#archiveddata

Cyrus finds him among the wreckage. The program won't admit he's surprised to find anyone, not after he had watched the recognizer descend on the hideout.

Cyrus hears him before he sees him. That wet gasping sound leads him through the debris, right to his replacement.

Beck stands out even more in the white suit. The X carved into his chest, right through the T symbol, is deep, tainting white with blue and leaking onto the floor. When Beck notices Cyrus, he still finds the gall to narrow his eyes and sneer at him, trying to mask his struggles to breathe as hardiness.

"Well," Cyrus lets him lie there, lets him lie. "I see you've finally done what Tron wanted all along. Didn't go how you expected, did it?"

Beck tries to prop himself onto his arms. "Why are you-?" He's cut off by a groan he can't mask, and he falls back. Cyrus smirks.

"Why am I here? Curiosity, I suppose. You finally got Clu's attention enough to make him snap, and I wanted to see the results. Have you earned your stripes, now?"

Beck opens his mouth to answer when he's seized by a form-wracking cough. He turns his head away, but Cyrus still notices the voxels spill from his lips and fall from the marks on his chest.

Beck's disc is a short distance away, but just out of reach of the program. Cyrus steps around Beck, and picks up his disc.

"Le' go!" Beck's swipe at his leg misses entirely. The momentum rolls him onto his side with a wince.

"Where's Tron?" Cyrus asks as he opens Beck's disc. "Leave you here after you served your usefulness-?"

He doesn't mean to break off, doesn't mean to lose bravado for even a sec. But he can't help it when he activates the disc, and the first memory is a program in black, armed with two discs. He doesn't need to ask who it is; even without the orange T on his chest, Cyrus would recognize Tron's stealth suit anywhere.

Beck is gasping hard. When Cyrus glances over to him, his eyes are squeezed shut, head bowed. His circuits are beginning to flicker….

Enough gloating, Cyrus decides. For now.

Beck's eyes open when Cyrus moves behind him. He tries to search for him, but Cyrus's palm to the back of his neck makes him stop. "What are you-?"

"It's not your time yet." Cyrus answers. He sets down Beck's disc on the ground and pulls off his own. Only when he's certain Beck won't turn and land on the discs, does he pull away. He technically shouldn't be able to do this, but his time in compressed space taught him that many rules of nature were meant to be broken…

Both discs are open and Cyrus examines Beck's code. It's flickering with warning signs, subroutines fragmenting and process nearly destroyed.

He can work with this.

"What…what do you mean?" Beck breathes.

"Means you need to trust me."

"Trust you? But-" He begins to cough again. He slumps over onto his stomach, disc port still accessible. That works.

Cyrus silently compares his code and Beck's. This should hopefully work. Steady hands splay across his code, copying a process. His doesn't run the same as Beck's. It may change him. But at least he'd survive.

"You don't have a choice. Not if you want to live." He drags the code over to Beck's disc. "Now I need you to be brave. Because this may hurt a little."

The waiting room is sticky with the late July heat. Each time the doors opened, a fiery burst of summer blew in, which seemed like constant furnace. That, Beck decides, has to be worse than his actual reason to be here.

"Are you sure we have to be here?" Beck asks Mara yet again. It has to been over an hour at this point, and he knew from experience it would be longer. "Able can't really afford to be down two mechanics for this long. I can just stop by the pharmacy and pick some stuff up-"

"No." Mara shuts him down with a firm look. "You know the policy: burns warrant a trip to the hospital."

"It's not that bad." A lie, the thing still burns beneath the wet rag wrapped around his arm. "Really."

Mara cocks an eyebrow at his arm. He looks down to realize he's cradling it close to his chest, and makes himself push it away. She crosses her arms. "I know you don't like it here, but either you sit and let someone look at you, or I tell Able to call Tron."

Damn. If Tron found out, he'd just end up here anyways, with the older man insisting he come along. "Okay, fine." He slouches back, starting to cross his arms. The skin stretches around his burn and he winces as he aborts the action.

