Fanfiction: Cruel Yellow/Kind Yellow (Tron: Legacy)
Title: "Cruel Yellow/Kind Yellow"
Status: OneShot; Complete
Fandom: Tron: Legacy
Characters: Rinzler, Sam Flynn, CLU (mentioned)
Disclaimer: The big mouse owns half the world, both Tron movies included.
Rating: T
Warnings: AU, some language, un-beta'ed; rape/tortue implied; Gen
Note: This was written for tronkinkmeme.
Summary: Rinzler stayed in the shadows, intent on reaching his hideout unseen. There he could lick his wounds, heal the damage received through his masters punishment...
Cruel Yellow/Kind Yellow
Rinzler kept to the shadows and moved slowly along the illuminated ridge of the building. Down below the city bustled with activity; seen from up here it looked like hazy pinpricks of red and blue, moving around.
Rinzler was fortunate to have escaped his masters wrath in a condition that left him able to walk away, instead of being forced to crawl. He didn't feel lucky, though. Pain rushed through his overtaxed and drained system in never ending pulses. The slightest contact with any surface made it worse, like when he lost his balance and needed to brace himself with one shoulder at the dark wall.
Rinzler suppressed a keening noise. He might not be able to speak and couldn't do anything against the growling purr that emitted from his damaged voice coder, but he was no animal and wouldn't be reduced to sounding like one.
He had a hard time controlling his shaking limbs as he ducked away from a Recognizer's searchlight. It wasn't far now. He was confident that he could reach his destination without being seen, despite his weakness. Most programs were foolish enough to never look up anyway. A fatal mistake he often used to his advantage during missions.
He would curl up in his safe corner and do what his master disdainfully dubbed 'licking his wounds.' Rinzler would stay there until he was called for a new hunt or to participate in the Games.
The Arena had always felt strangely familiar to him and he wouldn't mind entertaining the crowd with his Light Disc skills. Not that it would matter to C.L.U. which task he preferred. Rinzler knew that he couldn't risk failing his master again, he had to carry out his orders perfectly, so that the programmer would have no reason for further punishment.
He could still feel it... Hot air blown in his neck, ruffling the fine hair there and that heavy weight settled against his back, the rhythmic pain and the burning flood of energy, rushing from C.L.U. into him.
Those times were far worse than the beatings or his masters degrading comments. But when those yellow circuits glowed brightly their compulsion slammed into Rinzler with crushing force and rendered him helpless. It overrode all else but the command to take it, to obey, to stand down, to not attack, to not defend himself.
He didn't know anything else.
Rinzler shuddered, distracted from his environment by the ghost sensations to such a degree that he almost missed the entrance. He stopped abruptly and ducked inside through the ragged hole. The room was partly collapsed and strewn with rubble; bare aside from two blankets. No one besides him had ever come here.
XXX
Teenagers were supposed to hate the world at large. Sam Flynn, 15 years old, couldn't argue with that, not while he was trapped in a weird cyberspace nightmare and wanted to rip something apart and howl in frustration. - Not necessarily in that order.
Sam groaned and balanced his way - carefully tiptoeing - across the narrow, bridge-like arch that connected this skyscraper with the next.
“I'll never again set foot in that damn Arcade,” he mumbled to himself. He pointedly avoided staring into the gaping abyss left and right. He swallowed hard and edged forward. “And if I ever read 'laser control' again than I totally won't shrug and press the button, no way. How stupid can I get?!” Sam stumbled. “Damn, that was a rhetorical question!”
He sighed in relief as he reached the broader ridge on the other side. He enjoyed a good thrill, sure, but being hunted by some weirdo programs was not the same as bungee jumping. Or hacking the hell out of ENCOM to piss Mackey off and drive Alan nuts for sport.
“Damn you, Dad! If this is the Grid you were so obsessed about than I'm glad you didn't take me along! Ten years ago? Yeah, right, I would be dead twice over by now!” Sam cursed as he tripped over his own feet and had to hug the wall like a long lost lover to stay upright. “What a welcome! Dad - where are you? What's going on here?!”
XXX
When you think it can't get any worse, it will start to rain. - Story of Sam's life and so cliché that he was back to feeling ready for murder. Or deletion, or whatever they called it here.
