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

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.