A/N: And here's chapter five! This took much longer than I wanted to write, by the way, but I finally got it to say what I wanted. Please review and let me know what you think, and thanks to everyone who has read and/or reviewed so far!

Fandom: Tron: Legacy

Pairing: CastorXQuorra

Prompt: Tron 50 Challenge

Title: Entertainments and Diversions

Chapter Five: Follow Me

Quorra stared at the program she'd come to respect in such a short time, at a loss of what to say, what to do. He'd called her a problem. Something he had to deal with. As if she meant little else but that.

"What do you mean?" she asked haltingly. She had to have heard wrong. There was something she was missing here. There had to be. Even so, the ISO shifted her weight in a subtle movement, preparing to run if she needed to. He'd stressed his need to operate incognito; he wouldn't pursue her out into a busy street. Or would he?

She didn't know if he would, and a hot wave of embarrassment coursed through her like smoke through a burning building as she just now realized how little about him she knew and how much she regarded him despite that fact. The two were utterly disproportionate from each other, and for the first time, Quorra feared that she had been wrong to trust him.

"Exactly as it sounds," Zuse confirmed. A pit seemed to open up in her stomach. Was he about to push her in and prove that her trust was misplaced? "It's one thing to know me as Castor. Many do. It's another thing to know me as the faceless Zuse. Fewer do, but they exist. But you know me as both, and you are not Flynn, Tron, or even Clu—which would normally be a good thing."

At the mention of the others, Quorra remembered what Flynn had called Zuse at their first meeting, and the pieces began to slowly fit together. "…I guess you're more than just an interpreter, aren't you?"

"Now there you go, being so clever, making it impossible for me to hate you." The rueful smile on his face was too brief for her to gain any reassurance from it. "But your intuition can't change the fact that you're a liability to me."

Quorra had a white-knuckled grip on her identity disk. Her body, stiff with tension, was ready to either crumble from the pressure or spring and attack at the slightest sign of a threat. It didn't help that she couldn't see Zuse's eyes—couldn't tell what he was thinking or what he was meaning to do—but he looked more like a malevolent attacker than ever now. If he'd just offer her a smile—a real one—then she'd know things were normal again. He was always smiling.

Or had that all been just a front? Once again, she had no idea.

And what did Zuse really expect? For her to just unlearn what she had learned? Was that possible? Probably, she thought with dread. It would be more difficult to find and delete that particular code for her than it would be with a Basic program, but if anyone could do it…

The sadness that came with that thought chilled her like an ice cube sliding down her spine. She didn't want to forget about any part of him, especially not the part that had coaxed her from her silence. But what could she do?

Her attention refocused when she noticed him moving, but he only crossed his arms and leaned against the alley wall. He heaved a heavy sigh.

"Yes, it's a problem, but what should I do about it?" But his words were low, intoned to himself as if he were faced with simply deciding what to prepare for dinner that night.

"If you're worried about me telling someone," Quorra reasoned, "I won't, I swear. I haven't talked about that day to anyone. Not even Rubrix knows."

That was largely true. All Rubrix wheedled out of her was that Tron was there when she'd entered the tower, and fortunately for her, that was all he'd cared about. The rest was too personal to reveal; she was one of the few ISOs who appeared to malfunction when they'd entered the Grid. Her mute state, brief though it was, was something she wanted to forget. It made her feel like she was at a disadvantage—against both ISOs and Basics. Rubrix hadn't had any such problems. He'd received his armor with a cheery wink and a wave, chattering all the while apparently. His exuberance for everything the Grid had to offer was instantaneous. Even after Quorra became fully integrated into the TRON system, this same exuberance had not extended to her. Curious about her world though she was, Quorra felt herself longing for another.

She'd talked to enough programs to realize that hungering for the Users' world wasn't normal. For some, it wasn't even possible.

Quorra yearned to escape there now, even if it was just via words and even if those words described an imperfectly perfect version of the world Flynn came from. Anything to escape Zuse, who appeared to be sizing up her answer.

"Not even Rubrix, hm?" The slight quirk of his lips could have been a reassuring gesture or a mocking one, she couldn't tell which. "That's lucky for me and you, then, pretty miss."

Deciding to trust her gut, Quorra lightly joked, "Well, it's not like you would've derezzed me if I had told him, right?"

But if she'd thought her attempt at playful banter would dissolve Zuse's odd mood and bring things back to normal, she was wrong, for his features fell into a blank mask at her words.

"The penalty for a Basic program terminating an ISO is permanent deresolution," he recited stiffly, almost like a reminder.

