Chapter Text
Wifies was dead.
Properly this time, officially. He died via ParrotX2's own hands, because it was what The Director had planned. When he had sat down all those months ago, pages and screenshots and audio clips compiled together, frantically scribbling down his findings, Wifies had paused once he caught up to this moment.
The conclusion of his story.
Wifies knew it was the end of not their story, but his own. He knew Parrot too well by now, knew just how stubborn the man can be. Wifies chuckled then, knowing that if there was anyone more stubborn than Parrot, anyone's unwavering will that could rival his, it would be himself.
Wifies knew he was far too gone with this plan to back out now, everything was falling perfectly into place. He couldn't stop it now. That night, the one after he had spoken to Parrot face to face, not invisibility potion, no voice modulator, not as The Director but as Wifies. That night he knew he would die in that chamber. Wifies didn't need time to process or learn to accept it for he already had. In the back of his mind he always knew Parrot would be the death of him, one way or another.
It's a shame it had to be like this, though.
To be outplayed, outsmarted by the man he had followed for so many months. It was admirable moreso than it was embarrassing, really. Standing alone in that cold, tiled room, unmoving as he listens to the quick ascent of Parrot's footsteps echoing around the chamber. Wifies smiled. It was small, slow, can barely be considered one really.
He stood there unmoving for some time, zeroing in and blankly staring at that wretched spyglass a few feet away. A pang of guilt taps at his heart with that thought, no, no he shouldn't call it wretched. It was once cherished, a sign of trust and friendship and maybe something more. It isn't something horrible.
Even from this distance Wifies can see scratches and the wear and tear it bares, a sign it was used and loved greatly.
When he thinks about it, Wifies can see the similarities between his love for Parrot.
He loved him, so much so that he would use him. Manipulate and obsess, since day one. Over time, that love and worry got warped and marred by trauma and head-spinning experiences, the world forced Wifies to take that love and double down on it for their own safety. It was a knee-jerk reaction, one he can't ever take back, one he can't ever hope to atone for. Now, alone in this hall, he can see how it had hurt Parrot, how his methods had been brutal.
Wifies, at his core, was not violent.
He wasn't vicious, never was he a monster.
Wifies was a result.
A result of this server and it's madness and the obsession it drove him to in order to survive.
And look where that got him.
In this story, Wifies was Parrot's own God and Martyr.
Once his closest companion, the one Parrot trusted most, to the unreachable Director, a god-like facade said to have orchestrated many peoples deaths, the act of hunting him down Parrot had downright devoted himself to, to a mere mortal.
This man was once those iron chains that held Parrot down, that kept him stuck and unmoving, unable to move on. And now, this man will pick up those rusted chains, discarded on the floor, and drag them alongside him.
The man will grasp the spyglass in a tight embrace, a soft whisper of a final goodbye on his tongue, the bittersweet aftertaste of regret it leaves.
He had grown so close to death, surrounded by it for years, he hadn't felt fear for his life in months. But the man kneeling against the cold tiled floor couldn't prevent the little stutter in his breath as he heard the TNT ignite.
The price of Parrots freedom was this mans death, and it's a price he was willing to pay.
A dog that weeps after it's hunt is no better than a dog that doesn't. Backed into a corner and overwhelmed with animalistic fear and wracked with silent guilt, it isn't enough to purify Wifies and forgive his actions.
He just hopes the Devil takes pity on him.
Maybe They will see how the man never intended to be cruel or inflict pain, how his heart aches and longs for that soft embrace of his home, and see the likeness shared between their stories.
Oh how the mighty have fallen, They may think.
How they have, indeed.
Wifies reawakes in his bedroom and feels bile rise in the back of his throat.