In the basement of Flynn's arcade, Sam, now dressed in civilian clothes, was waiting by the computer. A shape, made of cubes that turned smaller and smaller as their number increased, started materializing on the chair.
"Quorra!" Sam immediately called.
Clu, now completely materialized and still wearing his program outfit, leaped up and threw Kevin's disc, that sliced through Sam's neck like a hot blade through butter.
"Guess again." Clu replied to the detached head.
Approaching Sam's body, Clu lifted something from below. "And thanks for keeping my disc safe" he added. Then his attention was captured by the horizontal touch screen of the computer. He looked at the Unix command prompt that displayed the last activity: that was enough for him to understand how the system worked. He lifted Sam's decapitated body and severed head, put them in the chair, and activated the laser control program. They immediately dematerialized.
"This should give some more desperation to the old man." he chuckled. Then he decided to see the active processes and typed:

ps -a -x -y

A long list appeared. His gaze was attracted by one particular element. He typed:

kill 2207

and then checked the process list again. As he got the confirmation that his command was successful, again he chuckled to himself: "The first time a program terminates a user."
After getting rid of the creator who illogically turned on him, it was time to reach the outside world.

Clu left the basement and walked out of the arcade. The lights of the buildings, streets and cars in the night almost reminded him of the Grid, but everything was... different. Nothing had the smoothness that was so common in his world: all surfaces were irregular, with microscopic bumps and pits that looked almost like incredibly complex normal maps. "So inefficient" he thought. He closed his helmet and started walking along the sidewalk.

Further down the street, a biker parked his vehicle. Clu stopped in front of him.
"Who are you supposed to be? A Power Ranger?" asked the biker.
"Your lightcycle" said Clu. "Give it to me."
The biker dismounted. "Fuck you, freak!" he said, pushing Clu away. In response, Clu pushed him back, making him fall and hit his head.
The biker got up again and touched the back of his head. He was bleeding. He pulled a knife out of his pocket and flicked it open. "All right, asshole..." he said.
Completely unimpressed, Clu did not even attempt to move. The biker pushed him once more and stabbed him in the abdomen. Around the knife, a part of Clu's suit and body turned into small translucent cubes that fell on the pavement.
"What are you?" asked the biker, now scared.
"That is irrelevant" replided Clu. He unhooked his disc and decapitated the biker with a swift move. Finally, he jumped on the motorbike, started it and rode away.

Some time later, Clu was out of the city, so he steered into a quiet unpaved road and stopped the motorcycle. He activated his disc and started examining his own code: a section of his triple-helix DNA was damaged. He picked the damaged part and rearranged some of its bytes. Immediately, the missing tissue and material in his abdomen regenerated. And that's when the lights of the nearby country house switched on.

A man stepped out of the house with a flashlight in his hands, walking toward Clu.
"Hey! Who are you? What are you doing here?" asked the man.
"None of your business" was Clu's reply.
"I'm calling the cops." said the man, pulling out a cell phone.
Clu replied: "No. You're helplessly writhing in pain." and threw the disc toward the hand that was holding the phone. The hand was cut off without any resistance.

As the man was helplessly writhing in pain, Clu picked up the phone and examined it. "A device connected to an information network. Finally." he said. Then he turned the phone over: the brand was "ENCOM Phone". "ENCOM" he added. "That's where I need to go."
Clu activated the Internet browser on the phone and typed an address:

h t t p : / / w w w . e n . c o m

The touch screen of the cell phone displayed the main page of the ENCOM website, advertising the latest products. Clu touched the "Contact" link and reached a page that included a photograph of the senior staff. They were all wearing formal suits.
Clu looked at his program outfit. "But first, I need to look less conspicuous."
He abandoned the stolen motorcycle, and, with an effort of will, he deactivated the yellow lines on his outfit. Then he walked away.