Of Frisbees and Jetpacks

[notglitching]

Who: Rinzler and anyone or everyone.
When: Now!
Where: Wandering around the city. He dropped in not far from the blown up ISO-building, if people doing stuff there want to run into him.
What: Confusion! And so much wordvomit.
Warnings: ...it's Rinzler? Anything from combat to mindfrackery, depending on who he runs into. Internal trauma pretty much

Comments

[clu2_perfection]

Clu saw the enforcer looking around, alomst lost. He saw the shattered building and felt himself smile slightly. The destruction within the ISO building brought a certain twisted joy. How, he despised their very presence. He walked up to Rinzler, glad his enforcer was still with him after the chaos. He would always be with him. Ever loyal.

'Rinzler. Are you functioning adequately? I thought for a moment...,' he swallowed. No. Nothing could damage him. Not an ISO at any rate. No program or User could defeat the enforcer. 'Can you explain what happened to me?,' he looked around, slightly lost and confused himself at the situation.

So much had happened over the last few nano-cycles. The ISO, destruction. Flynn. Even Clu's circuits has been frazzled slightly by the last few moments.

[notglitching]

Rinzler had been glancing at the building with confusion. This structure, design-what was left of it-hadn't been present for... hundreds of cycles.

At the sound of steps, he tenses, starts to turn. At Clu's voice, the enforcer relaxes, form dipping into the habitual hunch as he faces his admin, head lowered. Clu would understand what had happened.

...

He gives a short nod at the first query, but the second... his processing skips faintly at the visible uncertainty on his leader's face. If Clu didn't know how they'd gotten here...

His head tilts faintly, rumble skipping with faint confusion, alarm. The mask drops, shakes slightly. He can't explain. Clu could review his disk, might know more of the event than Rinzler did himself, but...

Faint unease twisted through his code at the thought. ...If he requests it..

[clu2_perfection]

'Let me look at your disc. Everything should be explained in that. I thought you were busy following my orders. I seemed to have been confused at the whole situation. I know I shouldn't be but....I feel Flynn's influence in this,' he clenched his fists at being confused. He was never confused. Confusion was an imperfection.

He went to unhook Rinzler's disc from his back as he tried to think back. He ordered Rinzler to attack the ISO part of the City. He remembered grinning to himself at the satisfaction he would recieve. The huge feeling or pleasure that destroying the....disease would give him. Yes, he was right. He was always right. HE gave the order to attack. This was his doing. The wreckage and damage, all his doing.

[notglitching]

Rinzler doesn't flinch at the command. Obedience to this request is one of the strongest coded into him. The second-most-binding, to be specific.

He turns automatically, head lowered, doesn't even twitch as his admin's hands close around his identity disk, undocking. Disk removed, his hands twitch faintly as he stands, waits.

The admin will see his failure.

And Clu will correct it.

[fight4theusers]

Tron was out on patrol, trying to get away from the monotony of overseeing everything from the Arena for a time. A flash of light on the street in front of him made him pause, overloading his visual sensors briefly. When his vision cleared, there was a new program in the street, crouched in a familiar position, discs in hand...

Rinzler... Was this another copy? One Tron had encountered before? The Portal had been pulling in so many from all times and places, he wasn't sure what to expect.

Approaching cautiously, he did not draw his own disc yet, but held his hands loose and ready at his sides. "Greetings, program."

[notglitching]

The impact was jarring enough. Less the actual landing, more the confusion of where and how.

He's beginning to conclude that something must be wrong with him when he hears the voice.

It's wrong.

He turns, grow low and dangerous as he stares at the program approaching. His grip tightens on his disk, eyes catching on the blue-white circuitry, the stance, the...

This isn't right.

No.

He's frozen, sound harshly rippling out as his disks hum in fists clenched tight and desperate.

[fight4theusers]

Tron watches the other program, the copy, himself not long ago, turn and freeze upon seeing him. Something's wrong... The sound from the other is jagged, distressed, a sound he'd heard from his own processors for far too many cycles.

"I'm not here to harm you. Rinzler. That is your designation, correct?" He holds out his hand, palm up, though he's still poised and ready to grab his own discs if needed.

He doesn't want to fight him, not if he doesn't have to...

[notglitching]

He sees the motion (poised, ready to strike at need- he knows that readiness). The other isn't going for his disks, though-isn't fighting, he's talking, voice sending a shivering twist through his code that sparks in warning. He shouldn't be hearing that, shouldn't be...

REDIRECT.

His gaze narrows to the program's hand, stares at it as the other speaks. His disks blaze bright in his grasp, and he gives a faint nod at the question. The words are straightforward. But he doesn't want words (voice, patterns-familiar), he wants action, battle, wants things to collapse into motion and bright violence, derezz the questions and their sources with quick strikes, lethal throws.

