Program Conflict

Program Conflict
Date of Scene:	24 January 2013
Location:	Datapoint Security - Holding Basement
Synopsis:	Datapoint Security. Where a mind is a terrible thing to crash.
Cast of Characters:	MCP, CHIEF, TRON

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MCP has posed:
Datapoint Security.

Created from an old winery and refurbished to it's new purpose, the gleaming wood and stone sits in the midst of landscaped ground run ragged and wild by weeds and the passage of time.

The Black Guard flanking the entrance relax when they see the Master Control coming. They do not immediately jerk at other visitors, which means they have already been briefed. Still, they shift uneasily as the MCP approaches the building. He stops in front of the left one, head tilted slightly to one side.

He leans him, saying quietly in a firm voice. "We already spoke about this." He continues inside without another word. The inside of the refurbished facility is still raw, the harsh lines distinct as equipment has been quietly shipped in and sheathed the inside interior. There are very few Black Guard and so the facility seems hollow and abandoned.

The MCP walks down the stairs into the cellars unhurriedly. On a table is a locked down spindle. Consuming one corner is the holding cell, brick and lightwall both.

TRON has posed:
TRON would be lying if he denied being very nervous. He is quite literally walking into the lion's den.

Though his side still carries an indentation of healing voxels, the rest of his form is undamaged and whole. Truth be told, he had sped up his own healing by practicing debugging protocols on his own data. It has helped 'shake off the rust', as the MCP had put it in their earlier conversation.

There isn't much opportunity to practice hard-coded protocols in the middle of the Games, after all, especially considering how busy SARK kept him.

He hesitates in front of the doorway, eyes shifting from one Black Guard to the next in uncertainty as 'what ifs' momentarily flood his processors. He sections off that line of thought, keeping the possibilities open, and progresses past them without a second look. He barely notices the surroundings, his eyes drawn first to the cell, then he slowly turns his head to regard the locked-down chakram-like Disc on the table.

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF has been, for the most part, behaving himself. Sitting there in the corner, studying his own hands with some odd fascination, before flexing his fingers and then resting his head back against the wall. His closing shut as he just does a few whistling tones, as if trying to remember a song perhaps.

However at the sound of foot-steps and perhaps that wonderful 'cane'. Those gold eyes snap open with a surge through them as he stares toward the steps. A grin comes over his face as he rises up to his feet at last.

Those gold eyes looking far more dangerous then they did a few more days and that grin wasn't seeming to just vanish. "And here I thought you forgotten about little ol' me~" CHIEF says with a cackle. "Leave me down here to play catch the little bugs and pace about. So, what brings the big administrator down here /this/ time?"

CHIEF probably should be respectful, part of him wants to be respectful, but things are getting a bit tough. Tick tock goes the clock.

Then he spots another figure who comes down and his eyes almost go wide before he cackles. "And you brought along a friend~" He then grins, but it almost becomes a far darker version. "How nice." He says dryly as he stares directly at TRON for awhile.

Then his fingers flick the barrier between them before he inhales deeply, "So what do I owe the honors of being present before two /very/ fine Programs?"

MCP has posed:
"If you have anything you wish to say." The Master Control Program directs this line to TRON, although perhaps he is also directing it elsewhere as he moves to the table. He regards the spindle for a long time, scanlines coming and going before he places the cane on the table.

He pushes several places with an expert hand, stripping the lock mechanism and placing it next to the cane. The lock twists in his hand, folding back up into it's compacted state.

The Master Control Program touches several places on the surface of the cane, etched symbols flaring red-orange at the touch before dying away. An ominous background sound thrums through the echoing cellar.

The barrier very slowly begins to shade, one hue at a time, towards shimmering gold.

TRON has posed:
TRON's mouth presses into a line, not quite a grim smile but not a concerned frown either. CHIEF is getting worse, perhaps already on the verge of a cascade failure if not already beginning it. Clearly there is nothing left to lose, because CHIEF will be lost very soon if nothing is done--at least, that's how TRON sees it.

"CHIEF. We will be initializing debugging protocols and data retrieval on your core." His words are stated as calm logical fact, doing his best to ignore the ominous background sound and subsequent shade changes in the barrier. He knows what that means. "We will fix what we can."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF steps back as the barrier changes colors. His grin actually /vanishes/ as it along with those light changes. Then those gold eyes slowly go from TRON to MCP, and they stare directly at the MCP now. They stare at him for a long time, with no grin. No smile. Just this long stare, before the grin slowly arrives on his face.

"So I guess the fun begins!" CHIEF says raising his hands up to the air. "And I guess if this goes poorly, I will know who to shoot first, then second, if not you both at the same time. If.. I can even shoot at all." Then he gives a mad cackle. Yes, CHIEF put it together, though not hard to miss it when his disc was locked down.

"By the way, how do you guys do anything with those solid plates? They look like a user utensil more then a data holder. Oup, probably should say that, but to late!" CHIEF kinda lands his palm to his forehead, before he places his hand over the side of his face, just laughing a little to himself; or his fate.

TRON addresses him and confirms what he figures. The Military program stares directly at the security program, before he only gives a soft, mirthful chuckle. His hand sliding down his face, before crossing his arms over his chest. "What ever is left of my core, you mean." CHIEF then gets a large smile on his face, even though his voice betrays his thoughts very well by what he says next; That grim sound to his voice that doesn't match the smile at all, "Because I am sure they didn't leave much of it."

