As a trainee superhero, my days were often spent getting coffee or what they called coffee nowadays and listening to the other officers moan about the fact doughnuts were now fifty dollars each. Learning the ropes and navigating the complexities of the world of crime-fighting was what i was suppose to be doing. But on this particular day, as I sat on a chair in the police station, waiting for Captain Miller to assign me my next task, I found myself drawn into a conversation I wished I had not.

Captain Miller, with his distinguished moustache and calm demeanour, stood opposite Kate, a striking blonde in a smart suit, who represented an opioid company. Their conversation unfolded before me like a twisted drama, each word carrying with it a weight of its own.

Kate's voice was filled with desperation as she recounted the grim statistic: "Forty-nine of our sales representatives have been killed, Captain Miller. Forty-nine lives lost to senseless violence. We need you to do your job as a police captain and arrest the killers."

Miller's response was measured, his tone tinged with a hint of reluctance. "I understand your concerns, Kate. But these things take time. We need to gather evidence and build a case before we can make any arrests."

But as I listened, I knew Miller was not the upstanding law enforcement officer he appeared to be? In fact he had more than likely helped plan them all.

The thought sent a chill down my spine. Was Miller part of a conspiracy to destroy the opioid trade? And if so, what did that mean for the future of our city? Congress had given the opioid and drug companies permission to sell heroin in schools. They could do anything they wanted. What would they do to Miller if he tried to stand up to them?

As I sat in horribly itchy chair, thinking about the conversation between Captain Miller and Kate, a sense of foreboding washed over me. Kate's words echoed in my mind, each one carrying with it the weight of impending doom.

"Forty-nine of our sales representatives have been killed, Captain Miller," she had exclaimed, her voice trembling with desperation. "We need you to do your job as a police captain and arrest the killers."

Miller's response was measured, but beneath his calm demeanour, I sensed a hint of hesitation. He had been lying "We're working on it, Kate. These things take time."

I envisioning a future where the opioid companies held the city in their grasp, spreading their poison like a plague. I couldn't bear the thought of my mother, unable to afford the food she needed to survive. The treatment for the opioid addicts had taken up too much of this years budget and the Republican party had been in power for too long there reckless spending and budget cuts had crippled any chance of my mother not needing most of my pay cheque to survive.

Fear gnawed at my insides, twisting my gut into knots. What if the opioid companies came after me next, seeking to silence anyone who stood in their way? Could I protect myself, let alone my mother, from their wrath?

In that moment, I made a decision. I would lay low, keep my head down, and do whatever it took to survive in this unforgiving world. And if that meant helping Miller cover up the truth, then so be it.

As the conversation came to an end and Miller assured Kate that he was already working on the problem, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. For now, at least, the storm had passed. Miller had managed to feed Kate a load of shit and she appeared to have eaten it up.

Captain Miller motioned to me “Alright time to talk Brighspark.” He lead me into his office and closed the door. “So we are taking Cuba. You me and a couple of money men”

I looked at Captain Miller, trying to process everything he had just laid out. "So, let me get this straight," I said, hovering a couple of inches above the ground with a puzzled expression on my face. "You want me, Brightspark, the guy who can barely fly to help you rebuild America by... capturing Cuba?"

Miller nodded, his moustache twitching slightly as he did. "Exactly, Brightspark. We've got a real chance here to make a difference. With famine hitting China and India, and South America turning into a war zone, America needs a fresh start. And we've got the plans to make it happen."

I scratched my head, contemplating the gravity of the situation. "Well, Captain, I'm all for saving the day and all that jazz, but capturing Cuba? That's a whole new level of insane. I am a PR guy. Seriously Tank could kill me in a fight and i have my doubts against fighting you."

Miller chuckled, his eyes twinkling with determination. "I know it sounds wild, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And hey, with you on board, we might just have a shot at pulling this off. All you have to do is smile at the camera's and while everyone is looking left we move right."

I couldn't help but grin at his optimism. "Alright, Miller, count me in. But just so we're clear, I'm doing this for the free snacks, not because I'm some kind of hero."

Miller laughed, clapping me on the back. "Hey, whatever gets the job done, Brightspark. Let's go save America." I blinked trying to see if Miller was joking he was not. I was in way over my head.

Miller chuckled "Its all set"

I floated in front of Captain Miller, trying to wrap my head around his plan. "Let me get this straight, Miller. You want me, to just waltz into a press room and declare that I am going to single handed invade Cuba?"