Quorra fought off the urge to fidget in front of him. Zuse's tightened jaw told her well enough that he was angry. In hindsight, she realized she'd insulted him pretty severely, though at the time, her quip had appeared harmless to her. But he was right. The Creator had made it clear the punishment a Basic would receive if he knowingly terminated an ISO. Since Flynn wrote every code of the Basic programs himself, he could always manually rez them back into the system again. ISOs, once derezzed, wouldn't be so lucky.

Zuse obviously hadn't been humoring derezzing her, just for knowing that he and Castor were one in the same. It wasn't that serious. He wouldn't risk getting himself terminated, not when he clearly held all these plans for the Grid with his new club…

All the same, she took a slight step back when she saw him move again, but it was only his hand, which he'd raised to wipe tiredly along his face.

"I forget sometimes that there's so much that you just don't realize about this system yet." Zuse hummed in thought, then turned to walk farther into the alley. "Follow me. I want to show you something."

Follow him? Was he serious? He wasn't slowing to let her catch up, so apparently he was. If she didn't start walking, she'd soon lose him in the darkness, the usual brightness of his light suit hidden under the dark robe he wore.

What was she supposed to do? He'd done an excellent job of scaring her so far, but he was also good at teasing her curiosity. He made it sound like there were answers where he was going, and Quorra liked answers. They made things clearer.

She took a step forward, paused, and then took another when nothing life-threatening happened to her. At a safe distance and not without a little trepidation, she did as Zuse asked and followed him, not relinquishing the grip on her disk for an instant. If this choice were a mistake—likely—then at least she'd be prepared to handle it.

The sounds of the city grew muffled the farther she walked. Things were much quieter back here, and Quorra's anxiety only heightened once she registered that fact. All she could make out clearly were the scuff of her boots, the clipped footsteps of her companion, and the occasional swish of clothing. A recognizer flew by overhead, its gentle hum, dazzling blue circuitry, and the searching spot light it cast down being all too brief a solace. Her light suit formed odd shapes and shadows along the walls, and sometimes she had to perform a double take to make sure she hadn't seen lurking within them the menace she thought she had.

Eventually, Quorra's paranoia got the better of her, and she couldn't take the silence anymore. "Zuse, hang on!" She forced herself to stop trailing him like some sad, little, lost thing. "Tell me what this is about, or I'm leaving to find Rubrix." Realizing how that sounded, she backtracked sheepishly. "Not to tell him your secret or anything. It's just, honestly, you're acting very strange."

"Feeling a little uneasy, are we?" As he turned to face her again, his lips formed into a smirk. "Now you know how I've been feeling since I saw you again."

Quorra narrowed her eyes at him. "…I don't understand."

"It's simple, really. I—"

"—No," she interrupted, surprising the both of them with the sudden authority in her voice. In a gentler tone, Quorra explained, "I'm not going to be talking to another mask of yours. It's your face or nothing, Zuse."

She'd gone too far, hadn't she? By the smile that was frozen on his face, she figured she had. But there weren't any other programs here to see him, to hear her call him by his real name. She didn't believe she was asking for too much. He seemed to have come to the same conclusion, since a beat later he nodded.

"Fair enough."

Reaching up his hands, he flipped back the hood of his dark robe, revealing the contrasting fairness of his features. Quorra released a quiet breath, relieved. It was such a simple thing, but seeing his entire face, even watching him smooth back his disheveled, stark white hair with his hands, relaxed her. She was back on even footing with him again, as far as she was concerned.

But when Zuse opened his eyes—bright, blue, and solemn—to look at her, the smile she intended to send him faded before it could reach her face.

"I have to be sure you understand, Quorra. You cannot let slip who I really am to anyone. I have to be sure, beyond any doubt, that I can trust you to be discrete. Because you're right. I'm more than an interpreter. To the programs of this system, I sometimes am the only thing standing in the way of their deresolution. I can't afford to be compromised; there's too much I still have left to do."

Quorra saw her opening, so she delicately asked, "But what is it exactly that you do?"

"I get programs—and sometimes just information—where they need to go."

Quorra looked sidelong at him, intrigued. "How?"

"Well, if I told you that, it wouldn't be such a notable skill anymore, now would it?"

Wearily, Quorra said, "Zuse—"

"Very well, very well. I guess I can share with you a bit. I do these things…" Zuse trailed off cryptically. Quorra couldn't help leaning in, eager to hear about his methods. He repeated,"I do these things…by any means necessary."