To make things even more 'perfect' it wasn't exactly water that fell from those impressive thunderclouds. The stuff looked more like gray particles, similar to paper fresh out of the shredder. It hurt like a bitch whenever one impacted on that weird suit that Sam wore since he had woken up; like needles.
It sounded like crystal bells when particles hit the buildings instead, but the more fell the more distorted the sound became. His ears began to hurt. So when he spotted a ragged hole in the buildings wall, and since he lacked options to get down on street level anyway, Sam did the sensible thing and dove in for cover.
Only problem with that was that his chosen refuge was already claimed - by something that growled like a rabid dog.
XXX
Rinzler startled out of his uneasy recharge as soon as someone entered the room. He growled and leaped up, ignoring his bodies protests, and his foot connected spot on with a chest. His attacker went down with a muffled sound of surprise, winded but not seriously damaged. His kick had lacked its usual strength.
Rinzler reached for his Light Disc, ready to derezz - he froze.
The pattern was unfamiliar and the program with its wide blue eyes was unknown to him, - but its circuitry was no doubt a rich shade of yellow. Pain and compulsion worked in tandem to bring Rinzler down on his knees; he bit through his lip to suppress a keen. He cowered there in forced submission, struggling against the imminent stasis and wondered when his punishment would start.
Where did this new master come from? Was this another of C.L.U.'s tests?
XXX
Sam decided to stay put and wait for his heart to stop its attempts to crawl up through his throat. His ragged breathing slowed and he used his 'down time' to study the weird program that huddled on the floor.
Its growling rumble had faded to a somewhat plaintive purr and Sam could see that its red-orange circuitry flickered in time with its trembling. He couldn't make out its face, since it wore a helmet with a pitch black visor, but it didn't take a genius to see that it was in pain - and scared. Whatever for, Sam had no idea, but if his hunch was right, than it shouldn't be a danger to him... Maybe. Possibly. Who knew.
'Better to be safe than sorry,' he thought. Sam got up slowly and avoided any sudden movements. He had guessed right: the program flinched away as soon as he loomed over it. Following his instinct, Sam knelt down to appear as non-threatening as possible.
Which was really a stupid move considering that whatever was wrong with it hadn't stopped the program from overpowering Sam with insulting ease. Pity that his grandma and Alan hadn't raised him to do the smart thing. They went more for the 'what is right' approach. And trying to help someone who was in obvious pain, even if it was a program, seemed to fit that bill.
Sam only had to wonder what he was supposed to do. Or say, for that matter, since staring at a blank visor wouldn't solve anything anytime soon.
“Uh, you know? I hate to ask stupid questions, but... are you alright? You don't look so good. Anything I can do?”
The program didn't react, didn't even seem to hear him. It started to tremble and Sam actually worried that it might shake itself apart into data-bits or something. Its weird purring noise, constant like a humans breathing - maybe it couldn't speak? - hitched suddenly. It toppled over and lay still.
“Shit!” Sam hovered over it but didn't dare to touch. “I don't - wait, I - I'll go and try to get you some help -!”
A gloved hand caught his wrist as he turned to the exit, but the grip was so weak that Sam's next step was enough to break its hold. He stopped anyway and looked back. The program shook its helmeted head in a clear 'No.'
Sam frowned. “You don't want me to get someone? Dude, you look ready to keel over for good.”
Another head-shake and a low growl that somehow managed to sound like a 'please'.
Sam scowled and marched back to plop down right beside his chance acquaintance. The weak program flinched, but not as badly as before. Progress, of a kind.
“Alright then, but I won't leave you either. So... try not to die on me or anything, okay?”
A slow, uncertain nod and the feeling that he was stared at was all Sam got in lieu of answer. And then the program went out like a light, literally: only its four squares at collarbone height continued to blink, like a TV on stand-by.
Sam leaned back against the cool, smooth wall and sighed. Without that purr it was too silent in the room for his taste. Well, aside from the muffled sound of thunder and the particle rain raging outside.
XXX
“Calm down! Come one, - you're alright, no ones hurting you!”
Rinzler heard the voice but it took him long klicks to make sense of the words. He needed even longer to overcome his confusion and to realize that the echoing noise he heard was his own scream. He stopped abruptly and whimpered as raw pain pulsed inside his throat; in his coding.
