Betting Against the [ODDS], tag; KFlynn | Closed

[Castor]

*I GOT THAT LIPSTICK SMEARED AROUND MY FACE
I GOT THEM SKINNY GIRLS PLAYIN' AT MY PLACE
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The atmosphere on the Grid was always charged on a game night. Every Program from temp files to system software knew when the Games were being played, and anyone with half a byte to spend on tickets attended. In the streets surrounding the stadium, vendors were vying for custom, selling spare tickets or drinks, or even collectable items like prop battle discs. The rumble of the crowd was like thunder around the Stadium. Bets were being placed, previous victors were being debated. The highest-functioning programs had prime seats in the middle of the stadium’s ring, the cheapest seats at the bottom where Programs had to crane their necks to see the action.

Castor never needed to worry about that. He was one of the lucky Programs important and wealthy enough to have his own box. Not as lavish as the penthouse box shared by Kevin Flynn and his lackeys, but it was a prime seat nonetheless. And Castor was never without company. He always kept his box filled with important Programs (who weren’t quite in confidence with the Creator) that he wanted to keep in good standing with, or any other influential figures he could schmooze.

Castor arrived shortly after a few of his guests, making his way through the annals of the Stadium to the familiar box room. It was adorned with sleek, glowing tables (including a small bar) and comfy chairs, and had all the air of a very exclusive club. That was the way Castor liked things: exclusive.

He sauntered in with Gem on his arm, the fair-faced Siren wearing her trademark mysterious smile. “Welcome, friends!” declared Castor as he entered. He flashed his pearly smile and lifted his cane in a gesture of greeting. His few guests grinned and exchanged pleasantries, and Castor and Gem plucked a drink from the bartender’s hand before settling into their favorite seat. Castor crossed his legs and put an arm around Gem’s shoulders. She didn’t say a word, but looked quite at home in the luxurious suite.

The Games began, supercharged by the hungry roar of the crowd. They always opened with a small show of disc acrobats, just to get the playing field warmed up. But then the real action started: the Disc Wars. Tron was, of course, the favorite, and the crowd’s cheering became deafening like a static storm when his name was announced. He never lost. So many Programs bet on him these days that the pool of money was so diluted, Castor hardly saw the point of gambling anymore. When he did gamble, it was always for the smaller games, and he picked his subjects well, based on the valuable information he gained from his very trustworthy friends….that was where the real money was. Betting on what people weren’t sure of, and being very sure of it yourself.

The Disc chambers rotated into the air, and one by one Castor watched warriors be eliminated. He was happy to see one of his gambling picks make it through the first round, but he never betted against Tron—and for good reason. Flynn’s comrade proved why he was champion yet again. Castor laughed and cheered and groaned with the rest of the crowd, amped by the energy of the Stadium.

And then were the Light Cycles. Castor chatted animatedly with his guests; he had a very particular bet on this match. He suspected Tron would win the individual races, of course, but his team would lose the team match.

But they never got to the team match. As the field was being prepared, Castor noticed some slight flickering in the stadium. That was unusual….but it could simply be some static in the system. He sat back and grinned at Gem. “Prepare to pay up, love,” he teased. She merely raised her arching eyebrows and smiled back. She always looked like she knew something he didn’t….Castor wasn’t sure if he liked it or not….

The race began, and Castor’s blue eyes watched interestedly as the cycles sped through the course. And then suddenly, one of the cycles halted violently on the track. It glowed and hummed brightly, shuddering as if from some overload of electricity….

And then the cycle and the rider derezzed.

There was a cry of alarm from the stadium. Castor frowned, taken aback. They all heard stories that in Tron’s days in the old system, the Games had been to the death. But not here, not on the Grid. Before most of the crowd could process this, the track itself began to shut down and derezz. They watched, dumbfounded, as three more cycles were seemingly eaten by the field, shattering into a thousand thousand little bytes. They glinted in the stadium’s bright lights before flickering into nothing.

And then a section of the stadium itself flickered out, almost directly across from Castor’s box, and in a blink, a thousand Programs vanished, derezzed.

Castor lept to his feet, chewing on his lip. He felt the floor vibrating under his feet. The audience was screaming now, most flooding for the exits. Tron himself had managed to herd the remaining cyclists off of the field, and was undoubtedly rushing to the Creator’s box to speak with Flynn. Castor was about to bolt himself, but then the Stadium quieted. The vibrating stopped, and the lights dimmed. He and Gem looked around them warily….but whatever had happened on the field seemed to have subsided.

