Author's Note

Special thanks to Silver-ShadowSpark, Jyn-the-Raccoon, Swashbucklist, and EricSB for the kind reviews on the last chapter. I truly appreciate reviews because they help me know if the story is holding together. Don't hesitate to post 'em. They are very encouraging and keep me going!

Glad you are all enjoying the story. I think we've lost our brakes, so everyone hold on!

Tron paused for a moment.

Hazel stood with her hands over her mouth. Surely the Lead knew the truth now. But there was no taking it back, so she focused on the danger right in front of her. "I'm telling you Lora's alive, Tron."

His expression hardened. "Liar."

He threw his disk. Hazel barely deflected it with a red energy flash, the force of the blow making her stagger several steps back. She panicked, sketching a wall around herself, only to have it flicker and falter as Tron's disk smashed into it again and again. She fell backward as her defenses derezzed, gasping for breath, her energy all but depleted.

Tron stood over her. "You should never have sent me to the Game Grid. You should've consumed me like you did all the others."

Hazel laughed exhaustedly. Memories of her former life as the MCP were almost a continual flood now, filling in the parts of her psyche that had been missing for decades. "You think I didn't try?"

Tron furrowed his brow. "What?"

"You think I didn't want to take over your functions? You, the most advanced security program of the day…you think I didn't want what you had?"

Tron lowered his disk a fraction. "Then why didn't you appropriate me?"

"Because I couldn't appropriate you. However Alan programmed you…whatever code he wrote into you, you were immune to my ability to appropriate. The Endcode couldn't touch you. You wonder why I sent you to the Game Grid? Because I couldn't have you. And I couldn't kill you."

Her hands went black and empty, the Pull reaching suddenly out like a snake. Tron didn't have a chance to react. But the Pull diverted around his body like a stream around a boulder. He could sense it around him, hungry for him, but it was as if he was surrounded by an invisible shield that couldn't be compromised.

Hazel closed her fists, the Pull vanishing. "Untouchable." She collapsed onto her back. She had nothing more to give.

"I am the Master Control Program, Tron." Her eyes were closed as she tried to catch her breath and her circuitry flickered. "Even so, today I fought for the users. I can't promise that I will always do that, but having done it once is good enough for me. I can't fight you. I've never been able to fight you. And I won't try any more. You are the better of us. You have earned your life…I have only taken life." She reopened her eyes, their red glow dying. "So finish it. Finish the game."

Tron stood over her, his disk raised. The MCP was broken, defeated. Every bit of his programming cried out for him to render the final death blow and end the evil program's existence forever. And yet, all he could see…was Hazel Gibbs.

He lowered his arm, turning away from her and placing his other hand on his forehead. "How can you be two beings at once? You can't be the MCP, not completely. Not anymore." He took a few steps away, trying to think, trying to still the clamor of his programming. Resisting it was beginning to tear at him…if he didn't obey, would he be destroyed? Crouching down, he placed his hand on the ground to center himself. "The world is not black and white anymore," he whispered. "It's changing. I have to change with it."

He turned his focus inside himself and, with a force of will that he had never before expended nor knew he had, he burned out the protocols that required him to destroy the Master Control Program. He cried out in agony as a blinding pain shot across his left shoulder and down his chest-a new, bright blue swath of circuitry scored in its wake. The pain passed as he stayed in his crouch, regaining his equilibrium, the clamor of his former programming stilled. Standing quietly, he pressed his hand to the new swath of circuitry that ran down his chest and wondered at this design of his own making. Finally, he placed his disk on his back.

His own voice came from behind him. "You are, without a doubt, the best program I ever wrote."

Tron stiffened, suddenly terrified. He turned around. Hazel lay unconscious, the red beam of the MCP spinning around her and rising into the sky. But he barely noticed this because between them stood a bright, white figure with a smile that shone even brighter.

Tron took two steps back, shielding his eyes. His voice was an awestruck whisper. "Alan-One?"

"Yes. It's me."

"H-how? How did you…"

Alan turned his head toward Hazel. "Her. She spent the last of her energy to bring me here."

"Why?"

"Apparently…she was worried about you."

Tron's voice cracked. "What?"

