Paintball

Leo rose slowly, dripping with mud like a swamp monster. He raised his marker and took a steady breath. "Hey, Jax."

"Give it up, Leo!" Jax’s voice echoed through the woods. "I can see your left sneaker!" PAINTBALL

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. Leo rose slowly, dripping with mud like a swamp monster

"Victory is messy," Leo grinned, wiping a streak of mud from his mask. "I can see your left sneaker

They walked off the field together, two paint-splattered warriors ready for a burger and a very long shower.

He needed a flank, but the open ground between them was a death trap. Then he saw it: a low, muddy trench overgrown with ferns leading toward the back of Jax’s position. It was a messy, miserable crawl, but it was his only shot.

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."