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Chapter Text

Sam Flynn was twelve years old when his father Kevin decided to leave their small farm and find something better for them overseas. He took some of the money they’d been saving, packed his few belongings, and bequeathed to Sam the small energy farm, his white lightcycle, and their teenaged Basic farmhand, Tron.

“I want to go with you,” Sam said.

“You can’t. Not yet. When I find what we’re looking for I’ll come back for you. I promise,” Kevin said and squeezed Sam’s shoulders reassuringly. He then looked over at Tron, who stood silently on the side. “Take care of my boy, Tron.”

“Always,” Tron said.

Sam watched his father walk down the road. He then looked over at Tron, who gestured for him to go back inside, it’s getting dark and he had school tomorrow. At the doorway he looked for his father again but Kevin had disappeared around the bend several yards down.

Three weeks later the news came that the Solar Sailer his father was on was attacked by the Dread Pirate MCP, and Dread Pirates never leave anyone alive.

* * *
When Sam was fifteen he had to be rescued from a group of older boys by Tron, who fended them off with the disk he always kept on his back as a defense against energy-sucking gridbugs.

“I could’ve taken them all out,” he protested while Tron literally dragged him half a mile home.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Tron said while his circuits flashed dangerously red.

When they finally reached the small farm Sam yanked his arm back and Tron just let go. Sam fell on the ground on his ass and glared up at him. “Thought you were supposed to take care of me.”

“Be glad it’s just your pride that’s hurt and not anything else. What were you thinking?”

Sam glowered at him but the narrowed gray eyes were too much; he decided the ground was much better and stared at that instead as he muttered, “Need to learn how to fight so I can find the Dread Pirate MCP and kill him.”

“By harassing people who are bigger and stronger than you?”

“Can’t you at least give me credit for trying?”

That earned him a wry smile as Tron walked up to him and held out his hand. “Come on.”

Sam took it…and was suddenly on his back, the wind knocked out of his lungs and a foot on his chest. He blinked up at the Basic, who said, “Always be on your toes. Never take a kind gesture for granted.”

“You’re trying to teach me something?”

Tron removed his foot and Sam sat up, rubbing his sternum. “You wanted to learn, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“I won’t always be here for you, Sam,” Tron said. “I don’t know much myself but I can teach you the basics, so that the next time you goad someone into fighting you you’ll at least know what you’re doing.”

“I always know what I’m doing,” Sam said as he followed Tron into the house. “And what do you mean you won’t always be here? You’re always here.”

Tron stopped short and Sam almost collided into him.

“I can’t promise you that,” he said as he turned to face Sam, “but I’ll try.”

Sam felt himself swaying forward, drawn in by the steady gray gaze, but Tron was already moving away, saying, “Need to check if the gridbugs got into the energy crop again. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

With a sigh Sam went into his room, which he used to share with his father, and dozed off on the low bed until evening.

* * *
When Sam was twenty-two he finally worked up the courage to confess his feelings to Tron. It didn’t go quite as expected, though; Sam meant to do it with words but when he came upon the older man polishing the white lightcycle in the small garage as requested he just stood there, tongue-tied. Tron didn’t notice until he’d been there for ten minutes, and then looked up.

“Sam?”

He took in a shuddering breath as Tron rose to his feet and walked around the lightcycle to him but no words came out. He instead stared at the circuits on his chest that formed the oddly appropriate “T”. Before he knew what he was doing he lifted his hand and tentatively traced a glowing blue square, said, “I-”

He didn’t know what he was trying to say but it didn’t matter because Tron was kissing him. With a short moan Sam opened his mouth, wrapped his arms around the Basic’s neck, and dragged them back against the wall of the garage. Tron’s lips were warm, mouth reverent as it moved against his, and Sam thought nothing could be better than this.

Ten long languorous minutes later, when they were sitting on the floor, so close to each other that there was no space between them, Tron told him the news.

“I’m leaving in two days,” he said softly and Sam felt a cold pit form in his chest.

“What? Why?”

“With Flynn gone it’s been just you and me,” Tron said, tracing Sam’s bottom lip with his thumb. “There’s nothing for us here. I’ll find something better out there, and then I’ll come back for you.”

“That’s what Dad said.”

“Maybe I’ll have better luck. Just wait for me. Can you do that?”

Sam didn’t say anything. He just nodded and closed his eyes as lips brushed against his.

“I’ll always come back for you, Sam. Always.”

* * *
The Solar Sailer Tron was on was attacked by the Dread Pirate Paranoid.

There were no survivors.

Chapter Text

For five years Sam did what he could with the farm. He sold most of the land or let it go wild, harvesting only enough energy to sustain himself and selling the leftovers at the village half a mile down the road. He kept to himself and slowly lost touch with the other people, with the few friends who had offered some small measure of comfort after the losses of his father and Tron.

One rainy night he heard a scratch and a whimper at the door. Sam stuck his head out and stared down at the mutt sitting at the door, wide-eyed and shivering. He looked over his shoulder at the empty common room and then back at the dog.

“Yeah, all right,” he said, stepping aside and letting it in.

Marvin was his constant companion for the next one and a half years. Wherever Sam went he went. He even managed to fend off a trio of gridbugs that were draining the energy fields, although it required stitches and half of Sam’s savings. Afterwards Sam wouldn’t let Marvin out of his sight for days, too afraid of losing him, too.

“Next time just bark,” he had told Marvin as he carried the bandaged mutt back to the farm. “They’re twice your size; you can’t expect to win against them. Let me handle it.”

Marvin licked his face and Sam laughed. It was a hollow sound.

* * *
Sam wakes up to a motorcade of lightcycles and a light runner in front of the house. Shrugging on his clothes he makes his way to the window and peers through the shaded glass, watches someone emerge from the light runner and look around the area with a faintly disgusted look. He frowns; the man, who can’t be much older than him, has a strangely familiar face but Sam knows he’s never seen him before.

Marvin growls softly, nose pressed against the bottom of the door.

“Shh!” Sam says as the person turns to say something to the people on the lightcycles. He finds himself staring at the vehicles, tracing their aerodynamic lines; they are glossy, black beasts of a very different make from the one sitting in the small garage. Sam feels a sudden itch to get on one of those and take off, maybe for the borders of the Grid or to the Sea of Simulation. Somewhere far from here and the aching memories.

The helmeted rider on one of the lead lightcycles suddenly dismounts and Sam watches in awe as it disassembles itself and shrinks into what looks like a small black baton. The rider picks it up and slides it into a holder on the outside of his thigh as he joins the man’s side. The yellow circuit lines move with him in a way that Sam knows isn’t part of the uniform.

A Basic, Sam realizes. Like Tron.

He holds his breath as the men approach the front door. The arrogance of the man in front is off-putting, as are the fine clothes and the semblance of fanciful circuitry, and Sam wonders what the hell he’s doing here in this rural area far from any of the Grid’s major cities. Then one of them knocks on the door rapidly and Marvin barks.

Sam opens the door.

“Is this the…” the man flicks his eyes to the helmeted man, who nods. “…residence of Sam Flynn?”

He peers around Sam, judging the interior, and Sam feels his hackles rise.

“Yeah, that’s me. What the hell do you want?”

The man brushes his bangs aside, rubs at his chin, and hums under his breath. He’s scrutinizing Sam from head to toe, ice blue eyes sweeping over him, and Sam shivers.

“…and you’ve been living here all this time,” he says.

“What?”

He smiles. Light glints off the lens of his glasses. “Do you know who I am?”

“Should I?”

The helmeted man suddenly steps forward. “Watch your tone. You’re in the presence of-”

The man holds his hand up. “Don’t waste your time on such small matters. These are simple folk; they don’t care about the goings-on in the Grid as long as they can harvest enough energy to feed themselves at night.”

Sam growls. “Who are you calling ‘simple’?”

The man tilts his head, looks at Sam over the rims of his glasses. “You, of course. Unfortunately you’re not so simple so we’d better bring you up to speed. Come along; ENCOM City is at least two days’ drive away so the sooner we leave the faster we get there.”

He turns smartly on his heels and starts walking back to the light runner. The helmeted man follows for a few steps before they both realize Sam hasn’t budged. They both turn back around and the man says, “Didn’t you hear me?”

“What makes you think I’m going to follow a total stranger into a light runner without an explanation?”

The helmeted Basic starts forward again but the other man again gestures for him to stop.

“If I told you your mother is also mine and my mother happens to be Queen Jordan will you follow me in the light runner?”

He’s kidding, right? Who goes around these parts, dragging people out of homes, claiming they’re related to the Grid’s ruling family? “What? Is this a joke? You trying to be funny or something?”

“You are speaking to Prince Edward,” the helmeted man says. “There will be consequences if you don’t do as you’re told.”

Sam glowers at the Basic. “How about no.”

The man – Prince Edward? – sighs. “Fine. Go do your thing, Clu.”

Next thing Sam knows the man – Clu – is next to him, fingers pressing down somewhere on his neck behind his jaw, and Sam hears Marvin barking as his knees collapse beneath him and everything goes black.

Chapter Text

“Mother, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Queen Jordan of the Grid doesn’t look up from her latest sketch of the main stage from which her son will speak to the crowd for the country’s one thousandth birthday. “A man or a woman, Junior?”

“Don’t call me that; I’m not six. And this has nothing to do with me.”

“Good. It was difficult enough already negotiating for Lady Radia’s hand in marriage without half the lords revolting. I don’t want you sabotaging it and the peace with Arjia with your dalliances-”

“I told you, it has nothing to do with-okay, fine. Sam?”

She starts and the marker skips across the page. Sam? Just a coincidence, right? Over two decades and she still jumps whenever she comes across that name. Jordan doesn’t look up until she hears another pair of feet pad into the spacious, Spartan room, and then looks up.

The marker makes a thick, erratic line as it slides down the paper and falls to the floor.

She knows that face. It’s not just what she sees in the mirror every day but the shape of his jaw, his nose, the inquisitive curiosity that’s always there no matter what’s presented to him. It’s been years – twenty-seven, her mind supplies – and she can see the Kevin Flynn in the young man standing in front of her as bright as day.

There’s none of the warmth and kindness in the blue eyes, though. The young man – Sam, her letter to Kevin said his name was Sam - looks at her blankly, like she’s a statue to admire from a distance, and the joy in her heart wilts, fades away.

Of course he doesn’t know. She told Kevin to say nothing about her.

“You know who he is,” Ed says. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Scandals are unbecoming of the ruling family of the Grid,” she says calmly. She watches Sam – her son, her other son, her lost son – fidget and look around as she adds, “Who told you?”

“That old fart-”

“Edward Junior.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sorry. I asked Dumont about the centennial traditions like you told me to and he said something about reciting family trees from memory. The book he gave me had a footnote. An engineer named Kevin Flynn.”

Both she and Sam look sharply at Ed, who seems pleased with their reaction. “He was one of the top engineers for the Arena. Officially he was fired for trying to stop Father from attacking Arjia by sabotaging the Training Grid but the footnote was in a genealogy records book. So I asked. Nicely.”

He walks up to her desk and leans on it so that they’re eye to eye. “I hope you’re not hiding any other siblings, are you? The birthday is but a few weeks away and everyone alive needs to be there, according to Dumont.”

She breaks eye contact to look around him at Sam, who’s baffled by the entire exchange, if not the situation. She wonders what’s going through his head; raised as a commoner for twenty-seven years only to find out his mother is the queen has to be quite a shock.

“Mother, I haven’t got all day.”

Jordan looks at Ed sharply. “There’s nobody else. Sam’s your only brother.”

“Only sibling. Father always said he wanted a daughter. Probably why he’s so taken by Radia.”

Ed smiles at her as he steps back and turns to Sam. “Why don’t I leave you two alone? You have twenty-seven years to catch up on and I have a country to run.”

She watches her older son leave the room and wonders again exactly when he became a total stranger.

* * *
“They didn’t even bring my dog along,” is the first thing Sam blurts out as Queen Jordan refocuses on him and he mentally kicks himself.

What else is he supposed to say? All these years he thought his mother died in an accident when he was two. And now, now he learns that she’s the queen and his father was once an engineer for the court. Well, at least it explained why Kevin was never a good energy farmer.

She smiles softly at him and Sam realizes why the prince looked so familiar. What he sees everyday in front of a mirror he can see in her face, and in Prince Edward’s, too.

“I can arrange for your dog to be brought here,” she says as she leans down to pick up the marker she’d been holding when he walked in.

Sam frowns. “I’m not going to stay here.”

“I’m afraid you have no choice,” she says. “You are my son, after all. I am the one with the royal blood, which makes you a prince of the Grid.”

There is nothing about that statement that feels right. Sam takes a shaky breath, looks around for a seat. The queen presses on something – a circuit, there are circuits on the floor – with her foot and a chair unfolds itself and rises up from the cluster of circuits to his right.

“You should sit,” she says. “I’m sure this is…overwhelming.”

“You think?” Sam mutters as he touches the chair. It’s there, cushioned and material under his hand. He carefully eases himself down. “After fifteen years you’d think this’ll get easier.”

“Fifteen?”

He suddenly wonders if she knows what happened to his father. Then again, she’s Queen Jordan; why would she care if a bunch of unassuming people were killed by pirates? Even if she loved one of them long enough to have a son…and then leave them?

“Dad’s dead,” Sam says, slouches down, crosses his arms, and watches her carefully for a reaction.

The visible shock in her face doesn’t take away from the thought that immediately follows after.

And so’s Tron.

Chapter Text

They never found Marvin. He showed up at a neighbor’s house some time after Sam was taken to ENCOM City, begging for food. After the neighbor fed him a few scraps Marvin took off into the night.

Sam has a hard time transitioning to life as a soon-to-be royal. Everyone looks at him oddly or skirt around him like he’s a virus, which irritates him to no end. The only ones who willingly talk to him are the queen and the Records Keeper, Dumont, who was more than pleased to finally meet him.

“Your existence was a question mark in my books,” Dumont had said. “Always bothered me, but now I know – you’re alive.”

“Uh, why would you care if an illegitimate kid is alive or not?”

“I’m the Records Keeper. I keep all the records. Be glad nobody knew you were still alive until a few weeks ago. It’s probably why you’re still standing.”

Sam doesn’t sleep for days.

King Edward doesn’t seem to care that Sam is alive and living in the castle. Then Sam overhears servants and councilors mutter about his mental state and how the prince had been taking the reins of the kingdom out of his hands. Sam doesn’t know what’s creepier – sharing the same roof as the man his mother (the Queen, of all people) tried to run from or sharing it with his half-brother, who keeps watching him like he’s a glossy new lightcycle.

Sam wonders why he doesn’t reserve that look for his bride-to-be. Then he decides he doesn’t want to dwell on that train of thought.

* * *
Sam runs into Lady Radia one day while lost, because this place is built like a labyrinth. She’s staring out the window and across the castle walls at the thriving traffic in ENCOM City when he bumps into her, and he’s shocked when she turns around and there are circuits on her face.

“You’re not a Basic,” he stammers instead of, “You’re not human.”

“And you’re neither Edward nor Clu.”

He’s not wrong, then.

She sits on the windowsill and pats the spot next to her. “Sit.”

She is the first ISO he meets, and the first Arjian. And she is the one who tells him about both.

“I was eight when Arjia fell. My parents, Lord Jalen and Lady Ophelia, perished in the last battle. I spent the next twenty years under house arrest while Giles was forced to rule as regent for me and my ISOs.”

“ISOs?”

She pulls up her sleeve and shows him a very peculiar circuit on her arm. “That’s what we call ourselves. Neither Basics nor Users. You don’t know very much about the world, do you?”

Sam flushes. “I grew up on a farm. I didn’t even know about my mom until-”

“Until Junior hunted you down.” She looked over her shoulder at the world through the window. “At first I thought you were just another one of his conquests. I don’t know if being his brother is any better.” She touches the glass and the latticework under her fingertips glow. “This place is a cage, and you and I its prisoners.”

“Rather poetic, are you?” Sam says. “Do all ISOs talk like this?”

“No,” she says with a wry smile. “But it reminds me that I am not one of them, no offense.”

“None taken, believe me.”

They sit in silence for ten minutes, and it’s the most peaceful ten minutes Sam’s known in the past five years.

“I just wish,” Radia murmurs, “I could see my playmate again.”

He raises an eyebrow at her.

“She tried to protect me when the Gridians came for me. ‘Little Bird’, I said, ‘don’t. They’ll hurt you.’ She tried anyway, swung her play katana at the first soldier. He threw her aside and grabbed me.” She bows her head and sighs heavily. “She died.”

Sam knows all too well what that feels like. He reaches over and takes her hand. She looks at him questioningly.

“I know how you feel,” he says and tells her about his father and Tron.

* * *
They did bring back the white lightcycle, but the look on Queen Jordan’s – his mother’s face when she saw it meant Sam had to keep it out of sight. He keeps it at the very back of the massive garage, in a dusty corner where nobody looks twice, and takes it out for an hour or two when nobody’s trying to teach him about the inner workings of the Grid.

“What a peculiar beast,” Radia says when she finds him polishing it.

“It was Dad’s.” He stops and leans against it, closes his eyes and recalls all those times Tron did it for him. He always did a better job and Sam could only hope to keep the lightcycle in as good a condition.

He looks up at Radia. “Still think it’s the fastest thing in the Grid. Wanna give it a spin?”

One day Radia tells him of a road that winds through the woods and follows a river to the Sea of Simulation. She takes him along it and they race each other for over four miles.

“I live for these short hours,” she says as they lean against their vehicles and throw stones into the river. “It’s like I can breathe again.”

Sam looks around. They’re the only ones out here in the perfectly groomed wilderness. “Why don’t you just run away? Nobody’s going to stop you.”

“Where would I go? I have nowhere to go back to, and my ISOs need me. And you forget – they will look for me and they will never stop. I just have to hope I can be a force for Arjia…and take control when I have the chance.”

Sam only nods because he has nothing to say. He has nowhere to go back to, either.

