Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dear Eve,

I find myself on the verge of a breakthrough. I’m closer than I’ve ever been before, I know it.

Or, rather, I can feel it. What a strange thing to say, that I feel something. I still don’t fully understand what it means, but I’m working on that too.

Speaking of working on things, I see that you’ve been busy. Even all the way out here, ENCOM makes headlines. You’re changing the world with each day that goes by. You know that already, of course. But I’m halfway across the globe, and your actions are still affecting everyone around me.

I apologize that I cannot be there with you while you complete your work. Please understand that this is something I must do on my own.

I know that your sister would be very proud of what you have accomplished.

Ares

—

More than six months of searching. To the old Ares, it would have been no time at all. To the new Ares… well, it still wasn’t that much time. But even his patience was being tested.

His conversation with Flynn had made some things very clear. He did not have unlimited time left to him now. Every day meant something. As long as he made it mean something.

Of the time he had spent outside the Grid, there hadn’t been a single wasted day. He had doggedly spent each of his waking hours chasing rumors, following leads, and trying to grab hold of what felt like a ghost.

“Flynn lives.”

It had once been the rallying cry of a group of people who had seemed like nothing more than conspiracy theorists and crackpot lunatics. It had turned out to be true, though maybe not in the way that anyone had expected. Most of the world had no idea what had really happened to Kevin Flynn. But Ares had read nearly every file that ENCOM possessed on the history of their Grid. And so he knew the truth.

Kevin Flynn was gone now. But there was another. His son. Sam Flynn, the former ENCOM CEO, the one who had suddenly stepped down one day and then subsequently vanished. Due to “personal reasons.”

This was one thing that Ares had been unable to understand. There was little indication as to what had led Sam to take such a sudden and unexpected path. The only thing Ares had to work with was a few photographs that had made their way into the public and the files that he had taken from ENCOM.

Something miraculous had happened on the ENCOM Grid. Something impossible. Something that even ENCOM couldn’t fully explain. But it was something that Ares had seen himself mirrored in. And if he could find Sam Flynn—if he could find the mysterious woman that seemed to have disappeared with him—then maybe he could at least begin to answer some of the questions he had.

That was how he had found himself this far off the beaten path, driving his motorcycle down a road that was little more than a widened dirt path, deep in the heart of Sweden.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to find here. If it really was the location where Sam Flynn had been hiding, would the man be willing to talk at all? Clearly, he had disappeared for some reason, and he had spent a lot of trouble making himself nearly impossible to find. So much so that the rest of the world had given up years ago.

Ares, though, was motivated by much more than simple curiosity.

The sun was setting now, and the orange glow that it cast over the flat field was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Even now, even this close to his goal, Ares still found the sight beyond words. It was something he could have never imagined. There was so much… chaos. Randomness. So much uncontrolled life and growth. So different from the world he had come from.

It felt right. Natural.

He could see the house on the horizon now. He was approaching it rapidly. There was more than one building, as well—he could make out what appeared to be a greenhouse, a large shed, a silo, a windmill, and maybe… a barn?

Sam Flynn’s ENCOM salary had gone to good use here.

Ares pushed his engine just a little bit further. His inhuman reflexes allowed him to compensate for the uneven ground, even though his bike wasn’t made for a ride like this. By now, it had become second nature to him. He could do it without thinking.

He came to a roaring stop in front of the farmhouse in mere seconds, a massive cloud of dirt and dust kicking up behind him as he killed the engine.

Ares stared at the house. It wasn’t something he would call modest, but it wasn’t grandiose either. It looked like the kind of place that someone would never plan to live. The kind of place someone could spend the rest of their life.

But why? What were you running from?

He climbed off his bike and removed his helmet, resting it gently on the seat. He continued to stare at the house, lost in thought. He tried not to get his hopes up. Even after months of work, it was possible that this was yet another dead end. Sam Flynn could easily be in another castle.

He was about to take the first step forward to the small flight of wooden stairs that led to the front porch of the farmhouse. There was no point in delaying it any further. 

But he wasn’t able to take that step. Because in the next instant, someone had swept their foot under his, moving with so much force and speed that he was unable to react and keep his balance. He went toppling over, crashing to the ground.

His brain went blank and slid into combat mode. Someone had gotten the drop on him. That was fine. It didn’t matter. He could still move faster than anyone; all he had to do was flip over, launch himself back up to his feet, and—

But he couldn’t because whoever it was had somehow been able to move just as fast as he could, and that was impossible, wasn’t it?

Ares flipped himself over so he was no longer facedown in the dirt, but he couldn’t get himself back to his feet fast enough before she was on him.

She?

It was a woman, there was no doubt in his mind. She was wearing a black leather jacket, jeans, and a motorcycle helmet of her own. It was solid black, the visor completely opaque, hiding her identity entirely. There had been no other cycle nearby, he knew that. She must have put it on explicitly so that he couldn’t see who she was.

Which meant this had to be it. He had found the right place. He didn’t know if Flynn was still here, but this was the closest he had come in the last six months.

“Wait,” Ares said, as the woman struggled to pin him down. “I’m just here to talk!”

She said nothing in response, instead lashing out with a lightning blow that would have no doubt shattered his nose and sent him into unconsciousness. She was fast. Strong. Just as much as he was, if not more.

It all came to him in a rush then. He knew who was under the helmet, even if he still didn’t understand what she was. But he also knew that if he allowed her to win this fight, he wouldn’t get the chance to ask the questions he needed to ask. She would just leave him there and disappear again.

Or would she kill him? Once upon a time, it was what he would have done.

“I just want to talk to Sam Flynn!” Ares tried again, but his words appeared to have no effect. In fact, they seemed to only be making the woman angrier. She screamed and lashed out, but the strike was sloppy. He saw it coming before she had even pulled back her fist, and he had more than enough time to dodge his head to the side and deal her a kick hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs and send her tumbling back from him. 

This time, Ares climbed to his feet. He could have pressed his advantage, throwing himself on her and pummeling her until she couldn’t retaliate. Instead, he took a step back and slowly put his arms out in front of himself, palms facing forward. “I don’t want to fight you. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk to you. I think… I think you might be able to help me.”

The woman was rising from the ground, her shoulders heaving. She was still in a ready stance, and he knew that she could be back at him in the blink of an eye. For now, at least, she seemed to be listening.

“I don’t really know who you are or what you were doing out here. But I couldn’t find any other way to be able to speak to you.” He paused. “So if you could stop trying to kill me for one minute, I might be able to explain myself.”

The woman continued to stare at him, motionless and silent. Then, after a few moments had passed, she reached up, grabbed her helmet, and lifted it from her head, revealing her face.

