TRON: Unity

by SiriuslyEmily

When Sam refuses to check out the mysterious page, Alan decides to do some investigation of his own. In the basement of the arcade, Alan discovers the truth behind Flynn's secret project, and is forced into a struggle to save both his friend and himself from the dangers of the Grid. Legacy AU. On hiatus, but will be completed in the future.

7. Chapter 7

Another long chapter, after another long wait. Enjoy!

---

Lora's fingers tapped restlessly against her leg as Roy's car edged along the road that, according to the vague directions she had rescued from her text archives, lead to Sam's current address, such as it was. 'Empty lot on the river next to the train tracks, big shipping container, can't miss it' was, somehow, not specific enough for her phone to pinpoint on a map, but she was fairly certain they were in the right area. The distant whistle of a train confirmed her assumption, just audible beneath the soft music issuing from the radio. The lack of streetlights on the road, however, made it a mystery as to just how much farther they had to go. She splayed her hands flat in her lap, one resting on her phone, to quell the urge to start chewing on her nails.

"Sorry," Roy said with a glance in her direction. "I can speed up, I'm just trying to avoid getting us dumped into the river."

"I know. It's fine." They continued onward through the dark, the pavement turning to dirt. The trees on either side of the road cleared up slightly, and through Roy's window the lights of downtown were visible, still bright despite the late hour. She could just make out ENCOM Tower, its iconic sign cutting a vivid slice out of the darkness. A few windows were lit, and she wondered how many people were pulling late nights, or starting long days, as she had so often during her time with the company. She realized it was now about the same time of night as it had been when they'd broken into the ENCOM building to rescue Flynn's stolen files, all those years ago. She was just as nervous now as she had been then, but the thrill she always remembered when she thought about that night was absent. She swallowed hard to clear the sudden tightness in her throat, and looked away from the window.

"Are you SURE," she asked, for the third time that drive, "that the page had something to do with that side-channel attack of yours?"

"Not totally sure, but it's my best guess," Roy said patiently, also for the third time.

"That was days ago, though." Over a week, to be precise. Lora had quietly helped set up a few of the East Coast gatherings for the event, though she hadn't attended any personally—none of them had, for fear of being recognized—and gathered reports from various attendees on the ground. Sneaking around always made her feel on edge, but it was also, she had to admit, a little fun. "I thought we decided it was a bust."

"I know. But I looked back through the logs, and the strongest signal was definitely coming from somewhere nearby. We wrote it off as being from the server Alan took—I mean, it's still hooked up in my basement—but we were never able to get an exact location, remember? The signal fried pretty fast. Maybe Flynn had a workstation set up at the arcade, too. He was already keeping secrets, so it wouldn't really surprise me."

Lora agreed, but she didn't want to discuss Flynn's secretive behavior. Finding his private notes, and realizing there had been so much Flynn had never told any of them, had hurt more than she wanted to admit. "Did Alan talk about any of that with Sam?"

"No-o," Roy said, a little shamefaced. "Don't think so. We all agreed to keep Sam out of the less-than-legal bits, right? I mean, he doesn't even know we're on the forums. It'd be hard to call him up and be like, 'hey Sam, we're trying to contact your legally dead dad who you avoid talking about at all costs using an untested hacking method we aren't even sure will work, you in?'" He glanced over at Lora again. "The kid gets himself into trouble without our help, anyway. You know he was arrested tonight, right? For breaking into ENCOM tower and launching himself off the roof?"

"Alan did text me about that, yes." Lora glanced down at her phone automatically; there were no new messages. She hadn't really expected any. "I don't know if we did the right thing, keeping all of this from Sam." They had all agreed, a long time ago, that Sam was far too young to involve in anything related to the Flynn Lives movement, which had quickly involved much more covert efforts than any of them had anticipated. After everything that had happened with Flynn, protecting Sam from any connection to illegal activities was first priority. Sam had found the forums on his own, desperate for any information about his father and finding solace in others who believed in his return, but his posts had slowed along with the movement in the intervening years. The three had kept their screen-names, and every other connection, a secret. There was safety in anonymity, after all, and Roy was right: Sam got into enough trouble as it was.

"It's not like there was much to tell until recently," Roy said as the car slowed. The bridge was looming in the distance, and a structure was visible in the gloom just beyond it. "And if this goes south, we might end up having to tell him all about it tonight, so you won't have to feel bad about keeping things quiet much longer."

"You don't feel guilty about it?"

Roy kept his eyes on the road, but she could see him frown slightly. "A little," he said. "But it was for the best, right? He had enough to deal with on his own."

The glare from the car's headlights glinted off the metal walls of Sam's so-called apartment perched on the riverbank as they came to a stop. Lora still wasn't quite sure what had possessed Sam to borrow a shipping container and convert it into a living space, but it did at least seem like something a Flynn would do. She hadn't had a chance to visit him here yet; the last time she'd seen him was at Christmas a year and a half ago, and they'd only spoken a handful of times over the phone since. He at least made an effort to call back whenever she phoned him, which was something. She knew Alan wasn't usually so lucky, but then, she generally avoided talking to Sam about the company if she could. He seemed to appreciate that.

They peered up through the windshield at the DUMONT SHIPPING label on the side of the container. The name always made Lora smile—Flynn had been surprisingly adamant about naming the new shipping company after one of Gibbs's old programs, and Alan had been sure to follow through when the project fell into his hands.

Roy whistled softly at the sight. "Sam really lives here?"

"Yeah, for the last year or so."

"Wow. I mean, Alan told me about the company just 'losing' a shipping container," he said, making air-quotes with his fingers, "but I'm surprised the city lets him stay here."

"He bought the lot, so he can do whatever he wants with the property," Lora said. "And the container was apparently due to be scrapped anyway, so technically, it's recycling." Roy laughed at that, and Lora let herself smile back. Alan had done his best to sound exasperated when he told her about that, but Lora privately thought that he'd also sounded a little pleased. She wondered if Sam knew that Dumont Shipping had been the only project Alan had seen to its completion during his year as CEO. She hoped he did.

"Whatever works, I guess." Roy took the key out of the ignition and got out of the car. Lora followed suit, and they approached the apartment, the heels of Lora's shoes sinking a little in the dirt. They hesitated in front of the metal wall, glancing at each other.

"Doesn't look like the lights are on," Roy said. "Should we knock?"

"He didn't answer my calls, so we might as well," she said, and tapped sharply against the wall.

Her knocks reverberated dully through the metal. Almost immediately, a muffled bark sounded from inside the apartment. At least Marv had heard the knocks, even if Sam hadn't. The barking continued, high-pitched and insistent, and after a moment a dim light began to shine through the windows at the top of the wall. The barking stopped, but the light stayed on.

Lora glanced at Roy, who shrugged. Hoping she was loud enough to be heard through the wall, she called, "Sam? It's Lora."

There was another bark, and the light in the windows brightened slightly. With a great scraping noise, the wall in front of them starting to rise, folding into the ceiling of the container to reveal the interior of Sam's apartment. It was impressive, in its way—minimal but functional furniture, most of which looked re-purposed and built for durability, with a small dog-bed in the corner, on top of which Marv trembled in excitement, letting out a short yelp as he caught sight of the visitors. A significant amount of space was dedicated to a little workshop full of automotive parts and tools in one corner of the apartment. Lora realized with a jolt that the dusty motorcycle resting on the platform of the workshop was Flynn's much-cherished Ducati, half-restored. Another, much newer bike was parked directly in front of them, leaning on its stand in front of a low couch.

Sam was sitting on the arm of the couch, still in jeans but looking sleepily disheveled. He opened his mouth to speak, or maybe just to yawn, but Lora cut him off, striding inside.

"We need to talk," she said.

Sam looked at her blearily. "Good morning to you too, Aunt Lora." He waved a hand in greeting at Roy, who was still staring around the apartment and looking fairly impressed. "Is this a normal hour for you, Uncle Ram, or did you finally fix your sleep schedule?"

"Still pretty nocturnal, actually," Roy said, waving back. "Nice place, by the way." Behind him, Marv let out another little bark, and Roy bent down to scratch the dog behind the ears.

"We don't have time to joke around, boys," Lora said. She stifled a yawn of her own, and leveled a look at Sam. She wanted to get straight to the point—she couldn't help but feel they had a long night ahead of them. "Have you heard from Alan?"

"Alan?" Sam rubbed a hand over his face, yawning. "Yeah, like, three hours ago. He stopped by after I got out of lock-up. If this is about that page he got, by the way, I'm not interested," he said, with a slight edge to his voice.

