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Ashswagg abruptly stops in a clearing of toppled ruins, top-cap mere inches away from the bloodied figure buried by a certain someone's dilemma. He looked pathetic in this state. Burns, scratches and deep gashes littered across a vast expanse of exposed pale skin, creating a bloodied and fleshy canvas that was. . . a gruesome sight to glance at.
Ashswagg nudged the body with the tip of his shoe, pausing. A faint twitch running through Wifie’s fingers was the only response. He was still alive. Even after everything that had happened. Ash rolled an eye, the other part of his face a messy glitch of black and purple on a clear display. Making a face of small disdain, he started parting the rubble, uncovering the body.
Everything was in wreckage. Destroyed beyond repair and in such a state that made it even a struggle to get in here in the first place. Ash, gunpowder, smoke and a ting of blood swirled around into Ashswagg’s nose like a firm reminder of the place he was in. If he was doing this, he had to be quick. Knowing how stable this place was hard – considering how Ash had little information of the structure and the TNT ratio – and personally? He didn't wanna figure it out.
Ashswagg dragged the now half-uncovered body from the grasps of the ruins with little to no struggle, quickly moving to assess the worst of the injuries that caught his eye. Hands moving like a well-oiled machine, Ash made quick work of remaining injuries, pulling back to admire his work. Wifies looked well like a damn mummy in this state, but who cares? He was alive. Alive and now part of Ash’s plan so who was he to judge? He stared for a while at the faint rise and fall of the other's chest, thinking. Then, his gaze flicks to the surrounding wreckage, thoughts buzzing like a methodical, hum in his head.
This whole place would be put to a past memory, somewhere whom people may glance over with no second thought. Such fine architecture – Ash had to admit – put to a waste over just over one person. No matter, anyways. As fresh smoke rose to tower over ruins, Ash finally moved, slinging Wifies over his shoulder with a small grunt. The added weight from the armour wasn't exactly helping his ordeal, but Wifies would need it. Ash sighed.
“You’re an idiot, Director. And, with how this ended? You have no one to blame but yourself, indirectly or not.”
Ashswag would scoff, the sour sound leaving his mouth with a tang of harsh truth as he swivelled his head to the broken figure draped over his shoulder.
“You’re pathetic. And lucky I want you for bigger things than to rot in a ruin of a foolish choice.”
Ash completed the thought, exhaling softly before beginning the trek out of the crumbling ruins of a Paragon dilemma. (Heh :3) This would be a great benefit in the long run, gaining this powerful pawn this early. It gave him time to mold. Time to frame this player into a willing piece in his plan.
His plan of returning the mafia to its rightful glory.
With the help of others, of course.
Only, he had to admit, he should've gotten Copper to do this.
Traveling to the farlands and telling a member of the mafia would've been less of a hassle then this.
. . .
Whatever––
Everything for Wifies was a distorting, hazy and painful mess. Every pull of a limb was met with an agonising burn of pain. Every attempt to move was a futile attempt to leave. And, though Wifies would never admit this verbally;
It was pissing him off.
Whatever house he was in was rather spacious. Organised neatly and maintained a lot of open space. A fire crackled parallel to the couch Wifies had been laid down out – spitting out orange ashes like it had a personal problem with the now grey embers – and creating a weirdly comfortable environment in spite of Wifies odd situation.
He found purchase on the arm-rest, biting at his lip as he forced himself upright with a sharp yelp of pain. The pain – hot and stinging – rang throughout his body in a blinding wave, making the hybrid stiffen in his spot. Wifies groaned as the searing pain dulled to now just an aching throb. He sighed. That part was at least over with. Wifies glanced around his new environment. Some small looking cabin, no real personalized items anywhere minus a few dingy Mafia-looking armor sets – which was weird – a small kitchen tucked towards a corner with a lit-furnace, barrels and a strong smell of. . . some food he couldn't pinpoint.
“Who leaves food unsupervised?”
