Wake up, wake up, wake up! Forte shouted at himself, closing his eyes tightly. He sat in silence for a while, doing nothing but sitting hunched over upon the cushy bed, his eyes closed so tightly he was beginning to see spots on the back of his eyelids. "…I'm not waking up," he muttered to himself as he opened his eyes once again. "Damn it all to hell!" He blinked. No wonder Rock never swore; it just didn't sound right coming from someone with such a high-pitched voice and usually sounded so positive. He sighed. How in the world did this manage to happen? People can't just switch bodies. Besides, no one removed his data chips to place into Rock's body or anything of the sort. Why would they, anyway? 'Hey, let's just take out his data chips and replace –'

Wait a minute. Forte sat up, his eyes wide. If I'm in Rock's body, then – Forte growled. If he was in the squirt's body, then the only logical thing he could think of at the moment was that the little wimp was in his. "Damn it!" he cussed, slamming the back of his head against the wall. The very thought itself enraged him, but it was the only thing that made sense to him. Sort of. You better not do anything stupid, Rock! Wily and the other Robot Masters will notice if my aggressiveness suddenly falters, which means they'll take advantage of him…or me…er…ugh! Forte scratched the back of his neck in aggravation, expecting to find his hair tied into a ponytail, but remembered that Rock's hair was short. Come to think of it, Rock's family will notice something's up if I act like I normally do, and I can't let them know I'm not Rock until I know what the hell is going on. But how in all hell does he act around them…? Forte glanced around, trying to find something that would at least give him a small hint. He slipped off the bed and onto the floor – scratching his head slightly upon realizing just how short Rock actually was – and began rummaging through his desk drawers. Book, paper, doodles…god, nothing in here's worth my – "Huh? What's this?" Picking up a small book, he placed it on the desk and opened it immediately. He had seen something like this before. Where, he didn't remember, but he knew he had seen something like it. But what was it called? "…It's a…a…photo album…? Yeah, a photo album." He flipped through the pages, gazing at the photos. They weren't helping very much. In some photos, it looked like he got along well with everyone, and in others, it looked like he annoyed the hell out of everyone. Forte sighed. Guess I gotta take a guess at this. Now to find something to wear. Wandering over to a nearby dresser, he pulled one of the drawers open and stared. Rock had much more clothes than Forte himself did, and a larger variety of colors as well - not that he liked a lot of colors, though.

"Rock, you lucky bastard…," Forte muttered, pulling out a pair of blue jeans and a gray tee-shirt. "A bunch of clothes, a nice room, probably a damn nice house, why the hell would you fight if you live in a place like this?" Forte pulled off his shirt and tossed in on the bed, taking a quick glance in the mirror to ease his curiosity about just how Rock looked under his armor. "Holy -!" Forte poked at his chest slightly, then his arms and shoulders. "His armor sure doesn't lie! Nothing! He's got nothing on him! He's thin as hell!" He glared at his reflection. "How the hell does he keep defeating me?!"

Knock-knock.

Forte froze. Was someone knocking at the door, or had he just imagined it? Please don't let someone be there, please don't let someone be there, please don't -

Knock-knock.

Fuck! "Um…yeah?" Forte called, staring at the door's reflection in the mirror.

"Rock, are you all right? I heard you shout and thought something might be goin' down," someone replied. A deep voice – not very deep, but deep enough so that one could clearly tell whoever it was was male. He sounded young as well. Young, male, deep voice…

Blues. Forte narrowed his eyes. His first test. Time to see if I can pull this off… "I'm fine. I just stubbed my toe on the dresser."

"I could have sworn I heard you shout something along the lines of 'How the hell does he keep defeating me'."

Shit, shit, shit, SHIT! "Oh! That!" What do I say?! "I…I was reading one of my books out loud! You know, just to get the feel of the emotions and stuff."

Silence enveloped the two of them. Forte smirked, believing Blues had bought his story, until:

"You said you stubbed your toe."

"I did."

"But you just said you were reading a book."

Forte blinked. Crap! Damn it! He rubbed his forehead, clearly annoyed that he had cornered himself. "I stubbed my toe as soon as I finished the line."

"…Got cha. Anyway, hurry up and get ready."

"Huh? Why?"

"We're going to the mall today, remember? A whole family outing before I head off again. Good god, don't tell me your memory chip's acting up again." Blues' chuckle could be heard through the door.

