#make grim use eir ao3 challenge

[evecolourshock]

Fic again

Beck is, by now, intimately aware of what it sounds like when a Program gets knocked out. Weirdly melodic, a series of notes trailing down until the Program actually fully passes out. He kind of likes the sound - it means whoever he's hit won't be getting back up to hit him, but will be getting up later.

He hasn't heard this particular sequence before, ringing out far too close to the Garage, and-

That's Tron. He knows that's Tron. Even before he gets up from his workbench, that's Tron out cold on the floor, shivering in the alleyway behind the Garage.

"Glitching move!" Beck snarls at Mara, seeing her begin to stretch out and not caring to find out whether she's going to try to stop him.

Beck bursts out the back door to see no less than four guards poking at Tron's disguised body. His expression goes flat and dead, one hand clenched in a fist and the other wrapped around a length of pipe. He has no idea where it came from, but-

"Back off." Beck growls. "Before I make you."

One guard stops. Looks at him. Laughs.

Stops laughing and makes their own shut-down noise when Beck clocks them upside the helmet with the pipe, using a lot more of his strength than he's normally comfortable wielding. Out before they hit the floor, a good few feet from where they were standing.

"I'm not asking again." Beck's voice is flat to his own ears, full of threatening promise. He doesn't have to look to know Tron's losing voxels - time running out. Whatever happened was bad.

The guards bluster. A Mechanic is a little too important to rectify or derez, now there aren't many left thanks to Tesler and his ilk. But Beck's still being... defiant.

The allure of inflicting punishment clearly wins out. Beck has to bodyslam the biggest one into a wall, ignoring the yelps from when his colleagues finally catch up and realise Beck's not only picked a fight with four guards but is decisively winning said fight.

One of the remaining pair of guards tries to bring their disc to bear, but Beck just slips his hand through the docking point and shoves it into the side of the garbage chute. If the seven-strong gridbug hive at the bottom decides to take a bite out of it, no longer his problem.

The garbage chute crumples when they try to pull their disc out, and they fall in. Beck clamps down on the urge to rescue them - Tron first. Then whatever's left of the guard. He'll be suing them for any lost gridbugs.

A blow to the temple cracks the final guard's helmet, and they collapse with that familiar cascade shutdown. Beck drops the pipe and scoops Tron up. He's got plenty of bumps and bruises, but Tron-

Beck swears again, running inside, and barricades himself with Tron in Able's office. A good thing too, given something in Tron's helmet glitches out and the whole unit derezzes, baring Tron's scarred face to the world. The medical supplies are here, and Beck managed to Chimera himself somehow so medical is no longer as much of a problem.

He's still not actually Medical. A Monitor derivative that has Medical skills - hasn't been able to get a straight answer out of Tron about what he partially is now, but that's somewhat normal. He just knows he's the second ever of that Monitor type on this Grid.

Tron starts booting up - Beck can hear it, that starting chime, and for a moment dares hope. His hope shatters when the noise glitches, fails, starts up again. And again. And again.

A reboot loop cycle. Tron's stuck in a boot loop. That destroys most Programs, and Tron's not in great shape to start with.

Beck hisses more curses, and gets to work. If anyone's listening at the door, he no longer cares how offensive they find his language. "Come on, just hang on. Hang on a little longer." Beck coaxes Tron - sees a flicker of orange in Tron's circuits, and immediately goes hunting for the source in his friend's disc. It's a massive violation of pretty much every bit of trust Beck's built up with Tron over the cycles, but he'd rather Tron be alive to hate him than derezzed. "I have you, I promise. Just hang on for me, I've got you."

The orange thing is strung throughout Tron's code, somewhere between rectification's hallmark and a Virus. Whatever this thing is, whoever did it to Tron wanted him broken, piece by excruciating piece.

Not on Beck's watch.

Not to Tron. Sassy, friendly, funny Tron, a little bit weird in all the best ways. Beck's best friend.

Not when something clicks, like it does when he finally figures out how to deal with difficult repairs, and he sees what he needs to do to fix what this intruder has ripped apart. Beck's fingers dance, nimble, like someone else is controlling them - Beck's subroutines, and all he has to do is let them run.

