Bryce emerged into the loading facility, the white void quickly shifting as detailed walls came into place all around, appearing from the distance -- or so it seemed. Wooden pillars built themselves up around Warblade and formed the roof of the dojo. Standing there in his brown gi, the Redpill peered through his Widow's Moor lenses into the burst of code forming a female silhouette. Soon, Interpeter 33674 took on the code signature of someone familiar. The code became the infrastructure of Miya Takimoto's residual self-image -- the Merovingian operative who had assisted Warblade in the past, during the Watchmaker incident. While SkyBruin had played his own part, DJSitrom's appearance was much more calm and warm.
"Aikido," Interpreter chuckled softly, "is the art of knowing your opponent's movements and using them against the opponent. Redirecting their flow of energy."
Warblade wrinkled his nose at the representation of Interpreter 22674, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've been studying my interactions far too much," Reno shook his head as he continued, "and I'm not sure that I like that one bit..."
"I figured it would be a comforting sight." The machine program shrugged its shoulders. In the form of a Japanese woman with fiery red hair, the program proceeded to the side of the dojo, taking its seat upon a mat. Turning its attention to the new expansion of code amidst the dojo's main room, the program studied the arrival of Interpeter 32691 in the form of a burly white man. Short, cropped blond hair sat atop a square head. A pair of azure eyes appeared bloodshot, anger apparent in his stare. He grunted, "Alright, fleshbag, you ready?"
Bryce winced, sighed, and folded his hands in front of him, bowing his head in response to the machine's challenge. "You know," Reno started, "I've heard programs speak like th--" Reno stepped back, the program already rushing forward with a triple kick. Batting away at the feet of his enemy, Reno backpeddaled before taking a leap backwards, flipping on to a wall and then off of it, switching to a fast Karate style and going for the jumpkick. Off the wall, Reno is caught and slung to the floor, sliding towards the opposite side of the dojo. "*poop*-"
The program landed with a thud, its knee landing where Bryce would have been if he had not rolled out of the way to safety. Quickly rolling over on to his back again, Reno used a kippup to hop to his feet before going airborne again, jumping over a sweep, then falling to the floor to duck a roundhouse that might have connected with his face were he not on the defensive. This was pointless; the program was far too aggressive and well-versed in the martial arts. Not something an Interpreter should have possessed. As stated by Warblade himself only moments ago: He'd seen this activity in programs before. He'd seen it in Exiles.
"You're trying to kill me," Bryce blocked one punch only to take a backhand to the head, his lenses shattering and his vision blurred. "Wait!"
The Sitrom simulacrum presented by 33674 winced but did not interfere. Perhaps this would be the perfect time for Warblade to unleash the lesson that Miya had taught him. "Redirect," she whispered in Bryce's mind, as if using the word to empower Bryce -- a surge of code that might have fueled him and provided leverage against the hostile program. The simulacrum closed her eyes, meditating to help produce a calm, soothing atmosphere which balanced out the rage being emitted by 32691.
Bryce took advantage and stepped through the next series of attacks, twisting and ducking under the punches from his enemy. He turned around and brought his back to the program, reaching around his own shoulder and headlocking it. With one step back and all of the strength Warblade's mind could muster for him, he tossed the machine's RSI over his shoulder and on to the floor of the dojo. Stepping back, Warblade gathered his senses and redirected them into a defensive position. It was going to be quite aggravated by being dropped like that and it was doubtful that would be enough to stop it. More needed to be done.
Twisting its legs and thrashing its body, the machine used a style reminiscent of capoeira to bring itself to its feet. "Well," grinned the program, "you have your emergency jackout procedures here. You're lucky that Thirty-three, Six-seventy-four told me to fight you here... Here I can kill you all I want and it's not going to cost me."
"You're rogue." Bryce wiped at the blood on the side of his face where the broken glasses cut him.
"Am I now? I'm not one of the ones who took a *poop* in the sky. Your people did that. Thanks to your people, I've had to live my life bound to yours. Well, not you because you get freedom -- you get freedom while I'm still bound to studying you wretched filth." The machine rushed forward, lifting its foot into a frenzy of lightning-fast kicks. The first one, even the second one, were easy to block. The third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh were impossible. The eighth? The ninth? Bryce felt his ribs crack and his jaw shatter, spitting out blood as he started to fall over. The tenth? The wind was knocked from Warblade as he was sent back towards the wooden pillar of the dojo. Finally, a spinning roundhouse collided with Bryce's shoulders and sent him to the floor in a total heap.
## Warning: Death is Iminent
## Initiating Emergency Jackout Protocol
Warblade looked up at the program through a haze, hearing the screeching sound of signals scrambling -- the likeness of a modem trying to handshake with an outside source. A stoic tone, the voice was not speaking to Warblade but to the Interpreter program as a man in a suit held the cold black steel of an FM-1500 to the program's head. "You no longer serve your purpose," the Agent pulled the trigger before all went black. A few seconds later and a white dot appeared within Bryce's vision... Expanding, it exploded into the colors of the Real and Bryce stood up from his seat on the Hoverbarge.
"What the Hell just happened!?" The redpill looked around, beads of sweat upon his brow. Interpreter 33674 sat up seconds later, watching with Reno Bryce as a spider-like Machine carried off the lifeless Interpreter 32691.
"An Agent program jumped into me, as I am hardwired into the System. I communicated a report and it was dealt with. Interpreter 32691 had disconnected itself from its original programming. It expressed a desire to kill you as well as any other human, in or out of the simulation." The Interpreter stood up and stepped off of the barge, back on to the steady floor of the spire.
"I haven't had someone kick my head in like that since Madbent." Reno touched his face, winding his jaw. He felt sore in the Real, which was proof that he'd taken some serious injury during his most recent stay in the simulation. "So... It wasn't just me he wanted to kill for no reason?"
"Look," 33674 rolled its mechanical shoulders in a human gesture of helplessness, "it's not like all is forgiven and forgotten by each and every AI within Zero One. There are still hostilities in the Real; there are still hostilities in the Matrix. Some will work our hardest to keep the peace. Just as not all of your people will adhere to the rules, I can not vouch for mine..."