"Thank you." Mara sighs, and goes back to fanning herself with the stack of papers reception had handed her. Her hair is wrapped up off her neck for once in a messy but short ponytail. It's strange to not see her blue bangs waving off from her forehead.

"Beck Carter!" He looks up to find a man in gray scrubs has pushed open the door. The nurse searches the room for them as Beck pushes to his feet with a sigh, unconsciously cradling his arm again. They find each other's gaze, and the man shoots him a friendly smile, "Right this way, Mr. Carter."

Beck nods, not in the mood to return the smile or to verbally acknowledge him. Mara whispers "Thanks," behind him as the nurse holds the door open.

"First door on the left." The nurse points to the door before either mechanic can be disoriented by the hall that led into a bustling hub of activity. Both turn away and duck into the room.

The nurse follows them in and shuts the door, blocking out the sound from just down the hall. The nurse still smiles at him, "Let's get your vitals real quick."

Beck nods and holds out a finger for the pulse oximeter. It only takes a moment for the readings to come back.

"98%, 75." The nurse nods as he jots this down. "Pretty normal." He notes, before slipping off the oximeter in exchange for the thermometer. "Hold still for me."

Beck obeys through the temperature check and the blood pressure reading. He tries not to fidget during the latter, tries not to let his legs bounce or cross while it works.

"Your blood pressure is a little high," the nurse states as he removes the cuff. "Nothing to worry about, though."

Beck nods quietly. He's sure just being on the hospital premises makes his blood pressure surge like some sort of Pavlovian reaction.

"Okay!" The nurse rises. "Your doctor will be here in a few minutes to check on that burn."

Beck nods, staying quiet as the nurse shuts the door behind him. "You okay?" Mara asks after a moment, voice small in the silence.

He nods again, letting his eyes drift up and around the room as he tries to relax back into the chair. "Fine."

Mara doesn't call him on the lie, especially when the door opens again. This time a woman in black scrubs enters, looking up from her clipboard. Beck doesn't mean to meet gaze with her, but once he does he can't look away. Even with her stern expression, her brown eyes remain soft.

"My name is Dr. Reyes," The doctor starts. She examines him, and something flutters in his gut, "and I'll be taking care of you today, Mr. Carter."

"Hi." He manages, way too feebly in his opinion.

"Hi." She returns, managing a tight smile in his direction before it quickly disappears. She scoots a stool over and sits down. "So, tell me about this burn."

"Oh," he looks down to his rag covered arm. "There was a faulty cap that broke. Sprayed coolant, and I threw up my arm over my face without thinking." After a moment, he hurries to tack on: "I'm a mechanic."

She hums at that, jotting something down before setting the clipboard down. She reaches over and slips on some gloves. Her hands approach his arm. "Mind if I take a look?"

He finds himself nodding before he even thinks it through. He braces himself, but a wince still escapes when the burn is exposed to air. Her hands are gentle on either side of the burn, turning his arm back and forth as she investigates. "Looks like a 2nd degree. No devitalized tissue."

"…Is that good?"

"Yes," she confirms, "means I don't need to remove any skin or tissue." She turns his arm to him, keeping it elevated as she points across the wound. "You're going to see some blisters start popping up. This is normal, but you need to leave them alone. Popped blisters risk infection or scarring." She rises. Some of her hair has fallen in her face so she shakes it out of the way. "I know you've been asked this already, but any allergies?"

"Uh," He shakes his head, "No, none."

"Good. I'll go get some ointment and bandages. I'll be back."

She slips out, her bun his last sight of her before the door shuts. The two mechanics are alone.

"…What was that?" Mara asks. Amusement laces her tone, and when he turns she's smirking.

"What?"

"You won't talk to the nurse, but suddenly are so chatty with…what's her name again?"

