You can never say that I didn't try

[notglitching]

Who: Rinzler and OPEN
When: April 14th through the 24th
Where: the Hold
What: Rinzler killed some people and copes poorly. Set after this log.
Warnings: references to character death and mindscrew, glowy injuries, unfortunate assumptions. (See also: Rinzler.)


The first place Rinzler woke up in this system was a cell. He'd been locked in after a fight with his duplicate—with Tron. Not that the enforcer had been capable then of even hearing the older version's name. Rinzler had attacked because he had to, because the overrides built in his mind detected conflict and demanded he delete the source. Since then, he's shattered that if/then chain. Chipped away at the filters on his memories, even managed, once or twice, to speak.

But he's back where he started, and he knows better than to expect things to end the same way.

For the most part, visitors will find Rinzler seated on the low bench back against the wall. Circuits burn dimly in the shadows, almost outshone by the dull glint of fractured code that covers a full half of the enforcer's core. He's turned slightly to conceal the injured side, but the spiderwebbing cracks through code and armor are obvious to see, and he doesn't have the power to refresh his shell and cover up the damage.

The low rattle of corrupted code echoes through the cell and down the corridor, though it does nothing to compete with the invectives from the user locked in one door down. Rinzler approaches shutdown just once, curled up against the wall, and if the flickering lights and twitch of limbs is any sign, it's anything but restful. The program won't notice anyone approaching then, but he probably wouldn't mind being woken.

Once or twice, Rinzler rises, pacing, frustration and the need to move boiling up through the despair. There's nowhere to go, though, nothing to do, and even that much risks opening his damage further. Maybe he should. Fracture, break, rip himself apart and leave them voxels on the floor to claim and punish. Rinzler wonders if he ever tried before. If he does, he can't remember. He wonders what they'll make him into. Alan-one had told him what would happen, told him he'd correct the fault if Rinzler fought again. Now two users are dead, and if there's any hope at all, it's that they'll decide he's too worthless to salvage.


[[ooc: the duration during which Rinzler can be visited depends largely on the results of his trial, so there may be some time-wobbling. In particular, if he ends up with solitary confinement... no longer applicable; Rinzler will be visitable for both the trial period and his sentence. ETA 2: As of the 20th, temperature conditions will be improved thanks to Vision + co.

Prose and spam both welcome!]]

Comments

[whoami]

These conditions were bad enough for Sam, and he was just your average, run of the mill human. On electronics it was bad, but it was already a marvel they were even here, this heat must be murder on Programs.

...there's an irony even in thinking it.

It didn't help that Sam was wearing 2 layers either. He did figure if Rinzler wanted him dead, he would be. So he was able to open the door of the holding cell and walk right in.

"Hey."

A charging pack was thrown in Rinzler's general direction. It landed on the floor with a light thump. Rinzler was free to take it, or ignore it. Either way Sam leaned his shoulder next to the closed door, crossed a foot over the other and shoved his hands into his uniform's pockets.

"You look terrible."

More deja vu. He said the exact same thing to Tron once upon a time.

[notglitching]

The sound of steps outside the door received a slightly lagged glance up. On seeing who was entering, Rinzler's attention sharpened abruptly, ticking rumble building to a growl. The Flynn. It figured.

Even with scans down, he could feel the sharp spike of much-needed power from the pack that hit the ground. But Rinzler's mask stayed fixed on the figure, frame coiled with tense dislike but making no attempt to move. If he did, it wasn't going to be some desperate reach to recharge. Damaged or not, Rinzler was still confident he could wipe this one. And not at all sure he wouldn't need to.

For the moment, though, the enforcer only watches. What does it want?

[whoami]

Maybe it's a false sense of security thanks to his friendship with Tron, but Rinzler likely needed to be pushed from his comfort zone as much as Sam did.

"So they want to give you 'counseling' when you get out of here. I'd discourage you from killing the counselor. It's a good thing you don't have to sleep, I suppose."

Sam sighed and frowned at Rinzler.

"I really don't get it. Do you like pissing people off? Because sometimes it seems like you'll go out of your way to do that over just about anything else. Clu's not here, so this is all you. You've got everybody thinking you're a killer. Can't be trusted."

Sam already knew about the text communication, but this wasn't a complex response.

"Are they right?"

[notglitching]

Rinzler isn't Tron. If he were aware of the comparison, he'd make it unforgettably clear. But even without having that spelled out, there's plenty in the user's words to hate.

The ticking growl picks up towards a snarl almost from the outset—at its assumptions about who he'd kill. At its presumption that its opinion made a difference. Even the generalities are laughable—of course programs need to sleep. Rinzler's inability to shut down here certainly hasn't helped the compounding mass of errors.

Red-circuited fingers curl around the shelf as it goes on, flat loathing glaring out behind the mask. He doesn't answer to this Flynn. He doesn't care about its judgements. None of this ever had to do with Clu, and if the blame is nothing new, it's nothing he needs telling, either. And the question, the challenge, the test? That does more than just offend.

Need might be the wrong word. But in the space of a few lines, this user's certainly made Rinzler want to cause its death. The enforcer offers no answer to the binary, only jerks his helmet in a challenge.

Take one step closer and find out.

[whoami]

Well, it wasn't an answer. Sam didn't actually know what that was supposed to mean. He had nothing to fall back on and didn't speak Rinzler. Which isn't to say it meant nothing, but maybe it really was just too hot down here to get much better than a twitch?

For his part Sam made the idle motion of shrugging, totally at his ease.

"Well, I tried to help. I know others are trying to do something about the heat, but there's some charge."

Uncrossing his feet, Sam straightened and knocked against the window to be let out. Though just before he was;

If you aren't communicating then people are gonna assume. Trust me on this one. I've seen my name being splashed around enough in the tabloids to know. I did my level best to hide out from the whole world so they'd stop assuming and trying to compare me to my dad. It didn't really work. To you, killing seems incidental. But if you want less attention then this isn't the way to go."