She didn’t need to say anything. He knew as soon as he saw her that he had found the right place. It was the same woman from the photographs—maybe a little bit older, but there was no doubt in his mind. She had the same sharp features, the same dark hair cut into a bob. Her eyes were both piercing and inquisitive in a way that he recognized very well. It was the same expression that he saw in the mirror when he examined his face every morning, still unable to fully process the fact that he was real.

“What are you?” she finally asked.

Ares felt a small smile creep onto his face. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

—

The woman took him inside the house. It wasn’t especially extravagant on the inside, but it showed a life lived well. Photographs of her and Sam Flynn. Smiling. Happy. In more locations than he could count. 

A large portion of the furnishings inside the house seemed to be handmade. He imagined that it wouldn’t be easy to have things brought here. There was a good chance that they were making do with whatever they could create themselves, and maybe whatever they could barter for in the closest towns.

The woman came back into the dining room where she had left Ares. She was carrying two cups of tea. “Here,” she said. “You came from very far away, didn’t you?”

Ares chuckled. “You could say that.” 

“You’re looking for Sam, then, aren’t you?”

Ares accepted the tea. It was hot, but intolerably so. She had managed to get it to the perfect drinkable temperature. “I don’t know. I think I might have been looking for you. My name is Ares. And I think you and I have a lot in common.”

He noticed that she was still wearing her jacket. It wouldn’t have been too out of the ordinary, but something about it did stand out to him. The way she moved… it was like she was trying to prevent the skin of her arms from showing. “My name is Quorra,” she said, as she sat down across the table from him. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a visitor.”

“I apologize for interrupting your solitude,” said Ares. “I imagine there’s a very good reason why the two of you came all the way out here.”

“Yes,” Quorra said. Ares could tell from the look in her eyes that she was remembering. “It seemed like the best option at the time.”

“But… now you’re having second thoughts.” It wasn’t anything she had said. It was the way she had said it. The doubts were there in her tone of voice.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the news,” Quorra said. “And I’m sure that’s a big part of the reason why you’re sitting here in our dining room. You were involved in the attack on ENCOM, weren’t you?”

Ares nodded. “Yes, but… not in the way you think.”

Quorra’s eyes roamed over his face. There was something slightly different about her gaze. Something that set her apart from almost every other person that he had interacted with during his time on earth. He was starting to realize what it was, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. It was too early to get his hopes up.

“You’re a Program, aren’t you?” The question was so blunt, so matter-of-fact, that it took him completely by surprise. At the same time, it was entirely genuine. “That’s why you’re here. Because you think Flynn might be able to help you.” She leaned forward, and Ares saw a spark in her eyes, one of excitement and wonder. “We knew ENCOM found the permanence code, but you’re from inside the Grid…” Her voice trailed off, and her face creased into a slight frown. “But you can’t be from the Flynn Grid.”

“I’m not,” said Ares. “This is where things get complicated.”

“You’re either an ENCOM Program or a Dillinger one,” Quorra said.

“Yes. But maybe it would be best if I waited until Sam was back to explain everything,” said Ares. It wasn’t that he thought Quorra would attack him… but he wouldn’t blame her if she did.

“So you’re a Dillinger program then,” she said, leaning back. “If you were ENCOM, you would have just said so.”

“Is that a problem?”

“It depends on what you’re here to do.”

That was the question, wasn’t it? What was he here to do?

Ares was about to attempt to answer her when he heard the sound of the front door open. “Quorra? What’s going on? Whose bike is that?”

Ares knew the voice well. It was the voice of someone who had become like a god to the Programs. A User. The son of Flynn.

“We’re in here,” said Quorra, not taking her eyes off Ares. “There’s someone here that I think you’re going to want to talk to.”

Sam didn’t say anything else, but Ares heard the sound of running footsteps. Seconds later, Sam Flynn stood in the doorway of the dining room, staring at Ares with a look of both suspicion and fear.

“What are you—”

“I don’t think he wants to hurt us. He’s a Program. From the Dillinger Grid. And I think he just wants to talk.”

Sam Flynn had gotten older. The youthful energy had left his face. He looked tired—tired of the world. He still had the same square jaw and unyielding gaze that Ares had seen in the photos and newsreel, but time had passed. Years. This was not the same person who had vanished to leave Eve Kim in charge of ENCOM.

“The Dillinger Grid?” Sam leveled his stare at Ares. “I think you'd better start talking.”

“Happily,” Ares said. “That’s why I’m here.”

—

Julian Dillinger looked out over the Grid with a hint of pride. Only a hint, though. There was much work left to be done. There was no time for things like pride or satisfaction. That would come later, when the outside world was just as ruined as the Grid had been when he had entered it.

Truthfully, the name Julian Dillinger was no longer accurate. Not entirely. He still felt like Julian Dillinger. Most of the time, at least. He still acted like himself. More or less. He still had all the same skills—plus some that he had never imagined himself being capable of.

What frustrated him was that, despite the fact that he was undoubtedly a “User” as the Programs called it, he lacked the god-like abilities that should have been his. It was frustrating. It was unfair.

But he certainly wouldn’t let it stop him.

As he stared out the massive window of his throne room, the room that overlooked what had once been the Dillinger Grid, he felt a cold certainty wash over him. It wouldn’t be long now. Preparations were nearly complete.

“Sir?”

Julian turned to face the speaker. It was a Program of his own design, one that had once fought to steal ENCOM’s data alongside Ares and Athena. One who had died on that very mission. A young man with close-cropped hair, a square face, and wide, almost nervous eyes. “Yes, Caius?”

“The commanders have returned and are ready to report to you. At your leisure.”

Julian smiled at Caius, then reached out and patted the man’s shoulder. “You’ve been very loyal to me, Caius. I hope you know that I see that.”

“Of course, sir. You were the one who brought me back from nothing. I owe you my existence.”

“Stay by my side, Caius,” Julian said. “Your loyalty will be rewarded.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As the two of them turned to leave the room, Julian’s armor began to form on top of his suit. The lights faded into existence, seemingly from nowhere. It was heavier than that of most of his troops, larger, maybe a little less mobile, but equally more powerful. The last thing to materialize was his helmet. Almost bucket-shaped, it sprang to life around his face, glowing an unrelenting crimson red as the disc emblazoned with what appeared to be a V appeared just slightly above his forehead.

The last piece to snap into place was the facemask. After that, the face of Julian Dillinger was gone. The only thing that remained was a countenance that had not been seen by a User in decades. 

The visage of the one who had only been known as…

Sark.

Chapter Text

Eve Kim had always known that when she found the Permanence Code, her life would change forever. You couldn’t change the world without having it change you in return. She had accepted that. And she had thought herself prepared for it.

