It's been over a year since I started this fic. I'm in the process of going through the chapters and cleaning them up a bit. I wanted to also make note that this fanfic excludes anything that happens in the TRON: Uprising series. It's not to say that I don't like it, but more so I started this fic way before it came out and, upon watching Uprising, a lot of it (even in the first five minutes!) conflicts with Revolution. If I were to fit Uprising into this story, I'd basically have to rewrite pretty much everything! So, just an fyi, if things you feel conflict in this fanfic with canon in Uprising, you'll know why. Perhaps I may borrow characters or the like from the show, but pretty much, Revolution excludes the Uprising canon and takes place in a universe combined with settings and characters only from TRON, TRON 2.0, TRON: Betrayal, TRON: Evolution, and TRON: Legacy.

This may be a bit too early, but it's about the only Tron fic I've written in the past few months that could probably fit with the site's TOS...

Okay, so, I had this idea for a sequel for Tron: Legacy that sort of expanded and went BOOM. And I ended up writing out the basic storylines for each chapter. I know there's a sequel all ready in the works, but I figured I'd have fun with it. In my own style, with my own spin and ideas. And to distract me from that painful ending, baw.

Anyway, here is the prologue. I would say chapter one, but this feels more introductory than anything else.

Title: Revolution
Rating: PG-13; subject to change
Warnings: profanity, violence, blanket spoilers for entire Tron series, especially Legacy; Uprising is the only excluded universe; more to be added, maybe
Summary: After the events of Legacy, Sam is CEO of ENCOM and together with Quorra, they hope to change the very structure of human society to see Kevin's dream through. However, in order to gain closure from the tragedy, they return to the Grid, only to find themselves in the middle of chaos and a power play between the remainder of Clu's army, those fighting to return the system back to its glory and a rather unexpected group more closer to home than Sam and the others expected.
A/N: New characters will be presented throughout the story, but hardly any of them are actually OCs. Save, perhaps, one or two. Maaaaybe. To stay more true to canon, there is no slash and most romances are all canonical or hinted. Any further notes that are chapter specific will be placed at the end. Please note that while there is a general story to this, it's really nothing intricate. (Like the real movies, you could say.) This was written for all my Tron homies, rottendeadpan at deviantART/ohhicas at tumblr included. I really hope you enjoy and feedback is wonderful. FLAMES you are free to leave, 'tis free speech, but it'd be totes cool if you could pass 'em on to CrowTCickATaolDOTcom instead. :-*
Disclaimer: None of this Tron stuff belongs to me. I'm just writing fanfic.


The nightmare is always vivid.

It's almost like a memory replaying itself. Many times, there are hardly any inconsistencies, any differences added or removed by his troubled psyche.

Either way, the nightmare is always the same.

Sam is screaming, tears in his eyes swept away by the energy surrounding him. He's looking at his father, so close, so Goddamn close. But the man is a million miles away from where he now stands. Quorra's fingers dip into his sides, and she is shaking. She won't stop looking at her mentor, and Sam can tell she's breaking as well. Still, it's Kevin's last wish, for them to return home, to change the very structure of humanity, just as he always wanted.

Clu II is snarling, fighting against the User's generated wind. His fingers manage to slip into the tunnel of light, a fierce grimace on his face. He's tough, maybe too tough, and Sam knows he can't do anything. If either he or Quorra were to move to fight him off, it would risk their chance of getting home.

Kevin manages to gain the upper-hand, becoming the God-like User he once was. Clu screams bitterly as his body is thrown away, tossed back by the wind. Sam watches in awe and terror as Kevin smiles at him, a smile so proud and so sad, then opens his arms and embraces Clu. The last thing Sam sees is a brilliant explosion of silver and white light. The last thing he hears is the total destruction of the armada ship. The last thing he says -

Sam bolted to a sit, eyes wide and startled as he screamed his father's name into the dark room. Immediately, a hand is around his arm, squeezing.


Sam was frozen, locked into place. It was always the same, the end of the nightmare and the reboot to consciousness. He had sat up, called his father and then, a minute of his mind catching up with the situation.

Quorra was always a constant. It was her tender words of comfort, the real touch of her hand rubbing his arm that brought him back up from oblivion. Sam took a deep breath, finally blinking in what felt like ages. He sagged a little, licked his dry lips. His shirt clung to his chest, soaked in sweat, beads of it running down his pale face. He was panting, chest aching with each heave.

Quorra frowned, sitting beside him. "Hey, hey," she murmured, "it's okay."

Sam gulped, throat burning. "Dry..."

