I do apologize profusely to my readers forced to wait long intervals between chapters. I am very grateful for those who are sticking around. It means a lot, it really does.

I have finished my novel, one of the reasons I hadn't been working on this for some time. Over 600 pages and loaded with fight scenes, it was quite a rollercoaster of a ride, but it is complete! So now I have a little more free time to work on fic. Though please don't take that as me saying you'll be getting a chapter once a week like before. I'm hoping it means I won't take as long as I have for future updates.

Anyway, here is chapter 9. Sorry if it feels a bit rushed or there's some clunky dialogue/continuity errors and the like; there's quite a handful of fight scenes, so it can become tedious and repetitive, so I wanted to avoid that. Hopefully next chapter can be a bit more of a breather!

I plan to, at some point, go back and fix the errors in previous chapters, as I've spotted a handful. Sorry about that.

Thanks again, you guys, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter. A lot is happening, so I hope you're not too overwhelmed!

III

"You always burden yourself with so much work."

Tron blinked and looked up from the hologram floating from his disc. A figure emerged into the dark room, lights following her footsteps until he could see her face clearly. Yori was wearing the new Grid's suit - pitch black with pale blue circuits that matched her previous design, hair pulled into a neat ponytail. A frown was on her face, one of concern and disappointment.

"I'm not overworking myself," Tron insisted.

Yori reached out and tapped his disc. The hologram disappeared. "Well, then," she replied, "please tell me why you look like you just got dragged out of the waste bin?"

Tron scowled. "Thanks." He reached for his disc, but Yori snatched it back. "Yori, I need - "

" - To rest," she interjected. She eyed the disc, still frowning. "It's a wonder you're still able to function." Yori nodded to the door. "C'mon. I'll have Ram whip you up something to drink. You'll perk up in no time."

"Then I can get back to work?"

"After some downtime, sure."

Tron sighed. "I've got another system's check in about an hour," he said, massaging his temples. "I can't afford - "

Yori placed the disc on the edge of the desk. She reached out, taking his face in her hands. Tron lifted his head, looked into her bright blue eyes. She was smiling now. "It can wait. Trust me. I'll have Kernel go in your place. And before you argue, Kevin is also concerned about you. He agreed you needed some time off."

"Kernel? No, just - "

"Ram then! Clu, Shaddox, Linx. Anyone but you," Yori said firmly. She leaned over the desk, face to face with her partner. Her warmth seemed to relax his tense muscles. "You can afford an microcycle's rest, Tron. The Grid will survive. If anything happens, we have it under control." She pressed her forehead to his and scowled playfully, "Now stop being a stubborn bit and go to bed."

Tron studied her face, the gentle smile and the loving glow in her eyes. He couldn't help but grin, place a hand over one of hers. "Okay," he murmured, closed his eyes, "you win, you win."

Yori pecked him on the lips. "I always do."

"Everything okay back here?"

Tron quickly closed the hologram, turned in his seat in the secluded part of the ship. It was Sam, and by the looks of it, he had caught the nostalgic sadness in Tron's face, try as he might to hide it. Sam braced a hand against the ceiling, stooped. "Hey," he said, quietly, "um, just wanted to tell you... We'll be arriving in TRON City in less than an hour."

Tron nodded curtly. "Good."

Sam, however, did not move. He glanced back before turning and approaching Tron. The Program remained stiff, a little suspicious. "I don't mean to pry," Sam said, and took a seat beside him. "But... You okay?"

Tron looked at his disc. "Everything's fine," he said, and slipped it back in its plug.

"Well, if anything's bugging you... Feel free to talk to me." Tron met the User's eyes. He was genuinely confused, a little shocked at his offer. "... What's with the face?" Sam laughed quietly.

"It... just surprises me," Tron murmured. His eyes flicked down, back up. "After all I did, you seem to treat me with kindness and respect. After I nearly killed you - "

"That wasn't you. It was Rinzler," Sam insisted. He frowned. "I don't hold anything against you, Tron. You weren't in control of yourself. It was Clu's doing, not yours."

"I suppose so," Tron replied, "but still I feel... a bit guilty." He pressed a hand to his forehead. "I want to remember what happened - during my time as Rinzler. Everything I did. And yet..." He sat upright. "I'm afraid. Because I know I did horrible things. Killed innocent people." He clenched a gloved fist, met Sam's eyes again. Fierce and flashing. "But I need to know. I can't live in blissful ignorance forever. Even if it destroys me, I must know. I must remember, and somehow... Some way pay for my sins, even if, like you said, they were not of my doing."

Sam nodded, understanding. "Hopefully, you will remember. One day," he said. "And you'll have friends to help you get through it." He chuckled. "But, hey. Look at you. Back on your feet and fighting the food fight so soon. You're making amends all ready."

"I hope so." Tron took a deep breath. "If I can't atone myself for the lives I took, I can at least avenge Yori and Ram. All my comrades who fell in battle, most likely directly because of me."

Sam raised a hand, and gently patted Tron on the back. He didn't seem bothered by it, rather welcomed the touch. "... Man, though, it is weird," Sam said. Tron cocked a brow. "You look just like Alan. Well, younger. And I don't remember seeing Alan ever look so young, but... It feels like I'm the uncle now." He laughed. "You're a lot like him, too, you know."

"From what I know of my User," Tron retorted, "that is very flattering."

"The guy did so much for my dad and me. For all of ENCOM. Put up with so much shit for years. He protected me, you know," Sam murmured. He looked Tron right in the eyes. "In time, you'll see you're just the same."

"I can promise you, no matter the outcome, I will fight for my people, the Users, the Grid. I won't let what happened to me happen again." Tron reached out and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "I know asking for your complete trust right now may seem a little much, but... Believe that much."

Sam grinned crookedly. "Of course."

III

The game was violent, and although it had only started an hour ago, dozens of Programs had lost their lives. Derezzed data and coding left to fade and drown in the system. The crowd was still crying for more, cheering at the demise of every Rebel. Half of Linx's army, as well as Linx himself, were gone and dead. Shaddox felt tension and anxiety well as his time drew ever closer. His men were falling, one by one, though he tried his best to remain hopeful.

