There was a knock on the metal door that kept most of the smell out. Captain Millerr looked at me his eyes weary. "Stay in the tube I am wearing shoe covering and while you can float above what I am standing in there is no reason for you to have to be out here for a second more than you have to be. I just want to explain things" His words hit me like a freight train, each one carrying a weight heavier than I could bear.

"Thank you, Brightspark," Miller began, his voice heavy with resignation. "I want to explain why I am doing what I am doing.But first there's something you need to know. My wife, Jennifer... she left me."

The words hung in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the room. Jennifer, the woman who had stood by Miller through thick and thin, had finally reached her breaking point.

"She was a social worker," Miller continued, his voice cracking with emotion. "She couldn't bear to see people starving to death while we planned to invade another country. She couldn't support me anymore."

I felt a lump form in my throat as I listened to Miller's confession. Jennifer had always been a pillar of strength, a beacon of hope in a world gone mad. To think that even she had been driven away by the horrors we faced was almost too much to bear.

"And my children," Miller went on, his voice trembling with grief. "I had to send them away, Brightspark. To Poland. I was afraid they'd be hooked on heroin if they stayed here, with no jobs and a corrupt government. I had to protect them."

The weight of Miller's words bore down on me like a ton of bricks. His children, hidden away in a foreign land, all because of the darkness that had consumed our own.

"But the real reason I'm organizing this attack," Miller continued, his voice growing stronger with resolve, "is because of what Congress did. They removed all the laws controlling the sale of pain medication. People are suffering, Brightspark. Ordinary people, like you and me. I couldn't bear to see my family live in a country that no longer cared for its own."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I listened to Miller's words. The pain and anguish in his voice cut me to the core, reminding me of the sacrifices we all made in the name of justice.

"If things go well," Miller concluded, his voice barely above a whisper, "there's a small chance I can see my family again. And maybe, just maybe, we can bring some light back into this world. And if it goes wrong we will both be rich not Trump rich where we can tell the law where to stick it when we get caught with under age Russian models, But rich enough to buy our own islands.Now listen up get down to Tom's place he will upgrade you a bit. I have a map" Miller gave me a card with a small map printed on it. "Tom operates out of a mobile home"

As Miller's words faded into the silence of the small tube I was in, I felt a renewed sense of purpose wash over me. Despite the darkness that surrounded us, there was still hope. Hope for a better tomorrow, At least for me. And as long as I had breath in my lungs, I would fight with every ounce of strength I possessed to make that hope a reality.

Even with Miller assurances that he owned the air I decided to take a bus. As I boarded the bus, a sense of unease settled over me like a thick fog. It was a strange sensation, being afraid of something that had once brought me so much joy. But with the drones had started targeting me, flying had become more of a risk than a pleasure.

So there I was, Brightspark, the superhero who could fly, taking the bus like any other ordinary mortal. It was a humbling experience, to say the least.

As the bus rumbled down the street, I couldn't help but overhear a conversation between two passengers seated in front of me. One of them, a rather rotund man named Gavin, was complaining loudly about his father's social welfare payment being cut.

"Can you believe it?" Gavin exclaimed, his voice dripping with indignation. "My old man's payment has been slashed in half! Now he wants to come live with me."

The woman sitting next to Gavin shook her head in disbelief. "Why don't you just have him picked up by one of those Bring Out Your Dead vans?" she suggested casually.

Gavin's face contorted with disgust at the suggestion. "No way! I couldn't do that to my own father," he replied adamantly. "Besides, who's to say my own sons won't do the same to me when I'm older?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at Gavin's predicament, despite the seriousness of the situation. It was a classic case of the circle of life coming full circle, albeit in a rather morbid way.

But as the bus trundled along, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was somehow intertwined with Gavin's plight. After all, wasn't I just like him, trying to navigate the complexities of life and family in a world gone mad? Then I looked up the Bring Out Your Dead vans. They were undertakers.

I couldn't resist asking Gavin. "Why not consider getting your father some youth serum?" I suggested, hoping to offer a helpful solution.

Gavin's eyes widened at the suggestion, a look of incredulity spreading across his face. "Youth serum?" he echoed, clearly taken aback. "But then I wouldn't inherit anything!"

Ah, there it was – the age-old dilemma of family dynamics and inheritance squabbles rearing its head once again. I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

"But wouldn't it be worth it to have your father back in the workforce instead of moving in with you?" I pressed, trying to reason with Gavin.

Gavin sighed heavily, as if contemplating the weight of the world on his shoulders. "You're right," he conceded reluctantly. "But my old man lent me the money to buy my house. If he gets youth serum what happens if he decides to start a new family he will want the money back." A look of horror came over Gavin face "What happens if he marries old Misses Plunket. She is 84 but took youth serum last month and looks like a 18 year old model. My god I could have brothers and sisters by the end of the year."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I got off the bus before I did something stupid to Gavin and immediately noticed the blood stain on the side of the bus. It was a grim reminder of the dangers lurking in this unforgiving world. Public transportation had become a risky venture, with buses refusing to stop for anything or anyone to avoid potential robberies. Cursing the rising oil prices and drones that kept me grounded, I trudged on, eager to reach my destination.

As I navigated the desolate streets, I passed by makeshift shelters where the homeless sought refuge from the harsh elements. The sight of plastic tarps covering huddled figures sent a shiver down my spine, but it was the sight of a couple of dead bodies that truly shook me to the core. The acid rain had claimed more victims, leaving behind a trail of death and despair in its wake.

I quickened my pace, eager to leave the grim scene behind me. Avoiding the families of beggars many of which had small shildren who clamored for spare change, I finally arrived at the mobile home where Tom awaited me. The balding man with dead eyes greeted me with a solemn nod, his expression betraying no hint of emotion.