Quorra gathered from the bed, quickly fetching water from the sink. It was strange seeing her in pajamas, when at one point in time he had begun to believe Program and ISO uniforms were part of their flesh. She wore a pair of boxers and a pink tank top, but her circuitry remained, still beautiful and patterned around her limbs. Quorra had to be careful to cover them up. Her complexion had tanned a little, appearing more human; her hair had grown out, just a few inches. But the color of Quorra's eyes remained their same ethereal hue.

Quorra sat beside him, offered the glass. He swallowed the whole thing down in three gulps, inhaling much needed air. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Sam stared into his empty cup, the ISO patting and rubbing his back.

"That's the fourth time this week," Sam mumbled.

"I know." Quorra used the corner of the blanket to wipe the sweat from his face. "Was it... different this time? At all?"

Sam shook his head. "No," he said. His eyes fell back to his lap. "Always the same. Always watching my dad..." Her wince disturbed him. He knew she was hurting, maybe more than him, considering she knew his father, unfortunately, more than he ever did. With a sigh, Sam swept his hand through his hair, pushing it up. "I dunno. I guess it's normal. I just wish it would end. You'd think almost a month of the same recurring nightmare it would finally give up and move on. Maybe replace itself with something work related."

"I do not know how dreams work," Quorra said. She took his cheeks in her hands, lifted to kiss a temple. "I wish there was a way to merely delete them, like a bad bug."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, me too." He paused a moment, looked at Quorra. His smile was gentle, but the look in his eyes tired. "Hey, how 'bout, to get me back to sleep, you tell me about your first dream."

The ISO blinked. "Again?"

"Yeah," he said. Sam slipped back into the covers, resting his head on his pillow. It was still a little damp. Quorra followed him down. "I liked it. It was really beautiful. You were so happy when you told me about it, you started crying." The overjoyed tears in her eyes, her large, happy grin, that had been more touching. "One of the few rare things that's happened to you since you left the Grid."

Quorra gushed. "All right then." She scooted closer, laying right against her partner. Sam stretched out an arm, letting her lay her head into the crook of his elbow and chest. "It started out real bright. It reminded me of the I/O tower, when we left the Grid," she explained, placing a hand over his heart. She loved to feel its beat, so foreign but beautiful.

Sam grinned, nodded. "Mmhmm." He closed his eyes, relaxing.

"Then the light faded. We were standing side by side on a beach. There were shells everywhere; they had shapes like diamonds and spades, and some that were all together unique. Their colors were infinite. The sun was setting. I was worried, asking if the sun would rise again. You told me it always did, and it always will. We walked along the shore, sand warm between our toes and you told me such strange, ridiculous stories," she giggled. "As we walked, we didn't notice the setting change. We were in a field now, an open field of green grass and cloudy skies and it was windy. You told me more stories, and I laughed so hard my stomach hurt."


Quorra continued: "We walked down a steep hill until we were in the ruins of an old city. Flowers formed spirals in the ground. Purple ones, pink ones, red ones, yellow ones. You said these were carnations and lilies and roses. There was a small blue house at the far end, and you said it was 'home'. And that we 'were expected'. So we ran, and we were there in only a matter of... seconds?"

"Seconds, yes." He was getting drowsy, the smile melting from his tired face.

"We opened the door. Inside, it was beautiful. The walls were blue, and so was the furniture, but the ceiling was made of clouds," Quorra said, "and the floor was green like the grass outside. And we had guests, and the guests welcomed us with hugs and handshakes. We ate food, food with no name in your world, but it was delicious and it made us sleepy..."

She paused then, waited for a response. When nothing came, Quorra slowly raised her head. Sam was fast asleep, breathing unevenly. Still, he looked at peace. She frowned, brows knitting and laid her head down again, this time over his heart. She listened to it beat - lub dub lub dub - and felt every rise and fall.

Quorra had told him she did not remember the faces of the guests. Told Sam they were strangers neither of them knew. "But that's a lie," she whispered, voice so tiny. She shut her eyes, nestled against his chest, like a child seeking the warmth of their mother.

She vividly remembered the guests. In fact, there was only one. It was Kevin, and he was young, almost looking as Clu did. Kevin was happy and he hugged his son and told him how proud he was. Kevin would sit and tell stories and Sam and Quorra would laugh.

Quorra did not tell him this, nor would she ever, not if she could help it. Sam had told her about heartbreak when they watched some cheesy movie on TV. It sounded awful and painful. If anything, Quorra would not let Sam's heart break. She listened to it beat beneath an ear, laid awake and tried not to think what it would be like if nothing came but silence.


