"I fucking hate Mondays," I said with a groan as I blindly reached toward my phone, trying to turn off the incessant whine of my alarm.

As I debated the pros and cons of quitting my job and going back to sleep, I could hear my coffeemaker sputter to life, and the smell of fresh coffee gave me the strength to finally drag myself, still half asleep, to the bathroom to try to get ready for another tiresome and meaningless day. Honestly human beings should not wake up before the sun has even risen.

After my morning ritual of sitting on the toilet for around 40 minutes while browsing social media, I stood up on wobbly legs and made my way toward the shower.

After I was done getting myself cleaned up, I walked up to the sink, a towel wrapped around my waist, and sighed while looking at my reflection in the mirror.

"Damn, I've gotten fat," I said as I grabbed a handful of flabby skin around my midsection. It’s already been a couple of years since I stopped going to the gym, hasn't it?

As I looked into my reflection's tired stare, a familiar pair of amber colored orbs framed by deep dark circles greeted me. Am I getting old? A combination of lack of sleep and long hours staring at the computer probably isn't doing me any favors.

"I look like shit," I said with a derisive chuckle before walking away and heading to the kitchen, following after the intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee. After a quick breakfast consisting of four cups of coffee and a piece of buttered toast, I looked at the time, and in an attempt to be on time for once, I continued to halfheartedly get ready for work.

I honestly didn't feel like putting any effort into my outfit, so I just threw on the first thing I saw, a pair of old ratty jeans and a black t-shirt with a faded Superman logo on it, my one good pair of comfortable sneakers, and an oversized gray hoodie.

And finally, just before leaving, I attempted and failed to tame the overgrown crown of dark curls that is my hair. It was pointless really, but hey, at least I tried.

I grabbed my backpack, it mostly carried my laptop, charger, and some papers from work among other miscellaneous things, slung it over my shoulder and walked out the door.

The hallway outside my apartment was dim and dusty. Same as always. I trudged down the stairs, frowning at the "out of order" sign on the elevator door that had been there since I moved in. Finally, after far too many steps, I made it to the ground floor and felt the city air hit me as soon as I stepped outside. Though we were already in the middle of spring, it still felt far too cool and damp this early in the morning.

I took a deep breath, the smell of concrete and car exhaust thick in the air, and shivered as I put my hood up and started walking toward the nearest bus stop a couple blocks away.

After a short wait standing with the rest of the early morning workers, the bus finally arrived. I climbed aboard, scanned my pass, and found a window seat to slouch into. As I saw the first rays of dawn spill onto the streets, I could only wonder how it was possible to already be exhausted when the day had barely just started.

After a blessedly short ride, my stop came. I got off and was immediately greeted by the bright neon sign adorning the massive building that is Halcyon Synthetics, a subsidiary of Atlas Corp, which is one of the biggest tech companies around, aka my office. Now, you might be wondering, who am I to be working at such a prestigious organization? Am I a famous scientist? Perhaps a brilliant engineer?

Well... no, not really. I'm just a regular guy. Twentyeight years old, single, slightly depressed and anxious, but who isn’t in this day and age? And for the last six years of my life, I've been gainfully employed in the riveting world of tech support. My biggest daily adventure is convincing people to turn things off and back on again. You’d think brilliant scientists would know how to use a work computer. Well, you'd be surprised.

As I walked in, I got the same weird feeling I get every morning. The pristine, sterile office, the cold recycled air, the perfectly unblemished glass doors that slide open as soon as I swipe my badge without making a sound, it’s all just perfect. Too perfect. I feel weirdly out of place whenever I walk into work.

The lobby's all glass and lights. Giant screens adorn the walls, displaying looped videos of the latest advancements and prototypes like a tech fashion show. Delivery drones hover with perfect grace as they carry whatever new product gets released to the public. The entire floor is covered with people coming and going to and from wherever they're needed. It is a little overwhelming, to say the least.

While walking toward my office, the floor gleams under my shoes. It's like some sort of super shiny marble or maybe like an engineered resin, I don't know. I just know it looks expensive as hell, and it's always polished to a mirror shine.

Walking past the reception desk, I was headed toward the elevators when I caught a glimpse of something you definitely don’t see every day, the Boss, capital B. Dr. Elias Caine. Chairman of Atlas Corp. The man himself.