He doesn't move.

[namesram]

It's easy to miss individuals in the periodic floods of new arrivals, but since the explosion Ram has been keeping a closer-than-usual lookout for the specific data blips that have, in the past, presaged the appearance of a new iteration of Tron. The method has more than its share of false positives, but low odds are better than nothing, and when one of the office bits finds him just offshift with new data, he promptly takes off to investigate.

The stats are never exact, so he'd normally have over three sectors to wander around in on the off-chance of finding what he's looking for. Not this time, though. With this sector squarely in the middle of the curve, he heads straight for the repair site. Odds are good that any new program showing up nearby would decide to investigate it. At the very least, it's a good place to start.

[[I was going to wait till your thread with Tron was done but oh man I caaaan't. :D This can be as long after the previous threads as you like, if continuity's wanted.]]

[notglitching]

The structure was wrong.

Rinzler stands across the street, in the small alcove of an adjacent building as he looks at the wrecked structure. He's not taking special care to conceal himself, but it's habit to stand out of direct sight, ready for quick, silent action should the need arise.

It was broken, wrecked, a number of milicycles ago, if his scans are correct (should be fully wiped by now-half-broken things are an imperfection, provided holes for rebels to cower in). But more than the destruction, the design bothers him. Partly normal, but... adapted. Spiraling delicate structures, crystalline shapes and twisting apertures. Shattered now, broken-but still visible in the shapes and pieces that remain.

ISO work.

His fists clench slightly, body leans forward in a dangerous curve as Rinzler stares at the building that should never have been. The ISOs are gone. Derezzed. He was tasked with finishing it, hunting down those who ran, those who hid, spilling their voxels across the street. He succeeded (he always did), and Clu had

[namesram]

The red lightcycle flashes past Rinzler's aperture and slides to a halt in front of the building, the rider -- lacking the usual safety helmet, his hair blown back, his circuits incongruously blue -- craning his head to look up at the half-rerezzed structure. His head is turned away, concealing his response to the spectacle. When he turns back, it's to survey the area's levels and crossings, apparently looking for something. He's serious, alert, wary of interference; but there's a hopeful cast to his look that the enforcer might have recognized in another system long ago.

[[Yay! Works for me. :D]]

[notglitching]

The cycle flashes past the opening, and Rinzler relaxes faintly at the familiar red. A second look makes him stiffen. The program doesn't match. An anomaly.

It slides to a stop in front of the wreckage, the program looking up. Definitely not Clu's. Even ignoring the circuit color, the program's bearing, appearance-it was all wrong. (Familiar).

Rinzler pushes past the faint shiver of error, tilts his head as he considers the other program. He's looking for something. He knows this building, this place. What happened.

A joined disk silently undocks-still inactive, unlit; no sudden hum to give him away. Rinzler glances up, swiftly scales part of the structure adjacent to him as he picks a better angle.

He needs answers.

[repairs_things]

Ari looked around quietly, she had just finished doing some new enhancements on some of the buildings on the outlands and had decided to have a break for a while. She had been there only for a short while when she spotted the figure across the street.

Panic surged in her circuity for a second as she tried to identify them. Not sure on how to react to them, she chose to do the direct approach and got up to him cautiously and talk to him directly.

"Greetings, program. Can I help you?"

[notglitching]

The black helmet snaps around at the sound of approach, noise rumbling out in an even ticking. The program is unarmed, white-circuited-and on an intercept course. The combination is rare.

The mask tilts faintly at the question, Rinzler inspecting her more fully. Passive scans read her as a system utility. He wonders if she's here to fix some of the errors in this sector. Or if she caused them.

The unending growl roils out unchanging as Rinzler's gaze shifts from her to the surrouding area (wrong, shifted from what it should be in pieces and fragments). He doesn't give an answer.

[repairs_things]

Ari stood there quietly watching him, giving him a evaluation of her own of him. He was a well built program but with the orange circuitry it meant only one thing. This was Rinzler.

With this knowledge she wasn't sure that she should hang around but something told her to talk to the program since he was all alone.

"Are you ok there?"

[notglitching]

Her presence doesn't bother him, even if the proximity is strange. Low threat, low priority, other issues of concern. The question, though...

The helmet snaps back to focus on her, noise edged, jagged. Of course he's fine. He's always working, always functional. Clu made sure of it.

Rinzler steps closer, corruptive growl lower, sinister, as he fixes the program with an invisible stare. The helmet tilts slightly before he nods at her, sharply. The meaning's clear enough. Identify.

[program_yori]

Yori stood there quietly. She would do this quite often as it was very relaxing and peaceful. It was a was she could stand there and think.

She was so deep into her thoughts that she didn't notice the program that was standing a little way off.