Being the CEO of a big company meant no more being reckless and irresponsible.

To an extent, maybe.

It was strange, driving the actual speed limit. Especially when traffic was rather light and slow. Though as Sam cruised on his bike down the freeway, he at least got to admire the scenery. It seemed to be shaping up to a rather nice day, weather-wise. There were a few scattered clouds, but it was mostly sunny blue skies.

Nothing like the world beyond. The Grid had no sun, its mist clouds perhaps projections. Nature was probably useless, the exact opposite of its power here. An endless black night, but the cities were its stars. It was hard to believe those very stars were under the power of a man so mad and ruthless. Still, from a distance, Sam could admire the world for what it was. As empty as it felt sometimes, as barren as the dead sea, the Grid was beautiful. Here, however, the buildings were all pale, gray, simplistic, streets worn and cracked, and Sam quickly reminded himself to keep eyes on the road.

The Grid was beautiful, beautiful but broken, yet this place, this was home. And to Kevin, it once was home, too. There would be no changing that. Kevin had assured Sam when he was just a child barely reaching his father's waist in height, that no matter how breathtaking the digital world was, this city was still his home and wherever Sam was, would always be as well.

When Sam arrived ten minutes later, ENCOM was hustling and bustling with life. A few stopped, waved and greeted him warmly before heading back to work. Sam waltzed into the lobby outside his office, secretary looking up from filing her nails. Though he had new rules to play by now, there was no way in Hell was going to wear stiff suits. Instead, he was still in his jeans and band shirt, leather jacket on and helmet beneath an arm.

"Mornin', Teresa," Sam greeted, tossing his helmet at her. The secretary jumped and caught it, having become accustomed to such routine.

"Mr. Bradley is waiting for you in your office, sir."

Sam nodded and entered his office; it belonged to his father at one point in time. It was big and fancy, though he had missed the video game posters on the walls. The first time he visited his father's office, it felt like he was in his own bedroom. Now it was all business, too practical and boring.

Alan turned from looking out the window, smiling. "Hey, Alan," Sam said, threw his leather jacket on the back of his chair. "You look bright eyed and bushy-tailed." He plopped into his seat. "It's sick."

Alan chuckled. "I thought you'd never adjust to waking up in the morning," he teased.

Sam scowled at the number of messages on his phone. He threw a piece of paper over it. "Any special reason you've come up to see me?" he asked. "Besides with more work, I've got plenty of that right now."

"Not really," Alan said. He took a seat in one of the chairs facing the front of the desk. "It's been a few weeks, and we haven't spoken in a couple days," he explained. "I wanted to see how you're doing."

Sam lounged back. "Peachy," he assured, "and believe me, if there was any trouble, you'd be the first guy to know."

Alan chuckled. "I hope you don't think I'm trying to fret and coddle you," he said, "I just know this - running an entire company business - is a very big responsibility."

"I can handle it." Sam paused, his smile faltering a little. "Dad would want me to see this company thrive." He looked toward the window, at one small ray of sunshine dim behind a cloud. "It took me a while to realize that, but..."

Alan could feel the burden, too. He sat forward, hands together. "You're doing marvelous," he hummed, "I've no doubt you'll keep up the good work."

Sam smirked. "Yeah. Thanks." He sighed and pulled himself closer to the desk. "I still hate this paperwork. Digital or not, it's still paperwork." His fingers scrambled along the built in keyboard on his desk, files opening and flourishing. "I mean, can't we hire someone to push the papers?"

"I'm afraid not," Alan snickered. He snapped his fingers. "Right, yes, I meant to tell you: the employee overhaul is finally over. We've filled all recently vacated spots."

"I trust you picked out some reliable and trustworthy people," Sam snorted, "unlike Rich and Eddie."

Alan winked. "You can count on me, boss." He leaned over the desk, quickly hitting a few buttons. "In fact, you can see for yourself. I've compiled a list of the new employees' files and records." At his word, a folder popped up and opened. "There are even a couple who were laid off after..." He licked his lips, finger sliding open a file. "After Edward and Richard took over." The file popped up, paragraphs of text and data coupled with the picture of a smiling woman.

"I see," Sam replied. He flipped through the profiles, easily sliding them away like cards. He hadn't read anything, just skimmed. He'd give them all a complete look over by the end of the day. Sam had just been about through the records when something caught his eye. Quickly, he pushed two profiles back, until retrieving the one that demanded his attention.