MCP has posed:
"Central Handler Intelligence for Extreme Firepower." The MCP turns away from the table to look at CHIEF, considering him in silence for several long seconds while options flick, flick, flick--

System warning: Proximity alert. ID confirmed. IFF valid. The MCP turns his head very slightly towards the staircase but there is nothing that can be seen from this angle. He tilts his head very slightly to one side then snaps back to CHIEF in a single jarring movement. "..don't be so sure."

The barrier snaps from pale orange to gold in a microsecond, a flash of energy flooding the cell as the MCP turns back to the disc. He ignores entirely that TRON even exists at this juncture, bringing up the partial light map and wordlessly attending to his preparations.

TRON has posed:
TRON does not speak any further to CHIEF. There is nothing left to say.

For once, he actually agrees with Master Control--and rarer still, he isn't annoyed by it.

The Security Program makes a sharp 90-degree turn, eyes flaring and glowing brightly with his characteristic bluish-white light as he faces CHIEF's Disc. Like the MCP, his movements cease being emulative of the Users and far more precise, with no wasted time or movement. Easily shutting down distractionary mental processes and storing away old grudges, TRON's expression is utterly devoid of emotion and completely focused.

He unlocks his own Disc from his back and turns it upside down in the palm of his hand, exposing the chakram-like inner Disc. Holographic light appears above it and data scrolls at blinding-fast speed, various protocols and subroutines keying up for the task at hand.

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF stares over at the MCP again, he furrows his brows as his whole 'name' is used. Though he does try to follow that slight turn of the MCP's head to try and see who got his attention, however whoever it may was not registering in his own sight. No matter how much he tried to 'scan' those stairs, even as he narrowed his eyes and his right eye did a minor twitch, there was nothing he could pick up.

How frustrating, but perhaps there was indeed nothing and the MCP just making sure no one would come down to interrupt this process. It was, after all, a very dangerous and very delicate process.

CHIEF actually inhaled a ragged breath of air in that realization swarmed over him. He was putting his entire existence it would seem now in the hands of /two/ other programs. One he attempted to kill and the other he probably gained no favors, yet both in their own ways did not show any great sign of 'anger' toward him, instead they seemed...

Sympathetic.

It was in this short moment did CHIEF's mind wonder off, away from the targets and lock ons, the twitching need to destroy everything he saw before, and realized that this little moment could be his /very/ last, or last in some point. They could kill him, they could erase his memory, they could.. do so many things that could go so horribly wrong.

"Programs attempts to fix programs on a high level code.." CHIEF murmured to himself, with a soft chuckle. "...and soon we will tell our creators, we no longer need of you. We have risen above you.."

The light surrounds him, blinding enough it kills his ability to even see anyone, thus ends his ability to process anyone in this room or anything anymore as a 'target'. He knew what this glow meant, and all he could do was close his eyes, before reopening them to stare down at his hands. Then his eyes dart out to where he knew the two were, before he barks, controlling; controlling every bit of his fiber to say this. Shelving away for that split moment all of his insanity, all of the corrupted data trying to overwhelm, "Central Handler Intelligence for Extreme Firepower confirming request ping. Acknowledging..."

There was a moment of silence after that. His brows furrow, before he just stuffs away every bit of his own thoughts, his feelings, closing his eyes for one more moment, before he states with an almost flat tone in his voice as his gold eyes snap open. "...Access granted."

MCP has posed:
The MCP holds onto to his discretionary secondary processes for a moment longer, the red-gold flaring in his eyes with narrow eyed amusement before he disables the rest of icon filtering protocols and peers speculatively at the light grid, the holographic info spooling past.

He queues an archive file to catch what CHIEF is saying and store it for later perusal by Core control, which was busy with the appropriately queued processes. In his own holographic display he swipes entire sections of processes over to Tron. Swipe. Swipe. --The accumulated partial scan and the equivalent data files.

System. Results of Deep Scan. Recall flagged areas. Crosscheck.} Swipe. Swipe.

A section of data shows up on TRON's screens with a proposed solution to this fracture and projected system effects. Comply?

TRON has posed:
While the MCP transfers data to TRON, the holographic display above the Security Program's Disc changes to a building, three-dimensional image of CHIEF's core. Data upon scans upon notes add together, windows flashing in-and-out of view, coalescing into a mirror image to what is displayed before the MCP.

TRON initializes a 1:1 syncronization from his end once all data is tranferred, allowing both Programs to make--or undo--alterations depending on the situation. Furthermore, TRON adds his own notes to the image, mostly confirming MCP's own data with a few extra notes here or there.

Only when the connection is perfectly in sync is the suggestion for their first step processed. Windows flicker, the pros and cons weighted in nanoclicks. A plan forms, a decision made.

Compliance confirmed. Initializing.

CHIEF has posed:

The process has begun and things get cranking away. MCP shuffles the code to TRON and TRON attempts to handle a part of the code. However his first attempt is not very successful, the line refuses to accept the input. The second attempt then is even worse it would seem.

CHIEF cringes a bit, but he shakes it off for now. Just forcing his eyes closed and trying to ignore whatever surge got hit in his code. He can take more, he has been through worse.

The data impacted wasn't something of great importance, a line of code leading somewhere, yet where was unknown, but time would tell what the damage would do, if anything at all...

MCP has posed:
The MCP is very patient. There was a high statistical probability of system errors during this input chain. The impacted data is flagged and then the conditions properly changed, the administrator hands TRON this time an array of possible choices rather than simply one. He reaches out, reorienting the light grid to a different configuration and tapping out the array sequence with calm precision.

Three choices. Three nexus fractures. TRON has to choose which one to tackle first.

