#make grim use eir ao3 challenge

[evecolourshock]

Wyn, your art is amazing!!! I love your older Beck, he's such an Unit of a guy, but your Cyrus!!!! Holy hells your Cyrus, where to even begin. He's long and lanky and has clearly been through hell. He's bunched up and defensive but radiates the vibes of a feral cat about to fight the whole world so it can't hurt him again. Leaves claw marks in everything he knows, clinging so tight because he doesn't know what he'll be if he lets go. He's desperate, and... damn. You've really figured out how to invoke sympathy for this chaotic wreck of a person, and I love your version of him so much.

So, with that in mind, have a fic ♡ you figured out how to break my heart with this guy, and I have no words to describe how happy I am you did.

Cyrus doesn't know why his feet take him here. He staked claim to Purgos, haunting the streets and bringing pain to any of Clu's forces trying to do the same. He's no Tron, and it burns still, but the Wraith is whispered about in every dark corner and satisfaction curls through him at each mention of his new name.

And yet.

And yet if he lets himself wander, he always comes back to Argon.

To a Garage in Argon.

Or maybe to the "mechanic" in it. He's not sure.

Beck... Cyrus doesn't know how he feels about Beck, any more. It used to be jealousy and rage and hate, for an upstart taking what was his and bringing hope instead of fear-

Now it's all muzzy. Complicated. The hate is easy, but it doesn't bite the way it used to. Jealousy and rage, much the same, blunted by the new emotions running alongside them.

Pride, even though he doesn't like admitting it. Beck's strategy worked. Even the refusing to kill part - Cyrus doesn't know if he should be irritated by or admire Beck's dedication to a cause similar and yet executed so differently to his own. Argon loves Beck's Renegade, even after Cyrus' attempts to take the title back by force. Cyrus can, at least grudgingly, appreciate that.

Respect. He's fine with admitting that. Beck's a good fighter and even better strategist, especially now he has all that height and bulk to back his presence up with. Doesn't need to get scrappy any more, when just showing up from nowhere can get whole squads to flee from Tron's white-clad spectre of an apprentice.

Longing Other things. Cyrus doesn't want to explore them.

Cyrus does his best to stay in the shadows. Even discounting his dulled, wild circuits, he doesn't belong here and it shows. He's thin. Lanky. Pushing the limits on how little energy a Program needs to survive. Purgos has so little resources compared to Argon, and Cyrus would attempt to steal as much as he could if he didn't know just how guarded it was.

He doesn't have the energy for that. Not any more.

Beck steps into the street, and Cyrus tries to muster up some envy. The Renegade looks good. Healthy and strong, confident and assured, completely unlike the awkward insecure youth he'd once been.

Brown eyes spot him, harden with the steel Cyrus knows hides deep in Beck's core. And yet-

Beck's still so damn soft, once he properly takes in the sight of Cyrus leaning against the wall of the Garage. Cyrus knows he doesn't look all that great, thin and tired and dull, but he tries to twist his lips into a cocky grin anyway. "No hug?"

Never mind a hug from Beck could probably crush his chest. Never mind he's almost hoping for a hug, just to interact with someone and for it not to hurt.

"Didn't think I'd see you again." Beck comments, and sure there's sharp wariness to his tone but the recognition - and dare he say relief? Cyrus feels his grin get more natural, even if it shrinks.

"Found something to do." Cyrus inspects his nails, irritated by their chips and brittleness but resigned to them staying that way. "Something better." He purrs, though it doesn't curve his words the way it used to. "Though I see you've been busy in my suit." The lie falls off his tongue instead of rolling, bitter and sharp instead of smooth - that suit was never his, not really, and in watching Beck he knows that.

Not least because Beck's made it his own, adding long panels and a better collar and even a damn sash until it's something wholly unique and fluid. Cyrus isn't sure what style the Renegade armour now follows, but it suits Beck.

"Not yours any more." Beck retorts swiftly, still lacking the bite to make it land properly.

Cyrus inclines his head slightly, and the acquiescence doesn't hurt like he thought it would. "No, I don't suppose it is." He murmurs, voice raw and weary.

Beck's still looking at him, all soft and caution and-

"I don't want your pity." Cyrus snaps, forcing hinself to dredge up some of that rage and hate keeping him going. He reaches for Beck, sees the Renegade stiffen - a flash of old fear, good-

Drops his hand. He's too tired for a fight, even if he wants one just to feel something. "Don't pity me." He repeats, trying to hold on to the energy his temper provides. "You won." His lip curls in a sneer, though it's not aimed at Beck. "Be glad about it."

"Why?" Beck asks him, and Cyrus stalls. "What good would it do?" Beck steps closer, and Cyrus hates himself for backing up. One hit and he's done for-

Beck pulls him in. It's half-pin, half-hug, and Cyrus feels his knees buckle. "It's not winning if everything's still broken." Beck tells him, and Cyrus doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"You think you can fix this?" Cyrus chokes out, words grinding in his throat. "Look at me."

"I'm a mechanic." Beck tells him dryly. "And you of all Programs know how stubborn I am." He backs off a little, hands still on Cyrus' shoulders. "And I've been getting bored lately anyway."