Roy Kleinberg, former ENCOM employee since 1982, laid off in 1990. There was a whole list of his history, previous work experience and a video tagged of Alan and his interview. But it was his face that really trapped Sam. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it looked oddly familiar. "Hey," Sam mumbled, drumming a finger below the picture. "Who is this? He's a former employee, so I figure you might know him."

Alan adjusted his glasses and smiled. "Aw, yes, Roy," he chuckled. "He's one of our new accountants; well, shouldn't say new-new. I worked with him for a few years back when Dillinger and then-Kevin had the company." He sat back, folded his arms over his chest. "He kept stealing popcorn from my popcorn machine."

Sam nodded. "But I mean, I don't recall ever meeting the guy. Yet..." He tilted his head, squinted his eyes. "I've seen him somewhere before."


Sam looked up, wide eyed. "For the game TRON," Alan explained, "Kevin apparently got a copy of Roy's old actuarial insurance program and used it to give personality aspects to the in-game Ram. Don't ask me how he did that; guess he just assumed the personality of what an actuary would be like. Roy allowed him to use his likeliness for the character. Even called Roy Ram from time to time."

Sam cursed. "How could I forget," he grumbled, quickly closing the file. "He was one of the players you could choose from. I played as him only a few times, but I remember I had a toy of him, too."

"He was a fan favorite," Alan chuckled. "Though he was one of the more limited characters to play. You had to unlock him in some versions."

Sam sneered. "Why, Alan, it sounds like you've been around the game platform a few times yourself."

Alan rolled his eyes. "I played TRON, of course. I mean, the name and basic storyline is based off my own program and its functions," he snorted. "If I didn't play it, Kevin would have probably never spoken to me again." He quickly regretted his last words, debating a change of topic and fast.

Sam, however, seemed unaffected. "In any case," he said, closing the employee files. He popped open a new window, displaying the first draft of an intricate game disc, similar to that of the identity discs. "I've been helping the designer boys downstairs with a few ideas. TRON was very limited in weaponry. And also, this idea to use your identity discs to fight?" He chortled and shook his head. "That has to go."

Alan pulled his chair forward; with a tap of his finger, he flipped the image around. "Well," he said, beaming, "I'm all constructive ears."


I don't feel I need to explain the details of meditation, or the chakras, the positions and whatnot. You read all about them. Two volumes, actually. So why waste my breath, eh? Anyway, it seems kind of easy, just going into a meditative state, from the books you've read. And in a way, once you catch on, it is. But for beginners, not so much I can imagine. The easy steps would be: get into position. Sitting is fine if you like. Close your eyes. Focus on one thing, something pleasant, and then let the world drown away. Breathing is what I like to concentrate on, but I can imagine that's not necessary for you. But once you've reached that state of higher awareness, man, even the Grid seems juvenile and primitive.

When Quorra first took a gulp of real User air, it was like a flood of raw power had coursed through her system. It left her shaky and lightheaded, this new sensation.

Quorra took a deep breath, folding her body into padmasana. She overlooked her surroundings from her spot on the roof, taking everything in. The air was salty this morning, a warm breeze blowing in from the ocean. She could smell the city, the gasoline, and the smoke. The wind on her cheeks was gentle, easing her into meditation. The noise eventually faded; the sirens of police cars, the chatter of the neighbors down the street. All that mattered now was the ocean rocking, distant but now surrounding her mind in its gentle waves.

When she faded to become one with the air that the humans treasured, Quorra lost track of time. It might have been minutes, or hours. Time was irrelevant, time was unimportant. Still, so deep in her meditation, she had not heard the scraping footfalls approaching her, the sound weight shifting to a sit beside her.

Quorra continued into meditation, undistributed. It was the faint touch of a hand on her shoulder that slowly cracked her eyes open, her so-called spirit returning to her physical form. She blinked and looked beside her.

Sam smiled. "I didn't mean to wake you," he said, "but aren't you cold?"

"I'm okay," Quorra said. She stretched her legs out along the roof shingles, sighing as her shoulders rolled back.

Sam nodded. "So, did you look over the files?"


"Do they meet your approval?"

Quorra looked him in the eyes before casting her gaze downward. Her smile remained, but weakened. "Yes," she murmured, "I think you made the best decisions."

Sam could instantly sense her reluctance. "You know," he said, "if you don't like them, you can tell me."

"No!" Quorra sputtered. She bit the corner of her lip, embarrassed. "Sorry." She shook her head. "No, they all seem trustworthy. After all, they worked with Kevin and the people who helped raise you." Quorra tilted her head. "The one named Walter. His file said he created the digitizer."