"Dr. Reyes." He answers automatically, and feels himself flush as he realizes he walked straight into her trap. Her smirk grows. "It's not like that."

"Like what?" Mara's innocent tone doesn't match her expression. "I didn't say anything." She pulls out her phone and starts rapidly typing.

"Mara, oh my god, it's not like that!" He doesn't even believe himself with how high and tight his voice has gotten. His phone buzzes in his pocket moments after. He groans and covers his face, knowing his phone is about to blow up with their group chat. Bodhi in particular is going to have a field day with it.

"Everything okay in here?" He looks up to find Dr. Reyes has returned with a tray of supplies. She looks between his burning face and Mara's grin with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah." He manages. "Yeah, everything's fine." Mara nods in agreement.

Dr. Reyes obviously doesn't believe them, but doesn't question it as she sits down again. "This might sting a little." She warns him as she opens the ointment. "Hold still."

He nods and obeys, watching her as she gently spreads the cream across the burn.

"Were you wearing face protection?" She asks suddenly, not even looking up.

"What?"

"Did you throw up your arm to protect your face because you weren't wearing face protection? If so, that's dangerous."

"No. I-I mean, I was wearing face protection. Able would have killed me if I wasn't. Just…instinct, I guess."

She hums. "That happens. Able your boss?"

He nods, then remembers she isn't looking at him. "Yeah. He's in charge of the garage just down the road from here."

"You should stop by sometime." Mara pipes up. "If you're ever having car issues, Beck here can get you fixed up."

Dr. Reyes does look up at that, barely missing the death glare Beck sends Mara over the doctor's head. "Oh? I'll keep that in mind." She set down the ointment and placed a bandage over the first half of the wound before beginning to wrap it. Her hand moves smoothly across to the other end of the bandage as she overlaps a new one. Her badge hangs just out of the way of her work, but close enough that Beck could see. Dr. Paige Reyes.

"So," She glances up to him when he speaks, "Have long you have been a doctor?"

She looks back down as she continues to work. "Oh, not long. I just started my residency here about a month ago."

"…Do you like it here?"

"I do. Argon is a beautiful town." She finishes wrapping his arm and fastens it with a sigh. He hears his phone begin to buzz in his pocket but both of them ignore it. "Okay, let me go get your discharge instructions and you'll be good to go."

"Thank you." He says as she rises. This time, she flashes him a smile more genuine. Despite the frigid AC, Beck feels warm at that.

"Could we get your phone number?" Mara asks and Beck instantly grows hot.

Dr. Reyes raises her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Your work number." He blurts. "She meant your work number. In case I need anything."

"Oh." She settles at that, but a frown is still present. "Well, I don't have a work phone. But if you call or come in and ask for me, I'm sure I can fit you in, Mr. Carter."

"You can call me Beck. And, uh, thanks."

She nods and slips out. Beck instantly turns to Mara's grin. "I'm going to kill you."

"You'd miss me." She chuckles. "You're welcome by the way."

Before he can argue with her, the doctor returns. "Okay," she announces, "here are the instructions for the burn. You'll need to change the dressing and reapply the cream here daily. Come back in if it gets infected or it doesn't show improvement in three weeks." She holds out the papers, then pauses as she looks between him and Mara. "Should I give this to your girlfriend…?"

"Not my girlfriend." He says quickly. "Co-worker. I can take those."

Dr. Reyes hands over the papers and ointments. For the briefest moments, their hands touch, and it feels electric.

"You can exit back out this way." Dr. Reyes guides the two of them out of the room and back out the exit. "Please reach out if you need anything, Beck."

He looks back at her at that. His name, he loves hearing it from her. He's not going to be able to get it out of his head. "I will, thank you."

She nods and the two make their way back through the waiting room. Beck decides to ignore Mara's smirk or his buzzing phone until they are far from the hospital.

