Hey all! Here's the latest chapter, enjoy! Like last chapter, I took some of Cyberbutterfly's suggestions. So...there's a Sam scene! Also, make sure you're paying attention; it really is getting interesting! Enjoy and R&R! ~Moore12~
Twenty Four
2007
I
The first time he went bungee jumping, he was afraid to look down. Standing on that bridge, he couldn't, at first, really believe what he was doing—it was almost like he had stepped out of his skin for a moment and someone else had taken control, leading him here for no apparent reason. Part of him instinctually wanted to back away while the other part screamed for him to jump, to take that leap of faith he needed to take so badly…
Needless to say, he had jumped then and it had been so exhilarating; he had felt alive for the first time in so long, for the first time he had started living in that old cargo container just because…well…he could. He wasn't a philosopher so he wasn't about to sit around and contemplate why being a daredevil made him feel so alive, but what he did know was what he needed to do now.
He was the majority shareholder of Encom, but nobody in the organization acted like he was, instead choosing to do whatever the hell they wanted to. He had to admit they were good at making money but…weren't they missing the point of what the company was supposed to stand for? And, besides, he needed something to do with himself and planning a stunt as big as this was just the thing he needed.
Walking along the street, just to get a general layout of the place so he could make a quick getaway and hopefully not get caught by any cops, he turned into a back alleyway that looked like an especially promising escape route. Well, this could work, he thought, glancing around to commit his surroundings to memory. Not perfect…but it may have to do especially…
A loud clattering noise tore him from his thoughts, and he looked up automatically, heart pounding in his throat. "What the hell!" he exclaimed as he turned in the direction of the noise, startled but not exactly scared.
What he saw made him laugh in spite of himself. A little dog—a Boston terrier to be exact—was pawing through a trashcan, the metal lid was nearby, still rattling. Walking over on an impulse to the dog, he said jokingly, "And here I thought you were going to mug me."
At the sound of his voice, the dog turned around and looked him over; he could have sworn he was sizing him up. "What's up, man?" he asked, well aware he was talking to a dog—and a stray none the less based on his lack of tags—and not caring at all. "Are you hungry?"
To his surprise, the dog barked in response. No, this isn't strange at all, he thought, staring at the dog in amazement. I'm talking to a dog…and I sort of think he's listening. But he brushed those thoughts away quickly, opting just to laugh and get the hell out of there before he did something stupid.
He was about to walk out of there without giving the dog a second thought when it started howling. And, for some crazy reason, he just knew he had to go back for it. I'll just take it to the pound or something, he told himself as he walked over, whistling for the dog to come to him. Might as well make it so he gets a home…
II
"Can I have a word with you, dear?" Clu asked far too sweetly and it was impossible not to notice the malicious glint in his dark eyes. "It will only take a micro or two…"
She knew better than to refuse him—even though she knew that what he had planned couldn't be good—so she nodded curtly and followed the administrator down the hallway. Doing her best to maintain an indifferent façade, she tried to determine what in the name of the Users Clu wanted from her. This better not be about Castor, she thought bitterly as they went down a flight of steps to, what she knew, was the underbelly of the stadium. I'm not even really in on anything he does after all…I just give him intel…
They paused only when Clu had to do an override to open a particularly menacing set of doors. As a siren, she knew all about the stadium but still…she had never been here, had never seen what lay beyond the doors that only Clu and a handful of other guards could open. There were many rumors, of course, of what was down there—some programs claimed that it was there he tortured ISOs before murdering them, others said it was probably where the conscripts who managed to live were housed. She assumed both, and she was beginning to look for a way out of the situation when Clu's voice tore her from her thoughts. "You know, I haven't been down here in a long time," he stated casually, as if talking about his favorite club. Whistling a low whistle, he continued, "But…there's something I need to show you."
The doors swung open then, and she had no choice but to force a smile and follow the admin through them. She had never been so nervous in her entire life—not back in the purges, not when Clu came to the End of Line and had Rinzler slaughter all the programs in the joint, not ever. But, because she knew it was important that she not make any missteps, she maintained that cool, calm indifference and followed obediently.
But it was hard to maintain that attitude when she realized where she was. It was fairly dark, and it took her a micro for her to adjust to the bad lighting, but she knew where she was immediately. While they walked down the center aisle, she took in all the small cells, most of which were, she could tell, empty. Finally, they stopped and Clu banged on the wall and called, "I need to speak with you." When no program emerged at the entrance, which was blocked off by a force field, Clu added roughly, "Now!"