Sam chuckled. "That's right," he replied, "alongside my Aunt Lora." His face softened, an expression that told the ISO she could tell him anything. "If you do approve of the guys I chose, then what's bothering you?"

Quorra frowned. "I don't mean to bother..."

"You won't."

"It's just..." she sighed, hands folded and palm up in her lap. "I fear, in the end, I won't be able to help. Kevin placed so much faith in this project, and what if I... my... DNA, right? What if we fail?" Her big, dark eyes met his again; she looked so scared, almost fragile. "My disc... it's lost in the Grid, perhaps gone. The backup we made on Kevin's system may be insufficient. I still don't bleed, nor preform many of the body functions humans do. I'm still an ISO here in your world, with just a few minor changes."

Sam scooted closer. "I wouldn't worry about that," he said. "And even if everything fails, so what?" He shrugged, grinned at the heavens. "Dad wouldn't hold it against you. Even if we tried and failed a thousand times, he would not be angry or disappointed." He gently nicked her on the shoulder. "If we don't try, however, then we should feel guilty."

Quorra grinned weakly. "I suppose you're right," she mumbled. She relaxed a little, leaned against Sam. The light had returned to her eyes. "So, how about you tell me about your... day, right?"

"It's 'day', yes," Sam chuckled. "Went rather well. We got new employees in. Flushed out the crap, so to speak." She blinked, and he knew she wouldn't get the reference. "Out with the old, in with the new. It's starting to feel like the company my dad once ran. Where he had employees he could trust and confide in."

Quorra beamed. "I'm sure he's very happy."

Sam had no doubt about that. Ever since he returned from his fateful journey in the Grid, he had changed. Into a man his father would be proud of. Even then he knew, no matter what, Kevin would always love him. This route seemed forced at one point in time, obligatory. There was a time where Sam refused to take the reigns simply to spite his old man, but that was ages ago. Now he wished he had stepped up sooner.

Still, Quorra could see the forlorn look in his eyes and lazy smile. She tilted her head against his, knocking him out of his nostalgic daze. "Anything else interesting?" she asked. "Did you show Alan your primitive disc designs?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Sam smirked, proudly. "We're going to present them to the designers tomorrow. It surprised me they were interested in doing a follow-up to TRON after so many years."

The ISO giggled. "I just wish we had those primitive discs around during my time."

Sam laughed, looked down at her. "Who knows?" he said. "You might even have a character made after you."

Quorra sat up, gaping. "R-Really?" she exclaimed, eyes sparkling. "I-I'd be honored!"

"Really!" he laughed, her enthusiasm contagious. "But that reminds me," he said, straightened, "we re-hired the guy who made Ram. Ram was apparently in the game, and my dad said during his time in the Grid the first go-round, the very same Program had helped him escape the MCP with Tron."

Quorra nodded. "Kevin spoke of Ram on a few occasions," she explained. Her eyes drifted away. "I can't say they were all pleasant stories."

Sam frowned. "Did he..."

"Your father," she toiled her hands in her lap, "installed an updated Ram in the Grid as well." Sam's eyes widened. "He apparently helped fight Clu, but I never met him. And he..."

Quorra needn't finish. Sam nodded slowly. "I see..." He stood abruptly, wiping the rear of his jeans. "How long you gonna be up here, Buddha?"

The ISO chuckled. "Ten more minutes?"

"Then," Sam mumbled, shrugged off his jacket. He draped it over her shoulders. "Wear this. You may not feel cold now, but I'm not risking you getting sick so soon outside the Grid."

Quorra pulled the jacket around her. "I don't need babying," she teased and stuck out her tongue.

"Yeah, yeah."

The ISO watched him climb down from the rooftop, the door to the house opening and closing. She turned her eyes back to the distant city, but found she was too troubled to continue meditation.


It was always a back-up plan. There was nothing wrong with having those in case of... fall-outs.

They had been exchanging letters for nearly a month now. The sender never went by a whole name. Always signed with an E and nothing more. Not that Edward could blame her, considering the content of many of their letters. However, he had covered his tracks as well. There was no denying they had as well. But neither had a reason, yet, to turn on the other.

After all, his father had been in cahoots with Future Control Industries some years back before his passing.

FCon was a rather shady, notorious company, more secretive than ENCOM itself. In a world of power, they were second behind ENCOM. Something Edward knew they despised quite a bit. After all, the companies were rivals. Though evidence of fCon's hand never surfaced, it was always a bit peculiar that companies that fCon found as rising threats or competition would soon somehow plummet or run out of business.

