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Strong winds and a myriad of little snowflakes—the environment blurs into a sea of clouds as it fogs. It was near impossible to catch really anything. With only the couple lanterns from behind of an old cottage of fond, buried memories, no one would really be able to catch anything whether in the far or near distance.
Except for when the subject’s clad in a deep hue that completely contrasts its background. Except for when the subject’s just within a short line of visibility that you wouldn’t need to strain your eyes to see. Except for when their presence has made itself so hauntingly known that one could only stand there frozen like prey in the eyes of a predator.
Would you believe it if your best friend was not the person you thought they were?
Parrot couldn’t move. A feeling much like a thorny vine tugging at his heart and an anvil-like pressure crushing his head. It hurt—everything, as the world that he knew fell apart before him. Thoughts of B.A.T., arguments, near-death encounters, and the theories he had racked his brain around for. Dumbfounded.
“Parrot,”
Each second felt like several minutes of an interval on the clock. The wind grew harsher. It was getting more difficult to breathe.
“I am Wifies.”
The figure’s tone came out flat and monotone. Dark eyes with a deep set of bags and a pale complexion all told the story of a man too far gone to have an inch of sense left in him. One of the smartest people in the server had only one weakness. Emotion.
Parrot, too, was of a similar level of intelligence as Wifies. He knew the right words to say at the right time. He knew how to get the best outcomes possible. However, at this moment, he finds himself out of words—unable to pick out or think of the best thing to say; unable to figure what questions or statements to say, as he himself was unsure what he wanted out of this. No matter what he thought of no answer would satisfy him.
Bile crept up his throat at the thought of the faces of the people he had allied, had befriended, had fought. He thought of arduous battles, disconcerting plans, restless nights, and broken dreams. He thought of arrows, unseeing eyes, and a grieving friend. Events that all occurred thanks to Parrot. What if Leo was right? He thought of how selfish he had been. But it can not have been his fault. It can’t. It isn’t.
This place is cold, but his palms are wet. And he can’t stop shaking. His heart is pounding. He’s sweating. Yet he still tries to ground himself. Wifies is dead. Wifies is dead. Wifies is dead. Wifies was dead?
“What?” Howling winds overpower the source of the voice.
“There was a moment that changed everything,” Wifies says. “Do you remember when we were being attacked in The End? You separated to serve as a distraction even with as heavily outgeared and outnumbered you were. I knew you were in trouble.”
Wifies voice wavers as he continues. He looked manic.
“I tried to contact you. To help you, to save you. But you couldn’t give me a response. I was helpless. All I could do was wait. Unknowing whether I’d ever be able to see you again. From that point onward, this happened over and over again—countless times of you sacrificing yourself for a cause that existed only in your head.”
A crack, a fracture of his calm façade. This was the Wifies Parrot never got to know.
“I was unable to protect you. And I couldn’t live with that.”
Parrot’s heart felt as if it began sinking into his stomach. Burning acid that deteriorated the contents of his heart, rising to his throat and threatening to escape. He didn’t realize, but he had long began hugging himself—a futile attempt at comfort.
“Parrot, you are the only person I care about in this world. If you were to die, then there would be no reason for me to continue on living.”
“Y-You’re actually…” Parrot’s words were said aloud, just to make sure this wasn’t a dream. That the words he uttered rang out vibrations through his neck and throat into the air. That the words he uttered turned cold wind warm, words he said would be heard clearly through the air, and that his actions weren’t muffled by the trance-like state of an actual dream. “You’re actually…?!”
Wifies looked back at him in the eyes. Now, bearing an unreadable expression.
“You faked your death.” This was the only logical truth. The one his mind told him so, but the one his heart begged him ‘no.’
“Exactly.”
It felt like an arrow through the heart.
“I had Ash tell you I was killed by ‘The Director’. I knew when you learned this information, you would go on to try and avenge me.”
