Chapter 13
It wasn't until Aaron jumped down from the rooftop, bounding off the cascading buildings down to the grim streets of what existed as Tron City, that his baton finally rebooted and the use of his light cycle was once again available. The dismal wall behind him towered high, intimidating any consideration of jumping the boundaries. The structure had two different appearances on either side of the wall. The exterior facing Master City was bright and orderly. On the opposite face of the yard-thick barrier, intricate graffiti and the look of abandonment added to the dismal feel of the broken city. Aaron's gaze was stolen by what seemed the tallest structure of Tron City, the Game Grid Arena. Once the scene of bustling Grid life of all programs, this geometrical wonder loomed like a decaying tombstone in a gloomy graveyard. Aaron's gaze dropped to the horizon to spot the coattails of a program. The pedestrian was hurrying away from him, keeping to its own business. It saddened Aaron. From the readings of his Grandfather's entries, he knew that these program's jailed here in Tron City were once a great people that strived to exist peacefully. He felt he only had himself to blame. Though it was his father's duty, and his father's time under which these people have been made to suffer, Aaron wanted to help them so bad it ached; which was the cause of his frustration. The Defenders were in no position to take extreme action; not as they were now. But then where was he to begin? Aaron watched the program go with only guilt left to accompany him. Aaron reached for his baton and activated the light cycle while in mid-air of a leap. The wheels touched down on the grim street and the user raced away with his black robe streaming in the wind behind him.
Aaron jumped off the bike, watching as the vehicle collapsed digitally back to the now reconnected ends of his baton. He stalked over to the front door of the Defender's home. Upon opening it, an ignited disc was extended by an armored arm. Sage awaited the arrival from the left side of the first doorway. Upon seeing Aaron's face, he dropped his weapon, returning it to its dormant state on his back.
"Flynn! thank the creator," Sage sighed. "Are you okay?"
"Bit banged up," Aaron groaned as his shoulder and ribs throbbed with pain. "I'll be good though," he assured him; accompanying his promise with a very Flynn-like grin. To Aaron's surprise, his injury had actually become less bothersome over time. He wondered if this meant his condition was worse than he presumed. Sage led him through the doorway to the threshold of the home. Aaron clomped his way over to the far left wall and slouched slightly.
"Rough night huh?" Sage inquired with a quizzical stare. Aaron's upward gaze rolled to his left and rested on the concerned program.
"Just a few guards; nothing too big." The door ahead of him split open as Dep strode inside.
"Flynn," he exclaimed. "Your one lucky user, but next time remember; strength comes in numbers." Aaron chortled.
"Yeah sorry I was kind of on the run." His gaze narrowed slightly on the leader of the Defenders. "Your disc cut the cable didn't it?" Dep laughed out loud this time.
"If I gained updates for every time I've saved a Flynn from Derrezolution, I'd be the most valuable program on the Grid."
"Not to mention most wanted," Sage added in.
"Well I'm already that," Dep mused. "Second only to you here," he added with a gesture to Aaron.
His footfalls seemed to echo in the large hall as the surrounding orange lights reflected off his black armor, illuminated brightly by his own red circuitry. The long hall deep in the central command tower in the far northeastern corner of Master City, stretched to the main chamber. As the guard emerged through the large, intricate door, he continued to the very center of the chamber. The large circular room was dark except for the orange ring of light rounding the far rim. The guard knelt to his knee and bowed his helmeted head. As the tips of his gloved fingers touched on the glossy black floor of the chamber, streaks of orange light flowed up to the far end of the chamber. Five strips branched away from the collection. After reaching the wall, lights emitted in large cones, to illuminate the five robed figures sitting cross-legged on intricate thrones set high up in the wall. The large lights below barely helped to illuminate their faces. The figure seated in the middle spoke first in a droning hissing tone.
"You requested a council?"
"You do realize the consequence of irrelevabilty?" another added with a tone low and dangerous.
"Present your reasons," another added with a rasped timbre. The guard stood up from his kneel. As he rose to his feet, a pedestal-like terminal rose from the floor. An orb of orange light emitted on the tip. The guard reached for his disc on his back and approached the pedestal at his right. The guard easily placed the disc inside the orange orb of light and watched as its rim ignited red. Images suddenly flew around the chamber before the five individuals. Suddenly an image of a figure clad in black armor, circuited with bright blue streaks projected in front of the five. The figure wore a large black cloak and stooped slightly, as if he was awaiting an attack, ready to engage with his own lethal disc.
"A program?" one asked.
"No, a user," another replied; declaring to the room more than responding to his colluege.
"Thee user?"
"The user foretold by the Master?"
"Action must be taken," the hooded figure to the far right said in a bold drone.
"Action has been taken," the figure in the middle hissed. "An Impression program," he added with a dark sneer. The guard watched from the floor with a sense of confusion. Few programs have had the honor of communicating to the Disciples for a span of many cycles. In the beginning when the enlightened leaders emerged to the Grid, they were outspoken, public; rallying the forces of criminal gangs which were the fist of the revolution. In time however, as the wall was erected and the gangs organized into a fully functional security system, the Disciples became more and more reclusive. Only close representative programs ever came face to face with the esteemed leaders. Suddenly from behind, the darkness of the chamber was teased with a tiny touch of added orange glows from the hallway. The door had slid open and allowed an armored program to enter. He was large and broad. From his upper lip up, Nexor's pasty face could be seen; bald and intricately decaled. His eyes glowed a brighter and more menacing orange than that of the circuitry of his own armor. Draped over his torso of his uniform was a growing sash; emblemizing his power and authority as the First Chief of the Disciples' forces. He stepped boldly with an almost arrogant strut up to the left of the guard. At the sight of his First Chief, the guard bowed slightly to the stature of Nexor.
"My Lords," he said, dropping to his knee before the Disciples. "You requested my presence?"
"Your failure to prevent the Defenders' entry to the world of the users has cost us," the Disciple seated on the far left said in a gravely drone. Although the Disciple known to very few only as Avro was the eldest of them all, he was not the leader; however his wisdom surmounted that of most programs.
"Your chance at redemption has come to pass," mocked Vyril in her snide drone.
"The user has been found," hissed Scylus, the head of the Disciples.
"And the Defenders have been found," the bold voiced Disciple named Jekl said from his seat on the far right.
"How long have you hunted these rebels?" asked the Disciple named Drux in a mock, snide tone. Nexor shifted his gaze to the Disciple seated in between Scylus and Jekl. The large program struggled to keep his face clear of annoyance in the presence of his leaders.
"The Defenders have proven themselves to be no more than cowardous terrorists, making it difficult to secure and eliminate them," Nexor explained in as controlled of a tone as he could muster. Scylus turned his hooded head to his right. Jekl nodded before the large image of the battle-ready user projected in front of Nexor. The military leader's orange gaze narrowed on the image of the user.
"This is not the face of a coward," Jekl chastised.
"This defiance must be crushed."
"Rebellion is a virus, contagious and destructive," Avro added. Nexor looked back up at the Disciples.
"How do you want this handled?" He asked in a sinister tone. To Nexor's surprise, the four Disciples all turned their heads to Scylus seated in the middle. Without acknowledging their focus, he spoke.
"Make this user an example." Nexor sneered in anticipation. His gaze dropped back to the image projected before him. He studied his face, learning every detail, imprinting the image in his memory. Nexor was a hunter, ruthless and relentless. The Disciples had given him a target, and now he would stop at nothing till the user's bones were crushed in his very grip.