Please read: Sorry it's been so long (crazy week at work lol). Anyway... I hope you enjoy this latest installment. Like I said in the intro to the last chapter, if you have any questions you want me to resolve now is the time. The fanfic is nearing its conclusion after all. And pretty please review. I love hearing what you think; it really does make me happy. So enjoy! ~Moore12~

Twenty Three

1985

I

User, it was good to be back. Sitting at the table—catching up with Tron because he wasn't busy and Flynn wasn't around—he couldn't help but feel so happy. Back in the Game Grid, he had managed to find some happiness in rezzing up Sark and the guards but it was hard to maintain. And he had to admit the only way he could cope with what had happened was to joke about it.

At that moment, the conversation had turned to what Tron jokingly referred to as "the good ol' days." "Ya know, bud," he laughed, a secretive smile creeping across his face, "I've heard Flynn's thinking about making a game arena or something along those lines. Not, of course, to have programs de-rezzed but…to allow them to compete against each other."

"Really?" he smirked in response, well aware where this was going. "I'll have to check that out. I dunno, man, life's…well…not as exciting without a little action. Ya know what I mean?"

"Of course I do. What's fighting for the Users without a little fighting?"

"Exactly, man! User, I just got restored and I haven't even seen any action! What's up with this system? It's just…too perfect."

"Yeah, I'm not going to admit I know about that," Tron replied quickly, a warning look in his eyes that he had seen many times back in the Game Grid.

Yawning mainly to give him a ruse to see what Tron was so concerned about, he titled his head back and saw that Clu had entered the room…and he didn't look too happy at all. You wouldn't even know he was Flynn's program if he didn't look so much like him, he thought, forcing the most genuine smile he could muster. "Hi, Clu."

He wasn't really surprised when Clu didn't acknowledge him, instead turning to Tron. "The system isn't going to monitor itself while you sit around and gossip," he growled in a tone that was so unlike Flynn's it made him wince. And then he added for him, he knew, "And find something for your little friend to do that he won't mess up, alright?"

"Come on, Clu," Tron said softly, clearly trying to placate the younger program, "you haven't even tried to get to know Ram. You could probably learn a lot from him…"

He wanted to get along with Clu because, well, if he was going to have to live with the program it would be far better if he was a friend and not an enemy. So, he added to what Tron was saying, a hopeful smile on his face, "Yeah, man, I didn't survive in the Game Grid 'cause I got lucky. I know a whole lot 'bout…"

Before he could continue, Clu cut him off indignantly, a sneer on his face that almost made him flinch but didn't because he had seen worse from Sark and had expected it: "Are you glitching, Tron? You really expect me to learn from him? What's he going to teach me—how to figure out how long some random User is going to live? I'm an administrator for crying out loud, man!"

Sighing heavily—why do programs always look down on me? he wondered, only slightly bitter because he already knew the answer to that question—he broke in, smirking up at Clu, "Well, how 'bout this? You and me at the sparing ring after you're done with whatever important task you're working on. I've fought military programs, but never an admin, so I gotta see what it's like, ya know?"

Clu howled, shaking his head as he did, "Why in the name of the Users did Flynn decide to rewrite you?" But after a particularly long micro of awkward silence, he broke just as he had calculated he would: "You're on, man! And don't think I'm going to take it easy on you just because you're an actuarial program."

"Wouldn't expect you to," he just smiled, already sizing his future opponent up. I can take him, he thought as soon as he calculated the odds to be an exceptional 90%. And when I do, he'll finally be able to compute that I'm just as good as he is.

As soon as Clu was gone—running off to complete some task his User wanted done ASAP—Tron turned to him and sighed, "Ram, what's wrong with you? You need him to like you, or, at the very least, respect you."

"Don't worry about it, Tron," he replied steadily, holding back a smirk the best he could. "Like I said earlier, I need a little action."

II

The rules were simple, and he knew he wouldn't be wasting many precious micros while taking down that mouthy little actuary who didn't seem to know how low on the priority list he was. Who did he calculate he was anyway, challenging him to a fight? How could an actuarial program—and one that had been rewritten none the less—expect to beat him, a system administrator? He's glitching, he thought, holding back a laugh, as he gave his opponent a cursory glance that merely confirmed what he already knew. The little viral is glitching.

"Alright…" Tron's voice trailed off weakly; he clearly isn't confident that Ram can get the job done, he thought, his confidence soaring. "Let the match begin."