Wisteria and the Users watched from the tower above, quiet, their expressions neutral. Taking in every course of action, every mode of offense and defense to apply to their upcoming battle. After ten of his soldiers were derezzed, it was finally Shaddox's turn. He did not struggle as two guards grabbed him by the arms, dragged him toward the battlefield. A rather ugly brute with a glitching scar across his helmet waited, disc swinging at his side. The crowd's screams were deafening, until -

"Wait."

The guards stopped, turned to peer up at the tower. The audience grew silent, confused. Wisteria stood, ignoring the baffled expressions on her comrade's face. Even Edward seemed slightly confused. "Return Shaddox to his cell," she ordered, and a few onlookers groaned with disappointment. The guards quickly obeyed, dragging Shaddox off the field.

Wisteria shrugged off her cloak, handing it to Malvir. She looked to Edward reclining in his seat. "It is time," she said.

"I thought we would wait after Shaddox's battle!" Eva exclaimed.

"If we are to battle, we must do it now," Wisteria insisted. "I estimated the time of arrival of our guests, and they will be here shortly. We have very little time." She grinned under the mask. "Unless, of course, you wish to forfeit."

Edward chortled. "Not after I made a promise." He pushed himself to a stand.

Eva scuttled up to his side. "You can still back down," she whispered harshly, "there's no shame in refusing to fight."

"I'm fine."

"It's too risky!"

Edward raised a hand to her and Eva went silent. "Just..." He patted her shoulder, leaned in to whisper, "relax and enjoy the show." When he looked up, Seth's face was twisted with irritation. A touch of jealousy, Edward could easily sense. However, Eva did not question him, just fretted quietly to herself.

Edward turned to Wisteria and said, "Shall we?" He held out a bent arm, intending to take hers.

Wisteria looked at it. Snapped her fingers and Malvir and two guards headed out first. She followed, ignoring Edward's gentlemanly invitation.

A few minutes later, and the crowd was restless and quiet as Wisteria and Edward took the battlefield. They parted ways toward the center of the field, walked back a couple yards, turned. Faced one another, standing straight and faces blank. Eva and Seth watched nervously from the tower.

"Remember," Edward said, "it's not a fight to the death. Don't want you losing your concentration."

"Don't worry," Wisteria said. She equipped her disc as did Edward. "I will go lightly on you." She looked to Malvir and her flock of guards, on stand-by in case anything should happen. With a nod, she glanced back to Edward. Her foot slid back, getting in position. Edward crouched, disc held across him.

"Ready," Wisteria murmured, squinting.

Edward nodded. "Set."

Wisteria's helmet slipped over her face. "Go."

The two ran into a charge, and the audience wailed, some jumping to their feet. Wisteria struck first, disc colliding with Edward's. It was a repetitive duel; their discs cutting, slicing, clashing. Struck left and right, though neither had advantage over the other. Wisteria spun, sunk and cut her disc along Edward's knee. He jumped back, darted forward; discs hitting, bouncing. The ground beneath their feet began to churn; Edward was temporarily distracted, and Wisteria quickly took the opening. Tossed her disc, where it grazed the User's shoulder. Eva gasped from behind her hands, and the crowd cackled and cheered on their leader.

The wound, however, was shallow. The armor had taken most of the hit. Edward ran forward, tossed his disc. Wisteria shielded herself; it bounced off her own disc, hit a wall and boomeranged back at Edward. He caught it, threw it again; Wisteria ducked low, missed a second time. Crouching, she pushed her hands forward, and quickly flipped to miss the disc on its return. Edward jumped aside, grabbed his disc and charged again; Wisteria blocked with her disc, but the pressure and speed was enough to loosen her grip. It jumped in her hands, and though it took only a split second to regain control, Edward was fast; used that very second to slice her arm. Her limb sprayed a few bits of orange data, but otherwise, she was unharmed. The crowd reacted with scornful growls.

Wisteria shook off her hand, spilling more of the derezzed bits. Her eyes were bright, hungry. She pounced, their discs once more initiating in a conversation. Edward then slipped quickly to the side, around Wisteria; as she turned, he struck, only to cut suit instead of skin. Wisteria slashed her disc, but he jumped back, saving a gash to his belly. Running some feet away, he threw his disc and she threw hers; they collided, but did not break, instead scratched and flying back to their owners. Wisteria's took the least damage, but Edward's was glitching from a very small tear.

The battle carried on a good ten minutes before either opponent could find an opening. It was Edward, who threw his disc; spun in the air, too quick for Wisteria, disc slamming down along her shoulder. He would have sunken it in deeper, amputated the limb, but Wisteria grabbed his arm, despite all the pain and code-bleeding, twisted until he let go. Edward found himself hefted in the air, thrown; he nearly hit the ground face first, but braced arms. Flipped and landed on a foot and knee, panting heavily.

Wisteria grunted as she yanked the disc from her shoulder. She threw it at Edward, where it stabbed the ground at his feet. Even with her wound, she positioned herself for the next round. Edward pulled his disc from the floor and ran; though her left arm was now a weakness, she was still powerful. Her right arm was doubly strong, making up for what she now lacked, and she need only use it when their discs bounced and hit. With a snarl, she struck as hard as she could, knocked the disc from his hand; did not take a moment to swing her disc back and cut a slice along Edward's chest. Red circuits flashed, matching the cool blood bubbling at the wound's surface.

"I've never seen User blood before," Wisteria whispered. Her eyes glimmered. "It's quite beautiful."

Edward carelessly wiped it away. "I bet you say that to all the Users." He lifted his disc. "Shall we continue?"

Wisteria laughed. "Of course."

The two engaged in battle, without showing any sign of weakness. Wisteria was definitely skilled; more skilled than him, Edward was loathe to admit. He said nothing, kept up his guard. He applied fencing tactics into his battle, using his disc as he would a sword. He kept his attacks mostly on her weakened arm, attempting to both exploit it as well as increase the wound's damage. A few hits, and more data was spilling from the tear. Wisteria's brow twitched, the only sign of pain she'd allow. Wisteria fell back into defensive mode, mostly blocking or re-directing the blows. She launched forward, cut at Edward's chest with her head bowed; he flipped aside, the blow missing, but so did his attempt to strike her shoulder blade.

