CHAPTER 26 — SHIVERS OF THE STORM
EARTH – WEEK 3 DAY 3
GIBBS RESIDENCE
Amidst a chain of chaotic and violent incidents that unfolded for hours on end, the toll it took on Walter Gibbs, a retired genius, was overwhelming. The tumultuous events, akin to a nightmare, were too much for any senior citizen to bear, let alone someone of his stature. Held against his will, Walter was coerced into carrying out unspeakable acts of occult-like digital rituals. The anguish and despair at his helplessness, combined with the mayhem caused by these rituals, weighed heavily on his heart. Filled with guilt and remorse, Walter contemplated revealing the atrocities he had been forced to commit, trading the illegal experiments for his decades-long, glorious legacy at ENCOM. But his numbed mind and faint heart were paralyzed by the catastrophe that had unfolded just hours before.
In a parallel narrative, Alan, Walter's former student, took immense risks to save his revered mentor from trauma. He shielded him from the relentless onslaught of violent sounds that seemed to emanate from a secret war that might have transpired during his absence. Alan also shielded Walter from the probing eyes of the media, which was relentless in capturing even the slightest hint of the massive explosion that occurred at Walter's house in Bedford Hills. Even the stern facade of the police force, usually unyielding at a crime scene, couldn't prevent the media vultures from capturing a few visuals. A clever orchestration by the Bedford Hills Police Department's chief, Clive Lancaster, and Alan allowed Walter to escape media interrogation unscathed. While the police engaged the media at the front door with aggressive taunts, Alan and Walter slipped away through a backdoor leading to the lawn. Scaling the neighboring houses' walls, they eluded the prying eyes of the media and found refuge in Alan's car.
Clive Lancaster, a commanding figure in the Bedford Community, played a pivotal role in this covert mission. His robust demeanor belied his agility, which proved invaluable in protecting his clients from imminent media exposure. Upon receiving news of Alan's arrival, Clive sprang into action, directing his subordinates and using his agile limbs to create a formidable defense against the media's prying eyes. Clive met Alan and his mentor at the rendezvous point, wisely refraining from asking irrelevant questions out of curiosity. His focus was on safeguarding his clients from media intrusion, orchestrating their escape with precision.
With a focused determination, the cop ensured both of his clients were safely inside the car. Then, without hesitation, he forcefully stomped on the accelerator. The sheer force of the acceleration caught Clive's attention, but he had turned around too late to catch more than a fleeting glimpse. Later, he would regret not witnessing the spectacle unfold a few moments earlier. The nitro-fueled wheels ignited, and in a burst of power, they blazed forward, disappearing into the distance. In conventional terms, the car's swift departure became an evanescent blur.
However, Alan's concern for Clive's thoughts was the least of his worries. He had a far more pressing task at hand: to protect and care for his mentor, Walter, regardless of the latter's involvement in the destruction of his own house. The thought of Walter's potential culpability paled in comparison to the urgency of ensuring his safety. Alan's unwavering focus was on shielding Walter from trouble and discovering who was responsible for the chaos that had erupted in their lives.
With the first part of his mission accomplished – safeguarding Walter – Alan's attention shifted to the next objective: uncovering the truth behind the incident. Yet, the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty. Alan found himself facing a daunting challenge, unsure of how to proceed. As they settled into the car, Walter's anxiety seemed to intensify. Recognizing the need for a moment of respite, Alan decided to give Walter some space to collect his thoughts. The silence between them offered a chance for Walter to regain his composure before they embarked on the journey ahead.
After some time had passed, Alan took a subtle step, extending an offer of water to Gibbs in an attempt to break the silence. However, his gesture remained unanswered, leaving the tension in the air. He then decided to initiate a conversation, gathering the courage to inquire about the unfolding events. Just as he was about to open his mouth, a sudden burst of emotion from Gibbs startled Alan. With a flood of tears, Gibbs crumbled under the weight of his anguish, his emotions pouring forth uncontrollably. It took nearly ten minutes for him to regain his composure, his sobs subsiding as he began to speak, his voice laced with despair.