He didn't waste much time, opting to charge the smaller program and take him down by force. To his amazement, Ram blocked his first blow with ease. The smirk never leaving his face, he blocked each of his moves—even the one he thought was brilliant that would have taken off his head off—seemingly without putting out any effort. He's just toying with me, he realized with a pang as he took a step back to try to calculate a better strategy. But…no, it can't be.

"Had enough, Clu?" Ram asked innocently, spinning his disc idly, clearly waiting for him to make the next move.

Without giving the little actuary any warning, he went on the offensive yet again, slashing wildly at him with his disc. Once again, Ram artfully dodged or blocked each of his blows without even trying to attack him once. Furious—frag the rules! just frag them, he thought—he tried to grab the smaller program to throw him to the ground but missed when Ram ducked out of the way, stepping to the side, that damn smirk still on his face.

"Alright, Clu," Ram said so calmly it only fueled his rage, causing his prompts to fire commands to de-rezz him immediately. "Ya wanna play this game, so let's go…"

If he hadn't been the one fighting Ram—and if Ram wasn't, well, Ram—he was sure he would have appreciated his skill. As soon as he went on the offensive, he had him backpedaling; he just couldn't keep up with the little program that moved so quickly he was almost a blur. Each move he made was clearly calculated to throw him off balance but still keep him in the game because there were many times he could easily have pinned him and won but didn't. Still, the little program was relentless, and he was barely able to process what was happening. The next thing he knew Ram had knocked his disc from his hand and, in the same deft movement, kicked out his legs as he ducked to keep him from grabbing him to regain some kind of advantage after losing his disc.

Lying on the floor, backed into a corner and completely helpless, he knew he had lost. To his surprise, Ram didn't pin him as was expected of the winner. Instead, he let out a low whistle and said dryly, his comment clearly directed at Tron, "He's got a lot to learn. What'd I tell ya?"

"Ram," Tron replied warningly, something he didn't appreciate at all, "you've proved your point."

"Getting beat by an actuarial program? Unbelievable," Ram just snickered as he walked away, once again idly spinning his disc, leaving him to wonder what in the name of the Users that little viral really was.

And, if he knew anything now, it was that he was far more than just an actuary…

2009

I

After de-rezzing the two guards who had stayed behind, Quorra was about to get Sam out of there while there was still time but something stopped her. She knew she was supposed to keep Flynn's disc safe, knew she was supposed to help Sam rescue Flynn himself. But she just couldn't bring herself to run away, to…abandon poor Ram who had so willingly sacrificed himself for them. Pausing only for a moment to consider the consequences of her actions, she turned in the direction that Ram had gone, luring four of the guards away from them, and ran, hoping it wasn't too late.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam called after her, but she wasn't about to stop because, deep down inside, she knew this was right. She couldn't really explain why it was right, but she knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself knowing that her life continued only because Ram had thrown his away, putting himself in danger just to save her and Sam. At that moment, she didn't care she was carrying Flynn's disc, didn't care she arguably had more important things to worry about. All she cared about was saving Ram, and nothing else mattered anymore.

When she turned the corner, she saw a site that was enough to make her skid to a stop even though her mind screamed at her to get in there. Ram was lying sprawled out on the floor, circuits flickering weakly, and one of the guards had already scooped up the disc (which was Sam's, she knew). But they weren't de-rezzing him, and she suddenly had the unsettling thought that Clu had other plans for the feisty actuary. Her fears were confirmed when one of the guards roughly pulled the clearly unconscious program off the ground and slung him over his shoulder.

Quorra couldn't let this happen—nothing good was going to come of this, she knew all too well—but, before she could even attempt to stop them, Sam grabbed her, pushing her under cover to let them pass. "What are you doing?" she hissed as soon as they were gone, furious with Sam for not allowing her to help Ram.

"They could lead us to Clu and to Dad," Sam replied evenly. For a moment, she was convinced he was perfectly content to sacrifice Ram to save his father, but then she saw the sadness in his eyes. Finally, he added softly, "Look, I know it's not the best option. But…we have to take it."

Because it's our only option now, she thought bitterly even as she nodded in agreement. And…well…we can always de-rezz the guards before they actually get to where they're going so we can save Ram…and then Flynn.

Offering her a small, hopeful smile, Sam helped her to her feet, and together they ran to catch up with the guards.

