This is "Fine" (Mother 3)

[2BorNotTooBe_2AForever]

Once upon a time, there was a boy who loved to play with dragos.

His name is XXXXX.

His favorite food is XXXXXXX.

His favorite thing is XXXX.

He lived with his parents, brother, and their dog. They lived in a village in the middle of nowhere. He was a rambunctious scamp that wore his heart on his sleeve. He loved to play as normal boys do, he would run in the fields, adventure in the woods, swim in rivers and fight. His brother follows him wherever he goes, his Dad sighs at his antics and his Mom dotes on him whenever she can. It was a quiet life, but a happy one.

"Wah-ha-ha! Your ram attacks won't work on me!" The boy laughs at his brother, hiding his stumble.

They were in a plateau, a place where the dragos nest. Huge dinosaurs that towered over men, yet despite their size were gentle giants that wouldn't hurt a fly, except when it comes to their calves. He was roughhousing, teaching his brother the ramming technique. Mostly towards the dragos.

His brother wasn't deterred and rammed into him again receiving the same reaction. That almost got the boy, he barely slipped, he wondered if his brother would do it again then his worries were not when he rammed into their grandpa.

The old man laughs too. Frustrated, his brother tackles into the drago and despite its size and strength the giant lizard goes down, maybe a little too dramatically but the boy didn't care, his brother didn't seem to notice.

His brother tackled the drago again. The giant lizard took an exaggerated twirl before crashing onto its back. That was a little too on the nose, the boy thought.

His brother stepped back, clearing space for another charge, when—

"Hey! Move out of the way!"

Everyone turned. The speaker was a cockroach—no, more specifically, a mole cricket.

The bug scurried forward, hopping aggressively to face the fallen drago. The dinosaur lowered defensively, shifting to shield its calf.

"Make way for me! The Great Mole Cricket can't sit idly by while someone is play-fighting on my turf!" the bug yelled, shaking a tiny fist.

The boy, his brother, and their grandpa stared, utterly dumbfounded.

"I'm gonna wipe the floor with all of you!" The creature launched itself at the boy.

"Ahh!" the boy yelled as the small thing smacked his cheek. Despite its size, it packed a punch.

"XXXXX!" his brother yelped, swatting the mole cricket from the air. It cried out as it hit the dirt.

"What is that!?" the boy shouted, pointing. "I didn't know they could talk! I thought only frogs could do that!?"

"I can do more than just talk!" the bug shrieked, already gathering itself for another jump. Before it could, the boy stomped on it. Once, twice, three times, then five more for good measure.

"XXXXX…" his brother whined, pouting.

"What? It's just a bug."

"You-augh…. You think that's enough to stop me!" the tiny cricket hissed, its body quivering as it reformed from a mushy pulp. "I am the great and terrible Mole Cricket! Yes, my name is Mole L. Cricket! I am so powerful they named my entire species after me!"

"Really?" His brother lifted a skeptical brow.

"That is what I choose to believe! So it must be true!"

The boy sighed in exasperation.

"You can't defeat me! Nukes can't defeat me! And soon the entire world—as in world I mean this one plateau—will see it! Ha! Even those in the Mole Cricket stadium will see it! And soon the whole Bug Olympics will!"

"Huh. I've never met a cricket with so much hot air before…" Their grandpa muttered, crossing his arms.

"I heard that, old man!" the cricket screeched, pointing a trembling leg. "You're next!"

The bug pounced and the boy smacked it out of the air, sending it ricocheting off a rock before it flopped into the dirt.

Hope it stays down this time, he thought.

It did not. The cricket channeled all its dreams, its hopes, its beliefs. To be precise, it didn't believe in itself, but in the ego that believed in it—a complete narcissist that had successfully gaslit itself into power. But hey, if it works, it works.

"You... will... NEVER WIN!" the cricket screamed, tapping into a newfound power deep within. It channeled its strength, filling its limbs with psychic might. Its tiny hands glowed with a brilliant, dangerous light as it took aim.

"FACE MY WRATH! PK—"

The boy stomped on it. Then his brother joined in. Then their grandpa. Over and over and over, until the spot where it stood was nothing but a shallow hole in the ground.

"Uuuggghh..." the bug moaned from the crater. "I can still—"

*THUMP*

The drago, finally had enough, slammed its heavy foot down, then walked away with its calf, utterly unbothered.

"Ahhhhh. Uncle... Uncle..." the bug whimpered, slowly peeling itself out of the huge paw print. Its body was completely flattened, its limbs dragging through the dirt. "Mercy... Please..."

The boy glared. His brother frowned.

The bug began a pathetic, hobbled retreat, its injured body too broken to scurry.

"I see now the error of my ways," it croaked. "You two have spine after all. I'd like to train you personally sometime. Next time we meet... bro."

"Not counting on it," the boy huffed.

"I see then..." It was already halfway to the grass. Then, surprisingly, it snapped upright, suddenly full of energy. "UNTIL NEXT TIME, SUCKERS! HAHAHA-HAHAHA-HAHA—"

*SQUASH*

Their Mom walked slowly towards them, looking down at her sandal.

"I think I stepped on a cockroach," she said with a mild frown. "Hope it's all right..."

The boys and their grandpa said nothing.

"Lunch is ready everyone." She smiles, and the boy's heart flutters. "I've made your favorite. XXXXXXX."

"Ooh! Lunch, lunch! XXXXXXX!" The boy yelled as he ran back to the house with his brother in tow.

The meal was a hearty one. The boy was quick to get seconds, while his brother was still finishing his first plate. He'd always been a big eater, a trait inherited from his Dad. In truth, the boy took after his Dad in many ways, but this didn't translate to favoritism—if anything, the opposite was true. While many assumed his little brother was closer to Mom, in the boy's eyes it was different. He loved his Dad deeply, but nine times out of ten, he would choose his Mom. After all, parents aren't allowed to have favorites, but children play by a different set of rules.

"Slow down, XXXXX, save some for the rest of us," his grandpa cheered, raising his cup of joe.

"Really, Dad? I thought you were cutting back on the caffeine?" His Mom furrowed her brow, making a face the boy knew all too well.

"Ahhh, I'm not that old! Besides, you've got to live a little," Grandpa winked.

"Done," his brother announced with a burp, already reaching for another helping.

"XXXXX, pass the XXXXXXX. And don't take too much… Honestly," his mom said, shaking her head.

"Liven up!" Grandpa playfully nudged her shoulder. "They're growing boys!"

"It's the growing part that bothers me. They can't eat XXXXXXX every day; it'll stunt their growth... They need more greens in their diet."

A shared dread passed between the boy and his brother, and despite their efforts to hide it, their faces gave them away.

"Then why do you keep making them?"

His mom sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I just can't say no to those eyes… Hmmm. Alright, starting tomorrow once we get home, it's greens for a week." She pumped her fist.

"Mom!" the boy yelled, his mouth still full.

"I'm putting my foot down. I'm no hypocrite—your Dad and I will do it, too! We have to set a good example for you kids."