Amidst his mumbling and distress, Walter's words reveal his turmoil: "What injustice have I done to that boy? My sweet lil' home!! Crushed by my own hands!! I brought those demons.... this has to happen to me!!! Do I deserve this torture?" Alan's voice, calm and reassuring, broke through the haze of emotion. "Calm down, Walter. Who did this to you?". Gibbs' confession hit Alan like a wave. "I did!! I blew up my house, all because I wanted my potato head to not get blown up!" Gibbs' head hung in shame; his guilt palpable. Alan's gaze remained unwavering, his response filled with conviction: "That potato head of yours made me CEO of ENCOM, and that makes it damn worth saving!"
Confusion lingered as Walter questioned the timing of Alan's arrival: "Why did you even come for me, boy? Why now?" Alan's pause was measured, his voice determined. "Right now, all I want to know is what happened to you? Who are those dead assassins in your house?"
A nervous smile crept across Gibbs' face as he recalled an old nickname: "Remember when I used to call you 'Atari'? That nerdy student of mine who neither understood nor bothered about anything outside the programming world. Turns out he's the only one who bothered to visit this old relic after a long time." Alan's inquiry paralleled the past: "Wasn't that the same quality you liked back then? A special recommendation from Mr. Gibbs to Dillinger that Alan leads the security protocol programming for their hallmark entry 'TRON'?". Walter's perspective on history emerged: "That's history, Alan. Now it seems that the same Dillinger is hell-bent on ruining our lives, yet once again. And see where that led to!!" Alan's response was laden with disbelief: "You aren't talking about the Jr., are you?"
Gibbs' confirmation was chilling: "Yes, it's him. He's the reason those alien guys wreaked havoc all over the place." The mention of "alien guys" piqued Alan's curiosity: "Alien guys?". Walter recounted Jr. Dillinger's obsession: "He was saying something about that TRON shit. He's obsessed like hell about that thing, I know for sure." Alan's gulp was audible as he probed further: "It's a very old game? What's his interest in it?". Walter's attempt to rationalize Jr. Dillinger's perspective emerged: "Even I thought the same. But he thinks of it as some uh, you know, like a home inside the computer?" Alan's response was straightforward: "Bullshit! Who drove this nonsense into him?"
Gibbs' uncertainty lingered: "I dunno, maybe his old man did before he left. That bastard house arrested me and put a gun to my head to make another TRON for him. I said it's impossible 'cause TRON's code is with FLYNN and you, so he asked me to go for MCP.". Alan's sarcasm was evident: "Great! And why MCP specifically?" Walter's response was tinged with bewilderment: "No idea! He's a narcissistic sociopath, Alan! No wonder Dillinger named him his Jr."
The car reached the private hangar and within half an hour, a private jet arrived for the duo. Although this wasn't as luxurious as the one which Alan came in, it was Alan's choice to cast a shadow on his visit to Bedford Hills, trying his best to cover it up as some random visit to one of his friends or some client visit, whatever is plausible. Inside the jet, however, Alan continued the conversation:
- Did he mention any name other than TRON and MCP?
- No, not that I think of. But he is obsessed with them and would crush anyone, including me.
- I am here, Walter. You wouldn't have to face these horrors again, and I promise you that kid will pay for this.
- Just be careful, Alan. And please don't bring cops into this, this old frail body and faint heart cannot withstand their intense and grilling interrogation.
- No worries about that, Doc. I have a few friends as well. This is personal. I just need your technical expertise and the code that brought those weird dead aliens into your house.
- I would if I could, Al. But not now.
- Relax, Doc. You can be at my house as long as you want. Hell, from now on, my house is yours.
THE GRID – THIRD TRONCYCLE
COORDINATES – UNIDENTIFIED
One mTC had passed since Sam and Quorra escaped Pavel and his men, likely remnants of C.L.U., identified by neon-orange lines on their suits. A mysterious warrior in white saved them from a slow demise. TRON, that's what the warrior claims the attacker to be, pounced upon them with pent-up rage. They wondered if he was a rogue serial killer in the Grid or if they'd unknowingly crossed paths before in the back alleys of Purgos.
