Chapter Text
Time passed, and the Grid continued to expand.
Tron remembered when most of the cities were accessible by Light Cycle, even if the drive itself took at least a full millicycle one way. Now, unless you wanted to drive for two full decicycles from the Capital, the only reasonable way to get to the most remote cities was by Light Jet.
The team occasionally had to fly out to these remote areas for patrols, especially the areas where Gridbugs were interfering with construction. It was a pain, admittedly, and there were always ripples of groans across the team whenever the assignment came in, but even the loudest grumbler could admit that the change of scenery was often welcome.
After a long flight, the team touched down in one of these remote towns, much to their relief. They deactivated their Light Jets and took several moments to stretch their stiff bodies.
"Oh, man," Dyson groaned. "I'd rather set up camp here than have to do all that again this cycle."
"You go ahead and do that," Daemon retorted. "The rest of us will head back without you."
"You'll be our eyes on the ground for any sort of incidents that happen in this hick town," Zenith added, laughing. "Just call us and hold your own for a full cycle while we fly back out here."
Dyson barked a laugh. "You are full of bits! I'd clock you as a virus if I could."
To Tron's relief, Dyson had gradually loosened up since they'd all started working together. By this time, they were all referring to each other by name, no formalities needed. Still, even though the team itself had become a tight-knit unit, and Dyson was clearly still under the impression that he was Tron's closest colleague, Tron still kept them all at arm's length, restricting his "camaraderie" with them to when they were all on duty.
Was it lonely? Yes, Tron reflected as he watched the other Security Programs chatter excitedly and laugh at each other's exhaustion. But he knew he would always feel isolated around them, despite how much they insisted he was also part of the group (he was the leader, after all!). He was different, and everyone knew it. He could see it in their eyes, the way they looked at him. He was on a pedestal he couldn't jump down from, and he could only watch the dozens, hundreds, thousands of onlookers gawking at him from below.
However, even now, Tron never said a word of this to anyone. Not even CLU (although, given the admin's keen intuition, he had probably figured it out cycles ago), and especially not Flynn. Admitting he wasn't completely satisfied with life in this new (even after all this time, it was still "new") System? It would no doubt be seen as ungrateful and entitled--two things that a Program should never be to a User. And since all these Programs were, in some form, a reflection of Flynn, he couldn't open up to any of them.
So, he was alone.
"Would you want to do that, Tron?"
Tron jumped before looking over at Dyson, who was holding out a pair of Light Jet batons to him.
"Oh... Sorry, what was that?"
"Cadet says you should be the one to take these over to the garage here. They're acting up, and we don't think they'll be able to make the journey back to base," Dyson explained. "If you're the one putting the order in, these peons will make sure it's done before you can say 'please and thank you'."
"Hm," Tron replied, quickly regaining his composure. "And I assume you're asking me to pay for it, too?"
To his surprise, that remark managed to get a few chuckles out of the rest of the team, save for Dyson, who paled.
"That wasn't what I was implying at all!" he insisted. "I was just saying what--!"
"I'll do it," Tron cut him off, holding back a sigh. "You all get warmed up. When I get back, we ride."
The blossoming town of Argon wasn't that big in its current state, so Tron quickly found his destination:
Able and Willing's Garage, next to a bunch of construction equipment that had either been ravaged by Gridbugs or was on standby for when the infestation was cleared.
Tron cautiously walked inside, looking around at all the equipment being built or repaired. Whirring, revving, clanking, chattering... It wasn't the worst white noise he'd ever heard--far from it--and something about it almost felt... homely.
"Can I help you?"
Tron turned to look at the mechanic walking up to him.
"I'm here on behalf of the security team," Tron replied, handing him the batons. "Two of our Jets were having issues on the way here. I was hoping you could look at them while we cleared out the Gridbug infestation."
The mechanic examined the batons closely, and without even activating them to take a closer look, he nodded. "I can do that."
Tron, caught off guard by the blunt, aloof response, just waited for him to continue.
