AN: I'm a big fan of TRON and TRON: Legacy. It was only a matter of time before this happened.

The Infinity Castle

John and EOS are going to play a game...whether they want to or not.

The light from the scanner was bright, but John fought the impulse to raise his hand and shade his eyes. "Ow," he muttered under his breath, squinting.

"Almost done," EOS chirped. "Keep still. We want the scan to be precise."

John snorted. "Of course. Can't have a glitchy game avatar."

The blue light abruptly turned an angry red, and this time John couldn't help snatching his hand up to his face, precision be damned. The speakers gave a shriek of feedback, and EOS' camera arm flailed side to side, like a swimmer trying to shake off a leech.

"UGH! Get out!" she snarled. "No! No! You're not allowed in there!"

"EOS, what's going on?" The light seemed to be everywhere John turned, lancing like hot needles into his skull. He pressed both hands against his eyes and took a few stumbling steps forward in the direction of the scanner.

"I remember you," EOS babbled, "and you're not welcome! Get out!" Still she flailed, and the speakers shrilled and whined. Something snapped and buzzed, showering John with sparks. The station seemed to reverberate with her scream. "Leave! Me! Alone!"

"EOS!" Under the suit, his skin was on fire; he had to get to his helmet and to the emergency life support override. "What's happening?"

Her scream continued, even more incoherent as the seconds ticked by. "Get away from him! Leave him alone! John, run!"

There was nowhere he could go, but the desperation in her voice jolted him into motion. He knew his station well enough to know where the obstacles were, but something seemed to reach up and trip him, sending him flying headlong. He steeled himself for impact–

–and it did not come.

His eyes popped open of their own accord, but the light was gone. Panic seized him; had he been blinded? He blinked furiously, and a wave of relief washed over him as he realized he could see. A vast plain of squares marked in glowing lines of pure white light stretched out before him.

I'm flying, the thought dawned in his scrambled cortex. No, I'm falling.

The squares of the plain were gaining more detail now, textured with a rainbow of pinpoint lights, as if the stars had come to rest on the ground. All above him was pure black, but on the surface below him every hill and valley glimmered to life with waves of luminescence. A clutch of shapes that looked like a city came into view, buildings stacked atop each other like blocks and curved vehicles trailing swaths of light as they motored along wide smooth roads.

Gravity tugged at him, pulling him ever nearer to the ground. Wherever this was, the rules of normal physics still applied, which meant landing without a chute or a jetpack was going to hurt-if he survived.

John wondered what the inside of his brain would look like splattered on the gleaming surface below. Would it shimmer with a thousand colors as his electrical impulses flared and died away? Would he join that column of light soaring into the darkness in the distance?

So close now. The faces of his brothers flashed before him. He closed his eyes–

–and once again, impact did not come.

Well, it did, but from above instead of below. Something extraordinarily sharp and painful was poking him. His eyes flew open, and for a moment his jaw dropped in shock.

"Get up," snarled a voice from the figure looming over him. Limned in red, the figure was humanoid in appearance, though it wore bulky armor that made its shoulders and head into a threatening-looking wedge atop a strong torso and powerful legs. Its hands were covered in heavy gloves, and it was holding a long pole that gleamed with hot brilliance at one end. The figure–a soldier? A guard?–jabbed the pole at John, sending a blast of searing pain up John's thigh.

"Stop that if you want me to get up, asshat," John growled. "Where the hell am I?"

Two more of the red-lit wedges on legs sauntered over, their own poles gleaming with menace. "This program is out of line," one of them pronounced. "Think he escaped from the Games?"

"Probably," said the third. "Come on, you. On your feet. You better pray to the Users that we can get you back before The Sentinel notices."

John's eyes narrowed. "Who's this 'Sentinel'? And I'm not going anywhere until you tell me where I am!"

"You're on the Grid," the second soldier informed him smugly. "We're taking you back to the Games."

"Games?" John scrambled backwards, his eyes fastened on the three glowing rods. "I don't understand."

"Oh, you will, program," replied the soldier who had shocked him. "It's where the Sentinel sends useless bits like you to die."

An icy bolt of terror shot down John's spine. "EOS," John shouted. "EOS, end simulation!"

Everything remained as it was. The ice in his spine spread into his body, choking him with cold dread. "EOS," he whispered.

At John's words, all three of the guards went still. "Where did you learn that name?" demanded one.

It was getting very hard to think, but John dragged in a deep breath of whatever passed for oxygen here. "She's a sentient AI," he babbled. "I created her. She's…my friend. We were playing a game. She was scanning me…" His voice trailed off as his brain groped for a connection. Could he have digitized himself? Impossible, and yet-

The soldiers took a step backwards. "You're a User?" one of them asked, his voice hushed, but in horror or awe, John couldn't tell. "You created The Princess?"

One of the three wasn't buying it. "He's glitched. No one created Her." The capital letter was unmistakable.

"'Princess?'" John echoed. "Is that what you call EOS?"

To his astonishment, the soldiers touched the fingers of their right hands to their left shoulders, as if in some sort of salute. The gesture pinged with familiarity against John's brain; he'd made that gesture hundreds of times, tapping the iR logo on his baldric. "Yes," he breathed, the panic draining away as a few more pieces clicked into place. "Do you know E–er, the Princess? Where is she? Can you take me to her?"

One soldier pointed toward the column of lilac-hued light that soared into the black expanse. "There, in the Infinity Castle," the soldier intoned. "Beyond the Grid, across the Data Sea. The Sentinel holds her prisoner."

"You'd have to take a Solar Sailer to get there," added another. "Not that a mere program like you could ever get aboard one."

John frowned. "Why not?"

"The Sentinel controls the grid," said a third. "Programs go to the Games. If you survive, he assimilates you, adds your functions to his. Losers are derezzed on the spot." All three repeated the gesture toward their shoulders, warding off the 'evil eye' of their world.

John cast his gaze toward the tower of light. "I have to get to the castle," he muttered, more to himself than the other three. "Hopefully my princess isn't in a different one."