"This way!" Mara shouts to him, pulling him away from the main street and into an alleyway. Somehow, it is quieter tucked away in these empty corridors, screams hushed at the entrances and exits. They don't stop, though. They don't dare believe the illusion of safety. "Should be an entrance to the tunnels nearby!"

They exit the alley.

"THERE!" A familiar, slimy voice shrieks out, and Zed can see Pavel point their direction. The platoon readies their discs.

"Back, back!" Zed shouts, pulling Mara back into the alley.

Thundering footsteps bounce off the walls, and Zed takes a sharp left into a side street. He doesn't pause, not when they've crossed the street into the next alleyway, not after their first left, right, and second left turns. It's only when he can no longer hear the soldiers does he slow. He lets go of Mara's hand to hunch over himself as he attempts to catch his breath. He had never been as athletic as his friends, and he is starting to regret that.

Mara is also breathing hard, but she manages. "I think we lost them."

Zed nods, still gasping for air. "For now." He says after a moment.

He can see her feet enter and leave his vision as she paces. "This is a nightmare." She breathes, edging on panic. He chances a glance up to see her hands tangled in her hair as she looks up. "Clu can't do this. He can't."

Zed doesn't argue with that. He knows the denial in her tone too well.

"He destroyed everything. The square, the park, the garage…" She gasps, and turns to him. "What about the others? What about Dash, Link, or Beck-?"

"Hey hey hey." Zed hurries to hold her before her panic consumes her. "The other mechanics are smart, and they remember Able's instructions, too: head to the tunnels. We'll see them there."

"And if we don't?" Mara challenges, but her voice lacks any fire. She shakes her head. "Users, we didn't even see Beck before the first bomb-"

"Then maybe he isn't in Argon right now." Zed placates, holding her closer. "Who knows what that program is up to? But we have to hope that he's safe, and that he is either in the tunnels, or in a different city. We have to have hope."

Mara sighs and shakes her head as she lowers her gaze. Otherwise, she says nothing.

"C'mon." Zed says, letting her go to grab her hand. "There should be a tunnel entrance nearby…"

He starts to go, but is stopped by her weight. He looks back with a bitten back sigh to find she hasn't moved, and she's staring up again. This time, though, she's searching for something. "Do you hear that?"

He does pause, straining his ears.

His first sign should have been the near silence in this part of the city. It hadn't been silent in many microcycles, but not even a scream could be heard. He has to strain his hearing to hear that low clicking sound, somewhere behind them…

Mara realizes first and whips around with a gasp, pulling Zed behind her. Over her shoulder, he can see the dark program at the end of the alleyway, with spots of Clu's colors across his body. He's crouched and masked, keeping his gaze hidden beyond the slight cock of his head. That clicking sound…it's coming from the program!

Even with the sure sound of a system misfire, the program's shadow looms in the alley, threatening to grab at Zed and Mara. Mara pushes them back, and for the moment, the program is content to watch.

"Mara." Zed breathes and the program's fingers twitch on their discs. "Run."

He jerks her around before she can even think to respond, grip on her wrist tight. That clicking grows into a roar, and Zed steals a glance back to see the program take chase. His core accelerates into overdrive as he yanks Mara around the first corner.

He should have been paying more attention, he beats himself up for later. He shouldn't let his fear navigate them through the alleys and let him lose track of the turns they've taken. It's too late, though, when the thick wall of a dead end shoots from the shadows.

"Frag!" He hisses. Mara's disc whirs to life behind him and he turns to find her facing the alleyway as their hunter drops down in front of their exit. They slowly slink to their feet and prowl forward, ignoring Mara's disc pointed at him.

"Stay back!" She warns the program. She goes ignored, forced to take a shaky step back instead.

Zed arms himself as well. "Leave us alone!" He shouts at the program. "We're not afraid of you!"

The lie was thin in the air, dashed to bits by the program's rumble. They reach back for their disc, only to freeze, turn-

A white gloved fist cracks against the side of the soldier's mask. It dents with a loud groan and the soldier stumbles. The attacker is a near blur as their other arm wraps around the soldier's neck and flips them back. The soldier slams to the floor, click stuttering, and Zed and Mara's savior straightens.