Castor’s mind raced. What had happened? Had the system overheated? Had it been a static storm? Or something more sinister….malware, perhaps? He knew instantly it was something he would have to identify and manage. He considered following Tron’s example and going to Flynn’s box.

“I think you lose, Castor,” said Gem with a smirk, holding out her hand. Castor took a moment to scowl at her. Yes, he supposed his bet was lost, considering his choice racer had just been derezzed. He placed some small, glowing chips in Gem’s hand and she closed her fist around them satisfactorily. Castor threw back the rest of his luminous blue drink when there was some commotion at the door of his box. He looked over to see who had come.

[Kevin Flynn]

Kevin leaned back against one of the benches in his box and looked out over the Stadium. He could see all of the types of Programs that there were in the stands. Function distinctions didn't seem to have a place in the Stadium. The Functions of a Program related to how easy it was for them to get tickets but had no decision in where a Program would sit. Flynn knew that there would be some Programs who sneaked in and were just standing at the highest point of the stands. There were Programs who sat in the center of the ring, but Kevin would personally never do something like that.

He straightened up and proceeded to walk around in his box to get a better view of the Stadium. His sight soon fell on another box, one that he knew to be Castor's. Ah, Castor. That was one Program he always questioned making. Castor was wonderful at keeping track of the percentages and angles when it came to aspects of the Grid and the Games, but there were many times when Flynn wondered about the flamboyant Program. Like any other Program, Castor was very useful and knew what he had to do. Flynn only wished that Castor wouldn't be so...himself.

Tron had visited him in the box before going down to prepare for the Games. There were two different Games occurring this time, one followed right after the other. The Disc Wars were first, followed shortly by the Light Cycles. Flynn himself was partial to the Light Cycles, but he would never enter into a match himself. No, he had been on a Light Cycle Grid once and the outcome was not the best. He had escaped along with Tron and Ram, but he had lost Ram along the way. He made his way over to a small set of shelves against one of the walls in his box and picked up a thing of Energy. The Energy was always good, but not as good as the Pure Energy he had.

Flynn made his way back to the window as the quiet cheers of the crowd turned into a hungry roar. The Disc Wars were going to begin in a matter of moments. Acrobatic acts performed first as a way to show what they could do. He thought it was only a way to get the crowd more excited, but the Programs were excited enough without his help. There was a certain grace to the Disc Wars, one that was only seen when the matches began. As the Wars started, Flynn carefully watched Tron's every move. He knew that Alan was a good programmer and knew his coding, but Tron was simply amazing.

One by one Programs lost and Tron was victorious once again. Tron had never lost a Disc War. The Disc Wars in the ENCOM mainframe were only finished once all opponents were derezzed and that was what impacted Tron. The old System had been about surviving and fighting for the Users.

He watched with anticipation as the field was prepared for the Light Cycles. There was some terrain added in the form of ramps and different levels. It kept things very interesting so that there was no tone of monotony. There were individual and team races, both of which Tron excelled in. The team races were a little harder, but Tron always won the individual races. A flickering brought him out of his musings. Nothing in the Stadium was supposed to flicker. An increase of cheering let him know that the races had begun, but he was barely paying attention to that anymore.

One of the cycles had stopped in the middle of the track. "That's odd," Kevin muttered as he watched the cycle intently. The cycle glowed and a humming could be heard over the silence of the crowds. The cycle and its rider derezzed as Flynn watched. The silence had vanished as the Programs began to panic. Something was wrong, seriously wrong. None of the matches were supposed to have deresolution endgames. Soon, the whole track began to shut down and derezz.

He saw Tron get all of the other riders to safety and off the track. Flynn assumed that Tron was going to find him, but he needed to find Castor. Kevin quickly finished the Energy that he had and exited his box. The Stadium was filled with chaos as all of the Programs tried to exit. Flynn stopped for a moment near a railing and saw that everything was back to normal. Something was going on, and he needed to get to the bottom of it.

Many different explanations floated through his mind as the Creator caught sight of Castor's box. None of the explanations, however plausible, made any sense. He had run so many different checks on the atmosphere of the Grid and the Stadium. Nothing was supposed to go wrong in such a degree. His expression was serious as he opened the door of Castor's box.

"Castor, we need to get to the bottom of this."

[Castor]

OOC! Useless post warning!

