#rinzler

He continued, smiling towards Sleeper, no warmth. “After all, we’ve got not one, but two champions of the Grid! Matched in skill, and mine, no less...I’d almost say I’m proud of you, Sleeper. Almost.” Clu’s smile fell as he scrutinized the new elite warrior, looking...unsatisfied, but with what, Sleeper didn’t know. They tensed as their superior held their chin by his thumb with a terrifying, unnatural gentleness and deactivated the thing covering their face, their mussed-up long hair falling into place. 

“There we go. You have nothing to hide from me, see? Don’t be afraid,” he reassured, mocking a distant memory as he pulled away from that circuit-shattering closeness. Delete it. Forget it instantly. It never happened. Sleeper’s hollow gaze flicked but never met Clu’s, the beat frequency resounding from them increasing. Aggravation. Submersed anguish. He smiled again. He knew. “I figured you two would enjoy some...down time. To celebrate this achievement of our good friend here.”

Aside from the whirring, intimidating rumble from Rinzler and that same duotone beat frequency, silence persisted.

Clu went on, tauntingly. Mockingly. Circling the two programs, the master of them both, under his thumb.

“So...what is it that you plan to do with this time? Head downtown, have a drink?” He chuckled. “No, no. You guys don’t do things like that, do you? It’s a little, well, beneath us, wouldn’t you say?”

They didn’t say anything. 

Sleeper stared at Clu. Rinzler stared straight ahead. A moment of tense silence passed, until Clu spoke up once again, feigning having an excellent idea.

“I’ll leave you two in here then, to get to know each other a little better. That’d suit you just fine, wouldn’t it? Seeing you’re both experts at the art of conversation, and not to mention——such good friends. But you don’t know what those are,” he turned to face Sleeper, stopped his pacing, uncomfortably close, “do you?”

As a chortle escapes him, the Luminary turns on his heel with grace, and strides out of the dim room, the door opening up to meet him. He shot the two enforcers a glance of barely concealed innuendo, a trace of a smirk on his lips.

“Have fun.”

The door slides shut again, locking Rinzler and Sleeper in the room.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Sleeper, their hands shaking, core and shoulders tense and eyebrows furrowed, finally lets up with an exasperated breath, the slight color returning to their face as they finally released the circuit override they had tried to keep, keeping the color “correct”, the bright orange Clu had wanted, no, forced upon them.

In reality, they had been someone else the whole time, though it was harder to tell now, seeing that they seldom spoke. Spirit broken. Rinzler’s head snapped towards Sleeper, having discovered the change in color, the reversion to blue. The mistake. The defect. Sleeper only returned a glance to him––

In a split second he tackled them, one of his discs at their throat. That sound, a rumbling growl constantly coming from his chest, grew all the louder. Enemy. 

Sleeper struggled, trying to get up or reason with this fighter, but he refused to relent. Like second nature, they bucked their hips upward sharply, throwing Rinzler forward, gripped his forearm close to them as they rolled over, tossing him to the side, barely enough time to grab their own disc and lightsword before their partner went in for the attack once again.

This was what they knew. A binary that never ceased. Fighting or awaiting orders. They sparred, close to cutting each other multiple times. Occasionally, a punch to the face, the sweep of a leg. Neither screamed. Neither showed signs of a struggle. The problem was stamina, being ever so used to taking down opponents with a few properly timed hits, and Sleeper was outmatched again.

Time for a different tactic.

“Rinzler!” They exclaimed, as they ducked out of the way. “Forget the circuits! It doesn’t matter.” Still, he advanced. Sleeper felt their throat tighten as another pained memory resurfaced. The forcing of a disk. Pain. Pain beyond calculation. And on top of that, betrayal. But who were they before?

“Defect,” Sleeper spat, their fists clenched. The word was not theirs, they knew. They yelled at nothing, at the nothing that was Clu, voice breaking as the program who was actually in the room continued pursuing them, the rumbling growl like a thunderstorm. “Who do you think programmed that defect!?” Sleeper cried, clenching their jaw. Rinzler, ever-quiet, never answering, picked up the pace. Fine. If that’s the game, that’s the game. Sleeper ran, disk in one hand, blade in another.

Only to be knocked down again. Vision hazed, fading, going out. But still, somehow clear.