"It's not," Lora said.

"Well," Roy said, standing back up, "kind of."

"Not interested," Sam repeated flatly. "What I am interested in is going back to sleep. I've had a long night." He yawned again. "You guys look like you have too."

"Sam, trust me, I would love to be asleep right now," Lora said. She tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible, but it was difficult—Sam could be just as flippant as his father. "But we need to ask you a few questions. We know Alan was here a few hours ago, but you haven't heard from him since then, have you?"

Sam sighed, but reached behind him for his phone. "No, don't think so," he said, tapping the screen. "I just have a couple calls and messages from you two." He scrolled through the notifications for a moment. "Okay, a lot of messages."

"I've been calling you since I landed," Lora said. "We can't find Alan."

"You can't find him?" Sam asked, lowering his phone. "You mean he's not at home?"

"No, he's not. I don't think he's been home since he left for work this morning."

Sam stared at her blankly. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, Sam," Lora said. "The cat was still waiting outside for him when I got there, and I didn't make it to the house until about half an hour ago."

"We know he went to the arcade after he left you," Roy added. "He called me on the drive over, but hung up once he got there. And he sent Lora a photo of the game floor. That's the last either of us heard from him."

"Did you call him?"

"Of course we did," Lora said. "I've been trying to get in touch with him since my flight got in, but he hasn't responded at all. No messages, no calls, nothing. You can try yourself if you want to."

Sam narrowed his sleep-heavy eyes at her, but started dialing anyway. Lora watched, arms crossed, part of her hoping maybe Alan would pick up, and they could all just go home and stop worrying. She glanced at Roy, and from the look on his face, and the way his hands were shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, she could tell he was thinking the same thing. Sam rubbed at his eyes, stifling another yawn, as he held the phone to his ear. After a long moment, he lowered the phone, frowning at it tiredly.

"Nothing?" Roy asked.

"Nothing," Sam said, still staring at his phone in quiet disbelief.

Lora sighed, hands clutching at her elbows a little tighter, and stepped closer. "You know he always answers his phone, Sam. Especially if it's one of us." Especially if it's you, she added silently.

"…Yeah, he does." Sam looked between them, expression neutral, but one of his hands was balling into the hem of his shirt. "Maybe he just got upset he didn't find anything," he said. "He could be out driving around, blowing off steam. It's what I'd do." He looked away. "I don't know what he was expecting. That pager's what, twenty years old? Maybe older? That alert he got was probably just a fluke."

"Maybe not," Roy said. The other two looked at him, and he hesitated, glancing at Lora, before continuing. "Alan had a good reason to go check out the arcade, Sam. We don't think it was an accident."

"What do you mean?"

"We can explain more later," Lora cut in. "We need to get going."

"Oh, no. Come on," Sam said, in a way that reminded Lora all at once of Alan. "Aunt Lora, I'm not an idiot. You both know more than you're saying. What's going on?"

Roy shared a look with Lora before answering. "Well, we've been...looking into a few things lately," he said carefully. "About your dad." Sam's expression darkened, but Roy plowed on, "There's been some, uh, weird signals coming from the arcade in the last week or so. We didn't really think anything of it until Alan got the page last night."

Sam frowned. "What kind of weird signals?"

"Well, uh, that's a little complicated. You know the Flynn Lives movement?"

"Yeah, we all do. I know you guys have looked at their forums before."

"Well, uh," Roy said, "see, we've been…" He made a frustrated noise, running a hand through his hair, and asked Lora, "Can I just say it? I'm too tired to put it delicately, and we're wasting time."

Lora hesitated, not looking forward to the potential blow-back from Sam, but Roy was right—they needed to get moving. "Go ahead."

"Great," Roy said, then turned to Sam. "Look-I'm ZackAttack."

Sam stared at him. "You're ZackAttack." Roy nodded, and Sam broke into a disbelieving grin. "Like, THE ZackAttack? The guy who runs the whole movement from behind ten different IP redirects?"

"It's only six redirects. And yeah. That's me."

"No way."

"Way. Sorry. We didn't think it was a good idea to drag you into it with us."

"Us?" Sam turned to Lora, still grinning. "What, are you ISOlatedThinker, or something?"

"No, I'm the forum administrator. I don't post much," Lora said. "ISOlatedThinker is Alan."

"What?" Sam looked back and forth between them, the grin sliding off his face. "You're joking."

"We're not," Roy said.

"We're really not," Lora said.

Sam's eyes were narrowed again, and Lora knew he was piecing things together. "But—I joined that forum when I was like, nine! I told Alan about it!"

"Yeah, you did," Roy said. "We all knew you were on there. Broke my heart to see you posting all the time." He shrugged, a tired smile tugging at his lips. "Felt even worse when you stopped."

"I—of course I stopped, what was the point—" Sam stopped himself, a flash of guilt crossing his face. He fell silent, staring at the phone resting in his lap. A train rumbled by, the clanking of its wheels echoing down to the river below; it had passed by almost completely before Sam spoke again.

"You know," he said, "I always wondered if Alan spent more time on that forum than he said he did. They were the only ones still looking for Dad, after all this time. Perfect place for him. But I gotta say, I didn't expect him to be hiding a bombshell like this. You two, either. Did you guys ever even think maybe all of this was something I should know about?"

"Sam, when we started looking for your dad, you were still only a kid," Lora said tiredly. "Some of the things we were doing—some of the things we're STILL doing—are dangerous. It wasn't safe to tell you about any of it, not if it meant you might get into trouble. You had enough to deal with on your own."

Sam laughed again, humorlessly. "I think I know a little about danger, Aunt Lora. And I haven't been a kid for a long time."

"We know," Roy said quickly, "but Sam, there wasn't really much to tell you by the time you got out of school. Things have only just started moving again."

"Moving?" Sam repeated. "You mean Alan's page?"

"Well, something like that. See, we found a few of your dad's old files, and there was this particular hacking technique he wrote about that—" Roy was speaking quickly, and Lora knew he was intending to explain everything then and there, but she cut him off. This was taking too LONG.

"We can explain all of it on the way to the arcade," she said. "We'll tell you everything, but we need to get going now."

"The arcade?" Sam asked. "You think Alan's still there?"

"Maybe," she said. "It's the last place we know he was at for sure. It's the best place to start." She refrained from adding that it was the last place Flynn had been heading for, too, though from the look on Sam's face, he had made the connection on his own.

"Come on," Sam said, his casualness forced, "you guys are making too big a deal out of this. Alright, so you guys have been in on the whole Flynn Lives thing for…forever, I guess. Great, whatever. But Alan's only been out for what, a couple hours? Maybe his phone died, maybe he's just-"

"Sam, listen." Lora's voice was still quiet, but so fiercely insistent that he stopped and stared at her openly. "There is no way Alan would have left that arcade without letting me know he was on his way home. He always tells me when he gets home for the night, especially when I'm flying in. He knew exactly what time my plane was landing because he keeps track of every flight."

"And even without all that stuff with the pager, we all know what he's like about answering the phone," Roy said quietly. "Especially with us. You said it yourself, Sam."

Sam didn't answer. He wasn't looking at either of them anymore, wearing a stony expression that reminded Lora far more of his mother than his father, and she silently wished he'd inherited some less stubborn genes. "Sam, look at me," she said.

He raised his head to look at her. His eyes were watching her with far more worry than the rest of his face betrayed, and all at once she felt as if they were twenty years in the past, the same troubled eyes staring up at her from a face that was far too young. Lora didn't look away.

"I'm scared, Sam," she said. "This isn't like him. I know you're upset with us, and I don't blame you, but I need you to trust me when I say that right now we're telling you the truth."

"We'll explain everything on the way to the arcade," Roy added quietly. "You don't have to come with us. But if you wanted to, there's room in the car."

Sam didn't answer, only looked at them both in silence. Lora sighed, and looked to Roy, nodding in the direction of his car. He nodded back, and with a last glance at Sam, turned to leave the apartment, digging his keys out of his pocket. Lora followed, the whistle of yet another train muffling her footsteps.

The whistle was not quite loud enough to mask the sound of Sam's voice. "Hey—"

Roy looked back over his shoulder, and Lora turned on her heel, wondering if she had imagined it—but Sam was on his feet at last, grabbing his jacket from a nearby chair. He shoved his sockless feet into a pair of boots, quickly doing up the laces, and when he looked at both of them, his eyes were bright, all traces of tiredness gone.