Their grandpa snickered, perhaps relieved he was exempt. It's going to take a lot of whining to change her mind, the boy thought, already planning the pleas and pouts he would deploy. The adults continued talking, their voices slowly blending into the background.

The boy grumbled, pushing his food around his plate. He watched his brother, who was still chewing happily, without a care in the world.

"Do we have to go back today?" the boy muttered.

His mom's head snapped up. "What?... Don't you miss Dad?"

"I do… but… I wasn't done playing with the drago's."

"You played with them yesterday," she countered.

"I didn't even get to ride one! It's that stupid mole cricket's fault!" He banged the table, making his brother jump.

"We don't use that word in anger," his mom said sharply.

"But there's nothing to do at home."

"What about your friends?"

The boy looked away, whispering offhandedly to his brother, "Drago's are way cooler."

His Mom opened her mouth to reply, but Grandpa cut in. "Haha! Well said! That's why I live up here. What's the harm in one more day?"

"Dad…" she hummed, a warning in her voice.

"The roads are safe. You could leave anytime; the worst you'd face is a cranky mole cricket." He nudged his brother's chair. "I bet even you could make the trip alone."

"Dad!"

His brother blushed, but the boy seized the opportunity. "Can we, Mom? Please?" he begged, clasping his hands together.

His mom fixed him with a serious look, and he immediately backed down, slumping in his chair.

"We're leaving as soon as this meal is over. We need to get home before dark." She folded her hands on the table, her tone leaving no room for argument. The boy knew this mood well; he couldn't convince her when she was like this.

She stood and walked outside. The boy knew he had pushed his luck—one more misstep and he'd be grounded for sure. Still, some things in this world were worth the risk. When no one was looking, he slipped an extra XXXXXXX into his pocket.

If they're going back home today, he wants at least one final hurrah. He's sure his Mom would appreciate it.

 

[2BorNotTooBe_2AForever]

Once upon a time, a corpse was brought back to life.

The corpse's name was?…

Its favorite food was?…

Its favorite thing was…

Wah-what?

The corpse awoke in a cold place—metal, metal everywhere. People surrounded it, studying, whispering, their faces masks of curiosity and fear. They recoiled when its eyes opened.

What's going on?... Where am I?

It tried to move, but the restraints bit into its flesh. The air was thick with the hum of machines and muffled voices. Then came the shouting.

It didn't understand—until...

"RRAAAAHHH!"

Its first words were screams. Thousands of volts surged through its body, searing every nerve, setting every cell ablaze. Pain consumed it—endless, eternal—until, all at once, it stopped.

The corpse whimpered and wept.

"Again," said one of the scientists.

"RUUURAAAHHH!" Its eyes bulged, its throat tore itself raw, and still the lightning burned.

"Again."

"Mmm…aahhh…" It could barely make a sound now.

"Again. Again. Again. Again~"

Stop! Please… make it stop! The corpse cried, though no words escaped.

Its vision flickered—one moment, the sterile lab; the next, a field of sunflowers. On and off, life and death, the corpse drifted between worlds, clinging to both and belonging to neither.

"We need more stress. Raise the voltage."

A new pain, sharper than anything before, tore through it. The lightning touched its heart, danced in its brain, split its spine apart one vertebra at a time.

Please stop! I'll do anything!

"It's almost there. Just a little more," the scientist barked.

Please… the corpse begged, voice lost beneath the hum of the machines.

"In three… two… one."

"WWRRRAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

Its mind went white. Then the world followed.

A blinding light devoured the lab. Metal screamed as walls buckled and equipment flew like shrapnel. The scientists were no more—only blackened silhouettes etched into the floor, their shadows the last proof they'd ever lived.

The corpse hovered in the air for a moment before collapsing onto the floor. Its naked body was riddled with snapped wires that clung to its skin like veins of metal. One, longer than the rest, trailed from the base of its skull, twitching faintly.

For a long while, it didn't move. Then its body began to tremble—small, pitiful spasms that grew into motion. It crawled toward the wall, dragging itself inch by inch, and tried to stand using its only arm.

It was cold, and everything hurt. The corpse pressed itself against the wall and cried. It didn't understand—couldn't. It wanted to believe this was a dream, a nightmare it could still wake from. It wanted to go home. It shouldn't be here.

The doors burst open. Two pig-headed men in steel armor stormed in, guns raised. Their eyes were dark and inhuman.

They shouted something, but the corpse couldn't hear—the world was still ringing.

A gun went off. The shot cracked inches from its face, and the corpse dropped to the ground, trembling. The soldiers closed in.

"G–get… get a-away from me!" it stammered, hiccupping through its fear.

One of them seized its arm and nearly tore it from its socket. The corpse howled.

"Get away! Don't… Don't touch me!"

A pulse of unseen force exploded outward. The pig men were hurled into the walls like ragdolls, metal shrieking as they hit. Energy surged around the corpse, warping the air itself.

The soldiers opened fire. Bullets sparked and ricocheted through the lab, flashing like fireflies. The corpse was terrified—it had never seen weapons like these before.

A bullet struck just beneath its ribs. The pain was white-hot.

"Stop! Stop!" it shouted, pointing instinctively.

The pig men ignited. They didn't even have time to scream before they turned to ash.

Silence fell.

The corpse trembled, clutching its wound. Tears streamed down its face as it slid down the wall, sobbing in the flickering light of the ruined lab.

The corpse prayed to God it couldn't be true. But this pain, it felt so real, it wasn't a dream. It forced itself up, muttering nonsense. Using the wall to anchor itself to the door. It needed to get away, it needed to go home. To go back to its family.

Where are they?

It desperately looks around, nothing is familiar. It shoved the door open and stumbled into the hallway.

Red lights pulsed overhead, casting everything in a hellish glow. Sirens blared through the dark, each one hammering its fragile mind. The facility was alive with chaos, and every sound made the corpse flinch.

It ran. It didn't know where—it just needed to escape.

It could hear more voices in the distance.

"This way!" a pig man's voice echoed down the hallway. The corpse flinched, instinct overriding thought, and bolted into the shadows. Footsteps multiplied behind it—dozens of them, closing in fast.

It pressed itself against the wall, trying to disappear into the dark, but it knew it couldn't hide for long. At the next intersection, it waited. One… two… three pig men passed—then it ran the other way.

The only sound was the slap of its bare feet against the cold floor. The entire base was sterile—grey walls, grey floors, grey air. The lights ran in pale strips along the walls, leaving the ground in half-darkness. It made seeing both easier and harder.

The corpse didn't know where it was going. It didn't even know where it was. All it knew was fear.

It reached a clearing and hesitated, glancing both ways before stepping out of the shadows.

"There it is!" a pig man shouted from the end of the hall, his voice echoing through the corridor.

The corpse bolted. Footsteps thundered behind it—more and more with every second. It ran as fast as it could, but it was still a child. There was no hope of outrunning trained men.

One of them caught it by the head and slammed it to the ground. The impact knocked the breath from its lungs. It thrashed and kicked, flailing its one arm, but they seized it by the wrist and pinned it down.

"Please! I wanna go home!" it cried, tears spilling down its face.