Quorra visibly deflated at the anticlimactic answer, but then she really listened to his response, raising a brow in question. "That doesn't sound, strictly speaking, legal."

"I suppose, strictly speaking, it sometimes isn't." Zuse wasn't making fun of her naiveté or her word choice. He'd phrased it too delicately for that. Quorra was grateful, even though she had trouble picturing Zuse doing anything overly illicit.

But it looks like he knows how to dress for the part, doesn't it? The faithless thought strayed across her mind, and she hated humoring the truthfulness it revealed.

"And the Creator—Flynn—he knows about what you do?"

Zuse nodded in affirmation.

If Flynn knew, then whatever Zuse did couldn't be too bad, right? Quorra had to be sure. "And he's okay with it?"

"For now, yes. For now, we see eye to eye. We want the same things."

So, Flynn and Zuse had formed a partnership together. From the sound of things, Zuse didn't anticipate that things would stay the same forever, but why? Zuse clearly held respect for the Creator—and trust was automatically implicit; after all, you could always have faith in the Users, every program understood that—but there was something else there, too, on Zuse's part. Quorra hesitated to call what she sensed from him resentment; that word was too strong. She heard it, though, underlying his words and remembered him displaying it before Flynn himself. Insolence, that's what it was, or some sort of impiety, maybe… Whatever it was, it was clear that Zuse didn't worship Flynn and all he touched like many Basics and even some ISOs did.

Was that a good thing or an indication of something darker within Zuse? It had to be the former; the latter just didn't feel right. After all, Flynn had laughed off Zuse's behavior, even seemed grateful for it. They were friends; they had to be.

For now… For now…

Zuse peered at her with a keen eye, sensing her doubt but for the wrong reason. "I don't just assist any program that stumbles my way, you know. They have to have a certain, shall we say, appeal? That's why I created the Castor identity. He fields candidates for Zuse on my behalf, gets a feel for who's worthy of Zuse's time and who's not."

"But it's all a lie, isn't it?" said Quorra, her wide-eyed but searching gaze fixed on his face. "Little do they know, they've been talking to Zuse the entire time."

"A harsher word than I would use," grinned Zuse, "but, yes, I consider it a necessary deception. With all these new threats popping up increasingly on the Grid, I have to be more selective, more careful. Besides, Flynn needs me for this, as I mentioned before. I believe in the Users' abilities to protect the Grid from threats, but sometimes, even Users need a helping hand. I often see and hear things Flynn and his very busy boys wouldn't be privy to."

So, in the end, it was about protecting the Grid. Quorra bounced once on her feet, thinking. "When you say 'threats,' you're talking about Abraxas, right?"

"Exactly, lovely, exactly. That's actually related to what I wanted to show you before. Will you come along now? You really must see this."

Quorra, in a much calmer state of mind, followed the curious program as he made his way down the narrow alley once again. She placed her disk back in its holder as she walked, deciding that its presence was no longer necessary. Though she felt more comfortable, her brain was still buzzing with the information she'd been given.

So, this was about Abraxas again? There had been viruses on the Grid before, she heard, but none of them were like him. The most frightening thing was that no one could tell where he came from or what he wanted, whereas before, viruses had always been traceable to some corrupted program who'd gone off the reservation. So far, they had been informed that attacks had been few, but…

But what if that wasn't entirely true? With dread, Quorra looked back and saw the truth that had been right in front of her the whole time. Nero's unit. They'd all been wiped out, but he never specified what happened, always shying away at the topic or offering up some distraction from it. Quorra would bet her armor that they'd run into Abraxas or perhaps one of his infected. The experience had shaken him too much for it to have been a normal encounter with a rogue program. But wait, he'd mentioned it was a virus that did it at some point, hadn't he?

If the Abraxas and the virus that attacked Nero was one and the same, did that mean Abraxas would target Zuse if he found out who he was and that he was digging for information on him? But Zuse wasn't even a security program like Nero, and Nero barely made it out from the confrontation alive. A horrible image of Zuse becoming infected with Abraxas' virus flashed before her eyes, and it took all she had to stop herself from continuing the thought and to calm her racing heart.

Slow down, slow down. I'm only jumping to conclusions. There's no proof that Abraxas is the common link in any of this. Besides, Zuse can take care of himself. I shouldn't even be worrying about him.