Wisteria clambered to a halt, her heels squeaking against the transparent, thick floor. She turned and Edward was smiling. "Are you sure you don't want to step down?" he asked. He hoisted the disc over his shoulder. "Remember, we're not playing to the death."

Wisteria chortled. "You underestimate me, User," she purred, and it was as if she was not speaking of their current battle. With a snarl, she gathered her disc and attacked again. Edward was surprised - suddenly, she was rejuvenated, attacking with full force and incredible speed. His armor was sliced at the wrist, another chunk taken from his thigh. She twisted back, threw her disc, successfully slicing open his cheek. The blood that followed sent the crowd reeling with excitement.

"Huh," Edward smirked, "so it seems the entire time you were only playing the part of weak and wounded."

Wisteria caught her disc. "You were just trying so hard, I had to humor you."

Still, Edward at least managed to cut her leg in the following ten minutes of battle. Neither side was winning, and it was nearly rounding twenty minutes. The crowd began to wonder if there'd even be a winner. Most anticipated the User's inevitable surrender, but it appeared he had no intention of stepping down any time soon. Wisteria was equally determined, even with her terrible shoulder wound. Two forces that refused to quit until one was down - either by their own accord or forced into submission.

"I don't like this," Eva murmured. She looked to Seth. "We need to stop this."

"Why?" Seth retorted. He chuckled. "If the boss wants to get his ass kicked for all the Grid to see, so be it."

"Well, time is up. They've had their fun," Eva snapped and headed for the door, "besides, they need to save their energy for - "

Eva shrieked as the building suddenly rumbled and shook. Seth chased after her, the two quickly recovering from shock. They ran to the window at the cries of a million Programs. The audience was fleeing in an uproar, and above the stadium, Rebel jets and fighters hovered. A missile had hit the building, and guards were scampering onto the scene.

"Come on!" Eva shouted. "We have to get to Edward!"

Wisteria and Edward's battle came to an abrupt halt. They stopped and looked up at the enemy ships. Rebel soldiers were pouring out from above, jumping into the near emptied bleachers. "A little late," Wisteria chortled. She looked to Malvir and his men rushing to a group of Rebels heading their way. Wisteria turned back to Edward, and they stared at one another, amidst the chaos, the screaming, and the battles.

There was no more hiding. Now was the time.

"Ready?" Wisteria purred.

Edward smirked. "Draw."

Wisteria grabbed for her light katana just as Edward drew his gun. He fired; Wistera was unable to block or stop the blow, and the bullet of green energy hit her square in the chest. With a grunt, she flew back with a loud thud on the ground. Smiling, Edward approached her, gun at his side. He was surprised, however, to see she was still in one piece. She should have been nearly disintegrated. Edward stood over her, confused and squinting. Wisteria looked dead, her eyes wide and pale.

"This is a little unexpected," Edward murmured, tilting his head.

Suddenly, Wisteria eyes snapped to meet his gaze; she quickly rolled away. She stood and he fired, only for her katana to absorb the attack. It disappeared in a wink of data.

"How are you...?" Edward mumbled, shocked.

Wisteria sneered. She raised her own gun and her once orange-red circuits were tinted with an ugly yellow-green. "I did a little tinkering with your Z-Lot, User," she said, her grin apparent beneath the latex over her mouth. Edward stared at her gun, gloved finger tight against the trigger. "You see, you may have programmed it to destroy both Rebel and corrupted Programs, but you neglected to set it to attack and delete viral data. It just so happened I had a bit of viral data on my hands, and decided to apply it as a safe guard against any, oh, say, accidental assassination attempts?"

Edward had to smile. "Well, aren't you clever," he said, and he was genuinely impressed.

"Your ego got the best of you. Just as it did Sark and his User," Wisteria said. Her eyebrows climbed. "Your creator, right? Edward Dillinger, former CEO of ENCOM. Named you after himself; ah, such pride for a failure."

"I guess the cat's out of the bag."

Wisteria snickered. She raised her gun, as did he. "You can shoot all you want, but you won't kill me, User," she said. "But go ahead and try." She aimed at his head. "Remember what I asked you not long ago? About what would happen if your precious Z-Lot infected a User?" She smirked. "Let's find out."

Edward fired before she could, but missed. Wisteria whirled around, shot his gun, successfully destroying it. Edward was about to run for it-

"Move!" Eva shrieked as Wisteria fired again. She jumped in his way, pushing her boss to the ground. The shot hit her and Eva recoiled, shrieking as her entire body lit up in green. Wisteria lowered her gun, both her and Edward watching in awe and shock.

Eva's cry mutated into a frightening, deep howl and her entire body began to shift and transform. The light swallowed her whole, spreading and growing, and Wisteria stumbled back. Suddenly, with a loud bang, the yellow light burst and standing in Eva's place was a giant, twenty foot monster - gangly, long limbed, but fiercely strong; its face was reminiscent of Eva's, but its eyes were glowing yellow, an ugly, twisted scowl on its face.

"Fascinating," Edward whispered.

The monster looked to Eva before it stood upright. Wide eyes studied her shaking hands; she realized now what had happened. What she had become. And she looked almost as if her eyes were glazed with tears. Almost as if she were going to cry... Instead, Eva released a tormented, enraged shriek, spittle flying from its jaws; without a moment's repose, she charged at the Program responsible for her mutation.

Wisteria quickly fled, ducking in and around fighting groups of her men and Rebels. The monster pushed and threw them aside like rag dolls, intent on killing Wisteria. Suddenly, Wisteria was backed into a corner; she spun around, eyes wide. The monster advanced, raising her long, sharp talons. She roared; but before she could rip Wisteria to pieces, three discs struck her side. The monster cried; one of the discs managed to penetrate her large hip, and she turned around. The three Black Guards stumbled back, suddenly regretting their decision to protect their leader. Wisteria had run off to safety during the distraction.

