, hated clicking of rectified programs. He stopped in the junction, looking around as, from the dark shadows, three red-lined sentries stepped closer. Three became six, six became twelve, until a rough semi-circle of guards blocked every route but back. Tron snarled beneath his helmet, reaching back to palm his disk. If he'd been alone, there wouldn't have been a problem taking them all out even with all his injuries. But with Beck crashed across his back his options were limited. He could try to run back, double back through the tangle of dark streets, but he knew they would dog his steps and find him again with the pace he'd be able to keep like this, Beck's added weight a hindrance to any retreat.

He refused to consider abandoning Beck to them. Bending slightly to compensate for the added weight, Tron took his stance. One sentry, clearly the leader of the group, shook his head. Then he gestured with one hand towards Tron, and the other eleven charged forward. Holding onto Beck with one arm, Tron spun out in a kick to knock three back, but another two were on him a nano later, hands scrabbling across his front, across his helmet, across Beck's helmet, and trying to take Beck from him. He yelled, a wordless sound, tightening his grip as he struggled.

Suddenly, a sentry screamed and collapsed into red cubes. A shimmering white disk whizzed past Tron's head, curving around him to remove the head of a second sentry. The others all turned around to track it, and beneath his helmet Tron's eyes widened. In the distance, behind the lead sentry, a dark-haired Siren stood in the darkness. Her white suit seemed to glow with a light of its own, her disk a star in her hand as she stared the sentries down. Eleven pairs of eyes watched her for a long moment, unsure, but then a sentry abandoned Tron and charged at her.

Soundlessly, she threw her disk again. The Sentry dodged, leaping into the air to come down hard on her, but she sidestepped and unhooked a baton from her thigh. It expanded into a staff, letting her catch his melee attack against the sturdy code. With a yell, she kicked out with one heeled foot and sent him reeling long enough to spin with the staff in hand. The sentry's yell was cut off as he derezzed in a single blow, and then it was madness. Tron could barely keep track of her every twirl and spin, her pirouettes fast and her throws lethal. Soon, only the lead sentry was left, red disk glowing in his hand even as she used her staff to raise his chin.

"You won't be hurting any more programs," She began, deep voice thick with anger, "Your boss isn't going to find things quite so easy this time." The sentry's silence was met with a steel-colored glare, and she jabbed his throat. He stumbled back, only to meet his end when she thrust her staff through his middle and out his port. His modulated yell echoed across the junction, lingering in Tron's audio, and the Siren sighed.

"You just can't get a good fight around here these days."

"Are you sure you're the one who should be saying that?" Tron spat, shifting his weight. One program was a much fairer fight, but he'd just watched her carve through a squad of sentries like they were gridbugs. He wasn't going to let down his guard now. He watched as she shrugged, shrinking her staff back into a baton and docking her disk.

"Maybe, but Clu shouldn't leave his forces quite so weak." She said firmly, broad features turned in a snarl. She looked at him, caught sight of his stance and Beck over his shoulder, and stepped towards him. He stepped back, and she stopped to raise her empty hands. "It's alright. My name is Ruby. I'm a friend." She stated firmly, hands where he could see them. He stepped back further.

"The last Siren to say that nearly got us both derezzed." He growled. She blinked, then shook her head.

"Lux was...," She sighed, "…look," She stood up straighter, crossing her arms over her chest, "You don't have the time to argue with me. Much longer like that, and your friend isn't ever going to wake up again."

The thought may as well have been snow down his spine, washing away the surprise that she knew who he'd been talking about. He hadn't wanted to consider it, hadn't wanted to think that too long in shutdown would result in irreparable damage to Beck's systems, but really faced with that outcome…he swallowed hard.

"What is it you want?"

"To help you," She replied, gesturing over her shoulder as she stepped back, "Follow me. I know somewhere he can recharge."

Without another word, as if she really expected him to follow, she turned her back and strode down the alleyway she had first appeared from. It was the way Tron had been going in the first place, and already he could see the Spire looming in the distance. If he had to, he could make a run for it. For now, he would follow her. And so he stepped forward, walking as quickly as he could manage, as she led him through the alley and down several turns, beneath overhangs and between tall buildings. Before too long, they entered familiar territory and Tron stopped in his tracks. The Siren kept going, palming open a doorway and looking back at Tron. He knew this place.

She'd brought him right back to the building where the mechanics were waiting.