As it turned out, she hadn’t been quite as prepared as she had thought.

ENCOM now had the resources to do practically anything. They could create with the touch of a button. It had given them powers that some were referring to as godlike. She didn’t feel the same way, of course. There was nothing religious about it. It was hard science, the natural culmination of Kevin Flynn’s work.

What she hadn’t been ready for was just how much resistance she was going to meet along the way.

It was like the rest of the world didn’t want her to be successful in her mission. The government was fighting her. Other companies were fighting her. Her own board was fighting her in some circumstances, since they felt like her actions were going to cut into the profits of the company.

She could understand the rest of the world being against it if she were trying to do these things for her own gain. But she wasn’t. She was trying to help people. She was trying to bring life to parts of the globe that had been struggling for decades. She was trying to get technology and resources in the hands of the people who needed them the most.

So why wouldn’t they let her?

It was a rhetorical question. She knew why. They wanted the Permanence Code for themselves. They wanted to turn the Grid into the same thing that Dillinger had wanted. They wanted weapons and soldiers. They wanted to change the world, too, but the changes they were looking for would only bring ruin to everyone.

She placed the most recent postcard from Ares back with the rest of them. She kept a stack of them in her office drawer, and she liked to look at them when things got particularly frustrating. It was a good reminder of how much her work mattered. It was worth it, even if it didn’t always feel like it.

She selfishly wished that he were there with her, though she understood why he couldn’t be. He had his own discoveries to make. And it sounded like he was finally close to making them.

“Eve?” 

She looked up from his desk and pushed the drawer closed. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard anyone come in. She knew the voice right away, though. It was older, warm, and friendly. She smiled at the speaker, who was standing just inside the doorway, waiting for her to acknowledge him.

“Hi, Alan,” she said. “Just got a little lost in my own thoughts, I guess.”

Alan Bradley was considerably older than he had been when he had originally been nothing but an ENCOM programmer. That was what happened as the decades passed. But even after all that time, even after ENCOM had tried to remove him, he had stayed. Sam Flynn had made sure that Alan had been able to return as the head of the board. It just felt right.

Eve was happy to have him. He had been a steady hand to have at her side, even when things felt like they were getting out of control. He was patient and dependable, and he knew when it was proper to dispense his wisdom and when to withhold it.

“I can imagine,” Alan said, looking around her office as he spoke. “I would probably like to get lost too, if I were in your position.”

“More trouble?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

He sighed. “The government wants another deposition. You’ve been called to appear in front of Congress. Again.”

“Again? What, do they think that I’m going to tell them something different this time? Nothing’s changed!”

“I know. But you have to understand that most of these people still look at the original Space Paranoids and think it’s some sort of demonic ritual. They’re never going to understand what you’re doing here. That’s the price we pay for progress.”

“Feels like we’re the only people who want progress.”

Alan chuckled. “Around these parts? We might be. But out there? In the world, where are the real people? You can believe that they want it. You’re saving lives. So next time you’re being interrogated by five white men old enough to be your grandfather… just remember that.”

“Yeah, I know. Things were just simpler when I was trying not to get trapped inside a digital world full of sentient programs hellbent on killing me.”

“Funny how life works out that way, isn’t it?” Alan turned his gaze back to her and grew a little more focused. “So was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

Eve felt a twinge of embarrassment. She didn’t want to keep harping on the same topic, especially when Alan was so patient. But she couldn’t stop thinking about it. “I just… well, have you heard anything new about…?”

“About Dillinger?”

She nodded, not wanting to say more.

“You know that if I did, you would be the first to know. He’s gone, Eve. No one knows where, but you know the theory.”

“He went into the Grid. You know it. I know it.”

“And the Grid was destroyed, Eve. Even if he had a way out, what would he do? The second he appears, he’ll just be arrested again.” His voice became a little softer. “I understand. I know you’re worried. I would be too. I still am, really. But what else can we do? I’m not going in there. And neither are you, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

Eve stood from her desk, leaving the closed drawer of postcards behind her. “That’s what I was thinking. We don’t need to go in. We can send someone in for us.”

Alan raised an eyebrow and then seemed to understand. “A Program? You want to send a Program from our Grid to Dillinger’s?”

“Why not? He did it to us. Clearly, it can be done. They don’t need to steal anything or take anything. Just go in, look around, see what’s happening.”

“I think you’re well aware of all the reasons why that might not be the best move forward,” said Alan. “Would you send Ares to do it? Someone that you knew personally?”

Eve felt herself deflate. She had been prepared to argue her way forward, but he had said the one thing that he knew would shut her down immediately. “He’s still out there,” Eve said. “Dillinger. And he’s not done. He wouldn’t have sent himself in there if he didn’t have a plan.”

“I know. But everything is more complicated now, isn’t it? The ethical implications of the situation alone…” Alan shook his head in wonder. “Your discoveries are going to have philosophers talking for centuries. Has man become God? Has man always been God?"

“I’m not a god,” said Eve quietly. “I’m just trying to do the right thing.” She had another idea, a counter to Alan’s understandable pushback about sending a Program into the ruined Dillinger Grid. But she thought she knew how he would react, and she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be positively.

He must have heard something in her tone, because he looked sharply at her sideways. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“No, but I know what you’re going to say. You’re not going in there. We have no idea what’s on the other side.”

“So what am I supposed to do, just wait for him to pop back out into our world? He tried to kill me, Alan!”

“And who’s to say he won’t do the same exact thing the second you go in? He might even be waiting for you to do that right now.”

Eve was growing more adamant the more they argued it. “So send me in and pull me out. Make it a few seconds. Keep it as controlled as possible. Send Programs with me. You’re right—we can’t expect them to just do our bidding because we created them. But if I went in alongside them…”

Alan’s voice was sympathetic. “Eve, I understand where you’re coming from. But I’m not going to let what happened to Kevin happen to you.”

“If we had a whole team on standby, there wouldn’t even be that much danger. I wouldn’t leave the portal. Just to see. We have no idea what’s going on over there—”

“Because that’s the Dillinger Grid. We can’t look in there. By definition.”

“How am I supposed to sleep at night if I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to come after me with a particle laser?” The words came out angrier than she intended. She wasn’t mad at Alan. She was mad at herself for being unable to let go of what had happened to her. But with the weeks and months that had passed, her feelings about it had only grown stronger. She didn’t want it to define her. She wanted to confront it. She wanted to do something about it.

Alan didn’t respond. He just looked at her. There was no judgment in his eyes. He was just… looking at her. She could tell he understood. She could tell that he wanted to agree with her.