The pig men didn't listen. They dragged it across the floor, back toward the lab—the lightning—the pain. It knew where this was going.

"No! No, no, please!" it sobbed.

They didn't waver.

"Please! I don't want to die!"

Still, they didn't stop.

"I don't wanna die!" The words came out as a shriek. "I don't wanna—I don't wanna… Die… die… DIE!"

Flames erupted from its body, consuming the hallway in a roar of heat and light. The pig men screamed like the animals they resembled, their voices cut short as they burned.

When it was over, only ash remained.

The corpse staggered back, slipping on the ash and collapsing to the floor. The stench hit immediately—burned flesh. It gagged, retching until it felt like fire was clawing up its throat.

It cried harder this time. It cried for its family.

Footsteps rumbled through the floor—more of them coming.

It forced itself upright and ran. Tears blurred its vision, but it didn't matter; it didn't know where it was going. The cold bit into its skin, every movement a fresh wound, but fear kept it moving.

The pig men found it again.

"Use lethal force!" "But it's just a kid?!" "That kid killed five of our men!"

This time, they didn't hesitate and fired.

Instinct took over. The corpse raised its hand, and the bullets froze midair.

"It has PSI!" one of them shouted. "Alert command! Get the PSI blockers!"

"Die," the corpse whispered.

A ball of fire erupted from its finger. As it flew, it grew—a serpent of flame that coiled through the air and tore through the soldiers. In seconds, they were nothing but molten corpses.

"Die." Another troop vanished.

"Die." A squad exploded.

"Die." Electricity arced, bodies convulsing until they fell silent.

"Die. Die. Die! DIE! DIE!!"

Everywhere it went, the corpse brought death. The soldiers stopped advancing, too terrified to face it—but that didn't save them. It killed them anyway.

Bodies marked its path—those were the lucky ones.

But it wasn't invincible. Stray bullets tore into its shoulder, its knee, grazing its head. Blood flowed freely. Each step was agony, each breath a sob.

It was delirious now. Every shadow was an enemy. Every sound, a threat. It killed on instinct, driven purely by fear and hate.

Still, it ran.

Its vision flickered between worlds—one moment a corridor drenched in blood-red light, the next a sunlit field of flowers. The other world was warm, safe. Someone was there—someone familiar. It reached out, chasing the hem of her skirt—

Then it stumbled. The world snapped back into darkness. A loud metallic thud echoed behind it, the sound of a door closing.

The corpse froze, confused—then a blinding light filled its vision. It raised its only arm to shield its eyes.

When its sight returned, it found itself surrounded. Hundreds of pig men, all armed to the teeth, formed a ring around it. Tanks lined the perimeter. Cannons and snipers aimed from every direction.

The corpse didn't hesitate.

It raised its trembling hand and pointed. "Die…"

Nothing happened.

"Die. Die. DIE! DIE!" it screamed, voice breaking, but the world stayed still. The light burned against its face, mocking it.

"Nwehehehehe…" A new voice rose above the chaos. The pig men parted as a figure marched forward, his steps slow. In the glare, he was only a silhouette. The only thing the corpse could make out was the head dress and mustache.

"This is the devil you're all so afraid of?" His tone was sharp with contempt. "You woke me up for this? A child?"

"But, sir!" a white pig man stammered.

"What a waste of time." The man's snarl was almost a growl. "You couldn't even handle a brat."

He snapped his fingers. Several soldiers moved forward at once, their armor clanking in unison.

"But still… I'd like to see this demon." The strange man chuckled darkly. "Shut off the PSI blockers."

"Ah—but sir—" the white pig man protested.

"Just do it!" The man barked, his voice whiplashing.

It took a second then the spot lights turned off, and the room was bathed in dark red. Seven pig men in black armor marched, they readied their rifles before firing. The corpse held its arm and the energy around it pulsed, freezing the laser's mid-flight.

"OOooohh!" the strange man yelped with delight.

The soldiers didn't hesitate, surging forward.

"Die." The corpse pointed at the nearest one. A torrent of fire erupted, engulfing the soldier and burning him to ash in an instant.

"Interesting…" the man breathed, his voice dripping with glee.

"Die." A stream of lightning arced from the corpse's finger, chaining between the pig-men. They convulsed, their guttural gasps cut short as they collapsed, twitching, to the floor.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! We've got a savant here!"

"Die." The corpse snapped its fingers. The nearest soldier was wrenched into the air, his limbs twisting like wrung rope. His squeal was the most piercing yet, a sound of pure, animal terror. It ended only when his armor cracked and his helmet shattered. The corpse let go, and the body fell to the ground with a wet, crimson splash.

For the first time, the corpse saw what lay behind the broken mask. Not a monster. Not a pig. A man. A terrified man, now a dead man.

Something inside the corpse went cold. It had only ever seen the masks; it never imagined they were human. After all, how could a human…

A wave of nausea rose in its throat. It wanted to vomit.

"Good job, kid," the strange man bobbed, strutting closer. "I haven't seen talent like that in eons."

"How did… Why… Why would you…" the corpse muttered, swallowing back the bile.

"You know, I never put much stock in this…" The man twirled his hand dismissively. "…Project. Zombies always get out of hand and are weak as dirt. But you… you're special. I can see it." His lips curled into a sneer.

The corpse didn't respond, using all its strength just to keep from crying.

"A real devil, that's what we need." He thrust out his hand. "Come. I'll get you someplace warm, and a nice meal. Does that sound good?" His smile was a predator's promise.

"Warm?" The corpse shivered, hugging itself.

The man nodded, his outstretched hand unwavering.

"And… will I… will I go home?"

Another nod, quicker this time. "Of course."

Every instinct screamed at the corpse to refuse, to run, to get as far from this man as possible. But the promise of warmth, of home, was a siren's call. With a trembling hand, it reached out and took his.

"Best decision you've ever made, boy. We are going to do great–"

The corpse looked him dead in the eye and the man flinched.

"Die." The corpse said.

Their clasped hands flared with a searing, violent blue. The air hummed, charged with psychic might.

"That light!" The man shrieked, his eyes wide with fear.

The energy built to a crescendo—a promise of absolute obliteration—and then…

Nothing.

The spotlights were back on the corpse. The power didn't fade; it was severed, vanishing as if it had never been there. In the sudden, deafening silence, the man stared at their still-joined hands. A slow, venomous frown spread across his face. He wrenched his hand back and drove his boot into the corpse's chest, sending it sprawling onto the cold floor.

"Tch. Tch. Tch. Never make deals with the devil." He spat on the ground, wiping his hand on his pants as if cleaning off something foul.

The corpse thrusted a trembling hand toward the man, its mind screaming for fire or lightning. But nothing answered. Only a hollow ache where the power had been.

The man didn't even flinch. "Aim for the legs," he called over his shoulder.

*BANG* *BANG*

Two gunshots shattered the corpse's legs. A raw, agonized scream tore from its throat as it collapsed.

"AArrrhhh! Die! Die! Die!" it shrieked, pointing a trembling arm, each cry growing weaker and more pathetic than the last. Hot tears streamed down its face, mingling with ragged sobs. It could do nothing but scrape itself backward, a pathetic crawl under the harsh, revealing spotlights that hid nothing of its shame.

