Knife in the Heart of a Paintball - 1st Fiction

[paintudown]

Hey guys, this is my first paintball fiction done a couple years ago based on my first relationship (corney I know) but it is a paintball story. If you like this one please read my newer story "The Healing Gunshot"

Knife in the Heart of a Paintball

Chapter One

“You’re team got skunked!”
“That’s it!” said Mark, throwing his mask to the ground and pulling back a tight five fingered fist, ready to send it sailing into the teeth of the Crypt’s team captain.
“Damn it Mark!” yelled Victoria, grabbing his arm as Steve jumped in front of him, blocking the path of the blow. “It’s not even worth it.” She said, sending a look of pure hatred toward Colt and the rest of the team Crypt. The three gathered up their gear, threw it into the bed of Steve’s pickup, and took off down the road.
For the Crusaders, the tournament was over the moment they had set foot onto the field. Now they drove homeward in silence after taking another big loss.
Finally, Mark, knowing he had to do something, broke the silence “Who wants to stop and grab a burger?” he asked hopefully.
No response.
“I’ll buy?” he said, there was a plea in his voice, begging for an answer, anything.
“Fine.” Grunted Steve. He turned off the road and into the parking lot of an old run down diner. Once inside they saw that it wasn’t all that bad of a place and each ordered a burger and fries.
“So…?” asked Victoria “How about that game two?”
“Well, we almost one that one, at least.” Said Steve.
“And we would have, too, if their freaking back player hadn’t wiped!” growled Mark, banging his fist down on the table, causing the dishes to rattle. A waitress looked up questioningly and then went back to taking orders.
“Well at least we don’t have to cheat to win.” Said Victoria.
“But we don’t win.” Said Mark, pushing forward his plate. He wasn’t hungry anymore. It had been a hard day of paintball.

[paintudown]

Chapter Two

“Honk! Honk!” Victoria rolled over in bed and looked at her alarm clock. 6:30am.
“This is not how I planed on spending my summer.” She thought to herself as she stumbled to her window. Swinging it open, she saw a beat up white truck and two smiling faces staring up at her. “I’ll be down in a minute!” she yelled and then chucked a handful of small marble sized objects down at them.
“My truck!” yelled Steve as he frantically tried to wipe the pink goo off with his shirt sleeve.
Five minutes later Victoria trudged out the front door. Over her shoulder she carried a duffel bag that practically weighed as much as she did. The boys threw it into the truck and they were off to the field for some much needed practice.
They sat around a picnic table at the field. Victoria and Steve busied themselves with fine tuning their markers while Mark pulled a large dirty notebook from his gear bag. It had unofficially been dubbed “The Book of Hopeless Ideas and Dreams” by Victoria and Steve, and so far it had not mounted to be anything more than that. Mark flipped through pages of complicated drawings and notes until he saw one that seemed to interest him. He then produced a pencil from his bag, made a couple markings, and then began to explain it to the team.
Victoria and Steve were overwhelmed by his talk of “Maximum break-run distance” and “Effective snake management” also “Dorito do’s and don’ts” , “Scanning shooting lanes” and “Ducking, Diving, n’ Dodging”. What confused them even more were the plays themselves. Mark could draw up plays that would confuddle the best of pro teams.
“Erm… Mark?” said Steve, interrupting his paintball lecture.
“What!?” Mark snapped, beginning to realize neither of them had been paying attention.
“Maybe we could try and be like Crypt and focus more on running and shooting instead of these miracle plays… just a thought.” Inquired Steve. Victoria topped off her hopper and nodded in agreement.
“The plays are what make the game, and that’s final.” Mark announced. The other two were ready to play. He had not even cronographed his marker. “Besides, I’ve arranged a surprise for y’all today. I’ve called up the captain of Team Independent and arranged for a scrim with them. They should be here any minute now.
“Independent?” questioned Steve. “I’ve heard of them but I don’t know much about how they play. Don’t think I’ve ever actually seen ‘em before.”
“They’re from west of here, aren’t they?” Victoria said more as a statement than a question.
“Ya.” Continued Mark “They’re rookie division, we’re amateur. If we stick to the plays, beating them should be fairly easy.”

[paintudown]

