They walked off the field together, two paint-splattered warriors ready for a burger and a very long shower.
Leo dropped to his stomach and began to slide. The mud was cold, soaking through his jersey, but he kept his eyes on the prize. He moved inch by inch, the sounds of distant shouting from other fields fading into the background. PAINTBALL
"Give it up, Leo!" Jax’s voice echoed through the woods. "I can see your left sneaker!" They walked off the field together, two paint-splattered
Jax spun around, eyes wide behind his lens, but he was too late. Leo pulled the trigger. A single, perfect burst of orange bloomed right in the center of Jax’s chest protector. He moved inch by inch, the sounds of
Jax looked down at the bright stain, then back at the mud-covered Leo. He dropped his marker and started laughing. "Man, you look like a wet golden retriever. But nice shot."
Jax returned fire instantly. A stream of blue paint whipped past Leo’s ear, one ball clipping a pine branch and showering him in a fine mist of blue liquid. Leo rolled behind a fallen oak, his heart hammering against his ribs. He checked his hopper—maybe twenty shots left.