The monster grabbed the two discs on their return flight back to their owners. One in hand, one between her teeth. She crushed the one in her disfigured claws, bit the second in half; the discs' remains dyed a hideous yellow, and the guards cried. Their entire bodies lit up before exploding, infected with the same virus. The monster spit up remnants of the disc before whipping her head back. Wisteria was nowhere to be seen. She screeched furiously, tearing her claws into the ground and turning its once clear surface an ugly yellow-green.

Seth had been watching the entire thing in horror before he could finally move again. "What the Hell happened to Eva!" he demanded, running to Edward's side.

Edward gathered to his feet. "I've no idea," he said, "but it is amazing."

Seth glowered at him, shocked and disgusted. "You son of a bitch!" he snarled. He took Edward by the front of his suit, shook him. "We have to fix her!"

Edward looked to his companion with intrigue. "Are you so certain there is a way, Crown? Why spoil the fun so soon?"

"You sick bastard..." Releasing his rage, Seth socked Edward in the jaw. The younger man hit the ground. Seth pointed at his smiling face as Edward rubbed the bruise forming on his cheek. "You better pray there is, otherwise I'm going to kill you myself."

"In due time. I'm sure we'll find a cure," Edward said. He nodded to the approaching Rebels. "Right now, I think we have other important matters to attend to."

Seth cursed and removed his disc.

III

Across the battlefield, Quorra and Sam were back to back, surrounded by guards. Jet and Mercury were cutting through their opponents like water, fighting their way to free Shaddox and the other prisoners. Tron easily disabled and destroyed anyone attempting to get in his way. He had no time for petty battles with lackeys. The leader of the outfit was all that mattered, but so far, she had remained elusive.

Wisteria kept to the shadows, avoiding any conflict. She nestled herself in a large gap made from an explosion along the wall. Just a few minutes, that was all she needed. Wisteria equipped her disc, quickly repairing the wound on her shoulder. Just as the repairs finished, a shadow fell over her.

With a hiss, Wisteria shot out her disc, stopping it just an inch from Malvir's throat.

Malvir stared down silently at his leader, face hidden behind his helmet. "Malvir," Wisteria breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Clu. I need you to-" Wisteria gasped when her second in command grabbed her tightly by the arm. She stared at him, shocked. "What is the meaning of this?"

Malvir did not respond. He yanked the Program from the hole, tossing her onto the ground. Wisteria scrambled to her feet. She was suddenly surrounded by her own guards. No, not exactly - they wore the constricting harnesses. They were moving in closer, their weapons in hand. "What are you doing!" she spat. She quickly summoned the harness controller. "You want to die? I - "

"It's no use, Wisteria," Malvir snapped. She looked back at him, eyes wide. He held up a duplicate of the controller. "I swapped your controller with a fake. You have no power over my soldiers."

"Malvir..." Wisteria was stunned. "Why are you..."

Malvir's fist swung forward, decking her across the face. Wisteria grunted and swayed aside. She collected herself, just before a guard grabbed her by her hair. Yanked her down to her knees. "Let me go, you fools!" she shrieked, but then two more hands were holding her arms in place. Malvir approached her, disc whirring. She struggled, eyes brimming with fury. "You son of a glitch!" she screamed at her treacherous second in command, still writhing for freedom. "I'll kill-"

"Here, Tron, here here!"

Malvir looked up and over his guards' heads. A flashing byte was bobbing excitedly in the air. A second later, a figure emerged and Malvir quickly retreated. His men blinked, looked to one another then turned back. Before the guard holding Wisteria's right arm could scream, Tron sliced apart his face. The guards gasped and released the Program, making a run for it; they knew they had no chance against Tron. Only one soldier stayed behind, keeping Wisteria weakly down on her knees.

"Tron!" the Program cried. Her eyes were glistening, and Tron froze from attacking her. "Tron, is it really you?" She swallowed, pointed to her face. "It's me, Cache," she pleaded, "I'm one of you! I can't - I can't control myself; this harness, I have no choice - !"

"Coward!" Wisteria snarled. She broke free, removing her gun and holding it up to Cache's head. Cache went to stop her but with one shot, she was turned to bits of data in ten seconds flat. Wisteria stood quickly, her blond hair loose and messy, shaping her face and hanging over her eyes. They were murderously blue, and she aimed her gun at Tron, a slight heave to her chest.

Once Tron met her gaze, something inside him twisted. He felt breathless, knees locking. "You..."

"We finally meet, Tron. I regret it's rather short lived." She sneered. "But in any case, thanks for saving me, hero," and pulled the trigger.

Octet cried warning, but Tron was all ready on the move. He jumped aside, threw his disc. Wisteria gasped as it nicked her hand, knocking the gun to the ground. Octet zoomed down to gather the weapon up, holding it out of Wisteria's reach. "Nya nya!" he giggled. Wisteria's eye twitched. "Bet you regret not killin' me now, huh?"

Wisteria fumed. Tron gathered his disc, staring intensely into her eyes. Something, something he couldn't quite pin, but she was... "Stop gawking," she spat and equipped her disc, "and get out of my way!" With that, she charged.

III

Sam and Quorra had been busy working and slashing their way through guards, heading for the prisoners. Quorra suddenly turned and blocked one of the guard's discs from hitting Sam, shoving him away. She turned to the User, frowning. "You slipped," she said. "What's wrong?"

Sam decked another guard in the face. "My dad!" He took out two others before finishing. "Haven't heard back from him yet!"

Quorra smiled. "I'm sure - " She twisted around, kneeing a guard in the stomach. He scowled and fell to his knees. " - He's just fine." With a flick of wrist and disc, the corrupted program was no more. "He's got a lot of back-up, after all."

Sam engaged in a quick disc battle with a guard, nearly risking his arm. He proved victorious, stabbing the guard in the chest and derezzing him. "I hope so..."

Quorra looked around her; there were no more guards, it appeared, the action taking place behind them. She stood upright, disc at her side. "Huh," she said, blinking, "that was almost disappointing."

Sam and Quorra quickly headed for the prisoners. "About time," Shaddox smirked. Sam punched the cell's button; the energy field lifted and Shaddox jumped out.