“A full team behind you,” he finally said. “No secrets. No half-measures. In and out. No delays. You see whatever is on the other side, and you leave immediately. And if anything seems off, the entire things get canceled. Those are the conditions.”

“You know I can just do it without you, right?”

“Yes. But you won’t. Because that’s not the kind of person you are.”

Eve laughed. “Yeah, you’re right about that. Alright. Fine. But you’re not pulling the plug unless there’s a legitimate reason.”

Alan offered her his hand, and she shook it. “Then I guess we'd better get to work,” Alan said.

—

Ares told them everything. After all, he had nothing to hide. There was no point in withholding information at this point.

The thing was, even though he had come this far, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. What could either of them really say to him that would help him make sense of… himself?

Neither Sam nor Quorra spoke the whole time he was relating his story to them. Sam had joined them at the table and sat next to Quorra, and Ares couldn’t help but notice that Sam had placed his hand on Quorra’s arm. 

Fascinating. A Program and a User. A relationship between the two?

“The last thing I had to do was follow you out here,” Ares said. “And I apologize for the intrusion. The two of you did a remarkable job of covering your tracks. I wasn’t even sure if I would find anything until I was already here.”

Sam’s mouth quirked upward into a smirk. “Not a good enough job, though.”

Ares shrugged. “I don’t know. I think if I had been here to harm either of you, Quorra wouldn’t have let me get through the front door. Not alive anyway.”

Quorra looked down at the table and appeared to be trying to suppress a smile. “You were holding back.”

“Even if I was, there isn’t anyone else like me on the planet,” said Ares. “In any case, I’m sorry. But I had to find you.”

Sam and Quorra exchanged a look. 

“It’s okay,” said Quorra. “I just don’t know how much we’re going to be able to help you. I’m not… exactly a Program like you.”

Ares wasn’t sure what she could possibly mean by that, and it must have shown on his face, because Sam and Quorra looked at each other again, and this time, they appeared to be questioning something. 

“What happened to you was public,” said Sam. “What happened to me… what happened to my dad—those things weren’t. And Quorra, well, no one knows about her. The world wasn’t ready for that yet.”

“Do you think the world was ready for me?”

“I think Eve Kim was. But I don’t trust most people as much as I trust her,” said Sam.

“You were right to trust her,” said Ares. “I read the headlines every day. And I think to myself… the world does not deserve her.”

“No,” said Sam slowly, glancing at Quorra. “I guess it doesn’t.”

There was a moment of silence. None of them seemed to know what to say. Ares did not find himself bothered or made to feel uncomfortable by it. It seemed like the natural reaction to the events they found themselves in. He knew the two of them had never expected to be found, let alone by someone like himself.

Sam stood up. “I feel like you two probably have a lot to talk about. I’ll leave you to it. Ares, I assume you plan on staying with us? At least for a while.”

“I don’t wish to inconvenience anyone,” said Ares.

“It’s not an inconvenience,” said Quorra. “It feels like the right thing to do. Stay with us. I know that when I came here, I would have liked to have someone who had shared my experience.” She looked at Sam. “We had each other to navigate the world with, and that was good. But to have someone like you… I think it matters.”

“Thank you,” Ares said, with feeling. “Your generosity means a lot.”

“Well, I did almost punch you in the face. It feels like the least I could do.”

—

Sam suggested that Quorra and Ares continue their conversation out on the front porch while he made dinner for the three of them. Quorra had seemed eager to keep talking, so Ares had simply gone with her. Now, the two of them were standing outside, leaning against the wooden porch railing, staring off into the empty landscape that surrounded the house. The sun had gone down now, and their surroundings were illuminated only by the porchlights and the stars. It made for a striking scene.

“How did you get all the way out here?” Ares asked. “Sam was so well-known. It couldn’t have been easy to just leave.”

“We had help,” Quorra said. “ENCOM helped. Shell companies. The money that Sam had both inherited and made. And then it was just a matter of making the trail as complicated to follow as we could.”

“You did a good job,” Ares said. “I didn’t even know who you were until I got here. I still don’t really know who you are, to be honest. You’re not a Program, are you?”

“I’m something else. Something that only existed on the Flynn Grid.”

“Which is gone now?”

Quorra glanced back at the house behind her. “Something like that. I’ll let Sam explain that to you. It’s more his story than mine.”

Ares nodded. “Sure. But what is your story?”

Quorra looked up at the stars and smiled. Ares saw himself in that expression. The pure wonder and amazement. Even though she had been here for years, it still hadn’t faded from her. 

“I’m not a Program and I’m not a User. I wasn’t created by a User either. I’m something different. They called us Isomorphic Algorithms. Or ISOs.”

“If you weren’t a Program and a User didn’t create you… Then where did you come from?” Ares thought he already knew the answer, but it seemed too strange to be true.”

“That’s the thing. No one ever really knew. Flynn was trying to figure it out, but he never made much progress on it before everything started to fall apart. And then… eventually, there weren’t any of us left.”

“What happened?”

“Clu happened. He took over the Grid and declared war on my people. As far as I know, I’m the only one left.”

Ares lowered his head and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, knowing it wasn’t enough.

Quorra didn’t take her gaze off the stars. “I’ve tried to make my peace with it. I’m still trying. It’s a process.”

“So you just appeared?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it? We were Flynn’s greatest discovery, not his creation. He had hoped to be able to use our existence as a way to answer questions about the User's existence. The human existence. But now that you and I are here… what sets us apart from them?”

“Where we came from, I think,” said Ares.

Quorra nodded slowly. “I used to think that too. But that’s in the past. In this moment, right now, what is the difference between me, you, and Sam? I still don’t know the answer to that. Worth thinking about, though.”

“I’m glad I found the two of you,” Ares said. He was still trying to wrap his head around what Quorra had told him. “I never knew… Dillinger never showed us anything like that.”

“Because the ISOs didn’t exist in his Grid. What happened in the Flynn Grid was unprecedented. And Flynn never did find out what caused it. He had theories… he always likened it to jazz. I tried to understand, but I think I was always missing something key."

“I’m not much of a jazz person myself. I found myself preferring eighties pop. But to each their own. I think I understand the metaphor.

“The thing is, for jazz, or any sort of music, even if it is improvised… someone has to compose it, right? Someone brings the musicians together. So… who orchestrated our particular brand of jazz?”

Ares knew that there was no answer to that. Not yet. But maybe one day…

“I think I’d like to help the two of you find the answer to that,” he said. “If you’d have me.”

“We’d be honored,” said Quorra, turning to him and smiling. “We’re lucky to have met you, Ares.”

Ares realized that was the first time anyone had ever said that to him.

Chapter Text

“Alan? What is this? This isn’t what we discussed.”

