Life Finds A Way

Aldritch Irons' voice was filled with bitterness and sarcasm as he drove to work, feeling the icy winter wind blowing outside his car. "What a great day to be alive," he said, the words dripping with sarcasm. "Lunch packed by my loving wife, suit ironed. What a great day."

His friend Randy Bowen laughed loudly, dressed in a similar business suit and speaking with a New Jersey accent. "You got that right, buddy. Keep dreaming. Your wife is more likely to make me breakfast than you, and she thinks I'm a drug dealer."

Aldritch's voice turned dry as he retorted, "But you are a drug dealer. And you're wrong about my wife. She loves me, she just doesn't know how to show it."

Randy let out a cold chuckle and said, "Love? Bullshit. You're depressed, not stupid. You know that whore sleeps around when you're not around."

Aldritch's voice turned sad as he said, "I know. If it weren't for Penny, I would have left that bitch. But I won't let my daughter grow up in a broken home."

Randy's tone turned somber and then angry. "That is doing more harm than good, and you know it. Penny, that poor girl, would be better off if that bitch of a wife of yours dropped dead."

Aldritch replied, "A man can dream," as he parked his car in a New York parking lot, his heart heavy with sadness and regret. The weight of his failing marriage and the pain it caused his daughter was almost too much to bear.

As he walked alongside his friend towards the bank entrance, Aldritch Irons couldn't help but reflect on his life. If he had to sum it up in two words, those words would be" tough shit". It was a far cry from what he would have said in his twenties, when he was a rising star in the boxing ring, chasing his dreams with relentless fervor. But life had a way of grinding down even the most ambitious aspirations, and Aldritch had been no exception.

His career had been cut short by an injury sustained during a fight, and with it, his happiness. It was a cruel irony that his daughter was born on the same day his dream died. But Aldritch was no sissy poet; he had gone from a rising star to a deadbeat security guard, his only friend in an equally bleak position as a white-collar worker in a pharmaceutical company. They were both just trying to make ends meet, to survive in a world that seemed determined to grind them down into nothing.

"Life sure is a bitch," Aldritch muttered bitterly to his friend.

His friend nodded in agreement, his face etched with weariness. "Yeah, it sure is. But you won't see me crying about it. Could be worse, after all."

Aldritch snorted. "Could be worse. Famous last words."

Aldritch snorted, the bitterness palpable in his tone. "Could be worse. Famous last words." He watched as his friend Randy disappeared towards the bank entrance, his steps faltering slightly as if he too felt the weight of their situation. Aldritch, on the other hand, made his way towards the employee locker, his movements efficient and practiced.

As he donned his uniform, Aldritch couldn't help but notice the firearm holstered at his side, a necessary tool in their line of work. Aldritch's firearm was a sleek and well-maintained piece of machinery, a Glock 19 handgun. He took pride in keeping it in perfect condition, cleaning and oiling it regularly to ensure that it would always be ready when he needed it most. As a security guard, he knew that his firearm was not just a tool, but a lifeline, and he wouldn't entrust his safety to anything less than the best.

But Aldritch's attachment to his firearm went beyond just practicality. He had a deep appreciation for the craftsmanship that went into its design and production, admiring the intricate mechanisms that made it function so flawlessly. He saw it as a work of art, a testament to human ingenuity and skill.

As he fastened the holster to his belt, Aldritch ran his hand over the smooth metal of the gun, feeling its weight and balance. It gave him a sense of security, knowing that he had the means to protect himself and others in a dangerous situation. And with the recent emergence of superpowers in the world, that sense of security was more important than ever before. the Red Event, as the news had dubbed it. People with superpowers had emerged, and while some saw it as a thrilling new development, Aldritch saw only danger. It was only a matter of time before some caped lunatic walked into the bank, and who would be the first target? The security guards obviously it was basic really take out the enemy ability to fight back and you can practically do what ever you wanted .

He made his way to his post and greeted his fellow guard, Jeremy. The young man had a sparkle in his eyes and a constant smile on his face, a picture of optimism and hope. He couldn't help but feel envious of Jeremy's naivety. After all, "Life always finds a way" to crush your hopes and dreams, to grind you down until you were nothing but a husk of the person you used to be. He chuckled inwardly, knowing that in this situation, the quote was misused. The only way life found a way was to make things worse.

Today was just another boring and tiring day, doing what security guards do, until a man in a hoodie walked into the bank. He was tall, at least 6'5 or 6'6, with broad shoulders, and seemed nervous. Nothing out of the ordinary, right? But something about him just didn't feel right.

