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Gunfight U
Topic Started: Sep 28 2015, 03:43 AM (947 Views)
ToxieTheToxicAvenger
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Michael Crowe- Pregame Start

Just as I thought it was going alright...
I find out I'm wrong, when I thought I was right...
s'always the same, it's just a shame, that's all...
I could say day, and you'd say night...
tell me it's black when I know that it's white...
s'always the same, it's just a shame, that's all...


This was a rare occurrence for Michael. Well, it was multiple rare occurrences that barely happen on their own, let alone together on the same night. First, Michael wasn't driving his motorcycle to his destination, the abandoned paintball arena. He couldn't fit his gun, mask, and box of paintballs into the saddlebags, so he decided to take his father's truck instead. It probably turned out to be a good investment anyways, if he drove his bike at night with the lights off, he'd probably won't be driving home, cyclist luck and all of that. He didn't mind though, it gave him the excuse to plug an old mp3 player with a soundtrack that sounds like it came straight out of an old mafia film. Still, that was only the first rare occurrence. The second is the fact he was even invited to begin with. It wasn't like Alex and Michael hated each other or anything, but they never spoke, outside of some hi's and bye's. But the fact that someone invites you to a paint-ball fight, let alone one in an area that's probably really freakin' illegal to walk in on in the middle of the night, you accept man. You gotta accept.

He was pretty excited though, nobody outside his rather small buddy group invited him to anything, so this was a first. He couldn't wait to get there, his heart was audible through his chest. He was slightly worried in that the old clothes he brought were a misfits shirt that smelled like mothballs, and old cargo pants originally black, but now a dulled brown with bright orange bleach streaks along it. He grabbed the first thing he could that was in the back of his closet, but he'd wished he'd have grabbed something tastefully less worn. Oh well, at least his hair looked good; It looked good right? He looked at himself in the rear view mirror, tilting his head. Yeah, looks great, at least he'd got that one going for him. As he made another turn he began to contemplate how fucking epic this was gonna be. He wondered how many people would be there, maybe ten, maybe four. Hell, maybe he was the only one who didn't get the memo it was cancelled. That'd have been a shame. He turned down the road towards the driveway and at first he thought he was stood up, but as he drove closer, he saw Alex rummaging through his trunk. He spoke to himself as he slowed his driving to find a parking spot. "H'alright, so far so good."

He went towards the end of the parking lot, and backed into a space. He switched to park, engaged his E-brake, and turned the ignition off. He gave himself a good ten seconds to savor the song playing on his radio, before grabbing his bag and walking out his truck. He walked towards Alex, figuring he may as well pass the time and start a conversation. "Ay! Ay, buddy!" He yelled from across the lot to get his attention. Once he got close enough to speak in a mostly-indoor voice, he continued. "Heey man, uhh thanks for invitin' me an' all, uhhh, so... how many people you 'fink are uhhh gonna be here tonight?" Damn, he wasn't good at initiating conversations. "But uhhh, really though, thanks for invitin' me man, I'm glad to be here dude, I been pretty hyped for this." Well, maybe it wouldn't be too awkward.
Edited by ToxieTheToxicAvenger, Oct 18 2015, 08:46 AM.
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Well, now introductions are outta the way, the conversation got a whole lot easier. Michael relaxed his posture, his speech pattern becoming faster paced, and less forced. "Ehhh, so if we get it in the leg we hobble around like Emil in robocop? Sounds fun to me man ;b-b-but wait a second, how's melee gonna work?" Michael didn't catch on too quick to that one, as he was thinking of the stereotypical fps gun-smack that's prevalent in those works. " I don't think melee's a good idea, y'know, I'm kinda a hard hitter man, you know what I mean?" He chuckled. "Ben Field woulda told you that one if he wasn't too afraid of admittin' a faggot knocked him on his ass." Of course, that fight wasn't nearly as one-sided as Michael had told, rather it was slamming each other into the bathroom stalls, and swinging their arms violently at each other's faces until a teacher heard the ruckus and sent them both home for a week. No one really won or had the upper hand in it.

Before Michael could get too caught up in reminiscing the highlights of last year, common sense slapped him in the face like it should have before he made the stupid questions. "Oh yeah, don' we like, ehhh jus' say, 'surrender' or 'bang bang' or some shit if we're behind them, an' we don' feel like shootin' 'em up point blank? Coz' in da youtube vids I watched, most of' 'em did that shit, unless the fucker cheated of course; then they jus' lit 'em up, eheheheh." And he rewarded himself with another stupid question. Goddamn he was good at saying stupid shit. Michael quickly changed the subject, maybe he just wasn't that good at talking to new people.