Nonetheless, the single, queen-size bed offered to them by their host wasn't big enough to provide comfortable space for both Sam and Quorra, but cozy enough to drown the couple into a beautiful sleep after a long time. Sam woke up to Kevin's words and got startled briefly until Kevin started reminding him of their decades-long due bet at the Arcade. Sam got confused as to how he got teleported into Earth and Kevin behaves in the same old-school fashion as though time has stopped somewhere between the 80s and 2000s. Sleepy-eyed and clueless, Sam struggled to control his eyelids and blinked often. A few blinks later, he saw Kevin in front of the TRON Parlor, derezzing his opponents with his 1st Gen Light Cycle in the grid-format, pixelated LCD Screen, jumping with child-like excitement whenever he scored one point. With his one hand still fixated on the joystick, Kevin tells Sam this is where his true calling lies, in the Arcade, with his creations TRON and Space Invaders and all, not in the confined, soulless, silent office spaces of ENCOM, forty floors above all the amazing parlors and exciting cosplay stuff and merchandise that he couldn't trade for.
Slowly removing hands from the joystick, Kevin pulls himself from the game. Sighing a bit, Kevin then confesses to Sam:
"People think I'm a freak, Sam. They say I am nothing but a naïve gaming nerd who loves games more than people. I am not a social animal but a programming and gaming weirdo. Maybe they're right. I should've pushed Alan for the chair, but no. Maybe it's naivety that fooled me into thinking that I can change the world forever. Even Alan believed that nonsense."
Sam couldn't understand what Kevin was worrying about but listened anyways with curiosity: - "Even Jordan and Al thought the same. Alan even went one step ahead, saying: 'There's no way you aren't the caped crusader, Flynn! He's got Wayne Enterprises, you got ENCOM. He's a billionaire, so are you. He vanishes in the dark, and so do you.'. He's not wrong, though. I work at night, but not in the streets. Handling a company and your friends and family is what everyone does, Sam, I get it! (Pointing to the TRON Parlor) As much as I want Alan and you, I also want to show the world that this old machine is much more than what they think it is. The past, present, and future of human civilization are inside this big metal box."
Sam's interest was piqued as he knew what Kevin was talking about. Suddenly, he felt himself shrinking down to half, as Kevin started lowering his head to look at a young Sam. Just as Sam was about to say that he knew what TRON was all about, Kevin interrupted and continued: "I'm sorry, Sam. I lost Jordan because of this and made Alan face consequences for my reckless adventures. But I won't lose you this time, kid. If everyone remembers me as a 'conman', so be it. But not you, Sam, not you. I did this for you, I did this for the future. And now, I'm leaving all of this for you.".
The curious yet indifferent self of Sam has now melted like a polar glacier, as the river of tears was about to flow from a 10-year-old Sam. Sam got ready to hug his dad and say: 'No, you were right all along! I never believed in you and ran away from everything. Let's get TRON back.'. Kevin replied to Sam, as if he had listened to his thoughts: "I understand, boy." As the floor between them cracked wide open and began separating the father and son, Kevin lent his hand: "Watch your step, boy. Hold my hand, let's go home!". As Sam stretched his cute little palms to hold Kevin's big hands, Kevin's hands stretched themselves away from him. The more he tried to reach them, the more they got away from the young kid. Sam ran desperately to grab hold of Kevin, as Kevin's face and body disappeared into the light, as well as the surroundings. Finally, after a few seconds of struggle, Sam thought he caught Kevin from escaping yet again, but he felt something beyond the white light grabbing him into the unknown.
"Come with me, Quorra."
(Cut to Flynn's Table) "Your survival is not just for me or yourself. The present and the future look unto you for guidance. You have much more to learn, my child."
"(Cut to Mini Disc Arena) You need to work on your reflexes, Quorra. Focus more on your dance classes, build up agility."
"Keep him safe, dear. He may never be Kevin Flynn, but he's the most stubborn Flynn ever born."
"Why Quorra? You think C.L.U shows mercy?"
"I know I disobeyed your orders, Flynn. But I couldn't see him share your fate."
His safety is much more important than his freedom right now, Quorra"
"He's your son, Flynn. Nothing is more important to him than your presence in his life."
