Pavel was grasping at the corners of the chair handles. The energy circulating through him was just as he dreamed. What he had longed for had finally come true and now he only had two problems left to cross of his list. Both, he felt would be taken care of easily, now that he was in command.

He gazed over the city of Argon, now under his jurisdiction, under his power, his reign. A dark quick chuckle escaped his mouth with his thoughts. Who knew the Renegade would actually be the downfall of Tesler? Fine, it hadn't been the Renegade to actually strike him down, Pavel figured the spineless bit brained Program would actually do it if he had the chance, but the means of Tesler's deresolution hadn't involved any play on Pavel's part. His hands were truly clean of voxels.

Turning his gaze towards his now gauntleted hands, he felt another surge of new found power travel its way through his body. Not only had Clu been the one to remove the late General, permanently, but he had given his remaining Commander his position, his city, and his uniquely astounding gauntlets.

He flexed his fingers and curled them into a fist. The gloves made small leathery pinching noises from being pressured into itself. With great conviction, he launched his right hand forward. It shot across the room and broke through the glass that separated the outside city air from funneling into the General's throne room. Losing himself to the power, the newly appointed general started to laugh manically. His head tilted backwards as he laughed, towards the Users he envisioned high above him. His arm retreated back to his side and the gauntlet steamed slightly, cooling itself with the near frozen gel substance inside the weapon.

The two Black Guards slowly looked towards each other. One gave a small shrug while the other seemed more uncomfortable of the situation as he stiffened his stance.

"GUARDS!" Pavel's shout reverberated through the mostly empty room. Both jumped to the formal tall ridge stance when being addressed by a superior.

"I want you to go through the ex-commander's room. Bring me anything you find!" Pavel's commanding voice had only grown more arrogant sounding since his promotion. Of course, he hadn't noticed.

The two stationed guards instantly went to the door they stood guard of and waited a brief moment as the door opened. Before they could leave however, they were shouted for once more.

"And bring someone to fix the window," Pavel said as if he just remembered a small fact that needed to be addressed.

The two guards nodded once and exited out of the throne room. The general could hear the hollow sound of their footfalls as they continued down the long corridor until the doors sealed themselves back together. He stepped away from his throne and prowled the room as he had started to do once he was alone. It was quickly becoming his favorite activity to pass the time. Even in his short time of being the head honcho he'd been surprised to find lieutenants and other higher up soldiers waiting for him as he was completely oblivious to his surroundings.

Unknown to Pavel, it wasn't only the occasional guard or officer that he'd let slip his attention. As two Programs watched and studied his actions with stoic expressions.

"Are you sure it's wise to leave him in charge of Argon?" Dyson asked wearily. He knew better that to question Clu, his savior and righteous leader, but that was mainly because he usually kept Dyson informed of his plans. Only withholding information when he knew Dyson could figure it out on his own. And currently, the former monitor couldn't wrap his mind around letting such an incompetent and power hungry Program access to what he craved so badly. It was similar to giving drugs to a drug addict, only worsening their resolve and sending them farther down their depressing state of a life. Though, Pavel would probably disagree about his life and where it currently stood.

"Don't worry, Dyson. He'll make for a good distraction while we allow more important plans to go forward," Clu stated with a mildly soft tone that actually soothed Dyson. And just with that sentence, he realized what Clu's priority really was.

"Ah, of course," Dyson agreed with satisfaction of understanding, softly nodding his head. Clu simply smiled in return.

"Are we still unsure of where the commander went?" Clu asked nonchalantly. Dyson shook his head in response.

"What guards that were in the docks says that her retrieval was stopped by two renegades," Dyson supplied in a formal debriefing.

"Two?" Clu inquired, mildly intrigued.

"One was the infamous Renegade, white with the circuits of Tron. The other was mostly black aside from white spots of circuitry and a tetra of Tron near his neck," Clu silently mulled over the information. A conclusion quickly reaching the forefront of his mind.

"Looks like Tron is running about with his protégé," Clu deduced, his eyes still fixated on the screen that showed their new general, though Dyson felt that his thoughts were on the opposite side of the Grid.

"He took out two Light Tanks and a small platoon of soldiers within a minute. I believe he is healed,"

"Seems so. I guess Cutler was as weak as I expected," Clu's tone didn't betrayed any of his inner thoughts, but unlike others Dyson figured Clu was pleased and plans were going accordingly.

