Under siege

I'm sitting on the sofa, trying to recover from being woken up too early on a Sunday morning by two little boys. I've got my giant cup of coffee and my laptop. Mr. Dog is watching football. Me? Not so much. In march the boys.

At the top of the stairs the boys stand side by side, feet wide apart, shoulders square and strong.

Big Dog is packing heat, well, in the form of a Nerf gun that shoots green foam balls. I look up, and Big Dog gives me a quick nod. "The Injustice Syndicate is at your service!" he announces.

Where does he get this stuff? "Are you bad guys?" I ask.

"Nope."

"Then you should be the Justice Syndicate. Though usually, doesn't syndicate imply," and before I finish, Big Dog takes aim with his shooter.

"Be free to scream." Pop. And a green ball comes flying in my direction.

I'm thinking they may have misled me about not being bad guys.