'But uhh yeah, I invited 'D earlier, but Iunno if he's gonna show or not, it's your call really. Heh, Maybe he's worried 'dat his dye-job will make 'em an easy target ya' know?" Michael hoped Darius would show up, nothing better than more people pegging each other with bright painful balls of acrylic paint. Were paint balls filled with acrylic? Fuck if Mike knew, he wasn't a goddamn artist. "An' uhhh thanks for da offer, but I brought my own mask, gotta keep my visage fuckin' pretty, ya know." He pulled out a generic black paintball mask out of the bag he brought. " I mean, how else am I gonna kick start my modelin' career, eh?" He waved his eyebrows towards Jonathan.

Michael shrugged again, smiling. "But yeah man, we're ready when you're ready man; hell I been ready all week, you know?" Michael put the paintball mask on, pushing it up over his forehead so it didn't quite cover his face yet. " All on you, man."
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"Yeah man, I feel you, it's a better party when there's more in it." Michael nodded, his fingers tapping the bag of paintball gear at his side. Anxiously, he looked towards the group in front of him then towards the abandoned paintball arena. He'd turn his vision back to the group again. "Gettin' pretty hyped though, ready to go at it like I was Max Payne." He'd laugh and imitate the quintessential two pistol slow motion dive that's prevalent in that particular series. Jus' hopin there ain't a rusty nail to land on in there, don't wanna get a tinnitus shot, heard those fuckers sting like a beyotch!"

After he gave a nervous laugh, he followed. "So uhhh, by the way, how long's 'dis place been abandoned anyways?" He looked at the arena chuckling. " 'Coz in all honesty, it looks like the place where a buncha' dumb teenagers like us get gutted by some deformed hillbilly in a mask."

Hey, might as well start up a conversation to hide the fact you're pussybitching over hypothetical rusty nails right?

"I mean, it'd be kinda uneventful if it's just us three, coz then the movie wouldn't be too long, but y'know, maybe they could get creative or somethin' aheh. Has there ever been a paintball themed movie? Fuck I'd watch it. So long's it ain't British. British people can't make horror movies. Cept like, twenty eight days later, but even then the sequel sucked ass, y'know, hahaha." He actually had to think about how many British movies sucked in all honesty. It was hard to come up with multiple examples, outside of some obscure low budgets in the back of his head. "Well, there was that one zombie movie in like the 80's. BrainDead or whatever. That one was pretty good. It uhh, it had like weaponized lawnmowers and ninja preachers." Well shit, he really couldn't think of that many bad horror films he's seen that were made it in the great UK.

''Guess Brit movies aren't all that shit, still not as good as ours though. I mean, it WAS back in the VHS days, and I don't know of a shit movie during the VHS days." Ok, enough reminiscing about the decade you weren't even born on, it was like, thirty or forty years ago, he thought to himself. He quickly brought himself back to the subject at hand.

"But yeah, this place would be a pretty cool set up for a horror film, even if OSHA would kick the director's ass for filmin' here."
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"In all honesty man, Pain-Ballers would be nice title if I had a say in it. Depends on the movie really." Michael nodded to Johnathan's titles, first one was pretty good, latter two, eh not so much. Didn't matter though, the conversation helped Mike forget about the butterflies in his stomach (and the pinprick sensation at the bottom of his feet, thanks to his overactive imagination and the idea of rusty nails laying around.) The irony wasn't lost on Michael, considering the content of the conversation.

Alex replied with his own name idea. "Yeah man, sounds like a title for one a 'da fuckin' Italian gore-flicks, top tier shit. Like Lucio Fulci movies. Hahaha 'yknow?" Michael chuckled. "Now the Italians, they know how to make a good horror film man, best in the business when it comes to slashers. Got some damn good soundtracks for 'em too." Alex finished the conversation, letting everyone know it's time to get their shit in gear. Fuck yes! Whatever fear Michael had dissipated the moment they stepped inside the rather large arena.

