The moment Kyle revealed that he was Spider-Man, he felt as if an unbearable weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Or maybe his heart.
But that wasn't the point.
The point was that he felt truly, completely liberated.
And it felt incredible.
While he was basking in the warm, glorious light of his own honesty, his family was undergoing a violent emotional reboot.
The sheer complexity of their internal logic codes was so overwhelming that Kyle half-expected to see a literal Windows Blue Screen of Death flash across their eyes.
As the silence stretched into a long, agonizing stillness, the warm glow of liberation evaporated.
In its place, fear and rejection began to creep slowly into Kyle's chest.
Umm, did I reveal this too early? Should I have taken my time with a PowerPoint presentation or something?
These thoughts invaded and clouded his mind like an unwelcome storm.
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
Two vastly different reactions, yet both entirely rooted in the exact same flavor of overwhelming panic.
Caitlyn and Tobias's reactions were nothing short of hearing that Piltover had just been leveled by a hextech nuke.
Tobias stood frozen, his eyes wide enough to pop out of his skull, while Caitlyn didn't even bother walking around the furniture.
She leaped straight onto the polished mahogany dining table, her boots leaving ungodly scuff marks, and marched down the center like a relentless enforcer on a raid.
She lunged, grabbing Kyle squarely by his collar, and immediately unleashed an interrogation that only an overly enthusiastic law enforcement cadet could dream up.
"What? How? When? Where? How many times? Why the spandex, Kyle? Why the red and blue spandex?!"
"Knock it off, woman! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Kyle barked back, trying to pry her fingers off his shirt before she ruined his favorite top.
Tobias finally found his voice, waving his hands frantically. "Cait, darling, please! Calm down and try to be reasonable—"
"Shut up, Dad!" Caitlyn snapped, not even looking back.
The old man literally squeaked, shrinking back half an inch.
Emboldened by her victory over her father, Caitlyn turned her full, terrifying focus back onto Kyle, practically harassing him with a barrage of rapid-fire questions about vigilante permits.
The scene was so chaotic and volatile that Kyle, a guy who could comfortably lift a minicar over his head, completely forgot he had superpowers in the first place.
"Caitlyn. That is enough."
The voice was not loud, but it possessed the kind of gravity that stopped planets in their orbits.
The Kiramman matriarch had spoken.
Caitlyn froze mid-shake. She slowly turned her head toward her mother, her expression a mix of shock and betrayal. "Are you being serious right now, Mum? He just said he's the spider-guy!"
Cassandra stood up, looking regal, composed, and utterly unbothered. "I ordered you to stand down and behave, Caitlyn. Jumping on the formal dining table like a wild creature is entirely unbecoming of your manners and your class."
Caitlyn and Cassandra shared an intense, silent standoff.
Finally, with a dramatic, irritated sigh, Caitlyn released Kyle's collar.
She dropped down from the table, stomped back to her chair, and crossed her arms over her chest, pouting heavily.
Both Tobias and Kyle let out long, synchronized sighs of relief, utterly exhausted by the outburst.
Kyle rubbed his neck, feeling as though he'd just aged a good five years in under two minutes.
He then turned his gaze toward his mother.
Cassandra, maintaining a terrifyingly stoic posture, turned on her heel, walked steadily toward the dining room door, opened it, and exited without saying a single word.
Silence descended upon the room once more.
"Well… that was unexpected?" Kyle offered, scratching the back of his head and looking at the empty doorway.
Tobias and Caitlyn both nodded along, their faces masks of pure, unadulterated confusion.
Until—
BANG!
The dining room door slammed open so hard the frame shuddered, nearly pulling the hinges straight out of the wood.
Cassandra marched back into the room, her regal demeanor replaced by raw, frantic energy.
Clutched tightly in her hands was the traditional Kiramman double-barrel shotgun—a heavily engraved, brass-trimmed family heirloom passed down through generations.
The moment she crossed the threshold, she raised the heavy firearm, aimed the two gaping barrels directly at Kyle's chest, and roared at the top of her lungs.
"Who the bloody hell are you?! And what have you done to my son?!"
"Whoa, honey, what the—!"
"Holy Mother of Piltover!"
Once again, two wildly different reactions linked straight back to the exact same survival instinct.
Tobias literally dived under the mahogany dining table, covering his head with a cloth napkin.
Caitlyn sprinted away from her seat, grabbing a nearby velvet sofa and flipping it onto its side to create instant tactical cover.
Now it was Kyle's turn to have his jaw drop.
His mind went completely, entirely blank.
Just what kind of absolute shitshow have I gotten myself into?