Miller nodded, his moustache bristling with confidence. "That's exactly it, Brightspark. We've got everything lined up. The Cuban government is willing to surrender as long as we promise aid to help them deal with those pesky hurricanes that keep ruining their day."

I raised an eyebrow sceptically. "And you think they'll just roll over because I make a grand entrance?"

Miller shrugged, his expression deadpan. "They have lost 20 percent of their population half of them have no clean water. If the government tries to back out they will lynch them"

I couldn't argue with that logic, as twisted as it was. "Alright, Miller, I'm in. But just so we're clear, if this goes south, I'm blaming you and your moustache."

Miller chuckled, unfazed by my sarcasm. "Fair enough, Brightspark. Now let's go make some diplomatic chaos. Here is your speech" Miller passed me a piece of paper with my speech on it

Alright, buckle up, folks, because you're about to hear the speech of a lifetime from yours truly, the one and only Brightspark the soon to me super Tyrant! That's right, I've got plans, big plans, and they involve a little island called Cuba. I am taking it.

Now, before you go all "But Brightspark, isn't invading countries kind of, you know, not cool?" let me lay it out for you. See, Cuba's got all this sunshine, beautiful beaches, and fantastic music. Sounds like a party, right? Well, I figure why not make it my party?

Picture it: me, swooping in on my mighty wings, my swimming trunks gleaming in the sunlight and showing off my giant package as I lead my army of loyal followers to claim Cuba for ourselves. We'll bring order, prosperity, and probably a few dance-offs because, let's face it, I've got some killer moves.

And don't worry about the whole "tyrant" thing. Sure, I'll be calling the shots, but it's all in the name of making Cuba the best darn island in the Caribbean. I'll even let the locals keep their cigars—I'm not a complete monster.

So, to all you naysayers out there, get ready to eat your words because Brightspark Tyrant is about to make history. Cuba, here we come! And hey, if anyone wants to join my invasion party, just shoot me a message. We're always looking for new recruits with a flair for the dramatic.

I swallowed and Miller began to laugh "That is actually the best speech we could find. You look like a lunatic and while everyone is laughing we get out invasion underway. So call your mother Rita and ask her how she feels about you giving this speech. Bear in mind you can not tell her the full details and you have to do the speech in half a hour."

I tapped my armour and phoned my mother Hey, Mom," I say, trying to sound casual even though I've had something big on my mind.

"What's up, sweetie?" she replies, probably thinking I'm about to let her know I am shipping her off to old folks home.

"I've been thinking," I start, trying to ease into the conversation gently, "I might have a chance to make some extra cash by giving a, uh, slightly embarrassing speech."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and then my mom's voice comes through, filled with concern and maybe a hint of disbelief. "Embarrassing speech? What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now, Brightspark?"

I can practically hear the eye roll in her tone, but I press on, explaining that Captain Miller, my mentor, thinks it might be a good opportunity to make a quick buck.

But before I can even finish my sentence, Mom drops a bombshell on me. "Well, Brightspark, you better figure it out fast because with these recent welfare cuts, I might have to start eating dog food—or worse, that grey goo they sell at the discount store—if you don't start bringing in more money."

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Grey goo? Seriously? I shudder at the thought and promise her that I'll get all the details from Captain Miller ASAP.

"Thanks, Mom. Don't worry, I'll sort it out," I say, trying to sound confident even though I'm already imagining her choking down a can of mystery goo.

And with that, I hang up the phone and speed off to find Captain Miller. Because when your mom's on the line and grey goo is on the menu, there's no time to waste. I shudder at the thought of my mom farting like Tank.

The thought of my mother who might have to come to live with me releasing clouds of toxic waste in my small appartment coinvinces me, And i find myself standing in front of a crowd of reporters, trying to keep a straight face as I prepare to deliver the most ludicrous speech of my life. According to Captain Miller, it's all part of the plan to make some quick cash—by pretending I'm planning to invade Cuba.

I clear my throat, trying to muster up some semblance of confidence as I step up to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen," I begin, my voice shaky, "I stand before you today with a bold declaration."

I launch into my prepared speech, spouting off about my supposed plans to conquer Cuba and bring glory to our great nation. The absurdity of it all isn't lost on me, but hey, a superhero's gotta do what a superhero's gotta do to pay the bills, right? Especially as I remember the dead drug dealers face as he was takne out of the van he shared with Tank. The bite marks on his hands were not somthing i want to think about either.

As I wrap up my speech, I try to look tough and determined, but inside, I'm feeling anything but. My stomach churns, and before I know it, I'm bolting for the nearest bathroom, desperately trying to hold back the urge to lose my lunch.

