Chapter Text
It started when he burned the compass.
No, no, even earlier. It started when he broke into the vault BAT constructed to shield him from Clown.
Maybe it was the first escape room they solved together?
It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment when, for the very first time, Parrot was struck by the sheer power a mind can have, on its own, without any crazy weapons or a mighty body to support it. A mind sharp enough becomes a weapon in itself, weightless, elegant and, nevertheless, unbeatable.
It fit Wifies to possess such a weapon. He was no stranger to fighting, yet a sword always sat so unnaturally in those tender hands that braided Parrot's hair every morning. It was redundant; he didn't need it to win a battle. All he needed to do was to sit back and allow his scheme to play out and fall into his plan, same way a scene falls into a script and leads to another.
Parrot saw him do it countless times, and he knew firsthand how debilitating it is to become a character in the story he wrote. It's a power you can't win against — a power of fate, pre-written, pre-planned, pre-scripted, a power which renders any fight useless because the outcome of it had been decided before the story even took off.
So where was that power now, Parrot wondered, invisible to the biting cold and to Wifies, who's curled up figure he's been watching through the tint of yellow glass. He has not left his bed for the last four days — only accounting for the days Parrot has been camping here. It was the same view before and after he left to find Itz and then to gather a payment big enough to convince him to both work for him and stay silent about his plans. It took longer than anticipated... The recent defeat of the Mafia didn't erase its effects on the server.
But he knew for sure: in the last sixty days, Wifies has not stepped out of the house. All thanks to his beloved skulk sensor trap which tracked any movement in the nearby area. It went off five times in total. Twice while Parrot was setting it up, once when Itz came by, once when he left, and once when Parrot went to check it.
All the effort to hire one of the strongest assassins in existence, gone. According to his plan, a little scare from Itz would wake him up, but not even a threat of death made Wifies get out of bed. It was a fake threat, of course. Parrot wouldn’t actually let a hair fall from his head, not when he was vulnerable to such a level. But it was, nonetheless, saddening to watch all his resources go down the drain when Itz eventually had to retreat after poking the lifeless body around for a few minutes without getting so much as a hint of a response.
Good play. Wifies broke out of his script by doing essentially nothing. Expected of his brilliant boy, though Parrot’s admirations were definitely dampened by camping outside in the cold for days on end.
Wifies wasn’t supposed to take his death lightly.
Parrot made sure to die the way he always wished for: a Hero, one of many who fell in the unfair fight against the Mafia. To get coordinates to the stasis chambers from a mysterious player named the Director, he gave his own life in exchange. He was a sacrifice for each person on the server, Wifies included. But that was no consolation. Nothing would be for Parrot, had the roles been reversed.
He expected to see him spend a few sad weeks mourning, naturally crushed by grief, sure. There was no way around it. But— two months? Bed-ridden completely, not even lifting a finger at the prospect of revenge against the player who killed Parrot? Wifies’s overwhelming power used to have him smitten. Where did it go now? Was a bit of grief enough to disarm his Wifies? Unthinkable.
There was still a part of him that stung to watch his best friend rot away. It hid somewhere deep beneath his ribs, and it yearned to do something about his suffering. To ditch the plan and reveal himself. Put fingers through his hair again and see the light come back to his eyes, join his side and have a restful night of sleep...
Parrot shoved it into the farthest corner, for he couldn't reach quite far enough into himself to fully rip it out, with all disgusting roots it spread over his bones.
This was an obstacle. He wasn't going to become better if he let emotions get in the way of overcoming it. All he needed was to slightly adjust his script according to the new variable he failed to take into account. Trying, failing and fixing are all a part of the process of crafting the ultimate, final version.
He was after a noble goal. To protect the server, he needed to take a hold of the most powerful weapon and become the one and only master of it. And in order to do so, he needed to become better than the best. Wifies's hurt feelings were a very unfortunate collateral damage, but the ends justified the means. Who else could he possibly pick? There is no one better than Wifies. And there is no other person standing between Parrot and the title of the smartest.
Surely Wifies will understand. Once it is all done with, once Parrot gets him to admit his defeat, they can go back to normal. To how it should be: with Parrot as the best, and the next-best right by his side.
Parrot stretched his wings, then folded them behind his back again. Kneaded a few steps through the snow to make the blood rush through his crusty limbs, numb and stale from sitting in the cold for so long. A few more moments, and his first adjustment to the script will launch.
He sprung up. Gave a big flap with his wings to make himself jump higher and land on the roof — in time for the explosion to rattle through the house and conceal the noise of his flight. It bit out a whole chunk at the entrance, from the bottom to the very top, but perfectly evaded the side where Wifies rested. From the huge hole that ate into the roof, Parrot could see: even the clouds of smoke and dust arising from the TNT and broken wood barely reached him.
"I am..." MrCube hesitated to read out his line, slightly thrown off when Wifies remained unresponsive despite a half of his house getting blown up. Parrot warned him about this. Parrot warned himself about this. And still, it was an unsettling sight to take in. "My name is MrCube. I was sent after you by the Director."