"I have you." Beck murmurs. "Live. That's all you need to do, I'll take care of the rest." He watches his fingers hook under one of those orange strings and pull, slow and sure and steady. The orange thing writhes, but he doesn't let it wriggle its way back into Tron's code - pulls it all the way free, and Tron collapses with an inaudible whine that reverberates through Beck's core. "Live, Tron." Beck urges, holding the orange thing aloft so he can whisper into Tron's ear. "Live. I have the rest covered this time."

It's a testament to the trust Beck's currently trampling all over that Tron relaxes entirely when he registers it's Beck tending to him. His code blooms around Beck's hands, making it easier to remove more and more of those orange strings tangling through him. His core stops sputtering and racing, smoothing down and out to a steady pulse.

The orange strings wither and derez in Beck's hands, hanging limp and turning grey before falling like dust from between his fingers. That's new. But Beck doesn't have time to focus on new, when he's removing orange strings with one hand and fixing the furrows left behind with the other.

He'll talk to Tron later. When his friend recovers. Questions about abilities are much more likely to get answers than... questions that require Tron to actually explain things.

Beck makes sure there's no more core-deep wounds or orange strings before he saves what he's done and redocks Tron's disc. He knows Tron won't be fully healed, but the boot loop should stop and there will be some positive change...

He's not exactly expecting Tron's gouged-out eye to grow back. The gaping wounds in Tron's chest don't look so bad any more. Tron's left arm is attached by more than a few ribbons of voxels again.

Beck doesn't think he's ever seen Tron so close to whole.

The stuttering boot loop eases off, replaced with a gentle shut-down chime sequence, somehow softer than the one that lanced straight to Beck's core and started this whole mess. Tron is still and slack, peaceful in dormancy for the first time Beck's aware of. Glitch, he's even smiling.

"There you go." Beck murmurs, running his fingers through Tron's hair. It's fluffier than it looks, and Beck manages to tease some of it into a messier version of his own spikes. Like this, Tron could be a beta like Beck, fast asleep and clinging to safety wherever he can.

Apparently "safety" for Tron means "Beck", given Beck can't get him to let go, but-

Damnit. Beta solidarity, regardless of whether Tron's actually a beta or not.

Beck hunkers down, wraps around Tron. Deploys his experimental blast shield to keep out the noise of... maybe Mara trying to hammer on the door and demand explanations. Work can wait.

AU where Programs make the Windows shutting down noise when they’re knocked 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]

....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

[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]

I ended up posting this before finishing it 😅 oops

If I get time, I'll try to add the rest on my AO3 (which I am notoriously bad at uploading to) - the idea was that Alan's taken a lot of Flynn's words out of context here (he grabbed a diary from near the end to try to find clues, and it contains mostly Flynn trying to figure out how the hell do you entertain a bored Security Monitor without letting anyone else in on your Super Secret Project, it just sounds highly concerning without the background of "yeah so I ran out of things for Tron to do like 2 years ago and I'm panicking now"). Misunderstandings abound.

I didn't even get to the point of Alan finding out exactly what happened to Tron and his reaction to that 😅 something to remind myself to write.

Imagine a User as angry as Tron. Imagine how terrifying that would be for the programs around them. That's how I think about what would have happened if Alan got onto the Grid and found out what happened to Rinzler while Clu and Dyson were still alive. Tron had to get his temper from somewhere...

[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 time!!

Look, Beck knows by now that Monitors? They're a fighty bunch. He's been in enough spars with Tron - The Monitor himself - to understand that a good portion of Monitor bonding involves introducing each other's faces to your fists and the sparring mats. Stays this side of doing actual damage, but only just. And that the better you fight, even if you lose, the more respect you earn.

Really puts his immediate fight response on that first meeting, and Tron's reaction to it, in context.

And sure, Beck would love to introduce himself to Anon properly. He's heard stories about the guy, and for Tron that's rare. A tussle on the mats would be great, testing himself against an actual Monitor who isn't Tron without having to fight for his life.

What's much less great is Anon dropping in the Garage, clocking him as a pseudo-Monitor, and attempting to tackle him on sight.

"Dude!" Beck yelps, diving out the way. He still punches Anon back for that, he does have some pride after all and he wants to earn Anon's respect from the get-go, but- "Not the time!"

Zed looks stunned, Mara somewhere between horrified and fascinated, but Beck does not want to deal with any more questions than he's already going to get. He focuses more on dodging Anon than fighting back, putting up just enough effort that he's not going to be considered weak for it, trying not to show the depths of exactly how much he's trained for this kind of thing.

