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?”

guns up to full velocity. Yes they will really try and hit us, and

fast without making the whole bridge start to sway. I relate the info to the pair behind us and then to the pair in

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 sh*t stings. I take a few more to each arm and then I hear the consistent splats and can feel the paint splash over Wyatt’s shoulder at

can’t see!”

to get me to let go so they started

just a second, I’m going to adjust.” I let go

f*ck are you doing? Don’t let go, you’re going

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 take the hem of my shirt

say. “Yeah, I’m good,

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