Wifies didn't move. His sad little figure stayed tucked into the wall, unbothered by the wind, the snow, the person peering impatiently into his back, and the sharp yellow shards that rained all over him from the shattered window. A miscalculation on Parrot's part.
Cube coughed, trying to get his attention, and Parrot leapt down while the noise disguised him. He didn't need to be so closely involved in the scene, but if he was offered a first-row seat, then why wouldn't he take it?
It's been a while since he got to see Wifies without a barrier of tinted glass separating them.
"This little boom? It's just a showcase of what is going to happen to this whole two by two chunk area in the next seven minutes if you don't find a way to deactivate the mechanism," Cube boasted, in a way that didn't sound cool at all when landed on deaf ears.
Two by two also didn't sound intimidating. But if there's one thing Parrot learned about Wifies in the past two months, it's the uncomfortable reality that he might not be able to predict him at all at times. It's something he just has to deal with for now, and to counter it, his only option was to add joints to his script, make it flexible and bend around any unexpected contingency.
This was a joint. Based on the response Cube got from Wifies, he was instructed to name a different threat. The area ranged from two by two to sixteen by sixteen, rigged with traps of different difficulties — from a little wake-up push, to a whole minefield prison. In short, this was a very convoluted and disproportionately expensive test of his current will to live. Parrot was more than sure he could escape any trap he's told in advance about, but putting him anywhere near real danger might not end well, in case he was not yet ready to actually fight for himself.
Cube wasted two minutes waiting for a reaction. He wasn't supposed to. It was clearly the worst case scenario: no response, not even a sign of life. The instruction was to drop his closing line and swiftly flee the scene to dismantle the pre-existing setup. But the prospect of clearing out sixteen by sixteen chunks worth of traps probably made him hold onto the hope the route would change.
In thirty more seconds, it didn't.
"I'd wish you good luck, but—"
"Why this?"
Cube shut his mouth the second Wifies spoke. His teeth clanked in the silence that followed the weak question, so quiet it might as well have been a hallucination. But it wasn't. They both heard it.
It's been months since Parrot heard his voice.
He didn't utter a word to Itz, and it's unclear if he was even conscious when the assassin came by. In the last two months, he never made any sound. His voice was as timid and fragile as a newborn's first steps — and as awaited, too.
"It's— Why—" Cube scrambled to remember the lines he was supposed to say in a case like this. Despite hoping to get something, he didn't seem prepared to actually hear Wifies speak. Neither of them were. It was like hearing a corpse talk, as much as it pained Parrot to draw such a comparison. "It's what the Director told me to do."
"Why me?"
"You? I don't—" Cube cut himself off and cleared his throat. His next words sounded like he was reading them out: "You're smart. You're supposed to figure it out."
"Forget it. I don’t care," Wifies mumbled, cold and sharp, like the glass shards biting into his hoodie.
"I mean, don't you wanna figure out his motives and stuff? If you don't stop him, you'll—"
"—die. I'm aware."
Uncomfortable, tense silence stretched in between the clouds of smoke for another thirty seconds.
"Don't you want revenge?" Cube tried.
“Revenge…” Wifies hissed, as if the word disgusted him. “And what’s in it for me?”
Cube had to focus to decipher his angry mumbling. “You know what he did.”
“And will revenge bring Parrot back?” he winced at the sound of the name on his own lips. “The Director can come and kill me at this point, I don’t care. Maybe this way I’ll get to join him.”
"I guess I can understand," Cube said slowly.
There was nothing left to say. And according to the timer, he now had less than five minutes to fix things up.
"Well, I can't waste all day here; I've got places to be," Cube snapped back to his lines, seeking an excuse to get away from the grim silence that devoured all space in between words. "I'd... You know what?"
He threw one last glance at Wifies and fixed up his elytra.
"Good luck."
A hiss of a rocket — and he flew off.
Parrot stretched his wings again, to relieve the tension gathered both in his back and his mind.
Now even Cube was going off script.
He remained in his spot to make sure the trap goes off smoothly.
It won’t leave Wifies fully unharmed, with a huge blast worming through the earth right under his feet, but with a bit of cleverly put safety measures it won't get him killed. And maybe getting slightly chipped at will motivate him to get his ass up.
How many days Parrot was going to waste waiting for that moment... He'll find out in another five minutes.
Glass clinked against the floor. His eyes snapped to Wifies, to find him shuffling and knocking over the white and yellow glass pieces down.
He sat up, sending even more to scatter around. Rubbed his face. Such direct sunlight must've stung his eyes, so used to only watching the dark cracks in the wood. His every movement was heavy, uncoordinated.
He dropped his hands and stared into space for a few moments. Rising up from his slumber seemed to have already exhausted him. Parrot still recognised his round face, his black, empty eyes, but he was nothing but a shell of the Wifies he knew. Clothes sagged on his much thinner figure, and everything about him was so dull and discoloured now.
