A/N: Well, I'm back. In black, that is.
Fandom: Tron: Legacy
Pairing: CastorXQuorra
Prompt: Tron 50 Challenge
Title: Entertainments and Diversions
Chapter Four: End of Line
The elevator doors slid open to a wave of bustling voices, tinkling drinks, and a shock of vibrant white light as the two ISOs entered what would soon be known everywhere as the End of Line Club. Before them, a huddle of applicants already stood, waiting to be announced for their turn in the interview process, some passing the time with a free sample of energy shots to both celebrate and advertise the club's upcoming grand opening. A lone program manned the bar, his aqua-queen circuitry noticeable against the club's monochromatic theme.
Quorra observed all of this as if through a barrier of glass. Everything had seemed muted ever since she learned who the proprietor of the club supposedly was, and right then, she was questioning if her insistence on taking this venture had been a good idea.
Beside her, she heard Rubrix give a long whistle of appreciation. "Isn't this something?"
Quorra nodded, too overwhelmed to respond otherwise. She was about to suggest that they just turn around and leave gracefully when a clear but aloof voice answered from beside them.
"It certainly is."
The ISOs turned in unison to find a stunning female program lounging unobtrusively against the wall beside the main entrance to the club. Quorra wondered how they had missed her coming in, when she realized how easy it must have been for the program to blend in with their current surroundings. After all, she was wearing the rare white suit Quorra had only seen on a couple programs thus far, the white circuitry outlining her body's curves appealingly. The program's skin was also a stark ivory with her white hair perched atop her head in a tight and immaculate bun. At first glance, too, her eyes appeared that same white color—no doubt because of the dark makeup that rimmed her eyes—but upon closer inspection, Quorra realized they were actually the palest shade of blue.
Quorra elbowed Rubrix as she realized they'd both been staring unabashedly at this new program. Looking at some way to cover up their rudeness, Quorra asked, "Is it always like this?"
The program smiled, but Quorra could see that her eyes didn't share in her smile's warmth. "We certainly hope so."
"Oh, so you work here?"
The program's full-on, unblinking stare was starting to unnerve Quorra. "I don't. I work part-time in Installation."
Rubrix raised a dark eyebrow at that, and he couldn't resist asking, "If you don't work here, then are you applying?"
"No. I suppose you could say that I'm scouting. As a favor for a friend."
Quorra stopped herself from groaning aloud. If this program was looking for the best candidates—
"See anything you like?"
—then Rubrix just completely blew it for them.
Rubrix's exclamation of "ow!" as Quorra pinched his arm brought a brief, closed-mouth chuckle out of the program. Though it sounded elegant, like a bell's chime, there was an underlying reluctance, as if she was uncertain if laughing was the proper response or not. But then, Quorra had the impression that it wasn't a common occurrence for this program to smile let alone laugh.
The program studied the pair, holding her chin in one hand. Considering them for a beat longer, she crossed her arms and answered, "Maybe." Oh, good, at least they'd manage to amuse and not upset her.
Quorra followed the program's gaze as it wandered over the group of programs all around them, wondering what could make them different than her and Rubrix, what could make them better applicants or not. She wondered also if the program next to her already knew those differences far better than Quorra ever would, for she seemed so…knowledgeable of their world. Almost omnisciently so. It was her eyes that did it.
"I hope we'll find some reliable programs. Neither of you happen to be DJs by any chance? If so, you're hired; we're getting a little desperate."
Rubrix grinned sheepishly as he replied, "Well, this happens to be your unlucky day, ma'am. Neither of us is musically inclined at all."
Quorra thought it wasn't the time to mention that neither of them had been exposed much to music—neither that of the Users' world nor of the Grid's—since their inception into the TRON system. Finding a place to live and adapting to their living situation had taken precedence.
"That's too bad. And no 'ma'am,' please. My name is Gem. What names did the Creator give you?"
Rubrix introduced himself with a flourish while Quorra's greeting was much more reserved. Even so, she was beginning to enjoy talking to this new program. She wondered whether Gem knew the other Installation programs, the ones who had given Quorra her armor. She wasn't certain exactly how many programs were needed for such a job; she supposed that depended upon the Creator's needs and whims. The dark-haired program was just about to ask when Gem brought the conversation to an unintended halt.
