Tron wasn't sure what drew him back to this place. Perhaps it was the familiarity of it; he'd been here often enough at Clu's side, silent and menacing, set apart from everyone else by the barrier of his helmet. Or perhaps now it was that he could mingle in the crowd without the fear and recognition that the Rinzler persona brought. He often wore a cloak, now, simply to disguise his circuits in case of the odd program noticing him, but it was easy enough to blend in with the crowd, with these programs that he now protected.
Tonight, he spotted an all-too-familiar figure sitting above the crowd. Searching his memory banks for a name, he could not find one, but he knew this program. She had been part of the Games, but had also been here, beside Zues...
Before he could think better of it, he found himself ascending the stairs to stand before her. "I know you."
Gem saw the program walk in. While others didn't seem to take much notice, she did. There was something about him, in the way he walked; it was familiar, yet completely strange to her. It was...curious, a spark in the bore of the day. Perhaps she would get up and speak with him, but before she had a chance to process the possibilities and outcomes of that situation, he approached her
( ... )
Tron allowed his gaze to wander over the program's form... attractive, to be sure. Definitely designed to be distracting, though he would not allow himself to become so. "You were one with the Games," he said after a moment, unwilling to reveal his connection to that just yet. "And I also saw you here, in the company of its former proprietor."
"I was. Am." Gem still worked as a Siren in the Colosseum, but it was different now--it was like the old cycles, when there wasn't deresoultion at the end; the cycles she remembered vaguely with some fondness; things had been deceptively simple back then. "I prepare the programs for the Games. Back then...I ensured they survived as best they could." There was a slight tinge of darkness to her tone. Besides Sam, she could not think of one who had survived Rinzler, if they faced him.
When he mentioned the club, however, she rolled her eyes. "Yes. Castor." A miscalculation on her part. Castor always had to play the angles, and had gotten himself and her derezzed after making the wrong decision. But that was over now. New start for her; new start for all of them.
Smiling slightly, she stepped in a bit closer. "My name is Gem."
Tron's expression darkened slightly. He knew the Games still existed, and had resisted the temptation to return to the arena, unsure of how his programming would react. He did not want to derez someone accidentally, if remnants of Rinzler still held in his code. "I see."
"Castor," he replied with a tilt of his head. "Ah. That was what he called himself to the public. I remember that." Clu had always insisted on calling Zues' name to his face, a reminder of his power.
He did not withdraw when the Siren stepped forward, meeting her gaze levelly. "I am Tron," he said, deciding not to reveal his other identity for now. He kept his cloak closed, hiding the pattern of lights on his chest. Moving to the side, he gestured to the couch where Gem had been sitting. It was private enough that no one would hear their conversation, though he could still watch the workings of the club below. "May I?"
"Do you?" Gem noticed the darkening of his expression, but said nothing. They all had their secrets, locked within them. Why would this program be any different? In past cycles she would have pushed, manipulated, seduced--attempted to find out those hidden things quickly; now she was patient. Different. It was a better code pressed upon her.
"...remember?" She tilted her head slightly in return when he mentioned Castor. "He called himself Zues, then. He...helped programs." He had helped her--helped her break from her restrictive and suffocatingly tight programming long ago. To give her the freedom to move past the bowels of the arena, past the stasis chambers that Siren's called home. Despite her inability to remember everything in the past--she could remember that clearly. Perhaps because it had left such an indelible mark on her programming. She'd never know.
When he mentioned his name, Gem froze, her eyes widening slightly. Tron. The name flooded her databanks as they tried to process the information, trying to grasp at the old
( ... )
"I only know that Zues... played all the angles," Tron replied, moving to sit on the couch. "He may have helped some, but there was always a price to be paid." Her former companion did not interest him, however. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on his knees and looked at the Siren seriously.
"The Games... they're still going on? Who is in charge?" He kept his gaze intent on her, staring into her dark-rimmed eyes. "I was... involved with the Games for a very long time." Both as Tron and as Rinzler...
"Yes there was." There was some tinge of regret in her voice, but she quickly covered it up, taking a sip of her drink. "But we do what we must to survive." It did not work out well for her, but perhaps she had outlived her program's usefulness. Things were different now, though.
When he asked who was in charge, she shook her head, but kept her eyes on his. She answered honestly, despite her own frustration at her answer. "They are are. I do not--I do not know who is in charge." She fell silent, trying to process things once more. Perhaps the user who brought her back? "I remember." A small piece of data fell into place, and a flicker of a smile spread across her face. "You were very good. And did not derezz."
Tron tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Under Clu, that may have been the only way. And now... it is hard to calculate. It may be the same."