He blindly reached for the nightstand and grabbed his bandana, in a motion all too familiar for Parrot. He always took it off before going to bed, then tied it back under his hair first thing in the morning. Like Wifies, it lost a bit of colour too. The purple cloth had been lying under the sun for so long it burned white spots into it. It now meddled with the greasy curls it supported, ones Parrot had to watch grow grayer and grayer every single day. By now, there was barely a dark strand on Wifies’s head.
A saddening sight he was. Parrot tried his hardest not to notice the change, but now, with the sun making his white, thinned out hair look almost transparent, he had to see the reality of what his plan was doing to Wifies. Was it all worth it making his favourite person in the world go gray so early?..
No, no. What was he even thinking? Of course it was! If two people had to suffer for him to achieve the power to protect the whole server, then that's just what it took. Even if one of the two people was himself, and the other one was dearer to him than himself.
Besides, Wifies was going to be fine. He was already getting out of bed: with a heavy sigh and quite a bit of effort, he pushed himself up to his feet. Sluggishly went through his chests, gathered some loot...
Of course.
Of course!
He was waiting for Cube to leave thinking his job is done.
He wasn't giving up. Of course! Of course he wasn't. How could he give up on a chance to avenge him? His Wifies, his sharp, precious, iron-willed Wifies, he was way too strong to be defeated so easily.
Parrot watched him leave the house.
And in three minutes, the trap set off right as planned. A huge explosion bubbled from beneath the ground, moving up until the wooden floor inside the house burst into pieces. The TNT was spread out for the blast to cavern the surface, but not shoot up a block higher and hurt the target, which was then supposed to fall safely into what looked like a water cave conveniently getting caught in the crossfire and spilling down. Feeling the ground ring under his feet, Parrot took the last second to splash a bottle of invisibility and, once again concealed by the deafening sound, flew up.
To see Wifies cross-legged in the snow, watching it all happen. The expression on his face was unreadable from so far up, but the intention was clear. He had to know if Cube was bluffing. After the last bits of TNT went off and all the smoke settled down, he was ready to move on.
Now, what Parrot truly wanted to achieve by forcing him to leave the house and the whole area altogether was to see where else he would go to. It was one of many, many blank spaces he had in his understanding of Wifies's ways of functioning. As close as the two of them were... Parrot, to his shame, could barely imagine what his life looked like before it crossed with his own. Was there a home he could come back to? An old friend with whom he could seek shelter?
No, wishful thinking. Even if he had any of those things, some gut feeling told Parrot he wouldn't resort to them.
And he was correct.
In the days he spent watching over Wifies's journey, he didn't settle down once. He moved from place to place, from camp to camp, wandered around in aimless patterns, which made him a pain to keep track of.
Another joint for the script. Another point to keep in mind and plan around.
It was all too easy to convince BAT to lend him some of their spies. All it took was a book with a bunch of very specific names and a set of coordinates he wanted them to be shipped to. There wasn't anything in particular about the dozen he picked — they were the same highly trained professionals as the rest — but this was an elegant way of letting it be known their identities were now a hostage. All of them got to live for as long as they remained in the Director's custody. While they complied and did his bidding, both sides could pretend the book never existed.
Parrot had all their eyes focused on Wifies, every second of every day. They watched him, like cameras, documenting everything he did and reported it down to every detail. As much as he loved being by his side, he couldn’t afford the restriction it put on his own moves. With the spies he still got to keep an eye on him even while away.
Twenty four eyes. Scattered around the perimeter in groups from one to three. Like their original protocol, he had them be invisible at all times, but any piece of armour was forbidden within a hundred block radius of the target. There was no chance Wifies never caught Parrot’s potion particles floating around his windows or in between the trees before. So he had to have grown used to an invisible player following him around by now, and this way, he would think that player was just one of the spies.
Parrot blended in with them seamlessly. He’ll have to depart in a few moments, but he couldn’t deny himself the pleasure to watch the entering scene of his next character.
Now that he could bet on Wifies actually fighting for his life, the game began. Cube was allowed to bring out everything he had to battle his mind. Stakes had to rise, and the death factor skyrocketed: not even Wifies could escape completely unscathed. But Cube was done for. Within a week of their cat and mouse game, he was run dry of ideas, and Parrot — of budget to afford the trapper's services, on top of the materials and silence. For what it's worth, his role was fulfilled.
With the moon overlooking him from above and three pairs of invisible eyes observing him from the shadows, Wifies wrapped the bandage around his wrist. There was a lot less tenderness in his motion than Parrot was used to, as he turned it hastily and ripped it with one yank. Rubbed out the pain, checking how securely the band sat on his arm.
The night was serene. Wifies managed to worm himself out of the last trap and settled down far away from the smoke and craters littering their battlefield. Cotton tufts of pines nodded along to the distant screeches of birds, unseen in the dark sky, as the fresh wind soothed his wounds. He let his eyes close for a moment, taking the fragrance of the forest into his lungs. A well-deserved moment of peace.
