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_log2016-04-13 08:09 pm
notglitching) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-04-13 08:09 pm
You can never say that I didn't try
Who: Rinzler and OPEN
When: April 14th through the 24th
Where: the Hold
What: Rinzler killed some people and copes poorly. Set after this log.
Warnings: references to character death and mindscrew, glowy injuries, unfortunate assumptions. (See also: Rinzler.)
The first place Rinzler woke up in this system was a cell. He'd been locked in after a fight with his duplicate—with Tron. Not that the enforcer had been capable then of even hearing the older version's name. Rinzler had attacked because he had to, because the overrides built in his mind detected conflict and demanded he delete the source. Since then, he's shattered that if/then chain. Chipped away at the filters on his memories, even managed, once or twice, to speak.
But he's back where he started, and he knows better than to expect things to end the same way.
For the most part, visitors will find Rinzler seated on the low bench back against the wall. Circuits burn dimly in the shadows, almost outshone by the dull glint of fractured code that covers a full half of the enforcer's core. He's turned slightly to conceal the injured side, but the spiderwebbing cracks through code and armor are obvious to see, and he doesn't have the power to refresh his shell and cover up the damage.
The low rattle of corrupted code echoes through the cell and down the corridor, though it does nothing to compete with the invectives from the user locked in one door down. Rinzler approaches shutdown just once, curled up against the wall, and if the flickering lights and twitch of limbs is any sign, it's anything but restful. The program won't notice anyone approaching then, but he probably wouldn't mind being woken.
Once or twice, Rinzler rises, pacing, frustration and the need to move boiling up through the despair. There's nowhere to go, though, nothing to do, and even that much risks opening his damage further. Maybe he should. Fracture, break, rip himself apart and leave them voxels on the floor to claim and punish. Rinzler wonders if he ever tried before. If he does, he can't remember. He wonders what they'll make him into. Alan-one had told him what would happen, told him he'd correct the fault if Rinzler fought again. Now two users are dead, and if there's any hope at all, it's that they'll decide he's too worthless to salvage.
[[ooc:the duration during which Rinzler can be visited depends largely on the results of his trial, so there may be some time-wobbling. In particular, if he ends up with solitary confinement... no longer applicable; Rinzler will be visitable for both the trial period and his sentence. ETA 2: As of the 20th, temperature conditions will be improved thanks to Vision + co.
Prose and spam both welcome!]]
When: April 14th through the 24th
Where: the Hold
What: Rinzler killed some people and copes poorly. Set after this log.
Warnings: references to character death and mindscrew, glowy injuries, unfortunate assumptions. (See also: Rinzler.)
The first place Rinzler woke up in this system was a cell. He'd been locked in after a fight with his duplicate—with Tron. Not that the enforcer had been capable then of even hearing the older version's name. Rinzler had attacked because he had to, because the overrides built in his mind detected conflict and demanded he delete the source. Since then, he's shattered that if/then chain. Chipped away at the filters on his memories, even managed, once or twice, to speak.
But he's back where he started, and he knows better than to expect things to end the same way.
For the most part, visitors will find Rinzler seated on the low bench back against the wall. Circuits burn dimly in the shadows, almost outshone by the dull glint of fractured code that covers a full half of the enforcer's core. He's turned slightly to conceal the injured side, but the spiderwebbing cracks through code and armor are obvious to see, and he doesn't have the power to refresh his shell and cover up the damage.
The low rattle of corrupted code echoes through the cell and down the corridor, though it does nothing to compete with the invectives from the user locked in one door down. Rinzler approaches shutdown just once, curled up against the wall, and if the flickering lights and twitch of limbs is any sign, it's anything but restful. The program won't notice anyone approaching then, but he probably wouldn't mind being woken.
Once or twice, Rinzler rises, pacing, frustration and the need to move boiling up through the despair. There's nowhere to go, though, nothing to do, and even that much risks opening his damage further. Maybe he should. Fracture, break, rip himself apart and leave them voxels on the floor to claim and punish. Rinzler wonders if he ever tried before. If he does, he can't remember. He wonders what they'll make him into. Alan-one had told him what would happen, told him he'd correct the fault if Rinzler fought again. Now two users are dead, and if there's any hope at all, it's that they'll decide he's too worthless to salvage.
[[ooc:
Prose and spam both welcome!]]
no subject
Not that the current situation requires much. Rinzler's helmet tips up at the greeting. At the line that follows... well, he stares. Incomprehension? Incredulity? Subtle rejoinder? Deacon can decide.
no subject
He draws his knees up towards his chest and rests his arms on them. It's about as non-threatening a pose as he can muster--on the ground, hands visible. If he's going to have a chat with a deadly person with a hair-trigger, he's going to go out of his way to be careful not to present himself as a danger that needs to be eliminated, even if Rinzler is injured and unarmed.
