#make grim use eir ao3 challenge

[evecolourshock]

Fic inspired by this fake-tweet from @coupleofdays - I swear the initial plan was hilarity, not hurt/comfort.

Tron hesitates before retracting his helmet. It's less than a nanosecond, unnoticeable unless someone knows him - and this beta, Beck, does not - but still...

Is he really going to do this again? Is he really going to risk this again? Two Programs know for certain he survived, and most cycles that feels like two too many. Is he really willing to add a third to the mix?

If he does, that's one more Program he has to trust not to betray him. If he doesn't- if he doesn't, this beta's going to get himself killed.

The choice, laid out like that, is easy.

Tron's helmet retracts. His suit blooms white. His circuits ignite.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. The stealth suit is designed to take as much strain as possible off his scars, as well as give him a way to blend in. The white armour takes more energy than he really has available to maintain.

Tron masks the pain with a spine forged from steel and the vaguely-disappointed look he and Able both mastered to command their respective groups of unruly betas - it certainly worked on Flynn.

Tron's prepared for a lot of things. Awe. Disdain. Hatred. Indignation. Fury. He's failed to protect the Grid, failed to adequately perform his function, and far too many have paid the price. Even now, he can do very little, and he's braced for the inevitable accusations.

Beck looks at him with vague recognition. "Are you Tron?" The beta asks him warily, still in a defensive pose.

That's good. Tron approves. Decent survival instincts. "Yes." He feels like a shell of himself, scar beginning to creep back onto his face - he'll need the healing chamber again before long - but... he's still himself. At least for now.

"Why?"

Tron freezes. Buffers. That-

How in any Realm is he supposed to answer that? Is- is Beck asking him what makes him Tron? Is he asking why he's named Tron? Is he- Tron doesn't even know.

Why is Tron. How to cause an existential crisis and a logic error cascade with a one-word question.

There's no- Beck's not mad at him. Hasn't lashed out beyond the defensive attempt to stall or incapacitate a perceived enemy in a situation Tron manufactured to be exactly that. Doesn't seem inclined to treat him as anything more than just another Program.

Tron-

Tron doesn't normally get that. Not since the early cycles.

Beck doesn't give him anything to react to, actually, just standing and waiting for his response, and-

Tron doesn't know what to do. And he's far too close to crashing for his liking.

"Whoa, you don't look too good." Beck is suddenly far too close, how-

Oh.

That's an energy pouch.

They're not common, but Able makes his betas carry those, in case they need a snack partway through a trip.

Beck's... one of Able's betas. Tron thinks.

He's not sure of anything, any more.

Why is Tron?

Even the virus normally gnawing at what's left of his internal defences seems to have stopped to let him ponder the question.

Belatedly, he takes the energy pouch. He- he can't remember the last time someone was able to just hand him stuff.

Beck's... touching him. Willingly. Without hurting him. After Tron's plan to scare him into not getting himself killed went six ways sideways off a cliff. "Okay, you sit." Beck coaxes his legs into folding, and Tron-

Tron can only comply. It should scare him, but-

Well. Tron's barely functioning at the best of times, lately. He's definitely not functioning now.

Beck frowns, and Tron's dimly surprised to feel a rudimentary medical scan wash over him. That's not standard for a Mechanic, beta or no. "Oh." Beck breathes - Tron can't decipher his tone, but he doesn't think it's a good one. He-

Beck's chest makes a remarkably good pillow. Like Nord's did. Tron tries to ignore the spike through his core - Nord's gone. Rectified. Tron couldn't save him, just like he couldn't save Clax or Reeve or Anon-

His whole team. Gone. His fault.

Tron might be able to work independently, but... that doesn't mean he prefers or likes it. How long has it been, since he had a friend? Since someone wanted to spend time with him for who he is, not out of obligation or because they wanted something from him?

Why is Tron.

Tron isn't sure he exists as more than a shell and a title, any more. He likes to say Clu took everything except his name, but... Clu's all but succeeded in taking that, too. He tries to muster up some rage - at Clu, Dyson, himself, someone - but he can't find any.

Someone's pinging /grief into the air, so thick and heavy Tron can feel it on his tongue.

"I have you." Beck murmurs, sounding older than a beta. More familiar with him than someone Tron just met.

Why is Tron.

Tron shakes, feeling his code unraveling at the seams whether he wants it to or not.

Why is Tron.

He's lying down. Beck's a comfy mass underneath him. This feels... familiar. And nice.

Why is-

"Sleep." Beck instructs, fingers dancing across Tron's disc, so far away he might as well be back in Argon.

And, despite himself, Tron does.

Beck eyes Tron - The Monitor himself - asleep on his chest. He's... small. Smaller than Beck expected.

Not physically, and probably not by choice.

But still small. And those scars...

Beck's not a very good Medic. He's not supposed to be a Medic at all.

But Medics look after their patients. Protect them. Heal them. Give them somewhere they're safe, chase off infections and threats alike. Or, that's what he's heard Programs who're supposed to be Medics say.

Beck knows Tron needs a Medic. His diagnostics say so. And since he clearly has no one else...

Beck will have to do.

[evecolourshock]

Well fuck, I gotta do this now, since you asked politely :) sorry if Yori's a little OOC, she's a darling and I love her but I can never seem to get her voice right.

@fourbitsinatrenchcoat here you go :D

Beck cocks his head, because puzzling out his current situation is a great distraction from the knowledge he is well and truly in over his head.

He's never seen that many guards for a single stasis chamber before. Especially when there wasn't supposed to be anything here. The stasis chamber jolts as it gets settled into a pallet, one corner flickering - Beck bets he can use that to hack it.

"Careful!" Someone hisses.

Dyson.

Damnit.

"If she escapes, the Luminary will have all of us derezzed!" The General snaps. "Null units, the lot of you." He complains. "Just get her on the transport, and no more mistakes."

Beck has to get whoever that is. Bad for the Occupation is normally good for the Renegade. He doesn't-

He's not going to bring them straight to Tron's lair. That's just generally a bad idea. The Garage is also a bad idea...

Eh. He'll figure it out later.

...Beck cannot believe it was as easy as "steal an armour set and a forklift". He just can't. How is their security this lax - sure there's lots of guards, but nobody vetted the driver of the damn forklift that showed up to move the pallet.

Dyson really should know better. Maybe he's too frazzled right now though.

Beck's not an idiot, so he ditches the stolen armour and goes hunting for trackers the moment he's out of sight. A diagnostics scan brings up details about whoever's in the chamber unexpectedly, and he feels his eyebrows hit his hairline.

Damn that's an early compilation date. Pre-this-Grid kind of early.

Maybe Tron knows her.

Later, later. Trackers disconnected and removed, he takes his rescuee somewhere he's been thinking of building his own base.

It's not much, certainly not at the level Tron has in his lair, but it has a charging berth and medkits and supplies, and a containment area. Good enough for now.

She doesn't stir when he finally deconstructs the stasis chamber - what medical scans he can understand tell him she'll wake up on her own as the effects of the chamber wear off. There's no sign of rectification - that's either good, or really really bad, but Beck's an optimist at core.

He did, after all, notice Tron had been rectified when even the Monitor couldn't, and managed to tweak the healing chamber to actually be able to deal with that instead of mask it. Tron's been looking leagues better recently for a reason.

Again, Beck's not an idiot - he still makes sure she's in the modified quarantine unit and shouldn't be able to get out of it. Precautionary measures don't hurt.

He switches his circuits from Renegade to the knowingly terrible versions of Tron's he used pre-Renegade. Not his civilian circuits, obviously a disguise... but also an extra layer of misdirection away from him being the Renegade. Because of course the Renegade wouldn't be caught derezzed in something so amateur (never mind the extra armour panels he's been able to add, now he knows how to make them).

And now, to wait.

The lady wakes with a muffled yawn Beck only just catches through his own exhaustion. He's taken naps of course, here and there, but... up all rest cycle, not enough sleep. At least he has the work cycle off.

Tron's a sleepy grumble in his comms, probably fresh from the healing chamber and wondering where on the Grid Beck is. He pings off reassurance that he's safe first and foremost - nobody needs a rampaging fugitive Monitor on their hands - and then alerts Tron that he's somewhat accidentally found, and then on purpose liberated, someone who seems to be of importance.

Tron demands explanations as to who and how, so Beck sends him a picture of the lady currently investigating the walls of his containment unit.

The stunned silence echoes. That's definitely an interesting sign - Tron's very rarely shocked out of lectures.

...Beck very nearly misses the first choked sob. "Yori." Tron murmurs, full of longing and disbelief.

The lady - Yori, if Tron is to be believed - catches sight of him eventually - Beck sees the veiled shock on her face, which quickly gives way to suspicion. That's... fair, he supposes. In this particular get-up, he's pretty clearly not Tron, despite wearing Tron's ident.

"Who are you?" She asks, defensive.

"Depends who's asking." Beck fakes Tron's voice... deliberately badly. Exactly how he used to, when all he had to mimic was footage scraps someone had tried to wipe from existence and not quite succeeded. Knowing Tron, he can do a better impression, but... better to hide that connection for now.

She snorts at him, and he can hear Tron suppress a shaky laugh over the comm. Beck grins under his helmet - he likes amusing Tron, makes him feel like he can help his friend in more ways than just with his job. "Well, you're certainly not my counterpart." She tells him, raising an eyebrow - as if the news is supposed to startle him.

It does, but Beck paid attention during Tron's lessons on How To Not Let The Enemy Distract You. "Truth?" He asks Tron quietly.

"Truth." Tron answers shakily. "I thought she'd been derezzed or-"

"Rectified." Beck completes softly, when it's clear Tron can't bring himself to say it. "She's clear of that, as far as I can tell." Tron makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob - definitely fresh out of the healing chamber, that's the only time he's so expressive - and whispers a thanks to every deity he can think of. Users and otherwise. "I take it she's safe, then?"

"Yes." Tron breathes, and Beck chooses to take that as permission.

Retracting his helmet nets him keen eyes, and Beck lets his circuits shimmer back to civilian. "Sorry about the suspicion, Miss Yori, can't be too careful any more." Beck relaxes his posture, opens up, lets himself be warm and his actual age. It works, given how she relaxes in kind. "Just precautions, but a friend vouched for you."

"Must be some friend." Yori hums, sizing him up - Beck's definitely sure she's not checking him out.

"He is." Beck wanders over, deactivating the containment area with one hand and offering her an energy pouch with the other.

...does not let her see how he deactivates the containment. Even Tron trusts wrong sometimes, and Beck's determined to still have some secrets. Just in case.

"Anyone I'd know?" Yori asks, teasing in her voice.

"Mmm, you could say that." Beck grins, tapping his sternum four times - a gesture Tron uses to soothe himself. "So do us both a favour, yeah?" He abruptly goes serious, hair and plating fluffing out in an intimidatory display. "Don't break his trust."

Because Cyrus is a fresh wound. Because Dyson is a festering wound. Because Yori's betrayal would kill Tron, one way or another, and Beck refuses to let that happen.

The lightrunner ride to Tron's lair is done in silence, Beck using what by now is intimate knowledge of the glitches and shortcuts and general weirdness of the Outlands to obfuscate how to get there. Doing this makes Tron's head hurt, but... he trusts Beck to maintain secrecy this way. Yori stays quiet too, processing everything Beck's allowed her to know.

Tron's making an effort to be welcoming, near the entrance instead of manning his surveillance array. Beck gives his mentor privacy when he and Yori reunite - Tron hates the vulnerability that comes with emotions, the least Beck can do is make sure nobody's going to interrupt them.

Besides, he has reports to write.

Yori cajoles Tron into sitting down and resting, talking and comforting each other. It's... not easy watching them (Bodhi - Beck's core aches with loss), but at least Yori's seeming to hold true to her promise not to hurt Tron.