She pulled herself from her dark musings only when she noticed that they had nowhere else to go. Zuse had led her to the end of the alley where it spilled out into a spacious dead end. Bravely, the ISO stepped up beside Zuse, nearly shoulder to shoulder with him. Zuse watched, amused, as Quorra's eyes swept quickly over their surroundings before fixing on him, a questioning look on her face. This…was what he wanted her to see? An open space of nothing?

"Look around you," he advised. "Slower this time. Do you notice anything?"

Quorra's brows furrowed, at a loss as to what she was supposed to be noticing in this dead end other than the trash, dark, pebble-sized rocks, and the occasional miscellaneous item scattered around. "What am I looking for?"

"You see it already. Look closer."

A look of annoyance flashed across her face at his cryptic responses, but she took it as a learning experience. He said she was already looking at whatever it was he wanted her to see, but… Perhaps she wasn't looking at it the right way.

Taking a step forward, Quorra froze as tiny sounds like shattering glass came from under her foot. She'd stepped on a couple of the rocks, but rocks didn't sound like that. Rocks crunched under pressure.

Crouching down, Quorra plucked a damaged rock from the ground and studied it. When she noticed its unusually smooth, shiny quality, she nearly dropped the fragment in a mixture of shock and disgust, seeing the scattered pebbles around her for what they really were—or rather what they used to be.

"These are—?" Quorra choked. She couldn't say it.

"They were programs, yes. Quite a few of them, I'm guessing."

"But why are they here?" She cradled a few fragments in her hands, disbelieving. These had been programs; they'd been living at some point, heart beating, circuitry blazing with purpose, just as she was.

"Whether they're being dumped here—dying or already derezzed—or coming to die on their own, as instructed, I haven't been able to determine yet. As for why here specifically," Zuse said, coming to crouch beside her to examine the pieces better himself, "I'd say it's deliberate."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I'm the one that found them, just as intended." The small smile he gave only heightened the graveness in his eyes, the contrast between them all too apparent. "End of line, Quorra. The one thing all programs hear just before they're erased for good."

"And Abraxas is doing this?" said Quorra, her voice shaking.

"I don't know. It's impossible to tell with any certainty if they were infected with his virus. So little of them is left behind, and I've been unable to properly analyze it. If I had a full specimen—"

"Whether it's him or not," Quorra said, "doesn't that mean someone knows who you are?"

Zuse chuckled, surprising the ISO once again. "I doubt it. I've operated in this part of the Grid for cycles with a fair amount of control over the area. Whoever's doing this, I'm sure he knows that the End of Line Club is connected to me somehow. He just doesn't know how connected.

"Unfortunately—or rather, fortunately, for me—this isn't just happening here. All throughout the Grid, programs are turning up like this, in pieces, all for Tron, Clu, and their teams to find. They're the ones that tipped me off and are what prompted my own search."

And like one of the many flashes of lightning that ripped across the Grid's permanent, darkened sky, Quorra grasped the point he'd been trying to get across all along.

"This is why you have to be so careful. I've heard the rumors just like everyone else has. Basics and ISOs sense whatever's happening right now, and they're scared, but you can help them. You can figure this out and stop this if you're Castor and Zuse. But," Quorra reasoned gravely, "if everyone knows you're Zuse, then you won't be able to help anyone…will you?"

"Not to any great effect," Zuse admitted. "My power is dependent upon my secrecy, so…" Zuse stood upright again, offering Quorra his hand. "Can you keep my secret, Quorra? Will you help me?"

Quorra stared at his gloved hand, noticing for the first time that he'd replaced his white gloves with black ones. Other than that, it was still the same as she remembered, all long fingers and slumbering strength hidden within it. She gently dropped the derezzed program fragments back on the ground then grasped his hand with her smaller one. It was immediately engulfed. The next second, she was back on her feet, barely feeling herself move. He didn't let go, and she guessed it was because he was waiting for her response.

"I was sincere before, sir, but I'll repeat myself. I swear I won't tell anyone. And if you need my help for anything, just ask." But still her words sounded so hollow, even to her. How could she prove to him that she was trustworthy, that she'd never do anything to endanger her home or the people in it? Suddenly, Rubrix's insistence for combat training sounded awfully appealing. If she could learn, if she could help Zuse and Flynn fight back… But that wasn't possible for her, and that kind of thinking wouldn't help her now. All she had was her candidness, but would Zuse accept it for what it was, or perceive something threatening, something false that wasn't truly there?

"…It's not in an ISO's nature to lie," Zuse intoned lowly, but at her proximity to him, Quorra heard him quite clearly. "Basics have the ability to lie, some quite easily in fact. We've learned to be deceptive in certain circumstances—perhaps a gift from our maker?" He sneered. There it was again, that derision. Quorra filed away his reaction for later. "But not you. I suppose I will have to put my faith in that."

