"Brother."

"BROTHER!"

Azario got up with a fright, his bleary vision gradually clearing up.

"Get up! It's 8:40! You're going to be late for work!" a resonant voice cracked with adolescent frustration.

"Ugh, why didn't you wake me up before!?" he lashed out.

"Because you sleep like a dead body!" the voice retorted back.

Azario groaned, rubbing his eyes he looked around to find himself in an embarrassingly messy room, clothes and garbage strewn around like a pigsty. His eyes focused on his brother, who was wearing a white T-shirt with a black print, showcasing his defined and sizeable arms. He was also wearing light blue jeans and compact black sneakers. Looking up-his hair stuck up in unruly spikes.

Azario's face soured.

"Deemas, at least fix your hair before going to school."

"Ugh OK," he complied begrudgingly.

'I can't believe he's acting like that. If I went to school with hair like that, I would be bullied but I guess he just doesn't care," Azario ranted.

Deemas left Azario's bedroom, shutting the wooden door with a poster behind him. Rousing his body-Azario felt a crippling fatigue that had seeped into his body.

"Maaan, I don't want to go to work~" Azario wailed.

His arms stretched over his head but they collapsed dispiritedly instead. 

"I'm so goddamn tired! I just want to sleep~."

"I should have went to sleep on time!" He lamented vehemently; his voice full of grief.

Somehow miraculously channeling the resolve, he slid himself from under the covers, finding himself facing his open closet. Azario began sluggishly getting dressed, picking a dark blue chequered shirt and faded jeans paired with grey sneakers. He stood up and examined himself in the mirror, his own hair resembling the crown of a pineapple. He brushed his right hand over his hair, but to his chagrin-a tuft of hair stuck out, stubbornly refusing to go down without a monumental struggle. Regardless of how much he brushed it down with his hand or even bent it the other direction, it did not yield. Azario's eyes bore a sinister bloodlust.

"I swear. I'll cut you off!"

Even so the tuft of hair stood unflinchingly despite the threat. Tucking his tail in pitiable defeat, he scowled.

"Forget this-what's the time?"

Grabbing his silver touch screen phone from the wooden bedside table on his left, he pressed the inlaid button at the bottom, turning it on.

Azario gasped.

'8:50?! Are you kidding me?! I got 10 minutes to get there!"

Putting his phone in his pocket, he barrelled out of his room. On his way out, he unceremoniously slammed the door, shaking the KFC poster that was pinned to the door. 

*Thud*

He resumed his frantic pace down the staircase.

"Hey honey, are you going to eat something?" a middle-aged woman with dark hair asked in Greek.

"No mom, I'm late," he replied in Greek while opening the front door, his voice ridden with panic.

"Come on sweetie, just one bite? Don't go hungry," she coaxed, her voice filled with concern.

"Mom~,I can't," Azario stressed, holding his mother's steely gaze for a moment. Deciding to check the time, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and studied its display. 

"I'm so late! Dave's gonna be so angryyyyy!" he yelled whilst running, his voice disappearing into the distance. 

********************************************************************************** 

Minutes later

Sweating profusely, he arrived near a worn out restaurant building with a sign reading: 

'Dave's pizza' in response he consciously slowed himself to a brisk pace. 

He pulled his phone out, the limbo of his fate palpable. It displayed '9:05'. 

*HUFF!*

"****! He's gonna-

*HUFF!*

"-be mad,"

He tried to manage his heavy breathing, his attempts at quelling it borderline futile. 

Walking up to the mostly glass door, he tried one last time to pull the reins on his bestial panting. 

*Deep inhale*

*Shaky exhale* 

He pushed the door open. The bell on the door rung, catching the attention of some customers sitting at one of the four tables of the restaurant and a few of the employees, who were walking about further in at the stall. Feeling judged under their probing gaze, he hastened his pace to the stall. He arrived at the wooden latch of the stall and lifted it up. Letting himself through to the other side, he walked beyond the faintly interested employees that were preparing meals into the closet room. The closet room-which doubled as the manager's room. While trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, he made a beeline for his locker. 

"Hey!", came a gruff, irritated voice.

Feeling his gut wrench, he turned to face the owner of the voice. The owner a middle-aged balding man, whose fierce stubbornness would not let his remaining hair rest in peace. whose permanent scowl seemed to deepen with every passing second, giving him a resting goblin under the bridge face.

"Sorry Dave, I was stuck in traffic," Azario articulated evenly. 

"Stuck in traffic? You live like 5 minutes away," he stated, exasperated.

Azario crossed his arms.

 "I can be stuck in traffic too you know. It was just bad." 

"Are you being serious?" Dave asserted; his face impossibly contorting into an even uglier scowl. 

Azario composed himself.

"You're right, I didn't wanna tell you but… I had really bad diarrhea." he divulged, appearing to be embarrassed. 

"That again? You used the same excuse yesterday," he voiced with absurd calm. 

'Is this guy serious? I could have had diarrhea for 2 days in a row or even more. How the hell would he know? Is he a diarrhea specialist or something!? Azario vented furiously… within his head of course.

"I know. I still have the same problem," He expressed his face the embodiment of stoicism. 

"Come on Azario. You've been late these past two weeks and you seem to have an excuse for every single time.

'This son of a-'

"This can't keep going on."

"It's just 5 minutes."