It takes ages for the discussion to wind down, for Tron to accept help to stagger to his healing chamber and let it close around him.

Yori watches him with sorrow in her eyes. "How can I help?" She asks Beck, when he nears.

Beck grins, and it's the fanged one he doesn't let Tron see. "So, I have this plan to overthrow Clu..."

Because nobody hurts Tron and gets away with it. On that, he and Yori can agree.

a while back I drew a concept for Uprising Yori -- but thanks to the power of me learning 3D modelling, I've made it a reality (:

[evecolourshock]

GridPride story prompt - week 1!

So, I ended up not writing anything due to lack of free time. Hence, two prompts in one story! Enjoy!

Beck is both too drunk and too sober to react properly when Cyrus of all Programs swaggers over to the booth he's claimed. "Huh." He notes, eyeing the flash of silver in Cyrus' hand - probably important, also probably explosive. "Didn't think I'd see you here." He purrs, sipping his drink - realising a little too late exactly how flirty that looks and sounds.

Cyrus buffers before he takes a seat, allowing Beck to pull him so they're side by side. Sure, that blocks Beck into the booth, but they can be more private this way. Don't have to lean over a table to talk about things they absolutely shouldn't be overheard saying.

Plus Cyrus is... very nice and warm against Beck's side. All muscle, as Beck is more than aware, stronger and lither and knows exactly how to use it. Can and has kicked Beck's back end resoundingly without any hint of exertion.

"Aside from the electrocution thing, would." Beck mutters to himself, feeling one long toned arm wrap around his shoulders. So glitch him, he has a type, and that type is competent and could break him.

"Would what, Beck?" Cyrus murmurs, a little dark, breath ghosting past Beck's ear.

"Do you really want me to answer that question with words?" Beck traces up one of the circuits on Cyrus' leg pointedly, liquid courage and lowered enough inhibitions letting him tease the graceful deathbringer beside him. Judging from the quiet gasp tapering into a growl, Cyrus figures his meaning out.

"You'd be my Renegade, then? Were it not for that?" Cyrus rumbles at him, abandoning whatever it was he came here to do. He's intrigued, Beck can feel it, and by the way his grip tightens...

"Maybe not that." Beck acknowledges. "But still yours." He glances over, letting the club lights pick out all the shades of his eyes. "I think you're better as you, instead of standing in his shadow."

A ripple of blues and greens shimmers through Cyrus' circuits, bleeding onto the chairs. Beck doesn't have to check to know his own circuits are beginning to stain pink and purple along with his own blue.

Cyrus grins, slow and lazy and sharp, but before he can say anything Mara and Zed find them both. Beck groans quietly, dropping his head onto Cyrus' shoulder - he wants to keep talking to Cyrus, damnit. And only some of it is for stalling reasons.

"You didn't tell us you were here!" Mara half-scolds. "We could have gone dancing!"

"Mara." Beck whines, feeling the irritation sparking over Cyrus fade away into amusement at his predicament. "I don't dance by myself, you know that. And besides-" his mouth works before his processor, coming up with an excuse entirely driven by hormones. "-you crashed my date, you Gridbug."

Cyrus' arm abruptly goes from tight to crushing. "Is that what we're doing now?" He whispers into Beck's ear, pleased by the blush burning all the way up Beck's neck, and definitely not someone who would have knocked the whole table flying were it not for the training they share.

Beck just nods into Cyrus' neck. "Roll with it." He sighs. "They won't leave now, so I hope you're prepared for an interrogation." He warns, keeping up the cover part of him wishes wasn't one. "And you two-" he glowers at his friends, who do at least have the decency to look sheepish. "Be. Nice. It's only our second date, and the first one... didn't go so well thanks to stuff neither of us could plan for."

That part's a lie, at least mostly. Cyrus absolutely did plan the electric chair. And the torture. And the... whatever that vision-thing was. But probably not for Beck specifically. And up until he got knocked out and wound up on the receiving end of the aforementioned horrors, Beck was considering finding out if he could distract Cyrus with a nice meal somewhere fancy.

Cyrus is pretty and dangerous, and Beck likes both of those a lot.

The first few questions are pretty standard for Mara, tame for Zed. Name (Cyrus, don't call me Cy), function - Cyrus drawls out demolitions expert, and Beck stifles a slightly inappropriate giggle. How they met - surprisingly, neither Beck nor Cyrus have to alter the tale all that much to make it believable while still keeping certain secrets secret, and they back each other up without trying.

"You know I've got that... kind of side job?" Beck asks, feeling Cyrus' curiosity spike. "The delivery one, how it sometimes takes me into... less than friendly neighbourhoods and I come back slightly injured." Mara nods. Zed folds his arms - he doesn't quite buy Beck's cover story, but he's also not found any proof Beck's lying. "Well, Cyrus was trained by the same guy for the same reasons."

"I wanted to test him. See if the new kid could handle it." Cyrus is smooth. Charming. Voice soft and sweet, eyes sparkling as he ensnares Beck's friends in their shared lie, and- damnit, Beck should not find that so attractive. "He impressed me. Didn't quite escape what I'd set up, but... gave as good as he got." Cyrus smiles, and Beck feels something shoot across his circuits. "I knew he was something special then."

"And as you know, I am very weak to pretty people who can break me." Beck shrugs. Cyrus rakes his fingers down a thigh circuit in retaliation - apparently he doesn't take genuine compliments well. Beck files that away for later. "And really-" Beck continues, ignoring how Cyrus starts creeping his hand closer to more sensitive circuits, daring him to continue. "-it's unfair." He lists off points on his fingers. "Gorgeous. Powerful. Intelligent. Cunning. Graceful. Inventive. The whole Users-damned package and then some. I do not know how anyone hasn't jumped you yet." He addresses the last part at Cyrus. "Seriously. How."

"Some tried." Cyrus rests his fingers close to Beck's hip. "They weren't for me. Though looking back... I suppose it would be easier to say they weren't you." His voice picks up a slight rasp, which does all sorts of things to Beck's imagination, and-

Cyrus doesn't like losing anything he perceives as a competition, and will use any advantage he can find to win, Beck notes absently, trying to not completely give away how much everything Cyrus affects him. "See what I mean?" He asks, voice held mostly steady through sheer force of will. "Unfair."

"So... what are you to each other?" Zed pipes up, eyes shaded.

"Ehhh, haven't thought about it. We just... are?" Cyrus rubs the back of his neck, and it's too damn endearing. It's the first time Beck's seen him really be caught off-guard, too.

"Not concerned with labels. The Sea isn't, and neither are we." Beck swoops in, nudging his long-abandoned drink at Cyrus. "I guess... I guess we started as favourite enemies." He dares tease Cyrus, getting a laugh for his efforts. "Now... like Cyrus said. We're just us. Together. Wanting to see where this goes."

"Can't argue with that." Zed gets up, tugging Mara with him. "Sorry for barging in earlier, enjoy your date."

"Thanks Zed." Beck raises his voice a little, over Mara's protests about not having asked more questions. "See you tomorrow, guys."

Cyrus waits until they're gone. "So. Dating. Really?" He sips Beck's drink, one eyebrow raised.

Beck leans in, drapes himself against Cyrus' side again. "I panicked. Also, I'm tipsy, and you're pretty. Can't blame me for truths."

Cyrus hums at him, clearly electing to ignore the last part of Beck's statement. "He won't like this, you know." It probably should be mocking, but he actually just sounds amused. "Whatever will you do if there's a disaster to stop?"

"Glare at it, because it can wait until I'm sober." Beck sniffs haughtily. "Besides, he's grounded, so he can't say squat."

Cyrus coughs on his sip. "Grounded?" He squeaks out, snickering.

"I grounded him." Beck confirms. "He knows what he did, and can sit in the corner and think about the consequences."

"He'll just train. So he doesn't have to think."

"Not without the access cards he won't." Beck grins lazily this time, showing Cyrus all four access cards for the simulator, weapons bay, and vehicle rack. He tucks them away with a flourish, making sure he won't lose them - they were far too hard to steal to risk that.

Cyrus starts laughing. Really laughing, surprised and delighted and shining. "Beck." He grabs Beck's hands, thumbs rubbing over Beck's scarred wrists - patching them, though Beck's not sure Cyrus realises. "Beck, holy glitch."

"I know, right?" Beck preens smugly.

"Yeah." Cyrus keeps holding Beck's hands, which is nice. Beck makes sure to hold Cyrus' hands too, as much as he can.

"So. Dating." Cyrus starts again after a while, not looking at Beck. "Not a bad cover."

"It doesn't have to be a cover." Beck offers, a little impulsive and a lot hopeful. A new start, and someone who understands... well. Would probably do them both good.

"You're serious." Cyrus realises, sharp eyes widening at Beck's confirmatory nod. "You're really-"

Beck musters up every bit of courage he has, liquid and otherwise, to put Cyrus' arms around his neck so he can hug the other Renegade. Probably too fast, skipping some important romance process somewhere, but Beck doesn't care. With the Occupation, and Beck's role in trying to stop it, too fast is all he has.

"Beck. I hurt you. Badly. And I enjoyed it." Cyrus reminds him gently. "I'm not a good person."

"And?" Beck asks him. "Paige keeps trying to kill me and lies to herself about why. You're honest about it, that's immediately an improvement. Besides. At least some of that is you were- you didn't have anyone supporting you, right? And he doesn't count, he's bad at it."

"Correct."

"Well, now you have me. You'll always have me. If you want." Beck nuzzles Cyrus' face. He hasn't heard a no yet, and he's optimistic. "We're dangerous enough on our own. What do you think we'll be like together?"

Cyrus smiles against the curve of Beck's shoulder. "I guess we'll find out."

[brightsun-and-darkmidnight]

Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

TITLE: Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 20 / ?

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-dark midnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki falling in love with a Midgardian and his words to Thor about Jane during Dark World coming back to haunt him. “It would be a heartbeat. You would never be ready.”

RATING:  M for Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: ~▪︎~FOR THE WHOLE STORY~▪︎~

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Check Masterlist. It's going to be a long read. I try to keep each chapter around 3,000 words.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

!-!TRIGGER WARNING(S)!-!

So many triggers, read ALL of them!

Swearing. Angst. Death. Depression. Violence. Self-harm. Regret. Carelessness for safety. Doubts. Torture. NSFW. Smut. Fluff. And Of Course- Mischief.

Summary: The new Avenger.

 ~ ~ ENJOY  ~ ~

Everyone was watching the news after Alicia's interview.

The news a background sound to Alicia as she looked out the window and sipped tea. Alicia thought she heard it all. 

Her bullies claiming to be her friends. 

Loki wasn't good for Alicia… She was too innocent for him.

Alicia glanced at the TV as they talked about Asgard, 18 people dead. Is she really cut out to be an Avenger? Alicia's words, 'the Avengers created their own mess before being heroes' the headline along the bottom.

She was able to drastically minimize casualties and handled the situation very well.

Someone Seriously reiterated how Loki got Alicia. Another jumped in, "Careful, Alicia just might give you that look when she's pissed off and give you a well thought out comment to get you away. Besides we know from past interviews, Loki said she had charm."

There was a laugh between the reporters as they agreed and then they went onto the weather, joking Thor was in a good mood today and the sun was expected to stay out.

Alicia glanced at Loki who was staring at his tea with his fingers tracing over the ridge and handle. Alicia smiled at him and pushed her unworried thoughts aside as she grabbed his restless hand. His eyes flickered to hers.

Alicia asked with a caring smile, "Worried about something?"

The annoying voice with the usual insult, "Loki is putting on a show, he is a full on diva."

Alicia glared, "One more word Tony and I'll tie your lungs together."

