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_log2016-06-05 07:13 am
notglitching) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-06-05 07:13 am
They say we are what we are
Who: Rinzler, his CR, and OPEN
When: first week of June
Where: around the Moira.
What: Rinzler's real boss is on the ship. Flailing ensues! Some open prompts; some closed ones.
Warnings: references to mindfuck, genocide, and other family-friendly Disney canon. Creeping, violence, and general awfulness in the thread with Clu. TBE as things happen.
A. Night of the 1st, maintenance room: CLOSED to Frisk and Asriel
When Rinzler receives the call from Zam_Wesell, he doesn't panic. Panic would be crashing on the spot. Panic would be taking the nearest transporter and trying to fly, to run; to split his disks and cut through anyone who stalled his path. But running wouldn't help (he knew) (he'd tried), and this is the one threat Rinzler can never, ever fight against.
Clu is on the Moira, and it's only a matter of time before the admin takes back what he made.
The hooks of directive are pulled tight enough to strangle, but Rinzler doesn't crash. He doesn't run. He doesn't have a voice to scream, and if the ticking rattle of code conflict has risen to nearly the same volume, Rinzler doesn't (can't) let the mass of errors stall him long. He'd been in nearly the same situation less than a decicycle back, trapped in his own world by the glitched Ingress until his allies here had come to get him out. Extraction is impossible this time, but there's still a task that holds priority. Not all of those who'd come to save him then returned unchanged.
Request meeting. Urgent.
Bring identity disks.
The texts transmit, along with coordinates: a maintenance space just off one of the vent shafts. Asriel will know the way. This discussion, Rinzler doesn't want anywhere near cameras.
B. Early morning on the 2nd, Moro #023: CLOSED to Nihlus
The discussion with the betas takes longer than expected. Information. Demonstration. Diverting more personal inquiries—or trying to, at least. By the time they head back to their quarters, Rinzler's as sure as he can be they understand the danger. They'll safeguard their backups. They won't let themselves be edited.
They, they, they.
Rinzler's situation is different, and no matter what he used to be, the enforcer knows what he's made for. Fight. Obey. Serve Clu. Directive loops, close and prickling as he submits his request for a room change. As he examines the space, bare and empty of intrusion. It's better this way, but it's not enough. He needs to report in. Submit, wait, present disk. It's been the better part of a cycle since Clu reviewed his code, and Rinzler knows how badly he needs correcting. He can feel it in the nausea behind each mismatched line, in the near constant flicker of [Warning—] no longer capable of locking him back in his place. He knows he's broken because of how very badly he wants not to be fixed.
Just over a millicycle after Zam's call, Rinzler sends out his second message asking for a meeting. This one is harder.
This time, it's for himself.
C. 2nd, Moro deck: OPEN
It won't end well. Rinzler knows this even without the shameful twist of function to remind him. When Nihlus leaves, his sound is harsher, the jagged edge of code warped to the point of breaking grinding against each and every choice he's made. But it's too late now, and Rinzler forces himself to still and wait. Clu will find him soon. Clu will call, and Rinzler will come the way his code demands. The way he was made to do.
Clu will call and he will come, but it is taking too long.
Processes are frayed with looping by the time Rinzler gives up. Whether from ignorance or disinterest or some new test, his administrator isn't initiating contact. Test is the most likely explanation by far, and Rinzler knows what he should do to pass. Search the ship. Find Clu. Surrender of his own volition. But he won't, he can't, not yet. Not after what he's done. Instead, Rinzler leaves his empty quarters and walks down the hall. He has a room change to finish.
The sum and total of Rinzler's time outside the Grid fits in one box and his backpack from Inugami. The latter settles much too easily over his shoulders, covering the new absence well. He takes a moment to glance around the room, mask lingering on the ground where he'd killed his first user. It's a strange association. He might value this system, but the room itself has never been of much significance, and if Elle might regret his absence, he knows her feelings won't be shared. Tucking the box of user clothing, rocket boots, and books under one arm, Rinzler sticks his helmet out into the hall, cautiously checking both ways for gold-lit figures before he steps out and paces back toward his new room.