“We should go back before Edward starts looking for me,” Radia says, mounting her lightcycle.

“Yeah,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

In hindsight Sam should have never let his guard down, especially when facing two strange women standing on the road and blocking the way.

The circuits are part of their body, Sam notes as he slows the lightcycle down. They’re Basics. What are they doing here? There’s nothing out here for miles.

He raises the lightcycle’s hatch and sits up, scrutinizes the Basic wearing all white with light blonde hair pulled back in a bun and the Basic in black with a short dark haircut.

“Uh…can I help you?” he asks.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where the nearest hostel is?” the dark one asks. “We’ve been traveling for days and could use a recharge.”

She pouts at him like a toddler and he chuckles, shakes his head. “Nearest one is miles away. I can tell you where the sector is.”

“No need,” says the one in white. “We just needed to make sure no one was around to hear you scream.”

“What?” Sam demands as she gestures at something…

…behind him. Sam twists around in his seat but fingers are already wrapping around the back of his neck under his jaw.

Oh fuck, he thinks as he goes under.

* * *
“Uh, Gem,” Quorra says uneasily while Anon hefts the User’s body. “That’s not the one we’re supposed to kidnap.”

“It makes no difference,” she says as she tips the antique white lightcycle on its side. “They’re both important and they both use this road. We just need one. He’ll do.”

Quorra looks at Anon, who shrugs and starts walking off the road towards the cloaked Recognizer. She then approaches Gem, who’s rising to her feet. “What are you doing?”

Gem points at a Bit-shaped trinket lying a few inches from the lightcycle. “Leaving behind evidence. When they come looking they’ll find it and think Bostrumites kidnapped the prince.”

“But that’s not Prince-”

Gem brushes by her, moving rapidly down the sloping side of the road. “If you’d been paying attention and not daydreaming about revenge you’d know who we just kidnapped.”

Quorra cocks her head to the side as she tries to recall what Zuse had said as their rusty Recognizer flew upriver. All she could remember was mooning after vengeance while his plotting went over her head.

The Recognizer materializes as they approach. Anon is waiting for them, the User’s body slung over his shoulder. As they get into the Recognizer and the cockpit moves up the legs Quorra turns to Gem and asks, “So who’d we just kidnap?”

“If you’d been paying attention to the words coming out of my mouth,” Zuse’s voice suddenly echoes around the room, “you’d know that this is Sam Flynn, Prince Edward’s half-brother.”

“Never heard of him,” Quorra says.

Anon lowers the User to the floor and presses two fingers to the side of his neck, checking his vitals.

“Most people haven’t, or at least they wouldn’t have until the Grid’s millennial birthday. Gem, if you’ll please – take us across the Sea of Simulation to Bostrum. When they learn that the Bostrumites killed him they’ll declare war.”

“You never said anything about killing people – or starting a war!”

Zuse scowls at her. “You think I was just being chatty the last two days? I do recall you asking my help getting you to the man who killed everyone you loved and I recall saying that first, you have to help me start a war. And just so you know, it’s a prestigious line of work even if we’re never mentioned in history classes. Which is such a shame, considering how many world-changing wars I started.”

Quorra’s lip curls even though he’d sworn time and again that he had no hand in the war between Arjia and the Grid. He probably said it out of fear but her business wasn’t with him anyway.

“We could always hold him for ransom ourselves,” Gem suggests.

“You clearly know nothing about Prince Edward to suggest that.” Zuse walks over to the limp body and pokes at his side with his cane. “You don’t want him catching you in the middle of some dirty business. Isn’t that right, Quorra?”

He leers at her and she trembles, forces herself to hold her head up high. “That’s none of your business.”

“Who’s the one who told you to get into the light runner while you were running from the Gridian soldiers? Who was the one who risked his livelihood protecting an ISO? While you’re on my ship you do as you’re told. You’re going to help me dispose of this prince and then I’ll find a way to isolate the Gridian war minister so that you can kill him and get your revenge.”

He turns away from both her and Sam Flynn and joins Gem’s side as she guides the Recognizer down the river towards the Sea. Quorra sighs, hand sliding down her side to the katana baton in its holster on the outside of her thigh, as she walks to Anon’s side and stares down at the prince.

She wants revenge. She wanted revenge since she was seven years old and Arjia fell, taking from her both her parents and her closest friend, Arjia’s heir. Her life had been consumed by it ever since she charged the yellow-lit Basic with her play katana and tried to stop him from kidnapping…Reina? Radiant?

A hand grips her shoulder and squeezes; Quorra starts out of her reverie and looks up at Anon’s helmeted head.

“I don’t think this is the right thing to do” she asks. “Kill someone and help start a war just so I can get revenge? Doesn’t seem right at all.”

Anon says nothing – he never does – but his presence soothes her anxiety. She sighs and sits down next to Sam Flynn, stares at him as the Recognizer reach the Sea of Simulation.

Chapter Text

Sam wakes up in total confusion, then realizes he’s lying on the floor of a Recognizer’s cockpit and a massive helmeted Basic is standing over him. He blinks at the man, who nods back in acknowledgement, and then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

He just got kidnapped, didn’t he? Part of the “welcome to the Grid’s ruling family” package, he supposes. He should’ve stayed on his toes then, should’ve been wary of strange people standing on a rural road like they’re waiting for someone to pass by. Someone like him…or Radia.

If they’re after Radia, why did they kidnap him?

“We’ll reach the cliffs by dawn,” someone says airily. Then, “Why do you keep doing that?”

“I’m making sure nobody’s following us.”

The Basic with the dark bodysuit and short haircut. The one with wide eyes and deceptive charm.

“No one’s follow us. We’re cloaked, aren’t we?”

“We are,” someone – the Basic in white with the know-it-all smile – confirms.

“Therefore, nobody’s following us - will you stop doing that?”

The massive Basic shifts on his feet and the first voice, the arrogant one, says, “Oh, is His Highness awake?”

Great, now he has to face his captors. Sam opens his eyes and pushes himself up into a sitting position. He stares up at the Basic, then the one with the short haircut, the one in white who’s at the helm, and another Basic, who’s also wearing white and is swinging around a light cane.

“Evening, Prince,” the one swinging the cane says. “Was hoping to make the murdering bit as clean and quick as possible, but now that you’re awake...”

“Aren’t you hospitable,” Sam says as he presses his back against the wall.

He glances around; right above his head is a large window and in front of him is an even larger one. There’s no telling how far this Recognizer is from ENCOM City but they are near land; even though all he can see is water the display on the window up front says differently.

“Starting wars is a professional business. Being hospitable to soon-to-be-dead people is part of the job–stop doing that!”

He’s barking at the woman with the short haircut; she’s staring out the cockpit’s back window.

“You sure nobody’s following us?”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” the Basic says, turning and pointing at the one at the helm, “we’re cloaked. The radar is picking up nothing. We’re fine. More than fine, in fact.”

“The radar’s broken,” she informs. “You said fixing it was too expensive.”

Sam raises an eyebrow as the Basic in charge pinches his nose bridge and sighs. “…no matter. We have what we need and we did it exactly as I planned it. The Grid is always slow to react and Bostrum has no idea what we’re about to do. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

Sam looks up at the window over his head again. It’ll hurt throwing himself through what’s probably thick glass, but he’d rather take his chances and swim to shore than sit here and let his odd kidnappers kill him. Wait, why are they trying to kill him again?

“You said you’re in the business of starting wars?” he asks as he shifts himself, inching his feet under him.

“Indeed I am,” the Basic says, beaming at him. “I’m also in the business of getting people where they need to be-” He glances at the dark Basic and then frowns when he notices she’s staring out the window again. “What is there that’s so interesting you have to keep looking? It’s the Sea of Simulation; there’s nothing out there but water.”

“And a small Recognizer.”

“What?”

Even the one at the helm looks over her shoulder at the purported Recognizer. Sam decides, To hell with it. If I can’t make it to shore at least the other Recognizer’ll be there.

Like with most things his escape doesn’t go according to plan. One second he’s launching himself at the front window of the Recognizer, the next he’s slammed back into the floor by the massive Basic.

“Let go of me!” he says, kicking out with his foot and trying to wrestle his arms back from the Basic’s tight grip.

Then the Basic in charge is at his side, tying his wrists with rope and tsking under his breath.

“Nice try, Highness. Like you’ll survive crashing through three-inch thick glass and falling at least thirty feet into the Sea, not to mention the currents and the flesh-eating grid eels.”

“Flesh-eating grid eels?” Sam echoes.

“The gridbug’s cousin. Nasty energy suckers. They can drain a Recognizer dry in ten seconds but what they really like to sink their teeth into are Users.”

“Zuse,” the Basic at the helm says, disgusted.

“It’s gaining on us,” the dark Basic calls out. Her nose is pressed against the glass of the back window.

“Forget about it. It can’t see us anyway. Make sure it doesn’t hit us, Gem. Doesn’t know we’re here.”

“Actually,” Gem – the one at the helm – says, “it turns out I never turned the cloaking device on.”

“You what?” Zuse promptly drops Sam’s wrists to go talk to Gem, leaving Sam with the other two Basics.

“Is he always like this?” Sam asks the massive Basic.

“Anon doesn’t talk,” the other one says. She gives him a sympathetic smile. “My name’s Quorra.”

“Sam, but I think you already know that.”

She nods. “Sorry for kidnapping you. Wasn’t what I signed up for.”

“What did you sign up for?”

“Vengeance.” She grips the baton at her side. “A Basic killed my fellow ISOs and he must die.”

“ISOs? Wait-you’re an ISO-”

“It’s gaining on us,” Gem says loudly. “I think it’s after us. What do you want to do?”

“Nothing,” Zuse says. “We’ll reach the cliffs first, and only I know how to get to the Outlands from there.”

“So it’s a race,” Quorra says.

“Well that’s just great,” Sam mutters. Fuck.

Chapter Text

Apparently Recognizers can’t rise several hundred feet up the side of seaside cliffs.

“I’d do my business with a light jet,” Zuse says while Gem maneuvers them past jagged rocky outcrops towards a bit of dry land big enough for one Recognizer to land, “but it doesn’t quite have the same presence as this lovely creature.”

He strokes the wall and then stumbles into it when the Recognizer lands heavily.

Gem remains onboard while Zuse leads the way out. Anon gives Sam an apologetic pat on the back before throwing him over his shoulder and striding out.

“Is he always like this?” Sam asks Quorra, who’s trailing them.

“It’s a front. Zuse hired him for the grunt work but he’s really sweet.”

“So why does he keep his helmet on?”

Quorra just shakes her head.

The Recognizer lifts off and disappears around a massive outcrop. Sam peers through the sea fog for the other one, then notices water creeping up the little bit of land they’re standing on.

“This lovely bit of land’ll be underwater in minutes,” Zuse says as he tugs on a long line of rope that’s seen much better days. “Whoever’s in the other Recognizer will just have to find a harbor several hours away and by then we’ll be deep in the Outlands. Anon, if you’ll be so kind.”

As the three kidnappers fuss with harnesses Sam notices the shape of the other Recognizer forming in the mist. Its circuits are red-orange and he thinks of the horror stories of the Dread Pirates. Gridians have been talking about the newest one, Dread Pirate Rinzler, who supposedly roams far and wide as if on the hunt for something.

More victims, probably, Sam thinks bitterly as Anon grips the rope, soothes a jostled Zuse with a pat on the head, and starts pulling them up.

* * *
The way everyone’s arranged Zuse is the one with his arms around Anon’s neck while Sam and Quorra have theirs around each of Anon’s arms; the harnesses on the massive Basic’s waist is what keeps them from dragging him down and from wrenching their arms out of their sockets. Zuse’s cane is along for the ride, too, and it keeps smacking Sam in the side.

So while Zuse is goading Anon to pull them up the rope faster Sam and Quorra are watching the small Recognizer stop at the base of the cliffs like it has no idea what to do.

“Nobody else knows you guys kidnapped me, right?” Sam asks during one of the more surreal conversations in his life.

“You said there wasn’t a hostel for miles.”

“Yeah, but, uh, you didn’t make the plans somewhere public, did you?”

Quorra frowns. “No. He didn’t tell us anything until we were already on our way. I think. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at her.

“I like to daydream about stabbing the war minister through the chest,” she admits.

He nods and decides he’s never getting on the ISO’s bad side.

As they watch the front window of the Recognizer suddenly shatters and someone climbs out. The person is wearing black from head to toe, with glowing red-orange dots scattered all over.

“It’s a Basic,” Quorra says.

They watch the Basic get on top of the Recognizer and then leap for the rope. It starts pulling itself up after them and Quorra sounds the alarm.

“Whoever’s chasing us is climbing the rope, and gaining on us!”

Zuse peers over Anon’s right shoulder and his jaw drops. “Impossible. Well, Anon?”

Anon starts climbing faster and the ride up the face of the cliff is suddenly a lot less comfortable; Sam keeps getting smacked in the side of his face by Anon’s shoulder.

“You’re a Monitor, aren’t you?” Zuse says crossly. “Why are you letting it gain on us?”

“He’s carrying all three of us,” Quorra counters. “Cut him some slack.”

“Excuses, excuses. Just get us up this cliff!”

The Basic is relentless, closing the gap with inhuman speed. Sam can feel Anon struggle with the last yards and feels sorry for him, which is weird because Anon is part of the group that wants to kill him and start a war between the Grid and some place called Bostrum.

And then Anon reaches the top of the cliff, which is decorated with old ruins. Zuse quickly unbuckles himself from the harness and hauls himself up; he peers over the edge while Quorra scrambles up and helps Anon and Sam.

“This is a problem, but one that’s easily fixed,” Zuse says while Anon apologetically reties Sam’s wrists. He picks up his cane and points it at the rope; it emits energy bolts and severs the rope from its anchor. They all watch silently as the rope slithers off the edge.

Quorra leans over. “It’s got good arms. And now it’s climbing!”

Zuse huffs, looking very cross. “Must be a Dread Pirate; they never give up.”

“What do we do?”

“The only reason why one’s on our tail is because he somehow knows we have Prince Edward’s brother, meaning he has to die. If he falls, that solves our problem. If not, the sword. You know where to find us.”

Quorra nods and looks at the baton on her side. “Which hand should I use?”

Zuse gestures impatiently while Anon sling Sam over his shoulder. “Whichever hand kills him.”

“But if I use the wrong hand it’ll be over too quickly.”

Zuse looks like he wants to argue but decides against it. “Just get it done. Haven’t got all day.”

Quorra looks at Anon. “I’ll be fine, Anon.”

Sam wants to know how Quorra and Anon understand each other when he hasn’t said a thing but he’s currently more worried about the blood rushing into his head. Also the Dread Pirate who’s apparently after him.

He watches Quorra’s shrinking figure lean over the cliff’s edge and call out, “Hey! Slow going?” as Anon follows Zuse into the Outlands.

Chapter Text

The Dread Pirate is moving much too slowly for Quorra’s liking. She paces for a few seconds, leans over to assess his progress, then paces for a few seconds more. She twirls her baton, rezzes its blade and makes a few practice moves, and then leans over the edge again.

“Everything all right down there?”

The Dread Pirate tilts his head up but all she sees is the glossy black helmet. Dread Pirates generally don’t unmask themselves around others but she’s just the one.

Quorra looks around. If they’re alone, then maybe…

She leans back over. “You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to Dread Pirate Paranoid, would you?”

The Basic loses his grip on an outcrop and dangles off the side of the cliff by one hand. She clamps a hand over her mouth, exclaims, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to distract you!”

The Dread Pirate tilts his head and swings his free arm up, grabs a ledge and hauls himself up a few feet. She watches him for thirty seconds, and then calls out, “Do you need help? It must be exhausting.”

The Dread Pirate tilts his head the other way.

“I have some rope, but, uh, I don’t think you’d want my help. I’m supposed to kill you. Well, not that I want to. My business isn’t with you. But I don’t have a choice. Part of the deal with Zuse, you see.”

The Basic pulls himself up another two feet.

“I promise not to kill you until you reach the top?”

He shakes his head.

“Um. My word as Paranoid’s former crewmember?”

He tilts his head the other way, then shakes it.

She frowns. She just wants to get this over with as quickly as possible so she can put it behind her and he’s taking too long.

“On the souls of my fellow ISOs you’ll reach the top alive.”

The Dread Pirate stops climbing and looks up at her. He carefully lets go of the cliff’s face with a hand and gestures for the rope. She grins and fetches it.

* * *
Quorra has heard stories about a Dread Pirate very much like this one. Wears all black from head to toe, red-orange dots scattered all over his body. One feels, however, that something’s missing from his chest, like there should be circuits there instead of a blank canvas. And that odd whirring noise he’s making, that’s supposedly the signature of Dread Pirate Rinzler.

This will be an interesting duel.

Of course there’s just one problem.

“You don’t have a beam katana, do you?” she asks while he leans against a collapsed stone pillar.

In response the Dread Pirate unhooks something from his back – the disk every Basic carries – and pulls it apart. The edges of the two disks burn like fire.

Definitely Rinzler.

“I was hoping for a duel,” she admits, disappointed, “but I suppose it’s for the best. It’s not you I want to duel anyway.”

Rinzler tilts his head to the side, curious. He reminds of her the cat she used to own when she was young.

“I’m from Arjia,” she says. “From a family of royal swordmasters. My best friend was the princess. I was nine when King Edward conquered Arjia. Everyone I knew died, and the one who killed my parents, who took my friend from me, who likes to hunt down the rest of us because he can, he planned everything. I spent nineteen years on the run, training with the best swordsmen so that when I find him I can say ‘Hello, my name is Quorra. You killed my fellow ISOs. Prepare to die’.”

Rinzler nods.

“Zuse says he can get me to this man, but only if I do this job for him. Which is why I am here to kill you. Apologies in advance.”

He gestures his understanding with one of his disks as he leaps to his feet. Quorra holds her beam katana out as the Dread Pirate crouches low, disks humming.

“Guess I’m not fencing today,” she says as Rinzler strikes.

