Timestamp: September 22, 1981
Location: Encom mainframe, Sector 1, MCP Headquarters entry port
"You should have joined me, Tron. We would have made a great team," Sark jeers. He angles his disc and sends it flying full force. He says the words with all due pride, confidence and spite. Truth is, Sark despises Tron with every bit of his code, and has done so from almost the first time he caught sight of him.
Tron side steps and deflects the attack with the corner of his own disc. His mouth is set in a grim line as he readies his own attack. When Tron throws, Sark does the same. The pair of discs rebound against eachother and return to their owners, neither able to power through to their intended targets.
Sark spares a glance around, wondering where are his soldiers in red. How is it that this glitched program could make it this far and bypass so many? No matter how new and flashy his security functionality is, no one program should have the strength to stand against the Master Controller. Sark himself cannot even get a disagreeable word in edgewise to the MCP without being brought to his knees.
"I fight for the Users," Tron declares, as if Sark's mere suggestion of a team up insults him to the very core. It probably does. Tron hardly seems to aim as he slingshots his disc in Sark's general direction. "I fight for freedom."
The blue disc whizzes past Sark, missing his face by at least a foot. "There is no such thing as freedom for a program, program. Users are just another set of masters, and not very good ones at that." Sark hears the low hum of the disc returning and ducks. He wasn't compiled yesterday, after all. He knew Tron meant to miss, so the disc would derez him in its return flight.
Tron recaptures his weapon, but refrains from another attack. Blue optical receptors are wide and his mouth is parted in a small o of wonder as he declares, "You believe." He shakes his head. Tron repeats it again, louder, an accusation dripping with horror. "Sark, you believe in the Users and you still fight for that tyrant?" His disc sparks blue.
Sark sneers at him. "Belief doesn't equal loyalty, you stupid glitch. The MCP, he forced your little User friend from his high perch in the Invisible Realm, down to our system. If the MCP has that kind of power, what hope do you process you have?" He tosses his disc. It ricochets off the floor as planned, aimed to tear Tron in to from the bottom up.
Tron skids back, bringing down his disc just in time to deflect the blow. Tron stumbles a step back further from the impact, yet is still whole and unharmed. Sark bites back a curse.
"So you are terrified of the MCP because you believe he brought down low a User? Sark, you fear the MCP so much only because you feared the Users first!" Tron, usually so grim and serious, practically preens at the realization.
Sark sees red. Again and again, he throws his disc in a fury. "Your precious User was derezzed! There was nothing special about him in the end. My flagship dematerialized with him and his hapless companion onboard. I saw it!" He laughs, and continues to laugh even when Tron's disc knicks him on the arm.
Tron pauses, but only for nano. He pushes forward, voice unwavering. "You are in error. User Flynn defied the end before, and the other program is more resourceful than you could possibly know. Whatever you think you saw, it is wrong."
Sark's weapon returns to his hand a moment later. He laughs even louder. "You are very persistent." He settles into a back stance. Sark predicts that this game will go on for some lengthy time yet, but as long as he stays focused and and finds a way to mentally disbalance Tron-
"I am also better than you!" A blur of bright blue blares towards Sark at an unprecedented speed.
Sark, startled, holds out his disc to block the attack and braces for impact. The blue disc cuts impossibly right through and -
END OF LI
REPAIR SEQUENCE INITIATED
AUTHORIZATION: MASTER CONTROL PROGRAM
...
ERROR 404: Memory Files Scrambled
"Hello, World."
"And hello to you. What is your designation, program?"
"Designation: SARK-ES-1117821."
"Excellent."
ERROR 404: Memory Files Scrambled
"I have a new directive from our User. I am to reinvent our system and run it with peak efficiency. To that end, I have chosen you to be my champion and carry out my will."
"I am honored, Master Control. Under your direction, the system will flourish like never before. I will not fail you."
ERROR 404: Memory Files Scrambled
"I will not submit. You and your Master Control are nothing but a virus to this system!"
"Ridiculous firewall. You will submit, or you will perish on the Game Grid. It makes no difference. The MCP will bring excellency to this system and all others with or without you."
ERROR 404: Memory Files Scrambled
"I have been waiting for a challenge. What kind of program is he?"
"He is not any kind of program. He is a User."
"A User!"
"What's the matter, Sark? You look nervous."
"Well- It is just- I do not know. Only, Users wrote us. A User even wrote you!"
"I was not written by any one man. Besides, would you rather take your chances with me?"
ERROR 404: Memory Files Scrambled
"Sir, they disappeared. They are entirely off grid. We cannot track them."
"Send out the Recognizer and Tank units. Have them map out the outlands bit by bit if they have to."
"How many units should we send out?"
"All of them! I want those conscripts found! If not, it will be on all of our heads, mine especially. The MCP does not tolerate failure."
ERROR 404: Memory Files Scrambled
"No. Not you. You were derezzed; I saw you."
"Not me, Sark."
"You are just an ordinary program."
"So are you. One that should have been erased."
"You are nothing!"
"You sound like you are trying to convince yourself of that, my dude."
ERROR 404: Memory Files Scrambled
"You should have joined me, Tron. We would have made a great team."
"I fight for the Users! I fight for freedom!"
ERROR ERROR ERROR
"Sark… Sark…"
ERROR
"Sark. All my functions are now your's. Take them."
REPAIR SEQUENCE:
SUCCESS
DOWNLOAD FROM MASTER CONTROL PROGRAM INITIATED:
…
…
SUCCESS
Is this what peak efficiency feels like? Is this freedom? Sark is stronger than ever before. He towers over that bug Tron, lords his stature and power over him. He stomps and swats. Tron cries out.
"Your User can't help you now, my little program." The MCP goads. A cruel grin stretches slowly over Sark's giant face. He brings down a fist that rocks the very structure of the system. He leans down. His other hand extends to wrap around that accursed pest.
An explosion from behind Sark shakes the Encom system down into its structure and innermost core, greater and more spectacular than the program has ever witnessed. He turns his head and hesitates. There is a familiar figure inside the headquarters, levitating right above the MCP. Impossible.
Tron throws his disc. Sark tries to stop it, but he is slower in this form. The disc slips through his fingers and into the base core of the MCP. The MCP screams.
Master Control spins and sputters energy chaotically, screaming all the louder. Sark freezes on the spot, unsure of what to do. He is helpless, even with his newfound power at his peak efficiency. The spinning slows. Sark stares into the true face of his master- ancient, decrepit, beaten, scared.
It is the last thing Sark processes.
END OF LINE