Give me reason to prove me wrong

[notglitching]

Who: Rinzler + OPEN
When: May 1-13
Where: Around the Moira and planetside
What: Murdercat comes out of the vents. A general catch-all for codescrew fallout and non-worldhopping activities in early May.
Warnings: Depression, violence, and murder/mindscrew references. Some self-destructive behavior, though nothing too awful.


A. Moira ventilation system (May 1-2):

Miller had yelled at him once he'd been found. Not for fighting, and not for losing. But for failing to warn others of the threat. Alan-one had informed Rinzler from the beginning what harming users would earn him—had confirmed the punishment barely a week back, from the other side of a cell door. Rinzler hadn't told anyone. Rinzler hadn't seen a reason.

To Rinzler, the only irregularity to any of this is that here and now, there's still enough of him to care.

Alan-one hadn't gone through with it. That's what they tell him, even if Rinzler has no way to know. No way except violence, except wiping half the system just to see if he still can, and maybe it's the want to do so that keeps him hiding. He's killed a user and he'll never have a place here, and he hates it, hates caring more than any of the rest. Rinzler reads through the network, and if their aversion to recoding offers some relief, the alternatives being proposed do nothing to settle the bitter, misplaced ache. He doesn't want to be forced into stasis, or kept locked in a cage until the system ends. He'd rather they derezz him now and get it done with, and maybe if he stays away from cameras, someone will.

He waits, but no one comes. That too is unsurprising; Alan-one didn't want him, and there's no reason to think another user would clean up after his mistake. Rinzler moves eventually, a quiet presence through the ductwork marked by a dim orange glow and the ceaseless rattle of corrupted code. He stays in pathways large enough to turn (to fight) in, emerging only as far as the power conduits in the maintenance rooms. Deletion might not seem so objectionable now, but there are worse things to watch out for.


B. Flight Deck; Transporters (May 3-13):

When Rinzler does come out, there's no announcement. No new fight. Just the usual dark-masked shape, red-orange lights and constant noise. The most striking difference, really, is the normalcy. The program is whole, no open gaps or cracks of damage like those he's carried for the past few weeks. He won't retreat from approach, and the bowed hunch that marks the enforcer's posture is no more pronounced than it always is. Still, if Rinzler isn't avoiding his usual haunts, he doesn't seem inclined to linger anywhere—or 'speak' with anyone—for long.

...with one exception. Outside of time locked in the hold, Rinzler has never before missed a work shift, and when he emerges from hiding, he seems determined to make up for the lapse. The program can be found on the Flight Deck through his scheduled work hours and more, performing maintenance checks and transporter flights with a silent, furious efficiency. Rinzler doesn't have a place, but he still has a function, and right now that's enough to keep him running.

Those flying to the planet might hear the trademark sound rumbling down from the cockpit... and, if they don't mind the turbulence, can certainly unbuckle and head up the hatch. Rinzler might not be looking for a conversation, but here, at least, he probably won't find a way to leave.


C. Training Simulation Room (May 5):

There's the function Rinzler was assigned by these users, and there's the one written into his code. And as much as Rinzler might enjoy flying, the urge to fight, to kill, to break something has never been higher.

It's what he's good for. It's what Alan-one wanted to take away. It's the reason they're talking on the network now, having more debates about whether or how to remove him. Rinzler doesn't answer the new post, but he reads everything, and when he's sick of reading, sick of wishing and doubting and thinking at all, he does the only thing he can to stop.

Anyone stopping by the training room within the next hour will find it occupied, with Rinzler's ID logged into the system. The touch screen just outside the door notes a single combat simulation running for the duration... one that, on closer inspections, comes with a few custom modifications. The safety protocols have been bypassed. Downed opponents are set to respawn, with no delay. And there doesn't seem to be a termination clause. One might think Rinzler would be more careful... especially when he can't speak to shut the room off.

Then again, maybe that's the point.


D. Underbelly of Amissis-Re (May 6-13)

When Rinzler makes it to the planet on his own, there's plenty to see. The Ingress is an obvious point of interest, and if the enforcer's not in much mood for company, the trips he does take are bizarre enough to offer some distraction. He doesn't go through on his own, but lingers more than once on the walkway. Considering.