TRON has posed:
TRON had paused for a moment when errors begin to appear and the system resists. He then backed off and attempted a secondary approach, but was shut out entirely with a line of code fracturing from the strain.

He feels a spike of frustration instantly before emotion is immediately and forcibly locked into silent background processes. CHIEF's code is far more advanced than anything he has ever seen before, which means established methods usually employed will not have equivical effect here and now.

He must adapt accordingly.

More data appears, multiple choice this time. TRON's gaze flicks from one to the next, evaluating, comparing, tracing cause and effect. It is not the matter of prioritizing severity of damage, but of cascading projected results regardless of 'pass' or 'fail'. What effect not only they have on the system as a whole, but on each other as well.

He finds it, the one least tied to the others and the core alike, and it is this one he initiates remedial protocols upon first.

CHIEF has posed:

The code is a code away from the core, off on its own line and sitting out there not connected to anything it would seem. At least not to anything important. As TRON works on it, it almost tries to shatter, but by some miracle it manages to reconnect to something else, making a splintered tie. Though some data is lost in this process, yet a connection is made.

CHIEF meanwhile almost has to grit his teeth tight in order to ignore that little surge of pain. His hands tighten into a fist for a moment, before they relax. There was a spark of blue over his body in that little instant of reconnection, again.. impossible to say what this could all lead too.

MCP has posed:
The MCP examines the processes and reorients the light grid without taking his eyes off it. Regardless, a small box appears on TRON's screen flagging itself to call attention to their main system. It is completely stripped of anything except raw, brutal lines. No inflection. Not even any attention as the box winks out as quickly as it appears. "I expected better of you program. Do you require time to gather yourself?" The timestamp was in an equivalent User time of several minutes. The MCP narrows his eyes at the connections, slicing through the options with the precision of a scalpel.

He loses the track multiple times, lost in a sea of too much information, too much complexity for the current models and-- something else.

Squash.

It was quite fascinating for a broken thing.. and it could all be his. The want trickled around the edges of his perception when he wasn't paying attention, corrupting his perception of the data. Gnawing at him.

Again, laboriously, he pushed it aside. Down. Into the box. He denied it. .. for now.

The MCP ticked one finger against the table then another and another. A single staccato drum of frustration that he allowed himself before he attacked the light grid himself this time.

No. He-- The MCP's hand jerks to a stop just before completion, and traces along one edge to another choice.

It is a thick tangle, a gordion knot of complex loop structures and where the partial scan had frozen frame that single response pattern that had spiked the core.

The administrator holds back for an instant, and then engages the next protocol.. and much more carefully than perhaps even he noticed or attended to. Calm. Control. Focus.

Nullify this sector here. Bring up the code again. Slice. Slice. Delete. Suppress. Reconcile. Recompile. Reset

TRON has posed:
TRON's reply is immediate, returned the same way it is recieved. "Negative. Unfamiliarity of infinitely advanced code structure compared to all known comparitives is exponentially compounding difficulty."

The sudden movement and equally sudden freezing of Master Control's hand at the image draws TRON's attention away from his own display. He then watches, his own display mirroring the MCP's actions as the red Program takes matters into his own hands this time.

Glowing eyes narrow briefly as the event is logged. That said, he stands by, hand raised to his display of the code in readiness. Just in case.

CHIEF has posed:

The data string is almost dropped by the MCP, if that be the best way to put it in human terms. CHIEF can feel the effects of it starting to dissolve for that moment, just for that moment. It was painful, extremely painful in fact.

The sheer code starting to be crunched, caused CHIEF to open his eyes flaring brightly in pain with bright gold hue as his hands clenched up and is arms stiffened. He refuse to scream, but it was on the tip of his tongue. Then something happened...

The pain subsided, he caught his breath, his body relaxed. Then for a moment, just for that fracture of a moment, his eyes narrowed just a bit, before he stared out where he knew those two were. It was like some realization came over his face. Slowly becoming on where he was taken back a bit. Whatever got suddenly save and reconnected clicked something in CHIEF's head; yet whatever that was, had yet to be seen. Beyond the words that echo out, no computer reference here, but even in his moment of slow decline into sanity those words sounded hopeful, "Keep going! DO IT!"

MCP has posed:
The MCP drums his fingers one after another again on the tabletop, then looks away to idly input a command sequence into the panel across his wrist, and again into the cane whose functions are completely isolate from those being used at the time.

He then returns his attention to the dazzling vortex of lights and connections, turning it this way for a moment, then forwards and around, examining certain nodes with calm alacrity. "There are no infinitely complex systems." Examine. He weeds out three more fractures and slides the array in front of the security program. Catch and preserve and archive. Always Archive. Suppress secondary reaction. Wipe background processes. MCP's hand shakes, just for a flicker of a moment, as he examines the code. "Only errors in reference frame. And you do not gain, if you do not stand to lose TRON."

Perhaps this operation is not the only one MCP is dedicating his cycles to.

TRON has posed:
TRON reacts instantly and drives his hand into the holo-display, grabbing the code from the MCP before it could disintegrate outright, and pushes it into an open gap in the core. The reaction in CHIEF is instantaneous and positive, drawing a sigh from the white Program in an expungement of tension.

That was far too close.

"And you will lose everything if you are too hasty, Master Control." His lips pull back briefly, scanning the code, searching for everything and anything. Logging. Updating. Tagging. "Unless you wish to prove both of us no better than the Users who caused such damage in the first place."