Cyrus wants to tell him off, to snap and snarl about not needing Beck's charity, about how he's not a glitching project-

But Beck's voice is light and teasing. His eyes are glowing, looking forward to a new challenge. His hands are warm and steady, firm yet gentle with Cyrus (brittle, fragile Cyrus, treated like he means something even though he feels like "Cyrus" means nothing at all).

"Can't have that." Cyrus mutters, trying to keep the swell of emotion he doesn't dare name held in his chest instead of leaking into his voice. "...I'm kidnapping you." He announces. "Just so you know."

"Ah, yes. For the reputation." Beck agrees far too easily. "Of course. I'll put together a convenient collection of supplies to grab at the same time, then. It'd be a shame to leave behind such a tempting bundle, especially when it's all packed ready to go and just sitting there." He grins broadly, itching for something to do.

Cyrus bursts out laughing. This giant idiot, got him feeling all soft and happy.

"Bring your suit." He advises. "Think we could use a bit of your hope."

At the end of the cycle, we’re still the same… right?

[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]

:)

"What is this." Tron pokes at the contraption Beck brought him gingerly. It rocks a little, brakes keeping it mostly in place. "And why is it here."

"It's a wheelchair!" Beck chirps, entirely too pleased with himself. "I found some resources about them, so I made one."

"Why is it here." Tron stresses. Experiments should stay in the workshop, he made that clear shortly after remembering he'd taken in a teenage mechanic with a penchant for inventing.

"It's for you." Beck rests his elbows on the back of it. "For when you have bad days. So you don't have to walk."

It does look comfy. Easy to use, too. Not as maneuverable as the cane Tron tries to avoid using, but it makes up for that in being sturdy and supportive.

Tron's lip still curls reflexively. "I don't need it."

"Tron." Beck levels a sharp look at him.

"There is no point giving me it. I don't need it." Tron huffs.

"You can't walk sometimes." Beck says dryly. Tron scowls at him. "Look. Just use it, especially on your bad days. Give me feedback on what needs work. I want to make more of these for everyone who needs them, when we win." He suggests. "I have a few other designs, including a motorised one, but they're not finished enough for testing yet."

"Why should I?" Tron mutters, folding his arms.

"Because it gives you something to do so you're not bored?"

"I resent this. I hope you're aware."

The wheelchair is exhausting at first. Hard to move, heavy and clunky. But after a few tweaks, and a lot of fine-tuning technique, it gets easier.

Much easier. So convenient, at least for getting around when his legs wouldn't normally support him.

Tron is particularly determined to acquaint Beck's smug smile with the training mats. Stupid comfy chair. He hates it. Hates knowing he needed one long before now even more.

Tron nearly tips himself over backwards, wheelchair tilting dangerously, and panics. If he falls now, he won't be getting up without help - and that won't arrive for a while. His weight shifts, hands grabbing for the rims on his wheelchair almost instinctually-

Huh.

He's not falling.

Balanced on those huge main wheels, none of the others touching the floor. Including the castor wheels Tron had forgotten Beck added after the last time he tipped over.

He tests moving gingerly, rolling a little way on just the big wheels before settling back on all of them.

Tron feels the start of a smile, curiosity sparking through him. That's new.

...what else can he do with this?

Beck watches Tron zooming around in the wheelchair, pleased but also a little exasperated. He was expecting Tron to at least grudgingly decide the wheelchair isn't so bad, because he's not forced to struggle and has options now. A little more freedom.

But this?

Granted, he's never seen Tron smile this much. The Monitor seems to be having fun, which is fantastic!

But Beck did not design the wheelchair with honest-to-Grid stunts in mind.

"I'm going to have to reinforce that." He hums. "Then you can do more."

Tron grins at him.

Thinking about Uprising Tron with his chronic pain and fatigue issues, getting one of those active wheelchairs for when he’s too tired to stand. Potentially Beck builds him one. He starts off being predictably grumpy-old-man “I’m fine I don’t need help” about it, until the second he figures out how to do tricks in it and then no-one can get him out of the thing

[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]

:)

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]

:) spun a fic off this, featuring an eepy Beck and dad Tron.

Beck grumbles under his breath, but does his best to pay attention. Tron's right, his experience gives him wisdom Beck simply doesn't have right now, but-

Rather hard to listen to him when there's three Trons clipping into each other and some kind of external distortion making all of them unintelligible. "Tron-" he manages to rasp out, though he can't hear himself. The world wavers.

Tron stops immediately, at Beck's side in a blink. Then above him- no, that's the ceiling behind him. When did Beck lie down?

"-hear me?" Tron asks, worry in his voice for the first time Beck's known.

"Mh." Beck groans, unable to get words to work right now.

"Okay." Tron soothes. "Alright." He pauses a moment - whatever position he puts Beck in, it's comfy. "When was the last time you slept?" One hand brushes through Beck's hair, and it's difficult not to close his eyes.

Beck shrugs. He honestly can't remember.

"Too long ago, then." Tron lifts him, despite Beck's attempts at protesting - he's gonna get hurt, not supposed to be exerting himself like this. "No, Beck. You're going to crash if you don't sleep." Tron half-scolds, misinterpreting Beck's struggles as a desire to stay awake. "You need-" Tron's breaths become laboured, exactly what Beck feared would happen. "-to sleep."