"R-really?" After everything, this was his solution? In the end, it would be this simple?

"Yes, I should think so," Zuse said. "Why? Am I wrong about you, Quorra? Should I attempt a reconfiguration of your system to be sure?" He pulled her closer, and that's when she panicked.

"No!" Quorra exclaimed, pulling away. The tightened grip on her hand and the amused grin that spread across his face told her that he was only joking, but he didn't persist. She stopped, calmed herself, and responded more rationally, "No, no, you can trust me. I couldn't betray you, Zuse. I wouldn't want to."

"Then, I suppose we have reached an understanding." No sooner had they shook on it than Quorra found that her hand was completely her own again. She hadn't noticed how comforting his warmth on her hand was until it was gone.

"You're still not entirely yourself, though," Zuse murmured.

"What? No! I'm fine." However, Quorra glanced up at him a little too sharply, nullifying her words.

"I really didn't mean to startle you," Zuse said, looking back at the lingering traces of death all around them, "but I suppose seeing this would unsettle any program."

"Well, I've never seen anyone get derezzed before," the dark-haired program admitted, "and all this proof of it, I guess, makes me a little nervous. Not to mention the talking about it like we did before…"

At seeing his raised eyebrow, Quorra would've hit herself over the head if she could reach around the foot in her mouth. Hadn't she already upset Zuse when she'd accused him of wanting to derezz her before? And now she was bringing it back up again!

"Not that, um, not that you would do that to me." What am I doing? "I know you wouldn't now for sure. Uh, derezz me, I mean. It's just beforehand, well, I was a little worried, but seeing all this, seeing how—how awful it could be, I just know you wouldn't do that, and I'm sorry for joking about it before."

"Have you really been worrying about that? No wonder you've been behaving so strangely," he said mildly. "But you're wrong about one thing. I have derezzed programs before, and I'm likely to do so again. Don't fret, though, lovely. I only derezz the particularly deserving. Derezz you, honestly."

At his light laugh, Quorra felt like jumping in front of an oncoming disk. He was the one who was behaving strangely, not her. But she couldn't think that with any positivity. He was right again. There was still so much she didn't know about this system or its inhabitants, to say nothing of its strangest one.

After all, what kind of program would you have to be for Zuse to derezz you?

She didn't want to think about it.

It was with some surprise that, as she turned to leave—believing their peculiar conversation to be over—Zuse's voice called out.

"Now, hold on! Where are you off to in such a hurry? We've much to discuss, you and I."

"…We do?" Hadn't they just had a pretty lengthy discussion? And the way he sounded just now. He sounded exuberant, vibrant, playful.

He sounded like he did when they'd first met. Normal. At least, from her perspective, this was his normal conduct.

"Oh, I certainly think so." He caught up to her instantly with his long strides, and they walked side by side, navigating around tight corners and any other obstacles in their path. "I, for one, am curious to know how you found me."

"Isn't that working under the assumption that I was looking for you to begin with?"

"You mean you weren't?" Zuse sounded genuinely surprised. Quorra finally released a full smile, elated at his reaction.

"No. Really, we came here to find work."

"Is that so?" he remarked slyly.

"What?" Quorra asked defensively, her smile dimming.

"Nothing, nothing. It's just kinda funny. The one place you go looking for work I know you probably don't need—"

"How would you know what I—"

"—and I just so happen to be the owner of said place. What do you say to that?"

"Uh," stuttered the ISO, at a loss as to what he was implying. "Just a coincidence? I really didn't know it was you. I mean, I saw your picture, but I figured it wasn't you because of the whole Castor thing, but as it turns out…" Quorra trailed off, uncertain. From that admission, she sounded like either an idiot or a liar, and she couldn't decide which made her feel worse.

"As it turns out," Zuse repeated, smiling. He attempted to fix his features into something that was somewhat serious, but on the inside, he was beaming. It was like the start of a joke: Two ISOs walk into a bar, and it just so happened to be his. Of all the innumerable possibilities! But no matter, coincidence or not, he was certain to benefit from it.

"I believe you, you know," continued Zuse, not at all convincingly. On the defensive again, Quorra opened her mouth to protest but saw from the exaggeratedly serious look on his face that he was just teasing her. She'd seen enough of him now to tell when that look was real, having just been on its receiving end minutes before, and when it was faked.

I haven't even worked for the man yet, thought Quorra, and I'm already tired.