"Sorry," Sam replied, smiling crookedly. He patted the Program on the shoulder. "Glad you're okay."

Shaddox shook his head. "I've lost many of my men today, I fear."

"Well, now's time for payback."

The three proceeded to unlock the other cells, freeing the prisoners. Once everyone was accounted for, they gathered into a huddled circle. "We're messing with some heavy duty viral shit out there," Sam said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. He looked among the bewildered Programs. "I don't know how it works, but one hit, even a scratch from that virus, and you're done for. So keep your eyes peeled - especially for guns."

"Right," Shaddox said and nodded firmly. He pointed to the battle. "For the Grid!" His men shrieked and cheered and they tore off, ready to fight.

Sam and Quorra stayed behind, watching them go. The ISO touched his shoulder gently, nearly startling him. "... There's something else bothering you. Besides Kevin," she murmured.

Sam took a deep breath. "... It's Dillinger. I... I just can't believe..." He looked back to Quorra. "I think I grossly underestimated the slimy bastard."

Quorra smiled. "Well," she said and threw up her disc, catching it. "I think we can handle 'im."

Sam laughed. "Naturally."

III

It hadn't been very hard breaking into the main tower. Kernel easily overpowered the guards, Mercury and Jet taking the rear. As soon as they burst through the front door and took care of the stragglers, it all seemed smooth sailing. The three ran down the wide, yawning corridor, constantly checking their surroundings. However, it was mostly empty, the chaotic noise outside drowning out the deeper they went.

"Place is givin' me the creeps," Jet murmured.

Mercury snorted. "Given its two previous owners, I'd say the atmosphere is about right."

"Stop talking!" Kernel snapped. A small hologram popped open from his wrist, showing a basic layout of the building. Three blue dots signaled their position, showing scattered red blips for guards; luckily, they were nowhere near the group. A yellow dot winked repeatedly above them. "We're getting closer," he said, looking up. The hologram disappeared. "Turn right; next corridor, we go left and then we should hit the weapon-"

The ceiling above them suddenly caved in with a loud explosion. Kernel grabbed Jet and Mercury each by an arm, yanking them back. The debris crashed on the ground only a few inches in front of them, sending up a puff of dust. "H-Holy shit," Jet breathed.

Mercury looked to Kernel. "Thanks, big guy. We woulda been crushed."

"Nevermind that." Kernel glared through the open hole. "Get ready to-" He couldn't finish, suddenly overwhelmed with surprise and confusion. Jumping down from the hole were three... creatures. Humanoid in shape, but glowing purple and sparkling with yellow veins.

Jet blinked. "What are those?"

"I've... never seen them before," Mercury whispered, awed.

Kernel stepped forward, weapons equipped. "I think we can assume they're not part of our team."

Without another word, the DataWraiths attacked, guns in hand. "Watch out for the guns!" Jet exclaimed, dodging a blast.

Mercury took charge at one; he raised his gun, aimed at the Program's face. She quickly twisted aside, grabbed his wrist tightly; the blast hit the ground, derezzing the data. Mercury snarled as she forced the DataWraith's arm behind his back, then kneed him in the spine. The DataWraith cried out and jolted forward; she shoved him down, then readied her disc. The Wraith growled and turned, foot connecting with her hand. She stumbled, disc clattering to the ground; however, the Wraith was back on his feet, hands taking her by the throat.

Jet was fighting disc to disc with a Wraith, neither overpowering the other. "You're pretty strong," he chortled, pushing her back. The Wraith said nothing and pounced again; her disc slid against his, and he quickly took the opening to slice her arm. She cursed but threw her hand back; Jet jumped aside, missing the punch to his face. She shot out her other fist, successfully striking his shoulder. Jet grunted but ignored the pain, disc clashing with the Wraith's just in time.

Kernel and the third, final DataWraith stared at each other. Kernel slowly smiled at the smaller creature. "... Really?" he taunted, and cracked his knuckles.

Mercury tore at the hands strangling her, hissing through grit teeth. The DataWraith smiled, chuckling heavily. But then, slowly, she smiled. "C'mon. That the best you got?" The Wraith blinked, confused. "You're not much of a fighter, are you? Grip's too weak." With that, she thrust her leg up between the Wraith's, hard against his groin. The Wraith's eyes widened and he wobbled, fingers loosening. Mercury jerked back then slugged him in the face, sending him skidding onto the ground. She rubbed her sore throat. "I also don't mind fighting a little dirty."

Jet found the Wraith was stronger than he expected. Soon they were on the ground, rolling. Each attempting to pin down the other. Jet was unlucky; she landed on top, straddled him. Her disc against his throat, she pulled out her Z-Lot gun and shoved the barrel against his temple. "Say bye-bye," the Wraith purred, pulling the trigger. The blast went off, just an inch from his head, when Mercury's disc suddenly struck the Wraith in the side and knocked her off the User.

Jet propped himself up on his elbows, looked to Mercury with wide, stunned eyes. "How many times am I gonna have to save your ass, User?" she teased, moving around him. The Wraith touched her arm with a hiss; she grabbed her gun, about to turn it on the Program -

The Wraith shrieked as Jet shoved his PRod against her side, electrocuting her. The Wraith spazzed and twitched, and when Jet removed his weapon, she collapsed to the ground. Mercury and Jet looked up, met eyes. "Paid you back one," he smirked.

The DataWraith, although terrified of Kernel, did not withdraw. He raised his gun to shoot him, but the Program reached out and grabbed his arm. The Wraith was too scared to pull the trigger, though he had a clear shot. Kernel easily plucked the gun from his hand then proceeded to break off the howling Wraith's arm; he kicked the purple creature down, until he and his two companions were left unconscious on the floor.

"What the Hell are those things?" Jet grumbled, rubbing his head. To their shock, the one-armed Wraith suddenly disappeared. Did not derezz; simply disappeared in a wink. "Okay, those... Those things can't be Programs."

Mercury glanced to her commander. "Should we take one of them prisoner?"