"What of the Super Recognizer?"

"Have it restored," Clu's tone was lighter than usual. His second in command understood that as joy escaping his controlled demeanor.

"How?" Dyson asked in wonder. The ship was massive, even with all the ships they had brought to Argon, could the behemoth machine be lifted? Clu looked to Dyson, his face neutral.

"Fix it where it is," Dyson stood there a moment, running ideas and thoughts through his head.

"Shall I move it once it is capable of flight?"

"No. Keep it down. I want the ship to seem inoperable until it is too late," the Flynn copy informed Dyson.

"Of course. I will take care of it. Personally," Dyson's last word was hardened with conviction. Clu responded with a single curt nod.

"What should we do about the commander?"

"Don't worry about her, she's hardly worth the time. Whether she comes back willing or she finds out about Gallium, she's useless to me,"

"Should I inform the guards to keep an eye out for her?" The fake faced Program was not as comfortable as his leader about just letting a highly trained commander run around without keeping tabs on her.

"I'll let you decide. I trust that you'll be able to handle her," Clu handed the baggage of Paige over to his obviously concerned second in command. Subsequently, ending the discussion of her.

"Oh, there was something interesting about one of the bodies at the dock," Dyson remembered an odd fact in the report he read from one of the officers.

"There was one derezzed body not to far off where the Renegade left all of our Black Guards unconscious. This body didn't have a disc and all discs of the soldiers have been accounted for. Who ever it was, it doesn't seem to be one of ours," Dyson explained. Clu looked to him and if Dyson hadn't known better he would have said Clu was actually confused at the news.

"Interesting. Seeing that you didn't tell me the commander was dead, I'm assuming you have a good reason to think it's not her?"

"There were too many voxels. It couldn't have been her," Clu lowered his head in thought.

"It could be anyone. We have more important things to think about," Clu said lifting his head. His eyes and face completely gone of any previous interest. Dyson nodded.

The two headed for the exit of their observation room.

"I will say Tesler played a dangerous game with that commander," Clu noted.

"He saw her as a valuable asset. Whether she truly is or not is another discussion,"

"She was infected by the ISOs. She needed to be purged on the spot,"

"And is she still infected?"

"I believe she has overcome the infection, only to gain a new one," Dyson knew that Clu was talking about Tron and his band of renegades, but certainly he couldn't think that Paige had gone to them so easily.

"I understand,"

"No. You don't. But I'm confident you'll handle her situation," Clu once again dismissed the Paige situation, leaving Dyson to his own thoughts of the former commander.

-separator-

The holo room was filled Black Guards and mechanics. The former surrounding the latter. The mechanics had their helmets up and all wore the same Tron copy cat design, only in black instead of Child Basic white. Each one had their disc at the ready and their body language screamed a feral aura. The guards were slowly closing the distance on their targets when as if in command the group of would be renegades sprung from their spot and flung themselves at the guards.

Tron made notes of all the mechanics and their skills. Mara was the best in all areas he was looking for. She had leadership, strength, determination, some experience, and even some decent combat skills. Zed was her shadow. Not taking command but knowing to follow her, albeit Tron figured it was more out of blind love than understanding good character. He just hoped any relationship that may or may not form between the two doesn't hinder their ability to fight in the Defiance. Taking a look at Zed and his still more evasive approach to fighting a guard, waiting to attack when it was painfully obvious he had an opening, Tron figured he wouldn't have to worry too much about their relationship gaining any flame.

Continuing his examination, he noted that Link was more than met the eye. Using his small body for speed and agility, he would dodge slashes and kicks and counterattack with lightning fast precision and accuracy. Tron was not surprised or caught off guard by the display of cunning style. Knowing that looks can mean almost nothing in his digital world.

Kevin Flynn looked just like the rest of the Programs, in the old Grid and the new. The only difference was the amount of almost mystic capabilities he held. Seeing Flynn and his User power would probably cause Tron to not have anymore surprises and amazed moments.

Clu was another example, but he was tired of seething for the moment and allowed his thoughts to return to the dying battle.

