The Greystone Manor was less a home and more a magnificent, rambling testament to questionable maintenance and boundless invention. For the five Caldwell brothers, it was simply "The Asylum."
Elias, the eldest at twenty-five, was the foundation of the house—stoic, a pragmatic lawyer who paid the bills and worried constantly. Ronan (23), the melancholic middle child, was a gifted musician who composed requiems for forgotten spices. The real chaos, however, resided in the younger three: Finn (17), the quiet, socially awkward genius who spoke only in algorithms; and the twin fifteen-year-olds, Leo and Kai, who were not merely brothers but two halves of a single, highly destructive gravitational force.
It was 4 PM on a Tuesday, and the kitchen, meant for cooking, was currently serving as an unsanctioned chemical testing lab.
"Kai, the baking soda has to be precisely 70 grams! Not 70.1!" Finn hissed, adjusting his makeshift laboratory goggles. He was perched precariously on a stool, operating a camera mounted on a tripod, recording the experiment with the seriousness of a seasoned documentarian.
Leo, a whirlwind of boundless energy, stood over a volcano made of repurposed cardboard and duct tape. "It's fine, Finn! It's all about the pressure differential," he argued, his hands shaking slightly from excitement.
Kai, the cooler-headed twin (a relative term), was carefully pouring concentrated vinegar into a measuring cup. "The hypothesis, for the record," Kai stated, looking directly into Finn's camera, "is that a highly localized, high-pressure exothermic reaction—i.e., this volcano—can generate enough vertical thrust to send this prototype drone, 'The Bumblebee,' through the kitchen skylight."
"And why, exactly, are we attempting to launch a drone through the ceiling?" Ronan's voice cut through the air, thick with the smell of stale yeast and imminent disaster. He stood in the doorway, clutching his cello case like a shield, his face a mask of weary disbelief.
Leo simply grinned, flashing a dimple that usually got him out of trouble. "Art, Ronan. Pure, scientific art."
"It's physics," Finn corrected dryly from his stool, "with a minor element of arson."
Before Ronan could issue a proper parental threat, Leo gave the signal. Kai, with a dramatic flourish, dumped the vinegar into the baking soda volcano. The reaction was immediate and violent. A geyser of white foam and sickly gray smoke erupted, far exceeding their estimations. The cardboard volcano dissolved instantly, and the blast radius covered the entire central island. 'The Bumblebee' drone, rather than ascending smoothly, spun wildly out of control, hitting a frying pan, bouncing off the ceiling lamp, and finally crash-landing into Ronan's open cello case with a sickening thwack.
The kitchen was silent save for the dripping foam. Ronan looked at his instrument case, then at the twins, his expression a slow, unfolding horror.
"Well," Leo sighed, picking up a shard of the broken drone propeller. "It did not meet the required thrust parameters."
"Shut off the camera, Finn," Ronan whispered, his eyes fixed on the cello case. "Just… shut off the camera."
The Crazy Brothers had struck again, and the night had barely begun.