He likes you. Tron chimes in Beck's ear, like Beck isn't clinging to plausible deniability with one fingertip despite all of the Monitor's insistence on secret identities staying secret. He thinks you're a worthy addition to the Suite, and wants to see what you're made of.

"Fuck the Suite- not in the Garage damnit, I'm at work!" Beck howls both over comms and out loud, peppering in those User curses he's learned from Tron. He dodges a kick by flipping over it, using his momentum to rebound off a desk and tackle Anon to the floor. Thankfully, Anon just lies there and stares at him with that blank helmet after Beck gets a half-decent pin on him. "Later. On the mats. Now is a bad time." Beck enunciates each word clearly, poking the middle of Anon's visor with every syllable. "I would love to fight you properly but not right now."

Anon nods, so Beck lets him up. "I'll see you later." Beck mock-huffs at him, finding it difficult to be truly annoyed, shooing Anon out the door.

And now, he sighs to himself as he turns back to Mara, Zed, and the mess he's made of his workspace, damage control.

Monitors, honestly.

Headcanon: like in real life, when two security programs get put on the same system, it’s tradition to immediately fight each other, and whoever wins gets to be the system defender. Like roosters.

[evecolourshock]

Fic again...

Beck takes a deep breath, turns on his heel, and walks deeper into the outpost. ::I need a moment.:: He pings Tron, tagging it with reassurance, and then forwards the same message to Able without the tags. Bit flashes through its different modes, silent for once, and follows him.

He gets far enough away he can't hear them any more before whirling and punching a wall.

Curse all of this whole millicycle.

Beck squares his shoulders, shakes his aching hand, and lets himself sit down so he can process.

First and easiest issue to process : Tron.

Beck understands, intellectually, Tron owes him no explanations. They haven't been friends all that long, and Tron has been denied basic privacy for far longer than Beck's been online. He's allowed his secrets, even if he's unwilling to believe Beck won't pry if told to back off. Especially when it comes to things that hurt.

Because oh does this one hurt Tron. In all the time Beck's known him, this is the first time Tron has lifted, when grief-guilt has faded away to relief-joy for the briefest of moments-

And Able's cold, indifferent greeting had cut deep. To Beck's dismay, Tron had shuttered, visibly raised all those walls Beck has spent cycles carefully coaxing down, and responded not quite in kind. Hurt kept from his voice, but still visible in those ever-expressive eyes.

Tron hadn't wanted to tell Beck he knew Able, because Tron was still reeling from whatever had happened involving Able and didn't want more pain.

Beck can understand that. He takes a breath, and lets it go. Tron may not have been blameless in whatever it was that split him and Able, but Beck doesn't know that situation and doesn't want to get involved, and the current situation is not Tron's fault. Under ordinary circumstances, Beck doesn't need to know Tron's relationship woes, and there's no reason to reopen old wounds.

So, second issue to process : Able.

Beck's not going to lie, he thinks he hates Able a little right now. Can he not see how much he's hurt Tron from his greeting alone? Even after Tron had rallied, had tried to weakly joke about Able taking care of Bit - Tron's Bit, no wonder Beck hasn't seen another like it - and Able had snapped back with intent to hurt, using Beck as a weapon against Tron.

Beck growls out a whine, snatches Bit out of the air so he can cuddle it. Able doesn't get to judge Tron for what ultimately are Beck's choices. Beck could walk away, he just doesn't want to.

And Tron has been looking after Beck. Rather well, at that - Beck would be derezzed several times over if it wasn't for Tron, and with Tron he's allowed to grieve and be hurt and angry without being chided for it. Tron tries to keep him safe, teaches him things to ensure that, offers advice and support and distractions (however clumsily) whenever Beck needs them most. He-

Beck has a sinking suspicion Bit wasn't the only thing Tron lost when he and Able split.

Able's antique lightcycle is an Encom model, and an old one at that. About the right compile date to be Tron's - it's older than Able is. How much easier would it be for Tron to use it - how much less strain would it put on his already exhausted systems?

And what of that pretty suit in Able's office, sized for a lady-frame and so intricate yet familiar, buzzing with a weak echo of the energy thrumming through Tron on his good millicycles? A memorial case Tron's cut off from - a friend, or closer, perhaps? How much does it burn him, to only be able to see what's left of her when he's somewhere he's knowingly barred from entering?