"So, what happened? Not with Peter, like, that was pretty clearly self defense and if someone tried to ambush me, I'd try to kill them back, too. But what happened to make him believe you deserved it?"
no subject
Not my data.
The mask tips sideways, further out along the hall. If Deacon wants to know about the user's reasoning, he should go ask the user.
no subject
He's trying out Rinzler's language. Partly because he likes to collect mannerisms and dialects--even his current preferred Californian accent is fake. Partly in an attempt to communicate better.
"If you want to," he adds.
no subject
It's comprehensible enough, though, and the stall that drags out as Rinzler considers that request is enough to set all defaults back to blank exhaustion. He doesn't want to. He doesn't care enough to refuse. It won't make a difference, and despite the trap, that user will never be the one Rinzler fears. He shrugs.
Attacked user.
Attacked by user.
Threats made.
Remaining incident on record.
As summaries go, that's pretty terrible. C-, Rinzler. At best.
no subject
Rinzler's response to his question doesn't really tell him much.
"Okay, so you don't want to talk about it."
Deacon breaths in, sighs the breath out. New approach.
"Why'd you do it? Not Peter, that's fucking obvious. But J and Cannae, what happened there?"
no subject
Event history on public record.
The user should know what happened.
no subject
He rubs his hand over his jaw.
"Look, I'll come clean with you. I'm really invested in this case because I'm not exactly a user. I'm...I guess you could call me half-way in between. I've got a lot of biological parts grafted in, but the processor--" He taps his head. "That's all synthetic. Just metal bits and scientists' clever programming. They wanted to make AI that were indistinguishable from humans. And they did a damn good job of it. It's a shame they're totally evil. Yeah, I don't listen to my creators any more."
It's a lie, one he especially likes. He has half of HQ back home wondering if he's a synth. There's a betting pool on it, last he heard. So he'll drop this lie into the conversation and see if it shakes anything up.
no subject
Lie.
The word flashes up on the MID. The ticking, glitching rattle? Builds. Rinzler's stare is fixed and angry, voiceless sound approaching a low snarl. Did the user think he was stupid? He'd scanned it when it first pointed a weapon his direction.
It isn't code. It isn't metal. It has no idea what it's like to be made, or owned, or used. Coded or recoded, into whatever his programmers decide. Is this how it has fun? Stepping down to their level to taunt and play pretend? Or does it just think he's glitched enough to break for something so transparent?
no subject
"Okay okay okay, I'm not a synth." He raises his hands, appeasing. "But I have pals back home who are. And I know that sometimes creators can think of their sentient creations as just, like, really fancy guns that can walk and talk and strategize, guns that they can give orders to, make them take care of their problems for them without getting their own hands dirty.
"So if you're just a psycho murderer, fine. Maybe someday when you get out of here you'll slice me up because I sneeze the wrong way, I'll put a few bullets in you if I'm lucky, it'll be a party. A really terrible party. But if you're twitchy because someone made you their gun, and it's hard to remember how to be anything else, and if you didn't want these deaths to happen, that matters."
He needs to know if Rinzler is ultimately more like a Courser or like his colleague, Glory. He doesn't think that Rinzler will ever be non-violent, but has he drunk deep of the asshole kool-aid or is he just really fucking paranoid and angry at the world and has limited ways of expressing it?
no subject
He doesn't pursue as the user scrambles back, but its fear is more satisfying than any of its words. Certainly it's better than the hypotheticals that come next. If he's angry. If he didn't want their deaths. Rinzler's always angry, but that doesn't mean he wants this user's pity. It doesn't mean he would act differently, either. They attacked him. They deserved it.
Wrong.
What he wanted doesn't matter. And it never will.
no subject
"Why am I wrong?"
no subject
Doesn't matter.
He still killed users. He'd still do it again.
no subject
His heart is beating rapidly, like it does when he hears a deathclaw growl.
"Do you like who you are right now?"
no subject
Needless to say, liking is just as much a nonconcern. Deacon won't receive any answer but a glare.
no subject
no subject
no subject
He takes a deep breath. Just one more thing that he has to say and then he can let himself run away and calm down the fearful adrenaline rush that's coursing through him.
"The thing is, I'd be on your side, if you let me. And if you stopped killing people who weren't a threat to you, that's kinda crucial. So...yeah. That's it. That's the sell. All done."
no subject
The user said something about leaving?
no subject
The door opens and he ducks away quickly, never turning his back to Rinzler.