Most guards had been taken down. The only ones remaining were now double and tripled teamed, which was their blessing in disguise. The mechanics knew how to work together in a garage, but their lack of formal training and rather, streetish, style of fighting hindered their capacity to work well together. The hero of the Grid figured it would be as so, yet he hadn't expected it to be so bad.

Bartik and Hopper were the ones to excel in this area. Knowing each other's movements and having a good understanding of the other's thought process they fought ferociously and very dirty. Tron knew they were in Paige's special little group, but the other mechanics had, hesitantly, vowed for their loyalty. He planned to keep an eye out for any grief or sabotage they may insight, but watching their interactions with the other mechanics had calmed his overcautious and borderline conspiric nerves.

When the fight had finished, Tron rejoined them in the holo room.

"It is good to see you all fight with resolve," Tron declared, no longer using his voice modifier but still covering his identity with a helmet.

The mechanics showed signs of exhaustion, breathing raggedly and bent in odd angles as if the pull of gravity was too much for them. To say Tron was disappointed that his new renegades were so weak bodied, was an understatement. But at least that could be rectified compared to a weak mind, or an unwilling mind.

"But we still have a lot of work to do, and you all have a long way to go before you're all ready to fight," Tron's stern voice drew grunts and sighs of displeasure from the group.

If only Beck were here...

"It's alright guys, we all did pretty good right? For beginners that is," Mara reassured the others. She was one of the few who managed to look unperturbed by the fight, standing tall, eyes breaming with energy and eagerness, as if ready for me. Bartik, three other mechanics Tron hadn't been informed of their names, and surprisingly Link. Tron truly couldn't tell if he was trying to hide his exhaustion or if he really was as steady as Mara looked.

The mechanics looked around at their fellow workers in comical disagreement before looking to Tron. He gave a curt nod knowing these Programs were not Beck. They couldn't take the harsh reality of their abysmal fighting level and use it to further their resolve, rather the opposite.

"I'll show you basic technics and strategies of combat, then I will pair you off to train amongst each other," the masked Program lectured. The mechanics focused their attention on Tron as he made a bigger distance before gathering himself in a stance.

"First is your typical battle stance. A balance between offensive and defensive. This is what you will be using for most of your engagements," Tron started his training once more, hoping that his third and final time would be the last that he would need to.

The green of the apartment had been the only relief and comfort to Paige. No other aspect of the medium three tenement had brought her peace. She was not one for having physical belongings. Her beliefs, willpower, and strength were the only things she truly cared for, knowing no Program could take those away. Or so she thought.

Trust, something she had hardly any of after the ISO's betrayed her, was crushed. Though, in the back of her mind she knew Beck couldn't have told her who he was because she wouldn't see reason and would have immediately went to arrest him, she still felt the deep welling of pain and hollowness from his true identity.

But she wasn't angry at the Renegade. Her anger was directed at the: Occupation, Pavel, Clu, and Tesler. Mainly Tesler. It had to be him to have ordered the guards to retrieve her, why would Clu order it? She had done nothing, aside from a glance in his direction, to warrant an arrest. It wasn't the first time Paige's loyalty was tested. When she was arrested and forced to fight against the guards and eventually Pavel he hadn't heard any of her pleas. He had taken Pavel's word over hers before any evidence had been shown.

Slowly ever so slowly, Paige was starting to feel again. The inner eating of hollowness was subsiding as it was feed and replaced by anger. A small but extremely dense and sluggish rage that threatened to consume her. She was more comfortable with anger than hollowness. She could use the anger to be stronger, faster. It made her more determined, emboldened her strive, and satisfied once it was used correctly. The emptiness slowed her down, froze her in her place, and distracted her. Let alone the pain that it brought with it. The crippling, agonizing, destroying pain that she was recently enveloped in.

The medic took a deep breath and sat up on her couch. Her rage was undoubtedly tied with her resolve and motivation, with its revival she wanted to move, start rectifying her problems.

Walking out to her small balcony, she allowed her eyes to roam over the contrasting city. It's bright neon blue glow and the bright orange of the Occupation made it look at war. She caught sight of a monitor showing the wanted Programs. It wasn't a surprise that her picture was on it. She remembered the feeling all to well of seeing her face on the wanted postings. There was one small difference from her previous time, though. Instead of her name being cmdr_Paige it was now simply Paige.

I guess it's official.