Chapter Three

“The game will start in five seconds on my whistle!” yelled the ref. Mark stood one the right side of the start board. He crouched low, griped his marker tightly by his side, and prepared to take the snake off the break. He wore three pods on his back; they rested over his crimson red jersey. He was a front player and knew his position well. You could not deny him that. On the far left stood Steve. He stood tall, ready to throw paint off the break. Six pods covered his muscular back. The weight did not bother him much, he didn’t have far to run anyways. He was one of the best back players you could find and could sling ropes of paint to prove it. He had received offers to join much better teams, but he was happy to be playing with his friends. They needed him anyways. In-between them was Victoria. She only had about two years of paintball experience, but could still effectively play both front and back as needed, and thus was the team’s mid player.
The whistle blew. Mark made a mad dash to the snake as paint whistled by him at three hundred feet per second. On the other side of the field, Steve lobbed paint toward the opposing team, eliminating their snake player with a goggle shot before he could reach his destination. Mark dove forward; a ball hit him on the left shoulder and bounced off. He was clean, the reffs made sure of it. He quickly crawled up behind the first knuckle in the snake. Victoria knelt down behind a tombstone bunker at the center 30 yard line, and snapshot to various locations on the field as Steve yelled out the positions of the two opposing players. Victoria would stick her head and gun out from behind the bunker, take two or three shots, and then jerk back in before being shot. Mark continued to crawl up the snake, attempting to position himself behind the opposing team. Victoria yelled for cover fire, Steve cut loose a line of paint as Victoria ran forward and dove behind a triangular dorito bunker. As she leaned out to shoot, a well placed ball caught the top of her hopper. She was out. It was now two on two, but mark was still unaware of the loss as he continued up the snake. Occasionally he would pop up and shoot. He was too caught up in the action to hear Steve’s yells.
“Back right! In front of you! The can! Look!” And in a split second’s time, Mark was completely lit up. It was now two on one; Steve leaned and shot out of each side of his bunker alternately. The opposing players moved into position. Steve already knew what was about to happen. Both of Independent’s remaining players charged down the field on opposite sides, slinging paint at seventeen balls a second as they went. From the dead box Mark cringed, and Victoria squeezed her eyes shut. Steve was bunkered, shot about six times from close range on either side of him. It was a humiliating defeat. The opposing team pulled the flag and hung it while the Crusaders argued off field.
“I swear Steve!” shouted Mark “If you could just stick to the Damn play!”
“I did! If you listened to me you wouldn’t have been shot out!” retorted Steve.
“Well if you followed the plan and filled Torri’s spot when she got out, none of that would have happened!” yelled Mark.
“Mark! If you ever call me ‘Torri’ again I’m gunna…!” chimed in Victoria.
“Well I need cover to get there!” Steve yelled “Where in your Damn play does it tell you to give me cover fire, so I have a chance of getting there alive!?” In a second’s time the boys were locked in a fight. A second later Victoria had thrust herself between them and was prying them apart.
“I swear! If it wasn’t for me you both would be dead by now! Fights with each other! Fight with the other teams! Fight with the referees for heavens sakes!” Victoria scowled.
This concluded practice. They rode home again in absolute silence.

[paintudown]

Chapter Four

It had been just over a week since Mark and Steve had last spoken to each other.
“Honestly.” Said Mark, swiveling in his office chair behind the computer, “If he doesn’t want to stick with the plays, then we don’t need him!” He continued to scroll down the paintball forums as Victoria sat on his bed, staring at him in disbelief.
“Have you ever thought that he might be right?” She asked, standing up and watching the monitor over his shoulder.
“So you’re on his side then!?” he questioned, turning to face her.
“I’m not taking sides.” She said, sitting next to him on the arm of his chair. “All I’m saying is that he has some very valid points and maybe you should try considering them.”
He looked up into her eyes; the light sparkled in the sea blue depths of them. He then saw her hair. How had he never noticed it before? It was a long golden blonde that fell gently bout her shoulders. And her slender waist? It was a miracle she could even carry four pods on it, he thought to himself. He had always seen the paintballer in her, but had never seen this before. He had always been chasing after other girls, but Victoria, she was beautiful. She was perfect.
“Are you okay?” She asked, giving him a weird look.
Mark snapped back into reality and realized she was sitting right there on the armrest of his chair. “Oh, I was just… erm… just giving some thought to what you said. I think you’re probably right.”
“Really!?” She asked, amazed at how easy it was to get through to him. “So you do understand his point right?”
“Well it couldn’t hurt anything now could it?” he said at almost a whisper. He was lost in her eyes again. She smiled unknowingly. He loved her.

[paintudown]

Chapter Five

“You’re serious? … You’re sorry? … You actually want to try normal practices? … Okay, see ya later man.” Steve hung up the phone, shaking his head in disbelief. “He actually apologized.” He kept saying to himself. The next day they were back to practices as usual. Steve would wake up at the crack of dawn and drive all over town, picking them up to go to the field. Sure they had cars of their own, but he was the only one with a truck, and they chipped in for gas anyways.
That day they practiced shapshooting and moving. The next practice was sliding and diving and crawling. Then came reading your opponent’s next move. And the fourth practice consisted of angles and lanes. Each day they would practice another fundamental, something they already knew how to do, but they also showed improvement in each of those fields. Even Mark was impressed by the way the team was going, and knew it was for the better.
“Man!” said Steve, grabbing another slice of pizza, “We did pretty good today.”
Mark twirled the straw in his drink. “Ya, you were right.” He sighed “We’ve gotten a little better.” Victoria elbowed him in the side. “Okay… we’ve gotten a lot better. The practicing is really paying off.”
“Practicing fundamentals you mean.” Added Victoria. “None of those…”
“Stupid plays!” Steven tried to disguise his outburst as a cough.
“Okay! Give me a break already!” joked Mark “I’ve already apologized. What more do you want from me?”
“Well I have been needing a new hopper.” Said Steve.
“And you know what you could do for me?” asked Mark.
A waitress dropped the bill on the table. Victoria smiled politely. Mark immediately forgot what he was about to say. “She’s killing me!” he thought to himself, turning his head toward the window.
“So, you ready for that tourney next weekend?” Steve asked Victoria. The two talked about it for a while. Mark didn’t pay much attention though, he was lost in thought.

