110% done with the mun's nonsense.

[older_wiser]

[Anon, as ever, is a program of few words, even if this version concocted on half a night of sleep and a cup of cold tea is a bit more developed than his mute, faceless brothers. He folds arms across his chest and stares at his new mun sternly for a good half-hour before speaking.]

I question your delusion that you think you can add me to the juggling act of muses that is already clamoring in your head for you to attack that backlog of tags you owe, mun. Haven't you been struggling to do even one post every week? Poor Dumont hasn't even seen the light of the Grid since his conception as a muse.

[Pauses to let the mun fidget uncomfortably under that gaze, and ignores the chorus of cheers and "you tell 'ems" hollered from the audience of said muses, the bunch of traitors.]

Although the face you've picked out for me is a good one. Commands respect. I like this Bruce Greenwood fellow.

[His brief look of satisfaction is quick to turn sharp again.]

I don't take slack from anyone in my ranks, mun, and I'm not as laid-back as Dumont. If you're going to have me in your head, you best be prepared to let me out more often.

[About-faces and strides off to join the museparty, but not without a parting shot.]

And for System's sake, get back to work on updating our icons!

Comments

GRID CHRISTMAS HAS COME EARLY

[trollmaster_gibson]

...well. This is a surprise.

[Have a 'fascinating' eyebrow.]

I gotta say, I always imagined somebody a bit more babyfaced under that helmet of yours. Big woobly eyes, pinchable cheeks, the works. If I'd known about them rugged, chiseled good looks I might have actually thought twice before pulling that whole switch trick in the Arena. Good thing you still fell for it.

[Griiiiin.]

Hey, buddy.

(Also man I totally hear you on the User-muns, mine sat on me for a glitching year before finally letting me out to play.)

Hallelujah! Best gift ever.

[older_wiser]

[He sees what you did there, he-of-the-Spock-brow, and nice reference to his inspiration-point. Too bad he's too busy staring at Gibson to comment on it, eyes wide and render pale.]

....YOU.

[Equal parts shocked and incredulous, because it might've been a thousand cycles ago but he remembers you, you troll. Hard to forget the face of the first frie-program he had to derezz.]

H-how-what-you're dead.[Pause, reordering his logic gates to stop a potential cascade glitch. His tone is taking a sharp swing into disbelief and incredulity.] I don't understand, you're supposed to be dead. I watched you die- I derezzed you myself, I-

[Chokes on a bark of laughter and fists a hand in his hair.]

You're dead, you ass, and you're flirting with me! Why am I not surprised! [And finally, acceptance, disbelief replaced by resigned awe. Have a grin that is pure amazement, Gibson. He's never had a friend come back from the dead before. (the rumors of Tron were thankfully mistaken.)]

[trollmaster_gibson]

[That gets an OTT mock-shocked expression out of Gibson, because he can't resist.]

What? I am?? No kidding!

[Then Gibson drops it because n'aww Anon.]

And finally, I get a comment on my ass. Second-best ass on the Grid, thank you very much. I'd say best, but, y'know. Tron.

[Despite everything it is abundantly clear that Anon is still Anon, the beta monitor that he took two seconds to size up and then trusted implicitly despite the fact that the world was falling apart around him and Security was not a friend of his people at the time. So Gibson just smiles, and throws an arm around Anon's shoulders.]

Yeah about the whole derezzing thing, as I recall, I told you to. Repeatedly. So you better not still be hung up on that, or I'ma smack you.

[older_wiser]

[Ah, sass. He can deal with sass. Growing up with Ram has honed his sass-meter to a fine point. He scoffs and knocks the hand resting on his opposite shoulder off with a wry smirk. ] Please. Your ass barely rates a 4. You get points knocked off for it being swapped with your head.

[No one-armed half-assed hug is gonna cut it here, program. He hauls Gibson into a proper hug, one complete with torso-crushing squeezing until the ISO wheezes before he relents and lets go. He still has to tilt his head and nod knowingly though because he has to concede, yep, Tron. Not that there was a score-pool going or anything. Why no, he's not bitter about only being rated at number 6. Obviously a Siren conspiracy.]

It's been well over a thousand cycles since for me, you beta. Trust me, I got over it. [He 'got over it' about as well as a city lightbike trying to scale a snow-covered Outlands cliff, but he's not admitting that to the troll.] Forgive me for a micro if I'm surprised you're alive, rather than being consoled that your data is off occupying the code of the most annoying Bits on the Grid.

[He's still staring at Gibson with a fair amount of wonder.]

[tanks4thememory]

Well, I can't speak for anyone else, but it's always nice to hear that I'll have another brother around who's not a team-killing psycho.

[older_wiser]

[Blinks in surprise at the obvious similarity between them, although his own resemblance to the Flynn line is at best half. He grins wryly and nods. Considering the last sibling he had to deal with, the original Clu is a welcome sight.]

I wouldn't know what that's like. I look forward to it.

[Holds out a hand with an open ping invitation, because this is munspace and he can be a bit more lax with personal security.]

What's your designation, brother?

[tanks4thememory]

[Takes the offered hand and returns a friendly ping of greeting and identification.]

Clu. Version 1.0. Not sure if your Flynn ever mentioned me; I was derezzed quite awhile before he ever created the Grid.

[older_wiser]

[Catches and analyses the data with a slight head-tilt, then nods.]