Edward had considered taking a position at fCon. ENCOM would pay more, offer more, but it was run by a bunch of bleeding hearts who concerned themselves more with the public than their finances. Maybe that made him coldhearted, but it was money that you survived on, not the warm fuzzy feeling of good karma. Somehow they had managed to thrive, however, but he knew they could do so much better if they just put their emotions in the backseat for once.

That was until Kevin Flynn suddenly vanished out of thin air.

ENCOM lost its inspiration, its heart, almost, and soon grew bitter and world weary. It was the perfect time for Edward to step in. The bad taste his father had left behind had long since worn and faded. They were desperate for a new genius to steer their company back to its former glory. And since Kevin's son was too busy stewing in his angst and misery, and Alan never had the chance for promotion, what better way to bring the Dillinger name back to the top of ENCOM?

Over the years, Edward started small, ruthlessly climbed to the top. He became something of the new golden boy, and if employees didn't honor him, they feared him. He was sure most of the company hated him, most out of jealousy, some, like Alan, who were still too busy thinking with their hearts instead of their brains. That never bothered Edward, however; as long as his peers didn't challenge him, he was content with the opinions held over him.

But things were changing, and not in his interest. Alan was becoming more outspoken, and Sam more involved. The bastard didn't want the company, but he still had the power. Why he bothered at all irritated Edward immensely. It was he who was keeping ENCOM afloat, even if his methods were not necessarily the more favored. Sam played some Robin Hood who couldn't decide if he wanted to stay or go. And the idea of someone as flighty as him as CEO was laughable and ridiculous.

FCon, on the other hand, seemed relatively quiet on their end. ENCOM had butted heads with them in the past, but never dangerously. There was never actually any real fear or threat. FCon was a machine, but it needed the power and fuel to run. The people were intelligent, but not enough to surpass the genius at ENCOM. If anything, they were sheep who needed a shepherd.

It was quite the timing then that they started sending emails to Edward in his time of doubt. They had noticed him, and now they wanted to be noticed.

They presented ideas, theories, offers and anything that would persuade Edward to leave ENCOM and join their forces. It was all rather amusing at first, but soon the letters began to intrigue and he found himself responding back. But as much as he loathed how ENCOM still ran on various levels, his position was safe, secure and above all, wealthy.

Until Sam decided he finally wanted to be responsible and Edward was kicked to the curb. It wasn't because he just wasn't well liked by the kid. More so, the company was to shift back to its roots, and Edward simply did not fit in. He couldn't blame their decision, considering he would have left ENCOM sooner or later now that Sam was the head honcho.

The day after Edward received his final paycheck, fCon sent another email. Though usually always cryptic, this one was even more so.

12 NOON.

Didn't take a genius to figure out what they wanted. Edward smirked as he looked over the simple message. So, they finally wanted to meet him face to face. Before, they were content with letters, emails and the occasional phone call. Neither found it would be wise to meet up, especially in public, considering their positions. Now Edward had nothing to lose, and they had much to gain.

Edward filed the email away, alongside the others. He retreated to his bedroom to do a little thinking.


The nightmare is always vivid.

It's almost like a memory replaying itself. Many times, there are hardly any inconsistencies, any differences added or removed by his troubled psyche.

Either way, the nightmare is always the same.

Sam is screaming, tears in his eyes swept away by the energy surrounding him. He's looking at his father, so close, so Goddamn close. But the man is a million miles away from where he now stands. Quorra's fingers dip into his sides, and she is shaking. She won't stop looking at her mentor, and Sam can tell she's breaking as well. Still, it's Kevin's last wish, for them to return home, to change the very society of humanity, just as he always wanted.

Clu II is snarling, fighting against the User's generated wind. His fingers manage to slip into the tunnel of light, a fierce grimace on his face. He's tough, maybe too tough, and Sam knows he can't do anything. If either he or Quorra were to move to fight him off, it would risk their chance of getting home.

Kevin manages to gain the upper-hand, becoming the God-like User he once was. Clu screams bitterly as his body is thrown away, tossed by the wind.

