Shortly after the greetings, we all sat around the dining room table, and they filled us in on what had been happening since we left for training over a year ago.

The World has changed significantly since the President declared War against Cyber terrorists. But that wasn't the only thing they told us. Our friends were quick to talk about the new games, movies, and music that had come out since we went off the grid, as Tristian put it.

Speaking of Tristan, the guy looked great; he had a new prosthetic leg and arm. they were both robotic, so we started calling him Cyborg Tris, which he was completely okay with, but his mom was not having any of it while she was there.

The Group had us talking for hours about training and what kinds of weapons we got to use. Soon, the topics rapidly bounced around, like if the food was as bad as all the rumors painted it to be, what was life like in the military? The biggest question came from Chase, who was adamant about learning if grenades explode with fire like in the movies.

Unfortunately for Chase, we had to break it to him that they, in fact, do not blow up like in the movies.

With their questions out of the way, Renton and I told stories of how we would entertain ourselves during desert training by taking scorpions and bugs, throwing them into plastic containers, and watching them fight.

Sure, it was barbaric, but we had to stay entertained during our downtime. By the time midnight rolled around, it was just Chase, Tristian, Renton, and I. The others had all left, and our Dad had gone to sleep.

"So, are either of you allowed to tell us what's being done about the Cyber Bombardier thing?" Chase asked, examining Renton and me for any response.

But Tristian interceded, "I'm sure if they could say anything, Chase, it would be very vague, and we would likely be better off just not knowing."

He was right; Renton and I did know something, but it wasn't anything we were supposed to tell people. With this thought in mind, I carefully considered my following words before speaking.

As I exhaled loudly, I glanced over my clasped hands to see the two brothers and then looked at my brother from the corner of my eye.

Right as I was about to say something, all four of our cell phones went off, and Dad rushed into the living room where we were all sitting.

Completely ignoring all of us as if we weren't there, he ran to the TV and swiftly put on the nightly news. The next thing I knew, all of us were staring at a national news network, slackjawed.

The red tape scrolling across the bottom of the screen read, "The Time Is Now! Soon has become the Present," The Bombardier had started his attack.

Chase, Tristian, and my Dad sat in shock at what was being shown on the screen. In contrast, Renton and I sat motionless, examining every aspect of what was being shown. we knew this was bound to happen eventually, but now that it had, we needed to gather as much information as possible.

While Reporters and Anchormen babbled, the room lit up with the Flashes of rockets firing and troops engaging in combat as scenes from around the World flashed across the screen.

Midway through the broadcast, my Dad's began ringing off the hook until he finally answered it. From where I sat, I could hear someone was distressed on the other end of the line. Hence, as he talked to the person, he left the room, leaving the four of us to watch silently as The Cyber Bombardier's army waged war against the other militaries of the World's governments.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Based on the images, I determined that the majority of the powerful countries were all represented in what was to be known as the largest joint military offensive in history.

Renton's eyes were darting back and forth just like mine as we examined every little detail of what was happening on the screen.

Nothing needed to be said between my brother and me; it was apparent that the two of us were itching to get out there and finally use all the training we had acquired.

According to the paperwork we received before being granted leave, Renton and I knew we were supposed to go there in a month, but now I was sure we would be on the next plane out of here and sent into combat.

When I was lost in thought, my Dad returned to the room and placed a hand on Renton's and my shoulders, making us turn and look him in the eye.

"Dean, Renton, I need you both to come with me for a minute. Tristian, Chase, will you give us a moment." The tone in my father's voice was forceful and calm. He knew something we didn't, and without letting go of our shoulders, Dad led us into the kitchen and spoke in a hushed tone.

"I just got a call from one of my old army buddies. He's the leader of a small militant group here in the States that have been monitoring all the activity involving both sides of the battle for months. Approximately 2 hours ago, several small cities and towns that the Group had connections to fell off the map, and when I say that, I don't mean just went silent."

"They were attacked. Specifics haven't been noted yet, and they are sending squads to investigate, but I have a bad feeling that we have been invaded. This could very well be the first military assault on US soil in hundreds of years. "

"We are still looking into it, but this could go south quickly. I just wanted to tell both of you beforehand so you could prepare yourselves in the likely event that we need to take action." As my Dad spoke, I noticed Renton clenching and unclenching his fist almost methodically, which was a signal to me, one that we had devised in training.

It was something that wasn't obvious, and if someone saw, they would think he was trying to get the blood flowing.

When he made that motion, if I noticed, I would respond back with the call sign, which in this case was me rubbing the spot between my pinky knuckle and my ring knuckle on my palm. Once he noticed that, he spoke up.

"Dad, you aren't going to like what we are going to do next at all," I said calmly, trying to gauge my Dad's body language.

"If we are being attacked as a nation, then chaos will break out. Looters will start destroying everything, and since we live in a heavily populated area, we will be at risk," Renton continued my sentence without hesitation.

"This means as a family, we have to act as one unit; the only real issue here is, as an officer of the law, you'll be expected to keep the peace, which leaves just Dean and me. Our first step needs to be fortifying the perimeter."

I kept the flow of the conversation going the second Renton stopped speaking, "Not only that, but we will need to arm ourselves. I don't see this going well at all, especially after what happened with our little homecoming. The odds are, we will have several people gunning for us, and they will assume we have weapons and will most likely attack us to try getting their hands on them."

As I finished my statement, Chase yelled, "GUYS, GET IN HERE NOW."

He was frantic enough that we bolted to the living room, and upon entering the room, it was apparent why he was acting that way. On the screen were several rockets being launched simultaneously. The Cameras followed them for about 20 seconds before the screen cut to black.

Tristian yelled, "CMON WHAT THE HELL," but was cut off by a beeping sound coming from the TV. A green timer appeared in the top right corner of the screen, but it hadn't begun to count down.

Seconds after the timer appeared, there was another beep from the TV, and a shadow appeared on the screen.

Soon, this shadow lit up as the studio lights panned up to reveal a middle-aged pale-skinned man sitting at a desk, wearing a sadistic smile; the man began speaking casually and unfiltered.

"Hello, everyone, don't try changing the channel because I've hacked into every TV station worldwide. Since none of you have seen my real face, let me introduce myself properly. My Name Is Niklaus Fastay; however, to the World, I am known by another name…."

Hearing his words, I silently echoed him as the man on Tv stated his title, "The Cyber Bombardier!" However, in contrast to my serious expression, Niklaus seemed over the moon and even chuckled sadistically.