Tron flashed her a grim smile as they paused in front of the door, the guards stepping back as a grate closed behind them. "I... have done this before. Something very similar," he said, his voice low. "I will explain later, when we have more time. Once we're out of here." There was no question in his mind that they would escape.

Then there was no more time for talk. The door slid open in front of them, leaving nowhere else to go but forward, into the arena. Bright lights shone overhead, illuminating the center of the floor but leaving the cheering, bloodthirsty crowd in the shadows. Underfoot, the surface was scuffed, dirty, old stains half-heartedly cleaned and left to dry. Pillars and obstacles littered the area, larger than the Disc Wars pod in which Tron was used to fighting, but small enough that one could easily cross it in a few moments of sprinting.

A few sharp weapons and heavy, blunt objects were scattered about... Tron dismissed those, and drew his discs from his back, the glow activating in his hands. He still had his baton, as well, and he could guarantee that their captors did not know that it could transform into a lightcycle or lightjet. At the moment, it was useless as they were trapped, but he would keep it for the right moment.

Overhead, a booming voice was announcing the fight, something about a team battle to the death, victors to be granted freedom, etc, etc... Tron did not spare the processes to pay attention. In his experience, the promises offered by these sort of Games were never to be trusted.

Three other doors were opening along the walls, releasing their opponents. Three teams of two, Tron and Meh being the fourth. He didn't recognize any of them, so they weren't from the ship. Still, they were all in the same situation, and if he could rig their escape so all eight could be freed, so much the better.

Stepping back to Meh's side for a moment, he leaned close. "Be ready."