(Untitled)

[arrhenothelus]

characters: Castor and anyone who might end up in the club.
setting: The End of Line Club
canon point: Post-ISO genocide, pre-TRON: legacy.
There are a few things that can be said about Zuse.

The same things cannot be said about Castor.

It's a balance that Zuse learned to live with very quickly. To be fair, the two identities are (for the most

Comments

[whitegem]

It helps that the Sirens often keep the Black Guard occupied. Or, at least, so Gem views it. As their de facto leader outside of the armories, a suggestion by her that the others take care of the Guards in whatever way possible was viewed in a most positive light. One or two of them took it further then Gem thought they might...but that is their own choice, and it certainly seems beneficial for them so far. At least, if the look one of them wears as they trace a dark helmet is any indication...

She only gives them so much thought tonight, Siren or Black Guard. Another has her attention, and she sits down next to him by the bar, briefly casting a look towards the two MP3 programs running the music.

They're new, but not bad.

[arrhenothelus]

Almost immediately, Castor's snapping his fingers at the bartender, mouthing the usual over at the other program before focusing his attention on Gem. The Sirens' contribution, so to speak, to the running of the nightclub is nothing if not invaluable (nobody's that fond of the Guard), and Gem herself has probably done more for him than anyone else in the city (a fact that is privy only to the two of them, which is the way that he prefers it). Shifting to better face her, he rests one elbow on the bar counter, cocking his head to one side as he turns up the wattage of his grin.

"And what do we think of the entertainment?" he asks, nodding over at the two MP3s, tone very clearly expectant. (He's never been very hard to please, at least not when it comes to the little things.) "Hired them myself. They've been well-behaved so far."

[whitegem]

"They're different."

By which to mean that Gem hadn't had much interaction with their sort. Gladiators, certainly. Rogue programs about to be turned in to gladiators as well. The few others that she caught in the armory from time to time, and, of course, the miscellaneous programs on the street...

...but Gem is nothing if not observant. She turns back towards Castor, resting a hand on the bar's surface.

"But they know what they're doing. Where did you find them?"

[arrhenothelus]

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," he says, tapping the side of his nose with one finger, the sentence followed by a bit of a giggle. "Not that I fall into that particular category. Went by word on the Grid. Small chatter can lead to big fish, if you know what I mean."

He twists as the bartender comes back around with their drinks, offering her one of the glasses before taking a sip from the other.

"I like them. They're what this place needs, anyway." Pulling a face, he glances once about the bar before shifting again, placing one foot on the bottom rung of a nearby barstool. "So, how have you been faring? Any monumental developments since I saw you last?" (This is meant more as a joke than anything else, given the fact that they don't go for very long without maintaining some sort of contact.)

[double_discs]

It wasn't often that Rinzler came into establishments like this, and it was never on his own time. There was no desire to be here. Not today, not ever. The crowds made the monitor program twitch and shifty-eyed beneath his helmet, always watching, always keeping tabs on everything. Because everything was a potential threat. Not to him of course--but to his mission

[arrhenothelus]

Rinzler was a program that Castor had yet to fully fathom. It was a fact that annoyed him to no end; he had his theories, yes, but no concrete information. That said, on the shallowest of levels, Rinzler simply scared him - unsurprising, given the tenuous ground upon which he stood.

The moment that the monitor program entered the nightclub, Castor's smile faltered, a faux pas that he managed to cover up almost immediately. It couldn't, he figured, be construed as some sign of guilt, as it was the knee-jerk reaction that most seemed to have upon seeing anyone quite so closely associated with CLU. He didn't need to panic. If he was to be derezzed, it would have happened already. He'd seen enough to know that Rinzler wasn't the sort of program who tarried with tasks like deresolution.

As the other program came up to the bar, Castor straightened up, toning down the smile on his face, although his voice lost none of its usual jovial quality.

"What kind of information are you on the market for?"

[double_discs]

"Propaganda."

Rinzler's head swiveled to the right and cocked slightly to one side as he surveyed a pair of programs seated further down the bar. They seemed to feel his gaze and shifted uncomfortably as they pretended not to notice him staring.

In a gesture that could have been construed as rude and arrogant in any other program, he didn't look back as he continued to tell Castor what he was interested in.

"Someone is spreading certain...media through the undercurrents." Finally, his head snapped back to Castor suddenly. "It is harmful and virulent in nature."

