Hey me, how am I doing?

[notglitching]

Who: notglitching and here_catch
When: After notglitching's Flynnteraction and here_catch's talk with Lora and Naught. So around now.
Where: Rooftop near the city edge.
What: Stop introspecting and meet yourself already!
Warnings: TWICE THE RINZLER. This may mean alliance. This may mean the greatest explosion of violence the Grid has ever seen. This may mean both.

Comments

What's a fine program like you doing in a sector like this? No really. How is this possible?

[here_catch]

Rinzler wasn't tired.
He was so far on the other end of tired that he was all but rabid. And maybe it didn't work like that with programs. Maybe he'd always been slightly manic.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was this new disturbance in the system. And while Rinzler was nearly used to all the impossibles and improbables waltzing around the city like they owned the place, this latest data signature threw him. It was familiar.

But it was wrong.
In all the right ways.

--

Tracking the signal to this offline communication tower, Rinzler compacted his cycle and made his way into the building. Once he reached the highest floor he climbed out what may as well have been a window and vaulted up onto the rooftop.

What he saw cause him to pause almost completely, electronic purr stuttering to a momentary halt.

A tall dark stranger had just taken his breath away.

It is the MAGIC of... what's the word? Four letters. He thinks.

[notglitching]

Noise. Motion. Rinzler spun at the sound, functions shifting with new priority, hand flashing behind for his own weapons as the user's disk pulsed with sharp activation. But even as he turned, responded, readied, something was off. Familiar.

But not an error.

His hand faltered in its reach. Hesitated. Lowered. The white disk's hum died before it could even light. And Rinzler stared, head slowly tilting at the form touched down behind him. Fluid movement. Orange dots and dashes tracing a black suit-black helmet. And rumbling noise-uneven, stuttering with a tone he'd never heard-not like this. But he knew it.

He hadn't been breathing. But he would've stopped for this.

"LOVE?" That's four letters. But so is "City" and "Bird" (the rare kind) and "City."

[here_catch]

This apparition was far easier to justify than Tron's had been, and as soon as his eyes fell upon his lovely form (and technique), he realized just how good their uniform looked. Black was such a slimming colour.

He also noticed the mismatching disc, and there was no denying what this program was. Instantly Rinzler trusted the trustworthy copy, threat display and all. In response he took a baton in hand, and activated its blade. Even though the copy deactivated his weapons, Rinzler left his online.

But when he stalked closer, his movements were easy, languid, and for a guy coming at you with a sharp light-saber, he was all together pretty nonthreatening.

Hmmm... you're right. He hadn't considered those birds.

[notglitching]

...He'd been copied.

Rinzler wasn't sure what to make of this. His processing skipped as lines of focus diverged to question, response. Who had...? (Clu.) Was it really...? (Yes). Threads of confusion, surprise, a distant trace of affront (he wasn't enough?) wound through his code.

But that was background. Secondary. The majority of Rinzler's attention was directed outward, not inward-observation, focus, immediacy. Not questions. His gaze flicked towards the baton, awareness sharpening as the blade activated, extended. Dangerous. Significantly so. In a thousand cycles of hunting and derezz, Games and battle and extermination, Rinzler had never seen a program he was so uncertain he could defeat.

(He wanted to find out.)

He didn't move, though. Didn't tense up, ready, draw his own weapons. He knew the copy's skill-but he knew the movement, too. Not a threat. Not threatening at least-no open challenge. And if it turned to that, he had a disk in hand. It was his skill, too, after all

[notglitching]

Rinzler loved adventure.

He stood for a moment, observing his double. It was hard not to. White disk inactive in one hand, helmet tipped towards the exit. Rinzler's sound rumbled out with amusement, satisfaction. The Game had changed.

And they were winning.

His free hand dropped to unclip a baton, and Rinzler stalked to the window exit. His own helmet tilted in invitation. After you. Or him. Same thing.

[here_catch]

Rinzler's hand dropped to his side to reclip a baton as he followed his copy to the ledge.

After me.

And then, because what was a window really but a Grid runway, Rinzler perched himself on the edge before jumping out into space, rezzing his jet around him as he shot off.

He had no doubt his copy would follow his lead.

[notglitching]

Rinzler thought runways were overrated. Apart from that, no arguments here.

He waited for his copy to clear the gap, then jumped out to the space between buildings. His disk docked as the air rushed past, hands forward to yank the baton apart-and his own jet rezzed around, lines and shapes of orange tracing to solidity as he jerked back, upward to meet his double in the sky.

Rinzler wouldn't follow many programs. In fact, there was really only Clu.

But here, now, he'd give himself a chance. The rumbling purr offset against the roar of engine and wind as he went after the orange shape above.

[here_catch]

He can show him the world~
Shining, shimmering, splendid~♬

But mostly Rinzler wanted to show his copy what lay past the glittering parts of the city, and high above this dead portion of the system. Banking his jet suddenly, Rinzler flew almost directly upward into the sky, disappearing amongst the clouds. There was a moment where his vehicle was lost, locating him made no easier by the fact that he hadn't activated the light-trails of his craft, but then their destination became obvious.

The cloud cover passed, and there, running in stealth mode, was Clu's ship. The circuitry was dark, letting it blend in with the sky, and it was missing the rectification add on, but it was still Clu's ship nonetheless.

And Rinzler was landing his smaller plane along its top.