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Who: Kazuhira Miller | Agent Texas | Rinzler
When: After Frisk's network post (link will be added when the post is up) and after the failed reprogramming.
Where: Nooks and crannies of the ship
What: Two people meet up while on a Rinzler hunt and then find a Rinzler
Warnings: Discussion of Rinzler crimes.

He didn't know what happened yet, not quite. As far as he knew, they'd carted off Rinzler, intending to kill him again. Whatever the case, he'd declared himself "functional". Functional was not good enough.

It was easy to believe that Rinzler didn't deserve this much sympathy. He wasn't an innocent child, nor a man without control of his actions. He made many of the decisions that eventually led to his current unfortunate state. In some cases he was most definitely coerced, but those were still choices. That didn't mean that he didn't already have a lot of literal programming that he needed to overcome. Miller still couldn't shake the feeling that if he'd moved more quickly, been less selfish, he could have honed this man's ability to make choices that fit a broader scope over the immediate elimination of threats. He was so close. He'd even asked Big Boss himself to help with teaching Rinzler. He had gotten so damn far. And though it hadn't been voiced, he agreed with Snake. That if he failed, the blame was solely on his shoulders.

He wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. He liked having the guy around, but he'd call for exile before he let them get their claws into him again. Of one side or the other. Though there was the fear that Rinzler would just see it as more rejection. But he was going to have to do something. The state of affairs couldn't continue as it was. If someone had seen how viciously he'd been opposed to Quiet's mere existence they would have laughed at how he was acting now, desperately searching for another madman's pet assassin. Wandering the halls, pressing his ear to walls below vents to listen for his telltale rumble, a grating purr.

Kaz didn't call for him. He knew he wouldn't answer.

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"Yeah; yeah, that works." She leads the way closer to the place where it seems they might find him, and she gestures with her head toward the vent. "Lift me up."

When she's up, it seems futile at first, but then she hears the faint strains of Rinzler's purr. She taps at Miller's shoulder for him to let her down, then she motions where they need to go. "He's through there."

He hefted her up in twined fingers, again glad he'd let himself be talked into the prosthetic. Until she spoke, he remained quiet. Going so far as to even regulate his breath.

"Last time he knew they were after them, you know? Didn't point it out to anyone. I don't think he thinks anyone will help him." He said. He uses his MID to show her what Rinzler showed him, pinging a message to her.

"I would be reluctant to come out too." Though then he stopped to listen again, closer to another vent. Pressed his ear against the wall. Yup, they were on the right path.

She's dismayed to read that, but by now she's not surprised. She and Alice had gotten along for a long time, both as roommates and as coworkers, until this stuff had started. Now Tex knows how far back it really goes.

She stalks into the maintenance room, where there are large vents, easy enough to crawl into herself if she wanted, all around head height. And she listens, making her way forward. It grows louder, and—orange light glows from between the slats. She sets her hand on the grate, but doesn't remove it.

"Rinzler?"

He could hear the footsteps. He could feel the signatures on approach. He could feel them, because he hasn't dropped scans for one nano, not since he'd gotten away. No. Not since he'd been released.

Rinzler's ticking rumble echoes through the narrow shaft. It skips, just faintly at his name. But there's none of the ragged stutters that might spell a glitch, or even the glass-edged scrape that it's held since his damage two weeks back. He's working perfectly. He's as intact as he ever was, and isn't that the joke.

He doesn't retreat from the footsteps. He doesn't answer the call. His disk is locked in his left hand, and he doesn't know if he wants to light the blade and wipe the intruders or crawl into the depths and hide it, further than any user would think to look. He doesn't know what he can do.

"Rinzler." It was more of a statement than a question, a declaration of intent that they were going to come in there. "It's me. And Agent Texas."

He had to put confidence in that Rinzler at least trusted him on some level. Some slight level. He wasn't aware how like-minded Texas was, but she had obvious intentions to help. Then he looked at Texas. "He sounds different." He didn't sound like he had been recently. Miller had come to recognize that noise. Even enjoyed it in its various states- after all, most of the time he heard it while he was training him. That was immensely rewarding. The rumble? Another affection stirring reminder that Rinzler was, in a way, one of his students.

And an infuriating one, at the moment. They did this to one of his students.

"He does." She doesn't want to lift the grate away, not if that will cause Rinzler to retreat into the shadows. So instead she just holds the same position, waiting. "We're here to see if you're okay. If you need any help."