Then, without warning, he walked straight to the emergency locks and pressed on them, locking everyone in the bank. Jeremy, my fellow guard, headed over to him with a gun by his side and a baton in his arm. "Don't do anything stupid," he said calmly. Props to the kid, there was no panic in his voice. But the man's skin slowly turned copperish, and then it started to heat up until it felt like molten copper. I felt the heat from where I was standing, a few feet away.

It was then that I realized we weren't dealing with a normal bank robber. No, we weren't so lucky. In front of us was a man with superpowers. I did what I knew I had to and took out my gun, but as to prove the point that he wasn't natural, the bullets deflected off his chest and arms. "You're going to pay for that," he said in an eerily calm voice, as if he was taking a morning walk in the park. He threw a bag at the cash clerk and demanded that all the money be put inside.

I fear no man. After all, everyone is equal behind the barrel of a gun. But this thing in human clothing with copper skin, this superpowered individual, he made me realize that I was terrified. I emptied half my magazine into his head, but it only seemed to piss him off. Not to be outdone, Jeremy did the same. But the man grew angry and the molten heat that was enveloping his body was all focused on his arm, which started to shift like gears into the form of a molten sword.

With a speed I didn't think possible for a man that large, he drove his sword arm right through Jeremy's body. The young man who still dreams breathed his last breath. And to make things worse, the copper man held up Jeremy's corpse by the ankle with a single hand and threw it at me.

The action drained me of fear and replaced it with fury. This man deserved to die. He was bulletproof, take a hostage of any other option. Why did he have to killed Jeremy in cold blood? I asked myself inwardly, but my rage put and end to those thoughts . A copper man with a molten sword for a hand, not a thing one sees every day, and I knew I had two options: flee, possibly to be pursued and killed, or lay down my weapon and surrender. So, I chose the latter.

"I surrender, take whatever you want. The bank is insured," I announced loudly, my voice shaking with anger and frustration.

"you should be glad , you've made the right choice ," he replied in a calm tone. "My power isn't impressive compared to movies, but it's enough to take down a small army of dumbasses like you. So just get on the ground and shut up. You can keep your gun; I'm bulletproof anyway."

As he walked toward Candice, who was filling the bag he had thrown earlier with money, she understood the situation and was visibly afraid , so she did what she was told, I pondered if that was all there was to it. Was this murderer going to walk in, take the money, kill a good man, and leave through the front door? How was that fair?

"Life always finds a way," I mused to myself thinking how shit life is but that wasn't going to help me now, my anger kept growing by the second as I thought . "I'm going to tear this bastard apart. Even a dragon has a chink in its armor. Think, damn it, think! There must be a way to stop him from escaping without risking my life. He can't be invincible. I refuse to believe that."

Suddenly, an idea struck me . This man was arrogant, and arrogance comes before the fall. If my plan worked, he'd be incapacitated by the time the cops arrived, alerted by the bank's alarm system.

"So you turn into copper and have a sword. Is that your power?" I asked, ensuring my tone concealed the fear and rage and displayed only an unimpressed voice. Trying to goad him into doing what I want him to do . from what I know about people who are arrogant they always take an opportunity to show off .

He halted in his step, turned around, and looked at me. I felt his smirk before I saw it. "Jealous?" he inquired, then added, "It's fantastic, what I can do. I can turn myself into metal and heat up! With this, I don't have to be afraid of anyone. And if that wasn't enough, I can also do this!"

I waited for this particular moment as his arm began to transform into molten gears that were turning and shifting into something, maybe back to his arm, or something else. It didn't matter; with my gun, I aimed at the gears and fired a bullet that hit the mark. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the bank, and the copper man fell to the ground, screaming in agony his arm making a horrifying sound like ripping metal and suddenly it melted

"My arm" he yelled , tears rolling down his only to turn into fear as the red glow of heat that was surrounding his metal arm was redistributed towards the rest of his body as it reverted back to normal

"Your power may be impressive, but it's not invincible," I spat, my fury boiling over. "You killed a good man for what? A bag of money? Fuck you."

I took aim again and hopefully for a final time, and shot the remaining bullets into his chest. just like that, a failed boxer, a middle-aged bank security guard who never amounted to anything killed the first knows supervillain.

"Life sure does find a way," I muttered to myself, panting heavily as I watched the copper man's body revert to normal. I knew I had just taken a life, but in that moment, all I felt was relief that it was over but in a small corner of my mind , I felt something I haven't felt in a long time…Alive.