Michael trailed off from everyone else, finding a somewhat small shack to hole up in. He crouched down, leaning against the wall near the doorway. He set his bag on the ground, and pulled his gear out. He started with putting his paintball mask on his head, but not quite covering his face with it yet. He pulled out the paintball gun and the spare ammo containers. All filled with hot pink paint-balls, he knew exactly who he'd hit with these. He loaded the gun, and wrapped his left hand around the handle and trigger. Now's the time to wait. Michael checked his watch- wait, he forgot his watch, shit. Michael fumbled his right arm through his pocket, pulling out his phone. The light went up and filled the room. "Well, lemme see what time it is." The phone showed 9:43. "Perfe-

Michael was cut off when his eyes trailed upwards towards the wall he was only inches away from. On it, was one big fucking demon. An Eldritch Abomination, one which the eyes of man was not meant to see. A creature so vile, so horrific, Michael could not even fathom it's existence, this was truly much worse than rusty nails, worse than a demented hillbilly with a hacksaw, WORSE than someone getting a hold of his private porn folders on his phone! Inches away from his face, was a wolf spider. One big goddamn demonic wolf spider...

One falsetto yelp and a leap backwards later, and Michael had already extended his paintball gun and unloaded, the famous *Ftoop-ftoop-ftoop*s echoing throughout the arena. Michael took a quick pause, breathing to re-inhale his ghost that had just temporarily left his body to escape such a demonic monstrosity. Though a Pyrrhic victory, one which costed Michael his masculinity for a sheer second, it was still a victory. The wall in front of him was a blotch of pink, with a small amount of chitin and spider leg glued on. Michael Crowe=One, Demonic Hell spawn from Innsmouth=Zero.

Michael took the time out to yell "Misfire!" so his buddies wouldn't panic and think he'd stomped on a rusty nail. He lurched forward, grabbing his phone, and getting the hell out of dodge, he'll just lay low behind that little barricade over there. After all, that shack he bailed on was contaminated with hell spawn guts. Once he had finally reached his new destination, he checked his phone. 9:44. Michael grabbed the mask hanging above his forehead and pulled down, covering his face. Taking one last shiver, he exhaled. That never happened. Anyone asked, he tripped. He looked back down at his phone again. 9:45.

"Let's do this." Michael spoke in the lowest rasp he could, regaining his machismo. That little "incident" was already in the back of his mind. Now, all he had to focus on, was turning his opponents pink.
Edited by ToxieTheToxicAvenger, Jan 11 2016, 12:51 PM.
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Michael laid still, only moving to peek his head over the wooden barricade he hid behind. Nothing... So we're playing the sneak game huh? He'd expect somebody to run across the field, spray and pray, someone would already be shooting someone else. Wait. He yelled out a few minutes before the game started. They know where he is! Sonufabitch! No wait, they know where he was, he changed positions. That means, he could catch them in the ass trying to catch him in the ass! Little demon spider, you may have been an angel in disguise.

Michael took a couple more peeks, looking down the field, alleys, and the building he'd came from. Okay, a little eerie, not gonna lie. This shit's like No country for old men. The aftermath of the motel shootout. Johnathan's the trucker, and Alex's Anton. Or, maybe Micheal was Anton, and Alex was Moss. He was the one trying to ambush them after all. But chances are, they're both trying to ambush him. Fuck dude, this is too fucking quiet man.

He took another peek. Still nothing. Maybe they're focusing on each other. Took another peak. Nothing. Goddamn he was getting impatient, hurry the hell up people! If you wanna whack someone you gotta do it quick. Tony Soprano took no time to waste Blundetto, man. Come on! Michael took yet another peek. He looked at his options for cover. The corner of the wooden alleyway would work. Maybe could even go up it and hide in the bridge. Then again that bridge might not hold his weight, it looks old as balls. There's thew building, and that little patch rolling around by it. He could suck up some bravado and hide back in there, wasn't a terrible spot, outside of you know who... Wait little patch rolling, hold up! Michael took cover again, grinning. Target number one spotted.

Did he see him? Fuck probably, which means he's gonna try to sneak up on Mike. Or start suppressing him. So, holding out, maybe not the best idea. He looked at the corner alley with his peripheral vision, trying hard not to move to much. He could probably use the cover in between him and Mr. Sneaky Beaky to relocate. But he wouldn't be able to sneak around, even in all black he'd get spotted a mile away. Leaves only one option. Intimidation.

Michael crawled up to the end of his cover, and put his feet under him, ready to sprint. He got up and booked it, swiveling his torso and extending his left arm, he'd tighten around the trigger, the sounds of paintball pellets flying filled the air. Michael ran through the barricades, sprinting and spraying, his attacker first got low, then bolted to another set of cover outside his line of sight. Michael had enough time to figure out it was Alex trying to sneak up on him. Already there was a zig-zagged line of pink dots peppering the old arena. Too bad he couldn't tell if he hit Alex or not.