II

"Do you want to be de-rezzed or something?" Gem asked evenly, looking him right in the eyes, not at all afraid of him—something that made him slightly irritated for reasons he understood all too well. "I already told you your system is still recovering, and it would be unwise…"

Cutting her off with a low growl that made her flinch, Tron snapped, "I can't just sit here and do nothing!"

"Well, it's your decision," the siren replied nonchalantly even though she was still gazing at him fiercely. "I'm just telling you how it is, and if you don't want to listen to reason, that's fine."

Tron wasn't about to listen—who did she calculate she was anyway? how dare she try to tell him how to live his life!—so he defiantly swung his legs to climb off the bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he was overcome by a strange sensation; his legs felt so weak, and it strained his processors just to remain standing, to defiantly smirk at Gem. Still, he wasn't about to let that faze him, so he gingerly took a step forward, only to have his legs give out from under him.

Growling that all too familiar growl in frustration, Tron managed to push himself into a sitting position but didn't even bother trying to stand. Glitching siren was right, he thought miserably, feeling more than a little helpless. I can't even stand up…

"You really should take the time to recover," Gem said softly after a long moment of silence, her voice betraying her true concern. "If you want to destroy Clu, you'll need to be able to stand."

"Fine," he snarled in response, not wanting to admit he was so very weak—and vulnerable—when he was so used to being the strong one everyone could rely…Who are you kidding, Tron? he thought bitterly, staring at the floor he couldn't even get up from, remembering Rinzler was still there, lurking inside him. You're the weakest program in this system. You let Clu break you.

"Just give it some time," Gem said, her voice strangely firm—almost as if she had regained her composure and truly wasn't afraid of him anymore. "You're system will be running at full capacity soon enough, and then you can go dispose of that glitching tyrant."

Just the thought he could exact his revenge on Clu was enough to make him believe he still had a purpose, that he could still be that program everyone relied on after all…

But how in the name of the Users could he take down Clu?

III

Processors whining, Ram's eyes fluttered open. For a micro, he didn't have any idea where he was; all he could tell was that he was hanging facing downwards…which wasn't helping his CPU recover that was for sure. User, I must've got run over by a light cycle, he thought dryly, still struggling to keep his eyes open. Or got shot by a tank again…Or…

When he managed to pry his eyes open and get his CPU running as well as possible, he realized he was moving. He could see the ground moving, and, with a pang of fear, he realized he was slung over the shoulder of a guard. Bet they took the disc too, he thought, wanting his CPU to just stop pounding more than anything. User…why's it always me?

Blinking—the pain was just incredible—he realized something he hadn't before and probably would have if he wasn't so rattled. He could reach the guard's disc. Snickering weakly to himself—you really are glitching, aren't you? he thought—he reached down and gingerly unhooked the disc.

Before the guard even really knew what was happening, Ram had managed to slice through one of his legs. As he stumbled forward—letting out a shocked yelp—Ram, who he had yet to let go of, finished the job, cutting through his head before nimbly landing on his feet. With the pixels that had made up the guard's disc running through his hand, he spun, trying to figure out which of the ones remaining had Sam's disc. He barely had time to think because one of the guards charged him, and, because he didn't have a disc to protect himself, he had to run and hope his admittedly stupid plan would work.

Sure enough his ruse worked; he could hear the quiet whirring of a disc shooting through the air towards him. Spinning instinctually, he sidestepped the disc and caught it with ease. And then—maybe it was because he wasn't able to think straight, let alone calculate the odds of such a move, he didn't really know what in the name of the Users was wrong with him—he called out mockingly, "Ya want what ya wittle friend got?"

Rezzing his face shield—because he had forgot because his CPU clearly was malfunctioning, it was official—Ram steeled himself because he knew this would be a more difficult fight than usual. I must be getting outdated or something, he thought bitterly as the guards turned and charged him. Can't even take a hit to the head, what kind of program am I? Oh…right…an actuary.

He was in the command ship, cornered and malfunctioning. His system was running slower than normal, his CPU was pounding, he couldn't calculate any odds. He was about to give up—let them bring him to Clu or to whatever fate they were planning, he just didn't care anymore—when Quorra came running out from behind the corner, her identity disc a deadly blur.

He had never been happier to have some help in his entire life, but any joy at seeing the ISO evaporated immediately when an all too familiar program with yellow circuitry emerged from a room down the hall, twirling his disc in his hand, wearing a smug smile on his face…