"The Renegade!" Mara calls. The program doesn't answer, his seething an audible grinding sound as he descends on the soldier. Zed catches a glimpse of something dark expanding across their savior's chest. This program is faster than the outlaw, too, and angrier. He's not too sure he's staring at the Renegade or not.

The soldier manages to dodge the Renegade's fist, which slams against the pavement below. The Renegade curses as the soldier squirms out from beneath him and scrambles back. Energy stains the Renegade's damaged knuckle, but he's barely fazed as he pulls off his disc.

He charges with a roar. The soldier dodges his first swipe, only to collide with the Renegade's free hand. It pops the soldier in the ear, sending them stumbling. The Renegade plows into them, the soldier barely able to throw their hands up to try and stop him. They slam into the wall, the Renegade's fingers digging into one shoulder while his disc threatens their heaving chest. Even now, the soldier says nothing, helmet tilted up to the Renegade.

"Zed, Mara," their names are twisted out of the Renegade's mouth, "go!"

Zed is the first to break from his shock, grabbing Mara's wrist before bolting out of the alley. If they're smart, they'll bee-line for the tunnels.

The foot to the Renegade's gut makes him gasp, and he realizes he let himself get distracted. The soldier slips out of his grip as he stumbles, not even hesitating before throwing a swing. The Renegade throws up his arms, the fist bruising against them.

Rogue Monitor- nearby - Rogue System Administrator- 438 ft away- Purge toll: 2,502

Not. Helping.

The broadband does not care for his feedback, continuing the reports so rapidly his vision tunnels. He has to blink hard and rapidly duck before the left cross cracks the side of his head. He pops up from his near crouch. This time the soldier is ready for him when he lunges up, catching him as the momentum sends them back against the wall.

The Renegade blindly grabs at the soldier. His hand catches them in the chin, forcing up with his palm. The soldier's fingers scratch against his back. The Renegade turns his shoulder into him and presses hard. His hand travels down, easily wrapping around the soldier's neck. Nails dig into his shell as he straightens, but lose grip the tighter he holds on. He bats the weakening grip away before slamming the soldier back once, twice. After the third time, the soldier goes limp, head lolling forward.

He's breathing hard, breath audibly ragged. Energy coils in his arms and shoulders. The Grid coos, soft against his code.

Eliminate rogue montior

Eliminate threat

Eliminate-

The top of the soldier's helmet dents under his grip, and gives under the force. The face shouldn't surprise him, but the world still freezes when he finds Tron beneath.

The Renegade shouldn't have expected him to look any different. His old friend looks the same as he had just earlier that cycle, when Beck's biggest worry had been about Tron's latest mission. Who knew it would all go so wrong so fast?

The Renegade lets go and Tron slumps into a silent heap. He doesn't turn his back on the program as he backs away. His breath is loud in his ears. He's already taken so many lives since entering the city but to kill Tron-

The glitch strikes the moment he turns the corner and Tron is out of sight. The shock shoots down his spine and across his right arm. His vision stutters and he falls to his knees with a choked cry. He keels sideways as he feels something, fear (why), rise up his throat-

Suddenly his eyes are snapping open. He's staring level across the empty street. Every muscle aches. How did he get on the ground? What happened? Where was he?

It takes a moment for his fingers to even twitch. Slowly, he pushes onto his hands and knees with a soft groan. His head pounds and drifts, barely taking in the burning city around him. Why was everything on fire…?

If the city was on fire, he needed to get to the tunnels. That's what Able always said to do.

He pushes off his knees to stand, leaving blue handprints behind. The sight draws his attention to his hands, stained with code and trembling. What did he do…?

Wait, he's wearing white right now. Is he the Renegade?