The room was full of more equipment and far more personnel than Eve had expected. Alan had been there already, presumably because he had been in the process of setting all this up.

It had taken a few days to get all the pieces in place. There was expensive equipment that needed to be prepped, lines of code that needed to be written, and what they were doing was not, technically speaking, legal. 

It wasn’t like there was anyone who would really care—Dillinger Systems was practically nonexistent at this point, and what did remain was almost entirely inoperable. Even so, the Dillinger Grid was still private property.

Eve didn’t care. She wasn’t going to just stand by and wait to see what Julian was going to do. It was irresponsible, especially when she had the power to do something about it. 

“This is the compromise,” he said. “You’re going in alone. But we’re sending in defensive programs with you. Nothing sentient, but just enough to keep you safe in case something goes wrong.”

“It’s ten seconds, Alan, what could possibly happen?”

“You should know better than to say things like that,” said Alan.

The two of them walked into the large warehouse space that had been converted to the staging center for their ten-second operation. It was a lot of work and a lot of money for ten seconds, but money was no longer any sort of obstacle, and any amount of work was worth it for a little peace of mind.

There were banks of hastily erected computer systems and server racks lining the edges of the room, all connected and wired to the massive particle laser pointed at the platform in the center of the room. There was a small stash of equipment and weaponry resting on the platform, and Eve could tell that she was meant to take it with her. Just in case. 

As they drew near to the control panel that was several yards away from the target platform, Alan spoke again. This time, though, his voice was much quieter.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said. “You don’t owe anyone anything. We can find someone else to go in. We can send a drone in by itself. We could create a program that can go in place of you.”

“I know we can,” said Eve. “But that’s what Dillinger would do. That’s what he did to Ares—”

“That was a little different,” Alan grumbled. “And anyway, a drone wouldn’t be sentient.”

“I want to see it with my own eyes. I know there are safer options. But this is something I have to do. For me. You understand that, don’t you?”

Alan nodded. She could see memories of years long gone in his eyes. “Yes. I do.”

“Then let’s do it,” she said. “Ten seconds and I’m out.”

She moved past Alan to the control panel. As she passed him, she thought she saw a small smile form on his face. “Ten seconds,” he repeated. “But first, let’s give you a rundown on everything you’re taking in with you.”

—

There was more equipment than she would have liked to wear. The body armor was cumbersome, and the strange firearm that she was holding didn’t make things any better.

The team of technicians around the edges of the warehouse was shouting commands at each other as the process entered the final stages before initialization. She already knew the reason for all the extra manpower. Sending in one person was one thing. Sending in a person alongside a cadre of support mechanisms was another. It essentially required two separate processes running in perfect sync.

“Ready, Eve?” Alan was positioned at the master control panel.

“Ready.”

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t scared. She was terrified, even though she knew nothing would go wrong. But she thought about what Ares would have done. She thought about what he had already done. The sight of him crashing through glass so that he could charge headlong into what would likely be certain death—just to buy her a few more seconds.

He would do no less for her. She couldn’t back down just because she was afraid.

“Commencing countdown,” Alan said, flipping a few switches and leaving his hand hovering over the button that would fire the particle laser. “Begin process.”

The laser kicked to life. Eve could see the light emanating from inside, aimed right at her. She gripped the too-heavy gun a little bit tighter and drew herself up a little bit taller. 

The technicians were still talking. The countdown was audible over the speaker system that the techs had set up, but she wasn’t listening. It was all a mess of ambient noise that her own heartbeat was drowning out.

She had been dreaming of this moment. It was a moment that had lived in her nightmares for the last six months. She had almost died, and that fact had taken a toll on her. This was the first step in clawing back her own safety and certainty. 

This was something she had to do.

“Mark,” said Alan.

Eve heard it as clearly as she had ever heard anything in her life. Alan’s voice cut through her heartbeat, her thoughts, and her memories of everything that had come before.

“Let’s go,” Eve said.

Alan pressed the button.

The laser flashed. 

The second countdown began.

—

Ares fell into a comfortable rhythm as the days passed. There was a lot that needed to be done around the home to keep things running. Sam and Quorra had tried to make themselves as self-sufficient as possible. Of course, some things just weren’t viable, but they tried their best. 

That meant their day-to-day routine consisted of various jobs around their plot of land. Ares found that it suited him. Before he had left the Grid, his life was nothing but utility. Even to himself, he had been nothing more than a tool. His only concerns had been security issues and following the orders of his creator.

Even though he was now completing tasks, just like before, these tasks were ones that he was choosing to do. It made quite a difference.

Ares had connected with Quorra immediately. She understood what it was like to be so different from the rest of the world. She knew the feeling of being a relic of something that was now gone.

Neither of them had been able to answer the other’s questions, but just finding someone who was at least similar to him had helped him feel better.

Ironically, he was beginning to think that Sam might hold more of the answers he was searching for. 

But even if that wasn’t true, he had at least found companionship. People who knew what it was like to occupy his place in the world.

There was something that had been on his mind, though. Something that he thought only Sam could answer. Ares wasn’t sure if it was something he should ask, but so far, Sam had been nothing but accommodating and understanding.

“I hope this isn’t overstepping,” Ares said. The two of them were transporting some raw materials into the barn-like structure that Sam and Quorra had been using as a storage shed. “But there was something I was wondering about.”

Sam tossed down the sacks of seed that he had been carrying. They landed on the ground with a thud and billow of dust. He sat down on top of them and looked up at Ares. “Might as well ask,” he said. “It’s not like you have any secrets from us.”

Ares lowered the bundles of wooden planks he was carrying, then stood up and dusted his hands off. He looked up and out of the entrance of the barn. The sun was high in the sky, and he could feel its warmth even now from where he was standing.

“What happened to the Flynn Grid? After you and Quorra escaped. After… what happened to your father. Where did it go?”

Sam looked down, smiled a little ruefully, and nodded. “Yeah. Had a feeling you were going to ask about that. It’s what I would have wanted to know, too.” He looked like he was debating whether or not he wanted to keep going, but he appeared to make up his mind quickly.

Sam reached a hand to his neck so he could unhook the necklace he was wearing. As he removed it, the pendant slid out from behind his shirt, and Ares could see for the first time that this was no ordinary necklace. Sam didn’t have to say anything else; Ares could already see where this was going.

“I didn’t want to just…leave it lying around. I trusted Alan and a few others, but there were too many people at ENCOM at the time who would have only tried to exploit it. And it just didn’t seem right. Yeah, they’re Programs, not people. But they had their own world with their own history. And we’d ruined enough of it.”

“So you made a copy of it?”