"I'll go," Sam said, "on one condition." He held his hand out to Roy, palm up. "I'm driving. You both look like you haven't slept in a week. I like living on the edge, but I think we should probably play it safe tonight."

"Deal," Roy said instantly, and tossed him his keys. "There's coffee in the car."

"Badass," Sam said. He reached down to pat Marv as he passed him by. "Watch after the place, buddy, I'll be back." The dog yipped at him once, and with a quick smile, Sam straightened up and exited his apartment, slamming a button on the wall as he passed by. The folding door began to lower once more, and Sam lead the way to the car, twirling the keychain on his finger. Lora and Roy shared a momentary look of relief before following, all three leaving the apartment behind them.

---

Alan stumbled over the threshold of the corner apartment as he was shoved unceremoniously across it, the heel of his boot catching on the frame in a meager attempt at resistance. He was pushed along anyway, Bartik ignoring or perhaps not even noticing his efforts, and then they were inside. Just ahead of them, Hopper had already steered Quorra further into the room, maintaining a firm grip on her shoulder. The front door slid shut, and they were left in darkness for a moment before small square lights on the ceiling flared up, revealing the apartment's interior. The main room was sparse, almost depressingly so, save for a few small pieces of furniture—a shelf built into the far wall; a table, on top of which was what looked like a box covered in small, square buttons; and a few chairs arranged around the table. There were no windows, the bare walls pressing inward on them all, and the only other door stood in the corner, slightly ajar. Near the door, a panel was mounted on the wall, its four sections gently glowing. As Alan pulled his hood back, trying to get his bearings, the door swung open and Paige leaned out of it, the lights on the ceiling glinting off of her white suit.

"I need to finish a data packet for the boss," she said. "Don't let them leave." She glanced at Alan, and then at Quorra, and narrowed her eyes for a moment before going to pull the door closed once more.

"Hey—" Hopper started, but too late; she shut the door without another word. He huffed, looking at Quorra. "You two know each other? She seems pretty mad."

"Not much more than usual," Bartik muttered, and to Alan's surprise, released his grip on Alan's arm. He stepped away, but gave Alan a warning look as he did so, as if to say that trying anything would end very badly. Alan glared back, rubbing at his arm, but stayed put. As uncertain as he was about the whole situation, he wasn't stupid enough to go looking for a fight he probably wouldn't win.

Hopper was still watching Quorra, who was staring at the floor silently. "Hello?" he said. "Anyone in there?" When Quorra didn't answer, head bowed, he shook his head. "Fine, whatever." He turned her around, reaching for her disc, and muttered, "I can just find out from this. I was gonna confiscate it anyway."

Quorra didn't struggle as he undocked the disc from its port, nor did she move when he bent down to retrieve the baton from its place on her boot. Alan watched in growing alarm as he realized she wasn't going to resist at all. Was she so thrown by running into someone she apparently knew? Or was she scared of these two programs who had injured her just a few hours before? If Quorra was scared, Alan was pretty sure he should be terrified.

Hopper straightened up, hefting the baton and disc in one hand. "Yours too, User," he said, with a gesture at Alan. Alan took a step back, but Bartik was still standing nearby. The program cleared his throat and gave Alan another warning look. Alan looked from him to Quorra, who did not lift her head, and realized he didn't have much of a choice. Begrudgingly, he reached over his shoulder and unhooked his disc, then held it out to Hopper.

Just as Hopper's fingers brushed the edge of Alan's disc, Quorra moved without warning—she lifted her head, eyes flashing, and drove her elbow into Hopper's abdomen. Alan pulled his disc back in alarm as Hopper doubled over, wheezing. Quorra grabbed at the collar of his suit and dropped to one knee, dragging him down. She let the momentum carry him over her shoulder, and Hopper went tumbling forward, the disc and baton flying out of his hand as he crashed into one of the chairs.

Quorra made a dive for them; as she did so, Bartik took a step forward, already reaching over his shoulder, but Alan swung an arm out instinctively. He stopped himself just in time, his disc halting at the base of Bartik's throat. Bartik glanced down at the disc, then met Alan's eyes, looking skeptical. Alan glared, and his disc thrummed to life, the edge illuminating as he adjusted his grip. Bartik raised his eyebrows, and then to Alan's surprise, he slowly lowered his hand back to his side, giving Alan a look of quiet approval. Alan only continued to glare. He didn't plan on actually using the disc, but Bartik didn't need to know that.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alan could just make out Quorra springing to her feet, her baton in hand and her disc cradled safely against her chest. A few feet away, Hopper rolled to his knees dazedly amidst the remains of the half-destroyed chair, reaching for his own disc. Quorra extended her arm, and a long glowing blade sprouted from one end of her baton. The blade swung upward and Hopper froze, one hand in midair. The reflection of the sword's blazing edge burned in the rebel program's eyes as it hovered inches from his face.

"Hey," Hopper said shakily, his eyes flickering from the blade to Quorra, "take it easy."

"Stay down," Quorra said, blade still pointed at his throat. Hopper stared at her uneasily, and then snuck a look at Bartik, who gave him a short nod. Hopper grimaced, but held up his hands in surrender, still eyeing Quorra's blade cautiously.

Bartik spoke up, directing his question at Quorra. "You really think this is necessary?"

"Take our discs, and we'll find out," Quorra said. She spared a moment's glance over at Alan, and edged over to him, her blade still trained on Hopper. Alan reached out his free hand and placed it on her shoulder, unsure if the gesture was for her sake or his own. Her eyes flickered to him again, no longer than a fraction of a second, and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Alan said, sounding more relaxed than he felt. "You?"

"Better now." Her disc was still held protectively to her chest, unarmed, but she didn't lower her sword. "No matter what happens, don't let anyone take your disc from you."

"I won't," Alan replied. He remembered what Flynn had said about someone being able to locate the Safehouse through his disc, and gripped it even tighter.

Bartik didn't seem interested in trying to snatch it, however. He just sighed through his nose, and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. On the floor, Hopper made a frustrated noise. Alan felt Quorra's shoulder tense beneath his hand, but Hopper just settled more comfortably on his knees, looking up at them with a sort of annoyed resignation.

"Look," he said, "the whole disc thing is just a precaution. If we wanted to hurt you, we would've done it by now."

"Oh really?" Alan scoffed. "Last time she ran into you two, she nearly lost her arm!"

"Oh." Hopper considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "Sorry," he said to Quorra. "That was an accident. I was aiming for your grapple line, but you moved faster than I thought. And it looks like you got it fixed up, so no harm done, right?"

Alan let out disbelieving laugh, about to ask how much Hopper would like it if they just started chipping away at HIS arm, but the door in the corner swung open. Paige stepped out, about to speak, but she stopped as she surveyed the scene. She passed her gaze over each of them, ending on Hopper still sitting on the floor next to the remains of the chair he had destroyed, and looked thoroughly unimpressed.

"Put your discs down," she said flatly. "And stop destroying my apartment."

Alan and Quorra exchanged a look, but didn't move. "What do you want with us?" Quorra asked.

Paige looked at her sharply. "I don't want anything from YOU," she said. "I'm only interested in him." Despite her words, she glared at Quorra a few seconds longer before turning her gaze to Alan. "I was asked to find you at any cost, User, and I'm not—"

She stopped, eyes narrowed again, and stared at him. It took Alan a moment to realize she was looking at the bruise that was no doubt still spread across his temple. "Are you injured?" she asked.

"Oh," Alan said, bemused. "I—it's nothing—"

Before he could say another word, Paige rounded on Bartik, looking from him to Hopper with deep displeasure. "What did you two do? You weren't supposed to hurt him."

"That wasn't us!" Hopper protested. "We found him like that. He probably got it when Clu was throwing him around on the lightcycle grid."

Paige looked suspicious of his answer, but turned away from him, facing Alan again. "Do you need medical attention?"

"Uh," Alan said, still bewildered, "I don't think so."

"Good." She crossed the room, stepping around Hopper without a second glance, and dragged the two chairs from their place in one corner to the center of the room, side by side. She pointed to the two chairs and said, "Then sit down."

Alan glanced at Quorra, who seemed just as uncertain as he was. After a long moment, the blade of her baton receded, and she lowered her disc, though she did not put either away. Alan lowered his disc too, reluctantly, and shot her a questioning look. She answered with a twitch of her shoulders, as if saying his guess was as good as hers. Alan supposed it would be easier to just go along with the situation for now, though he was far from happy about it. At least it seemed like they weren't looking for a fight.

