Sons of the Earth

Sons of the Earth Bunker, February 20th, 2020, 0900

     In his long years, the Wizard had few times where he'd experienced true happiness. Now, he found himself smiling from the moment he opened his eyes in the bed the three of them shared to when they returned to it at night. Every night, he slept with his brothers pressed close to his sides. For the first time, his sleep was untroubled.

     After a friendly debate over what Mason's preferred weapon actually was (the Swordsman had called it a javelin while the Wizard insisted it was a spear), Mason had overruled them both and settled on the title of the Lancer. Now, the three of them spent most of their time refining their powers. Working together seemed to come as near-instinctual, as all three delighted in experimenting with combining their powers to create different results. In between practice sessions, the Swordsman and the Lancer delighted in challenging each other in video games, shouting good-natured insults and taunts while the Wizard contented himself watching as he read a novel. But there was pain, too. The Lancer's grief over losing his family had him sobbing on the shoulders of his brothers, even as he eagerly embraced his new place in their trio. Then, there was the continued news about the spread of COVID-19 and the various reactions throughout the world that troubled all three. But through it all, their bond grew ever stronger.

     Even as he enjoyed their time together, the Wizard kept careful watch. NARD was a bad enemy to have. The Foundation was even worse. Having both groups chasing after them was a complication the Wizard had no real idea how they would handle. Eventually, he knew their luck would run out. But he still wasn't prepared for the day it happened.

     The morning started out as usual, with the three of them chatting over breakfast. They hadn't even finished eating before the first perimeter alarms sounded. The Wizard immediately rushed to check the cameras. His heart sank when he saw the combined groups approaching their compound. The familiar logos for NARD were on the lead transports, but further back among them were unmarked troop transports. No doubt, these were the dreaded Grey Coats. Just as he'd feared, both groups had joined forces to take the three of them down.

     The Lancer came up behind him, the Swordsman riding piggy-back on the much larger man. The Lancer's twentieth-century height allowed him to look over the Wizard's shoulder, while the Swordsman looked over the Lancer's. Both seemed surprisingly cheerful, considering what they were looking at. "Guess today's the day, huh?" the Lancer asked.

     "So it would appear." The Wizard switched through the cameras, taking note of the approaching enemies. "It's definitely both groups. This is going to be a difficult battle."

     "For them," the Swordsman sniffed. He was still perched on the Lancer's back, his arms wrapped loosely around the larger man's neck as he watched the screen.

     "We're as ready as we'll ever be," the Lancer agreed. His arms were tucked under the Swordsman's knees. He appeared to be quite pleased with the arrangement and frowned when the Wizard caught the Swordsman around the waist with one arm and set him back on the floor. "Hey, calm down," he urged, putting a hand on the Wizard's shoulder. "We've got a plan."

     "We do, but we cannot underestimate their resources. In the event they get through our defenses and our magic, you will have to be ready to deal with them," the Wizard reminded the Swordsman.

     "I am," the Swordsman declared, "but I'll be surprised if they can reach that point. They haven't been able to do much beyond getting lucky shots on us with those stupid tranquilizer darts, and we're not about to let that happen today."

     "Be careful anyway," the Lancer advised. "If it somehow comes to a physical fight, I know you'll be more than a match for whatever they can throw at you. Just don't get too overconfident."