AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Sorry for the delay in updating. I'm hoping to get this finished within the next month. Thanks for reading!
Also not sure why some chapters upload funny. I'll have to make sure and check them.
CHAPTER 7
Xevra and her Black Guard rode into Tron City on borrowed Light Cycles from the station. The few Program's they met driving into the city averted their gaze, not wanting to draw the attention of one of CLU's fiercest soldiers. Xevra knew this would be a problem when it came time for her to gather information on the Games. Somehow she needed to find a way to blend in and not look too intimidating.
Just kill them instead.
Xevra started. What was that?
Missed me?
It had been so long since Xevra had heard the voice in her head, she had forgotten what it sounded like.
You've done so well. Don't stop now. You know what you need to do.
A sudden urge to torture Programs, make them follow her every command, washed over her. That's right. She knew what she needed to do. Xevra pulled up a map of Tron City and made her way to the warehouse district. An empty warehouse would make a good hideout while she gathered intel.
Xevra left the Black Guard stationed in the empty warehouse and went in search of the renowned End of Line Club. She'd heard rumours spread about the Club's never-ending party back in Bismuth and figured it was as good as any place to start her search. It was pretty easy to find the location of the Club; signs around Tron City advertised the music and dancing.
Xevra stood at the base of the tallest tower in the city, waiting in a line of Programs eager to experience the Club for themselves. A few naive looking Programs were turned away, presumably for being too young.
Soon it was Xevra's turn with the bouncer. He looked down at her. "ID?"
Xevra looked up from under her hood and gave a sly smirk, it no longer pained her as much to smile. "Do you really need to see that?"
The bouncer nodded. "I see, you're one of them. Alright, you can go inside."
Xevra stepped past him as he added, "Make sure not to cause any trouble."
Xevra smiled again, "Of course not." With those words she stepped onto the elevator that led up the End of Line Club. The doors closed and the elevator shot into the sky, racing up the side of the building. Xevra saw Tron City fall away at her feet, the Programs looked like Gridbugs she could squash beneath her feet.
And you will.
She shook her head, not the time to be hearing voices. The doors of the elevator slid silently open and her ears were met with a cacophony of sound; techno music blared from speakers around the room, hundreds of voices spoke at once, glasses clinked together. Xevra stepped into the Club with the other Programs and looked around. Where to start in this place?
She decided her best bet was the bar, a buzzed Program was more likely to be spouting random nonsense. Xevra sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. She looked around and spotted a group of Programs on the far side of the Club. They looked different than the other Programs, some had scars like hers. Xevra felt a sudden pang inside her chest, like someone had stabbed her in her core. She felt… Remorse? Sadness? She wasn't sure what it was.
Stay focused. The voice interjected Xevra's thoughts.
Right. It was probably just the drink. Xevra turned away from the group of Programs and looked at the one sitting next to her. She seemed pretty buzzed and was talking away to an uninterested Program on her right.
Xevra nudged her, causing her to loose focus on what she was saying. The other Program quickly got up and walked away before she could start up again.
"Hey, can't you see I was having a very intriguing conversation?" The buzzed Program said. Her eyelids drooped slightly and her voice sounded crackly.
"Oh my bad!" Xevra feigned an apologetic look. "I just get so excited thinking about the upcoming Games."
The Program looked at her quizzically. "The what?"
"You know, the big Games coming up." She leaned in close. "The one CLU's rumoured to be attending"
The Program's eyes lit up. "Oh yeah! I hope I'm able to make it." Her eyes closed and a smile spread across her face. "I would give anything to see CLU. He's so dreamy."
"Yeah… definitely." Xevra tried to keep the hostility out of her voice. "Listen, I''m new here. I've never been to the Games in Tron City before. I'm not really sure where I'm going. And I keep forgetting when it is. I feel so dumb!"
She shrugged and told Xevra when and where to go. "Welcome to Tron City by the way!" She added, raising her drink.
"Thanks." Xevra raised her drink as well. She tossed a few coins on the bar. "Have a drink on me."
"Gee thanks!" She scooped them up and waved down the bartender.
Xevra left on the elevator and made her way back to the warehouse district.
Rinzler had been searching around the Grid for the rogue Program on his way to Tron City. The closer he got to Tron City a feeling of dread began to creep up inside of him, it had to mean something.
Before heading into Tron City, Rinzler stopped at the Recognizer station. He landed his borrow Recognizer and stepped out when the cockpit lowered to the ground. Immediately, something felt off about the place.
The station operator was nowhere to be found. Security Programs patrolled the walls as usual, but their movements seemed wrong to Rinzler. They felt too stiff, robotic almost. Looking around he noticed that all the Programs seemed to be this way.
At that moment the door to the control tower slid open and the station operator walked onto the landing pad. He stopped a few feet from Rinzler and took out a data-pad.
"State your destination and place of origin." The station operator said blankly.
Rinzler stared suspiciously at him. He swore something was not right at this place. Looking closer Rinzler noticed the Program's eyes were yellow, not strange in itself except for the fact that there was a pulsing glow to his eyes. He'd never seen anything like that before. Rinzler looked at the other Programs nearby and noticed their eyes were identical to the station operator's.
What is going on here? Rinzler reached behind him to grab his Disc.
The station operator repeated his request, "State your destination and place of origin." He didn't seem to care that Rinzler was pulling his Disc out, readying it to derez him.
Rinzler looked around to make sure no one was looking their way before slicing his Disc through the station operator's neck. The station operator collapsed into voxel cubes and his Identity Disc fell to the ground with a clink. Rinzler bent down to pick up the Disc and stepped back on the Recognizer. He needed to have a look at the Program's code, something was very off in this place. Was there a virus going around?
Rinzler sat in the cockpit and held the Disc out flat in front of him and activated it. A holographic image of it's former owner should have popped up, but it was replaced by a yellow cloud of deformed code. Rinzler wasn't exactly sure what it was, but he knew it was bad. Someone was erasing Programs' code and replacing it with this, whatever this was. This had to be the work of the rogue Hacker Program; who else would be doing this?
Rinzler placed the Disc aside and went back to the landing pad. He knew the rogue Program had been here, had walked around and left a trace of itself. He knelt down and put his hand to the ground. He closed his eyes, searching the Grid interface to find a singular string of code. It wasn't hard to find, the code almost begged to be found. It was like a foreign entity to the Grid.
Footsteps shone on the Grid's surface all over the place; the rogue Program had been here for awhile. A singular trail of footsteps led to the gate of the station leading into Tron City and disappeared. He assumed the Program summoned a Light Cycle. Rinzler would pick up the trail once he got to the city.
This was it. The trail of footprints finally ended; inside an empty warehouse. Rinzler was on the roof of a neighbouring warehouse watching and waiting for any signs of life. Suddenly a Light Cycle came into view. The rider dismounted and stowed their baton away. Rinzler couldn't see them well, they wore a hooded cloak and it was dark in the alleys between the warehouses. The feeling of dread threatened to overwhelm him. he knew he had found his target, and they didn't even know he was there.