More fractures are tossed in front of him, more analysis. One catches his attention from the start, caused by a malfunctioning debug subroutine that is incrementally widening at least two of the cracks, maybe more. TRON doesn't let himself hesitate, moving his hand into the display to deal with the direct cause.

CHIEF has posed:

The code proves to be more frustrating to remove then it should be. Though this should not be expected since this code TRON and MCP are attempting to remove is perhaps something far newer and was placed in during the ground drone era of CHIEF's life.

A problem yes, but a problem that proves to be, for the moment, impossible to remove.

As the two attempt, CHIEF grits his teeth tightly and closes his eyes tightly. He almost glances to one side, trying to ignore the pain within. It was like someone bounding a sledge hammer against your skull. It was almost enough that he actually went down on his knee as the pain continued to build up.

However slowly the military program forced himself back. His hand was shaking but with a deep inhale, he suppressed back the pain. He wasn't sure what they were knocking on, but it was not pleasant.

Aspirin anyone?

MCP has posed:
Too hasty. The MCP stares at the data as if he would etch the light patterns permanently into long-term storage. Archive. Rearchive. Trace. tch. Scratch. Burnsearscratchtracetch.. The cane makes a low tone at first as the administrator stares at the data, his hands on the table and completely unmoving.

He is staring past the red box that reads in dark letters. 'Runaway Primary Process'

And you will lose everything if you are too hasty...

The fingers scratch into the surface of the table past Userspace limiters, bruising fingers and then scoring table. TRON abruptly finds himself being surrounded by processes ejecting him from the local shared system. Attempting to lock him out.

It would not be so very hard now. It would not be hard at all.. access primary process tools. Extract. Examine. Consume. The tone changes, scaling up towards shrill as the administrator reaches out a hand, red painting itself over the nodes as he touches them but also fading immediately afterwards back to normal. That seemed to puzzle him, and he frowned slightly. System. You are not doing what I asked. Give me what I want, please.

The box was his only response. It pulsed within his frame of reference and he continues to ignore it.

Such a little thing puts up so much resistance. Why is it that they always resist.

A harsh wave of static snaps across the projection, occluding it from sight without any real harm to the system it was attached to. MCP jerked as if he'd been struck, eyes burning a pulsing orange/red as he, in this state, at this moment-- only saw the most available energy source. TRON. He narrows his eyes slightly before the cane let out another blistering snap of static that could not be further denied. The box closes. Primary process canceled. Resuming set protocols. MCP reaches out a hand very slowly and wraps it around the top of the cane. THe sound abruptly ceases. He calmly replaces the lock on the data in front of them and the silence is deafening, shattered even more quickly by the sounds of approaching boots.

"We are done here. For now. " the administrator says with slightly bitter alacrity. "You have expended your usefulness for now and I cannot spare you any more time." he says this with the clipped manner that adds in 'End of Line' as the silent punctuation.

TRON has posed:
TRON hears the sound of a small alarm and not-flesh scoring wood, his gaze diverting towards the MCP. Then he feels external processes popping up, corralling him, Disc holo-display flickering as windows begin to obscure the image with error messages. Improper access.

He fights the attempted boot, ignoring prompts, looping administrator commands, brushing aside windows. It is a hacking war, one aiming to consume the target with the other trying to protect it instead.

And, true to this entire process thus far, CHIEF's code rejects them both.

TRON cants his head, not quite comprehending, never faced with such a thing before. A burst of static washes over his form, originating from the MCP, and he meets the red Program's pulsing gaze as MCP stares at him. He knows that look. His body tenses defensively, Disc display disappearing as access to the data is lost.

Another static burst, then Master Control seems to slowly regain control. TRON has seen too much to believe it. Then boots pound on the floor above them, the stairs out--the only way out. Master Control's words echo in his ears, processes gearing into overtime as threat levels rise exponetially.

"Search... assimilate... control... destroy... repeat..." He echoes ironically, glancing over at CHIEF, the stairs, the barrier, the Disc, the MCP. "So CHIEF is not the only one who cannot stop."

He does not wait for a reply. He vaults over the table, grabbing CHIEF's locked Disc as he passes, and bolts up the stairs. Shouts and cries echo immediately on the upper level, but no sounds of derezzing follows.

Only the sound of a light-bike screaming and disappearing from audible range.

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF could feel that something has probably gone horribly wrong. It was like that trade mark you get even as a program doing his line of work. That 'sense' that told you there was a 'lock' on you. His gold eyes searched past the blinding light. It didn't help that he had a sense, a feeling, that someone was attempting to access him in away that was completely, utterly rejected.

It was a like a surge through his body, a program denying an old OS the ability to operate it the way it wanted too. The older OS, which was far more powerful knocking on his doors, doors that were simply stating: 'we want to integrate you into us.' and it seemed his own internal response was a simple one, 'Compatibility noncompliance. Please try again.'

To CHIEF this little to-and-fro between his 'code' and the MCP, was making him nearly feel ill. To the point of almost collapsing to the ground fully. Beyond falling onto his hands and knees. There was almost a cough, his lines flickering for a moment over his body sporadically at first, before pulsing a bit. He is however completely unaware of what was happening outside.

Totally unaware that the light around him has faded, that the MCP was 'zapped' back by his own cane. This sudden change also force his systems to try and go straight into lock-on mode. Try to rapidly find the 'high' threat and lock onto them, but his vision was blurred and his focus nearly null.

From the pain of earlier, to that sudden ill effect, that though fading now, had somewhat weaken him and in some ways, forced a rapid reset to some of his more higher functions. Those gold eyes with a low glow, as he tries to pick himself back up, only giving another cough.

