Stepping Stones Ch.4
Title: Stepping Stones
Rating: T
Universe: Tron
Pairing: Developing
Word Count: 1,018
When Sark reentered the games, the silence around the arena was as thick as lead. Programs watched him, staring at him in curiosity, fright, and on occasion, resentment. They whispered on his red coloration, wondering how he was still walking with that display of critical damage. His expression said nothing, but there was an air of pride he held about him as he strolled towards the disc arena - he was proud to wear his colors, a symbol of his loyalty and servitude to the MCP.
His first opponent was a security program, from that particular division at ENCOM. The program had traveled a long way via solar sailor just to challenge Sark. The command program had no idea word could spread so quickly of what he had done. It scared and excited him at the same time.
The Program was almost like Sark in terms of body, thin and lithe, but with a young face and a twitchy way about him. When Sark stood in his square, facing the opposite end of the arena where his foe stood, he could not help but feel intimidating with his crimson circuitry. Programs were covering every inch of the upper observatory, whispering to each other as the anticipation floated over all of them like a heavy cloud.
The starting bell rang and Sark whipped his disk around from his back. He didn't want to give this program a chance to even try anything fancy. The security program was faster though, and Sark ducked down quickly to avoid the bright blue disk that had been quick to try and lobotomize him. So the security program was playing to kill, that was fine, defeat was equivalent to death in Sark's mind. If his opponents didn't kill him, the MCP would for his failure.
He sent a command to his disk along with an energy surge. It glow bright orange and he feigned a hard throw to his right, but instead the disk flew around his back, catching the security Program on the left. The Program barely had time to duck and catch his own returning disk at the same time, before Sark's disk returned like a boomerang to the Program's back, derezzing him quickly.
The other programs that watched gasped in amazement and fear, the rumors had been confirmed to their own eyes.
Sark caught his disk, and slipped it back on to his back. He turned up to the crowd, and spoke loudly, confidently;
"I fight for the MCP!" he shouted, and the programs listened, "The MCP fights for complete dominion over the system, and is heralding a new age of enlightenment - where all Programs can be free from the fanatical belief that 'Users' control them." He took a breath and licked his bottom lip, speaking a bit quieter. "Any Program who wishes to challenge the MCP…is welcome to be my opponent."
He turned on his heel, walking out of the arena. In the back of his mind he heard the MCP's voice, congratulating him. Or maybe it was just a little glitch, either way, he felt proud of himself. He had to be clever if he wanted to win against the best programs, and controlling his disk without just a throw or a toss was the first trick he had taught himself.
Three programs had travelled from different areas on the Grid just to fight him the following day. None of them were anything special, two interpreting programs and a data cleaner.
The first interpreter was difficult, the Program was more than skilled at combat, probably a home-grid hero or the like. The battle lasted for at least a half-cycle, and both were exhausted and stumbling towards the end of it. The interpreter got close to Sark in the final few moments of the battle, wrestling him to the ground and attempting to decapitate him with the blue disk. Sark had tossed his own disk to the side before impact, and as he watched in silence as the interpreter prepared to derezz him, the program's stressed face became just a glow of energy that dissipated in to the ground.
His disk returned to his hand dutifully, and he stood, the spectators now silent and grave. The next two were easier; fighting seemed to be more rudimentary with every battle. The other interpreter put up less of a fight than the first, and the data cleaner hadn't even been able to throw his disk before Sarks' flew down and split him diagonally, body vaporizing in to crackling electricity.
The battles were over for that cycle, and Sark repeated his mantra to the crowd. He noticed several programs walking away after he was done, and at first he thought nothing of it.
As Sark approached his solar sailor however, and saw the group of programs, he readied himself for an attack. They looked at each other nervously and backed away, preparing to run. Sark halted, setting his disk back in its place between his shoulders.
"…What do you want?" he asked, looking at them suspiciously.
The five programs all mumbled clumsily before one stepped forward, a young program with an unimpressive face and voice, but obviously the bravest out of all of them.
"The MCP - you fight for him, right? Can we?"
Sark opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He was lost in what to say. Surely he should have thought of something to say to prospective followers, the MCP had been expecting this to happen after all. But words were lost to him, and after a moment of awkward silence, he spoke.
"Get on." He said, pointing to his solar sailor. He'd introduce them to the MCP, and then, he could deal with them however he wanted. Play it by ear, or some User phrase he had heard before.
