On the surface, the house was ordinary.
A two-story suburban home. White walls, gray roof, a neatly paved driveway. A mailbox with a last name that wasn't real. Windows that reflected the sunlight just right, giving it that perfect, artificial warmth that made neighbors feel comfortable but not too interested.
It was designed to be ignored.
And yet, inside—
It was something else.
The front door swung open, and Nikola stepped in first, dropping his bag onto the floor. His sharp gaze scanned the interior, already making calculations. The walls were too clean, the furniture too placed, but he had to admit—Kid had done well.
It looked like a home.
"Alright," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Show us the fun part."
Kid didn't respond. He simply walked forward, barefoot on hardwood floors, heading toward what looked like an ordinary hallway.
And then—
He reached the end.
And the entire world shifted.
The floor beneath them sank.
A seamless motion, impossible to notice unless you were standing inside it—the entire house, every wall, every inch of space, dropped.
The suburban home, the perfect disguise, was simply the roof of something much larger.
The descent was silent. No rumbling, no mechanical whirring. Just motion.
And then—
The real house revealed itself.
The space beneath stretched for miles.
Wesson let out a slow breath, her gaze flicking across the sheer scale of it.
Massive corridors extended into the distance, doors lining the walls, each one leading to something different.
The main level was open—a common space, furnished like the home above, but bigger, grander, more tailored to them.
A long dining table sat at the center, far too large for just five people.
The air was cleaner, richer, perfectly controlled.
Nikola whistled. "Damn. Kid really went all out."
Thallium hummed, skipping forward, touching everything. "Ohhhh, I love this," she crooned, fingers trailing over the smooth, polished surfaces. "Feels expensive."
"It is," Kid said.
Mother Gaia did not speak. She simply looked, taking it in, searching for nature where there was none.
She already hated it.
Wesson, on the other hand, approved.
Her gaze drifted toward the armory, a sealed vault designed specifically for her.
Wesson Tesla: Access Granted."
The doors slid open.
Inside—weapons.
Guns, swords, blades, everything organized and waiting.
She took a step forward, fingers itching to test the weight of each firearm.
Nikola chuckled. "I bet mine's bigger."
He turned, heading for his own section—a high-tech laboratory, filled with cutting-edge equipment, machines not yet discovered by human science.
The moment he stepped in, the room came alive.
Screens flickered on. A 3D projection of blueprints hovered in the air. The smell of steel and circuitry filled his lungs.
He grinned. "Oh, Kid. You shouldn't have."
Thallium twirled, stopping in front of her own space.
A medical wing.
Not for healing.
For testing.
Shelves lined with vials, rows of preserved samples, the unmistakable hum of refrigerated storage.
And, of course—
A candy jar.
She plucked a lollipop from the glass, peeling off the wrapper with a satisfied hum.
Mother Gaia, meanwhile, remained silent.
Her section had no walls.
Instead, an open biome stretched before her, a massive underground ecosystem—dense, untamed, alive.
The air shifted around her as she stepped inside.
The others had their labs. Their weapons. Their machines.
She had this.
And it was hers.
The Family Rules
As the others explored, Kid stood in the common area, watching them.
Then, he spoke.
"There will be rules."
The voices stilled.
Nikola arched a brow, stepping out of his lab. "Oh? We doing house rules now?"
"Yes," Kid said.
Thallium licked her lollipop. "Oh, I like this game."
Kid did not smile.
"The rules are as follows."
1. We are a family at the dinner table.
2. Dinner is at 6:00 PM. Not negotiable.
3. No powers at the table until dinner ends at 7:30 PM.
4. No unnecessary messes outside your designated spaces.
5. All payments to family businesses must be made on time, or they are doubled.
A long pause.
Then—
Nikola laughed.
"Wait—wait, hold on," he grinned, pointing at Kid. "You made that last rule specifically for me, didn't you?"
Kid did not deny it.
Mother Gaia scoffed. "I will not eat with a machine."
Kid blinked. "That is your choice. But you will sit with the family."
Wesson tilted her head. "Why?"
Kid's voice was calm, absolute.
"Because this is home.''