Tony gestured towards Alicia, "I'm really starting to question if Loki is the one to worry about."

Clint warned Tony, "she could make you suffer slowly. She learned a few things from her sister-who specializes in torture."

Alicia smiled as she lifted an eyebrow to challenge Tony.

"Ok Sour patch kid." Tony snapped his fingers and clapped loudly. "That's your hero name."

Loki suggested, "You could go with sour patch kid." Alicia glared at Loki. "Sweet and sour?" 

Rolled her eyes half heartedly as Alicia thought back to things she was called before. Mostly insults. Then one stuck. She looked at Loki, speaking loudly, "Peacekeeper."

Realization hit his face quickly, "you can't be serious. That is a direct challenge to Luit."

"He got the name from our fan base." Alicia sipped her tea and spoke nonchalantly, "Have you found those cuffs yet?"

Loki held her stare and then narrowed his eyes as he spoke, "We are not doing torture training."

"It's going to happen." Alicia played with the rim of her mug, "Marci is already working on them…" Alicia's eyes fell to her moving fingers, "and she's almost done." 

Alicia heard Loki stand abruptly and looked at him. His hand picked relentlessly at the other and his gorgeous emerald eyes were wet. "You have no idea what you are doing. No idea what that is going to do to you." His words were caring but growl was prominent, then the words were harsh and his voice was strangled. "Must you be so mindless when it comes to your well being? You need babysat every second because it's so hard -impossible, to keep you safe."

Alicia was startled when Loki hit the table at his last word. The words stung in her chest. Her eyes burned with tears. Ever since she..hurt herself Loki never really left her side. If he did, there was this look he sent any one in the room before he left. Alicia realized she was being baby sat. She was this burden everyone needed to watch constantly. 

The room was silent. Friction from the oxygen moving in the air could be heard. Maybe it was the loud thump in her ears as her heart constricted. Alicia rolled her lips into her mouth as she looked at the dents and splinters Loki's hands still rested in. Her chest stopped expanding and contracting so her breath would not hitch and shake. 

Alicia knew from a sideline experience Loki lashed out when hurt or pushed to far. Maybe she has been this huge stressor. There was this voice of reason, saying Loki cared but he was just overwhelmed. Alicia saw his frustration. He has been trying so hard to keep her safe but the future had different plans.

Alicia stood slowly, staring at his chest. Not able to make eye contact. She saw his hands clench tighter and she swallowed to force her heart back into her chest. Her fingers graze the table as she walked past him. Let her hand ghost over his, hesitated to give that reassuring squeeze. She whispered, "we need time to cool down." 

She walked out, using her vague memory of the new place to get her to her room. Tears blurred her sight but she wouldn't let them fall. Not until she locked the entrance door to her meeting room, the one to her bedroom and collapsed on the floor in heart wrenched cries.

Loki stood straight. Hands opened and rested on the table. He stared at indents then turned to go the way Alicia just walked. There was a familiar heavy hand on his shoulder. Loki dipped his shoulder and kept walking but the hand gripped so tight it was uncomfortable. Finally, a reasonable reaction for his outburst. 

"You both need space."

Loki turned and glared at Thor, so tempted to plunge something sharp into his brother. 

What would Alicia do? What would she say?

Loki locked his jaw and tensed his muscles so he was still. Closed his eyes and breathed. Thor was right. Loki had been suffocating their relationship because he was worried about her. There were no guarantees of safety, thus, his insistent watchful eyes. Loki got out of the grasp and went to the window. He picked at his hand in thought of how to make it up to Alicia. 

The picking got worse, especially as the reporters on another TV talk show discussed all their distaste for Loki and how Alicia was way too good for him. How dare Loki believe he could have someone so perfect. He had magic over her. Had her so deeply mind controlled she couldn't break free.

Were they right? Loki cast many illusions in his time of loneliness… could he have put her under some love spell? Loki's eyes closed as his jaw rolled then closed. Lips pressed together in a firm line. Had he messed up even the slightest thing when he put her to sleep? 

"We will go check on her." Jane spoke up.

Loki opened his eyes. The sun set Alicia never got to finish, was gone. The lights of the city below shining as the sky got darker. The stars were unable to be seen with the light pollution, but Loki had seen enough stars for the rest of his life. His eyes saw Natasha lead; Jane, Valkyrie, and Pepper. He knew they would care for her. 

His eyes fell to his hands that insisted on healing the small skin that was picked away.

Why must he heal so fast? It wasn't Seder. It was his damn blood, his heritage. It had always been... Odd. To heal so fast. He remembered his mother being so distraught at his arrival at the medical rooms for treatment. 

He had a wound that was brought on by fire serpents. The Hel fire would not heal on his skin and it hurt so terribly that he could not focus his Seder. His mother's grim face filled with expectations that he had not known yet. Now he understood why she insisted on her personal room and sent the others away. Even sent her own healer to the other side of the door.

Loki looked up and saw Thor talking with the others near the loud TV. Turning from the reflections Loki stepped with purpose to the real world.

"Thor, has Eir assigned a healer?"

Thor blinked and his eyebrows scrunched. "No. She hasn't, but she is gathering the best healers for Alicia to potentially be paired with. You know there is a system."

Loki growled, "I know."

Thor patted Loki's shoulder and promised Loki, "I will call her now to check on progress. Go relax before the party."

Loki nodded and swallowed at the disappointing promise.

Alicia's tears had poured out of her when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. It was Pepper. The others were behind looking down at her, making her feel; like a burden, weak, and pathetic. Natasha picked the locks when Alicia did not come to the door. They helped her onto the bed and Alicia quickly put up her brave and strong facade. She teased herself and said she was being absurd.

Jane leaned forward to be seen, once Alicia saw her she spoke. "You have been so stressed. We see it. You have worked yourself constantly and it's no wonder you need a break. Loki doesn't let you breathe."

Alicia wipes at tears, "he knows my worries of the untold future. Loki is tortured at the idea I will be harmed again. He was..terrified when he found me. The knowledge that could happen again is...unnerving."

Jane stared at Alicia with concerned eyes, speaking softly. "Thor is pushing the issue of getting you a healer. He called so many times Eir told him not to call and she will get a hold of him...but there is a process." 

Yes… the damn process. Driving everyone, especially Loki insane with the wait.

An Oracle focuses on the witch in question with the chosen healers in the room. The Oracle warns them all of challenges the witch will throw at them. Once the ones up to the challenges are left in the room they sign a contract. The vision that is the most vital is burned to the healers mind and they have to figure out how to heal themselves so they could heal the witch. There is a contract the healers go through so they can not give information concerning the worst vision.

Alicia looked at her hands, she was told by Eir it was going to take time to find her someone that was compatible. It was just a safety precaution to allow the healers mind to fix itself so they can heal the witch through anything. The part of the contract that kept the secrets, to let the future unfold naturally, is that they can not tell what the Oracle showed them. The Oracle's contract is a spell so they can not tell anyone the vision or they will die as their voice box swells and closes off any air.

Alicia swallowed, her hands shook a little and played with them. "Are the healers having a hard time? I mean, if I didn't already have the worst vision, yet...what's in the future?"

There was silence. A heavy question hanging by a frail tie.

Alicia looked at the clock as a servant came in after a quiet knock. Alicia stood and smiled, "I guess we have to get ready."

"If you need anything."

"Thank you Natasha. I will be alright." Alicia waved her hands towards the door, "go get ready. I will see you all at the party."

Alicia's servant did her hair in a half updo. Bangs framing her face with loose curls that cascaded to her waist. Her make up made her glow compared to the flushed and tear stained cheeks. Alicia's eyes were dark from despair but the eyeshadow of darker natural colors helped push her usual bright eyes to appear as normally displayed. 

"You really know how to pull someone together…"

The servant smiled into the mirror, "you are always put together when I arrive."

Alicia muttered a quiet thanks from embarrassment, she had not realized she spoke allowed. Once the look was complete, Alicia looked in the mirror. Loki's colors decorated her and she hoped he was alright. She wished they would be able to fix the tension that was left unattended.

Loki was in the party area, watching eagerly for Alicia to arrive.

"Do not worry Brother, she will be here. Jane swore Alicia was fine."

Loki didn't say anything but his eyes darted to the various entry points. Each face was not hers. He saw hundreds of faces but none of them held the beauty that adorned Alicia. Loki was turned and guided to the bar.

A relaxed, carefree voice reached his ears, "You are going to feel like an eternity passed if you keep waiting like that. You need a distraction."

"Valkyrie, I'm not drinking."

"Just a glass of wine. You will be relaxed." She poured Asgardian wine into a glass and she drank right from the bottle.

Loki wanted Alicia's touch but he could not have it. Loki took a drink, this would have to do till he had Alicia in his arms. No one comforted Loki. It was obvious Alicia was the favorite for everyone, that Loki was the one in the wrong… As usual. Everyone was listening to her about the damn torture training. No one understands the pain she would be in. His hand threatened to shatter the wine glass but he envisioned Alicia's hand in his. 

A woman sat close to Loki at the bar. She pointed over his shoulder and he saw Alica talking with a man. He moved to get up but the woman held his arm. He knew the woman was Asgardian just by her grip. Her voice was low as she states, "she seems to be having a great time without you." The woman's hand went to his chest and the slightest amount into the jacket where her fingers drew signs onto his taunt muscles. 

"We could have a good time too." Her smile and voice were heavily suggestive. The woman's eyes tried to unlock his mask but were unable to shine a light through like Alicia. Everything about Alicia was subtle, a respectful and unnoticeable display of her needs for him through a flirtatious side glance and shoulder raise. It was when Loki would smirk at her and pull her a little closer she would bite her lip.

The woman's tongue slid across her lips and said, "I heard of how rough you love to be. You can't do that with her." And that hand went lower in his jacket, "you can with me."

Loki glared and plucked the woman's hand from him, "I am not interested." Loki turned and did not walk with the gentleman prance as he started out with. Loki fully prepared to tear the man apart and his intentions must have been obvious because people were getting out of his way. 

Alicia's back was to him until she pushed the man away and snarled at the man. "Touch me again and I will cut your hands off finger by finger." And Alicia turned. She stumbled back as she almost collided with Loki. Anger on her face as she huffed. Then she looked shocked, relieved, and a little worried when she finally took in his face. "Loki."

Her anger fit with his colors, appropriate if taking in the meaning behind them. But her beauty brought life to his colors in a positive light.

"Love, are you alright?" It was many questions in one. Referring to before and now.

Her smile was warmer, "better now." Loki followed her glare then took her to the bar once she said, "let's get a drink." Alicia tugged on his hand, "he is not worth the attention." Eyes followed them to the bar, Loki got the same Midgardian wine as Alicia. She went to the deck outside. "I was trying to get to you but that idiot stopped me." She rolled her eyes in frustration as she took a rather large gulp of the wine. 

She never let him go. For their image first. The man's well being… was the reason Loki wanted released. Loki knew she realized his plans, thus not letting go. They had an image she was trying to maintain.

Alicia was staring towards the city, eyes following the cars on the streets below. The light from the obnoxious party illuminating her skin. She did not match her surroundings. She was too...godly for anything other than marble, gold, and with the view of a natural landscape. Loki longed to see her in the settings of his home.

In Asgard.

The wind blew hair in her face and Loki instantly used his hand to pin the offending obstruction away. Her eyes met his. Her makeup was in place, even though Loki would always insist she went without it.. He agreed, unspoken, that it did enhance her beauty. 

Her hair was blowing in the now gentle breeze of the warm summer night. Her neck wrapped in a simple choker and rope necklace that hung along her breasts that were enhanced by the tight top. Loose shoulder less straps that took his eyes back up to her collar bones, were those straps should have been designed to be. 