Beck looks at his own hands, too imprecise for detailed Mechanic work despite his best efforts and yet so skilled with a disc or staff or hand-to-hand spar. His reflection in the far wall wavers - Tron's jaw, Tron's shoulders, Tron's build to his frame. "Bit, I need the truthful answer, even if it hurts." Beck whispers to the docile little creature nestled in his lap - he's always been its favourite. "Did Able take me too?"

Bit rocks on its points, thinking. Beck waits patiently for it to process cycles upon cycles of memories to find the answer. And then:

yes.

Bit is soft, quiet, drifting up to nuzzle Beck's face and attempt to comfort away the tears that slip from his eyes.

"Does he know?" A beat. "Tron, I mean."

no.

Beck whines louder, hunching in. At least now he knows why the Garage doesn't feel like home. "Was Able ever going to tell me? Or Tron?"

...no.

Bit sounds apologetic. Beck didn't know bits could emote. Or maybe it's just this bit, Tron's Bit, a stranger even among its own kind.

"Not your fault." Beck scritches Bit's facets. "Not your fault at all." He breathes a sigh, huddled in a corridor somewhere between familiar and safe.

Beck... Beck needs safe right now.

And safe does not mean Able.

Safe is strong hands picking him up off the floor, gruff yet gentle corrections to a dodge Beck feels like he should already know. Safe is a mess of reports and a theory board in between, plans mapped out with pilfered red string and teasing each other for their knowingly outlandish deductions. Safe is a surveillance array and stories of what it sees, information gleaned from invisible eyes even now keeping watch over everyone they can.

Safe is a blanket fort with a healing chamber built into one side, protecting each other from the horrors of the world in a makeshift castle of dreams.

Beck creeps past the fluffy black curtain-door, locking the actual door behind himself and Bit. He curls up in a nest of pillows, wrapped around the base of the healing chamber. Bit snuggles into his chest.

Later, Beck will wake to Tron coming in to the darkened room, and hug his Creator tightly until he can muster the words needed to explain what he's found out.

Later, Beck will send in his resignation from the Garage, and then spend the next several millicycles convincing Mara and Zed that irreconcilable differences does not include them and has a lot more to do with him finding out he's not actually a Mechanic.

Later, Beck will use every iota of stealth he's learned to steal first a lightcycle, and then a very pretty Gridsuit, presenting them to Tron with a quiet chirp.

But later is not now, and Beck cuddles Bit close and cries into the pillows Tron lovingly gathered for him until he falls asleep.

*Beck rescues Able and brings him to the lair*

Able: Tron.

Tron: Able.

Beck: YOU TWO KNEW EACH OTHER THE WHOLE TIME?!

Able’s bit: YES

Tron: You’d better be taking good care of my bit.

Able: Oh, like you’re taking care of Beck?

Beck: That’s YOUR bit?!?!

Tron: He took it in the divorce.

Beck: THE FUCKING WHAT

[evecolourshock]

Fic time, following on from this! This one got long, oops. Story under the cut!

Beck's not going to lie, he's a little disappointed. Not that Flynn doesn't remember him - it was a stupid question, Beck doesn't remember the names of everyone in Argon, how would even a User remember each and every one of the thousands of Programs on the Grid?

But this... defeated, hopeless, shell of a man? Not even willing to try to help? Sure, maybe he tried in the past and it didn't end well, but... damn it all, Beck did not get his back end kicked clear across the Grid with an uncooperative ISO telling him to give up and go home every step of the way just to be told "sorry kid, you're outta luck" with a consolatory clap on the shoulder that mostly just feels condescending and dismissive.

He stubborned his way into Tron taking him on as a Renegade, he's going to make sure this trip isn't wasted or so help him he's going to find out what the best way to blow up the Admin Tower is.

He started his illicit career with a bomb, and if he has to go back to that then so be it.

"Never mind, silly question." Beck waves a hand, laughs even though it doesn't make his brown eyes look any less black. "Not here to talk about me, anyway." He smiles, though it feels wrong. Unfriendly. Sharp. "But you remember Tron, right?"

Flynn's eyes clear. Of course he does. Tron's Tron.

"I'm his-" friend. Beta. Moral compass. Voice of reason even if he doesn't pay attention all the time. "-student."