"Nwehehehehe…" the man's malicious laugh cut through the air. "Is it going to cry for mommy?"

As the corpse struggled, its hand brushed against cold, hard metal—one of the fallen pig-men's rifles. It fumbled, never having held one before, but it had seen the others use it. With a surge of desperate strength, it hauled the weapon up, the barrel wobbling violently in its trembling grip.

The man's laughter ceased. "You don't even know how to use that," he sneered.

The corpse narrowed its eyes, and pulled the trigger.

A laser shot point-blank toward the man's chest. He didn't dodge. With a contemptuous flick of his wrist, he swatted the bolt aside, a shimmering hexagon of energy flaring briefly around his hand. The laser slammed harmlessly into the wall.

"Really?" The man's voice was dripping with scorn. "Did you think you were the only one who's special? What you did was cheap parlor tricks." He pointed a single finger at the far wall. A torrent of raw lightning erupted from it, vaporizing the reinforced door and blasting a molten hole straight through to the other side.

"And that," he said, "was baby steps. You can't even fire—"

"FIRE!" a panicked pig-man screamed, triggering its own heavy cannon.

The blast caught the corpse, flinging it like a rag doll against the wall with a sickening crunch.

"IDIOTS!" The man roared, whirling on his own soldiers. "We need it alive!"

Alive?...

The corpse fumbled, its hand clutching the rifle.

Alive… they need me…

It thinks back to the sunflower fields, the warmth, it yearns to be there instead of this cold hell.

The corpse cocks its gun and turns it around.

The man's eyes widened. "Wait, don't–"

The corpse pointed the barrel to its eye and pulled the trigger.

"XXXXX, stop!"

*BANG*

There was a noise and the corpse was no more, it didn't see the sunflowers.

 

[2BorNotTooBe_2AForever]

Once upon a time, there was a commander who led an army.

He was… the Commander.

He eats nothing.

He likes nothing.

The Commander's gaze hardened on the vines. Fire blossomed at his command, lightning raced from his sword, with his free hand he summoned a blizzard. He sustained the triple assault for minutes. But as the chaos subsided the vines lay untouched. He scanned them with his mechanical eye, searching for a weakness, a fissure, anything. There was nothing. It was uninjured down to the microscopic level.

That shouldn't be possible.

The Commander sends in the clay man, he orders it to tear apart the vines. He watches as it pulls and pulls but nothing is budging.

From his pocket he throws a bomb and it explodes the vines with the clayman in tow. When the dust was settled the clayman was no more but the vines were untouched.

He goes up to inspect it, he tries to cut it with his sword but the vines were as hard as steel, not ordinary steel, it would have been easier if it was. This is going nowhere. If he doesn't get results soon his master will surely punish him again.

He hears commotion behind him, he turns to see his troops fighting the interlopers. The boy, a man, a girl and strangely a dog. He watches them dismantle his troops one by one. The interlopers are strong, these were his best recruits and they were dropping like flies. Then the last one, the Colonel, drops to the grass, he knows he has to intervene. His soldiers scamper away, crawling on all fours like scared rats, he would need to reprimand them on their behavior later.

The boy, the blonde interloper, steps forward, his soldiers part away from him. This is the one, the one who pulled the needles, the thorn in his master's plans.

As the blonde steps forwards something pulses in the Commander's body. It was a strange feeling, his body felt hot and sweat dripped from his head. Why does looking at this boy make him feel this way? It's distracting…

He adjusts his helmet then pulls out his sword, his first thought is to burn him, out of all the moves his fire was his strongest; he could easily reduce this child to cinders and finally end the threat to his master. Yet…

It didn't feel right. He swings his sword and lightning strikes the boy. The Commander watches in shock as the lightning is absorbed by the boys badge.

Wait!–

The lightning is redirected to the Commander and he screams. This pain, it was all too familiar. His body was malfunctioning, the lightning is conducting through his internals, disturbing his metal parts.

"Eerraaah!" The Commander screams as he clutches his chest. The lightning forcing him to take a knee.

The boy was visibly shocked by that, taking a step back.

The lightning was still in his system, concentrating right where his heart should be, the core of the Devil's Machine. He could feel it unnaturally pulse, sending tendrils through his muscles, crawling under his skin. The pain, he thought he would get used to this, but it was like an animal moving in his chest.

"Ya-uh You..." The Commander coughed. He could slowly feel it, though painful, the Devil's Machine was adapting to the lightning, slowly expelling it from his body. After the last of the sparks died, the Commander got up and raised his sword. That will not happen again.

Interlopers, I will stop you here!

The Commander jumps slashing at the boy. His sword was stopped midway by a hexagon of light, it was that other one, the girl with the pink hair. He tries to force his way through before he is knocked away by a rocket.

What the–Did that dog just throw a pencil at me!?

The Commander lands on the grass ready to jump. Then the man and the girl attacked, she fired a blue beam weakening him, while the man wore a mask that made him hesitate his strike.

The boy unleashed a wave and all his comrades glowed blue. Of course, assist PSI, they are trying to weaken him while increasing their own strength.

The Commander aimed his arm cannon and fired. He was going for the girl but the boy jumped in the way, guarding her.

The girl screamed his name and the Commander took his chance. He ran, prepared to slash at the boy and end this once and for all. Then the dog came out of nowhere and bit his sword hand.

Mutt!

He kicked the dog off and fired his cannon again but the boy and girl were quick to put up a shield.

The man responded by throwing a bomb at the Commander, he slashed it mid-air and the bomb exploded. It threw the Commander back, he backflipped, stopping the momentum.

The girl used PSI and a wave of frost covered the Commander's left half. His sword arm was compromised, the Devil's Machine was already working to neutralize it.

That's when the boy started channeling, red winds rose around his allies. He's preparing an attack. The Commander responded with an attack of his own. Both the boy's and the Commander's hand glowed blue.

"PK XXXX!" "PK Love!" They both said and the world was engulfed by blue light. The force was so strong all of them were blown away, his men, the interlopers. The attack threw the Commander at the vines, but not even this was enough to scratch them.

Na-No…

He collapsed to the grass, he could feel the Devil's Machine writhing within him.

I… I can't lose…

The pain, the Devil's Machine, he pushed it all back with his will. He clenches his teeth.

Not when I'm so close…

He props himself up with his sword. His body trembled as he did. He looks up and the boy… The boy was looking at him. His eyes were…

Don't look at me with those eyes.

The Commander straightened up and leveled his sword.

I'm your enemy!

He goes into a stance and speeds to the boy. There was already a helix shield surrounding the child, the Commander pores his energy into his sword and kills the shield. He thrust his blade, cutting the boy between the ribs. He slashes his sword outward, flinging blood from his blade. This is it, one more strike and he's finished.

He goes for the neck then a bolt of lightning knocks him away. The Commander convulses on the grass, the Devil's Machine working over time to clear it out.

"You pig!" The girl screams.

The Commander could barely respond. The man and the dog attended to the boy while the girl faced him alone. Damn, why is it always lightning.