Her head leaned into his hand. Encouraging the touch. His eyes closed as he felt the tight feeling leave his chest.

Loki felt her gentle kiss on the palm and her warm breath as she spoke, "I love you. I appreciate your worry but…" her face turned so he could take in her every feature once he welcomed the current world. He was prepared to face his punishment. "I hope my healer is assigned soon. We haven't had very much time to ourselves recently and I feel...smothered."

That was it? That was his punishment? She desired space… "I apologize. It was not my intention."

Alicia smiled, "I know… You are worried." Her eyes looked all over his face and her hand went to his chest to rest there. Her breath was deep, "you are so handsome."

Loki smirked, "I'm handsome? Just solidifying this now?"

Alicia rolled her eyes, "I guess you are if your going to be so cocky about it."

Loki hummed and took her hand, "let me have a look at you." He spun her slowly.

The dress flared out after her waist, the slit was perfect for him, but not for public eyes. The dress lifted in the spin to show her heels that were just two inches and he couldn't help but be amused. She was clumsy in anything higher. Her shoes were a simple ankle strap, similar to their first date. Loki let her stop spinning and she gestured to herself, "am I to your satisfaction?" The dress wrapping around her at the stop and moved back and forth till it stilled.

Loki smiled and kissed her gently, "always." He grinned with teasing words on his tongue.

"You better think before your next words."

Loki chuckled and then inspected her first, "you didn't spill your wine. I'm impressed."

Alicia huffed and gave him a tap on the chest. "Forget the wine, I need it. That man got away with his hands, I'm impressed with myself for that."

Loki couldn't stop the laugh from escaping his throat, "You are starting to sound like me. Treasuring small accomplishments to everyday civilians."

"That guy pissed me off."

"Shall I take care of him?" Loki turned to go towards the bustling party and smiled when he felt a tug back. "I can't just let him go for distressing a fair maiden."

Alicia fanned herself as if she was a fair maiden that needed saving, "Oh, how very heroic of you." Alicia threw herself into his chest and blinked up at him, "my hero." 

Loki laughed but didn't miss the chance to play along, "do my heroic actions get a reward?"

Loki could tell she was trying very hard not to laugh and keep up their act, "you may grace these lonely lips with yours kind sir."

Loki smiled, "as you wish." He kissed her slowly, as if it was the tender first kiss from an actual hero.

Someone cleared their throat and Alice giggled as she pulled away to hide her face in his neck.

"Make out later. We got shots and dancing to do." Susan pulled Alicia to the bar as Alicia yelled at her not to have too much but Susan claimed she has not been out in a long time. The two of them did not hang out in a long time and needed to relax. Susan slapped the bar, "Two shots!"

"Susan, no." The shots came as Natasha smiled and told her to enjoy herself.

Susan held her shot glass out and said with a slur, "you are getting on the floor with me. Shot or not. I still can't believe you have magic. "

Alicia looked at Loki. He looked highly amused.

"He hasn't seen your club dance?" Susan slapped the bar urgently, "two more shots!"

"For your sake, I'll take the shots. This is it for both of us." And Alicia threw back her head and grimaced.

Susan winked at Loki, "You're going to love this!" Susan pulled Alicia to the dance floor quickly after Alicia gave Loki a long kiss and a heated stare. "Make eyes as you dance, give everyone something to watch."

There it was. The reason Alicia was so reserved. People to watch. 

Loki wondered if the alcohol would make her forget the image she showed. As soon as Susan was on the floor she instantly started to dance. Susan was dancing as if someone was grinding on her from behind… Loki watched as Alicia eased into it, so unnaturally nervous. She danced timidly at first and was barely able to keep her eyes on Loki.

Loki watched with interest. A few songs in and Alicia was mostly keeping eye contact with him. Taken by the alcohol as she swayed her hips and the rest of her body followed as if her hips were the puppet master. Everything flowing smoothly and looked as if her hips were the source of the energy. Her hands moved as if to showcase her hips then would go to the sides of her body and rolled so smoothly.

"She dances like a Sakarian seductress." Valkyrie said and then took large swallows of alcohol as she watched Alicia from around the bottle.

"A goddess of fertility." Thor replied and took a few gulps of his beer as Valkyrie pointed at his reply and held her drink up in cheers.

"Seductress and fertility? I already said no little Loki's." Tony pointed at Loki, "don't even think about it." And then Pepper tried to get Tony to end the party.

Loki didn't pay any attention to them. Alicia was dancing. So inviting. So.. sultry and seducing. Loki noticed he wasn't the only one swayed by her moves as he watched the same guy from before moving towards her. Loki was already preparing to get up.

Alicia felt hands on her hips from behind. She knew immediately Loki was not the one getting friendly with her. She pried the hands off her and turned with a glare. It was the man from before. Not able to keep his balance and a crooked grin. His heavy slur was further proof,  "Still too good for me? You with those secrets you kept..? I bet you keep secrets in bed… Loki is probably.."

Alicia ignored the man's rambling that never really ended in a complete thought. She stayed out of reach of the man and kept Susan behind her, "you are drunk. I suggest you leave."

Alicia heard Susan saying she would go get security.

"Does Loki overcompensate with his ego?"

Alicia laughed at the ridiculous question, "I assure you he doesn't need to overcompensate for anything."

"So screwing a whore like you is easy." He grabbed Alicia but she got out of his grasp and pushed him away. He stumbled into people, thus getting attention,  "Come on baby doll, Let me take a turn. I don't mind sloppy seconds."

Alicia saw movement, and Loki was coming towards them. She instantly felt sober, Alicia knew there would be trouble, more gossip for the media. "You need to go."

"Only if you come with me." The man's grin seemed to grow as Alicia pushed on Loki's chest, repeatedly telling him she was fine. "The whores beast has him tamed well. She must be a great fuck for him to not add her to the list of people he killed.. like he killed all the people of New yor-"

That was it. She had it with everyone. The whole world knew she was not defenseless now. She debated if she should keep pushing Loki away, let him go, and then the idea she has always wanted to do. Alicia said, "fuck it." She turned and knocked the guy on his ass as he sported one hell of a bloodied lip. Before Alicia could do anything else, Loki grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to him. 

"No baby doll. You're the one who takes it rough…" Alicia tried to pry Loki's fingers from her that were holding tightly and might be bruising her. The man got up and stumbled forward, effectively falling on all fours. He gestured under him, "I'll show you a more gentle approach than the monster."

That made her stomach turn and her to see a pitiful excuse of a man. She was held onto by Loki as she tries once more to get to the man. "you want added to my list?"

Security finally pulls the man to his feet. Loki growled, "Get him out of here, or I'll let her go."

The man laughed and slurred more insults at them. Then he heaved up a foul amount of alcohol, causing everyone to groan and laugh. 

Alicia smirked as Susan stood in front of her, "just like old times."

Alicia groaned, "don't remind me."

Loki was pulling her away and he was smiling. "I think you can kiss your perfect role model image away after tonight, Darling." Loki hummed as he pulled Alicia outside for fresh air. He put her against the railing and trapped her with his body. He eyed her with amusement and desire. She stared back as her arms on his shoulders, moved fluid but not organized anymore. "Perhaps we can have fun in public now?"

Alicia's slur was becoming obvious, "maybe. Nothing too crazy. I don't want anyone thinking they can join." Her lips found his neck as she grumbled,  "I want you to myself.."

The working of her mouth was holding purpose as it worked against his skin. Loki chuckled slowly, "Are you possessive when intoxicated?" She sucked a little more causing Loki to teasingly purr, "keep that up and you'll leave a mark."

Alicia pulled back and eyed the area Loki felt a little more chilled from the crisp air. "That can work." And she grinned up to him. Her fingers pulled him by the neck as she kissed him with fever. Loki let her have a few seconds of fun before he pulled away from her and she whined his name. Loki picked up Alicia as she was losing the ability to stand.

He asked, “You had more than you should have, didn’t you?”

“Maybe a bit.” Alicia said pinching her fingers together.

Loki could tell she was in a very fuzzy state of mind. “Come on, Darling. Let's get this out of your system.”

“What are you going to do?"

Loki picked her up and carried her swiftly through the party. Alicia groaned, telling him not to move so fast. He took her to her own room. Through her personal living room set up for her personal meetings, then to her bedroom. Keeping in mind to move her slowly onto the bed. He removed her clothes slowly as well but left her underwear on for now.

Alicia groaned, “Loki I don’t think I can have sex.”

“I know, Love. That is not the plan tonight. We need to get that alcohol out of your stomach before it gets too far into your system.” Loki picked her up and took her to the bathroom. He put her in front of the toilet.

“Oh come on. Please don’t make me throw up in front of you.” She was starting to visibly wobble as the legal poison worked its way to her system.

Loki held her hair and pressed his hand to her stomach letting his seder work, “No other way Love.”

Alicia tried moving his hand away as she started to gag, “Loki. please don’t.”

It must have been 10 minutes of expelling the liquid. Loki gave her breaks to let her get her strength back. She groaned how she promised to never drink ever again. “Good Love. I really don’t want to do this again.” Then he let her finish expelling everything in her stomach.

“I feel so gross. I can’t believe you made me do that.” Alicia wiped at her face with a wet cloth Loki put in front of her. She stood and went to the sink. She brushed her teeth and ignored Loki, even though he was making himself busy getting a bath ready. She stood there and stared at the mirror where Loki stood now. His hands were running up and down her arms and sides. He unclasped her bra and helped it slide off her body. What was in the mirror was bare. His eyes meeting hers and stayed on hers even though she was exposed. Alicia turned and hugged him, “You really didn’t need to do that.”

Loki followed her gaze to the bath, “Satisfied in everything, Love. Anything you need. Anything you want will be yours.”

“What if I just want you?” There was still a slur...

Loki pried her hands from his erection, “You have me. But. Not tonight, not that way. You need rest. You are going to have a hellish morning."

[evecolourshock]

I have an AU now

:)

Beck furrows his brow in concentration, putting the final touches on Bodhi's project together.

It's... bittersweet. Bodhi should have been the one finishing it. Bodhi should have been the one taking it for a test run, tuning it to hijack broadcasts and override propaganda. Bodhi's should be the voice sending quips and taunts through the airwaves, turning his formidable mind and acerbic comments - and fists - on the ones that deserve to be sent tumbling out of power.

Not Beck. Not the guy always a little too slow.

Beck shakes his head, checking power levels. No, he's no fighter. Not like Bodhi.

But he can do this.

"Testing, testing..." Beck hums, hearing his own voice be warped into Bodhi's voiceprint. It's the best he can do, using his dead best friend's voice to hopefully inspire a legacy. "One. Two. Three."

His pilfered output crackles back at him, but Bodhi's voice comes through sure and strong, just like it would have in life. Beck dashes away a tear - should be Bodhi doing this for real-

It isn't. Will never be. So Beck's going to do his best.

His library of random sounds rises out of his desk, stolen from Archives long since burned to the ground. His music collection, much the same - Beck has no idea what most of it sounds like, who it came from, but there's a lot of it and he intends to play it all. Thieving the files took him most of a system cycle, racing to filch each track before it could be deleted, staying one step ahead as much as he could. Baffling authorities, and infuriating them, leaving glitter as his calling card despite how easy one mistake would make him to track.

Beck had visions of doing something showier, once. Bombs and combat, sabotage and thievery, playing dress-up as a hero long disappeared. Avenging Bodhi more... directly.

He shakes his head ruefully. Him, impersonating the legendary Tron? What a joke. Someone like that wouldn't even look in the direction of an inexperienced mechanic like Beck. If Tron's even still online.

Beck's not keen on finding out how quickly he can get himself derezzed, anyway.

It takes him the better portion of the late shift to put together a couple of announcements he's happy with, amusing himself by splicing together as many sounds as he can. Making something messy, chaotic, an assault on audial input as much as it is an actual introduction.

