"Dad, we know about the declaration. We are also home at this exact moment because after this leave is up, we are shipping out to join in with the hunt. They've narrowed down what country he's in, and we are part of the initial force moving in to eliminate him." As I spoke, Renton didn't move, and he only nodded in agreement as our father gave us a worried expression.

"But enough of that. What's changed? What exactly are we walking into." Renton said, moving towards Dad's cruiser and securing our bags into the trunk.

However, before he closed the hatch door, he smiled as he noticed the rifle that lay neatly in the bottom.

"The country is in a state of unrest. Everyone is worried that he will attack at any minute. Several small groups, more commonly known as militias, have formed into what has been dubbed "Factions" due to changing public sentiment."

"However, although they all have different backgrounds and ideals, most of them share a similar motto: *You are either with the country or against it*."

"A number of riots have taken place due to these factions' uprisings, and citizens are divided about the Government's handling of the situation. Still, the worst part is that military families have been dragged into the chaos."

"Some feel he hasn't been caught because the Military isn't doing their job. You won't be viewed like you used to; gone are the days of the people being proud of Servicemen. The only one who will most likely show courtesy is those who were closest to you."

"So basically, Chase and his family are the only friendlies we will be encountering," I said blatantly, making Renton laugh.

"Still better than Boot or being in the Field, right Dean? At least we have something to look forward to."

Hearing our brotherly interaction, our Dad looked at Renton and me concernedly.

"And what is it you are looking forward to," Dad asked, causing me to grin from ear to ear.

"Well, that the little goof up we unknowingly did will result in a small crowd at the apartment when we get back, considering we sent out letters to all of our friends saying exactly when we would be home," I explained while sniffling loudly and propping my hands behind my head.

"And if things are as bad as you say, then there may be some chaos that we will face," Renton added while mimicking my body posture.

Shaking his head while unsure how to respond, our Dad put the car in gear and took us back to our apartment.

Long story short, My suspicions were 100 percent correct.

When we turned the corner, there were fifty-something people crowded in front of our apartment. Most held signs saying we had failed them, that we should be doing our job, not visiting home.

But my favorite one was a sign with multiple obscene gestures, and someone had taken the time to splice Renton's head onto a goat's body.

Taking a deep breath, Dad parked the car, causing the crowd to rush to the cruiser as people started banging on the windows angrily and shouting.

Meanwhile, I was still grinning widely, and my Dad noticed that not only was I grinning like a crazy person, but Renton was as well. He turned around, and the fire in both our eyes erupted.

Noticing this, Dad shuffled uncomfortably in the driver's seat. With trained synchronicity, Renton and I dropped our hands, leaned forward, and grabbed the door handles, but not before we fist-bumped.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Then, without another word, we exited the car into the chaos unfolding all around our vehicle.

The Second we opened the doors to the police cruiser, everything exploded in a chaotic frenzy not unlike what happens when you dump blood off a boat.

Hands were grabbing at my entire upper body, rocks were flying, and people were trying to hit my brother and me, but we were already by each other's side, fighting back the crowd while we grabbed our gear from the back of the car.

Moving with trained precision, we dodged fists and objects flawlessly as our training had taught us. One guy tried his luck against Renton, who just batted him away with his duffle bag. I heard him roar with laughter as the man tumbled into two other men, and all three fell down.

The walk from the car to the front door should have taken only 20 seconds, but due to the crowd, it took us a full 15 minutes. Once we crossed the threshold and the door shut, Renton and I collapsed to the floor, laughing uncontrollably.

"Did... You…see the guy…fall…into the others," I could barely get out between gasps of breath and laughter. Tears streamed down our cheeks as we practically rolled around on the ground until we were wheezing for air.

On the other hand, our Dad was clawed up; his shirt was torn, and he had a couple of drops of blood tracing down his cheek. He didn't look anywhere near as amused as us by the whole situation.

But moments later, our amusement swiftly turned into alertness because we heard someone trying to break in through the back door. Renton and I moved on instinct.

Growing up with a Dad who was not only EX-Army but also a Cop, it wasn't a leap to assume we had firearms in the house. Our Dad had accumulated all kinds of weapons over the years, so they needed a place to be stored.

But unlike what you'd expect, they weren't stored in a locker or safe. Instead, all the guns were hidden throughout the house. There was one in every room; the nearest one was in the dresser at the bottom of the stairs. However, as it was only a nine-millimeter handgun, we ignored it and went toward our favorites.

Within seconds, we separated and met in the kitchen, closest to the back door. Renton and I were armed, my brother with a shotgun and I with an Ar-15 rifle, and our Dad had pulled his concealed weapon. With weapons drawn and ready, we all moved silently toward the back of the apartment. Someone was giggling at the doorknob, and it sounded like they were trying to force a wedge into the door crack to bust it open.

We each positioned ourselves in such a way that we would have a clear shot at the intruder. Who was now noisily cursing at the door for not opening. But I recognized the voice and signaled for my family to stop.

The three of us were silent as lions hunting as I concentrated on the voice on the other side of the barricade. I knew who it was, so I motioned for them to lower their weapons.

I listened to the person outside, creeping towards the door as silently as possible and leaning against it. Soon enough, I was able to pick out three separate voices.

The people on the other side, I knew very well. Lowing my voice to sound intimidating, I yelled through the door, "WHAT'S THE PASSPHRASE TO ENTER THE PREMISES?"

"This brat, he is asking for a password. What is it? One of you has to know?" Hearing my words, a woman's voice on the other side cursed, soon followed by a lot of shuffling outside before someone cleared their voice.

"Excellent, Sir; the Passphrase required is as follows. Swag-a-tron-rex."

A bright smile flashed across my face as I motioned for Dad to turn on the lights and for Renton to help me clear the door.

It was my second family; in one movement, I clicked on the rifle's safety and used the strap to swing the rifle to my back before opening the door, only to be tackled by Carleigh, Chase's mom.

"MY BOY, MY NON-BIRTHED SON." She wailed into my chest as the tears began to flow. Snorting and feeling it strange how light Carleigh felt, I cradled the small woman in my arms and moved back, allowing Chase and Tristian into our home.

"Jesus, Carleigh, we almost shot you and the boys. You should have called us." My Dad said, holstering his pistol.

Renton came up behind me and undid the strap from the rifle with a couple of clicking sounds before returning it and his shotgun to their respective hiding locations.

"And where do you think you are going, Renton Fairaday?" A 4th voice rang out into the apartment.

"Yeah, I know you aren't bailing already," a 5th voice chimed, freezing my younger brother in place.

Hearing the two new voices, Renton spun around and walked back toward us with a big, goofy smile on his face. His Best friend Mitchell and his mom Sheila had entered the apartment and closed the door behind them.

"And here I was thinking Dean was going to be the only one getting a housewarming." Renton spat with a smirk as he walked straight up to Sheila and Mitchell and threw his arms around them.