The two settled down on the chairs, both keeping their discs in their laps. Paige raised an eyebrow, and Quorra hesitated for a moment before lifting her disc and docking it, though she kept her baton in her lap. Alan did the same, docking his disc behind his back. Paige nodded, and Alan folded his hands in his lap tightly to hide his nerves. Maybe they weren't out to hurt them, but just who the hell were these people?

Bartik crossed the room and helped Hopper to his feet. They both took up a place against the wall, Bartik looking unworried, Hopper still a little peeved. Paige spared them a moment's glance, then touched one of the sections of the panel set into the wall near the corner door. For a moment, nothing happened, and then the wall itself pulsed, and began to change. Translucent glass spread across the whole of it, and Alan quickly realized it was a screen—an interface made up of a few small windows rezzed into existence. Paige took her hand off the panel and started tapping away at the screen.

Alan tried to make sense of the interface, but Paige moved through the windows too fast for him to read, and trying made his head twinge. He looked instead at Quorra. She was watching Paige intently, a small frown on her face.

"You know her?" Alan murmured. He tried to keep his voice low, but saw Hopper perk up slightly in the corner of his vision.

Quorra's eyes flickered to Alan, and she nodded. "A little," she whispered.

"That was a long time ago." Paige was facing them again, apparently done with whatever she had been doing with the screen; a small red square in the bottom corner of it was blinking dimly. She watched Quorra with an unreadable expression. "But we aren't here to relive the past." She looked back to Alan, and just stared at him for a long moment before asking, "Why are you here, User?"

Alan leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and did not answer. If she wanted information, she was going to have to try harder than that.

Paige gave him a calculating look, and took a step closer. "I'll be more specific," she said. "Why did you come back to the city?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Alan saw Quorra look up at him, but he continued to scowl at Paige, slowly gritting his teeth. They were the ones who had dragged them up here off the street. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of playing the cooperative prisoner.

"We know you were in the Outlands," Paige said, still watching intently. "You were safe there. Clu's forces wouldn't have found you easily, and neither would we. Why would you come back here?"

Alan looked at her over his glasses, and still said nothing. Paige shook her head, her hair falling in front of her face.

"I'm not going to play this game with you, User," she said. "I need you to answer my questions."

For a second, Alan considered keeping up with the silent treatment, letting her badger him with questions until she was blue in the face, but he was uncomfortable, scared, and no small measure of irritated. "Why should I?" he asked. "You're the ones who dragged us up here. I'm not telling you a damn thing until you answer some of my questions."

Hopper laughed, looking incredulous, but Paige shot him a dark look, and he quickly shut up. Bartik was watching Alan closely, another strange look of approval on his face. Paige fixed her glare on Quorra instead.

"How about you?" she asked, her voice suddenly cold. "Do you have anything to say to me?"

Quorra flinched at being addressed, but did not answer, matching Paige's stare with a resolute one of her own.

"Didn't think so," Paige said icily. To Alan, she said, "The programs I work with are very interested in you, User. We need to know what you're intending to do."

"Why?" Alan asked. "What does it matter to you?"

"It matters because ever since you got here, things have been getting worse and worse for every single program on the Grid. I know you've met Clu. You saw how he runs the Games. Security has been increased ever since that portal closed, and now programs can barely leave their homes without being snatched up and interrogated, or thrown into the arena."

"But…" Quorra spoke up, looking confused. "We didn't run into any trouble on our way here."

"Thanks to us," Bartik said. "We received word that a program of your description had been spotted entering the city again. So my faction got to work. When we figured out which direction you were heading, they started leading blackguards away or eliminating them, while Hopper and I kept an eye on you."

"You were herding us?" Alan asked.

"You got it," Hopper said. "You two were trying too hard to look normal, User. Made it easy to push you towards certain areas."

Alan's jaw was starting to hurt. "So you manipulated us into coming this way. Great. Doesn't really endear me to you."

"I'm not here to endear myself to you, User," Paige said. "I'm here to get information."

"I have a name," Alan said, as Quorra spoke simultaneously.

"If you want us to cooperate, we need a reason to trust you," she said.

"I think the fact that we haven't tried to derezz you yet should be reason enough." Paige narrowed her eyes. "And I don't think you, of all programs, should be preaching about trust."

Quorra's eyes widened, and she looked away, her fingers tightening around the baton still in her lap. The hurt in her face only made Alan angrier.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked fiercely.

Paige pushed her hair out of her face as she looked back at Alan. "It means that you should think twice about trusting her to tell you the truth, User."

"I trust her a hell of a lot more than I trust you," Alan said, gripping the arm of the chair tightly.

"That's your mistake."

Alan opened his mouth to argue, but a sudden ringing noise interrupted him, emanating from the screen set against the wall. The red square in the bottom corner was now a light blue, blinking gently as the ding repeated itself. Paige looked over her shoulder at it, and then crossed the room and tapped the square, saying, "Fine. If you won't tell me, you can tell my boss."

Alan's anger flared again, half-ready to tell her exactly what her boss could go do, but then a new square lit up in the center of the screen, filling the majority of the wall with a blurred image. Alan recoiled a little—the change in light made his head twinge—as the image brightened slightly, and garbled audio issued from the screen.

"—hear me? Paige?" said a distorted voice. Parts of the screen cleared somewhat, and Alan realized he was looking at a person, their circuit patterns currently the clearest thing about them. A fuzzy triangle glowed just beneath their collar.

Paige slid a hand across the screen, and tapped it twice. "Repeat that," she said.

"—blocking communications," the program said. "I might not be able to speak long. Ra—"

The voice cut off, still distorted, but the image was solidifying. Alan could just make out blonde hair that reached down to just above the program's shoulders. Paige tapped a few more buttons; the image went black, and then came back all at once. Alan winced at the sudden light, and then he registered just who it was he was looking at, and his mouth dropped open in outright shock. The face, the hair, even the posture of the program on the screen was as unmistakable to him as his own reflection. She was not looking directly at the screen, but watching something off to her right as she spoke.

"…has left Palladium," she said, the audio much clearer now, in a voice that made Alan homesick. "We're not sure why yet, but most of the fleet stayed behind. I think—"

She broke off as she looked back at them, her expression transforming from a tired seriousness to shock as she met Alan's eyes. They both stared at each other, wearing nearly identical expressions of astonishment. Alan found his voice first, a name slipping out automatically.

"Lora?"

He knew as soon as he said the name that he was wrong, that this obviously wasn't Lora—she was too young, her hair too short, her eyes too tired, to be Lora. Before he could correct himself, the woman took a short breath and straightened up, the shock replaced by soft fondness.

"No," she said. "I'm not Lora-Prime. But she was my User, a long time ago." She paused, and gave him a small, achingly familiar smile. "Greetings, Alan-One. My name is Yori. It's an honor to finally meet you."

Alan couldn't help but continue to stare. "Uh," he said, "right. It's—It's nice to meet you too, I…" He trailed off, at a loss. Flynn had been so reticent about his program friends once his story was finished that Alan had quietly figured they'd all shared Tron's fate. Perhaps that was only what Flynn had assumed, after staying in hiding for so long. It was a relief to know he had been wrong.

He must have been silent for too long, because Yori frowned in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Oh. Yes, I—I'm fine. I'm sorry, I know you aren't Lora." He was still having trouble stringing coherent words together. "Sorry," he said again. "This is…very surreal."

"It's all right," she said. "I know the resemblance is strong."

"It is," he said. "You look just like she did when I first met her. But even more than that—I was told about you, obviously, but—well, I thought you were…"

"Dead?" She smiled as she said it, but there was a hint of fierceness in her eyes. "Don't worry. I'm very much alive." She paused again, and she seemed to just be taking in the sight of him. "I'm glad I can say the same for you, Alan-One. We've been searching for you for a while now."

"You have?"

"Of course. After we heard about your arrival to the Grid, we got to work looking for you immediately."

"Who's we?"

"Who do you think?" Bartik said from his place against the wall.

"We've been looking all over for you, User," Hopper added. "That's why we went after her." He gestured at Quorra, who frowned. He shrugged. "What? We really did just want to talk to you. We figured you'd know where he was."

"I asked Hopper and Bartik to watch out for any sign of you, and get us in contact with each other if at all possible," Yori said. "I asked Paige to search for you, too." She finally look away from Alan to the rest of the occupants of the room. "Paige, if you had been more specific with your message, I would've gotten back to you sooner."

"I didn't want to risk it being intercepted," Paige said. "We aren't the only ones looking for him."

