He grabs the upper rope and takes a tentative step forward letting the lower rope dip with our weight before he starts stepping one foot in front of the other. As soon as we reach the first upright pole and he has to let go, I hear a click echo around us. I look below and see each of the trainers aiming what looks like guns at us. What the hell?

"Wyatt, we've got trouble. I think they are going to try and shoot at us, move your ass!"

"Where are they?"

"One at twelve o'clock, two at three o'clock, one at six o'clock and three at nine o'clock, but I don't know if they would aim at us or the other team. Would they really shoot us?"

"It's probably just paintballs, but they turn the guns up to full velocity. Yes they will really try and hit us, and those f*ckers hurt."

bridge start to sway. I relate the info to the pair behind us and then to the pair in front of

first splat of paint hit my arm and Wyatt wasn't wrong, this sh*t stings. I take

can't

failed to get me to let

a second, I'm going to adjust." I let go with

doing? Don't let go, you're

arms underneath and grabbing his biceps and using them to pull myself to his front. I take the hem of my shirt and wipe his face. "Blink. Can you see better?" I ask as I start to take a volley of hits to my

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