It doesn't take too long, though, before Rinzler slips off to explore a different place alone. The entire planet hums with life, code crawling through vast conduits and channels. It's welcoming. Foreign, but familiar despite that. Some places, Rinzler traverses more sedately, slipping quietly through halls and empty caverns that sing with life to every scan. In some, he breaks into a sprint across the walls, a red-black blur traversing the platforms and crevasses in leaps, flips, and other improbable acrobatics. Rinzler didn't want to be rewritten. He'd fight it again, if any of them came to take his disks.

But after weeks of crippling damage, time spent locked up and idling and having to take caution with each step... it feels so good to be able to move right.


[[ooc: Prose or spam is fine! Feel free to wildcard or hit me up for a specific starter.]]

Comments

Flight Deck, May 7

[gainedlove]

Frisk approaches Rinzler cautiously, not entirely certain that it's their place to speak with him. He might not blame them for being unable to protect him, but the guilt still lays heavy on their shoulders. It's hard to figure out a way to make up for it.

Stopping a few feet away from where he's working on one of the ships, they open their mouth to speak...but nothing comes out and they close it again, fidgeting with something held in their hands.

They're being stupid. They should just go.

[notglitching]

Rinzler feels the beta before he sees them, a bright point in scan-sense behind and to the side. He keeps working. In its own way, that's as close to a sign of trust as Rinzler's given yet—certainly he hasn't left his back (his disks) exposed to anyone for long since the attacks.

The last time he'd felt this signature, he'd been cracked and broken on the ground. It had come between him and an attack. A stupid move, a pointless, wasted one that Rinzler still didn't really understand. A glitch? Almost certainly. The user had made no secret of its shocked dislike for him before.

But they had tried to help. Claimed it as their function, and however illogical the words, Rinzler doesn't expect harm from this ID. Not now.

He gives them one micro, then two. Plenty of time to self-correct their course. Then he turns back from the open panel he's been working on, helmet angling in silent prompt.

Flight Deck May 5th

[pleasereset]

The flight lessons have (understandably) stopped, and while Asriel has unsuccessful at finding out where Rinzler actually went after the whole recoding fiasco, it didn't stop the young monster from sneaking in and getting some practice. Even if that practice was Asriel just toying with the controls instead of actually flying.

Still, when Rinzler enters the cockpit, he'll find it already occupied. A startled voice quickly answers.

"I-I'm sorry, I wasn't going to take it! I was just..."

His voice trails off when he recognizes who's joining him.

"Rinzler?"

[notglitching]

The transporters are touch-locked to a specific set of IDs, so Rinzler isn't too worried when he catches the faint sounds from the cockpit. He does, however, pick up his pace. The hum of the loading ramp will be Asriel's first warning, and it hasn't even hit the ground before the enforcer's made it through the gap and up the hatch into the cockpit.

The small white shape he finds inside is, in retrospect, not so surprising. Rinzler stills all the same, frame tensed just a fraction before his helmet ducks in a small nod.

b, may 9 or so

[saveyourserpent]

Liquid's been going to the planet every day lately, and while he's spent some time in other people's worlds, he's spent the most amount of time back in his own, although sometimes it's been hard to convince people to go with him.

He has to keep going back, though. Eventually they'll be leaving, and whenever they go back for good, who knows if he'll get sent back where he's been? Back with the few people he's ever really cared about? So he's taking his chance now while he can.

It hasn't been enough to distract him from what's going on on the ship, though, with some sort of giant debate going on about rights and all that. He hasn't seen Rinzler for a while, although he's been sticking up for him. He's a clone, pretty much created as a tool, and he's been brainwashed a few times to boot; he feels some kind of solidarity at least. So this time around while he's on the transport and he hears that Rinzler's up there, he heads on up.

"Hey. You alright?" He's not trying for some sort of long discussion or something because hell knows he doesn't want to talk about things that've happened to him lately himself, so he doubts Rinzler's up for that shit, but he does at least want to check on him. You can't learn to fly with a guy and just not care.

[notglitching]

The enforcer's tracked the network arguments. He even 'spoke' once for himself, at least until Alan-one's intervention drove him off. He's heard this voice, and if Rinzler knows far better than to trust in words, he has no reason to think worse of this user than any other.

Its presence in the cockpit earns a slight shift, seat swiveling to face it sidelong as Rinzler's hands move over the controls. The turn could be a sign of respect... or simply a disinclination to leave his back exposed to anyone right now.

Either way, the helmet dips in a short nod. He's functional. More than he was before, by most metrics. Rinzler's no longer certain at all of his own, but he's done hiding, and he's not going to be weak.

