System Notes & Observations

...

She glanced back over her shoulder, knowing they’d be here soon. “This doesn’t mean I trust you… at least not completely.” Getting to her feet, she followed after the only being willing to help… even if there might be consequences for that decision.

The hooded figure moved effortlessly through the shadows, guiding Ivy away from the city center. As they travelled, buildings were replaced by rocky outcroppings and sheer cliffs. They entered what appeared to be a small cavern that extended into one of the bluffs. Deeper and deeper into the mountain they went, until the roof gradually met the floor in a pool of energy. It was here that he held up his hand.

dualgraced

“...He tried to kill me.” She deadpans, pushing the door open the rest of the way. It was akin to admitting she’d failed, that she hadn’t accomplished what she set out to do and was caught in the process. Anyone who knew him was aware one didn’t just escape The Tron.

Shaking the memories from her thoughts, Ivy segues into using the motion to answer his second question. “No, they weren’t off last time I was here.” Wandering inside, the glow of her circuits is just about the only light. Removing her disc to provide more light, it’s dual purpose is for defense. In case the Myth did still reside within.

In the faint glow of her disc, Alan can just make out shattered screens and various other debris littering the room. The deeper they go, the more extensive the damage. Piles of rubble dominate what appears to be an observation center- or what’s left of it. It’s clear a battle of some kind took place.

Alan half-smiled, “A friend of mine once told me ‘it isn’t a waste of time if you’re taking care of yourself.‘” Alan’s voice went quiet as he glanced away. “Well, maybe more than once.” He returned his gaze and shook his head.

“Uh, no. No I have not.”

Her expression shifts, confused by both his meaning and the glance that tells her there’s more to this than he’s saying. For now, given her still waking processes, she decides it’s best to let it go. She has secrets too, and pressing him for info isn’t how she’d like end this relationship. Not that she wanted it to at all, but Paige had convinced herself she was married to her job and any program that came into her life wouldn’t stand for it. 

             𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤

                             αи∂ ωнαт ¢αи ι ѕαу?

                        𝕴'𝖒 𝖔𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈 𝖙𝖔 𝖆 𝖋𝖆𝖚𝖑𝖙.

Continued from: [x]

She nods, gaze fixed on Tron’s back.

“I had met some.” She said finally. “ISOs, I mean. The two had been cornered by other programs, and injured. I helped them escape, but barely. You see, I was not originally a fighter.” She finally looked away from Tron. “My original function is a medic. So I had taken them in, and given them medical aid, unaware at the time they were ISOs. If I had known….” She shook her head. “I don’t think I would have helped them. Not with what happened next.

“Tron…he says that the ISOs are trustworthy programs. I don’t know if I believe that. The Occupation had come looking for them. One of them, a program named Quorra, knocked me unconscious. When I awoke, two Occupation guards were detaining. I was scared, so I fought back.”

She could remember it vividly. The training that Quorra had given her had kicked in, core roaring in her eyes as she managed to disable the programs and escape. She had barely made it to the end of the hall before a much larger program had caught her, slamming her into the wall with a hand at her throat.

“I was finally subdued by a much larger program. A general, I think. He assumed that I knew about the ISOs, beyond what they had done to me. He said that I had collaborated with traitors, and had to be punished. Then…I remember his hand getting tighter and tighter. Everything was growing dark…and then he let go.”

Not willingly. She faintly heard the general gasp, and then the crushing pressure on her neck released. She gasps in a breath as she crumples, coughing as she holds her neck. A program pulls her to her feet, and suddenly she’s running.

“Tron had saved me. Apparently whatever happened at the hospital had gained his attention, and he had come to investigate. The ISOs were long gone by the time he arrived, but I was the only survivor he could find. The rest of the hospital was destroyed. Neither of us know what happened. Tron doesn’t believe the ISOs could have done that…I’m not so sure.

He almost left me. I know he didn’t want me to follow; I would be too much of a burden. But I had no one left, no one except this mysterious program who had saved me. So I didn’t let up, and followed him. Eventually, I proved myself to him, and he let me stay. He started training me, and we came to Argon.” She finally looked to Alan as she finished speaking.

Alan nodded, listening to her story. Tron believes them to be trustworthy, yet one of them attacked the program who’d healed them. It didn’t make sense, but then, Alan felt he was only getting part of the story. Why would Tron believe them to be “safe”? Alan then heard the next part of her story. Training? He wondered about that statement, but chose to ask about his earlier concern first.

askbeckandpaige

Tron had been watching carefully. He trusted his User probably more than anyone, but it was oddly fascinated, watching his code. When Alan speaks again, he looks up to him. He steels himself for whatever he may feel as he accepts the disc. “Yes, Alan-one.”

He places his disc on his dock. The connection to his systems is shocking enough for him to gasp. It’s not painful…or at least not as painful as he expected. In a way, feeling the viral code disappear and scars fade was like a nice, long, defrag. After a moment, he sighs, and the tension slips from his body.

Alan smiles at his creation.

