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
"I'll make certain to keep this face from being mangled then so you can look at it whenever you want."
Granted, facial expressions are still a work in progress as well, so the playful tone is only accompanied by a quirk of the lips instead of any dramatic emoting others would likely have done after saying such a sentence.
"I have coordinates, though, how accurate such are is still up for debate. This system isn't one I have had time to fully master, so whoever rules it could mask and fake such signatures. Caution is advised."
And with a quick flick of fingertips the data is sent to the GPS system in Nihlus MID. As well as the materialization of an odd little thing now floating nearby. This bit seeming to be the cause of a line of light leading away and towards the coordinates BB just gave.
"Well...that's new."
no subject
"Well, I wouldn't complain," Nihlus's voice is teasingly lilting. "The face is really cute too."
He shifts back into Spectre-on-duty mode after that, listening to his companion explain the findings. The little floating thing gets a slightly curious look, but path marking software aren't really new to Nihlus.
"Not the usual manifestation?"
no subject
"No, I was merely wishing to transmit the coordinates via the GPS system. This could be both useful and an added risk if others are able to follow said markings. Either way, it's at least a lead for you to follow.
I wish you luck and quick hunting."
no subject
no subject
"I'll figure it out."
Doing things on the fly was hardly new for a Spectre.
"And thank you, BB," he adds softly, reaching out to very gently, squeeze the AI's shoulder. "Stay safe."
And with that, Nihlus takes off, following the line of light through the underpass.