Once I'm safely behind closed doors, I let out a sigh of relief as my stomach contents make a hasty exit. This is definitely not how I envisioned my superhero career going. After all I am still a trainee and I have told the world I am about to invade Cuba.

Just when I think things couldn't get any worse, my phone buzzes with an incoming call. It's my mom, Rita. Great timing, Mom.

"Hey, Mom," I answer weakly, trying to keep my voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around me.

"Brightspark, I just wanted to say how proud I am of you," she says, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "You may be doing some crazy stuff out there, but you're following your dreams, and that's what counts."

I can't help but smile at her words, feeling a surge of gratitude despite the absurdity of the situation. Leave it to Mom to always know just what to say.

But before I can respond, Mom drops another bombshell on me. "Oh, and by the way, remember our neighbour, Tim? Well, he's been stocking up on cat food like there's no tomorrow, even though he doesn't even have a cat."

I furrow my brow, trying to make sense of this new development. "Cat food? What's he planning on eating that?"

My mom chuckles on the other end of the line. "Its better than dog food, Brightspark. Looks like someone might be getting desperate. It could not happen to a nicer asshole. How dare he say Trump was the cause of all of this. Just because he borrowed a lot of money."

I can't help but shake my head at the absurdity of it all. In a world where superheroes pretend to invade countries for cash and neighbours stock up on cat food without a feline in sight, anything is possible especially the horrible things.

But as I hang up the phone and steel myself to face the aftermath of my disastrous speech, I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope that I will get enough money from this speech that I can afford to buy my mother youth serum and that maybe she can find a job.

I tried to think about my friends it had been a month since i started my new job as a glorified walking advertisment, it was never a dull affair. But as I found myself tangled in a web of deceit and absurdity, I realized that sometimes even the most well-intentioned actions can lead to chaos.

Once I had cleaned up and the dust had settled, I sought out Miller, hoping he had a plan to mitigate the fallout from my reckless speech. I really wanted some answers and could only hope Miller would give them to me. I was not in a position to pressure him.

"Captain Miller, we need to talk," I said, my voice trembling with anxiety as I approached him in his office.

He looked up from his desk, his expression unreadable. "Ok Brightspark Your in deep enough I can share some information in a few days i will lay the whole thing out. But for now "

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. "If the worst comes to the worst, I need you to promise me that you'll look after my mom, Rita. If anything happens to me you get her a dose of super serum and some walking around money"

Miller's eyes softened, and he nodded solemnly. "Of course, Brightspark. I'll make sure she's taken care of."

I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for Miller's reassurance. But my relief was short-lived as Miller dropped a bombshell that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Listen, Brightspark," he said, his voice grave, "the drug manufacturers won't take kindly to your little stunt. They'll be gunning for you, and they won't stop until they've taken you down."

My heart pounded in my chest as the gravity of the situation sank in. "What do I do?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I glared at Miller "Why are they coming for me?"

Miller's expression hardened, his jaw set with determination. "Does it matter? You lay low. Stay out of sight for a few days until things blow over. I'll send you and Tank to a safe house where you'll be protected."

With a sinking feeling in my gut, I nodded, realizing that I had dug myself into a hole deeper than I could have ever imagined. The drug companies and their spokesman the ex mayor of new york owed congress. I had heard stories of people vanishing after trying to stop the drug dealers entering their kids schools.

And so, with a heavy heart and a sense of impending doom, I followed Miller's orders and set off with Tank to the safe house—a dilapidated old factory that had been repurposed to build missile drones.

As Tank and I flew towards the safe house, my mind raced with questions and fears. Was Miller truly looking out for my best interests, or was there more to his plan than he was letting on? And what role did those missile drones play in all of this?

But as we touched down at the safe house and I stepped inside, surrounded by the hum of machinery and the faint scent of oil, I knew that one thing was certain: I was in for one wild ride. I just hoped i had a job at the end of the ride. With the AI lead automation push taking a lot of jobs and famine in Texas and California. I really needed my job. So if Miller said jump I had to say how high. I was just lucky Miller was such a decent guy.

Thinking about things it all started with a seemingly harmless suggestion from my mentor and boss, Captain Miller. He thought it would be a brilliant idea for me to make a quick buck by concocting plans to invade Cuba. The fact he actually was going ahead with his plans was scary.

Now, here I am, holed up in an active drone factory, trying to lay low until the storm blows over. But it's not just the looming threat of being exposed as a fraud that's weighing on my mind or having a hit squad break down the door and kill me—it's also the toxic yellow farts emanating from my sidekick, Tank, that are threatening to suffocate me.

