HUSH, HEAR HIM CRY / TRAM (CLOSED)

[IRA KINGSTON]

What would one program think about a bad user? No, not bad like a super villain or a criminal, but bad like not living up to one's expectations or in this case - programming? That was something Ira dealt with thinking every day he spent here on the grid. It only made it harder that he chose not to leave until his health demanded so or a higher power made him. The ever constant reminder of the City littered with Programs hit him hard, and that's why he was here at the Sea of Simulation right on the edge of Outlands. Ira sat slouched with arms around his knees, staring at the digitized sands of what was called sacred ground - or at least from what he gathered. Word was that he was sitting right where the first generation ISOs manifested within this system, something that astounded and yet sicked Ira all at the same time.

A wise man once said life finds a way and that was defiantly true here, but it wasn't human. Or God-made. That's what scared him. Being here, so many things went against the boundaries of humanity and religion. But maybe he was wrong? Kevin Flynn did act as their God in a way, or why else would so many program's call him the 'Creator'? The man may be gone but not his essence. It's in every program that walked in this system. So, was he going again 'God'? Ira clenched a fist, almost hard enough to cut his palm with his nails. Brown orbs stared, watching the muscles in his palm tense then release as part of his suit generated back over his hand, concealing flesh that was once out in the open.

He couldn't for the life of him remember much of where his life stood before he was confronted by Sark sometime ago, and taken to him. It was like something out of a science fiction novel. Sure Ira once had daydreams about made-up scenario's of things like this -able to become someone else, someone important, someone cooler- but not once did he ever think something would come true, for good or worse. How could he refuse such an offer? At least when it came time, his chances of survival were much higher. Up by at least 2% in fact, or maybe more by now, but the man would never face the MCP again to ask such a trivial thing. It's not that he thinks his existence is trivial, but the sole fact that it was to something else ran chills down his spine. Maybe it was out of fear that he accepted? Or, that he really liked the idea wasn't too clear. Power was one thing, but when you get caught and go down for it would turn his life into a total shit storm.

For committing such a heinous crime on the grid, what type of consequences were taken out on users here? Or did they deport people back to the real world and ban them from ever returning again? Ira had way too many questions, and with as much sleep deprivation as the kid got from time to time, he had no boundaries on thought or action. "You run with the wolves." Ira muttered, stretching out his fingers, now with one arm wrapped around his legs. He sighed lightly. Letting go and leaning back, Ira moved into a semi-lying down position, knees bent with elbows placed firmly, digging into the sand behind him to prop himself up enough to continue looking out to the digitalized ocean. At least here he could relax, not having to worry about the hustle and bustle of the city.

[TRAM]

The Sea of Simulation. Raw, untouched data. Beautiful. Mysterious. Dangerous.

Tram had never had much cause to come out this far from Tron City, as the bulk of his work as a Security Program could be found and done within the city's limits. But this particular millicycle was different. His usual route within the city had been reassigned to a fellow monitor, while he was out here, looking for that strange Program--Sark, as he'd come to understand--that had attempted to take Noma.

He grimaced slightly at the thought. He'd been trounced and he wasn't taking it lightly. Sark was a threat that needed to be stopped, and Tram had all but let him walk away. He didn't fully understand how Sark was even on The Grid, or what he could possibly be up to, but he knew it was his duty to make sure no one was hurt by it. He shook his head slightly; he was getting distracted by his own thoughts.

It was strange, speeding along on his Lightcycle, watching through his clear visor as the waves lapped at the sandy beach. He'd really only ever visited the Sea once, and that had been when he was first brought to The Grid. It was really rather beautiful, so different in its silence from the sounds and the activity of Tron City. It was... restful. He'd never been one for standing still, simply because standing still meant he wasn't doing his job and he always had to be doing his job.

Speaking of which, there was no sign of Sark. His blue eye scanned the length of the beach, finding nothing but the sand and the endless stretch of Sea. Well, almost nothing. He squinted, finding something that by all means shouldn't be out so far from Tron City - it was someone, but whether a User or a Program, he couldn't be sure, not until he'd gotten closer. He shifted the Lightcycle into a lower gear as he got within a reasonable distance, swinging off the side and into a slow stride while clipping the baton back to his thigh with practiced ease.