They had almost made it back to the opening of the alley, for already she could see other programs strolling to and fro along the sidewalk, most looking engaged and extremely busy.

Zuse flipped his hood back on but left it so only his hair was covered, his vibrant eyes fixed on the bodies that passed by, all of them failing to notice the two programs lingering in the darkened space. He looked much less menacing with it that way, Quorra noted. Almost roguish in comparison to before… Quorra diverted her gaze when she realized she'd been staring.

Apparently, she got away with it, for he merely said, "I didn't know there was a picture of me just floating around out there. That could spell trouble for me later." He tapped his chin ponderingly. "I'll need to ask Gem to take care of that."

At the mention of the alluring female program, Quorra perked up, a question searing in her brain, begging to be released.

"One last thing." Quorra stopped Zuse as he moved to walk down a fork in the alleyway she hadn't noticed before. She guessed it traveled directly back to his club.

"Yes, lovely?"

"Just so I understand… Does Gem know?"

"Of course," Zuse said. There was a distinct absence of feeling within Quorra as she heard his confession. "Hard to hide something like this from a program like her."

"How long has she known?" And did you do the same to her as you did to me when you found out?

"Oh, let's see. Since the beginning, almost. It really didn't take her long to figure it out."

Whereas, it had taken her, Quorra, far too long. That's what he was saying…

Don't be ridiculous, Quorra.

Shaking herself from the black mood that threatened to grip her in its icy claws, Quorra refocused. Why did she care so much? This wasn't even any of her business. Yet she felt compelled to seek answers. Even if she didn't like the answers, she wanted them anyway. And dammit, some part of her wanted to impress him, to prove that she was more than that shell of a program that he first met. She wanted to prove that she was still seeking answers, still asking questions, as he'd once praised her for doing. "And, how did she? What tipped her off?"

"Ah." Zuse looked down, a secret smile forming on his lips as he fell into memory. "I'm afraid that's a personal matter."

"Oh," Quorra stammered, somewhat blindsided by the short, enigmatic response. She should have guessed… "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." His voice was soft, not at all disapproving, but she couldn't bring herself to look back at him. She paid close attention, however, to his receding footsteps, waiting for him to leave so she could find some normalcy of her own again.

"See you tomorrow, Quorra." She jerked her head around to Zuse's slight call but found him still walking, his back to her. He lifted a hand up in a lazy wave. "And don't forget: it's Castor from now on."

He rounded the corner before her quiet response of "Of course...Castor" could reach him.

Quorra re-entered the main street, overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle around her. Or perhaps she was more unsettled by what she had just left behind. Either way, she needed to find Rubrix and—

And not tell him anything about it.

So much for clearing my head. Quorra sighed. Aside from the Abraxas stuff, I can't really talk to him or Nero about this.

No, she couldn't speak about this to anyone, except the program that was the sole source of her scrambled thoughts to begin with. And perhaps Gem. She and Quorra were…friends? Could you call someone that, even if she only spoke to you for a few minutes? Isn't that what you called someone who was helpful to you?

Quorra would just have to discover that tomorrow. She had to get Rubrix, even though she was sure he probably hadn't even noticed her absence, and tear him away from the arcade. They still had a DJ to find before tomorrow.

Tomorrow...

Pausing for a moment longer, Quorra glanced back to where Zuse had retreated, knowing she'd find the alley empty, disappointment settling in her like stagnant water when she turned out to be right.

What really bothered her was not understanding why she even felt disappointed in the first place.

He confused her. No, that was an under-exaggeration. Zuse utterly perplexed her.

And Quorra could honestly say she didn't care for the feeling.

A/N: Yay, everyone's confused! This is great!

So, as you can probably tell, Abraxas is going to be a big part of this story. Let me make clear right now that I have not played Tron: Evolution, and I am not at a point where I can, sadly. While I intend to use as much of the canon information about him as I can, please take into account my lack of knowledge on the subject and my artistic license to do what I must to continue this story. After all, I don't really want to do a rewrite of the Tronverse with a Castor/Quorra pairing; rather, I wish to explore this pairing and this world and give you guys an original story that stays true to the spirit of Tron instead. If, however, there is anything about Abraxas, Clu, or any of the characters/events in the Tron series that you want me to consider keeping, please add that to your review or send me a PM, and I will do my best to make it work. But if I can't, then I can't. I'd rather sacrifice a minor detail and still deliver a great story than preserve a minor detail but only give a mediocre story.

Anyway, enough rambling. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!