Beck somehow musters enough energy to tap Tron's uninjured chest portion, and then jab his hand weakly in the direction of the healing chamber. He's too tired to talk, but hopefully the weak glare accompanying the gesture gets his point across.

"Beck." Tron frowns at him, so Beck does it again. Taps Tron's scarred cheek for good measure, too - seeing the scar is a sure indicator Tron's doing pretty badly, and given it's bisecting his eye again? Not good at all.

Tron hesitates, like he normally does. Usually, this is when Beck would bully him into the healing chamber with little shoves and lots of liberally applied concerned affection.

Beck currently can't do either. Too exhausted.

So. New plan.

Beck pulls the biggest, saddest, softest eyes he's capable of on Tron. Thinks sad lonely Bit in the rain thoughts, to look extra pitiful. Does his best to convey that he can't sleep if he's worrying about Tron, so could Tron pretty please go into the healing chamber so he can recover and Beck can sleep.

Tron's shoulders slump. He changes direction, settling Beck down in the healing chamber room and leaving again - comes back with an armful of blankets and cushions from who knows where, making a nest for Beck. "Happy?" He asks, and Beck chirps muzzily in response.

Tron steps into the healing chamber. Watching it seal and mist up is the last sight Beck has before he lets himself fall asleep, smiling.

Tron: *To Beck* I’ve been your age age, you haven’t been mine… pay attention.

[evecolourshock]

Fic idea time! Tron's been in many games, some lethal some not, what about him blurring the lines between... earlier ones than that?

Tron heaves a breath through gritted teeth, somewhere between a grin and a grimace. Beck's getting good now, enough to make him actually exert himself to stay ahead, and as much as he enjoys the challenge his scars...

He shakes his head, twists out the way of a leg sweep Beck almost slips past him. Not the time. "Good." He grunts out, striking open-palmed to make Beck lean back. It's not enough to make his friend overbalance any more, and Tron's bared teeth inch closer to a grin. Very good. He's learning.

Beck stalks around him, eyes gleaming with thousands of calculations, and Tron-

Tron gets distracted enough for Beck to clip his side with a kick. He growls, wordless, amused, and a little annoyed at himself. He's normally better than this.

But damnit all to whatever Users mean by hell, Tron's having fun. And Beck's pushing at his limits, learning how to get around Tron's defences and apply his function to a fight, and if Beck can beat Tron he can beat anyone, and if he just calculates a few nanoseconds faster-

Tron falters.

Beck pulls a strike at the last moment, palm close enough for Tron to feel the heat radiating off Beck's circuits on his cheek. "You okay?" Beck backs off a little, knowing even before Tron does it's time for a break. He's learning that, too, and Tron's so proud of him.

It's just-

How can he answer Beck's question, when for just one moment fluffy black became curly grey-tan? That bold lines became a maze on a jacket fought hard to keep? That Mechanic became Actuary, that salle became ring, that young became peer, that black became white and Tron saw a long-gone friend instead of the one here and now?

Who is he betraying, when he conflates the two? Tron's core creaks dangerously at the mere thought.

Beck takes his silence for the negative response Tron can't bring himself to voice. "The MCP is derezzed." Beck tells him quietly, voice sure and calm, clearly thinking of the last time Tron's attention wavered during a spar and trying to bring him back from that buried precipice of fear - when Tron's strikes changed from instructive to desperate, thinking he was back in the Gladiator Ring. "You're safe. The UNIX timestamp is nine-zero-one seven-five-six zero-seven-three three-five-B F-B-four A-nine. You're at your Spire - your home in the mountains near Argon City. The only life around aside from you and me are the Bits in the underground caves near Theta Section."

It's... endearing, Beck's rambles as he tries to ground Tron. And effective, too. He has no idea where Beck learned this new skill, and a flash of that infamous curiosity of his he thought long suffocated makes him want to find out.

It takes him a little while to notice Beck shepherding him to the benches he'd caved and added so they had somewhere to sit when discussing new tactics or moves, even longer to notice the glass of energy in his hands - he notices that when he feels the first sip reach his reserve, and with no small amount of wonder realises it's the first time in a long time he hasn't been wary of anything handed to him.

Because Beck wouldn't do that to him. Doesn't think he can worm his way into Tron's trust (or... other things) by plying him with gifts that have invisible strings. Beck just... treats everything practically, and if Tron cam't get it himself for some reason has no qualms about fetching it for him. To Beck it's simple. Easy. He has functioning hands and sees no reason for them to be idle if something needs to be done.

Rather like someone else Tron once knew.

Thinking of... Tron's feeling brave, right now. Brave enough to let Beck in past his guard, to allow him just that little bit closer to his vulnerable core. He takes a shaky breath. "Did I ever tell you about... he'd be the first Renegade, probably." One corner of Tron's mouth curls up, the closest he can get to a smile. "We didn't... call ourselves such, at the time. But he'd probably be the first one, if we'd had the title back then."

Beck shakes his head.

Tron hums quietly, understanding, mustering the courage to risk poking at grief long-buried. "He was an Actuary Program. Calculated... heh. I never really understood his function. Loans and annuities and insurance and many things that made sense to Users and the Programs that helped them. Clever, sneaky, cheeky little thing, for all he was a bit older than me. Lethal at Jai-alai, and nearly my match in the Disc and Lightcycle arenas."