C, May 5th

[hatesimprovising]

In passing by the training room and realizing it's in use, Wash casually approaches in order to peek in through one of the observation windows. He's curious and interested to see someone else's fighting techniques. It reminds him a lot of Project Freelancer, where a whole group of his teammates would often gather to watch the others train, and maybe, for a second, it makes him feel a bit nostalgic.

That is, until he spots just who's making use of the room.

Rinzler. He hasn't seen the program in probably about a month, and having heard about what's been going on, he's been worried. The last he'd heard, Rinzler was hiding, but... Wash supposes that could only last for so long. Glad, at least, that the guy must be feeling okay enough to be out of hiding, he falls into just watching the program in battle.

...But it's weird. There should be a delay before the holo-enemies respawn, and yet the moment Rinzler takes one down, another one appears. Frowning, Wash moves over to the console and looks down at it, observing the alterations that have been made to the simulation. That's...not smart. He can understand Rinzler being upset with everything that's been going on, but this feels almost self-destructive. Potentially so, anyway.

Gaze shifting back to the window with concern, Wash strongly considers knocking on the glass or even sending Rinzler a quick text to get his attention, maybe talk to him and make sure he's doing okay, but he thinks better of it. Distracting someone in the middle of a fight, simulated or not, isn't a great idea. Instead, the Freelancer settles in uncertainly to wait.

[notglitching]

The setting visible through the observation window is bare of decoration, a few tall pillars and monoliths providing cover in an otherwise empty room. The simulated enemies are equally monochromatic, dark shapes with standard body armor and a wide array of weaponry. It makes the program stand out all the more in contrast. Rinzler is a blur of color, red-orange lights and the blaze of paired disks in constant motion.

Turn. Strike. A knife punches just past his throat, and the enforcer slides forward, using the second between attack and retreat to remove the offending arm. A burst of gunfire comes from the far corner, and Rinzler twists to the side, leveraging off his damaged enemy to spin through the air. Limbs tuck to avoid the crackling blow of a charged staff, wrist flicking to send one disk across the room. It ricochets off the wall and takes the shooter directly in the spine. The body collapses to the decking and fades out—only to rematerialize behind a different pillar, weapon already raised and firing.

He doesn't stop. He doesn't think. This is the way things should be. No words, no hesitation, nothing but fighting and killing and suffering the consequences if he lost. It's everything Rinzler's used to, the sum and total of what he's meant to be allowed.

But still... there are still those tiny imperfections. The flicker of relief as his disk returns back to his hand. The flimsiness of the illusions to even the slightest brush of scans. This fight isn't real, isn't anything this system would allow, and that reminder is too close, too hateful to ignore. The smooth rumble of the enforcer's noise grates into a snarl, one that stutters sharply as another swing of that shockstaff brushes too close to a punching limb. Rinzler's arm goes numb and he drops, rolling back under a new wave of attacks as he tries to recover.

FIGHT ME ASSHOLE ROUND 1 LET'S GO

[trap_factory]

Prometheus returns to the Moira from Del Pascia worn out but oddly elated (because his Timer hadn't restarted, this damned Ingress was good for something) though the elation doesn't last long. Pandora's absence coupled with both the D-E-L's parting words and Model W's renewed whispers were wearing on him. It didn't matter that he knew this would happen the moment his Biometal appeared in his locker back at that school; there was never any way to prepare for the effects of Model W on the person. The Reploid picks up on the program hiding out in the vents but does not know why Rinzler seems so cagey. Doesn't know until he comes across a certain post on the network and starts laughing - high pitched and mad because it's so typical--

Until it isn't.

Towards the end of Rinzler's self imposed exile, Prometheus spots him on his radar and sends a highly aggressive ping to the other. They were never compatriots and now he knows they weren't even kindred spirits. But nothing comes of it. It isn't even a threat.

He doesn't even interfere with Rinzler's modified simulation. Not until the end at least. He doesn't merge with Model W, but he does slip in quietly, during a particularly frenzied time and announces his appearance with a sneak attack on Rinzler from behind. No attempt to hide his presence, no point in making this an ambush, a drop attack with a staff weapon in a facsimile of one of his trademark sweeps. The point wasn't to kill the program.

"What's this, Rinzler? You never struck me as the type who believed in penance. Going to let dear Alan's work go to waste?"

He sounds mad and unsettled but wears that same slasher smile he had during their first fight. What was the plan?