Which pretty much meant it was anti-Clu/Black Guard propaganda and Rinzler was sent to put an end to it before it escalated into some sort of rebellion.

[arrhenothelus]

Castor kept his eyes on Rinzler, lips twisting into a wry sort of smile as he heard what the other program's mission was. There was a very delicate balance to be had in working with CLU or his lackeys in any proximity. He tried to reassure himself with the thought that his function within the system was indispensable - arrogant, perhaps, but he'd been around since the early cycles. CLU couldn't do without him, could he?

All of that said, he'd begun to have his doubts about trusting in the Users.

"Forward, aren't you?" he hummed, pursing his lips. "Anyway, it's positively thrilling, all of these - underground rumblings." Tossing his cane and catching it deftly, he grinned, eyebrows inching up his forehead as if he expected some new reaction out of Rinzler. "I mean - harmful and virulent. Amazing vocabulary. But yes, I think I do know what you're referring to."

[tbang_gchrist]

The two MP3 files stand at their booth, working diligently and enjoying their new position, looking over the club curiously and tilting their heads at the strange characters that come in. They seem to be having a lot of fun, bobbing their heads to the music they throw together.

[arrhenothelus]

At intervals throughout the night, Castor pops by the mixing booth, carrying either some new quip or a couple of drinks. (It's important to keep the talent happy.) When he comes around this time, it's once more bearing drinks, and he raises the two glasses up to the window as he approaches.

"How's the cycle treating you, boys?"

[tbang_gchrist]

They look over and nod, quickly throwing something prepared on. "Same as it was when you asked before." "5 songs ago." They joked, glancing at each other before turning to take the drinks, holding them. "Thanks again for the positions." "It's much better than wandering around not knowing what to do with ourselves." When they spoke, it was not clear which was talking at the time.

[arrhenothelus]

He grins up at the booth, rolling his eyes in an amiable manner. "I provide, I provide," he says, raising both his hands as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. "I don't know what I'd do without you boys, either. You lose people if you don't have good music, and you two - are the top." He takes care to enunciate the last word; he likes them, for what it's worth. They're not hard to get along with.

[fight4theusers]

[OOC: Question... is it acceptable for characters from other timelines to pop in here, or no? Because this guy would be from after this point in canon...]

[arrhenothelus]

( ooc; it's perfectly fine! the more confusion the merrier, anyway. :D )

[namesram]

End of LineThe program tucking himself neatly into a corner seat, swishing a glass of something shiny around without drinking much at all, has some bad memories of that particular sequence of words. The new system, though, doesn't attach the same significance to them, and he's become used to seeing things he thought he knew well rewritten into different contexts. Even his own functions, reconstructed as an incidental consequence of Flynn's masterwork, hold few of the same priorities they once did

[double_discs]

((D-does anybody mind? This is too hard to pass up, man. /makes grabby hands))

It was on his way out that Rinzler experienced a glitch in his system at the sight that met his monitoring system when he glanced towards the darker corners of the room. He stopped full motion and stared at the familiar program in the distance for what seemed like several cycles. He whispered one word to himself in disbelief, too quiet in the energetic club to be heard by anyone around and his helmet too dark for anyone to see him mouth the name. "Ram."

The processes that occurred next in his system nearly shut him down for their overwhelming presence. As it were it was like a small reboot to his functions as he continued to stare at the old program in disbelief. He had never seen him here, nor heard of Flynn having brought him here.

All the monitor could think beneath the torrent of processes running through his circuits was 'he looks nice,' referring to the fact that one, he wasn't dead, and two, he'd been given upgrades to better fit into the new

[namesram]

((/does not mind in the slightest. :D))Ram quickly became aware of the whip-slender program threading towards him through the mob. Identification came quickly -- Rinzler, the biggest name on the game grid, Clu's top enforcer -- and a number of conflicting reaction protocols strained his capacity for a brief moment. Ultimately, he calculated that running would only get him derezzed faster, and stayed in his seat, only a slight wobble in his spinning disk betraying his concerns

[double_discs]

(Yay! ^_^!))

"Business."

His tone, as usual, was all formal. There was a ping of sadness that hit his processors and just as quickly disappeared before he could even try to register why it'd formed. It took another moment before trying to speak again, this time more slowly and with an effort to sound less like an auto-function and more like an actual program.

"My business takes me here on occasion. I have not seen you here before though. Are you new to the system?" And if so, how did he get here? Was this something he needed to report to Clu?