Inside the cramped confines of his home, Tom wasted no time in getting down to business. He explained his plan to increase my powers, focusing on strengthening my skin and expanding the range of my gravity field. It was an ambitious endeavor, but one that could potentially give me an edge in the fight against injustice.

As Tom administered the injections, I braced myself for the unknown. The pain was excruciating, but I gritted my teeth and endured, knowing that this was a necessary step on the path to becoming a stronger, more formidable superhero.

When it was finally over, Tom revealed a mask that would conceal my identity from drones and surveillance cameras. It was a small comfort in a world filled with dangers, but every advantage counted.

With renewed determination, I donned the mask and prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Tom pulled out a mirror and I watched in interest as my face changed. Tom winked at me "Brillent right just a few nanites and a bit of time. It will even get you past facial scans or some of them. Now listen up there is no charge but if you manage to build your paradise then I want a place no questions asked. Captain Miller already agreed but I want to explain why I deserve a place."

Tom passed me a table of estimates "30,000 youth serums given out gratis. That is the word free or I think that means free. I am setting up a supply division in Florida. If things cool down then I will begin to sell youth serum for cheap and set up a manufacture process. If things go badly I plan on working for Bring Out Your Dead. " Now just take a breath and I will shock you into a coma. Sorry about this but the drug companies banned all non addictive pain medication. Trust me some pain is worth not being addicted to pain medication." I nodded and Tom pulled out a cattle rod. "The thing is your a bit stronger than the normal guy so we are going to have to be a bit more hands on." I looked at the giant cattle prod and Tom winked at me. "Night night"

When I woke up I was in a electric wheelchair in line, surrounded by a motley crew of individuals all waiting to board the boat. The atmosphere was tense, with an air of desperation clinging to each person like a heavy cloak.

As I waited, I couldn't help but overhear a conversation between an old man named John and his son Terry. Terry was explaining to John that there was cheap youth serum available in Cuba, but once John left, he couldn't come back. John seemed resigned to his fate, expressing his intention to try and video conference with Terry if possible. He also mentioned that if the Bring Out Your DEAD vans were ever stopped, he might consider returning.

It was a sobering reminder of the harsh realities of our world, where people were forced to make difficult choices just to survive. I glanced around and noticed a significant number of homeless individuals being loaded onto the ship. Captain Miller had allowed them on board, citing the need to escape gang violence plaguing the streets.

As we shuffled forward, plastic tarps were unfurled overhead to shield us from the relentless rain. The sound of the rain hitting the tarps echoed like a drumbeat, a grim reminder of the harshness of our environment.

Amidst the chaos, I caught sight of a rat floating in a pool of acid, slowly dissolving before my eyes. It was a grotesque sight, but it served as a stark reminder of the dangers lurking around every corner.

Despite the grim circumstances, I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope stirring within me. Perhaps in Cuba, I might be able to actual live like a human being.

I shuffled out of the electric wheelchair and joined the line to board the boat, trying my best to ignore the curious glances from those around me. As I made my way forward, I found myself next the elderly man named John who had been talking to his son Terry, John greeted me with a warm smile.

"You know, we're all lucky to have someone like Brightspark looking out for us," John said, nodding towards the distant skyline where the hero's influence was felt.

I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly, knowing full well that I was the infamous Brightspark he was referring to. But I kept that tidbit to myself and instead engaged John in conversation.

"How have you been, John? " I asked, genuinely curious about his well-being.

John's smile faded slightly as he shook his head. "Oh, you know how it is, things just keep getting worse and worse," he replied with a heavy sigh. "Global warming has wreaked havoc on many of my friends' homes back in Florida. And with the famine in India, people are worried about starvation everywhere."

I listened sympathetically as John shared his concerns, feeling a pang of guilt for the role I played in orchestrating the chaos that now gripped the world. If someone found me they could well blow up the boat with john in it. But then John mentioned something that hit me even harder.

"Several of my friends... they couldn't bear the thought of burdening their families any longer. They... they took their own lives," John said, his voice tinged with sorrow.

My heart sank at his words, realizing the gravity of the situation. It was a sobering reminder of why i was doing what i was doing, it was to bring about change for the better. Mostly for me but I did not mind helping others if I could

"I'm so sorry to hear that, John," I said, struggling to find the right words. "I... I wish there was something more I could do to help."

I couldn't help but do a double-take a few minutes later as I watched the peculiar scene unfold before me. There I was, patiently waiting in line, when suddenly, a family approached. Two women, presumably the child's mothers, trailed behind a small blond girl who couldn't have been more than ten or eleven years old. But it wasn't the sight of the family that caught my attention—it was what the little girl was dragging along with her.

In her tiny grasp, she held a leash connected to a reluctant cat, its mouth tightly bound with a muzzle. My eyebrows shot up in surprise as I watched the feline reluctantly shuffle along, clearly not too pleased with its current predicament.

As the family drew nearer, an older woman, approached them with a curious expression. "Well now, what's this little kitty's name?" she inquired, gesturing towards the cat.

Without skipping a beat, the little girl turned to her with a mischievous grin and declared, "My dinner."

I couldn't help but burst into laughter at the unexpected response, earning me a few strange looks from those around me. But honestly, who could blame me? The sheer audacity of the girl's statement, coupled with the cat's bewildered expression, was just too absurd to ignore.

I couldn't help but admire the child's unfiltered honesty, even if it did border on the macabre. John looked sad "It would not have happened in my day. Children being forced to eat dogs and their pets. Those oil companies have a lot to answer for causing global warming." I nodded not wanting to get into a political debate.