"(Moaning in pain as Pavel pulls by hair) Bad choice, bitch, bad choice!! Your partner cannot fight a girl with bare hands, let alone protect you. (Pulling up cloth below her shoulders) Tell your people over there that Pavel says: "You deserve this, fuckers!!"(evil laugh increases as the Disc gets closer to her neck)."
Sam emerged from the clutches of an intense dream, a sudden jolt coursing through his body as if breaking free from a trance. Profuse sweat coated his skin, dissipating as his awareness returned from the vivid reality, he had just experienced. He then saw his hands immediately, in and out, and then turned to touch his face. He then rotated his head a little bit around his body to observe the bandage applied to his wounds. Unlike those that were applied on them by Mara, this one is more neon-blue in color, and also he didn't feel the need to keep those bandages as he felt no pain as of now. Removing those bandages and smiling at his perfect, healthy skin, his attention then turned to Quorra, who staggered from her sleep, shaking up Sam. Owing to Quorra's reflexes and quick instinct, she rose from her bed and swung her Disc in a complete 180° sweep in self-defense. Had any of C.L.U's men been so foolish to assassinate Quorra in her sleep, he would've been depixelated into the Grid in a blink, including Sam.
Despite the silence in the room and more than adequate ventilation providing for their safe and sound sleep for over 2mTC, not to mention the absence of a conventional 'temperature' in the Grid, Quorra felt like sweating profusely and shivered like hell. Contributing to her restlessness is also the fact that they've had a near-death experience with the Commander and the femme fatale Major and had it not been for the last-minute rescue by the White Savior, they would've been forgotten not only by the Grid but also by the User World forever. Adding to her restlessness is her paranoia that they may be under hidden surveillance by those sentries and also that their white savior's rescue may be a ruse for ratting them out to the Commander sooner or later. Sam was petrified as he had never seen Quorra behaving this violently, especially not in her sleep. It's as if she's been possessed by some violent spirit from those exorcist movies, and that the real Quorra must be trapped somewhere inside, waiting for the right word to be uttered to bring back her soul into her rightful body. He had no choice but to wait for the right moment.
As Quorra calmed down a little, Sam slid beside Quorra and cuddled her on the back to console her, saying "It's all right, Quorra. We're safe.". Although displaying no immediate reaction, Quorra wailed in silence and hugged Sam tight, bursting into tears. She then cried in a low voice: "I'm sorry, Sam. I had a single job to do, and I failed even at that! I failed Kevin. The second life he gave me, is of no use now."
"What job? What did Dad tell you, Quorra?" replied Sam, inquisitively. "Kevin took a vow from me to protect you at all costs. He said only you can carry forward his legacy even better than he did, and that I should be with you when the time finally arrives. He trained in all forms of combat: Discs, Light Melee, dogfights, Ribbon attacks…everything. And all I did was to put my guard down, again and again. First, it was my family and friends, it was Kevin, and now, you. You should've left me dead by Rinzler's Disc, Sam. You and Kevin would've been together by now."
"(caressing around her shoulders) If I'd listened to your words back then, I would've been the most foolish User in the history of Grid," replied Sam wittingly.
"(How so?" asked Quorra, turning towards Sam.
"Because this damsel in distress is not only the last ISO ever, but also the best pilot in the grid I've ever seen, gives the softest and the most memorable slaps ever, and most important of all, is stupid enough to marry this unpredictable."
Quorra cracks up slightly and playfully hits Sam with her whitesmoke-colored, neon-ribboned pillow. But then, she starts drifting into her thoughts and becomes silent.
"Hey, what now?" asks Sam, concerned.
"This Renegade is very dangerous, Sam! He knew our names and knew that we were captured by Pavel's men, even though not a single Basic saw the whole ruckus. Don't you think all this is well-timed to be too coincidental?", questioned Quorra.
"Maybe he also hates C.L.Us men as we do. You know, the rebel groups against the oppressive regime types. Or he could even be their leader. But one thing's for sure, he's been a pain in Pavel's ass for a long time."
