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_log2016-05-15 04:56 am
notglitching) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-05-15 04:56 am
Entry tags:
You'll come back when they call you
Who: Alan, Rinzler, and mostly-open!
When: May 14-16
Where: From the planetary Ingress to the Grid and back
What: Rinzler gets stuck in his old life and people go to get him back.
Warnings: Rinzler things and Tron canon. Depression, violence, NPC-murder, and copious references to genocide, mindscrew, etc. All culminating in... BSOD by warm fuzzies?
When Rinzler had first left the Grid, getting back was all that mattered to him. More—it was all he was capable of caring about. Directive and function were locked in alignment, every line created by a thousand cycles of correction pulling him the same way. Rinzler was the Grid's enforcer. Clu's weapon. He was perfect, he was right, and he belonged at his administrator's side.
Since then, he's spent months trapped in a user shell. He's spilled blood and lost fights, flown through half a dozen different skies and learned what stars look like. He's spoken. He's been listened to. He's shattered to a thousand pieces on lost memories, and cut himself on the truth they left behind. He's killed users. He's met [his] [Tron's] creator, and disobeyed his will.
It's painfully fitting for that to be what brings him back to the beginning. Rinzler is home, Rinzler is back, and everything is how it should be except him. Directive is a frayed leash, function warped by too much time spent wanting. Clu's voice still locks every process to obedience, but even as he bows and follows, Rinzler can't stop the squirming twist of terror underneath. He'll kill Clu's enemies. He'll serve exactly, precisely as directed. But the enforcer has always been unstable, always in need of fixing (breaking) to keep him working as desired.
Sooner or later, Clu will open up his code to check. And then, it won't matter how well he's fit himself back to the mold. His programmer will correct each flaw and imperfection, remove those memories and reset him to automation.
It's nothing Rinzler can fight. Nothing he can run from here, and even if he tried, there's nowhere to go. The ship already feels much too distant, but Rinzler remembers enough to know his absence will only bring relief. He'd been a disruption. A threat. Tron was the one the users wanted, and even that had never been enough before.
No one is coming, and nothing will change.
[[ooc: this is open to anyone signing on for the rescue effort here! As below, prod freely with any questions. Alan's monitoring things from the Ingress-side, and will make sure people get where they're trying to go.]]
When: May 14-16
Where: From the planetary Ingress to the Grid and back
What: Rinzler gets stuck in his old life and people go to get him back.
Warnings: Rinzler things and Tron canon. Depression, violence, NPC-murder, and copious references to genocide, mindscrew, etc. All culminating in... BSOD by warm fuzzies?
When Rinzler had first left the Grid, getting back was all that mattered to him. More—it was all he was capable of caring about. Directive and function were locked in alignment, every line created by a thousand cycles of correction pulling him the same way. Rinzler was the Grid's enforcer. Clu's weapon. He was perfect, he was right, and he belonged at his administrator's side.
Since then, he's spent months trapped in a user shell. He's spilled blood and lost fights, flown through half a dozen different skies and learned what stars look like. He's spoken. He's been listened to. He's shattered to a thousand pieces on lost memories, and cut himself on the truth they left behind. He's killed users. He's met [
It's painfully fitting for that to be what brings him back to the beginning. Rinzler is home, Rinzler is back, and everything is how it should be except him. Directive is a frayed leash, function warped by too much time spent wanting. Clu's voice still locks every process to obedience, but even as he bows and follows, Rinzler can't stop the squirming twist of terror underneath. He'll kill Clu's enemies. He'll serve exactly, precisely as directed. But the enforcer has always been unstable, always in need of fixing (breaking) to keep him working as desired.
Sooner or later, Clu will open up his code to check. And then, it won't matter how well he's fit himself back to the mold. His programmer will correct each flaw and imperfection, remove those memories and reset him to automation.
It's nothing Rinzler can fight. Nothing he can run from here, and even if he tried, there's nowhere to go. The ship already feels much too distant, but Rinzler remembers enough to know his absence will only bring relief. He'd been a disruption. A threat. Tron was the one the users wanted, and even that had never been enough before.
No one is coming, and nothing will change.
[[ooc: this is open to anyone signing on for the rescue effort here! As below, prod freely with any questions. Alan's monitoring things from the Ingress-side, and will make sure people get where they're trying to go.]]
no subject
-only to let out a yelp when one of Rinzler's discs goes flying past. Asriel moves on instinct, moving his body so that he's standing in front of Frisk.
"Rinzler, stop! It's us!"
Asriel waves at him frantically.
"We heard you were in danger, so we came here to get you!"
no subject
"Rinzler, stop it! You don't have to fight us, we're here to help you!" It's the hallway all over again, but so much more dangerous. Frisk's mind is racing, but they don't know what else to do. All they can do is call out. "Please!"
no subject
His second disc is flung even as he reaches out for the first, a curving arc meant to throw Rinzler off his aim, force him back and away from them to avoid the ricochet off the back wall.
He can't derez Rinzler, not here. Even when he fought in the arena, as Tron, he never fought to derez. But Rinzler is, and Tron has two others to defend... his only hope is to incapacitate him enough to drag him out.
Sorry for the slow!
Every motion is precise and fluid. Rinzler's showing off—more, playing with his prey, and if the duplicate across the cage concerns him, there's no obvious signs. The Grid might be strange and fearful to the visitors, but it's easy to see from a glance: this is Rinzler's home. His killing ground. He's in the only place he's ever belonged, doing exactly what he's made for.
If Frisk and Asriel's calls are having much effect, it doesn't show. The enforcer's mask angles just slightly to the side, but it's analysis, not hesitation. Certainly the faint tickle of familiarity at the back of his processing doesn't seem like something to pursue. Distant memories have faded even further over the past few millicycles, and Rinzler has another task to fulfill now. The concept of responding doesn't even occur to the enforcer, and if Frisk or Asriel glance to his wrist, they'll find the MID absent.
They won't have long to check. A deliberate step forward, and Rinzler drops into another flip, hands and feet spinning across the ground in a protracted blur as he slings out one weapon. Just as before, the blow could hit his mirror or the noncombatants it's trying to defend—but this time, there's just a little more force behind the strike. And a little more taunt in Rinzler's movements. A challenge. He's in no rush to close the gap, not yet. But he is coming, and if (Tron) the threat wants to stall his attacks on the rest, it will have to come to him.