Beck's eyes widen. "What was his name?" He asks in a near-whisper, awed but also aware Tron doesn't use the past tense without reason.

"Ram." Tron murmurs, pulling up a memory even now so crisp and clear - Ram's laugh at the energy springs, bright and playful, flicking some at Tron teasingly as they took a respite... dumping a discful on Tron's head after he pushed his friend into the shallows, long before the MCP got hold of either of them. "His name was Ram. He... he was my first real friend."

Beck snuggles into his side, warm and curious, and Tron swears he can feel a life long-gone drape over his other shoulder. "Tell me about him?" Beck asks, and-

Just this once, Tron does.

Thinking about how much Tron loved the games in Betrayal before they turned into killing games. Beck participated in games with the garage gang. Do you think their sparring/training ever brought Tron back to the days of the original games? Do you think some small part of him was happy to be fighting again, without the goal of derezzing his opponent?

[evecolourshock]

What if an AU from that point tho, featuring Uncle Zuse making sure his nephew (all grown up now) gets home...

Gem bringing someone new into the End Of Line doesn't happen all that often any more, but that's more a lack of new Programs to introduce than anything else. The new guy looks lost and confused and adorably determined, but he's hiding a lot of fear under that expression and Zu- Castor, he's Castor now, keeps forgetting that - Castor tries to extricate himself from the latest attempt at tracking down himself to find out what's going on. No newbie should be that frightened, especially not in his establishment.

"I brought your boy. Flynn." Gem murmurs, half-sultry in the way that means she's done something Castor's probably not going to like. But he can't think about that right now, because-

Your boy Flynn.

Boy Flynn.

Sam.

Why, Castor hasn't seen him since he was a tiny thing, barely knee-high! Sam's bigger now, much more developed, but Castor can still see that small curious mischief-maker he used to look after when bigger Flynn had other things to do.

Sam's probably forgotten him by now - User memories don't function like Program ones, and it's been a long time. But Castor has not, so he pulls Gem aside with a low growl. "What did you do."

"Enforcers will be here shortly." Gem tells him, looking like she thinks she's done a good thing. That look swiftly disappears when Castor snarls and pushes her away. "But, the reward-"

"Not worth his life." Castor hisses. "Bigger Flynn, whatever, he abandoned us and will get what's coming to him. But not the little one. Did nothing wrong."

Gem frowns, puzzled, but Castor sweeps over to Sam quickly. He can't burn time like that, need to go now, they're on the clock-

"I'm looking for Zuse." Sam tells him quietly, even before he says hello. "An ISO named Quorra sent me."

"You found him. Now Quorra, Quorra, Quorra..." Castor muses. "Ah, yes. The one that got my bar burned down the first time." Never mind he was sheltering others at the time - really disillusioned him to the idea of rebellion, if nobody was willing to help those in need of it.

Sam winces.

"Her actions aren't yours." Cas- Zuse shrugs. Sam wanted Zuse, he's getting Zuse. Knew Zuse, too. "Passage out, yes? To the beacon." He chivvies Sam off towards his stash of vehicles. "Come, come, no need to stand around waiting." Sam trails him like a lost Bit, scared and forlorn. Damn Clu for scaring this boy. Damn him all the way.

"No, no, no, these just won't do." Zuse frets to himself. None of the batons he can grab easily are... well. They're not good enough, all aesthetic and no substance. He needs-

"Ah!" He snaps his fingers. Pulls a lever. He's only pulled this lever once before, during an evacuation, trying to give everyone their best chance of survival. The lever glows, falls into his hands - a personal baton with a few extra tricks - and he scoops up an exposed silver-white slim thing. The only one left in the hidden drawer - he didn't see much point in replacing the rest, after their creators disappeared into the wilds. Wouldn't be the same.

"Never thought I'd need this old thing again." Zuse murmurs, passing it to Sam. "But it's better than all of theirs." He smiles kindly, really - it's been too long since his smiles were real, and maybe it shows. "Ever flown a lightjet before?"

Sam shakes his head. Zuse would have been pleasantly surprised and a lot wary about a yes.

"Alright. Now, they handle a lot like a lightcycle here, no fancy User pilot skills needed." Zuse soothes. "Only difference is adjusting height - you use your legs for that. Pull your heels up towards you to go up, push them down to go down. Simple, yes?"

"Heels up to go up, down to go down." Sam repeats. "Got it."

"Good lad." Zuse claps him on the shoulder with one hand, inputting the command to iris open his launchpad with the other. "Now just stick by me, and we'll get you home safe."

i rewatched legacy recently and i cannot believe gem says "i bought your boy flynn" to castor like wtf that's so funny

[evecolourshock]

:) Your WIP is amazing and gave me ideas - have a story!

"Did you like my disc?" Cyrus purrs, pinning Beck to the wall. His hands are strong, familiarly so - trained, like Beck is, probably by the same Program given Beck's been trying to learn the exact same pin. Beck still pushes back, though it's more experimental than anything else - there's no give, not that he was expecting any. Just confirming he's not going to win a fight head-on.

So, new tactic. "So what if I did?" Beck flirts back, slightly breathless given the entire forearm pushing against his neck. It's easy - Cyrus isn't exactly displeasing to the eyes, and somehow this feels more natural than anything with Paige did.

