you've never had a friend like me;

[a_perfect_end]

Who: Clu and Alan Bradley
When: After the beatdown, and soon enough after the elevator. (Pay attention to the warnings on those threads.)
Where: On the MID, then outside Alan's room, then inside it whether Alan wants visitors or not.
What: Clu knows two things: Rinzler's gone, and Nihlus has the disc. Time to call an adult Alan-1.
Warnings: Clu is a walking talking warning tag; psychological issues; broad discussion of various levels and types of abuse; are computers even people; lethal withering contempt on all sides. Charming fun for the whole family with two of your favorite Disney characters!



The sick stab of miscalculation jolted his frame, worse than the hot sync that had put most of his chest back where it should be, worse than the endless amber scroll of ERROR screaming down his MID; worse than anything in a long, long time.

Clu was wrong. Twice and twice and he never--it's different here; the test was asinine and yielded no data in the bargain, and then.

He'd. He never should have. He'd done so many things he never should have, but...

Rinzler should be able to rely on him, in this strange place, to look to his Programmer for guidance. He shouldn't need to run from him like this.

Of course he had; anybody would. Sooner or later, everybody did.

Didn't matter.

He finally knew who had the disc. That didn't matter, either, except insofar as all resources converged on protecting Rinzler, now that Clu finally knew who had him by the short stack.

He sure as glitched Bits never would have done this otherwise.

Clu turned his wrist and let out a breath he manifestly did not need before punching redial 009.

This will work. It has to work.

Pick up the phone, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up...

Comments

[a_perfect_end]

That door can stay open, man. He is not a butler, and he is in a hurry, and from the sudden whiplash turn of his head it's clear he had expected the same haste from Alan.

"Wh--" Oh. Of course Alan would try to cut him out of it. Not only is it exactly what Clu would have done if there were the slightest choice, it's what Users do.

He stops moving altogether. He holds very still, realization looping through the queue and spitting out the next inanity: "I see."

All he wants is a name?

No. That can't happen, Clu can't allow that, and he has words ready for this. He has a redirect queued. He'd already worked it out on the way over here, already prepared the perfectly rational argument that if I cannot defeat Nihlus, you certainly can't. You've already died once.

Except, Alan is still talking, drawing a neat, ugly, entirely accurate diagram of the situation. The truth carves through him like hot wire. He doesn't have to move at all--his circuits give him away, almost graceful in their meltdown, guttering gold and black like moths bursting to death on the inside of a lantern.

...This is his fault. It is. And no one needs him for anything. No one has any use for him.

Except Rinzler.

"How well do you really know him?" It's sharp, too high, reverb-harsh like a cat yowling from far down a drain pipe. "He flipped, man, clean blue. Do you even understand what kind of a page fault that is?"

Of course he doesn't. Nothing Clu has gleaned of the great Alan-1's prior exploits via the network suggests it in the slightest. Rinzler is a problem to him, something to crack open and solve.

It's a desire Clu fully appreciates, in ways Alan just as clearly finds repellent--but for Alan the need is a simple one, easily addressed by sheer and total removal. By wiping him and starting over.

Two could play that game.

"And just what do you think Rinzler will do, in the grip of a stranger, out of his mind with pain and fear?" It's easy to leer, to pull his face tense and sharp, hungry with the urge to correct it already. "Further delay is unwise."

in case of stubbornness, play the "what if they try fixing him THEMSELF" card

[alan_1]

Alan is past feeling any degree of alarm at the harsh blink of Clu’s circuits, has seen it too many times from his own programs because of what he’s done to them to feel anything but cold satisfaction at the display. Still, Clu’s next remark is enough to redirect Alan’s attention entirely.

“Because you provoked him,” Alan says, and though his voice is all brusque certainty, his mind is racing. Alan has seen Rinzler’s circuits flicker blue before, but Clu’s frenzied tone tells him that this is something more -- an actual, full shift, the same Tron had described but in the opposite direction. The catalyst fits too: Tron had said it had only ever happened while fighting.

“If you keep pushing him, you’ll only risk it happening again." There's no satisfaction in his statement -- he knows what happened on the Grid and he knows it isn't an idle warning. Perhaps Clu knows as well. He's spoken to Tron; it wouldn't be difficult to figure out that there's been at least one time when the change wasn't temporary.

“You don’t--” Understand is the word Alan bites off at the last second, thinking better of it even through his anger at the admin’s words. Rinzler wouldn’t turn over his code to someone he didn’t trust, but if Clu thinks that Rinzler is the victim rather than the perpetrator, the program’s likely safer for it.

“If whoever has his disk wanted to hurt him, they could’ve done it already.” ’And you already beat them to it,’ Alan manages to not say aloud.

“You’re the only one in the way.”

Alan doesn’t know that. With his reputation on the ship, he can’t say with certainty that anyone would allow him access. But for all that Rinzler’s ally is an unknown quantity, they’re still one he’d rather deal with than Clu.

His tone changes and if it’s not any softer than before, it’s at least more controlled. Practical. “If you just tell me who they are, this could be over today.”

to piss a program right off, press one. available options are:

[a_perfect_end]

"No," just as brusque as Alan, with the snap of certainty, "like you said, I've provoked him before--this is, this is worse." He's still aflicker with distress. "He should not be able to do that. It is a critical error."

"It can't happen again, he can't exist as Tron." Numbly: "There are failsafes in place, or there were. If he shatters completely..."

Clu's head whips around for that unfinished half a sentence--full circle, like an owl or a corpse.

"I don't what?" Soft, deliberate, with heavy steps forward on each word. "I don't understand? Y'know, you really are all the same."

It's a hard, high sneer, but in a different register--one that used to ring off the sides of tacky cubicle walls. "Out of the way, Clu; let it alone, Clu; how many times am I gonna tell you, Clu."

Alan couldn't reach the door now even if he tried.

"I understand plenty. Rinzler is dying in enemy hands and you're just gonna let it happen."

THIS IS SO LATE, FORGIVE ME D:

[alan_1]

Alan’s hands curl into fists at his sides as Clu stalks closer, out of tension, out of fear, but mostly out of anger. Because Clu doesn’t understand. Because Clu believes his own act. Because Clu speaks as if he’s a martyr when the only things he’s ever been willing to sacrifice are other people.

Alan can’t reach the door now, but he’s not thinking of running. He’s tired of Clu’s accusations. He’s tired of Clu believing them. “What do you think this is? Do you think I’m trying to keep you away from him because I want to see him hurt?” His voice is unreservedly furious now. Clu is only here because he had damaged Rinzler. Not just damaged, but jeopardized the program’s very existence. And he still doesn’t get it. It’s not just anger in his voice, but sheer, exhausted exasperation.

“I’m trying to protect him from you.”