When he didn't move, Ruby arched a dark brow at him. For half of another micro, he didn't move. Ruby—and he'd swallow his own code if she didn't have friends in there—knew where the mechanics were. It was an enclosed space. He'd have no chance of taking her out if she turned out to be a threat, not with her staff giving her a sweeping advantage inside such a small room. The thought made his core freeze again, but given the alternative…

He forced himself to move. She smiled softly, gesturing for him to go inside first. The apartment lobby was lit now, barricade strengthened and not a program to be found inside. The building was silent but for a few female-designate voices wafting down the stairs, soft footsteps and softer words as what had to be a half dozen other Sirens kept watch over the mechanics. Beck still over his shoulder, Tron watched as Ruby headed for the staircase.

"How did you find this place?" He asked, not folding his helmet back. She turned to look at him, head inclined.

"We've been watching you for a long time now. We knew where you were ever since the Garage collapsed." Her placid face fell into a frown, brow furrowed. "Of course, that was something we weren't expecting. It did take a little time to find where you'd gone afterwards." She turned back, boots clicking on the stairs. "Still, this was the first safehouse we'd have chosen if we'd gotten to you first."

And then she was halfway up the staircase, leaving him with no choice but to follow. He turned to look over his shoulder—Beck was still out of it, circuits dark and body unmoving—before he grit his teeth. No choice in the matter, then. With a steadying breath and his free hand on the railing, Tron took the stairs. On the next level, Ruby exchanged words with a pair of Sirens, both sitting on a small couch outside a row of apartments, before continuing to the next level.

Here it was even quieter, with only the storm overhead and rattle of Lightjets for sound. Without looking back once, Ruby led him to an apartment, closest to the rooftop access door, and palmed it open. He watched her for a moment, and she turned back to look at him. She inclined her head.

"It's not a trap. I swear on my disk, we're here to help you."

Help, or do more damage and send them to Clu instead? Tron shifted his weight, Beck a limp figure on his back. He hated it, but there was no choice.

"If you're not," He growled even as he stepped forward, "It really will be your disk."

Ruby just nodded, letting him step into the apartment before stepping in behind him. It was a simple apartment, meant for two programs. Two sleep-bunks were in their alcoves on either side of the room, a small table with a carafe of energy between them, and a small desk set beneath the one window. It was quiet, quaint, and defensible.

Forcing himself to take a steadying breath, Tron slowly lowered Beck to one of the bunks. The young program didn't stir, even when Tron activated his helmet's release. There was no change, his burns and gashes just as bad as they'd been after the crash. Users…Beck needed a healing chamber, not a bed! Tron grit his teeth, turning as Ruby stepped into his line of sight. A glass of energy glowed in her hands, and she met his gaze head on.

"This is the best we can do." She held it out to him, pressing it to his hand. "He needs to drink it."

For a moment, paranoia warred with need. Tron stared at her, processor spinning over and over the thousand ways this could be a trap. They were both injured, the energy could be toxic, viral. There was no telling if this would work at all.

There was no choice.

Biting back a growl, Tron took the glass and crouched by Beck's head. Gently, he lifted the young program up, cautiously managing to get the energy down where it needed to go. Immediately, the least of his injuries began to heal as his lines strengthened in glow, casting a soft light around the bunk-alcove. Tron sighed, too quiet to be heard outside of his helmet. Taking his silence for concern, Ruby offered him a small smile.

"He'll be alright. He's strong."

"How do you know?" Tron asked, suddenly unsure. He'd seen programs fall to lesser injuries than this, but she didn't seem worried at all.

"He's with you." Ruby smiled, dark eyes twinkling. "That's enough to say he is." She looked down, gently running a finger down the dim circuit on Beck's leg, knee to shin. It glimmered beneath her touch, glow strengthening against her dark skin. "And I saw him survive the Games. Not just any program can do that in a city like this."

That was accurate. Surviving Clu's games was a greater feat, but for Beck to have survived Tesler's games and escaped intact…he had long since admitted that was a point to be proud of. And he really had been so proud of Beck for surviving, even if the young program hadn't seen the good in it at the time. Beck had learned a lot since then. Hopefully he'd get to use that knowledge again.

Hopefully they'd be able to get out of here. Shifting his weight, Tron frowned at her.

"Why are you helping us?" he asked as he stood up, arms crossed over his chest. "If Clu finds out you've done this, you'll be tortured and derezzed."

Seemingly unfazed, she simply turned her smile on him.

"That's a chance we're willing to take."

"We?"

"Did you really think it was only your rebellion out here?"

She stepped forward before he could answer, leaning in close. He stiffened as she leaned her forehead against his helmet, hands on his chest.

"Yori lives."

