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Gunfight U
Topic Started: Sep 28 2015, 03:43 AM (1,047 Views)
Grim Wolf
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The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(ENTER Alex Tarquin)

Alex Tarquin hated guns.

Not because they killed people, or anything like that. A gun's purpose was to kill, and he'd much rather have armies shooting at each other than trying to beat each other up. But guns ruined fight scenes. A gun carries too much lethal weight and potential. It was what made some of the old Star Wars movies so frustrating; watching characters weave through barrages of laser light as though they were slower than bullets. Say what you would about the prequel trilogy, but at least they'd established a plausible way to pit sword-wielding mystics against armies. Given them just enough supernatural justification that you almost believed the Jedi could be real. Made a mockery of the very concept of imperial marksmanship by an implying that those poor Stormtroopers had never really had a chance.

But how to justify Han Solo? How to justify the myriad characters whose only real talent was "cannot be hit by an army's worth of bullets?" And any director and choreographer worth their salt couldn't do it.

The clearest example of this disheartening phenomenon was, in Alex's opinion, The Raid 2. After one of the most flawless action sequences Alex had ever seen, the perfect choreography was interrupted by a half-hearted gunfight. Falling action? More like failing action. And that was the problem; by the rules of the movies, guns always trumped the up-close, visceral, personal perfection of a martial arts brawl. The Raid had managed to achieve its towering heights of perfection by playing the sequence in reverse; functional gunfights until ammo was depleted, then brutal brawling as the characters did their best to make do with what little they had.

And yet, he couldn't dismiss the potential of cinematic gunfights entirely. John Wick, Hot Fuzz,, and the achingly perfect showdown in Django Unchained all perfectly encapsulated what a gunfight would be. But in order to make up his mind, Alex Tarquin had to do what he always did, and get a sense of what was required to make a gunfight perfect. It had not taken him long to hatch his half-baked plan. A paintball fight would given him the incentive to dodge--the paint of getting hit by a paintball--while providing him a fairly realistic simulcrum of what a gun could do. And while he didn't have any paintball gear, his parents were more than happy to indulge him when he explained what he needed and why.

When he pulled up in front of the abandoned Paintball U in his 2014 Toyota Camry, his heart was beating erratically, and the same butterflies that often filled him with stage anxiety were beating up a storm in his stomach. Nothing he'd read online had indicated it was actually illegal to come here, but he hadn't read anything that said it was exactly legal either--hence why he'd asked everyone who was interested to come close to midnight sans lights, so he didn't have to worry about the cops coming down on them too hard. He parked a ways away from the sole streetlight nearby and stepped out of the car, green eyes sweeping around and looking for anything out of the ordinary. He wore the faded, ragged jeans he usually used while he was working backstage, and his white undershirt was pulled taut against his powerful frame.

He used his keys to pop the trunk to his car, and started digging through his brand-new gear.
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

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Grim Wolf
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The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Alex was eying the abandoned field, chewing his upper lip and wondering if he'd made a mistake. Their was enough light leaking in from the lamps along the road that the arena of leaning fences and stacked tires was cast in harsh shadows, but it was still very dim. Maybe this was a mistake. He couldn't learn what he was doing if he-

A truck rolled in to the parking lot. Alex tensed, his mind filled with a half-dozen paranoid fight scenes (grab his paintball gun, aim for the eyes and the windshield, what if they came at him with a knife, what if-"

I could say day, and you'd say night...
tell me it's black when I know that it's white...


Alex relaxed and hummed under his breath, "S'always the same, it's just a shame, that's all..."

Michael stepped out of the truck and said his stumbling piece. Alex smiled at the short, stout figure. "You're the one doing me a favor, Mike," he said. "Thanks for showing up."

At the same time, Gulley (who Alex always vaguely thought of as Fern) strode out of the darkness, punky blonde hair standing out against the night. Alex was beginning to feel uncomfortably tall. Did short people have a preference for paintball? Strange, if so.

"Hey F..." Alex trailed off and pretended to cough so Gulley wouldn't hear him mispronouncing his name. "John. Yeah, just us so far. If anyone else shows, well...hopefully, we'll see'em. Besides, just the three of us might work better." He smiled a little. "It's my first time, too." He examined the equipment and started eying the park again. "My whole plan was just to get a feel for these things. I was gonna play with boffer rules; limb shot just takes out the limb, two limb shots, chest shots, or headshots means you're out until the next round, you can melee if you want to." He tapped the plastic package of goggles. "You guys got some or do you need some of mine?"
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
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Grim Wolf
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"Oh, we got these," Alex said, pulling out several rubber-bladed knives and a few brushes. "In case you wanna get sneaky with it. I'm fine with saying knife-stab rules are same as bullet rules. Course, once we start getting paint on us, gonna be a lot harder to enforce." Michael talked about not wanting to actually hit anyone. "I hear that. Don't wanna knock you guys out cold." He did a couple playful punches in mid-air, miming Rocky's training montage.