"Excuse me," Tram called out, his visor retracting as he approached, ruffling his light brown hair. "Might I ask what you're doing out here, so far from the city?"

Frankly, it was unusual for anyone to be out there. Even stranger was that he appeared to be a User, and they rarely left the safety of the city.

[IRA KINGSTON]

Ira continued to gaze out onto the ever expanding sea, wondering why his world couldn't ever be this peaceful, beautiful, not bashed by human error. Humans were destroying themselves slowly, knowingly in fact and it would only be a matter of time before they touched and tainted this place. But wasn't he doing the same in a way? Ira rose his chin up and tilted his head back slightly, hearing a small buzzing off in the distance. Brown eyes glanced over to his right as if trying to see what it was in his peripheral, and yet saw nothing. Quickly, Ira's helmet generated over his face as the sound got a little louder and morphed into a light hum. It must have been someone on a light cycle making their way in his direction. Was he spotted? He frowned.

Someone else in his general area wasn't something he needed at this particular moment. It was a known fact that many didn't travel out this way, and for good reason. A lot of the terrain would cause harm to light cycles if one was inexperienced, but from the way it sounded, this person was having no trouble at all. Maybe it was Sark on his way back from his service. Ira hoped as such, but then dreaded it as well. Sark was a program of ruthlessness, and if he wanted could sure as hell tear the boy apart if he wasn't careful. Ira wasn't much of a fighter, even though he pretended to be tough at times so hopefully that human instinct of survival wouldn't need to kick in now.

Ira grew tense as something finally came into view. A program clad in your typical armor for this system, with blue circuitry. Dammit. Apparently they knew just exactly why they were out here, as most users didn't venture this far into the system because of conduct. So what was going on and how would it look to them with Ira just lounging there? No, Ira thought of it now. It must be because- Ira watched as the program came to a halt on his cycle and got off, quickly heading in his direction. Now was the time to put back on the act. "Well I was just..." How was he supposed to explain and get himself out of this. From the looks of it, it was Tram. Yes, he know a little about this security program from word of mouth with such distinct circuitry.

'Something musta' happened.' "I get sick by an over abundance of people." Ira quickly lied as he got up to stand. "I didn't expect so many users to be in the system today." He finished, duplicitous behind his helmet. For a moment, a hand hovered over a baton that rested quietly on his outer thigh, fingers twitching in anticipation. 'They didn't catch Sark, did they? No, he's way too strong for that.' Would Ira need his sword, or- He let himself relax in a somewhat comfortable stance and let his helmet release, slowly revealing his face. From what he learned, always hiding behind it can make people more uneasy or unsure. It might have been the same for security programs or not. Ira let his fingers rest as well, telling himself he wasn't going to need that now and to just play it cool.

"Is needing some fresh air a crime?" He asked, praying Tram was one of the less uptight programs on the Grid. If Tram did begin to catch on that Ira was lying through his teeth, things may just get heated. Let's just hope he doesn't.

[TRAM]

Tram waited patiently as the User spoke, betraying no sign of suspicion or apprehension. He did find it odd that the User didn't bother retracting his helmet until part-way through the conversation. Typically, those who kept their helmets up had something to hide. What with the strange disappearances, the random attacks on Programs and that Sark fellow roaming around, Tram was taking no chances. But all the same, he didn't want to jump to conclusions too quickly.

"Well, no, there's no crime in getting some fresh air. I suppose we all need it once in a while," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck with a smile.

There had been those rare occasions where he needed space to himself, so he understood the need for it. But something was still bothering him. It was all well and good to get some fresh air, but there were plenty of opportunities for that within private sectors of the city or otherwise just outside of it. To come all the way out here just for some fresh air? It wasn't impossible, but it had him suspicious. Typically, the only reason anyone came out this far was because they were up to something that required a lack of prying eyes.

The Security Program attempted to size up the User in front of him. Really, most of them would have been too hesitant or afraid to venture out this far themselves; on more than one occasion he'd found and escorted wayward Users who'd gotten themselves lost. But this guy didn't really have the lost and helpless look about him. It was likely he'd visited the Sea of Simulation before, though for what precise reason, he couldn't say.

