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[he's wandered close to a connection in the network, the one that leads to where Jarvis "lives", a spinning Stark logo standing in front of the door leading there]

[Tron leans against the wall, fingers curling against the black shell before his hands dropped with a faint sigh of static. He's been wandering for some time, half absorbed in his own code as he tries to sort through what remains of Clu's work. The vast overrides, stifling filters and edged response, are almost completely gone, cut away too cleanly for the few broken lines that remain to give him any trouble.

Smaller, isolated commands still linger, in bursts and snippets. He's been working on this one for nearly a full milicycle now, progress minimal as he tries to work around the lines, cycle them lower in the stream of priorities, directives. There has been progress. Just not enough, not yet.

The helmet thunks faintly against the wall just next to a doorframe as he pauses, tired. He'll get it off eventually.]

He has triggered an automated response, being so close to the door. The logo stops spinning and Jarvis' voice speaks. "Please remain for identification."
A scanning light flicks up and down From for a nanosecond and Jarvis' avatar appears before the door, slightly more seethrough of a hologram this time. "You again?" He seems mildly surprised.

[The voice takes him by surprise, and he tenses, straightens, head snapping towards the source. Recognition, a moment later, doesn't help the edge of unease.

The scan is quick, Jarvis' image flashing to life before he can decide to leave or stay. Tron's shoulders tense faintly, gaze edged with wariness behind the black mask. He hadn't meant to come this close.]

Yes.[The voice is terse, almost challenging—though it sounds somewhat clearer than before. He hesitates, tone shifting somewhere between apology and excuse as he ducks his head, continuing.] Passing by.

"Not a social call then." Jarvis gives him a nod and resumes standby mode, disappearing back into the door and the logo resumes spinning.

[The helmet cocks with surprise at the abrupt disappearance, and Tron hesitates for a micro, faint confusion and uncertainty flickering through his processing. His gaze lingers on the spinning logo, shifts as his passive scans pick up on the proximity trigger he had set off. He shook his head faintly. He should really find someplace to do this where he wouldn't be bumping into programs while half-distracted. Or systems. His mouth curves slightly up.

He's still for a bit longer, then turns, shrugging slightly as he prepares to keep moving.]

He has waited just long enough for Jarvis to wonder if he needs something and reappears. "If you are going to remain longer, you may as well come in. Otherwise, kindly stop setting off my doorbell." He says this patiently.

[Tron halts mid-turn, gaze fixing on the image as it flickers back online. The offer takes him by surprise, and he freezes in brief indecision. Part of his proccessing rejects the idea immediately—this might be Jarvis' doorstep, but he doesn't doubt he can leave here. After what happened last time... he's less than certain about his ability to get away from further in should the other decide to hold him there.

But he wasn't the same, last time. Wasn't himself Or he was, but... so much was missing. And this program had chosen to give it back.

He hesitates. He really could use a place to rest, if only briefly. Not even recharge, just a matter of micros spent not splitting his attention between his code and his surroundings. The division had already proved problematic as far as alertness went. More than once.

Jarvis' area is either the safest place he could go for this or an unthinkably dangerous choice.]

[The helmet jerks in a mostly-steady nod.] I'll come in.

Jarvis nods, disappearing again as the door slides open. There is a long hallway that glimmered with energy. One step into it and the program is propelled along quickly towards Jarvis' system, transferring Tron's data from one system to another.

[Transit is jarring. But Tron's done this before, if a long time ago, and he braces through the slight discomfort. It's surprisingly smooth, comparatively. He supposes Flynn was working with earlier technology.

He rerezzes solid and intact on the other end, processing anxious from more than the transport as the helmet tilts, looking around.]

It's a busy enough looking place, even when Jarvis is on standby. It resembles Tony's house with Jarvis' tentacles reaching to every part of it. There are different things going on in different rooms, each place not without at least two encrypted security programs standing guard and separated by different firewalls. Trim is inspected visually by each security program he passes but none engage him.

There is an extra portion to the house in the center, Jarvis' core. That can only be seen from a distance, the firewalls don't allow anyone in without passwords.

Jarvis' avatar is in the living room, monitoring that part of the house because that is where Tony is, his User rendered in a wire mesh outline as they converse. Tony was just now having him check messages and Jarvis was sending them to his screen.

[Tron glances around the immediate area first, unmoving for the most part. The sight of the tentacles makes him twitch, but it doesn't take much observation to figure out how they serve in the system's connectivity, aiding in data and energy transfer. Though he doesn't doubt Jarvis could turn them to other purposes should the need arrive.