“God, you almost gave me a heart attack!”
Rinzler cringed away from the voice, its source too close for comfort, but he couldn't avoid the tentative touch that settled on his shoulder. He shuddered; the fingers were not protected by a glove and felt eerily warm.
“Hey, it's alright. You'll be fine.”
This time it took only klicks for Rinzler to reach a surprising realization: neither the compulsion nor the pain kept him in place. Not anymore. It was the sensation of touch, of a spread palm that slid down his arm and around to his back, where it drew small circles.
It didn't hurt.
“See? You'll be fine,” that young voice muttered. The yellow program looked uncertain for its own actions, but the touching without pain continued with stubborn determination. “Better?”
Rinzler allowed his coiled muscles to relax and purred, the noise the only way to communicate his agreement.
“Good, then how about you try to sleep a bit more?”
The program smiled at him and Rinzler felt his lips twitch to mirror the expression, although he knew the other wouldn't be able to see it. He nodded instead. This new master was kind and that was all Rinzler needed to know right now.
XXX
Sam had only seconds to make his decision. He looked from the ragged hole where he crouched to the sleeping program, then back to the weird upside-down 'u' shape flying thingy that approached. So much for losing his pursuers.
If he ran full tilt into their searchlight, then maybe they wouldn't bother checking the room he had come from... Yeah, he couldn't involve that mess of a program...
XXX
Rinzler was slow to reboot that millicycle. The first thing he heard was a Recognizer, starting from nearby, probably full of stray programs to be transferred to the Arena...
His masters call jolted him fully awake. He was out of his hideout and half-way across the ledge before he remembered what had happened. Immediately, he locked that memory file with all the security he could muster.
Whatever C.L.U. had planned, he would disapprove of this encounter and take it away from Rinzler. And he knew that the memory of a touch that didn't hurt would only serve to make his next punishment even more unbearable.
Little did he know that soon, his Light Disc would draw bright red blood. That he would recover far older memories than this recent one. That he would fight - to protect a User by the name of Sam Flynn.
That Sam would call him 'Tron'.
And that, much later, he would start to believe in that name. And be Tron again.
End
Status: OneShot; Complete
Fandom: Tron: Legacy
Characters: Rinzler, Sam Flynn, CLU (mentioned)
Disclaimer: The big mouse owns half the world, both Tron movies included.
Rating: T
Warnings: AU, some language, un-beta'ed; rape/tortue implied; Gen
Note: This was written for tronkinkmeme.
Summary: Rinzler stayed in the shadows, intent on reaching his hideout unseen. There he could lick his wounds, heal the damage received through his masters punishment...
Cruel Yellow/Kind Yellow
Rinzler kept to the shadows and moved slowly along the illuminated ridge of the building. Down below the city bustled with activity; seen from up here it looked like hazy pinpricks of red and blue, moving around.
Rinzler was fortunate to have escaped his masters wrath in a condition that left him able to walk away, instead of being forced to crawl. He didn't feel lucky, though. Pain rushed through his overtaxed and drained system in never ending pulses. The slightest contact with any surface made it worse, like when he lost his balance and needed to brace himself with one shoulder at the dark wall.
Rinzler suppressed a keening noise. He might not be able to speak and couldn't do anything against the growling purr that emitted from his damaged voice coder, but he was no animal and wouldn't be reduced to sounding like one.
He had a hard time controlling his shaking limbs as he ducked away from a Recognizer's searchlight. It wasn't far now. He was confident that he could reach his destination without being seen, despite his weakness. Most programs were foolish enough to never look up anyway. A fatal mistake he often used to his advantage during missions.
He would curl up in his safe corner and do what his master disdainfully dubbed 'licking his wounds.' Rinzler would stay there until he was called for a new hunt or to participate in the Games.
The Arena had always felt strangely familiar to him and he wouldn't mind entertaining the crowd with his Light Disc skills. Not that it would matter to C.L.U. which task he preferred. Rinzler knew that he couldn't risk failing his master again, he had to carry out his orders perfectly, so that the programmer would have no reason for further punishment.
He could still feel it... Hot air blown in his neck, ruffling the fine hair there and that heavy weight settled against his back, the rhythmic pain and the burning flood of energy, rushing from C.L.U. into him.
