Wow...thank you all so much for the reviews! I really appreciate it! Anyway, enjoy the latest installment! ~Moore12~

Twenty

1989

I

Defying his User—his creator—was easier than he had thought it would be. Calling in the Black Guard, striking a program he had once called a friend down, taking control of the system…was too easy. But, somehow he had still managed to fail. Stalking a ragged circle around Tron's still form—the damage, he knew, wasn't quite enough to de-rezz him—he scolded himself for being so stupid, for allowing the User to escape. Now he won't have to explain his actions, he thought bitterly, stopping only to kick Tron—pitiful User loving program, he almost growled— in frustration. Now I won't be able to secure full control of the system…

He wasn't entirely certain what he should do—no, he was an admin, made to create…not calculate odds and percentages of future…outcomes. And that was when it hit him. If there was one program that could easily be forced to help him and would be able to calculate what he should do, it was that worthless actuary. Turning to the nearest guard, he growled, "Bring me that glitching actuary." When the guard didn't move—a slightly perplexed look on his face—he added forcefully, "Now!"

Micros later, two guards emerged dragging a struggling Ram in tow. In a way, he had to admire the little program's pluck—trying to pick a fight with two programs much bigger than him in this environment wasn't exactly smart—but it mostly just irritated him.

He almost laughed at the expression on Ram's face when he saw Tron—all of the fight seemed to leave him instantly, and he just stared at him with a broken expression on his face. "You glitchin' viral!" he yelled, snapping out of his trance. "Go…frag…What did ya do?"

"The system is in my control now," he stated, a smug smile creeping onto his face, as he walked over to where the guards were holding Ram. "It would be in your best interest if you help…"

"Help you?" Ram cut him off, his eyes wild with rage. "Help you? Do ya really think I'm gonna do that? Go frag yourself!"

The little program struggled—clearly trying to attack him for everything he had done—but the guards held him fast. It was amusing to him; really, why does he bother when escape is futile and I'll have de-rezzed on the spot if he tries to fight, he had to wonder, suppressing a chuckle. He always was glitching that one, never really knew his place…and it's time for me to put him back in it.

"Look, Ram," he said nonchalantly as he walked back over to where Tron lay helpless on the ground and impulsively pressed a booted foot to the back of his neck, "it wouldn't be wise to forget what I'm capable of, remember?"

"Go frag yourself."

"That's not what I wanted to hear," he growled—he really doesn't understand, does he? he wondered, beginning to grow very irritated with the actuary's antics—and pressed down harder until he felt a dull pulsating…

Ram seemed to notice what was happening because he finally relented, a defeated smirk on his face. "What do ya want from me?" he asked bitterly, seemingly well aware that he had (once again, stupid viral) lost. "I mean, seriously, did ya forget I'm a 'worthless' actuary or something?"

There was no need to finish Tron off…not when he had bigger plans for that naïve glitch. Removing his foot from the back of his neck, he stalked back over to where Ram stood, hand hanging, so that he could loom over him…intimidate the little program and show him exactly place he held in the new system. "You were tasked with determining the odds of future outcomes. That's what I need from you. And…I have a sneaking suspicion you may know where a certain User might be hiding…"

II

The only sound he could hear was his heart hammering in his chest. The reality he wasn't safe in his own creation was enough to almost crush his spirit entirely. I created Clu in my own image, and he betrayed me, he thought bitterly. What was I thinking? What went so wrong?

Still, he had to keep fighting. He couldn't let this happen, couldn't just stand by idly and let Clu destroy his gift to the entire world, destroy his entire creation. And…most of all…he had to get home. He had to get to the portal, had to get out of this nightmare—maybe I'll wake up and find out this was all one big nightmare, he thought dryly—had to find a solution, preferably from the outside. One keystroke and Clu is gone forever, he told himself. But first I have to warn the ISOs.

