Two new chapters in one day! What am I thinking? Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's longer than normal and FILLED with action. And, pretty please, review. I love hearing what people think because it inspires me to write. Enjoy! ~Moore12~

Two

1989

He didn't even look up from his work when the small program entered. He was busy and didn't want to be bothered, even though he figured it had to be something important. As of the moment, the ISOs were his priority—he had to determine where he should place their lodging. They were the ones that mattered; their discovery, by him, was going to change the world…for the better…forever. Nothing will ever be the same, he thought smugly. And it's all because of you.

"Flynn," a small, soft voice tore him from his thoughts. Sighing deeply—he was onto something and had been so rudely interrupted—he turned around and saw Ram standing in the entrance to his "office," a nervous smile on his face.

"What is it now, Ram?" he grumbled, not even trying to hide the exasperation in his voice. He added, just wanting to make it clear his was an unwanted interruption, "Can't you tell I'm busy?"

Ram looked at him with fear filled eyes—what he was so afraid of was beyond him—but didn't say anything at first. When he did speak, his voice was shaking slightly, "Flynn, something's wrong."

"Yeah?" he asked, not really interested in what Ram had to say. "Well, don't just stand there and stare at me, man! What the hell is it?"

He watched the small program flinch at his words and had to wonder if he had been too harsh. I did bring him back to help me out, he thought as he tried to smile at the program and found that he couldn't. But…he hasn't really done much but get in the way.

"Flynn," Ram began, his eyes darting nervously around the room. When he continued, his voice had gained some confidence. "It's Clu. Something's wrong with that guy. I…I think he's planning something."

Bristling at Ram's contention, he snapped, "There is nothing wrong with Clu! You hear me?"

Ram looked at him—disbelief in his eyes—and then sighed deeply. "Flynn, you've got to hear me out, alright?" he pleaded, his voice anxious. "I know Clu's your program and I'm not but you've got to hear me out!"

"Wow, you are a sharp, man," he snickered, glaring at the program. "Clu is my program. I created him. You know what that means?"

He paused for a moment, looking at Ram expectantly. Just as the program was about to respond—he looked more frantic than he had when he first entered the room, that was for sure—he continued, allowing the edge in his voice to remain, "That means I know him better than you do." He stopped there even though he wanted to add "you worthless actuary."

An awkward silence descended upon them, and he couldn't help but notice that Ram was beginning to look angry. He had seen Clu and Tron angry many times, but Ram? Most of the time it seemed like nothing could wipe that smile off his face. But the smile was gone, replaced with an angry scowl and narrowed eyes. Before he could say anything, Ram broke the silence. "Look, Flynn, I've been patient with you, alright? I know the ISOs are your first priority, and that's fine. But for the love of the users you need to listen to me! Clu…Clu's changed."

A realization tore through Flynn as sharp as a knife. "This isn't even about Clu, is it?" he demanded as everything became clear. "This is about the fact you're worried I care more about the ISOs than the programs!"

Something in Ram must have snapped. Rage in his normally calm eyes, he yelled, "Flynn, you're not listening to me! This isn't about that; this is about how Clu isn't who you think he is!" And then his voice fell—as if he sensed he had failed to move the "creator"—and he added, pleading once more, "Please, Flynn, you've got to listen to me. For the sake of the system…"

He had heard enough and was about to throw that worthless program out of his office and tell him exactly what he thought of him, but Ram continued, a sad smirk on his face, "For the sake of your beloved ISOs…"

"What the hell are you trying to say, man?" he asked, a knot beginning to form in his stomach. Ram's just messing with me now, that's all it is, he thought, desperately trying to determine the root of the program's strange behavior. "What do the ISOs have to do with Clu?"

"You programmed Clu to create the perfect system," Ram said softly, the fear returning to his eyes. "But the ISOs…aren't perfect. And Clu…Clu's got a problem with imperfection. I'm…so sorry, Flynn."

No! That couldn't be true, he thought desperately, staring at the small program in disbelief. This had to be some cruel, sick joke, a futile attempt by a worthless program to get attention. He had to be wrong, and he wanted to tell him that, but all that came out was a small, helpless, "How…how do you know?"

"He…he looks at them like he looks at me," Ram answered, the fear present in his eyes once more, "with disgust. And…and I've heard things from other programs. They're something going on, some kind of uprising. The programs, especially Clu, don't…like the ISOs."

That was it? That was his lame excuse? That he had heard something from programs who admittedly didn't like the ISOs, that Clu didn't like him? That didn't mean anything!

"Damn it, Ram, none of that means anything! You're just jealous, man! A jealous little program who—should I remind you?—I restored!" he raged, getting up out of his seat for the first time to tower over the small program. "Get the hell out of my sight and don't come back until you really want to help me, understand?"