With that thought the last of her emptiness had vanished. The dark hatred now completely filled her and drove her. She was itching to use it.

I better get out of here before they come searching.

She glanced around her apartment, checking to see if there was any valuable object in it. Her eyelids shot open as she remembered her only two true possessions. The picture of her and her two friends from Gallium, and her Monome.

Before she knew it, she was outside her apartment building and through the dark alleyways of Argon. Where she was going she didn't know, but she didn't care. For now she would find a place to hide her picture and monome and find the nearest guard and derezz him, or something along those lines.

It is oddly quiet around the deserted garage. Surrounded by debris of the fallen Super Recognizer and barred from any civilians, the destroyed area served more as a foreshadowing than anything. A great machine brought down by two lowly Programs.

Dyson sneered at the thought of how this great vessel had fallen by the hands of two. It had took them far too long to build it just to be crippled by a lucky explosion. The Program merely shook his head in disappointment. At least it was only crippled, badly, than destroyed completely. Silver lining he supposed.

Turning to the large platoon of engineers and soldiers pulled from Tesler's ship, he motioned for them to start their orders. Having been informed of their mission on the ride over, the lot of Programs went straight to work. It would be a while before any true progress could be made and even longer for the behemoth to once again fly but Dyson was confident he could use this 'distraction' as Clu had put it to good use.

It was disheartening, to say the least, when Clu had told him that the project he had worked on for so long, did his best to maintain its secrecy, and find the best of mechanics and engineers to perform the job was nothing more than a distraction. But the fact that Clu had something bigger in mind gave Dyson reassurance. Clu trusted him enough to make sure this was taken care of. Along with their commander dilemma, well... that's how he saw it anyway.

He past his time by kicking a few of the rubble from his directed path around the area his troops were working. Not caring about the scuffs or dirt that was now marking and clinging to his boots. His mind wasn't on the groups of Programs that were at work around him, but the group of Programs that were at work far around him, working in the shadows to bring down perfection.

Damn renegades…

The air was stale, filled with uncirculated air that consisted mainly of sewer vapor. The streets and walls were damaged and lacked care, their original shine now a dull smug that failed to reflect the light properly. Some of the circuit lines that ran along the buildings were out in certain areas and some of them flickered due to a influx in their power current. The light posts faired a worse fate as most of them seemed out or taken down, and judging by their jagged stems where the poles used to be it was vandalism that removed them.

The Programs of the surrounding area seemed as badly kept as the buildings and lights. Half of them were grim and poor looking. The other half was the opposite, tough and menacing. It was obvious crime was the dominating economic factor in these parts. The shady looking Programs that had to be dealing drug stimulants. The dazed and unconscious Programs that were the result of those drugs who were littered around the darker areas of the city.

The only thing to bug the wondering medic was the smell, which was easily handled by her helmet that she wore at all times. She could handle the gang Programs with ease and no drug crazed junky would be able to take her either. Though, it was going to be hard, she knew she would find a good opponent, most likely a group, to help her train. Concealed under her cloak, her secondary disc was still held in her grasp. Her thumb was absentmindedly stroking the disc, something she caught herself doing more and more.

She had just past through a particularly bad back alley with a corrupted barrel that was burning while three homeless Programs were huddled around it. Two other Programs were laying on what seemed to be some form of a mattress made from a substance that looked to be soft but also gave off a disgusting odor so strong even her mask couldn't stop it from getting to her noise. At least she hoped it was the 'mattresses' if it wasn't then she figured those Programs were far worse than she originally thought.

The opening she had reached after her little stroll through the wonderful alley seemed cleaner than the rest of the areas she had been. Across the open area was an abandoned building that looked to be a former hospital. It was like all the other buildings she had walked by but with more makeshift barriers on the windows. No matter where she looked, the inside of the hospital was not visible. It was under one of the major freeways that circulated Programs to the nicer sections of Argon to the middle class of Argon, completely skipping over Purgos. Though, why was this small clearing better kept than the rest of Purgos? Especially the alleyway connecting it. The answer would soon be given to Paige.

Shadowed Programs started to form from the dark of the hospital, merging into a steadily growing group that formed on the edge of the circular open area across from Paige. Looking to her flank she saw that the Programs from the alleyway were running around the corner onto the main street, hoping to avoid what they knew was sure to happen. Even the two Programs Paige suspected reeked of sour energy and recycled unclean army boots had managed to wake themselves and stumble away. A grin had managed to find its way onto her lips. This was turning out to be exactly what she was looking for.

