Martin was not in a good mood. His personality became abrasive and sought to let everyone know this. The same guards that criticised him for allowing a teenager to choke him and the many workers who operated forklifts felt a combination of fright and interest towards his current behaviour.

Anyone questioning him was cussed out, inflating tensions amongst himself and those around him. Neither the guards nor the workers did not dare to put a halt to his hurtful words even when he crossed the personal space of many individuals. He even placed his hands on someone who he believed was slacking, but was just a driver who had to jump off his seat to ease the discomfort on his back.

This 'slacker' was a curly-haired, dark-eyed tween with mild scoliosis and wore a brace that wrapped around his abdomen to accentuate ideal posture. This condition disqualified him from more backbreaking work, leaving jobs that required him to stand or sit as options. Martin knew this for some time, and his more considerate nature was replaced by lifting the boy from the neck and hitting him.

What he did to the worker was unnecessary. The company and national rules stated that worker abuse was illegal. Of course, this was not followed or enforced the way it should, but spite and irony caused the guards to subdue him while not using any of their non-lethal arsenal.

Can you... let... me... go? The strangulation made it hard for the boy to speak.

Martin was going too far for the guards' taste with the fading fight and blossoming blue along the boy's face, so their intervention was appropriate. The paperwork they would have to do and the sudden, serious meetings for them to attend if this child died would be mind-numbing. Therefore, it was in their own interest to have him stop.

After he was pulled from the child, Martin calmed down but could feel something build up inside and needed a private place to spill it all out.

"You need to chill the fuck out, boss," This specific security officer who appeared weak from his sunken eyes and tooothpick-like form had the strength to assist in holding him. "What you did was not cool."

"I just needed to assert myself. That's all." To comfort himself, Martin needed to use the bathroom designated for male supervisors where the twinkling porcelain floors and sinks would become sullied by his tears.

Somewhat contrasting this were empty soap dispensers and one of the toilets not being functional after someone unleashed a huge load that clogged it. A mop bucket was left in a random area in the bathroom where its dirty water and corresponding mop remained. These conditions should not be what supervisors should experience. To be treated this way, while minor in relation to the guards and the workers, demonstrated how everyone was beholden to the cruel economic elites.

He then decided to go into a bathroom stall out of concern someone would notice him crying over the sink. Martin didn't want to be seen as weak. He hid his shame by entering one of the stalls to continue crying until he heard the hinges of the bathroom entrance squeak for an extended period.

Such a sound was because of the slow elbow of a male guard. This gentle pushing of his way in with a female guard of equal height caught his attention.

"Who is it?" Martin rolled out and tore a piece of toilet paper while sniffling in the event he cried more.

They announced themselves as some of the same guards stationed to his section.

He found little comfort in their words, preferring to remind them of the separate bathrooms for supervisors, guards and workers. Because of this clear segregation, the security was not permitted here unless called in by a supervisor.

But they couldn't leave him to wallow in misery. Some of them were quite worried about his behaviour and didn't want to leave until they learned the root of it.

"The reason I acted the way I did in front of everyone... was because of other supervisors. Sometime during the two weeks where the kid you beat up was recovering in the clinic, several supervisors bullied me after learning how I allowed myself to be choked while being sympathetic."

The tan guard, who came in with dominant neck muscles, a huge upper body and a unimpressive lower frame, used his bandana-tied arm to lean against the stall as he suggested if they were being watched during that incident.

"That's what they told me. It was this guy named Greg who was passing by who saw everything and walked away without as much as a sound to tell the rest how much of a pussy-ass bitch I am."

Martin soon curled into a ball at the memory of the wedgie they gave him in the car park at the very back of the factory. All he wanted to do was to get in his grey muscle car given to him by his grandmother with gold stripes at the front, but they got to him as he came within reach of opening the door to stretch his underpants.

The two guys with the biggest biceps did so until they got it to the nearest door and slammed it shut. Another one took his keys and said that if he did not apologise for being a pussy-ass bitch, they would drive as fast as they could until his underpants tore off.

As expected, he did as they pleased once they filled up the car and got it to roar with the push of a pedal. This type of bullying over his weight and more gentle personality had always haunted him. He had trouble loving himself and even thought about suicide at one point because of how bad it became. Martin detailed this additional information to the guards, who fell into great pity after hearing this. They would have consoled him if not for someone barging in.