Beck... doesn't want to think too hard about that.

"Odd little Program." Cyrus hums, clearly caught off guard but not enough to let go. "What do you think of destiny?" He leans in, whispering close to Beck's ear - and Beck is apparently learning all sorts of things about himself right now, because this feels insanely intimate and he definitely likes it. "Of fate? All of this planned out, just to end up here?"

"To meet you? Doesn't sound so bad to me." Beck murmurs back, voice low and rough with lack of air. "Though I guess it depends on where we go from here - help a guy out? I'm getting mixed messages, and am supremely more okay with one option than the other."

Cyrus seems to abruptly realise the position he's trapped Beck in. So close there's barely any space between them, one thigh between Beck's legs, Beck's throat under his wrist - Beck swallows on purpose, lets Cyrus feel the movement. Beck's hands in no position to do anything of use - one held to the wall, the other instinctively occupied with giving himself a chance to breathe.

"So what's it to be, handsome?" Beck purrs, feeling Cyrus' grip falter. "Gonna take me out right here, or to somewhere a little nicer than a glorified box?"

Something sparks in Cyrus' eyes, lights them up so they don't look so dull and crazed and hopeless. It's a good look on him. "Where did you have in mind?"

"Well, there's a wonderful little café in Gallium, does their own custom blends." Beck offers a smile and his hand. "Shall we?"

So like… drawing Destiny Boyfriends was not on my 2025 bingo but well here we are… have a WIP?

[evecolourshock]

:)

Tron pouts, curled up on the floor of his folders.

New folders.

Whatever.

He's done them all up painstakingly pretty, agonized over wall colours and carpet and accents and generally fried his processor trying to choose between cushions and lamps and so many fantastic decorative things...

Only to find out Flynn has minimal intention of bringing Yori. Tron had to walk away, otherwise he would have lost it.

He's tried asking - nicely, and then less so. He's tried pleading. He's tried cajoling. He's tried bribing. Every avenue he can think of short of threatening Flynn somehow, he's tried it.

All failed.

Which leads to now. Sulking like a beta, refusing to come out of his room and talk. He does his job, not that there's ever much to do, but... other than that? Tron is very pointedly not engaging.

No Yori, no Tron. That, he's decided, is how things work now.

Flynn tries to ping him again. Tron swats the notification away. Blocked. Denied. Install program YORI then try again.

It is absolutely the pettiest thing he's ever done. But damnit, Tron did not get separated from his counterpart for millicycles on end, reuniting after who even knows how long after defeating a tyrant beyond compare, only to never see her again because his friend is an idiot.

He growls at Flynn's next ping, swatting that one away too. Blocked. Denied. Install program YORI then try again.

Telling Flynn in his own vernacular to fuck off unless he brings Yori and grovel for forgiveness is tempting, but Tron's determined to keep being petty. It's entertaining.

A proper message pops up - Flynn must be on the Grid now, then. "Look Tron, I know you're mad-"

Tron puts his fist through the alert screen, watching it dissipate into glowing motes. Blocked. Denied. Install program YORI then try again.

On and on, he does this. Maybe this time, he'll get results.

(It takes about a week for Flynn to cave, stymied at every turn until he finally gets Yori and brings her over. Tron still considers Flynn his friend, but... that doesn't mean he trusts the User, any more.)

Kevin: Look, Tron, I know you’re mad at me, but you can’t just shut me out.

Tron: Access blocked. Check connection settings and retry.

Kevin: Come on, man. We can talk about this.

[evecolourshock]

Thanks for the fic inspo, @wynandcore! Although this kinda... grabbed a tangent and didn't let go, so. AU inspiration too!

Tron freezes, words and a memory piercing straight through the haze of rage and (he admits it) fear driving him to hunt down and End that miserable wretch of a traitor mentee's runtime preferably before there's more explosions. The whole Grid grinds to a crawl, picocycles stretching into millicycles into full cycles.

I don't care what you do to me.

Does Beck... not know? Does he not-

I don't care what you do to me.

Can he not see? Can he not understand that Tron-

I don't care what you do to me.

Why can he not tell that-

I don't care what you do to me.

...a world without Beck is not one Tron wants to live in.

I did what I knew was best for you. Is this what's best for Beck? For the- oh glitch it, for his beta to put himself in Tron's way to prevent whatever he thinks Tron shouldn't be doing, to cross paths with and antagonize Viruses in Program skins, sacrificing himself over and over for a cause not worth the loss of that precious, brilliant, kind and gentle life?

No.

No, it isn't.

Nothing is worth Beck's life.

Not freedom. Not fighting. Certainly not vengeance.

Tron's fingers go numb. He drops his disc - when had he grabbed it? He can't remember.

Takes a single, staggering step back, known yet unfamiliar walls tilting around him.

I've never crashed before, Tron thinks dimly, watching Beck's face shift in slow motion from wary to nervous and then concerned panic. I don't like it.

Blackness creeps in, so different to what happens when his energy drops past dangerous levels. Softer, greyer, tinged with blue.

Tron prays Beck hears the I'm sorry that slips past his lips, as the void swallows him whole.

Tron comes to slowly, muzzily. Blackness still covers his vision, but it's muted. Lights off, something lying loosely on his face, not blindness. Wherever he is, and he doesn't have the energy to be scared of waking up somewhere new, is soft.

