notglitching: (red - step away from the window)
Rinzler / Tron ([personal profile] notglitching) wrote in [community profile] thisavrou_log2017-06-27 11:39 am

Follow the sunlight down

Who: Closed to the Tron-Undertale Trainwreck Cast & Friends
When: June 24, shortly before the player plot ends
Where: The Center for Created Oversight and Affairs (Earth 91c)
What: Rinzler and Alan get in trouble; everyone else gets them out. With worse trouble. And frisbees that are brains that might be bombs?
Warnings: Mindscrew references for pretty near everyone. Personhood issues. VIOLENCE AND FRIENDSHIP, which are strangely inextricable.

"Multiple injured. One dead. In a world priding itself on peace and plenty, a utopia where Creators and Created have flourished together for centuries, the incident is horrifying to the extreme. Unthinkable that a Created would commit this kind of violence. Terrifying, that it isn't the first time. Eastgate City has been shaken since the attack at the rally, and to have another case of bloodshed so soon...

It truly is fortunate, that the matter has been closed.

Two nights ago, visiting Creator Alan Bradley was taken into custody following an outbreak of violence outside a local bar. Witnesses reported that Bradley's program initiated an unprovoked assault on passerby attempting conversation, agitating a child on the scene to join the fight as well. Though the child was initially believed to be responsible for the glitched program, Bradley proved able to control it on arrival—though not before his negligence resulted in a death."
The news goes on. It lists Ingress records and testimonials, identifying Alan Bradley as an offworld programmer clearly responsible for his creation's faults. A few sources even mention his effort to send away the program, and speculate darkly about what for. Not that it matters. Not long after the initial reports leaked, full of shock and rage and calls for retribution, Bradley's creation surrendered to the CCOA. That part, at least, no one speaks of with surprise. Even the most damaged Created know the debt they owe their keepers.

Besides, they don't know how to operate alone.

True, that Rinzler wasn't written to. True, that any risk to Alan-one is unacceptable—especially as a result of choices that he made. Rinzler attacked the users on the street. Chara helped, but he initiated, and Tron's maker only came to stop the harm he dealt from going further.

Still, not everything makes it to the news. There's no reference to Rinzler's missing disks. Not a word of the standoff that has built behind closed doors. On this world, as on any other, code is just another form of property—but Rinzler is Alan's property, requiring his creator's permission to modify or open up. It's not something that should have been an issue—the crimes the visitor is charged with are enough to warrant exile a dozen times over. Except that Alan Bradley has refused to leave without his program.

So they wait.

The stalemate won't last. Motions are underway already: invoking exigency for the risk posed to and by a program with no backup, filing to have Alan Bradley forcibly removed or else prosecuted as a native to their world. It won't last, but it's been long enough for those aware of the arrests to gather.

And possibly, prepare a less legal response.
a_perfect_end: Do you recall what was revealed? (inspection)

[personal profile] a_perfect_end 2017-07-01 07:32 am (UTC)(link)
"...They already know we're here, and I know you can get us out of here again." The words are inane, slow as the idea of being solid again takes hold. But Nihlus knows what he's doing, and Clu knows a pro when he sees one, and both of them know there isn't much time.

Clu moves at a steady clip past sleek darkened rows of upturned faces, rapt, features slack and soft with something too small to be death. They're not asleep, but they're not his, and this is not his system--

The only berth that matters is on the end, guttering like a nest of embers half-smothered in ash, and does he have enough power.

He's too tired to scoff at that, saving it instead for cracking off the flimsy play at a coffin lid they thought could hold down anyone with half a charge.

The stasis unit is a dumb terminal coughing up dumb errors even for the correct inputs. They've User-proofed it so thoroughly it doesn't, or can't, accept his routines.

It refuses all prompts. It is not stronger than his grip.

"Yeah?" Amid the cold, brittle metallic squalling of composite that didn't want to give. Reinforced leads and siphons bristle over Rinzler's wincing form at critical junctions, ugliness and filth that should not be there, and Clu can feel where he's growling it, "Yeah, yeah I've got it! Hang on."

The restraints are somewhat easier going. He'd never risk Rinzler's disc for this, but his own does just as well--there are sparks where they'd expected it, but they'd calibrated their material for Rinzler, for surgical razor finesse.

Clu hatchets at the sheer nonsense enshrouding his enforcer's legs and arms and simply carves most of it loose.

"Listen to me," gruff, close as he bends forward, relief or something else catching tight in his throat, the differential strobing through his circuits, "listen. Can you stand?"

They've got to be ready to run.
beautifulspaceraptor: (lock and loaded)

[personal profile] beautifulspaceraptor 2017-07-02 06:52 am (UTC)(link)
The security here wasn't particularly spectacular: it was a storage facility after all, not a prison. The Programs kept here were generally incapable of harming a creator and the biggest threat to security would be thieves. Sure, they'd bulked the security up some with a prisoner like Rinzler around, but the fact that they'd been confident enough to just install one guard in the room spoke volumes about what they'd been expecting.

And they hadn't been expecting them.

Best not to get cocky though.