Tall and imposing, like a mountain wearing a three piece suit, with a white peak of ivory hair and a perfectly trimmed beard, he glided through the lobby like Moses parting the Red Sea. And sure enough, every single person in his path shifted aside without hesitation. No words, no gestures, just presence. That heavy, commanding aura that makes people move before they even realize they’re doing it.

Flanking him by half a step was his granddaughter, Dahlia Caine, the young prodigy turned CEO of Halcyon Synthetics, aka my boss. Sharp suit and sharper glare, pale skin, frosty blue eyes, and vibrant red hair, but for some reason, she looked like she had just swallowed a whole lemon.

As they disappeared into the elevator, the crowd erupted with whispers of awe, as if they'd just caught a glimpse of a unicorn. Everyone was talking about the Boss man, be it his looks, his aura, his apparently very expensive suit, his watch that's probably worth more than my entire apartment building, everyone was talking about him in some way, shape, or form.

When the commotion finally died down, I made my way through the crowd. Finally reaching the elevator, I pressed the button and crammed my way inside. The elevator was silent, smooth, and surprisingly fast. No matter how many times I used it, I never got used to the feeling of my stomach dropping, and half a second later, I was ten floors up.

As soon as I took a step onto the IT floor, the vibe shifted, less futuristic showroom and more early 2000s office. Frosted glass doors, ugly carpeted floors, soft yellow lights, and the constant low frequency hum coming from the equipment room. Finally, I felt at peace.

I made my way to the timeclock and swiped my badge, just in time to clock in. Without missing a beat I headed straight for the rec room, where I was immediately greeted by the sound and smell of the coffee machine fighting for its life to keep the whole floor conscious and productive. Honestly by how strong they brew it here they might as well just give us cocaine instead of coffe.

After pouring myself a fresh cup, I reached my cubicle and softly dropped into the seat, ready to work. I hit the computer's power button, cracked my neck, and muttered, "Showtime."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, after a 12 hour shift, I stretched, turned off my computer, and sighed with contempt. It was another boring, long day of practicing the ancient art of looking busy enough for no one to bother you while doing just enough actual work to earn your paycheck and not get fired.

I waved goodbye to the night shift workers as I dragged myself into the elevator, and seconds later, I was stumbling through the lobby, which was thankfully quieter now that most of the daytime suits were long gone. The lights, still blindingly bright, showered me from above as I left. My footsteps echoed on the gleaming floor, still so polished I could see the deepening dark circles under my eyes in the reflection.

I swiped my badge at the exit, and as the door slid open without a sound, the cold evening air hit me like ten cups of coffee directly to the soul. I gave an involuntary shudder as I lifted the hood of my hoodie and walked into the city streets. I just stood there for a second, adjusting to the sudden change in scenery. My bag felt heavier than it had any right to, so did my eyelids to be honest, but I had made it through another shift, and it was now time to go home.

I arrived at the stop just in time to see the last bus of the day racing away, already half a block down the street. No chance of catching up, even if I ran, and I really didn’t feel like running. I took a deep breath and, with a shudder, said to myself, “So walking it is.” Good thing I live just a couple miles away, so it’ll only take me around an hour to make it home… if I’m lucky. “Yay.”

It wasn’t too late in the evening, so the cold was still manageable. I decided to take my time. Might as well, right? It’s been a while since I just walked around the city. I should treat myself to a nice dinner. Maybe buy a new game or at least a comic or something. What’s the use of busting my ass for money if I’m not going to enjoy spending it?

I felt strangely chipper. I had a bit of a pep in my step as I began walking toward the nearest mall, thinking it was time to spend some of my hard earned money.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A couple hours later, I was exhausted… but happy. It’s been a while since I felt that way. Huh. Maybe I should talk to a shrink about it. Pretty sure I’m not supposed to feel this shitty all the time. But that’s a problem for future me.

Right now? I’m good.

I had a nice dinner, picked up a couple new comics, even found a cool action figure to add to the collection. It’s been a long time since I did any of that. Today’s been… weirdly good.

So of course, the universe had to balance the scales.

I was walking home with a bag in each hand, still riding that rare post spendingspree high, humming some dumb anime song under my breath and seriously considering a bubble bath. The night was crisp, the streetlights were warm, and for once, the city didn’t feel like it hated me.

Then I turned the corner.

