He grabs the upper rope and takes a tentative step forward letting the lower rope dip with our weight before he starts stepping one foot in front of the other. As soon as we reach the first upright pole and he has to let go, I hear a click echo around us. I look below and see each of the trainers aiming what looks like guns at us. What the hell?

“Wyatt, we’ve got trouble. I think they are going to try and shoot at us, move your ass!”

“Where are they?”

“One at twelve o’clock, two at three o’clock, one at six o’clock and three at nine o’clock, but I don’t know if they would aim at us or the other team. Would they really shoot us?”

to full velocity. Yes they will really try and hit us, and those f*ckers

the pair behind us and then

front of us makes it to the platform just as they start to open fire. We are just crossing the halfway point and still have about twenty feet to go. I feel the first splat of paint hit my arm and Wyatt wasn’t wrong, this

can’t

let go so they started going

to adjust.” I let

you doing? Don’t

too slippery to move, just trust me.” I shimmy under his arm, moving my legs as little as possible, but reaching both arms underneath and grabbing his biceps and using them to pull myself to his front. I

I say. “Yeah, I’m good, but you are getting pummeled,

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