Tattering coding, mauled and mangled by unskilled hands.
Hands that he'd trusted. Hands he'd believed in.
Hands he'd thought had belonged to a friend.
He deserved this.
He'd failed his purpose. Failed his directive. What was he now?
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.
He wasn't Rinzler.
Rinzler was broken, Rinzler was twisted, Rinzler was -