Those times were far worse than the beatings or his masters degrading comments. But when those yellow circuits glowed brightly their compulsion slammed into Rinzler with crushing force and rendered him helpless. It overrode all else but the command to take it, to obey, to stand down, to not attack, to not defend himself.
He didn't know anything else.
Rinzler shuddered, distracted from his environment by the ghost sensations to such a degree that he almost missed the entrance. He stopped abruptly and ducked inside through the ragged hole. The room was partly collapsed and strewn with rubble; bare aside from two blankets. No one besides him had ever come here.
XXX
Teenagers were supposed to hate the world at large. Sam Flynn, 15 years old, couldn't argue with that, not while he was trapped in a weird cyberspace nightmare and wanted to rip something apart and howl in frustration. - Not necessarily in that order.
Sam groaned and balanced his way - carefully tiptoeing - across the narrow, bridge-like arch that connected this skyscraper with the next.
“I'll never again set foot in that damn Arcade,” he mumbled to himself. He pointedly avoided staring into the gaping abyss left and right. He swallowed hard and edged forward. “And if I ever read 'laser control' again than I totally won't shrug and press the button, no way. How stupid can I get?!” Sam stumbled. “Damn, that was a rhetorical question!”
He sighed in relief as he reached the broader ridge on the other side. He enjoyed a good thrill, sure, but being hunted by some weirdo programs was not the same as bungee jumping. Or hacking the hell out of ENCOM to piss Mackey off and drive Alan nuts for sport.
“Damn you, Dad! If this is the Grid you were so obsessed about than I'm glad you didn't take me along! Ten years ago? Yeah, right, I would be dead twice over by now!” Sam cursed as he tripped over his own feet and had to hug the wall like a long lost lover to stay upright. “What a welcome! Dad - where are you? What's going on here?!”
XXX
When you think it can't get any worse, it will start to rain. - Story of Sam's life and so cliché that he was back to feeling ready for murder. Or deletion, or whatever they called it here.
To make things even more 'perfect' it wasn't exactly water that fell from those impressive thunderclouds. The stuff looked more like gray particles, similar to paper fresh out of the shredder. It hurt like a bitch whenever one impacted on that weird suit that Sam wore since he had woken up; like needles.
It sounded like crystal bells when particles hit the buildings instead, but the more fell the more distorted the sound became. His ears began to hurt. So when he spotted a ragged hole in the buildings wall, and since he lacked options to get down on street level anyway, Sam did the sensible thing and dove in for cover.
Only problem with that was that his chosen refuge was already claimed - by something that growled like a rabid dog.
XXX
Rinzler startled out of his uneasy recharge as soon as someone entered the room. He growled and leaped up, ignoring his bodies protests, and his foot connected spot on with a chest. His attacker went down with a muffled sound of surprise, winded but not seriously damaged. His kick had lacked its usual strength.
Rinzler reached for his Light Disc, ready to derezz - he froze.
The pattern was unfamiliar and the program with its wide blue eyes was unknown to him, - but its circuitry was no doubt a rich shade of yellow. Pain and compulsion worked in tandem to bring Rinzler down on his knees; he bit through his lip to suppress a keen. He cowered there in forced submission, struggling against the imminent stasis and wondered when his punishment would start.
Where did this new master come from? Was this another of C.L.U.'s tests?
XXX
Sam decided to stay put and wait for his heart to stop its attempts to crawl up through his throat. His ragged breathing slowed and he used his 'down time' to study the weird program that huddled on the floor.
Its growling rumble had faded to a somewhat plaintive purr and Sam could see that its red-orange circuitry flickered in time with its trembling. He couldn't make out its face, since it wore a helmet with a pitch black visor, but it didn't take a genius to see that it was in pain - and scared. Whatever for, Sam had no idea, but if his hunch was right, than it shouldn't be a danger to him... Maybe. Possibly. Who knew.
'Better to be safe than sorry,' he thought. Sam got up slowly and avoided any sudden movements. He had guessed right: the program flinched away as soon as he loomed over it. Following his instinct, Sam knelt down to appear as non-threatening as possible.
