Yesterday, Andrew and I went paint balling, for Ben Bays birthday, with some other friends. I was on the black team (hence the name "Black Faction" in this blog). Unfortunately we forgot to use our face paint, although I doubt it would have made much difference.

The Soldier

The sun scorched through the needles, filtered by the upper canopy of the pine forest that had turned into a battle ground. The cool breeze came off the snow clad mountains to the west, making the heat from the sun slightly more bearable. The weather however was the least of their worries right now. "pop" "whirrrrzzzmmmfff", John could hear them whizzing past his head as he flattened himself out behind a fallen tree that barely covered him from the hail of bullets that were directed toward his vicinity.

Earlier that day, though it seemed like an indeterminable period (in reality it was 15 minutes), the "soldiers" of the black faction, motivated by greed, boredom or most likely a strong idealism, converged, their faces painted to achieve maximum inconspicuousness, they percolated through the pinus radiata to their rendezvous point for their surprise raid on those who would get in the way of them achieving their undisclosed objectives.

Purposefully, the guerrillas moved, traversing the terrain quickly, but without compromising their camouflage, always alert, scanning the perimeter, weapons ready for the unlikely event of an ambush.

Stopping just out of eyesight of where their scouts had told them the sentries were, they immediately moved into their pre appointed positions, blending into the surroundings, disappearing like a $50 note left in a bus stop, awaiting the signal to start the operation.

To John, a member of Black Faction, it seemed like an epoch ago, and with only a few centimeters between his present state and eternity, he wondered what he had done in his life that was worthwhile. Cautiously, he peeked through the rotting roots of the tree he was behind and let off a spray of bullets over to where his present adversary was taking cover. Rolling to reduce the amount of his person that was exposed, he shuffled round to try and get a better angle with which he could then dispatch his enemy. Raising his gun, he felt the sudden searing pain of two direct hits to his shoulder......... GAME OVER.....