To think he had promised Sam he would bring him here; now, hiding in a crevice in the Outlands, it seemed so stupid, so hopelessly naïve. Why didn't I just listen to Ram? he wondered even though he already knew the answer to that question. Flynn, you moron, all of this could have been avoided…We'd still be jamming…The world would soon be a better place.

Making himself get to his feet—if only he could get close enough to Clu to destroy that bastard himself—he checked for danger quickly. With that, he left the crevice and his thoughts behind, running faster than he ever had before, hoping that, for once, he wasn't too late…

III

Something was very, very wrong. She had heard tales from the old Encom system—Flynn's exploits there were legendary and discussed fairly often—and she knew what red circuitry meant. But, seeing it here didn't make any sense. Slipping into an alley so they wouldn't notice her, she tried to figure out what could possibly be going on. It has to be a coup…but Flynn has always been good to us, she thought. So why would anybody want to overthrow him?

Wanting answers—and also well aware that she had to stay off the streets—she slipped out of the alley and practically sprinted across the street to the End of Line Club. Zuse will have answers, she thought, hoping her suspicions were wrong, that Clu wasn't trying to secure leadership through violence because, well, there was always something a little off about that program. If it is him…we're in trouble.

The End of Line Club wasn't open—it didn't open until later—but she figured Zuse would want to hear what was happening and would let her in because of it. When she got to the top, she yelled for Zuse to let her in, which he did, grumbling under his breath. "Quorra, my dear, you do realize we're closed," he sighed exasperatedly. "But what can I do for you?"

"Something is happening," she replied, trying to remain as calm as possible. "I think…Clu has overthrown Flynn."

Was it just her, or did Zuse not seem surprised by the development? What does he know that I don't know? she wondered, beginning to feel uneasy. And whose side is he on? To her relief, Zuse asked worriedly, his eyes flooded with real concern, "Really? But that can't be…How do you know?"

And that was when a terrified scream came from outside, and she knew the real trouble had begun…

IV

"He's coming home." His words were meant to be a statement of fact, but came out more as a question. Because, even though he wanted more than anything to believe his dad was coming home, he didn't really know. And he couldn't know until his dad pulled up on the Ducati, bringing him more stories from the Grid.

Staring out the window, he wanted more than anything for his dad to come home. It had been two days now…and there was no sign of him. He didn't want to worry—it had only been two days after all…it wasn't that big of a deal really—but he couldn't get past the feeling that something was wrong.

And he didn't have any idea what he would do if his dad didn't come home, just like his mom hadn't those long years ago. He was too young to really remember, but he knew loss and understood it. It was a feeling he never wanted to feel again…

So he waited by the window, hoping he was wrong to feel so nervous…

2009

I

"I can't believe it," Sam said simply, glancing down at Ram who, on Quorra's request, had curled up and powered down after quickly mumbling through his account of what had happened to him the last 20 years. "I just can't believe Dad could be so…cruel."

Quorra couldn't fully believe it either even though part of her knew Ram didn't really have any reason to lie to them. It was true: he had fought in the games for 20 years; he was tortured into killing ISOs; he found out Rinzler was actually Tron only to have him nearly de-rezz him…and then had to watch Tron de-rezz back in the club after finally helping him remember. And—worst of all, she knew—he had known about Clu long before anyone else and Flynn hadn't listened to him, had instead accused him of being jealous and pathetic. In a way, after hearing the shortened story of his painful life, it made sense that Ram had sincerely thought about killing Flynn. What didn't make any sense anymore? That he insisted on throwing himself in danger for them.

Sighing deeply—and, on an impulse, she reached down to run her fingers through the little program's hair—she responded, "Sam, I'm sure there was a reason why he did what he did. It's like Ram said, Clu was his program; he just couldn't believe he wasn't on his side."

