It was a bright and sunny day at the normal battlefield. The air smelt of paint and compressed air. Men with a few women among the mix yelling to their teammates. Yelling positions of the yellow enemy. Thumbs of bullets and bodies hitting barriers and grass with a frighting noise. Thousands of dollars worth of equipment being hit and tossed around like toys, some breaking and others barely making it. Players moving so fast it looks inhuman and accuracy so precise that they could hit you between the goggles from other side of the playing field. Whole fighting ground painted the colors of orange and green, including the players.
    
Swiftly and skillfully he finds his target, having no thought of showing mercy to his opponent. In his blue attire he crouches down, making sure not to be seen by the enemy. Hot and sweaty he waits for the perfect moment to spring. Panting profusely he gets in position, ready to strike with extreme motives. He jumps, with extreme speed and finesse dodging all incoming projectiles. He spots his target dressed in yellow, weak and helpless, unknowing of his charging enemy. The soldier leaps over his short obstacle with confidence, knowing he has his enemy in sights and not losing him. His target, still unknowing of what is about the pain coming to him, is crouched behind a larg barrier thinking he is safe. Mean while, the man in the air has an evil grin on his face growing ever so slightly. He takes aim and fires on his enemy, striking him derectly upon his head full of hair. Orange paint splatters on and around him. In rather intense pain he relizes he has been hit and is taken out of the current match.