After several moments of silence, the mechanic glanced up at Tron. "We're a little short-staffed at the moment. All my guys have been burnt out from patching up the Gridbug damage. Willing took the milli of, so it's just me running the shop."
"You're..." Tron guessed, "... Able, then?"
Able smirked as he set the batons down on a nearby workbench. "Should've probably led with that, huh?"
Tron couldn't help but chuckle.
"And let me guess, you're Tron?"
Once again taken back by Able's straightforward nature, Tron only replied, "Yes."
"What's a guy like you doing out running errands?" Able asked over his shoulder as he went through his tools. "Out looking for another job?"
"Well, no, I just... needed a change of scenery. And some time to myself," Tron admitted.
"Ha! We all need that sometimes, don't we?" Able replied. "I tell ya, if everything wasn't constantly on fire, I'd appreciate the empty shop. Just me, the stuff that needs fixing, and the tools to get it done. Nothing else matters until I clock out."
Able activated one of the Jets and began to sift through its code and inner workings.
"Anyway, stop back after those Gridbugs have been dealt with, and I should have an update for you by then."
"Actually, uh," Tron blurted out, "do you... need a hand? You said you were short-staffed, and--"
"So you really are lookin' for another job, huh?" Able asked, turning to face Tron once again with a smirk and a glimmer in his eye. "Makes me worry about the state of the Grid if even you're jumping ship."
"No, that's not what I meant! Everything's--!"
"Relax, soldier. I know what you meant. You just like helpin' folks, don't you?"
Tron breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah. You could put it like that."
"Then what about it's made you so stiff-lipped, huh?" Able asked. "Those two traits don't fit so neatly together."
"It's..." Tron looked away. "It's complicated."
"Well, hey, good thing there's a lot of work to do."
"Is there a problem?"
Both Tron and Able looked up to see Dyson walking into the garage toward them.
Tron guiltily stood up, pulling himself away from the tools he'd been sorting. "No. No problem at all."
"Tron, we've been waiting for almost half a millicycle. What have you been doing?!"
"I'm sorry. I lost track of time. Tell the rest of the team that I'll be right there." Then, to Able: "Thank you for your hospitality."
Able gave him a warm smile. "Thank you for the help. This one's on me, fellas."
"I appreciate it." Tron smiled back at him. A true, genuine smile.
"Feel free to come back anytime!" Able called out after them as they left.
"Back again, I see."
Able had begun to clean up his workspace when Tron walked into the garage.
"I came to pick up some parts," Tron replied.
Able turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow.
"You didn't order any parts."
Tron looked away guiltily.
However, Able only laughed. "It really has been a while since you've had a friend, hasn't it?" When Tron didn't respond right away, Able continued, "You know, I'm not going to be offended if you didn't come out all this way on business. I'd only be offended if you didn't let me buy you a drink while you were here."
"Oh." Tron looked genuinely surprised. "I guess... it has been a while, then."
"Maybe I'll even get a reward of heroism for making you finally loosen up," Able quipped. "You're stiff as a zip, Tron. No wonder you feel so out of place among all us Flynn-Programs."
"Do you really think that's it?" Tron asked as he helped Able clean up.
"Part of it," Able replied. "At least, you always look like you're hiding something. Everyone deals with insecurities in their own way, but you wear yours on your sleeve, and they're as bright as the Portal beam. You catch my drift?"
Tron shook his head.
"You feel like you don't belong. So you act like you don't belong. And because you act like you don't belong, everyone else catches on, so they act like you don't belong. That, in turn, justifies your feelings of not belonging. You've got what you already think, and you're not going to let anyone change it. You just keep going out of your way to find or even make up things that prove yourself right. And, when you're radiating a mindset like that, folks can often get the wrong idea."
Tron frowned, turning to Able as he finished putting away some tools. "What do you mean?"
Able looked around to verify that the garage as empty before looking Tron in the eye.
