Five hundred cycles. Five hundred cycles without the virus. Five hundred cycles for the memories of those dark times to fade. To let himself forget a little bit – Bostrum, Arjia, Radia… Gibson. To focus on something else. Because even with things the way they were, they still weren’t as bad as those days. He doubted they ever could be.
Five. Hundred. Cycles.
Five hundred cycles later and he was somewhere different, and the virus was back, and everything flooded back. He might have pretended to forget, but all of the data was still there, brilliantly clear like the sky on the station. You can’t just rid yourself of your first memories. Your first lightcycle ride, young and terrified as everything exploded around you. The first time you activated the mag mod on your disc and the experience of flight.
Your first real opponent.
He’d fought a few infected, before he met their maker. Their master. It had frightened him a little, not that he’d ever admit it because he’s not supposed to be that weak. But leaping in and stopping the virus for the first time, at the ceremony… that was when he’d experienced a strange moment of clarity. This was who he was supposed to fight. The one he’d been made to combat, even if the Creator hadn’t intended him specifically for it.
Destiny.
He fought the virus, broke his disc. “I think you would have preferred death to this.” No. Never death. That wasn’t what he was meant for. And the virus had left, leaping to a ledge, and they’d spared each other looks. I’ll be seeing you again. But they hadn’t. Not until Bostrum. He fought the virus’s infected programs, finding no pleasure in the act, but then Clu… did what Clu did. And the virus was off his radar for the barest moment. Much later, he wondered if he’d been off the virus’s radar. He doubted it, cycles later. It was too convenient, that the virus would go where he was heading.
“Welcome it. It’s easier.”
No one knew it – at least he didn’t think they did – but he would have stood and fought if Gibson hadn’t screamed at him to run. He had drawn his disc, ready to face the virus. They were meant for this. But Gibson’s voice broke through the fog and he’d taken off after him, sensing the virus hot on their trail, listening to his cajoling yells. “I love a good chase!” And they got away. But not for long. It wasn’t until later that he realized he’d seen it coming, with a yellow light ribbon stretching along the cliff to his right as he drove Flynn’s lightcycle.
STILL TECHNICALLY ANON FILL, LAWL - Destiny 1/???
Five. Hundred. Cycles.
Five hundred cycles later and he was somewhere different, and the virus was back, and everything flooded back. He might have pretended to forget, but all of the data was still there, brilliantly clear like the sky on the station. You can’t just rid yourself of your first memories. Your first lightcycle ride, young and terrified as everything exploded around you. The first time you activated the mag mod on your disc and the experience of flight.
Your first real opponent.
He’d fought a few infected, before he met their maker. Their master. It had frightened him a little, not that he’d ever admit it because he’s not supposed to be that weak. But leaping in and stopping the virus for the first time, at the ceremony… that was when he’d experienced a strange moment of clarity. This was who he was supposed to fight. The one he’d been made to combat, even if the Creator hadn’t intended him specifically for it.
Destiny.
He fought the virus, broke his disc. “
I think you would have preferred death to this.” No. Never death. That wasn’t what he was meant for. And the virus had left, leaping to a ledge, and they’d spared each other looks. I’ll be seeing you again. But they hadn’t. Not until Bostrum. He fought the virus’s infected programs, finding no pleasure in the act, but then Clu… did what Clu did. And the virus was off his radar for the barest moment. Much later, he wondered if he’d been off the virus’s radar. He doubted it, cycles later. It was too convenient, that the virus would go where he was heading.“
Welcome it. It’s easier.”No one knew it – at least he didn’t think they did – but he would have stood and fought if Gibson hadn’t screamed at him to run. He had drawn his disc, ready to face the virus. They were meant for this. But Gibson’s voice broke through the fog and he’d taken off after him, sensing the virus hot on their trail, listening to his cajoling yells. “
I love a good chase!” And they got away. But not for long. It wasn’t until later that he realized he’d seen it coming, with a yellow light ribbon stretching along the cliff to his right as he drove Flynn’s lightcycle.The virus was always faster.