When the alarm clock by his bed started buzzing, Axl was fast enough to smack it into snooze mode on the first tone, as always -- but not fast enough to get it before it ruined any thoughts of getting back to sleep. As always.

He yawned, rolled over, and yanked the covers over his head. Waking up was such a drag. He'd had that awesome dream again. The one with robots and explosions and plasma cannons firing everywhere, the one where he somehow managed to scale a two-hundred foot wall just by jump-kicking off it, then dropped into midair, shooting the hell out of everything in sight, catching himself in a hover just before he actually hit the ground --

-- getting up just couldn't compare. At the best, he might get the excitement of getting yelled at if he decided to blow off track practice again.

And then came the yell from downstairs. As always. "Alex! Get up!"

Ugh. "Five more minutes!"

Not that five minutes was going to make a difference by now. He wouldn't be able to drift back off even if he had five more hours.