"troubled times, caught between confusions and pain"
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' )
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' )
Comments 72
Yuuta was tired of fighting, of having to deal with these damn monsters. So far, he had seen more death and destruction that he ever imagined that he would ever. In his whole life, in three lives. So seeing Rinzler there, flashing and acting so odd, makes him pause before going over. He isn't anything like the other monsters, so he can't be a part of that. He has to be one of them, in terrible trouble.
Right?
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Rinzler was (arguably) not a monster. And definitely in some sort of trouble. The program stood in a crouch, disks in hands, the orange and white glow of the weapons nearly invisible behind the red blood coating them. The helmet was fixed downwards, form rigid as he stared at the shape below-a giant insect, still half-wrapped around a human form. The curving cuts and stabs through exoskeleton and flesh make it very clear what the creature died of.
The program's still for a long moment, circuitry guttering dimly as it shifts, flickers between blue and orange. There's a twitch, a faint jerking shiver-and the helmet snaps around towards the newcomer, focus abruptly redirected as Rinzler takes a step back, weapons rising, then faltering as the mask tilts.
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Threat.
The black mask jerks to the side as Rinzler tries to clear his cache, tries to process through the flickers of error and reset and fight/protect/destroy. The words register slowly, and the program stills. Nods unsteadily to the first, shakes his head to the second part.
(This user can't help him.)
There's another long pause, then the mask lifts, nods toward the other. Does he need help?
It matters. He's just not sure why.
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But they were users.
Almost.
No. Threats/targets/wrong, wrong, wrong. He jerked a disk free of a still form, spun to scythe out at another. Its wide mouth gaped open in a parody of speech as it writhed, limbs twitching, reaching, even as he severed them. The program froze, shame and need and failiure wrecking through before he jerked back to motion, stabbed out with panicked, hateful desperation. But there was another, behind, and he spun (lagging, too slow, too weak) to-
Oh.
His disks came up, twitched to throw, stopped. He stepped back, grip rigid on his weapons as he stared at the ISO/target/threat. He needed to-needed to destroy (her?), fight (for), end this, stop it, just stop. The helmet jerked sideways as orange and blue flickered over each other in glitchy blocks of color. The disks still burned orange and active in his hold. What little of them wasn't coated in ( ... )
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Her gaze dropped to the two disks, staring at the blood on them. She blinked once before looking back at him. She wasn't Flynn, she wasn't Sam. She wasn't a user. What could she do to help him, other than keep things off his back and hope he didn't turn around and stab her in the back? The circuits kept flickering with orange and white.
With a tilt of her head to the side, she offered a small smile. "Let me help you."
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The mask jerked sideways again, form tensing. His hands twisted on the disks, circuits prickling from the blood. She wouldn't (shouldn't)-it was a lie. His gaze flicked to the baton and its blue-white blade, fragmented memory stabbing at him-the cut from behind, near-derezz. Followed by shutdown, failure. Her fault. Rebooting in that room, to error and pain and hands on his disk. Her fault.
He should destroy her.
He nearly had.
He took another step back, painfully rigid as he stared at his enemy. Target/threat/failure/not now/why now?
Why is she here?
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'I can't slow down now, though.' Whatever these... things were, he doubted that everyone else would be doing as well-off as he was. How many people were still out here, unable to get to some kind of shelter?
A flicker of blue catches his attention nearby, and the feeling of... something? It felt like a person, almost--a heart, but injured? It was enough to send the armored Keybearer investigating. "Hello? Is someone there?"
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Falling was easier. Disks still half-embedded in the oversized gridbug on top of him, the program toppled off the short roof, tried to curl as he fell-and landed half on top of some skeletal appendages. Injured or no, Rinzler was quicker-but it was hard to leap away when the dead shell of his last opponent was still weighing him down.
He jerked his disks free, stabbed down to break the grasping limbs. The first few shattered, sending a burst of satisfaction through his processing-this was far closer to how derezz should look. But a couple grabbed hold-and while the grips felt weaker than expected, the program was still dragged halfway into a gaping fissure before he'd managed to clear the attackers.
The dark mask snapped up, scanning his surroundings as his circuits flickered, uneven patches of blue and orange barely lit. He was physically a mess, mentally a wreck, processing scrambled and unsteady. But he thought he'd heard something. He should react. Respond. (fight?Managing to stand would probably be a ( ... )
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The sounds died by the time he made his way over, and... he's left standing there, looking at a very clearly injured man, trying to stand. He doesn't even pause to question anything out of place--the glowing lines that keep going from blue-white to orange-red, the odd blocky look around the edges of those injuries, or the really strange feeling of ... almost corruption and fighting he's getting-- he's there, helping the other up.
"It's all right; I've got you." Very badly injured, even though there wasn't any blood. A brief moment of concentration, and the familiar green-light of the Curaga spell washes over the other, visibly mending a large amount of the damage.
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Something grabbed him.
Someone. That much managed to register, between the shock and panic and utter shame that he'd so completely failed to react in time. The program froze, disks flaring active as he was-lifted? Doesn't matter, need to move (run), attack (defend)-
...
