Tron Legacy - It's Your Call - Initiate Sequence (4 page)
Read Tron Legacy - It's Your Call - Initiate Sequence Online
Authors: Carla Jablonski
Tags: #Fiction - Young Adult
Y
ou'll be way too exposed on the bridge. You duck into a nearby stadium. Hopefully, the Sentries won't look for you so close by. It will be like hiding in plain sight. You dash into what looks like a high-tech locker room. It seems safe. Nothing happening here. “You're late!” a gruff voice hollers. “Don't just stand there! Go resupply the winks!”
Uh-oh.
You whirl around and see a stocky little guy holding what looks like a supersize vacuum cleaner glaring at you from the doorway. “I have emergency cleanup to do,” he hollers. “Get the winks out there! Now!”
He rushes away. His emergency may have just saved you. He didn't even wait long enough to discover you're not who he thinks you are. You slide down onto the floor and stretch out your legs. You could seriously use a nap.
Then another person bursts into the room.
Y
ou peer across the game court. A lean, black-clad warrior steps onto the platform. His visor completely obscures his features, and his muscled body looks as if it was poured from metal. This dude was built for combat. He tosses his disc from one hand to the other almost casually.
As much as you hate it, you're going to have to fight him. To the death.
You grip your disc and bend your knees, ready to move. Your eyes widen as you watch your opponent press the center of his disc. It pops into two, one for each hand!
“Come on,” you complain. “Is that even legal?”
He hurls the discs at you and you bound out of the way. The lethal weapons arc out, hit the enclosure walls, then spin back to your opponent.
You fire your disc at his head, hoping his focus is split between his returning discs and yours. But he flips into the air, twists, then lands neatly on his feet, holding his discs and successfully dodging yours.
The crowd goes wild.
“Yeah, yeah, very slick,” you mutter.
Your opponent races up the side walls and you do the same, not wanting him to gain an advantage. You fire your discs simultaneously. You narrowly miss each other and tumble back down onto the platform.
You hear a loud buzzing and a deep rumble.
Now what? you wonder.
H
e studies you for a moment. Then he breaks out into a huge grin. “There's much to do.” He gesticulates wildly as he rattles off ideas: “You'll need to change your attire. You'll need a forged discânot easy these days, by the wayâand of course you'll need transport across the Sea of Simulation.” He moves across the room, away from you.
Movement outside the window catches your attention. Your eyes widen as you watch black-clad figures appear in the sky! They're actually flyingâwith the help of propellerlike wings whirring on their backs.
“Ahh, the Black Guard,” Zuse says. “So prompt.”
You jump to your feet and glare at Zuse. “That light change in the club,” you realize. “It was a signal.”
“So clever,” he says. “Much like your father.”
“Playing all the angles,” you say with a snarl.
He just shrugs. “The game has changed, Son of Flynn.”
You race toward the exit, only to discover the stairs are no longer there.
Do you try to find another way out?
Or do you try holding Zuse hostage?
Y
ou can't believe your eyes. Your father. Exactly as he was the day you last saw him. Exactly! He hasn't aged one bit. How is that possible?
“Sam,” your father says, studying you. “Look at you, man.” He grins and laughs. “How'd you get in here?”
“I-I got your message andâ”
“So it's just you?” your father asks.
“Yeahâ¦just me.” You can't take your eyes off him. So many emotions and questions run through you. You feel as if you're about to explode or have a meltdown.
He seems to be having a similar reaction. “Wow. This is something, isn't it?”
“You lookâ¦the same,” you say.
He smiles at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “A lot's happened, Sam. More than you could ever imagine.” He tilts his head and addresses your game opponent. “Rinzler, the disc, please.”
You stand there, puzzled, as your opponent, Rinzler, removes your disc from its sheath in your armor. He hands it to your dad, who turns away from you. What is he doing?
“Interesting,” he murmurs. Then your dad turns back and tosses you back your disc. “Rinzler, Jarvis, go,” he orders. Your opponent and the dark, gaunt man take off immediately, leaving you alone with your dad.
Y
ou keep walking. She works for the games, which means she works for Clu. There's no way she would help you.
You don't want her to know where you're headed, so you walk past the entrance to the giant building. You'll walk around the block and then try again once she's gone.
You round the cornerâstraight into a pair of Sentries.
“Identify yourself, program,” one of them orders.
“Uhâ¦uh ⦔
“Sounds faulty. Must be a disc problem,” the other sentries says. He steps forward and holds out his hand. “Disc.”
You stare at him blankly. You know that your disc reveals who you areâthe son of Kevin Flynn and Clu's enemy. You don't want to just hand it over to them. The announcement you heard said that programs without ID would be deleted. But then again, how can they delete you? You're not a program. Maybe you don't need to be afraid!
“Sorry, buddy,” you say, crossing your arms. “My disc is my business. And I'm keeping it. Haven't you heard of identity theft? You don't just hand things over to strangers!”
The Sentry is not amused.
T
he two of you stand staring at each other. You've thought about this moment for so longâalmost your whole lifeâand yet it's awkward and strange. You're the first to break the silence. “You were trapped inside here,” you venture. “Is that what happened?”
“That's right,” he says.
“And you're in charge,” you say.
He nods. “Two for two.”
“So let's get out of here!” you say eagerly.
“Don't think so,” he says. “Nope. Not gonna happen.”
Your forehead crinkles with confusion. “But why not? What's wrong? I'm your son!”
He moves in closer, bringing his face just inches from yours. He plants his hands on your shoulders. His eyes glisten with malevolent delight. “You see, Sam, I'm not your father. But I am very, very happy to see you.”
You gape after him as he strides out of the room.
Y
ou rush down the stairs, not even bothering to try and keep quiet. Blue smoke wafts around the room, but nothing looks damaged. You spot a curly head bent over the computer console. At the sound of your thundering footsteps, the curly head turns around.
A kid with braces grins at you. “I got in!” he cheers. “I don't know how I did it, but I did!” He turns and stares down at the screen. “But there's nothing on the screen but a map of something called the Grid.” He tries pushing some buttons. “I can't get it to do anything.”
You rush over to the console. The kid is right. A digital version of the map your dad has hanging on the wall is now lit up on the screen. You're about to try fiddling with the controls when you remember why you're here.
“Who are you?” you ask the kid. “And what are you doing in here? This place has been closed for years!”
The kid shrinks into a chair. “Am I in trouble?”
You study him, trying to keep a fierce expression on your face. But the kid looks so patheticâas if he's trying not to cry.
“Nah,” you say, with a wave of your hand. “It's cool.”
The kid immediately perks up. “So, do you know anything about this computer?” he asks eagerly.
