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

[trap_factory]

Like with the trial, Prometheus shows up randomly and silently and never for long. A few times, he stands out of view but nearby and leaves when his scanners pick up on another presence approaching. Rinzler would be able to pick up on his presence if he cared to look, but for the most part, the Reploid doesn't say anything.

The shorter visits has Prometheus standing in front of the door, watching Rinzler and seemingly unimpressed - though he grins at the captive if or when Rinzler decides to look up - before he leaves. If he caught Rinzler while the other was shut down, there is no comment. It confirms his suspicions, but like it was in that shared dorm room back at the school, it was too close - too intimate - to use.

It's one of the later visits that has the Reploid finally start a conversation in a lazy drawl.

"I always knew we were our own worst enemy... I'm so happy you're one of the people to prove me right, Rinzler."

He smiles and on the surface, he looks like some cat that got into the cream, all satisfaction and amusement. But Rinzler has known Prometheus for a few months now; that edge that accompanies his smile is different this time. It's more akin to anger than whatever threat he normally walked around with.

"But what a joke. Do the captains sincerely believe this sort of punishment will net results? Last I checked, this sort of thing barely works on humans let alone on some rogue program," the smile widens and he sounds... Bitter. Bitter and tired and it doesn't go with that expression on his face at all. "I wonder what your programmer thinks. A gentle soul like him... I can't even imagine what you've gone and put him through."

[notglitching]

It takes a while for the presence to register. More for Rinzler to be certain it's more than just a glitch. Scans are down to save power, and as days stretch out without his disk, it would hardly be the only visual malfunction. It's the too-sharp smile that seems real, matching the quiet footsteps as the malware walks away.

Rinzler wonders briefly if Prometheus is planning to derezz him, then wipes the concern. If the malware tries, he'll fight. It doesn't seem likely, but Rinzler can't quite remember why, not until the reploid finally starts talking.

That's right. If he were dead, it wouldn't be nearly so entertained.

Heat-lagged processing refocuses slowly, and by the time Rinzler's managed to parse the taunt, it doesn't seem worth responding to. Likewise, caring about the punishment is far too much effort. Of course it's meaningless. It hardly matters in the end. This won't change him, and the only thing that might...

...there's a twitch halfway between flinch and irritation. Rinzler reaches for his MID.

Not my programmer.

User, yes. Programmer, no. Not Rinzler's. (Not yet.)

[trap_factory]

Now, now, Rinzler, you're giving yourself a little too much credit, aren't you? Prometheus has scouted other potential players that never made the cut before... And on a ship with such a wide assortment of characters, he's sure he'll find someone else to keep his attention.

Prometheus doesn't seem to mind that Rinzler ignored the taunt. Doesn't seem to mind that the punishment comment is ignored too. Of course he didn't; Prometheus himself would have had the same response. Done partly out of exhaustion and partly out of spite towards his tormentor. If he still had a heart, it'd break a little in sympathy. But he doesn't and he figures that Rinzler would hate that pity almost as much as the Maverick would have in his shoes. Such a thought brings back a previous conversation they had...

Or, well... As much of a conversation as they could have, with one being essentially mute and the other more than happy to fill in the empty air on his own.

"Not your programmer? But you have the same face! Now that can hardly be a coincidence, now can it?" he pauses, to let Rinzler catch up. "I wonder if you remember our first meeting... Two peas in a pod. I think that certainly applies, don't you?

"We both know who's time was wasted then. It certainly wasn't mine."

[notglitching]

Being as he's still alive, Rinzler's sticking with his own conclusion. He glares back, noise rising a little. Prometheus is the only person in this system who could make that match for sure. He'd seen Rinzler's human shell in Inugami, and while plenty had changed when he was imported to here, the enforcer's face was no different. Only covered up, only locked away. The way Clu wanted.

He remembers the conversation. He remembers the ones that followed, every instance the malware had claimed similarity and Rinzler rejected the comparison out of hand. Rinzler's learned since then: about his own corruption and reprogramming, about how little what he was "supposed" to be had ever mattered. He doesn't argue as Prometheus loops back to the claim (and isn't that surrender enough), but the mask tips pointedly from the malware to the prison space around.

It doesn't have to be here. Why waste its time now?

[trap_factory]

"Aw, why so cold? After that heart to heart we had, I thought we were friends," there's something off about the way he spits out the word 'friends'. The disgust in it doesn't seem to be directed at Rinzler, though the rest of it was on point. No, it seems to be something that Prometheus picked up while aboard the Moira. Maybe Pandora's absence was beginning to grate on his nerves.

... But he wasn't going to take out that frustration on Rinzler as he is. There's no sport in that.

"Giving up, dear enforcer? That's a shame. I pinned you as a little more stubborn than that..." He bares his teeth and it might have been a grin, "Though maybe it's the living conditions. Reminds me of Area K, though I suppose that's all the more reason why it's so difficult for everyone to endure.

"Besides," he turns his back to Rinzler, leaning against the bars. It's a blatant and daring taunt; the only time he had his back to Rinzler was in the ceasefire territory of the dorm room, with Pandora and Yori's safety staying both their hands. "I figured you'd want someone here who could actually understand what you want to say without you having to spell it out for them... Or are you happier suffering in silence? Martyrdom doesn't suit you."

[notglitching]

Somehow Rinzler remembers that heart to heart a little differently. Noise catches audibly at giving up, but if the program loathes the words on instinct, there's not much to respond with. Certainly, there's nothing to do. He can't move. Can't leave. Even if he did get out, there isn't anywhere to run to. Just centicycles back, he wouldn't have felt the need to try.

Still, fingers curl around the shelf below him as the malware turns its back, calculations tracking the distance to attack from spite alone. Unsurprisingly, they all dead-end. In his current state, Rinzler would be lucky to close the few-step gap before it turned, much less do any harm through the bars. And he'd definitely reopen his own damage trying.