He steps out, exploring cautiously. He's still wary, but the anxiety is ebbing somewhat as curiosity takes its place. The layout is unusual. The security programs look considerably more skilled than the drones he'd faced earlier—better encrypted, for one. A part of him wants to face them, see how he'd match up. But not here, not now. He does not want to cause trouble in this place.

He notes the restricted area, moves on. He wonders faintly what's there. Primary admin functions, he'd assume, the programs that really kept the place running—but maybe not. This system was different by far than those he'd previously been in.

He stops at the entrance to the living room, gaze catching on the avatar. It takes Tron a minute to figure out what he's doing. When he does, he freezes in the doorway and quietly backs out. Flynn may have thrown out half the normal conventions, but Tron remembers the old system, the feeling of joy and value from his few interactions with Alan-1. He wouldn't have wanted another program peering in.

...There were security programs there in the room.

But Jarvis was the system.

Tron sighed, shook his head, and stared groundward, gaze unfocused.]

Jarvis and Mr. Stark had a different sort of relationship than programs had with their users. He had a sort of dry wit that would come out now and again which Mr. Stark found enjoyable to banter with at times.

"Shall I sort your messages chronologically or by level of urgency?" Jarvis was asking. "Just group them together and delete, Jarvis," Tony said, sliding all of the windows into the trash bin. "Yes, sir. Will there be anything further?" Tony got off the couch and stretched with a yawn, "Yeah, let me know when Pepper gets here in the morning, I want advance warning. No wake up before 9:00 otherwise, daddy's going to bed."
"Pleasant dreams, sir." Tony goes off towards his bedroom and Jarvis takes care of lowering the lights in the house, activating the security protocols for the night, locking the doors, etc.

Only then does he turn and walk towards the foyer where Tron is waiting. "Welcome. I trust you transferred easily enough?"

[Tron's well familiar with unusual program-user dynamics. Just not sure enough, in this place, to identify and respond with that assumption.

There's motion, action—programs moving in adjacent rooms, stirring with new purpose and activity. It doesn't seem directed at him, though, and he waits, turns at the sound of footsteps to meet the avatar's look.]

Yes.

[A nod accompanies the response, only just barely before the word. He's getting better about remembering to speak aloud. He hesitates, not sure what else to say. He still isn't sure why the other had granted him entry.]

This place is... different.

[Perhaps Jarvis was testing his own limits as a computer intelligence, or maybe to study the program further...who knows why Tron was invited?]

[Jarvis looks up at the "ceiling"] It's me, to put not too fine a point on it. Although the bulk of myself is on the servers there... [he points at the restricted area]

There's access over there [a simple fountain of electrical energy] if you need to recharge.

[Tron's head tilts, curious, in the indicated direction. He's interested, unsure exactly how such a system works, and wondering what more there is to learn. He dimly remembers a similar curiosity starting their earlier interaction, before the system's words had caused conflict with Clu's filters and he'd reacted... poorly. Not drawing disks here, this time.

He glances to the recharge station, pauses before the helmet shakes, voice quiet.] Maybe later.

[He's been running on system power for some time, energy drawn directly from the Grid—and while true recharge would be refreshing... there was a reason he'd been so absorbed in his processing as to run across proximity triggers without noticing. Hard to intake energy properly when he still hasn't gotten the glitching helmet off.

He'll get there.]

"Still trying to work out the kinks?" Jarvis nods understandingly. He did the best he could, but really what Tron needed was his original user to fix him.

Jarvis moves to another room where a console is active, scanning the internet and pulling up bits of information. "I confess a curiosity about you. I have done some research...it would seem you were one of the first security type programs created." He pulls up a few articles about Flynn taking over Encom along with Alan, etc.

[The helmet tips with faint surprise, assent, at the other's response. He's grateful for the understanding—more so when it ends at that, not followed by any suggestions (threats) of external 'fixing'. He's had enough of that kind of adjustment to last the rest of his existence. More.

He follows Jarvis to the console, eyes flicking towards the other as he continues to speak. He nods in response—he was the first of his design in the Encom system, and Flynn had said one of the first worldwide. Given how many programs the MCP had pulled in, he didn't doubt it.]

Yes. [He pauses.] Mostly. There were other security programs— [a lot in Sark's domain] —but I was written to monitor the entire system. Run independently of other programs and admin control.

[The articles come up, and his eyes catch on the images. Flynn. Alan. Sark's user, in a few. Flynn's young in these pictures, almost disturbingly like Clu—but the way he holds himself, grins, stares towards or past the image recorders... it's so utterly Flynn. The sight twists faintly in his processing, and he finds himself just missing the user. And Alan-one... his head dips, shoulders hunching inwards before he makes himself look up.]