Which was really a stupid move considering that whatever was wrong with it hadn't stopped the program from overpowering Sam with insulting ease. Pity that his grandma and Alan hadn't raised him to do the smart thing. They went more for the 'what is right' approach. And trying to help someone who was in obvious pain, even if it was a program, seemed to fit that bill.
Sam only had to wonder what he was supposed to do. Or say, for that matter, since staring at a blank visor wouldn't solve anything anytime soon.
“Uh, you know? I hate to ask stupid questions, but... are you alright? You don't look so good. Anything I can do?”
The program didn't react, didn't even seem to hear him. It started to tremble and Sam actually worried that it might shake itself apart into data-bits or something. Its weird purring noise, constant like a humans breathing - maybe it couldn't speak? - hitched suddenly. It toppled over and lay still.
“Shit!” Sam hovered over it but didn't dare to touch. “I don't - wait, I - I'll go and try to get you some help -!”
A gloved hand caught his wrist as he turned to the exit, but the grip was so weak that Sam's next step was enough to break its hold. He stopped anyway and looked back. The program shook its helmeted head in a clear 'No.'
Sam frowned. “You don't want me to get someone? Dude, you look ready to keel over for good.”
Another head-shake and a low growl that somehow managed to sound like a 'please'.
Sam scowled and marched back to plop down right beside his chance acquaintance. The weak program flinched, but not as badly as before. Progress, of a kind.
“Alright then, but I won't leave you either. So... try not to die on me or anything, okay?”
A slow, uncertain nod and the feeling that he was stared at was all Sam got in lieu of answer. And then the program went out like a light, literally: only its four squares at collarbone height continued to blink, like a TV on stand-by.
Sam leaned back against the cool, smooth wall and sighed. Without that purr it was too silent in the room for his taste. Well, aside from the muffled sound of thunder and the particle rain raging outside.
XXX
“Calm down! Come one, - you're alright, no ones hurting you!”
Rinzler heard the voice but it took him long klicks to make sense of the words. He needed even longer to overcome his confusion and to realize that the echoing noise he heard was his own scream. He stopped abruptly and whimpered as raw pain pulsed inside his throat; in his coding.
“God, you almost gave me a heart attack!”
Rinzler cringed away from the voice, its source too close for comfort, but he couldn't avoid the tentative touch that settled on his shoulder. He shuddered; the fingers were not protected by a glove and felt eerily warm.
“Hey, it's alright. You'll be fine.”
This time it took only klicks for Rinzler to reach a surprising realization: neither the compulsion nor the pain kept him in place. Not anymore. It was the sensation of touch, of a spread palm that slid down his arm and around to his back, where it drew small circles.
It didn't hurt.
“See? You'll be fine,” that young voice muttered. The yellow program looked uncertain for its own actions, but the touching without pain continued with stubborn determination. “Better?”
Rinzler allowed his coiled muscles to relax and purred, the noise the only way to communicate his agreement.
“Good, then how about you try to sleep a bit more?”
The program smiled at him and Rinzler felt his lips twitch to mirror the expression, although he knew the other wouldn't be able to see it. He nodded instead. This new master was kind and that was all Rinzler needed to know right now.
XXX
Sam had only seconds to make his decision. He looked from the ragged hole where he crouched to the sleeping program, then back to the weird upside-down 'u' shape flying thingy that approached. So much for losing his pursuers.
If he ran full tilt into their searchlight, then maybe they wouldn't bother checking the room he had come from... Yeah, he couldn't involve that mess of a program...
XXX
Rinzler was slow to reboot that millicycle. The first thing he heard was a Recognizer, starting from nearby, probably full of stray programs to be transferred to the Arena...
His masters call jolted him fully awake. He was out of his hideout and half-way across the ledge before he remembered what had happened. Immediately, he locked that memory file with all the security he could muster.
Whatever C.L.U. had planned, he would disapprove of this encounter and take it away from Rinzler. And he knew that the memory of a touch that didn't hurt would only serve to make his next punishment even more unbearable.
Little did he know that soon, his Light Disc would draw bright red blood. That he would recover far older memories than this recent one. That he would fight - to protect a User by the name of Sam Flynn.
That Sam would call him 'Tron'.
And that, much later, he would start to believe in that name. And be Tron again.
End