He twisted around and, with a bow steady in his hand, shot the person standing behind him.
The arrow whistled through the air. He would've landed it, if the silhouette didn't disappear and then immediately reappear a block to the side.
"Jeez, talk about a warm welcome," Tru flicked some nonexistent dust off his suit. "Not even a hi? How are you? Please don't kill me?"
"Do I know you?" Wifies held aim, though didn't try to shoot again for now. Parrot wasn’t quite sure what he was intending to do with an unenchanted bow, but his ways were always a mystery.
Tru himself wasn’t in the habit of wearing armour.
"Who cares? You’re gonna be dead soon anyway."
Tru took a step closer, and Wifies backed away the second he even hinted at moving. "You sure?"
"I know you're kinda smart, but what can you do? I'm basically a God," to make his words truly land, he rose in the air and froze, perfectly still above the ground. He looked smugly as his opponent lowered the bow.
Despite the hacker's God-like abilities, he was much cheaper to hire than any of the previous assassins. He possessed uncounterable powers, but his life was twice as fragile, for death wasn’t the only way to end it. Tru's safety was his hostage. He was free to do whatever he wanted while Parrot guaranteed it, but the guarantee came at the cost of playing a role in his script.
Wifies stared up at him. The item in his hand flickered, and now, instead of a bow, he clutched a fishing rod.
"Gotta find me first."
With a poof! of an ender pearl, he was gone.
Good.
A bored demigod with unlimited power, and a genius with an escape plan always at hand. Unstoppable force and immovable object type thing. Parrot trusted the two of them to entertain each other for a long time while he’s gone
><>><>><>
Screech of the door cut through the child's laughter. The little boy took off from his chair, leaving only his father and Parrot sharing a chat at the table, over the warmth of burning candles and the smell of old wood of the house.
"Spoke!" the kid cried out in joy, clinging to the voidling's leg as he made his way through the door. Spoke's hand entangled in the kid's hair, partially glitching through them as he squatted down to be on his level.
"Hey! Look who's—" his voice cut off as he raised his head to see someone he certainly didn't expect to see sitting at the head of his family dinner table. "—back..."
Parrot beamed.
"Spoke, buddy! Long time no see," he waved at him, inviting him to join and sit with everybody.
"Hello, old friend..." Spoke said, nudging the kid to run back to the table while he recomposed himself with each step taken. "What brings you here? Aren't you, like..."
He tentatively took a seat by Parrot's right hand, looking for a polite way to address the elephant in the room. His brother climbed on the chair next to him.
"It's a long story," Parrot evaded. "Let's not about that right now. How have you been? I haven't seen you in ages."
"Ehh, I've been fine. Great, actually. Settled down, all the stuff, you know. Just taking a break after the whole madness," he chuckled. "Oh, this reminds me—" he went for a quieter tone, shielding his mouth with the back of his hand as if telling a secret, "since you’re back, have you checked in with Wifies? He's a little..."
"He's doing okay. Needs a bit of time, you understand I'm sure."
"Yeah, sure, of course, man..."
Spoke visited the house at the snowy mountain a few months back, right after him and Mapicc dug up all the stasis chambers and freed the people from their death bounds to the Mafia. They made sure to bring the news to every corner of the world, and Wifies wasn't an exception. He was actually one of the main destinations, as someone who had a bigger chunk torn out of him in the fight. Parrot watched him come, then watched him leave after a whole bunch of unresponded attempts to cheer him up and talk.
He'd say the tragedy made Spoke grow sentimental, would it not have been for his recent activities — the ones he avoided to mention when talking about his new lifestyle.
"By the way, when have you got here? You haven't been waiting on me for too long, have you?"
"Oh, don't worry, I actually just arrived," Parrot responded. "Your family has been so nice to me though."
"Uncle Parrot is so cool! He promised to help us finish the tower build we started with you! Remember??" the kid shared in excitement. Spoke leaned to his side, but his eyes were fixated on Parrot.
"Did he now?" his face twisted into what Parrot took as an eyebrow raise. He learned to decipher Spoke's expression, despite the lack of planes and shadows on his face. His entire being was one big shadow — he devoured the light instead of reflecting it.
"Yes! And he got us so many gifts," the kid kept on bragging, and Parrot made sure to be all casual about it.
"It's nothing much, just my gratitude for your hospitality."
"Well, we gotta make him deliver on his promise then, what do you say?" Spoke said to his brother, and was met with cheers so loud they drowned out whatever Parrot thought about the proposition.
He didn't mind though. It was a beautiful day outside. Being so focused on his plan for the last months, he had almost forgotten the smell of a well cared for flowerfield filling his nostrils, and tender sunrays warming his skin and playing on the subtle ripple in the pond. He took a deep, deep breath, puffing up his chest to inhale as much of the fragrant pollen as his lungs allowed.
