#I'd like to see anis back as Rinzler

[circuitsofgold]

I'm going to get spicy a moment and post some unpopular opinions. My skin is flaring and I’m cranky.

TRON is the universe the movies takes place in.

Tron is the name of the character.

I've seen a lot of opinions as of late how ‘I wanna have the next film be about Tron!'. Which is cool and all, I’d like to see that too. But considering how much of an old curmudgeon Boxleitner has turned out to be. And not even a likeable curmudgeon. It's not likely to happen.

I’d even argue that the '1982 movie wasn't about Tron. It was more about Flynn and corporate espionage than Tron. Yeah, he was in it but he wasn't the main character. I vaguely recall they wanted to title the movie 'Space Paranoids' but someone suggested Tron because it was short and cool sounding so it would stick in people's minds.

Anyway, I’m typing this while wearing a Clu shirt.

[quorras]

Ask game: 👀

(@system-operator)

Hi!! Thanks for asking!! :]

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Oh there are. SO MANY. And half of them have been sitting in my files for nearly a year now so... :') we'll see when I'll actually get around to them. (Just counted, 17 unfinished tron ficlets/one-shots, 12 'longer'/more serious tron fics, 11 Gaia au wips... and that's only the tron adjacent ones). The ones I'm the most excited about working on are the Gaia ones! A lot of the stuff I'd planned years ago are ideas that look like they're going to be brought up in Identity—the evolution of the Grid itself, the life of the system and the way it grows and decays into it's on natural cycle.

The part in Gaia I'm most looking forward to finishing is a fic called Blackout, which takes place immediately before/after chapter 4 of Creation Myth. Blackout is about Quorra's attempt to reenter the Grid after the events of Legacy after Sam's first failed attempt at doing the same. I've read a lot of fics about what would happen if Sam went in again, but I don't think I've read any that had Quorra go back by herself? And I wanted to explore that, especially to get her to run into Tronzler and how she would deal with the split between wanting to respect Tron but also hating/pitying Rinzler's guts. The plot of the fic is straightforward—what does the Grid look like when the power gets turned off for a bit? What happens with the new power vacuum in the Grid (smth I love seeing in post-Leagacy fics)? Does Quorra ever actually want to go back to the Grid? Etc, etc. Hopefully Blackout is the next Gaia thing I post, I'm not sure how but it's nearly been three years since I started it and I can't find the time to sit down and write as much as of late so... 🤞🤞🤞 one day!!

[unwritten-identity-discs]

Clarke waited silently while Rinzler reviewed her memories. While she fully knew and accepted that it was possible that he might either go looking further into her memories or just erase them, she had made peace with the fact that she might lose her memory a long time ago. The possibility of Rinzler discovering and hurting those she protected was her primary concern. She was still relieved when her disc was replaced in its dock, memory intact and crimes undiscovered.

She noted when Rinzler's purr cur out, then restarted even louder, picking up on his agitation. :: I'm trying to keep the user from acting like a null unit, :: she tried to reassure him. :: I told him I have experience working with rectification code, but your case is different from the others.:: She paused, thinking. :: What I'm trying to say is, unless it's a medical emergency, I won't touch your code without your consent, regardless of what the User wants.::

Flynn seemed to catch on to it too, from the way his brows knit in concern. "Clu can't negotiate for your return, man," Flynn said, as though that was some sort of reassurance.

He turned to Rinzler, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Tron...?" he asked, seeming baffled by the sudden shift. "I'm not angry," he said, his tone surprisingly soft despite... everything. "Confused, mostly. I don't understand why you would..." He reached out an arm to wrap around Rinzler's shoulders, then paused, thought better of it, and dropped his arm again. "'But, I am glad to see you again. I'm glad you survived."

:: It appears we are both attempting to deceive the user, then, :: Clarke pinged back. :: Though that is not the threat you think it is. :: She'd long since made her peace with the fact that she might have to lose her memory, and would have done it without hesitation if there was any threat of someone discovering her. :: Though I would recommend deresolution over memory wipe. There is data on that disc that could help you survive the journey back to the city when you escape... Though I'd rather make it out of here as well. .:: She had the presence of mind to not say how the data on her disc would help. Rinzler would have to look very far back in her memories to get a clue as to what she was talking about, and though she hated withholding information, she of all programs understood the power of information control. She used to be a courier, and they were the first group Clu targeted when he took over. Join, or derezz, they'd been told. Though Clarke had already made her decision several cycles earlier when she had been told a group of isos had destroyed her home.

Keeping the specifics to herself meant Rinzler still needed her running, at least for now.

"Reintegration, man," Flynn said. He sounded exhausted, like he was on the verge of crashing, and though though Clarke understood, in theory, what that meant, she wondered how it happened. "Clu can't negotiate for your return because he's... gone. You're safe here. You can rest."

/*dealer's choice (prompt and muse), if you want to:*/

“Breathe. Hi, we found you, just breathe for me, okay?”

“This is going to hurt, but it will help you.”

[ FIGHT ] for receiving muse to not recognize sender or medical staff trying to help them, due to being drugged or otherwise disoriented – so they fight.