I glance nervously at Tank, who's busy tinkering with one of the drones, his face scrunched up in concentration. I could practically see the green cloud of noxious gas forming around him, and I can't help but wonder if I'll survive the night.

"T-Tank," I stammer, trying to keep my voice steady despite the acrid stench that fills the air, "d-did you have to eat grey goo before we came here?"

Tank looks up, his eyes wide with innocence. "What? I was hungry! If you wanted to live you could have bought me a few tins of beans. At least then your eye balls would not be in danger of melting off"

I sigh, resigned to my fate as I resign myself to the fact that I'll probably die from toxic fumes before the drug manufacturers can even get to me. But just as I'm about to resign myself to my fate, my phone rings, startling me out of my despair.

I fumble for my phone, nearly dropping it in my haste to answer. "H-hello?"

It's Captain Miller on the line, his voice crisp and authoritative. "Brightspark, listen to me carefully. You need to stay put and lay low until further notice. I'll be in touch soon."

I blink in confusion, wondering what could possibly be happening now. "But Captain, what about the—"

He cuts me off before I can finish, his tone urgent. "No buts, Brightspark. Just do as I say and wait for my call."

With that, he hangs up, leaving me to ponder the mysteries of the universe—or at least, the mysteries of my own chaotic superhero existence.

As I sit in the drone factory, surrounded by the hum of machinery and the lingering scent of Tank's noxious emissions, I can't help but wonder what other absurd twists and turns await me on this wild superhero ride. But for now, all I can do is wait and hope for the best. And maybe invest in some nose plugs for next time.

A hour later I was not so sure Miller was such a nice guy Tank farted and a cloud of yellow gas came out of his ass. He winked at me “Your going to need some upgrades Brightspark”

I never imagined that a simple conversation with, Tank, would lead to such a bizarre and unsettling proposition. But here I was, faced with the prospect of undergoing drastic body upgrades just to avoid being killed by his noxious farts.

"You know, Brightspark," Tank said, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief, "you really ought to consider getting some upgrades for your body."

I blinked in surprise, not quite sure where this was going. "Upgrades? What do you mean?"

Tank grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Well, you see, I've had my eyes and lungs replaced with cybernetic implants. It's made me stronger, faster, and more resilient than ever before. Plus,since the captain bought me that stomach upgrade it means my farts aren't nearly as deadly as they used to be."

I recoiled in horror at the thought of Tank's noxious emissions being any more lethal than they already were. "Wait, what? Your farts were worse? That drug dealer clawed out his own eyeballs with his thumbs because you handcuffed his hands."

Tank chuckled, patting me on the back in a gesture of mock sympathy. "Oh, don't worry, Brightspark. It's not like they'll burn out your eyes or anything. Probably."

I shuddered at the thought, feeling a surge of panic rising in my chest. The last thing I needed was to be incapacitated by a toxic cloud of gas the look on the drug dealers face ws enough to coinvince me that I needed some kind of upgrade.

But despite my internal turmoil, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at Tank's cybernetic enhancements. After all, who wouldn't want to be stronger, faster, and more resilient?

Still, I couldn't bring myself to admit my true feelings to Tank. The truth was, I didn't have enough money to afford such extravagant upgrades, even if I wanted them. So instead, I did what any self-respecting superhero would do—I lied.

"Thanks, Tank, but I think I'll pass on the whole cybernetic implant thing," I said, mustering up a feeble smile. "I'd rather keep my eyes and lungs intact, if you don't mind."

Tank shrugged, his grin widening into a smirk. "Suit yourself, Brightspark. But let me tell you, it's your loss. My kids have had the full procedure done, and they're doing just fine."

I blinked in surprise at Tank's revelation. "Your kids? You mean you've had cybernetic implants installed in your children? I know you gave them some upgrades but did you have all of their internal organs removed?"

Tank nodded proudly, puffing out his chest in a display of paternal pride. "Yep. Figured it was the best way to give them a leg up in life, you know? Plus, it's made family dinners a lot less... explosive. I can actually hung them without risking killing them."

I couldn't help but chuckle at Tank's unintended pun, despite the gravity of the situation. It seemed that even in the midst of our absurd superhero antics, there was always room for a bit of lighthearted humor.

But as I glanced at Tank, his cybernetic enhancements gleaming in the sunlight, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I was missing out on something truly extraordinary. And who knows? Maybe one day, when I had enough money saved up, I'd consider getting some upgrades of my own. But for now, I was content to stick with what I had—no matter how combustible it might be. Or that is what I tried to tell myself