"So, you're both ISOs."
An uneasy silence grew between the three, and Quorra wasn't entirely sure why she'd become as tense as she was. All she knew was that her heart—for that rush of energy and beating she felt in her chest had to be something like what Users also possessed, if her lessons with Nineteen Eighty-Four were anything to go by—was racing frantically.
Gem's pointed stare darting from their glowing tattoos back into their eyes as she looked between them felt like the weight of thousands of stares to Quorra. For the first time, Quorra recognized the kind of presence this program had. It was subtly intense and knowing but was one that was so underlying and unsuspecting that you didn't even realize it was there until you looked up, and there it was, staring straight at you. But the unnerving thing was, you couldn't tell if it was gauging you with only a studying curiosity or if it was waiting for an opening to destroy you.
"Yyyyeeesss?" Rubrix answered, crossing his arms defensively in front of him. Always count on Rubrix to salvage a situation…
"Did I say something wrong?"
Neither ISO responded to Gem's question. In truth, they didn't know how to voice what it felt like to have their identities pointed out so singularly, as if being an ISO was the only thing that made them them. While ISOs were what they were, that didn't necessarily define who they were, at least, not in Quorra's opinion.
"If it bothers you for people to take notice, why not just cover up your marks?"
Rubrix's response was immediate.
"Because we shouldn't have to."
Quorra silently agreed, but she was worried that this was it for them. Had they reached the end of the line at End of Line? That would be tawdrily ironic. Nero would actually smile at that. Would Gem ask them to leave? To never come back, even? But what about—
Zuse. What if he is here?
Gem seemed to mull over Rubrix's response for a bit before she nodded, sending a small reassuring smile their way.
"Don't worry. It was your names that alerted me as to what you were, not your marks. Those just confirmed it. A different team of programs specially designed by the Creator was called in for the ISOs' installation into the system; otherwise I would have been there. If you were regular programs, your names would have allowed me to recall who you were, but my systems came up with nothing."
Quorra's face felt hot by the end of Gem's explanation. This must be that embarrassment thing again. It was such an awkward feeling. She supposed they both had appeared rather defensive just now, and for no reason. But Gem dismissed her apology.
"We're happy to have you both here. Actually, we were hoping at least some ISOs would take notice of this place. Your potential is too promising for a growing business to ignore. Any ideas of what you want to do?"
"Not really," Quorra admitted, relieved now that the conversation had returned to a much lighter tone. Trying to make a joke at she and Rubrix's ISO status, she remarked, "We're both sorta new at this."
"Hmm. It's alright. I've got ideas for you already. You, for example," Gem said, pointing at Rubrix, "bartender. Charisma, learning potential, it's all there. You're also energetic, which is good, since you'll be on your feet, attending to customers and preparing drinks non-stop. And you, Quorra, hostess or waitress. You're reserved but professional, and that will fit with our clientele."
"You keep saying 'our' and 'we', and now I can't help but ask: who else are you referring to?" Quorra's mind whirled with the possibilities. Gem had said she was doing all of this for a friend, but that didn't necessarily mean… And even if it did, so what? This application process was likely to be a lengthy one, and by no means would they even be guaranteed a position just because of one recommendation. She and Rubrix still lacked experience that a starting business may not want to risk betting on, and now that she thought about it, maybe she had been wrong before. Maybe her eyes had deceived her or her disk malfunctioned or maybe Zuse had a duplicate program of himself, like Clu was of the Creator. After all, End of Line was owned by a guy named Castor, which didn't sound like Zuse at all and—
Gem pushed herself from the wall and smirked.
"Oh that. Remember that friend of mine I mentioned? He just so happens to be the owner of this club, and he doesn't see anyone unless I interview them first." She winked at the ISOs' matching stunned expressions. "Congratulations, Quorra, Rubrix. He'll be thrilled to meet you."