The program had half jerked to turn, move, get away when something. Happened. A flare of light, a... sensation. And recompile. Rinzler froze again, this time in utter confusion. He could feel his code repairing itself, smaller errors and gaps righting themselves-the hole through his side stabilizing, new code rezzing to fill part of the damage. He stared down, another flash of brief panic-but his disks were there, in his grip, untampered with. They surged briefly bright, as if with resync, but didn't-weren't-had this user altered them?
The black mask tilted towards the other, stuttering rumble vibrating through the contact. His hands tightened over his disks, but he didn't-couldn't-what was
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When he notices Rinzler, he tenses up, even more so than he had been already. The last time he saw him, the thing slashed his chest, and he didn't want any more of that. He doesn't want to be noticed by him, but it's almost impossible with the way things are. Anyone that is a human is automatically found in a sea of monsters crawling and snaking their way along the roads and alleys.
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That might be why the user doesn't catch his notice-not until the program's almost on top of him, anyway. The figure's glancing up from street level, an eerily familiar position that has Rinzler blocking auditory function immediately. He's not sure if the user can still make that noise at night, but he doesn't want to find out.
A faint glimmer of white catches his attention, and the helmet tilts in the direction of the figure as it backs away. There. A long strand, nearly transparent, blocking the road. And more. Rinzler's unfamiliar with nearly every creature or construct he's encountered here, but this shape is easily identifiable. Net. Web. Trap.
An orange disk flashes forward, past the user-warning-as ( ... )
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Spiders were never a favorite of Sean, and neither were giant spiders. Not that he feared them, he just didn't fancy them. The fact that Rinzler was going after it instead of himself was surprising. What was that even about? Didn't he want to hurt Sean, hurt Quorra? He doesn't want to say anything because of it. He just wants to watch, to pay attention, to make sure he doesn't get distracted.
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A hand snaps up (lines incongruously blue) to catch the disk as it returns. The program eyes the web. Large. Massive. But with no visible inhabitant. After a moment, he strikes out, disk slashing at one of the thicker strands. Much to Rinzler's annoyance, it bends-not sticking to his weapon, but not cutting either. Not so easily, at least. The vibrations travel up, fant ripples spreading through the entirety of the web. Good. It should at least draw the creature's attention.
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Skeleton hands are a pain in the ass, but reanimati were her biggest problem. The hands she could handle with simple Blizzard or Fire magic. Reanimati were beginning to be more of a problem as she kept on. Little rest, little way of regaining energy. It was just herself in the darkness of seemingly eternal night, her Master's 'blade causing the occasional sparks as her mostly armored self was struck every now and then. It didn't seem to stop her much at all as she continued, not even pausing for a breath. She was, without a doubt, very much in her element.
That's when suddenly a burst of light erupts from the tip of Master Keeper, aimed right at a locust before she has to pause a moment, winded.
She wasn't alone. She could sense the coding that made an additional ripple of danger travel down her spine. Rinzler. Now that she knew some of what happened to him thanks to Quorra, and that these monsters were attacking everyone, she couldn't help but not give him as much mind.
Your move, Program.
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At the moment, Rinzler wasn't giving Aqua any mind. Unfortunately, this had less to do with his overconfidence skill in a fight, and more to do with his current level of alertness. He simply hadn't noticed her yet.
The program ducked under a dropping shape, rolled aside to come up in a crouch, disks scything the air to either side. Most of the nearer shapes fell back, whether from injuries or brief retreat, but a low shape grabbed at his leg, dragged its misshapen form closer. The program stabbed down, severing the limb, but the appendage clung. A hindrance.
Rinzler hated these creatures. More than any of the others. He'd faced massive gridbugs, long coiled attackers, brittle barely-coded limbs that tried to drag him down, rip him apart. In comparison, these were slow. Stupid. Weak.
But they bled.
A gout of red fluid spurted from the severed appendage, what was left of the form ( ... )
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She was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but this all brought a sickened look to her face as one by one she trapped the blasted creatures in sheets of ice. Something, anything to get them to stop attacking. Freeze to death... the last word in that trail of thought sickening her even more. Were it not in self-defense, she would be hating herself even more.
Aqua detested this senseless violence, wanted nothing more than for peace to be restored so that she wouldn't have to fight anymore. A grimace, only visible because now half of her mask is gone, is apparent as the blast fades and the ice shatters like glass. These were more pathetic than the Unversed, whose cries of agony she could still hear echoing in the back of her mind as much as she could see them fade away to nothing. Only here was it even more apparent.
These were once humanShe noticed the flickering of the circuitry, and couldn't help but wonder why he was like this now as she floats just barely off the ground. ( ... )
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The program tensed as the blue user cast out towards him, already dropping, rolling aside-back-from whatever effect she planned to launch. He hated this user-hated not knowing what her attacks would do. Not being able to-
...what?
The burst of light flew past overhead-well overhead-just as the program collided with something solid behind. Rinzler flipped up from the roll, disks out, turned to... stare. Up. That was a large threat.
The attack hit, and the creature fell back, coils twisting, shifting. One length slammed against the still-staring program, knocking him back, down. Rinzler snapped back to focus, combat, disks stabbing out at the flailing length as it pressed above, on top of him. But the thing was armored. And huge. His disks sunk in only partway, the enormous coils twitching in reaction, but hardly disabled.
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