A shift.

“Get the hell off of me,” Sleeper seethed, voice low, circuits blazing orange. Not as a front. This was real, that other “side” Clu favored. That old personality from cycles ago, the permanent furrow of the brows, it returned, but not without a new deep-rooted fatigue. Rinzler sensed the shift, and let go, standing up. Sleeper glared at him as he walked away from them, though there wasn’t much he could do in that sense; it was still a small room. The still-laying-down program groaned as they got up, an ache in their circuits that seemed to persist no matter how much rest they got. Was it the same for their new counterpart? They assumed not.

“Defect?”

An unfamiliar voice cut through the silence. Distorted, almost raspy, but low, and cutting through that familiar rattling, rumbling within. Ever-quiet. Familiar, yes, and almost that of a light in the dim room and the swallowing void, though Sleeper couldn’t understand why it felt like a remembrance. It didn’t accuse.

It questioned.

Sleeper looked up at Rinzler, their eyes widening, his back turned to them. 

He paused, as if lost in thought, considering the word. He shook his head slowly.

“Defect...no.” He mused, he scoffed. Every little breath, filling with the sound of voice rather than the same rumbling whirr, was a deviant. “Not a defect.” 

Sleeper froze. Then the rage they turned to, to fuel them, bubbled up again. If it wasn’t a defect, why had he gone and attacked them for it? 

“What the hell does that even mean?!” They strode towards Rinzler slowly, fists still clenched, and only stopped when Rinzler’s head turned towards them. He seemed to consider them, scrutinizing, but not like Clu’s. A feeling welled up in Sleeper’s chest, one all too familiar under Clu’s watch: that of one who had their disk perused without the trust gained to allow such a thing. Their throat clenched, though they couldn’t understand why. Why were their shoulders tense, their hands almost shaking again? Could it be that the desire for control was absent, replaced with a genuine confusion, a want to understand? What if, cycles ago, Sleeper knew this deep within their code, that these split parts weren’t necessarily broken? And that Rinzler now was agreeing with this sentiment? Too late, Sleeper reminded themselves. But he spoke again, head slightly bowed, fully facing his...associate.

“It was an irrational reaction.” 

Sleeper hesitated at the...apology, or whatever it was. They weren’t sure. And it wasn’t like they expected him to deliver an eloquent explanation justifying why he had lashed out the way he did. There was no way to see his face, decipher his tone of voice. They sighed and moved over to the wall, sitting down, looking up to the ceiling. The walls were cold to the touch, a cold that penetrated through the outer layers of their clothing into their code. Sleeper tried to suppress a shiver, though it would have been hard to notice either way; the only lighting was the few glowing yellow circuits lining the floor and climbing the walls. Rinzler stared at them, then joined them by the wall, looking down at the program.

“What are you doing?”

Sleeper jumped, still unused to hearing Rinzler speak. “I don’t know, maybe resting. Since you attacked me, remember?” they retorted, though their typical edge lost a bit of its sharpness. Rinzler stopped speaking, his constant rumble persisting. As did those beats from Sleeper, creating a strange silent music, reminders of code forcefully overwritten. It almost calmed the two contenders, the beats slowing and the aggressive rumble fading into something softer, less overpowering. Sleeper’s shoulders loosened, the atmosphere almost...pleasant? They didn’t want to think too much of it, lest it open up a bunch of things they thought they’d forgotten.

Rinzler took a seat against the wall next to them, and the wary feelings and tensing of the shoulders started——then suddenly died. One of two identity disks were in his hands, as he turned it absently, almost...fidgeting with it.

Sleeper stared at the disk, at Rinzler, and echoed his question. “...what are you doing?”

He shrugged. Another pause, and then...he placed his hand into the empty area of the ringlike disc, much like one would a bracelet. A few quick flicks of the wrist, and the disc began to spin around and around his wrist, up and down, spinning, spinning like the wheels of a lightcycle. Sleeper’s eyes narrowed, their lips drawn up into a quizzical expression, then...amusement. They scoffed, the closest thing to a laugh in cycles. It was trivial, really, but entertaining.

“I guess we’re...‘having fun’, then,” Sleeper decided, though they didn’t really understand what constituted fun. Was it something other than carrying out orders? Something that didn’t make your circuits ache? Something where it didn’t matter if you were a soldier, or a stray, or blue, or orange? 