*I GOT THAT LIPSTICK SMEARED AROUND MY FACE
I GOT THEM SKINNY GIRLS PLAYIN' AT MY PLACE
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Ah, the Creator had come, as expected. Castor was only surprised at the speed with which Kevin Flynn had reached his box. The few of Castor’s remaining guests and the security guards at the door stood aside for Flynn, who strode in like he owned the place…which, he did, unfortunately. He ran the show and Castor helped make it run smoothly. It seemed Castor’s playtime was at an end. Time to get to work.

“Ah, everyone! Say hello to our Maker,” said Castor, giving an elegant bow to Kevin Flynn. He twirled his glass cane and tucked it under his arm, strolling back to the bar and pouring a drink for himself and for Flynn. He passed an energy concoction to his guest and then leaned back against the glowing bar counter. He crossed his ankles and donned a thoughtful expression. He was no long Castor now, but Zuse, the clever, inventive Program Kevin Flynn designed to spark innovation within the system. Presently, Flynn needed him to fix this very appaarant problem.

“Of course we need to get to the bottom of it,” Castor replied. “Can’t have half the Grid derezzing…bad for business and all….”

The Grid was extremely stable, as far as Zuse understood…Kevin Flynn was exceedingly intelligent, and the system was expertly coded. Still, it merited investigation. This sort of disaster didn’t happen without reason. His suspicion was that a virus had entered the system, though again, the security was so tight it would have to be a very clever virus indeed to get in. Castor sipped at his small drink, letting the energy tingle on his tongue and down his throat. Last drink of the night, he supposed. He straightened and smoothed his powdery-white hair back, tiling his head at Flynn. “Shall we go to your offices? I’ll need to take a look in the System.”

And if truth be told, he was keen to get away from the stadium. It was obviously the epicenter of the instability, as far as they knew. Castor liked functioning. He had no intentions of being derezzed anytime soon. “Gem, darling, show yourself out,” he said unceremoniously, stepping out of his box and into the hallway of the stadium.

[Tron]

Ah, Game night.It was one of Tron's favorite pastimes, ever since Flynn had copied him from the ENCOM system. Ever since Tron's days as a captive, the Games had been second nature to him, having been trained to fight to the death. He had learned to survive, and though he was just as capable of winning now as he had been when Programs derezzed at his feet (if not more capable, given the amount of experience), Tron chose not to derezz his opponents unless absolutely necessary. The warrior's earliest "training" had scarred him for a long time, so he was thankful that Flynn had chosen to remake the games as they currently were: just as exciting, but with less derezzing. Just the way Tron liked it.

Tron never gained any sort of wealth from playing in the Games, despite the fact that he was the most popular, experienced, and admired player. He continued to play the Games because it brought a thrill to him, and he wanted to mostly forget what he had experienced in the days when he had first met Flynn. Tron wanted to cherish the days when Light Cycle races were simply races, and not collision courses with trails of light. When Disc Wars didn't mean slicing a Program wide open with one's Identity Disc. It made Tron all the more eager to participate in Flynn's version of the Games.

He had stopped up at Flynn's for a short pep talk (as Flynn seemed to call their pre-Game conversations) and to relieve his own stress before he went down to prepare for the Disc Wars. Talking with Flynn always helped Tron, no matter how uneasy he would have been feeling during a particular night. It was always nice to know that his best friend had his back, no matter what happened.

The Disc Wars had gone fairly well, with Tron flying through the rankings, to the expectations of everyone in the crowd. However, Tron was always deaf to the roaring of the crowd, no matter how excited the spectators got. Tron played in the Games because he wanted to - not because he was pressured by the crowd to keep doing so. Even though this ultimately caused him to be admired even more, Tron never let this bother him for long. He never let it affect his performance, and tonight was no exception. As always, he delivered a stellar performance in his rounds, always congratulating his opponents on a good round and encouraging them to keep playing the Games. It was not until the final round when Tron had experienced some sort of difficulty.

He was facing his final opponent of the night, whom Tron had learned not to underestimate as he had learned to respect the fact that this opponent had defeated all of the others in order to be able to face Tron himself. This opponent was swift and strong, managing to deflect several of Tron's moves and using attacks that Tron had never seen before. It was a match that kept the crowd on their toes, and Tron was not one to deny it, for if he had been spectating, he would have also been enthralled by the constant back-and-forth of the battle. Attacks were being deflected left and right, and if it were not for the Programs having limited amounts of energy, the battle would have taken almost an eternity.

