Who: Tronzler Rinzler and you.
What: Glitchy sometimes-blue program going around being crazy and/or helpful.
Where: All over.
When: "Friendly Reminder" days 2 onwards. 2-3 preferred unless plotted otherwise. Specify in your tag?
Warnings: Rinzler. (...mindrape, mental/physical trauma, violence, blood (not his), general CRAZY.)
(
'distant eyes, promises were made in vain' )
Was it just him?
--that noise?
He looked around as he entered the paths, his younger companion stepping forwards and then calling for him. He frowned and shook his head, and waved at him. "I'll catch up in a minute!" he promised, and his partner was gone.
Because he found that there was something he still had to figure out, and that was--
He inched closer, still floating above the ground, two or three inches. And then, he saw him--and Sora guessed he should've been mad. Furious, even. But Quorra was okay, and she told him that--she ... told him that he didn't remember who he used to be. And Sora, oblivious as ever, hadn't quite understood, so he let it go.
Now that Rinzler was right in front of him, though... Sora's light shone brighter and he spoke--thought--quietly, leaning down though he couldn't touch the ground.
"Hey."
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The program didn't like the shape he saw.
Still stained with blood. Bright, vivid, clinging to his circuitry. A part of him. No mask. That was wrong, was-he wasn't supposed to have a face. And if he did... it shouldn't look like that. Dead eyes, faint orange glow burning warm behind them. A smirk, sharp and curved, mouth twisted with amusement. And broken. Jagged edges of derezz, fragmented cut slicing through the jaw, throat, digging down to bisect the circuitry on his chest.
Rinzler stared, frozen, hand raising slowly to his throat. He wasn't-he wasn't like that. He didn't know that face, didn't have those injuries. (they seemed familiar)The voice comes from behind, and the ( ... )
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Sora emphasized, concern flashing in his bright blue eyes. Of course, everything about him was bright him now, to contrast the ever-surrounding darkness. It was, in a way, his job to be that present light in the midst of everyone losing hope. He, for a few minutes, lost hope, and the feeling of hitting the bottom wasn't a feeling he wanted anyone else to feel. Not even Rinzler deserved that.
"I can help." And if he couldn't, he'd sure as hell try.
"What's wrong with your, um, circuits?" Sora glanced down to the circuitry as it flickered blue-white, orange, blue white. Was he sick? Had someone injured him that badly?
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And this user couldn't help what was wrong with him.
He didn't know why he would want to.
Rinzler followed the user's glance down toward his circuits, the uneven flickering of the colors. Wrong. He should fix that. A moment's effort, concentration, and the orange-red spread, patches of color expanding to cover the pale blue. It took effort. That was wrong, too. Rinzler stared at the color, hand tightening over the matching disk until it dug into his grip. For a moment, he half-expected to see a jagged cut, edged (disk blow) gaping upwards- (Clu)
The helmet jerked up, to the side, and the solid orange dropped again to flickering uncertainty.
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Not a mutter of malice, but of sadness. Sora's eyes raised back to Rinzler's face--well, helmet. The glossy helmet that just refracted Sora's own face. He could see his own tiredness there, and his eyes flickered down as the events that'd played in the last few days rewound in his mind.
Sora closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. He couldn't dwell on the past. "I think you need rest. D'you wanna go to the clinic? You're friends with Ichigo, right?"
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There were other priorities.
Rinzler stilled at the question, shook his head, stance painfully tight. He didn't have friends. (Ichigo was-) He wouldn't (couldn't) go there. Not now.
The program straightened unsteadily-as much as Rinzler ever straightened, drawing up from crouch to inward hunch. The helmet tipped sideways, wary attention never quite leaving the user as he scanned the area. His circuits stayed dim with tiredness, fluctuating slowly, blue washing over orange washing over blue through the shapes and dots outlining the program. But rest didn't matter. There were still threats. He had to keep fighting.
By this point, he barely even cared what for.
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... well... neither was he. His two friends, died. More than friends, practically brothers--both died and he felt the pain still resonating in his heart. Maybe that was why. Maybe Sora just wanted to save someone--even if it wasn't the best someone in his opinion--from the pain of being lost or losing someone. He didn't even really know if Rinzler had someone in Promenade to actually be nice to from his own world ( ... )
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Rinzler flinched. He didn't-no. It wasn't a question-shouldn't have been a question, didn't make sense that-no. He fought for Clu, served Clu-(hated Clu)-
'do you fight for your User?'
The program froze. Circuits flickered dark, flashed bright blue-white before red-orange surged back to cover it in glitchy patches. He didn't (hadn't)-couldn't-that wasn't what he was made for-(lie).
He didn't know.
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A hand, reaching out again, to touch his shoulder this time. He was flickering. Sora tried to recall any time anything in Tron's world did that, struggling to. He couldn't help but feel it was bad. A dejected sigh came from his throat. "I wish Tron was here. He'd know how to help you..." Every time he spoke again, it just seemed that things were getting worse.
Sora wondered what he was doing wrong.
"Maybe I should..." go away. Because he couldn't help. He didn't know enough to, did he?
Then, his eyes rose, to see a monster flying towards them. And Sora scowled, throwing his Keyblade at it, knocking it out of the air and down, hurrying to get between Rinzler and the shaddows.
"Don't you think you'd be safer somewhere else?" He urged. "I don't wanna see you get hurt more."
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'Tron'
No. He's still again, rigid, can't move, the ISO's words grinding unsteady through his processing. 'You used to protect the entire Grid.' Circuitry flickers like a desperate heartbeat. He didn't. That's not who he is. There's a bitter skip in the unending buzz of conflict-but no noise (not here), no voice (never a voice). This user's almost right. He's not... Rinzler doesn't know how to help himself.
The motion catches him off guard, and he tenses as the other pulls the blade back (too slow, too glitching distracted-weak), then stares openly as it goes flying to impale one of the larger strange gridbugs. These move in swarms, Rinzler remembers. He should-
The user's in front of him now. Stance readied, back turned. Protecting.
No.The enclosing mask snaps up, sideways as paired weapons activate with a hum. The program ( ... )
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He knows the stance the other's giving to him, too. His head, jerking back.
And Sora frowns. He watches as the swarm starts closing in and he knows--he knows he can't leave John by himself, but what about Rinzler?
He doesn't look like he should be fighting... but he wants to. Truth be told? Sora knows that feeling. He doesn't want to dictate what he should do, so he breathes in and finally started to step backwards.
"When me and John are done clearing this place out, I'm dragging you to the clinic, or the mansion, or somewhere! I'm not ( ... )
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Good. That much, at least, is normal is right he knows what to do with.
Rinzler's arm flashes up to snatch his second disk from the air on rebound and the program pulls back, ready to launch the weapons again-when the user makes a promise (lie) that causes the mask to snap back, staring. Oh no. Rinzler shakes his head. He's had more than enough of users in this place trying to drag him where they thought he'd be safe or out of the way or... whatever that had been. He's not so badly damaged (mostly) and he's not letting that happen, and-is this user throwing fire at him? Again?
The program ducks, motions jerky, half-steady-and stares in bemusement as the flaming arc goes shooting past, well to the side, burying itself in the heart of the swarm to leave the enemies twitching, half-derezzed already. Rinzler pauses, helmet fixed back in a stare. The same as the blue user.
They make no senseHe jerks back around, flings a disk forward to tear apart a crawling form before jumping forward, other disk ( ... )
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