"Were." Quorra corrects him.

"Is. Am." Beck retorts. Because Tron lives. Still lives. Isn't gone yet. "No matter how much you want that to be past tense because according to you Tron's dangerous. Need I remind you-" his teeth bare, and he snarls. "-so am I." And recently, he's had to prove it, throwing his own morals aside for survival.

"He's alive?" Flynn breathes, and Beck wrenches himself back on track.

"Yes. Injured, but... yes. But he won't be for long if something's not done. Clu has him." Beck closes his eyes for a moment, takes a shaky breath. He will not cry. Not right now. "He wants a... public spectacle. Of his triumph."

Flynn's eyes dim again. "I can't-"

"I'm not asking you to." Beck tells him, trying not to roll his eyes at the twin looks of shock he gets. He didn't come here to drag someone to war. "I need your help, not for you to fight."

"Not sure what help I can give."

"A decoy beacon of you that I can remote-activate, and advanced Security permissions. Nothing else, I can do the rest myself. Or with some... friends of mine." Beck has a plan, he swears. He's just too limited right now to do it, so he needs those limits gone. The decoy is a spur-of-the-moment addition to said plan - Clu will want Flynn to watch him break Tron, will hunt Flynn down if he thinks he can do so. Beck intends to send him chasing Bits instead, buy himself some time.

"You'll be killed." Quorra huffs. "Or rectified." She folds her arms, not wanting any more involvement in Beck's kind of crazy ideas.

Beck just grins at her. "For a Renegade? Occupational hazard."

Flynn looks at him long and hard for that. Beck shrugs off the scrutiny - Tron's gaze is far more searching, and he only has one working eye even with the last-resort restoration via interrupted Rectifier.

"You in? Just for those?" Beck asks. "I have other options, but... less likely to succeed."

"Sure, man, what the hell." Flynn runs a hand down his face. He sounds defeated still, like he thinks Beck's for sure going to fail, but at least he's willing to give this one last shot. For Tron.

"Thanks." Beck chirps. He knows from bitter experience he is, at least, extremely difficult to catch and derez.

**********

Cyrus is very put out about being Plan B, whining at Beck about it in that grating false-nice tone he excels at, until Beck shoves him into a wall with an aggrieved hiss.

"I am counting on you to do whatever it takes to get me and Tron out, with as few civilian casualties as you can, if this all goes wrong." Beck growls in Cyrus' face. "You're plan B because against my better judgement I'm trusting you to succeed if I don't."

Cyrus' jaw snaps shut, eyes bulging in shock and the lack of breath as Beck's arm pushes into his neck.

"Plan B is for blow it all to pieces. Plan B is for big bombs get results." Beck lets up after a moment, dropping Cyrus. "Plan B is for better than me. Understand?"

Cyrus nods, rubbing his throat, awe and respect in his eyes. "You got yourself a spine." He croaks out, amused.

Beck grins wryly. "Between my enemies' lives and my friends, I chose to keep my friends." He doesn't tell Cyrus about the upgrades, about the way Security programming takes the steel around his core and makes blades and shields of it.

Cyrus probably already knows. Misses nothing, that one.

"Do I count?" Cyrus asks, bouncing back now Beck's proven they're a lot more alike than they used to be.

"Depends if you stab me in the back again." Beck calls over his shoulder, the white of the Renegade suit wrapping around him and generating the armour he now moves in with ease. "Figure it out, Ram."

He can hear Cyrus' gasp and grin at the pseudonym, both of them knowing it was the name of Tron's first friend - optimistic and bubbly and gregarious, but scarily analytical and dangerous if he needed to be. "Don't make me have to rescue you, Tron." Cyrus shoots back, and Beck laughs brightly. He could get used to having a friend like Cyrus, as unlikely as it is given how they met.

Beck leaves Cyrus to his bomb-making, and ducks into a different room in this makeshift base he's carved out for himself, deep in Argon's underbelly. As he'd hoped, there's over a dozen wary Programs in grinning sharptooth helmets.

Jolly Tricksters. His last attempt with them didn't go so well, but... he's changed since then, and so have the stakes. "Hello everyone." He rumbles out in an imitation of Tron's voice that's off just enough to give away he's someone else in a mask - just like them.

