Hey everybody! Here's the latest installment (and the moment you've all been waiting for). Anyway, I'm starting to get writer's block, so reviews are much appreciated because they help to inspire me. So R&R and enjoy! ~Moore12~

Seven

1989

I

What had he done? What was he becoming?

He watched mutely as Clu dragged Ram out of the club with ease; even though Ram was struggling, he knew he couldn't possibly get away because how intoxicated he was. "Thanks for the message, man!" Clu called triumphantly, even though his voice remained strangely cold and detached.

Moments later, Clu, still dragging the poor little program behind him, got onto the elevator, and he could only watch as the doors ominously slid shut behind them. What had he done?

He knew the moment he messaged Clu what he was doing, but he hadn't cared. He knew that, by messaging the administrator, he was practically handing Ram over for deresolution. And he hadn't cared. He had done it almost without thinking, had done it without contemplating what would happen to the poor program who had stepped into a trap just because he needed a drink.

That'll teach him not to drink, he thought dryly as he went back to work in an attempt to stop thinking about what he had just done. Sighing deeply, he found that even working didn't release him from his thoughts, didn't help him forget what he had just done.

Why had he done it? What was it reasoning behind it?

At that moment, it didn't really matter. Part of him knew the entire time that his status wouldn't change even though he had done Clu this favor. What he wanted was more power and influence, and he wasn't even going to get it. He had handed over a program for deresolution, and he wasn't going to get what he had wanted. And he had known that from the beginning.

Who was he? And what had he done?

II

Groaning weakly, he cracked open one eye. Where am I? he wondered. And what in the name of the Users happened to me? His processors were running slower than normal—and his CPU was pounding—but he managed to push himself into a sitting position to look around.

He was in an empty room he didn't recognize, and it was completely dark. The only light came from the faint glow of his circuitry, and he sighed deeply. What'd you get yourself into now, Ram? he thought bitterly, the memories just starting to come back to him. Why can't you just stay out of trouble?

What had happened hit him like an identity disc to the gut. He remembered going to the End of Line Club; he remembered drinking more than he should have, more than a little program like him could handle. He remembered the terrible sensation of having Clu wrap his arm around his shoulders…Clu dragging him out of the club. He remembered being shoved into a Recognizer with…with—come on you stupid actuary, remember! he ordered himself—orange circuits. After that, everything had gone black, but he knew enough to know that where he was wasn't good.

So I was right after all, he thought bitterly. Clu's just as bad as the MCP. The fact he had been right—and Flynn so very wrong—didn't bring him the satisfaction he thought it would. He didn't want to be right about this, and he wanted more than anything for everything to back to how it had been before…which he already knew wouldn't happen.

More than anything, he just felt alone.

Outside of the room, he heard movement, and he slowly unhooked his identity disc from his back. For all he knew, it could be somebody coming to take his identity disc for information or even de-rezz him. Growling weakly, he listened closely, trying to determine what exactly was happening. If they were coming for him, he was going to be ready…was going to fight for his life. He had to warn Tron…had to warn Flynn. He had to get out of there.

The program that was outside of the room clearly had stopped, and he waited for the portal to open but it never did. Instead a voice called—Clu he thought, rage pelting through him—in a triumphant sneer, "Where are your precious Users now, man?"

"You'll never get away with this!" he yelled in response, trying his best to sound convincing even though he wasn't even sure if he believed what he was saying.

To that, Clu just laughed, and he listened bitterly as he walked away. And, as he sat there in the dark listening to Clu's vicious laughter, he had to wonder why the Users—and Flynn in particular—had abandoned him yet again.

III

"The time has come, programs!" he grinned as he addressed his loyal followers. "The time has come to retake what is ours! To make what is now imperfect perfect again!"

The command ship had landed just outside of the compound where he knew he would find Flynn, and he was still amazed by how easily he had organized his coup. If there was one thing Ram had been right about, it was that many programs were hostile towards the ISOs and angry about the fact the "great" User had practically abandoned them. It wasn't too difficult to find followers when so many felt they had been wronged.

"We will retake our system from the tyrant!" he continued, allowing his voice to grow louder and more intense. "We will retake what rightfully belongs to us! Did Flynn create the Grid for the ISOs?"

He paused to allow the angry shouts answering his question with a resounding no rained over him. It was glorious to command so much respect, to have complete control. "No! You're right, he didn't! He created the system for us! For the programs!" he yelled over the din, over the catcalls and cheering of his loyal followers.

As soon as the programs had quieted down, he added triumphantly, aware that this one move was going to change everything for the better, "It's time we teach the User a lesson! This is our system!"

2009

I

Sam Flynn. It couldn't be, Quorra thought as she stared down at the light cycle grid from her perch atop the stadium. Clu was about to take on Flynn's son in a game he couldn't possibly win, not when Clu and his team had far superior cycles, not when Clu had Rinzler on his side. This can't be happening, she thought as she watched Clu's team rezz their cycles and take off.

For a moment, she contemplated what her next move should be. She knew she couldn't just let Flynn's son die on the light cycle grid, but she also knew she had to have a plan in place before going down there. Even though going to the arena was impulsive, she knew that in this situation being impulsive might get a very important person killed…and that she might die as well.

