Channeling her inner badass

The metal barrel of the gun heightened the bitter cold seeping into her hands. She ignored the ache as she crouched behind the tree, waiting with uncharacteristic patience for her target to reappear. The thumping heartbeat and the whooshing of her breathing behind the cumbersome mask only heightened the adreneline already pumping through her veins. The damp of the forest ground was slowly seeping through camoflauge-garbed knees, but the leg muscles tightened as the position was held. She was ready to run if need be. Only eerie silence met her ears.

If it weren't for the long blond tendrils escaping from the black ski mask, you'd never be able to guess the eyes shielded by plexiglass were wickedly female. They predatorily scanned the wooded area for movement and suddenly... "There you are." she murmered quietly. A figure burst from behind a barricade and the zing of defensive gunfire ripped through the air. Tiny explosions erupted against the bark of the tree a mere three inches from her face, but she held her ground and took aim at the suspect around the side of the thick birch. Her first two shots flew wide left. "Allow for lead time.", she thought. One slight adjustment and a yelp of pain echoed through the woods.

"I'm hit!!!", came the shout of a male voice. Making absolutely sure, she poked her head around the side of the tree to check. Yup. He was dejectedly making his way toward her, and he had a nasty splatter of paint across his shoulder. "Damn straight you are!!!", she yelled back as the grin spread slowly across her face. He jogged over to rap his knuckles against hers in acceptance of her victory. "Nice shootout, Oob."

"Did I hurt you?", she replied. The smirk wasn't quite hidden, but she didn't want it to be. She was the last of the women remaining and she'd taken down the other two men too.
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Yes, the surprise event of the weekend was a paintball tournament! I was shocked both by how much fun I had in our life-or-death combat situation and by how deadly my aim is. Must be all that Duck Hunt as a teen. The boys demanded to know how much experience I had with a gun growing up, and didn't believe my pitiful b.b. gun-practice-at-YMCA-camp story. They barely believed that I was a tomboy.

But damn, I must admit that wielding a gun and taking down the bad guys is quite an empowering experience. For that kind of rush, I can forgive the scrapes, the split knuckle (Yes, it hurts when you catch one right on your trigger finger.), and the enormous purple people eater monstrosity of a bruise sitting pretty at miniskirt level... especially when the guys are more banged up than I.

That.

was FUN.