"Renegade." One greets - Mara, he knows, though he can't give that away. Too many questions he doesn't want to answer. "Who are you?" She snaps out. "You're not Tron, he's-"

"Captured, I know." Beck runs a hand down his mask, lets them see the slump of his shoulders. "I'm... someone he knows well. Better than my own friends do. He taught me." He fixes his gaze where he knows her eyes are, wills himself into channeling at least some of the authority Tron comes by naturally. "Which is why I need your help."

"Help how?" Someone else pipes up, still cautious but less hostile and a lot more interested.

"There's a lot of information the Occupation would like to keep hidden." Beck muses, measured in the way only a handful of people know means he's trying not to sound too gleeful. "It'd be... such a shame if it got displayed all over the Grid for anyone to see, wouldn't it?"

"A right shame, indeed." The speaker chuckles. "It wouldn't happen to be of the, ah. Distressing kind, would it?"

"Perhaps." Beck nods at them. "I got my hands on a sizeable chunk of it already. All you need to do is display it." He addresses the group at large. "Then sit back and enjoy the chaos."

The room thaws, relief spreading through the group as they realise the only danger is what they put themselves in anyway. Beck - well, the Renegade - has already done the hard work for them.

Not long now.

**********

Cutler's resistance network has only grown, the loss of its leader making a martyr for others to rally behind.

Beck's visited the group already, telling an only slightly edited tale of a Program who fought what had been done to him right until the bitter end, and knows the Renegade is welcome here.

He hopes that's still true when he asks them to fight for the Program Cutler died trying to heal.

Zuse meets him at his bar, tucked under a hooded cloak and yet not too much out of place. Zuse is a cunning sort, and Beck doesn't trust him not to sell them out if it benefits the nightclub owner, but right now Zuse is an ally and gets treated with all the politeness that entails.

"They're a bit... out of sorts. The news, and all." Zuse informs him with the usual flippancy that hides whatever he's actually feeling. "You know the one." He sweeps open a door for Beck, the showmanship so commonplace it makes people stop paying attention. Just Zuse being Zuse.

"We can change that." Beck flicks his hood down once he's safe - does not miss the faint disappointment when Zuse realises he still can't see his face - and addresses the room. "It's not over yet. Shall we finish what Cutler started?" There's a few new faces - he recognizes Bartik and Hopper from Argon's more radicalized subdistricts, yellow armbands ripped off and contrite yet fierce - but blunt and forthright works best with this group.

Quorra is there, to his surprise. In the back, trying not to be seen by him. He ignores her - as long as she doesn't try to undermine him, she can do as she pleases. She clearly doesn't know what to make of his indifference.

It takes longer than Beck thought it would for her to corner him, and she's considerate enough not to do so publicly. "What are you doing here?" She hisses.

"I knew Cutler." Beck growls at her, sees her flinch at just how close to Tron's voice his becomes. "And I'm saving my friend. With, or without your help." He looks her up and down, considering. "Not that you'll have to offend your delicate sensibilities even if you deign to help us Basics."

She reels back, stung. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm aware you hate me because of who I am, what I am, the company I keep, or a combination. Good for you, join the group." Beck can barely believe how vicious the words coming out of his own mouth are, but he's channeling Tron right now and Tron's always been... cutting. Pares right down to core in a matter of sentences, if he puts his mind to it. A skill Beck's picked up via exposure. "But I'm putting that aside because we don't have time to waste squabbling. You're one of the best when it comes to handling a Lightrunner, so if you decide you want to help you'll be on evacuation duty. Getting your injured out of the fight before it kills them. It won't be easy. You may be the last line of defence between an injured Program and the soldiers intent on slaughtering them. But it is a vital part of keeping as many of ours alive as we can. Of making sure the Grid has hope, so long as there are Programs willing to fight for it, of there being a millicycle where all of us are free."

**********

Beck creeps through a vent, still slender and tall enough to fit without much difficulty. His new Security overrides make him invisible in the system checking for anyone daring to enter this way, and it's a fun kind of irony about beating Security with Security.

Tron is this way.

And he's still Tron.

Beck can feel him now, a warm weight in the back of his mind. His Squad Leader, information from his new coding tells him. Injured again, though he can't tell how badly.

Beck hopes his new field medic abilities will help at least lessen the injuries. It's going to suck if he has to carry Tron out.

He finds Tron, chained to a vertical slab in the middle of the room. His friend's head is bowed with exhaustion, heavy in the way that means his energy levels are critically low.