"PK Freeze! PK Thunder! PK Fire!" The girl unleashed the elements against him, the Commander screamed as it did. The Devil's Machine, it's overloading, he could feel his body heat up.

"PK Fissure!" The ground beneath him shudders and spikes of Earth pierce his body.

"RRaaahhh!" The Commander cries, his body immobilized, stuck between the shards.

The girl used too much psychic energy, collapsing on the ground.

"Kumatora!" The man yells, rushing towards her.

He could feel the spikes in his organs, they were overflowing with blood. But the Devil's Machine, it won't let him die, he could feel it worming around the spikes, breaking them off and sealing the wounds. It was healing and it was painful. The Commander had to bite his cheeks to focus himself, he can't go unconscious here.

It was hard but he slowly breaks free. The earthen spikes were strong but brittle against his sword. He looks ahead, his enemy is down but they won't be for long. He jumps out of the shards and heads straight for the girl. The man blocks him but he was expecting that, what he wasn't expecting was how.

A shoe. The Commander wanted to laugh.

His sword easily deflects it off the man's hand, how it didn't cut in half he had no clue, but that didn't matter. Without a weapon he cuts the man down.

"Duster!" The girl yells.

Your next.

The girl tried to punch him, but with his mechanical eye, he paths her trajectory in real time. He dodges her strike going under, slashing her chest.

"UGh!" She grunts, going for another punch.

Easy.

This girl's fighting style was already recorded in their cameras, it was simple to counter using the data. His eye guides him, she goes for the left hook, the Commander already anticipated that. He dodges, she strikes, she kicks, he jumps. Slice, slice, slice. It took a second for the damage to accumulate. A slice to her shoulder, her knees, her cheeks. She's on the defensive, every move she did was countered with pin point accuracy.

Her eyes widened, she knows it now.

The Commander aims his arm cannon, facing the girl point blank to the face.

He fires and it misses. At the last second his leg was pulled, changing the trajectory. The man was on the ground, holding on to his foot.

You–Oof!

The girl punches him in the ribs and knees his jaw. A bit of spit escapes his mouth as the girl punches his cheeks, she may have knocked a tooth loose. It sends the Commander flying, he bounces head first on the grass. It's a good thing he wore a helmet, even if the thing is a specialized collar.

The boy was back with them, he flicked his finger upward and green energy popped around the interlopers. Their wounds healed, all that hard work gone.

The Commander grits his teeth and looks around for his soldiers, his eyes urging them to help; but they were busy cowering at the edges, they refused to meet his gaze.

Useless!

He would see them all demoted after this.

He stood up and leveled his sword, pointing it at the boy. He won't mess up this time, he will go for his strongest attack. A great ball of fire gathered at the tip of his sword growing bigger and bigger, he lifted the blade and the ball turned into a miniature sun.

"PK Blaze!" He swings the blade downward and the sun shoots at the group.

The boy steps forward with his stick, he jumps to the sun and wacks it. The Commander expected him to turn to ash but the boy held, he stopped the sun with his stick. The boy grunted against it, his face sweating wildly. The boy glowed and the sun moved.

Impossible!

The Commander sprang into action; he had to stop this at all costs. But before he could move, the man shot metal staples into his feet, pinning him in place.

What!?

The Commander tried to pry it off but it was too late. The boy was looking at him, the sun, it was on his stick. He could knock it this way and the Commander could do nothing about it. The Commander panicked, he didn't know any assist PSI, he was done for.

He looked at the boy, the boy looked back. They stared at each other for what felt like eons. The Commander's lips were trembling, his body was shivering, what's going on?

The boy sighed and closed his eyes. He took the sun and wacked it skywards. The ball of flame exploded, it was so powerful it pushed the wind and blocked out the sun. The explosion lasted for minutes before vanishing like mist, by the end there was a clear sky.

The Commander huffed, his panic was slowly dying down.

He gritted his teeth and broke the staples off his foot. He jumped back trying to make some space. The Commander scanned his opponents, using all the data he could find with his mechanical eye. The dog was the weakest, followed by the man, the girl, then him. The boy, his power was off the charts, almost equalling the Commander. He knew the interlopers were strong but this…

It's the boy, he could have easily taken all of them out, if it wasn't for him.

The Commander growled in frustration. This was supposed to be a simple mission, just a few more and his master promised he would…

"RRRaaaahhh!" The Commander screamed back.

They're ruining everything!

"Is he crying?" The girl said, looking at the man. The man shrugged.

I… Will not!—Ugh! The Commander flinched.

The Devil's Machine, it responded to his rage. He could feel the tendrils growing in his chest. They shot out his right arm, coiling around the cannon. Metal, flesh, it all fused with the Devil's Machine. Instead of a cannon it turned into a massive arm with eyes lining to his shoulders.

The interlopers gasped.

More tendrils appeared on his back, they burst like pus, metal with flesh membranes that look more like claws than wings.

It hurt like hell, the Commander yelped in pain. Blood dripped from his mouth, his vision wavered. Yet still his sight never left the boy.

The boy… Why, why was he crying for him?

"Don't… Underestimate me!" The Commander's voice turned demonic, mixed between a roar and a metal shriek.

"Eeewww, and he was ugly before." The girl stepped back.

"This is no time for jokes." The man responded.

The dog barked.

The boy said nothing.

"You…. Die!" The Commander flew, faster than any bullet. He crashed into the party, using his massive arm to smack them at high speeds. His arm was about to crush them all before they disappeared in a beam of light.

What!?

The boy teleported all of them to the other side. The group slid on the grass, as the power dissipated. The boy said run and all of them scattered.

Oh no you don't!

Sparks of energy form above the Commander and beams of light shot at the interlopers. The man and the dog were dodging while the girl and boy reflected it with their PSI.

"Die!" He pointed at the boy and a tornado of fire flew towards him, scorching everything in its way.

The girl yelled the boy's name and got in between the attack. A blizzard surrounded her, exploded with winds of ice that tore the tornado apart. She didn't go unscathed though, her clothes were burnt, and she had a nasty case of sunburns.

"Die!" The Commander pointed his sword and lightning shot from his blade. It hit the boy directly, but just like before the badge absorbed it and shot it back.

The Commander screamed in pain, the lightning was racing through his metal parts, burning flesh and disabling systems. It managed to freeze him in place for a while, the Devil's Machine taking more time to stop it. He was always weak to lightning.

"Lightning!" The girl yelled. "That's it!"

She pointed a finger gun at the Commander, she was about to shoot before the boy stopped her.

"What?" She exclaimed, her voice a mixture of shock and disbelief as she stared at the boy. He began to speak, his words lost to the Commander over the lightning, but their effect was immediate. The girl's eyes snapped to the Commander, wide with horror.

As the last of the lightning faded, freeing him from its paralyzing grip, he saw that same look of pitying terror now mirrored on her face.

Not you too. Don't you dare pity me! I am a devil!

"Die!" A fireball erupted from his hand, but the two danced aside, their PSI allowing them to pivot effortlessly in the air.