She wasn't sure what was happening, but finally a little program she had heard so much came to the force field, his face shield on even though he wasn't fighting. So this is Rez, she thought, looking him over, hardly impressed by the newest "unofficial" champion. But…he looks so…familiar.
"What'd ya want, Clu?" the little program snarled, the defiance in his voice enough to put her on edge. As far as she knew, no program talked like that to or about Clu…to his face at least. "Ya gotta virus I need to help ya with?"
Clu didn't seem at all intimidated or upset by the little program's antics because he just ordered calmly, "De-rezz the face shield."
For a micro, she was convinced the conscript was going to ignore him and head back to the back of his cell. But then—letting out a small, annoyed huff—he de-rezzed the face shield as he had been commanded to, revealing…
She gasped—she couldn't help herself. The damage was just too much to look at. The program's right side of his face was essentially gone—the only thing left was damaged, scarred pixels. And, when she finally was able to look away from the damage, from the missing eye, from the atrocity it was, she realized the program was still smirking defiantly…and the smirk was so familiar. She had seen it before long ago but…it couldn't be.
But, sure enough, it was. Rez was Flic. And she knew as well as most programs in the system that had lived through the purges that Flic was, in fact, Ram. And, Ram, as if well aware she had finally realized who he was, had finally been able to look past his damaged coding to see him, just laughed. "Clu, you're glitching, you know that?"
She hardly noticed when Ram rezzed the face shield again, turning to go lay down again and wait for the slaughter as always. She hardly heard him say he was sorry for scaring her. Because, right before that happened, Clu had said in her ear, his voice too calm for comfort, "Now you know what happens to programs that defy me."
Something had to be done. This couldn't continue. But…if Clu knew what they were up to, what could they possibly do?
2009
I
It was too good to be true. Clu honestly couldn't believe his luck—the User was naïve enough to think he could actually save his father, and Ram had allowed it. I'm glad I kept him around, he thought, holding back a smile, as he ordered in a new wave of guards to seize them. He's so glitching loyal to the Users, it's pathetic.
He didn't even have to lift a finger, and there was never any question what the outcome of this fight would be. Ram—who clearly was either damaged or malfunctioning in some way based on how easily he was taken out—was grabbed by two guards first, shoved to the ground roughly, his head banging against the wall. The User was next, and he put up more of a fight—de-rezzing a guard before one managed to knock his disc away, leaving him helpless, forcing him to surrender to the four guards surrounding him. He had to admit the female program—who he recognized from somewhere but figured he must be seeing things—was good; she made quick work of the first two guards who charged her before, upon seeing that both of her friends were down, with discs pressed to their necks, she had to give up.
"Bring them to the throne room," Clu ordered, trying his best to sound flippant and not ecstatic like he really was. "And I need all their discs."
"You'll never get away with this!" the User snarled defiantly as he was dragged past him, which just made Clu laugh. Yeah, you're really tough, he thought as he sneered at him, wanting to remind him how close he was to finally achieving his goal that would change the User's world forever. Let's see how tough you are when your whole world is at my feet.
II
For the first time in years, Flynn realized how helpless his inaction had made him. All those years he had wasted—mainly because he believed if he resisted Clu something bad would happen to Quorra…or to himself—had made him even more helpless in the face of the monster he had created. Yes, Clu fed on his resistance, becoming more and more powerful (and vicious). But he also fed on his inaction, using it to fuel his already fervent belief that his world must be imperfect, using it to make him even more prepared for him to "fix" it. And now he himself was just an old man, tied to a table, unable to do anything about the horrible thing that was happening.
"Dad!" he heard Sam exclaim, but he couldn't bear to look at his son because he never wanted him to see him in such a helpless position. The realization that Clu had captured Sam, Quorra, and Ram—who, even from where he was lying, he could tell didn't look good—should have been enough to break his spirit…but it didn't. Instead, he began plotting how he could possibly get them all out of this situation alive.
"You see, Flynn," Clu walked over to him and laughed, a grin far too much like his own for comfort plastered on his face, "good things come to those who act first. And…like I said earlier, it's a good thing you gave that pitiful actuary the ability to page Alan."