Eyes closed, Paige listened to General Tesler pace. Back and forth, from one end of Clu's briefing room to the other. There were no windows to stare out of here, and Pavel had already fallen into sleep mode standing up beside her. Despite her own exhaustion and aches from the milli's events, Paige was too hyped up to rest. Her processor kept going over and over the milli, from the fight in the plaza to the explosion of Tesler's ship. The shockwave had taken out a good chunk of Argon's taller buildings, shattering glass for blocks. They were lucky that programs hadn't been hurt in the chaos.

Well. Mostly. So many were just gone, and the talk among the survivors was that Beck hadn't broken out alone. A rogue program had helped him, one that no one wanted to name.

Paige knew it was Tron. She knew the stories of his time on the Old System; no other program would have tried something so reckless. She'd have bet her entire energy ration that he'd been the one to set the explosion, as well. It had proven wonderful cover for their escape, being that there had been no sign of either Beck or his "unknown help" when they'd reached the building his lightjet had crashed into. Hundreds of programs were now searching, but she knew they wouldn't be found.

Or at least, she forced herself to hope. Standing with her back to the wall, Paige wasn't sure if she should have been relieved or worried. She settled on placid, keeping her thoughts to herself. Despite his injuries, Beck had managed to escape recapture. For how long, she couldn't say, but for now he was free. Somehow the thought was more comforting than it should have been.

Especially considering that after the first group of pursuers had returned with nothing to show for their search, the three of them had been bustled into the briefing room and not been allowed to leave. No one had said anything other than "Wait for further instruction", and it was making her nervous. They had no reason to suspect her of anything, but at the same time, she had no reason to believe that Clu's forces—or Clu himself—would be any better than Tesler. The thought put acrid energy in her throat, and she swallowed it back.

At least standing next to Pavel was easier this time, what with him being in sleep mode. She was half tempted to hook an ankle out and knock him down, but in the end thought better of it. She didn't want to wake him and get into an argument on so little downtime….even if it was tempting.

With a minute shake of her head, she forced herself to take a quiet breath. Her too-long uptime coupled with the late system time was making her nervous. Beside her, Pavel shifted in his sleep, wounds patched and already half closed. The lucky glitch could probably sleep through anything at all, unlike his counterpart. At least one of them would have no trouble entering sleep mode after this.

She was jolted from her thoughts as the door finally slid open, Pavel jolting to awareness as Clu stepped into the room with Dyson at his heels. Neither of them looked at all worn down, and in fact, Clu almost looked amused. For some reason, that put ice in her core and she held herself straight. Clu stepped into the center of the room, nodding at each of them in turn as they saluted. After putting them at ease, he clasped his hands behind his back.

"By now, I'm sure you've all heard of our prisoner's escape." He said casually, ignoring Tesler's soft growl and Pavel shifting his weight to look at his fellow Commander. Paige kept her eyes on Clu as he continued to speak. "And, of course, that he had an ally. Sadly," He sighed, "They've managed to escape into Argon and slip away."

"Sir. The three of us can be back out there in nanos. Just give the word—" Tesler said, only to be interrupted by Clu holding up a hand.

"While I appreciate your initiative, General, that's not why I'm here." He lowered his hand and looked the three of them over. Did his gaze linger on her, Paige wondered, or was he just lost in thought and at the end of his motion? She tried not to breathe, not to swallow. Her core stuttered as he continued, "I'm here because the three of you need to be brought up to speed on something. Something that I don't want leaving this room."

For half a nano, Paige and Pavel shared a sideways look. Something classified like that was above their unit and yet…they turned back to Clu in the same nano, bowing their heads and speaking in unison with their General, though none of them could keep all the surprise out of their voices.

"Of course, sir."

Clu wasn't smiling when Paige looked back up, his eyes on the floor as if searching for the words. Seconds ticked by, one after the other, but just when Paige was starting to wonder if he'd say anything at all he raised his head.

"Tron lives."

They all stared at him, Pavel now wide awake. Paige blinked once, trying to play at surprise, while internally she shook and quaked in her boots. She'd guessed, of course, because between the fight in the plaza and what the masked program had said to her, who else would have charged the ship with two generals and Clu inside it, but to know for sure…Grid. He'd lied to them this entire time! What else was he lying about? Had Tron been right? Had the ISOs been destroyed by Clu for a different reason than peace?

Was Clu corrupting the Grid?

She didn't have time to pursue the traitorous thought. Tesler shook off the surprise and took a single step forward.

"Sir, that's just propaganda spread by seditious programs—Tron's gone. You said it yourself: you killed him."

"Unfortunately, Tesler," Clu said with a sigh and a sideways look at Dyson, who looked away as if scolded, "That's not entirely true. Tron was brought into custody and escaped soon after." He sighed again, spreading his hands. "He's been biding his time ever since. Which brings me to the here and now." He began to pace, one boot in front of the other, down the small line the three Argon commanding programs made. "I've new orders for you, and these take priority." One more step, and he turned to Tesler.