"Be careful up there!" Spoke yelled to reach his brother, who was climbing the half-built tower like a little monkey. "Don't practice any water bucket clutches!"
The father was over to the side, hunched over as he gathered fresh wheats to turn into flour — Parrot got to try some of the homemade bread baked out of his labour.
The cows sighed and bleated in their fenced paddocks. Chickens bustled all over the grass paths, clucking and pitching at the ground to beak a stray seed or a weed. Bees buzzed around the rows of beehives, each one clearly knocked together by the father of the family. They picked up the flower scents on their furry bellies and carried them all around the farm, making the aroma so thick it almost felt edible. A cat rubbed its cheek on Parrot's shin.
This was life, for sure.
In the sparkling laughter scattering around the farm, in the flowers, in the animals walking safe and free anywhere they pleased, in the crispy breeze spreading the freshness from the water, in the peace and the quiet of this faraway oasis, it was so easy to forget the Mafia had ever happened.
Wifies would've loved it here. He always talked about moving somewhere far from the main server to settle down and... live, just like this. Among the nature and beautiful sceneries. Only ever worrying about harvesting crops and bad weather.
This is the life they could’ve lived, if only it wasn't for the Mafia.
This is the life everyone could've lived.
And this is exactly why Parrot had to focus on his plan.
He will bring this life to everyone on the server. To everyone, to himself, and, of course, to Wifies.
Just a tiny bit longer and this — will be their reality.
Spoke cleared his throat.
"So... Where have you been, man?" he asked. The question has been hanging in the air for a while now.
Parrot took in the view again. A retired diamond trim, kneeling in the soil. His little kid, playing around with the blocks he gifted to them. And Spoke, carefully looking over them and keeping their peace as his own.
"I've been working on something."
"Hm. Cryptic as ever," Spoke noted. His gaze was also aimed at his family, tinged with quiet fondness, not so much in his eyes as it was in the glow they emitted. "And what are you looking for here?"
"Honestly? For help."
"My help?"
"Yes. I know about your... predicament with BAT."
Spoke's head snapped to him. The glow turned cold in an instant.
Parrot remained calm in face of his distrust. “What? I can’t just barge in here, asking for your help, without offering something in return, can I?” he smirked, knowing that in a few moments Spoke's expression will ease.
He was unaware of the exact details of whatever conflict Spoke had with the bounty hunters. He's heard some things here and there while working on capturing the spies and watching Spoke himself to work out a leverage on him. But whatever it was, BAT were giving Spoke quite the headache over it, and if they were targeting one of the Heroes who defeated the Mafia, they had to be in the wrong. So why not help a good friend?
Especially when he happened to have just the thing to turn the situation in Spoke's favour. Once the second act of his story commences, he won't need any of the spies anymore. He could gift them all to Spoke.
“So, how’s that sound? I help you with BAT, and you can help me with my little project as a thank you,” he said, relaxed and casual, almost making it seem like Spoke needed this deal much more than he did.
"Are you kidding? It's a deal!" Spoke outstretched his hand for Parrot to shake. "Pleasure doing business with you, old friend."
And Parrot shook his glitching hand, firmly, like a friend. He was offering Spoke the deal of his life: getting rid of his worst enemy for the tiniest price, a price that looked symbolic in comparison.
Though it wasn't an accident that he happened to run into him here, in his place of safety. The place he kept his dear family. Parrot showed up without any armour or any precautions about concealing his identity, because, from now on, if Spoke ever dared to go against him, he would have to learn the true price of the deal.
Finally. He was starting to get the hang of this. Turns out, it was that easy to make anybody into a willing participant of his theatre. Finding the right leverage was all it took to bend anybody to his will.
It's only a matter of time before he finds such a leverage on Wifies.
<>>><>
With final pieces of the scheme in place, Parrot was ready to wrap up the first act.
Everything was perfect.
All the information he needed on Wifies's moves was handed right to him in the form of neat, lengthy reports, fresh and ready for analysis. And as he was at it, he had the best of the best working on the technical part of the second act.
Every single puzzle piece of his scheme snapped into place, in a way that made him lightheaded. Even Wifies. The one unknown variable in the otherwise flawless formula. He was surprisingly well-behaved in his absence. Holding the reports and seeing the exact pattern he was hoping for, Parrot finally felt like he had the last missing piece in his hands.
He knew exactly where Wifies teleported himself to the very first time he encountered Tru. He knew way before he saw an actual confirmation in the reports.
It was a stasis the two of them set up a long, long time ago — right before Parrot came up with his grand plan. It led to District 13 and was initially Wifies’s own idea. To always have a way for them to reunite, no matter where the other one was. The very first thing Parrot did after faking his death was to take his own pearl out of it.
One pattern that Wifies followed in his aimless wandering now became clear: he was moving away from District 13. Slowly but surely, he was creating more and more distance. And when the time came, he disappeared, leaving thousands upon thousands of blocks between himself and the threat. This gave him time and, most importantly, the idea for his next strategy.
