Work Text:
Since 2006, Robloxia had suffered from its very beginning from an event few could describe: a parasite that embedded itself in the minds of Robloxians, making them emotionally and physically dependent on it. This caused some citizens to exhibit behaviors that initially seemed natural, but always with a distinct edge. Robloxians couldn't speak openly with them, always receiving limited responses.
Some followed patterns, others were completely different. They could spawn like this, or become one over time. This phenomenon was unknown and difficult to study, as not all of them acted the same way.
Some were good, others kind, others strange. They all came from the same phenomenon, but were always different. Some didn't pose a threat, so although coexistence was strange, you could always talk to them and form bonds, but only when they spawned like this. When they became this, it was completely different.... Whether they were friends, siblings, parents, etc., their behavior was never the same.
Sometimes it happened gradually, killing the person they once were; sometimes quickly, painlessly, but always with the same confusion: seeing your mother, child, or friend become something they weren't before. You were limited to automatic responses and couldn't speak to them freely.... It was all so painful.... But there was no cure... There never would be.
Among all those affected, there was someone...
Expendable, he had a name, a story, an origin, people who loved and cared for him. One day he made a mistake. He traded material possessions for prison; they would kill him, and he would never be able to move on with his life. Fear and stress caused him to develop this parasite, not completely, but when UrbanShade "saved" him and gave him the task of going after the coveted crystal meth, his condition only worsened...
Blacksite - 2025/##/##
Expendable, as he called himself, stood on the dock of the infamous place, with nothing but an air tank and a uniform that had belonged to many others before... Immediately, his mind began to unconsciously issue commands.
He would stay still, but he did so immediately, almost by muscle memory.
He started searching for cards, documents; something told him he would need them, and so on. At the flickering lights, something told him, "Hide!" and he did. There was no remorse or anything that would make him stop; it was like a nervous tic that would never leave him. Mentally, he was aware, but physically, his body no longer belonged to him.
Around Gate 50, he found a red remote control. "Take it, interact with it." That voice in his head told him what to do, always. It wasn't new; it was something that completely defined him now. Upon interacting with the object, it resonated, with the following message.
"Thank you for using our 'Limited-Time Imaginary Friend' remote! We hope you enjoy the next 2 days with your very own real, not-so-imaginary, friend!"
Following that, in front of Expendable, he encountered a red ghost, Imaginary Friend. She didn't talk much, just followed him or kept a distant eye on him.
Occasionally, she uttered simple sentences; at least someone was talking to him, he supposed... Later, he met the so-called Saboteur, or Sebastian. Sebastian would have greeted him with his typical greeting, but noticing that Expendable was part of that group of "infected" irritated him. Those kinds of people always bothered him; some harassed him, and others simply wouldn't leave him alone. He couldn't help but make a rude comment when Expendable bought something at random—"Tch, people like you should stay in your groups. Don't you have a better hobby than bothering others?"
It wasn't right to point the finger at everyone for something only a few were doing. Sebastian knew this; he'd suffered the same kind of racism. But something about these people made his blood boil with pure rage.
Expendable would have done something about it. Knowing himself (as little as he did now), he would have protested. But something inside him just left the store and continued on his way.
Imaginary Friend, for now, just walked beside Expendable internally. He wanted to cry, throw a tantrum, do something. It wasn't fair that just because he was now the shell of such a common but incurable parasite, everyone treated him like a burden. Imaginary Friend could feel the tension in Expendable's inner thoughts, part of her wanted to talk to him, but she knew it wouldn't fix anything between them.
"Forgive him, he's not like this. It's just a habit. I understand a little."
Her soft voice echoed in Expendable's few remaining thoughts. She understood him, of course he did, but who would understand him? Who would think about what he suffered? About what was happening to him? About what was happening to him now? His only destiny was to become the host of a parasite, with no other chance than to be nothing more than skin for someone to use...
