First off, I must warn you. There are no pictures. None. No pictures. Nada. 0. Z-E-R-O. Absolutly no pictures whatsoever. None.

Still with me? Good. Now, to you two still reading, there are pictures. Not real pictures, mind you. Fake ones, from an aerial shot of the field. And while you may think that this is to help you better envision the players during games, it is actually an evil plot to force you to download several Mb of images through your puny phone lines, eating up valuble resources and causing your computers to lock up! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! I AM AN EVIL GENIUS! AHAHAHAhaha..ha....ha..

*AHEM.*

While you are waiting, I suggest find some other way to entertain yourselves. I suggest the following sites: here, here, or here. Please note that I am not responsible for any trouble that you find yourselves in after clicking those links. I never told you that you had to, punk.

Now if the report has loaded, we can continue. I live in the city of O*****. 15 minutes away is the city of F*****. Over the years, our two citites have developed a bitter rivaly. They beat us in wrestling, so we hit their principal with a bus. They beat us in basketball, we loot and pilliage downtown. They beat us in football, we poison their drinking water. It goes on and on.

So, when I spotted a carload of kids with a "F***** High School" sticker on their van at the paintball field, I knew that it was finally time to see who was better. Paintball, like StarCraft, is a great way to determine your worth as a human being.

It was Pro Day at the field that day, and my team, being nowhere near pros, decided to play as a separate party. Then came the enemy. Seven of them to our five, swaggered into the staging area looking very cockey. We decided to take our fight to the villiage field, and they asked to play against us. Here's our first bout:

We start at the red X, they start at the yellow X. I guess I should introduce the teams, huh?

Now, a lot is riding on this game, so much, that the losing team would probably have had to ritualistically disembowel themselves for disgracing their families. I don't want to have to disembowel myself. I like my innards on the inside, thank you.

The ref shouts "Go!" and we take our positions. Ours are not exactly favorable. I am the red X next to that other red X at the building on the right. Immediatly, I know we are in for trouble. Larry and Roger are attempting to cover our left side, but are pinned in their bunkers and cannot return fire.

Being left-handed, I had decided to take the right side of the field. The only problem is, so did the rest of our team.

The first elimination comes when our sixth player (the kid I can't remember), manages to take out the yellow player at the forward right building (a rental gun kid). The kid beind the flag building turns to fire at him, and I make my move, leap frogging from the right, to the center, to the left. I round the corner of the left hand building, to find an enemy player (another rental) facing the opposite direction.

I decide to be nice and give him the option to surrender. He choses to go down fighting, and sprints in the opposite direction. He leaves the field nursing a bruised ass and ego. Even though I couldn't see the ref's face, I could see that he was laughing uncontrollably. Josh moves from the crouching bunker to the flag building, scoring a cross-field elimination on the player at the upper-left building.

I, in turn, tag tge kid at the flag building in the knee, and turn my attention to the player at their crouching bunker. He seems pre-occupied with Josh. I could let him surrender, but the last time I was merciful, it almost led to disaster. He never knew I was there until a large quantity of white paint was smeared across his goggle lenses. Larry moves up the same building where I am, and Mark moves from the rear right-hand building to the right-hand crouching bunker.

I move to the flag building and pull the flag, then prepare to make my move. Fortunatly, someone manages to eliminate the final player, and I walk/skip across the field to the capture point. The adrenalin was surging, and I had to do it again. This was the greatest feeling in the world, I had single-handedly taken down half of their team. Never in my life had I been so useful to anyone.

The pros had cleared off the speedball court, so we decided to play there. Here's the map:

The teams and rules are the same, and I'm pumped for another victory. There are two key points on the field which usually determine the outcome of the game. "The Monster" is a large "V" made out of tires and barrels. It is so big that multiple players can play there at once, and cover the flag with ease. The second is the "T." The "T" is situated like the monster, and the flag is easily defedable from that location.

Mark likes trying to make it to the monster on the breakaway, but today, the other kid (it's on the tip of my tongue, I swear), decided to take it. Once the ref signals the start of the game, everyone makes a break for their starting points. Mark and Roger wind up stuck a the right-hand barrel bunker, I'm stuck at the left. Larry is stuck at the right standing bunker, and Josh at the left crouching bunker. Other Kid (that's his name from now on) makes it to the pallet by the left barrel bunker. Not good.

Fortunatly for us, their team didn't have that much of an advantage. We could bounce back. Maybe.

The first casualty was Roger, who took a shot to the hopper trying to get a bead on one of them. We can still win. Mark goes next, take roughly 87 rounds to the upper torso trying to move to a better position. Other Kid raises his gun to fire, and is rewarded by the sound of his bolt breaking inside the gun. I turn to aid him, and one of their players manages to get to the "T." I turn to fire on him, and two of their players take the "Monster." We can still win.

I now have fire coming in from both directions, and no cover fire. Josh manages to nail the player at the "T," but another replaces him quickly. I lean out to check the monster, and take a round to the neck. Reaching up under my mask, I feel wet paint. Shit. Before I can call myself out, another round catches me in the back, then one in my mask, the three on my gun, and another two on my side. I have been tye-dyed.

I can't even get clear of the field before Other Kid goes down with a round to the head. Josh runs out of paint and is gunned down making a desperate vie for the flag. Larry is our last hope. The fights bravely, taking one of them with me, but is also eliminated after running out of paint.

So ends the game. We slaughter them in the first game, they slaughter us in the second. We tied. They go off to play amongst themselves. No one is disemboweled, and I have enough welts to make me look like a leper. the war between opposing cities rages on.

I know this report was short, I know the graphics sucked, but dammit, I haven't done a report in so long that I needed to post something. Keep your eyes peeled for several new reports in the future. Squeaky's Warhammer Weekend III, DJ_AssRape II, and possibly another paintball report with SlingsNArrows and Dialtone_ . I guess that's it, except for lessons leaned:

-DJ_AssRape ownz j00.
- Paintball ownz j00.
- This report will get a 5 because there are no hot anime chicks.
- This report will get a 7 because the reporters are godly and nice and I will give them oral sex.
- This report will get a 6 because that is what happens when you average 5 and 7.
- I can screw up even the simplest graphics.
- Lessons leaned are fun.
- Whoever gets first comment is a whore.
- I am a whore, $2.