The mob of Programs had stopped growing and counted to be around 45 individual Programs. The ex-commander's grin broke into a full smile. She was more than excited to start using two discs, exhilarated to be precise. Her fingers tingled with anticipation as her eyes flared with fury. These Programs weren't the cause of Paige's anger they were just an ends to a mean, and her madness was blind it didn't care who it fought, just that it was given a challenge.

"Look at this boys, we gots ourselves a lost Program," one of the front Programs stated.

"By the looks of him he ain't from around here," another said, sounding female.

"We'll have to give him a formal welcoming," the group slowly started to descend on Paige.

She didn't respond to any of their threats, but snuck her disc into her right hand from under her cloak. She continued to stand her ground and stay her stance as they slowly surrounded her. Forgetting the stale air, the flickering lights, and the more innocent Programs that were no longer nearby, she became hyper aware of her senses. The sound of each individual footstep made, the fidgeting of some of the gang members most likely out of eagerness, and how some of them were going to use a baton while others had pulled out their disc and ignited them.

It didn't take long for the first one to run at Paige. He charge was slopping and jokingly open for a return attack. With his disc raised far to high and his body at a ridiculous angle to her he was easily cut down. With a bolt of speed, she had stepped forward and made a simple slash through the Program's abdomen. She returned to her normal standing pose as the voxels fell to ground and splashed over to the other's feet.

Grunts and roars of rage and came from the surrounding group. When the next attacked it was four at once, one from her front, two to her left, and the last to her right. Cutting down the one to her right with Beck's disc and spinning low to thrust it into the enemy from her front before she rolled out of the way of the two attacks, both missing by a good few centimeters. She swept their legs out from under them with a lower swing of her leg. Following up with the momentum she spun faster and used both discs to obliterate the closer Program and rain voxels upward into the air. Falling down and showering the other Programs nearby. With a swift throw, she took out the last Program. Her toss was angled downward, when it hit the ground it bounced back up and took out two more of the circling targets before bouncing of a broken slab of what used to be a building and returning to her.

A few murmurs came from the crowd about Paige's two discs, at the same time a few of the Programs in the back had run off. At least the weak hearted Programs would be able to spread the news of her destruction.

The next attack would be the last as the thugs didn't attack in a set number but a stream of their forces. Discs started to fly and arcing through the air while baton ends were coursing with electrical energy. Most of her foes were untrained which allowed for easy dodging and control of the battle, even if she was facing more than 30 Programs.

Taken down by a non flashy counter, or cut in pieces by a dazzling dance like return of attacks with her two discs, she was making it look like child's play. Adding steps to moves she was comfortable with and finding a use for her second disc, and finding new skillful attacks that would have to come with more practice but seemed infinitely useful. This idea for training was working out wonderfully in her favor. Not that she was completely flawless in her fighting, managing to get a few scrapes and bruises and almost losing her head only to be saved by another gangster to had accidentally tripped her for his own attack.

By the end of it she felt well exercised and vigorously spent. A good first practice run. Exiting the way she came leaving the massive pile of voxels spread around the open ground, she found that there were Programs peering around walls and hiding spots who had watched the entire event unfold. She ignored them as she walked back to the main streets of Purgos to head back to her hideout. An aggravated sigh escaped her as she realized how far she was from it and didn't have a Light Bike to use. Guessing from her current placement the people around her wouldn't have one. She decided against turning back and rummaging around the voxels of her dead practice dummies to find one and started her long trudge back to 'home'.

AN: So Gallium is the original place Paige is from right? I might have my facts mixed. I don't know how you all feel about Link but i'm doing a complete 180 for him. If you don't like it just pretend he's Zelda's Link, sure that'll help the change (shrugs). One more thing I'd like to say, I am by far no means a good writer. No training, no classes, just what i've read on this site, so I won't be pulling out any amazing scenes that blow your mind with quality, I just try to get the characters right. The characters define and make the story, the story shouldn't define the characters. (Except Link cause he was originally a nobody).

PS: Hope is a wonderful thing. Do hold onto yours.