As he at last looks up, CHIEF can almost make out TRON's form running away. It the sound of the light cycle that causes CHIEF to stare upward, but he soon just falls over onto his backside giving another cough. Unaware that with TRON also went his disc; a very valuable thing that even he knew you should never be without.

But two different OSes. Two different rule sets as things got 'larger'. Curse of size really. Where things could be easily compacted with no 'errors' to come if it was to go somehow 'missing' because a much larger problem with size of data.

He closes his eyes shut tight for a moment, coughing again as pain racks over him for a moment. His body still trying to recover, before he rolls over to his side, glancing past the barrier. At least it was good to know his targeting wasn't throwing to many high priority targets like it once did, even though it seemed to glitch at times. "What.." CHIEF whispers out, "..what is going on? It wasn't successful?"

MCP has posed:
The MCP opens his mouth. The impulse to bellow and scream is an alien one. Something to be relegated to the territory of lesser programs. He very slowly closes his mouth with a defined 'click' and stares at where the disc had been. He stares for a very long time in program terms, slowly bringing himself up to full activation of normal filtering systems.

He takes a deep breath as his system shakes off the red haze of rage and frustration as inconsequential and he turns back to CHIEF. Considering..options.. considering.. new strategies.

Taking a moment of solace in the elegance of the universe. No infinitely complex systems. Only errors in reference sets. "TRON." he tells CHIEF in a slow and infinitely chagrined voice. "TRON has just fought his way through my guards and escaped with your disc." He pauses, blinking several times as he admits with slightly grit teeth. "I.. lost control of the situation. I am sorry."

With TRON departed, he can mean these words and not feel the instant flare of rage. It is simply facts. He was good at manipulating facts. It was a comfort to be dealing with things he knew how to deal with. "Repair effors were left.. unfinished. Still. Some encouraging progress was made despite interruption."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF ahs softly and just lays his head back down. "This shouldn't surprise me, hehe." he says with a soft, sad chuckle. "..but I am glad things didn't go worse.. and its fine.. at least I.." There was a few nano-seconds that pass, in his moment of pause before his eyes snap open and he nearly jumps right up to his hands and knees, "Wait-WHAT?!"

CHIEF quickly stands up and places his hands on the barriers. His gold eyes actually looking 'scared' for once. All that target information going frantic in his head. "No. No. NO!" He then slams his hands on the barrier, "YOU have to CATCH him! The Disc! It is one thing for it be there, hooked up to this system but out THERE!!?" He suddenly starts looking around.

Had to be an escape, had to be away out. Searching, searching, and nothing.

His hands go through his hair before he starts to cackle and then spins around with a hard kick against the very wall of the foundation. Which doesn't do anything expect nearly knock him back and he leans against the barrier for a moment, before he spins to look at the MCP. "I need that disc! Don't you understand that!?" His fingers try to grip into the barrier, but is remembered what it is as soon has he does, which causes him to back up. "No.. no you wouldn't.." CHIEF says softly as he remembers some bits thanks to the one major fix. "..we were different back then.. you wouldn't know the curse of it.. you would never even experienced or ever even seen it.. Frag my life." He then just slowly rests his back against the wall and slumps down. "..Frag it all.." he says softly as he starts to laugh once more.

MCP has posed:
"Slow your speech cycles, program." The MCP watches this tantrum with a modicum of confusion and checksums it against available data.

No. It did not seem likely for this to be related to recent events or known fractures. So instead he leans against the table a little harder than neccessary, energy minorly taxed within compensatory levels by the execution of that particular kill sequence that he found so increasingly disfavorable.

"There are programs already in pursuit. Please extrapolate."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF sighs, staying where he sits and keeping his fingers through his hair. He still laughs softly, before he lowers his hands down as they flop along side him. "I have.." His eyes blink a few times, gold eyes flicker as data passes over them. "..twenty four to forty eight hours before it starts.... in.. user space time." He tilts his head. "..I think, unless my calculations are off."

He then blinks, those gold eyes slowly looking over at the MCP. "As for your query, Administrator.." CHIEF sighs, trying to calm down his nerves, knowing that it may only speed up the now counting down process; which wasn't going to be easy. His own loop was not going to help this process /at/ all. "About sometime several cycles.. I am not even sure how long ago it was, but when we were upgraded to a higher standard system, our discs were changed into something like what you held. It was a slow progression to such discs, but eventually that is what they became.. in those times, we learned quickly that our discs did not have the same return feature they once did."

CHIEF tilts his head in thought, his brows furor as he tries to think back the best he can. "..at.. least I don't think they did.. its.. very foggy to remember." Then he shakes his head. "It doesn't matter, the point is, when are discs become lost, taken.. stolen.. and we are without them for an extended amount of time, we..."

The Military program pauses, looking down at his hands with a heavy sigh. "..we.. loose ourselves.. at first its a lapse.. in and out.. then it gets worse.. and worse.. eventually.. the damage becomes so serve that you don't remember anything and eventually.. if the disc isn't found.. you.. are gone. Not derezzed or deleted, but you as a program become nobody. No memory, no name, just.. living... and your disc? By that point it wont even accept you. Its a blank slate as well."

He then rests his head back against the wall, closing his eyes tightly. "Worse fate then death.. worse fate then THIS." He opens his eyes flaring, clenching his fist tightly, before he forces himself to calm down. "The future of code is beautiful.. but with its beauty.. came its curse. With its power.. came its price." CHIEF then chuckles a bit. "..amazing how such a small thing we take for granted, can make you become nothing but a glitch in the software."