Despite her own words, Quorra wasn't sure if there was any way to justify Flynn's actions. It was ironic, really, that he was the one to teach her the art of being selfless when he apparently has always been so selfish, when he couldn't even take the time to hear out a program he considered a friend. While she knew Ram was just a basic—being an ISO, she knew that they were rather limited…as Flynn always said—there was something about him that was different…

Wanting to change the subject—mainly to keep Sam from going down a dangerous road, she told herself—she asked, "So, what do we do now?"

"We have to save my dad," Sam answered firmly, a resolved look in his eyes. And then, he added weakly, "Do you have any bright ideas?"

Quorra was about to answer that question when she saw one of Clu's carriers emerging from the fog—User, we're going to end up inside there, she thought bitterly—and, as if alerted to the problem by her silence, Sam turned around to look at what she was staring at.

"Oh great," he muttered cynically. "What the fuck is with this place?"

II

When he awoke, the first thing he wondered was how it was possible. Almost immediately, his CPU, throbbing with severe pain, called up the memories of the previous events. He remembered grabbing one of the Black Guard's light jet batons after arming the light grenade behind his back…remembered shooting out of the window just as it exploded, de-rezzing all of the clueless programs instantly and damaging his light jet in the process because he had been too close. He remembered falling—the light jet spiraling out of control—remembered accepting that he was about to meet his end. He remembered everything going black…

So how in the name of the Users am I still here? he wondered, pushing himself into a sitting position even though it caused his processors to protest, caused his circuits to flare with pain. His vision was slightly fogged, but he managed to look around. He was in a room he didn't recognize, a room that was simply decorated. It was where a program lived, he knew, and he tried to compute what was happening because none of it made any sense; every calculation he made was met with that irritating error message he knew all too well.

At least I know who I am, he thought wryly as he shakily got to his feet; he wasn't accustomed to feeling this…vulnerable, this…weak. And…I have to get out of here now.

"You shouldn't do that."

Ok, I must have been de-rezzed because now I'm hearing things, he thought in wonder.

And that was when the siren entered his field of vision, and he figured he was, once again, in deep trouble…

III

What is taking Rinzler so long? Clu wondered as he paced angrily around the room. He should have been back by now. I mean, it shouldn't be difficult to bring me that glitching User and Flynn's disc, should it?

Growling with frustration, he determined it would be best for his sanity not to worry about Rinzler anymore—after all, he does know what he's doing because I programmed him, he told himself. No, he wouldn't worry about the what-ifs, not when he had far better things to think about. Namely, how it would be best to bring perfection to the User world. Those naïve fools won't know what hit then, he told himself, trying to laugh but finding he couldn't. It won't be difficult to take over…not with the army I've made.

But what was wrong? He was so close to completing his objective, so agonizingly close to changing the world like his traitor User had always promised they would. Nothing's wrong, he thought, pushing his negative thoughts aside. Rinzler will return with Flynn's disc and I will finally escape this cell of a system…

Still, part of him didn't believe it…

IV

Ram awoke to someone frantically shaking him, and he had to suppress a small growl. But I just got to power down, he thought bitterly. What're you waking me up for? Blinking, he looked up and realized exactly why he had been woken up so soon.

Oh dear User, why can't I catch a break? he wondered as he offered Quorra a stiff nod before getting to his feet. He was about to start barking orders—because, well, someone had to and even though he was just an actuary he figured he was more than qualified—but Sam beat him to it: "This is probably where Clu is keeping Dad!"

Right…the kid wants to save his dad, Ram remembered, sighing heavily because he knew all too well this was a battle he couldn't possibly win. As he glanced over at the carrier—they were almost there and then, he knew, "the shit would hit the fan" (as Flynn always said)—he realized both Sam and Quorra were staring at him. "What?" he growled. "What'd ya want now?"

"You'll help us, won't you?" Quorra asked, actually smiling…at him (which couldn't be…)

CPU protesting—you think she actually cares about you? are you glitching? she just wants to use you like everyone else!—Ram muttered in response, knowing he couldn't possibly say no even if he really wanted to, "'Course I will…I just got one rule: I make the rules."