Hey all now things are really getting interesting...It's officially an entirely different animal than the movie. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the latest installment. Enjoy and R&R! ~Moore12~

Fifteen

1988

I

Flynn didn't even look up when he entered the room, carrying the lifeless Ram in his arms. The little program—he could tell by the rapid flicker of his circuits, by the unhealthy whirring of his processors—was in dire need of attention. He was about to ask Flynn for help, but the User spoke first, his voice seething with rage, "What the hell happened out there?"

For a moment, he stood there, completely stunned by Flynn's reaction. The User hadn't even turned around to face him, no, he was just staring at a message he had received on his walkman that had been equipped to work on the Grid and was used to communicate directly with the ISOs. He was about to tell Flynn that Ram needed help desperately and that whatever he was upset about could wait, but he just continued his rant: "How hard is it to take out a hive, man? But, no, you screw it all up, and some ISOs were killed because of your stupidity. They're…"

He couldn't wait around and listen to Flynn rage—he couldn't let Ram de-rezz…couldn't let him suffer that fate again—so he broke in unapologetically, trying his best to remain calm, "Flynn, Ram needs help. It's not good."

When Flynn turned around, it was hard to not to notice that his anger hadn't been dissipated over the fact his friend needed help—and was that disgust on his face? He gave Ram a cursory glance—what in the name of the Users is going on in his head? he wondered—before turning to him. "What the hell happened to him?" he asked exasperatedly…almost like he didn't want to be bothered by this. But it couldn't be, could it? he wondered, his CPU burning at the thought. He has to care about his friends…

"Something went wrong, Flynn," he explained hastily as he laid Ram down on the floor. "They swarmed Ram after…"

"Let me look," Flynn cut him off gruffly; it almost seemed like he was taking out his anger and frustration on Ram based on how roughly he pushed him over and unhooked his identity disc—leaving the little program lying face down. Without even looking down at the program—what has gotten into him? he had to wonder—he accessed his identity disc to assess the damage the grid bugs had caused.

Even though he was confused—and fairly unnerved—by Flynn's behavior and treatment of poor Ram, he had to admit it was captivating to watch him work. He worked with such precision—weeding through the damaged coding and fixing it—it was enough to make him slightly jealous. He's a User, he reminded himself. Programs can't even understand half of what he's capable of.

Still, he wanted to know how it was coming—especially given that Ram's circuits were duller than they were when this process began—so he asked, "How's it coming?"

"He'll live," Flynn just muttered as he continued moving through Ram's coding. He clearly wasn't too enthused that everything was going to work out; it was something he couldn't compute because, well, it didn't make any sense. Ram and Flynn are friends, he thought, trying to pull up an explanation from the depths of his memory. Why's he acting like this? And then the User added under his breath, giving him the answer to his question, "Unlike the ISOs."

That wasn't fair, and he wanted to tell him so. It wasn't even Ram's fault that everything had gone so horribly wrong, wasn't his fault that something—what, he didn't know and he knew Flynn would pick his argument apart because of it—made a noise and caused the bugs to swarm. It wasn't his fault there were too many, that they had to take off to get away and left some alive, it wasn't his fault he was injured… why didn't Flynn understand that? To his own surprise and without even really stopping to calculate what the right thing to say was, he blurted out, "Ram could've de-rezzed, Flynn! I couldn't let that happen!"

Flynn looked up from his work—clearly not at all worried about Ram, who was looking even worse—with an incredulous look on his face. And then he scrunched up his face in anger and offered a retort he wasn't expecting: "Next time you try to play hero, Tron, remember I can just bring him back. Keep your priorities in order."

With a pang, he realized what Flynn meant; all of the emphasis he had placed on the word "him" gave it away in an instant. His CPU balking at the thought—he just didn't want to accept what Flynn had said—he was left speechless once again. Finally, after a long moment of awkward silence, Flynn finished his work and hooked the disc onto Ram's back, muttering something he could barely make out about how the "worthless actuary could've ruined everything"

Flynn clearly wasn't going to wait to see if everything worked out; as soon as the disc was on Ram's back, he got up to leave. Seeing that he wasn't following him, he ordered gruffly, "When he wakes up give him an energy drink or something."

And, right before he left, he added loudly enough for him to hear, "Now I have to worry about more important things."

II

It was too easy, really. He almost had to laugh at his good fortune. What was the expression Flynn always used? Yes, it was almost like he was "killing two birds with one stone." Even though it was slightly disturbing to see that his User was so easily molded—never seems to be able to truly make up his mind, he thought—it usually worked in his favor. After all, Tron was too busy trying to be the best program—naïve fool still seems to think Users are gods, he almost laughed—possible and Ram was…well…Ram. Entirely useless, a waste of pixels…one of many things wrong with what was supposed to be a perfect system.

And now, he could continue molding Flynn's opinion of his world—it was the perfect time to do so. Sitting in the light jet on the way to "check on the ISOs," he was a captive (and receptive, he figured) audience. So, he offered him an apologetic smile and said softly, "I'm really sorry about what happened today, Flynn. It just couldn't have gone any worse."

"You can say that again, man," Flynn muttered after a long moment of silence that initially had him convinced he wasn't going to take the bait. "ISOs…died because you couldn't just do your jobs."

Shaking his head, he responded, trying his best to sound saddened by the situation, "It really is a shame that they were hurt because of what happened."

I've got him right where I want him, he thought gleefully as Flynn's head shot up at his use of the phrase "what happened." Now he remembers that he wanted to ask; knowing Tron he was too concerned about Ram to offer their side of the story. Would it be hard for him to hide that he was to blame for what had happened, that he had caused the sound by quickly banging his disc against the light jet? Hardly, he almost laughed.