Dread Pirates tend to fight the traditional way – with longsword and fencing techniques – but Rinzler is something else. He never stays in one place for too long, never stays on two feet for too long; he’s always flipping and twisting away from her would-be blows like a slippery grid eel and easily matching her strikes with his disks, parrying and striking as swiftly as she. Quorra wishes she didn’t have to kill him because he is simply amazing and she wants to learn that footwork.

“You’re amazing!” she says as she sends him up a flight of crumbling stairs. “You’re not at all like the other Dread Pirates!”

Rinzler bows with a flourish while dodging a strike at his head.

“I really don’t want to kill you,” she says as she crowds him against the wall of the turret they’re on. There’s no room for him to flip out of the way and she takes advantage of that. “I’m sorry, I truly am.”

Rinzler purrs and butts his helmeted head against her.

She stumbles back, almost dropping her beam katana. Then his feet hit her in the chest and she falls backwards off the turret down to the floor. The wind’s knocked out of her on impact and she rolls to the side, groaning. She hears Rinzler land on the ground not far from her and sits up. He’s standing over her, seamless black helmet watching, disks in hand.

So this is it. She’s never going to get revenge for what was done to Arjia, her parents, her childhood friend. But she knows defeat at the hands of a master, unconventional as he is, and closes her eyes.

“Do it.”

Instead, Rinzler speaks in a voice she doesn’t expect.

“As we served under Paranoid together at one point I’d rather not. But I can’t have you following me, so…”

Something hits the back of her head and-

Chapter Text

They’ve been moving at a fast pace for some time now – well, Zuse and Anon have since Sam’s still slung over the Basic’s shoulder – and at the top of a hill among giant boulders they stop to rest. Anon lowers Sam to the ground while Zuse peers in the distance, looking for Quorra.

“Well that’s impossible!”

Sam’s heart sinks as do Anon’s shoulders. Sam liked Quorra; she was genuine about her opinions and feelings - and very apologetic about the circumstances that led to him being on a Recognizer flying to the border of Bostrum. A part of him is glad that he only knew the ISO for a couple hours; Sam had lost enough people to the Dread Pirates.

“Give him to me. Do your thing and catch up with us, quickly.”

Anon tilts his head.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re a Monitor; I didn’t hire you to just scare people.”

Anon makes a gesture; Zuse sighs loudly, picks up a rock, and tosses it at him. “Throw rocks at him. Take his head off with your disk. Just be sure he’s dead. Dead. Are we clear?”

Sam is suddenly hauled to his feet and Zuse prods him forward with his cane. Sam doesn’t hesitate, not wanting to be at the receiving end of an energy bolt. He looks over his shoulder at Anon, who’s staring forlornly at the rock.

* * *
A Monitor’s directive is to maintain order, and therefore all are selected specifically for combat. Lately the Grid’s Arena had been training a new class of soldiers – the Black Guard – putting many Monitors out of commission. This is how an experienced Monitor like Anon finds company in an exiled ISO and on a warmonger’s Recognizer.

This is not something he’s meant to do.

Stopping the Dread Pirate on their tail, however, is. Dread Pirates are disruptive, dangerous, murderous, a danger to travelers on the Sea of Simulation. Anon is meant to put down threats like them.

A formidable opponent like he deserves better than a rock to the head. After all he defeated Quorra and she’s no ordinary swordfighter. Anon watches the dark shape dart across the Outlands, then drops the rock and hides in the shadows. As soon as the Dread Pirate reaches the clearing he steps into view and the Basic pulls himself up short. Anon tilts his head and assess him as they circle each other. This one is strange,, with his unusual helmet and masked circuits.

And that broken noise. Anon shivers. A Basic should not be making that noise.

This is Dread Pirate Rinzler. The Broken Basic. The Scarred One.

They size each other up, carefully sidestepping while calculating each other’s moves. When the Dread Pirate reaches for the disk at his back Anon shakes his head. The Basic drops his hand and then cocks his head to the left.

“My fight is not with you,” Rinzler hisses.

Anon nods but doesn’t step aside.

“So you want to fight with fists.”

He nods again.

Rinzler runs at him. Anon swings his fist but the Basic leaps into the air and flips off his shoulder. Anon knows what he’s going for and shakes himself violently, throwing the Dread Pirate into one of the giant boulders. As he climbs to his feet Anon charges but only manages to knick his helmet. Rinzler rolls out of the way and Anon pushes himself off the boulder and turns around.

The Dread Pirate is nowhere in sight. Anon scans the terrain – perfect for fleet footed Basics like Rinzler – and holds his arms up to block the black and orange streak coming at him. He means to turn Rinzler’s speed against him but the Dread Pirate simply uses his crossed arms to somersault over his head and grab onto the disk on his back. Anon quickly slams his back into the nearest rock but the Rinzler holds on tight.

“Apologies for the headache you’ll have when you reboot,” the Dread Pirate says right next to his head.

Anon jerks away, hands reaching behind him for the Basic but Rinzler punches his disk’s dock and-

* * *
“There was a mighty duel here,” Prince Edward says, following the ghostly steps up and down the ruins on the cliff’s edge. “Look at the footwork. Master swordsmen, from the looks of it.”

At a nod Clu rises to his feet and the footsteps fade. “The loser ran off alone and the winner is following those footsteps toward Bostrum.”

“You can’t expand the range on the tracer?” Prince Edward asks as he returns to his lightcycle.

“It’s a prototype,” Clu says, “and it only traces Basics…and ISOs.”

“That’s fine. We know where they’re going.” Prince Edward leans forward on the lightcycle and looks over his shoulder at Clu. “Mother will be displeased if we fail to rescue my brother before they reach Bostrum.”

At a nod they and several Black Guards streak through the rest of the ruins into the Outlands towards Bostrum.

* * *
Zuse, it turns out, is quite chatty, rambling on about the wars he started and the how sad he is that his genius won’t be appreciated in the history records.

“Needed just one good reason to declare war,” he says as he prods Sam onward at a fast clip. “Destroyed two colonies and planted evidence that Arjians were behind it.”

“What, you mean ISOs-“

“Keep moving!”

His legs are turning to jelly but the threat at the end of Zuse’s cane is what propels him forward towards certain death at the border of Bostrum. His toe catches on a rock jutting out of the ground and he falls on his knees. Zuse doesn’t yell at him to get up.

“This is it,” he says, scanning the steep hills. “Now where’s Gem? Trust her to be late-but that’s impossible!”

Sam looks over his shoulder at the small figure in the distance. It’s not Anon and his heart sinks.

Damn Dread Pirates.

Chapter Text

Clu watches Prince Edward trace the footwork around the clearing, including the glowing prints on the giant boulders and the massive impression on the ground.

“Someone has beaten a giant and is going to Bostrum,” the prince declares as he goes to Clu and crouched down next to him. In a lower voice he adds, “Are you absolutely sure nobody else knows?”

“Zuse may be a chatterbox but he’s as selfish as they come. The…reward was irresistible. He wouldn’t risk this mission,” Clu says. “And if he did…”

Prince Edward slowly nods. He looks at the tracer on Clu’s forearm for a second longer, then rises to his feet and turns to the waiting Black Guards.

“Bostrum will pay if my brother dies.”

* * *
Dread Pirates. Rogue Users and Basics on the high seas, raiding Recognizers and Solar Sailers, leaving none alive, obeying no laws but their own. That’s what everyone believes and the Dread Pirates like it that way.

They should be grateful that Zuse keeps his lips sealed. He knows the identities of many of them but they are – or were - very good for his business. He used to scoff at wanted alerts put up by the Grid, Bostrum, and other countries because the rewards were a pittance compared to his dealings with the Dread Pirates. Unfortunately many have left the business and the next generation wants nothing to do with his kind, forcing Zuse to deal with unsavory people to stay afloat. Of the newest rogues on the Sea Dread Pirate Mercury prefers to keep dealing with that blasted Spooler – and Zuse plans to oust him after this particular mission – and Dread Pirate Rinzler is impossible to track down.

Because Rinzler is so hard to trace having him show up on your radar means very bad things.

“Now it’s too soon for the Grid to know you’ve gone missing, so how does he know?” Zuse muses as he tightens the blindfold. “What does a Dread Pirate want with you?”

Prince Edward’s half-brother curls his lip but says nothing.

It’s just Zuse’s luck that Gem is nowhere to be found. That girl, Zuse thinks sourly as he scans the sky. Not seeing his Recognizer he sighs and presses his cane to Sam’s back, forcing him on his knees.

Rinzler slows from a run to a cautious walk, glossy helmet tilted towards Sam.

“So,” Zuse says, with a quick glance skyward, “it’s down to you and me.”

He shudders at the broken whirring purr as Rinzler steps forward, helmeted head still facing the prince’s half-brother. Zuse prods Sam’s neck with his cane. “By all means keep moving forward, if you want him dead.”

Rinzler freezes in his tracks and Zuse frowns. So the Dread Pirate wants Sam alive. How strange – it’s too soon for ransom alerts to go up, especially when half the Grid doesn’t even know Prince Edward has a brother, plus Dread Pirates don’t do ransoms and captives are not their modus operandi. Living people ruin their reputation.

Zuse prizes himself on his brains but this is a puzzle he’s having trouble putting together.

When Rinzler moves again he presses the cane harder against the User’s neck. “Just because you’re a pirate doesn’t mean you can take what I rightfully stole. And there isn’t going to be a deal, just two options – you leave or he dies. Either way, I win.”

It’s a shame this isn’t taking place at his bar, where he can challenge Rinzler to a battle of wits with a deck of cards or a poisoned cocktail. Someone who studied enough to best his swordfighter would make for an entertaining, if doomed, opponent.

“I’ve known Pirates too weak or stupid to function, but you, you beat my swordfighter and my Monitor. That alone deserves a medal. A recognition. An award.” Zuse says. “Tell you what, if you just…step aside and let me finish this I’ll give you something even better than this User. I’m in the black market business, after all. You may have heard of me?” Gem, you blasted girl. What’s taking you so long-

Zuse prides himself on knowing absolutely everything that’s going on. He’s particularly good at analyzing a situation quickly and adapting himself to it in order to survive. It’s how he keeps his head - literally. Given the nature of his work he can’t afford to make mistakes.

Taking his eyes off Sam for too long is a mistake. So is standing within striking distance of his feet.

When Zuse reboots he’s lying flat on his back at the bottom of the steep hill, clothes soiled, head and the side of his left knee pounding. His cane is nowhere to be seen, and even from down here he can tell that Sam and the Dread Pirate are gone.

And Gem is still nowhere to be seen.

* * *
Dumont finds the queen in the Records room, staring out the window.

“Your Majesty.” He sets the data pad of today’s logs on his desk. “Are you well?”

“What do you think?” Queen Jordan doesn’t turn around. “Two days and no news from either Ed or those kidnappers.”

“The prince will find them and deal with them accordingly.”

She glances over her shoulder at him. Her eyes are wet. “I never regretted it. Never regretted Kevin, or having Sam. I’m not terrible, am I? Sending my own son away like that…I hoped I was doing the right thing.”

“He would have never survived here,” Dumont says. “Especially with Clu as war minister.”

She nods and stares out the window.

“We should tell him everything, when he comes back.”

Dumont nods, grateful she said “when”. He goes to the shelves behind his desk and looks for a particular records book.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Chapter Text

Sam really can’t believe his life.

A Dread Pirate killed his father.

A Dread Pirate killed the love of his life.

The royal family took him from the only life he ever knew.

A bumbling group of programs – and one ISO – kidnapped him to start a war between the Grid and Bostrum.

And now a Dread Pirate’s kidnapped him.

Could be worse, he reasons with himself as the Dread Pirate drags him through the Outlands. Could be dead.

The strangest thing is that he doesn’t think the Dread Pirate will kill him or even hurt him. They don’t take prisoners – they leave no one alive – but he’s still standing. This one isn’t even taking him back to the Sea; they’re headed inland in a direction only the Basic knows.

When they stop for a breather Sam says, “I’m the Queen’s son, okay? You don’t really want to keep me. Just let me go and you’ll get whatever you want.”

The Dread Pirate doesn’t even look at him. He’s looking over his shoulder at some distant point, like they’re running from something.

Or someone.

* * *
“The tracer says he was here less than an hour ago.”

Prince Edward swings the light cane on his index and middle fingers as he gives the kneeling Basic a raised eyebrow. “And I suppose you have an explanation for that?”

Zuse shakes his head as he nervously picks on a soiled spot on his pants. The prince sighs and gestures for the flanking Black Guards to step back ten paces. He waits for Clu to rejoin him and then leans in. “What did you say the reward was?”

“Monopoly on Bostrum’s shipping routes.”

“Really?”

“He bit.”

Prince Edward smiles at the thought. He then turns so his back to Zuse and hands Clu the cane. “Remember - no loose ends.”

He pats the helmeted Basic on the shoulder and gestures for the Guards to get back on their lightcycles.

“Wait, Your Highness! I know who-”

The light cane goes off and a body topples over.

* * *
They stop near a ravine and that’s when Sam finally recognizes something. Unfortunately it’s a place that’s been a wellspring of horror stories meant to keep children in bed at night.

As soon as he catches his breath he asks, “Do DataWraiths really live there?”

The Dread Pirate doesn’t answer.

Sam pushes off the flat boulder he’s leaning on and walks up to the Basic. “You don’t talk, do you? That noise you’re making – what, you’re broken? Is that why you wear that helmet? Hiding something ugly? Things went wrong when you raided a Solar Sailer?”

Mouthing off a Dread Pirate is generally a terrible idea but Sam is tired and pissed off at everything. He’d been kidnapped, roughly handled, dragged through the Outlands on foot, prodded with the lethal end of a light cane, and brought within walking distance of the Canyon of the DataWraiths. It’s been a miserable two days plus twenty-seven years, excuse him for being cranky.

To his surprise though the Dread Pirate bows his head and turns away. Sam frowns, first at the unexpected reaction, and then at the red-orange circuits on the Basic’s shoulder blades, under his disk dock, and on his hips. Something about the placement is very strange…

“You are a Dread Pirate, aren’t you?”

The Basic jerks his head up and turns back around, glossy helmet tilting this way and that while the repetitive broken noise intensifies. Sam reflexively drops his gaze and then stares at the circuits marking the Dread Pirate’s front; something is missing on his chest, like circuits should be there instead of black.

Ignoring the pounding in his head and the feeling that he’s about to do something very stupid Sam takes a step forward and lifts his hand, moving it towards the Basic’s sternum. “You’re missing something…”

The whirring grows louder until it becomes the smooth roar of several lightcycles on a hill higher than theirs. Sam yanks his hand back and looks up. So that’s what the Dread Pirate was running from. He watches them pull up and a few riders dismount, then looks at the Basic.

“I know you saved me from Zuse but Junior won’t care. Get the hell out of here while you can.”

Instead the Basic shifts into a defensive position and Sam’s heart stutters to a stop; he’s seen that position before. It’s the one he uses himself because it’s the one he’s been taught years ago.

“Who are you?” Sam demands.

The Dread Pirate cocks his helmet towards Sam. “I’ll-”

There’s a faint popping noise, something glows from the cluster of lightcycles, and an energy bolt streaks across the distance towards him. Before Sam can react the Dread Pirate shoves him aside, taking the hit and sliding several feet towards the steep slope.

“Hey! Stop!” Sam waves his arms at the manned lightcycles to stop, hoping they can see, and then turns to the Dread Pirate.

And stares.

The Dread Pirate is slowly getting back on his feet and the whirring is now a horrible rattling noise, but all Sam can look at is the cluster of circuits on his chest. The color’s all wrong and they shouldn’t be flickering like that but the “T” shape is unmistakable.

Despite where he is right now, despite everything happening around him, Sam wants to cry. Instead he takes a step forward, reaching out again, trying to erase the five-year-old gap in his heart.

“Tron.”

The Dread Pirate-Tron stands absolutely still until he makes contact, then shudders and bows his helmeted head. Suddenly he jerks his chin up and Sam looks over his shoulder at the second energy bolt coming at them.

“No!”

Sam tackles Tron and they tumble down the hillside.

* * *
“Huh. They disappeared.” Prince Edward lowers the light cane. “Whoever he is I bet he’s taking my brother to the Canyon of the DataWraiths. Come on.”

They mount their lightcycles and leave.

Chapter Text

They fall.

For a split second Sam sees the bolt of white energy streak by his right shoulder. Then they hit the rocky hillside and tumble downward, dislodging large rocks and kicking up gray dust. The Dread Pirate-Tron wraps his arm around Sam and throws his hand out, fingers digging into gravel as he tries to slow their descent. A rock almost decks Sam and he buries his face into his arm as they keep sliding down.

When the world stops spinning and finding new ways to bruise him Sam cracks an eye open and looks up. The dust trail from the tumble is slowly settling back down and the cluster of lightcycles on the distant hill are gone. There are black shapes scattered here and there down the slope but they mean little to him. Sam closes eye and presses the side of his face against the incredibly warm vibrating surface he’s half-lying on. Fingers brush through his hair and he sighs, feeling the stress and tension leave his body. This was what Tron did when Sam couldn’t sleep, letting him curl up and use the older boy’s lap for a pillow while the caressing touch lulled him back into dreams where it was the three of them, him, Tron, and his father-

The Dread Pirate. Tron. He’s alive.

Sam abruptly sits up – and doubles over as the blood rushes out of his head. He swears inwardly while waiting for the lightheaded feeling to leave; his head pounds and every inch of his body hurts. He can’t even breathe without feeling a sharp pain in his side.

Then he hears the rattling broken whirring and feels a light touch on his shoulder.

“Sam?”

He lifts his head and slowly looks over his shoulder, then turns the rest of himself around.

The helmet is gone. There are lines on his weathered face and his gray eyes are aged; his hair is a little longer with strands of silver and there’s a thick scar running down the side of his neck and disappearing under the collar of his black suit. On his sternum are the telltale circuits, no longer flickering but glowing steadily. Sam almost reaches out to trace the red-orange squares but clenches his hand and keeps it at his side.