"What are we supposed to do?!" The girl cried out to the boy, her attention turning from the Commander.

Don't look away from me!

With a raw scream, he superheated the very air, sending a wave of fire that slashed towards them and slammed them into the ground. He surged forward, intent on tearing them apart. But a small, dark sphere arced between them, exploding into a thick, acrid cloud that blinded him with searing tears. Enraged and sightless, he flailed, smashing the ground in a blind fury.

A faint hum from the Devil's Machine quickly repaired the damage, stemmed the tears, and cleared his vision.

He blinked. The smoke was dissipating. The girl was gone. They were all gone, everyone except the boy.

Foolish… but convenient. Without his friends, there's nothing to distract me.

He was about to move before the boy said 'things' to him, it didn't make sense.

What is he babbling about?... Absurd.

"I am the Devil of the Pigmask Army! Master Porky's ultimate weapon! And you… will interfere no longer!"

His massive arm split into five writhing tentacles, energy gathering in their palms to form a miniature, blazing sun. He supercharged it, aiming squarely at the boy. This attack would not miss. It would not be deflected. He would ensure it.

"Die!" he screamed.

But before he could fire, the boy shot upward. He didn't so much fly as use his PSI to create solid platforms in the air, using them to launch himself with enhanced speed until he vanished into the glare of the sky.

Oh no, you don't… You will not escape me!

The Commander beat his wings and gave chase. They raced across the heavens, the Commander summoning searing beams of light to pursue the boy.

The boy was a blur—dodging, jumping, ducking, sliding. The Commander had never witnessed such flawless mastery of PSI. This shouldn't be possible.

Then the boy turned. Using a platform as a springboard, he backflipped, somersaulting directly over the Commander to land squarely on his back.

Huh!?

"You—ugh!" The boy seized his helmet. The Commander swerved erratically, claws scrabbling to pry him off.

"Get off! Die! Die! Die!" He unleashed fire, frost, and energy beams at his own head. Some struck the boy, most did not, but the grip held fast.

"Get off me!" In his blind rage, he fired a wild arc of lightning.

Oh, no.

The boy's badge activated, but this time the electricity coursed through both of them. His wings seized, locking in place. His metal body became a perfect conductor, and gravity did the rest. They screamed in unison, plummeting from the sky at a terminal velocity, heading straight for the ancient temple below. The Commander could only brace for impact.

The explosion was colossal, hurling dirt and stone in every direction. The Commander's soldiers scattered, fleeing for the hills.

When the dust settled, he lay broken in the crater. Every limb was crippled, every metal piece shattered, what remained of his bones pulverized. He could feel the Devil's Machine sluggishly beginning repairs, but it would take time—time he did not have.

"Uuuugghhh!" he gasped, struggling to crawl from the pit. He was trapped, utterly helpless. He felt the hot sting of tears forming.

Then, a noise. He looked up to see the interlopers sliding down into the crater.

They are going to kill me. This is the perfect opportunity.

He tried to force himself to stand, commanding the Devil's Machine to act. It pulsed within his chest, and agony seared through his entire body. A sob finally broke free.

But the interlopers ran past him. They went to the boy, who was struggling to rise. The girl was already there, her hands glowing as she poured healing PSI into his wounds. Once he has recovered, they would undoubtedly finish him. The Commander bit his lip, the taste of copper and frustration filling his mouth.

I was so close…

The boy stood. He walked toward the Commander.

This is it… He's going to kill me.

The Commander closed his eyes, awaiting the final blow.

But it didn't come. Instead, the boy sat beside him, placed a hand on his chest, and a wave of green energy blossomed through his broken body. It was healing, unlike the Devil's Machine this felt right, soft and warm. It reminded him of a thing he had forgotten, something he had fought so hard for.

His body stirred, his wings beat, and he soared from the pit. He didn't know why the boy had spared him, but he wouldn't waste the chance. He had to retreat, to analyze this failure and prepare for the next battle.

He looked at the boy one last time.

"You're too kind." He says coldly, turning to flee.

"XXXXX!" The boy yelled after him.

The Commander froze mid-air. He turned, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met. Then, he forced himself away, flying from the temple at breakneck speed.

Why did he do that? Why did he spare me? And why…

Why am I crying?

The Commander rubbed a hand over his eye. Even without a heart, it still ached.

The Commander tried to get it out of his head, to forget this ever happened. He gulped, by all accounts he failed this mission, he had to steel himself. And prepare for whatever punishment his master has for him. He flew fast to New Pork City, he couldn't leave his master waiting.

---

*BANG*

The Commander fell backwards, the bullet made a distinct hole in his stomach. The Devil's Machine hums, beginning the repairs.

"A fine shot, sir," The butler said, clapping his hands.

Porky hadn't fired the gun. He was splayed across a velvet chaise lounge, his gaze fixed on the gilded ceiling. He was a fat blonde boy in an expensive suit. One attendant fanned him while another dutifully placed potato chips into his open mouth. He hadn't so much as flinched at the gunshot.

"How many points was that?" Porky queried, his voice a bored drawl.

"Well, the target was stationary, sir. So that would be—"

"Trick question," Porky interrupted. "Two billion points. I win again."

The butler bowed. "Y-yes, sir. You win again."

Porky's glazed eyes drifted from the ceiling to the Commander, who was gasping softly, his blood seeping into the floor.

"You did a poor job, slave. This isn't fun unless you're trying."

A pained whine escaped the Commander's lips as he struggled to get up. "Ya… ugh-yes, sir."

Porky's head tilted a fraction of an inch. "What was that?"

The Commander flinched. "Yes, Master!"

"That's what I thought." His master picks up a remote and before the Commander could protest he clicks it. The Commander's helmet shocks him with a thousands volts of electricity, he screams in pain as the lightning fries him inside out.

"RRaaaahhhhh!" The Commander clutches his helmet, trying to tear it off.

"Don't think you can sass me. I. Made. You." Porky hissed, though the Commander was too injured to respond. After a minute Porky lets go and the Commander collapses.

Porky gets up and slowly walks to the downed boy.

"You want to know why I'm doing this?" He hissed, leaning into the Commander's face.

The Commander was silent.

"Respond." Porky threatened, his finger hovering on the trigger.

"I-Ugh." It takes all the Commander's strength to even lift his head. "Ta… To punish me?"

Porky smiles. "No." He presses the trigger and the helmet resumes the lightning.

"Ack! Ugggh!" The Commander writhes in pain on the floor, his limbs convulsing. The Devil's Machine burns his chest, trying in vain to neutralize the lightning.

"I'm doing this, because I can. Because it's funny. Because you're my toy."

"RRRaaahhh!"

"And because you bore me."

"AAAAhhh!"

"You know, when they said you're a devil, I thought you'd be more fun."

"Mmmmhhh!"

"That's why I gave you that." Porky points to his chest. "Why have a fake devil, when I could have a real one."

"Yuuuahhh! Saaa-stop!"

"But in the end, you're the same as the rest. So… boring."

