"Tron was waiting there for us!" Even exclaimed immediately upon reappearing inside the lab's control room (the blessed real world - with his blessed, real lab coat again).
"What?" Isa gaped.
"Tron? You met him, then? Is he-" Ansem began.
"A hostile program, Sark, forced him to submit to reprogramming in order to- protect our lives," Even said quickly. "It's a rather long story - but we did manage to destroy, or at least seal away, the MCP."
"Yes, I had noticed that," Ansem nodded in approval. "The MCP has now been returned to a quarantine zone, separated from the rest of the system. Which leaves us in control here, with free access to the system."
"Except for the fact that Sark and a reprogrammed Tron are still in there," Isa pointed out.
"Tron..." Ansem sighed, closing his eyes. "If he truly has been turned hostile, then he presents as great of - if not greater - a threat to us than the MCP did. Tron as an enemy, with all of his knowledge, skills, and intellectual capabilities..."
"And he has his 'full functions' restored, as well as unfettered access to the DTD database," Even said quietly.
Ansem looked even more worried than ever. He clenched his hands tight behind his back, turning away and stalking up to the computer. He tapped away at it furiously, eyeing the screen intently. After a moment, he pushed away from it with a noise of relief. "I've just changed the password to the DTD database - so that will be a major resource that our enemies will be cut off from. However, they still have free run of the rest of the system. Especially Tron."
"Never mind that - Tron was waiting right at the terminal where I was able to bring us back out of that world from," Even rattled off. "He'd mentioned before, when he was still himself, that the MCP could have used the laser system to transport digital...constructs to the real world. But he also said that it would have taken the MCP time to do so. Could Tron do the same, given time?"
Ansem turned slowly, his eyes going to the laser device set into the wall. "I'm afraid that that was only true for the MCP. For Tron, with all his knowledge and his position of power within the system...he would have no need to wait. He could do it as easily as you or I could. For Tron knew, better than any other Program..."
As if on cue, in some script of the universe and pure cosmic mockery, the red orb in the middle of the laser machine flashed brightly, and light filled up the room.
A red blur materialized in front of the laser machine, flying forward through the air as if launched from it.
It was Tron. Looking very real, and holding twin, very deadly-looking spinning disc weapons! He flew across the control room, slashing at Isa has he passed him by - Isa ducked and twirled out of the way, summoning his weapon.
Everyone else summoned theirs as well (sans Tifa and Ansem, of course; the former needed no weapon but her fists, and the latter had none).
Tron continued on his arc, landing atop the computer console, crouched there. He whipped back around to face them all, holding his arms, his weapons, out from his body.
In the silent air of the room, they hummed and crackled dangerously.
Even recalled well what those weapons had been able to do in the digital world. He shuddered to think what they were capable of here, to human flesh and blood...
Ansem gasped softly, taking a step forward, staring. "Tron...? Is that you?"
Tron's helmet turned, his visored gaze clearly looking at Ansem in return. A low hiss issued from the helmet, modulated. "The False Creator..."
"Tron, I know that this is not you," Ansem spoke again, raising his hands. "You are a good person, a-"
Tron's arms whipped forward, crossing each other - and those twin discs were let loose to fly forward, arcing inward and then outward - and then inward again, closing in on Ansem!
Tifa seized onto Ansem and yanked him aside with shocking speed and strength, such that he landed roughly on the floor. But he was alive. "Sorry!" she said instantly, looking remorseful about it.
Tron's discs flew across the room, striking the back wall. They bounced, flying out left and right - hitting the left and right walls. They angled upward and struck the ceiling, then came down to hit the floor and finally bounced back up again. One disc was headed for Isa, and the other was going for Kana. An entirely calculated trajectory - even if they'd failed to hit the original target? Or was it some sort of coincidence? Well, Tron was a computer program.
Even hated to see the power of math being used for such ill purposes. Yet who was he talk...?
Kana twirled and dodged. Isa ducked and swatted the disc with his own weapon, sending it flying off to the side again - and this time, it embedded itself into the wall and stayed there.
Regardless of whether the attack was failed or calculated, Tron leapt forward off the console like a pouncing cat, arms stretched forth, legs behind him. He flew at Aerith, tackling her to the floor. One hand closed on her throat, while his free hand snapped up - and caught the still roaming, lone disc without even looking. Then he brought it down for Aerith's face.