His thoughts were interrupted by the distant drone of "Hide!!" Imaginary Friend shouted before Angler could reach him. Expendable obviously did, locked inside his locker. He was nervous, of course he was, Angler was right outside; any further step and he would find him. After Angler finally left and Expendable was finally able to get out, something just broke. He was sad, devastated. Something inside him simply didn't want to go on.
-"what i do to deserve this?..."
A phrase that came out suddenly, for no reason or purpose, unconsciously, insignificant enough that the parasite wouldn't notice... Imaginary Friend was perplexed, but she said nothing about it, simply deciding to let it go, knowing the danger and the consequences if they started a conversation beyond automated dialogues, and knowing what she had to say...
Imaginary Friend was sympathetic to Expendable; she understood that people infested by this parasite could never have a normal, fulfilling life again. She understood the pain, she understood the feeling of being nothing more than a shadow to the world, but there was nothing they could do about it. Expendable was condemned to be the shell of a parasite that would never leave him, that would stay with him until he died, only to find someone else...
The road had been anything but easy, filled with suffering, struggle, trying to do the right thing, trying to achieve freedom—at least legal freedom. That would be the only freedom he'd have left if he ever achieved it...
/Robloxia-2026/##/##
Expendable, now with a new identity as promised, had to adjust to a natural life, without seeing his friends or parents. After all, he didn't remember them well anymore; he was now someone "new".
Occasionally, muscle memory would compel him to do things he used to do on the Blacksite: rummage through drawers in his new house, hide among his belongings, try to interact with the mental parasite/dephysics that now controlled him.
He would ask questions in his mind, hoping for an answer, but nothing came out. The fact of being conscious yet unable to do anything frustrated him in a way...
A few months later, he found a group therapy session in the local newspaper, with people who had the same condition as him. He internally figured it would be good to go, and his body cooperated, giving him the motivation to go that very day...
The session was... strange. There were other Robloxians there who had developed the condition in a more severe form. Expendable felt comfortable; he genuinely went to see other people with the same insecurity. He had to admit, he was envious that the others could communicate more freely, while he could barely speak for himself. But it was better than nothing.
At the end of the session, he was able to say goodbye to some of them and leave with a greater sense of peace. Mostly, on the way home, he would switch off his mind and let his body do the work, as always. But something made him go up to one of the people who had been in the session. He said he called himself "Player," if he remembered correctly. His walk unconsciously quickened, but he managed to catch up to him and whisper.
-"Hey... I forgot to say goodbye to you too..."
Player instinctively turned around. He looked like he'd just finished work, still wearing his police uniform. He had that famous default expression, that smiling face that, rather than peaceful, seemed almost eerie in that context. He stood completely in front of Expendable, and a speech bubble popped up from him—no voice, nothing, just blurry digits until it finally formed a:
[How may I help you?]
Expendable remained still, somewhat nervous, unsure of what to do or say. Truthfully, this had been more the parasite's idea than his own, but he mustered the strength to speak again.
-"I suppose... I found it interesting to 'hear' your story. We have a little in common, huh?... Heh..."
There was an incredibly awkward, almost endless silence. Expendable was already internally regretting the foolish idea he'd had. Player remained still, his face expressionless, his fingers blurring as he formed another sentence.
[It's kind of you to think that way. It's normal if you get used to it. Personally, of course, there will always be people who look at you strangely, after all...]
Expendable felt relieved, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
-"Thank you so much, Mr. Player... I suppose it's difficult, but I'll get used to it soon... I hope."
There was another silence, distant footsteps and other inconspicuous sounds filling the air. Nothing more. It wasn't until Player approached and touched Expendable's shoulder that a further dialogue began.
[You can always trust me, and all these people. After all, we make up 78% of Robloxia's population. It's unfortunate for those of us who developed this, but natural for those who spawn. There will always be people who understand, and others who don't, but I'll try to be of help to you, if you wish, Expendable.]
There was another silence, this time not awkward, but more secure, more pleasant. Expendable nodded, more certain that he could trust Player, and that he could get used to being with him...
-"Thank you..."