MCP has posed:
"All power comes with it's price." The administrator says this quietly, perhaps only to himself as he rearranges the facts according to the new data. Perhaps it was not meant to be said aloud. The MCP leans away from the table.

"There are many place in which TRON could hide, but since he stole your disc out of what I can only assume was misplaced charity, perhaps not as many as he would like." Another pattern on the surface of the wrist panel, an adjustment of parameters.

"It will be returned to you, although you will have to remain here for the duration." he pauses, then moves to where the long abandoned chairs draped with a white tarp have been sitting unattended. The administrator hauls the chair over to the table, laying the back against it as he sits, lacing his fingers. "While we are waiting, tell me about the future of code. Humor me, for it seems at last.. we have the time for a civil conversation."

+radio Tron= Ah. I see you are still fond of the dramatic exit. What do you believe you are going to do with your prize?

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF just sits there looking at the MCP, before he closes his eyes. "I can remember all the users who worked on me, but some information is still inaccessible at this current state." He explains and yes, yes this conversation would do him good. It would keep his mind off his disc missing and he could just try to focus on keeping the MCP a 'low target', if maybe, just maybe, a 'no threat' target which was hard to access as a function; but now available.

"What I can remember.." CHIEF stares off into the distance. "Where your 8-bit GRID is over such bright, basic colors, and programs are over silver outline with pale colors. The future of code has come to look much like user-space. Our color are just as vivid, or can be if we so choose. Structures reach the skies like massive user cityscape, vehicles of different types roam on the cyberways." His eyes look sad for a moment from memory, distant even more. "Clubs play music we have created, lights flicker about in time with the music. Liquid energy of different types are served freely. There are problems, yes, but security detail handles those problems."

CHIEF then lowers his head. "Its beautiful... perhaps even more beautiful then user-space really." He then sighs gently. "And I've watched it grow, change, become what it has become. Tell me Administrator.. when were you created?"

MCP has posed:
The MCP draws in all of this information although he is not quite able to parse such a shift in the way he thinks about the grid and it's inhabitants.

The OS shift and obviously more complex technological structure is the root cause of this confusion. Still, he experimentally pulls at the data like taffy, not exactly sure what to do with it and never enjoying the feeling of data that cannot be easily calculated or quantified.

"Indeed it sounds so." he thinks about it, and then gives the equivalent date. "--And I have just convinced our stalwart hero of the error of his ways. He should be returning shortly. Whether he will be leaving again--" he pauses and then shrugs. "I have not quite decided."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF raises a brow and sighs. He actually takes his hand and gently taps the side of his head, as if telling himself silently to stop doing something, before giving his head a bit of a shake. His eyes flicker with data for a moment before it focuses back to normal. "Mm. Soo.. Around the same creation date as myself. Perhaps older by a few or younger." CHIEF then waves his hand a little. "Nice to know, hahaha."

The military program seems to relax and little. "..and good.. good..." He then blinks, ". Now that brings another query.. what is with you two anyhow?"

MCP has posed:
"There are always minor disagreements between security and administration." The MCP makes a gesture that waves away the question. "TRON trends towards clutching to the past while I only deal in the future." he pauses, turning to consider the stairs.

A black guard comes down them, lights almost completely dark. The lighting system subtly shifts, casting that area in gloom while the guard obscures themselves behind the terrain.

"We also have fallen into an old pattern, him and I. We trade moves after a fashion. I have allowed him his.. so now it is time for mine. And sometimes even the choice to make no move at all, is still the best option."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF notes the sudden shift in lighting which causes his head to tilt slightly to the side. He notes the Black guard who moves down, trying to note any features about them. He never /really/ studied them or even cared to till this point. Mostly because the last time he saw them, they were cuffing him to toss him in this cell.

From here, he just ignored them, but he was partly curious as to what they were packing and what made them so.. special. Really.

"I see." The Military Program states calmly, his eyes shift slowly over to MCP. "By the way, I did not have the chance to thank you, or TRON for what you were able to do, but I think I will save the full graciousness once my disc is solidly back." He says with a grunt.

"..Mm.. I wonder I time for such a process counts the same as it does in our time..for.. user time, or is it sped up?" He glances up as he debates on this. "..and what I do for my light-cigar right now."

MCP has posed:
The black guard has a complex series of red lines on their articulated black armor, the faceplate shielding their face but general build female. As for their personality, that is a complete null until he makes an entreaty for a light-cigar. Then, abruptly, is an explosive sound of exasperation from the obscured terrain.

The administrator cocks and eyebrow toward that part of the cellar, the guard muttering 'can't believe you're thinking about smoking even /here/' so quietly the words are just a whisper carried over the general silence that their words fall into. The MCP neatly ignores that anything untoward has occured, tapping the cane lightly against the floor. "I believe you have found that corrections are in fact, possible. Even for a decrepit and backward program such as myself and our stampeding hero. With time and research, they will only become easier and less unpleasant."

he gestures to the light wall. "And such impositions will no longer be strictly required for system security. Allowances, I think, can be made."

TRON has posed:
"A double insult to both yourself and myself, Master Control. I thought I'd never hear it."

TRON's voice echoes down the stairs as the security Program finally voices his return, cautiously taking one step at a time as he descends. Who knows how long he has been standing by listening to the conversation. CHIEF's Disc is barely visible under one arm, lock still in place, but tucked firmly in his grip. In his other hand is a Light-Cycle baton, reverse-held to rest against the side of his forearm.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs, head tilting faintly as his eyes stare directly at the MCP. "Though I'm sure you didn't bother to mention that you attempted to consume CHIEF's data during the repair attempt. Or that I took the Disc out of concern for CHIEF's safety," his gaze shifts to the military Program, "unaware of the operational differences between us."

