Leo hunkered down behind a stack of weathered tires, his breathing loud inside his fogging mask. Across the clearing, his best friend-turned-rival, Jax, was pinned behind a rotting wooden crate. This was the final round of the regional tournament, and they were the last two standing.
When he reached the end of the trench, he was ten feet behind Jax. Jax was still focused on the oak tree, waiting for Leo to peek. PAINTBALL
Leo rose slowly, dripping with mud like a swamp monster. He raised his marker and took a steady breath. "Hey, Jax." Leo hunkered down behind a stack of weathered
They walked off the field together, two paint-splattered warriors ready for a burger and a very long shower. When he reached the end of the trench,
Leo pulled his foot back and adjusted his grip on his marker. "You’ve been saying that for three rounds, Jax. My sneakers are fine. Your aim, however..."
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.
"Victory is messy," Leo grinned, wiping a streak of mud from his mask.