D. 2nd-7th, around the ship: OPEN
Not yet shades far too easily into not. A direct order, Rinzler would have to obey, and he knows that much will come eventually. But the longer the delay draws out, the easier it is to pretend otherwise. Maybe Clu doesn't know he's here. Maybe Clu doesn't want him. It's a betrayal to consider and a delusion to believe, but the idea keeps Rinzler running.
For the most part, Rinzler can be encountered all over the Moira, going about his business as usual. He handles training and transport duties on the flight deck, attends his kitchen shifts, and looks up the most recent foreign references (vacation?) in the library. He examines the kittens in the garden and patrols the halls and ventilation shafts to scan for threats. But familiar acquaintances or new ones will find the program alert to the edge of twitchiness. His constant noise is clipped and harsh. He spends far too much time watching any crowds. And anyone behind the program will see a strange empty space on his back: the merged disks that should have filled the spot are missing.
Or, you might encounter his problems more directly. When Rinzler does spot Clu in the halls, his priority is to get out of the way before he's noticed. Any unlocked doors are prone to experiencing a sudden arrival: one (1) glowing, growling computer program ducking in your space with no pause for permission. He might say sorry if you ask? (Good luck.)
E. 8th, Moro #015: CLOSED to Clu
He'd known it was inevitable. He'd known it was a test. Still, when the order does come, when Rinzler feels the lines of should and have to pulling tight in a familiar, unbreakable chain, he wishes he'd had the sense to run. It wouldn't have helped. It wouldn't have done anything at all. But he wants to [wants to] [wants], and now, the option is entirely past reaching.
Clu's instructions are short and simple. A place. A word. Report. Nothing else was necessary, and they will have all the time in the world for Clu to fill the silences up soon. When Rinzler is back where he belongs. When everything is back as it's supposed to be. The enforcer doesn't answer [speech is forbidden] ["—perfect this way"], but as slow and heavy as his steps feel, it's scant micros before the enforcer is outside the door.
A moment's lag. A moment to freeze and falter, a moment's panic when it's far too late to matter. Then Rinzler reaches out, and the door opens.
When: first week of June
Where: around the Moira.
What: Rinzler's real boss is on the ship. Flailing ensues! Some open prompts; some closed ones.
Warnings: references to mindfuck, genocide, and other family-friendly Disney canon. Creeping, violence, and general awfulness in the thread with Clu. TBE as things happen.
A. Night of the 1st, maintenance room: CLOSED to Frisk and Asriel
When Rinzler receives the call from Zam_Wesell, he doesn't panic. Panic would be crashing on the spot. Panic would be taking the nearest transporter and trying to fly, to run; to split his disks and cut through anyone who stalled his path. But running wouldn't help (he knew) (he'd tried), and this is the one threat Rinzler can never, ever fight against.
Clu is on the Moira, and it's only a matter of time before the admin takes back what he made.
The hooks of directive are pulled tight enough to strangle, but Rinzler doesn't crash. He doesn't run. He doesn't have a voice to scream, and if the ticking rattle of code conflict has risen to nearly the same volume, Rinzler doesn't (can't) let the mass of errors stall him long. He'd been in nearly the same situation less than a decicycle back, trapped in his own world by the glitched Ingress until his allies here had come to get him out. Extraction is impossible this time, but there's still a task that holds priority. Not all of those who'd come to save him then returned unchanged.
Request meeting. Urgent.
Bring identity disks.
The texts transmit, along with coordinates: a maintenance space just off one of the vent shafts. Asriel will know the way. This discussion, Rinzler doesn't want anywhere near cameras.
B. Early morning on the 2nd, Moro #023: CLOSED to Nihlus
The discussion with the betas takes longer than expected. Information. Demonstration. Diverting more personal inquiries—or trying to, at least. By the time they head back to their quarters, Rinzler's as sure as he can be they understand the danger. They'll safeguard their backups. They won't let themselves be edited.
They, they, they.
