Chapter Text
‘The Old Wifies is dead.’
…That’s what the New Wifies reminds himself as he drafts up a message to the best PvPer in all of Minecraft.
“Wifies” is inside the Director’s base of operations, typing away on the cramped digital keyboard of his communicator. The blue light of the screen only illuminates his face, leaving the rest of the room dark. There isn’t much inside this room. There’s only a dark oak desk with papers strewn across its surface, a matching chair that “Wifies” sits on, a dying light, and a bulletin board adjacent to the desk. The door looms behind him, almost forebodingly, and “Wifies” wonders why he had put it there in the first place. Then he remembers it’s too much of an arbitrary thing to linger on, there's much more important things to do, so he continues writing.
He’s in the middle of mentioning the consequences if Itz doesn’t accept the commission when he is abruptly interrupted by a rhythmic knocking.
“Wifies” pauses.
“What…?”
He turns his head to the door behind him, speculations filling his mind as he plans the next course of action. There was no possible way for someone to find nor discover him here so how—?
The knob turns and the door swings open.
And there stood someone who he thought he’d never see again, a figment of a past long unspoken of;
A near-perfect mirror of Wifies appears in the doorway.
His creator.
That man (who he, Kenadian, and Wato had dubbed Evilfies) seemingly didn’t change at all. He still stood there as arrogantly as he did before he died via trivia show, with his unmarred skin, pristine white lab coat, square glasses, flowing purple headband and all.
Wifies swallowed, a nervous habit he had picked up from Kenadian to act more like an actual organic being instead of an artificial recreation. He gets up from his chair, steels his expression, and meets Evilfies face to face.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Evilfies says, his indifferent stare piercing through Wifies like a particularly sharp sword, as if he knew everything about him. (Except he kind of did, didn’t he? He was the one who created Wifies, after all.)
“What do you want?” Wifies demands through gritted teeth, already giving up on the Director act. He knew it would be futile to pretend in front of his Creator. “And how are you alive?! I thought you died when that final arrow shot you!”
“That was simply another clone, one of the organic ones.” Evilfies answers nonchalantly, then adds, “Also, I’ve been watching your little…adventures with that clever avian friend of yours—ParrotX2 right?—”
Wifies bristles.
“Right. And I’ve come to the conclusion that you are now smart enough to work with me in the factory. An honor, I know.”
“What? No way.” Wifies responds, his eyebrows furrowed.
Was this guy being serious? There’s no reason Wifies would willingly work for him in his factory. He definitely knew that. If Evilfies had actually been watching him this entire time, he’d know that he—
“You have things to do, I’m aware.” Evilfies takes a step towards him. Wifies takes a step away from him. “...Plans that need to be fulfilled.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly why I can’t work for you.” Exactly why he won't work for him.
“Unfortunate.” Wifies hoped this guy would leave already. “But I don’t care.” Ugh.
“You’re coming with me anyway.” Evilfies decides, then grabs his wrist, holding him firmly even as he tries to wrestle out of his Creator's hold.
“Go away—leave me alone. I need to finish this message.” Wifies tries to reason, and Evilfies surprisingly releases his hold on him but he. Does. Not. Leave.
Wifies decides that he isn’t going to entertain this and goes back to finishing the email to Itz. He tries to ignore Evilfies, except that’s hard to do because the man is looking over his shoulder and criticizing almost every single thing he types. (And also complaining about how hungry he is and saying that Wifies should join him for dinner that evening. The gall of this guy.)
“You should be more threatening.”
“You forgot a comma.”
“I’m hungry. Hurry up.”
“Word this sentence differently.”
“You’re being slow. Chop chop.”
“Omit this part.”
“If you say that, he’s not going to take the job.”
“I know you’re starving too. Finish up so we can eat already.”
Wifies was getting increasingly more irritated, but he manages to send the threat commission to Itz even after the constant commentary from the one man peanut gallery. A true testament to his temperance and will.
Now, if Wifies could have waited there for Itz’s reply peacefully without any inconveniences, he would have. But he couldn’t. Because his Creator’s patience had apparently run out and he was now pressuring Wifies to go back to the factory with him.
“Dinner doesn’t make itself.” Evilfies states, very clearly impatient and hungry. “Let’s go now. Come on.” He tries to pull Wifies up by the wrist and off of the chair. His grip prickles Wifies’ skin.
Wifies stands his ground. Or well, sits his ground? “No. Leave me alone.”
“ItzRealMe isn’t going to reply anytime soon you know, might as well return to the factory.”
“Return to the factory by yourself.”
“You’re being so difficult.”
“I know.” He crosses his arms in defiance.
“How did Parrot put up with you back in the Farlands? You’re so stubborn.” Evilfies sighs disapprovingly, then tugs his arm some more.
Wifies tenses at the reminder of the Farlands—which was a reminder of what he needs to do—his mouth straightening into a thin line. “Keep his name out of your mouth.”
Evilfies replies with a subtle smirk. This fucking guy…
“I’m not going to be your lab assistant.” Wifies declares firmly, but his next few words come out shaky. “You…your tactics won’t work on me.”
“Wifies.” Wifies freezes at the sudden change in tone. His creator’s apathetic gaze drills into him. A phlegmatic look now on his face. Wifies’ eyes dart to the motion of his hands. It's too late when he notices the remote in Evilfies’ hold.
“You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.”
Then, a click. A whirring. Something stops him in his movements.
[SHUTTING DOWN SYSTEMS…]
Wifies’ vision fades into an all too familiar black.