Gem led them to a side door located past the bar, explaining that they would meet Castor in his temporary office as the official one upstairs was still being constructed. They passed a couple doors that acted as storage areas, along with an emergency elevator. In Quorra's opinion, they didn't have nearly far enough to walk, because, before she compose herself, Gem knocked on one of the doors before letting herself in.
"Wait here," she said before the door shut behind her.
Rubrix released a long breath beside her, before whispering, "This is kinda crazy, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Quorra replied distractedly. Stop worrying. It's not him. You're being paranoid. "Crazy."
"What do we even say when we go in there?"
Normally, hearing Rubrix ramble on set her at ease, but his constant questions now only pointed out to her how out of their depth they both were. "I'm not sure. Just be truthful if we get asked anything, I guess."
"But what is he—?"
Rubrix was cut off as the door opened again. Gem's blank expression gave away nothing, and Quorra wanted to simultaneously run away and barge inside to get it over with. Her urge to run wasn't as strong as her need for answers, though, so she followed Rubrix as he entered, the door shutting automatically behind her.
The room was small, featuring a lone table and a few chairs littered around it. Everything was stark white, including the figure on the other side of the table. He was bent over a holographic blueprint of the club, but the 3D layouts of the building obscured most of his features.
Quorra's heart quickened as she got a flash of white, slicked-back hair, a glance of what looked like a white cane propped up against the table on his side, and a glimpse of what looked like coattails. How many other programs could have those same features as the mischievous interpreter program she'd met before? But she dared not hope, was perhaps too afraid to hope. Even if this program was Zuse, what did they even have left to say to each other?
"Here are your ISOs," said Gem, standing off to the side.
It wasn't him. She was being ridiculous. He had more important things to be doing, things for the Creator and the system, than to be wasting his time in some club.
"Ah, Gem, efficient as always."
His voice. That was the only thing that prepared her. Somehow, she just knew. She just knew that his look could be mimicked, maybe his style, and his mannerisms, too, but that voice was something no other program could fake. It was so smooth, so rich, completely lacking the digitized quality most programs' voices did to be replaced with an ever-present slyness. As if he knew more than everyone in the room.
The hologram blipped out of sight, the outline of the blueprint still glowing on the table's surface, but now she could see him fully. If this Castor was a double of the Zuse she knew, it was a flawless one, even better than Clu was of Flynn.
When he finally looked up from his blueprint, he took in the two ISOs fleetingly then did a slight double take, his vibrant gaze falling on Quorra. Eyes widening, his gaze dropped down again to the blueprint.
"My, my." He smiled to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. "My, my, my."
Surprisingly, those words had a calming effect on her. It seemed he was just as surprised to see her as she was him. To know they were both on the same uneven footing assuaged her nerves.
But it still didn't explain what he was doing here, or why he was operating under a pseudonym.
"You're confident about them, then?" Zuse directed to Gem. Gem rolled her eyes.
Quorra stared. That'd been the most expressive the program had been since she'd met her.
"I would not have brought them here if I was not. We are running out of time, Castor. Do I have to keep reminding you?"
"At least once more, darling." Zuse, or Castor—she wasn't sure exactly what to call him now—smiled. When he turned his electric blue gaze to her and her brother, both ISOs tensed, waiting for his verdict.
"Well, she has a point, doesn't she?" He said, an unflappable grin on his face. "A very fine point. I guess I can overlook your inexperience, though somehow, I'm sure you'll exceed my every expectation."
He directed the comment to the both of them, but his eyes lingered on Quorra. She clenched her fists to steady herself, only to become aware of the sweat on her palms.
Since when did she sweat like this?
"It'll certainly be a learning experience," offered Gem.
"For all of us, I'm sure," Zuse/Castor said enigmatically. "Granted that you both do want to work here, of course."
His expectant look alerted the ISOs to the fact that he did want a response.
Rubrix recovered first, flashing a smile at the two white-suited programs. "Yes, sir. Bartending sounds like fun."
"And you?" He asked Quorra directly. Speaking was suddenly much more difficult.
"Y-yes. Thank you," Quorra said, adding as an afterthought, "sir." His lips quirked up, and she wondered if she'd already made a fool of herself so soon. Must be a new record for her.
