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.
inconsequence: (think again fucker)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-07-05 05:52 pm (UTC)(link)
This would require trust. It implies trust, a general faith in their capacity to transport sensitive material.

There's a catch. There must be. For what purpose would he entrust himself to them? The child lifts their chin, tipping their head slightly to one side. The weight of what lies unspoken sits astride their shoulders in heavy absolution.

"Transport to whom?"

That would only be part of the initial request.
inconsequence: (forgot about his ghost cock)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-07-05 08:46 pm (UTC)(link)
A promise. Unlike certain others they could name, Chara has no quarrel with promises. Either he lacks an alternative means of transportation, or - or he trusts them.

It does not particularly matter, they've found.

They are not above consequences.

No attack against receiving party. There are not many receiving parties they can think of to which Rinzler would be devoted to that extent, that Chara would conceivably bring harm to should their paths cross.

They smile thinly, wryly.

"Define 'attack'."

Would verbal excoriation be, for example, acceptable?
inconsequence: (and thats just with my bare hands)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-07-06 07:08 pm (UTC)(link)
Their eyes roll, briefly, one corner of their mouth twitching upward in evident distaste.

"Understood."

Here he stands, willingly ceding to them Clu's location. First contact enables the pinpointing of necessary ephemera - weakness, strength, the potential opponent's capacity for understanding the very same of another.

And more importantly, unprompted attack would be detrimental to their own purposes.

Clu cannot very well fix what he is broken if he is dead.

But they are not yet done, head tipping to one side as they regard Rinzler with narrowed eyes.

"Transport of vital code to someone with the known capacity to edit said code." A neat summation of desired events, all things considered. "I would say optimism is not one of your finer talents."
inconsequence: (pathetic little thing you call your life)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-07-06 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Rinzler doesn't belong to anybody.

A simple pronouncement, in the face of everything that had transpired. An obvious claim, though in the end, had he refuted it with anything of note? Violence had begotten violence, as it would typically do so, but had that been to prove any point in particular?

Perhaps not.

They regard him flatly for several moments longer before utter a short breath of a sigh.

"Well, I suppose I do owe you."
inconsequence: (as we speak i am contacting)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-07-07 12:14 am (UTC)(link)
"When confronted with my mirror image, you did what needed to be done."

Contrary to Rinzler's own conceptualization of that little endurance test, the idea of there being slightly less of Chara in existence is a welcome one, and one that merits no small amount of celebration.

Based on the uncertainty, telegraphed in the hesitation before he responds, it seems he did not see it as the correction that it was.
inconsequence: (the storm that wipes out the)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-07-07 06:10 am (UTC)(link)
His capacity to dispatch of Chara in an efficient and painless manner was commendable, even if they cannot quite suppress the envious streak that they've yet to receive the same choice in person. An exceptionally pitiful conclusion to draw, but true, nonetheless. Incapable of dying correctly, as always.

"I owe you," Chara repeats, firmly, hands folding behind their back. "And I would prefer that debt wiped clean."
inconsequence: (as we speak i am contacting)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-07-07 07:42 am (UTC)(link)
They're careful.

The temptation, of course, is there; they would not very well be Chara without the urge to break it beneath their hands, smash it into pieces, wreck every inch of it and laugh as it all burned. Witness and endure that which they are capable of, ruin it all, let it all fall to utter shards at their hands.

It is not the alacrity of the thought that softens their grip; their thoughts are just as abominable as the rest of them, and they have never pretended otherwise. It is the ease with which it tides away after.

They hold it with both hands, levelly.

"You will have to update my TAB with his location." But he already knew that they'd not known it prior to now.
inconsequence: (understand and appreciate the art)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-07-07 05:52 pm (UTC)(link)
There's a brief impulse to close on something abstruse and meaningful, closing a hand around his, or telling him not to perform anything rash. But the orange-red lights that broadcast his intent are, intentional or no, readouts of the same SOUL that died rushing fists-first into obstacles.

It's plain that he anticipates the worst. But they would be a hypocrite on par with Sans himself to point that out, or to rob him of that choice. It is his life, and his decision.

His code, suspended in balance.

"Understood." Again the pointless compulsion pulls at their fingertips, but lacking any docking port on their back for the disk, they simply hold it close to their chest, protectively. It fills their hands, muzzling whatever baseless instinct that may have arisen in its absence.

It's spoken quietly. So quietly, that it may as well have not been uttered at all. A small, hesitant thing, chipping away at the practiced smile, humming beneath that polished veneer.

"Good luck."

Because maybe,
with what little power they have...

They take their leave.
inconsequence: (lawn ornaments?)

and fast forwarding ahead for clu

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-07-12 12:20 am (UTC)(link)
And eventually, they find him. They would have to be trying to mess up something as simple as a set of coordinates on a TAB, though if anyone could ruin such a thing, it would have to be Chara, would it not?

Back through the Ingress, and back to the world they've come to remember. Clu's coordinates signify his presence in R1, and they gravitate in its direction accordingly.

No physical harm is to come of him.

That will not mean they will hesitate to issue some choice words.

They give no warning of their approach; if Rinzler alerted Clu to the potential for an intrusion, they were not made aware of it. The child's strides are curt and purposeful as they draw ever nearer, disk clasped firmly in their hands.
a_perfect_end: But the levee was dry. (recalculating)

NICE \o/

[personal profile] a_perfect_end 2017-07-12 05:24 am (UTC)(link)
For all their posturing about letting him in, 91c techs hardly bother with him going out again on ~Creator business~ to ~fetch certain belongings~ and it's...should that be insulting, or no?

