Let's Start A Riot

Chapter Thirteen - Blue Flag

We fire our guns in unison. The paint balls fly through the air, exploding in a burst of neon coloured paint as each hits its target with perfection.

Even mine.

My paint ball splashes all down the front of the one and only Fraser James – the idiot who has had it out for me from the start. His squad looks up, startled by the sudden ambush.

Marcus also looks at us, his eyebrows raised in a slight moment of unconcealed surprise, seeing Sarah and I's heads poking over the logs and Hugo leaning around the tractor.

We all quickly duck back so that the other squad doesn't spot us and try to get a shot off on us in spite – considering who it is, my face would be a prime target.

Sarah rolls over to look at me. "Where the hell have you been hiding that precision in your target practice?" She asks, surprise written clearly on her face.

"Saved it for my favourite competitor." I shrug, grinning.

"Nice, just picture his face on every enemy we have, and it'll be smooth sailing." She smiles widely.

A loud crackling interrupts us, with Agent Hartley's voice following quickly after. "November Squad, you are eliminated, please place your flag on the ground and return to base."

With the instruction capturing everyone's attention, Hugo takes the opportunity to run over to Marcus, where I watch him begin to animatedly whisper something at Marcus, pointing rather angrily in Sarah and I's direction, then shoving his finger into Marcus's chest with quite a bit of force. Marcus listens to Hugo with an exasperated expression.

Hugo is lecturing Marcus.

Can this day literally get any better?

Sarah shakes my arm to tell me to stand up and follow her, and we move hurriedly over to Marcus and Hugo when the other squad begins their walk of shame back to the exercise's base, their backs turned to us, their red flag flapping on the ground in the breeze that has picked up since we left the tyres.

We make it to the wall where Marcus is staring grumpily in the distance and Hugo is giving him a scathing death glare.

"What's up team?" Sarah says to break the tension.

Marcus rolls his eyes and Hugo draws in a deep breath of composure, but still shoots Sarah and I a wink and small smile, before returning to his death glaring at Marcus.

"There's two teams left. Let's go find the stupid fucking flag – you too, Freak." Marcus sighs.

I still roll my eyes at the insult, but I smile a little at the fact that he isn't arguing against my presence – Hugo's berating must have had an effect on him.

Progress.

Kind of.

We follow behind Marcus as a squad, keeping in low crouches and staying hidden, moving through the field cautiously.

We don't meet anyone for around five minutes, getting jittery about the time that is running through our fingers like sand. The less time we have to find the flag, the more the minutes seem to expand to hours, that anticipation for the whistle to blow eating into our time perception.

We are almost at the edge of the field, standing behind a row of black bins with Marcus peeking around the corner of them to check if the coast is clear. He suddenly whips his head back, slamming into Hugo and almost knocking him over.

Not even a second later the bin rattles with the force of a paint ball hitting it, the neon pink paint splattering over the top and raining down in small droplets onto us.