Something where the chill of an empty room felt less cold?

“You try.”

Sleeper looked up, unaware they’d been lost in thought. Rinzler had stopped spinning his disk, helmet facing them. Any sign of expression was obfuscated, but his voice encouraged rather than commanded.

They stared,their eyebrows knotted. Why now, Sleeper wondered? Wondering alone made them want to stop. It felt easier to numb it, easier to be silent. After all, training sessions with the enforcer, all those cycles ago, went by much faster without the occasional commentary Sleeper gave themselves, the attempts of starting a conversation that were met with only Rinzler’s growl of corrupted code. There just wasn’t any use.

Now they had a choice. He could have chosen to stay silent, like the hundreds of cycles before. But he hadn’t. 

Sleeper hesitated more before pulling their own disk from their back, feeling Rinzler’s expectant gaze on them. They sat there, staring at the disk. The disk. Both their weapon and Clu’s. Their grip tightened as they glared at the device. 

“...do I have to?” Sleeper asked quietly, for fear that a punishment awaited their refusal to their first taste of autonomy. Rinzler didn’t reply, but shook his head. He looked away, and nothing happened. Not a sudden movement. No sign of anger.

Silence again. But this one didn’t feel as terrifying as when they first entered, where the Luminary talked over them, expecting conversation from the ones he chose to silence. Although, it didn’t feel good, either.

Sleeper ran a finger over the glowing orange circuitry on the disc, turning it around slowly. There was nothing much to examine or any indents to trace; the design was streamlined. A new generation. Sleeper’s mind wandered. Terrifying, yes, but what else was there to do? A disk, forced upon them. Defective before the overwrite, an AIFF created beyond the binary programmed appearances; defective after overwrite, unable to hold to a sense of self, forever cursed to only produce one sound for infinity. It never felt safe before. So, Sleeper asked themselves again, why now? Why had Rinzler chosen to speak? To acknowledge the fault in his decision to attack them?

Did he feel he knew them? Perhaps not. There were questions to ask, no doubt. Even as hundreds of cycles had passed while they trained at his side, they knew nothing of Rinzler either. They’d have to ask questions too. Rinzler beat them to it, though, with yet another of his.

“Why had you stopped talking cycles ago?” Sleeper, despite the pressure they felt from Rinzler’s stare, glanced back at him this time. They shrugged, but felt a tightening in their chest. He would not look away. Why would he not look away? Sleeper cursed the wandering of their mind, how it ached to be understood now, now that it teemed with new and terrifying thought. And how even without a face, Sleeper still felt that Rinzler wanted to know.

They shrugged again, pausing. They took a breath, paused again. It was difficult now? Were the thoughts clogging their mouth? They took another breath, the beats increasing on the inhale, decreasing on the exhale. The gentle dissonance in the two tones sounding together, the rumble of the corrupted code again. Another, deeper breath. Try again.

“Because...because you never responded,” they forced out. “I...I hadn’t known you didn’t speak to anyone, I just...figured you were disinterested in speaking to me in particular. It’s stupid, really.”

Rinzler stared. Nodded. Went quiet again, aside from the gentle rumbling, which somehow managed to sound...satisfied, in a way. At the very least, it was an answer. A breath Sleeper hadn’t known they were holding escaped them, perplexed that they had responded to a personal question like it was a physical attack. They glanced at their disk again. It wouldn’t hurt.

A few flicks of the wrist, and the disc spun, whirring in a way, making the room feel a little brighter, the empty space feel warm. It was...enjoyable. Fun. As if stopping would cut all warmth.

Sleeper managed a smirk. A grin, even. They chuckled, dry and light. How long has it been? 

Rinzler turned his attention to them, made some kind of noise of amusement. Sleeper smiled at him, hoping their colleague did the same under his mask. 

Satisfied with their small, yet precious moment, they stopped, returning the disk to its slot, the smile fading, but not gone. The room had never been truly silent after all.