"That's true," Yori said with a nod. "Thank you. Bartik, Hopper, it's good to see you both. Paige informed me about your incident on one of the Solar Sailers a few millicycles ago. I hope you've visited a medic about your eye, Bartik."

"Leda took a look at it. My vision is mostly unaffected. It's fine," Bartik said. Unlike the way he had spoken to Alan and Quorra, or even to Paige, his tone was one of utmost respect.

"I'll watch his back, boss," Hopper added.

"I'm sure you will." She gave them a smile as well, and then she looked at Quorra. "I don't believe we've met, but I think it's safe to assume you're the program who rescued Alan-One in the lightcyle arena?"

"Oh—yes," Quorra said, who had been watching Yori looking almost starstruck. "I'm Quorra."

"That was very brave, Quorra. I'm glad you were there to assist him," Yori said. "There's no telling what Clu might have done to him if you hadn't intervened." She was still smiling. If Alan hadn't known her face almost as well as his own, he would have missed the momentary hesitance that passed across it before she met his eyes once more. "Which is why I'm very surprised to see either of you back in the city. Security has increased substantially since your arrival on the Grid, Alan-One. It's unsafe for you to be so close to Clu's sentries." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "But I'm sure you know that."

"I do," Alan said. "Trust me, I wouldn't have come back here if it wasn't necessary."

"And why is it necessary?"

"I—well…." Alan caught himself, suddenly uncertain. Part of him was completely ready to trust Yori—and whether that was because of her similarities to Lora or the general aura of calm sincerity she gave off, or maybe a mix of both, he wasn't entirely certain—but the rational part of him couldn't help but remember that he didn't know her, not really. He didn't think any program of Lora's could be untrustworthy, but he wouldn't have guessed it of any program of Flynn's either.

Yori nodded in understanding. "I know we've only just met, Alan-One," she said. "And I know your experiences on the Grid haven't been very pleasant so far. I'm sure you're suspicious of our motives." She paused, and Alan recognized the expression on her face as the same one Lora always had when she was trying to figure out a particularly tricky problem. "Let me ask you this: you already knew that Clu had left the city, didn't you?"

"Yes, we did."

"Do you know why?"

"Well," Alan said uneasily, not quite willing to tell all of these programs about Flynn's disc just yet. "To look for us, I guess."

"Yes, exactly," Yori said. "But…Alan-One, I need you to understand the extent of what Clu's doing in order to find you. A short while ago, he and his fleet arrived in the settlement of Palladium, where I'm currently located. It's one of the closest settlements to the main city, so he decided to start his search there. The result has been…" She hesitated, and then lifted her hand, touching a few places on her own screen. "It might be easier if I just show you."

Yori's faded from view, and after a moment was replaced by another: it was a video, an aerial view of a city square. Yori's voice continued, "This is from about half a millicycle ago." The streets were filled with people, red-circuited sentries marching unyieldingly through a crowd of civilian programs. A handful of programs, their blue light-lines flashing as they ran, attempted to escape into an alleyway, but were pursued and struck down quickly, derezzed on the spot. The remaining civilians were loaded into waiting Recognizers, squads of heavily armored Blackguards and sentries overlooking it all from crimson-lined tanks.

Yori spoke again. "This one is current." The video blinked, and there was another aerial view, this one much higher; a few skyscrapers were visible through the grey clouds, a small city ranged out below them, but some of the lower buildings and the bases of the taller ones were lost in a bluish haze. It took Alan a moment to realize the haze was being caused by the heat of blazing fire. Sections of the city were aflame, red and blue sparks rising into the air and dissipating. There were more scarlet specks floating up from the city, and these didn't dissipate as they rose—an entire squad of Recognizers climbed into the sky, heading away from Palladium as the city burned.

Paige stood with her arms crossed tightly, face turned towards the screen, but her hair hid her expression from view. Hopper and Bartik, still standing at the wall, were watching the devastation with increasing discomfort. After a moment, Hopper bowed his head, staring at his boots. Bartik continued to watch grimly, the red glare of the Recognizer circuits glinting in his silver eye. Quorra, in her seat beside Alan, stared with wide eyes, her fingers clutching her baton so tightly it was a wonder it didn't snap in her hands. Alan watched the whole thing in disbelief, mouth agape. He had known, from everything Flynn and Quorra had told him, that Clu's rule of the Grid was violent and cruel, but seeing it first-hand was something else entirely.

The video faded to black once more. Yori's window filled the screen, her expression solemn.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know that might have been difficult to watch."

"I don't…." Alan breathed, at a loss. "I don't understand. Why would he—why would he just…"

"Burn a whole city to the ground?" Hopper suggested bitterly. "Good question, User."

"He's done it before," Quorra said. She faltered slightly as everyone turned to look at her, but she spoke again, voice low. "The same thing happened during the Purge."

"She's right." Paige was no longer glaring, or even frowning. She was watching Quorra again, but her face was almost empty. It reminded Alan of the blank expression that was starting to become so familiar on Flynn's face. "During the war, ISO settlements were leveled, and any sector even rumored to have held an ISO was destroyed."

"Clu did the same to our home sector," Bartik said. "Rebellion was starting to spread, and he put an end to it. We had to run. We lost a lot of programs that cycle."

"When the Grid isn't operating the way Clu wants it to, he destroys the parts that don't satisfy him and replaces them until they do," Paige said. "This is what I meant when I said things had been getting worse since you got here, User. Clu will keep doing things like this until he finds what he's looking for."

Alan took his glasses off and passed a hand over his face. Knowing that he was partially to blame, however unintentionally, for the turmoil they had just watched made him feel sick to his stomach. "I didn't ask for this to happen."

"We know you didn't," Yori said quietly. "But it is happening. The majority of the fleet is moving on, towards other settlements. Palladium is only the start."

Alan took a deep breath, replaced his glasses on his face, and looked up at her, hands clasping tightly together in his lap. If anyone was going to listen to him, he hoped it was her. "That's exactly why you need to let us go. What I'm trying to do, if it works, I could help. I could stop Clu from doing something like that ever again. But we need to get going as soon as we can. The longer you keep us here, the more time Clu has to keep leveling cities and rounding up programs and—who the hell knows what else. We need to go."

"Alan-One, we're not trying to hold you captive," Yori said, looking abashed at the mere thought. "I asked my friends to get you in contact with me because we want to help you. We assume you have a good reason for coming back here, and whatever it is, we want to assist you in any way we can. I know you don't have a lot of reason to believe that. I don't blame you. But right now, I need you to trust that I'm telling you the truth."

A very small, very bitter part of Alan murmured that truth seemed to be in pretty short supply these days. He looked into Yori's eyes, wanting so badly to trust her. She didn't look away. The sheer determination in her face was so familiar that after a few seconds, despite everything, Alan found himself smiling, just a little. Maybe it was her resemblance to Lora, or maybe it was just his own desperation, but he did trust her, for better or for worse.

"I believe you," he said. "But I'm not the only one who needs to." He looked to his right, at Quorra. "What do you think?"

She held his gaze for a long moment, and then she nodded. She straightened up in her seat, and said, "We're trying to reach the center of the city."

"The center?" Paige asked, frowning. "The only notable area in the city center is the End of Line Club's tower. I doubt either of you are looking for a place to unwind."

"Hardly," Alan said, although he privately felt he could do with a drink, or five. "I don't know about any club, but we're trying to get to the arcade. There's….something there I need to access, something that might help me get home.

"Home?" Yori asked, taken aback. "To the User world?"

"Yes," Alan said. "Frankly, I'm not sure it will even work, but it's my only shot."

"The arcade ISthe laser's materialization point…" Yori tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, looking thoughtful. "Do you think you could access the laser directly from there and reactivate it?"

"Not exactly," Alan said. "I think I can send a message outside. Lora's going to be looking for me when she realizes I'm not at home, and I'm pretty sure she'll check the arcade, the one in the User world. If I can access the terminal on this side, I might be able to get in touch with her, and get her to turn the portal back on. If not her, then Roy. We never found the terminal in our world when Flynn disappeared, but they'll find it this time, I know they will," Alan said with conviction. They HAD to find it. He couldn't contemplate the alternative.

"I see," Yori said. "One question. When you say Roy, do you mean RKleinberg?"

"Oh," Alan said, a very old memory from his first couple of years at ENCOM reminding him that RKleinberg was Roy's old username. "Yes, actually—how did you…?"

Before he could finish his question, a soft scraping noise of something sliding open—a door, perhaps—and light footfalls sounded from offscreen. Yori looked to her left, and her expression lightened a little. Whoever she was looking at started speaking almost immediately.