It takes longer than that for him to find what songs he wants to use for the first hijack. Some of them are... not old, exactly, but the bouncier ones of Able's youth, both Program and User music - maybe Flynn himself used to listen to them, Beck doesn't know. Some of them are loud, full of screams and howls and vicious rumbles that threaten to burst Beck's own audial inputs - let alone anyone else's. And some of them are new, mostly from Purgos and their more... anarchist inhabitants, aggressive and inflammatory and protesting everything Beck hates too.

Beck, hating things. If someone had told him he'd feel that so strongly a system cycle ago, Beck would have called them glitched in the processor.

But eventually, Beck's as ready as he'll ever be. Music queued up, announcement ready to go, a network of surveillance units he definitely shouldn't know how to make feeding him information to encode and disseminate. Someone has to, and he's already breaking multiple laws that will see him killed if caught - one more bit of treason won't make any difference.

The dial-up beep starting his first hijack makes Beck smile. "Here we go." He murmurs quietly, before grabbing his microphone. "Processes and paradoxes, welcome to the show!" Beck crows, knowing the whole Grid will be hearing Bodhi's voice loud and clear on this new channel Bodhi first sculpted into being. "You're listening to One Oh Two Point Two - Renegade FM." He grins, letting one of his spliced-together soundbytes play. "Bringing the hottest sounds of the Grid right to your ears. This is not your Uncle Tesler's station - or your Uncle Clu's, for that matter!" Beck laughs, jeering at the forces he's learned to despise. He hits play on a song at somewhat random, and settles back to enjoy himself.

Tron jolts, accidentally stumbling across a new channel. He tends to keep an eye on - or, an ear out for - any propaganda so he can counter it accordingly, but this-

This isn't that.

This is something else.

Someone new has entered the field.

He listens attentively - they're young, whoever they are. The voiceprint is artificial, a sophisticated piece of encoding Tron would struggle to deconstruct if he felt the need - even with all his specialist equipment for doing exactly that. It still can't hide the tonal inflection of youth, the unique sentence structure and references inherent to betas coming through so clearly.

The music has him barking a laugh unexpectedly - he more than remembers Flynn belting that one out when halfway overcharged, much to Clu's dismay. The announcements are quippy, snappy, encoding valuable intel in seemingly inane yet brutal commentary.

Tron checks the broadcast name - Renegade FM, huh? He's going to have to remember this one.

*Accessing archived data*

YOU'RE NOW LISTENING TO

*Disc powering up SFX*

102.2

*intense light cycle noises*

RENEGADE FM

*flynn_yeah.wav* *vine boom SFX* *airhorn sound*x3

BRINGING THE HOTTEST SOUNDS OF THE GRID

*Wilhelm scream* *guy derezzing into cubes SFX*

RIGHT TO YOUR EARS

*bit_saying_yes.wav*x3 *air raid SFX*

THIS IS NOT YOUR UNCLE TESLER'S STATION

*"Only Solutions" by Journey starts playing*

[evecolourshock]

:)

Beck has to pause, pinch the bridge of his nose, and take a deep breath. The uprising - Tron's legacy - is mostly going okay. Sure, Beck's not out on the streets as much as he wants to be, and reining in Cyrus and his lot when they're outside their established turf is a constant chore, but he's managing. His own team's doing pretty well.

Despite the occasional monumentally stupid decision.

On this one, though, Beck can't exactly judge. He'd be doing the same, if for different reasons. "Did you at least check for trackers?" He asks, once he's sure he can keep his voice level.

"Four times, three different ways. Each." One of the newer members confirms - Trick, on loan from a group out Gallium way - before the actual culprits of Beck's latest headache can respond. "I intercepted them while still out in the wilds, deactivated and removed everything while we were out there - threw the trackers in a bug nest, just in case. Did a medical check too, Clef handled that, they're currently translating medic-speak into something comprehendable."

"Thanks Trick. And thank Clef for me, when you get the chance." Beck's shoulders drop, relaxing a fraction. At least someone has a working processor. He dismisses his team, and they leave him to his thoughts and the Program they caught by chance.

Behind the reinforced one-way glass, wrapped in a frankly ludicrous amount of rope and definitely aware he's being watched, Rinzler appears to loom ominously. Beck, fluent in Tron, reads his entire body as sulking. From the right angle, the Program's face becomes faintly visible through his helmet, and... yeah, that's a pout.

Clef's report comes back, and... honestly, Beck was expecting most of it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

Rectification's hallmarks are all there, Tron rendered a prisoner in his own body. Dyson's viral gift is still chewing its way through his energy reserves and code - Rinzler might not outwardly react to it, but Beck can tell he's in a lot of pain. The scars are back, including that one slashing through his eye, rendering him blind on that side. He's cold, despite the cell being kept at slightly above the Grid's overall ambient temperature. He's starved for energy - Clef mapped the fluxes they could detect, and it seems Rinzler only gets fed before a fight or a mission. Beck's team got the drop on him on the way back, when he'd practically run out - luck, not judgement, has Rinzler here and Beck's team still rezzed.

"What did they do to you?" He asks quietly. Rinzler doesn't - can't - answer.

It took a monumentally stupid decision to get Beck into this mess. He prepares to make a monumentally stupid one to get at least most of the way out.

"Hey Rinzler." Beck creeps into the cell. Alone, because Rinzler will definitely attack if he feels threatened or outnumbered.

Rinzler still lurches on his feet, growling. I'm a threat, fear me.

"Easy! Easy." Beck soothes. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

Rinzler subsides, keeping Beck on his sighted side warily. He's still growling, but quieter. More rhythmical.

"If I get the ropes off you, are you going to attack me?" Beck asks. "Because I want to give you energy, but I can't do that if you're tied up or if I'm derezzed." He waits a moment for Rinzler to think things over. "And you can't get out if I'm derezzed either."

Rinzler nods and turns around, but he's so tense Beck has to keep as far to the side as practical so Rinzler can see him.

"Okay." Beck keeps a soft commentary up while untying Rinzler. "You're kinda scary. Like, really scary. But also you're way cooler than anyone else the Occupation got their hands on." He sighs, resting his head against Rinzler's shoulder for a moment, flexing his aching fingers - Grid these knots are tight, but he doesn't want an upset ex-Monitor if he tries cutting the rope without warning. "I miss you Tron, if you can hear me in there."

Rinzler stops growling entirely, stunned silent. His circuits flicker - white, then blue. "Beck." He chokes out, the first word scraping its way past that ruined, mangled throat.

"I'm here." Beck whispers, finally getting the ropes untied. "I'm here, Tron."

"Beck, run." Rinzler glitches, clutching his head.

"No." Beck bops him on the helmet gently. "Not without you. Not this time."

Tron whines, collapsing once his arms are free.

"We'll be okay."

The cat trapped by mice.

[evecolourshock]

Would you like fic? I can do fic.

Have fluffy fic.

Tron can tell, the moment he steps out of the healing chamber, it's not going to be a good millicycle for training. He's still full of aches he can't ignore, and Beck's... listless. His core won't be in the lesson, and since there's no rush thanks to the aftermath of that... attempt at a party...

Tron really doesn't understand Clu loyalists sometimes. There's dedication, and then there's whatever that was. Frankly unhinged.

Anyway, no need to train today. The Occupation are going to be too busy cleaning up after their so-called master plan fell through in spectacular fashion. He can afford to give himself and Beck a break, just this once.

"Beck?" Tron asks quietly, attempting to be a bit more approachable. It's... hard, especially with what happened last time, but-

But it's Beck.

Damnit, Tron likes the kid. His friend. He wants to try.

"Oh, hey Tron." Beck tries for chipper, and ends up mostly sounding exhausted. "So, what's the plan this cycle? Situational awareness? Combat? Stealth and evasion?"

"None of those." Tron sits, raising a comfier than it looks sofa from the floor, inviting Beck closer as best he can. Somehow, the beta understands him this time. "There is no plan, as long as you've finished those reports." He attempts a teasing smile, though it hurts when it pulls his scars.

"Done and submitted." Beck flops down with all the gracelessness inherent to betas. "Are you sure there's nothing I- there's no training I need to do?"

Something in Beck's tone strikes Tron as odd. That, and- "You're not usually this eager to train." Tron starts, cautious. "Beck, is- is everything okay?" An injury, some disaster on the horizon, someone threatening Tron's beta-

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine." Beck laughs, though it's strained. Forced. "Just- could be better, you know? Better at being... not you, but. Like you. You know?"

"You are like me already." Tron frowns, puzzled.

"Not... enough." Beck's so quiet, Tron barely hears him.

"Beck." Tron puts his hand on Beck's shoulder hesitantly. "Who told you that?" Who lied to you? Who made you doubt yourself?

"Just some Programs. On the street." Beck shrugs, but doesn't shrug off Tron's hand. Leans into it a little, even. "They know I'm not you, and they don't like me. They don't know I'm me!" He adds hastily, like that's the part Tron's worried about - it isn't, he trusts Beck for a reason. "But... they can tell I'm not you."

"Then they clearly don't know what they're talking about." Tron tells him, and is treated to what absolute bafflement looks like on Beck's face. "Because you're almost exactly like me - like I was at your age." He lets the corner of his mouth quirk up. "If friendlier. Which is a good thing. I was a surly nightmare as a beta, wasn't very good at anything social."

"What." Beck squeaks. "But you-!"

"Were a beta too, once." Tron finishes Beck's exclamation. "Headstrong. Hopeful. Reckless." He pokes Beck's side gently. "Didn't know what I was doing, but knew I had to do something."

"And did." Beck adds quietly.

"With a lot of help, several losses of people I cared a lot about, and plenty of luck." Tron finishes. "I'm going to do my best to make sure that second point isn't true for you, and the training is so you don't have to rely on the third."

"Oh." Beck tucks himself in small, contemplative.

Tron... risks vulnerability. It's easy with Beck. Beck won't hurt him. Not on purpose. "You're very like I was, before I got... bitter. And hurt." He tentatively wraps an arm around Beck, pulls his beta into leaning against him. "It scares me, how alike we are, sometimes." Tron chooses his words carefully. "But Beck? I'm proud of you, too. It's not easy, doing what you're doing, and you're doing well."

"Like you would?" Beck asks quietly, somewhat processing the half-hug Tron's giving him. "If you were... as you were?"

"I'd say you're doing better than I would." Tron hums, ruffling Beck's hair a little. "So don't you listen to anyone tell you otherwise, okay?"

"Okay." Beck snuggles a little closer, mostly on instinct. He's warm, Tron finds, against his shattered chest. "Even though we're not- not training today, can I stay?"

"Of course you can, Beck." Tron murmurs, a crackly happy rumble starting up deep in his core. "Of course you can."

The Renegade: Hi I’m Tron

Most of Argon: No you’re not

Beck: (No I’m not)

Tron in the distance: Yes he is

[evecolourshock]

Hmmm...

Possibly not an entirely Evil Alan, but hopefully this fic will suffice?

Alan chokes on a breath, watching this- this funhouse mirror thing scrabble its way out of the computer. It bears his face, or something very like it, rough with scars and glowering through dead orange eyes. It hisses and crackles at him, threatening and doing a damn good job of it, reminding Alan he has nowhere to run-

Collapses. The hisses double in pitch and volume. It tugs its foot free of the screen, and crawls enough to become a sulky, ungraceful heap under his desk.

Morbid curiosity fueling him, Alan crouches down to look - receives what might be a growl for his efforts, along with a flailing wave of a frisbee-weapon that cuts a red-hot line in his desk chair. I'm dangerous and armed, don't test me, he understands.

Like a kitten flashing claws and yowling, puffing itself up to be more imposing. A threat to be sure, but a whole lot of not much to back it up with.