[notglitching]

By the time the room's time limit is drawing to a close, even Rinzler's need for violence is mostly spent. Energy levels are at a low ebb, circuits prickling from the constant push of power. No real damage, but he's taken a few glancing blows, and his right arm is still half-numb from a stun-staff that slipped past his block.

He's tired himself out enough to keep from looping. That was the point. Wasn't it?

Maybe it was. Maybe it had been. But when a familiar signature darts in from behind; when a familiar voice mentions his user's name? Somehow Rinzler finds himself more than motivated to keep going.

A sharp twist back, frame jerking nearly to ground level as he ducks the sharp arc of Prometheus' strike. Noise rises in a ticking snarl, no hesitation at all as Rinzler reverses the momentum to attack. His disks are already in hand, already lit, and the enforcer launches forward, aiming to cut inside the longer weapon's range. Or at the least? To make this glitch shut up.

round 2, backtags forever

[trap_factory]

For the Maverick, Amissis-Re ends up being even more unpleasant than Del Pascia could ever be. The D-E-L had it's own fair share of lies to be sure, but the sketchy promise of returning home leaves Prometheus feeling even more bitter than any half-baked whispers could. He could recruit some unsuspecting bug to accompany him home to pay the old man some long overdue vengeance... But he couldn't imagine carrying out that promise of revenge without Pandora at his side. Besides, whoever he brought would probably be too willing to stop him (and he refuses to let Albert take the advantage because Prometheus was impatient. Not again).

So... He stayed out of the Ingress.

Instead, he wanders through the underbelly of the planet. He feels no particular attachment or fondness for the mechanical nature of his environment. That would imply he ever cared about the place that he was supposed to call home, which was a joke unto itself really. But neither Rinzler nor Prometheus could cross large expanses of the land so it was probably a matter of time before Prometheus notices the signature on his scanners and trails along behind the program. During one particularly lull, the Maverick huffs quietly and calls down from where he's lounging up one of the scaffolding.

"Have you given it some thought yet, Rinzler? Or are you just going to keep running away like some sort of petulant child?"

D!

[skelepun]

Another planet, another nagging feeling in Sans' gut that everything's about to go ass up.

It's not so much a excess of trust that makes him go along with the proceedings on each new place the Moira docks; rather inaction at its finest. Carrying on with the status quo is how Sans has stayed alive as long as he managed back home, and the same is true for his second life here in space with this crew. Still, one could say he learned a few things in death.

Knowing where your escape routes are? Pretty handy.

And so Sans is there now, surveying one of the cavern walls. It's downright nostalgic, though he'd argue the Underground was a lot more homey than this. The benefit years of development grants you, apparently.

For once, he doesn't appear to be paying too much attention to who or what is nearby.

[notglitching]

As much fun as Rinzler might (intermittently) be having, he's not quite so careless as to keep from scanning his periphery. Alone is better, certainly, than the crowds on the ship, or the pity he's drawn across the network. But it's also better for an ambush, and if parts (or most) of Rinzler would welcome that right now, he still doesn't plan to be caught off-guard.

The signature that pings around the corner might not be that, but it's still enough to sharpen Rinzler's focus. He's felt this reading once or twice before, a quiet brush on the edges of the local process list. Easy to dismiss as a coincidence... at first. Much less so since the attack in the hold. Since it promised to watch him.

Sans.

There's a moment's calculation. A moment's quiet seething, before irritation adds to damaged pride and sums out to a need to move. Retreat? No. Rinzler isn't caged this time, isn't glitched or injured or unarmed. And whether or not this error is here to follow him, it needs to learn that threats can work both ways.

Circuits dim to blackness. Sound damps. If the glitch has any scanning capabilities, they're not ones Rinzler knows of, but just in case, he masks his signature as well. No glimmer of light to betray his location as he darts up one of the walls. No power spike to interfere with the surroundings as he slips silently across a narrow shelf to enter the large cavern from above. And when the enforcer leaps from his perch toward the small, slouched shape inspecting one of the walls...

...the first noise the enforcer makes is a thump of impact just behind. The ticking rattle of corrupted code comes next.

Training simulation room, May 5th

[fight4theusers]

Tron knew he shouldn't step into the simulation room with his double. The safety protocols were off, and the fighting level was far more intense than the room's design was intended for.

Then again, maybe it would be good for Rinzler to have another target other than Tron if they were to have any hope of communication. And perhaps fighting was the only sort of communication they could have, at this point.

Drawing his discs, Tron stepped through the door, though he left his helmet unrezzed, for the moment.