“No. I transferred it, and then I shut down the architecture that had kept it running. The Grid still exists. But no one is entering or leaving.”

“You never went back in?”

Sam shrugged. “How could we? It exists on a drive that I wear around my neck, and I wasn’t going to give ENCOM or anyone else access to it. The Kim sisters built their own Grid, but that was their business.” He slipped the pendant back inside his shirt. “These Programs have been through enough. It was time for them to make their own way forward without User interference.”

Ares nodded. He understood now.

Sam let the pendant go and looked up and out of the barn door from where he sat. “My father tried to tell me that the only way to win was to not play. He wasn’t right about that, but he was on to something. Sometimes it really is best to just… step away. We can’t be all things to all people. And we shouldn’t be.”

“Do you ever wonder about what happened after you left?”

“All the time. Sometimes I think about sneaking back into ENCOM just so I can go back to the Grid. Even if it was just for a couple of minutes, so I can see how things turned out for them. They fought a revolution in there, you know? I’d feel better if I knew that they won.” Sam shook his head. “But that’s not my story. It belongs to them. And that’s okay. Users aren’t gods.”

“What if they need help?”

Sam didn’t have an answer to that. Ares didn’t press him.

“Doing the right thing is difficult,” said Ares. “There is no guidebook for morality.”

“Dad would have known what to do,” Sam said. “I’m just trying to live the lessons I learned.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Quorra, who stepped into the barn and leaned against the doorframe. “He’d have been proud of you,” she said. “You know that.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I just wish I could talk to him. The real him, not a simulation. But I guess there are some things that even technology can’t do.”

Ares understood why Sam had made the choices that he had made. The Grid still existed, just cut off from the Users. Maybe that was the answer—to withdraw entirely from your creator, to define your existence solely on your own terms.

Of course, he had already begun that process. Saying it was easy. Following through… well, that was something else entirely.

—

The process of being reconstituted on the Grid was just as disconcerting as it had been the last time she was here. The difference was that this time, she wasn’t being shunted straight into the command center of someone who wanted to kill her.

Theoretically, at least. 

When she appeared, the gear she was wearing… changed. Lights that had not been there before sprang to life, as glowing blue lines appeared on both the body armor and the rifle she had been given. It all felt lighter now, somehow, and she knew that was because it had been designed to be used in the Grid, not her world.

Around her, several cubes lifted into the air, levitating somewhere around the height of her head. Each cube was made out of a smooth metal and scored with illuminated blue markings, just like her equipment. These were the security devices that had been sent in with her. Nonsentient drones that would react to any danger, keeping her safe until it was time to extract.

She didn’t have long. The helmet she was wearing would record everything she saw while she was in the Grid, but that wasn’t enough. She wanted to see it with her own eyes.

It wasn’t like she was expecting to see Julian standing there, waiting for her. If he were still alive, he wouldn’t be anywhere near where she had been sent in. But if she only saw ruined buildings, then she would know that at least for now, nothing had changed.

Unfortunately, what she saw was much more complicated than that.

The bombing of the Dillinger Grid had leveled everything. Or at least, it should have. The vast majority of the Grid’s infrastructure had been destroyed to the point of inoperability. And only six months had passed—there was no reasonable way for it to be back and functioning yet.

But it was. At least from where Eve stood, it sure looked like it was.

She stared up at the skyline, which was still a long way from the platform she found herself standing on, and she felt dread settle into the pit of her stomach. The red-lit buildings stood tall and proud, and the air was alive with the glowing motion of flight devices and vehicles. She could still see some gaps that had clearly not been rebuilt yet, but not nearly enough to make a difference.

Eve took a step back. The security cubes whirring around her head moved with her, but their presence did nothing to make her feel any better.

“Hey! You don’t have authorization to be here!”

She looked down from the skyline, ahead to the path that led forward from the platform she had been sent in on. She seemed to be standing on a landing pad of some sort, one that had been constructed above a massive body of water. Two guards were standing at the end of the path, manning a security station. One of them had yelled at her. The other had drawn his disc and was making his way toward her.

It wouldn’t matter. By the time he got to her, she would be gone. Even if he did make it to her, the cubes would keep him away long enough for her to be safe. 

No, what mattered was what she heard the Program yell as he approached her. “In the name of our Supreme Leader Dillinger, halt! You’re under arrest!”

The cubes began to spin around her, faster and faster. Their glow intensified, and she knew that her time was up. In seconds, the glow was too strong for her to see past it, and she was already on her way back out of the Grid.

She had seen enough. She knew what was coming. She just had no idea what they were going to do about it.

There was a rushing sensation, then a bright flash, and before she knew it, she was standing back in the middle of her warehouse, surrounded by technicians and facing Alan.

He must have seen something on her face, because he broke safety protocols to come running over to her. “What is it? What happened?”

She shook her head, unsure of what to say. How did she explain it?

When she did finally speak, it was only two words.

“He’s back.”

—

Julian knew what the Programs were going to say before they said it. He had been expecting this. Waiting for it. He was honestly surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner. Coming in by herself… it was just like her. Anyone with half a brain would have just created a Program to go in as a proxy, but not Eve Kim. Oh no, she couldn’t dirty her hands in such a way. 

“She returned,” the Program said. “But it was only for a matter of seconds. We couldn’t even get to her before she was gone again.”

“Of course,” Julian said. “I imagine they wouldn’t let her stay any longer than that. This place doesn’t belong to her, after all.”

Caius, who was behind Julian, slightly off to the side, stepped forward. “Would you like us to begin tracing her path?”

“No need. I know exactly where she came from. And she’ll be back, I can guarantee you that. Only next time, it won’t be for a few seconds. And she won’t be alone.”

“What do we do then, sir?” asked the Program who had reported it. 

Julian opened his mouth to respond, but then froze. No sound came out. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he wanted to say—he knew exactly what his orders were to be.

It was like he couldn’t get the words out; he couldn’t make himself speak. He was fighting for control of his own body, but he didn’t know who his opponent was.

“Sir?”

And then, as fast as it had begun, it stopped. He could talk again, as if there had never been an issue at all.

“Ramp up our efforts. I want militarization to be complete. Divert resources from the rebuilding efforts. All of our attention should be on the conflict that is coming. We will crush the ENCOM Program traitors. We will finish the work that was begun before. Death to the Users.”

“Death to the Users,” repeated Caius, his voice almost reverent.

“Death to the Users!” the guard Programs chanted.

Julian smiled. Yes. Death to the Users.

Chapter Text

Ares understood now more than ever that there would always be questions without answers. That seemed to be one of the defining truths of being a human being. His questions about his creation and sentience were similar to the ones that humanity had been asking for its entire existence.