Rinzler's situation is different, and no matter what he used to be, the enforcer knows what he's made for. Fight. Obey. Serve Clu. Directive loops, close and prickling as he submits his request for a room change. As he examines the space, bare and empty of intrusion. It's better this way, but it's not enough. He needs to report in. Submit, wait, present disk. It's been the better part of a cycle since Clu reviewed his code, and Rinzler knows how badly he needs correcting. He can feel it in the nausea behind each mismatched line, in the near constant flicker of [Warning—] no longer capable of locking him back in his place. He knows he's broken because of how very badly he wants not to be fixed.
Just over a millicycle after Zam's call, Rinzler sends out his second message asking for a meeting. This one is harder.
This time, it's for himself.
C. 2nd, Moro deck: OPEN
It won't end well. Rinzler knows this even without the shameful twist of function to remind him. When Nihlus leaves, his sound is harsher, the jagged edge of code warped to the point of breaking grinding against each and every choice he's made. But it's too late now, and Rinzler forces himself to still and wait. Clu will find him soon. Clu will call, and Rinzler will come the way his code demands. The way he was made to do.
Clu will call and he will come, but it is taking too long.
Processes are frayed with looping by the time Rinzler gives up. Whether from ignorance or disinterest or some new test, his administrator isn't initiating contact. Test is the most likely explanation by far, and Rinzler knows what he should do to pass. Search the ship. Find Clu. Surrender of his own volition. But he won't, he can't, not yet. Not after what he's done. Instead, Rinzler leaves his empty quarters and walks down the hall. He has a room change to finish.
The sum and total of Rinzler's time outside the Grid fits in one box and his backpack from Inugami. The latter settles much too easily over his shoulders, covering the new absence well. He takes a moment to glance around the room, mask lingering on the ground where he'd killed his first user. It's a strange association. He might value this system, but the room itself has never been of much significance, and if Elle might regret his absence, he knows her feelings won't be shared. Tucking the box of user clothing, rocket boots, and books under one arm, Rinzler sticks his helmet out into the hall, cautiously checking both ways for gold-lit figures before he steps out and paces back toward his new room.
D. 2nd-7th, around the ship: OPEN
Not yet shades far too easily into not. A direct order, Rinzler would have to obey, and he knows that much will come eventually. But the longer the delay draws out, the easier it is to pretend otherwise. Maybe Clu doesn't know he's here. Maybe Clu doesn't want him. It's a betrayal to consider and a delusion to believe, but the idea keeps Rinzler running.
For the most part, Rinzler can be encountered all over the Moira, going about his business as usual. He handles training and transport duties on the flight deck, attends his kitchen shifts, and looks up the most recent foreign references (vacation?) in the library. He examines the kittens in the garden and patrols the halls and ventilation shafts to scan for threats. But familiar acquaintances or new ones will find the program alert to the edge of twitchiness. His constant noise is clipped and harsh. He spends far too much time watching any crowds. And anyone behind the program will see a strange empty space on his back: the merged disks that should have filled the spot are missing.
Or, you might encounter his problems more directly. When Rinzler does spot Clu in the halls, his priority is to get out of the way before he's noticed. Any unlocked doors are prone to experiencing a sudden arrival: one (1) glowing, growling computer program ducking in your space with no pause for permission. He might say sorry if you ask? (Good luck.)
E. 8th, Moro #015: CLOSED to Clu
He'd known it was inevitable. He'd known it was a test. Still, when the order does come, when Rinzler feels the lines of should and have to pulling tight in a familiar, unbreakable chain, he wishes he'd had the sense to run. It wouldn't have helped. It wouldn't have done anything at all. But he wants to [wants to] [wants], and now, the option is entirely past reaching.
Clu's instructions are short and simple. A place. A word. Report. Nothing else was necessary, and they will have all the time in the world for Clu to fill the silences up soon. When Rinzler is back where he belongs. When everything is back as it's supposed to be. The enforcer doesn't answer [speech is forbidden] ["—perfect this way"], but as slow and heavy as his steps feel, it's scant micros before the enforcer is outside the door.
A moment's lag. A moment to freeze and falter, a moment's panic when it's far too late to matter. Then Rinzler reaches out, and the door opens.
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