Landing softly just outside my farmland, I rolled up my gloves to reveal a standard pointer watch—because I'm old-school like that—and pressed a hidden button on it. Instantly, my dark blue and red suit dissolved into billions of tiny particles that zipped into the watch, leaving me dressed in the most generic clothes a man in Kansas could wear.
With my disguise complete, I pulled a car key from my pocket and pressed the thingamajig that makes the bip-bip sound. A few flashy VFX later, a pickup truck emerged from camouflage mode. I won't say the brand, because you're not here for my generic opinions on vehicles.
Climbing in, I took a deep breath to prepare myself for what was coming, then drove onto my property, cruising along the four-tenths of a mile road that runs between my cattle pasture and soy fields. Yes, I'm the most powerful superhero in the world—and I own a farm. Blame Superman for that idea.
Soon, I reached the house. A pretty little thing, big enough for me, the kids, and the babysitters. Speaking of which, I'd barely stepped out of the truck when something fast—supernaturally fast—slammed into my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs.
"I missed you." That would be my youngest, Kara. She's very... physical with her affection.
"I missed you too, my star," I said, patting her head lovingly.
But Kara isn't my only child. Over her shoulder, I spotted Connor, brooding as usual, watching us with the kind of envy he thinks I don't notice. Smiling, I used my superspeed to reach him before he could escape and pulled him into a family hug.
"Sorry, sunshine. Family hugs are mandatory," I said after hearing his familiar annoyed grunt.
Finally letting him go, I ruffled his already-messy hair and headed inside the house, where I was greeted by the heavenly scent of chocolate pancakes—something I'd been smelling since Timor-Leste.
"You sure know how to make a man feel welcome in his own home, Irene," I said to our cook, who moonlights as a clairvoyant mutant.
"Well, good to know someone still enjoys my food in this house," she replied, her ever-shaded eyes casting judgment at Connor.
Choosing to ignore that—for now—I asked, "Is Raven around?" referring to our resident shapeshifter, who for some reason insists on disguising herself as the family's old dog.
"No, she went out. Charles and Erik are having another meeting, and someone has to babysit them like toddlers," Irene said with a shrug. Fair enough. I wasn't going to question it.
"Dad, are we going to play catch?" Kara asked, her mouth full of pancake batter. I hadn't even noticed her go from hugging me to devouring the food of the gods.
"Later. You still have to show me if your throwing's improved," I replied, giving Connor the classic parental 'You're going too' look.
Safe to say, my family is lovely—and I would die for them.