"I'm back. We were right, Clu's already gone. Couldn't get a read on where he's headed, but I'm sure we'll get a report soon," they said. Their voice was almost too quiet to hear, but Alan leaned forward in his chair at the sound of it. It was just as familiar as Yori's, and just as welcome a sound. "Zed pinged us, he said he and Mara are sticking around Gallium, so if Clu heads that way we'll know—oh, are you doing a call? Sorry." The voice grew in volume as the person moved closer, and then a second program was visible on the screen as he leaned down next to Yori, pushing a few strands of curly brown hair away from his face. "Is that Paige? Did she—whoa."

The program looked, if possible, even more shocked than Alan felt as he took in the scene. For his part, Alan couldn't help but let another name escape his lips. "Ram?"

"You know my name?" Ram looked at Yori, a wide grin spreading over his face. "He knows my name!"

"Uh—well, of course I do," Alan said quickly, though he wasn't totally sure if he had meant the program or the old nickname. He wanted to say something else, but seeing those two programs, side by side, looking for all the world like Roy and Lora had when he'd first met the pair of them, made his heart ache.

Ram didn't seem to mind Alan's reticence—he was still beaming as he said, "It's incredible to meet you, Alan-One. I'm so glad you're okay, we were worried we wouldn't be able to find you after that program took you into the Outlands." His eyes flickered to Quorra, and he gave her a nod. "I see you both decided to come back. Makes our job a little easier." He paused, and just smiled at Alan, the corners of his eyes crinkling the exact same way Roy's did when he laughed, which Ram did a moment later. "I still can't believe you know my name!"

Alan did smile then, saying, "Well, yeah. Flynn used to call Roy that all the time. And anyway, he told me all about both of you, eventually."

"Really?" Yori asked. "I didn't think Flynn had told the other Users much about his time here."

"Oh, he didn't, not before he left. Actually, he only bothered to tell me about any of this a little…while ago…"

Alan trailed off as every face in the room turned to stare at him. Paige, Hopper, and Bartik were all wearing identical expressions of shock, while Quorra was giving him a look that told him maybe he had said too much. Yori had grabbed Ram's wrist, and Ram leaned closer to the screen, almost breathless as he asked, "Flynn's alive?"

Alan hesitated, ready to make up some story about Flynn having mentioned the programs in the past, but instead he sighed, making a different decision. Keeping secrets hadn't helped anyone so far. Maybe honesty would. "Yes, he is," he said. "I was with him before I came here. I'm not going to tell you where he is, I'm sorry, but he's alive. That's how I learned about you both, and how I know I need to get to the arcade."

Yori and Ram looked at each other, and then Ram broke into a grin again, and Yori smiled in turn, covering her mouth with her hand in a gesture of shaky but unmistakable relief. "You have no idea how happy we are to hear that, Alan-One," she said. "It's been so long since we've heard even a hint of a rumor about Flynn that we had assumed the worst."

"I think he assumed the same for the both of you," Alan said. "He was pretty tight-lipped about what happened to all of his program friends."

"Well, I already derezzed once," Ram said with another laugh. "I'm not gonna let it happen again if I can help it."

"You—you what?" Alan stammered. He didn't know what was more bewildering, Ram's words or his incredibly blasé tone.

"Oh. I guess Flynn didn't tell you that part. Sorry," Ram said. "I got derezzed in the old ENCOM system. It's not a big deal," he said quickly at the alarmed look on Alan's face. "I just ended up coming to the Grid a little later than everyone else, after Flynn recovered me from a system backup. I still have most of that version's memories, though." He said all of this very casually, and Alan wondered if maybe he wasn't quite as comfortable with the subject as he seemed—it reminded him of how Roy would talk about being fired from ENCOM—but Ram just shrugged, smiling again. "I'm sure Clu would've been happy if I'd stayed derezzed in the first place."

"He's certainly tried his best to keep us from causing him trouble," Yori agreed. "I think he'd like to get his hands on us almost as much as he would you, Alan-One. We've had to be very cautious. But I think the time for watching and waiting is over."

"I know that look," Alan said. "You've got a plan."

"I do," she said, almost mischievously. ""You need to get to the arcade, but that's a very difficult proposition on your own. The closer you get to the center, the harder it will be to stay undetected—there will be sentries at every corner looking out for you, and the End of Line Club is a popular destination for Clu's forces during their downtime. It's directly across from the arcade, and if you're spotted entering it, it's a near certainty that you'll be caught."

"I'm sensing a 'but' coming on," Alan said with a smile.

"But," Yori said, with a smile of her own, "if my friends were to create a diversion and distract the nearby sentries long enough, I believe we could provide you with enough cover and time to get into the arcade, send your message, and leave without being detained." She looked to Paige, Bartik, and Hopper. "We won't be able to reach the central hub for a while longer, so I'm afraid we'll have to leave the planning to you all. If you're going to be near the End of Line anyway, it might be a good idea to try speaking with the owner again."

"We can try, but no promises, boss," Hopper said. "I dunno if Zuse will cooperate with us."

"Zuse?" Quorra asked, suddenly alert. "You've met with Zuse?"

"Tried to," Bartik said. "We couldn't even get past his lackeys last time we visited. You know him?"

"I did, a long time ago," Quorra said. "We were friends." She sat forward in her chair, looking more confident than she had the entire time they'd been in the apartment. "If you tell him you're trying to help us, he might agree to meet you."

"I can arrange another appointment with Castor. I need to go into work anyway," Paige said. "He'll be a pain to deal with, but it's worth a shot."

"I agree," Yori said. "The quicker we can formulate a plan, the quicker we can get Alan-One and Quorra to the arcade."

"I guess that's our cue," Bartik said, pushing off from his place against the wall at last. "We'll round up the usual crowd."

"Try to get in touch with the other factions, if you can," Yori said. "We'll need as much help as we can get. And be careful."

"Speaking of help, Paige, did you ever get in touch with that renegade of yours?" Ram asked. "We've been pinging him for a while now but we haven't heard a thing back."

"He answered me a few millicycles ago. Three words," Paige said. "'On my way.' I haven't heard from him since." She gave Ram a pointed look, and added, "And he's not my renegade."

There was the sound of a muffled snicker from near the door. Hopper had a grin on his face; Bartik was nudging him with an elbow, but he seemed to be having trouble keeping his face straight too. Paige shot them both a glare, and they left the apartment in a hurry, not quite managing to muffle another laugh before the door shut behind them. Paige rolled her eyes, and glared again at Ram, who grinned.

"Sorry," he said, though he didn't sound it. "Anyway, we'll be heading out of Palladium as soon as the routes out are clear. We might not be able to communicate until we reach the central city, but if you need us, send word as soon as you can, and we'll try to get in touch with you."

"You're headed here?" Alan asked. "Is that safe? I thought Clu was searching for you too."

"He'll be looking for us in outer settlements," Yori said. "That's where we spend most of our time. But we've been trying to reach the main city since we heard about the portal opening again, Alan-One. It's just taken a bit longer than we thought it would—the increased security's made it hard to move around openly."

"Well, I appreciate the concern, but please don't get yourselves caught on my account," Alan said. "I don't want either of you getting hurt."

Yori smiled. "We haven't let us catch him yet, and we aren't about to start now. I promise we'll be as careful as we can."

"I'm sure you will," Alan said, smiling back. "I mean, if you're anything like Lora, you've got about five different ideas for what to do if things go south."

"Six," Yori said. "And counting."

"See?" For a moment Alan just smiled at them both. "You two remind me so much of them. Your Users. I knew you would be similar, but it's incredible just how much..." He sighed. He had tried hard to keep himself from thinking of home, but he hadn't been very successful. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little better just looking at the two programs on the screen. "I've only been away from them a few days, but getting to see you both, it's…it's nice. I'm glad I was able to meet you."

"Same here," Ram said. He hesitated for a moment, glancing at Yori, and then continued, "Alan-One, I know you've probably heard this already, but…you really are just like Tron. Your mannerisms, your expressions—you even sound like him. Not just your voice, but the way you talk." He was smiling too, but it was bittersweet. "It's been good to hear it again."

"It has," Yori said softly. "I'm glad we got the chance to speak with you."

They both sounded so wistful, their smiles so melancholy, that it was almost heartbreaking. Alan knew the kind of pain they must have been feeling, and tried to think of something to say that might help, even a little. "From everything I've heard about him, he sounded like an incredible person," Alan said, as sincerely as he could. "I'm sorry I never got a chance to meet him. I wish I could have."