He searches his surroundings and pauses when he catches himself in the shattered remains of a storefront. The white stands stark against the blue flames growing around him. It doesn't seem as urgent as he knows it should. His eyes catch on the gray scars across his chest.

Bandwidth Online

The reports and memories flood back in. He grits his teeth against it. Right. That's what happened.

He tries to remain steady as he steps into the street, recalibrating his internal navigation. There should be an entrance to the tunnels just down this block. Get there, find the survivors, regroup. Then what?

The reports from the Grid thud against his temple and he squints his right eye shut for a moment until the feeling passes. Then get the hell out of here.

His run down the street is more of a fast limp with the way his right side lags. Whatever happened in that glitch is making something misfire, out of sync with the rest of his body. He'll have to fix that later.

The streets are dead now, no living being in sight. He grimaces as voxels crunch under his boots, black and unwilling to share their allegiances in life. It didn't really matter, did it?

Finally, he rounds into the alley and finds the sloping entrance to the tunnels. He limps into the dark, but pauses. He turns to take one last look at his city, his home, burning and dying around him. The grief in his core rises so suddenly he forgets how to breathe.

He squeezes his eyes shut, turns back, and lets himself be enveloped in the dark.

It doesn't take long to stumble upon the survivors. Their lights congregate together, whispering among blues and greens and white. However, this makes the lone figure in orange stand out. The sight makes him clench his shaking fists.

He doesn't realize how loud his breathing has become until programs begin turning towards him. At the sight of him, the stragglers hush and part. Countless drag on him as he shuffles past, until he is standing over Commander Paige. For once in her life, she doesn't try to meet his height, but remains small.

"What're you doing here?" His voice comes out sharp and distorted. Had his modulator been damaged?

She doesn't argue with him, instead stiffening when he scans her. Despite her colors, she doesn't ping as a threat. Instinctively, she throws back her own scan. He roughly shakes his head to deny it, feeling the dredges of it drag off him. "You shouldn't be here."

When he looks up again, Mara has pushed herself between them. "She helped some of my mechanics get down here." She says. "She belongs here with us."

It should mean something that Mara of all people is defending her. It doesn't soothe the grating paranoia.

"That doesn't make her one of us." He crosses his arms. "The commander could be a spy."

"Ex-commander." Paige speaks up. She holds herself close as she steps out from behind Mara. "I can show you my disc to prove I have defected. I'm sure I'll be listed as a fugitive if they find out I'm not dead. I…" She hesitates. "I was originally programmed as a medic. I can provide aid to the injured survivors." Her eyes dare to flick up to him, obviously pausing at his chest.

He redirects the urge to squirm into tightening his arms over his chest. He lets himself sink into the constant feed, searching it and the radius for pinging threats.

Nearest threat: 587 feet away

588…589…

He sighs. "Fine."

He turns to the crowd. The wide eyes of disheveled programs meet him everywhere he turns, covered in soot and dust.

"We have lost many today." 3,975 to be exact. "A moment of silence for those who are…are gone."

No one speaks. Many cast their gazes down as he searches them. He takes stock of those he knows: Mara, Bartik, Hopper, Zed…he can't find Link or Dash or Copper or Ven or many of the other mechanics. There had to be maybe a hundred of them now.

He searches their surroundings when he spots a pile of rocks. The crowd lets him pass. His grunts as he climbs up the pile echo in the silence before he settles at the top. He looks over the crowd.

"I know we are all hurting now. We have all lost our homes, our functions, our loved ones." He takes a deep breath. "What's important now is that we get out of the city. No doubt Clu will discover these tunnels soon. We'll head west, towards Bismuth. Many of you do not have batons I imagine-" he sees heads search with many nodding- "so we will have to cross the Outlands on foot. Out there, we must stick together. I know my way through the Outlands, and we will survive if we stay as a group. Once we reach Bismuth, you can stay in the city, go elsewhere on the Grid, or-" He straightens- "stay with me.