The hybrid voiced, scoffing with a roll of his eyes and a of thwacking his tail against the couch in an act of disdain; which sent another jolt of pain through his body. Wifies stiffened in his spot, resting his head against the back of the couch to compose himself, breathing heavy. The fire spit embers into the air again, only for them to burn out within seconds, and dwindle pitifully back into the flames grasp like a set cycle. It would momentarily distract him, gaze locked on the blazes. His mind drifted to Paragon. . . The lights, the air. . . P–
“–arrot. . . Please. Give that to me, before you hurt yourself.”
Wifies voiced, pleading to something he prayed wasn't deaf ears. Stiff, his feet were planted firmly on his own pressure plate so as to not put Parrot in further danger. The air was thick with a tension you could cut with a butterknife, an anticipation for what the choice would be from Parrot himself.
Parrot went quiet for a moment, gaze drifting for a moment to the item in his hand. His escape from his prison. From his captor. Yet. . . From a friend he’d built with hardship. A friend he went to the ends of the server then the highest peaks with. A friend with him through every battle. Every lowpoint. Every loss. Every win.
Did Parrot want this?
Want this to end? . .
No.
He didn't.
But what choice was he left with?
Inhaling a sharp breath, he closed his eyes for a moment, running his thumb over familiar scraps and scratches to gain his composure. Parrot had to admit. He wasn't scared about just losing Wifies. But scared of also losing who he was. Who was he without Wifies? . .
He didn't know.
But. . . Maybe why this was so heavy wasn't because he was just losing a friend. But, losing the life they could've had. Losing the memories of a lifetime. Losing something rarely happens in a place like Unstable. A long lasting friendship.
Parrot opened his eyes, gaze an unreadable stare as they met Wifies’. He willed himself to step back a single foot, half on the pressure plate itself, hand clenching around the item in this hand for some reassuring purchase. Lifting his hand, the spyglass came into full view instead of tucked at his side.
Just do it.
“Its all yours.”
Wifies shook his head, ears flat against the crown of his head. Figure out where you are first. Then plan on how to get him back. Little point in dwelling on the past if the past served you no good, he concluded mentally, a shaky sigh escaping him as he moved to shrug the lightweight blanket off him carefully so as to not agitate any already pissed wounds.
Weirdly, he found most of his stuff tucked neatly beside the couch on the ground, including the spyglass which glared at him. It looked basically the same. . . Minus a prominent crack running through the ocular lens and a few expansionally vivid chips. But it wasn't burnt. Looked clean actually. A better state than Wifies right now. . .
The dog scoffed, tail flicking as he tried to focus again. Stop getting distracted, he mentally cursed himself; taking another glance at his memorized surroundings – the ears atop his head pricking forward for any straying sounds – and finally deciding on a course of action well fit to his situation.
He had to leave.
The warmth of the fire tempted him to stay, like a solid hand reaching for the back of his light shirt and restraining him from further movement; but he pushed on. Retching himself from the comfort of the plush couch and rising to his full height, the room violently spun for a moment, making him want to hurl directly on the spot. Wifies stumbled backwards with a low-toned whine, lower back connecting solidly with a spruce table behind him.
A wave of pain rippled up his spine, drawing a sharper sound from the hybrid. He stood there on shaky legs for a moment, eyes shut and breathing more fastly paced. He hated this. . . The pain. The throb. The pitiful actions. Curse it all. . . Shaking his head, he refocused on the task at hand like shrugging on his armour with a struggle and a flurry of several. . . ‘choice words’. Tightening the straps of his chestplate, helmet in hand, Wifies started the painfully slow and unstable limp towards the door.
Reaching for the doorhandle, it twisted smoothly in his palm then once he pushed it open a cool wind greeted him face first, numbing the flesh of his face. He couldn't help but wince, the breeze biting at the prominent burn across his skin with a harsh, relentless sting. Staring at the glaring storm ahead, the warmth of the cabin seemed all that more tempting, almost begging him to stay. Then. . . His thoughts drifted, gazing advertising to the floor.
Should he leave a note? . .
Wifies – against his own wishes– became so enveloped in his thoughts, in the notion that floated in his head, the footsteps had not registered in his ears until something firmly locked on the back of his chestplate and forced the man back from the doorway with a sharp tug. It was outright hard, just a soft tug, but – it being completely unexpected while Wifies was unstable – sent the hybrid stumbling back with a panicked screech.
