Tron: Deliverance

BOOTING UP

Shock, horror, pain. Those were at the front of Tron's processes, running in endless loops. Flashes of memory files shot behind his eyes. CLU's throne ship as it hovered over Argon. Hundreds of common programs shouting, discs in hand as the elite black guards advanced on them. Fighting, so much fighting as programs crumbled to cubes beneath his hands. Then a trap. Yes, it had been a trap.

CLU's disc struck him in the chest, right where his scar had been.

Black guards were dragging him away and he couldn't fight anymore. Everything was going dark. Beck? Where was Beck? He had been here. Where was he? Then he had been buried, buried for cycles under glowing orange command lines. Then over the sea, he had fought to the surface. There after so long, was Flynn. And he was about to die. His one remaining subroutine. The only thing he had left, the only piece of himself he could grip and pull himself to the surface of the haze

"I fight for the users!" He had said.

Then falling into the sea.

He thought that was it. Finally peace. Finally it was over. Then, something had grabbed him, and the shattered fragments of Tron defaulted to what he did best, struggling to survive. Then darkness again.

Tron's passive sensors were the first to come on line. He was a security program after all. He was constantly scanning, never truly on a sleep cycle like other programs. He heard a gravelly voice, familiar, cursing and grumbling. Someone was here. He clenched his fists and tried to force his processes into motion.

"Hey guys, I think he's waking up!" An excited voice said. Someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

'Hey, can you hear me?" The voice asked, on instinct, Tron grabbed the hand on his shoulder and used it as a pivot point. In one swift motion, that person was face down on whatever hard surface he had been laying on. A table? And Tron was on top, holding the person with their arm wrenched behind them.

"Ow ow ow, hey same side! Were on the same side!" The program bawled with his face smushed into the table. Tron reached back to draw his disc, but found that it wasn't there.

"Let him go!" A hard voice thundered. A figure was rushing towards him across a large open room. Tron suddenly recognized the figure from his hazy memory files. Sam Flynn, a user. Who was currently standing with his disc drawn. Another figure was moving into the room, her disc drawn as well, the ISO Quorra. Tron's grip slackened. These were not enemies. Were they?

Tron looked down at the program under his elbow and saw a dribble of red run across his eyebrow. Blood, a user. Tron stood up mechanically, releasing the user with guilt washing through his subroutines. He hadn't meant to hurt him. He was just responding defensively.

Shockingly, the user just smiled recklessly, rubbing the side of his head.

"Man you are so damn fast. I didn't even have time to blink. Also that arm bar hurt like hell. Very cool" He said in a friendly voice.

Was this user complimenting Tron for attacking him?

Tron stepped back uncertainly. But Sam Flynn just took another step forward.

"Hey so we met awhile back. Do you know who I am?" He asked, his voice even but his disc was still held at his side.

"You are User Sam Flynn, son of Kevin Flynn" Tron responded.

"Do you know who you are?" Sam asked. Tron's brow furrowed. That should be a simple question, but his fragmented memory files and command lines swirled in his head for a moment before he could respond.

"I am Tron" He said finally.

He realized that his helmet was still in place, so he let it retract, keenly aware that he had mistakenly attacked a user and now had to calm the situation.