[paintudown]

Chapter Six

The three drove down to the high school. This was the big one. The football field was covered in large red and black inflatable bunkers and surrounded by protective netting. The stadium was packed with spectators, not wanting to miss out on the action.
This tournament was big: First place - $5000 and a factory sponsorship. Second place – some cheap T-shirts and a plastic trophy. It was all or nothing.
“This is it.” Said Mark, as he crouched low, his barrel up against the starting board. The air horn blew. The tournament began.

**********

“We made it to the finals baby!” Yelled Steve as he slapped Mark a high five in the staging area. They had almost done it. So far they had beaten six teams to get here and they weren’t about to give up now. They were guaranteed fourth place at this point, but that wasn’t good enough. They had to beat Crypt now.
The game began. Mark ran up the left side and slid behind a line of doritos. Victoria played the right side of the field. She crouched behind a large carwash bunker that gave her a commanding angle over the other players. Steve stood in the back center behind a large stand-up soda can and hollered out the movements of Crypt’s players. Mark stuck his head out the left side of the dorito and quickly jerked it back as a ball whistled by his ear. Colt held another dorito just down the field from him. Now was his chance for revenge.
“Victoria! Your mirror is hot!” shouted Steve. She peered around her bunker, and sure enough, the carwash just diagonal from her was occupied by a crypt player. He fired at her forcing her to pull her head down.
“Suppress him!” she shouted to Steve. A steady stream of paint flew towards the opposing carwash. The crypt player ducked down to avoid the incoming paint. Now Victoria was safe. She looked around her bunker and saw what she had been seeking. A little bit of the Crypt players pod pack stuck out from behind his bunker. She took careful aim and cut loose three balls towards it. They met their mark. A reff ran forward and pulled his armband. It was now three on two. Time to take an offensive. Steve ran forward to the next closest bunker. Victoria gave him suppression fire as he went. He made it safely behind a tombstone and then yelled toward Victoria “I’m going to take the flag!”
“You can’t make it that far!” she hollered back.
“I have to try!” he yelled, jumping up and charging forward.
“Mark!” yelled Victoria “He needs cover!”
Mark was locked in a fierce gunfight with Colt and was not about to break engagement. “I can’t stop.” He told himself. “Steve is just going to have to make it on his own.” He looked to his right just in time to see him get hit seven times in the torso as he ran down the field. Mark’s world seemed to freeze. Something clicked inside of him. He realized how selfish he was being to forget the rest of the team to focus on his stupid grudge with Colt. There was forty-five seconds left in the game and he knew he had to do something to avoid the draw. “Victoria!” he yelled “After I go, pull the flag!” With that, Mark tore up the field, out in the open, his gun blazing as he went. He ran onto the opposing team’s side on an all out run-through. He shot their mid-player just before getting plastered by Colt’s fire.
An air horn blew.
“Ha ha sucker!” yelled Colt after the time had expired. Each team had one player left. It looked like a draw.
“Crusaders win!” shouted a reff.
“What!?” yelled Colt.
Victoria stood in the center of the field. A checkered flag was clenched in her gloved fist and held in her outstretched arm high above her head. Twenty points.
“Crusaders win!” repeated the reff at a yell the roaring crowds could hear.
Victoria ran off the field, surrounded by cheers. Outside the netting Mark stood waiting. He smiled awkwardly as Victoria ran up to him. She dropped her marker and the flag on the ground and threw her arms around him in a tight embrace. What happened next seemed automatic. Mark reached forward and lifted up her mask. Their eyes met. Those deep blue eyes. He then tilted his head and kissed her lips. It was a kiss that made a few seconds feel like an eternity, a kiss better than any victory could be.

[paintudown]

Chapter Seven

The tournament was not yet over. They still had the championship game left, yet the only person who seemed to care was Steve.
Both Mark and Victoria were eliminated early on in the game, but they seemed perfectly content sitting together in the dead-box while Steve slugged it out on the field. What did a stupid tournament mean anyways?

**********

The tournament was over. Everybody had left. Mark and Victoria sat atop the bleachers side by side with the second place trophy at their feet. They held hands and Victoria’s head rested on Mark’s shoulder. They sky was a reddish-pink as they watched the sun set over the high school.
“What about Steve?” Victoria whispered into Mark’s ear.
“Ahh, he can take himself home today.” Responded Mark “Besides, we aren’t far from home.”
She lifted her head, kissed him on the cheek and then placed it back on his shoulder. She let out a soft sigh and he smiled to himself. It was just another day of Paintball.

The end.

[paintudown]

Thanks for reading. Please feel free to comment. If you enjoyed this story, please read "The Healing Paintball"

[2nwyka]

That was a good story, but a little mushy. If you took out a little of the mushy stuff, it would be complete. Awesome Story!