[notglitching]

When Tron stepped in, combat was already well underway. A half-dozen simulated enemies were scattered through the interior, armed with everything from knives to stun-staffs to user firearms. Apart from dialing skill levels to high, Rinzler didn't seem to have cared too much who he was fighting.

The enforcer in question could be seen across the room, twisting midair to dodge a burst of gunfire to his landing zone. Rinzler stepped off a wall, disk zipping through the air to embed itself in the shooter's throat. The moment the blade sunk in, that enemy vanished—only to reappear behind cover in a different corner of the room.

Rinzler's focus wasn't tracking that threat though. Not now. No, the enforcer's mask turned sharply to the door, noise rising audibly even as he swayed back from a staff-blow. Why was Tron here?

A, Ventilations, May 2

[beautifulspaceraptor]

The power bricks were gone.

Nihlus exhales quietly, peering at the leftover tack he'd put down to keep the bricks from moving. There was no way to confirm it went to the person it was supposed to get to, but there weren't exactly a lot of people he knew who were crawling around the vents.

He makes a note to ping Rinzler to drop them somewhere so he could take them in for a recharge later. For now, the Turian places down another power brick, pressing down on the tack before drawing back and reaching down to replace the open vent's grate cover.

[notglitching]

Rinzler doesn't need much power. He was pared down—perfected—long ago, trained and tested, again and again, to ensure he could keep running. Even when drained to the point of derezz, Clu's enforcer could still carry out his will. Fight. Obey. In lower-power states, that was sometimes all Rinzler could do.

He'd come close to his limits only once in this system, and Rinzler still doesn't know how he'd survived the observation deck. Certainly his state now doesn't compare. He's whole and undamaged, with power sources not far from his chosen hiding place. Probably, he wouldn't even be attacked if he left cover to get it.

Attack isn't really what the program is afraid of. Still, he's grateful not to need to take the risk. When Nihlus first pinged him with the locations, there had been a wary pause of half a millicycle and more before he'd come by. This time, it won't take long. If Nihlus is lingering nearby, he'll hear a quiet ticking rumble echoing from the closed grate.

A. Air Vents

[heart_breaking]

[Annoyance is easy. Being mad that someone hurt Frisk is easy. This? Chara crawling around vents with only loose notions of a goal? ... It's curiosity. Everyone's causing such a big fuss over something that didn't happen, and Chara has questions that don't fit words.]

[Seeing a familiar opportunity helped, of course. They've spotted him in the vents before, but generally avoided him after that first heart-stopping clash. Now Chara checks each corner for an orange glow, trying to picture the vent's map. If he was heading this way, then he's probably going to go to...]

[notglitching]

[It won't take long. Chara might feel a ticking vibration through the metal surface underneath. They might catch a flicker of red-orange in reflection. Most likely, it's the sudden feeling of being watched.

Light is dim, noise is damped, and Rinzler's not revealing himself openly. Not without a reason why. But it's a safe bet that he's listening.]

Vents

[highlyintuitive]

It wasn't something she planned, not really. But she's curious from her last encounter with the program and wants to try speaking with him again. So she waits, quietly, in the engine room as the rattle and glow gets closer to the vent she's sitting across from. She expects he'll be able to see her, so he has that option to run if he wants. She won't chase him.

But she's hoping he might be curious about the plastic dinosaur sitting a few feet into the vent. Painted all black except for some glow in the dark orange paint lines. Once he's close enough he'll get a ping on his MID. River remembers he didn't like to talk, doesn't blame him since it can be messy.

Request: Talk. I'm unarmed.

[notglitching]

The glow definitely catches his attention. There's no power reading, just minute points of light—like the 'stars' Yori had put up in their quarters at that user school. If the memory is a little painful, it's not bad, and River will hear the program's noise skip quietly before the volume settles a short gap away.

He's not sure what the shape is. He's less sure why it has his colors. Mockery seems the likely explanation, but he's not sure any of the users here would put in that much work. Especially when there were so many easier methods at their disposal.

He'll keep some distance, though. Until the ping transmits, until a push of power to scan sense brushes out and feels the presence waiting just beyond. User. He recognizes this one, though, and not from any of their trials. She'd spoken with him on the user planet once.

Slowly, the points of orange light grow brighter, until the small shape on the bottom of the vent is overshadowed by a much larger one above. Rinzler doesn't emerge, but he will wait, helmet angling to the side in mute inquiry.

planet!