Rinzler knows who it is. The why is much less certain. Of course no words come in answer, and the pair outside can't see the coiled tension pressing through the program's form as they supply their cause. Assessment. If he's okay. If he needs help. The AI had been opposed to recoding him before—or said as much, at least. But words meant less than nothing, and hadn't the half-user excused its hunt in the same way? 'He wants to help.'

He didn't want to be edited. He had been, and he hates it, and the fact that he's still capable of feeling that only adds to the bleak fear. Should he run? It would be safer. But there is no safe, and it doesn't matter, and he doesn't know why they would come.

The ticking rattle builds and falls, but there's no movement from inside the opening.

"Alright. I'm coming up to see you now."

Again, more of a declaration than a request. He knew Rinzler was in a state of constant refusal. It was hard judging what they had in common- being flesh and blood, being a program. Being a man that had willingly dedicated himself to a cause, another being forced into it.

But the moment he'd seen a curious spirit in Rinzler, something in Miller had been won over. Over all the fear, all the small reminders of the creatures that ruined him, he'd been convinced that Rinzler was worth the effort, the time. And the risk of just hauling his ass up into the vent to try and see him.

With that statement Tex reaches for the catches on the vent cover and flips them, lifting the grate off. She indicates to Miller she can give him a boost. Once he's in the vent with Rinzler it's a matter of keeping watch for anyone who might come by and interrupt this delicate situation they have on their hands. She's been someone on Rinzler's side through this whole thing, but she knows Miller's role on board the ship is as more of a counselor, someone who can negotiate and talk things through. That's not Tex's strength.

The passage Miller will find when he ascends is large, designed for repair and access to the smaller shafts as well as circulation. Not quite standing height, but nowhere near the crawl it could have been. It's not hard to track the sound, or find the orange points of light—though judging by their distance from the vent, Rinzler's probably moved back at least a little since Tex spotted him.

Even from a glance, it's clear something's changed. No—something's missing. The bright cracks and hash of color in the program's side, the hand-spaced gap where code was smashed away... none of it's visible. Every point of light is clear and crisp—a little dim with power loss, maybe, but no fractures. No damage at all.

Just a red-orange disk gripped in one hand, a growl building through his noise, and enough raw fear in every line of his hunched frame to choke on.

Rinzler's been repaired, and he looks anything but grateful.

Miller held up his artificial hand upon seeing him, palm flat, finger's splayed in a "calm down" gestured.

"It's me," he assured him, as if that made the difference between whether or not Rinzler would be attacked, or met with aggression. But he could already see that they had done... something, to him.

"Yeah. Good as new, I see." The tone there, though, if Tex could hear it, meant that he suspected it wasn't great news. Miller sat down in the vent with him, tucking his custom overcoat in under him.

"Who did this to you?"

The user's hand came up, and Rinzler's only clenched tighter around the joined ring of his disks. Good as new. Maybe. Maybe he'd been reset, corrected, put back the way everyone wanted. But he didn't feel that way. The enforcer felt sharp-edged and broken, far too aware of every fault. His stare tracked Miller's movements long after the user had seated itself calmly in the vent nearby.

Maybe the user had come to get it right.

There was no real change at the question, just a catch and scrape of that low growl. After a moment, the mask twitched to the side. The movement was small—possibly a refusal to answer, but just as likely a question. Why did it matter?

"Did you know that they were going to come after you this time?"

Because it was obviously planned. Again. Same two people. Same effort. "I can't imagine they were wanting to help you. This is just a side-effect."

He didn't tell him to put down the disk. If anything, he was wondering about it, about how the other man was remaining defensive as he was. Whatever they did, at surface value it didn't seem as though he'd been limited by the action.

"Rinzler. Talk to me. If I didn't care, I wouldn't be up here."

The harsh edge to Rinzler's noise kept going, but after a moment, the program's stare broke. Mask turned away, shoulders tightening a little further inward—more withdrawn than ready for a fight. Help was exactly what every one of them had claimed, in every promise from a single edit to full rewrite.

Rinzler didn't know what they'd changed. He didn't know if they'd stopped. This attempt at running was just as pointless as the last, and if Miller wasn't here to help them, he should leave. Still, after a moment, the black helmet ducked low. Not (just) a flinch. An answer.