"Sam!!" Quorra reprimanded Sam for his foul language. Even though Quorra is very well aware that out of the hundreds, possibly thousands of languages spoken around the Earth i.e., the User World, foul language and bad words are common in day-to-day conversations and more than often Users utter these words involuntarily rather than to outright abuse someone, as it is the fundamental human nature. Even then, she despised people, especially ladies, who throw slurs and vulgar abuses quite often, which is uncommon in the Grid, except for C.L.Us men who seldom slip into these foul words. This made her vow to herself that she would never encourage bad words from anyone, especially from close ones.
"Fine, fine." slowed down Sam, in an apologetic tone.
"He may be a pain to us as well, Sam. Don't you see it?" replied Quorra.
"Maybe. But his first aid is much better than the pain that coward inflicted on us," replied Sam sarcastically.
"This is serious, Sam. He could turn us in anytime. Or worse, finish us off when we're off-guard." skepticized Quorra.
"That could also happen. But this guy derezzed all those guards in active combat and rescued us. And coming to guard, we were fast asleep as soon as we came to this room, he had all the time he wanted and yet nothing serious happened? Isn't this 'off-guard'?", reasoned Sam.
Meanwhile, the Renegade, who peeked in on the conversation midway from behind the door, waited for a while to make sense of whom they were talking about. As the Renegade's identity and personality are already shrouded in mystery, the Renegade is indifferent to such comments and performs his duty without any remorse. After all, a leader of his status and mysticism must possess godly levels of emotional intelligence to execute the mission successfully at hand. It's time he displayed those, as he knocked on the door.
Sam opened the door as Quorra stood up, vigilant, as the Renegade entered slowly and looked at both of them silently. He then asked about their health and well-being and received a positive response from Sam.
'This is not the time for pleasantries, but quite an impressive fight back there for an outsider, Sam. Long way to go.', the Renegade appreciated, trying to lighten up the mood.
'Thanks, Renegade. It looks as though you're the one who's got the reflexes. Sorta Rinzleresque in comparison. Sorry, TRONesque.', replied Sam humbly.
'It's okay. Since the Purge, even I had the same confusion as well. Let's hope the Rinzler is gone for good and TRON is back. Good for you two, bad for Tesler's men, and the best thing to happen to the Grid since getting rid of C.L.U forever, if that's even true.', spoke the Renegade.
'It's best for everyone if history doesn't repeat itself, ain't it?', Sam replied, in a slightly cautious tone. Even though the word 'Tesler' is new to him and he may not know how much of a baddie this guy is, what even the Grid fears with all its servers is C.L.U, the literal virus of the Grid, hell-bent on PERFECTION. The same PERFECTION that destroyed the ISOs, burned cities to the ground by labeling it as Purge, or as C.L.U calls it the cleansing of the Grid, amplifying the hate for ISOs and Users within the naive Programs, repurposing innocent Programs forcefully for his army recruitment and even going to the extent sacrificing random Programs in the Game Arena, just for the entertainment of himself and the brainwashed Programs. For Sam, C.L.U's revival amounts to his father's sacrifice to nothing, and if the same story repeats, Sam couldn't afford to lose his father once again.
'We must be prepared for the worst, Sam. There are only two people who can restore order to the Grid, the Creator himself and TRON', the Renegade emphasized.
'The Creator. Where is he?', Sam asked, consciously omitting the fact that the Creator of the Grid is his father.
'The whole Grid needs your father, Sam. You can help me find him. But first, we need TRON back.', replied the Renegade.
'Wait, hold on. How do you that he's, my father? How do you even know our identities and where to find us?'
'There are much more important matters at hand. The primary of them all is TRON, the last bastion of freedom in the Grid. If there's anyone who can restore the original programming, it's the Creator. Kevin Flynn.' replied Renegade.
'You mean, resetting the Grid back to square one?', asked Sam, trying to make sense of the vague terminology the Renegade is spouting without any context.
'That only the Creator and the Sea knows. But if there's anyone who can change Rinzler back into the TRON that the Grid deserves, it is only him. TRON is his first creation in the Grid, and if the pre-Purge records are anything to go by, he's modeled after the protocol program of Grid 1.0, which concludes that Kevin possesses the source code of TRON and is the only entity that can make it possible.', the Renegade explained the best that he can, without going deeper into the lore of the Grid's creation.