The nice kind of soft, not the one that precedes immeasurable pain.

Tron mrrps a yawn, woozy enough to not care he's reduced to Sounds rather than anything native to this Grid. What hap-

Memory rushes in then, and so does the heat and headache. Tron rumbles displeasure - crashing, he decides, sucks. Soothing hands run over him, quiet exclamations followed by rambling commentary.

Beck. Tron's somewhat surprised it's taken him this long to notice.

"-of couse I panicked!" Beck hisses at someone Tron doesn't know- "I called an adult, Able! You are that adult! My friend crashed and it's bad!"

Oh. Just Able. Able's okay. Has definitely seen Tron worse.

"How bad?" Tron manages to rasp out, quiet enough he can barely hear himself.

"Bad." Beck reiterates quietly. "You were losing voxels. I don't know why." One of his hands presses against Tron's forehead - it's cool. Tron leans into it. "But you're no longer overheating so much, so that's good. Gonna switch out the cloth over your eyes though, you're not in safe zones yet." Tron barely stifles a whine when the coolness leaves, but the fresh cloth is damp and cold and a relief enough to soothe his aching eyes.

More coolness runs over Tron's body, tracing his enhanced circuits - another cloth? - but it's not exactly effective through his overlay for this Grid.

Tron has never dismissed his overlay before, but...

He'd rather fend off Beck's questions than overheat too much. His overlay drops, and Tron doesn't manage to suppress the relieved whimper when his actual circuits meet air.

To Beck's credit, his only reaction is to pause his efforts to cool Tron down for a picocycle, before he starts up again following the new-to-him maze-like design. "Is that helping?" He asks quietly, keeping loud noises to a minimum. "The-" one finger traces the curve of Tron's ident, carefully and deliberately not touching the burning line. "This. Open."

"Yes." Tron rasps out. "Helps." Ow, his voice. Words are not his friends.

...bad choice of words. Tron doesn't have many friends anyway.

"Okay." Beck brushes a brightly patterned cloth over the densest patches of circuits, cold energy dripping into them and bringing Tron closer to equilibrium.

Something oozes out of Tron's back ports. The sensation is uniquely unpleasant, and his face scrunches a little. But even then, Beck delicately pulls him upright, cleaning the gunk away with firm hands. Tron catches a glimpse after the cloth-mask falls off - it's orange, whatever it is, this filth his system is rejecting. Writhes a little, too. Beck grimaces, slightly nauseous, but continues to deal with it while Tron tries to find out if he can feel his fingers and toes (a resounding no, aside from the painful-static kind of tingling). The box Beck puts the soiled rag in is sturdy, but flammable. Tron's pretty sure he can guess its ultimate fate.

Regardless, not much he can (or wants to) do right now except attempt to gain some control back over his limbs. He's not holding out much hope for his left arm - feels nearly severed at the shoulder again. It took cycles before he could move his fingers, let alone actually do anything with it, last time.

Guess he's going to have to rely on his non-dominant hand for the foreseeable future. Again. At least he's learned how to, this time, so he's not so helpless.

By the time Beck's finished with his back, Tron's mostly figured out how his legs and right arm are supposed to work. His right hand's a work in progress... and his left arm's a pain-filled write-off. Only the thought of not traumatizing Beck further stops him from severing it to stop the agony shooting all the way up from fingertips to shoulder.

That, and he might need it later. If he can get it to work.

The internal scan is an afterthought at best, even though Tron knows he should have run one immediately on booting up. He's just tired of being reminded he's broken, he needs to report to Medical, he's dying-

Tron is apparently not dying any more. He runs another scan, to be sure, but-

He's still physically a wreck. Scarred and battered and missing an eye, down an arm and up more trauma than he wants to think about. Circuits carved through or out, in the kind of state most would already have derezzed long before reaching.

But the debilitating gift Dyson forced on him under Clu's instruction? Tron can't find it. Sure, there's traces of it in his system, corrupted lines of code where what remained of his internal defences tried to fight the infection off, but... he can't find its fiery claws anywhere. And even those corrupted lines feel like they're smoothing out, patching themselves, tentatively morphing back into senses and memories and parts of him he thought gone forever. "Disc." He chokes out, fingers twitching - it hurts, it hurts so much, but he has to see-

Beck's fingers glide over his, quelling the tremors and stabilising his viewpane. "I have you." His beta murmurs, pressed in close and so cold to Tron's scorching frame. "Tell me how to help."

Tron can't bring himself to use more words, so he resorts to tonal pings. Beck figures them out as he goes, confirming a few times before he pans around under Tron's instructions. There's- there's a lot of damage, most of it familiar. But the foreign intrusion tearing through his core and ripping his reserves apart? Gone. Entirely.

Tron switches his gaze warily to The Box once he's certain he can't check any deeper, deciding it deserves the identifier given what he suspects it contains. The locked lid thumps, the whole thing jolting, but nothing escapes save an angry chittering sound - like the Gridbugs Tron's used to, instead of this Grid's little flying things. A scan makes him draw back, afraid of the familiar - a dark thought has him frantically scanning Beck, relief cascading through him when everything comes up clean.

It takes a lot to scare Tron. But that thing? That thing he fears.