"What do you think of us Flynn-Programs, Tron?"
Tron blinked. "What do I think?"
"Did I stutter, Big Shot? I want your honest thoughts. What runs through that thick skull of yours?"
"Uh..." Tron didn't mind the playful insults. It was a nice change from all the overwhelming laud and even worship from the other Programs, and Able knew it. What Tron didn't like, however, was being asked his opinion--his honest opinion--so bluntly. "I don't know."
"Tron."
"Able, you can't just ask me something like that--!"
"Tron. Look at me."
Tron hadn't realized he'd looked away. Obediently, he turned back to Able.
"We've known each other for a good few cycles," Able hissed. "Now, you know I'm nowhere near your level on being able to take physical punches, but by Flynn, I can take some verbal ones. I can take it just as well as I can dish it out. When you're a service Program and you see nothing but the ugly side of folks expecting you to work miracles like you're Flynn himself, you need some pretty thick skin. And if you're as brave and brazen as everyone says you are, then you're going to tell me what's on your mind right to my face, and we're going to talk about it, no buffers. Because if you didn't want to talk, you wouldn't have come all the way out here to see me, now would you?"
"No."
"Then spit it out, bitbrain."
Tron sighed. "You're as bad as CLU sometimes."
"What I'm hearing is that I'm not the only one looking after you."
"If you want to put it like that," Tron huffed. He hesitated for a while before blurting out, "I just don't know how he can make so many."
"So many... what?"
"Programs. It doesn't make any sense. In the old System, back where I came from, there were just as many Programs with just as many Users. Everyone had their own, and it was... personal. Special. But now..."
"It's not personal anymore. Or special."
"Programs here are never going to understand that connection. That feeling of awe and wonder when it's just the two of you talking, communicating through that IO Tower. They'll never understand how Users only came in the form of light and power. Not... a form like us that comes down once every few cycles, stays for a while, and then leaves again. To you, those dark skies may look normal, but to me... it means we've been abandoned. And no one here will ever understand how painful that silence is."
Able's expression softened.
"I see."
"And it doesn't help that, wherever I look, I'm constantly reminded of the time I did think my User had abandoned me," he continued, now unable to stop his rapidly derailing train of thought. "I saw those dark skies every time I was forced to fight for my life, for the impossible chance that I could communicate with my User again. And in the Games, at that! The Games, which Flynn also brought here! Fighting in the Games, under dark skies, again and again..." Tron felt himself getting choked up.
Able frowned. "And you didn't tell Flynn?"
"Of course not!" Tron snapped. "I don't know what you think Users are like, but where I come from, their word is law. You don't argue, you don't bargain, you don't reason. If a User tells you to do something, you do it. If a User gives you something, you take it. And if they take something from you, you don't ask for it back. Do you know what denying a User does to you, Able?! It gets you deleted. Not derezzed. Deleted. It means you're worthless, useless, and a waste of code. So, no, I am not telling Flynn. I am going to shut up, do my job, and just... just..."
"Get over it, essentially?"
Tron's anger slowly drained away, leaving him panting as wet streams glistened on his cheeks.
"Yeah," he admitted weakly. "Because... there has to be a reason, right? A reason... A User... would never do anything without a good reason... Right? There has to be something..."
"Hm. I would never would have expected beliefs like that from a Program so close to the Creator--"
"Shut up, Grid-Program!" Tron snapped. "Don't talk about the nature of Users like you know anything about them! Why would you even need to know, anyway?! There's too many of you to even have proper functions in a closed System! Talk about wastes of code! I...!"
Tron trailed off, realizing what he'd just said.
"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
However, Able just smirked. "So you do have some opinions after all."
"Well, yes, but I didn't mean to just--"
The other Program was clearly upset by his remarks, but he made a visible effort to brush it off. "At least we know what makes you tick now."
"I'm sorry," Tron insisted. "I was out of line. How can I make it up to you?"
Able smirked. "Buying the first round would be a good start."