He set up another stasis. Lured Tru away from it. Vanished. Tru had boredom engraved into his heart. It's a kind of sickness everyone with unlimited power eventually caught. And Wifies hit him right where it hurt: he turned their fight into a tedious, unentertaining game of hide-and-seek, in hopes the hacker would eventually exhaust himself like Cube had.
But, so focused on defending himself against the main enemy, he seemed to forget how dangerous it is to leave a pearl unattended. And now, all Tru had to do was scare him into pulling the rod again — to have him teleport himself right into the final trap, where Parrot would be waiting for him with a big reveal.
Everything was put into this scene.
And now, finally, he got to sit back and relax, watching, from under the veil of palm tree vines, as his story played itself out.
Parrot rehearsed the lines in his head as he watched the final battle occur. His own stasis was linked to Wifies's, so he could see this crucial moment. The exact moment when Wifies pulls the rod, when he stops being a variable and becomes a character. A puppet controlled by the strings of his script.
That moment was right at his fingertips now, making a bittersweet tingle of excitement run through them. It was the dead of the night by the time Wifies got backed into a corner.
Soon they will finally reconnect. Deep down, he knew it wasn't the reveal itself he was craving so badly, the perfectly crafted scene he's put his own blood and soul into. It was a chance to simply talk to him once again. Face to face, with his own words and voice, without a barrier of invis separating them.
He wrote down and memorised every single thing he wanted to say. He imagined Wifies's face every single day as he added onto his lengthy speech. He saw with delirious clarity his blank expression cracking and breaking into amazement at the sheer extent of his newfound genius. He imagined his whitening brows rise up, even if a little, and the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile — equal parts bitter and enthralled. Mirroring the way Parrot always felt by his side.
'Hello, Wifies,' he'd say once as he takes off his invis, because Wifies's name is the first thing he's been dying to feel in his mouth again.
Then, he'd start from afar.
'Don't you think it's beautiful, what a human mind is capable of? Please, don't step off yet. You'll blow the whole thing up,' he'll say with a casual chuckle, when Wifies will inevitably try to take a step off the pressure plate the pearl will land him on, unable to resist the urge to come and hug him.
And it'll be a bluff. TNT is too harsh of an item to keep in such a tenderly decorated room: he placed every cherry tree by hand, installed all the fences with lanterns on them to make the impenetrable darkness of obsidian walls less pressing, and adorned the ground with grass and flowers.
'I've had a lot of time to think about it in the last few months. I've been thinking a lot about it since I met you, to be completely honest. You were the one who planted this seed into my head after all: it was you who showed me how powerful a mind can be.'
'And I know you must be confused right now — an unusual feeling for you to have, huh? Don't worry. You'll understand everything in a few moments. I've come to you with the last cue to uncovering the Director's identity. But first, let me start from the beginning.'
'Do you know how many days have you spent lying around back at our house? Seventy three. You were never going to get up. But then, let me guess. There was a sparkle of feeling. A burning desire for revenge that put you back on your feet. Ever since that day you have been chasing the Director as much as he has been chasing you.’
‘You've kept our fishing rod close to heart ever since my death, because it was the last thing I had the chance to give to you. And, with all your smarts and rationality, deep down you didn't want to use it. You held onto it as the very last resort, for the most dire situation, because if you did use it, you would have to see my pearl no longer there.'
'But you had to. It was that or taking an unfair fight against a cheater, and you were already out of any stamina after fighting Cube, so of course you did what was best. You always do. And it worked. Because everything always works with you. You had Tru all figured out, within just a second of his appearance — you always had a knack for these things. You have a knack for everything.'
‘I’m sure you studied all of his abilities. Did you ever know he could swap places with players?’
He’d pause, to admire, to drink in the sight he imagined daily but was yet to see: Wifies’s beautiful, stone-cold face twisting in confusion.
‘Do you even realise how easy it actually was for him to track you down if he did?’ he couldn’t help a smile at the divine taste that line left on his tongue, and at the picture of Wifies’s face it drew in his mind.
He’d realise, momentarily, of course. But Parrot would still take his time to explain, to drag on the moment and truly savour it.
‘Did you even understand what danger you were putting yourself in? One swap, and he would have your pearl on his hands, and you would be stuck with no way out once he activated it. I’m sure you realise it by now, but before, you were clueless. Because he never did it. Because I told him not to.’
‘He was in my power just like you are right now. I chose what he could and couldn’t do. I wanted you to feel safe to pull that rod, because I knew you would do it at some point. It’s the perfect hiding spot, isn’t it? It was an idea of your own. Nobody knew about it besides us. You thought you’d escape, and even rip yourself away from my spies. How did you feel when you saw they were already there?’
'You pulled that rod because I wanted you to. You're here right now because I wanted you to be here.'
'I am the Director, Wifies.'
Wifies wiped the blood off the gush on his cheek. Tru wasn't holding back anything this time around, with his only goal being to squeeze the last remains of life out of him. They've been at this for the whole day.