[a_shadow]

Tex has gone in the reverse Ingress a number of times by now, but today she's alone and exploring. There's something strange about this place, about their host and her abilities, and her instinct is to go poking about and see what she can learn from the surrounding area. She doesn't move slowly, as though exploring; she moves with purpose, but not in a way that will announce her presence to the first person who happens by. She slinks, then, quietly, beyond an empty room and to the corridor beyond. And then she freezes. Someone is here. She's not going to call out, because that would be stupid, but she'll hold still and observe and see what there is to learn simply from doing that.

[notglitching]

Rinzler's circuits are dim, noise a quiet rumble in periphery. With his dark armor, he blends in well to the unlit hall without much effort. All the same, if Tex waits a minute? She won't have any trouble finding Rinzler.

Not with the flare of light from further down the hall.

The enforcer's crouched at an intersection not far ahead, one hand pressed against the ground. It's the surface underneath that's glowing, dim patterns of illuminating the path of power conduits carried underneath. A moment later, those lights fade out, only for new ones to well up—ghost-like impressions of footprints, fragmented and sparse. They spread through the hall with Rinzler's focus, lighting red-orange behind his own path. He's scanning. Searching.

D. Amissis-Re

[ersatzeverything]

When Deacon isn't making use of the Ingress, he's exploring the planet. Damn, these walkways and platforms are awful. Why can't the ship dock on a planet that has a nice, proper ground? It's all narrow bridges over fucking nausea-inducing heights. He grips the rail with one white-knuckled hand as he crosses a narrow span. Nearby, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rinzler taking the quick way across. He doesn't know whether to puke or chuckle. Probably best to walk those last few steps and get to solid ground first either way. There.

"Hey, Rinzler." He raises his hands to wave them at the program, in both a hello and, more importantly, an I'm not armed, not a threat.

[notglitching]

The user's presence doesn't go unnoticed. Neither does its slow speed across the walkway. Rinzler keeps a wary scan on its movements, but doesn't let either factor slow his run, leaping the chasm in an easy twist of red on black.

He turns midair, reaching behind to plant a hand on the opposite side before he pivots off the point of contact. Grab turns to flip, flip to a twisting roll, and Rinzler keeps moving, conserving the momentum from the jump as he breaks into a sprint towards—and up—the cavern wall in front.

He's three paces up, baton ready in his left hand, when the voice below calls out his name. A glance back confirms the user's progress. Its raised hands imply a good deal more. Rinzler hesitates a fraction of a moment before kicking off the surface, limbs tucking inwards in a backwards somersault as he drops back to conversation range. He lands in a low crouch atop a short wall along the edge, helmet raising to stare at the user for a moment before angling to the side.

What does it want?

D! (after a million years)

[bloodbinds]

Once the novelty of the Ingress on Amissis-Re has worn off - and once she has had her veritable fill of awful futures - Ava, too, takes to exploring the planet proper. It's devoid of organic life, that much is certain, but there's enough to take in and wonder about.

It's there that she sees a red-black blur running along the platforms and the walls, doing acrobatics as one might be born to them. Ava watches in particular wonderment, unable to tear her eyes away. It's quite a show and she's jealous, really, that this person is able to do so much with ease. She's grown stronger and more agile after becoming a vampire...but not like that. It looks freeing. She doesn't follow, exactly, so much as keep an eye on him from the ground level as he moves around. She doesn't want to interrupt so much as admire, not realizing who Rinzler is. After all, she's never personally met him before.

But as he swings close enough to possibly hear her, she lifts her head again to watch and waits until he's...slightly slowed down (is he human, she wonders, with powers? or something else?) to make her presence known. "That's really amazing."

[notglitching]

The figure standing by the cavern's edge gives off a distant read of user, but no visible aggression. Not a likely threat, and though Rinzler tracks its position by reflex, he makes no move to change his course. A sprint along one wall, twisting leap to roll across the platform just beyond. He comes out of it on his hands, flipping up to snag the railing a few body-lengths above, and...

...the comment from the side draws a glance. Without missing a beat, Rinzler pivots fluidly on his gripping hand, folding up and over to a narrow perch atop the railing. From this proximity (and with the program holding still), it's much easier to make out the points of light tracing out markings across his flexible dark armor. The circuit lights seem as much a part of the program as his own limbs, no shift or discontinuity.

The helmet tilts slightly—inspection, acknowledgement, some mix of the two?—a rumbling whir emitting from its wearer. The sound is distinctly mechanical, but not entirely without inflection. Right now? The cadence almost sounds smug.