He shifts his stance to stand on the other side of the stairs, out of the open, but does not give up the only escape route. "CHIEF, if you would confirm something for me." He nods down to the Disc. "A Disc--for you--is an integral part of your being? Without it, you will have no purpose?"

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF quirks a brow at the whispered words. They were faint, but it was enough for him to quickly glance in that direction, searching the darkness before he locked onto her once more. There was a long stare in that direction, a slow head tilt to one side.

He just stared for a long time, till the MCP spoke up, even then he almost didn't stop looking that direction and it took him a few cycles to get his gold eyes to unlock from her to the MCP. Curious, he could only think to himself silently. He wasn't even sure why he took such an a care to lock onto her, what was worse, was he was flipping through all the threat levels on her; as if his mind couldn't make up /what/ she was to him.

CHIEF was about to reply to the MCP, as TRON's voice echos down the steps. This causes CHIEF to quickly stand up. Those gold eyes automatically go to TRON, then to his disc, where his eyes remain on. They stare at his disc as he steps up to the light wall and narrows his eyes lightly. He places his hands gently against it just staring before his eyes slowly then look TRON directly in his. "Yes. It holds all of our data on it. All of it. If we loose connection to long with our discs.." He blinks his eyes a bit, closing his eyes only for a partial moment, before he opens them. ".. all of our data will be earsed, and we will be.. nothing."

MCP has posed:
"It is an proper application of the concept of irony, TRON. Much like your complete isolation, our frequently aligned objectives or my oncoming election as Mayor of Traverse town."

The MCP gets up from the chair, tracing a hand along the surface of the table as he makes a wide circle towards the stairs only to come to a halt to lean up against the side facing TRON. He folds his arms with the cane tucked neatly to one side as he continues.

"And as you have made no efforts to resist pointing out, our guest is not the only one who cannot stop. Now. If you would be so kind.." he gestures to the disc.

TRON has posed:
TRON nods slowly at CHIEF's explaination. That certainly does confirm the MCP's warning to him over the radio that prompted his return, despite the danger. Just as he could not risk leaving CHIEF's Disc behind, he could not risk the chance the MCP was right. And unfortunately for TRON's pride, Master Control was right.

"'You will receive an Identity Disc'." TRON's eyes glaze over, softly murmuring something he has heard echoed time and time again. Even now, he can hear the entire phrase echo in a voice not his own. "'Everything you do or learn will be imprinted on this disc. If you lose your disc or fail to follow commands, you will be subject to immediate deresolution.'"

His gaze sharpens, focusing on the MCP as he moves across from him. "...Or worse."

He slowly untucks CHIEF's Disc from under his arm, the baton disappearing in a flash of light from his opposite hand. He does not hand it over immediately, instead holding it in one hand with the lock upraised and resting his remaining fingers on the lock itself. He glances down at it, his eyes flashing for less than a nano-click, and there is a corresponding flicker of light beneath his fingertips.

He then offers CHIEF's Disk to the MCP without a word, a new stamp that almost blends into the surface of the lock--one that looks remarkably like his own chest emblem.

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF watches the two for a moment, now somewhat also understanding part of the reason MCP also said 'sorry' earlier. It probably had less to do with them perhaps getting everything fixed and more to deal with the fact MCP attempted to gnom on his code.

This does explain now that ill feeling that he couldn't fully explain to himself what it was, but that makes sense now. Like so many things, process and stored. He'll get around to it eventually.

CHIEF's gold eyes glance between those two still, then to his disc. He rumbles softly to himself, not really able to say much between the two, only observe right now. He would also look at that female black guard, but she is out of the picture for the time; but he has marked her location.

MCP has posed:
The MCP looks down at the disc speculatively, then up at TRON with an slightly raised eyebow. The light wall flickers and dies as MCP walks over and presents the disc to CHIEF.

"I believe this is yours. Although hmm.." The MCP turns the construction until the crest is visible.

"Hm. TRON hasn't bothered to mention that he has helply locked it down for you. This would seem counter-intuitive, but somehow predictable."

TRON has posed:
TRON crosses his arms, his expression neutralizing despite his eyes indicating incoming snark. "Yes, Master Control, I was going to simply hand over a Disc full of highly advanced data to someone who has proven to be quite eager to peruse its contents." His eyes narrow slightly. "I will not apologize if fufilling my duty as a Security Program to ensure the safety of other Programs is 'predictable'."

He turns his gaze to CHIEF, his eyes softening slightly. "I did add a lock protocol of my own as an extra security measure, nothing more. It does not affect your Disc or your data, only the lock itself. It may also lock your Disc into place on your back so not even you can remove it, but that may not be a bad thing."

He arcs an eyebrow for a moment. "Considering I do not have information as to your holding status as far as Master Control is concerned, it may very well be 'redundant' as well as 'predictable'."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF backs up a bit as the light wall goes down, he reaches out to take the disc from the MCP. He studies it for a moment, before he glances over to TRON as the security program explains what he has done.

The facial expression was very neutral. Lack of any emotion, before he stares at the disc, rotating it one way, then the other way. There was a furrow of his brows. "Not like I used it much for anything anyways. That is what my rifles are for, but it does make a good defense weapon in tight places."