'I understand that even you haven't figured out your story properly, dude. But we have no time for history lessons. These 'Tesler's men are already on our backs and we don't have a single clue where my Dad is. Either you let us do our job and get the hell out of this mess or help us find him. All your doubts will be cleared if you join us.' replied Sam indifferently. 'I don't know how important TRON is to you or for the Grid. The TRON I knew from my childhood is through Dad's stories and the Arcade Machine. But for me the only people I care about right now are my pops and her(turning head towards Quorra) .' added Sam.
The Renegade remained silently for a moment as if he'd figured out his guests' urge. He replied: 'One thing is correct. The three of us are united by one person: Kevin Flynn. But that doesn't mean you two get captured again and again. And this time, Tesler will personally ensure that you both are made an example of in front of the whole Grid. Finding Kevin Flynn is my responsibility from now on. Until I fulfill my responsibility, both of you enjoy your stay here. But before that, follow me.'
Saying so, the Renegade stepped out of the room, expecting the couple to follow him as he strode slowly. When Sam moved forward to follow Renegade, Quorra stopped him from behind, placing her hand on his left shoulder, saying: 'So this is your takeaway after all he said? His skills and intelligence will surely help us find Kevin faster' to which Sam replies, "He moves like a faceless Bruce Lee, embodying unmatched reflexes, agility, and endurance. Yet, within that code-driven visage, emotion eludes him. Perhaps losing someone close can make the job easier." The Renegade, overhearing Sam's remarks, even though being taken aback a little, yelled "THIS WAY", asserting his command as well as reminding his guests to follow his lead.
A few steps outside their lounge and into the mysteriously dark room, the Renegade then removed his Disc and activated a few secret commands, revealing the concealed glowing bright, white LED-like, circular-shaped layout around the trio on the floor. As soon as the layout revealed itself, the stage floated up a little and descended rapidly, startling the couple momentarily. This one resembled its square cousin they'd used in the Outlands. A few minutes into descent, instead of transitioning through floors like a regular elevator in a mall, this one occupied its guests with the neon-blue ribbons and a few mythical Disc-like symbols, strengthening Quorra's suspicion that this is the same architecture that has been used in the Outlands and that this Renegade could either be a User or an ISO in disguise, even though there's no visible ISO logo on his body, as no one other than those two could build any white smokey colored structures with such an elegance and symmetrical designs. Given his allegiance to TRON, he could prove to be a powerful ally and their guide in this Grid, given they land in his good books. Pausing her thoughts, Quorra enjoyed the designs of the levels they were descending into as they reached their destination.
Unlike the intricately carved designs of the walls that occupied their minds, their actual destination though engulfed in darkness, was like a black hole. But when the Renegade turned on the lights using his gauntlet, the room shone brighter than ever, much paler than Kevin's hideout. What the darker room hid from everyone was a fully functional base, with several infographics being displayed on the translucent glass surfaces floating mid-air. Perhaps this is the Area 52 of this world, Sam thought to himself. Even though the color scheme of the room felt like a rip-off from what he saw in his dad's hideout before, this room seemed like a futuristic military operation base from older sci-fi classics, the room's color resembling that from the famous scene in 2001: A Space Odyssey. For the Renegade though, this is his way of showing his level of trust towards his guests because apart from him, no one in the whole Grid knew about this base, even TRON. This trust emerged from the necessity of saving TRON's life because TRON and the Grid have shared a symbiotic relationship since the inception of the Grid itself.
A few steps into the base, the couple was greeted by TRON's comatose body, shielded by the cylindrical glass container around him, which is still torn in a conflict between its original white ribbons and repurposed neon-orange ribbons. The vitals on his right displayed the struggle of TRON's spirit, his urge to return to his former self, not for himself but for the Grid.
'(looking at the vitals) Can he make it out safe?' asked Quorra, out of concern.
'There's only one way to confirm that' replied the Renegade.
'What's that?'
'ISOMORPHIC ALGORITHM'