Dave's humble patience was clearly at its limit.

"If you're not gonna show up to work on time, then I'm going to have to let you go. Do you understand?" 

"Yes," murmured Azario, his frustration simmering just under the surface. 

"Now get to work." 

"Yeah," Azario replied soullessly, turning his back.

"This *******!" he cursed spitefully. 

Azario continued to the grime covered metal 4x4 lockers. Opening up the bottom rightmost one, he took out his cheap plastic name badge and clipped it on. Walking back to the stall, he asked aloud devoid of enthusiasm . 

"what do you need me to do" 

"Take this to.." 

**********************************************************************************

2 hours later

Hours passed in a blur of orders, trays, and the constant murmur of customers. Azario could barely keep up, his energy drained by the relentless flow of pizza-hungry patrons.

'Ugh. There's no moment of break. Why is there so many people coming to this pizza place on a Monday!? Eat something healthier, you miserable fools.' 

"Azario, take these orders to table 3 and these to table 1." 

**********************************************************************************

3 hours later

The wave of customers finally ceased but by now but Azario was a husk of his former self. Every bone in his body ached, and his back screamed in protest as he sagged feebly against the counter. 

"Can't employees take a break?' Azario wined.

His eyes were glued to the clock in desperation, as if he was deeply captivated by it.

'Why the hell does this place not have any chairs for employees?! My back is killing me and I feel so drained~'

'This *******, he doesn't let me sit on one of the dining chairs, cause it's "unprofessional." This is actually torture.' 

*Ding Ding* 

'Damn it, more customers. These guys are like zombies, they keep coming.'

********************************************************************************

"Hey Dave," Azario called, his voice a facade of strength and cheerfulness he did not have.

"Is my shift over?" He inquired as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Yeah, it's done. Remember to put the badge back in the locker." 

Dragging his feet to his locker, he undid his badge with his left hand and opened the locker with his right, throwing it in and slamming it shut. 

Making his way to the entrance of the restaurant, he felt a soothing sense of relief lighten his very soul. 

'Aahh~. The torture is finally over… but now I have to go shopping with my Mom' 

**********************************************************************************

A few minutes later

Arriving in front of his home, he took a cursory glance over it; the building was small with three green support beams holding up the brown-tiled roof at the front of the house. It had a single window on the left of the bottom floor and a single window at center of second floor where Azario's bedroom was located. The door was an aged oak wood door with a sizeable glass pane on the far left. All in all it exuded an antiquated feel. He walked past the short black gates and the trimmed grass yard. Taking the keys from his right trouser pocket, he slid it into the door with a clink. He turned the handle, opening the door. 

*Creak* 

Even the door sounded like it was on its last legs. 

"Mom! Are you ready?," He called out in Greek. 

"Nearly, have you called the Dolt" she responded. 

"No, I'm going to do that now."

**********************************************************************************

After shopping for an hour, the dolt was making its way back on the main road, but it had to stop since there was a roadblock setup. There were makeshift tents, one on either side of the roadblock. The black dolt car driver drove up to the roadblock. A man wearing a matt-black military uniform and an assault rifle slung by his waist, walked up to the driver side of the car. He motioned downwards with his hand indicating to roll the window down. 

"Hello, what is going on here? I'm taking these passengers to their destination." 

"This area has now become vertex property. Either turn back or pay $100 for each person and we'll let you through." The soldier stipulated flatly.

"But then I would have to go all the way round, since now this entire kilometer stretch is vertex property. We're just going to go beyond this area. Please let us through" The driver tried to reason.

 "I understand," the soldier expressed impassively, nevertheless he continued.

"But we don't get paid enough for this. Just pay the money and you can be on your way"

The driver turned around. 

"You guys heard that right? Unless you're going to pay for me too, I'm turning back." 

"$100 per person to let us through. Do you have any shame? You are soldier or a robber? I can't tell," Azario's mother questioned with broken English, not able to conceal her disgust. 

"Mom," Azario hinted, feeling a sense of trepidation 

But Azario's mother's eyes were dead set on the soldier. 

'Dammit man. She completely ignores me when she gets like this'

The man's eyes hardened.

"Listen ma'am, don't you know that the vertex got rid of all the armies and law enforcers? Instead, they employed us on ridiculously low wages, so we need the money to keep doing our jobs.'

'Just pay up and you can be on your way," the soldier conveyed with mock reason. 

"And what do your wages do with me? Do I come to you with my problems? How did your parents raise you? Do you fear God? How could you think of robbing your fellow human and abusing your authority? Would you like someone to treat you like this,"

"Ma'am-" 

"what's the holdup? They've given you the money, right?" A similarly dressed man inquired, his voice laced with foreboding consequence. 

He was exiting the tent, along with three others-all of which were parading assault rifles in their hands and looking impatient. 

"They're about to," the soldier they were talking to decided, putting on them.

Immense fear began to spike in Azario-the possibility of death almost palpable in the air. 

"Mom," he pleaded, grabbing her left arm in desperation, even so she callously shook his hand off. 

"You people listen. We have no money to give you. If you want it-then you can see if I have it on my dead body," she declared frigidly, her face contorting into a menacing expression.

The soldiers exchanged glances, their hands tightening on their rifles.

The driver's body seized up, clearly looking afraid. Whilst Azario wasn't much better off.