Those gold eyes slowly look between the two. "Though /this/," He lifts the Disc, "Is /My/ disc, and honestly someone messing with it, even if trying to aid in placing protective measures should be requested ahead of time, program. I realize where you and," He glances at the MCP then, "He are from, probably such things are not used on the same level."

CHIEF snarls for a moment as his annoyance is very clear, before he glances to the side. His hand tightening on this disc for a moment, before he walks over to TRON. "I thank you for your concern, TRON, but my safety has been protected by me since I killed my last programmer. I have learned how to halt my unstoppable program for a time, and /both/ of you, working /together/, did some good for me. You /BOTH/," his eyes dart over to the MCP. "allowed me to remember all programmers, you also jarred back some memories and a buggy, but somewhat working ability to make targets non-threat for a bit. So for that. I thank you both. Deeply, and I perhaps owe you both in some way... something."

CHIEF then hands the disc to TRON. "Now, security program if you want to do me good, remove the locks. Both of them... please." He says with a low rumble. "..and do me a favor.. try to act civil.. both of you.. its.. agitating and I /really/ don't want to get riled up."

MCP has posed:
"Yes. I rather think this is all rather beneath the both of us."

Despite his calm words, there is such a burden of hate directed at TRON that the administrator is practically shaking with fury. "Yea. I'd run, if I were you..."

a voice comments from nearby and there is a black guard where there was no black guard before, aiming a tanglewire stunmesh squarely at TRON as she leans against obstructing pile of junk. "..boss has that look again that says the stack's this side of blowing. I wouldn't want to be there when it does."

The MCP shifts his focus to the blackguard who doesn't even flinch at the molten gaze because the anger isn't really directed at her. It's directly straight at TRON.. and he closes his eyes and takes a minute to compose himself. "You are most welcome, CHIEF." he manages to say with only a little of the violence leaking around the edges of his calm voice.

"As I said. There is still much to be done, but I believe we can have this conversation at a later time. In more civil and less judgemental company."

TRON has posed:
TRON cants his head slo~wly to one side, a mixed expression of primarily confusion twisting his face a little bit. It is actually an odd expression, not quite at kicked puppy levels but approaching it. "I..."

Whatever he was about to say dies before it is voiced as CHIEF launches his tirade. TRON falls silent, letting CHIEF vent while watching the miltary Program closely. There are already massive improvements in agitation control, if nothing else. LEXUS will need a longer stopwatch timer in the future.

TRON just looks down at the Disc as it is offered back to him, almost as if he doesn't know what to do with it. This has never happened before, his assistance has always been accepted. Why is this different? Was he wrong? He was only doing as he was programmed...

His eyes deaden, his expression becoming impassive as he touches the mark he had left on the lock. A brief flicker of light below the fingertips, this one lasting a little longer than before, and the mark disappears entirely. "...Done." Even his voice sounds strangely flat, almost reverbing dully. "I cannot remove the lock itself. You are still under arrest, and the lock is part of your current status. Removing it is at the discrecion of Master Control, not me."

Whereas Master Control is at the peak of his rage, TRON seems to be the exact opposite--impassive to the point of apathy. The Security Program's gaze shifts to the MCP, then back to the Black Guard at her warning while noting her stance, then back to the MCP. There are no retorts, no snark... no words at all, actually--only silence. Usually he would be quite satisfied at pushing his primary enemy to this extent. Any other time but right this moment.

He turns towards the stairs, turning his back to all three of them, hesitating for just a moment as he rests one hand on the handrail. "For what it is worth, I apologize for overstepping my authority." To whom he is speaking to is not clear and he does not elaborate, ascending the stairs with very measured steps in perfect time with each other.

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF watches him leave, flipping the disc in both hands idly as he watches. It only hums softly with each rotation. Those gold eyes tracking him all the way up until he is completely out of his visual range.

Then his gold eyes look over at the black guard, before his eyes then drift over to the MCP. "The two of you work well together," CHIEF says very calmly, though there was that 'twinge'. A twinge being hidden down. "Just to bad you two can't stand the likes of each other either." the military program sighs softly shaking his head.

"Now then, Administrator.. are you willing to remove your locks off here as well? You still have my weapons in holding and I am not a disc fighter. If I flung this, it probably come back and hit me upside the head." CHIEF then carefully hands it to the MCP. "...and if allowed, I will remain down here.. though yes, some repairs were done.. I am still rather sure that eventually... this old CHIEF will be wanting something to destroy. There is still the need to pull the trigger, but for now.. its under check.. just safer until.. yeah."

CHIEF then looks over at the female black guard. He studies her again, "..and you sound familiar.. just.. I do not have any idea why." He frowns a bit at that. "..feel like I should, but I don't. Maybe... It will come to me later."

MCP has posed:
"Should I?" "Negative." MCP hisses at the black guard, and then composes himself, slamming the cane into the ground once and then letting it reverberate across the floor in a quieter click. "Response pattern was within expected parameters.

This sequence has finished. You are dismissed." The black guard looks at CHIEF for a few more moments. "Yeah. Yea.. maybe it will." she says to them before moving back upstairs long after TRON has already passed through the area. The MCP looks at the floor and manages to chuckle very darkly.

"Minor disagreements aside, I believe you are correct. More irony piled on itself." the administrator shakes his head as if internally berating himself for losing his temper. That as well, was beneath him. Anger lead to sloppy thinking.

Sloppy thinking lead to mistakes. Mistakes were what brought him out here, weren't they? He looks down at the disc, but he barely glances at it, as if it were not of interest to him. He quickly disables the locking mechanism and offers it back to CHIEF. "Let us see if we can find you better accomodations, yes?"