Tattering coding, mauled and mangled by unskilled hands.

Betraying hands.

Hands that he'd trusted. Hands he'd believed in.

Hands he'd thought had belonged to a friend.

Abomination.

He deserved this.

"Flynn, go!"

He'd failed his purpose. Failed his directive. What was he now?

Nothing.

Monster.

Lying hands, uncaring - forcing him into something he wasn't. Twisting everything he was to something he shouldn't be.

"I.. am... TRON...!"

"No! TRON was imperfect. You are perfect now... You are..."

I am Rinzler.

No.

He wasn't Rinzler.

Rinzler was broken, Rinzler was twisted, Rinzler was -

Rinzler.