Understanding that didn’t get him any closer to the answers he wanted, but it did make him feel better.

His time spent with Sam and Quorra had made him feel less alone and more connected to the world around him. Before meeting the two of them, he had considered Eve to be his only real friend in this world. Maybe his only real friend in any world. Before coming here, he had known allies, Programs that he had trusted and had risked his existence for. But they hadn’t been friends. Not in the same way that Eve was.

Now, though, he could say that he considered Sam and Quorra to be friends. There was a certain ease to his interactions with them. He felt comfortable. He felt safe enough to voice the kinds of things that once, he had only put in his letters to Eve.

He was heading out into town to purchase a postcard for her right now. It had become a kind of ritual for him. Every time he found himself somewhere new, he stopped into a convenience store so that he could continue keeping her updated on his progress across the globe. 

He parked his motorcycle in a small spot on the curb outside the store, hopped off, and walked in. It was a sleepy town, not much traffic at all, even in the morning when most people were likely commuting. He understood exactly why Sam and Quorra had come here—not to mention he fact that he had needed to drive a half hour just to make it to this tiny rural town.

“Nice morning out there, isn’t it?” said the shopkeeper, an elderly woman with a kindly smile, as she turned away from the small television behind her that she had been watching. She was speaking Swedish—Ares assumed that they didn’t get too many visitors out here.

Fortunately, he was able to respond perfectly. Languages were no barrier to someone with his background.

“It’s a lovely town you have here,” he said.

“What can I get for you?” she asked.

“A postcard,” Ares said. “Something local. Something that shows what kind of place this is.”

The shopkeeper smiled at him again and directed him to a spinner rack in the corner of the store. It was a bit rusty and had a layer of dust on it, but Ares didn’t care. That just made it more… real.

As he was browsing the rack, the sound of the television caught his attention. The woman must have just increased the volume, because he hadn’t heard anything when he had entered. Normally, he would have just ignored it, but a few of the words grabbed his attention and refused to let go.

It was the word ENCOM. 

Of course, ENCOM was in the news a lot lately. Their technological advancements had rocketed them to the forefront of the world. But every time he heard the name, he looked anyway. Because maybe his friend would be there on the screen, and for a little bit, it would be like she was with him.

He would have liked it if she had come with him. But he hadn’t asked for two reasons. The first was because she was immensely busy now. Eve Kim had become, almost overnight, one of the most important people in the world. The other reason was a personal one. Ares had felt, from the start, like this was something that he needed to do on his own. It was his journey to make, and for some reason, it seemed only appropriate to make the journey alone.

He was proud of what he had done. Even so, he missed his friend.

“We haven’t been able to reach Eve Kim for a comment, but industry insiders are indicating the transfer of key assets between ENCOM locations. Could this mean yet another new breakthrough in terms of particle laser technology? The last time we saw something like this, ENCOM changed the world. Maybe it’s time to take one more step into the future.”

Ares narrowed his eyes. The video on the screen was of low quality, which meant it hadn’t been obtained by official means. But that also meant it wasn’t corporate PR. As far as he could tell from the small screen, the footage was legitimate and hadn’t been doctored. 

Trucks moving large amounts of equipment. Personnel being ferried in by unmarked black vehicles. And in the background, only barely visible, the figure of Alan Bradley, directing it all.

The clip only lasted a few seconds before the next story came on, but Ares could tell that… something was happening. Alan wouldn’t have been there if it had just been another routine test of their process—even if it had been an upgrade of their process. 

It was possible (maybe even likely) that he was overreacting. It could be a natural response to not having seen Eve in so long. He hadn’t even called her despite the fact that he had wanted to. Something about it felt like it would have broken the sort of semi-retreat he had been on for the past few months.

It was funny. He was a being of technology. He had literally been created as a purely technological entity. And now, here he was, doing his best to avoid it. He was sending postcards.

But a postcard wasn’t going to be enough this time. He needed to call her. He needed to talk to her now.

Ares turned back to the woman behind the counter. “Do you have a phone I can use?”

Something must have shown through in his tone. She looked at him with mild concern. “Is everything alright?”

“I just need to talk to a friend,” he said. “It won’t take long.”

She regarded him for a few more moments. “Of course,” she finally said, her tone kind. She pulled a small cellphone out from behind the counter and handed it to him. “Do you need privacy?”

“No. But thank you.” She didn’t know anything about him. She had only just met him. And yet she still seemed to trust him enough to give him her cellphone and offer him a private space to use it. 

“It’s nothing, dear. Really.”

“This world is fortunate to have people like you,” he said, before turning away and beginning to dial. 

The woman gave him a bit of a strange look, but didn’t say anything. The phone rang once. Twice. And then—

“Hello? This is Eve Kim. Who is this?”

—

She knew. She couldn’t explain how, but she knew. He didn’t need to say his name. He didn’t need to say anything. She knew before she had even picked up the call. It was a feeling that came from deep inside her, one that washed away every doubt that she hadn’t even been aware of.

She asked anyway, because she didn’t want to allow herself to hope. She didn’t want to be wrong. She was terrified of being wrong here, because what she really wanted to do was just hear his voice.

“It’s Ares. Are you okay?”

Eve felt herself exhale. It was like a great weight had been lifted off her chest. It was ridiculous, but after the months that had gone by where their only contact had been short messages written on the back of postcards, she had occasionally found herself wondering if he had even been real.

It was ridiculous, she knew that. The way the world had changed was proof that Ares had been very real. But still. The human mind liked to play tricks on itself.

“I’m fine,” she said, even though those words weren’t wholly true. “How did you get this number?”

“I read through your messages, remember?” He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. At the time, for him, it had been.

“Oh. Right. Where are you? Is something wrong?”

“A small town in Sweden. It’s a long story; I’ll tell you about it later. I’m calling because I saw ENCOM on the news. Something is happening.”

She knew that she shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was anyway. How had he figured it out? Surely nothing that had been shown on the news contained enough details to put together an actual conclusion.

It didn’t matter. She couldn’t lie to him. Well, she could try, but it was obvious that he would just see right through it. 

“I went into the Dillinger Grid,” she said quietly. “I know, I know—”

“By yourself?” His voice was still even, but she could hear the first hints of real alarm. “Eve, why would you…?”

“He nearly killed me. He nearly killed you. And I don’t believe that he’s gone forever. I don’t think you do either.”

“I don’t. But that’s not the point. What did you see?”

“It was complicated. But we were both right. He’s not dead. He’s been rebuilding the Grid. And he’s taken over everything. He controls the Grid now, Ares. They were calling him the supreme leader.”

