leaderless [ INTRO // OPEN ]

[magebind]

who ; magebind and anyone who wanders by
what ; Ketojan's intro to the station.
where ; Zone 01
when ; Now :|b
warning(s) ; Can't think of any!
notes ; Action or prose is fine by me!

Comments

[double_discs]

Despite Flynn's recent work, it still hurt. Everything ached and not in a physical manner that Rinzler could easily ignore until he self-repaired but in a way he'd never felt before. He didn't understand it. What was worse, he didn't know how to fix it. That was supposed to be what the User's programming on his disc was to do. It had only seemed to make things worse.

He still couldn't calculate a way to help CLU. He couldn't stop processing over pointless facts that only led to infinite loops. He couldn't make this roiling emotion go away. What was the point of that if it made everything unclear? He tried to pinpoint when it had become a problem to feel things and came up empty. It probably had something to do with this place. He hated it. He hated the User world and its illogical sets

[magebind]

This was wrong. Each step Ketojan took was a reminder that he was defying the proper course of action--waiting still and silent for a command to move--and the further he proceeded into the strange city the greater his unease grew. It was only his self-imposed (the thought made his hands clench into anxious fists) goal of finding his basvaarad that kept him moving forward

[double_discs]

The security program had to fight against his instincts to remain completely stationary and not reach automatically for his disc when the other went into a defensive stance. The power he saw gathering on the tips of the User's hands happily reinforced the command to halt, do nothing even as he wanted to deny the User the chance to use its unnatural abilities on him. His hands twitched all too eagerly at his sides for a fight.

Then it was over. The other relaxed and the enforcer felt the tension ease slowly out of him even as he continued to access the potential threat, eyes scanning over the odd armor and seeking out weak points with a programmed efficiency. He didn't think it would be too tough--even with the User's extra powers--but he knew in this world looks could be very deceiving. He wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating his opponents while CLU still needed him

[magebind]

The other rumbled--the sound both familiar and yet not. His kind relied heavily on such noises, bound and stitched as they were, and Ketojan was acutely sensitive to the change in the other's tone. It was almost calming, and proved to be a jarring contrast to the sudden demand that followed

[double_discs]

Rinzler froze.

The sight of that posture, the hapless positioning of the body to indicate the blind obedience that would follow such an admission--he recognized it readily. It was literally programmed into him to take around one person, the person who had written him, shaped him, made him into something new. It was his deference to that person. It was his sign of obedience.

The enforcer had never looked into a mirror before. Not like this.

Facing Tron head-on was infinitely different than what he saw before him here. It was an exact replica, that much was definite, but everything about the way Tron held himself was completely different from the way Rinzler knew he did. He had never comprehended how different it was

[magebind]

So easily the certainty of another became his own, a sudden promise of comfort and order. Ketojan nearly sighed in relief, swallowing the sound as he slipped back so easily into the role he had found himself thrown from. A show of confidence, of authority, was as effective as any physical leash in assuring Ketojan that he no longer had to force himself into a position of control. Another would guide the situation as they deemed appropriate.

His function was as good as a name--had been his name, when he had served the Qun--but this one was bas, and likely did not know. Even if he did, who was Ketojan to question his demands? Already he was was thinking less, acting more on instinct than reason. Until another was presented with some greater claim to authority, or he left, this man would fill the void and be basvaarad.

If he said jump, Ketojan would jump. If he said speak, Ketojan would speak. It was simple. Comforting. For all his stand-in karataam had to say about the supposed failings of the Qun, they could not replicate the ease

[double_discs]

It was enough for Rinzler. He cared little for inflection and even less for the emotion behind it. The rough, tonelessness should have have garnered a ping of empathy or at the least a subprocess of curiosity as to why a User would be this way, but instead all it did was satiate the enforcer's need for proper identification. Thus satisfied, the security program leaned back away from the mage and began to inspect his form with a closer examination.

There wasn't really any armor to begin with once the huge collar was ignored, allowing the observer to focus on other features. The chains were pointless, useless and Rinzler rumbled in disapproval at the complete lack of protection over the vital areas of the chest. The rest was meaningless.

Had he been more perceptive he would have realized it was all a simple symbol, a projection of what the man was rather than who the man was

[magebind]

Objective? Only a few minutes ago he would have readily identified his goal: find his basvaarad. Find a leader. Now it seemed like a distant, foolish idea, a moment of idiocy not worth mentioning. It had been a self-determined objective, folly on his part--although in a strange way he had fulfilled it regardless. This man was not Hawke, was not even familiar to him in the least, but he filled the role as well as any.

Arvaarad had been right--of course he had been right--in that a saarebas could not be trusted outside their karataam. Without guidance, without supervision, there were too many chances for corruption to seep in. Ketojan--Saarabas--had erred in thinking he could choose a course of action for himself. It had caused only anxiety and uncertainty, emotions he had rarely felt while in service to the Qun. Now that he had found one more suitable to the task, leaving him free to assume his proper role, he felt peaceful, almost calm

[double_discs]

Rinzler snorted in derision at the lack of response. He'd almost grown upset until it occurred to him that it wasn't trying to defy but simply without any directive at all in its current state. It completely lacked a direction and purpose, did not even have the freedom of mind to even state this.

It was less than a bit. Even lesser than a gridbug.

"Perfect. New directive," he told the saarebas with cold efficiency, treating him like the lowest subroutine beneath every program on the Grid. "You are going to follow me. It is going to take a while, and there will be no stopping."

And that was that. He left no room for argument. He didn't expect any. Not even bothering to glance over his shoulder after he'd preformed a military precision about-face, he walked off with the sure confidence that he would be followed by his new soldier.

[magebind]

Another warm rush of familiarity. Orders, simple and clear, with no loose ends for him to even begin to think of fretting over. He had no qualms at being treated in such a way--expected it, even--and Ketojan seemed almost pleased to fall into step behind the man, content to follow even without the slightest idea where they were going or even what the strangers name was. It was not important that Ketojan know the destination, and as for names--he'd already half-begun to think of him as Basvaarad, urged on by the almost desperate need for leadership carved into him by the Qun.

He kept pace silently as he could, the only noise coming from his footfalls and the grinding of heavy links of chain against one another, without complaint. His eyes remained downcast, trained on the heels of his latest stand-in basvaarad, and he walked slightly closer than he would normally consider a respectful distance--above all else, Ketojan did not wish to become lost once more.