If a program could cry, he was certain Ram would have. He looked up at Flynn, a broken expression on his face, his wide eyes filled with deep sadness, his lower lip quivering slightly. He looked, for a moment, as if he was about to speak, but he said nothing and lowered his head. Without saying another word, he turned and let himself out, and he watched him go and didn't even try to stop him.

When the door slammed shut behind Ram, he returned to his desk to think about more important things. He hardly noticed when the door opened again, and he was torn from his thoughts by the sound of Clu's—and his own—voice: "Flynn, I just wanted to tell you that Tron and I eliminated the grid bug threat, just as you told us to."

Smiling to himself, he completely dismissed Ram's fears. Clu's a good, loyal program, he thought to himself. Unlike a certain actuary…

2009

I

Quorra watched Flynn, trying to hide that she was worried about him. How many cycles had they spent in this house with nothing important to do but remain hidden? He was meditating again, and, even though he had explained the purpose of this practice to her countless times, she had to wonder what he was really thinking about. She hoped he was coming up with a plan to take down Clu, but she knew that wasn't the case.

Those days were over; they were going to hide forever.

Sighing deeply, she got up—she wasn't able to concentrate on meditating anyway—and was about to return to her room to read when Flynn called calmly, "Quorra, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied, biting her lip to keep from telling him what she was truly feeling. "I just wanted to go read, that's all."

Flynn turned around and, smiling at her, said softly, "No, that's not it. You're angry at me. Why is that?"

Quorra knew better than argue with him—he was a User after all, he would always win—but words began spilling out of her mouth anyway. "I just don't understand why we don't do something!" she exclaimed, releasing all of her pent up frustration. "You created this system; you could change everything back to the way it was!"

"Quorra," Flynn began but then something caught his attention and he stopped. He got to his feet and walked to the window that overlooked Tron City. In the distance, a light shined—it looked, to her at least, like Flynn's description of a sunset. She smiled unconsciously at the sight and turned to Flynn.

He looked stunned and slightly disturbed, not at all happy like the ISO. "Something's wrong, Q," he said softly, the fear he was clearly feeling unhidden for the first time in so long. "Somebody's opened the portal."

Finally some action, Quorra couldn't help but think. It's about time.

II

Everything was happening too fast. Sam hardly even understood what was happening. One moment he was sitting in his father's office, the next he was on what he knew must be the Grid his father always spoke of. It was amazing, to be sure, but something was clearly wrong with the place. There were hardly any programs around, and the moment he stepped outside of the digital version of his father's arcade, a Recognizer appeared out of nowhere.

After being captured by programs wearing strange outfits complete with orange circuitry, he was transported to a giant stadium and chosen to play in the "games." When one of the programs had been selected for the games, he had killed himself—a site that shocked and actually scared Sam. What's happening? he thought as he stared down at his new black armor.

He barely had time to consider the answer to his question because the platform he was on started moving. The next thing he knew, he was in some kind of holding area inside the stadium. There was a crowd—of what must be programs, he assumed—in the stands, and they were screaming. They're insane, he thought as he quickly took in the scene to get his bearings.

That was when he realized he was going to have to fight for his life…

III

Ram smirked from behind his mask. New kid, he thought, surprisingly happy. No problem. Even though the mask was tinted—he knew nobody could see his face—he could see out of it, and he quickly calculated that this match wasn't going to take long.

But…still…there was something different about the kid.

That can't be, he thought as he pulled the identity disc from his back. He can't be a User.

His gut told him something different; he felt the same way he had when he had first met Flynn. He knew the moment he saw him there was something different about him, and he knew there was something different about the kid he was about to fight as well.

When the match started—despite his misgivings—Ram didn't wait. Hurling his identity disc, he hoped it was going to be the quick match he had calculated it would be. Kid doesn't even know to rezz his helmet, he thought, holding back an amused snort.

The kid just barely missed being hit by his disc, and Ram caught it out of the air with ease. "What the hell's going on?" the kid yelled as he—finally, Ram snickered—rezzed his helmet and grabbed his identity disc.

When the kid flung his identity disc, Ram was ready. With the ease of the seasoned veteran he was, he grabbed the weak shot out of the air. He had two identity discs, the kid had none.

Without even thinking—fighting was, once again, ingrained deep within him—Ram flung the kid's identity disc into the back wall, causing it to ricochet right towards him. The kid ducked, but failed to get out of the way in time. The disc grazed his shoulder, and he let out a small, stunned yelp of pain.

But he didn't de-rezz.

Shocked, Ram strode towards him—easily catching the kid's disc in his hand as he did—a knot forming in his stomach. When he saw the blood, he knew.

The kid is a User, he thought, familiar panic beginning to course through him again. What do I do?