Blocking an Offer (Theatresports Term) (and yes I know you've used this title before)

"A photo shoot!" Trixie cried, clearly bewildered (as were her fellow competitors.) "But we did one of those right back at the start, with the bunnies! Surely this game isn't so unoriginal as to repeat a challenge!"
"Right you are, Trixie." The Tyra-Evans replied. "But this challenge does not involve the use of a camera, or posing, or modelling anything at all. No, what I said was, you are going to need to be fierce, in order to get through the next challenge, which is a photo shoot. So, to clarify what I meant by this, let me explain. Out behind you is the famous Heptagon of Battle Shooting Range. At the end of the range, we the Evanses have hung 14 photos, one of each of your former competitors. 600 metres away from these photos is a Sig-Sauer SSG-3000 sniper rifle, and a cushion. In turns you will each lie down on the cushion and have the opportunity to fire the rifle three times at the photos. Each hit of a photo eliminates that photo from the range and earns you one point. We will cycle through the four of you until all 14 photos have been shot - so may the best sniper win! The person with the least amount of points will be eliminated."
"Oh now, that's original." Trixie deadpanned. "I mean, come on, who hasn't seen 'Top Shot' at least a dozen times!"
It turned out only the Mexican investigator (and absolute gun junkie) was an avid fan of the niche reality TV show 'Top Shot'.

As they walked to the shooting range, Trixie had a go at patching things up with nobody in particular, in an attempt to relax him and convince him that she wasn't planning on stabbing him with a woldo.
"Hey, so how about that Sig-Sauer eh?"
"Huh?"
"The rifle, silly! I hear you have to drop the cheek rest to remove the stock bolt. Funny, huh!"
"I think I'm hoplophobic."
"Oh. Well, don't worry, there shouldn't be too many people burping after eating Chinese food hanging around."
"What?"

Trixie chose to smile politely and walk on. That went reasonably well! she thought.

At the gun range, the Tyra-Evans reappeared in military fatigues and a bulletproof vest. "Right! Trixie, you're up first!"
Trixie lay down on the cushion, and nestled the rifle up against her cheek. Through the scope she could see clearly the 14 pictures, and steadied the rifle at the central one, which was a rather disgusting shot of Desmond the disgusting. So in that sense it was a great photo.
Bang! Krulnor's picture boasted a large hole in its top left corner.
"Shooting a little to the left..." Trixie muttered as she adjusted the scope.
Bang! this time Desmond was no more.
Bang! aaand, neither was Albert the Pelican.
"Thank you Trixie!" the Tyra-Evans said. "That's three points for you! Taylor, you're up next."
Trixie watched carefully as Taylor lay down to take his shots. He seemed comfortable with the gun - a boy his age, he probably had an air rifle, she thought. As all eyes turned towards the targets, she deftly slid the woldo out of her pants and lay it down in the long grass.
Bang! The Goblin's picture was torn to shreds.
Bang! A miss! But Randy's picture was looking scared. Maybe that was just bad photography.
Bang! This time, Taylor nailed Randy properly.
"Two points for Taylor!" The Evans announced as the other three politely applauded. "Pam, your turn!"
A matter of immediate concern presented itself as Pam lay down with the rifle pointed backwards. She pressed her cheek up against the barrel. Three seconds later, she realised it was hot from the previously discharged rounds.
"Ouch!" She cried enthusiastically. "I think I burnt myself! Taylor, how do I look!"
"Uh... just great, Pam!" Taylor replied, diplomatically ignoring the large black sausage-shaped burn that now ran across Pam's cheek. "I think the gun works better if you hold it the other way round though!"
"Thanks Taylor!" Pam replied. "I never used one of these before!"
That soon became apparent as after three shots Pam had successfully managed to hit a tree, a tree, and a tree. Not the same tree each time, mind you. Not even close.
As nobody in particular lay down to take his shots, Trixie picked up the woldo. As everyone else looked forward at the targets, she raised it over his back.
Bang!
"Argh!" Trixie cried, shocked by the sudden noise of a rifle being fired. Who dared disrupt her concentration! In her shock she dropped the woldo, and the sharp blade neatly sliced off nobody in particular's left ear on its way to the ground. In fact, it was so sharp he hadn't even noticed, and was instead smiling, enjoying the fact that he had just managed to shoot out the elephant's picture, despite his fear of guns. The others were all clapping encouragingly - overcoming one's fears is no mean feat! Or no nice feat for that matter. Really it doesn't have anything to do with feet, unless one is podophobic, I guess.
Trixie quickly regathered the dropped woldo and raised it again for a second strike.
Bang!
"Whoah!" Trixie shouted as again she was shocked out of her assassinatory reverie, dropping the woldo a second time (and neatly removing the three small toes on nobody in particular's right foot).
Again the applause drowned out her cry, for nobody in particular had fired another successful shot, and Big Mack's picture was no more.
This time! Trixie thought, as she readied the woldo and waited for that pesky bang!
Bang! There it was. Ned the Flea's picture destroyed, and Trixie swung the woldo hard over her head.
Unfortunately nobody in particular had rolled out of the way just in the nick of time! The blade of her weapon buried deep in the turf of the range, and before she knew what was going on Trixie was pole-vaulted forward over the woldo's shaft and forward onto the grass. Nobody in particular looked back at her with a knowing look, but said nothing. The woldo remained buried in the lawn of the range, its shaft standing up out of the lawn like some sort of strange branchless tree.

Trixie lay down to take her second round of shots.
Bang! Porirua's pic was gone.
Bang! As was Dungay's.
Bang! Kevin Richardson disappeared too.
"Yeargh!" As Trixie rose from the cushion the ancient Korean cry of battle told her nobody in particular had dislodged the woldo and was coming at her with revenge in his eyes. (Though one must ask how one can fit an entire TV show in one's eyes, that must be some very dark magic.)
Her law-enforcement instincts kicked in and in one motion Trixie rolled with the rifle, turned and shot nobody in particular right through the chest.
At that range, he was toast.
Well, technically he wasn't toast. Or bread. Or even muffins. (Dangit!)
He was just dead.
And he lost the round by default.
And then things got really bad.


Chapter Nineteen : : Chapter Twenty-One