And there she was, Dahlia Caine in the flesh, looking nothing like the composed, ice queen of a CEO I knew. Her face was pale, terrified, as she backed into the wall of an alley just a couple streets from the Halcyon building. And standing in front of her? Some guy twice my size, waving a gun around like he’d just binged every action movie from the '90s and took all the wrong notes.

I should’ve walked away. Called the cops. Pretended I didn’t see anything. That’s what people are supposed to do, right?

But right as I was about to turn around, I locked eyes with her, a silent plea for help clear on her face. I think in the six years I’ve worked for her, this is the first time I’ve seen her look at me with any expression other than a scowl. But what was I supposed to do? I’m not a hero. I don’t have powers. I don’t have a plan. Hell, I don’t even have a weapon or something that would help me more than bare hands. What could I possibly do?

The guy had Dahlia pinned near a dumpster, the gun jerking around wildly in his hand like he was trying to psych himself up to do something stupid. Or maybe he was just high. Probably both. He was shouting at her, something about revenge, her position, and money. Honestly, it came out mostly as gibberish, drowned by the sounds of the city.

I really didn’t have a plan. But I had a horrible feeling that if I didn’t do something, she was going to die. So I just let instinct take over. Not logic. Not common sense. Just that awful gut feeling that says, someone’s in trouble, and you’re the idiot who’s closest.

I slowly inched my way forward, adrenaline and instinct overriding the hundreds of reasons I should’ve minded my own business. I raised my hands as soon as he noticed me, like an idiot trying to negotiate with a rabid dog.

“Hey man, take it easy, okay? No one needs to get hurt, alright?” I said softly, barely managing to keep my voice from trembling.

He spun toward me, eyes wide but focused. This wasn’t just a homeless junkie trying to score cash for his next fix. He swallowed hard and trained his gun on me, hands shaking slightly. “Back off!” the guy barked. “This doesn’t concern you!”

“I’m backing off,” I said calmly, even though my heart was doing its best drum solo against my ribcage. “No one’s trying to be a hero here.”

That was a lie. I was trying. And failing. Badly.

I took another slow step forward, trying my best to get between him and Dahlia. Stupid move I know, but hey, I really didn’t have a lot of options.

He started shouting again, something about the company and his research, saying she didn’t deserve her position or whatever. Honestly, I wasn’t paying much attention to his ramblings. I had my full focus on his finger tightening around the trigger.

Then I moved again, slowly inching my way closer. Hands still raised. I don’t even know what I was trying to do. Maybe I thought I could be a cool action movie hero and take the gun, or maybe I thought I could tackle him. The only thing I know is that I lunged.

And then… it happened.

There was a flash of light, followed by a deafening crack that shattered the night. Suddenly, it felt like I got punched in the chest by a truck. I barely managed to wrench the gun out of the man’s hands before I fell to my knees. The ground came rushing up to meet me as I landed hard on the cold, filthy sidewalk.

I struggled to draw breath. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. All sounds blurred. Dahlia was screaming. Footsteps, fast and fading. Tires screeching. And the wail of what I guessed was a police siren. More shouting. It all felt distant. Muffled. Like being underwater.

I could feel something warm and wet spreading across my chest. Pretty sure that wasn’t a good sign.

My vision blurred as I stared up at the night sky. The stars above were faint and few, drowned out by the city lights.

As things began to darken, I saw Dahlia appear above me. Her face was still pale with fear, her hair a mess, but her eyes held a certain determination. She fell to her knees beside me and began pressing down on my chest, trying to stop the bleeding. She was saying something, shouting it, but I couldn’t hear her.

Didn’t matter, really. I could feel myself slipping away.

Funny. I never really thought of myself as the hero type. I mean, I’m not an asshole, but I didn’t think I was a self sacrificing hero. Guess we never truly know ourselves until the moment comes when we have to show who we really are.

And apparently, I am a hero.

Or… was, anyway.

Good to know. I can die happy knowing I died a hero.

I felt a warm drop of water hit my face and focused one last time to see Dahlia crying, her face blotchy, her eyes overflowing with tears. Huh. I never expected the ice queen of Halcyon to cry for a random grunt like me. Even if I saved her. Hell, I doubt she even knew my name. But it’s kinda nice. I’m glad someone will cry for me.

I smiled at her with the last of my strength and thought I should probably say something cool or clever. Something final. Whatever it is.

But all I managed to say was, “I think you owe me a raise.”

Then everything went dark.