He frowned at her answer. Not knowing who was in charge of the Games made it difficult to determine how they would be played. "No. I did not derez the losers. I never allowed that, not even when Clu tried to order it." Not as Tron, anyway... He reached for a drink that had been placed on the low table in front of him, swirling the iridescent blue liquid thoughtfully. "Are failures subject to deresolution in the Games now? Or are they back to as... I had them played?"
"Then everything we take is a risk." It was a disheartening thought, to say the least. But what he said was true. They had no way to know who was in charge now, or who was going to attempt to take control.
Gem nodded. "Those were different times. I...it became tiring to see new programs each time." During the days of the Creator, she actually gained some friendships out of the players. But once Flynn fell...Rinzler was the only constant. All other programs derezzed.
When he asked about the fate of people, though, she shook her head. "It is a mixture. I have seen...people grant clemency, I have seen programs ended." Gem pressed her lips together in a thin line. "In some ways it is...chaotic."
"There is always risk," Tron mused softly. "In everything. Flynn... taught me that. Nothing is certain, nothing can be completely predicted."
He fell silent for a moment, considering her words. "Without a leader, the Games would indeed be chaotic. With no rules for the winner, the loser will be at their mercy." Perhaps this might be a place for him to start... he'd been deeply involved in the Games as Tron, the hero, the champion, and as Rinzler, the gladiator, the final opponent whom no one could survive. Maybe now he could... but as soon as he fought, he would be known...
"I may be able to help," he said slowly. "I knew the games very well." Tron had not been seen in the games for many hundreds of cycles, but there was a chance his name might be remembered. Rinzler... if he could have Rinzler erased and forgotten, that would be best, but he knew he would not be so lucky.
"But he wanted to make a perfect system. He contradicted himself." Gem frowned slightly, a slight tinge of bitterness in her voice. Her feelings towards the Creator were complicated. For making her what she was...the shackles of it. But to have been made, to be allowed to exist...that should have been enough.
But even her own conflicts had made her want to throw her lot in with Clu, like Jarvis. Or play the angles like Zues. Gem was, and always would be, her own program.
Taking a sip of her drink, she shifted closer, nodding. "Yes you did. Programs...you instilled hope in them. When the Creator was not here. If you trying to run the Games, to take over the arena..." She smiled slightly. "I think you should take the risk."
"He did, at first. But he was realizing that it could not be, even before Clu... well." Tron cut himself off, staring down at his drink. Those days were long past, and dwelling on them made no logical sense. Sometimes he longed for the simple conflict of trying to find a solution to the gridbugs, a way to let the ISOs live in peace in the Grid... a way to create Flynn's Utopia without the rigid "perfection" demanded by Clu...
He shook his head and took another swallow of the glowing energy, feeling the pleasant burn in his circuits. "It was another time. One we cannot return to."
But the Games, now... that he might be able to fix. "I will consider the risks," he said. "Would you be willing to assist?"
"...no we can not. Nor would I want to." She was better, different now. Gem had enjoyed those times, but now...now there was a great unknown. While it was terrifying, it was exhilarating as well. It was her first chance at true freedom, even if it was simply on the Grid.
Quirking an eyebrow at his question, her lips curled up in a smirk. "Me? Why would you trust me with that?" She was genuinely confused. Most programs saw her simply as a Siren, nothing more.
"You know the Games. You have been there the whole time." Tron shrugged. "And perhaps I believe that everyone deserves a second chance." Reaching up, he unclasped his cloak, revealing the small T shape at his throat. She might recognize it, she might not... but Rinzler had been well-known in the Games, and to the Sirens.
"...I do. And...and." Gem felt a slight warmth hit her cheeks as she nodded, finishing her processing before she spoke again, lest she sound foolish. "I would like that chance. To help run things with you."
When he revealed the mark, her eyes widened, the blue flaring for a moment as her databanks quickly tried to push all the data together. Without thinking, one of her hands moved to touch the four lit squares, tracing over them.
Rinzler. Tron...Tron, had become Rinzler. And what a triumph that had been for Clu, she thought--he had been able to re-purpose the protector of the Grid, into an instrument of Terror. And he had been trapped within the entire time.
When her eyes met his again, her face was awash in a sympathetic sadness--one who knew of being trapped in programming that was not of their choosing. She didn't say she was sorry--he wouldn't want them, she thought. "I am glad to see you free."
Tonight, he spotted an all-too-familiar figure sitting above the crowd. Searching his memory banks for a name, he could not find one, but he knew this program. She had been part of the Games, but had also been here, beside Zues...
Before he could think better of it, he found himself ascending the stairs to stand before her. "I know you."