He doesn’t know what to believe, what to think, what to say, what to do. Tron is here, Tron is alive. But he was dead. He was dead for five years, the victim of a Dread Pirate. He’d been ripped out of Sam’s life right at the beginning of something new, leaving him to carry on with a wound that wouldn’t heal.

Tron had been alive all this time and Sam didn’t know until now.

“We should-we should probably move-”

Sam punches him in the face.

“Five years! Five years I thought you were dead. After they told me what happened to your Solar Sailer I…I died that day. You were all I had after Dad died and then you-I was all alone. Five fucking years, Tron! And you were alive all this time? You could’ve said something! Done something! Why didn’t you?” His knuckles hurt and his voice is getting steadily hoarser but he doesn’t stop. “Why are you making that stupid noise, and what’s with the helmet, the getup, this-this color? Why are you a Dread Pirate? What, you’re killing people now? Basics? ISOs? What the fuck, Tron? What happened to you?”

It’s getting harder to hold back the tears with the pained look Tron is giving him and the words, the frustration, the fear that keeps coming out of his mouth and hanging in the cold dead air around them. Sam tries to breathe but he can’t, too choked up on the absurdity of absolutely everything that’s happened to him since Tron left the farm to find their future five years ago.

He feels as lost and alone the day he got the news when he closes his eyes and whispers, “Why didn’t you come home?”

He can only hear his thundering heart and the awful rattling whir that sets his teeth on edge. Then his breath hitches at the warm, caressing touch on the left side of his face, at the thumb wiping away the tears.

“I’m sorry,” Tron says softly. He even sounds different, voice deeper and laced with too many worries and cares for someone his age, and Sam thinks about that horrendous scar on his neck. What happened to you? “I’m sorry it took me five years to come back for you. I tried…you don’t know how I tried, but they wouldn’t let me.”

Sam looks up. “They? What are you talking about?”

Tron shakes his head. “Maybe later. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” His eyes are too bright and his voice shakes with so many unsaid things. “I thought I’d never see you again. You have no idea…”

Sam stifles a sob at the words, bows his head while Tron slides closer to him. He feels the Basic’s other hand resting lightly against the side of his neck, fingers on the racing pulse. Sam holds his hands together tightly in his lap, takes a shuddering breath as he feels lips brush against damp eyelids. They follow the trail of tears and then down the curve of his jaw to his mouth, where Tron murmurs, “I’ll always come back for you, no matter what happens.”

Overwhelmed and unable to say anything Sam just nods, and Tron kisses him for the first time in five years.

Chapter Text

“What do we do now?” Sam asks while Tron kisses the rapid pulse on the side of his neck.

“Get away from the Gridian war minister,” he says. “My Recognizer is waiting on the other side of the Canyon. We get there-” He lifts his head and leans in, kisses Sam gently. “-and we can go wherever you like.”

A giddy feeling bubbles up in Sam’s chest but he still has so many questions and unfinished business to take care. “I can’t just leave.”

Tron frowns. “What do you mean?”

Where does he even begin? “All Dad ever said about my mom was that she died in an accident when I was two. Guess I was too young to understand what happens when you have an affair with the queen of the Grid.”

Oddly enough all Tron does to that bit of information is say, “So you want to say goodbye.”

“Something like that. I’ve only known her...personally, for a few months but I just...feel it’s better if I tell her the life Junior dragged me into’s not for me.” Sam then remembers the ISO he befriended. “Radia, too. Should tell her.”

“Radia?” There’s a strange look on Tron’s face. “I heard that name before.”

“She’s the last ISO royal; parents ruled Arjia. She’s supposed to marry Junior on the Grid’s millennial birthday.”

“Junior?” Tron echoes as he rises to his feet. Sam winces inwardly as the whirring stutters loudly and the circuits on the Basic’s chest flicker. “Is that what you call the prince?”

Sam takes the proffered hand but stands up under his own power anyway. “That’s what the queen-that’s what Mom calls him. He hates it so Radia and I call him that, too. Where are we going? Shouldn’t we rest up a bit-I mean, that noise…”

Tron squeezes his hand and he stops. “Can’t stay out in the open, in case the war minister finds us. Can’t rest either. We have to reach my Recognizer.” They start walking, Tron leading the way. “And the noise…it’s not going away for a while.”

Sam sees his aborted motion towards the scar on his neck. “What happened?”

“I was in a fight two years ago,” Tron says quietly, eyebrows furrowed as he presses his fingers on his sternum and slides up, tracing the scar. “I almost died. Ever since then my circuits have been like this.”

He holds their linked hands up, showing the angry red pulsing through the lines on the back of his thumb and first two fingers.

“And the ones on your chest?”

“I had to disguise myself somehow. Not a lot of Basics have these kinds of circuits.”

Sam nods at the answers and then looks around them. The walls of the ravine are becoming steeper, casting long shadows on the dry ground. Ahead of them is the Canyon of the DataWraiths and he pulls himself up short. Tron tugs on his hand and then turns around.

“What is it?”

“We’re going in there?” The old stories flip through his mind. They terrified him as a child and even though he’s now an adult seeing the fabled home of the life-leeching monsters still fills him with dread.

Tron looks at the canyon mouth and then back. He opens his mouth to say something but instead looks up as the loud of hum of lightcycles fill the ravine instead. Sam sees the distinct yellow glow of the Gridian war minister’s circuits – isn’t his name Clu? – and then narrows his eyes at the pale white line hanging off the arm of the lead lightcycle rider.

It looks like Zuse’s cane.

Sam scans the other lightcycles but Zuse’s white clothes and circuits are nowhere in sight. He then realizes that the one with Zuse’s cane doesn’t have circuits.

Can’t be. He takes a step towards the steep wall – and then is yanked towards the Canyon.

“Wait!” Sam digs his heels into the ground. “That’s Junior-”

“I’m not concerned about the prince,” Tron says as the war minister dismounts from his lightcycle. “We have to go. Sam.”

He hesitates. If Tron’ll just give him a chance to go up there and explain the situation to Junior they can avoid going in that canyon. Then he thinks about what Tron said and turns to him. “Why are you running from the war minister?”

“Not here.” Tron pulls him and this time Sam follows, stumbling a bit before regaining his footing. “Anywhere but here. They can’t follow us down here without risking death. Come on.”

Sam looks over his shoulder as they head to the ravine and watches the war minister hand the lead lightcycle rider-Junior the cane. Then they disappear from view as steep canyon walls rise up on either side, blocking out most of the sunlight. Tron then abruptly stops and Sam slams into his back.

They’re at the edge of a cliff. A path weaves down at least a hundred feet of sheer rock to the bottom of the Canyon, which seems to stretch on for miles. Sam leans over the ledge and his stomach twists at the mist gathered down below. He thinks he can see the gaunt twisted form of a DataWraith walking along the ground, circuits glowing hungrily.

“Looks inviting,” he says.

“My Recognizer and crew are on the other side of the Canyon,” Tron says. “With the war minister personally involved I can’t call them up for help without risking their arrest. We’ll have to cross the Canyon ourselves.”

Sam swallows hard as he edges away, tugging Tron back with him. “Cross the Canyon. Right. Walking through every kid’s nightmare like a stroll down the street.”

“Or uphill to the farm,” Tron adds, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come on.”

“You don’t think there’s a grain of truth to the stories?” Sam asks as they start down the path.

“DataWraiths died out decades ago. We’ll be fine.”

Chapter Text

They have a long way to go before they reach the bottom of the Canyon, which seems like a good time as any to get answers.

“How’d you become a Dread Pirate?”

He feels Tron’s hand flex, sees circuits flicker momentarily.

“I...” Tron looks over his shoulder at Sam with a wary gray eye. “Dread Pirates don’t leave anyone alive. I was the last one standing when Paranoid’s crew came for me. I killed three before Paranoid...decided to fight me himself.”

Tron abruptly turns his head away and stares across the canyon. “Didn’t get a chance to kill me. Bostrumite Recognizers appeared on the horizon and they had to leave. I was still alive, so they knocked me out and took me on board. When I came to we were on the other side of the world and the last Bostrumite Recognizer was sinking into the sea.”

“And Paranoid didn’t kill you?”

Tron hesitates. “...no. He thought I might be useful so he forced me into service. Spent three years on his Recognizer.” He stops walking and turns to Sam, leans in and cups the side of his face. “I thought I’d die on the seas without ever seeing you again.”

Sam kisses him softly. “I’m here now.”

It takes a few minutes for them to start walking again.

“So you were with Paranoid for three years,” Sam says. “You were gone for five.”

The whirring noise becomes increasing louder, echoing off the walls.

“We were just miles from the border. Thought once we crossed I’ll sneak away, find my way back to you,” Tron says slowly. “But...what do you know about the Gridian war minister?”

“His name’s Clu?”

“What else?”

“Don’t know. I never see him and nobody ever talks about him.”

“And the Grid-Arjia War?”

“I was six. Like I know.”

He’s not sure what the point is but Tron keeps giving him this look so he adds, “Arjia lost and the last royal lives in ENCOM City. She’s marrying Junior in a few weeks.”

“Do you know who engineered the war and won it?”

“What’s the point-wait, are you saying-”

“Clu killed Lord Jalen and Lady Ophelia himself. He’s been hunting down surviving ISOs ever since.”

“I...I don’t...” How does Radia sleep at night? “What does this have to do with you?”

Tron smiles wryly as he glances up at the blue sliver of sky. “One of Paranoid’s crew members was an ISO and Clu found out. Harboring ISOs is treason, and all Dread Pirates have bounties on their heads. So he went after us, boarded the Recognizer with Sentries and killed half the crew before we knew what was happening. After that we tried to run. I was so close...”

“I tried…you don’t know how I tried, but they wouldn’t let me.”

“Then what?” Sam asks.

“They hit the Recognizer and stopped us dead, boarded and killed everyone who stood in the way. After that, it was just me, the ISO, and Paranoid. Paranoid wouldn’t hand her over; he recruited her to protect her from Clu and he was going to fight until she was safe.”

“What, so Dread Pirates have hearts now?”

Tron shrugs. “We kept the Sentries and Clu occupied until she got out. After that...” He shakes his head. “It was hopeless. We were fighting for our lives but we were outnumbered. Paranoid was the first to go, then...”

Sam stops walking and Tron turns around to him. He raises his free hand and brushes fingertips along the thick scar running down Tron’s neck. The broken noise stutters as Tron bows his head and takes a deep breath.

“Clu struck you down.”

Tron nods. “Tossed me off the Recognizer to drown. I got lucky, though; a current pulled me away and left me somewhere far from the Grid. It took me months to recover and the town that found me wanted me to stay but I couldn’t. I was broken and I didn’t belong; I was just counting down the days until I could head back to the Grid. Clu has a long memory, though, and when he heard I survived he sent Sentries to finish the job. They razed half the town. I barely escaped but one of them hit me, left me this.” He gestures to the red circuits. “I was on the run, Sam. I couldn’t go home, not without half the Gridian army chasing after me. I...I wasn’t even sure you’d still be there if I did manage to get past them.”

“You could’ve sent a message, you know,” Sam says shakily. “Could’ve tried to contact me instead of assume I moved on or something-”

“If I tried and Clu intercepted that message you’d be in danger-”

“What, so you decided it was better to let me continue thinking you were dead? Decided to go rogue instead and become a Dread Pirate? How does that-they killed Dad. They killed you. And now you’re-you’re one of them!”

“I didn’t have a lot of options. I didn’t know how else to get past Clu-”

“Well that makes sense-”

“As a Dread Pirate I have a reputation, I have connections, people who can guide me home. If it makes you feel any better I only struck military Recognizers and Solar Sailers. I had to get back at Clu for what he did to me, to Paranoid, to the ISOs. And every day I was a few miles closer to you...then I heard what happened.”

“What, that I’m Prince Junior’s brother and Dad had an affair with the queen?”

“That you were living under the same roof as Clu. I had to get you out.”

Sam stares at him, and then says, “I need to think.”

He turns and walks up the pathway.

“Sam-”

“No. I need to be alone.”

He feels Tron’s eyes on him but he doesn’t stop walking for a long time.

Chapter Text

Everything in him yells to go drag Sam back because now’s not the time to throw a fit over something that was out of his control, but Tron stays put. Instead he starts counting time as he stares across the canyon, slipping back into an old habit he’d almost forgotten. Every second they lose is Clu’s to gain but Tron realizes that he needs this breather to clear his mind and regroup himself.

He still only allows them five minutes before starting up the pathway.

Sam didn’t get that far. Tron finds him just a few meters up, sitting against the wall and cradling his hand. Another thing five years haven’t changed and Tron inwardly sighs as he quickens his stride. Before Sam realizes he’s there Tron crouches down and pulls the hand free to study the bloodied knuckles. He glances up as he brushes his thumb over the injury, watches Sam flinch and look away.

“What did you think would happen if you punched the wall?”

Sam says nothing but lets Tron pull him to his feet and lead him down the wide ledge.

“We need to move. Don’t want to be caught up here once it gets dark.”

He hopes that the Canyon’s reputation will be enough to deter Clu. A rare map Tron remembers picking up at a hostel in FCon City revealed a maze of twisting ravines and dead ends. It’s a death trap worse than the storied Three Terrors of the Canyon; Tron’s just lucky he found a map long before he had any reason to hide in it.

Two Terrors, he corrects himself. DataWraiths are extinct.

He looks over his shoulder and is struck by his inability to read the expression on Sam’s face. The weight of the five years start bearing down on him again, reminding him that they’re not the same people they were back then. He wonders if they still have a chance once they’re far from the Grid.

Well, Sam hasn’t let go of his hand. Tron curls his fingers slightly, notices blue eyes flick up in surprise.

They’re near the bottom and the sky is turning deep blue when Sam says, “I’m sorry.”

He almost fends off the apology. He’s the one who left, the one who wandered two years after escaping Clu, unable to go home. Or unwilling, he’s not sure. He’s not sure of anything anymore.

“Shouldn’t have...walked off like that. I’m still pissed off but after everything you went through...you deserve better than that.”

“You have every right-”

“You still came back.”

Tron stops and turns around. Not a second later Sam envelops him in a hug, face buried into his neck as he repeats himself over and over.

“You still came back.”

* * *
Too soon after they reach the bottom they run into the first of three-two Terrors. Tron had memorized the notes input at a corner of the map but he’s still unprepared for the geyser suddenly spewing energy out of the ground. He yanks Sam back and they stare as the white-hot energy reaches for the sky.

“Holy shit,” Sam gasps as they inch around the geyser. “Seriously, what the hell?”

“Energy spurts,” he says. “Tread carefully.”

“Yeah, okay. What the fuck...”

They weave carefully through the darkening terrain. Tron takes the lead, watching for any sign of another geyser about to go off and trying to ignore the uncomfortably warm ground underfoot, an uneasy reminder of what they’re walking on.

Sure enough, something glows in the shadow of the remnants of a rock slide; he throws an arm out to keep Sam back as raw energy shoots out of the ground, boiling so hot it’s tinged blue.

They get through the minefield of energy spurts at a crawling pace; by the time they reach safe ground it’s nightfall. The low-hanging moon and his own fiery circuits light the way as he tries to remember the quickest way across the Canyon. They still have a long way to go but not tonight; the chase had taken a toll on him and he can’t imagine how exhausted Sam is from the ordeal. Their best bet is to find shelter near water or an energy pool and wait for dawn.

Tron glances at Sam and studies the way he cradles his right hand. “Come on. Keep an eye out for energy pools.”

“Why?”

“Because neither of us have food, and it’ll work just as well on your hand.”

“We’re staying here tonight, aren’t we?”

“We don’t have a choice.”

Sam kicks at the ground. “Never thought I’d come here one day. Never thought I’d go camping here. I mean, the stories they used to tell...”

“Probably why the Canyon’s safe. Nobody wants to come here.”

Sam huffs a laugh. “And here we are...”

A wide deep river flows through the old riverbed that carved the Canyon. They find it after a slow half-hour trek; Sam stumbles ahead to crouch down and submerge his hand in it. He hisses and yanks it back out.

“Fuck that’s cold.” Tron watches him shake off the excess and scoop some water out with his other hand to drink. Sam takes a deep breath and then raises his head. “Wait, wasn’t there something specifically about the river?”

“About what’s living in it, you mean.” Tron narrows his eyes as a part of the moon’s reflection separates itself and starts moving upstream towards them. “You should step back.”

“What? Why?”

Tron reaches for his disks. “Don’t you remember? The stories were about the grid eels.”

Sam yanks his hand away from the river and stumbles back just as the glowing lines on the back of the massive grid eel break the surface. Monstrous jaws full of needle teeth snap at the air before the eel shimmies back into deeper waters and heads downstream to a swirl of underwater lights.

“We have to cross the river, don’t we?”

Chapter Text

“Is there a reason why you’re advising against following them into the Canyon?”

Clu minimizes the tracer’s interface and turns to Prince Edward. “Canyons are dangerous. If we’re not careful we can lose ourselves in there for days, and we don’t have enough supplies to last us for that long. You also have the millennial birthday, and the war with Bostrum, to plan. In fact I suggest letting them go-”

“If they escape-” Prince Edward looks over his shoulders but the Black Guards standing around the perimeter of their camp don’t move. “I don’t want anyone challenging my claim to the throne.”

“He doesn’t seem very interested in it, Your Highness.”

“You can never tell.” Prince Edward adjusts his glasses as he turns his head to the Canyon. “I should’ve left him alone. Now that he knows-”

“Get some rest, Your Highness. The other side of the Canyon is a miles-long journey and you’ll need your wits to deal with them if they survive it.”

“What, you think those stories are true? Never thought you’d believe them, of all Basics.”

Clu smiles as he presses a circuit at the back of his collar and his helmet reforms around his head. “Every story has a grain of truth to it, don’t you think?”

