Noise skips, a harsh scrape of static as Rinzler lets the text output fade away. Shoulders tighten in their hunch, the glow from his damaged side fluctuating faintly as tension shifts through the program's frame, coiled and angry. The claim is pathetic. Weak. Rinzler is a weapon and Rinzler is a threat and Rinzler is used to this, used to being locked and limited and pulled apart. Put together in whatever shape is wanted.

Rinzler doesn't disagree.