"Wonderful," he purred, sounding pleased. And he did look satisfied as he fiddled with the blueprint, only to visibly deflate a moment later. "But that still leaves—?"
"Entertainment and security," Gem confirmed. Zuse sighed.
"Yes, what a state we've found ourselves in. All these pretty little programs floating about, and not a single one with some sense of adventure in them. And we've only got—?"
"About nine millicycles, give or take."
He let out a rueful chuckle. "At this rate, we won't make it, darling."
Gem furrowed her brow in concentration. "Surely, for security, you could as a favor from T—?"
"Normally, yes," Zuse interrupted. "But at the moment, he's too busy sorting this Abraxas business. He's utterly obsessed, exactly as Flynn intended."
Rubrix's ears perked up at the mention of the virus whose name was spreading unease throughout the system recently. Nero had been following the news about him, too.
Speaking of Nero…
"I might know someone," Rubrix said. At the undivided attention of the room's other three occupants, he grinned encouragingly. "Our roommate's a security program. He's not available right now, but I'm sure he knows some programs who'd like a change of pace.
"And," he added, suddenly sending nervous glances Quorra's way. "I might know someone who knows someone who knows someone else who's in the music scene. Their tastes are a little different, but it's good stuff."
"And who exactly are these programs you claim to know?" Quorra said. Rubrix was avoiding her eyes, and that was more than enough to tip her off. "You've been sneaking out after hours, haven't you?"
When word about Abraxas had become more than just rumors, Radia, the leader of the ISOs, had advised for the ISOs to adhere to a curfew to avoid being attacked. The curfew was entirely optional, but Nero had taken the advice seriously, knowing better than the ISOs the effects viruses could have on programs. And the ISOs were too precious to lose like that. They'd both gotten the sternest lecture of their life—which was, honestly, the only lecture of their life—but it had been enough for Quorra. After all, she had her book to pass the time. Rubrix, on the other hand, had been noticeably put out. But he'd followed Nero's advice and stayed inside at night, or so they had thought.
"Oh, come on," Rubrix whined, looking pleadingly at Quorra, "all the interesting programs come out at night, and you know it. You—you won't tell Nero, will you? Oh, my Creator, please don't tell Nero!"
Quorra held up her hands defensively. "Okay, okay, I won't. But I don't really think it'll matter anymore, since we'll be coming home late now."
"Oh. Oh, yeah, you're right. Excellent." He wrapped an arm around Quorra's shoulders, giving her a thumbs-up. "Coming here was the best idea you've ever had. Really, well done."
Quorra smiled back at him but became self-conscious when she remembered they had an audience. And that audience was wearing matching calculating expressions, analyzing the two ISOs' every move.
Pushing Rubrix off of her, she said, "Well, I guess we'll head off now. Rubrix will get in touch with those friends he claims to have, and, uh, when would you like us back for training?"
"Tomorrow," Zuse answered, though Gem had been about to answer instead. "Same time. I trust that's acceptable?"
"Yeah, of course," Quorra replied, leading Rubrix towards the door.
"Until tomorrow, then," and he sounded like his normal, playful self again. The urge to get away became overpowering, and she didn't fight it this time.
"What was that?" Ah, Gem. She did not sound entirely pleased, but when did she ever?
"What was what?"
"You know what."
"I believe that was the phenomenon known by the Users as 'having a sibling.' It looks tiring. Amusing, but tiring." Why couldn't he get the stairs on this office right? He was having a problem conceiving of a way to make them functional without taking up half of the dance floor space, but it was proving to be difficult. Perhaps he should leave it alone for the day. Especially since the temptation to add a touch of blue the exact shade of a certain ISO's eyes to the design was nearly too great to resist.
"No, I meant that wasn't much of an interview. Not compared to the others."
"Take it as a mark of respect for your judgment."
"I don't think that was the mark you were really paying attention to, Castor."