While Clu goes to town on the restraints, Nihlus pulls up the security feeds from various parts of the building on one screen and gets to work trying to get admin access on another. Between the data he'd harvested previously from the CCOA and his own Spectre-grade decryption software and VI, it takes only a minute- after which he promptly revokes all access from everyone in the building, neatly trapping a good number of the security guards and blocking the path for the very armed backup coming their way. Then, after granting new privileges to the security guard he was logged in as, he quickly changes the password to the account before logging off.

"Building's surrounded. We're going out the roof."

Kneeling next to the corpse, he pulls out the dead guard's ID key card.
a_perfect_end: While the sergeants played a marching tune. (stripes)

[personal profile] a_perfect_end 2017-07-04 12:57 am (UTC)(link)
Rinzler is holding so still, pushed in on himself even sloped forward at the neck, tension in the upper shoulders fit to crack his frame. It echoes to very old configurations, to realization turning over queasily in the queue--

Clu rejects the notion of wiped partitions as impossible. It’s not consistent with that, and he knows--only too well--exactly what the results of brute force access attempts look like. This is not the work of external agents. Something else is stirring there instead, something more shudders free under hateful alien wire and the bristling barbs of foreign metal.

A foxfire thread of never, a hush of demurral low in Rinzler’s throat. The chalk outline of trapped breath, stunted words, hash values from the oldest central promise, his reason for existing half-formed on the glass: I fight…

Clu pushes the rest of the way in, cuts him loose in an overhand flare of tungsten sparks and lets him fall to one knee, posture steadying as core routines spread and reinforce, head bowed in perfect grace.

Touching him always, always just makes it worse.

“Good.” Rough, abrupt with something indefinable. He turns away, swallows it before it can escape, acting before he speaks.

“You heard the man--up.”
Edited (this is not the html tag pair you're looking for) 2017-07-04 00:58 (UTC)
beautifulspaceraptor: (crossed arms)

[personal profile] beautifulspaceraptor 2017-07-07 11:40 am (UTC)(link)
Whenever Clu turns, he will see Nihlus watching him over the dead guard's corpse. There's a cold glint in his eyes, there and gone like a passing shadow, an imperfect translation of the expression underneath.

If Nihlus has any commentary on the little scene playing out before him though, he doesn't say. Instead, he slips the keycard into his wrist compartment (the hologram distorts oddly around his forearm), unclips his pistol from his thigh plate and disappears back down the hallway they'd come from.

There's the distant sound of another set of doors opening, surprised yells, the tell-tale 'VOMF' of Overload and then:

a_perfect_end: Well, I know that you're in love with him. (not $flynn)

[personal profile] a_perfect_end 2017-07-09 01:12 am (UTC)(link)
Rinzler's functional, within tolerances, adhering to defaults in light of dangerously low power.

...Clu spent his own overage wiping the slate with that little stunt earlier, but it's too late now to regret the waste.

Did Nihlus expect a glimpse of stark grief rinsed off instantly by a flat glare? Because that’s what he gets, unblinking and unrepentant--he’s still a User. It doesn’t matter if he understands what he sees, if he thinks it’s right, if it suits his taste. He can say or do whatever he wants about it--later. When Rinzler is safe.

Odds are forty-one and bar-three against them making it out of here for good, anyway.

Rinzler glides ahead of Clu, swift and sure, sweeping the terrain for remainder threats--none are in evidence. Of course they’re being followed, but so far nothing has cut through their countermeasures--and with every few yards, their odds improve.

Until they hit a hallway functionally identical to the last three hallways they’ve come through: for this hallway Rinzler lurches to a stop, sound looping into high gear, grinding frantically as he sways a little with the urgency of--

User. In the specific, in the direct case, snared there as he literally rattles with distress.

That means--

"Clarify!" Harsh, immediate. "Location? Glitch the fork, are we gonna have to go back through legal..." Which is, of course, a prior floor on a previous level, which will be positively flooded with heavily armed guards. "Solder it, my map is partial..."

He grits his teeth.

"Go ask your friend on point up there for his cartographic data."

After all, someone has to watch their backs, especially if they're facing the possibility of a glitching retread.
beautifulspaceraptor: (>:c ?)

Sorry about the lateness!

[personal profile] beautifulspaceraptor 2017-07-31 06:44 am (UTC)(link)
Goddess- dammit. They were THIS close to the point where Nihlus could have split.

Here he was hoping Rinzler would be out of it enough that he could send the enforcer off with Clu before coming back for Bradley. Alan, after all, couldn't be wiped or formatted as easily and the CCOA had to at least keep up the front of looking like they were treating him in accordance with their laws. Rinzler was also more of a reliability in his current state, hovering on the brink of no energy- an issue compounded by Clu over-exerting himself to eliminate one low-level threat. Clu needed to keep the rest of that energy to work a light jet, which means he's not going to be the one doing the piggy-backing if Rinzler blacks out.

... Of course, there's no real use trying to argue with both of them about it now. Rinzler is a stubborn bastard on the best of days and considering it was his creator on the line here- well.

Besides, there were SOME pros to working with a team to break Bradley out.


Still, the Spectre finds it within himself to level them both with a holographic look that was almost annoyance from his position on point.

"I know where he's being kept."

And rather than bothering to expand on the matter, he makes his way through another door instead.

A+ Spectre teamwork skills.