Finally, the opponent had reached his limits, and allowed himself to succumb to one of Tron's attacks. He fell to the ground, leaving Tron to be the last man standing in the arena. The crowd applauded at Tron's victory as he slowly walked to his fallen opponent. The first thing the other Program would see as he looked up was the outstretched hand of the victor. Tron smiled as he helped his opponent to his feet.

"You're very good with your Disc," Tron stated to his adversary, helping him to the arena's exit after putting his Disc securely on his back. "Maybe, when you're up to it, we can train together." Tron smiled as he made his offer, and the other Program looked surprised to be receiving such an offer from such a strong warrior, but Tron at least got a nod before he and his opponent parted ways.

Now, it was time for the Light Cycles.

Tron wasn't as good with the Light Cycles as he was with the Disc Battles. Even though he had somehow made his way up the rankings with his experience in racing and his own secret techniques, Tron was aware that he didn't put as much energy into the Cycles as he did the Disc Battles. It could have been that he was usually a little tired from the Disc Battles and didn't have long enough of an Energy break to fully recover, as it happened to be so tonight. He was, however, able to slip a few glasses of Energy before making sure his Baton was securely at his side.

The race began, and Tron attempted to be as focused as possible. However, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that something was wrong tonight. He wasn't quite sure what exactly was wrong, but it was simply a gut feeling. However, the gut feeling quickly became a reality as Tron saw, several feet away from his Light Cycle, one of the Programs ahead of him suddenly derezz in front of everyone. Tron grew alarmed for a moment and sped up, before he noticed many other of the Programs vanishing, a combination of racers and spectators. Without a minute to lose, Tron grabbed his Baton and jumped off the Light Cycle, hitting the track and taking off running toward any of the Programs who were still left.

"Come on! Let's go! Go! Move!" he shouted as he attempted to evacuate the stadium, which seemed to be derezzing by the minute. "This way! Come on!" Once he was sure everyone was safe, Tron took off to find Flynn. Flynn usually had the answers, as he knew the Grid both inside and out. Making a straight shot toward Flynn's box, Tron narrowly avoided the derezzing parts of the stadium, although some parts of it required him to zig and zag through particularly dangerous parts. Finally, when he made it to Flynn's box, he was unpleasantly surprised to see that it was empty. Beginning to truly panic for the first time that day, Tron desperately searched the remaining areas of the stadium, fearing the worst for his best friend and Creator of the Grid.

"FLYNN!" Tron shouted, attempting to search the other boxes (some of them containing small fragments of data that still lingered in the abandoned boxes, which worried the Program) for the Creator. "FLYNN!"

It had only been a few moments after Castor had stepped out of his box that Tron had come charging toward him and Flynn, looking the most panicked that anyone had ever seen him for a while.

"Flynn?! Flynn!' Tron had barely caught a glimpse of the User inside Castor's box before he addressed him, "Flynn.... thank the Users you're safe..." He then turned to the colorful head of the End of Line Club, before asking, "What's happening? Either of you guys... what's going on?" Tron turned from Castor to Flynn back to Castor again, slightly more flustered than he was used to being.

[Kevin Flynn]

OOC: Eh, kind of short.

He was unsure about the tone that seemed to lurk in Castor's, now Zuse's voice as he strode into the box. For all the flamboyance associated with the Program, Kevin was glad that he had specifically coded Zuse to be good in situations like the present one. He accepted the drink that he was passed and took a sip of it. If nothing else, it helped the Creator organize his thoughts in a manner that was easy to work with.

Flynn nodded at the explanation that Zuse had given him. Yes, the deresolution of half the Grid was bad for business, among other things. He took another sip of the drink before he ran his left hand through his hair. The possible cause of the problem eluded him, a fact that did not bode well. He had run the normal System checks before entering the Grid, and each scan had showed normal readings. The System checks included sweeps for any virus, especially one that could prove damaging to his work. Hints of a smile pulled at the edges of Kevin's mouth as he replied, "Make sure to look into possible viruses, Zuse. That could be the only valid explanation for what happened."

The User followed him out of the box, measurably happy to be able to start working on solving the problem they were facing. He wasn't surprised when he saw Tron rapidly approaching them, but he was surprised to see such an expression of shock on the Security Program's face. Kevin gently held up a hand and explained, "Tron, calm down for a moment. We're heading to find the cause of what just happened, actually. You're welcome to come as well."

