The Cray household was alive long before sunrise.
Laughter, noise, the smell of toast and burnt bacon — it was the sound of heroes pretending to be normal for one morning.
"Jim! Sit down before you set the carpet on fire again!" Silver Cray shouted from the kitchen, her palms glowing faintly as she turned off the heat under the pan.
"I didn't!" came a blur of a reply. The youngest of the Cray children zipped past the table, a streak of speed and mischief, stealing a croissant right from Steven's hand.
"Did too!" Steven growled, a flicker of orange flame running up his wrist.
"Boys," Silver warned, voice sharp as a blade. A pulse of heat spread through the room, just enough to make everyone freeze in place. "Breakfast. Now. And no powers at the table."
The warning worked for about five seconds.
Vera was already standing, phone in hand, flexing for her camera. "Just one quick snap for my story! Hashtag CrayMorning."
"Vera."
"Fine, fine," she muttered, sliding into her seat beside Bruce. He didn't look up, too busy reading something on his tablet. His eyes glowed faintly blue — the telltale sign of a mind reader mid-focus.
"Mom," Vers said from the end of the table, spoon floating lazily beside her bowl, "Jim's vibrating his chair again. It's annoying."
"I'm not vibrating anything," Jim protested. The chair rattled violently under him. "Okay maybe a little."
Silver sighed, rubbing her forehead. "One breakfast. Just one peaceful breakfast—"
"Morning, everyone."
The room quieted instantly.
Kevin Cray stepped in, hair still damp, school bag slung over his shoulder. He had his father's calm eyes but his mother's fire behind them — quiet, steady, and far too aware of the chaos around him.
"Morning, Kev!" Vera chirped.
"Hey, big bro!" Steven grinned.
"Good morning, Kevin," Bruce said flatly, without looking up.
"Hi, Kevvy," Vers added, smirking.
Kevin slid into his seat with a small smile. "Where's Dad?"
Silver set the last plate down and exhaled. "On a call. Some hero council thing about budget approvals or city permits, I don't even know anymore."
"Classic Dad," Kevin said with a grin. "Saving the world and doing paperwork at the same time."
That earned a few laughs.
Then came a soft chime — the front doors opening with a hiss — and he walked in.
Chris Cray.
Even without the suit, he carried himself like a man who could hold the sky in one hand. His dark-blue blazer couldn't hide the faint shimmer of energy beneath his skin. A sleek comm-link blinked at his temple as he spoke to someone on the line.
"Yes, I said thirty minutes, not thirty-five. Keep the team on standby." He ended the call, sliding the device off, and smiled at his family. "Good morning, soldiers."
"Good morning, Daddy!" came a chorus — everyone except Bruce, who only offered a silent nod.
Chris took his seat at the head of the table. Instantly, the noise died. Jim stopped fidgeting, Vera put her phone down, and even Steven's flames went out.
The room had a rhythm. A system. One look from their father, and order fell into place.
Chris rested his elbows on the table. "Alright. Let's pray."
Everyone bowed their heads.
His voice was calm, grounded — not the booming voice of a hero giving speeches, but the quiet tone of a man who carried too much power and too many regrets.
> "Father above, thank you for this family, for this home, for peace that we keep fighting to protect. Watch over my children as they grow into the people they're meant to be. Amen."
"Amen," the family echoed.
As everyone reached for food, Chris looked toward Kevin. "So. Back to school today."
Kevin nodded. "Final year. Kinda weird knowing this might be my last breakfast here till break."
Vers groaned dramatically. "You can't leave! Who's going to stop Steven from blowing up the backyard again?"
"That was one time!" Steven argued.
Bruce looked up, expression unreadable. "Actually, it was three."
Laughter rippled through the table.
Kevin smiled, taking a bite of toast. "Guess you'll just have to survive without me for a while."
Silver smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll miss you, love. You've made us proud already."
Chris leaned back, studying his son. "You've grown fast, Kevin. I remember when you used to hide under the table every time someone mentioned combat drills."
Kevin chuckled. "That was before I realized dodging your lectures was harder than dodging punches."
Chris laughed — a deep, genuine laugh that made the rest of the family smile. Moments like this were rare.
But then came the sound everyone knew too well.
The alert tone.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A red light blinked on Chris's wristband. A hologram unfolded across the table, showing city streets in chaos — smoke, overturned cars, and a villain's emblem burning on the screen.
"Downtown Los Angeles," Bruce read. "Some kind of energy surge. Two confirmed casualties."
The room fell silent.
Chris stood, adjusting his blazer, and for a second, he was no longer a father — he was Crazy Clam, the world's greatest hero.
Silver looked up at him, calm but worried. "Duty calls."
He nodded. "Always does." Turning to his children, his voice softened. "I'll be back before dinner. Don't eat all the cookies, Jim."
Jim grinned. "No promises."
Everyone laughed as Chris floated a few inches off the floor, blue energy rippling under his feet. He gave Silver a quick kiss, nodded to Kevin, and said quietly,
> "Make me proud out there, son."
Kevin met his gaze. "Always."
With a low hum, the air shimmered — and Chris Cray shot through the open skylight in a burst of azure light, streaking toward the city.
For a moment, the room was silent again. Then Vera sighed. "And there goes Dad, saving the day before breakfast's even over."
Kevin smiled faintly, finishing his drink. "Guess that's the Cray way."
He rose, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Alright, everyone. I should get going."
Silver stood, pulling him into a warm hug. "Be safe. Call me if you need anything. And please, don't skip meals."
"Yes, Mom," he said, smiling.
Vera hugged him next, nearly knocking him off balance. "Bring back souvenirs!"
Vers waved lazily. "Send me a vid when you reach."
Steven grinned. "Try not to embarrass the Cray name, big bro."
Kevin laughed. "No promises."
He kissed his mom's forehead, gave his siblings one last look, and headed out into the golden L.A. morning — unaware that today, his life was about to change forever.