"And what did happen, Clu?" Flynn asked, unable to hide his annoyance…and interest.

"It was Ram," he replied simply, masking his smile with a frown. "Stupid viral missed the hive completely with the light grenade. I mean, some were de-rezzed in the blast, but most just fled the hive. They swarmed him, and Tron ran off to save him…"

Scowling darkly, Flynn just muttered, "I should've known." With that, he returned his complete attention to piloting the light jet; he didn't even bother to ask him what his role was in the debacle. Too easy, he thought, fighting to hold back a laugh. This is just too easy.

2009

I

In a way, it was almost beautiful to watch. The program was precise, fearless and most importantly deadly; each move he made was so well orchestrated and calculated, each move he made gave him an even greater advantage. The Black Guard was considered the best of the best—they were lethal programs designed specifically for fighting—but even they couldn't stand up to the program Castor knew all too well. Even though his face was obscured behind a black tinted face shield, he knew it was Ram, essentially back from the dead…and with a vengeance too.

Ram had already de-rezzed all but one of the programs that had come to take Sam because of his message; and, after artfully dodging a blow to the head, he cut through the last program remaining with the sword he had grabbed from a protesting Quorra. Well, show's over, Castor thought as he began to sneak towards the exit, Gem right behind. I better get going…

He had been expecting to be able to slip away unnoticed—after all, with the User and Quorra to take care of why would he stop to worry about him?—but was hardly surprised when Ram tackled him from behind before he reached the elevator. He had to admit it wasn't a good feeling having an identity disc pressed against the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Gem rush—great ally she turned out to be, he thought bitterly—directly into the elevator…the doors quickly closing behind her. It was just him, Ram and two other hostile individuals. Still, he knew he had a chance.

"Fancy seeing you again, Ram," Castor tried to chuckle, although it was fairly difficult to given that Ram was on top of him and about to de-rezz him. "What can I do for you?"

For a moment, all Castor could hear was the low, intimidating rumble of a growl…a growl that sounded so much like Rinzler's it was terrifying. But, for all of the obvious reasons, it was more terrifying to be at the mercy of a program he had betrayed, a program who, he knew, he had doomed to a life of pain and suffering. And then, it stopped, and Ram snickered rather sadistically, "What can ya do for me? What can ya do for me? Well…huh…let's see. How 'bout you do me one small favor."

"And what might that be?" Castor asked, trying to hide the fear in his voice even though he knew it was a lost cause. He knew what Ram being here meant for him if he couldn't find a way to escape before it was too late, and the thought it was all going to end was so terrifying…he could understand why Ram was so angry. After all, he had lived with this feeling for most of his life…

"Well," Ram said, rather innocently in spite of his choice of words, "how 'bout you don't scream when I de-rezz you, you pitiful viral."

Should he even bother to beg for forgiveness, to beg for mercy? Castor knew that, despite their hatred for one another, Clu and Ram were more alike than either would admit. Both never seemed to stop to consider the consequences of their actions—well, Ram did in the past, that wasn't fair of him—and both weren't known for being the most compassionate. Clu had committed genocide, and Ram—as "Flic" and "Rez" in the games—always put his own survival first and had committed his share of atrocities along the way (or so he had heard). So, no, he wouldn't beg for mercy because Ram would be unreceptive anyway…he wanted to de-rezz him, and he would. It was that simple.

Castor would go to his end in a dignified manner…and that was that. He braced himself for deresolution, but it never came. Instead, the weight was lifted off of him, and he pushed himself to his knees to see that Quorra had tackled a now struggling Ram to the floor.

And now things will really get interesting, he chuckled.

II

If he regretted anything, it would be that his son had been pulled into the mess he alone had created. Sitting in the small room, knowing trying to escape was futile, Flynn reminded himself that what had happened was nobody's fault but his. It wasn't Clu's fault—he was a misguided reflection of himself, made during a time he didn't know that the imperfect system really was, in its own way, already perfect. It wasn't Ram's fault—poor program had tried so hard to warn him, and he hadn't been willing to listen to him. It wasn't Tron's fault—he was loyal to the bitter end…and it wasn't by choice he had become Rinzler. His heart broke over the memory…he had saved Quorra, yes, but he had lost Tron forever, even though he didn't have the heart to de-rezz him when he had the chance. What had happened was his fault, and he had lost so much because of how blind he was. He didn't really know his son. Clu—who was, he knew all too well, himself—was a mass murderer that had betrayed all of his friends. Tron was Rinzler. And Ram, Ram was broken so badly, Flynn knew he would never be the same again; he was a different kind of animal, far from friendly and exceptionally lethal.

And all of this was his fault…he couldn't blame anyone else. He was going to change the world, and all he had done was destroy his own life and taken down others with him.

Part of him knew he wouldn't be able to reason with Clu—no, I was as stubborn as a mule back then, he thought sadly—and, for the first time, he was truly afraid. Because Clu wanted him alive for a reason…even though he had already obtained the identity disc that held all of his secrets.

As long as he didn't hurt Sam or other innocent individuals—Flynn bitterly figured this was probably already part of his "great" plan—he could do whatever he wanted with him. He had caused the mess, so he should be the one to pay for it…except Clu probably wouldn't think that way. No, Clu wanted to do something big, something that would change the entire world—but not in the way he himself had envisioned it. And that was when it hit him.

Clu isn't content with merely ruling this system, he thought sadly, kicking himself on the inside for allowing this to happen. He wants to rule the entire world as well…and he needed my disc to get out.

It was over; Flynn knew that now. All he could do was sit back and watch his own creation finish his destruction of everything he held dear…and the world as well.