Still, it's tempting. Certainly there's no other way he can express his feelings now. Wasn't that how their talk in the dorm had ended? With the malware's smug remark about how convenient Rinzler's lack of vocals really was—it could always ignore anything he'd meant to say.

The enforcer hadn't been capable of resenting what Clu had taken from him then. Now? Rinzler thinks he might be. Certainly he's capable of hating this glitch for its words: claiming understanding without the need to look or listen. He can't give output, and the ticking rattle glitches up in mute, seething rage. If there were anything in reach, Rinzler might throw it from sheer frustration.

Mostly, he hates that Prometheus is probably right. He had been before, after all.

[trap_factory]

What Prometheus says doesn't necessarily line up to how he feels or what he thinks. Being unpredictable came with being a Maverick after all! ... Though the Mavericks of his era operated a little differently from how they were during the Maverick wars.

Time at Inugami, when that all-telling rattle had put Rinzler's thoughts and feelings on display to anyone capable of interpreting it, meant that Prometheus kept headphones turned to listening for that same tell tale sign. It's harder here in the hold with all it's environment noise to parse through but Prometheus wasn't suffering from the heat like others were. His element was fire. This was the sort of place he thrived in and why he was sent to pick up the Model W shard that Queenbee had found, in the destroyed Control Centre.

"Haha, why are you mad at me?" he calls over his shoulder. "I'm probably one of the lucky few people aboard who understands you Rinzler. And while I would have loved to take credit for this mess you found yourself in, at the end of the day?"

He turns back around, eyes alight and teeth showing in a grin that held no amusement to speak of. With his hands on the bars and that manic expression on his face, for a moment, it's hard to tell if the bars were meant to keep Rinzler in or Prometheus out.

"Turns out you're so much more efficient than me after all."

[notglitching]

Prometheus turns, and grins, and sneers, and Rinzler's glitching rumble rises in a snarl. That clenched hand shoves, weight shifting as he takes a half-step forward. The program's stance is unsteady and uneven, a forwards lean just waiting for the chance to leap or strike. The spiderwebbing damage brightens fractionally with the strain, competing against Rinzler's own lights for clarity.

But Rinzler doesn't care. Rinzler would gladly accept that pain or damage if it meant he could tear into the malware. If he could wipe that look (those words), or break himself in the attempt. He knows it's his fault, and he hates that more than anything, hates that it was always going to come back to this. It hardly even matters who's outside, and as the program's fists curl with empty, directionless rage, a third option might present itself.

Intentionally or not, the bars are doing a very good job protecting Rinzler from himself.

There's nowhere to go. No way to fight. He can't pare down the way he wants, can't take the easy out of violence and function. And if the want to do so stays locked in every line of the enforcer's frame, eventually, the coiled stance does falter. The glare doesn't, though. In the end, Rinzler reaches for his MID. He doesn't care if the malware can read him; he doesn't care what truths it can discern. He wants his own words.

Why are you here?

[trap_factory]

When Rinzler pushes to his feet, Prometheus doesn't even move. He knows about the extent of the damage the program had incurred and this heat was clearly messing up his processes. In this situation, Prometheus held the upper hand even without Model W or Pandora's assistance. And even if they had started a fight? No doubt that someone would have shown up to interrupt them now that they were all on high alert. Not nearly as fun or worthwhile for either of them (wouldn't get them the result they wanted either).

He watches the program with amusement and... Satisfaction? All the intensity was gone, and if it weren't for Rinzler's response, it's hard to say that the last few seconds weren't just some glitch or another. And since Rinzler was the only person aboard to have seen Prometheus' meltdown over Pandora, he was likewise the only one that could say for sure that the previous exchange wasn't entirely an error.

"Glad to see you've still got some fight in your at least."

Prometheus stops to read the MID message before chuckling softly.

"I told you already. I know your processors are being overworked right now, Rinzler, but your memory banks can't be that terrible. Though I guess I should be fair, a lot of people seem to like asking me 'why'. Do I really need a reason?" Sounding almost amicable, it was like they were stuck being humans back in that school, instead of being a Reploid and a damaged program separated by prison bars. At the very least, it seems like he's done antagonizing Rinzler for the moment.

... It's still hard to say whether this sudden shift was meant to disarm or to further unsettle.

[notglitching]

Memory is, perhaps, less of a given than Prometheus assumes—it's been the better part of a week without his identity disk, and data retention is becoming hard. Still, that's not the reason for the flat glower through the bars. Prometheus hadn't answered him before, only parried with sharp taunts and sharper deflections. Unless he was supposed to believe the claims of 'understanding'?

If that's all the malware's here to offer, it's got a terrible way of showing it. And certainly, it's nothing Rinzler needs. The glare breaks with a silent shake of the enforcer's head. Rinzler turns, stepping back to the shelf he'd started from. The furious note to his sound has faded, but there's a scathing, staticky skip.

Rinzler might be damaged, externally and in. But when it comes to mental glitches? The reploid is still worse.

[trap_factory]

The smile on Prometheus' face remains as always, as if he had lost the ability to make any other expression. The edges are razor sharp but for a second there is something else--

And then it's gone.

"Our functions mean very little in this system..." What inspired this shift in diction? "But you know as well as I do that directives hard coded into you aren't easy to ignore, no matter how much you wish it otherwise."

He leans back, one hand left resting idly on the bars of the holding cell. The tone is quiet, easily missed especially within the environment of the hold. Prometheus didn't seem to particularly care... That was probably the closest he's come to saying what his and Pandora's directive was. The moment passed, Prometheus steps back and gives the prisoner a quick, friendly wave.

"Try not to get permanently retired, Rinzler."