The fact that Clu could do this to you, to us, is one of his many unspeakable crimes against this system. Stay by my side, and we will spread this message: Clu and the Occupation will face what they have done. There will be justice for us. For all of us. We will live to see this Grid free again!"

His words ring in the silence. Programs exchange glances as he steps down, murmurings arising.

"Let's move."

After a pause, programs begin to shuffle away. Conversations return, somber and muted. He sees Paige has yet to move, watching him with an unreadable expression. He quickly breaks gaze to stare up at the ceiling. Above him, the fires must be dying, leaving behind ashes and voxels. Many things have died up there, Beck and his principles among them.

War is…messy. Without the Grid whispering in his ear, he may have never found a way forward.

Fine. He finds himself telling the Grid, if It was actually listening to him. I will do what you ask. From now on, there will be no hesitation. I will fight for you.

Tron comes back to with a gasp. The jolt of adrenaline fades within moments of waking, and the heavy is trying to pull him back down.

"He's stable." Someone says. Tron tries to peer up to the source, but the white light blinds him to nothing more than shadows. His body is sinking, and his already half-shut eyes begin to close….

"Inform the general."

The second time Tron comes to is much slower, like swimming up from the depths of a clogged sea. He groans as the muscles in his eyes struggle to lift open. Something heavy sits in his chest. He's never felt so weak…

----------------------------------

This time, when his eyes finally open, he is greeted by merciful and mysterious darkness. It hides any signs of life and any clues to his location from him. He peers into it, hoping his x-ray vision will kick in.

Instead, the backs of his eyes suddenly burn, and that weight in his chest steals his breath. The little progress he had made to sit up is sapped from him in moments, and he falls back with a soft gasp. It takes a long moment for the weight to lift even slightly, leaving him panting for air.

Again, he searches the dark wildly. He tries to reach out, but his hands are stopped. His neck strains to look down to find his wrists bound to the sides of the bed. Just beyond that, he can faintly see the same around his legs and ankles.

"Where…where am I?"

There's no one in the dark to answer his question. But at that time, a door creaks open out of sight. Lights flick on suddenly, and Tron has to bite back a hiss as he squeezes his eyes shut at the assault. Footsteps click against the tile floor.

"Hello," The familiar voice makes Tron's eyes snap back open. Dyson smiles down at him, "old friend."

Tron tries to lunge at Dyson, only to be foiled instantly by the restraints. "You!"

"Now, now." Dyson tuts. "Don't go ripping open your stitches now. After all, I'm the reason you're still alive."

"You…" Tron pants. "Clu…"

"He saw the appeal of keeping you alive. But don't you worry, that secret is staying between the three of us." Dyson wraps a tourniquet around his left arm and pulls it tight. "Nobody else knows you're here. Now, hold still."

Before Tron can even snarl back, the needle is in his skin. Blood streams into the vial, and Tron forces himself not to look at it. Instead, he glares a hole into Dyson, who pays him no mind. The back of his eyes grow hot again and that painful weight returns. Tron clenches his fist, and his head falls back with a choked groan.

"I would stop trying that if I were you." Dyson comments as he pulls out the needle. He presses one hand against the injection site with a cotton ball. He holds the syringe high up in his other hand as he examines it. "You're just going to keep hurting yourself."

"What…what did you do to me?"

"Consider it a gift." Dyson hums, holding the vial closer to his right eye. "What you felt after I stopped you from killing Clu is how us humans feel. Weak. Powerless. That was only temporary, so I added some safeguards to keep you in line." Dyson smirks. "And it seems to be working. Your body has accepted it perfectly. You see, ISO DNA does, in fact, hold the key to stripping someone of their powers, and that electric block next to your heart will remind you not to try."

"You…" Dyson finally looks him. His right eye gleams a bright blue before returning to its normal brown. "You made Abraxas."