They breathed again. How freeing it felt just to do so, to let their circuits process and reprocess. Just to rest. There wasn’t exactly air on the Grid, and yet, it felt like a kind of repose, a moment in the perpetuities of constantly processing data, just to think. Sleeper leaned against the cool wall, closing their eyes. How many cycles straight had they been under constant pressure? They lost count. Though they longed to be elsewhere, especially some sort of room designated to be offline, to recharge...this was safe. This could suffice. The beats slowed and quieted, but never truly ceased.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Rinzler stared——no, observed. He observed Sleeper, who seemed to have begun recharging. After cycles of being online without an energy source of any kind, they likely needed it. The color of their circuits shifted again, but he didn’t pay it much mind. Blue or orange, they were still Sleeper. Not a defect, he reminded himself, though Clu often told him otherwise. There were explicit orders to take any means necessary to rid Sleeper of any blue circuitry, as he tired of the only imperfection he would allow on the Grid. But it was wrong. Rinzler did not remember or know much, but felt the wrongness in the orders. If he carried out all others, he was sure Clu wouldn’t mind.

For now, subjugation and harm were out of reach. As out of reach as it could be, anyway; the threat always held a place in the back of the processor. Rinzler sighed and looked up to the ceiling, deactivating his helmet only when he was sure Sleeper was truly resting. His fingers combed through matted waves of coarse neck-length charcoal, every knot detangled making him wince.  

He looked in Sleeper’s general direction once again. Sure, rest was rest, but sitting upright in order to get it looked uncomfortable nonetheless. His eyes gave a cursory scan of the small room until they found a softly angled surface connecting the floor up to the wall. It sufficed for now. Rinzler moved closer to the resting program, before scooping them up into his arms and moving them to the inclined surface, setting them down so gently one would assume he was concerned he’d derezz them.

To his horror, the movement was enough to stir Sleeper back online. Their eyes groggily opened, only to find weary orange ones staring back. Shoulders tensed up and they automatically began moving back, until their vision came back into focus and noticed the same details on his suit. Sleeper looked at Rinzler’s face again, noted how the fluffy waves seemed to frame his face, rough obsidian on cherry wood backlit by dim, warm light. It was...intriguing. They though he looked alright, though perhaps a bit warm for his typically ominous disposition. Tense, he looked away quickly, but didn’t reactivate his helmet. Sleeper regarded him, all stiff shouldered and crouched soldier, fear bleeding through. Averting his eyes because they couldn’t. 

“I won’t tell,” Sleeper muttered, sitting up. Rinzler turned back, staring from under his eyelids. He nodded, but the tension stayed even as the furrow in between his brows faded. There he sat. And there they sat. And thus they remained.

Light flooded in as the door slid open, Clu’s silhouette obstructing the gateway. Rinzler’s eyes widened, his gaze snapping back and forth between his colleague and the liberator of all programs but the two of them. Quickly, he reactivated his helmet, face obstructed once again as he remained in a stiff kneeling position. Sleeper stiffened, their circuits remaining in their strange color——having shifted, but neither blue nor orange——they had bleeded into one another; orange in the upper circuits, blue down. It wouldn’t change. Sleeper stared at the floor vacantly, their breathing picking up. No. No, no no no.

Clu walked over to the two, looking down on them as a tyrant king would his subjects. He chuckled dryly, a sly smirk forming.

“You’ve made yourselves comfortable already?” he provoked, placing a patronizing hand atop Sleeper’s head, whose form stiffened all the more. “No, no, don’t be nervous. You’ve enjoyed yourselves. That’s good! Very good.” His hand snaked down to the collar of their uniform before forcefully tugging upwards. Powerlessly Sleeper obliged, standing up straight. Breath caught in their throat, they looked down to Rinzler, the horror catching up to them, satisfied tranquillity being violently ripped from their mind. Clu looked down on his best soldier, a quick nod to signal he do the same as his good colleague had. Quickly and fluidly, Rinzler went from kneeling to standing upright.

“Good,” Clu mused, letting go of Sleeper, his eyes empty for a moment, before that same glint returned. Twisted humor veiling a desire for control. “Alright, you two, it’s go time.” 

They exited the way they entered, quiet and in step. As if nothing ever happened. Even as Sleeper felt themselves falling, sinking even, into some kind of sea. There was nothing here but the disk forced upon them. 

It would go on for cycles.

The two soldiers stood at the platform of the arena, playing Clu’s game once again. And again.

And again.