He turns and walks to the perimeter of the camp. The nearby Black Guard doesn’t move an inch, doesn’t watch him bring up the tracer’s interface and study it. Satisfied, Clu turns it off and places his hands behind his back, waits for the sun to rise.

* * *
“Is it safe?”

Tron just gives him a look as he circles the pool, scanning the sheltered arae. Sam shifts uneasily, gestures and clarifies, “It tried to boil our faces off just hours ago.”

“That was an energy spurt. It’s supposed to try to boil your face off.”

Sam scowls and leans over the edge to lightly tap the glowing surface with an index finger, watches the raw energy ripple. Refined energy he’s familiar with but something this unfiltered and pure makes him wary of its effects. Part of his mind wonders how much energy he’s standing on and how much it’ll cost to farm it all. He submerges his injured hand in it, feels the scrapes and bruises throb as the energy starts accelerating the healing process.

Tron moves to the other side and crouches down. Sam stares at the glow of white energy on Tron’s face as the Basic dips his hand into the pool, heart suddenly pounding and something twisting tightly in his chest. He feels like he’s fifteen again, confused and anxious over the magnetic pull to the unassuming farmhand he’d known all his life.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but raises an eyebrow instead when Tron slips into the pool, leaving a rippling trail. He doesn’t know why the first thing to come to mind is the drowning when he was fourteen, the eerie wrongness of the empty seat next to his in the classroom for the rest of the year. He leans over the edge when Tron doesn’t reappear, wondering if calling for him will do any good, and then yelps and falls back when the Basic suddenly surfaces just inches from his face. Sam quickly sits up, flushed with embarrassment, while Tron leans against the edge of the pool.

“Not cool,” he grumbles as he looks up and...forgets everything else.

Sam has seen circuits on bare skin a handful of times, the most recent being the ISO marking on Radia’s arm. He’s never seen it like this, red-violet lines spreading out along Tron’s neck from under the collar of his suit like the branches of a tree and curving around his jaw to continue climbing into drenched hair. He wonders if it’s the same under the black suit and goes hot at the thought.

“Do-” He licks his lip with a dry tongue, notices Tron’s too-bright eyes track it. “Do all Basics do that?”

“I don’t know. Never bothered finding out.”

Sam inches forward on his hands and knees and Tron pulls himself a few inches out of the pool.

“Why not?” He wonders why his voice dropped several decibels. Why he’s having trouble breathing.

He follows a drop of energy sliding down the side of the Tron’s face and thinks about licking it off. Thinks about closing the five years of distance between them for good. Thinks about getting rid of the loneliness that burned him up and left him empty and aching for too long. He reaches out and traces a glowing line with his index finger, feels Tron shudder and breathe harshly. Sam curls his fingertips around the edge as Tron leans up and whispers against the bow of his lips.

“Because I’m in love with a human and I’d rather have him see them.”

Sam leans in and kisses him, feels Tron curve a hand around the back of his head as he presses into an energy-soaked mouth. He feels the buzz almost immediately, a thrum under his skin as raw energy coats his tongue and works towards the back of his throat. Then all he can taste is Tron’s mouth, bittersweet like it should, and it’s all he wants right now.

It’s what he always wanted.

They pull apart reluctantly and Sam presses his forehead to Tron’s, breathing heavily. His heart’s going a mile a minute and his mind’s hopelessly fogged over with want and need and the raw energy’s erratic high.

“Five years,” he says. “Never stopped loving you.”

He feels Tron press a careful kiss to his lips, hears him whisper his name. Then the Basic pulls back, looks at him with darkened eyes and violet circuits, and gestures for him as he moves to the middle of the pool. Sam takes a deep breath and slides in after him.

Chapter Text

He wakes up just once during the night, blinking blearily as he tries to remember where he is, what angular thing is digging into his shoulder, and why his back’s so cold. His eyes focus on four fiery circuits in front of him forming a “T” as he becomes aware of an uneasy broken whir and his breath catches; a part of him tries to bolt from the color and noise while the other presses closer to the Basic sleeping next to him. The memories of the past few days shiver through him and he curls up against Tron, shuts his eyes and sinks back into sleep.

* * *
Sam looks around warily as they pick their way through the terrain, following a brook of raw energy through a forest of dead trees. Their gray gnarly branches reach out for him, threatening to snatch him away and smother him in the hard earth underfoot. Many of them seem to shimmer with their own light; upon closer inspection Sam can see thin tendrils of energy flowing upwards between the bark's cracks like circuitry.

“The hell is this place?” he asks when they stop to catch a breather by the brook. He swallows down a small handful of energy, feels its tingling hot flush.

“‘The Dead Forest’.”

“Seriously? They couldn’t come up with a better name?”

Tron shrugs. “It says everything that needs to be said.”

Sam kicks at loose pebbles as he walks to Tron’s side. “How close are we?”

“Not too far. We should get going, come on.”

The forest doesn’t end. They’ve been walking for close to an hour and all Sam can see are trees, trees, and the canyon walls sandwiching them in. A cold breeze winds through the canyon and swirls around him; he shivers and shoves his hands in his pockets, scans the area nervously.

“You sure they won’t be waiting for us at the end of the canyon?”

“Canyons have more than one way in and out; we’ll just have to hope they picked the wrong exit, or didn’t even bother. This place has its reputation, after all.”

“We’re talking about DataWraiths, aren’t we?” Sam scans the area as they splash through a lukewarm stream of energy. “You said they died out a long time ago.”

“I told you the stories a long time ago and you still had problems walking in here.”

“Because we’re on the run?”

Tron smiles at that. “Fair enough.”

High above their heads the sun disappears behind a thick layer of clouds. The world darkens and the temperature drops several degrees. Suddenly the dead trees look more menacing and despite himself Sam starts pressing closer to Tron and away from the trees as they continue their trek to Tron’s Recognizer. The wind blows and a tree creaks loudly; he twitches, rubs his arm as he looks over his shoulder. Something flits out of the corner of his eye but all he sees is a tree branch. It brings to mind one of the old stories and he regrets ever believing he was brave enough to listen to them late at night.

“This place is fucking creepy,” he mutters as he stares down at his feet. At this angle every tree looks like the skeleton of a DataWraith's victim, sucked dry and left standing as a trophy and a warning. “You really sure about the DataWraiths?”

“Yes,” Tron says.

Of course that’s when the DataWraith strikes.

Purple-white light explodes in his face and he stumbles back, throwing his arm up to shield his eyes. A heavy thunk and something crashes to the ground. San opens his eyes to see a gaunt elongated bipedal creature, stone gray skin marked with wild circuits, looming over Tron. It makes a grab for Tron with glowing fingers; Tron twists away at the last second and leaps onto his feet, disks in hand. He looks at Sam and mouths a word before darting away and flinging a disk at the creature's side.

DataWraith.

"You gotta be kidding me!"

The DataWraith turns its head and then the rest of its body around to him.

"Oh shit."

A red-orange disk hits its shoulder and bounces off; the DataWraith turns back around to Tron and makes a grab for him. Tron ducks out of the way and snatches his disk out of the air. He flings it back at the DataWraith and while it dodges the fiery blur he leaps onto its back. Tron's head disappears under his helmet as he slams the flat of his disk into the side of its head.

It shrieks at an unholy pitch, grabs Tron, and throws him into a tree. Tron lands in a heap as the tree's circuits dim and struggles back up as the DataWraith approaches. Sam sees one of his disks lying a few feet away and runs to it, snatches it up and almost drops it from the line of heat running along its edge. He hefts it gingerly as he runs to the DataWraith and slams it into its lower back before it can shred Tron.

It turns on Sam and reaches for him; he drops the disk and ducks behind a tree, flinches when it punches through the trunk and showers him with splinters. The tree goes dark as he darts off for more cover. Instead he collides with the DataWraith's leg and tumbles to the ground, scrambles back as it steps forward.

"Tron!" he yells.

A black and red-orange blur streaks in from his right. Tron slams into its side, swings upwards onto its shoulders, and buries his disks into the circuits on its neck. The DataWraith flares erratically as it staggers about, trying to pry the disks out. Tron pulls Sam to his feet and herds him back until it stops flailing in the dirt and its circuits go dark.

* * *
"DataWraiths died out. DataWraiths don't exist. DataWraiths are like fairytales but worse. DataWraiths-"

Tron squeezes his hand tightly and Sam shuts up.

"We're almost there," he says as they run through the narrow passageway. At the end is a host of living trees and freedom and-

Chapter Text

...tick tick tick tick...

He comes back online slowly, feeling first the rough ground underneath him and then the throbbing in his head. Then comes the soreness in his back and he vaguely remembers slamming himself against a boulder repeatedly.

Now why did he do that?

Anon twitches, slides his arm a few inches away from his body, and is relieved to know that at least one of his limbs is responsive. He considers moving into a vertical position but the incessant throbbing in his head says no.

As he continues assessing his status he realizes that the ticking sound is coming from him. He's injured somewhere but he can't feel it yet. Or it's the incapacitating headache; he remembers a harsh voice apologizing for -

Rinzler. He lost to the Dread Pirate Rinzler...and he's still alive?

"Apologies for the headache you’ll have when you reboot."

There is something very strange about this situation and it's bogging down his training and his methodology. It's not like he's going to find out the whole story, though. It's not his business, anyway; in these uncertain times he's just muscle for hire and he doesn't make a living sticking his head into things he has no business sticking it in. He likes his head, too, and today he came a little too close to losing it.

Anon forcibly pushes himself up and into a sitting position, then looks down at himself for signs of visible damage. He sees none. The Dread Pirate didn't so much as scratch his armor. He wonders if the Basic would've gone right for his dock even if they had fought with disks.

The ticking fades with the headache the longer Anon sits in the ring of boulders. The sky is darkening - night's falling - and he's all alone in the Outlands. No Quorra, no Zuse, no Gem, no Recognizer, no one. He has no other orders and he doesn't know if the Dread Pirate had shown Quorra the same mercy...or the same kind of haste.

A small part of him hopes Rinzler finds what he's looking for.

When the headache is finally gone and the ticking becomes the barely perceptible hum of a fully functional Basic Anon stands up, picks a direction, and starts walking.

* * *
It's raining. Radia almost plants her cheek against the glass as she peers outside, watching Users and Basics go about their business on the streets. She hears someone approach but doesn't turn around.

"Well it's not raining in the Outlands."

She turns then, and gives a curt bow. "Your Majesty."

Queen Jordan only nods and gestures for her to sit on the bench next to the window. There's a data pad in her hands, presumably a message from the prince.

"He says the Bostrumites are in league with a Dread Pirate," the queen says. "But with Clu at his side they should have little trouble rescuing Sam."

Radia shudders at the war minister's name and Queen Jordan notices, bows her head as the lines on her face deepen. "I really am sorry for all this, but such is life for people like us. We rarely get what we want and we must make do with what we have in order to survive."

She knows the queen is talking about her impending marriage but can't help feeling that she's talking about herself as well. Radia squares her shoulders and says, "I can manage."

"It won't be easy."

"I've lived around Prince Junior long enough; I know his strengths and weaknesses-"

"I'm talking about Clu."

Her breath hitches as the memory blazes in her mind, the Basic stabbing her guards and throwing her playmate into the rubble before hauling her up and carrying her to the Grid and captivity. She bows her head and forces herself to focus on the details on the floor, tries to push the images out of her head.

"Unless something happens he will stay at his position and you will have to deal with him for many, many years." The queen takes her hand and holds it tight. "Don't flinch when I say his name. Look him in the eye when he's in the room. Prove you're stronger than him and he can't push you around."

"Junior does and Clu still controls him."

Queen Jordan smiles bitterly. "I know. Soon I'll be out of power and there'll be one less person standing between him and more war."

She can't tell if the queen's talking about her son or Clu.

"Does Sam make you happy?" Queen Jordan suddenly asks.

"I..." Don't know, she wants to say but that's not true. "He does, but we both lost too many people."

"Maybe that's enough. It's not like Kevin came from nowhere..."

"You're not playing matchmaker, are you?" she asks boldly.

The queen laughs at that. "I'm not. Besides, marrying my son will keep Clu from having any real claim to the throne."

"I...don't...." You're talking politics. "Sam and Clu-"

"Something of a distant uncle." Queen Jordan glances at the data pad and rises to her feet. Radia quickly stands up as well. "I have a meeting with the senators. You know what to do."

She nods, gives the queen a short bow, and turns around to go find Dumont and Shaddox.

* * *
He smiles wryly as the bald Basic sidles into his cramped room, gingerly balancing a tray of food.

"You can set it down...there," he says, pointing at the only empty square foot on his desk. "Thank you, Jarvis."

He's almost tempted to poke Jarvis, just to see the look on his face, but holds the temptation in check and waits until the door is shut and locked somewhere to his left. With a sigh he stretches his arms and legs, cracks his back, and leans over to pluck out the quaint slip of folded paper.

Guess who found him first. You know what that means.

"Sam..."

Chapter Text

“This is interesting.”

Tron guides Sam behind him and reaches for his disks. He looks between the bespectacled human with a passing resemblance to Sam and the Basic who ruined his life as he pushes Sam back towards the Canyon.

“Give him up, Pirate,” the prince says.

“No.”

“Not the answer I was looking for,” Prince Edward says. A light cane hangs from his arm. “Let’s try again - let him go.”

The war minister’s helmeted head is tilted towards Sam and fury flares up in Tron as he nudges Sam back another step. You can’t have him.

“Don’t make it harder than it has to be. You’ll never get out of this alive unless you-”

“He’s not holding the prince hostage.”

Clu takes a step towards Sam and Tron reorients himself to shield him. He notes movement in the background and estimates at least six Black Guards moving into position around them. The odds of surviving the impending battle drop but there’s still a sliver of a chance...

“What are you talking about?” Prince Edward demands.

“Take a look, Your Highness. There’s nothing preventing him from escaping. In fact the Pirate is protecting him from us.” Clu starts walking, helmeted head turned to Sam as he circles them. Tron feels Sam backing up against him, tense with fear. “Makes you curious, doesn’t it? Makes you wonder what happened in the Canyon.”

“Not your business,” Sam spits out. “Let him go. He’s not hurting anyone.”

“He’s a Dread Pirate,” Prince Edward says. “A criminal with a record of committing acts of terrorism against this kingdom, including kidnapping you-”

“Saving me from others!”

“Yeah, because that’s what Dread Pirates do. They rescue royals from their kidnappers because they want to. You can’t be this stupid-”

“Speak for yourself-”

“I spent several days in the Outlands trying to save an idiot of a brother-”

“You dragged me into this life-”

“If I may, Highness,” the war minister interrupts. “If I remember correctly, consorting with criminals of this class is treason and we don’t allow traitors to the crown to live.”

Tron jerks his head to the war minister and Sam gasps, presses up against him. Even the prince looks taken back.

“I told Mother I was bringing him back alive,” Prince Edward says. “I’m not killing him.”

“Think about it,” Clu purrs. “Dread Pirates don’t save people, and your brother isn’t attempting to escape him. Either they came to an agreement while running through the Canyon or they made one before he was kidnapped.”

Is the war minister actually suggesting that he and Sam are plotting against the throne? Where is he getting this from and what’s his end game?

“But you-” The prince catches himself. “You need to make certain before you execute them.”

“You’re joking,” Sam says shakily. “You’re fucking joking. You actually believe him?”

“I trust the war minister in these matters. Don’t make it hard for me or our mother, Sam. I’d hate to tell her what you’ve been plotting behind our backs.”

“You’ll kill him if I go with you.”

“So you’re gonna take your chances fighting us-” Prince Edward makes a gesture and eight Black Guards emerge from the brush to surround them. Tron reflexively reaches for his disks but the Guards grip their weapons as well, forcing him to lower his arm. “-and be labeled a traitor? You’ll lose the only family you have left.”

Tron glances over his shoulder at Sam and then at Clu and the Guards surrounding them, tries to imagine them escaping in one piece. His Recognizer is too far away and they don’t have lightcycles. The weight of the alternative starts sinking in and the rattling sound he can’t stop making suddenly becomes louder. The Guards flinch and Prince Edward frowns at him.

“Keep in mind, Sam,” Clu says, “if you do manage to get away, you’ll always be on the run from me. You know what that’s like, Pirate.”

Tron snarls and clenches his fists. “Don’t you dare.”

“It’s my job.” Clu folds his arms behind his back and faces them. “So what will it be? Will you surrender or try to fight your way out of this?”

“I’m not giving him up,” Sam says, and the Black Guards pull out their weapons.

He can’t lose Sam like this. He can’t protect Sam and fight Clu, let alone eight Guards and Clu, and guarantee their survival. Whatever happens to him Sam has to get out unscathed.

“And if I surrender?” Tron carefully asks. “What happens to Sam if I-”

“No!” Sam grabs his arm and pulls him around. “Are you crazy?”

“Do you see what we’re up against? We’re outnumbered, my Recognizer is too far away, and we can’t escape back to the Canyon. We won’t survive the fight-”

“You’re a Dread Pirate. We can try-”

“No.” Tron grips Sam’s shoulders tightly and looks him in the eye. “You’re not throwing your life away like this. Not for me.”

“I’m not losing you again.”

“You’re not dying for me.” The Guards take a step forward, slowly closing in around them. Prince Edward watches uneasily from the sidelines but Clu, Clu’s helmeted head is tilted towards them. Tron pulls Sam close, whispers, “You have to live.”

Sam takes a shuddering breath. “Five years, Tron. I can’t-not again- not without you-”

“You have to.” He won’t kiss Sam in front of the prince or Clu. He presses his lips to Sam’s forehead and pushes him back. “Take him.”

Two Guards escort Sam to the prince’s lightcycle and a third detaches himself from the circle to bring up the rear. Tron watches them leave, watches Sam look over his shoulder as the distance grows between them.

He hears something collapse and retract behind him and turns around. Kevin’s face stares back at him.

“Oh Tron,” Clu says. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Welcome back.”

Chapter Text

There’s something wrong with this picture.