Castor grinned, turning from his blueprints to face his longtime friend and confidant. Gem's perception was as much of a never-ending source of amusement as it was a challenge for him. She kept his mind whirring with ideas and ambitions, even if sometimes that only meant devising new ways to try and tease her. It was always difficult, as they thought so much alike.
"Flynn wants them to become a part of his system as seamlessly as possible." He picked up his cane, examining it as he started to twirl it back and forth. "If I take advantage of that and of what they are, how is that really such a bad thing? You're the one that singled them out, after all. You brought them to me, remember?"
A tiny smirk graced Gem's face as she nodded to verify his words. "I'll go inform the other applicants that the positions have been filled."
"Good luck. They're an unruly bunch."
"Nothing I can't handle."
And with that, she was gone.
It wasn't shortly after that he followed, a different destination in mind.
"Oh, can I go to the arcade now? Please?"
"Yes, Rubrix," Quorra said tiredly as they exited End of Line's entrance elevator. She still couldn't believe how tall the building was; it dwarfed the others around it by an obvious amount. But only the top floors were for the club. What was the rest of the building used for? Surely it wasn't just for show. "You can do whatever you want, seriously. Go ahead. I'll catch up."
"YEAH!" Rubrix embraced her in a bear hug, lifting her slightly off the ground and utterly shaking her concentration. "I'm so glad I found you."
And then he was off, almost running over a few programs casually strolling along the sidewalk.
"Always on the move," she muttered. The ISO took one last look up at the tower, and then she moved to follow Rubrix at a much more controlled, leisurely pace. Doing so would give him more time to play, she guessed.
She didn't get far, however, when she felt a hand close over her mouth, another wrapping around her waist to tug her back into a side street. Heart thumping widely, she thrashed, trying to shake whoever her assailant was—and who would even dare to attack her during the day like this? It couldn't be…Abraxas?
Elbowing her attacker in the stomach, she managed to free herself and grabbed her Identity Disk, freeing it from its holster. Spinning around with the intent to derez the threat, she froze at the breathless voice that reached her ears.
"Easy, lovely. It's just me."
And it was his voice, she knew that, but the figure before her wasn't wearing a suit of gleaming white. Instead, a cloak of darkest black covered his form, the hood of which obscured his face except for his smirking, thin lips.
"Zuse?"
His smile widened. "Sorry to frighten you, but I can't risk being seen in public, answering to that name. Flynn's orders. Only a handful of people know me as Zuse, and now that handful includes you."
"So, you lure me into a dark alley, huh? Bit of an overreaction, don't you think?" Lowering her disk slowly, Quorra smiled at him, coming down from her adrenaline rush. "After what you said, I honestly didn't expect to see you again."
"Nor I, you," said Zuse, unusually serious. "You just didn't seem the club type. And a joy though it has been, Quorra, you being here presents a bit of a problem for me. And I always find a way to deal with my problems."
The smile slid off her face. She was a…problem? Her?
An ugly, squirming feeling settled in her stomach at the thought, but that wasn't the only thing that was making her feel so strange. With sudden awareness, she recognized that she wanted to run again, but it wasn't because of nervousness. What she was feeling now made her earlier anxiety look like how a wildfire looks against a candle flame, for she didn't want to run now from nerves but from fear. A chilling, unsettling fear.
She couldn't believe it, but with the way he was talking… It was scaring her. She didn't feel safe anymore.
She didn't feel safe with him.
A/N: Well, there we go. That was fun, wasn't it? I really hope I still have readers for this story, and I apologize SO MUCH for my long absence and to anyone's review that I didn't respond to. I have a feeling time got away from me, and I forgot to answer back. Just know that I received them, loved them, cried over them, and cherished them deeply. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, or added this story to their alerts. All of you are precious to me, and I hope this chapter was a good reward for you.
Also, THANK YOU to everyone who has sent me information about Tron: Betrayal, Tron: Evolution, and Tron: Uprising. Your insights have been invaluable in the writing of this story, and I am trying to incorporate as much as I can in this narrative. Keeps it congruent with the canon. If you ever see anything that sounds a little off, don't hesitate to tell me. Speaking of, I've been doing a bit of research on Abraxas, but I have to ask: what do you all make of him?