I didn't get much time to socialise with Flynn, I'm afraid. The coup sneaked up on us the cycle I was uploaded. [A half-smile.] If you're from that Free Grid Ram's rambled about, you probably know who I am, or at least one of my dopplegangers...my official designation's Anon, but please, call me Owen. Flynn never was very clever with idents.

[tanks4thememory]

[That gets a chuckle, Owen.]

Given that he wound up reusing mine? No, I guess not. Owen it is, then.

And yeah, I'm from the Free Grid. It's got some problems, but it's basically a good system. The Anon I know there is co-head of Security alongside one of the Trons.

[older_wiser]

[Squares his shoulders a bit in pride and nods approvingly] Hm, good for him! I hope to meet this other sibling of ours some cycle. Sooner, rather than later, I should hope. [Casts a disparaging eye towards the mun lurking in the ceiling.]

[tanks4thememory]

I hope so too. System security can always use more experienced programs.

[There's a faint chuckle at Owen's glance upward at his mun.] My mun's fallen behind a bit on our side of things too. It happens, though, and it seems they're both trying to get back up to speed. [shrugs]

[older_wiser]

'Up to speed' does not necessarily mean I'll be allowed out of the munspace within any solid timetable. I'm highly dubious, and suspect my first trip will be a short one, if at all. [Sighs and rolls his eyes.] Fetching the magpie for Tron from his little future-escapades. I'm a glorified courier program.

[voiceless_anon]

I'm looking forward to meeting you, otherself. I hear you've been doing well on your Grid.

[older_wiser]

As well as any program performing their function at optimal efficiency, I suppose. It's certainly gotten easier now that the Users are back in charge.

[He offers a warm grin and a firm handshake, should Anon accept it.]

You must be the other brother who's 'not a team-killing psycho', as Clu1 so eloquently put it. I hear the voice is a new addition, congratulations. [It's also a familiar one. A raised eyebrow, amused.]

[lifes_short_pop]

There are other reasons for taking out a character. Maybe she brought you out for a different reason, like fanfic testing or seeing how viable an AU concept is.

[Pauses. Remembers manners.]

Um...sir.

[older_wiser]

[Arcs an eyebrow in amusement at the belated honorific.]

Perhaps. At the least, I know I'll be included in one of her fanfic universes. I'm not concerned about where I'll be useful, only about the inordinate length of time it will take to be let out.

[lifes_short_pop]

I...I hear you there. My mun's been a little blindsided with her job. Company grew by about a third in the last two years, but the IT department...hasn't, so she's got a lot of additional work. She's also studying for a couple of technical certifications. That, and there's real life stuff with friends and family.

She took on a little much. Maybe yours does the same?

[older_wiser]

[A snort and a shake of his head.]

If there's anything my mun has plenty of, it's free time. Being too busy is not an excuse for her lag.

[lifes_short_pop]

Hmmm. Then maybe not knowing how well you'd play off other Programs? Sorry, just throwing out speculation here. I'm about as alternate universe as it can get, and made plenty of mistakes in interaction.

[older_wiser]

[A slight frown, and he folds his arms over his chest, shifting to eye the oddly-armored program.]

It's pure and simple laziness masquerading as 'writer's block'. I get along fine with other programs, no matter what you might've heard from my subordinates. Whoever started that rumor that I slice legs off of people I disagree with is spreading slander and when I find them, they owe 20 cycles of Trawler supervision.

[lifes_short_pop]

No, sir. I'm the one that screwed up the protocols. Nothing like almost getting executed for blasphemy, mistaken for a virus, and dodging a few dozen discs aimed at my head to teach me why it's a usually good idea to shut up.

[Pauses]

Name's Jet. I'm an agent of Ma3a, Administrator of the Encom system.

[Not a lie, just not the whole truth.]

[older_wiser]

[A brief moment of confusion gives way to interest as he studies the program a little closer.]

I was wondering about the armor. Encom, huh?

[He's heard plenty of stories, but aside from a few imported individuals, he's never met an Encom program directly. He's not sure what an Agent does, but it must be important if he works directly for the Administrator.]

Well met, Agent-Jet. I hope your administrator is keeping a respectable functionality. My designation is Anon, but I go by Owen.

[lifes_short_pop]

Yeah. She...conscripted me to fight a viral attack. Unfortunately, it turned out there was a bigger enemy behind the virus. It was a near thing, but Encom and many more systems were saved.

Ma3a has a lot of power, and runs the Encom system, but she usually can't leave her dock. That's why she has a network of agents. Some of them are email scripts, some are game bots, system utilities...all walks of life. Agents mostly act as her eyes and ears, letting her know about how the little things are running in the system. In times of emergency, agents defend the civilian Programs from harm. So long as she serves the best interests of the System and the Programs under her care, then I'm glad to serve her.

Nice to meet you, Owen. Your system doing okay?

[older_wiser]

[Looks intrigued.]

That's a rather innovative system of operation. I should suggest it at the next security confab. Well, good. I'm glad to hear not all systems have been burdened with...[a slight grimace] management issues.

My system is doing well enough now that our last Admin has been replaced. He...wasn't quite as system-friendly as your Ma3a. [pained expression.]

[lifes_short_pop]

[darkly] I heard something about that.

[Enough to lower his opinion of his godfather significantly and add another example to the list of why being a User is nothing to necessarily be proud of.]

Enough details to be very angry and start risking some blasphemy of my own.