He knows of Clu, has fought Clu, has escaped Clu, but he had never told Clu his name. He had never given the war minister a reason to look for him under his real name. Dread Pirate Rinzler? Yes. Tron? No. And shouldn’t Clu have already given orders to execute him?

“What do you mean by ‘welcome back’?” he asks while the Guards close in on him.

Instead of answering Clu starts walking around him, appraising him like he’s a lightcycle or a particularly excellent casket of energy. Tron turns around to face him, feeling uncomfortable with the attention the war minister is giving him.

“So you took on the cover stories as your own memories,” Clu mutters. “You don’t remember anything at all.”

Tron bristles, clenches his fists and takes a step forward. The Guards tense and move even closer. “What does that mean?”

“Luckily nobody else broke through the rectification,” Clu continues, dictating his thoughts to himself out loud. “Will have to study this further in case something does go wrong on the front. But you, you’re the prototype. Full of errors. It’s expected.”

Prototype? A chill crawls up Tron’s back and through his fiery circuits. A horrifying thought nudges at the back of his mind and he asks faintly, “What did you do to me?”

“Was the rectification not strong enough or is there something else....” Kevin’s face cocks an eyebrow at him. “You expect me to exposit to you? I don’t think so.”

He gestures and two Black Guards seize Tron by the arms. Clu saunters up to him, looks him in the eye, and says, “This time it’ll be perfect and you won’t remember anything at all-”

A Guard punches Tron’s disk dock.

* * *They stop once during the eight-hour journey back to ENCOM City, at the outskirts a small nameless town that farmed energy out of the lifeless desert around it. While a Guard goes in to acquire energy the other two flank Sam and Edward. The prince looks deeply troubled by something but Sam doesn’t care.

“Why is he lying to me?” Edward suddenly says. “I’m not blind or stupid. I know what I saw. You weren’t plotting against me.”

Sam stares at the slate gray ground and nudges a rock with his foot.

“You knew him, before. He wasn’t protecting you because you were an asset. What he did to save you...” A short, hysterical laugh. “Most people wish they had that.”

The third Guard emerges from the town’s borders, holding two caskets of energy. With assistance from the other Guards he fuels the lightcycles and pours the rest into a vial that he then gives the prince. Edward tucks the blue vial into his pocket and mounts his lightcycle.

“Shame he was a Dread Pirate. Mother might’ve liked him.”

* * *Jordan, Radia, Dumont, and someone whose name might be Shaddox are waiting for them in the courtyard. Everyone looks relieved - and a bit wary of the three Black Guards - and as Edward dismounts Jordan comes forward to hug him.

Then Shaddox asks, “Where is the war minister, Your Highness?”

“Dealing with the...Dread Pirate responsible for with my brother’s kidnapping,” Edward says.

Sam remains on the lightcycle, staring very hard at the reflective ground and trying to block out the conversation around him. He doesn’t look up when his mother approaches.

“Sam?” Jordan says. “Are you all right?”

Her hand touches his face and he flinches away. The queen straightens her back and draws in a shaky breath, then firmly says, “You are telling me everything right now, Edward. What happened?”

“I’ll tell you privately,” Edward says. “I have a few questions for you, anyway. Take him to his room.”

Two of the Guards march up to the lightcycle and grab Sam by the arm, haul him off of it and guide him into the palace. He stares at the red hue of their circuits and wonders why they’re the same color as Tron’s. The name pierces through his chest but he holds back the shuddering, sobbing gasp until after they shove him into his room and shut the door.

Something black and white lies on his bed and it leaps off as soon as the door closes with a click. Sam blinks at Marvin, who’s happily wagging his whole body, and then his knees give out. He collapses on the floor and Marvin runs up to him, wiggles into his arms and licks his face.

Sam doesn’t even have the energy to say his name. He buries his face into Marvin’s neck and cries.

* * *He comes to in a dark space lit with consoles and circuits. He blinks and the cavernous room comes into focus. Someone - bald, wearing an orange visor hovering over his eyes - is fussing with something to his left. He tries to lift his head but he can’t; he’s immobilized, clamped down to a surface. It hums with faint energy underneath him and that causes a memory to surface: Guards holding him down, too many for him to fight off, as something grips his disk and sends fire through his body-

“Oh,” the Basic suddenly says. “You’re awake. That won’t do.”

Something vibrates at the base of his neck and he goes under.

When he comes to again it’s to a familiar face hovering over him. Familiar, even with the lines and wrinkles, the gray hair and beard, the weariness and exhaustion in the solemn blue eyes. He tries to tilt his head back to better see but he can’t.

“Oh Tron,” Kevin says. “What have you become?”

“A Dread Pirate,” he replies.

“You have no idea, do you?”

Chapter Text

Tron sits up and rubs his arms while Kevin steps back from the control panel. His legs are still locked in but he now feels less claustrophobic without something clamping onto his disk. He looks at the interfaces and displays surrounding them; they’re familiar, like he’s been here before.

“Don’t remember much, do you?”

Tron looks at Kevin, at the collar around the User’s neck. Kevin notices and touches its vertical orange circuit. “If I try to leave I lose my head.”

“How...?”

“How am I still alive? How did I end up here?” Kevin limps around the platform, hands behind his back. “Or, how did you forget?”

Tron bows his head. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s because he’s been playing a long game,” Kevin says and he sounds so tired. “Found out after he brought me here just how long.” He pauses, then says, “I never told you the reason why I left you two, did I?”

“You were going to find a better life for us out there. Why? What-it’s Clu, wasn’t it?”

“He was looking for me. Friends in ENCOM City said he’d started up a project I abandoned and he couldn’t complete it without me. He’d no idea where I’d been banished to but he knows how to find people; he’d have found our farm sooner or later. I wasn’t lying, but you were both too young to know the truth.”

He looks at Tron warily, anticipating an outburst, a fist in the face. Another time - five years ago, to be exact - Tron would’ve given him that and more. The past several days have taken a toll on him, though, and he just says, “MCP got you first.”

“Yeah. Hid me from Clu but wouldn’t let me go back home. When I inherited his Recognizer I was on the other side of the world. Took me a couple years just to get near Bostrum.”

“Then you attacked my Solar Sailer.”

“There’s that.” Kevin sighs. “You know, if the Bostrumites weren’t there we could’ve gone home to Sam. Just our luck they were there looking for me.”

Tron knows what he means. It haunted him during his three years with Dread Pirate Paranoid. When the crew asked why the Gridian war minister wanted them - doesn’t he have better things to do than to chase one pirate? - Kevin said it was because they were harboring an ISO. That’s what Tron believed, until Clu was standing on their burning Rectifier, kicking a dead Basic overboard while talking to Kevin like they’re old acquaintances. By then Quorra had escaped, so Clu should’ve had no reason to stick around.

“What do you remember?” Kevin asks.

Tron remembers the soldiers coming in waves, two replacing every one he killed. He fought long after everybody else died or surrendered, knowing he’d never see Sam again. Then a soldier found an opening, sent him flying across the deck. They were on him before he could get back up, dragged him to Kevin’s side as Clu approached.

He remembers the cruel smile, remembers shaking off five soldiers and slashing the war minister across the chest before being hit in the neck. After that, fire. Hands and braces holding him down, clamps on his disk, fire purging him from the inside out as he screamed.

“I’ve been here before,” he finally says. “What is this place?”

Kevin slides his hand along the platform’s edge. “This is the Rectifier, an old wartime project I worked on before the Grid-Arjia War. King Edward wanted to accelerate a Basic’s training in preparation for it but Clu wanted to use its more extreme application. We couldn’t let it happen so we destroyed the blueprints. I was banished for treason.”

“Not executed?”

“The...queen had a hand in that.”

He doesn’t clarify what the Rectifier actually does Accelerate a Basic’s training, he said, but what Tron remembers is agonizing pain. “So what did he do to me?”

“He...” Kevin hesitates. “You were incredible. Killed two-thirds of Clu’s soldiers before they stopped you. Thing was, you impressed him so he spared you and brought you here with me. The Rectifier was almost complete but he needed me to make it functional. When I refused he threatened to find Sam and bring back his head.”

“So you finished building it.”

“Yeah,” Kevin says and gives him the saddest look. “And you were the first Basic he rectified.”

“So you took on the cover stories as your own memories. You don’t remember anything at all.”

“The Rectifier wipes your memories, your will. It turns you into a programmable blank slate. Want a legion of subservient elite soldiers? Done. Turn you into an assassin? Done.

“You’re why fCon City is ready to fall. You assassinated Kernel and Thorne, and without their leaders the city’s on the verge of civil war. And Bostrum... man, he was planning something big. Lord Gibson’s untouchable but a wartime Grid can outlast Bostrum. All Clu needed to do was ensure he’s the power behind the throne.

“Problem was Sam. He’s Jor-he’s the queen’s son, and that makes him a threat. Clu brought him to the city to keep an eye on him and control both me and the queen. Then he staged the kidnapping to set up Bostrum, hired people to take him there, where you’d be waiting. But after he sent you the missive you went off-grid. Disappeared from fCon.”

Tron remembers little of fCon City. He’d been to its port once as part of Paranoid’s crew, and he remembers looking at a map of the Canyon at a hostel there.

“Why was I supposed to be in Bostrum?” he asks. “I thought you said Lord Gibson was untouchable.”

Heavy silence. Then Kevin says, “Yeah, but you weren’t there to assassinate him.

“You were supposed to kill Sam and the people Clu hired, and stage it to make it look like Gibson did it. That way he can declare war on Bostrum.”

Chapter Text

“You look different,” Jordan says as soon as he sits down.

“Do I?” Ed says dismissively. He can’t tell. In fact, he can’t tell much of anything.

“When someone has a revelation their whole demeanor changes. Sometimes they look brighter, sometimes sadder, but always older and wiser. Well, most of the time.” Jordan sits behind her desk and leans forward, fixes him with a look. “What happened?”

He chooses to stare at the intricate circuitry on the wall behind her. “You read my reports.”

“Not today’s. You didn’t send one.”

He sighs and leans back in his chair. “Woke up, got hustled onto lightcycles because Clu didn’t want to lose the... Dread Pirate’s trail, circled around the Canyon, intercepted them, got Sam back.”

His mother bows her head and sighs heavily. “What happened out there, Edward?”

Does she expect him to recite all of the reports? The only thing he never wrote was that he knew about Zuse. He knew what risk he was taking orchestrating Sam’s abduction but thanks to that Dread Pirate – no, all he did was take Sam to protect him.

“It only got weird after we found them,” Ed chooses to say. “The Pirate wouldn’t give him up, which was what I expected but Clu started saying the strangest things. He…suggested Sam was working with the Pirate to replace me-”

“He wanted to execute Sam,” his mother says in a trembling voice. “That bastard-”

“I thought he was right. When I first found him I thought ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’. I had to make sure he didn’t... challenge me.” He flinches when Jordan slams a palm on the table. “Mother, don’t-”

“Did you plan the abduction? He’s your brother, your flesh and blood-”

“Half-brother, and only for several weeks. It doesn’t matter.” He curls his hands tightly, feels his fingernails dig into skin. “Clu’s lying to me. Sam never cared about any of this. He was never going to-”

“Clu-you said Dumont told you-”

“As Crown Prince of the Grid you have certain traditions to uphold. It would be in your best interest to ask the Records Keeper what your role is for the millennial celebrations, Your Highness.”

Jordan abruptly stands up and walks a little ways from her desk. She stares at the floor, pondering, and then looks at him. “It took you this long to finally see him for what he really is?”

Ed turns the chair around to face her. “Uh, who are we talking about?”

“Clu.” She’s no longer distraught. There’s real anger in her eyes, her voice, her stance. “I know about fCon City. I know he wants to destroy Lord Gibson the way he destroyed Arjia.”

“Really? You never said anything in council meetings. You never-”

“He was always around you.” She paces in a tight circle. “As long as he had you under his sway I couldn’t touch him. He was grooming you, preparing you for the day you become king, and all I could do was to hunt for a chink in his armor.”

Ed looks away. The thoughts in his head during the long drive home aren’t wrong after all. Clu was using him, had always been using him.

“What does he have against you?”

Jordan sighs. “You remember your history.”

“Drilled into my head for fifteen years.”

“You know about the Grid-Arjia War.”

“I can tell you the strategies employed by our army-”

“That’s enough. You know why it happened?”

“Arjia was in an advantageous location and we needed to expand our borders to accommodate our population,” Ed says flatly. “We attempted a diplomatic relationship but that fell apart after our envoys were attacked.”

“Your father ordered it,” she says, not that it surprises him. “He always wanted the war. Even ordered several of our top engineers to find methods of accelerating a Basic soldier’s training. You’ll recognize their names: Alan and Lora Bradley, Roy Kleinburg, Walter Gibbs, Kevin Flynn-”

He jerks his head up. “Him?”

“Yes. The project was kept under lock and key but word got out about its more... extreme use. The machine they built could rectify a Basic completely; you could take one off the streets and reprogram it into a perfect soldier. Imagine what your father, what Clu could've done with something like that? They'd take our people-my people, turn them into war machines, and lay waste to the world just to come out on top."

He never saw his mother so full of fury and fire. "So what did you do?"

"I sabotaged it with the help of its engineers. Almost destroyed it completely but a technician loyal to Clu ratted us out. The project was shut down and its engineers were either ‘detained’ for questioning or tried for treason."

"I never read anything-"

"An official trial would make the project public, and my involvement would only complicate matters. Instead the engineers were tried in secret by a military tribunal. Well, just one; the others were detained for questioning and eventually let go."

Ed frowns. "That makes no sense."

"It did when Kevin Flynn claimed sole responsibility. He would’ve been executed but I convinced the judges to exile him instead. Clu didn't find out until he was long gone. Without him that machine would never work and Clu would never have his army. So he told me he'd undermine my rule every step of the way, take you away from me, make sure Sam would never survive his first year. I had no standing after what happened so I resorted to working from the sidelines.

"That, I didn't do well enough. He’s not just after Bostrum now. He’s planning something big and I’m running out of time. So if you know anything, Ed, tell me now. You know the truth; what are you going to do with it?”

Chapter Text

“So he wants to rectify me again,” Tron says when ten minutes go by without another word.

“We - I perfected the process since then, so there’s no room for error. It’ll be permanent.”

Kevin gives Tron such a sad look and Tron can’t - won’t hold it. He looks away, clenching his hands tightly. There’s a hole in his chest, bottomless and cold, and it’s spreading outward, numbing him to the point that he can’t feel despair.

“If there was a way out, a back door, I’d use it, “Kevin continues, “but if Clu knew-”

“He’ll kill everyone.” He can’t say the name. “But if you don’t do something, he’ll die anyway.”

“I know.” Kevin paces, touching the collar. “But it was never just Sam. Never just Jordan. It’s the whole kingdom. I just don’t know what.”

“You were with him the longest. He must’ve slipped and said something-”

A short bitter laugh. “You don’t know him like I do. He never, ever allows himself to make a mistake. He’s a perfectionist. He’d have lost everything if he risked being anything else.”

He talks like he knows something about Clu that nobody else does, but Tron has no time to ask why. “What’ll he use me for?”

“You’re his assassin, Tron. What do you think he’ll use you for?”

The Grid’s millennial birthday is in days. Everyone will be there, including Sam.

Kevin leans against the platform, rubs his face like it’ll wipe away the years he spent far away from a distant small energy farm. “There’s no way I can warn them. Don’t have the means, or anyone willing to risk their lives to tell the queen.”

“When I first woke up, there was a Basic-”

“Who, Jarvis?” Kevin chuckles. “No way. Remember how I said I abandoned the Rectifier and Clu tracked me down to finish building it? I broke it so that Clu and the king couldn’t use it. But Jarvis ratted me out and started the whole mess.”

“There has to be others-”

“There aren’t. They’re all rectified soldiers; they won’t even say ‘Good morning’ unless Clu tells them to. It’s just him, Jarvis, me, and you, for now.”

There has to be something they can do. Something, anything, if only to buy some time, if only to keep Sam and the oblivious people at ENCOM City alive just a little longer.

“You built this machine.” The fragments of an idea coalesce in Tron’s mind, piece by piece. “He didn’t. He doesn’t know how it works.”

“He knows a fair bit,” Kevin replies. “He studied the surviving blueprints and knows if a rectification is successful or not. Why?”

“I was wondering....” Tron licks his bottom lip and takes a deep breath. “Why not just have it kill me?”

Kevin stares at him. “You want me to kill you?”

“Unless there’s another operative already inside the city I’m the only competent assassin he has. If I’m out of the equation what other option does he have?”

“Clu always has something to fall back on,” Kevin says carefully. “Always.”

“But this is still something,” Tron retorts. “He won’t have me as an option. I won’t be rectified again, do you understand?”

He holds his gaze until Kevin looks away. That’s not an answer, though, and he leans forward, pushes against his restraints as he tries to grab the older man by the shoulder and turn him back around. “There’s no time to come up with something else. Kill me, and Clu will have to use that back-up plan. Those are even less foolproof. Sam will still have a chance. He knows what he’s up against. He’ll survive.”

Tron waits, fearful but determined, and then Kevin caves in. “I’ll do it.”

Three words seal his fate. Tron slumps forward, hands clasped together while Kevin shifts from foot to foot.

“Just Sam?” Kevin suddenly asks.

Tron freezes, jerks his head up. “You told me-”

“I know I did.” The sad smile Kevin gives him is more painful than what he expected. “And I’m sorry it all had to end this way.”

When Tron closes his eyes he can see Sam. Can recall the night at the energy pool. Can barely remember the years with him waiting for his father to come home with the promise of a better life.

“I know.”

* * *

“Did he tell you anything?” Dumont asks.

“Not everything.” Jordan pushes the rest of the missives aside. “Something will happen, though. I suspect it’ll be the night of the millennial celebrations.”

She stands up and walks to the door, the Records Keeper right behind her. “Tell Shaddox to come to my study in two hours. He’ll know something about the city’s defences that Clu doesn’t.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

They part ways. She moves through the halls, staircases, and lifts, studying the vast windows, the hidden spaces, the doors hidden behind decorative circuitry. She nods to the servants and the patrolling guards, to the councilors discussing the upcoming celebrations. Her destination is the garage, where Sam had secluded himself and his long-lost dog since returning to the city.