Beck continues to cool him down, manages to coax him into drinking some energy (still vile, still viscerally wrong, still that baffling shade of blue instead of translucent silver), and generally fusses over him. Tron can't remember the last time anyone did this for him.

In the cells with Ram, most likely. When the MCP wouldn't let him derez, but barred him from his User and those vital repairs.

How some things loop back around. Slightly different context, same end result. Tron a wreck, no User aid coming, and someone who should never be in this situation doing their best to look after him anyway.

Tron twists to shove his head into Beck's shoulder, doing his best to resist the (confusing, unique, isolating) urge to cry. Stupid Flynn, giving him all of these weird User subroutines. Stupid Clu, trying to rip them all out again.

Able's probably not far out. Tron can wait until Able chivvies Beck off to sleep so he can cry without shame.

Cyrus- damnit all, Tron doesn't know what's going on with Cyrus but he is not letting Cyrus become Beck's problem. He'll... worry about that later, anyway, one working arm will not be enough limbs regardless.

For now, all Tron has to do is rest.

Something’s so crushing about the contrast of Tron saying “I did what I knew was best, for you… and for the revolution” and Beck saying “I don’t care what you do to me, I’m not letting you kill for revenge”.

[evecolourshock]

Oh I have the start of a fic that's kind of like this! But it's more Klax dragging the rest of her team away from Clu and Dyson because she might not remember much about what happened to her between A Betrayal and waking up, but she knows those two are Bad News.

...I really need to put more things on my AO3, don't I.

After the rectification, Rinzler was put in charge of Dyson's unit: Klax, Nord and Reeve. And Dyson himself.

Clu's gift to Rinzler

[evecolourshock]

Fic :)

Tron hums, looking Paige up and down. It's one part assessing, one part approving. She's been good for Beck's confidence, supportive even when Tron had to ask for his help during or before a date (he tried to avoid that - Beck's social life has taken enough of a hit as-is). Didn't mind Beck has secrets - backed off when Beck told her they weren't fully his secrets and he couldn't tell her without approval from all involved parties.

The Renegade secret is the last major secret Tron knows Beck has. If there's any others, Tron doesn't know them either.

"What was that?" Beck demands, after he takes Paige home - not to the barracks, interesting, another point in her favour for breaking away from that regime.

"I like her." Tron answers, smiling a little. "She's good for you. Not afraid to stand her ground, too."

"...did you just have a datapacket-measuring contest with my girlfriend." Beck's tone is disbelieving, and Tron has to bite down on snickers. "Tron. Are you serious. Did you do that-?"

Tron has to mute the comm to keep Beck from hearing him, almost doubling over with laughter as Beck's demands for information get more and more incredulous.

A new contact pops up - the girlfriend herself. "I can clear the building for mandatory emergency drills if you want to get hold of those plans for the mass rectifiers. Also, are you winding my boyfriend up?"

"Thank you." Tron hesitates. "And... maybe a little." Beck did tell him to at least try to be more personable.

"He's swearing at you. It's funny."

Tron can hear Beck over the line. "I know."

"You're not so bad, I guess." Paige is warm, amused. A lot like Yori, at least in how much she loves, supports, and enables her partner, while still finding it in her to laugh at his antics. "Take care of him?"

"You're alright yourself." Tron teases, then sobers. "I will, just make sure you do the same."

Paige hums down the comm line. "Will do. Stay online."

She hangs up then, and Tron's left with hope's faint warmth and far less loneliness than before.

"You know, Yori?" Tron asks the air quietly. "I think the kids are gonna be just fine."

Beck: Paige, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.

Paige: That’s the real Tron? He’s alive? Then…no offense, but why did he need you to be the Renegade?

Tron: Reasons.

Beck: Shut it. Now look, I want the both of you to get along.

Tron: As long as you like her and she doesn’t betray us, I’m happy.

Beck: Oh. Really? Great!

Tron: Paige, if you hurt him, they’ll never stop finding your remains.

Paige: I wouldn’t expect anything less.

Beck: What did I JUST say?

[evecolourshock]

:) but what if. Not the Renegade. Straight up just Beck jumping off buildings for fun.

Beck grins, landing happily on the ground and letting his new wingsuit retract. It's such an improvement on his old one, not least because it. Actually works.

Plus Tron's taught him how to use it. That helps.

Getting the batteries is easy - Able has a standing order for as many as can be supplied, so all Beck has to do is flash his ID and he can pick them up. There's a good few dozen this time - nice, they've been running way too close to out lately. He also grabs a new paint nozzle (Mara broke hers), four of the brand new power cells (he still needs to apologise for stealing Zed's bike, maybe these will be a start), and after a bit of deliberation a few vehicle-armour configs for Tron and himself. Someone's got to keep the guy safe, glitch knows too many haven't bothered, and Beck has several ideas on how to make these ones even better.

He practically skips back to the Garage, buoyed by the spiraling ideas and drafting them out in his head. Able frowning at him brings it to... not exactly a halt. "Hi?" Beck asks cautiously, presenting his haul of batteries.

"Who taught you to do that?" Able levels a look at him, smooth and unreadable. "The wingsuit."

Ah. Busted. "Me, tutorials." Beck only kind of lies. "Also Paige. I made myself one, but it broke, so she got me a new one." Not a lie. He just... doesn't use that one. Too many trackers.