That was the longest sentence he had heard from the program thus far. A vast improvement over their first meeting. Jarvis seems justified in his decision to help Tron regain his own circuitry. "Seems we are more like each other in that regard. I run independent of other systems and, though some have access to certain functions, the only one with all access is Mr. Stark."

Jarvis pauses, noting Tron's reaction to the articles and waves them away. "And it's not every program who knows the face of another user besides their own."

[It was probably the longest sentence Tron had spoken since he was repurposed. The old system was easier—to talk about, think of.

He stills at the comparison, shifts faintly. He can't agree, not entirely. Even apart from Jarvis... being a system. Maybe the comparison could have been accurate once; two more or less unique creations designed for independent action. But Tron isn't what he was originally written to be. Hasn't been for most of his existence. He hasn't safeguarded the system. He helped destroy it.

And the independence from admin control became a bitter joke.

He focuses on the now. Jarvis mentions his user, Stark (the second time he's named him). They obviously have a strong connection. Tron wonders briefly, what kind of user could write such a creation. Flynn had made the grid, populated it with programs—but in steps and pieces, disconnected. Jarvis was one entity.

The last statement slides in, friendly enough, but clear in question. Invitation. He hesitates to answer. Flynn's secrets aren't his to share, though the user was never secretive in-system.]

I... knew programs written by them. The other users in the pictures. [True enough, if incomplete.]

Ah, I see. [That does clear up that inconsistency for Jarvis nicely. He now has another question for Tron] Have you been able to contact your user? Since we last met...I have been calculating that further adjustments to your code would be better done by him rather than something like me. [dryly] I would not admit this readily, but there are some things that humans are better at.

[He glances down, away as the evasion is accepted, helmet twitching faintly. At the inquiry that follows, the slight motion stops—all motion stops, the program suddenly tense, rigid.

NO. No more fixing, alterations, adjustments—no more standing helpless while his code was adjusted, twisted, rewritten. Tron missed Alan-one—had missed him well before Clu broke him. But not even for him—he couldn't lose himself again, submit to reconstruction, re-creation not knowing if he'd come out the same person, not able to do anything about it.

A quick harsh breath comes staticky behind the mask. When he speaks again, his voice is tight with control.]

I haven't spoken with my creator in nearly one-point-five kilocycles. [Nearly thirty years, in the user world. Close to 1500 in his own.] He doesn't have access to the system I've been in. [More truth, more avoidance. He didn't use to lie like this. Wouldn't have known how.

He doesn't like to think where he learned it.]

You still object to that. [It's an observation on Jarvis' part at the reactions going on in Tron's circuitry] I can hardly blame you there.

[he strides across to another station, one hooked up to the phone lines] I do have access to one Alan Bradley if you have the inclination to look him up.

[a pause] There is another option I could offer you, though it is a bit trickier. [Jarvis is convinced he could set up a situation where Tron would be able to adjust his own code if he's adverse to having someone else do it. The program seems to have good intentions, why not see if he has the presence of mind to determine what belongs and does not belong inside of him]

[A stilted nod, hands curling tight at his side. He watches Jarvis warily behind the mask. Not that any amount of caution would make a difference, here. He's painfully aware of that—this is the other's place, far more than before. Should the other decide he'd be better off changed, fixed... Tron doubted he'd even have the chance to derezz. And Jarvis clearly saw him as still broken.

Aren't I?

That's not the response that comes, though. Instead, his bluff is called. Only it wasn't a bluff, just edged truth that failed even to distract. And he's left holding the pieces, hearing a suggestion, an offer, that jars through his processing to leave desperate chaos in its wake.

Alan-one.

He missed his user. Errors or no, threat or no, the idea of speaking to him triggers a painful need, disconnect and absence for so long.

But he can't. He's not the same program Alan wrote, not anymore—'Tron', as he was meant to be, is little more than memory. His user can't see him—can't learn what he's become. What he's done.

Tron doesn't know.

He lifts his head a little as the last words register.] ...What?

I may be able to provide the means for you to inspect your own coding....and change it as you see fit. [he puts his hands behind his back, looking thoughtful] It is unorthodox and as far as I know, unattempted by a program before, but it is not impossible.

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Curious - are you using 'firewalls' to mean that kind of program, or just barriers?

oh! barriers, like multiple layered force fields

:) Sure. Just being certain, given Tron's technically a firewall himself...

true...guess I was going for more visual stuff, it worked in my head :3

's all good. :) Re: visuals, the image of tentacle-monster Jarvis hit my brain a few posts back. XD

I figured since he's in charge of the whole house, it would make sense...

Perfectly sensible. :D Just hilarious when misimagined.

:)

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