Rinzler's come and gone from the station more than once already. Transport is his function on the ship, combat the purpose he was written for. Ownership is hardly a new concept. Rinzler's not sure at all how he feels about the trade that goes on at this station, the idea of users laying claim to one another the way they so casually do to his own kind. Users aren't written to obey and serve (not like he is), but he can't hold them quite so far above programs as he used to. He's killed far too many here for that.
But if can't condemn the practice as readily as most of the Moira's crew (not when he's so very occupied not thinking about the parallels), Rinzler's loyalties are to his own system. He has targets to extract. Data to gather. Allies to support. And considering how much the users who've come here have done for him, helping them delete some malware is a small favor.
The program's current goal is tagged "distraction". Nihlus is angling to infiltrate and sabotage, Elle to support his incursion. Rinzler needs to draw off as many of the corporation's guards as possible, and attacking their transport groups seems like an easy method—especially when they property they're moving is already prone to running off. If they aren't busy fighting him, they'll be chasing after their lost tools, and either way, it means less threats for the others to evade.
This group has six: two at the front of the line, two behind, and two patrolling along the middle. One is already chatting on some kind of comm device; Rinzler flags it for last so it can call in backup. Better to wipe the mobile functions first. He slips into position, lights dark and noise muted as he perches on a nearby wall, one baton filling each hand. They'll pass below in three. Two. One—
Rinzler drops, and his weapons hum to life, one lightsword carving a neat path through the guard's throat and down into its core. The strike is clean and quick, and he hits the ground in a roll, pulling his blade free as cries of surprise break through the crowd. He's up just as quickly, weapons turning on the next threat... only to find it occupied already.
26th
But if can't condemn the practice as readily as most of the Moira's crew (not when he's so very occupied not thinking about the parallels), Rinzler's loyalties are to his own system. He has targets to extract. Data to gather. Allies to support. And considering how much the users who've come here have done for him, helping them delete some malware is a small favor.
The program's current goal is tagged "distraction". Nihlus is angling to infiltrate and sabotage, Elle to support his incursion. Rinzler needs to draw off as many of the corporation's guards as possible, and attacking their transport groups seems like an easy method—especially when they property they're moving is already prone to running off. If they aren't busy fighting him, they'll be chasing after their lost tools, and either way, it means less threats for the others to evade.
This group has six: two at the front of the line, two behind, and two patrolling along the middle. One is already chatting on some kind of comm device; Rinzler flags it for last so it can call in backup. Better to wipe the mobile functions first. He slips into position, lights dark and noise muted as he perches on a nearby wall, one baton filling each hand. They'll pass below in three. Two. One—
Rinzler drops, and his weapons hum to life, one lightsword carving a neat path through the guard's throat and down into its core. The strike is clean and quick, and he hits the ground in a roll, pulling his blade free as cries of surprise break through the crowd. He's up just as quickly, weapons turning on the next threat... only to find it occupied already.
By a very familiar blur.