Pitiful little thing, really, now he's looking at it like this.

"Oh, buddy." Alan croons quietly. "Someone did a real number on you, huh?" The growls die down, and Alan knows he's being assessed with those glowing but empty orange eyes. A threat, or an ally? An enemy, or a friend?

That's alright. Alan's always liked the dangerous ones. "It's alright. I'm only a threat if you attack me and mine." The growl comes back, but it's more... curious. Questioning. "That's right, I don't fight unless provoked." He smiles, sits down properly. "I guess we're alike on that one."

The mirror creature creeps forwards, weapon away but still wary. Alan lets it, doesn't reach any more than to make sure it can see his hands. "My Creator." It grinds out, a passable attempt at speech - like it used to know how, but can't any more.

Alan's eyes sharpen. "I made you? In there?" He looks at the computer, thoughtful. "Then- never mind." He smiles, careful not to show teeth. "Regardless, that makes you mine. I'm sorry I didn't know about you sooner." He opens his hand a little farther, extends it a little further, invites his creature to touch if it wants. "But I know now, and I take care of what's mine."

His creature doesn't hesitate to put Alan's hand on its throat. Unusual, but-

Alan does his best not to grip, at the sudden influx of information. This- this creature, this pitiful thing brought low and injured... this is what remains of his finest creation. Of Tron, the best Program he's ever written, one he poured his whole soul into.

Alan growls quietly this time. "Who did this to you, my Creation?" He reaches around to card his fingers through brittle hair, his broken shell of a program made flesh bowing enough to let him. "Who hurt you, who took you away from me?"

"Flynn." His Program melts into his touch, starved for any contact that doesn't hurt. "Clu." It can barely keep itself propped up, shaking on powerful limbs rendered useless with exhaustion.

Alan pulls his Program in for a hug, mindful of the wounds he can feel but not see. "They will not do that again." He promises, low and vengeful. A thought passes through, and he brushes a hand down his Program's back, rubbing in circles like he used to do when Jet needed comfort. "Are there others like you, my Creation? Others that are ours, under threat from our enemies?"

His Program tucks into him, whimpering softly as separation's wound starts to heal. Claimed, wanted, allowed to keep what it once claimed for itself. "Yes. My child. His friends."

"And what of your friends, my Creation?"

"Dead. Or enemies." His Program hisses, aggrieved and grieving like it no doubt hasn't been able to for far too long. "Both for some."

"Then we will kill the enemies, and bring those of ours that are left to safety with us." Alan tells his Program quietly, a fact more than it is a promise.

"Thank you, my Creator." His Program rasps out.

"Any time, my Creation. Now rest, Rinzler. We've got a lot of work to do once you're healed."

Some kind of Rinzler and Evil Alan?? I still have no idea lol

[evecolourshock]

I... had a fic idea. You're welcome.

Tron tries to see any of Dyson in the face he's presented with. It's more disconcerting that he can't.

That's Dyson's frame. Dyson's face. Dyson's eyes downcast and fixed on the floor.

But not Dyson.

"You fucked up a perfectly good Monitor, is what you did." The words fall from Tron's mouth unbidden. He doesn't take them back.

Clu puffs up, indignant and offended.

Dyson- there. A glimmer of Dyson in the shell of Tron's SIC.

Tron forces himself to his feet - he shouldn't be standing, not with the gaping wound in his chest and the slash far too close to his neck. If he's not careful, his head could simply... fall off. Tron finds right now he doesn't care.

"You fucked up my SIC. He was perfect the way he was, if injured because I messed up, and you went and ruined him." Tron hisses, jabbing a finger at Clu. "I was working around Flynn so I could get his User here to heal him, and what did you do?" He snarls. "What did you do? You broke him. Who even knows if he can be fixed now."

Clu tries to start talking. Tron flips him off, reaches to gently tug Dyson away from the golden Admin.

"Come on Dyson." Tron coaxes quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I wanted to make sure what I was trying to do would work so I didn't hurt you with false hope."

Tron doesn't act like this when he's on duty or around Flynn, he knows. Always the prim and proper Monitor. But he's not on duty now - may never be again, given his wounds - and Flynn isn't in range. He can afford to let that persona go.

The first step Dyson takes has Tron's core soaring - still Dyson in those mostly dead eyes. It plummets when Clu yanks Dyson back and he disappears from that shell again. Tron hears Dyson's armour creak under Clu's hand - just how much pain must Dyson be in, trapped like that? Caged in his own frame somehow, strangled by something Tron can't identify, pinned with a grip like a vice.

"Give me back my SIC." Tron rumbles, low and sharp. His Admin versus his friend... his only hesitation comes from whether he can kill Clu without hurting Dyson. Tron is very good at killing Admins who've made themselves threats.

Clu is still talking. Tron's long past listening.

His disc drops into his hand again, and he knows what he has to do with it. Tron's a more... direct fighter, most of the time. Shows off in Games, of course, because they're not serious fights. But when doing his job... normally, he's quick, efficient, and takes his enemies out without fancy flourishes.

Ram taught him how to use his disc to pull off impossible shots. Sark proved to him it's possible to remote-guide one's disc, if the first shot doesn't work and it's still flying.

Tron flicks his disc sideways, sensing it sail up and reflect off two walls before curving around on a collision course with Clu.

Clu moves one hand to Dyson's neck. Tron glimpses his friend's fear-

Tron dives for Dyson, pulling his SIC to the ground. His disc jerks downwards sharply, still in flight-

Slams into Clu's dock. Said part's nowhere near as solid as Sark's big head.

Tron covers as much of Dyson as he can, braced for any retaliatory strikes if he failed. "It's okay." He soothes quietly, cushioning Dyson's head and disc. "It's okay. You'll be okay." His disc clatters to the floor... somewhere. Close, but nowhere he can grab it.

Dyson's eyes flicker, trying to reboot - Clu must be destroyed, then, like the MCP before him. He's seeking an authority, someone to lead him and the Grid, and needs to reboot so he can set a new one. It's... not a good sign he's struggling to.

"I'm here." Tron offers, pushing some of his flagging energy into Dyson's system, trying to help. "I'm here, Dyson. You can reboot, it's okay. I'll keep you safe. Better than I did."

Dyson manages to at least start a reboot, limp and lax under Tron. His circuits almost immediately bleed white again, truncated and re-routed but closer to his own.

Tron pushes himself up carefully, manages to pick Dyson up with only a little bit of pain, and slinks off towards an alcove he can use to protect them both. The rest of the guards are also mid-reboot, Tron has a few precious nanos to get to safety. He kicks his disc up on the way, remote-guiding it back to his dock. Can't leave that behind, defeats the point of getting to safety if the most important part is still vulnerable.

"We'll figure it out." He promises Dyson, letting his consciousness slip away once he's sure no one can get to them. "I promise."

"What do you think, Tron? I made Dyson perfect again."

[evecolourshock]

WYN HOLY FUCK-

Your art is fantastic as always, I love it ♡♡♡

You gave me fic ideas omggg ♡♡ Beck being the light pulling Tron out of the darkness holy fuck that fits them so well!!! I know this is a post-Legacy piece but. Wyn. Wyn their entire dynamic is Beck being the light in the dark. Beck saving the Grid AND TRON from the shadows of pain and suffering as best he can, beating them back with optimism, hope, and stubbornness. And he's daring to do all of that one. Last. Time. For Tron.

Because he knows Tron needs saving too.

So

Fic

:]

Beck squints through murky waters, the Sea still stirred up from reintegration's blast. It's dispersed the poison, made the Sea safe again, but...

He can't glitching see.

And Tron is down here somewhere.

Beck just knows it.

His helmet's got a limited supply of air. He can't stay down here much longer. Tron must be running out too.

Beck flicks his visor to clear - the black tint hides his identity, but it's not like there's anyone here to recognise him and he can't see very well through the gloom. The loss of the extra shading helps, but not much.

If his calculations are correct, Tron should be somewhere around here. He has to be. Because if Beck doesn't find him on this pass...

Well. There won't be another pass. Tron will have run out of air, and time.

Beck will have failed him. Again.

Locator pings are useless down here. Beck fires a few off anyway, desperate enough to try, but swiftly resorts to using his hands and feeling through the silt.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Noth- something.

Something!

Beck traces the something carefully. A finger. A hand. He kicks, stirring the silt a little more, getting close enough to see.

He- he knows this hand. Has felt it on his shoulder in comfort, held it in his own for reassurance, has bruised in the shape of its knuckles before he learned how to turn blows aside and dodge.

Tron.

Beck unburies an arm, brushes silt off a helmet. The blank black one-piece doesn't scare him like it does so many others - it's just Tron. Scared, scarred, lonely Tron, kept in a cage made from his own frame and forced to do all the things he'd rather derez than attempt.

Beck coaxed him back to that jovial, friendly, sassy sweetheart warrior he used to be, once. Hopefully he can do it again.

Beck gets Tron free to his waist, but it's far too slow for his liking. He can't pull Tron free, but doesn't have the time to unbury him from the bottom of the Sea by hand-

Alternate technology application it is.

Beck angles himself so he's holding Tron securely against him. His friend's head lolls against his shoulder. "I have you." Beck can't help murmuring. He takes a single breath, closes his eyes...

...and triggers the wingsuit he stole from the crashed carrier.

It almost immediately starts sputtering, then retracts in again - waterlogged, damaged, irreparable - but that one thrust of the jets blasted enough of the Sea bed to free Tron's legs.

Beck hits the emergency release, leaving the wingsuit to decay, and swims upwards as fast as he can.

The Sea almost seems to help him, a strong current pulling him and Tron upwards. The white of Beck's suit gleams against the black water. Somewhere up above is a recovery craft manned by Mara and Zed - Beck's probably going to startle them both, considering he hasn't told them he's the Renegade still and dived in with his circuits still civilian - but they're scouring for movement and won't leave him to drown.

Tron, Beck's willing to bet, will be the last survivor they find.

"Hang in there." Beck urges quietly, even as his helmet begins to crack. Tron's is still whole, but probably not for long.

The surface isn't far. They just have to survive long enough to get there.

Beck's helmet fails less than four body-lengths from the surface. He's exhausted. Legs thrashing against the water, trying not to be dragged back down, Tron a dead weight in his arms but still glowing steady.

But he pushes through.

Failure is not an option.

Not now.

Not when he's so close-

Zed hauls him up and over the side of the recovery craft, already swearing at him. Beck ignores him, focus narrowing to Tron. Still breathing.

That's good.

"Help me dry him." Beck demands, wobbling to his knees. His voice drops to the Renegade's growl naturally, edged with authority he's picked up over the cycles.

Zed's halfway through complying before he realises what he's doing. He hurries back with towels and a million questions, but Beck quells him with a look. That's a later issue.

By some miracle Tron has his disc. Beck triggers the manual override for Tron's helmet, forcing it to retract.

No water spills out.

It held.

It held.

"Thank glitch." Beck slumps, folding a towel so it's comfy under Tron's head. He takes one of the big fluffy ones from a buffering Zed's arms, trying to rub some life back into Tron's limbs. "Come on." He coaxes, gentle like he hasn't been in a very long time. "It's me. It's Beck. I got you. Just like you got me." He nuzzles Tron's cheek. "Don't you give up on me now, Tron. We beat that virus eating you, a little water's not going to be what takes you down."

One hand curls. Tron's face twitches. His head jerks a little.

Just like when he was dying. But this... Beck can feel him getting stronger. Coming back.

"That's it. Come back to me." Beck cajoles, lifting Tron's left hand to his shoulder so Tron can sense him. "You're my friend. And I'm your friend. And I'm gonna protect you just like you did me." He murmurs.

"Everything's gonna be okay. I promise."