He slammed into the corner, shifting around it to hide in the alleyway. Everyone's gonna be gunning for him first, which makes sense since he's the loudest. Might as well help 'em come at him. He yelled out a loud "Woooo!" that would've made Nature Boy proud. "Get at me! GET! AT! ME!" He punched his chest between chants. His adrenaline was pumping now. This shit's getting fun now...

"WOOOOO!"
Edited by ToxieTheToxicAvenger, Jan 19 2016, 05:20 PM.
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((That's fine with me, I'm down for anything really.))
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Michael finished taunted when he heard Alex yell ''Out!'' Oh shit, he did get him. As he quieted down, he heard another sound. Jonathan rushing up behind him. Michael quickly turned and ducked like he was in a western and lit up Jonathan like a pink Christmas tree. Fuck yeah! Round one won! Nadda-scratch too! Or a paint, or whatever.

Next round Michael wasn't as lucky. Maybe it was because he was too cocky, or he got tunnel vision, but when he turned on his 80's movie mode, and decided to emulate Arnold's technoir movements, it didn't end as well for him. Left arm up, holding the paintball gun with one hand, he ducked and turned corners. Looking for someone, anyone, he decided to play it slow instead of the fast paced Tony Montana he pulled earlier. He caught Jonathan in his sights, and was about to shoot him, when a large quantity of pigment based projectiles smacked him in his lower back and kidneys. Goddamn that hurt! He turned around only to see his 'killer' get Jonathan got in the forehead as he turned the corner, like that head explosion from planet terror. Fuck that was pretty cool actually.

Michael thought was gonna be hard to pee before with the kidney shots, but little did he know, it was gonna get it a lot worse in the third round. After Michael had picked off Alex, Jonathan pulled the same shoot from behind tactic he did the first round. Only this time he shot low. Michael hadn't ducked like Jonathan had planned, and instead of a head-shot, it was a head-shot. Michael went from watching The Sopranos to singing it. At least it was from a distance.
Michael took round 4 off to recuperate, while Jonathan and Alex ran circles around each other. It ended with Alex pegging Jonathan pretty quickly.

Round 5 Michael got back in, and he decided to play a bit more seriously. Mentally playing Scattle's Knock-Knock in his head, he moved slow, around cover, while sprinting across open areas. He managed to chase Alex around, until Alex tripped over a barricade he tried to vault across. Michael got him before he had a chance to get back up. Jonathan then popped out behind Michael and got him in the back. Sonufabitch he's never gonna get used to that!

On the final round Michael and Alex got into a cover war, firing back and forth. Jonathan used this to his advantage, and went ham. Sprinting down the field, he managed to get both Alex AND Michael on one bombing run of paint warfare. Shooting Alex in the back before spraying down Michael's alley he managed to catch Michael once he got out of cover to shoot back. Goddamn Johnny boy, you're crazy.



Michael walked back to his truck exhausted. That was equally fun as it was excruciating. He called out to Alex that they should do this again sometime soon. Michael noted that he was mostly hit in the lower back, but it didn't really hit him until he sat inside his truck. Oh god it was gonna hurt waay too bad to sleep tonight. Damn, he was gonna be feeling this in the morning. When he turned his truck back on, the welcoming tune of Red Rider's Lunatic Fringe filled the car. He cranked up the volume and noticed Jonathan was on his way home. Michael figured Jonathan would not have to walk, so Michael slowly drove towards him, rolling down his window. "Ayy uhh, Ey man, you need a ride back to your place?" Jonathan accepted and hopped in. "Man, you got me good." Jonathan apologized about the hit, stating it was an accident. Of course Michael knew it was an accident, but he wanted to mess with Jonathan a bit. Groin shots fucking hurt. "Yeah, maybe, but I been thinkin' you were aimin' there on purpose you know? I think you like beatin' me up." Jonathan must've knew Michael was kidding, because he digged right back. "What's the matter Mike? I thought you liked bein' beat up." Michael chuckled a bit. Damn that was savage. He hoped his negative traits weren't rubbing off on Jonathan. Michael shrugged. "Touche, aheh, can't really think of a comeback for that one." Of course the paintball war was fun, but it was moments like these, the calm after the storm that was the best. That moment you can look back on a recent event like it happened years ago, and laugh about it. It was a long drive back, but Michael didn't mind.

((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere))
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