”You should’ve seen them, Mother. What anyone would’ve given to have what they had... shame you never got to meet him. Shame that everything happened.”

Ed was so bitter as he described the confrontation outside the Canyon. She wonders if that’s why her elder son came back twenty years older and her younger son so heartbroken.

Jordan stiffens at the glimpse of yellow circuitry, then straightens her back and smiles politely to Clu as he passes by her.

“Your Majesty.”

“Minister.”

As they brush by each other - his robes against hers - he says, “I hope your sons are well.”

“They’ll be fine,” she replies.

Treacherous bastard. I’ll find your weakness and destroy you.

Chapter Text

“He refuses to negotiate further until he’s met with Queen Jordan.”

“So he’s chosen Argon’s fate.”

“What are your orders?”

Clu waves his hand, minimizing the city map. “Send the missive. He’ll know when. Dismissed.”

He raises an eyebrow when Paige almost collides with Sark on the way out. Clu nods when the door shuts behind the general and Sark hurries to his side.

“Highwaymen waylaid shipments again, but we managed to capture a User. He won’t confess, just that someone named ‘Zack Attack’ knows the truth-”

“That name again.” Clu presses fingertips to his forehead. “I need those shipments. Use the Solar Sailors and get them to the city now. And summon Shaddox for a sweep of Silicon Valley. I won’t accept anything less than perfection.”

“Yes, of course,” Sark says and leaves.

Clu pulls up a blueprint of the palace and starts marking the backdoors built into the structure. He dismisses it when Shaddox enters the room.

“I’ve been summoned?”

“Yes. I have reports of illegal activity in the Valley, which is unacceptable with the celebration just days away. I want you to sweep and empty it.”

Shaddox just gives him a look. “You’re asking the impossible-”

“Make it possible.”

“Too large a region, too few soldiers, in two days-”

“Hire Monitors. Form Vice Squads. Empty the Valley, Captain. That’s an order.”

He expects Shaddox to leave without another word but when he looks up the Basic is still there. “I thought I made myself clear-”

“I want copies of the city’s defenses,” Shaddox says evenly. “Her Majesty would like to review them in light of recent events.”

He gives Clu a look, like he suspects - or knows - who machinated Sam’s kidnapping. That doesn’t worry Clu so much as Queen Jordan’s sudden interest in something not her field. She suspects something and is acting on it, so he needs to move faster.

“Yes, of course,” he says and flicks a copy to the data pad attached to Shaddox’s belt.

Afterwards he summons Jarvis to his side. “Tell Flynn to prepare the Rectifier. I need Rinzler inside the city when the celebrations begin.”

* * *

Silicon Valley is neither a valley nor made of silicon. It is several miles’ worth of untamed forests surrounding ENCOM City. Unsavory types and shady villages inhabit the wilderness, breaking and hiding from the law. The city spent most of the past thousand years trying to clear it up to no avail and has mostly left its inhabitants alone - until now.

“Do a two-mile sweep around the city,” the order says. “Use force if you have to.”

Anon keeps his helmeted head low and stays at the back. There is an inn in the part of Silicon Valley that his Vice Squad had been assigned to and there’s faint hope he’ll find someone there. He’s also familiar with many of the Basics and Users that other Monitors and strangely silent Guards are uprooting and he could do with less attention.

“Supposedly this is in response to that kidnapping a couple days ago,” he overhears two Squad leaders say during a brief energy break. “Whole family’ll be on display during the celebration. Can’t risk anything else going wrong.”

“Waste of time, if you ask me. This is impossible.”

“Nobody’s asking you.”

More than half a day goes by when they finally reach a rundown town stocked with smugglers and traders. Anon isn’t sure if this town is the one so he walks the town’s perimeter, pretending to patrol while the others chase out the inhabitants.

“Is everybody out?” the Squad leader asks one of the Monitors.

“Almost. A drunk Basic’s giving us some trouble.”

“Why don’t you give it some trouble, then. We haven’t got all day.”

Anon watches the Monitor sulk in the direction of a building with a flickering sign that reads “End of Line Inn”, stick his head inside, and bellow, “You there, get out!”

“Keep your ‘you there, get out!’ I’m not budging until I see a friendly face!”

Anon jerks his head around. That voice!

“The Captain of the Guards demands it, and so does the war minister-”

The Monitor stumbles back to avoid the tip of a beam katana.

“I could have my revenge, he said. Back to the beginning, he said. Take me back so that the minister can pay for what he did to my people, but where is he? Not here-”

The Monitor points at Anon. “You. Take care of this Basic. We haven’t got all day. Haul her out if you have to.”

He storms past and Anon almost runs into the inn.

Quorra lowers her beam katana and blinks owlishly at him. Then, “You’re alive!”

Anon catches her as she tips forward, hugs her tightly. The world is right again.

* * *

Jordan finds Sam roaming the narrower, dustier halls in the older parts of the palace, shadowed by the black and white dog that had shown up at the palace gates days ago. Few come here, but Jordan hesitates anyway before approaching her younger son.

“Sam.”

He stops and turns to her.

“I think... Ed bringing you here was not in the best interest for everyone, especially you. If you want to, you can leave.”

“Leave?” he echoes faintly.

“Leave the city. If you want Shaddox can take you wherever you want to go.”

“Why Shaddox? Isn’t he captain-”

“You should leave before the millennial celebrations begin,” she says, hoping the light will turn on in his head. “Half the Grid’s heard of you by now, but once the celebrations begin the neighboring kingdoms will, too. You’ll live with a spotlight and a target on your back for the rest of your life.”

Sam opens his mouth, closes it, furrows his eyebrows in thought, and then says, “I’ll think about it.”

She nods and leaves, hoping he makes the right choice soon.

Chapter Text

“Radia? It’s me.”

“Come in.”

The door slides open and Sam glances around before stepping into Radia’s room, Marvin at his heels. He looks around the room reflexively and sees a mannequin wearing a beautiful asymmetrical gown in a corner.

“What do you think?” she asks, setting a data pad on her lap.

“It’s... lovely.” What a way to remind her of what’s happening in a few days. “What about you?”

She presses her lips tightly, making the circuit on her bottom lip flare. “It’s nice.” She leans over to stroke Marvin’s head. “What is it? What happened?”

Sam rocks back and forth on his feet, replaying the conversation in his head. “She - Mom wants me to leave the city.”

“She wants you to leave?”

He nods. “Even offered to have Shaddox escort me out. Said once I become an official member of the family I’ll live with a lot of fear and attention for the rest of my life.” He sits on the floor next to her chair. “Something’s going to happen and she knows it. She’s trying to save me.”

“I know.”

He jerks his head up. “What?”

“Not all the details,” she says. “But it’s Clu and the less we know, the better.”

Of course it’s Clu. It’s always Clu. He draws his knees up to his chest and bangs his forehead against them. “It’s always him.”

Her laugh is empty. “I know.”

“So should I leave?”

“It’s up to you.”

He can tell Jordan he’s leaving before the celebrations begin, have Shaddox take him through the Silicon Valley to the border. He can vanish for good.

“Come with me?”

When she doesn’t answer he lifts his head. She stares at the floor, gripping the armrest too tightly. “I can’t.”

“Why? Whatever Clu’s planning has to have something to do with you, right? If you stay-”

“If I leave,” she interrupts, “they’ll hunt for me. The Grid doesn’t need you, but it needs me. If there’s a small chance that nothing happens then I become one more obstacle between Clu and the throne. Whatever’s happening with Bostrum... I can’t let it become another war, Sam. I have to stay.”

He gapes at her; this isn’t what he expected from someone who described herself as a caged bird. He can’t bring himself to convince her otherwise, because she’s right.

“Then I’m staying,” he blurts out.

“Sam-”

“I’m not leaving you here with him.” He reaches up and places his hand over hers. “I have your back.”

She turns her hand over and squeezes his. “And I have yours.”

* * *

He wants to say so many things but they all end in “I’m sorry it has to end this way”, and the last thing he needs is Clu discovering the one last trick up his sleeve. He can’t even call it a trick; it’s just something the perfectionist overlooked, something that he of all Basics should’ve included in his calculations.

Half-Basic, Kevin reminds himself. Hard to remember that they’re even related.

“Shouldn’t you be in the city?” he says carefully. “Celebrations start in, what, two days? And with rumors that Bostrum-”

“I’ll leave when my asset is ready,” Clu says, checking the restraints holding Tron down. “I don’t have all day.”

“Never had to re-rectify a glitched Basic before. I don’t want to break anything during the process.” He bites back a retort to just chill, because Clu’s patience is thin and he just wants this over with.

He glances over the interface at Tron; the Basic watches him, expression resigned but determined. He wishes now that he never agreed to take Tron with him when he left the city. This isn’t how he wanted to fail his friends and yet here he is, at the heart of the machine he tried to destroy with their son’s life in his forced hands.

Clu doesn’t make small talk, just waits for the Rectifier to give them the go-ahead.

Kevin can’t stall anymore. Now or never. “It’s ready.”

“Do it.”

Clu steps back from Tron as the Rectifier hums and energy hurls through the circuits on the floor towards the platform the Basic is locked into.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin whispers and types in the command.

The first time he rectified Tron he had nightmares for weeks. He couldn’t stop hearing the screams, couldn’t stop seeing the angry red of rectification overtake blue circuits. Now the screams ring in his ears again and even Clu flinches away as the Rectifier tries to rip apart Tron’s code. Kevin keeps his head turned away from the center of the room. He spots Jarvis turning and fleeing the scene.

It won’t be long now. He just needs to wait a little longer, resist shutting the Rectifier down before the system overloads-

The scream cuts off and the Rectifier shudders violently before going dark.

“What happened?”

Kevin pretends to frantically check the interfaces. “I - I don’t know. I checked, I double-checked everything, but-”

“But what?”

“It’s not working.” It really isn’t. “Something happened - must be the glitch. I - I told you to fix him before attempting the process-”

“You think I had time for that?” Clu snaps. Kevin backs away as the yellow-lit Basic storms towards him. “You said you could do it, you said the Rectifier could overwrite its own errors. What happened? Did your little User brain overlook some small, crucial detail?”

“This ‘little User brain’ is what made the Rectifier work in the first place, Clu,” he replies. “He was the unknown factor, not the Rectifier. Not me. I told you but you insisted, and now he’s dead and the Rectifier’s broken. Because you-”

A hand wraps around his throat above the collar and squeezes. “Don’t. Dispose of the body and get the Rectifier running again. I expect it to work perfectly after the celebrations are over.”

Clu lets him go and heads for the exit. “Either way, you’re never seeing Sam again.”

Chapter Text

The ground shudders and leaves fall on Anon’s head. Quorra clings to his arm until the shaking stops and tentatively lets go.

“Earthquake?” she says. “Never felt one before. Kind of boring, actually.”

He shrugs and continues leading the way to the nearest unmarked town.

* * *

Quorra is no closer to avenging the deaths of her fellow ISOs now than she was a couple weeks ago. Neither Anon nor the outdated Monitors they run into know the real reason behind the formation of the Vice Squads, though one did say she saw the Captain of the Guard review activity logs.

“It’s in two days,” she says while they sit at the bar in a tavern. “I should be in there already. Zuse’s Plan B, remember?”

Anon pats her shoulder.

“He’ll be there,” she says, hand gripping her glass tightly. “We sneak in, take him out while we still know where he is.”

Anon tilts his head and she sighs, thunks her forehead against the counter. “I don’t know how to plan these things. Zuse promised he’d do it. I’m just there to kill him.”

While contemplating asking for another shot of crude energy she tunes into the surrounding conversations. Most are about the Vice Squads, “Zack Attack”, and the millennial celebrations. A few - one - are about the war minister’s activities that require “energy, now.”

“I barely have enough to distill and sell here,” Eckert replies. “Stop siphoning off all the supplies and losing them to the thieves and I might have some to sell you.”

“He won’t be pleased,” the Basic says. His visor wobbles as he abruptly moves off the counter. “Just wait until I report this to him.”

Eckert waves a dismissive hand at him and turns away.

Quorra nudges Anon and nods to the departing Basic. “Come on.”

She tosses a few Argon bits on the counter and the two slip out after the Basic. He takes a long path through the woods, dragging an old wheelbarrow of half-filled containers. She wonders what the energy’s for. The Grid’s army has been hoarding energy lately; surely the war minister has a surplus to leech from.

When the Basic stops in front of a rock formation she signals to Anon, who hurtles forward, grabs the Basic by the neck, and shoves the program against the smooth side of a boulder. Quorra advances, beam katana in hand, and shoves its white edge in his face.

“Where’s Clu? Talk!”

His mouth opens but says nothing.

“Anon, jog his memory.”

Anon obliges, whacking him upside the head. The Basic’s eyes roll back and he collapses on the ground. Quorra stares at him and then up at Anon, who hangs his head in apology.

“It’s okay.”

It doesn’t feel like it. Whoever he was he was her best chance to track Clu down. Back to square one, with no way to sneak into the unfamiliar city to find the war minister. “Maybe... maybe next time....”

She’s so tired. She flings her katana to the ground and leans against the rock formation. It hums under her hand and circuits lace into the stone. Shocked, she jumps back as a chunk of stone slide away, revealing a hidden entrance and stairs going down.

“What is this?” she wonders. “Is this where he was going?”

Anon shrugs.

Quorra picks up her katana and looks over her shoulder. “Come on.”

* * *

Her jaw slacks at what she finds at the bottom of the stairs.

“Screw the earthquake,” she says while Anon squeezes out of the stairway.

At the end of the massive cavern is a sleek black structure, accented with red-orange circuits. That’s where Clu has to be. Between them and the structure are seven unimpressed Black Guards.

“Ready?” she asks, beam katana in hand.

Anon nods and hurls his disk at the nearest Guard.

She missed fighting alongside Anon. They weave around the Guards, disorienting, slicing, and slamming the soldiers into submission. She distracts a Guard until Anon punches his disk dock, then whirls around and stabs another in the shoulder. The last one staggers away, presumably to sound the alarm, but Anon’s disk knocks him out.

They weren’t quiet but Clu doesn’t emerge. Disappointed that he’s not here she nevertheless decides to investigate the building. She taps on the touchpad next to the sealed doors and it flashes red. Anon nudges her aside and puts his fist through it, making them open to a shallow set of stairs going down and around. With Anon at her back she descends, two at a time, until she reaches the bottom.

She freezes as Dread Pirate Paranoid looks up while shielding Tron’s body. They stare at each other in disbelief.

“Quorra?” he finally whispers.

She throws herself across the room into the User’s arms.

* * *

“I must be dreaming,” Paranoid - Kevin, that’s his real name, says. “No way this is really happening.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she says, searching for the circuits to deactivate his collar. “After this is over you need to tell me everything.”

“So do you,” he replies. “Right now we need to get this damn collar off, take Tron, and get the hell out of here.”

Her fingers slow at the mention of her onetime friend. “What happened here?”

Kevin sighs. “The Rectifier. The reason why everything happened.”

“What does it do?”

“It rewrites your code, your DNA. Clu wanted - look, there’s no time. We need to take him and leave before Clu finds out what happened here.”

She redoubles her efforts. “Leave and go where?”

“If we’re lucky, to someone who can fix him.”

“But he’s... dead.”

“Not quite. Ever heard of the Isolated Thinker?”

“No.”

Anon nods.

“Then Jarvis wasn’t just talking out of his ass.” The collar’s circuits darken and the lock fails; Kevin yanks it off and tosses it aside. “Can you carry him?”

Anon nods again and carefully lifts Tron’s body.

“So what are we doing?” Quorra asks Kevin while he starts shutting this so-called Rectifier down.

“Finding the Isolated Thinker and hoping he can give us a miracle.”

Chapter Text

Sark’s carefully built tower of bits collapses when Paige tosses a data pad on the table. He scowls at her.

“Where is he?” she demands.

“In a meeting. And then another meeting. And after that, another meeting. And after that - you’re not even supposed to see him until after it’s over.”

“I’m only deviating because I thought someone should know that Jarvis has been unresponsive for hours. And that someone shut the Rectifier down.”

Sark freezes while scooping up the bits. “What?”

“Exactly.” She points at the data pad. “Asset is in the city. I’m taking a squad and finding Flynn. You can break the news to him when you see him.”

Sark stares at it despondently, wishing he’d never left Dread Pirate MCP’s ship all those years ago.

* * *

“... and a door appeared,” Quorra says. “I thought Clu might be down the stairs somewhere so we went in.”

“You missed him by a few hours,” Kevin says. “He left right after it failed to rectify Tron.”

She can’t look at the limp body in Anon’s arms for more than a few seconds. “Why him?”

“You know how he fights. As Rinzler he’s even better. He’s everything Clu needed. And Clu can be... sadistic.”

“He knew about us?”

“Not you. Me. He thought it’ll be fun having Tron - having Rinzler kill Sam and stage the scene. He was probably planning something even worse for the celebrations.” He then gestures to Anon. “Hey, you sure you know where you’re going?”

Anon nods and leans left towards a stream.

“So why can’t he talk?” Kevin quietly asks.

She chews her lip. “Well, you should ask him yourself but I’ll end up explaining for him anyway. He got hurt while breaking up a riot at a port. A family member managed to repair him but couldn’t fix his vocal processors. I don’t think he misses it, though.”

“You seem to read him just fine.”

She shrugs. “After... after what happened, I was on my own. Couldn’t talk to anyone, couldn’t trust anyone. If they learned I’m an ISO they could tell somebody else. Clu could hear about it. Anon can’t talk, though, and he’s a - was a defective Monitor when I first met him. We decided to stick together and learn how to stay under the radar. Then Zuse picked us up, said he could get me what I wanted as long as I helped him... kidnap Sam.”