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When he mentioned the club, however, she rolled her eyes. "Yes. Castor." A miscalculation on her part. Castor always had to play the angles, and had gotten himself and her derezzed after making the wrong decision. But that was over now. New start for her; new start for all of them.
Smiling slightly, she stepped in a bit closer. "My name is Gem."
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"Castor," he replied with a tilt of his head. "Ah. That was what he called himself to the public. I remember that." Clu had always insisted on calling Zues' name to his face, a reminder of his power.
He did not withdraw when the Siren stepped forward, meeting her gaze levelly. "I am Tron," he said, deciding not to reveal his other identity for now. He kept his cloak closed, hiding the pattern of lights on his chest. Moving to the side, he gestured to the couch where Gem had been sitting. It was private enough that no one would hear their conversation, though he could still watch the workings of the club below. "May I?"
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"...remember?" She tilted her head slightly in return when he mentioned Castor. "He called himself Zues, then. He...helped programs." He had helped her--helped her break from her restrictive and suffocatingly tight programming long ago. To give her the freedom to move past the bowels of the arena, past the stasis chambers that Siren's called home. Despite her inability to remember everything in the past--she could remember that clearly. Perhaps because it had left such an indelible mark on her programming. She'd never know.
When he mentioned his name, Gem froze, her eyes widening slightly. Tron. The name flooded her databanks as they tried to process the information, trying to grasp at the old ( ... )
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"The Games... they're still going on? Who is in charge?" He kept his gaze intent on her, staring into her dark-rimmed eyes. "I was... involved with the Games for a very long time." Both as Tron and as Rinzler...
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When he asked who was in charge, she shook her head, but kept her eyes on his. She answered honestly, despite her own frustration at her answer. "They are are. I do not--I do not know who is in charge." She fell silent, trying to process things once more. Perhaps the user who brought her back? "I remember." A small piece of data fell into place, and a flicker of a smile spread across her face. "You were very good. And did not derezz."
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He frowned at her answer. Not knowing who was in charge of the Games made it difficult to determine how they would be played. "No. I did not derez the losers. I never allowed that, not even when Clu tried to order it." Not as Tron, anyway... He reached for a drink that had been placed on the low table in front of him, swirling the iridescent blue liquid thoughtfully. "Are failures subject to deresolution in the Games now? Or are they back to as... I had them played?"
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Gem nodded. "Those were different times. I...it became tiring to see new programs each time." During the days of the Creator, she actually gained some friendships out of the players. But once Flynn fell...Rinzler was the only constant. All other programs derezzed.
When he asked about the fate of people, though, she shook her head. "It is a mixture. I have seen...people grant clemency, I have seen programs ended." Gem pressed her lips together in a thin line. "In some ways it is...chaotic."
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He fell silent for a moment, considering her words. "Without a leader, the Games would indeed be chaotic. With no rules for the winner, the loser will be at their mercy." Perhaps this might be a place for him to start... he'd been deeply involved in the Games as Tron, the hero, the champion, and as Rinzler, the gladiator, the final opponent whom no one could survive. Maybe now he could... but as soon as he fought, he would be known...
"I may be able to help," he said slowly. "I knew the games very well." Tron had not been seen in the games for many hundreds of cycles, but there was a chance his name might be remembered. Rinzler... if he could have Rinzler erased and forgotten, that would be best, but he knew he would not be so lucky.
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But even her own conflicts had made her want to throw her lot in with Clu, like Jarvis. Or play the angles like Zues. Gem was, and always would be, her own program.
Taking a sip of her drink, she shifted closer, nodding. "Yes you did. Programs...you instilled hope in them. When the Creator was not here. If you trying to run the Games, to take over the arena..." She smiled slightly. "I think you should take the risk."
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He shook his head and took another swallow of the glowing energy, feeling the pleasant burn in his circuits. "It was another time. One we cannot return to."
But the Games, now... that he might be able to fix. "I will consider the risks," he said. "Would you be willing to assist?"
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Quirking an eyebrow at his question, her lips curled up in a smirk. "Me? Why would you trust me with that?" She was genuinely confused. Most programs saw her simply as a Siren, nothing more.
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When he revealed the mark, her eyes widened, the blue flaring for a moment as her databanks quickly tried to push all the data together. Without thinking, one of her hands moved to touch the four lit squares, tracing over them.
Rinzler. Tron...Tron, had become Rinzler. And what a triumph that had been for Clu, she thought--he had been able to re-purpose the protector of the Grid, into an instrument of Terror. And he had been trapped within the entire time.
When her eyes met his again, her face was awash in a sympathetic sadness--one who knew of being trapped in programming that was not of their choosing. She didn't say she was sorry--he wouldn't want them, she thought. "I am glad to see you free."
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