[Castor]

OOC! omg sooo sorry for the wait, guys! The Staff have been working on some possible changes on the board so I was holding off for a while. Thanks for your patience! Also I've realized Castor would not go by Castor at all XD Just Zuse haha

*I GOT THAT LIPSTICK SMEARED AROUND MY FACE
I GOT THEM SKINNY GIRLS PLAYIN' AT MY PLACE
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Zuse almost rolled his eyes, but repressed the urge. Naturally his first thought would be to check for viruses. That was basic system maintenance. Flynn had made him to be clever, and clever he was. It was a basic step, but only fools overlooked the obvious details. Those were often what tripped you up. Zuse would not be so careless.

They had barely stepped out of Zuse’s box when none other than the valiant Tron came hurtling towards them. His first concern was the Creator, of course. As well it should be, Zuse supposed. Besides, they had a long-standing friendship or…something.

Zuse smiled congenially. “Ah, Tron! Good show, as usual…pity it was interrupted. And so heroic, saving those other Programs!” He spread his hands and tilted his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Alas, I am not programmed for such stirring heroics. But come!”

He fell into stride with Kevin Flynn once more. The stadium was being evacuated by security programs, and a light guard found pace with them to escort the Creator quickly and efficiently from the premises. The hallways seemed claustrophobic suddenly, with the lights popping in and out. A cool, serene female voice was informing the guests of the emergency (as though they didn’t already know) and instructing them to exit in a quick and orderly fashion.

Zuse, Flynn, and Tron took a brisk ride, putting the stadium behind them. Zuse looked back once to see the damage—the whole place was flickering like lightning, the blue lights going in and out. He narrowed his eyes as he saw the extent of the destruction: a whole section of the stadium had collapsed into ruin. It could be rebuilt, but…Zuse hoped no important programs had been lost in the catastrophe. That would mean more work for him….

He stepped out of their vehicle and let Flynn lead the way to his offices.

[Tron]

"Tron, calm down for a moment. We're heading to find the cause of what just happened, actually. You're welcome to come as well."

At the User's command, Tron took several breaths to attempt to calm himself, even though he was feeling anything but at the moment. He let Flynn's words sink in, which gave him a more level grip on reality (even though reality at the moment was... less than level). So he and Zuse were going to diagnose the problem now. All right.

"Thank you, Flynn," he stated, before he added, "I'm sorry I panicked. It's just that I went to meet you at your box, only to see that you weren't there. I assumed the worst, and.... I got carried away. I'm sorry." However, he added to himself, as the Grid's official security Program, he had a right to panic, since there was a System breach that he hadn't detected before... and he (and the entire Grid, now) was paying the price for his apparent failure. It had to be a failure in some recent System check, as no virus problem had ever had the chance to grow so huge. At this realization, Tron attempted not to look guilty. Even though this wasn't the time to panic, this also wasn't the time to feel sorry for himself, either.

But, just to be safe, he didn't reveal his realization to Flynn until he would ask.

“Ah, Tron! Good show, as usual…pity it was interrupted. And so heroic, saving those other Programs!”

"He-" Tron started to greet Zuse, but the flamboyant Program continued to speak.

“Alas, I am not programmed for such stirring heroics. But come!"

"Hello, Zuse. Thank you, Zuse," Tron remarked, attempting to keep the impatience out of his voice. Behind Zuse's back, Tron rolled his eyes. Sometimes, he thought, that Program spoke because something needed to spew out of his mouth. Tron personally suggested he save his Energy for something more productive than schmoozing, but the security Program was too polite to point this out.

Obediently, Tron followed Flynn and Zuse, saying little as he analyzed the situation in front of him. When his technical mind was not attempting to calculate the specifics of the damage and whatever had caused it, Tron was taking a few moments to mourn the Programs that had fallen victim to the damage, most of them being innocent and simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn't understand the other two's irreverence - in only focusing on the problem instead of what it had done, especially regarding a fraction of the Grid's population -, but perhaps that was simply because Tron was more familiar with innocent Programs perishing than the other two... As for Flynn, Tron didn't know what to feel about his irreverence. Was it because he had other, more important problems on his mind, or...?

No. Tron didn't want to think about that option.

Tron stayed silent, the guilty expression creeping onto his face as he was led into the offices.

((*headdesk* Y I NO REPLY TO THIS.))