Work Text:
“What are you doing here, Kenadian?” The Director’s voice echoed from the unmoving netherite armour- quartz flow trim. Undeniably the player she was looking for.
Kenadian sighed. “Could you at least uninvis and talk to me without that voice changer? I was hoping you’d still have the decency to speak face to face, but I guess you really have changed that much, huh?” Her ear flicked, as if hesitant. “…Wifies.”
A pause. Then the invisible player took a sip of milk, revealing Wifies’s face with an expression completely void of feeling. Kenadian was hit with a wave of deja vú- this wasn’t the first time she’d seen such an expression on that face- but it was wrong. For this Wifies to wear that expression.
When he spoke again, it was without the layered voice changer. “How did you know?”
How did they know- how could they not? After everything before and after Unstable, how could he not expect them to find out? But the sceptical expression on his face was genuine. Kenadian crossed their arms.
“You never left a death message,” they pointed out. “Everyone just took Parrot’s word at face value because his reaction was clearly real, and there were too many death messages at that point to confirm. But I went back to check. Scrolled through my comm for almost a day- you never died. Never even left the server. And when word got around about the Director, well, I put two and two together.”
Wifies sighed deeply. “You’re smart, Ken. And I didn’t account for you- which was my mistake. But none of that matters. Parrot’s here, within the only perfectly safe place on this entire server, where I can be with him. You can’t change that. Nobody can.”
Kenadian looked at Wifies again. Head to toe- his signature purple headband was gone, the yin-yang t-shirt covered by the Director’s chestplate. His face still devoid of feeling.
“One thing I’ve learnt, Wifies, is that no prison is inescapable.” Kenadian said, like it was nothing more than a fact. “And it was in part you and Parrot who taught me that.”
“Right.” Wifies smiled- it looked the same as Kenadian remembered, but something about it was threatening in a way it had never been before. “But this isn’t a prison. It’s paradise.”
“Does Parrot think that?” Kenadian asked. And they both knew the answer.
Wifies shook his head. “What he thinks doesn’t matter. He’s proven that over and over, by disregarding his own life and charging into situations that would kill him. This is what I must do to keep him safe.”
“You can’t keep him in there forever.” Kenadian said, a thread of determination finding its way back into his voice. “I won’t let that happen. As Parrot’s friend, and…” a glance at Wifies’s face. No change. “as yours.”
Wifies frowned. “I didn’t want to have to resort to this, but…” he pointed at the obsidian walls behind him, the exterior of Paragon. “You know of the Director. You know I have the resources for this. You must know the kind of people I have at my disposal.” For show, he pulled out his communicator. “Assassins. Master PvPers. All at one single message. So, Kenadian,” he walked closer, and made eye contact. “For Parrot’s freedom, are you willing to stake your life? Or, what about…” he hovered a finger over the comm. “Wato’s?”
Kenadian stepped back, horrified. “You’d-”
“Yes, Ken. I would.” There was no doubt in his voice.
“I thought…” Kenadian whispered. “I’d hoped you’d still see us as friends.”
“Friends.” Wifies echoed with a scoff. “None of you matter to me anymore. The only one I care about in this entire server is Parrot.”
Kenadian stared at him, silent, then muttered, more to himself. “You’re just like him.”
“Him? Who, Ashwag?” Wifies rolled his eyes. “Spare me the moral lecture. I get this from Parrot multiple times a day.”
“No.” Kenadian exhaled, trying to sort their thoughts. “I meant the original Wifies.”
Wifies stilled. That caught him off guard. “What do you even mean?” Refusal, and denial in his voice- they could hear it. “Do you see me making clones? How could I possibly be like him?”
“How do you not see it? The way you treat the people on the server, like they’re disposable or worthless just because their intelligence is below yours- it’s exactly like him. Look at you.” Kenadian gestured at Wifies. “All of you. You’re turning into your creator.”
“That’s not what- I’m doing this for Parrot!” he protested. “He needs to be protected from himself- without me pulling his strings, how many times would he have died already? He can’t be trusted to keep himself safe.”
“Do you even hear yourself- ‘he can’t be trusted to keep himself safe’?” Kenadian almost laughed at the irony. “Like how the original Wifies couldn’t trust you to finish an escape room without softlocking yourself, right?”
“I’m doing this for Parrot.” Wifies repeated. “To protect him. This is in his best interest. Out of all people you should know what that’s like, Kenadian. Remember Proton?”
That caused Kenadian to fall silent.
“…That was different,” she finally managed.
“Is it now?,” Wifies pressed on her hesitance. “We were all trapped there, in that prison of your design.” He raised his hand, a finger pointing in accusation. “You were the one who said then that it was safer to stay than to escape. And right now, it is safer for Parrot to stay here than to be outside.”
“I didn’t put us in there. I never tried to stop him from escaping.” Kenadian retorted.
“Didn’t you?” Wifies tilted his head, and asked in a tone as if it was obvious that she did. “Parrot told me how you almost broke the stasis chamber.”
“I gave him my elytra!” Kenadian yelled, her ears pressed against her head in agitation, trying not to think about Proton. A look at Wifies made it clear he knew what he was doing.
He really had changed.
Kenadian glared, for a beat, while Wifies looked back impassively. Both of them knew the conversation was going nowhere. Reaching for rockets, Kenadian swapped their chestplate for elytra.
“Stop clinging to righteousness. We both know you’re not doing this to keep Parrot safe. You just want control.”
Their final words lingered in the air as they took off, not looking back at the one they used to call their friend.