“Zuse was lying,” Kevin says and she stumbles. “He was going to turn you over once Prince Edward ‘rescued’ Sam from you. But you don’t have to worry about that; Zuse is dead. Had to tie up loose ends.”

Stupid, she tells herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

“It wouldn’t have happened anyway,” he continues. “The plan was always for Rinzler to stage Sam’s death. Prince Edward would discover it, call off diplomatic relations with Bostrum, and start Clu’s war.”

The picture becomes a little clearer in her head. “Rinzler wasn’t even supposed to chase us, was he?”

“He vanished after Clu sent him his new orders. I think... the rectification was imperfect, and I told him long ago to protect Sam for me. So maybe the missive triggered something in him....”

But Quorra thinks she knows the truth. She used to ask Tron if he regretted boarding the ill-fated Solar Sailer and despite the sad expression he’d always say no. “Why?” she’d ask him and he’d tell her he was on it to find a better life for him and the person he loves.

Someone named Sam.

* * *

Anon’s body language is the only warning she gets. Armed and helmeted Users and Basics phase out of the brush in a circle around them. She whips out her beam katana but she’s the only one who can challenge them; Kevin is unarmed and Anon has Tron to protect.

She doesn’t plan to go down without a fight, though. Things are finally starting to look up for her and she’s not giving that up just to survive this encounter with thieves.

“We’re just passing through, back off,” she says coldly.

One of the Users suddenly lowers its weapon and straightens itself. It tugs its helmet off, revealing a bespectacled man with tangled hair. Beside her Kevin stiffens, like he’d been electrocuted.

“Kevin?” the User calls out. “Is that - no. You - you were taken by a Dread Pirate.”

“I was one for a while, actually,” he says disbelievingly. “The fuck you doing out here dressed like that, man?”

“Valley’s been overrun with Vice Squads and you’ve a Monitor with you.” The User points at Anon. “Stand down, everyone. I know this User.”

The other Users and Basics do as told but she doesn’t lower her katana.

“S’okay, Quorra,” Kevin says. “I know him. I used to work with him.”

“Name’s Roy,” the User says. “Clu’s people know me as ‘Zack Attack’.”

She starts. “You’re Zack Attack?”

“The one and only.” His eyes narrow. “ISO, huh?”

She glances at her left arm and reflexively tugs her sleeve over the telltale circuit. She then juts her chin out at him. “So?”

“No, no, this is very good.” He looks them all over. “Something tells me your explanation will take all night.”

“Oh it will,” Kevin says, “but we don’t have all night. If you’re around, then....”

Roy strays towards Anon, who holds Tron close to his chest. “Is that - what happened?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” he says. “But we need a miracle right now. Tell me they’re somewhere nearby.”

“Isolated Thinker and Yori?” Roy asks. “They’re even closer than you think. Let’s go.”

* * *

“Your Majesty,” Shaddox says. “I have intel saying several Bostrumite agents have infiltrated the city.”

She frowns and places her katana on her desk. “Are you sure?”

“Honestly? No, I’m not. I got it from Sark.”

She sighs. “Keep an eye out for anyone that looks like a Bostrumite. The sooner we can isolate his assets, the better.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Chapter Text

Without Roy they’d have walked by the house.

“Only a few of us know where to look,” he explains as they weave around trees, boulders, and holograms in the direction of a cliff. “Her idea.”

“Of course,” Kevin agrees rather dreamily.

Roy points at a cavern at the foot of the cliff. “In there.”

He places his hand on the wall just inside the cavern and a small panel glows to life, cascading into a series of circuits lighting the way. The other Users and Basics linger outside while they venture in. At the end of the tunnel is an inactive lift and another panel. Roy activates it and loudly says, “Hey, are you too busy to work another miracle?”

A tinny voice shoots back, “What did you do this time?”

Kevin smiles. “Alan.”

Roy nods in affirmation. “Very funny. Just picked up some interesting characters looking for one.”

“I’m busy. Tell them to come back in a couple days-”

“They don’t have a couple days. More like a couple hours. This’ll be worth your time, I promise.”

A heavy sigh. “Fine. Come on up.”

The lift hums and Roy herds them onto it. He doesn’t join them, just salutes and says, “Have some supply lines to sabotage. See you in a couple hours.”

Quorra looks at Kevin curiously while the lift moves. “Who’s Alan?”

“Old friend of mine,” he says.

“So how’s he supposed to help us?”

“For starters, he’s one of the best engineers I know. Remember what you said about Anon? Family member repaired him but couldn’t save his vocal processors?”

She nods.

“Well,” Kevin says while the lift slows to a stop in a vast room filled with machinery, weapons, vehicles, gadgets, and a single occupant, “Tron’s his kid.”

Alan drops whatever’s in his hand. “Flynn?”

“The one and only,” Kevin says, stepping off the lift and enveloping the Basic in a tight hug.

Quorra hangs back with Anon, who keeps tilting his head between Tron and Alan. The family resemblance is unmistakable.

“Unbelievable,” Alan says once they separate, pushing his glasses up his nose. “After what happened - wait. But if you’re - those Sentries. The Black Guard. He didn’t get them from just our blueprints, did he?”

Happiness slides off Kevin’s face. “Clu found me. Made me finish it.”

“You were almost executed for refusing to revive it the first time-”

“Now isn’t the time. You heard Roy - we only have a couple hours. Well, more like a couple hours to do what we need to do and then a day for it to go into effect. You can ask me then. Or punch me in the face for starting this whole damn mess.”

“A couple hours to - who’s ‘we’?” Alan looks at Quorra, then at Anon, and then the body in Anon’s arms. “Is that... is that who I think it is?”

Quorra steps back as Alan approaches. He stares at Tron’s face for a long moment and then places a trembling hand on the Basic’s chest, covering the darkened circuits.

“What happened to him?” he asks quietly. “I - I told you to keep him away from-”

“Long story short, Clu made me rectify him,” Kevin says. “You must’ve heard about Dread Pirate Rinzler.”

“Of course. He always turned up wherever an assassination took place. It was him?”

“The process was imperfect and he broke free but Clu caught him and brought him back in. He made me try again but it - he was - it broke. It only works on Basics now, not on someone like him.”

What? Quorra glances at Tron, then at Alan, and then at Kevin. “What does that mean?”

“Rinzler was the prototype. While he was out on missions Clu made me improve the Rectifier. It works perfectly on full Basics but isn’t programmed to calculate in User DNA.” Kevin looks around. “Where is she?”

“Taking apart a light jet,” Alan says. “I haven’t patched her in.”

“You should. Tell her her son’s come home.”

“I know,” another voice affirms and Quorra whips her head up to see an older blonde User at a door at the far end of the room, baton in hand. “I heard everything. Door was open. Let me see him.”

Alan and Kevin clear the nearest table and Anon carefully places Tron on it. The woman joins them and looks at her son.

“Oh Tron,” she whispers, touching the long scar on his neck and brushing back his hair. “What happened to you?”

“We can still save him, Lora,” Kevin says. “There’s still a chance.”

“A miracle, right?” she says, pushing her sleeves up. “The kind only we can make.”

“Wait,” Quorra says. “I don’t... think I understand. You said the Rectifier killed him. How-”

“I said ‘not quite’,” Kevin corrects. “It’s programmed to only work on full Basics. Tron isn’t one so when the Rectifier reached human DNA it crashed. He’s in limbo but if we don’t repair his code now he’ll never wake.”

“There’s no guarantee that he’ll make a full recovery,” Lora adds while Alan starts searching around nearby tables. “These are rarely so successful.” She gives Anon a scrutinizing look. “But he’s ours so we’re gonna try.”

“And then?”

“And then we wait for him to wake up. And have you three tell me exactly what’s going on.” She points at the door she came out of. “I’ll call you when we’re finished.”

Anon has to nudge her away from the table. She keeps looking over her shoulder, watching the pair huddle over the table, until she enters the room. The huge chamber is littered with parts of something she guesses is a light jet. Anon takes position at the door out of habit and Kevin collapses in a chair that had seen better days.

“And then we wait,” he says and buries his face in his hands.

She sighs and leans against the wall before sliding down to the floor.

And then they wait.

Chapter Text

Something shakes her awake and Quorra leaps to her feet, katana in hand. She lowers it when she sees it’s Anon and then realizes that at some point she’d fallen asleep. And that she doesn’t recognize this place - oh. The Isolated Thinker and Yori. The Rectifier. Dread Pirate Paranoid. Tron. Clu.

“What did I miss?” she asks.

Anon nods at the open door.

She must’ve been asleep for hours; moonlight streams into the wide cluttered room. Anon points to a narrow hall and the two follow it to a smaller, homier living space. Kevin and Alan sit on the couch, not talking; Lora and Roy hover over a data pad in her hands in a corner of the room. They all straighten up when she and Anon step in.

“What did I miss?” she asks. “Is he going to be okay?”

“We don’t know for sure until he wakes up,” Lora says, “and that won’t be for hours. So, what’s an ISO doing deep inside the Grid? I was under the impression that the lucky ones stayed out of the Grid’s reach.”

“How’d you know-”

“I told her,” Kevin says. “Came up while I was explaining why Clu went after me.”

“He says you want revenge?” Roy pushes his glasses up his nose. “We might be able to help you with that.”

Hope tentatively blooms in her chest. “You can? Really?”

“You deserve it more than most,” Lora says, “plus I have it on good word that you’re an exceptional swordfighter. And you used to serve a Dread Pirate. As good a resume as any, I’d say.”

Quorra rocks back and forth on her feet, eyes darting around the three Users and one Basic before her. “I really appreciate it but what’s the catch? You help me get in there to kill him, I help you with... what? What do you want me to do?”

“Kill Clu,” Lora says.

“Oh.” A beat. “Why do you want him dead?”

“Because he ruined all of our lives,” Alan replies. “There isn’t a single person in this room he hasn’t affected. Imagine what happens if he becomes the power behind the throne.”

“And we were raised to serve the Grid for the good of its people,” Lora says. “That’s why we were all exiled or forced out of service after we decided the Rectifier was too dangerous to exist.”

Nodding, Quorra slides a half-step towards the table. “So, what’s the plan? And who’s coming with me? Anon has to be part of it, just so you know.”

“Our task is keeping the Sentries and Black Guard preoccupied,” Roy says. “The plan is to infiltrate the palace, incapacitate the Guards within, and isolate the minister.”

“The fewer are involved, the better,” Lora continues. “We need you to be discrete and quick on your feet. If we had more time we’d train you alongside the ones who volunteered for this.”

She glances at Alan, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The Basic didn’t look happy about something.

“We built something to accelerate training,” she says carefully. “It’s not the Rectifier. It can’t go into your base code and rewrite you but it can unlock and enhance your natural abilities.”

“One of the reasons we lasted so long is because every Basic uses it,” Roy says. “It’s the only way we can stay ahead of the rectified soldiers.”

Quorra glances at Kevin. He looks as unhappy as Alan is.

“It’s not... going to accelerate me, is it?” she asks.

“It only works on Basics in a limited capacity,” Lora says. “I’m only bringing this up because of your Monitor friend. You’re the wild card, Quorra; we only have one full day to run you through the plan. But Anon? We can accelerate him; he’ll know exactly what to do so that if you take a step in the wrong direction he’ll be there to haul you back.”

Well, that was unexpected. She looks at Anon, who shrugs in confusion and then gestures a response.

“What happens if he says no?” she asks.

“You stay in the back until the last minute,” Roy says.

“And if he says yes?”

“You’ll be an active member in this mission. If everything works out he’ll take you straight to Clu.”

She turns to Anon again and he shrugs.

“He’ll tell you what he wants to do in an hour. So it’s me, Anon, whoever’s been preparing for this-”

“And me,” Kevin says.

“Flynn,” Alan starts.

“Clu knows I’m gone and without me the Rectifier’s useless. I know who he’s targeting. I’ve made a lot of mistakes but I’m not sitting on the sidelines while he tries to kill my son.”

“Neither am I.”

Lora drops the data pad.

Quorra whirls around to see Tron leaning heavily against the doorway. He looks horribly ill and still makes that unnerving rattling sound but his circuits glow blue and he’s awake. She beams at him and he gives her a slight smile.

“Thought he was supposed to be out for an entire day,” Roy mutters.

“That level of repair can knock Basics out for weeks,” Lora says faintly. “This is unheard of.”

“Now you have,” Tron says. “Tell me everything.”

“You’re in no condition-”

“I have to,” Tron snaps at Alan. “You know what Clu did to me. I can’t sit this out.”

“Do you know what it was like, seeing you for the first time in twenty-six years and not being able to hug you because he killed you? Knowing that no matter what we did we still couldn’t protect you from him?”

Tron looks away and then abruptly sits down. Quorra runs to his side and crouches down while he stares at his trembling hands.

“You okay?” she asks quietly. She waves everybody back and Anon herds them to the other side of the room.

“What do you think? I can barely stand or use my hands. I’m nonfunctional but he’s going to kill Sam, Quorra. I can’t stay here.”

“You won’t.” She takes his hand and wraps his fingers around hers. “We’ll stop him together.”

She looks up at the others. “He’s coming with us.”

“Oh boy,” Roy sighs.

Chapter Text

Jordan appears right as he makes an unsuccessful attempt to sweep Shaddox off his feet. Sam instinctively rolls out of range but the Captain of the Guard doesn’t try to follow; he snaps to attention as the queen steps onto the training grid.

“Your Majesty,” Shaddox says with a bow.

“If you’ll excuse us, Captain,” she says.

Sam looks at her warily while Shaddox stations himself at the door.

“So you’re staying,” she says while picking through the training equipment on the wall.

“Just for Radia,” he says. “I don’t want anything to do with the birthday party, the royal speeching, or whatever else the family’s supposed to do.”

A beam katana handle falls to the floor and she doesn’t move to pick it up. “You said you didn’t want any of this-”

“I know about Clu, okay?” She goes still. “I know what could happen if I stay, but I’m not leaving her and running away.”

Jordan sighs heavily and picks up a disk. It hums to life in her hand, glowing softly white. “So you know he’s planning something.”

“You wanted me to leave before the celebrations. You could’ve just told me.”

“You’re right.” She sheds her outer robe and steps onto the training grid. “But we’re operation on a need to know basis. I can’t just tell you everything I know.”

“Fair enough.”

She looks at him like she’s seeing him for the first time. “What I can tell you is that Clu is planning something big. In case I... in case something catastrophic happens, you have to do something for me.”

“What?” he asks slowly, watching her test the weapon’s weight.

“Take Ed and Radia and run. Don’t let anyone stop you. As long as you’re alive he’ll never rest easy, especially when he’s at war with Bostrum.”

He goes cold at what she’s implying, but manages to spit out, “Pretty sure Junior can handle himself.”

“I know,” she says, “Now, Shaddox has been telling me you’re pretty good at hand-to-hand combat. Why don’t you demonstrate for me?”

“Seriously? But you’re the - you.”

“I need to know if you can fight your way out of anything. Well, almost anything.” She shifts into a defensive stance. “Show me, Sam.”

* * *

Quorra tiptoes around the edge of the makeshift training grid, balancing three glasses of coarsely filtered energy on a tray. Anon is in the middle of his fifth simulation and getting better with each runthrough. The accelerated training is working flawlessly.

She sits down next to Tron and offers him a glass. He hasn’t stopped studying the handheld projection of the city blueprints since Lora gave it to him but he takes the proffered energy and only grimaces slightly at the taste.

“How’re you feeling?” she asks as she sips from hers.

“Awful,” he says flatly. That he can sit upright without assistance is miraculous; Anon had to carry him into the room because he can’t walk the distance under his own power. “I can’t determine how Clu intends to execute his plan.”

“He never said anything?”

“He doesn’t believe in monologuing.”

“Really?” she takes another sip, watches Anon destroy a virtual Sentry with an elbow to the base of its neck. “Someone that evil has to believe in bragging about how perfect his nefarious schemes are before executing them.”

Tron laughs quietly while flicking through a blueprint of the Gaming Grid. “He doesn’t share with programs who might talk. Or Users, for that matter.”

He glances at the far end of the training grid, where Kevin and Alan appear to be arguing over a piece of the light jet Lora was taking apart earlier.

“But he didn’t know about you,” she says.

“And that was probably the best thing to happen,” he says while switching to a blueprint of the palace. “He’ll know something’s up since I’m missing, too. How useful can a dead Basic be unless he isn’t? Let Clu think about that.”

They watch Anon complete the runthrough successfully and signal for a sixth. She unhooks her beam katana handle from its holster and twirls it between her fingers.

“How much do you remember of your childhood?” Tron suddenly asks.

“Enough. Why?”

“There’ll be a wedding at the end of the celebrations. Prince Edward is marrying someone.”

She snorts. “There’s a princess willing to do that?”

“I don’t know about willing, but I hear it’s the peaceful way to integrate Arjia City fully into the Grid.”

Her mouth goes dry and sour. “She’s in ENCOM City?”

“Sam told me.”

She stops twirling the katana handle. “If she’s there, Clu might target her.”

“More than likely, though he might use her as an asset instead,” he says. “But if we pull this off, we can get her out of there, too.”

He offers her a small, warm smile and she bumps her shoulder against his.

“After I kill Clu.”

“Of course.”

They look up as Anon looms before them, gesturing for her to join him on the training grid. She springs to her feet and activates her katana.

* * *

“Of all the things I could be doing right now....”

The tracer ticks and purrs in her hand, pushing her and a contingent of Black Guard and Sentries along a nonsense path through Silicon Valley.

To be honest, Paige would rather be here than back at the Rectifier, facing the war minister’s cold fury. Years of careful, meticulous work building up to a grand finale - or coup, take your pick - tomorrow just for each strand of the plan to start glitching would piss off even the most controlled and calculating of Basics.

“He took the body for a reason,” Clu had told her just outside the entrance. He handed her a tracer. “Follow this, kill whoever you meet, and bring them here.”

“What do you need the dead body for? The asset’s already in.”

“I’m tying up all loose ends. Don’t come back until you find them.”