Dyson laughs at that. "No, no. I wish I could take credit for that, but that was Clu's doing. Jalen was really the ideal subject for this experiment, the perfect monster. He'll be allowed to run around for a few more days, and then Clu will neutralize him, and everyone will thank him for it. He'll be a hero."

"A hero?" Tron clenches his fists. "That's not being a hero! That's villainy!"

"It's progress." Dyson corrects. "And nobody will believe otherwise. Not after you and Flynn nearly destroyed everything. Clu is giving the ISOs a merciful end for their perversion."

"That's murder!"

"They deserve worse for what they've done!" Dyson snaps. His hand wraps around Tron's wrist in a vice. "What they've done to this city, to our team, to me! They made me imperfect. We will be saving millions from the same fate!"

The grip turns bruising. Tron struggles to find the words as pain makes his vision swim and the pain in his chest returns. After a long moment, Dyson flings his arm down and storms out of sight. Tron searches for air in silence.

The door opens again, and Tron searches the room. Did Dyson really leave?

No, someone else is here. Their footsteps are heavy, dragging. Tron strains to find the newcomer, and the glimpse of their face alone makes his heart leap.

"Reeve?"

"Ah, Reeve." Dyson greets. "I imagine you're here for a status update on the prisoner. Take a look for yourself."

Reeve, usually all quips and jokes, is silent as he shuffles to Tron. His face becomes clear.

"Reeve? Is that really you?"

Reeve doesn't answer. His eyes are blank, empty.

"The prisoner is faring well." Dyson tells Reeve. "His behavior is as expected but the safeguards are holding up wonderfully. Take that news and this," he passes the vial to Reeve, "to Clu."

The nod Reeve gives is stiff, and he rounds back around, marching out the door. It slams shut behind him, ringing in the silence.

"…What did you do to him?"

"To who?" Dyson glances back to Tron from where he had turned away. It clicks in moments. "Oh, Reeve. It's this new project Clu's been working on….some sort of brainwashing. He calls it…uh…repourposing."

Brainwashed. Repourposed.

"How…how many did he repourpose?"

"Under your command? Everyone."

Tron's heart skips and stings, but the feeling isn't from the block in his chest. No…

Dyson returns to his side and puts a hand on his shoulder. "You are Flynn's last soldier, old friend."

The anger rises up suddenly as Tron lunges at Dyson with a roar. He doesn't get far, but Dyson still scrambles back. The rush of power makes his chest burn, and his anger collapses in a burning heap. Tron forces himself to look away to avoid any unwanted emotions arising.

"If I'm next, then get it over with already."

"No." Dyson disagrees, still a safe distance away. "Repourposing is crude, leaves little of the personality intact. I'd rather you join Clu willingly."

Even though his head is slow to turn back towards Dyson, his anger powers his: "I'd never."

"Are you blind?" Dyson towers over him again. A syringe gleams in hand above Tron's head. "By overthrowing Flynn, we are officially our own people! Clu will lead us to perfection, and only through perfection can we be truly liberated!"

"You're delusional, Dyson." Tron meets Dyson's gaze, catching his right eye gleaming again. "Clu didn't fix your face. He made you harder to look at!"

For a long moment, Dyson doesn't respond. Tron, who had tensed, preparing for a hit or shout, relaxes in confusion. Dyson instead closes his eyes and sighs.

"I didn't want to do this, but you gave me no choice."

Before Tron can register what he means, a hand is in hair and slams his head back. Tron struggles to blink stars out of his eyes, only to find the gleam of a syringe growing nearer to his eye. "I'll show you what it's like to be weak. To be imperfect."

The syringe lunges down and pain explodes in the middle of his eye. He bites his lip, and his teeth cut through it when Dyson stabs again and again and again-

----------------------------

The next thing Tron remembers is landing on something hard and cold.

,"I'll give you some more time to consider." Dyson says somewhere behind him. He turns to try and find him but his vision swims. "I'm sure Clu can convince you in the coming days. In the meantime, I would think long and hard about our talk."