The sky is falling, let’s try to catch it

[evecolourshock]

:)

Tron has to do a double-take, the next time Beck shows up at his hideout. There are a half-dozen creamish yellow... things. Adorning his the beta's head like a crown. Darting in and out of his hair, making Beck's carefully maintained spikes fluff out in all directions.

When Beck manages to coax them into getting off, it becomes clear they're newly rezzed Bits. Four or five millicycles old at most, from the size.

"Mara found a box of Bits, tied shut and with a heavy grate on top so they couldn't escape." Beck explains, before Tron can figure out how to ask. "So of course she brought them into the Garage. Couldn't leave them there like that."

Tron understands - Yori had done something similar to his apartment back on Encom. "And successfully argued to keep all of them." He not quite teases, a little too nostalgic to give it any bite.

"Yeah." Beck hums, letting one baby Bit roll across his palm. The rest quickly follow, back and forth, squeaking what one cycle will be delighted yeses. Tron creeps over and spreads his own hand for them to explore, giving in - no training today, probably, but the Bits Beck brought are too cute for him to be annoyed about it. "Didn't realise until the adults wobbled their way out of the box these little guys were in there too." Beck pets one that can't quite seem to hover properly. "I've been trying to take care of them - they were so tiny and translucent, didn't look like they were going to make it." He chuckles when the others mob his fingers, begging for pets themselves. "But they're fighters, and don't give up that easy. Do you, lil guys?" He coos, and the Bits flash pinkish-red cheerfully. "Yeah, that's right. You're so strong already, gonna be even stronger when you grow up."

Tron honestly wouldn't have guessed the poor things were starved and abandoned - they're doing so well under Beck's care, awkward flying and all. "You've certainly made sure they can thrive." One tumbles a little too close to the edge of the bench, and Tron cups his hand in case it needs catching. It doesn't, hovering wobbily back to its cluster, and they start trying to march their way up Beck's arm - alternating between yes-pings and no-blats on their way. "Cheeky little things."

"It's kind of all them." Beck laughs gently. "I just helped." He glances over at Tron, a line of Bits over one shoulder. "Sometimes that's all someone needs. A little bit of help."

Well. "Then they're certainly in the safest hands for it." Tron murmurs. He's so damn proud of this beta.

from nov 2021, which i dont think ill ever finish :') based on an incorrect quote i think

------

Mara, holding a box: Able, what would you do if I came to the Garage with a box full of stray bits?

Able: Mara, what's in the box?

The Box: [bit voice] YES YES YES YES YES

Mara: ...I think we both know.

[evecolourshock]

I like this headcanon a lot :) but also ended up with Thoughts that delved into Sad territory, so I have a fic.

"Do you guys have first words? Or, just, first thing you ever said? Do you remember those?" Sam asks, draped over the back of a chair and glancing at the trio of unlikely friends he's brought home for the night. It's two in the morning and he's three beers in, a bad combination for driving, and the Grid's not going to burn down when it's shut down anyway. "I mean, I was a weird kid and apparently my first word was elbow of all things, but... what about you guys?"

"Greetings, Programs." Quorra grins, smug about Marvin choosing her lap for his bed. "Ophelia was so proud of me for that."

"Hello World." Tron rasps out, voice rough with healing but getting better every time Sam sees him. "Same as most Programs." He frowns then, looking concernedly over at Beck - tucked in small, trying to let the conversation wash over him.

Something's wrong. That's the only thing Sam can think of. "Beck? You okay, man?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just- does it count as first words if it was an entire sentence and I was already halfway through beta?" Beck laughs nervously, not looking at anyone. "Because, all of this-" he gestures at everything from his neck up. "-is kinda... aftermarket. So. I didn't speak until much later."

"...aftermarket?" Sam asks hesitantly.

"I didn't exactly... get created with a voice. Or a face, actually. All helmet." Beck's voice gets quieter. "My production series was... rushed. Missing nonessential components - faces are cosmetic for us, at the end of the cycle, so we didn't have them. Didn't need to speak when we could just ping others, so... didn't have voices either. There- there were only three of us ever made, and... I'm the last one left."

"Anon." Tron's voice cracks with grief. Quorra's face falls.

Beck nods. "The first of us in our Security-based suite, AN-One-Thirty-Seventy-Twenty. Anon. Then me." He hesitates. "Then Cyrus. A Monitor, and two Supports. Mechanics, and Demolitions. I didn't know until- until he was gone."

Tron freezes. "Then-"

"Cyrus got his face because of them." Beck growls the last word. "And it ruined him, corrupted long before he met you. I got mine when Able found me a Medic who'd do it without asking too many questions - if Cyrus had had that chance..." Beck shakes his head.

"I'm sorry." Tron reaches for Beck - is pulled into a hug when he's close enough.

"You taught all of us." Beck mumbles into his chest. "We survived longer than we would have without you." He pulls away after a moment, teary but weakly smiling. "Besides, I think my first words fit here too."

Tron hums questioningly.

"Thank you for giving me a chance to live."

Tron franchise headcanon: Newborn programs always say “Hello world!” as their first words :3

[evecolourshock]

:)

"Beck." Able confronts him, out of sight of the others. That's good - Beck doesn't think he can take any teasing from them right now. "I know you snuck out last night."

Beck curses internally. Act dumb! "Who's Beck?" Not that dumb!

His saving grace is that he delivered it so flat and deadpan it's easily written off as a joke. Sarcastic, sassy, hiding every emotion under it...

...like Bodhi used to.

Bodhi, whose nine hundredth creation anniversary was last night.

Bodhi, who Beck was hoping to give his forever to.

Bodhi. Cut down by a soldier for daring to question them.

Bodhi. Beck's best friend, who he'll never get the chance to see if they could be more.

Able freezes, buffering for a moment.

"I had to get out." Beck admits quietly. "Couldn't stay here. Not last night." The Renegade had been on something of a rampage, blowing up vehicles and putting a lot more force into his punches than usual. Screaming, sobbing, raging and crying under his helmet for a friend fiercely mourned. Tron, tellingly, had let him. "I stayed safe, stuck nearby - was on the roof most of the night. I just couldn't be inside."

"Beck-"

"Don't." Beck nearly snaps. "Just- don't, Able. Please. Not now. I'm already late for my shift, and Zed's annoyed with me enough as-is. I get it - flighty, irresponsible, unreliable, reckless, blah blah blah. I don't have my feet under me because my other half was ripped away. And sure, that might not be an excuse, but-" he breaks off, breathing hard. "I'm barely functioning, Able. Especially today. Spare me the lecture please. I'll do better when I figure out how I'm supposed to run as half a Program."

He stalks off, leaves Able standing there. Ignores Able calling him back. Can't stand the pitying looks in the workshop - everyone heard, great. "Hey Zed, let's find out if I can actually get through a shift, yeah?" He grits out through a smile that feels as false and fake as the Occupation's promises to make things better. One millicycle of peace, that's all he asks.

Just one. For Bodhi.

Able: Beck, I know you snuck out last night.

Beck: *internally* Act dumb.

Beck: Who’s Beck?

Beck: *internally* Not that dumb.

[evecolourshock]

Fic idea, thank you :)

Tron looks at the other version of himself, concerned. Legacy Tron - a misnomer, he thinks, given the sleek streamlined version is so much newer than himself - does his best not to meet his eyes.

SamFlynn has ported the new one over not too long ago, assuring Tron he wasn't replacing him but saying that "the guy needs to recuperate somewhere familiar and not... totally broken" with a look Tron didn't know how to decipher - and wasn't that a surprise, a new User on the Grid for the first time since Flynn himself and knowing it existed - promising to come back once he'd repaired the other system. It must be taking quite some time to repair - must have suffered an unfathomable amount of damage.

Since then, his newer version's been keeping to himself. Always watching from afar. Hiding from Yori - from Yori, despite how important she is to them both. Anxiously fretting over the Programs still in development - fussing over the Maintenance designates most of all. Tense and skittish around other Monitors - less so around Tron, but still wary and flinching and waiting for a blow that never comes.

"What happened to you?" Tron whispers, and his other self flees.

Legacy Tron comes back later. He always does, creeping into the room set aside for him. He's recently started drinking the energy left for him too, a tiny victory but one Tron will take.

Tron's staying up late, this cycle - a few reports to write, nothing major but he's been ignoring them and can't any more. So he's awake to see his other self slip soundlessly out to clean and put away the glass, only to freeze on seeing Tron still up. "It's okay." Tron soothes, before other him can bolt. "Just got reports to finish, about those Gridbugs two cycles ago. No one's requested it yet, but... I'd rather have it available just in case." He grimaces. "Though writing it is... not the most stimulating of activities."

There's a ghost of a smile on Legacy Tron's face. Progress.

"Thanks for defending the betas from that malware, by the way." Tron adds, core aching at how his other self both retreats and perks up at the simple praise. "I didn't even know it was there until you tackled it. Good job." He smiles gently, watching his other self glow brighter. "You did well."

"Could have been faster." Legacy Tron whispers out, voice rough and raw with unseen damage tearing through his vocoder.

"You were faster than me. And you were fast enough to protect and save them all." Tron pats the seat in invitation, making sure there's enough space for his other self to feel comfortable instead of crowded. "I think that's more than good enough."

"I must be perfect." The vocal growl increases to a clicking rattle, Legacy Tron's circuits careening wildly into orange, flickering and winking out at random. Tron gets a glimpse of abject terror painting itself across his other self's face before a blank black helmet gets most of the way down over his face - his hands physically forcing the edge up to stop it closing as his mirror starts glitching.

His other self is more scared of whatever this is than Tron was of the MCP and Sark and their army of Red Guards combined.

"Hey, hey!" Tron catches the edge of the helmet, straining to keep it open. "You were- you were perfect out there." He chokes out, even as his other self settles a steady amber and that hum grows more predatory. "You were, I promise. The rest of the situation wasn't ideal, but that was outside your control. You did your best, and your actions once you had control of the situation were perfect. That is- that's what matters, right?" Blue begins to return, creeping through circuits blazing far too hot with stress. "You did what you could, and you did it perfectly."

The orange recedes. The hum winds down. The helmet retracts.

Legacy Tron does not stop panicking, clawing at himself like he can yank whatever that was clean out of his core - heedless of the damage he does to himself in the process.

Tron pulls him into a hug instead. "You're okay." He tries to reassure. "You're okay. Everyone's okay." Circuits scorch lines into his external layers, discolouring the white with damage-grey.

Not damage to him, he realises in horror. Old damage on his mirror. Flaking off, pixels dropping like dust - whole voxels simply crumbling away.

His mirror's eyes close, body twitching involuntarily as he falls apart-

Tron activates every distress alert he has, scooping up his mirror and taking off in a dead sprint for an I/O Tower.

It's nothing short of a miracle Alan_One regularly works late on what the User display clock informs Tron is a Friday, whatever Friday means. Normally Tron wouldn't be allowed inside the Tower's main chamber when someone else is using it, especially when the exchange involves repairs of this scale, but-

But it's his mirror in the beam, whimpering with fright until Tron had held his hands and soothed him with quiet words of reassurance. His mirror, battered and beaten and broken, wounded beyond Tron's comprehension.

His mirror. Dying. And were it not for a freak glitch, with no one to save him.

Abandoned by someone Tron thought a friend. Suffering, and thinking it what he deserved, for things that were not and could not be his fault. Blamed and persecuted by a world he'd given up everything for.

Tron, he finds, can hate Users just as easily as he can love them. May Flynn - Kevin, not Sam - never find peace. Not after this.

Tron can feel Alan_One poking at his code every now and again, copying parts of it in an effort to repair, reinforce, and rebuild whole swathes of his mirror where there's simply nothing left. A vile orange thing oozes out of his mirror - Tron snarls at it, activating his improved defences and burning it out of this holy place. It doesn't get to hurt his mirror. Never again.

