Tron Legacy - It's Your Call - Initiate Sequence (11 page)
Read Tron Legacy - It's Your Call - Initiate Sequence Online
Authors: Carla Jablonski
Tags: #Fiction - Young Adult
T
ime to get serious. You shove Zuse off the bar. He goes sprawling into the crowd. They cheer even louder and hoist him up over their heads. Then they ferry him across the front of the bar.
You scan the room and spot Bartik glowering with his gang at Zuse's booth. You cup your hands around your mouth to be heard over the music. “Zuse!” you cry. “I found Zuse!”
That catches Bartik's attention. He shoves his way toward you. You point at the club owner, who is still being passed around by the crowd. “Castor is Zuse!”
Okay, now you've got everyone's attention. Zuse thuds to the ground, and space clears around him. Bartik lifts him up by his shoulders.
“You're Zuse?” Bartik bellows. “Youâ¦cartoon?”
“Desperate times, desperate fashion choices,” Zuse quips. Then his eyes narrow and he lowers his voice. “I've had to protect my interests. Lay low. I'm sure you understandâ¦.”
Bartik releases Zuse. He turns to the crowd. “The time of revolution is upon us! And if this former leader will no longer leadâthen we take on Clu ourselves!” He whirls and glares at Zuse again. “But first we punish this turncoat for making fools of us all!”
Just then, the Black Guard charge down the stairs and start hurling discs. “About time,” Zuse rolls his eyes. “So hard to find good backup anymore.”
A
small door opens, flooding the chamber with bright white light. It's the only exit. You step though it and find yourself and another person on a floating platform in an arena filled with hundreds of thousands of spectators. Seven other large courts float in the middle of the massive stadium, allowing spectators to watch multiple matches at once.
A deafening roar builds as the platform you're on whirls and locks into place. If only you could figure out exactly what you'll be playingâ¦
Silence settles over the arena. You've never seen anything on this kind of scale before. All attention seems to be riveted on a ship hovering above the stadium. You peer up and see an imposing masked man dressed in militaristic armor displayed on a large screen. He brings his arm down sharply, and the crowd erupts. The games have begun.
Your combatant faces you and pulls his disc from the sheath in the back of his suit. A visor extends from his helmet, shielding his face. He brandishes the disc and you notice its laser-sharp edges. You realize you've seen him before!
“I have a three-inch version of you on my shelf,” you joke.
The combatant hurls his disc at your head. You duck, but it clips your hair, singeing it! The disc returns to his hand like a boomerang.
“But he never did that!” you blurt out.
Y
ou stare out at the Sea of Simulation. It's not really water, you remind yourself as intense colors tumble like waves. You bend down and waggle your hand in the flickering energy ebbing and flowing around your feet. You feel a slight tremor, not as bad as getting a shockâmore like mild static electricity. You can handle this.
You wade into the energy. It tingles but it's not unpleasant. It sort of tickles, in fact.
The Recognizer is moving very slowly along the coast, so you have no trouble keeping up with it. You follow the ship for quite some time, wondering why it hasn't noticed you. But something weird is happeningâmore and more twirling energy bursts are appearing around you. Some are beginning to attach themselves to you. Your thoughts grow more and more confused. It's harder to think now. You can barely see the Recognizer. That's when you realize you are under the sea.
You peer through the murky churning energy field in front of you. Images appear and recedeâghostly shapes and figures. You reach toward one and realize your arm is changing right in front of you. Your edges are growing blurry; your fingers elongate, then snap back into place. Your whole body seems to be having some kind of molecular breakdown!
The energy of the Sea of Simulation is transforming your body into something elseâsomething strange and unfamiliar. Soon you've lost all sense of who you are or why you're there. You simply allow the energy to take you. Swallow you up. Mutate you into something no longer humanâand since you're no longer human, you don't actually mind.
THE END
N
ow the kid looks intrigued. “Not even you?” You smirk. “I own the place. I can be here as much as I want.”
He looks around skeptically at the grimy surfaces, the cobwebs, and the boarded-up windows. “I guess you don't want to be here too much.”
“That's the truth,” you tell him. “Come on, let's get out of here. Nothing but ghosts and dust bunnies.” You lead him out the door. Just as you thoughtâthis whole night has just been a silly wild-goose chase.
“Hey, if a ghost got into a fight with a dust bunny, who do you think would win?” the kid asks. “And if it was the ghost of a dust bunny do you think it would hop? Andâ”
This kid is beginning to give you a headache. You'll be glad to be rid of him. Just the way you'll be glad to be rid of this arcade. You take one glance back over your shoulder and vow never to step foot in it again.
THE END
Y
ou're not sticking around to find out who is in the arcade with you. This place is creepy enough! You tear out of the arcade and into the deserted streets, your heart thumping.
You slow down as you approach your motorcycle, starting to feel foolish. Running out of there like a scared little kid, as if you were being chased by a monster or something.
There is probably nothing to be scared of. Nothing.
You whirl around and return to the arcade, determined to figure out who the intruder is. You poke your head in cautiously. No one in sight.
You creep into the building and drop down, scanning under the game machines. Still nothing. You stand back up, confused. You're pretty sure no one followed you out to the street. So where did the intruder go?
You stay close to the wall as you make your way along the perimeter of the arcade. You don't want anyone to catch you by surprise.
Still nothing. No sign of life. Then you hear a loud whoop! from downstairs, followed by something that sounds like an explosion! And it came from your dad's private lab!
“I
am not a program!” you declare. A new voice comes over the speaker. “Identify yourself,” it rumbles.
You're startled. There's something familiar about the voice. How can that be possible? You don't know anyone in this crazy world. Still, you answer truthfully: “My name is Sam Flynn!”
Your declaration echoes around the hushed stadium. For a moment there's total silence. Then a murmur starts in the crowd. They seem to recognize the name.
Good. Your dad invented this whole worldâmaybe now they'll show you some respect!
Your opponent approaches you, flanked by two Sentries. They escort you off the platform and up onto the ship without saying a word. “Not very chatty, are you?” you say. No response. At least you're not fighting for your life anymore. You hope.
They bring you into what that looks like a regal throne room. A figure wearing a cloak stands with his back to you, gazing down onto the courts. A thin man with gaunt features stands beside him, studying you. The Sentries leave, and the man in the cloak turns to face you. He's wearing a helmet.
“Who are you?” you ask as he slowly circles you.
The man stops and removes his helmet.
You gasp. “Dad!”