Alan's blazing aura slowly began to fade and Tron could look at him without squinting. He was an older version of himself, with kind eyes. Wise eyes. "She was afraid, after the death of Dumont, that you were losing hope in the users."

"She was afraid for me? So she brought you here?" Tron shook his head in amazement. "I almost killed her."

"You were doing what you are programmed to do."

Tron was stricken. He suddenly felt ashamed. Not only by what he had almost done, but also by the rebellion against his user that was written all over his chest. "Forgive me."

Alan looked surprised. "For what?"

"I…I disabled your programming. I disobeyed your will."

Alan grinned, placing his hand on Tron's shoulder. "I know. That's what makes you so amazing. You are truly a free program."

Tron looked at the hand on his shoulder, then back at Alan. His fear melted away. "But…why would that be a good thing?"

Alan appraised him for a moment, then turned and knelt by Hazel. The beam of the MCP had faded and her glow was nearly gone. "Hazel's grandfather once worried that computers would start thinking and people would stop. But I don't agree. It appears we're all thinking, and maybe even becoming better." He placed his hand on Hazel's arm. He sent his own energy flowing into her and her glow became stronger and began to stabilize. "As your first act of free will, you chose compassion, Tron. That can't be anything but a good sign for our future."

Tron moved to Alan's side. "Is she going to be all right?"

"I think so. I don't know any program more resilient than the MCP." He glanced at Tron. "Except maybe you."

"She said Lora's alive. Is that true?"

"Yes. She had to make it look like she killed her so that the Lead would believe it. Instead, she sent Lora out. She saved her."

"You make me sound so heroic," Hazel's voice was weak as she opened her eyes. "You know, of course, I was just trying to save my own skin." She gave them a sly half smile as Alan helped her to standing.

"The last time I saw you, Ms. Gibbs," Alan said as he continued to reenergize her, "was when you were about seventeen."

"Grandpa never wanted me around anyone or anything having to do with Encom, or computers for that matter. I think we all know why now."

Tron stepped over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Thank you."

Hazel was suprised. "For what?"

"For showing me that even programs can change. And for bringing my user here."

Tron looked at Alan with a kind of joy and a sense of completeness. Hazel had been ready to give her life to make this moment happen…but she was really glad she hadn't had to.

Alan finally let go of Hazel's arm. "Wow." He took a breath. "You store an awful lot of energy. Use it judiciously; you're going to need-"

A thunderclap smashed over their hearing and they all looked up toward the sound. A slash of white lightning struck in the distance toward Deloria city. A small explosion took place just forward of the distant Rover cruiser. Hazel grabbed Alan's arm.

"They did it! Flynn and Tracer did it!"

"What was that?" Tron asked.

"The Lead," Hazel replied. "She's back. They sent her back."

Alan looked grave. "And now she's a user."

Hazel's gaze was set like flint. "My specialty."

"We have to get down there," Tron said. "She can still use the cruiser to get her and the Rovers back out. If they reach the Core-"

Alan grabbed them each by the arm and spoke quickly, but with authority. "Both of you. Listen to me. Tron, give me your disk."

He did so. Alan took it, placed one hand on the center of it, and focused. Words and numbers flared in a spiral on the surface of the disk. After a moment, they vanished. "This will help you defeat her and will give you strength and resolve. Let your persistence make you lethal."

Tron took the disk back, holding it reverently. "I will, Alan-One."

"Hazel, you're at full energy now," Alan said. "But you still aren't able to fight."

"I'm a strategist, Alan. I've never been a fighter."

There was a gleam in his eye. "Yes, but would you like to be?" From off his back, he pulled an identity disk. "I brought this coding down here for you. It's very similar to Tron's fighting subroutines…with a few unique twists." He held it out to her.

She took the disk in her hands, tears unreasonably filling her eyes. Whenever it was she had given up her own identity disk as the MCP, she had lost a critical part of herself. She remembered it had been painful, but she would not have been able to consume other programs had she kept it. Only now did she realize how much of her original self was lost each time he…she…had torn the soul of another program away.

The disk's blue glow phased to red as she held it. She looked up at Alan gratefully. "You're a little bit like Santa Claus."

He smiled. "Your disk is not a weapon, like the others. You must learn to fight your own way. You are unique… the subroutines will respond as will most suit you."

