Fingers around his wrist. A strong grip yanking, to capture and direct. It's a blow to his stability in more than one way, and it's hard not to falter, not to flinch at the onslaught—twist and throw, the immobilizing slam of the ground against his dock, and the sight of [gold] lights, crashing down—

It doesn't matter. This isn't Clu, that isn't now and Rinzler forces the file back, kicking off to launch his body along the vector of her pull. The trapped wrist twists, blade curving in an attempt to sever the arm grabbing him. The rest of Rinzler? Is perfectly willing to travel over Texas. That offers a much better opening, after all: for his second disk to slam straight towards her spine.