#bothfoulandfair

   [A frown glinted upon the queen's lips as her gaze flickered over the other woman's form- the other completely identical woman's form. As if on instinct, she straightened her posture in hopes of somehow looking just a little bit taller and hopefully more confident.]

Dyson was dead.

The thief, the betrayer, the Program who had ripped out the last shred of goodness the User Champion had... he was dead. His fiery red cubes lay at Tron's feet, and as he took a moment to reflect over the events that had transpired within the past few moments, he didn't know who had screamed louder: Dyson when he realized there was no escape, or Beck, who had realized there was no turning back for his mentor. Between them, one of those screams had been silenced. The other still persisted above him.

"What have you done?!" Beck howled. "What about the Revolution?!"

"If you're so concerned about it," Tron shouted back, "then you lead it. Your duties as Tron begin now." He realized something, and then he added, "Your first task is to figure out how you can not get yourself arrested when the Black Guard figure out what happened to Dyson. I would think that would be vital knowledge if you want to lead the Revolution successfully."

As he turned around to leave, Beck attempted to go after him. "I thought we were friends!"

"Friends don't hold other friends back," Tron spat, before rezzing his helmet and running away. 

As he wove through Argon's streets, Tron had an inexplicable feeling of... freedom. An onus was lifted that he hadn't known for a long time. 

There were cries all around him, of Programs who had spotted the "Renegade" running about the streets, across the rooftops, generally causing mischief. They thought he was heading toward Tesler's base, or to assist someone afflicted by the Occupation.

Not anymore, he thought. There was going to be no more Renegade after this. Beck knew too much, yes, but by the time CLU's guards interrogated him and checked his Disc, Tron would have been long gone. I'll fight the Revolution my own way. I don't need Beck, or a Resistance, for that matter. If you want something done, you have to do it yourself...

But not before replenishing his Energy supply at the base. His scars had done their duty; Dyson had been petrified to see the wounds he himself had created still in near-perfect condition on Tron's face. It was a shame that healing the scar at least partway had given him a synthetic eye. Oh, he wanted to have seen the look on Dyson's face if Tron approached him with only one eye! That really would have been a sight to see.

Tron was prepared to zoom through the Outlands to the base when he noticed a strange figure by the junkyard, one that didn't have the attire or even appearance of a Program he had ever known. Wary, "The Renegade" got off the Light Cycle several feet away and sneaked toward the figure to investigate.

and other people added onto the thing

"Hi there!"