"I want Tron captured. And I want you to do it."

Paige's core sunk. That wasn't just an order to capture Tron, the strongest fighter the Grid had ever seen, it may as well have been a signed execution order for Tesler. In all the cycles they'd been in Argon, they'd never been able to capture Beck, half-trained if that. How were they supposed to manage to capture Tron of all programs? Tesler swallowed hard; he knew how much of a lost cause this would be, but there was no choice. Refusing would be worse.

"…Of course, sir."

And just like that, the trap was sprung. Clu's eyes glimmered, and from the corner of her eye, Paige could see Dyson smirk.

"I'll leave this in your hands, Tesler," Clu said, "Use whatever means you see fit. But I want them both alive." He fixed Tesler with a firm look, something in his eyes making Paige want to run and hide. "If either of them is derezzed, it'll be your disk I come for instead."

To his credit, Tesler only swallowed hard. "Of course, sir. I understand."

"Good. Now," Clu stepped away, hands clasped behind his back. "There's one more thing I have to take care of in Argon, but it shouldn't take long." He smiled warmly. It still put snow down Paige's spine. "We'll be out of your way by the time another triple passes. In the meantime…" He looked back at them, the overhead light casting his face in shadow.

"Good luck."

And then, with as much fanfare as he'd had when they'd walked in, Clu and Dyson walked out of the room. The tension lingered in their wake, and Paige looked at Tesler. He was staring at the doorway, not looking as Pavel tilted his head, ignoring the glare Paige suddenly turned on him, and opened his mouth to say something.

But then Tesler narrowed his eyes at the door.

"You two, with me." He stepped forward, cape swaying behind him. "We have an announcement to make."

Awareness returned slowly, black fading to gray to color. Dim colors. The lights were out. It had to be late, wherever he was. At least it wasn't red. Closing his eyes, Beck took stock.

There was pain, distant like a triple's old ache but lingering, covered in the half-familiar chill of a cooling blanket. He was laying on something solid that had just a little give. A sleep-bunk, then. Somewhere safe? At least it wasn't the ship.

"How are you feeling?"

Tron. Beck's eyes snapped open, his head turning towards the voice, and the program that owned it. Sitting there, elbows on his knees and hands clasped between them, more tired than Beck had ever seen him, was Tron. His circuits—what few there were, in tiny flecks at every joint—were a dull blue-white, dimmed with clear signs of exhaustion. A patch rested just above his hip, but he was otherwise uninjured. Beck swallowed hard.

"Great," Terrible. "How's your cycle been?"

"About the same." Tron's shoulders sagged a bit. "About the same as everyone else's."

"Great." Beck closed his eyes. Wait— "Everyone else's?" He made to sit up, to rise, but a sharp pain whited out his vision and sent him nearly toppling from the bunk. He had half a second to think that this was going to hurt, before there were hands on his shoulders.

"Easy, easy," Tron said, more a whisper than words, " Just relax—" Tron gently lowered him back down to the bunk, "Everyone's alright. No casualties."

Relief, sharper than a disk, carved through Beck's circuits. No one had derezzed. He harbored no thoughts that they'd all escaped the blast uninjured, but they were still functional.

It was honestly the best thing he could have hoped for.

"Thank Flynn for that," he whispered, slowly bringing a hand up to cover his eyes.

"For a lot of things," Tron said with an odd note in his voice. Beck peered through his fingers, but Tron just looked tired, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. He looked fine, but Tron had always been hard to read. It had been annoying before, but now with Dyson's words caught up in his core on repeat like a bad read, it was downright concerning. He looked fine, but was he?

Beck didn't have the energy to ask. Not right now. Slowly, he lowered his hand back down. The silence stretched between them, not entirely uncomfortable, before Tron he shook his head.

"Though I don't want to know how you made it with wounds like that. Your pain sensors should have kept you immobile."

With a sheepish smile, Beck turned away.

"They tried. I just turned them off."

For a moment, Tron said nothing. Then, with a wry chuckle, he stood up.

"You really are too much like me." Tron said softly as he pulled the fallen blanket back up over Beck's shoulders, his hand lingering there for just a moment. There was something unreadable on Tron's face, something Beck couldn't quite place. After a moment, Tron shook his head. He squeezed Beck's shoulder.

"Get some rest. I'll be here."

The implied "We'll talk later", added to his exhaustion, finally allowed Beck to close his eyes, and drift off into Sleep Mode.

Fun Fact: Ruby is indeed named for the programming language, even though it didn't exist until 1995 and therefore Flynn couldn't have known about it. /shrug