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Tron Legacy : Reimaging
Tron Legacy Reimagining
Following the salvation of The Grid from the tyranny of the Master Control Program, Kevin Flynn returned to the real world, becoming CEO of the ENCOM computer company. He designs a number of the world's most successful games based on his supposed exploits (he refers to them as 'dreams') in cyberspace. The most often occurring character in these and the most popular for gamers is the stalwart warrior program Tron.
His son Sam is enamored by his father's work, his stories of the world of Tron, and dreams the impossible dream of visiting The Grid. His father actually promises that one day he'll take him there.
It turns out to be the last words Kevin has with his son before he vanishes from the face of the Earth.
Sam grows up, somewhat embittered by his father's leaving him and his mother, but finding confidence in his father's old hobby of motorbike maintenance. He is incredibly rich but entirely irresponsible, preferring to live in a retrofitted garage and rarely
Tron Awakening: Chapter 1 WIP0264 hours, December 21, --- (Grid Calendar)/
Inside The Grid, Outlands, Prima's hideout
A door slid silently open and soft footsteps padded against a flat surface. Then a female voice spoke softly. "How is he?"
There was a deep sigh, male this time, and a deep gruff voice replied. "He's still unconscious, but we were able to stabilize his vital signs... He's in the recovery stage now..."
A moment of silence, excluding the soft humming of a mechanism in the background.
The feminine voice spoke again. "Do you really think he's... a system monitor?"
"Hard to tell." another man's voice spoke; this time, it sounded younger, "I thought the last syste
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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