Rinzler / Tron (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notglitching) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-02-14 05:46 am
notglitching) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-02-14 05:46 am
Entry tags:
Define your meaning of fun
Who: Rinzler and OPEN
When: After the Moira leaves Emiri, before the events on the 16th
Where: Training Simulation Room, Moro #9, and In Your Ceiling
What: Shenanigans with a side of larcenous roommates
Warnings: Probable violence and a Rinzler, but nothing awful planned
A. Training Simulation Room (Open)
When Rinzler had heard of the training area, his initial response had been disinterest. Defeating phantoms served no purpose, and he wasn't some beta to need training on the very function he was made for. Still, as time stretched out without a proper fight, the need to move started to weigh higher. And if recent events had left him singularly unimpressed with the system's response protocols to a threat, it probably wasn't worth attacking more of his fellow imports. At least, not until he found a target worth deleting.
Still, as the program stood out in the hallway, orange-lit fingers moving quickly over the soft blue of the control console, the ironies were harder to escape. A system in front of him, written for combat. For Games. And here he was, outside, stuck fighting the data-shadows it produced. Rinzler should be in there. He wanted a real battle, not some user-tailored simulation. The enforcer took what satisfaction he could in overriding the safety settings, doubling the pre-loaded templates and setting threat difficulty up to maximum.
The door slid open with a soft chime, and Rinzler stepped into the center, reaching back for his joined disk. But as long seconds ticked by, nothing happened. No lights. No sounds but his own constant rumble. Then:
"Waiting for voice activation."
Noise skipped, mute rattle glitching louder as Rinzler's helmet turned to glower out the door. Those programs definitely needed wiping.
B. Pick your location, (nearly) any location (Open)
While it hadn't rated particularly highly as a threat, Rinzler almost regretted that the beta-user had been killed. Its attack had been an interesting diversion, and if it had gotten away in the end... well, even that had proven educational. The vent-space Chara had escaped through was too small for the enforcer to pursue, but further investigation found larger access paths concealed behind more casings on the walls. Worth securing. Worth mapping. And of course, there was only one way to manage that properly.
Anyone in the cargo bay, barracks, or other main living areas might start to hear some sounds. A scraping in the walls. A ticking rumble echoing through the ceiling. Rinzler moves quietly for the most part, but the navigational difficulties are many and new, and it's difficult to assess when the shape of the passages might carry sound to occupants below. If someone were to look into the ventilation at the right time, they might even see a dim red-orange glow peering back through the darkness. Not that Rinzler's watching you. Necessarily.
C. Moro #9 (Closed toNapoleon Nathaniel)
As much time as Rinzler spent traveling the halls (and air ducts) of the ship, his own room was an almost uncommon waypoint. There was no function to be served inside, and the enforcer slept as rarely as he could. For the most part, Rinzler used it as a storage unit. With barely a handful of items in his possession (and most of those pointless user clothes), he didn't take much space.
On the other hand, it didn't take much effort to notice when those items were disturbed. The first time he'd come back to find his things minutely shifted, Rinzler had offered a flat stare across the room, but no further commentary. Data gathering was a logical goal, and he didn't care enough about any of the objects to object to the intrusion. If the user laid a hand on his disk, it was losing the appendage, but it seemed intelligent enough to know where to stay clear.
At least, until he stopped by and found things missing from his stash. Not the uniforms or the discarded weapons, but the supply of resource tokens they'd been distributed as a reward. Useless on the ship, but necessary for supply exchange on user planets. Valuable.
This time, the stare lasts longer. It comes with a low, building growl.
[[ooc: will match prose or spam!]]
When: After the Moira leaves Emiri, before the events on the 16th
Where: Training Simulation Room, Moro #9, and In Your Ceiling
What: Shenanigans with a side of larcenous roommates
Warnings: Probable violence and a Rinzler, but nothing awful planned
A. Training Simulation Room (Open)
When Rinzler had heard of the training area, his initial response had been disinterest. Defeating phantoms served no purpose, and he wasn't some beta to need training on the very function he was made for. Still, as time stretched out without a proper fight, the need to move started to weigh higher. And if recent events had left him singularly unimpressed with the system's response protocols to a threat, it probably wasn't worth attacking more of his fellow imports. At least, not until he found a target worth deleting.
Still, as the program stood out in the hallway, orange-lit fingers moving quickly over the soft blue of the control console, the ironies were harder to escape. A system in front of him, written for combat. For Games. And here he was, outside, stuck fighting the data-shadows it produced. Rinzler should be in there. He wanted a real battle, not some user-tailored simulation. The enforcer took what satisfaction he could in overriding the safety settings, doubling the pre-loaded templates and setting threat difficulty up to maximum.
The door slid open with a soft chime, and Rinzler stepped into the center, reaching back for his joined disk. But as long seconds ticked by, nothing happened. No lights. No sounds but his own constant rumble. Then:
"Waiting for voice activation."
Noise skipped, mute rattle glitching louder as Rinzler's helmet turned to glower out the door. Those programs definitely needed wiping.
B. Pick your location, (nearly) any location (Open)
While it hadn't rated particularly highly as a threat, Rinzler almost regretted that the beta-user had been killed. Its attack had been an interesting diversion, and if it had gotten away in the end... well, even that had proven educational. The vent-space Chara had escaped through was too small for the enforcer to pursue, but further investigation found larger access paths concealed behind more casings on the walls. Worth securing. Worth mapping. And of course, there was only one way to manage that properly.