It's different now, shockingly so, like a curveball to the solar plexus. Instead of screaming in terror, calling for his dad, Sam is smiling. He is fucking smiling as if he's having the time of his life. He laughs at his dad, who now bears the shock and horror. He's laughing because his father deserves this, deserves to die, for abandoning him, for the years of suffering and loneliness. It didn't matter if it was choice to stay or not, he left his son broken and lost. It's only right - and Sam's cackling - that he feel this anguish as


Sam woke with a twist and scream, writhing in his blankets. He shoved them off as if they were constricting him, hands momentarily flailing in the darkness. A light switched on and then Quorra was pinning him down to the bed. He struggled briefly, still crying out, until her worried face was no longer a blur. Sam choked, took a deep breath; his heart was pounding in his chest, blood throbbing in his ears, and he felt hot and cold chills course down his spine.

When he settled enough, Quorra spoke again. "Sam," she breathed, "Sam, what happened?" Her hands loosened around his forearms. "Your nightmare... This is the worst they've been."

Sam swallowed a few times, struggling to stop the tremors. Quorra let him go and he scrubbed his face in his hands. She remained by his side, but waited patiently for him to talk when he was ready. A minute later, Sam sat up, swung aching legs over the side of the bed. "Christ," he croaked, raking a hand through his hair. He was soaked in sweat again.

"The nightmare was different."

Sam nodded, blinked his eyes. They were teary but he refused to cry. "I can't describe..." He shook his head. "Quorra, I was." He grinned wryly, angrily. "I was happy my dad was dying. In the nightmare, I... I don't know how, but it felt like, like he deserved it for what he did, but he..." His face dropped back into his hands. "Christ, just. Fuck."

Quorra frowned, carefully taking a seat beside him. "Do you still feel that way?" she whispered.

"No! What? No!" Sam barked. The ISO winced and he quickly groaned with regret. "Sorry. But no, no. I don't - no. I don't feel... happy that he's..." It hurt to continue, it hurt to remember the way he smiled and laughed and looked in the nightmare. He sat up, slapped hands on his knees. "I just... I don't know."

Quorra watched as Sam stood and walked to the conjoined bathroom. The door slammed and she listened to the running of water, the sound of his grunts as he splashed and washed his face. Soon there came a retch and Quorra winced as the nausea finally overtook him. She gathered to her feet, opened the nightstand drawer.

A single blinking light in the darkness of the drawer. She removed the memory stick dangling on the solid chain, turned it in her fingers. Once backside up, Quorra stared at the blinking light. A heartbeat, almost, something the iso had found she could no longer live without. She caressed a finger over the light, imagined the same pulsing as Sam's heart she often listened to like a lullaby to sleep.

Quorra looked to the door when the toilet flushed and water ran again. Eyes back on the memory stick, on that blue heartbeat...

Sam gazed up from the sink, water dripping off his face. Quorra stood in the doorway, nervous and tense. But her eyes were full of determination. "I think I figured it out," she said.

Sam blinked. "What?"

"You need closure." Her words stung him almost, and he looked away, turning off the water. Quorra stepped beside him. "The way it ended, the way you parted..." She squeezed the memory stick and held it to Sam. He looked between it and her, took it and ran a thumb over the blue light.

"I think," the ISO said firmly, "we should find your closure."


In size, Future Control Industries was smaller than ENCOM, but the shadow it cast was looming. All the windows were tinted, the front doors hardly inviting. When Edward stepped into the building the first time, he was surprised at the choice of color scheme. The mighty fCon symbol hung like a plaque in the lobby, the walls colored a royal purple with shades of rich red. The furnishings appeared to be all black and leather and something stiff and square-shaped.

Edward found his simple steel gray suit fit in nicely. The place smelt like a strong cologne, all debonair and flare. Before he even had to announce his presence to the pale, blank faced secretary, she gestured to the door to her right.

"Miss Popoff is expecting you, Mister Dillinger. Floor 10."

Edward's brows climbed in amusement. He gave his tie a little tug before making his way through the door. An elevator was waiting, its doors opened, as if it, too, was expecting his arrival. He punched the 10th floor button, sending the doors creaking shut. The elevator matched the color scheme, but there was no friendly, if obnoxious, smooth jazz playing.

Edward stepped out into a great corridor. The walls were more red than purple, the carpet the same hue with a repetitive fCon insignia design paving toward the two tall doors at the very end. Another secretary was waiting; she looked up at him briefly then went back to her phone call.

Taking that as permission to go ahead and enter, Edward pushed open the doors and stepped inside. The office was different from the rest of the building. The walls were dark blue, but the carpet remained a soft red. There was a sleek black oval table with a row of chairs, seated before a luxurious looking desk. Across the room, a wall that was nothing but window, heavy curtains parted to show the city below.

"Isn't this fancy," Edward chuckled, making his way inside.

"I am glad to hear you think so."

