Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, or else you wouldn't be reading this... =1

A/N: This ISN'T a continuation from LAST CHAPTER! Although, last chapter's continuation has been fully plotted-out, I just wanted to jump around a little back and forth in time with this fic. It's a rather long fic, so let's break it up a bit. In THIS chapter, taking place some time after Claus became Commander, we go into an emotional figurative roller-coaster. Some of the things may not be true, and others could be foreshadowing. Others could be just possibilities, while others the actuality. Also, WARNING: some abuse involved.

Thank you very much for the reviews to last chapter! Sorry if I left it in a bit of a cliffhanger...

...

Day #07: "Whirlwind"
[Just exploring a series of "what if..?" scenarios between these two individuals and their circumstances...]

...

Out of a crowd of Idiots, someone else has to stand up to take the blame..
In this case, the person assigned as "responsible" for this group of pink-wearing buffoons was now a young red-haired boy, whom they called their "Commander"... And he's the one who stood now, in front of the King, in a firm stance befitting that of a soldier, and with a locked view of Porky's face that was completely detached of any human emotion.

On the contrary to this boy's lack of "feelings," however, the King at the other side of this room was completely filled with infuriating, blind rage.

Porky knew his monster was perfectly capable of getting things done the way he wanted. He knew it was the other morons that were to blame. He KNEW none of this was his chimera boy's fault! But here he is, shouting angry verbal abuse at the boy, as if trying to damage whatever was left of the boy's heart. He spat words that were like poisoning black gas being released from his mouth, and materializing into venomous arrows that later shot out to hit the numb-looking boy in the flesh, and make him bleed, like the way living tissue cries in pain.

Sweat trickled down from the unseen upper part of Porky's face down his chin to show how heated his head felt due to the flames engulfing his heart with anger: useless, temporary, agonizing anger. Because EVERYTHING must be its BEST to Master Porky! And if things didn't go that way, he would've ended up with cardiac arrest if he wasn't immortal! How IS it that even BRAINWASHED IDIOTS couldn't get his wishes RIGHT! His irrational mind could simply not figure it out!

But the other boy.. the red-haired one who looked back at Porky so indifferently, simply stood there. As if he were merely a pond of water that Porky was uselessly trying to slice out and cut. Nothing fazed the boy emotionally. He simply kept his eyes rolling from left to right as he watched Porky stomp here and there, kicking toys along the way, while blinking just a few times. He just silently watched Porky engulf himself in a burning fire.

And when stomping around was no longer working for Porky, he paused his steps and swiftly turned to look back at the other boy, his chest and back rising up and down in rapid successions, as he breathed heavily. And there was absolutely no response back. Only a pair of red eyes that intently looked back at him, examining his every move.

When people face this type of circumstance, where they're desperately looking for a target to release this drowning emotion called anger, they often do things they don't mean, and often target the wrong thing...

And in a series of fast-paced, blind motions, Porky makes his way to the boy and grabs him by the collar. The boy motions nothing as objection, and Porky uses whatever drops of brute strength he had in him to slam the boy to the ground as hard as he could manage. The boy spreads his arms out in an automatic movement to lessen the fall, and his helmet hits the floor. His breathing continues normally, and he calmly sits up, helmet loosening hold on his head. And Porky doesn't pause. Feeling the anger-fueled adrenaline running, he shapes his hands in fists, kneels to the ground to be at the same level as the red-hair, and summons all his irritation to hit the boy real hard.

As if he were some superhuman, the helmet forms a small crack, and completely flies off the boy's head as Porky's fist makes contact with it. It bounces on the floor somewhere far off into the room. But the red-hair's eyes still don't change toward his Master, despite this sudden violent behavior. Instead, he's like a doll feeling nothing.

This is nonsense. Porky doesn't like to get his own hands dirty..

In his blinding rage, he hits the boy again, this time the fist connects directly with the face, bending the boy's nose a little during the rapid motion of the strike. After the recoil from the punch, the boy calmly turns his face again to look at Porky, almost as if welcoming the next hit.

If Porky wants to damage somebody physically, he gets other lackeys to do it. Or some machine. Never directly.

And Porky's fist slams the boy's face again, this time, making him bleed through the nose. Inconvenient or useless, maybe. But this boy still bleeds like a normal human. And like normal, human blood, it splatters some into Porky's knuckles. And the boy, forever, remains emotionally intact.

There's no way Porky likes to stain himself with some other rodent's blood. It was self-depreciation.

Yet another intense blow makes contact with skin. The red-hair's face is being distorted due to the numerous blows now. Already purple marks were showing up. In a skin as pale as his, it was hard not to notice. And there was red blood flowing from the boy's nose, making a pause in the lips, and then continuing down the chin, dropping into the ground.

And besides, why on earth would he like to get his fists achy? Or anything that caused even minor physical pain to him, for that matter.

Like a broken record, fist slams face. Over and over. And every other sound seems to vanish away entirely except for their breaths. It's only their increasing pants, sweat from skin, and blood splattering down into the floor..