Rating: T
Universe: Tron
Pairing: Developing
Word Count: 1,018
When Sark reentered the games, the silence around the arena was as thick as lead. Programs watched him, staring at him in curiosity, fright, and on occasion, resentment. They whispered on his red coloration, wondering how he was still walking with that display of critical damage. His expression said nothing, but there was an air of pride he held about him as he strolled towards the disc arena - he was proud to wear his colors, a symbol of his loyalty and servitude to the MCP.
His first opponent was a security program, from that particular division at ENCOM. The program had traveled a long way via solar sailor just to challenge Sark. The command program had no idea word could spread so quickly of what he had done. It scared and excited him at the same time.
The Program was almost like Sark in terms of body, thin and lithe, but with a young face and a twitchy way about him. When Sark stood in his square, facing the opposite end of the arena where his foe stood, he could not help but feel intimidating with his crimson circuitry. Programs were covering every inch of the upper observatory, whispering to each other as the anticipation floated over all of them like a heavy cloud.
The starting bell rang and Sark whipped his disk around from his back. He didn't want to give this program a chance to even try anything fancy. The security program was faster though, and Sark ducked down quickly to avoid the bright blue disk that had been quick to try and lobotomize him. So the security program was playing to kill, that was fine, defeat was equivalent to death in Sark's mind. If his opponents didn't kill him, the MCP would for his failure.
He sent a command to his disk along with an energy surge. It glow bright orange and he feigned a hard throw to his right, but instead the disk flew around his back, catching the security Program on the left. The Program barely had time to duck and catch his own returning disk at the same time, before Sark's disk returned like a boomerang to the Program's back, derezzing him quickly.
The other programs that watched gasped in amazement and fear, the rumors had been confirmed to their own eyes.
Sark caught his disk, and slipped it back on to his back. He turned up to the crowd, and spoke loudly, confidently;
"I fight for the MCP!" he shouted, and the programs listened, "The MCP fights for complete dominion over the system, and is heralding a new age of enlightenment - where all Programs can be free from the fanatical belief that 'Users' control them." He took a breath and licked his bottom lip, speaking a bit quieter. "Any Program who wishes to challenge the MCP…is welcome to be my opponent."
He turned on his heel, walking out of the arena. In the back of his mind he heard the MCP's voice, congratulating him. Or maybe it was just a little glitch, either way, he felt proud of himself. He had to be clever if he wanted to win against the best programs, and controlling his disk without just a throw or a toss was the first trick he had taught himself.
Three programs had travelled from different areas on the Grid just to fight him the following day. None of them were anything special, two interpreting programs and a data cleaner.
The first interpreter was difficult, the Program was more than skilled at combat, probably a home-grid hero or the like. The battle lasted for at least a half-cycle, and both were exhausted and stumbling towards the end of it. The interpreter got close to Sark in the final few moments of the battle, wrestling him to the ground and attempting to decapitate him with the blue disk. Sark had tossed his own disk to the side before impact, and as he watched in silence as the interpreter prepared to derezz him, the program's stressed face became just a glow of energy that dissipated in to the ground.
His disk returned to his hand dutifully, and he stood, the spectators now silent and grave. The next two were easier; fighting seemed to be more rudimentary with every battle. The other interpreter put up less of a fight than the first, and the data cleaner hadn't even been able to throw his disk before Sarks' flew down and split him diagonally, body vaporizing in to crackling electricity.
The battles were over for that cycle, and Sark repeated his mantra to the crowd. He noticed several programs walking away after he was done, and at first he thought nothing of it.
As Sark approached his solar sailor however, and saw the group of programs, he readied himself for an attack. They looked at each other nervously and backed away, preparing to run. Sark halted, setting his disk back in its place between his shoulders.
"…What do you want?" he asked, looking at them suspiciously.
The five programs all mumbled clumsily before one stepped forward, a young program with an unimpressive face and voice, but obviously the bravest out of all of them.
"The MCP - you fight for him, right? Can we?"
Sark opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He was lost in what to say. Surely he should have thought of something to say to prospective followers, the MCP had been expecting this to happen after all. But words were lost to him, and after a moment of awkward silence, he spoke.
"Get on." He said, pointing to his solar sailor. He'd introduce them to the MCP, and then, he could deal with them however he wanted. Play it by ear, or some User phrase he had heard before.