Having a Paintball of a Time

Turning in the opposite direction to which Team 1 was approaching, Dungay made to run, only to spot The Hillbilly and Desmond from Team 2 approaching from that side. The Hillbilly in particular was obviously enjoying himself, cheering loudly and firing into the air in all directions.
“There is nowhere to go!” Dungay exclaimed. “There is no hope for us!”
“Falsehood! He speaks falsehood!” came a nearby voice.
“You shall always have hope, while there is still breath in your body” another voice affirmed.
Trixie looked towards the source of the voices, and realised they were coming from the small group of Arminian-leaning Echidna Theologians, who were now on lunch-break from their conference.
“Can you help us?” she asked desperately.
“God can help all who ask,” one of the theolog-idnas intoned, “For we all have free will.”
“Yes, I know,” Trixie agreed, “Go Arminius! But I'm not talking about theology at present. Can you help save us from the paintballers?”
“Do you believe we can?” another echid-ologian asked.
“Yes, yes, we believe, of course we believe,” Trixie almost shouted, “Now, quickly, please. Help us.”
“They believe!” one of the theochindigians exclaimed.
“And by their faith they are saved,” another added.
A third Echidologiana turned, and approached a nearby tree.
Removing some of the bark at the base of the tree with his claw, the Arminichidna revealed a small passageway leading down within it, and beckoned for Trixie and the others to follow it.
Another Echiniminian replaced the bark as soon as they were out of sight, and there was no evidence that Trixie, Dungay, or Pam had ever been in the field of play.

* * *

Moments later, the Hillbilly and Desmond ran up to the tree, and concealed themselves behind it. Well, when I say ran, I mean of course that the Hillbilly ran, and Desmond hopped quickly.
Once they were in position, the Hillbilly peered around the tree, and then ducked back behind it.
“Well now, Desmond,” he exclaimed to his team mate, “I do see that there teenaged Taylor boy approaching from over that ridge. When I give the signal, you pop up on this side of the tree, and I'll pop up on that side, and we'll letter rip, yessirree!!”
“How did you get so good at strategy?” Desmond asked.
“I've hunted myself a fair mob of roadkill over the years,” the Hillbilly explained.
“Now, are ya ready? Go!”

Simultaneously, the Hillbilly emerged from one side of the tree and Desmond from the other, and both opened fire in the direction of Taylor. The teenager was caught off guard, and fell to the ground, coated in paint. An Evans in body-armour quickly ran over to the boy, and escorted him from the playing field.
“Haha!” the Hillbilly laughed, “We did it! One down, three ta go!”
There was the sound of paintballs being fired, and Desmond was hit.
An Evans in body armour - and with a peg on his nose- emerged, and led him away.
The Hillbilly ducked down behind a log, cursing violently to himself.
Who had fired, and from where?

He listened carefully, and then slowly peered over the log.
Three paintballs whizzed past him, and he ducked down again.
“Yo, Hillbilly,” a voice hissed from behind him.
He looked around, and saw Randy waving at him from behind a bush.
“Need a hand, dawg?”
The Hillbilly nodded, and pointed in the direction the paintballs had come from.
He carefully peered over the log again, and when the mystery assailant opened fire, Randy leapt up and fired back.

Another Evans escorted Reginald from the field.

“Thanks for that,” the Hillbilly smiled, as he opened fire on Randy.
“Oh, dawg, thats cold,” Randy muttered as he was led from the field.
The Hillbilly chuckled to himself. Randy may have been a team mate, but shooting him was worth it.

The Goblin now waddled up to the Hillbilly lopsidedly, its stumpy goblegs having been responsible for the slowness of its arrival.
“You shot our team mate?” the Goblin sniffed.
“Sure did,” the Hillbilly replied cheerfully, and in line with the Goblin protocol which demanded questions be answered with no more than two words.
The Goblin said nothing in response to this, but coughed loudly, which in Goblin etiquette implied approval of one's actions.
“How many others are left?”
“Just two.”
“Which ones are those ones?”
The Hillbilly paused, unable to think of how to answer that question in two words.
Luckily, the sound of a branch cracking underfoot distracted the team mates, and prevented the Hillbilly from causing a serious cultural incident.
It never paid to break Goblin etiquette!

* * *

Nobody in particular had been alerted by the Goblin's cough to their whereabouts, and had been slowly advancing on his enemies, until nobody in particular had stepped on the branch, and given away his own location.
Now nobody in particular ducked down behind a rock, holding his paintball gun tightly and wondering what his next move should be.
A few hundred yards away, nobody in particular could see Krulnor also advancing silently and deadly towards the hiding place of the opposition, like a slow-moving fart.
Nobody in particular signalled to Krulnor, who nodded back at nobody in particular, and pointed to the log behind which the cough had come from. Nobody in particular held up one hand, and silently counted down from three. Then his dropped his hand, and Krulnor and nobody in particular both leapt across the log, Krulnor swinging his branch wildly and nobody in particular firing round after round of paintballs.

To the surprise of nobody in particular, the Hillbilly and the Goblin were nowhere to be seen.

However, a piece of bark had been pulled back from a nearby tree, revealing a small passageway, and the trail of slime left behind heavily implied that at least the Goblin, and probably the Hillbilly as well, had made their way into the underground tunnels of the Echidna theologians.

Krulnor nodded grimly to nobody in particular, flexed his mighty muscles, tightened his grip on his tree branch, and led the way down the passageway into the darkness.
Nobody in particular followed him.

Chapter Six *** Chapter Eight