Forte grinned. Seems like Rock gets picked on a tad at home, too. I'd give him some help, but why would I wanna do that? They'd suspect something, anyway. So, let's see, how'd he reply… "Hey! C'mon!" he shouted, attempting to sound hurt. "That wasn't nice, Blues!'

Blues' chuckle erupted into a loud laugh. "Just kidding, Rock! You know that! Seriously, though, hurry up. We'll be waiting for you downstairs."

"Right, kay." Forte listened to Blues' fading steps before chuckling to himself and returning to changing his clothes.

~ * - - - - - - - - - - * ~

Rock rubbed the tears away from his eyes with his fists, staring at the dirty floor. He still didn't understand what had happened and why he was in Fortes body. I hope dad and everyone don't freak out… He smiled weakly. His family; he missed them already. I wanna go home…, he thought, standing up slowly. A frown crossed his face when he caught his reflection. There was no possible way he'd be able to go home looking like Forte. He'd be attacked for sure. Maybe not by Forte, but defiantly by Blues, and he certainly wouldn't buy any story Rock would be able to come up with…

Collapsing onto the bed to think some more, he cringed, feeling the rock-hard springs dig into his belly. "Ow!" he shouted, immediately standing back up. "How does Forte sleep on that thing?" Rock rubbed his belly. "No wonder he's so grouchy, even his pajamas are uncomfy!" Lifting the tattered sweater over his head, he tossed it to the ground. "Poor guy; the room's horrible, the bed's hard as a rock, his pajamas are –

" – WOW."

Rock stared at the mirror, Forte's tan face showing Rock's surprised expression. He was never able to tell what Forte truly looked like beneath all his armor, but now that he was shirtless, it was as clear as day.

Forte was BUILT. And not in a mechanical sense.

Rock walked towards the mirror in a daze, touching his arm slightly. "My…uh…whoa…CRAZY!" Rock flexed a 'muscle', watching as it hardened, then continued to poke at it, staring at it in bewilderment. With a body like this, I wonder why he can't beat me! …Well, I guess it's the experience in battle that really counts, but still!

Tearing his eyes away from the mirror, Rock headed to the only dresser in the room and pulled it open, wincing when the wheels inside squeaked loudly. He looked at Gospel. "Has this thing ever been oiled?" Gospel cocked his head in reply. "Guess not." He returned to the drawer. "Maybe I'll ail it for him sometime." Peering inside, Rock was greeted by nothing but black. Black pants, black shirts, black boxers, black socks – black everything. He scratched his head. How unbelievably BORING. The clothing suited him, though.

He pulled out one of the shirts and looked at it. "…'Linkin Park'?" Rock read aloud. "I think I've heard of them before. Twentieth century band, right?" Gospel baked in agreement. "All right! At least I know a little bit about the stuff Forte's interested in!" Changing his clothes quickly, Rock checked out his reflection and smiled. "Looks good! Something's missing, though…" He thought for a moment. What was it? "Ah-ha! Ponytail!" Spotting a small black rubber band on the night stand, he pulled his purple hair back and tied it quickly and lazily, leaving his bangs hanging before his face like he had on Forte once before. "All better." He turned to Gospel. "Well, whaddya think?" Gospel nudged Rock's hand with his nose, gazing up at him with a somewhat friendly glint in his eyes despite who he truly was. Rock giggled, something that sounded quite bizarre coming from Forte himself. "I look good, eh? Great!" Rock rubbed Gospel's head softly. His smile fell slightly, however, when he realized what he now had to do: he had to go out into the hallways of the fortress and show himself. Forte may have been a loner, but Rock doubted he sat in his room all day. Of course, Rock didn't have a clue as to how Forte normally acted at home, but he would have to go out sooner or later. He sighed. Now to put on the best angry face I can. Gazing into the mirror once more, he tried his best to copy Forte's usual expression. He did quite well, although it didn't look exactly like it, but it was a bit uncomfortable nonetheless.

Taking a deep breath, Rock flung the door open and stepped out into the hall, slamming the door shut just as Gospel trotted out. He gazed at the few Robot Masters that walked past him, then began walking as well. Not used to his new height or the layout of the new fortress – especially in the living quarters – he bumped into something quite violently. "OW!" he shouted, rubbing at where his forehead came in contact with a large, low-hanging pipe. Looking up, he spotted a few Robot Masters staring at him, their eyebrows raised. He stared back, dazed, then remembered what was going on. "Uh…I mean…damn stupid fucking pipe!"