“Bandits..?” Alan’s voice trails off as he struggles to make it to his feet. His head swirls as various shards of reality come flying at him in much the same way the glass had to the wall moments before. He can’t remember the last time he’s even heard the word “bandits” used, much less as an explanation of events. However, a quick glance at the scene he’s in informs him that he isn’t in Kansas anymore.

   "Huh?” His lip curls up in a near snarl, looking over at the inquiring man before his gaze drifts to his empty sleeve. It’s always their first question, anyone who’s got anything to say to him, it never fails to be the arm he wasn’t born with. Time didn’t exactly permit to go into the folklore behind it all, or even enough to artfully explain the gash in his arm from hunting the beasts most humans don’t live to tell tales about.

   “Yeah, man, I was born like that. Or you mean this?” Holding up his self-bandaged arm, it’s evermore apparent that that was, indeed, the reason for the question. Blood-soaked wraps unable to hold more, a drip of blood runs down to his elbow before falling, “Can you point me to Juniper Street?”

“Juniper Street? You need a hospital,” replies Alan, nodding toward the arm. So preoccupied was he with the unexpected sight of a man in bloody rags that he had paid attention to little else until the man had pointed out the missing arm.

madeofsouls

Following after him, Jihun sways in his stride, the blood loss starting to become more of a problem than he thought it’d be at this point. It’d be fine, his body will make more as long as he gets to the Doc quick enough. Like they say, it isn’t the injury itself that’ll kill ya, it’s the poison that’s slowly eating away at him.

Reaching the street, he takes the lead, almost tripping over his own two feet as he ducks into a storefront that definitely looks abandoned. Speaking a language perhaps foreign to his new ‘friend’, he calls out as a short woman rounds the corner. After a short exchange, she waves them back, a flick of her finger locking the door behind them without touching it.

Shuffling into the next room, Jihun rids himself of his shirt before laying on what looks like an examination table. The woman brings in a chair, setting it to the side for her client’s friend with a smile before getting to work on the rather nasty looking injury. In truth, it looked far worse than it really was. A few simple rinses and a fresh paste of crushed herbs covering the wound see Jihun finally relaxing. “Thanks for the help, uh.. Mr.-?”

Alan graciously nods at the woman and takes the chair offered him.

Paige was tired. Exhausted. But there was still work to be done. 

The city was still in shambles after the explosion. She needed to go out and see if there were any more programs among the rubble. Beck usually helped her...but he had taken a team on a scouting mission for more energy, since their supply was running low again. Sighing, she got to her feet an left the makeshift hospital.

The city was quiet. The fires were gone, but it still felt like the city was burning. Hopefully, if she found anyone, they wouldn’t be majorly injured. Hopefully, a couple cycles rest on a makeshift bed would work.....

askbeckandpaige

Beck nods. “Thank you. We could use all the help we can get. I can get you set up on a task that lines up with your programming, unless you would prefer to do something different.”

In his haste, Alan had forgotten to open the door for her– a fact he now realizes with some embarrassment.

“Uh, here!” Alan reaches over and unlocks her door, feeling guilty that he hadn’t taken the time to be chivalrous. Of course, they have little time to spare for such things. He only hopes they’d be able to make it out of town before anyone catches on. In fact, it would be nothing short of a miracle for this to work. Still, they have to try.

Grabbing the handle, he pushes the door slightly open.

“There you go,” he nods to her.

Nodding, she waits for the lock to pop before she’s trying for the handle once more. With his help, she opens it, only now realizing just how physically weak she was. 

He did this on purpose. So if she did run she wouldn’t get far. Too bad for Jack that she’d made a friend who was willing to pick up that slack. 

@user-alan​ asked:

it’s breaking my heart to see you like this. (Angel)

miscellaneous angst starters.

Independence was not the fairy tale that people will sell you. They don’t tell you that people will always look at you strange for not knowing the transaction for buying snacks at a gas station or groceries from the store. They don’t tell you that even if you have stolen millions from your estranged father, cash is the only thing accepted in rural places or how to actually use a credit card.

What people certainly never mention about liberation is learning who you are without the rules and restrictions. What things you like and what you don’t when there’s no one to decide for you.

It’s been over a month since they settled in this town, but Angel still can’t seem to break free of her old habits. Showers take so much longer than she can bare, clothes still don’t fit or feel right. But worst of all, she’s still skin and bones. Forgetting to eat wasn’t something she did maliciously, nor did she dislike anything she’d tried; with the exception of fish, the smell too overwhelming for her.

With time, the tight space began to ease and he forced himself to breathe as the tightness left him. But as soon as he sat up, more horrors awaited him. 

The cheering made his breath hitch for a moment, and he turned to see just what he hoped not to see.

...

Beck is looking between them, their mirrored expressions making the fear rise up his throat.

“W-what are you talking about?” He tries to squirm out of the grip with no avail. “W-who’s Cyrus?”

Tron tries a different method, reaching for his wrist where the scarring was. Before Beck could think straight, he ripped his wrist away, cradling it close to his chest.