Dyson steps into Beck's field of vision through the grating. He whispers something in Tron's ear, and a horrible whining sound starts up. Tron grunts in pain, teeth gritted to hold in a scream, and Beck-

Beck.

Sees.

Red.

The grate doesn't come off fast enough, so Beck draws himself up a little and rams it clean off. He dimly remembers to press the button that alerts the beginning of the distraction - Resistance members dragging guards away, breaking into the Arena to free anyone they can, generally causing chaos.

In thirty ticks, the Jolly Tricksters will set off their parcels detailing every sordid thing the Occupation has done in the shadows they've created away from the public. All the lies, the torture, the carefully targeted massacres and rectifications and experiments. Every single little and not-so-little thing, blasted out there for the Grid to see.

Beck lunges for Dyson with a furious roar. He's done being kind.

Being hit with a circular saw to the face really hurts, Beck finds, but he just uses that pain to fuel the punch that snaps Dyson's head back and rattles voxels loose from that fragile chasm a disc once opened. He doesn't let up until he puts that annoying saw through Dyson's chest, wrecking the General's disc in the process, and scrambles to get Tron down.

"I'm here." He murmurs, feeling Tron's head loll onto his shoulder and clumsily pushing energy in Tron's direction. "I'm here. You'll be okay."

The decoy flares on - doubling as a warning from Cyrus, too much longer and there will be explosions as he comes to fetch them - but Beck does his best to ignore it as he patches Tron up. Dyson- Dyson nearly tore him apart. And there's the reinstated energy-sapping virus to contend with.

Rectification takes too long, and Beck doesn't trust himself to be able to intercept in time again. So he braces himself for pain, and syncs his disc to Tron's.

The antiviral defences in his code burn, scorching through him and making him curl around his mentor with a choked-off cry. But they do their job, and by the time Beck can think clearly enough to move the virus is nullified again and disappearing.

Tron will never recover from everything he's been through. There are too many wounds that run too deep. But Beck just wants Tron to live, so he does what he can.

The first explosion shakes the ground - a little early, but Cyrus isn't exactly known for patience - and Beck scoops Tron up to limp towards their ticket home. Tron mumbles pleas for Beck to leave him and run, and Beck pretends he can't hear them.

Their route would be suspiciously clear of guards, but Beck cheats by using his Security clearance to divert them and close doors on them and generally inconvenience them as much as he can. He's in no state to fight right now - not when it'll put Tron in even more danger. So, time to win the beta way, with pranks and misdirection.

More explosions sound, coming closer. Beck lets the rumble wash through him, purring with it to soothe Tron. Cyrus waits in the shadow of a blown-out wall, resting against the body of a commandeered tank, and Beck traipses his way through the rubble to his friend.

"You found him." Cyrus whispers in relief, arms outstretched to help get Tron somewhere with dense armour plating between him and Clu.

"I did." Beck collapses into the gunner seat, aching all over but determined to finish what he started. He swings the barrel round until he spots a flash of distinctive gold, aiming carefully. "Now let's make sure we can go home."

Blue streaks across the battlefield, blinding in its intensity. It connects with its target, scattering gold voxels and dust, and scorching a crater where a throne once stood. Beck grins through gritted teeth, feeling the tank rattle to life and the smaller cannon bolted to the side of it spew fire and grenades with little regard for accuracy to clear a path.

The Uprising had well and truly begun.

Love the idea that Flynn doesn’t even remember half of the programs he’s created.

After all this time, Beck finally gets to meet Kevin Flynn, his creator, through means of Quorra saving him.

And he’s nervous. He’s meeting someone almighty, all-knowing, the one program responsible for the life he’s got, the friends he’s found, and the city he lives in.

He’s in his creator’s hideout, ascending to meet him with the last ISO at his side, who promptly leaves it to alert this god of his arrival.

And as Flynn meets him, and they lock eyes, he can’t help but ask: does his god recognize him? Remember his creation, his function?

He waits for a spark to fire in his creator’s eyes, snapping him into a memory of his creation point. He anticipates a warm greeting, an exclamation of surprise as memories flood through this almighty guardian, swelling him with pride at seeing the program he made making such a difference in the world.

None of it forms. Instead, he looks at him with a pained glance and an awkward frown.

God doesn’t remember you.

Did he ever know you at all?