"Why are you guards doing in here? You all are not part of a prestige company like Morgston." According to multiple metrics, their company was not a mega-corporation like the industrial giant that employed him. Rather, they were only a regular billion-dollar one. This meant he had no issue seeing them as lower life forms until that changed. Therefore, them being in here disgusted Bevin, who was the sub-supervisor of sanitation. Ideally, he wanted to use the urinals while texting a girl in a city not that far from here.

However, he was not doing this with a regular smartphone, but one without cameras, has encryption, and covered in a durable matte black case. Their original electronic devices were confiscated until they left the compound.

"No need to explain to you." said the female guard who had streaks of paint across her face and had a shaved head below her helmet. These features suited her puffy cheeks and eyelashes that were so thick there was no need to enhance them with eyelash extensions or other cosmetics.

"Am I supposed to guess?" Bevin texted how he was in a meeting to the hot brunette he was talking to and proceeded to turn off his phone. "Okay, then. Am I wrong to say you two snuck in here to be intimate?" His charming dimples and incredible set of teeth peeked out when he had to figure out the true reason they were in an unauthorised area. Also, his shirt had issues restricting his strong arms, chest and abs, making him a man many women would have a hard time resisting.

"You're completely wrong. Being intimate with someone doesn't always equal sex." She would have never expected to feel the way she did now. They had no problem teasing him from time to time, but the attitude of this man repulsed her, turning her alabaster skin into molten red.

"You're right. Intimacy doesn't have to be sexual at all. It could be a small kiss, or one stating their love for another, or just a hug to believe things are okay when it's not. Sex is just the pre-conditioned answer us humans have."

He passed his fingers through his hair of shaved rear and sides with the rest remaining high. For him to do this with shut eyelids and a mischievous attitude broadened his ego.

"That's besides the workers, of course. I don't want to lump them in with us."

Bevin soon got fed up with their lack of responses before saying if they were friends with benefits, to which she was swift to deny. "So the only other thing left is that a supervisor called you in here." He had his arms behind his back and took slow, long strides with each suspicious step. "And if that's the case, then where is he or she?"

Martin saw his feet stop, and at the same time his heart skipped a beat. Based on his voice, he believed he was one of the persons that wedgied him that night. He was lucky he had his legs out of sight when he curled into a ball on the toilet seat earlier.

"The person is in here, isn't he?" His near-lethargic movements led to a bang with the heel of his shoe that flung the door open. "Oh, it's you. I thought you were hiding drugs in here or something like that. But no, it's this piece of shit."

Martin couldn't take it anymore; he wanted to smack him across the face, so he got up and looked him in the eye and Bevin came closer until their stomachs touched. Being the current asshole he was, Bevin dared him to break his nose while doing so.

All the thoughts in his mind spun into a twister of torment to inflict on him. Determined to see him suffer, Martin needed room.

"Let me be generous, then." Bevin had no problem walking backwards while keeping his eyes on him. Sadly, his grin vanished with a leg to the balls and a strong shove to the ground before Martin dashed out the door. With his arms between his legs and struggling to hold back waterfalls of agony, Bevin vowed to get revenge against the nepotism shitstain that did this to him.

The guards were stunned. It took a moment to follow his lead and leave behind Bevin and his threats. Their feet sped across the facility until they were back among the forklifts to discuss their escapade. Dotted within that, however, they answered obvious questions about where they were running from.

Jo did well to listen to a lot of their conversation while remaining inconspicuous. After finishing work, Jo sought to rush off his forklift—but not before Martin got to him with some guards trailing his rear.

He was determined to speak until Jo brought up the revelation of his eavesdropping on what occurred in the bathroom, making Martin believe he wasted his time and energy.

Jo looked over his shoulder and saw no one in a supervisor uniform. However, they could appear at any time. "You should leave me alone. They'll hurt you again if you do."

Martin took his advice and said his goodbyes, thereby separating supervisor and worker. But as he glanced behind himself, he saw Jo stand in ominous silence. To him, there was something wrong. Had he given up on this existence?

If so, Martin had to leave him be. He no longer wanted to make himself a target for other supervisors, so Jo's current state was a foundation for him to boast how harsh he corrected him.

Yet, despite this false pride, all he wished for that when tomorrow came he would see him again.