And then, Clu's eyes flashed, and he could have sworn they grew even darker than they already were. His grin morphed into a sneer, and, as if encouraged to keep talking by his lack of a response, he added, "But I don't need him anymore. You want to see what I'm going to do to all the imperfect things in your world?"
Flynn knew immediately where this was going—and next he'll probably do the same to Quorra, and I can't let that happen—but he didn't struggle because he would need the element of surprise on his hands if he was going to be able to do anything. Let Clu and the guards get distracted with torturing Ram, he thought sadly, watching two guards drag the now struggling program towards the cruel device he should have never allowed his program to introduce to the system. I'll use that time to find a way out. It's the only way at this point…
III
Gem watched silently as Tronzler practically chugged the vial of pure energy she had given him. At the moment, she was far more concerned about trying to determine when he would be ready to leave. It wasn't that she wanted him out of her hands; it was more that she wanted to get him on his way to take down Clu who, she figured, was probably almost ready to exit the system and bring his warped view of perfection to the entire world…killing countless people (and innocent programs more importantly) along the way.
"So you think that programs that were repurposed can be restored?" she asked, trying to hide the hopefulness in her voice, when he had finished drinking. "I mean…you remember who you are after all…so can others?"
Sighing heavily, Tronzler replied, "I don't know. Honestly, I don't even really know how this happened. And, it's not like my coding has been completely restored." For a moment, he fell silent, and Gem could almost feel the sadness coming off him in palpable waves. Then he added in a small, hesitant voice, "It would take a User to truly restore me."
Gem could only watch as Tronzler's eyes flashed and he let out a low growl; clearly, he was fighting back an error message of some kind. When it was over, he let out a low whimper and whispered, "Look, I'm not who I was…before. But I'll do my best to destroy Clu. I promise."
IV
"What is that thing?" Sam breathed, but Quorra didn't answer. She couldn't answer because she didn't want to admit what she was seeing. Frantically, she looked around the room, sizing up the guards—and finally calculating that, given there was ten of them and Flynn was tied to a table—she couldn't take them, she shut her eyes and wished all this would just go away.
Confucius might be right that all humans are inherently good, she thought bleakly as she listened to Clu mock the poor little actuary. But I don't think that applies to programs. When nothing happened—she didn't hear screaming, didn't hear Clu's voice anymore—she opened her eyes and saw that Ram was staring the larger program down, a defiant look in his eyes and a smirk on his thin face even though he was about to have all his functions slowly and painfully absorbed.
"Going to beg for your life, you pitiful viral?" Clu asked, twirling what she figured was Flynn's disc, and, as far as she could tell, he wasn't at all pleased at Ram's defiance.
Ram paused for a moment—his eyes filling with sadness, as if the realization it was really all about to end had finally dawned on him. More than anything, Quorra wanted to break away from the guards and save him—in that long, painful moment, she didn't care about Sam or Flynn, she only cared about Ram—but she knew she couldn't; it was all a lost cause. So this is it, she thought miserably, watching as the little program slowly tilted his head to glare up at Clu.
"Nah, I'm good," he said finally, his voice unusually confident and firm for a program in his position. And then he added, his classic smirk forming on his face once more, "Do ya need me to help ya plan for your future needs before I ain't around anymore?"
"Did you really think I was going to fall for that?" Clu just laughed, although his eyes were filled with anger. "I'm not Jarvis…and this is it for you."
Ram didn't seem at all perturbed by the suggestion he was about to be de-rezzed which amazed Quorra. But then again, it made sense; Ram had been pretty much laughing in the face of his deresolution most of his life, surviving despite the long odds, throwing his life in danger for them repeatedly. He must have a plan, she thought hopefully as she once again began trying to calculate a plan of attack. Or he's, at the very least, buying us time. "Hey, it's what I'm good at!" Ram exclaimed, his eyes flashing. "And…ya should know your plan's not exactly—how should I put this?—perfect."
"And what in the name of the Users do you know about perfection, man?" Clu snarled, wheeling on the little program; the rage in his eyes was enough to make Quorra flinch even though she wasn't anywhere near him.
Ram just blinked and replied innocently, "Well, I got a 99% accuracy rate which is 'bout as perfect as an actuarial program can get. And I just calculated the odds of your little plan, and you only got a 90% chance of it working." He paused for a micro, letting his words sink in before adding, the sneer in his voice unmistakable, "And that ain't perfect, man."