Wifies didn't exactly. . . care who grabbed him,
Because the first course of action he took was to pick a fight. Which also included the man throwing his elbow backwards, which proved a successful upper hand move after a sickening crack and sharp groan echoed through the air; the hand previously gripped his chestplate; releasing.
Though not accounting for his current state, Wifies froze his spot; stiffening as pain overwhelmed any remotely coherent sense he had. He went down hard, body going limp with a thud as a wave of agony washed over him. It was blinding, and something he couldn't ignore, nor bypass.
Footsteps reached his ears, like someone rising upright from the floor. And, worst of all, Wifies couldn't fight whatever came next. He had come to terms with his end in Paragon. A bittersweet moment shared between friends, a fitting end to an entire arc. But here? Dying in some dingy cabin with final words to fall on deaf ears? Well, that was a shit way to go. Wasn't it?
Then a voice rang in his ears. A voice he thought he’d never hear again. A voice buried in the past. A voice that should've stayed gone.
“Jesus christ– Heh. Even half dead, never expected you to pack a punch.”
The words were light, though, tinged with pain as Ash clutched his nose in his hand. A vibrant, pink blood running down dark skin and creating an almost unreal sight. Ash had hardly changed, sure, slightly more scarred up, but still wore a calculated mask like the day he left. The day he fled like an outright coward.
Ash rose fluidly to his feet, pulling back his hand to admire the blood. He rolled his eyes, wiping his hands on a weird convenient clean rag nearby laid over the back of a chair situated at a table. Good placement by Copper, he had to admit. Thanks to the one useful Mafia member still in his life–– Okay, Focus.
“Leaving so soon, Director? You won't survive that storm.”
The glitch pointed out, leaning against the table, arms crossed. Keeping an eye on the struggling hybrid on the floor, writhing in pain, Ash noticed the change in the air. Once warm, it quickly dulled to a prominent, chilling cold that seemed to reach throughout the cabin. So much for the fire.
“I’d rather take my chances with an unmovable force of nature then be in your presence a second longer you bas—”
“Clearly, despite all the time you spend with that birdie, you didn't take on the habit of PG language.”
Ash cut him off firmly, glitch flickering violently before settling after a moment of struggle. His foot tapped against the floor boards – a clear sign of impatience Ash was unwilling to hold back – and opted to get to the rest of the ordeal. Particularly, he didn't want to put off his dealing-striking any longer.
Clearing the small gap between where Ash had been standing as a small draw not far, the glitch rummaged through the contents with a rustle of unknown items. His movement paused, gaze landing on. . . Something.
Wifies didn't bother to figure out what. Screw everything with even a smidge of affiliation to Ash in whatever shape or form. Finding purchase on a decorative pot, Wifies heaved his body onto unstable supports he could barely call legs. They shook as he glared straight daggers at the glitch, moving to support himself against the spruce door. Wifies stepped forward. He wanted to leave Ash behind, put everything else aside and focus on the real only thing that mattered.
Parrot.
Parrot was what mattered. Parrot is what he needed to worry about keeping safe. Parrot is the only person he lived for on this entire—
“Director. C'mon, now… don't you at least want to know the reason behind my motivations for keeping you alive and well all this while? It would be a waste to have a mystery on your mind, wouldn’t it?”
Ash called, answered vaguely and even vaguer was his intentions. With a turn on the base of his heel, Ashswagg crossed the space between him and Wifies in a few, long strides, coming to an abrupt stop a few blocks away from him, items held firm in a gloved hand.
Wifies’ glare held firm on Ash’s features, flicking to the dagger and invisibility in his left hand—
Pause.
What?
The invisibility sloshed with every micro movement in Ash’s grip, gleaming under the dim light with an ethereal glow. Like the moon's tears, in a more poetic sense. But the dagger? It carried a sharp edge, a lying threat. Trimmed intricately with quartz in deliberate carved lines amongst the harsh steel backdrop. It was sleek. Lightweight. But carried the weight of what would be many deaths and threats to come.
“. . . What is this?”