Cringing at the selfish thought, she scolded herself before turning her attention back to the game. She watched as one of the red-circuited programs ran a white-circuited program into the wall, de-rezzing the poor program in an instant. It's now 5 on 4, she thought, running over the options in her head again. And they're only going to take out more of the programs on Sam's team…

Without a second thought, Quorra leapt down from her perch. She knew what she had to do and was going to do it despite the risks…

II

Now this I can do, Sam thought, trying not to break out into a grin, as he sped through the course with ease. To him, the light cycle was nothing more than a motorcycle, albeit a slightly cooler and more advanced one. But, he had to admit, this wasn't far different than outracing a cop or drag racing with his buddies.

This is life or death, he realized as he watched a program on his team smash into a wall and de-rezz instantly. And this can't be happening…

He could barely hear his own thoughts over the cheers of the crowd, and he could only watch as the particularly dirty—and skilled, he had to admit—Clu hit a program in the head, causing him to spin out and crash…5 on 3….their light cycles were far better, the programs were better trained. But he knew he could take them; he was, he had to admit, really good on a bike.

Glancing up, he noticed that a program on Clu's team was directly above him, just waiting for him to take a ramp back up to the upper level. Without even stopping to think about what he was doing, he shot up a small incline and pulled the cycle up, causing it to fly right over top of the enemy program's light cycle. As soon as his wheels touched down again, he cut over, causing the program to crash and de-rezz. Yeah, Sam, you got this, he grinned.

After nearly getting wiped out by the remains of one of his teammate's bikes, Sam jumped down into the lower level again. Even though he knew he was good, he had to admit the odds weren't in his favor—not at 4 on 2, not when Rinzler and Clu were still up there. He would have to work with his last remaining teammate and hope he could get them both out of their alive. "Hey!" he yelled when he caught up to him. "We have to work together!"

For a long moment, he thought the program was going to ignore him—even though he did glance up at the enemy program above them for a split second—and was going to decide to fight only for himself. But then—his face still an emotionless mask—he gave a small nod and turned to the right.

I'll just have to hope I can trust him, Sam thought as he glanced over his shoulder, well aware that the enemy program had decided to follow him and was closing in on him fast. "Yeah, that's right. Come and get me!" he taunted, more to boost his confidence than to truly mock his enemy.

After going through various dips and ascents, Sam once again caught up to the program. "Boo," he laughed as he turned gently as the program kept going straight…right into his teammate's trail. He was thrown from his light cycle and de-rezzed instantly. One down, three to go! Sam thought, trying to hold back a smile. Bet they're regretting this now…

III

"You heard me! Get out! That's an order!" Jarvis yelled—clearly glowering because of all of his insults. "I'll take care of him myself!"

"But, sir," one of the guards tried to step in, but Ram knew it was far too late for that. This is it, he thought as he offered Jarvis an even bigger, more incredulous smile. "Sir, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"What?" Jarvis raged, getting in the face of the guard—that's right, bud, you're really something, Ram almost laughed—"You think I can't take care of an actuarial program on my own! Let go of him and get out!"

As soon as the guards let go of him, Ram took a step back to fully survey the scene, keeping his smirk on his face to keep Jarvis enraged even though he wasn't worried about that stupid lackey anymore. Alright, odds of survival are 85%, he calculated quickly as he gazed at the large window in the back. Better than expected, which is always good.

Laughing to himself, he noticed there was one light jet baton sitting on a table. Odds have just improved to 99%! he thought, unable to control his smile. Alright…maybe 90%.

"I'll teach you to call me a coward!" Jarvis' angry voice tore Ram from his calculations, and just in time too because the program was hurtling towards him. Wow, he's really serious about de-rezzing me all by himself, Ram thought as he artfully dodged Jarvis' first blow. I'll just have to mock the glitching idiot some more!

"Oh, yeah, this is real fair!" he snickered—hoping that this move would work in his favor and not against him—as he dodged yet another blow from his own identity disc. "I don't even got my disc! But, hey, you're such a brave program!"

Jarvis took a step back and stared at him, a furious and fairly shocked expression on his face. It's really working! Ram thought as he took a step back as well and tried to look as serious as possible. He's really glitching over this!

"You…you…" Jarvis snarled, his rage all too apparent—clouding his judgment, messing with his CPU, not letting him function properly…it was working too perfectly. "I'll make you suffer you…"

Ram didn't even let Jarvis finish that thought. In one perfectly orchestrated and fluid movement—perfected from years of practice on the most lethal of stages—he took two quick steps and threw himself at Jarvis. The stupid lackey didn't even have time to react, and he even dropped his own identity disc in fear…of the oh so intimidating actuary…

Easily pinning him to the ground—causing Jarvis' disc to skitter away even further away—Ram grabbed his own identity disc out of his enemy's hand and reattached it to his back. "Aw, look at what the wittle actuary did to ya," he laughed wildly, more than a little amused by how well his plan had worked out.

He didn't wait for the guards to return, didn't even take the time to de-rezz Jarvis. He had no time, no margin for error, and he knew it all too well. As quickly as possible, he scooped Jarvis' disc off the ground and hurled it out the window before running to the table to grab the lone light jet baton.

Just as he was about to jump through the window, Jarvis' completely stunned voice stopped him: "What are you?"

"Who me?" Ram laughed innocently, smirking at the program he had so handily conquered. "I'm just your everyday actuarial program."

With that, he crashed through the window to his freedom…