Rinzler / Tron (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notglitching) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-05-05 03:44 pm
notglitching) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-05-05 03:44 pm
Entry tags:
Give me reason to prove me wrong
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.]]
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.]]
no subject
The thump behind him, however, that's a much more welcome distraction.
A brief moment of surprise travels through his bones, rattling softly from the sudden presence in his periphery. His jacket does well enough to muffle it, and the brief alarm relaxes away into casual interest in a matter of moments.
After all, if the person wanted him dead he'd probably be there already.
Turning lazily on his heel, he cocks his skull to the side upon seeing Rinzler. Not that surprising. The guy was bound to make a reappearance sooner or later. As much as Sans partially regrets his lack of control in the hold, the doors it opened aren't ones so easily closed. Consequences aboard the Moira are a reality for all of them, odd as that may be.
"'Sup, buddy? You lost?"
no subject
The program's straightened as far as his usual hunch when Sans does turn, though the tension in the curved spine reads slightly more fluid (ready) than withdrawn. The verbal response draws only a scornful stare, mask slanting a little to the side. Rinzler leaves things at that for one beat, then two, before finally reaching for his MID.
Guard: poor.
no subject
"Did you just come out here to insult me, or are you hard drivin' at a little payback?
no subject
Unless it's interested in a rematch? The mask tips just a little to the side, frame still just barely on this side of coiled. The skeleton might not be a program, but the sharpness of those lights is a close match: functions charged and on the edge of executing. It's enough to make Rinzler's processes itch in answer, ready and eager to attack.
no subject
Hands settled happily in his pockets, Sans looks from side to side, as if appraising the apparent battle arena he wandered into.
"Y'know, this is really fun n' all, but if you're gonna stay all wound up I don't think I'm gonna stick around. No hard feelings."
no subject
He's not so stupid as to trust that it can't attack without hand gestures, and the easy fluidity lingers in the program's stance. He will, however, reach for his MID.
Watching.
no subject
With a casual ease, Sans turns his back to Rinzler, walking casually out towards a large rock formation. He's got a shortcut out that way.
no subject
The enforcer wonders when that fact will change. If nothing else, he's gained some useful data from the incident. A micro later, the program steps back and leaps up toward the wall, running a good ten meters before he leaps off to a higher vantage. He spares a glance behind and down to check the rock formation. It's no surprise at all to see the empty route dead-end.