The air in the "Graveyard" smelled like pine needles and old plywood, but mostly it smelled like sulfur and anticipation.

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."

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

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

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

Jax spun around, eyes wide behind his lens, but he was too late. Leo pulled the trigger. A single, perfect burst of orange bloomed right in the center of Jax’s chest protector.

Leo didn't finish. He lunged to the right, firing three rapid shots. Thunk-thunk-thunk. The neon orange paint splattered against the crate, missing Jax’s goggles by an inch.