The trigger finally stopped and so did the helmet. The Commander's body was burned to a crisp, smoking black, it smelled of burned flesh and hot steel. With the onslaught gone, the Devil's Machine begins its repairs. The Commander felt its tendrils wrap around his flesh, closing his wounds and fusing his bones. It never felt good, like it was changing him against his will.

"Feels good doesn't it? Do you remember?..." His master maliciously smiles. "When we ripped out your fucking heart." He kicks the Commander's chest hard, he coughs blood.

"You should be thanking me. Without it, you'd be dead…. Well?"

"Thaaa. Thank… You…" The Commander forces out the words.

"Yeeesss. Ain't I a saint. Whahahaha! Spankety! Spankety! Whahaha!" He laughs as he walks away with a skip to his step; twirling the remote in his hands.

The Commander could barely keep his eyes open, the lingering lightning is making everything numb. He hated his master, hated him with a burning passion, its that very fire that's kept him still conscious. It didn't make him happy, and tactically was more sound if he were a machine, this would be so much easier; he'd contemplated this for as long as he can remember. Wouldn't he be more efficient without this? In the battlefield emotions were a distraction, take for instance his latest battle, if he didn't give in to his rage, surely he could have won.

"Hmmm. That reminds me. Yes… Yes… You didn't pull that last needle." His master smile turns even uglier.

"We can't let that slide can we? Come slave!" His master orders him to stand and the Commander is forced to obey. Even if his knees ached, and his chest burned, he must do whatever he says. The Commander shook as he forced himself to stand, he couldn't even stand straight, such indiscretion would get him shocked again.

"Ugh you stink." Porky pinches his nose. "You know what, forget it. Go to the revitalization device. Meet me when you're done. And I mean the real me." He hisses, fluttering his hand as the door behind them opens.

"Oa-of course. Master." The Commander quickly bowed his head, he couldn't wait to get out of here fast enough.

Porky just stood there, and the Commander saw the glint in his fake eyes. What is he planning now?

"Three gazillion points."

Huh?

*BANG*

The force knocks the Commander out of the room, he slides on the floor until he's past the doors.

"I win again! Wahahaha! Spankety! Spankety!" His master laughs as the door immediately closes.

The Commander lay there in front of the door, instead of a bullet wound, there was a perfect circle punched straight through his chest. This was more painful than the lightning, he was bleeding so much it started to puddle around him. The Devil's Machine hums, his entire body heated like a forge, the wound sealing shut as alien flesh and metal fused together, making him whole again. His screams echoed down the empty corridor.

Even after the revitalization device, he still wasn't ok. Mostly mental, his systems didn't detect anything wrong with his body. He just felt so tired, he wants to sleep even though he can't.

He dreaded as he walked through the final floor, his footsteps were louder than they should. The final floor wasn't like the rest, nothing was gilded, everything was bare metal. It looked older than all the floors below despite being the newest one. Eventually he crosses an entrance covered in vines to a grand chamber. Ahead was a huge window overlooking the mountains, the smog was so close he could touch it. And the vines, there were more here than anywhere else. Makes sense, the cleaning ladies never come here, the only ones allowed were him and his master.

"Slave!" Said master was overlooking the window, his body hopping with energy.

"Look at them, like ants!" He exclaims while looking down. "I bet I could just go over there and pinch, pinch, pinch." He extended his arm, snapping at the people below.

"As you say master. It is your right." The Commander says robotically.

His master frowns.

"Whats the point of emotions if you don't show them?" His master pouts, turning around, looking him square in the eye.

"Master?…"

"Just this once, I want you to show me how you really feel."

The Commander almost flinched. Is this a trick? A test?... Is he testing me?

"Nope. No guns or anything." He fishes the remote out of his pocket and throws it across the room.

The Commander didn't know what to say.

"You know, when we made you, Andonuts wanted to get rid of all your emotions. It would have been kinder, he said. Ha! Without emotions you wouldn't suffer, and I want you to suffer! I want you to feel pain!" His master always danced around this topic before, now it was so blatant.

"Come on, this is your one time. Don't tell me you actually liked our games? How I smashed you, humiliated you, ripped you apart? Showed you that video where we took out all your organs. Did you see how you cried when I took all your toys away? The screams, I could play them if you like?"

The Commander's hands clenched, his face trying to keep his composure.

"There it is! Come on. Don't you want to do something about it? I'm right here!" He went into a stance, beckoning him to come closer.

"Ah-I… " The Commander stepped back.

"It's my fault, it's my fault. You're such a fucking crybaby!" He mocks, going into poses. "Mom, save me!... Mom, I'm sorry!... Mom is a dead dead stupid bitch!"

"YOU!" The Commander screamed in rage. He ran towards Porky wrapping his hands around the fat kid's throat.

"Wahha-ah! Whaa-uh!" Porky choked out the words, his face turning redder by the second.

"Die! Die! Die! Die! DIE!" The Commander screams to his face, clenching harder and harder.

"Spa-uh… Spank-eh… Tea... Span-ka…"

"DIE!" One final squeeze and his head pops off, a metal clank is heard behind him. The Commander lets go and the body flops lifeless to the ground. Broken wires sparked where his head should be, the voice box announces one final garble before silencing.

The Commander's hands were still shaking.

*DING* *DING* *DING*

*COUGH* *WHEEZE* *COUGH*

High above, the engine shuddered to life. Gears turned and pistons moved, scraps of vines were ripping from their purchase from years of inactivity. From the heart of the mechanism, a long chain unspooled, lowering a metal bed gently on the floor. Right in front of the Commander.

*COUGH* *COUGH* "Spankety." *COUGH*

"Yah… Yes…. My child." His voice was hoarse, the Commander could smell the decay in his breath.

Before him was an old man, the mastermind of the island, the Pig King, the true Porky Minch.

This man was on the verge of death, he is the cause of all the Commander's suffering and he's defenseless, it won't take much…

"Heh. Heha. If… You kill me… You'll never get your memories back." The old man smiled, showing his toothless grin.

The Commander could only clench his fist.

"That's the trick." *COUGH* "Give them a taste… and they will always come back for more. They become yours… forever. Whaha. Wahah." *COUGH*

"Master…" The Commander seethed, backing away then taking a knee.

"Ahhh. Ignorant slave… You remembered."

The Commander grunts in frustration.

"As much as I love to see you squirm, let's get to the point…" The old man huffed, as though speaking is taking a marathon. His eyes compelled the Commander to continue.

The Commander gulped. This is it.

"Master. I've failed to pull the sixth needle." The Commander lowered his head, not even looking him in the eye.

"So, that would be… three for three?... Hmmmm… Good."

What?

"Heheehehehe-"*WHEEZE*"-Hehehehe. Ah. That was easier than I thought." He smiled looking forlornly at the ceiling.

"But. Sir-ah Master. What about the plan? Don't I need to pull all seven needles for it to work? The dragon–"

"I don't give a shit about the dragon!" The outburst cost him. A violent coughing fit seized him, bending his frail body. He fumbled for an oxygen mask. As he pressed it to his face, the room fell silent, save for the slow, heavy rhythm of his breathing, the only ambiance in the dim chamber.

What is he?… Wasn't his entire plan focused on the dragon? Why did we go after the needles then?

