A story of two college students and their journey from the deserts of Arizona to a place they had only dreamed of.
Leap Frog - A tactic used by two or more players who alternately move and provide cover fire for each other.
Any non self-explanatory paintball terms will be defined in the end notes.
The whistle sounded across the field. The hot Arizona sun beat down on the range, raising the current temperature to above 95° Fahrenheit. Of course, that was fairly low for the normal temperatures in July.
Lance stretched his arms over his head. As the players headed off range, Lance started to sweep the field.
Another day at The Empire paintball range; another day of being shot at. But being a ref, that was part of his job. He had to deal with annoying kids blindfiring their guns, and hitting their own teammates more often than the opposing team. Speaking of which… Lance sighed.
“Come on kid, let’s go.” He ushered a sniffling boy off the field and delivered him to his mother before heading to the ‘Base of Operations’, as Coran referred to it. Everyone else just called it the shack.
Even with all the whining Lance put up with during the day, he had to admit that not everyone at the range was completely obnoxious.
“Hey, Blue!” Lance grinned at the friendly face leaning against the counter of the shack.
“Hunk! Hey there buddy chum pal friend-,” Hunk groaned.
“Okay, okay. What are you doing here?” Lance leaned against the counter of the shack.
“I come to your place of work to bring you a warm, home cooked meal, and I’m greeted with a meme? And not even a good one at that.”
Lance feigned offence, and held his hand over his heart.
“You dare insult my memes?”
A small voice piped in from behind Hunk.
“C’mon Lance. You know how stale that Undertale meme is. Don’t even try to defend it.”
Hunk moved to the side to reveal Pidge, who was laying across the counter playing on their Nintendo DS.
"Is that a wild Pidgey I hear?"
Lance's co-worker Matt walked through a door at the back of the shack, wiping his dirty hands on a paint stained towel. He stuck the cloth in a pocket of his dark cargo pants and opened his arms to his younger sibling.
"Matt!" Lance didn't have time to register that Pidge had moved, but suddenly she was crashing into her older brother and hugging him in a crushing embrace.
Matt laughed and ruffled Pidge's hair.
"Still wearing those glasses, I see."
"Yes, Matt. I am hipster now," Pidge deadpanned.
"The day you become hipster will be the day I'm enslaved in an alien war camp."
"Alright, that's enough emotion for one day."
Matt patted Pidge on the head once more before ducking under the counter. Pidge was struggling to climb back onto the counter.
"Alright Lance. I'll cover the field after the lunch break if you take shack duty for the afternoon."
"Done." Lance pulled off the ref jersey he was wearing and tossed it to Matt. Matt tugged it on over his black tank top before grabbing his mask and heading toward the gates leading onto the field.
Lance jumped over the counter and sat on the stool behind it, spinning around once before turning back to Hunk and grinning.
"So, Hunky-Monkey... Where's this lunch you promised me?"
Hunk nodded to the smallest and saltiest member of their trio.
Pidge huffed and stretched across the counter to retrieve their favorite backpack from where it was leaning against the wall. The backpack itself was just a regular black Jansport one, but it was covered in space themed iron-on's. It also was used in almost all of Lance's crazy schemes that, had they been caught, would have certainly gotten them in trouble with the law.
"Here." Pidge slid the tupperware container and a plastic spoon across the counter and Lance grabbed it eagerly.
"Oh sweet baby Jesús," Lance opened the still warm container of Hunk's homemade Mac'n'Cheese and inhaled its cheesy goodness.
Lance took a big bite and groaned. He swallowed his food and sighed.
"Ay Dios mío," Lance pointed the spoon at the container. "Está delicioso. Muchas gracias Hunk. Me encantalo." Lance took another big bite.
"Lance, watch what language you're speaking." Pidge didn't even look up from their DS.
"Hmm? ¿Qué- oh shit, sorry," Lance smiled sheepishly. "Hunk, this is amazing. Thanks dude."
Lance rolled his eyes and took another bite.
As 4 o'clock rolled around, the kids and players there for the midday rush began to leave. The Empire was officially closed at 5 pm. At least, that was the case for the general public.
Pidge and Hunk had left around 1:30, so for the rest of the afternoon Lance busied himself with the mindless routine of cleaning the rental paintball markers that had been used.
Lance was just locking up the guns in the shack’s back room when a white Jeep pulled into the parking lot.
Matt turned from the circuit box by the range and upon seeing the car pulling up, he closed it and started walking toward the small white building behind the shack.
“Want me to grab your marker?”
“Yeah, dude. That’d be rad.”
The white 2003 Jeep Wrangler parked behind the shack, and after a moment the drivers side door opened.
“Lance, son!” As Coran approached the “Base”, Matt walked in carrying their gear bags.
“Hey Coran,” Matt hoisted the large bags onto the counter. Lance leaned over and pulled the blue one towards himself.
“It’s 5:52. Alright, my boys. I’ll be doing paperwork until almost 7, but I’ll make sure to put on my stripes for tonight’s game.” Coran headed towards the small white management only building they used for paperwork and the less “dirty” parts of running a paintball range.
Lance unzipped his bag, carefully taking out a small silver case and setting it aside before pulling out his paintball gear. Matt was doing the same; putting on his purple and black jersey as Lance tugged his own blue one on.
95° Fahrenheit = 35° Celsius
that Undertale meme
the translation of what Lance says is, "Oh my God. This is delicious. Thank you so much Hunk. I love it."
blindfiring- to shoot without aiming or looking where you're shooting.
marker- slang for a paintball gun
stripes- another term for a referee jersey
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