He closed his eyes, rubbed his temples, and mentally filed a formal complaint to whatever cosmic entity was running his life.
It would have been so much better to be born in the MCU. At least that universe has a basic sense of normalcy! At least there I could have used my comic knowledge to get rich or learn the mystic arts, instead of getting held at gunpoint by my own mother during breakfast!
"I won't repeat myself!" Cassandra warned, her voice tight. "Who the bloody hell are you?!"
Kyle opened his eyes and looked closer.
Her hands, which were usually steady enough to hit a bullseye from a hundred paces, were violently shaking.
Was it rage?
Was it fear?
Or was it the sheer, desperate denial of a mother whose mind couldn't process reality?
Kyle let out a quiet, tired sigh. Instead of raising his hands, he stepped out from behind his chair and began to walk slowly toward her.
"D-Don't come any closer! I am warning you!" she cried, her knuckles turning white on the wooden stock.
Kyle didn't stop.
He didn't even flinch.
"Cassandra, honey! What are you doing?! Just calm down!" Tobias's panicked voice echoed from beneath the table, but Cassandra wasn't listening to him.
Her world had narrowed down to the young man walking straight into her line of fire.
As Kyle took those slow, deliberate steps toward his mother, a memory flashed unbidden into his mind.
He was very small, barely a toddler, struggling with all his might to stand up on his two chubby legs.
He had fallen on his rear three times already, but his mother was kneeling a few feet away, her hands open, her expression radiant.
"That's it, just a little further, my sweet boy," past-Cassandra had encouraged him with the warmest smile he had ever seen.
Little Kyle had faltered, wobbled on uncertain feet, but he kept pushing forward.
Step by step, until he tumbled straight into his mother's open arms.
Cassandra had scooped him up, laughing softly, showering his cheeks with warm kisses before pulling him into a cozy, protective hug.
"That's my boy. My sweet Kyle," she had cooed so gently.
The memory faded, snapping back to the harsh reality of the present.
Kyle was now at point-blank range.
The cold metal of the shotgun's double barrels rested lightly against his sternum.
Cassandra's eyes were brimming with unshed tears, her hands trembling violently as she stared up into his eyes.
Gently, without a single sudden movement, Kyle reached out.
His fingers wrapped softly around the barrel, tilting the weapon upward and carefully sliding it out of her stiff, frozen grip.
He set the heavy shotgun down onto the floor beside them.
Then, he stepped forward and pulled his mother into a warm, gentle, and unyielding embrace.
"I am your son, damn it," Kyle whispered softly into her hair, his arms wrapped securely around her trembling shoulders. "I am Kyle Kiramman. Your young son who grew up, who you took care of, who you gave birth to. No matter what I can do, or what suit I wear... I will always be your son."
A long, shuddering breath escaped Cassandra's lips.
The moment her arms wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly, a soft, fragile whimpered sob escaped her chest.
How could she do something like that? her mind screamed at her.
How could she raise a weapon at her own flesh and blood?
How could she even call herself a mother?
But as she felt his warmth, the familiar scent of him, and the absolute sincerity in his voice, the terror washed away.
This was her boy.
Her child.
Her son.
This was her Kyle.
Kyle patted her back gently, letting out a massive sigh of relief.
Through his suit, he could literally feel the wild, erratic thumping of her heart—insane beats echoing against her ribcage.
She must have been terrified out of her mind, he realized with a pang of guilt.
From underneath the table, Tobias poked his head out, blinking in disbelief.
Behind the flipped sofa, Caitlyn cautiously stood up, peeking over the cushions.
Both of them let out profound, collective sighs of relief.
It could have gone so much worse in a dozen different ways. But thank the gods, it hadn't.
Emotions had won out over raw panic.
A soft, genuine smile crept onto Tobias's face, mirrored quickly by Caitlyn.
Seeing the mother and son holding each other so tightly, the tension in the room dissolved into pure, cozy warmth.
"Well," Tobias cleared his throat, crawling out from under the table and dusting off his trousers. "I suppose I'd be lying if I said I didn't want in on that."
"Move over, Dad, I was closer!" Caitlyn declared, vaulting back over the sofa with considerably less tactical aggression this time.
Within seconds, Tobias wrapped his broad arms around both Cassandra and Kyle, while Caitlyn practically tackled the three of them from the side, squeezing herself right into the middle.
It was messy, noisy, and slightly chaotic—a full Kiramman family dogpile right in the middle of the dining room floor, with a loaded shotgun resting peacefully beside them.
Kyle chuckled quietly, resting his chin on his mother's shoulder as he hugged them back.
Right now, he wouldn't trade this crazy family for anything in the multiverse.