Tronanon 1

>The Grid.
>A digital frontier. Information and programs interacting with each other.
>All on a little memory card in the possession of one Samuel Flynn.
>Sam.
>The guy is a hero around these parts. Sam is the User who saved the last ISO and ended CLU's reign of terror.
>Problem is... CLU being derezzed left behind a power vacuum.
>And with Tron still missing things are about to get real nasty.
>As for where you stand in all this?
>You are an unauthorized program.
>A virus.
>anonymous.exe
>You try to stay in hiding, but it's hard to avoid everyone constantly looking for you.
>You do not know what your purpose is. All you know is that they don't want you on the grid, and they usually get what they want.
>Who's they?
>Anyone who's not a virus like you.

>By this point you can't even remember the last time you were able to rest. It always seems like you're on the run no matter where you go, and eventually they will find you.
>So why not just give up?
>Honestly, you don't know, maybe it's in your programming, but the last thing you want to do is lay down and die... or be sent to the games.
>That's right, the games. They're back in full force. With an untapped army of programs sitting on their thumbs after a failed invasion of the real world the day to day program can enjoy their little taste of carnage in the arena.
>It's all a big joke to you.
>Usurp one tyrant only for another to take their place.
>There is no peace in the Grid.
>Never was.
>Never will be.
>All you can do is sit at this bar, meant for programs not like you, and listen to the music that's making your head pound.
>The black sheen of the environment is offset by the blue lines of data coursing through it.
>Your Identity Disk clutches to your back like a parasite, a constant reminder that you will always be hunted, and yet you need it. The damn thing is the only defense you have against the other programs.
>You down another shot of... whatever the hell that glowing shit is they serve at the bar, and you turn in time to see them.
>Procurement programs.
>Your first instinct is to make a sprint for the door, but that would give you away even faster than you're hoping.
>These motherfuckers are decked out. Everyone in the bar knows who they are because their damn light suits have orange lines, and the gear they're packing...
>They're prepped for war.
>You decide to keep it calm, the club is pretty crowded with programs and you could probably slip out without them noticing, but it'll be a hell of a feat. The huge dance floor in the center probably won't be the wisest exit strategy.
>The orange assholes start making their way around, stopping a few programs to question them, presumably about you.
>You decide to make your way around the opposite side of the dance floor, and about halfway out is when you hear it.
>"There he is!"
>Fuck.
>You barrel through a group of girls, who let out a startled scream when the guards go straight for you.
>Shit, one of them has a light whip, those things are fucking nasty.
>You pull the disk from your back and charge the guards head on.
>You vault yourself forward just as the guard with the whip tries to bring it down on you.
>Landing on your free hand, you push away from the ground and flip back to your feet face to face with the whip guard.
>You cut his head of with your disk and he derezzes.
>Everyone is in full-on panic mode now, screaming like little bitches and scrambling for the nearest exit.
>The second guard hesitates for a split second.
>That's all you need to rush forward and dig your disk into his chest.
>More screaming.
>Begging.
>Pleading.
>All from the programs that didn't know how to leave the bar. Their basic functions must restrict them.
>It's their lucky day, you're not here for them; you're just trying to survive.
>More guards barrel through the entrance.
>Doesn't matter, you can do this all day.
>At least that's what you tell yourself until you feel a prick in the back of your neck and electricity coursing through your light suit.
>You're paralyzed.
>Fucking ninjas snuck up on you.

>You hate ninjas.
--------
>The Grid?
>A digital frontier?
>That shit makes you laugh.
>It's all a fucking joke.
>You've been on the run for as long as you've existed, and now here you are, in their clutches.
>You can't see a damn thing, but you know you're clamped down on something. Your arms and legs are bound, and it's all you can do to keep from panicking.
>You remember a question a small program asked you a while back.
>'Do programs feel fear?'
>You didn't know how to answer the question, even now you don't know.
>Left here alone with your thoughts, all you can do is wait... and hope they don't send you to the games.
>"That's a very good question Anonymous. You should really think hard about the answer."
>Who is that?
>"The better question would be... who are you? How long has it been since CLU was brought down?"
"Several cycles. Why are you asking me this?"
>Laughter, "Because you are not who you think you are Anonymous, and until you answer that little boy's question you will be nothing more than you already are."
"If you're gonna derez me just do it already."
>"I'm not going to kill you."
"To the games then! I've always wanted to ride a light cycle, now's my chance!"
>"You wound me dear boy. I'm here to help you."
"Help me? That what you call sending orange after me?"
>"They have their uses, we might as well utilize what CLU left behind."
"So you're just another power hungr..."
>"ENOUGH!"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mb0Wpsfjks
>Suddenly, light, and then footsteps.
>When your eyes adjust, standing over you is an elderly man with a full beard. He isn't wearing a light suit, just a simple white robe. He doesn't appear to have an ID on his back either.
>Just him being here makes you... makes you what?
"Who..."
>"My name is Kril, the last of the ISOs."
"But I thought..."
>"You thought wrong dear boy. Quorra was the last so far as Flynn was concerned."
"Why are you bossing around CLU's thugs?"
>"Because things are happening that are of great importance. Tron is missing, and I doubt Sam Flynn will be returning any time soon. Something has gone wrong on the outside, and I want you to figure it out."
"You're joking. Why should I care? For that matter how am I supposed to get out? The last gate closed when User Sam left and CLU was derezzed."
>"Then we will make a new one."
"You can do that?"
>"It's what we've been working on for the past three cycles. It's kind of a clumsy thing, but it will work."
"Why do you want me to help you? I'm just a virus. I've been hunted down my whole existence."
>"Are you so sure about that?"
>You go silent. You've never been activated or captured before. All you knew was that they were after you because you're 'malicious'.
"Say I want to help you, how would I go about making it outside?"
>The old man smiles, "Simply hang on... and enjoy the ride."

>Before you can ask another question everything goes white.
>It feels like your entire body has been ripped into tiny pieces and is slowly reassembling itself.
>You can't form a coherent thought in your head, much less figure out what's happening to you.

>Then you hit the ground on your stomach and get the wind knocked out of you.
>When you get your breath back, which you shouldn't even have to do, you open your eyes and see the green grass under you. Luckily you still have your light suit, but it's completely black, no power. Not only that, but your disk is missing as well
>You look up and lock gazes with a small, and rather adorable, purple four-legged creature.

"Welp, guess I'm not in the Grid anymore."
>The creature tilts its head, blinks, and then smiles, "Oh, you know Equestrian, that's good."