Fern asked to borrow his goggles. Alex laughed and tossed them over. "Not a problem," he said. "Don't want anyone getting really hurt out here. It's all in good fun." He left the knives and brushes where they were, in case either of them wanted any. He checked the time on his phone. "I wanna wait a bit, make sure no one else turns up," Alex said. "If they don't, we'll do it like hide-and-seek. We'll set our timers, go out there, and when they go off it's game on. Sound good?"
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


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Grim Wolf
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Alex's eyes flickered between Fern and Mike, his mouth slightly open. Not that the conversation wasn't interesting, mind you; it was just such an unexpected digression, and one that didn't really feel like it made sense.

Although, now that they pointed it out, this place did look like an easy horror set up. Idiot kids all by themselves, abandoned location with weapons that couldn't possibly work...

Fern apologized for the digression. Alex blinked and shook his head. "Oh, no problem," he said. "I just...I thought there might be a good pun. Maybe...maybe Paint the Town Red?" He shook his head again. "Whatever, no one else is showing. Let's do this." He checked his watch and said, "Game starts at 9:45. Let's do this."

He trotted off into the dark, looking for a hiding place. He found a leaning fort of rotting wood, probed it with one foot as he eyed it with disgust, then ducked behind it.

He waited until clock rolled around until 9:45. Then he ducked low and clutched at his gun with both hands, trying to keep it steady. It felt clumsy and unfamiliar in his hands.
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
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Grim Wolf
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The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
9:45, and all is quiet.

It's taken some doing getting there, of course--whatever that stupid misfire was, Jesus Michael, were you attacked? And that leads to paranoid fantasies, maybe this has become some kind of supernatural horror show, and now something that can mimic Michael's voice stalks them from the shadows. It's madness, true, but the madness has a certain weight to it, reinforced with hours and hours of scary movies.

On the other hand, it also tells him where Michael is. Or at least, was.

Alex steals into the darkness with the unfamiliar weight of the pistol in hand. He sticks close to the ground and flits from shadow to shadow, moving after Michael.
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
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Grim Wolf
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[Ironically, was going to post tonight, but I can't blame you for wanting to get to where the action is. Have fun, Prim, and thanks for coming. Would you mind if we gave Johnathan some minor GMing?

Toxie, how do you feel about following Prim's lead? Less of a direct play-by-play and more of a highlight reel?]
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


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Grim Wolf
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[Aight. Toxie, gonna do my own version of a highlight reel. I give you permission to use Alex to do the same. And Prim, if you wanted to edit your last post for your own highlight reel, that's fine by me.]

So they fought.

Alex wasn't wrong; Alex found guns were terribly boring. It all ended so quickly, even by his own rules; one shot and out you went, down until the match resumed.

But fortunately there were many matches.

Paintballs bit into a patch of grass because Alex Tarquin had miscalculated. He was out, but Mike hadn't counted on John getting the jump on both of them. A moment later they were back at it, firing desperately at each other as they wove through the dark, dim shadows outlined by the lights from the road. Mike won that one--the man was surprisingly fast.

But Alex won the next. He dove into the too-tall grass and imagined that he was one of Spielburg's raptors, hunting his prey with a lethal grace. By luck or skill, he caught Mike off-guard as the other boy brushed the grass, burst free and brushed paint across Mike's back. Mike sent up a cloud of curses as Alex disappeared into the grass again, waiting for some sign of Fern. Fern had been drawn out by Mike's curses, however, poking his head around the dilapidated gym; Alex caught a glimpse of him, and pulled the trigger.

An hour and a half, going down the moment the quick sting of the paintball bit into their clothes. Alex played too acrobatically, and he knew it--he showed off too much, spinning, dancing, jumping, rolling, crawling, pretending there was a camera watching him, pretending that there was an audience to entertain. Most of the time it just got him shot.

But it was fun, either way, and by the time he was done he was laughing as he limped back to his car on an ankle he'd twisted during a fanciful jump, relishing his aches and pains.
Want to buy my book? See my short stories? Read my fanfiction? Visit my website!

V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players


V4 Players
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