Anyone in the cargo bay, barracks, or other main living areas might start to hear some sounds. A scraping in the walls. A ticking rumble echoing through the ceiling. Rinzler moves quietly for the most part, but the navigational difficulties are many and new, and it's difficult to assess when the shape of the passages might carry sound to occupants below. If someone were to look into the ventilation at the right time, they might even see a dim red-orange glow peering back through the darkness. Not that Rinzler's watching you. Necessarily.
C. Moro #9 (Closed to
As much time as Rinzler spent traveling the halls (and air ducts) of the ship, his own room was an almost uncommon waypoint. There was no function to be served inside, and the enforcer slept as rarely as he could. For the most part, Rinzler used it as a storage unit. With barely a handful of items in his possession (and most of those pointless user clothes), he didn't take much space.
On the other hand, it didn't take much effort to notice when those items were disturbed. The first time he'd come back to find his things minutely shifted, Rinzler had offered a flat stare across the room, but no further commentary. Data gathering was a logical goal, and he didn't care enough about any of the objects to object to the intrusion. If the user laid a hand on his disk, it was losing the appendage, but it seemed intelligent enough to know where to stay clear.
At least, until he stopped by and found things missing from his stash. Not the uniforms or the discarded weapons, but the supply of resource tokens they'd been distributed as a reward. Useless on the ship, but necessary for supply exchange on user planets. Valuable.
This time, the stare lasts longer. It comes with a low, building growl.
[[ooc: will match prose or spam!]]
no subject
Still, it took Rinzler a long moment to acknowledge the command. The program was distracted—not by threats or conflicts, but by environmentals. He'd known of the room's capabilities in the abstract, but the program's expectation had been halls or cityscapes—or perhaps the rough geometry that shaped the outlands. These massive columns of cracked red-brown... was that a plant? Certainly the ground seemed far too covered by growths, unordered greenery overlapping and entwining so closely that he couldn't see the system's foundation at all. It was dizzying.
The black mask tipped around, scans brushing the objects only to feel the code of the simulation. Something to research later. For now, the program dragged his attention back to Miller, nodding a little belatedly. Delete threats. Retrieve target. A hand reached out, testing the surface of a column (pliable, but with a solid foundation) before Rinzler backed up a few paces and ran at it.
Five steps up one surface before he jumped off to another, angling to take advantage of the roughness. Once he reached a sideways support, the program settled there, using the height advantage to scan his surroundings visually for the goal. Green and brown were still the dominant colors, but it didn't take too long to spot the low shape of a compound to his left.
Rinzler marked its position and slid off his perch, accepting the dozen-meter drop with easy grace. Circuits dimmed, scans casting out wide to be aware of any sentries as he slipped off through the undergrowth. Time to go find his prey.
no subject
Rinzler could ease his way through the growth easily, but ever time Miller used his crutch to vault a log or used his foot to keep a solid hold as he let himself slide down loose leaves was a minor miracle. He'd been practicing, but that didn't make the state of his body so easy to adjust too. Yes, he was planning on getting prosthetics at this point, but he didn't want to depend desperately on them. He wanted to use what he had.
And for a one legged man, he made pretty good time stationing himself at an overlook point, where he could watch Rinzler's infiltration.
So far none of the patrols were noticing him. Above average attentiveness and strength, but average human senses. Something Rinzler could take advantage of. "Voice to text," he said to his MID, and held his hand close to his mouth as he whispered in instructions for his current trainee.
Humans are priority targets. If you encounter hostile wildlife, apply non-lethal tactics, including evasion.
He settled to watch, removing his glasses. His eyes might be blue again, but in the dark of the forest his photosensitive eyes could still catch movements he wouldn't have noticed down there before he'd encountered the Mist. Rinzler's efforts weren't going to go unnoticed.
no subject
Users seemed more likely to offer a challenge anyway. The enforcer's mask tilted towards the sound of footsteps, and he paused, coiled low on a fallen tree in the dark. Two, together, on the move—probably a longer-range patrol. Rinzler waited, noise barely louder than a whisper, as the pair moved past, taking the time to stretch his scans out wider. No one else in sight.
He leapt, turning through the air towards the [targets]. One disk flared to life as his body extended, releasing in a straight shot for the back of one opponent's head. The second had time to suck in a breath, grip twitching on its weapon before the enforcer's flip connected with its neck. A quick clean snap and the simulated target dropped. Rinzler checked the other one, jerking his disk free from a smashed skull before he moved on.
no subject
Then, sent Rinzler another message.
Concealed bodies are less likely to trigger alerts.
Rinzler likely wasn't in much of a position before where hiding a body could be important. And if it weren't for the MIDs, he probably would have been wary of directing such a thing. But he was starting to get the idea that, maybe if he gave him a little more direction, he'd be less likely to hurt someone.
no subject
Besides, if any other mobile groups survived long enough to reach that pair's position, Rinzler was clearly slipping.
The next brush of presence came from high above—a makeshift sentry post attached to the side of one of the red-brown pillars. Rinzler stilled behind cover, damping his own signature in case of return scans... before slipping off to ascend another of the columns. The target wasn't looking for attack from above, and when Rinzler dropped down, one disk humming to life in his left hand, it didn't get a word off.