[Distance or not, Rinzler hadn't planned on leaving this quickly. (Not until it didn't feel quite so much like running away.) Still, Tron doesn't get to order him either, and Rinzler's mask turns back, a scathing glower fixed on his duplicate... until the addendum tacks onto the end, and changes the value state completely.
Please. Request, not order. It's not a word the enforcer hears much—at least, outside of the useless pleading of his prey—and it leaves Rinzler off-balance, nothing to push back against. Reactions falter, resentment settling to a suspicious stare as Tron moves over and bends down to drink.
Stupid of him. The other program's dock is exposed, attention elsewhere—even with the building power differential, Rinzler knows he could close that distance fast enough. That kind of idiocy is all but asking for it. A lunge, a strike, force uncoiled at just the right time, and then...
...then what?
He doesn't know. He doesn't want to think about it.
He doesn't move. Tron finishes, and Tron turns back, and now there's no question at all which one of them has the advantage. His mirror's lights burn bright against the shadows, slicing through them with fluid ease as he approaches where Rinzler has all but faded into the dark. Tron is quicker, Tron is stronger, and Tron has always been less broken. Rinzler wonders if he'll use that.
But the hand that reaches out is empty. The words that emerge make no sense at all. Rinzler stares, and Rinzler loops, and slowly, a rigid freeze locks itself through the hunched frame. Sound stutters, rough static joining each skip as Rinzler looks up at his other self and searches for the lie.
no subject
Please. Request, not order. It's not a word the enforcer hears much—at least, outside of the useless pleading of his prey—and it leaves Rinzler off-balance, nothing to push back against. Reactions falter, resentment settling to a suspicious stare as Tron moves over and bends down to drink.
Stupid of him. The other program's dock is exposed, attention elsewhere—even with the building power differential, Rinzler knows he could close that distance fast enough. That kind of idiocy is all but asking for it. A lunge, a strike, force uncoiled at just the right time, and then...
...then what?
He doesn't know. He doesn't want to think about it.
He doesn't move. Tron finishes, and Tron turns back, and now there's no question at all which one of them has the advantage. His mirror's lights burn bright against the shadows, slicing through them with fluid ease as he approaches where Rinzler has all but faded into the dark. Tron is quicker, Tron is stronger, and Tron has always been less broken. Rinzler wonders if he'll use that.
But the hand that reaches out is empty. The words that emerge make no sense at all. Rinzler stares, and Rinzler loops, and slowly, a rigid freeze locks itself through the hunched frame. Sound stutters, rough static joining each skip as Rinzler looks up at his other self and searches for the lie.
He's... serious.]