"Don't wish too hard," Paige said. She sounded suddenly bitter, almost angry. When Alan looked up at her, frowning in confusion, she looked away, saying stonily, "We might run into him before this is all over, and he's even worse company now than he used to be."

"Run into him?" Alan asked blankly. He looked from her to Quorra, who was frowning at Paige, looking just as baffled as Alan felt, and then to Yori and Ram. "But isn't he—?" He stopped at the looks on their faces—neither of them was smiling anymore. Alan continued, unnerved, "Flynn—Flynn told me Tron died."

Ram and Yori stared at Alan, and then looked at each other uneasily. "Alan-One, Tron isn't dead," Yori said.

"He's—what? What do you mean?" Alan stared between the two of them, but they both just glanced at each other again. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. After a long moment, Yori spoke, in carefully measured tones.

"Alan-One," she said, "I was informed that you took part in the Games. Did you happen witness any of the Disc Wars competition?"

"Disc Wars? I…yes, I did," Alan said, even more confused now. He remembered the horror he had felt watching the death-matches, and his hands curled into fists in his lap. "Clu made me watch them."

"Then you've already seen him," Ram said quietly. "If you watched to the end."

"The end?" An image flashed into his mind—Aurora, that poor program who had fought so hard, struggling in the grasp of another program with scarlet lights. Alan felt himself go cold. "No. No—that—you can't tell me that was…"

"It was. I'm sorry." Yori sounded detached, almost clinical. "His name was taken from him, but we all know who it is beneath that mask. Clu never created a more effective weapon than Rinzler."

Rinzler. At the sound of the name, Alan was back in Clu's throne room, staring in horror down at the stadium floor below as a crimson disc plunged into a screaming chest. Alan squeezed his eyes shut, then forced them open again, but the memory remained. His hands were balled so tight that his fingers were numb. Beside him, Quorra laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. The weight of it helped drag him back to the present, but the coldness in his core remained.

"I…I don't understand," he said helplessly. "Kevin told me Clu killed him."

"No," Ram said quietly. "He repurposed him. If Clu thinks you're useful, he'll take over your functions and reprogram you to do whatever he wants. Clu made sure everyone on the Grid knew Tron wouldn't protect them anymore." He was no longer looking at Alan, his voice distant. "We were there. We saw it happen."

"We did," Yori said. "There was nothing we could do. He's not himself anymore-the real Tron would never derezz innocent programs, or follow Clu's orders so viciously." Unlike Ram, she had not turned away; she was watching Alan with tired eyes, looking far older than the youth of her appearance betrayed. She was silent for a long moment, and then nodded to herself as if she had made a decision. "Alan-One, I know you said you would do whatever it took to stop Clu once you got home. I appreciate that. It's what we've been working towards for so long…but I need you to promise you'll do one more thing for us."

She hesitated, her lips pressed together tightly. It was a familiar expression, and Alan knew, despite the steadiness of her voice, that Yori was very close to crying. Ram laid a hand on her shoulder, and she bowed her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "It might be too much to ask for."

"It's not," Alan, despite his own misgivings. He thought he knew where this was going, and he wanted to tell them that they shouldn't place their faith in him, that he just couldn't promise them what he knew they wanted, but he also couldn't bring himself to refuse. He looked away, the desperation in their faces almost too much to bear, but said, "Just...just ask."

"Help Tron," Ram said simply. "Please. We've tried before to see if we could revert the repurposing process. It's never worked. But you're a User. You have power we programs just don't have. If anyone could bring him back to us, it's you."

"I-I'm sorry, I just can't make you any promises." Alan stared at his hands, still balled up uselessly in his lap. "I know I'm a User, but I don't have any clue about the power that's supposed to come with it. All I know how to do is write code." He looked up, meeting their eyes. The sheer exhaustion in their faces was so familiar-it was the same he had seen over and over again on the faces of their Users-but he knew innately that neither of them were going to give this up. Roy and Lora would both go to the ends of the earth for Alan, and these two would do the same for Tron. That was just who they were. He clasped his hands together, and said, as seriously as he could, "But I…I'll try. I will."

"That's all we're asking, Alan-One," Yori said. "Thank you." She took a deep breath, letting it go slowly, before speaking again. "We should get going. We'll need to move quickly once the roads clear out. Paige, send us a message as soon as you all have figured out what you're going to do. I leave the rest to you." She studied both Alan and Quorra for a moment, then said, "Good luck, both of you. Please stay safe."

She gave them both a small smile, and nodded to Paige. Ram smiled at them too, genuine despite the fatigue still obvious in his face, and gave them all a quick wave before reaching out and tapping the screen. After a moment, it went blank, and the two of them were gone.

---

As the command ship neared the designated coordinates for the recovered lightcycle's point of origin, Clu had to wonder how he had let Flynn remain so close to the old city without detection for so long. The stony terrain of the Outlands stretched out below, the horizon barely distinguishable from the inky sky, but to the east lay the city that Clu had left behind him on his intended tour, just visible through the window of the command room. It was almost absurd, how near they were—close enough to see the the minuscule scarlet glints of Recognizers traveling their designated patrol routes, moving in perfect harmony through the sky.

One of those pinpricks would be Rinzler, patrolling in his own ship with a squad of blackguards. Clu had nearly brought him to assist in Flynn's detainment, but thought better of it as they approached their destination. It was unlikely Flynn would venture out into the Grid himself, but if his lightcycle had been found in the city, it was possible that Flynn's little miracle, or even Alan Bradley, had gone in his place. Perhaps they were looking for assistance from rebellious programs. If so, they would be disappointed. The factions had always been too disparate to unite under one force, and after Bradley's pathetic display in the lightcycle arena, he was unlikely to inspire any confidence. As for the girl, she would be foolish to remain among the general population for long. They would discover her secret eventually, and even the most rebellious among them would remember how hazardous interaction with an ISO could be.

Still, preventing either of the two from causing trouble was the simplest solution, so Clu had dispatched Rinzler to retrieve whoever it was that had gone into the city. As satisfying as it would be to get his hands on the last ISO, a part of Clu hoped it was Bradley. There was something appealing about the notion of the User being delivered back into Clu's possession by his own creation, improved as Rinzler was from his original programming. An odd kind of symmetry. Perhaps Clu would even allow Rinzler to face Bradley in the disc arena, a reward for a job well done. He imagined the look Bradley would wear as he faced his former program, terror in his eyes, and laughed quietly to himself. The User could learn first-hand what fairness really was.

He heard the door slide open behind him, and a moment later, Jarvis spoke. "Sir? We've arrived at the proper coordinates."

"Good." Clu turned from the window. "Take us down."

The entrance to Flynn's apparent hideout was small, cut into the rock and hidden in shadow by the crags of the mountain above it. The entrance opened onto a long, empty hallway which penetrated deep into the mountain, finally terminating into a small chamber that was almost a disappointment. All it held was a small platform near the back wall, waiting for passengers to carry to an upper level, and the remains of what appeared to be an incredibly damaged vehicle. Clu was certain he recognized it, and smirked as he passed it by. A squad of blackguards followed in trained silence, Jarvis obediently bringing up the rear.

He took his place on the platform, his soldiers ranged out behind him, and folded his hands behind his back as it began to rise. The darkness above held so many possibilities, and he peered up at it hungrily, eager to discover what laid above. How had Flynn been living all this time, so close to the city of his creation but so utterly separate from it? Slowly, the shadows diminished, and the rocky passage was replaced by smooth white tile as it opened out onto a large room.

The tile lined the floor and ceiling in clean squares of white, providing enough light to illuminate the entire room; it was replaced at its border with more black rock that dropped off to reveal a view of the Outlands, the city gleaming in the far distance. Clu spared the view only a moment's glance. His gaze was drawn instead to the man standing at the far end of the room, gazing into the blue flames burning gently in the fireplace in front of him. The man turned to look at them as the platform clicked into place. A brief emotion—shock? Apprehension? Clu wasn't sure—passed across his face, and then he sat the mug down on the mantle beside him. As their eyes met, Clu's hands curled into fists behind his back.

"Clu." Flynn's voice was deeper, rougher, than it had been before, an audible sign of the aging evident in the rest of his appearance. It was quieter, too. Weaker. "Nice of you to finally visit." His eyes flickered to the programs behind Clu, adding, "And you brought friends. That's cool."