Despite the violent tremble, Wifies tried to stand firm on the ground. His face gave way to something between a wince and a frown as he looked up at his opponent. This fight was past taking everything out of him.
It's time.
"Aren't you tired of this old trick?" Tru clicked his tongue, a bit of actual anger seeping in his tone once the fishing rod appeared in Wifies's hands. He knew it will be over soon, yet the item brought him nothing but annoyance.
It's time.
Parrot's heart hammered in his chest and he wondered if Wifies could hear it. It banged against his tightening ribcage, creating the exciting tremble that shook his whole body from the inside. It's time. What will he even say?
Don't you think it's beautiful, what a human mind is capable of?
Tru hovered above the ground, so perfectly still in the air as if held by an invisible string. And in a way, he was. He was held in this position by Parrot's plan, and he wasn't moving an inch unless he was instructed to. His arms were crossed as he observed Wifies. A long shadow spilled into the grass behind his back.
Seventy three days. Seventy three.
"What does the Director pay you to do this?" Wifies asked, pushing his head back to try and look Tru in the face.
To you, I've come... I’ve come to you. I've come to you with the last cue to uncovering the Director's identity.
"Pay me?" Tru huffed. “It’s none of your business.”
Parrot's hands grew cold, and he kept clenching and unclenching them into nervous fists.
You kept our rod because I gave it to you— because it was the last thing I gave to you. Had the chance to give to you. Had the chance. Had the chance to give.
"It's gotta be something good. No one would keep it up for free."
Tru tapped impatiently on his forearm.
It's time. It's time.
Parrot stretched his wings. What was next? Oh, whatever will he say? Whatever will he do?
Deep down you didn’t want to use it, or you would have to see… you’d have to know.
"The pay is worth the trouble.”
But did you know he could swap places? Were you ever aware? Did you ever know?
"Do you want to kill me?"
I controlled him just like I control everyone— just like I control you. You pulled the rod because I wanted you to.
"Why else would I waste my time on you?" Tru grumbled, less and less patient with every second.
He was waiting for this as much as Parrot.
Everyone was waiting for Wifies to pull the goddamn rod.
I am the Director. Wifies, I am the Director.
Wifies gripped the fishing rod until his knuckles became paler than the moon above.
It's time.
Don't you think it's beautiful, what a human mind is capable of?
Don't you think it's beautiful, what a human mind is capable of?
It's beautiful, don't you think? The human mind.
It's beautiful. It really is. Don’t you know? Do you know? Did you ever know?
The rod swished in the air.
Hello, Wifies. Hello, Wifies. Hello, Wifies.
Before Wifies threw it far, far away from himself. Into the tall grass which immediately swallowed it.
"Kill me then."
What.
"What?" Tru laughed. There was a note of fear in the sound. "We’re doing this now? Really?"
Parrot stopped breathing.
His heartbeat stuck in his temples, ringing so loudly he could barely hear what Wifies said after this.
He is one fucking pearl away.
"I'm not joking. Tru... I'm tired of this. You're right, it’s the same thing over and over — it gets old real fast. It's never gonna be over this way."
"And I'm supposed to believe you'd give up on your revenge, just like that?"
"It's not worth it anymore. I thought..." he paused, looking into the ground. The opposite way from where he threw the rod. "I thought revenge would make me feel better, but it's getting harder and harder to see the point in anything. Nothing I do will bring him back. So, c'mon, Tru."
He spread his arms, opening his chest for the final strike.
"End this. Kill me. At least you will get your payment. And I..."
He chuckled sourly.
"I hope I'll get some rest."
Tru didn't move. Neither did Parrot. Neither did Wifies.
This wasn't in the script. This wasn't a part of the plan. This wasn't even a possibility in Parrot's head.
Cold wind whined through the forest, dangling with Wifies's bandana as it sucked the warmth straight out of his bones. Nothing else dared to move.
"C'mon, Tru. What are you waiting for?" Wifies urged.
His chest moved up and down in sharp, uneven breaths — he was heaving. And still, in the face of death, he stood brave, waiting and craving to embrace it.
Tru looked at the nearby trees and bushes, searching for a cloud of white particles he knew would be there. It's impossible to read his expression with the mask, but Parrot could clearly see his frantic eyes snap from side to side. He knew he was there, watching. But there were no more instructions to pull Tru's string — and he sagged on it.
"Go set your head straight." he growled through his teeth.
There was nothing else to do. He left.
Wifies watched him fly off in an unnaturally straight line as he slowly put his arms down.
Parrot watched it all transpire in numb stupor.
This was no joint. This was a whole bone broken in his script. His perfect script, with one flaw — the one variable that kept bending it in the most inhuman ways. The one goddamned variable that took a few steps through the grass and kicked the fishing rod as if it was useless. His ticket to act two was now to rot in the soil and humid air of the jungle forest.
This was bad.