Memories of the past ache of his heart consumed by grief. Of the animosity and dread that invaded his heart at the same time. Of how much he persevered in hopes that this vengeance would be his. He did everything—everything he never even once saw himself doing for someone who—
“However, I am The Director, Parrot.”
The words were uttered. Declarative and final.
“This whole time, you’ve been after someone who doesn’t exist.”
A cause that existed only in his head.
“But I still don’t—” Parrot fumbled for words. Any words. “Still, this doesn’t make any sense. This was all to protect me, yet you sent assassins after me. All these traps and—”
“Listen,” Wifies voice was calmer. Steadier. Like it was something anticipated. Like he had practiced this conversation as if it were a scripted play. “Parrot, you were never in danger.”
He was never in any danger? But what of the people he had involved? What of Parrot’s friends?
“There was a myriad of times where you could have, but you didn’t. This is the story that I wrote. I told them exactly what to do. And one of those orders was to not kill you.”
Insanity. Pure insanity. Maybe he was safe physically, but what of him mentally? Had Wifies not considered that? Why would he antagonize himself? He never had to do this. This was never necessary.
“It was all necessary. Now, I know how your brain works. How exactly you think, act, work. It’s all necessary for the next scene of my plan.”
It has been answered, but the question still lingers: Why?
“What is wrong with you?” Parrot shouted, still in his soft timbre. “Do you understand the gravity of what you’ve just done?”
Wifies only looked back in that same tired, yet unreadable, expression.
“I miss the Wifies I knew.” A tear fled down his cheek even after his attempts to keep them in. His voice fell quieter and wavered more. What happened to you?”
Where does he go after this?
“I guess I expected this reaction.” Wifies sighed. “That’s okay. I had to kill the past to become who I am now. It is not expected of you to understand.”
“No— Never— What? Why would I ever even want to understand?” Parrot’s anger still seethed, yet he was helpless and clueless as to what to do.
“You don’t have to, Parrot. I’m here to protect you now, and that’s all I care about.”
Parrot’s lips stretched from ear to ear, a laugh threatened to escape. He grinned at the absurdity of the situation. It could have been comedic, almost.
“What is that even supposed to mean?” He scoffed. “You sent assassins after me, and now you’re telling me their intention was never to kill me? And now you’re going to protect me?”
His anger was pointless. This only let out a fracture of the fountain of emotions seething in his blood. He was powerless in this situation. Imagine rebuking an old friend who now held all the power over you, would anyone think they would actually change from a good old scolding?
“Wow, bro!” He vouchsafed. “You have really done a great job!”
“Parrot,” Wifies dismissed the remarks. “Together, we are going to build a world. A new, perfect world where I would never have to worry about you dying again. Ever again.”
Parrot’s previous thoughts gave pause. Would he actually accept such an insane offer?
“I just need you to follow me.”
Follow?
“Are you stupid? Are you stupid? Are you stupid!” His voice rose in volume at every drop. “After everything you’ve done? No, I’m not following you. What are you going to do? Kill me? You’ve already stated you aren’t going to do that.”
His voice grew uncharacteristically loud. An expression plastered onto his countenance that Wifies had never seen before. A new side to Parrot, and he might have been glad to be the one to uncover such.
“I know,” He simpered with empty eyes. “But I’ll kill all your friends.”
Wifies had stopped caring for Parrot’s feelings since he became The Director. He knew it was wrong, but it was easier this way. And, undoubtedly, he is selfish himself. His world—was Parrot, and, even if this plan of his did fail, he would be glad that this would have turned him to a stronger person. Now, Parrot knew of the realities of this despicable world—one filled with countless betrayals and bloodshed. Take a lesson out of this chapter, Parrot.
“What?”
Parrot didn’t have an answer to that. Not even a clever remark nor interjection. His mind blank, and emotions astir bound to a paroxysm of franticness.
Wifies didn’t need a reply. He knew his answer, and it was that he couldn’t give one.
“Now, follow me.”