Wifies growled, a demand he didn't have the leverage to backup. He shuffled and rose, straightening upright with a good amount of effort in his stance. A tension rippled through the air. Heavy. Murky. Unbearable.
“A proposal.”
“Save the marriages for Lifesteal.”
“...Excuse me?—”
“Nothing.”
Ashswag didn't have time for– whatever ‘Lifesteal’ was. He had no memory of any mention. Holding the dagger out towards Wifies, he kept his expression neutral and collected. Speaking:
“I’m willing to offer you a spot in the new Mafia. My right hand. I see the potential in you for something more, Wifies. Others see you for your smarts; I see you for your strengths. All I need is an oath. Swear loyalty? And everything we build together will be at a simple command that's all your’s.”
A sly smirk crossed his features, inching the gleaming dagger closer to the guarded player where he stood. It wasn't a threat. But an invitation to be a part of something better— no. Greater than what the Mafia once was. All his skills could be put to taking part in the greatest takeover of the server. But. . .
“What's in it for me? Sure, I get power, I get all that crap. What's the exchange I gain long term?”
“Glad you asked, Direct—”
“Wifies.”
A beat.
“Director,”
He continued,
“With your power and countless members at your command, I thought, what better than to use it to wrangle in your little birdie. He’s been a thorn in my side since the Mafia’s end. But, that's not a problem. You know him inside and out, you can predict his thoughts, movement, and plans with flawless knowledge. I get you power, you plan, prepare, and strike when necessary; And you get Parrot all for yourself.”
Throughout Ash’s yap, Wifies couldn't help but tactically consider the amount of benefits of this offer. Everything at his disposal, for his use. Sure, that use was to get Parrot safe and protected, but Parrot was his best friend. Anything Parrot wanted, he could get. But Wifies knew, this wasn't just a sweet, simple deal he could take with no consequences. There had to be a catch. Something Ash hadn't mentioned.
“Thats not everything. We both know that's not the full story.”
Wifies countered, tail swishing to the side of him in deliberate swings. Leaning heavily against the door, he folded his arms, trying to manage a composed stance despite his state. If he was making a business deal, he wasn't going to slouch over pathetically while Ash stood tall, oh no.
Ash hummed, a clear thought still on the glitch’s mind. He placed the glass of invisibility on the table with an audible and sharp clink before fiddling with the dagger in his hands, a feigned forgetting expression on his face.
“Maybe I forgot something.”
His expression turned more sinister, another sly grin emerging.
“Are you willing to hear it without throwing a fit, Director?”
“Lay it on me.”
“Well then,”
“You have to convince the King of Unstable to drop the bounty on Parrot's head.”
“. . . Ex-fucking-cuse me?—”
Wifies, in his own right, was. . . ‘A bit baffled’ in words. If baffled meant straight lowering his town to a sharp growl and looking second away from beating Ash’s face in– His fist clenched at his side, knuckles whitening with the tension of his anger. A bounty? On Parrot’s head. For what reason? What reason was possibly valid for the king of Unstable — when did unstable even gain a king? — to hate Parrot so much to place a hit on a pacifistic avian?
Ash shrugged, eyes flicking over the other, prying at his reaction. Anger.
“Never said there wasn't something against the king we could use to convince him.”
“What is it?”
“Can’t tell you.”
“What are you—”
“But, I could, Director.”
A beat.
Wifies was listening.
“All I need is you as my right hand, as I said.”
“. . . And what's stopping this from repeating the same cycle as every other civilization? Every other faction on this server that falls the same way?”
“You’ll have to wait and see. And, the questions stand. This is my final offer.”
Ash reached, over towards the table. Wrapping a hand around the bottle of invisibility, he gripped the dagger in the same hand, extending the items towards the hybrid. A heavy choice. A choice that could change the path of the server. Tension was laid down heavily between the two, the air stilled, like the environment waited for the answer with bated breath. Ash finally spoke after a long moment.
“Are you with me? Or against me, Director?"
“With.”
A sly smirk crossed his features, a nod of approval from the glitch.
“We leave in two weeks to spawn. May this partnership serve both of us well.”