"Hmm," Kernel muttered, stroking his chin. He quickly summoned the holographic map; six orange dots were making their way toward them. "Leave them to me. Get to the weaponry and loot the Hell out of it!" He pointed down the hall. "Go!"

As Kernel picked up the female DataWraith, Mercury and Jet quickly went back to work, bolting down the hall and disappearing around a corner.

III

Two guards were posted outside the old arcade ruins. They dare not go inside, however. For now, they were to simply watch and wait. Wisteria suspected the Rebels and their Users would return to the portal. They were not to engage in battle, however, but rather to report to her immediately if they had trouble.

As it was, the two were bored out of their minds. They sat on the rubble outside the arcade doors, adjacent of each other. One kicked at the ground until a small pebble struck his companion upside the head. The second guard scowled, and he chortled at his expense.

"This is ridiculous," the first guard said, "I mean, there's a big fight going on at the stadium and we're here, doin' nothin'. Shouldn't we go and help?"

The second guard shook his head. "No," he insisted, "we stay here until Wisteria calls us back."

"Don't think they need any help?"

"I doubt it."

"But I heard there's like, three Users on the Rebels' team. Wisteria don't stand no chance without all the help she can get."

"Yeah, well, she's got Users on her side, too, you know."

The first guard deflated. "I just wish there was somethin' to do," he whined. He idly poked more debris with his disc. "I mean, we can't even go inside! I don't care if we might be outnumbered, we could take 'em!"

"Look. We just do what we're told, and nothing else. I don't care if it's boring or whatever. I'd rather not get my data scrambled by the boss."

"I guess you've got a point there."

"Yeah, I do."

The first guard shrugged. "Well," he sighed, "would it be so wrong to wish something would happen?"

"Someone call for some action?"

The guards gasped and stumbled clumsily to their feet. They whipped around, wide eyes looking upon Kevin Flynn. Flanking his sides were a number of Rebels, weapons out and ready to attack. Kevin smirked. "Unless, of course, you were hoping for something else?"

The guards looked to one another. They counted ten Rebels in total, led by the infamous and powerful User Kevin Flynn. They dropped their discs and immediately raised their hands in surrender.

"Wise decision."

Three Rebels shoved the guards aside, keeping them pinned in place with their discs and light swords. Kevin and the others quickly tore through the arcade wreckage, working around the rubble. It didn't take long before they reached the basement. Before Kevin could try opening the doors, they flew open, nearly knocking him over. With a cough, the Rebel on the other side smiled at his comrades. "'Bout time you got here. We were gettin' so bored, we were about to go take care of those guards."

"Yeah, well, you're not relieved from duty just yet," Kevin said. He moved down the stairs and into the basement. He turned, just as one daunting Program stood to its feet. Kevin eyed the figure. "Are you...?"

The Program tilted its head. "Your voice registers as a match," it said. "You are Kevin Flynn."

"S'right. And you're... Vulcan, was it?"

"I am Vulcan," ey said, nodding once. "I serve Kevin Flynn, my User, as guardian of this I/O portal."

One of the Rebels approached the two. "Vulcan said they can open and close it on whim," he explained, "but only by your command."

Kevin nodded. "Good fail-safe then," he smirked. He took Vulcan's hand and gave it a hearty shake. The Program remained unresponsive, simply staring at the exchange. "Welcome aboard, Vulc. If you don't mind me addressing you as Vulc, that is."

"I do not mind. You are my User. I live to serve."

Kevin winced. "Not as empowering as it should be," he said. "Okay, just to verify you are indeed the guardian with these super powers..." He glanced at the control panel. Felt something clench in his chest. "Without using my disc, open and close the portal."

Vulcan nodded. Ey walked up to the control panel, removing hir disc. Ey held it out between Kevin and hirself. "Execute command: open portal," ey said loudly. The disc whirred to life with a flash, and suddenly, the portal popped open in a tunnel of light between them. Kevin winced, but smiled widely. The Rebels stared in awe at its warm glow.

"Excute command: close portal." And, in a flash, the portal closed; Vulcan withdrew hir disc and placed it back in its socket. "I do not require my disc to access the portal, but my second method of operation - voice registration - will cause greater time lag between opening and closing."

"We shouldn't have that problem," Kevin said. "I may not have the same disc as before, but it should work. I just needed to know if we had working backup."

"I can reassure you that I am running at fully functioning, optimal levels, and do not require any service or updating to operate and fulfill my obligations."

Kevin took a deep breath. "Good. Good good. I was worried I'd be stuck here a third time," he grumbled then smiled at Vulcan. "Good job, my man. Er, woman... Well, whatever." He gestured to the Rebels. "Anyway, we came to take you back to our base. You're no good here; too dangerous if you're derezzed."

"But the portal..."

"We've got that covered, Vulc," Kevin reassured with a wink. "Right now, you need to get on the ship we've got waitin' outside and head to Divide. You'll be safe there, trust me."

"I am not concerned for myself, but the safety of the portal."

Kevin wrinkled his nose. "I'm your User, and you do as I command, right?"

Vulcan nodded.

Kevin pointed to the stairs. "Then get your pixel ass on that ship."

Vulcan tilted hir head, stared a moment. Without another word, ey took a sharp step to the side then headed upstairs. The Rebels followed after, until it was only Kevin that remained in the basement. The User grumbled something about "kids" before quickly running a scan on the control panel. The damage the explosion caused was extensive; it amazed him the stubborn machine was still running. However, he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Flynn, are you ready?"

Kevin glanced up to the Program lingering beside him. He nodded with a weak grin. The two returned outside; Vulcan and most of the Rebels were all ready boarded on the ship, alongside their captive guards. Kevin moved away from the arcade, stopping across the broken street.

He reached behind him, removing his disc. Held it to his face and bounced it in his hand. "All right," Kevin chortled, and ran a finger along its edge. The circuits lit up instantly. He held the disc in front of him, at the arcade, peering through the center hole like the crosshairs of a rifle.

"Let's see if I still got that User mojo."