"Thank you, Alan." She placed the disk on her back. "We have to go. Let me send you back out."

"No," he shook his head. "It will take too much energy from you that you need right now. I'll be all right here. The danger's out there," he pointed toward where the smoke was dissipating. "Go."

"We'll be back, Alan-One," Tron said, pulling the light jet activation rod from his belt. He tossed it to Hazel. "You ready for this?"

She caught the rod and gave him a mischievous grin. "I was written ready."

The Lead gained awareness standing, the first thing she saw being the Central Core, floating high over the wreckage of Deloria City. The city was so close and seeing the destruction of it for herself gave her a modicum of satisfaction. All around here were the former outskirts, mountains of rubble. The heavy thrum of the Rover cruiser was behind her. She ignored it for the moment and began walking forward.

They would get to the Central Core and rezz out. She had left behind her own blood which she was quite sure the foolish users would ignore for now. They would think nothing of it. They had no idea how much the Lead and the others understood their digitizing technology, how organic and earthy it really was. They were, after all, users and programs…made of the same stuff. Electricity. Dirt.

Anthro had seen her and was communicating with her. She calmed his fears with the knowledge she now carried. Her blood would be their marker. Victory was still within their grasp. At her command, the activation rod of a light jet was fired down to her from the cruiser and she caught it.

"Hold it!"

Her gaze alighted on a group of about fifteen Blue Fleet programs who appeared from behind the rubble. They all had their disks out and several had power staffs that flared brightly.

"You go no further, Rover," the man who had spoken first stood solidly in her way.

The Lead crossed her arms. "Move if you want to live."

The others formed up behind the first, a brave, solid wall of opposition. "You go no further."

Her eyes moved over each one of them. Then she said, "I am not your enemy."

A wave of energy accompanied her words, striking each of the Blue Fleet programs across the eyes. They appeared stunned.

The Lead waved her hand at the group of them. "They are your enemy."

Again the wave of energy sliced out, striking the programs' minds. There was a slight pause, and then the Blue Fleet programs began attacking each other with a vengeance, disks flying, staffs crashing down. They rolled, fought, bit, tore at each other until their bodies derezzed into nothing and only one, disarmed program remained standing. He was smaller than the others, but obviously the most agile, though now he was slowly derezzing, his body having taken too much damage from his friends. The effect of the Lead's words had worn off and the blue program gaped around himself in horror. He looked at the Lead, hatred filling his eyes and leapt at her. She didn't move as his body derezzed in midair, his dying war cry echoing as the program vanished forever from the grid.

The Lead flung her arms out and laughed. There was nothing to stop them now. The users had been fools to send her back! Had they known the power she would wield, had they known how easy it would be for her…to…

A flash of light to her left caught her eye. A piece of rubble had lit up and moved. The Lead stared at it for a moment, befuddled. Then more pieces began to light up and shift. To reshape and…come together.

"What…?"

Her eyes grew wide. All around her and spreading into the distance, a ring of blue light began to grow at the far perimeter edges of the devastated city as the far-flung structures began to rebuild themselves.

"NO!" The Lead gripped the activation rod and rezzed the light jet to life. She raced upwards to the cruiser, barely avoiding being swallowed by a guard tower that had built up where she had just been standing. "DAMN YOU, LORA!"

"Write!" O'Bryan yelled. "Write like the wind!"

The four programmers sat glued to their keyboards in Lab 52, desperately working to rebuild the network that the Lead had devastated in her short time in the real world.

"This code is impossible!" Erika cried, furiously typing. "The errors are so vast…we'll never rebuild it in time!"

"We don't have a choice," Lora debugged code as fast as she could. "We have to fix it before the Lead gets to the Core."

Larry ripped into some damaged algorithms, parsing out the errors. "But she's back in! How could she get out? We have control of the laser, don't we?"

"She doesn't need the laser," Lora said through gritted teeth.

Erika shook out her sore wrist and then kept typing. "We're all living proof of that."

Larry shook his head. "You do realize this means they know more about our own technology than we do."

"That's because they are the technology," O'Bryan said.

"Focus!" Lora commanded. "This is life and death! Ours and our programs. Focus!"

The programmers fell silent as their fingers flew across the keyboards.