A tall woman emerged from the shadows across the room. She wore a fancy but simple brown suit with skirt, her short, styled hair a plum red that almost matched the interior of the building. She smiled thin ruby lips and approached Edward, offering her hand. "I am glad you were able to make it," she purred, "I am Eva Popoff. Please, call me Eva."

"My friend E then," Edward chuckled and she nodded. They shook hands for a second before he walked away, taking everything in. "Your last message seemed rather urgent."

"I do hope we didn't rush you," Eva hummed. "It is just, we figured since your unfortunate departure from ENCOM, now was the perfect time to meet face to face."

Edward smirked. "Ah, yes. What is it you expect of me?" He turned to her, smile suave. "Do you expect me to come here and spill all of the secrets I have gathered?"

Eva giggled. "Heavens no," she said. "We are not so petty." She gestured to the nearby chairs, both sitting. "No, rather, fCon has been monitoring your work at ENCOM for a while. We see great promise in you. It was a pity that ENCOM had chosen to downplay your skills and abilities."

Edward sat back in the chair, folded leg over the other. "So you admit to spying?"

"As you know, Mister Dillinger - "

" - Call me Edward."

"Oh? Not Junior?"

"I don't care for the 'Junior' much," Edward sneered.

Eva smiled. "As you know, Edward, the business we're in requires competition. That's how companies like us thrive. We must always be one step ahead of our rivals," she purred. "FCon may be no ENCOM, but we are not without our powers and specialties."

"I am very aware of this, as you said," Edward replied. He folded his hands together. "But what do you want of me?"

"Isn't it obvious? We would like you to join fCon."

Edward nodded. "Your letters suggested such," he said. "I take it this is our interview?"

"We require no formal interview. We know your credentials, your past work experience, everything, naturally," Eva chuckled. "And it is no small offer we are making." She sat forward, grinning wickedly. "We would like you to take the mantle of CEO."

Edward's eyebrows perked. "A promotion, and I haven't officially been hired," he chortled. "It sounds a bit too good, don't you think?"

"We realize this quick move may seem suspicious," she stated, "but we at fCon have admired your work, and feel you are the best qualified since our previous CEO retired." Eva sat back, arms raised. "In fact, your father had worked previously at fCon before his retirement. I'm sure you know of this, but thanks to some of his... observations during his stay at ENCOM, fCon has made many breakthroughs in the technological world ENCOM mostly overlooked due to its inflated ego."

Edward squinted. "You mentioned these advancements and tools in passing," he said, "but you have yet to support your claim with any evidence. Future Control Industries has released only products that can be purchased for better quality from ENCOM."

Eva scowled. "I couldn't ruin the fun in letters, Edward." She smiled again. "Besides, it'd be much better to show you them, don't you think?"

"I'd like to think with these products you boast of, you would have released them on the market to trump ENCOM," Edward said coldly.

"They are still undergoing test runs," Eva replied. "But I can assure you, we back our words with action and evidence." She sat back, manicured fingers steepling together. "In fact, we are rather proud of one of our more recently completed inventions. It's been in the works for nearly twenty years now, but we believe we have achieved our desired goals."

"And that would be?"

Eva chuckled. "I will let you consider our offer before answering any further questions." She raised a finger quickly. "But." Her smile had turned devious. "It is the key to a future mankind has never known. This much I will tell you. Think it over, think of what we have to offer to you and how much you will benefit."

Edward smirked. "You sound like Flynn and his Digital Frontier theories," he said and stood. "I will believe in these so-called technological advancements when I am presented proof. However." Now he was the one smiling, reflecting her own perfectly. "I will happily consider your offer and get back to you as soon as possible."

Eva stood and the two shook hands. "I hope to hear from you soon," she said, "it would be such a pity to have you waste away at some desk job for a simple software company. Here at Future Control Industries," she pulled free her hand and gestured to the giant fCon symbol on the wall, "the possibilities are endless."


Future Control Industries and Eva Popoff are "canonical" characters from the game, Tron 2.0. You will see more characters appear from this series, but keep in mind, since I don't play vidya games and the comics are deviate even farther from the 2.0 game canon, their personalities are basically taken from their official profiles mixed up in heaping amounts of my own twist/take on them. Eva especially. A quick skip over to the Tron wiki (tron . wikia . com) will give you more info.

The primitive disc is also from Tron 2.0, but known as the disk primitive.

I'm not entirely happy with Eva and Edward's exchange; seemed a little weak. But, hey, this is a fanfic, not a screenplay up for consideration by Disney.