Chapter Text
It's All Yours.
The last thing that wifies sees is the spyglass opposite to him, lying above a pressure plate. Parrot had ascended the long, curved stairs and left the cell long ago, and wifies only stared. Only waited.
At that moment he realizes; Parrot doesn't need him anymore. That sent a pang of hurt in him when he realized what that meant, but joy when he realized that Parrot cared enough to grab the spyglass back, to have it stored in his inventory.
Wifies felt his foot move forward, off the pressure plate, before he ran towards the other side, grabbing the spyglass in his arms and holding it gently.
He hears the TNT ignite beneath him faintly, and he accepts it. He accepts his fate, accepts what's about to happen to him. Instead of running after Parrot—which he still had time—he chose to stay, knowing that if he followed Parrot out, the other would have not forgiven him.
His lips curve up into a small smile, eyes fluttering close with his own tears forming in the edges of his eyes.
I haven't really gotten the chance to say this, but.. Thank you for being my friend.
… Anytime, dude.
Then, everything simply went blank. His body felt numb, the explosion clear in his ears until it was close enough to have damaged him immediately on impact.
Wifies was blown up by ParrotX2
Wifies left the game
To think that was his last moments in the server would have convinced him when he had been death banned. But that seemed to have changed when the moment he blinks his eyes open, he is no longer in the white cell, but somewhere familiar instead.
He was inside a tube, the glass in front of him a light shade of blue. It was cold, the air hitting him like a flash immediately after he gained his consciousness. The first thing he asked himself was; “am I dead?” But that wasn't the case. It wasn't even close.
He tried to move and break out of whatever was holding him down, but it led to him being strapped down forcefully.
Wifies groaned at the sudden pressure inflicted on his back due to the wires binding him from moving so much. One thing he noticed too, was that he was completely shirtless.
The inside of this tube was unnecessarily tight, cold and blurry through the glass. He couldn't see properly from the opposite side, but he saw a figure stand a few blocks away from where he was kept.
With his desperation for out, he tries to move his leg and shove his knee forward, which surprisingly worked, making a thud sound from the outside that had fortunately reached the figure on the other side.
“Subject number 1108. You're finally awake, I see.” The voice was familiar to Wifies. Probably because it sounded like him, but Wifies could recognize his creator anywhere.
His creator takes slow steps forward towards his tube until he was close enough for Wifies to see on the other side of the glass. His creator had those recognizable glasses on, human skin, dark hair like his.
Wifies doesn't respond—he couldn't even if he tried. The wires binding him had wrapped around his neck some time ago, maybe when he was asleep or restarting. His eyes track his Creator's movements, the small details of the other tilting his head, examining him with narrowed eyes.
Finally, after what felt like a long time, His Creator moved his hand and tapped on the tab in front of the glass that Wifies could only hope was him unlocking his tube. Luck must've been by his side when the wires holding him forcefully against the metal had loosened, allowing him to move freely and release himself from the binds. His Creator pulls the glass door open for him.
Wifies took his time stretching his leg. He doesn't know how long he's been powered off, but it must've been quite awhile if he was stiff like this and could barely stretch his body without some sort of ache.
Eventually the pad of his foot touched the cold quartz floor, followed by his other leg, until he was fully out of the tube. With the help of his Creator's arms used for balance, Wifies was able to stand still.
Wifies frowned, blinking slowly as he looks around now that his vision isn't blurred unlike when he was in his tube. He was back in the facility, the familiar dark and white walls coming back to him.
His memory chip was quite damaged after the explosion, but he could guess maybe his Creator was the reason he could even recall these memories—or guess that he was most probably the reason why he was even alive right now and not blown into pieces.
“Why am I back here?” Wifies had asked, his voice lagging a bit. A simple clear of his throat was enough to fix that temporary error.
His Creator merely smiled, helping him walk over to a chair and sat him down. “A lot of things have happened since you left the facility, I assume,” he wrote something down. “Due to the fact you were destroyed beyond possible repair when I found you.”
Wifies frowned. “Beyond possible repair? How come I'm here right now, alive again?”
His Creator hums. “I managed to get you working again after fixing you back up with the help of recyclable parts.” The other turned toward him, facing him with a familiar feeling of fear in his system.
“I must say, Subject 1108—your little schemes in that server you were previously on had caught my interest.” His Creator adjusts his gloves around his wrist. “I would have never known a clone like you could reach such levels of psychological, emotional feelings and expressions for one pesky bird.”
The slight mention of parrot was enough for Wifies to go back to sulking, head down and remorseful. He could feel his Creator glare daggers at him, or atleast stared at him with the same pressure of that when a spotlight shines upon you randomly.