Yes. That much, he'd known.

"Goddammit," Miller breathed, staring off towards the mouth of the vent. He was glad Tex was out there. Even he was feeling a little less than secure.

"I wish you'd told us." It wasn't Rinzler's fault. He was the one dragged off. "I have friends that would have dropped everything to go after you, all I would have had to do is ask. There are other people that want to look out for you."

He didn't know it was one of those friends that betrayed him.

The helmet stayed lowered, curve of his shoulders now unmistakably defensive. Even the weapon locked in Rinzler's hand had pulled back a little toward his body. But, of course, it wasn't just a weapon. And it wasn't the first time Miller had seen Rinzler cling to his disk this way. The program had done the same before, when asked why he'd refused repair.

He hadn't wanted to be edited. He hadn't wanted to be changed. He hadn't trusted anyone who touched his code not to, and Miller's frustration now earned a muted, jerky shake of the head. Wrong. Rinzler wasn't anything this system valued. Not as himself. How had the first user put it?

They wanted to help the 'real' him.

"You can't just let them keep doing this to you."

Kaz reached up and removed his beret so he could scruff his hand through his hair. His gaze fell doubtfully on that disk, what it might mean. "What did they do? Besides mend your damage?

He did know the aggression he was capable of, but he wasn't acting particularly afraid of it. Despite Rinzler acting like a terrified animal, Miller was doing his best to not appear a threat. Instead he'd just settled in to talk.

Another headshake, sound rattling a little louder. It comes quickly enough that it isn't completely clear at first what Rinzler's answering. After a moment, though, the enforcer's left hand draws back in. He doesn't release the disk, but he does touch the MID on his other wrist—long enough to rezz up a holographic keyboard underneath and type with his right hand.

don't know

"We'll find out." He said with promise, certainty. Because it hurt, the idea that his friends were getting ripped apart mentally, patched up into other people. Physically he needed to be fixed, so said the hypocrite who refused to fix his own for so long.

"If it happens again, you know you can ask for help. I would do everything I could to keep it from happening. I care what happens to you."

He was a little forceful in saying it. A little frustrated. He didn't want to see these things happen to Rinzler.

Find out. How? By going back inside? Rinzler wouldn't let them, couldn't (but it hadn't made a difference before). Fingers curled tighter around his disk, and he didn't want to look up. Didn't want see the intent. Or pity.

He didn't know anything. Least of all how asking would help. The mask tipped sideways just a little, though, at that. This user really hadn't known about the plan, then. Hadn't been told how wrong Rinzler was. How much of him still needed fixing back to defaults. Back to his real self. If Miller did know, wouldn't he want the same? Probably. What else was there to care about?

always going to happen

His hand clenched shut, MID closing just seconds after the line was typed. It was stupid. He was stupid, he shouldn't be talking, much less despairing about basic facts where others can still see. No wonder Clu had taken his voice away.

"It doesn't have to happen! You don't deserve this, you don't! You're not some... some murdering thing, I know you're not! You're damaged and changed and angry but who the fuck isn't?"

He didn't mean to be frustrated at Rinzler, even if that was how it came off. Instead he was frustrated at- Was it the kids? Himself? The situation? Sometimes he thought Rinzler would be much better away from this ship but he resented the fact that one way or another he wasn't going to be able to see that man grow.

"If I need to, I'll investigate. Figure out what it is. I can't leave you like this."

Of course it had to happen. Rinzler glared ahead, mute noise rising in a throbbing, furious growl. He's damaged. He's changed. He's angry, certainly, but that part is wrong. That part is useless. Feelings will never matter, because Rinzler is whatever kind of thing his programmer decides.

He always has been.

He wants to break something. He wants to fight. He wants to kill (or die, before they come back), but he doesn't have even that much control. Fist is locked around his disk, dock pressed against the wall, a futile pretense that he could keep either safe. Fingers move finally, spelling out one word as he hunches inward.

Wrong.

About all of it.

Tex hears that rising growl, turns toward the vent in concern. "What's happening?" she asks, suspicious that perhaps Miller has turned out not to be the ally he was meant to be.

Miller turned in the vent, briefly abandoning Rinzler to crawl to the edge.

"They took him in to be reprogrammed. They repaired his physical damage but it seems like they changed something else. They tried to turn him into someone else."

He sounded furious about that.

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