2 objectives. 6 people. 1 winner. Just an average day at the speedball field. Mike adjusted his hopper, a habit when he got nervous. Zack checked and rechecked his harness and LBV. Josh just stood there as if in a trance. “Muzzles on the starting box, gentlemen!” The ref shouted from his tower. Zack put the muzzle of his WGP Karnivor to the hard, white concrete. How many times he had done this in the past few years he could only guess. Josh, the tape runner of the bunch, crouched low, his Empire Axe as ready as its wielder. Mike, the middle player, adopted an olympic sprinter stance, the barrel of his SP Ion perpendicular to the starting box.
The other team looked pretty good in their matching uniforms and DLX Luxes. That’s because they were good. The best team in the state, as a matter of fact. Black Dragon was the name whispered all around the Oklahoma paintball community.
As if in slow motion, the ref lifted his hand to the button on the air horn and slowly depressed it. Both teams sprang forward, firing at a blinding speed. Zack dove behind the nearest brick, seeking shelter from the endless barrage of enemy paint. Josh ran deep, keeping the enemy’s heads down and going full bore for the flag. One of the enemy tape runners stood up and ran, shooting at anything that moved. Including Josh! Josh fired several rounds directly at the runner’s torso.
One nailed him soundly in the chest, but didn’t break, sending the ball to it’s doom among the tall grass that lined the outside of the field. Meanwhile, Mike had been keeping low, slinking around the perimeter toward the flag. Just as he stuck his head outside the protection of a Dorito, the enemy tape runner fired in his direction. Upon hearing the sharp Ka-rack! of paint hitting a bunker, he dove backwards, firing as he went. Zack stood up now, shooting near the maximum feed rate of his Valken. Finally, he scored a hit on the enemy tape runner, breaking 4 balls on his back and harness. What he had failed to notice was the rear guard was now directly in front of him, leveling his Luxe at Zack’s facemask. POPAPOPAPOP!!! Zack was now covered in blue paint, which was now seeping down his jacket. He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender and headed for the dead box.
Mike jumped up, sprinting toward the flag. He could hear the sharp sound of paint ricocheting off bunkers only feet behind him. Quickly, he glanced at his watch. 00:10 left in the game. Josh layed down some covering fire, managing to take out the rear player before being hit himself by the mid. It was a 1-1 game now. 00:05 left. Mike snatched the flag from the ring and ran as fast as he could back toward the opposite ring. 00:02. He felt the sting of a ball moving upwards of 300fps on his back. “It’s good!” the ref yelled, indicating he was still in the game. The blast of the air horn was overwhelming. “HAHA! We win!” the Black Dragon midman said. “Not so fast, buddy!” Mike replied. The flag was dangling from the ring, still swinging from the velocity at which it had been hung. ” Crusaders win!” the ref announced. The exhausted but happy Crusaders walked off the field. Just another day in the life of the NPPL