“You are an interesting experiment, subject 1108.” His Creator comments, before he turns around to grab something from his desk—a clear microchip.
Wifies blinks, raising an eyebrow. “What is that?”
“A newly improved memory card. You can insert this yourself, but as of right now I need you functioning if I want to fix you up properly.” He said.
Wifies accepted the offer of the chip, the small card felt lightweight on his palm. He stared at it for a moment before he looked up to meet his creator's eyes.
“How did you find me?” Wifies stored the microchip away, in his pants' pocket. “You don't have the ip for the Unstable SMP.”
“I can track when my clones malfunction or are destroyed, remember?” his Creator does not break eye contact. The blue light from the computers behind him emit, casting a soft light and shadows around them.
Wifies softened his—well, he guesses—his intense staring.
“...Right.” he muttered. “But that still doesn’t explain why you fixed me up.”
“Normally, I'd disregard you after you’ve intentionally ended your time on that server, recycle you even. but with the knowledge of what happened that led to that point?” His Creator chuckled. “I was simply intrigued. Maybe even interested to fix you up and send you back, just to see what you’d do next.”
Those red eyes stared back at him with a look he can’t identify, but can only guess was something far from a positive expression.
Wifies met his Creator’s gaze with a skeptical glare. “Do you… want something from me?” Wifies asked. “That reason doesn’t seem fitting for someone like you. You have different intentions.”
His Creator smiled. “Seems like you know me well.” The other broke the eye contact they held, opting to turn away from him with his arms crossed behind his back facing Wifies.
“You are correct, about that not being my full intention for reviving you.” His Creator hums. “Aside from the sheer curiosity from me of what you’d do if I sent you back, I also have a task in hand for you that I put my full trust in for you to complete.”
Wifies narrows his eyes, frowning, skeptical.
“What is it?”
His Creator huffed, looking back at him over his shoulder.
“Lean back. I need to fix something up.” His Creator commanded, but didn't wait for a response when he simply placed his hand against Wifies’ chest, pushing him against the chair’s backrest.
Wifies doesn’t protest and stays silent, expression blank, eyes following his Creator’s movements. The other adjusts his glasses and grabs a pair of pliers lying on his desk, with his other hand opening his stomach hatch wider.
With one cut, Wifies twitched, his vision blurring for a moment before it completely clears again. His Creator closes his stomach hatch with a smile.
“There you go. Now, if you may, go grab your hoodie at the other room directly opposite from this one outside. I’ll prepare a UID for you to use.” His Creator turns his back on him. “Now go.”
Wifies stood up from the chair. He was at least free from the stiffness he felt previously, moving easily around the room. His fingers wrap around the doorknob and push it open, peeking his head out.
It was a long corridor from there, but the door in front of the one he stood at was the room he was looking for. He crosses the gap and opens the door to the room his hoodie was apparently placed in.
The room was predictably dark. Wifies searched for the switch to turn the lights on, pressed on it when he felt the curve of the lightswitch, and the room was bright once more. Well—bright was an understatement. Maybe dimly lit would fit the description.
The room appeared to be a storage room of some sort, with rows of chests lined up at the sides, empty shulker boxes below to serve as a floor. He padded across the room, grabbing his hoodie which was hung on one of the chairs.
He slips it on, the comfort and familiarity of his hoodie was strangely uncomfortable to remember. His fingers traced the yin-yang symbol imprinted on the middle of his hoodie. He takes a deep breath, leaving the room and entering back to the previous one.
His Creator was already waiting for him, those red eyes trailing his every move. When Wifies approached and stopped at a safe distance, his Creator opened his mouth to speak.
“I’ve installed the UID for you now. That user id will be your permanent one.” The other had also placed a few shulker boxes on the ground. “Here, have these. You might need them when you go back.”
Wifies raised an eyebrow. He opened the shulker boxes one by one to see they were all full of necessary needs needed to survive an smp like Unstable.
His Creator cleared his throat. “Now, you aren’t a pvper—I know that because you and the rest of my clones have been designed to use brains for escape rooms and puzzles instead of skill in battle. But I can only hope you can handle yourself out there.”
He notices the spyglass in one of the shulkers and on instinct, immediately grabs it to store it in his very much empty inventory. It wouldn’t be empty for long when he was given armor (iron helmet, pants and shoes with a singular diamond chestplate) and food.
Wifies was reluctant, but he met his Creator’s gaze. “Thank you.”
His Creator simply nodded, giving him the string of numbers. “Go.”