Porky stared back at it. At that red color. That red color found in his eyes that had made him think of blood for those split seconds. He shuddered, and then trailed back to reality, where he found himself, still standing some distance away from the chimera boy who just stood there, like an emotionless mannequin. And the boy's face was clean. A perfectly beautiful, un-bruised, and un-bleeding face. Only faint breaths heard.

And he sighted deeply. It had been a completely improper yet still possible scenario. But maybe one that wouldn't have occurred to him if it wasn't that this boy he was dealing with wasn't SO agonizingly unfazed by Anything!

Porky's thoughts ran at the speed of light, in vain search for an outlet, or solution, or answer. He'd love to be able to crack it open sometimes. Crack open the way to the red-hair's emotional state. He'd love to manipulate it like a toy car at the whim of simple buttons in control of a child. The toy car can speed up quickly, going forward, or backward, or drift around playfully and even perform a series of tricks under a careful handler.

Just like the sophisticated toy cars, Porky saw the remote control with all sorts of fancy buttons that he could masterfully manipulate in his hand-a way to control this red-eyed mannequin's emotions.

He would look at it deviously, and then push a red arrow on the left side of the control. Then he'd watch the other boy's eyes turn from completely numb-looking to ones filled with sorrow. As humanly as Porky could imagine it, the boy would start shaking his body a little in a state of emotional pain. He'd feel his heart heavy at the thought that he has disgraced his Master with his shameful acts. He'd feel as injured as a heart with multiple bullet holes that caused it to bleed and let go of its drops of life. He'd walk up to be right in front of Porky and then kneel to the ground shakily. And with tear-filled, pleading eyes, he'd beg his Master for forgiveness and apologize profusely. He'd pour down sweat and tears and speak in vivid language and gestures to emotionally state just how MISERABLE he felt for being so worthless and stupid to his Master. Then he would look at him straight in the eyes and swear to Mother Pork that his own soul and body were an offering for Porky to do whatever he wanted, because that was his wish and command.

True. Mere apologizes ultimately achieved nothing. But the begging part was totally worth it. Porky loved to watch that sort of thing. The Commander was nothing but a paw to him. And this pleading and begging that he was witnessing was direct proof that everything was under Porky's control as he wanted it. And whatever means he had made it work; it didn't matter whether it was some fancy control that brought out this situation.

But that so-called remote control didn't exist in his hands. And he wasn't watching the red-hair beg to him desperately, and maybe even cling to his legs or kiss his feet. Instead, Porky was just sitting in his chair still trying to think of a solution to his problem, while the Commander was listening to nothing, and suggesting nothing whatsoever in return..

It was a very frustrating situation the more he tried to analyze it. Porky raised his hands and covered his face in their palms so that he could only see darkness. Darkness instead of the agonizing sight of things not being his way. He massaged his forehead with fingers a bit, and swallowed hard, and he thinks he's starting to feel a minor ache right there in his skull.

And then the Commander finally spoke, in that cool voice of his.

"I'm sorry, Sir... But I have to leave."

And Porky trailed into a completely new direction entirely. When his hands let go off his face and he opened his eyes, he was still watching the darkness. It didn't look like he was in his room anymore. Rather, it was a completely dark and empty space. It was only him, the throne-like chair he sat on, and that red-eyed mannequin a few feet away staring back at him.

Porky looked around, placing his hands on the handles of the chair. He then noticed that he felt smaller than usual. He looked down at his hands and body to see that his form now looked like that of a younger child's. He was no longer wearing his pinstripes suit. Instead, it was a pair of blue overalls. And his hair was no longer white, but blond! It was just like old times (VERY very old times..)

And that emotionally unfazed, red-haired figure that watched him spoke those harsh words in a monotonous tone: "I have to leave.."

And suddenly, Porky started feeling this drowning emotion of engulfing darkness and solitude. He felt extremely uneasy to the point that it made his stomach churn. He flinched his eye a little and felt sweat dropping down to the side of his face. He then looked out to the boy, who began taking steps back to turn to leave.

Upon watching those movements, the air started to feel suffocating. And Porky got out from the now too big chair and stretched out his hand. He spoke in a quivering voice:

"What... do you mean you're... leaving..?" a young child's voice sobbed.

And the other boy, now with his back turned toward Porky, spat words that felt like icicles aimed at the heart: "There's absolutely NOTHING you can do about it. I'm LEAVING. You're on your OWN." And he began walking forward. Forward, and away from Porky, going into the distant darkness.

There's NOTHING I can do about it?. ...nothing..? Nothing...!

It was a blow straight to Porky's ego. Because he likes being in control. And that young, blond child took a few steps forward.

"You can't leave me...!" he said shakily. "You're going to leave ME alone..?" He gulped and raised his voice higher, "YOUR only Play partner!" He screamed in desperate hopes that the sentence would reach the other boy.

And the other boy stopped. Porky took a few steps closer, and he noticed the boy was no longer the Commander. Instead, it was that kid who wore a yellow shirt with green stripes, with orange shorts, and blue shoes.. it was that kid Porky had first seen at the plateau a while back, but shorter, and not covered in blood.