There was a pause before Ares spoke. Somehow, that made her feel worse. He was always so… sure of himself. There was never any doubt in his words or his actions, only certainty. Seeing that certainty shaken made her feel slightly ill.

Finally, when he did speak again, his words shocked her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have been there. I could have gone in your place.”

“What? No, Ares, that’s not what I’m saying at all. You had your own life to live.”

“I’m coming back,” Ares said.

“No, you don’t have to do that—”

“I do. I understand what you’re trying to do. And I appreciate it. But this is my problem just as much as it is yours. I will not end up back in there, Eve. That isn’t my life anymore. And it won’t ever be.”

“Ares…”

“You’re a good person, Eve. You’re capable and strong. But you don’t have to do this on your own.”

She didn’t know what to say. The only thing she could think of was, “Thank you.” But when she said it, it seemed woefully inadequate.

“You don’t need to thank me. You’d do the same thing for me. I’ll see you as soon as I can. And Eve?”

“Yes?”

This time, she detected the barest hint of humor in his voice. “Don’t go starting any revolutions without me, alright?”

—

“We’re going to come with him, right?” Quorra’s question was earnest. “If that’s true…”

Ares hadn’t been entirely sure what they were going to say to him, but he hadn’t expected that. “You don’t need to do that for me. You worked hard for this. I won’t be the reason you have to leave it behind.”

Sam was leaning against the wall, his arms folded. He was looking at the ground and had yet to speak.

“We have to,” Quorra continued. “If Dillinger has taken over an entire Grid, then he’s more dangerous now than before. We already know what his endgame is.”

“We don’t know anything for sure yet,” said Sam. He was speaking slowly, but his voice was strong.

“What are you saying?” Quorra asked him. “We’re just supposed to let them—?”

“I don’t know,” said Sam. “It’s not that easy.”

“I agree. I don’t want to put either of you in a situation where you have to sacrifice the life you’ve built for yourselves. This isn’t your fight anymore. You did what you needed to. And I already owe you more than I repay.”

Quorra was only looking at Sam now. Ares felt like he was standing in the middle of a private conversation. He was uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “This is our fight. Think about what Clu did to me and my people. We can’t let that happen again. Not if we have the chance to stop it.”

“We don’t know if that’s what he’s going to do,” said Sam.

“Of course it is. What else would he be doing? He’s going to come back here and finish what Athena started last time.” Quorra was adamant. But, Ares observed, she wasn’t angry. Just determined. “We started this. We didn’t cause it, but when I came to this world, I set this into motion. We have to do something. We can’t just sit here and watch it happen because it's safer.”

Sam sighed and stood up from the wall he was leaning against. “I know. You’re right. But it’s not easy for me to just walk away from this.”

“We’re not walking away,” said Quorra. “We’re doing the right thing. We won’t be safe until this is taken care of. We can’t just hide forever.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Sam was resigned. He turned his gaze to Ares, who had just been standing there, watching the entire exchange. “I’m sorry. I hope you can understand where I’m coming from.”

“Of course. Neither of you is wrong. And you’ve already done so much for me. You don’t owe me or the rest of the world a thing.”

Sam smiled. “You’re a good man, Ares.”

“I’ve been trying.”

—

Julian Dillinger was once again staring out over his empire. And that’s what it was, really. An empire. He had fought to craft it with his bare hands, pulling the entire Grid up out of the destruction that ENCOM had left it in. He had built this out of ashes. He had mustered what remained of the Programs and crafted them into an army that would follow him to their death—

Well, no. Not their death. They weren’t alive, so they couldn’t die.

That was what made them the ideal fighting force. He didn’t give a damn what happened to a single one of them, and they worshipped him as a god. None of them had the vision or the drive to do what he had done.

And so he would lead them out of the digital expanse, back into the real world. And from there, he would be unstoppable.

A single recognizer had caused havoc. Imagine what an entire army could do.

“Sir, they wanted me to let you know that they’re ready.”

“Finally,” Julian said with grim satisfaction. He had been waiting for this for a long time. The only real thorn in his side was Ares. The only Program who had been flawed enough to attempt to become his own person. There must have been some sort of glitch in his code. There was no other explanation for what had happened.

This time, that mistake would be corrected. Ares would be wiped from existence and rebuilt from the ground up.

And Julian had just the Program to erase any trace of the current Ares.

It had taken an inordinate amount of work to recreate her code. She had been irreparably damaged in the final fight against Ares—or so it had seemed. But she was the only one who had ever even come close to beating him. 

Julian knew that the only way he would win was if he did it with Athena standing over Ares’ corpse.

Does he bleed now?

I am very much looking forward to finding out.

While he had been working on reconstituting her, he had taken a look into his own “code.” There was so much there that he simply didn’t understand. How did one break down the human genome into computer code? It was messy, confusing—practically inexplicable.

But there was something else there, too. Something that looked vaguely familiar. The code of a Program, one that was hopelessly out of date. At first, he had dismissed it as junk, the result of being transported between worlds.

Then his episodes had grown more frequent. And he realized that when he looked in the mirror, the face he saw looking back at him wasn’t… quite right.

Of course, he hadn’t said this to anyone. There was no one to tell, anyway. Once, he may have considered telling his mother. But she was gone now, and there was no bringing her back. Even if he had told her, she would have only reminded him that this was his fault. His mess. He had put himself into the Grid; he had let this happen to himself.

Whatever it was.

It didn’t matter. He was Julian Dillinger. In the end, he would win. It was what he did. He would crush Ares under his foot and rip Eve Kim’s legacy away from her. He would make it his, as it rightfully was. And he would assume his proper place in the world, the one that should have been his from the start.

“Sir, when you restore her…” Caius’ voice trailed off. Julian could tell that the Program didn’t want to say whatever he was thinking.

“What is it?” Julian asked as they approached the technician lab where he would complete Athena’s resurrection. 

“What will happen to me?”

Julian wiped the smirk off his face before he turned to face Caius. “You will stay right where you are. You believed in me when I arrived. You were loyal when others dared to stand against me. Athena will not replace you. She will join both of us on our quest to wipe the traitors from existence. Remember what Ares did. He betrayed you and the rest of your kind. And for that, we must take our revenge.”

Caius no longer had the memory of Ares risking an entire mission just to save him. It was unimportant. A meaningless lie of omission necessary to keep a united front.

“Thank you, sir.” Caius smiled, and his expression was relieved.

“Loyalty and trust are always rewarded, Caius. I would die for my subjects. But I expect that they would do the same for me.”

“What is death, anyway?” Caius asked. “It seems like you’ve made it little more than a stumble.”

“A temporary stop along the way,” Julian agreed. “Come now. Let’s return Athena to where she belongs.”