It's only his proximity that lets Tron feel his mirror stiffen when Alan_One approaches his memory core. Tron takes a shaky breath, then crosses beyond blasphemy. For his mirror.

Not there. He gently pushes the probe away, reaching out to communicate directly with his User the way Flynn once showed him. No change. Only fix.

Tron's User-speak is rudimentary. He's never done this before without a translation matrix helping him out. Alan_One doesn't answer for several millicycles, and Tron does his best to comfort his mirror in the meantime.

When Alan_One comes back, he leaves Legacy Tron's memory and directives alone.

"There we go." Tron murmurs, once Alan_One finishes. His mirror rests in his arms, healed and solid and whole. Legacy Tron doesn't stir, but he's peaceful for the first time since Tron met him - hopefully a good sign.

Ram is waiting outside the chamber, sorrowful and knowing. "You too, huh?" He asks quietly.

Tron hesitates, parsing through what Ram means, then nods. "Us too." He confirms, letting Ram inspect his mirror. "From after. He'll remember you."

Because Ram has a mirror too, on another system. Maybe several mirrors - the revived Actuary doesn't actually know, and may not even be the original. He's not the only Ram around, at least in theory.

He's the only Ram Tron's met, befriended, and fought alongside. And the only Ram who remembers doing all of those things.

"What's going to happen to him?" Ram asks, running a hand through Legacy Tron's hair.

"He came from another system. I- I'm not sure I can let him go back." Tron admits, a little shamefully. "Not wanting to keep, but... he was hurt there. I don't want him hurt again." He sighs. "But he has friends there. Not many, and all hurt, but... friends. I'm guessing at least one beta - he keeps trying to look after the ones here. Staying will hurt him too."

Ram hums, used to Tron's nature by now. "Is there a way for both? Link his Grid and ours somehow? Then he has his friends but you can protect him too."

"I... can ask." Tron thinks it over. "His system is... damaged, but it used to be part of ours. Perhaps connecting it back to a stabler framework will help."

Legacy Tron stirs then, a pained whine slipping from his teeth as he boots up. "What happened?" He grits out, then touches his throat and glances at Tron with wide eyes.

"You collapsed." Tron helps his mirror sit up, but puts a hand on his shoulder when he tries to stand. "Alan_One only just- only just managed to make repairs in time." He's still dusted with the pixels his mirror shed, still keeping contact with his mirror to make sure the Program's still there. "We nearly lost you." Tron's voice is thick, relieved but still so scared. He can't lose another. Not like that. Not his mirror.

Legacy Tron's eyes tighten, but Tron can see the quickly squashed flicker of fear.

"I... asked him not to change you." He reassures as best he knows how, rubbing circles in his mirror's shoulder. "He didn't touch your memories or directives. Only framework."

His mirror checks his face for a lie. Tron's core cracks a little - who did this to his mirror? Who made him so afraid to trust? When Tron gets his hands on them, he doesn't know what he'll do but it will not be kind or quick.

Regardless, Legacy Tron relaxes. "Thank you." His eyes flutter with exhaustion still.

Tron presses a kiss to his mirror's hair, dragging up memories of Lora_Prime comforting JetBradley to guide him. "Any time."

ok so hear me out. tron wasn’t ported wholesale from the encom system. Flynn is stupid but he’s not stupid stupid and was like “this guy has the perfect life I’m not removing him from that” and made a copy of tron to bring into the new system. ok now imagine encom grid tron meets legacy grid tron. the angst inherent

[evecolourshock]

:)

Tron looks at the beta he's begrudgingly deciding to take under his wing. Granted, he was being sarcastic about getting started with Beck's frankly suicidal plan of "cause as much chaos as possible while dressed as Tron, and not care if I die in the process", but...

He wasn't expecting the kid to actually stop and think about the consequences on his own. Most of Tron's mentees have needed a slap in the face by reality before they accept they're not as indestructible or expendable as they thought they were. He's impressed.

Of course, it's a little inconvenient for Beck to be digging his heels in now, right after Tron's put an insane amount of his remaining trust in the kid, but...

Maybe finding out why and mitigating his fears will help. Never let it be said Tron can't compromise.

"Second thoughts?" Tron asks quietly, doing his best to project teasing and concern. His pings don't always translate too well, and he's in a little too much pain for his body language or voice to be anything other than rigid, but he still tries.

Beck barks a laugh. "Whatever it is you want me to do, you got the wrong Program." His shoulders slump, all that fight Tron was surprised by draining out of him. "I'm not the Program you want, believe me."

"What makes you think that?" Tron frowns. Because sure, he doesn't want a beta out there risking their runtime, but Beck was doing that anyway in a handmade costume. And Tron doesn't know nearly enough about machinery to know how to sabotage it - Beck, being a Mechanic, would. He's not after a frontline combatant, he's after a-

A strategist. A saboteur. A thief. Someone who's still willing to see the good in others, even if most would say there's none. Someone who can stand up to Tron if they have to, because they still have hope what they do will make a difference.

Beck shows promise to be all of those things, and be able to punch his way out of unexpected trouble.

So why is he so afraid he won't be enough?

"You want someone who can be a hero." Beck spits out - Tron realises he's still exerting enough authority to force Beck to tell what he sees as truth, and hurriedly dials it back. "I'm not that. I won't be saving anyone." Tears prick at the corner of the kid's eyes, grief rolling into the air around him, and-

Oh.

Loss. Self-blame. Someone he was close to, gone before his eyes. Those, Tron understands.

"Maybe you won't save everyone." Tron tells him quietly. "But I didn't either. You'll be saving some, maybe even most. That's more than will be saved without your help. And you can avenge the rest."

"I won't kill." Beck snarls at him, though there's a thread of that fire and hope springing back to life.

"With any luck, you won't have to." Tron will have to teach him differently to all his other mentees, but... should be doable. "I may teach you lethal strikes, but I hope you never have to use them, and it's mostly so you can avoid doing them by accident."

"What kind of Renegade are you after, anyway?" Beck asks.

"Someone who can inspire hope, in all the ways I never could, and will make it out alive at the end of this. Who can think their way out of problems, unconventionally as needed. Who can see tools and equipment and resources, gauge their importance, and figure out if they need to be taken or broken. Who sees Programs as Programs, not enemies to be destroyed. You can do all of those, you know you can."

Beck stops. Looks at him. There's something new dawning over the beta's face. Comprehension, shock, and maybe a little bit of determination.

"So, Renegade." Tron tilts his head, lips curved as much as his scars let him smile. "I'll ask again. Are you ready to get started?"

Beck: I’m going to dress up as Tron, blow shit up and start a revolution, and if I die, I die!

Tron: Great idea, Renegade! Are you ready to get started?

Beck:

[evecolourshock]

:)

Fic

Alan frowned, looking around this... bright-dark world. He couldn't make sense of it, with or without his glasses. All too... fuzzy. Unfamiliar.

How had he got here? Sure, Flynn's basement laboratory had been a surprise, along with that old console of Dillinger's, but...

The laser.

Alan froze.

That damned laser.

Inside the computer had never made much sense to him, but the shapes abruptly sharpened when he figured out what had happened. Now he could see the building he'd landed in, the people - Programs - wandering around outside, the impsing crafts lumbering overhead.

Getting out was easy. Finding where he was supposed to go next... far harder.

Alan supposed the tower modeled suspiciously close to Encom was as good a place to start as any.

The being in gold waiting in the executive's office, despite looking like Kevin, wasn't him. Too young, too shrewd, too friendly. If Alan's half-remembered pieces of Kevin's bedtime stories for Sam were correct, this was probably Clu.

Still. With the way Alan's flesh prickled? Best to play along with the lie. "Kevin?" Alan asked, mixing disbelief and relief in his voice. "Kev, is it really you?"

"Of course, man!" The Program with Flynn's face answered, chipper - not reacting at all to the nickname that always made Flynn defensive and surly. "And boy am I glad to se-" his head rocked back, nose crunching convincingly under Alan's knuckles. He backed off, swearing under his breath. "What the hell, man!"

"That's for Sam." Alan hissed, flexing his sore fingers. "The hell you think you're playing at, leaving him alone like you did?! Kid's lucky he's not in a coffin after some of the stunts he's pulled, you ever think about that?" He demanded, not giving Clu a chance to butt in. "No, damnit, you're always chasing after that stupid perfection fantasy of yours and forgetting about the very real people - like your kid - getting hurt in your wake. Get your head outta your ass, or you and me? We're about to have a problem." It's relieving to get the fury off his chest, but Alan was deadly serious. He didn't know what had gone on, but... well. Clu was here. Flynn wasn't. That had to be at least one of the reasons Flynn hadn't come home.

"Rinzler." Clu called, something wild and dark in those golden eyes of his.

Alan sensed... something, and dove to the side. Movement like that at his age should have hurt, but between this world and adrenaline he didn't feel it because-

The black shape that would have tackled him to the floor stuttered, shaking, jerky and confused. Alan studied them, still and wary. He- he knew that stance. That motion.

That set of T-shaped squares at their throat. He'd worn a catsuit bearing something very similar to help with production photos for that arcade game named after his program-

"Tron." He murmured, and the Program staggered, keening. "Tron, what did they do to you?" Alan had always had a soft spot for the programs he created, but Tron was the one he'd poured his whole soul into writing. Tron was his.

You'll look after him for me, Kevin? None of the Flynn-nanigans, now, I don't want to have to break your nose for breaking him.

Don't you worry, Alan. I'll look after Tron for you, promise.

Seemed Flynn hadn't been able to keep his promise. Alan's eyes sharpened. "Come here, Tron." He called quietly. "Come on, kid. You'll be okay."

His Program crept across the floor, shivering with every attempt Clu made to command him, flinching when more black-clad Programs marched into the room. Alan made sure to keep talking, drowning Clu's voice with his own. He'd deal with... that... later. For now, he had to focus on his Program.

Tron hesitated, less than a foot from Alan. Wanting to come closer, unable to bring himself to. So Alan closed the gap, hand cupping the cheek of his Program's helmet. Tron sagged, whimpering, orange circuits flashing white, helmet glass turning transparent enough to show Alan his own face - blank and pained, terrified and tortured, scarred and mangled.

"It's okay, Tron." Alan soothed, tugging his Program close. "It's alright. I'm here, I'm here now. You're gonna be okay." Flashes of his Program's memories darted across his eyes - friends, kids, Programs Tron wanted to keep safe. Alan guessed he had more family members now.

Tron curled up, still flickering between orange and white, helmet retracting. Alan ran his fingers through his Program's hair, soothing as best he could. "Sleep, Tron. Sleep. It's alright. You've protected everyone a long time, let me protect you now." Tron's eyes gratefully slid shut, Alan's Program limp and lax in his arms.

Alan stood, keeping his hold on Tron. "We're leaving." He announced, shooting Clu a venomous glare. Something shimmered around him - Alan decided not to think too hard about that. Whatever the barrier was, he needed it functioning more than he needed it analysing.

"And I'll be taking this." Alan shifted his hold on Tron just long enough to grab the pager off Clu's desk. "So you don't get any more... ideas."

Clu spat something Alan blocked out, but couldn't do much to stop him walking away.

"Oh, and Clu?" Alan said quietly. "Do yourself a favour. Leave my kids alone."

Tron Legacy thoughts/I will die on this hill.

Clu can page Allen because Flynn taught him and Tron how incase of an emergency.

We see in the movie that Flynn was not the one who sent the call and Clu asks Sam if he's alone. The guy was totally expecting Allen to show up instead, and had every intention of setting Rinzler on him if needed. Like dude... I wish I had your confidence.