Sure, Parrot still had the pearl. Unbeknownst to himself, Wifies was at his beck and call, everywhere, all the time. But trapping someone’s pearl and pulling didn’t require any brain power. If he did it now, he wouldn't outsmart Wifies. It would just be brute force.
It wasn’t just this one scene that got ruined. His entire plan was derailed, rotten through with Wifies’s sadness that he failed to take into account.
He’s useless when he’s like that.
So Parrot was forced to start from scratch. Find a way to snap him out of it, all over again.
Everything was going to be pushed back. A week? A month? How long of a break would be enough for him to get back into shape?
He could pull Ken or Wato from the project to cheer him up and talk to him — all the work was basically finished by now anyway. Because, of course, it just had to happen when everything was seconds away from launching.
All Wifies had a knack for was ruining things for Parrot. Everything, all of his efforts — all down the drain, every single time, all because of him. He ruined everything Parrot set his mind at. Always. All the damn time.
He sprung out his wings, stretching them to calm down.
Maybe he needed to take a break too.
Suddenly, he heard Wifies speak.
"Parrot... Come out. Please," Wifies called, voice trembling and tired. He squeezed his fists, looking down at the ground. "I know it's you."
Parrot stopped in his tracks. Froze, veiled by a shadow of the mighty tree behind him. Hidden in the darkness, dissolved by invisibility.
He was bluffing. There's no way he knew — he was just wailing about his grief. In his mind, Parrot was dead. Dead dead, so dead he saw no purpose in pushing forward. He was dead, and even if Wifies caught the particles or the sound of his steps rustling through the tall grass, to him it was another one of the Director's spies. That's how he had to see it, that's how Parrot conditioned him to think.
The bluff was obvious. Though, for some reason, it had Parrot's palms grow sweaty.
"You think I wouldn't hear your wings?" Wifies said. "They shuffle when you walk and you keep stretching them. Up, down, fold. You're nervous."
Involuntarily, his wings repeated the sequence. Stretched up, then down, then folded behind his back.
And now, in the dead silence of the night, he heard the sound of his demise. The barely audible ruffle of his own feathers. It was so subtle it could easily mingle with occasional wind rustling through the trees. How did he even pick up on it, when Parrot set up so many distractions on every single step of the way?
Trembling, staring at the ground with a bitter smile on his face, Wifies didn't look like a mastermind explaining his plan for uncovering Parrot's identity. He held onto his only weapon with despair of a devout man murmuring his last pleads to God, weak and hopeless.
And when he gathered the courage to lift his face, Parrot stood right in front of him.
Wifies breathed out. A bit of colour returned to his face, as if he has not taken a single breath since Parrot’s disappearance.
"I thought my mind was playing tricks on me," he said. Looking into the stern face in front of him, his eyes and his voice were still overflowing with fondness. "But it's you. It's really you."
They faced each other. But all the lines Parrot had rehearsed for this exact moment were now scattered around, like pieces of crumpled paper, useless as the story went off script.
"How long have you known."
"Since Cube showed up — I heard you," he said, taking confident steps towards Parrot, smile growing livelier with each one. "You set this all up, didn't you?"
He stopped within just a step away.
"Parrot. You are the Director."
This declaration was the final nail on the coffin of Parrot's plan. Wind shuffled through his feathers, tickling them as if to tease: to remind him of the ridiculous, tiny little detail that rendered all his efforts useless.
A very familiar pit settled in his stomach. A direct effect of the weapon he craved to master smiting. Fear, anger and exhilaration bled from the wound it left, dragging the weird mixture from the very depth of his soul.
Since Cube showed up.
It struck him now: nothing he did for the last months really even mattered. It was none of his efforts that made Wifies leave the house that day. Just a miscalculation working out in his favour.
From the very start, he knew everything. He bluffed his way out of every attack, pretending to be sad and heartbroken so the assassins would leave him alone, because he knew they were no danger. Because he knew: the one behind it all wouldn't let him get hurt. He knew. All along, he knew.
"I am." Parrot squeezed through his teeth.
He was smitten.
"Well, did I do it then? I passed your test. I uncovered your identity," Wifies reached for him. "Will you come back to me now?"
Wings sprung out behind Parrot's back as he yanked himself away. No. He couldn't let Wifies touch him. If he did, he might not find it in himself to resist his tender voice beckoning him back into his arms, into the safety and comfort of his embrace.
No. He had a goal in mind, and it was as clear as the moon shining behind Wifies's head.
This was just the first stage of his grand plan — so what if it ended prematurely? Parrot knew everything he needed to know about him by now. It didn't matter if he did or did not succeed in solving the riddle; what mattered was how he did it.
And now Parrot knew how.
Wifies was trapped. He was, whether he was aware of it or not, whether he tried to fight it or not, since the moment the Director set his aim on him.
"I miss you," Wifies said, his smile dimming again. "I was worried sick. I really thought you..."
"Come with me."
Wifies is a mesmerisingly strong opponent. But he will have to admit his defeat. Very soon. Very, very soon.