The disc started to glow, something soft and warm. The light and energy increased, and Kevin squinted against the bright light as it burst from his disc in waves. Nearby Rebels had to avert their gaze, almost blinded by its light. The blast hit the arcade; however, it sustained no further damage, not even a scratch. When Kevin lowered the disc, the arcade was wrapped in the glowing light, in a layer of protective User energy.

"Will that be enough to ensure the portal's safety?" a Rebel asked.

Kevin sighed. "No," he said, reluctantly. "It'll last maybe a few hours to a day, but... We're gonna need more power to keep it up and secure for any time longer." He approached the glowing arcade, experimentally holding out a hand. His fingers barely brushed its glowing surface, releasing a small, warm tendril through his arm. "Once Jet and Sam get here, we can combine our powers to-"

At the small shriek, Kevin turned, watched as a Rebel was thrown from the building after touching it. He groaned as he laid out on the street, head lulling. One of his companions quickly came to his aide. "Well," Kevin smirked, somewhat ashamed at being amused, "at least we know it's working?"

III

Tron was quick to assess Wisteria's strong and weak points.

Wisteria was not as heavily equipped, and possibly not nearly as experienced, given some poor, though rare as they were, executions in her attacks. Physically speaking, she was inferior to Tron, but not by much. However, she was fast on her feet, a quick thinker, giving Tron very little room to attack. Though she made a handful of errors, she more than made up with them with deadly maneuvers and attacks that anyone except Tron would have lost to. He was happy he was a seasoned warrior, at least.

Still, something about Wisteria... A dreary, uneasy feeling would overcome Tron whenever she got too close, whenever she locked eyes with him in such a hateful, embittered glare. Electric stabs to the heart; fortunately, they didn't last long, as his instincts and will to survive as well as eliminate those who brought threat to the Grid would overpower them quickly.

The Programs watched each other closely, though Tron was only vaguely aware he was unconsciously avoiding meeting Wisteria's gaze. She, too, seemed avoidant. Neither understood why, nor had the time to wonder the reason.

It wasn't long, however, before exhaustion began to take its toll. From her battle with Edward, Wisteria was growing more tired by the minute. Especially against such a powerful opponent as Tron, who looked hardly phased at all. She drew back a few feet, disc held like a shield across her chest. Locks of blond hair fell over her face and down her back in thick ringlets. Still, the lower half of her face remained covered by her mask.

"It seems you've got the upper hand, Tron," Wisteria sneered.

Tron glowered. "If you surrender, we can stop this fight."

Wisteria laughed. "I am no coward," she spat. Her disc lit up. "The fight will end when one of us is dead!" She charged, her disc colliding with Tron's. They bounced once, twice, before the Programs drew back again. She charged a second time, thrusting her disc at Tron's arm, but he dodged, quickly shoving her aside. She spun to a stop, held out her disc, tip to tip with Tron's.

"We don't need to die. We don't need to do this." Tron's voice was cold, but Wisteria could sense something sad beneath the icy tone. "Clu was wrong. He destroyed so many lives. He annihilated the entire ISO population. Can't you see following in his footsteps will only lead to destruction?"

Wisteria chortled, one eye squinted. "The Grid had been in harmony for cycles under Clu's reign," she said. "It wasn't until that upstart little User spawn decided to shake the system. He ruined everything. We had order! We had structure! Programs obeyed the laws and lived in peace!" She snarled. "As a warrior, you knew sacrifices needed to be made!"

"Not the genocide of an entire race! Not the way Clu operated," Tron insisted. "His intentions were good, I know that; I admit that. But he became corrupted by power. He lost his control, and the Grid and the ISOs suffered for it!" He sighed and shook his head. "Why don't you get it? The peace during Clu's rule was all a facade. He turned the games into death and destruction, and for what purpose? Entertainment?"

"To weed out the weak," Wisteria growled. "And what would you know of Clu's reign? You were not there to see it. You were not there to bathe in its glory."

Tron's jaw tightened. "I didn't need to be there to know it was wrong. I saw enough, went through enough, to know Clu was wrong."

Wisteria went to respond, but stopped. She tilted her head. "... Yes. Yes, you're right," she said. Tron blinked. "You did see - you saw plenty of things. But not through your eyes. Not through Tron's eyes." And the way the warrior slightly flinched, she knew she struck a cord. Wisteria's grin was clear beneath her mask. "Ah, yes. You were there, Tron, but not as you are now. Not only were you present, but you were Clu's right hand man! Tell me how that felt, Tron? Tell me how all that power felt?" She purred softly. "Tell me all about the cries and pleas of mercy from the numerous victims you took, Rinzler."

Tron grit his teeth. Without thinking, he pounced. Wisteria blocked his first attack, laughing. "Haha! You must feel awful for all that you've done!" She bashed her disc to his. "Why, I'd gamble a bet that you killed more Programs than Clu ever did!"

That sent a boiling rage through Tron's circuits. He struck her disc, hard enough to knock it from her hand. It hit the ground, nearly cracking. As she reached for it, he kicked it aside. Wisteria quickly doubled back as Tron's disc sliced through the air above her head.

"Oh, you almost got me there!" Wisteria teased. "What about all that talk about not fighting and becoming friends?" She quickly wrenched the light katana from her waist, activating the glowing, sharp yellow blade. Leaped at Tron before he could answer; he dodged the first strike, then the second. "The truth is you don't care about me, about any of us. You're just programmed to throw yourself into battle at any sign of danger. A warrior through and through. But now you've got a different master."

Wisteria pointed her blade at him. "And you can try and pretend you've found redemption, that destroying the remains of Clu and my army will fix everything, but you cannot hide the fact that deep in that coding of yours, you're a monster. You are a weapon of mass destruction." She laughed, coming at him again. Tron shoved her katana aside with his disc. She recovered, turning to him again. "And yet your coding is so easy to manipulate! You can be turned from a preaching saint into a murderous sociopath so very, very easily! Isn't that a shame? But we can't all be gods, you know."

Wisteria raised her sword, slicing it down; Tron stepped back, a deep tear along the front of his suit. He ignored it and the blood curdling rage pounding at the back of his head. Remembering his battle with Kernel, remembering his talk with Jet - control, control, he needed to keep control...

