You can never say that I didn't try

[notglitching]

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!]]

Comments

[visionarie]

He enters the holding cell taking in the synthetic with a heavy heart. The scene echoes a vision of Ultron and his final demise at his hands. In the end, he had not wished for Ultron's death and he did not wish for Rinzler's either, yet with little knowledge of the justice system on this ship he had no guarantee they would not harm them. This was the reason for his unease during the trial, a state of being he easily hid under a mask of neutrality. After all, the court was a place for facts not sentiment. But the trial was done and over with and Vision... he could let someone so familiar yet unknown be locked away so easily when it was obvious they required help.

He steps into their line of sight and his eyes linger on the destruction still ailing his form.

"Do you--"

His lips press together, finding it difficult to voice his initial words when this unique being whose balance had tipped causing destruction in their wake was left in this state even after their sentence.

"-- Are you in pain?"

[notglitching]

Shutdown has far too many hazards, even if Rinzler were inclined to make the attempt deliberately. But over the last couple days, low-power mode has become a default. It's necessary: to function in this heat, to keep from losing what energy he has through the damage to his shell. And more, to keep from overprocessing. If he lets himself spend days thinking about everything to come—if he lets himself loop—he'll crash for good.

Still, if there's one thing Rinzler hates, it's not being able to feel people coming. He twitches audibly at the voice before his sound harshens, glass-edged irritation at his own reaction. There's slightly more control (if just as much tension) as Rinzler glances up... before the motion stalls with a blank stare.

That's not the question he'd expected. The program's helmet is still for several moments before it slants warily to the side. Question for question. (Even if the answer to its own was obvious.) Why does it want to know?

[visionarie]

He watches in silence and when no answer is forthcoming his eyes close and he delves into his own quantum mind. Slowly, his mind brushes against their coding to get a feel of their current state to further assess the damage.

have an essay

[notglitching]

Rinzler's entirety is coding, inside and out. The impression Vision will receive at first is damaged. The absence in Rinzler's side is the result of repeated attacks, lines of code severed and left half-complete—in the case of the initial injury, for several months now. The fight with Peter brought him close to derezz, but it's not the first time Rinzler's taken damage in this place. He's been carrying a smaller injury from Tron's disk since the night of his own arrival.

It's this flaw, this gap in otherwise-neat coding that allowed for the rest. Repeated impact, again and again in a short span, as the user wielded Rinzler's own inactive blade to smash apart the wound. Core functions are half-shattered, split apart in shards, and if his code is making efforts to restabilize, Rinzler's had neither the power nor the time for the fractured lines to draw back together. Even that wouldn't fix everything. There's missing code, gaps of data that would need to be rewritten. Shattered voxels spread across the hall as Shepard slammed him back, long since faded into nothing.

For the program, his functions are his form. But that doesn't mean there's nothing else behind it. If Vision's awareness brushes past pure structure, he'll get a sense of something equally corrupted: a mind outlined by the snarl of restrictions and by something seething underneath. The struggle is tangible. Audible. It always has been: the ticking, rattling whir Rinzler produces every moment he's online.

Vision won't have long to analyze. As his mind brushes past Rinzler's own code-sense, there's a spike of sharp, frozen awareness. Encryptions slam up, blocking off the scan, and as damaged—and yes, in pain—as Rinzler is, he's on his feet in seconds. Fury joins the scrape of conflict, and the program's noise snarls out in a low growl, fists curling as he glares at Vision through his mask.

Stay out of his code.

1/2 AI's what a bunch of ramblers

[visionarie]

A second was a lifetime to different beings and Vision needed only that one instant to assess the damage. His mind splintered into millions of thoughts each following a piece of coding to it's conclusion, and over millions of threads it wasn't hard to realize the extent of the damage.

His eyes suddenly open and the small mechanics behind them whirl as he takes in the room and the agitated state of the program.

2/2

[visionarie]

"I'm sorry," his eyes fall to the synthetic. "I did not mean to intrude only assess."

He gestures to him. "You are damaged."

[notglitching]

Rinzler's glare doesn't stop. The ticking growl doesn't reduce in the least. If he had his disk, it would be in his hand and lit—if not thrown already. He doesn't have it; the users took it away, and he's been half-crashing out of fear of what they'll do. But apparently this program doesn't need that access point to pry through Rinzler's code.

If he were less on edge, its conclusion would be laughable. As things stand, the black mask only twitches sharply, mute rejoinder. Yes, he's damaged. So what?

[visionarie]

He goes quiet, looking at him through eyes that weren't quite human. When he speaks, his tone is lightly off. "It's generally considered torture to deny aid to someone serving a prison sentence." He looks at him. "I will speak to the warden about this issue."

[notglitching]

Circuit-lined fingers curl, not quite fists, but Rinzler shakes his head. He doesn't want that.

[visionarie]

He gets the message but doesn't understand.

"But, you're in pain."

[notglitching]

The mask dips. Yes, he is. It doesn't matter. There's a momentary lag, frustrated (fear and) indecision, but Rinzler reaches for the device shackled to his wrist. A few taps to the MID produces holographic text, hovering in the air between them.

No edits.

[visionarie]

A pause as understanding dawns.

This being who had killed without a qualm yet fought to stay alive, and even now struggled to keep operating was --

"You are... afraid."

[notglitching]

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.

[visionarie]

His brows crease at the sudden noise. He knows what it means. Every small shift, every sound. Words are not necessary to understand at this point. "I don't want to change you. You are unique." He looks at him, his mind working at a quantum level, yet he struggles to put into words what he only knows through thought alone.

"Changing your program would destroy who you are.... at this moment. It would kill you." He looks at him. "You were not sentenced to death. It would break their laws to edit you. But you-- " His lips press together as his face falls and worry sweeps across his features. "You need help - power possibly - to keep functioning. It is immoral to keep you here like this. Injured."

[notglitching]

Rinzler stares back, wariness unmoved. He doesn't know this program well enough to believe that claim—much less to trust its motivation. Rinzler's always been unique, always been the best and strongest. That's why Clu kept him. Why he was made Rinzler at all.

Still, he can't quite stop the flicker of derision at the lines that follow. Their laws? No. Rinzler shakes his head, turning to pace (albeit slowly) back toward the low shelf. User laws are meant for users, and certainly there's no restriction against improving a tool. Or going however far they needed to correct for its malfunctions. Even if Alan-one hadn't told him outright what was coming, Rinzler wouldn't expect any other outcome now.

He sits back down, noise resuming its dull rumble as the enforcer's shoulders draw inwards in a shrug. So long as it stays out of his code, the other can apply whatever morality it chooses. Nothing will change, and Rinzler's been through worse before.

[visionarie]

He watches him pace, records every moment, noise. Everything that gives away what he thinks of his words, and once it's all analyzed he concludes the program is neutral in regards to what he does outside the holding. He already tried once to check his coding and his reaction is enough to stay his hand for a second hand. Perhaps someone else would have better luck.

"I will try to appropriate some changes for your stay here." He tells his as he steps back to head out.

[notglitching]

There's a slight twitch of the black helmet, but it's dismissive, nothing more. Rinzler doesn't expect anything to happen. He settles back to conserve power, paying no further attention as the android leaves.