( @spaceparanoids-highestscore / @unwritten-identity-discs )

Rinzler hadn’t expected to come back online. When he’d sunk beneath the waves and slowly felt the energy drain from him, he thought he’d derezz, with his voxels left to sink into the depths until they despawned. The fact that he was able to process that thought at all showed just how wrong he’d been. His external sensors were coming back online at a crawl, a pace so slow it would’ve made him paranoid if his internal system wasn’t also progressing at a similar speed. Users’ willing, his processing speeds were simply decreased and he wasn’t truly taking that long to come back online. How had he even ended up in the Sea? He'd just have to wait for the rest of his recent memory cache to click back into place to find out.

The first sensor to come back online was visual input, even if only partially, revealing the blurred form of a figure looming above him. Rinzler let out a startled warning sound as he scrambled away, the growl tearing at his throat. Water still clung to his suit, black residue from the Sea blocking out the orange lightlines and making him appear as a silhouette, save for the fractures running across his render. His circuits ached and he wasn’t able to orientate himself within the system, his anchors lost in the stream of data. Where was he? Who was this program? -Actually, the latter didn’t really matter. It wasn’t someone he recognized, and therefore, an enemy.

If it thought he was helpless just because he didn’t have his discs they were sorely mistaken. He pulled himself to his feet using the wall behind him, not wanting his back to be exposed. The program in front of him was saying- something. His aural sensors were still calibrating, so while he could tell they were speaking he couldn’t make out what was being said beyond sound bits about ‘helping him’. He ignored it regardless, instead lunging for it’s throat. If he could get the right leverage he’d be able to snap its arm off despite the jitter in his own joints. As he wrestled it to the floor and moved to do just that the panel across the room slid open. Rinzler gave the door a cursory glance as he wrapped his hand around the program’s arm, but paused when he saw who stood in the doorway. Clu?

Rinzler aborted the current action, just in case the program was of some use he couldn’t recall. It was a programmed response, one ingrained from working under the Admin for thousands of cycles, to always look to see if the current outcome was one the Admin wanted. He realized all too late as some of the static from his optics cleared that who he was looking at wasn’t who he’d thought it was. It was a User.

The User. Kevin_Flynn.

…That didn’t bode well for Rinzler’s continued runtime. Why hadn’t the User ever made an appearance when Rinzler would’ve actually had the means to derez him? Before he could dwell on how illogical that thought was he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder, right through the mesh between his armor plating. Oh. How had he forgotten about the program?

His lapse in processing was going to cost him the life he’d temporarily regained, as he could already feel his subroutines shutting back down. It immobilized him as his inputs fell away, his helmet hitting the ground with a loud thud. He didn’t want to derez, let alone like this, but when did he ever get what he wanted? He’d always imagined that he’d be struck down in battle, having finally found an opponent able to best him, not on the floor with a program he didn’t know, with Clu nowhere to be seen, and the Grid’s creator lurking overhead. He could tell words were being exchanged above him, before his audio input fell away, visual soon following suit as it filtered to static before switching off completely. Rinzler himself didn’t go offline fully, which seemed like a strange oversight. Instead caught between being online and offline, not quite in standby, but not fully present either.

How long were they going to draw this out?

[systemadministratorclu]

He nodded.

"Dyson, Pavel, and........" His voice got softer, ".....and User." He put his disc back and pushed up the sleeve of his robe. His Gridsuit sleeve derezzed.

Whatever Rinzler had been expecting, it probably wasn't what he saw. Underneath the Gridsuit, Clu's arm was covered in scars of all sizes and ages, and none of the wounds were ever treated. It didn't take a medic to see that.

"The rest of me is just like this." He said. His circuits had dimmed down again.

"I'd give you some energy, but I don't have any.....unless......Can I see your hand?"

Clu hated the Games anymore. Hated having to watch his people killing each other, and no one caring about so much death. It hurt him inside, and he always felt sick afterward. As soon as he could, he ran from the sky box, his cape fluttering behind him. Not that anyone would care, the event was over. He could leave.

But he also wanted to be alone. He didn't really know where he was going, but he ducked into a dimly lit room and shut the door behind him. They wouldn't search for him for a while he knew.

A sound made him freeze where he stood. He was not alone in here.

"H-Hello?" He called softly into the near darkness.

The enforcer's broken purr was the only sound in the room, something he couldn't stifle or hide, constantly rattling in his chest. He'd just come from the games himself, though of course he'd been on the other side, the architect of the death Clu was so hesitant to witness. Not that he had any choice. Rinzler rose fluidly to his feet, unsure why Clu was there but bowing slightly to the admin anyway, his posture cowed. His body was shaking slightly, though, just barely noticeable in the dark. It wasn't often anyone so much as touched Rinzler in the games; he was far more skilled than any of the strays and nobodies the Occupation threw at him for execution. But this time they'd tossed in a captured member of the resistance, and something about them had made Rinzler hesitate. A flicker of recognition, maybe, and it was just enough for them to land a blow before Rinzler derezzed them, too. He was injured, but even after the match was over they never healed him - just left him to figure it out.