"Hehe…" *GASP* "Hehehe. Pulled the rug out from under you, didn't I? But then, that's to be expected. No one can match my brilliance, least of all a dumb dumb like you. The whole lot of you are fools—Fassad, the Magypsies, Andonuts, the Saturns... every last one." *WHEEZE* *COUGH* *COUGH*

"I… Ah." The Commander for once was dumbfounded.

I don't know what's going on anymore.

"I know that look… Do you want me to explain dumb dumb?" His master responded, his eyes were smiling, it looked terrifying.

Before the Commander could comment, he continued.

"Oh. I love this part. If only you were him though, then that would have been much sweeter." The old man spoke with nostalgia, his eyes blinking back to reality before the Commander.

"Tell me, do you know how the world was destroyed?" He allowed that question to hum in the air.

I… The truth of this world, this place, the island. The Commander was only given bare snippets, once the world was so much bigger but then it was reduced to just these islands. The world itself wasn't destroyed but it might as well be. Humanity has been reduced to a single village that escaped the cataclysm. Or it had been, until his master arrived.

"Oh course not. Not even Leder knows. He was right… In a way. Humans did destroy the world." *WHEEZE* "But it was so much more... I was curious, and went back to check. And what I found… Hehehe. Whahaha! Spankety! Spank–" *COUGH* *COUGH* *WHEEZE* *COUGH* *GASP* *GASP*

His fingers fumbled for the oxygen mask, he was heaving so hard his face was turning blue. It keeps slipping from his grasp. He should let it happen, let him choke himself to death. Choking on his own words, the irony of it. But…

I still need him.

The Commander grabs the mask and places it on the old man's mouth. His breathing begins to settle and his eyes turn calm. The Commander returns to his post, not even expecting a thank you.

"Haaaa." The pig king reorients himself. "...Slave. Where was I?... Ah yes. Hahaha! Spankety!" He slaps his shins.

Ugh…

"I saw what did it… If you think the dragon's powerful, it's nothing compared to that. Tell me, what's the problem with this world?"

You.

"I don't know… Humans?" The Commander mumbled back.

"Yes, but that's not it. That's the trap my former master fell into. The problem isn't humans, they're the symptoms. No. The problem… Is life." Porky's voice turned clear, without the wheezing or the hoarseness, like he was whispering behind him.

"Life is the problem. Everything is born to pain, suffering, hatred, and evil. It was our mothers who cursed us to be born into this world—a world where evil is not only allowed but thrives. Life is a mistake. Despite its beauty, its kindness, the evil it permits isn't worth it. That fleeting thing called love… Everything struggles to cling to life, with puny minds, pitiable bodies, and feeble hearts. It's not worth it; it was never worth it."

The Commander's body was still.

"It has never been more evident than it is in humans. They will always sign their own death warrant, no matter the era. It is an eternal cycle built on that illusion called love. It was love that drove suffering; the desire to have it blinded the rest to the truth: that this world is hell. Life is hell. Such a thing doesn't deserve to exist. It shouldn't exist."

"This is what destroyed the world. Isn't that interesting?"

I don't… understand.

"You will." He didn't say anything but it was though Porky read his mind. "This is a power greater than the Dragon. Not bombs, tsunamis, earthquakes, solar flares, or asteroids. This is stronger than the Earth, stronger than anything man has ever built or ever will build. It was through PSI that they brought it into reality, but they failed halfway, and only most of the world was destroyed."

"I want to recreate that."

The Commander could feel the Devil's Machine hum.

"It can't be me. To understand it, you must first know what love is; that is impossible for me. So I searched and searched, and I found two candidates: one better, the other poorer. Of course I wanted to pick the better one. I almost did, but fate had other plans." He looked directly into the Commander's eyes.

"Besides, I like a challenge." *GASP* "They're almost perfect now. They just need one final pusssshhhh." *WHEEZE* "That's where you come in. I need that push. So I decided, instead of punishing you, I'm going to reward you."

What?

"I'm going to give back all your memories. All at once, no more snippets. With this all your questions will be answered and you won't have to work here any more." *WHEEZE* "You just have to do this one thing, just one thing and I'll give them back."

That was… too good to be true. The Commander was a weapon of the Pigmask Army—a powerful one—but he still had thoughts and feelings. So they kept him chained through his memories. Fragments of better times were fed to him when he had done a good job and withheld when he had not. He remembered a woman; the memories of her were the only reason he had stayed so long, why he had endured all the pain and torture. Something inside him, from a time before the Devil's Machine and before Porky, yearned to be with her. A fragment of his old self was screaming at him to remember. That was why he'd stayed. Not for his troops, not for the people, and certainly not for Porky. It had all been for her. Porky had chained her away, and he needs to set her free.

His master had promised to return them once he pulled all the needles. That opportunity had sunk, but now he was given another one.

"Why so glum. This is a celebration!" *WHEEZE* *COUGH* *COUGH* "You're almost done. The answers you have been searching for are so close. Who your mother is, why you yearn to be with that boy so much." *COUGH* "I'm not judging."

The Commander scowled.

"Ok maybe a little. It's pretty gross if it is."

"Just say it!" The Commander interrupted. "Tell me what I need to do?"

"That's too quick. Do you want to leave that badly?..."

The Commander glared at him.

"Alright." His master smiled so wide it was ear to ear. "There's a party happening away from here. Something I sponsored in some back water village in the middle of nowhere." *WHEEZE* "I need you to crash that party. Then burn it to the ground."

The Commander blinked, it's not one of the worst things he did. But still…

"The village."

"Gone, I want it wiped off the map."

"The villagers."

"They live in the village, so it goes to reason they're part of it."

You… Want me too…

"Turn it all to ash. My slave. My devil. Live up to your name and burn."

The Devil's Machine beats harder in his chest, rising with his fear and anxiety.

"Don't get cold feet, you killed hundreds of people before. People you never knew, people who couldn't fight back. Why do you think they call you a devil."

The Commander's eyes harden.

"This is one last thing before you fly off into the sunset. One final task before you get your memories back. And you will be free of me forever."

"Ba-But why?..."

"I just don't like it, I want to turn it into a parking lot. To what, I don't know, it could be a great tourist attraction, see the parking lot, its larger than a mall and just a parking lot." *WHEEZE* "I don't care what they say, people are idiots, they will go there anyway."

The Commander was conflicted.

"If it makes you feel any better. Andonuts is there. You can have your revenge on the man who turned you into… this."

His rage starts to flare up.

"And if you want, you can kill me afterwards. I won't fight you, I've already done what I needed to do. See, now all your dreams are coming true."

He locks eyes with his master and for once he sees something, a flickering flame dancing in his iris. A yellow fire so small it could be considered to never exist, the Commander blinked and it was gone.

"Think of this as the dark before a pure white morning. Once it's done you can look back and ponder all you want. Free to live out of the dark, knowing what you know. Living with what you know. Choose, what's it gonna be?"

The Commander closed his eyes. He heard the Devil's Machine hum and tried to listen for that voice—the one he heard so long ago.

Nothing. He couldn't hear her.