The boy turned around and made an expression that nearly made Porky completely blank-out and mouth foam out of shock: he smiled. Porky couldn't help but place a few fingers in his lips to keep them from opening. The expression just felt so out of place from what he was used to looking at.

But the words the boy spoke were anything but friendly.

"Oh, yeah..?" he raised an eyebrow and grinned. His eyes were no longer red, but emerald green. "Try to CATCH me, LOSER!" the boy stuck his tongue out briefly, and then swiftly turned again and began to run forward. Running forward into the darkness and further away from Porky, the "King."

Porky spat to the ground and shook his head, and then began running toward the other boy with his chubby short legs. The first steps he made were normal, befitting a boy his age and weight, but then they began to slow down, as if time were coming to a stop. The red-haired boy kept running at his normal pace, getting farther away from Porky. And Porky pushed his energy, but his pace was not increasing. It was slowing and slowing, as if trying to run in the water. Each step felt heavier, yet proceeding nowhere.

It felt incredibly suffocating the more he tried to advance. And in his desperate attempt to try to reach the boy who was escaping his life, Porky stretched his arm out as far as he could possibly imagine to make a grab for it. Because no one can escape him if he doesn't want them to. Even his fingers stretched and flinched as far as they could, and when he felt he got a hold on something-whatever it was, it was too dark to see-he summoned any strength he had left in him to jerk his hand back as hard as he could. Whatever was escaping him, he wasn't going to let go off-!

And his hand took a grip on the Commander's jacket, and Porky's head slammed against his shoulder.

"..."

They were back into the room again. None of it had happened, whatever delusions were showing up in younger bodies... Instead, the red-hair was still standing there like the doll he was. But Porky's forehead remained pressed against his shoulder after the impact.

And they just stood there in silence. Porky came to his senses, opened his eyes and realized it wasn't a yellow shirt with green stripes he was holding, but that black jacket that used to be his...

He moved his head up to rest his chin on top of the boy's shoulder and sighted. His right hand let go off the jacket, moved to the boy's back, and lowered down to reach his waist, and then press it against his own gently. And his other hand reached out to grab the boy's left, normal hand, and intertwine his fingers with his own. And their bodies started to move slowly in a rocking motion, and the lights around them seemed to dim down to fit the mood..

Nope. That wasn't happening either. Porky blinked and then pushed the other boy using only half his strength (mostly out of laziness), quickly retrieved back a few steps, and turns around to have his back face the boy.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, STOOooooooPID illusions kept infiltrating his head, and he was very perplexed. He gently pressed one fist against his noggin and wondered why on earth did he kept having these images so vividly. It was stupid. That red-eyed boy was nothing but a useful tool to him. To upgrade his present status was completely out of the question. Nothing needed to be any closer to Porky. Nothing at all in any way, shape, or form.

Faint bolts of anger began rising up again, and Porky shouted one more time to the boy to tell him he had to get THE FUDGE out of his room..

Yeah, he told him to leave, although he isn't entirely sure he wants him to. This still doesn't solve those idiot pigmasks' mistake, still doesn't offer Porky a solution for their detrimental error, and it STILL doesn't makes him feel in any way better than before that numb-looking chimera stepped into the room.

But he doesn't know any better at this point. So he tells him to shut up and leave.

And the boy opens his mouth to say something... a suggestion, perhaps, or some sort of 'comforting' word, or maybe even an objection... But nothing comes out. He says nothing, Porky saw nothing, and he closes his lips again, and takes two silent steps back to turn around.

Faint, monotonous footsteps are heard leaving the room, the door creaks open a little, then closes softly, causing as little noise as possible.

And Porky's left all alone again. Alone, like when he wakes up and goes to sleep. Alone like when people are born and die. Alone, like shown in the multiple photographs he's taken that consists of only him and various inanimate objects.

ALONE.

He breathes normally, calms his thoughts, and decides to call it a day. He'll take care of it tomorrow-no, it'll take care of itself tomorrow. He drags his feet toward his bed and comes to a stop right in front of it.

He'd like to abruptly drop his weight down in, like in any normal, draining, and frustrating situation like this. But he pauses, and spots that stupid robot figure laying around his pillows among a few other toys.

"..."

WHY was it that this damn robot figure was ALWAYS so easy to find at times like this? It just always stuck out from everything else in his room. The same LAME robot figure that he finds himself staring at and makes him think of that boy again...

"..."

With a slight irritation, Porky steps back, and decides to sit down on the ground instead. He grabs a couple of nearby remote controllers laying in the floor. One of them brings out one of the giant monitors stashed in his room upon pressing some buttons. The screen lights up and begins playing the introduction to a zombie-shooting game, and with the other control, Porky starts the game and goes into a dead-zombie shooting spree. Just drowning away troubles, because the truth is that they don't actually exist. This is how a kid gets things done.

Bah! World Domination should take care of itself.

Fin...

A/N: ...Well, well, well... so what did you readers think of this one? I'd love to hear about it! Was it predictable? Unexpected? Boring? Humorous? Strange?
Also, if you spot any major mistakes, I'd appreciate it if you pointed it out too. Thank you very much!