Their docile idiocy is hardly his problem: he can do nearly anything, so long as they continue to assume he's harmless.

He is not immediately aware of being followed, but he's certainly aware of being approached, and rapidly, by...

Not!Frisk. Not hardly. But not known directly to him, either. The grim expression and terse cant of the spine register with all due gravity.

And he recognizes his new friend's cargo instantly.

"Greetings!" Facile, crisp to hide the sheen of avarice, given away in the sudden total stillness of his posture, like a marionette or a corpse. "I don't think we've met...I am Clu."

Pause.

"Where did you get that."

It's not a question.
inconsequence: (its a metaphor for our modern society)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-07-12 05:59 am (UTC)(link)
Greetings.

It's not without bitter irony that he introduces himself. He cannot possibly have known to steal a demon's words, the clipped formalities of speech they employ. Or so they would have thought, prior to the discovery of his sheer and unending lack of respect for anything resembling boundaries. Who knows what possibilities he may have gleaned from Asriel's source code? From Frisk's?

If he has any understanding as to their function, perhaps he out to reevaluate it. Their eyes are flat, their lips pressed into a thin, uncompromising line.

"I've been tasked to play courier, for the time being." A slight lift of the disk in question, to indicate its importance. "I see you recognize the importance of such an ACT."
a_perfect_end: No angel born in hell. (creeping: operate fixate)

[personal profile] a_perfect_end 2017-07-16 09:14 pm (UTC)(link)
There is no such thing as privacy; there are only obstacles, and he is made to remove them. Each of his new charges were near death when he accepted them--he had to access most of the directories just to diagnose the problem, simply to keep them running.

And if he'd pried a little, well.

For a machine the line between custom and mimicry is very thin.

This one and Frisk share a parent directory, but Clu does not know them. Besides, if Clu had out the eyes of everyone that ever narrowed them his way, half the Grid would be blind.

"Of course." Inquiry, incline of the head, and his words are so, so warm. "You are high in his esteem, or he is entirely desperate--either of which make you intensely interesting."

The you lucky thing is implied in the ever-widening grin.

"...I'm glad to finally meet you."
inconsequence: (i am trained in gorilla warfare and)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-07-16 10:06 pm (UTC)(link)
So they're interesting to him, are they. An object to be studied and dissected with a purely scientific interest, no doubt. Consider them coldly unimpressed by the sentiment, evidenced by the slow lift of their eyebrows, the faint curl of a lip that approximates a sneer.

The greeting goes either unnoticed or simply not worth their interest. More likely the latter.

"Desperate, no doubt," says Chara, crisply. But they're not finished playing courier just yet.

There are words that must be said.

"I trust you will not be violating the integrity of anyone's source coding by handing this over."

The unspoken sentiment being of course you don't.
a_perfect_end: Bad news on the doorstep. (procedural language)

[personal profile] a_perfect_end 2017-07-16 10:50 pm (UTC)(link)
All puzzles are interesting! Some are so interesting he just...has to take them apart to see exactly how they work.

Sometimes more than once.
Especially if the results are enlightening the first time.

...Oh. We're. Not gonna sing with the telegram? Is that what the eyebrow is for?

Expressions can be removed just as fast as they are applied: there, no more teeth.

"Excuse me?" Careful, so gentle, all confusion, not a hint of will to it. "I don't understand."

inconsequence: (i mean i know this is The Internet)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-07-16 11:11 pm (UTC)(link)
"Well, you know." And that is when they smile, a slow, almost pitying upward tug to the corners of their lips. Playing their hand, slowly, carefully. If he'll play dumb, they'll play him right back.

He can't hide from them. Not from their scrutiny. Not from their unblinking scarlet gaze.

"You certainly didn't seem to mind the thought of boundaries before now. I can only imagine what you could do to this," - and their fingertips drum lightly against the side of the disk - "if you felt so inclined to take advantage."
a_perfect_end: In a coat he borrowed from James Dean. (nod your head)

[personal profile] a_perfect_end 2017-08-06 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
Did. Did he just--

Get played by a ten-year-old kid?

Recalculating...

"So. You and I both know what that is? What it's for? Sharp cookie." Nothing false about the flick of the hand, conspiratorial; the kind that goes with tiger or champ in situations that merit praise. "And you don't want to fork it over--Because?"

If the kid wants to colloquialism:vulgar: cut the shit, sure, he can do that.

"Who did what in your Wheaties, exactly? Maybe I can help."
inconsequence: (youre fucking dead kid)

[personal profile] inconsequence 2017-08-06 03:32 am (UTC)(link)
He absolutely did. Be proud, Clu.

Rather sharp, are they not? Hold your applause; they've a singular acquaintance to Rinzler that has only grown increasingly complicated over the months, and his most recent discovery has not eased those subsequent revelations in the slightest.

"I've no interest in any help you have to offer." Their tone is cold, dismissive, and they're not about to offer the disk - not just yet. "I simply wish to ensure that Rinzler will still be Rinzler when his disk is inevitably returned."
a_perfect_end: How that music used to make me smile. (bad command or file name)

[personal profile] a_perfect_end 2017-08-06 04:56 am (UTC)(link)
The variables swing aside with fulcrum weight, hitting him right in the face as they go. Just what is this kid, to Rinzler--to the rest of them--

But then he switches tracks. The tone doesn't really carry the tune, melody out of step with lyrics, the usual and ancient song:

No, don't and when they're feeling brave or original there's a blurt of traitor, of Flynn wouldn't want this.

Like there ever was a god. Like anybody even cared, except for Clu.

"Rinzler is not yours," almost cheerful, "and he will never be. But if words'll do it for you, I'm happy to pinky swear."

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