"Hm." Able's still frowning, but some of the suspicion has eased off.

"If it makes any difference, at least I'm not doing that without knowing what I'm doing any more?" Beck lets his voice lilt higher, guilty.

Able sags and sighs. "As long as you're safe."

"Promise!"

Able: Tron when you're out of that party can you pick up some batteries

Tron: Sure

Able: *watching his building from the window* Don't fraggin do it. Do NOT do it.

Tron: *Jumps out the window and wingsuits to the storehouse*

Able: GODDAMMIT TRON! You're going to give me a short circuit one of these cycles...

*Uprising begins*

Able: Beck can you get some batteries on your way back to the garage

Beck: Sure

Able: *sees the Renegade wingsuiting off a rooftop*

Able: Tron, you glitch!

[evecolourshock]

....aaaand now i have fic

Apologies to all my RP buddies, stepping back from RP has made the stories runneth over

Tron hesitates, and then sinks into a booth Sam reserved for the this needs a drink kind of explanations. It is, he admits, a useful system given how little Sam knows of his father's work and Tron's own (admittedly patchy) knowledge of how things were before Clu messed with them.

"What's up?" Sam greets Tron, worry creasing that young face. "What happened, is something-"

"Nothing is more wrong than it was when you left eight millicycles ago." Tron soothes. It... kind of works. "More... I'm aware my question earlier was strange, and offer explanations." Because that's something he's learned to do, now. Explain.

Tron wishes he had this new skill when Beck- not going there.

Sam motions at him to go on.

"You'll have noticed by now a lot of things are named after me, and I keep on asking you to change them." Tron decides to start. Sam nods - that's good, he's aware of what Tron's on about. "I didn't have anything to do with the initial naming, that was all your father." Tron sips at the low-grade energy already on the table - it's nice on his scratchy throat, and if he wants a higher grade he can order it. "He... went a lot overboard with it, and I didn't notice."

Sam grimaces, aware of just how many things are named Tron-somethings. He's had to change a lot of them, and there's still more to go.

"By the time I found out... well. Too late to change it, and he didn't listen to my protests. Especially when I told him it was past flattering and well and truly into terrifying. In hindsight... it explains Clu. Or at least some of Clu's actions." Tron winces, reflexively hunching to protect his chest, feeling a phantom blade carve in again. Sam's hand on his arm brings him back to the now quicker than he would on his own (Beck, where's Beck-). "I was genuinely concerned he'd given you my name too."

"He tried." Sam tells him, and Tron's core sinks. Sam deserves better than to be saddled with that- "Mom overruled him. Gave me her dad's name instead and claimed family tradition. How true that is... I don't know. Never met that side of the family, or at least I don't remember."

"Your mother-" Tron takes a fraction of a picocycle to process this new User word, identifying within an error margin of 0.379% that it relates to the Jordan Flynn told him about, "-was an amazing woman, with the patience to put up with Flynn's antics and the strength to not let him get away with too many of them."

That startles a laugh out of Sam, and Tron smiles as best he can too. Sam's joy is infectious (rather like someone else Tron... knew, ow that hurts, leave that topic alone).

"Yeah." Sam murmurs, once the laughter fades. "Yeah, I bet she was." They sit in silence for a while, Program and User, contemplative and companionable.

"We were about to start work in Argon, right?" Sam doesn't question why Tron wants the desolate, burned ruins of a little port town restored, trusting there to be a good reason for this diversion of resources to a place that shouldd be low on the priority list. "Anything major to change there?"

"Nothing named after me, but..." Tron steeples his hands, the way he always does when nervous. "Could we... adjust the main square?"

"What to?"

"A memorial garden and park." Tron looks at the energy shimmering in his glass. Sam's been adding these relaxation spaces, indignant about the lack of peaceful areas to rest, and introduced plants for both the novelty and calm they bring. "Three connected but separate areas."

"Easy." Sam tells him confidently, and he's right now the jitters have subsided. "What would you like them named?"

"Renegade Park." Tron answers immediately, sure of it. "One garden for Beck, the other for Bodhi." Even now, he remembers. Beck had talked at length about Bodhi - the Ram to Beck's Tron, if Tron had to compare it. "...and maybe name an office block for Cyrus. That one's... something of an in-joke as well as a memorial."

Sam smiles at him, and for a moment Tron sees another adored fluffy-haired menace in his place. "I'll see what I can do."

Kevin: I can’t believe you didn’t get the hint. Like, I made so many things because you wanted them. I named tons of stuff after you. Like, Tron Cycles the unit of time, your Tron Tower, in Tron City, in the Tron system-

Tron: The what.

Kevin: This is the Tron system. That’s its official name in the source files, haven’t you seen?

Tron: KEVIN.

Kevin: What? I thought you’d like it!

Tron: There is a point where it goes past flattery and into terrifying!

Kevin: I’d say I should’ve stopped at the city, but obviously the system came first… Oh yeah, and I keep calling Alan ‘Tron’. Hehe, get it, because I thought you were Alan that first time and now the shoe’s on the other foot-

Tron: *faints*

(Later)

Sam logging in: Samuel T. Flynn.

Tron: what does the T stand for

Sam: Timothy. Why?

Tron: oh thank god