Darkness fell over the desert, the four men had made camp deep between enemy lines. This whole operation had gone to shit - it was off the books, running ops for the snake Waller truly was a suicide mission. They were out of supplies, and they knew no backup would find them. Each had little more than what little rations remained in their packs, two armor plates each and six reserve mags worth of handgun ammunition. It would truly require a miracle for any of them to make it back home - not to mention how they still had a mission to complete. Major Stewart had gone through inventory, what little they had. Lieutenant Gardner had produced his empty shotgun and half a sniper rifle, missing the barrel. Captain Jordan had emergency flares, a parachute, some medical supplies and a flashlight. And Sergeant Rayner had a multitool, a Byalian dictionary and a empty and mangled hand-held lantern.

Stewart wasn't gonna lie to them. The situation was fucked. They all knew it. Fear was seeping in, they weren't gonna succeed in their mission. Thousasnds of Allied troops were going to die to the Byalian superweapon. And then all out war would start. Not to mention how the death toll would start with these four men. They dug into their rations, Stewart grabbed a crumbling map from his back pocket and laid it out, marking where they were and where the objective was. 14 clicks. Not impossible on foot. If it was a hike. This was deep into one of the most surveillance areas in the world.
Hal, Guy and John were all in unison, eyebows furled. Deep in thought. Guy was picking at his food, barely eating. The guy always ate. Rayner, their engineer who had the least combat experience. They had known Rayner since they were kids. He was grinning... No, he was smiling. Holding something in his hand. 

"The hell is so funny, Rayner?" Captain Jordan snapped

"Heh. Just that I can't wait to see my wife and kid".

There it was, in his smile.

Hope.

[hr]

Guy had heard the plan. He didn't like it. He barely believed it. But after this shitfest? He just wanted to fight. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism. If he wasn't angry, he'd be scared. Fear was the enemy. They all knew it.

"If we pull this off, we better get medals." He jeered.

"We better get fuckin' Knighted if we pull this off buddy." Hal filled in, John shook his head.

"You guys both know that if we pull this off, nobody is ever gonna know. Our only thanks is that tomorrow's correspondence from our war-reporter, Perry White will be about Great Ceasar's Ghost, and not about World War Three."

They all chuckled.
"Well, you know what guys? Nobody else will thank us. So I guess we better thank ourselves." Rayner commanded, the others, sitting in their makeshift camp perked up. Rayner ripped open the last pencil he had and started drawing something - he didn't have a great hand, but it was good enough. He made an insignia, a crest. Like two T's, connected by a ring on each end, a small circle in the middle. They had all seen this before. A really long time ago. Before they all drifted apart, and then suddenly were reunited in the military.

"I used to draw this when we were kids, remember?" Rayner asked rhetorically.

"What is it?" Guy questioned, Hal chuckled in disbelief.

"It's our crest, for our knightly order." Rayner answered. John laughed. "Order of what?"

Taking one of the waning emergency flares they had used to make a campfire with a tong, he placed it in the broken down lantern he had just taped back together.

"Knights of The Lantern" Rayner grinned. They all laughed. John had been their quarterback in highschool football, and he always held speeches before the big games. Rayner handed him the lantern.
"You wanna do the honors, Sir Captain?" Bowing and kneeling in jest. John took the lantern and smirked.

"Remember how the old saying went?" John asked, reffering to the mantra their football Coach, Mister Scott had taught them so long ago. They all nodded in agreement. 
For a brief moment, these four soldiers, certain of their death, barely clining onto hope were once again the football team The Coastal City Lightkeepers. 
All four of them kneeled cerimonously in a football huddle. The burning lantern in the middle of them.
They all spoke in unison.

"[b]In brightest day.
In Blackest night[/b]..."