Clu moved off of the platform. His soldiers made to follow, but he glanced back and lifted his hand. They stopped and maintained their positions, as did Jarvis, who was staring at Flynn with obvious awe, though he snapped to attention under Clu's gaze. Clu ignored him, and stepped up onto the raised main floor.

"Flynn," he said. "It's been a while."

"I had a feeling you'd be here."

"Did you?"

The corner of Flynn's mouth twitched. "Yeah. Saw you coming from the terrace," he said, with a nod towards the window. "There's no mistaking that ship of yours. I thought I might have time for one last drink, but I guess my timing was a little off."

"There's no rush," Clu said, but he took another step forward.

Flynn watched him over the rim of his mug. "Take a seat, man."

"Nah. Think I'll stand." Clu folded his hands behind his back and began to slowly walk the length of the room, taking it in. It had some of Flynn's signature touches: too much furniture to be practical for so few residents; ornamental figures on the tables and mantle which served no function other than aesthetics; stacks of books that took up so much room when a data tablet would have easily sufficed; the fireplace Flynn was standing beside, though the room's temperature was as level as it was in any building on the grid. Purposeless and meaningless additions, so familiar even after all these cycles that Clu hummed in amusement. "Cozy place."

"Thanks. I've had a lot of time to work on it."

Clu laughed quietly. "I guess that's one way to fill a thousand cycles." He could just picture Flynn carefully crafting every inch of this place, mimicking life in the User world as best as he could, trying to replace what he had lost as he played house with his adopted miracle. "It must have been so lonely out here. But I guess you did have some company…though I wouldn't call it good." Clu stopped at the edge of the terrace, looking out for a moment at the glimmering city in the distance, before turning back to Flynn with a smile. "Where is she? The girl?"

Flynn didn't answer. He took a sip from his mug, still watching Clu unblinkingly.

"She must be with your old friend," Clu persisted. "Did you send them into the city together? Smart move. The old man wouldn't last a millicycle on his own. I should know. I had the chance to face him myself." He looked back at the city again, watching the Recognizers soar purposefully through the sky. "We found your baton, though. Maybe not such a smart move after all."

Flynn murmured so quietly Clu could barely hear him. "The baton. Of course." He spoke up, saying, "I know what you're here for, Clu. But I can't let you have it."

Clu laughed to himself. "I'm not really giving you a choice." He moved away from the terrace with a smile, and wandered towards an enclave to his left. There was a neatly made bed, and a shelf inset into the wall beside it. A framed photo rested in the corner of the shelf: a blonde woman and a young User with messy hair, both smiling. Clu had never seen them before, but he knew instantly that they were Flynn's family, the ones who had constantly distracted him from his work. Clu studied the photo, and wondered for the thousandth time what was so special about them that Flynn would choose them over the Grid, every single time. Even the ISOs, as diseased as they were, had been fascinating in their own way, but there was nothing special about these two at all.

He reached for the photo, saying over his shoulder, "It's over now, Flynn. End of line."

There was a distant thunk of the mug as Flynn set it down again. "We'll see."

Clu's hand was an inch above the picture frame when the wall to his left exploded.

The force of the blast carried Clu off his feet, sending him twisting through air that was abruptly filled with sparkling shards of half-formed rock and metal. He landed with a thunderous crash on the tile below, his weight cracking it beneath him. Another explosion from the back wall buffeted him into one of the white low chairs, already half-derezzed from the force of the first explosion, and he toppled to the floor. Emergency protocols kicking in, he rolled to his hands and knees, cubes crunching beneath the heels of his gloved palms. As he hauled himself up, ready to fight, a grin spread across his face. Flynn had finally made his move.

The room was chaos. Light flashed from the still-intact floor and ceiling tiles, but it was fading fast as the destruction ate away at their edges, taking visibility with it. Cubes rained down from the ceiling as a section of it splintered, forcing Clu to cover his face with an uplifted arm. A shout from a Blackguard made him turn on his heel. Light flashed again, and for an instant he braced himself for another explosion, but his eyes widened as he realized its source—not a bomb, but a set of light-lines, striking white in the blooming darkness.

Another cascade of voxels dropped heavily to the floor, but Clu bounded through it, climbing back up to the main platform. One of his soldiers threw a disc, scarlet streaking through the black, and there was another flash of white as Flynn dove for the lower level, taking cover behind the glass dining table. Clu made to follow him, hefting his disc, but another explosion from the back wall sent tremors through the floor, and he fell to one knee. Voxels scattered across the floor; whether from program or building it was impossible to tell, but a quick glance told him that he was down to just one soldier still on his feet. Two more had been thrown against a wall, and were attempting to regain their footing; Jarvis crouched in the left corner, disc in hand, but holding arms his arms above his visored head to shield him from debris.

White flashed once more—Flynn was on the move, heading for a dark corridor to his left. There was no telling how big Flynn's hiding place was, and letting him disappear down some hidden passage was not an option. This was going to end now. Clu heaved himself to his feet and yelled, his voice just audible above the clamor, "Jarvis!"

Jarvis lifted his head, eyes wide in terror, and for a single moment, Clu thought it would overpower him, robbing Clu of this one chance at victory—but then Jarvis flung his disc with a wild, fearful yell. There was another flicker of white, dodging back, away from the passage, and Clu took his chance. He threw himself forward, free hand grasping, and felt it close on a robe-clad shoulder. User and program plummeted downward; they landed on the long glass table, the impact shattering it to cubes beneath them. The landing loosened Clu's grip, and Flynn tried to pull himself away, but Clu was too quick. He clamped down on Flynn's collar and hauled him backwards, sending him sprawling against one of the still-intact silvery chairs. Clu lunged forward, disc raised, and closed his free hand around Flynn's neck.

A still-intact section of the floor flickered back to life, providing enough light to see by. Pages ripped from their bindings floated through the air, slowly derezzing as they drifted to the floor. Damage from the explosions was still spreading through the hideout. The floor itself began to buckle as another deluge of cubes poured down from a corner of the ceiling. The rock above and below creaked noisily, the mountain itself reeling from the blasts, and one of his Blackguards was grunting in pain, but Clu ignored it all. He felt only the heaving throat beneath his fingers and the weight of the disc in his hand, heard only choked wheezes issuing from a gasping mouth, saw only the lined face in front of him, so altered by the thousand cycles that had passed since he had last seen it this close. Only the eyes were the same: blue, wide, and fearful.

Clu grinned broadly as he took in the sight of the aged Creator. "That was too easy. The cycles haven't been kind, have they?"

Flynn only rasped wordlessly in response. Clu lessened his hold slightly, and Flynn inhaled sharply, breath leaving him in ragged coughs. "No," he choked out when he had at last regained his voice. "You don't look so bad."

Clu continued to grin, still just watching Flynn squirm beneath his weight, attempting to take in another breath. He clutched at Clu's wrist, strands of hair falling into his face as he struggled. It was as white as as the light emanating from the collar of his robes, as white as Alan Bradley's had been. Clu had wondered if Flynn would be more impressive, and knew now that he was not. There was no power left, User or otherwise, in the shaking hands that tried ineffectually to loosen Clu's grasp. Flynn had exhausted himself in his efforts to escape, and the realization made Clu laugh. "So much for the mighty Creator."

Flynn coughed again, wetly. "Clu." His eyes left Clu's, and raked over the destruction beyond, taking in the remains of his last safe haven. "Don't. Don't do this."

"Sorry, man. Too late to go back now." Clu rose to his feet, hoisting Flynn up with him. Flynn tried to find his footing, but Clu dragged him towards the platform, gesturing at Jarvis and his remaining soldiers with his disc. They moved at once despite their injuries, a Blackguard taking up a place on either side of Flynn as Clu finally released him.

Flynn pulled away, but one of the guards grabbed him by the arm, holding him upright, and after a moment Flynn sagged in his grip with another weak cough. A spatter of red flecked the remains of the white tile below. The second guard removed the disc from Flynn's back, and held it out reverently to Clu. Flynn didn't struggle, but he did look up, eyes imploring.

"Clu," he murmured faintly. "Please."

"The game's already won, Flynn," Clu said. He took the disc, replacing his own on his back, and allowed himself a victorious grin before lowering it to his side. As the platform began to descend, he took one last glance at the ruined hideout, and then looked beyond, to the city he had left only a few millicycles before. His gaze traveled to the top of the highest tower, and then, slowly, to a point just above it. "All that's left is the prize."

---

Chapter soundtrack:

Troubled Child - Journey
Blindness - Metric
To Die For - The Birthday Massacre
The Visitors - ABBA