"Not even Users are flawless," Wisteria spat. She dodged a blow from his disc. "Did you see what happened to that female User I shot? The poor thing! Yet I can't find it in me to pity her. Or any User, for that matter." She growled as she thrust her sword at Tron. "I do not respect anything or anyone, User or Program, who attempts to stop the flow of progress and stand in my way. You all stifle the Grid's potential - it was Clu and I who see it for the wonders it is! What the Grid can accomplish once you annoying pests and bleeding hearts are out of the way!"

Tron twisted aside. He pushed Wisteria's blade away, sliced her arm. She laughed, touching the wound. "Have you nothing to say, Tron?" she sneered. "But perhaps it is me. I am usually not this chatty or energetic during my battles!" She charged again, sword clashing with disc, each trying to overpower the other. Her gaze finally met his, and they locked. "But with you... Things are different."

There was that thud in Tron's chest again. That spark of pain and longing that nearly tore him from battle. Wisteria took that moment to withdraw her sword, plunge it for Tron's chest. His eyes widened with a snap, felt the tip of the energy blade slice through his suit. He flipped back, avoiding impalement; when he next stood, he was some feet away from Wisteria, the Program lowering the sword back to her side.

"I see with you it's the same," Wisteria said. "Something about me... Is that why you hesitate? Is that why you wished for me to surrender?" She furrowed her brows with disgust. "Some part of your coding is telling you to take pity on me."

Tron frowned. "No. It's - "

"No matter," Wisteria spat. She braced herself. "I want none of your repulsive pity." She sprinted into a charge, running at Tron with a loud battle cry.

They engaged in battle, and Tron wondered when one of them would finally give in. Wisteria's rage seemed to refuel her, the once building exhaustion replaced with adrenaline.

As quick as the battle began, it ended with a deadlock.

They were face to face, eyes averting whenever possible, weapon pressed against weapon, using every ounce of strength in their body to overcome the other. Tron's disc an inch from her throat; Wisteria's sword a centimeter from his face. One small, final shove was all it would take. However, it all depended on who was faster.

Tron stared Wisteria down. She was holding back. "You're holding back," she said suddenly in a low growl.

"You are as well. Why?"

"I don't know," Wisteria grumbled, paused, "but now that I'm aware of my error - "

Wisteria was going to take the plunge. To risk it all. She might have won; she certainly was fast. But Tron saw that forewarning glimmer in her eye to act first. He could have easily slit her throat, watched her bleed data out at his feet. However, much to Wisteria's surprise in that moment, he only tore himself back and away, instead pushing her down.

The shove was hard enough to not only knock Wisteria over, but send her rolling. She tumbled roughly along the ground before finally stopping, digging her fingers into the cold surface. She laid there a moment, her entire body shaking; Tron watched her, remaining firmly in place. Wisteria growled as she slowly pushed herself up on her hands and knees, head bowed and hidden behind a curtain of gold hair.

"You... you fool..." Wisteria heaved. She raised her head, just enough for a single blue eye to peer through her hair. Staring at Tron with such rage and contempt he shivered and stepped back. Her shaking increased as her fury reached its peak. "You... you stupid, idiotic fool!"

Wisteria was on her feet in a flash. Her shriek resounded like a cry of death in Tron's ears. She was running at him again, even faster than ever before. Her sword in hand, slicing and dicing. Tron could not find room to attack; rather, was forced to keep backing away, as her sword cut relentlessly through the air in swift motions.

"I will kill you, and I will hang your broken disc in the sky for all to see! I will play your moment of destruction on loop so every city in the Grid can watch you die on repeat!" Wisteria screamed. "As an example to those stupid enough to try and test me! I will squash this rebellion, all starting with seeing you derezzed at my feet!"

The sword swung too close to his face. His foot slipped. Tron felt dizzy with a sudden grip of fear. As her sword came down over him, he knew he was - That this was -

"No!"

Wisteria blinked, shocked. The sword cut Tron's hand clean from his wrist with a small splatter of data. Tron ignored the pain, used his arm to knock the sword from her fingers. His second hand reached out, grabbing for her. His fingers dug into her facial mask, ripped; Wisteria gasped and quickly scampered back, but not before he elbowed her in the gut.

Wisteria gasped in pain. She swayed to the side before falling to her knees, bending forward and cradling her stomach. Tron sat there a moment, breathing heavily, glaring at the nub in place of his hand. He closed his eyes, willed down the pain and tremors, before picking up Wisteria's fallen katana and slowly standing.

Tron stared down at the Program. She had gone quiet now, her groans and growls subsiding. She was still, eerily so. Tron swallowed, but remained in place. He held out her sword, pointed its edge at her face only a few inches apart.

"Well?"

Tron twitched at Wisteria's voice. Croaking; weak, tired. Angry.

"What are you waiting for?"

Tron watched as Wisteria slowly lifted her hand. She touched the mask hanging from shreds on her face. Bitterly, she yanked the remains off, tossing them to the ground. And when she looked up to meet eyes with Tron, everything fell instantly quiet and lifeless.

Tron felt as if he had been sucker punched square in the chest. He stepped back a foot, his shock overwhelming his entire system. He could hear a pounding like a heart beating in his ears, eyes wide with awe and horror. He blinked once, twice, before forcing himself to look Wisteria in the face again. A tremble shook the sword in his hand at what he saw; though the emotions nearly paralyzed him, he had managed to whisper one strained word to Wisteria.

"Yori...?"

T/B/C

A/N:

The viral data Wisteria used on herself to protect her from the Z-Lot comes from the virus Abraxas, the main antagonist in TRON: Evolution. A sliver of one of his discs was recovered by Clu in the game. In this story, Clu kept it locked away, but Wisteria knew of its location, hence how she was able to find/use it.

Eva's transformation into a monster is also canon in 2.0; under different circumstances, of course. Her monstrous appearance is both a mix of her canon monster form as well as my own take. For visual aide, check out the FCon Monster article on the Tron wiki.

For anyone possibly wondering, yes, Tron still has two discs. I think it's fine that he only used one, though, but I do plan to have him use both again in future chapters.