Isa swung his weapon furiously, sending out a wave of blue fire that had Tron flipping sideways off of Aerith, landing in front of the left hand door. He did a quick backflip and yanked his second disc out of the wall, then twirled right and leapt forward onto the console again. He spun and hurled a disc out at Kana, then twisted through the air in Even's direction. He threw his other disc back at Aerith - causing Isa to quickly stoop and put his weapon in its path to block.
Even raised his shield as Tron flew at him. Tron flipped around and his boots collided with the shield, forcing Even backwards several quick steps. Even gritted his teeth and shoved outward with a burst of ice magic. Tron kicked off and sailed back through the air, going high. He flew over everyone's heads, landing on the far side of the room behind Aerith, who'd just gotten to her feet again.
Tron hurled a disc at her back without hesitation.
Aerith's staff clacked against the floor, and a barrier sprang up around her, from floor to ceiling, blocking the disc and sending it clattering off across the floor. She turned around, sweeping her staff and erupting with a massive gust of wind. It was so powerful that Tron was sent flying backwards, crashing through the solid metal door out onto the other walkway.
Tron hit hard, but sprang up out of a roll, his single disc held up before him. His helmeted gaze took them all in. Then he darted left, and leapt clear off the side of the walkway, out into the open air of the massive, Heartless manufactory chamber. Tron twisted and plummeted, but then he put his feet against the wall and stabbed his disc into it, turning his rapid descent into a long, controlled fall. He left a long, burning plasma trail behind him along the metal wall, all the way down.
Kana glanced around, then she promptly threw herself out the forward viewport of the control room, falling down a hundred feet through open air without care!
"Dammit, woman!" Even yelled after her, racing to peer out the window, to the floor far, far below.
Tifa ran and cleared the console and the broken window with ease, flying out from Even's left to join Kana.
Leon and Cloud shared looks, then vaulted the window as one and went after Tifa, swords in hand.
Aerith gazed after them, staff held in her hands before her. She smiled to herself, then twirled her staff and raised it high. A white light shrouded her, and then she blinked out of existence.
Even saw a white light flash far below, and Aerith reappeared there on the ground, helping the others to engage Tron in battle.
That was some extremely impressive teleportation magic. The sign of a very powerful mage. Especially for one to just pull off the feat like that, like it was nothing!
Tron was dancing around them all, avoiding swinging blades and blasts of magic - taking slices and hurling meaty punches and kicks when he could.
But eventually, he fell to them.
To Aerith.
In a moment of focus and calm out of the fight - just as Tron was engaging with Leon and Kana together - Aerith aimed her staff out at Tron, sending a spray of blue particles at him...and then he slowed, teetered, and collapsed.
A powerful sleep spell.
But even a powerful sleep spell couldn't last forever.
Once Tron woke again, he'd doubtlessly resume his...mission.
His single-minded, new goal: to eliminate the "Users."
Even sighed, his Heart aching.
At least Master Ansem had good news.
"With the MCP sealed away once more, and Tron existing here, outside the system, that only leaves this Sark program within the Grid," Ansem spoke, clearing away the glass and manipulating the computer console. "And this 'Commander Sark', I can see now, does not have any form of administrative powers. He has high access, to be sure, but nowhere near the level of privileges that Tron or the MCP possess. Thus...I am now initiating deletion of that program. The system...is ours, in full and in whole."
"Out of curiosity, Master Ansem, what did you change the password to for the DTD?" Even asked, glancing at the man.
"Is it curiosity, or prudence?" Ansem replied, a dash of humor to his voice.
"Well...if you were to ever perish, we would be locked out of the DTD once more, true," Even admitted. "I would hope you'd trust one of us with the password."
Ansem nodded. "I would very much like to trust you again, my apprentice. As I would like to be able to trust myself again, as well. The password I chose was one I'm certain no program could ever guess."
"What would that be?" Even said eagerly.
"The password is 'Sea Salt Ice Cream.'"
Even stared. Then, he laughed. "You're joking!"
Ansem gazed at him, utterly serious. "Do I look like I am joking, Even?"
"No...and that's concerning," Even muttered, turning away to stride for the open, twisted metal doorway to his left. "I should go check on Kana."
"By all means," Ansem called after him. "We have achieved victory here today, for ourselves, for our town, and for the future. And I am...proud of what you all managed to accomplish within the dataspace."
Master Ansem...was proud, was he?
A part of Even latched onto that praise like he was still a young student again.
Another part of him rejected it, whispering coldly that the man had nothing to be proud of.
Not where Even was concerned. Nor any of his apprentices...
AN: And that wraps up the Grid mini story! xD I had a lot of fun with it, buuut...time to move on to other prospects. :D