"My name is Tram, by the way. I'm a Security Program here," he informed the User. "I understand that it can get a little crowded at times, but you know, there are really much safer places to take a break. You do seem rather familiar with this area, though... may I ask how you found your way out here? I don't believe I've ever seen any Users this far out."

If the User was really just out there for some air, well, then his questions should seem completely innocent. There was nothing strange about a Security Program asking questions. And if it turned out that this User was a little hesitant in answering, then he'd get to the bottom of it. Although, then again... he was a User, so there shouldn't be too much to worry about, right?

[IRA KINGSTON]

Ira quickly rose a brow in response, watching the program. Typical that he would say that as he thought to himself. At least he wasn't on his case yet, but with such an answer Ira gave him, he was unnerved by the fact the program wasn't turning around and taking his leave. He knew full well he wasn't supposed to be this far out, but from what he figured where he was, many people didn't venture this far enough to even find a user here. Maybe that was one of his flaws - not thinking a lot of things through. He had to be careful so as not to slip up. How he wanted to just rezz his sword and take a crack at this program, hopefully bringing him down and being on his own again, but what if he bit off more than he could chew? What if he got taken in. No, Ira wouldn't settle for failure now. Ira watched as the other program looked him over carefully before speaking once more.

All he wanted was to tell him it was none of his business and if he could just leave him alone, but from what he understood, security programs didn't run that way. In fact it would make them more inclined to hound them for information, right? So what was his next move? Ira lowered his gaze to the programs baton, then back at the programs face. He swallowed hard before attempting to sound sincere. "Familiar? Hah, no. I only just heard about it earlier today! So I thought I'd check it out." Kingston put on a fake smile and shifted his weight to his right side. Ira's mind was racing from scenario to scenario, and none of them pleased him. Yes he wasn't much of a fighter, but now that he could speak, maybe he could talk his way out of this. Chances were he may just have to be escorted back to the city and then everything would be peachy. But that would defeat the purpose of him being out here in the first place. But what can one do?

Shrugging, Ira turned around to face out toward the sea once again taking both his hands and cupping them at the back of his neck, tangling his fingers together. Maybe these actions of being laid-back would ease the tension and the two could just relax more, making this end better. "Well, Tram. I'd imagine I got out here just the same as you did." a hint of laughter was hidden in his tone, along with another smile. Ira didn't give the program his name just yet and on purpose. Not until he felt the need to.

[TRAM]

Tram took his time studying the User he'd begun to converse with. There certainly didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary about him, but you couldn't really judge on sight alone, right? He couldn't quite explain it, but there was something in the back of his head telling him not to drop his guard quite so easily - which was conflicting with his want, or perhaps need, to make sure all Users under his watch were taken care of.

"You got out here... the same as I did?" Tram echoed, blue eyes blinking as he processed this particular answer. "That's rather impressive, if you don't mind my saying. The terrain out here is extremely rough, dangerous you understand, so the vast majority of Lightcycles really aren't equipped to handle the strain of the journey. Unless they're modified versions like mine; I know a few Programs who specialize in that type of service, though, last I checked they weren't catering to Users yet."

Yes, it was very curious. Assuming this User actually did have a model of Lightcycle that could handle the rugged terrain, there was still the matter of skill. Tram himself was not as proficient on a Lightcycle as programs like Tron or other champions of the Gaming Grid were, but his status as a Program and frequent practice meant he far outstripped most other Bascis and Users. For this User to get out to the Sean of Simulation without so much as a scratch on him? It was nothing short of astounding. He had to struggle to balance his sense of duty warning him to tread lightly with the growing bubble of admiration he often carried with him when speaking to Users.

"Besides that, though, I don't believe I ever got your name," Tram said with a smile, fishing for it as politely as possible. "Unless you've mentioned it and I've forgotten? I get a little excited around Users, you understand, so that's a very real possibility."

Okay, so it was a bit of a fib. Tram never really forgot anything, especially anything User-related. But as far as getting excited? Someone had once likened him to an over-excited puppy. Whatever a puppy was...