It's been about one and a half months since you started working with the Yogscast, and things were going great. You had awesome friendships with most of the members and your audience still loved all of your content. It seemed like it couldn't get any better.
One slow afternoon, while you were editing for a new series you had recently started with some of the other Yogs, you heard a knock on your office door. You call for them to come in, you aren't recording, set your headphones down, and turn to see who the visitor was.
"Hey, f/n," said Smith, "How's it going?" He took a step into the office as he said this.
"I'm great, thanks. You?" you reply, quickly turning back to your computer in order to save your editing work.
"I'm good, too," he begins, running a hand through his short hair, "I-uh... I just wanted to come by to ask you something." He has your full attention now.
"Go ahead," you say, fiddling a little with your own hair. Smith takes in a deep breath.
"Well, you know what air soft is, right?" he begins; you nod to show that you do. He continues, "I was gonna go for a short round this weekend, just like a one day kind of thing, and I was wondering if you wanted to come along?" You think this over quickly, trying to think why he would ask you. Then you remember the conversation you two had shared a few days earlier, and you had revealed that you did, in fact, enjoy using weapons.
"Sounds cool," you reply, "Do I need any special gear? 'Cos I don't think I've got any military kit in my closet at home." Smith chuckles a little when you say this.
"Don't worry about that," he says, "I can probably lend you some of my stuff. Although it'll be a little big on you I expect."
"Alright then," you say, "It's a date." You add, jokingly. Smith visibly tenses at this, immediately straightening himself again. He fishes his phone from his pocket.
"I'll just text you the details now," he mumbles. After a few seconds your own phone gives a little 'beep' and lights up to show that you have received the message from him.
"Well, bye then," he says, turning back to the door.
"Laters," you return, with a little wave. Without another word, Smith leaves and you are left by yourself again with your editing. You smile to yourself, thinking of how you would surprise Smith this weekend when you show up in full gear ready to whoop his ass at his favourite outdoor activity. You laugh a little, and finish off your editing.
That Saturday, you show up to the air soft field in all of your gear, head-to-toe camo, and carrying your favourite air rifle. You see Smith in the distance standing on the edge of a group of other air soft players and walk over to them.
"Nice weather for a game, hey?" you say as you approach. Smith turns, sees you, and laughs loudly, bending a little from the force of it. You stop walking, place your hand on your hip, and give your best 'offended-looking' face.
"What?" you ask, sounding insulted. Smith straightens himself up and stops laughing.
"I didn't expect you to have all that stuff," he chuckles, "I brought loads of extra stuff with me." You laugh a little as well.
"Well, mate, I'm gonna have to warn you," you begin, "I'm pretty good at this." Smith snickers and gives you a funny look, then looks back to the front of the crowd. The organiser of the whole event had taken a space at the front and was explaining the rules for new players along with where the boundaries of the field were.
Pretty soon, everyone was dispersing, ready to start playing. You found Smith among the thinning crowd and rushed over to him. This was a free-for-all game, and it was beginning in 15 minutes. Everyone was trying to get as far from the starting area as possible so that they could maximise their chances of winning.
"Hey, Smith!" you call from a couple of metres away. He turns his head to you, giving a little smirk upon seeing you again. "Wanna stick together for the first part of the game?" you continue.
"Sure," he says, "We can take out most of the other players then split up later." You nod your agreement, then you both rush off towards a patch of trees, presumably already full of other players with the same idea.
An alarm sounds from the centre of the field to signal that the 15-minute grace period is over, and that the real game has begun. You and Smith hide beneath a small patch of leafy plants, fairly well hidden. Quite soon, you see another player trying to stealthily walk through the undergrowth. Raising your rifle, you take aim, but before you can shoot, you hear a little 'piff' sound come from behind you. Smith had fired at the other player, hitting him square in the chest. The other player calls out 'Hit' then holds his hands above his head and jogs off in the direction of the safe zone. You turn to Smith, seeing the smirk on his face.
"You're a little slow, y'know," he chuckles. You roll your eyes, turning to look out from the plants again.
After a while, you and Smith had started a little friendly competition between yourselves to see who could 'kill' the most players. You had been playing for a few hours, and were equally tied. It was at this point that you found almost everyone else was out, aside from you two and a few other players.
"Shall we split up now?" Smith asks. You nod, sad that the truce ended so soon.
"Yeah. Just give me some time to run off, though," you laugh, jogging off in the opposite direction Smith was heading. You knew you would see him soon enough. A few minutes of walking later, you heard a rustle in the bushes. Whipping around and raising your rifle just in case it was a player, you saw someone shift ever so slightly in a patch of bush a few metres from where you stood. They fired, but you had anticipated the move and dodged quickly. You raise your rifle and pull the trigger, hitting the other player on the arm. They curse softly, and then came out of the bush. Walking over to you, they shook your hand and walked off of the field. You decide to take his place, and settle down into the scrub.
After only about 15 minutes, you hear more rustling as another player emerges from the trees. You take aim, and see that it is Smith. You smirk, and fire, hitting him right on the nose.
"Damn," he says under his breath. You jump out the bush to show yourself, which was a mistake. As soon as you did that, you felt a little pellet hit you on the leg. Now it was your turn to say 'Damnit'. You had both arms over your head, and Smith had one with the other rubbing his nose.
"Did you hit me?" he asks. You nod, grinning from ear to ear. You both laugh a little, then start jogging back towards the safe zone together.
When you get back, you sit down at a bench after buying a drink from one of the vending machines. Smith sits next to you with his own drink.
"Good game," he says, "You're pretty good."
"Thanks," you say, adjusting your position in your seat to face him, "We should do this again." Smith laughs, and then takes a large gulp of his drink.
"Bloody hell I needed that," he breathes. You cock an eyebrow.
"Did you not take a water bottle out with you?" you ask, "Noob..." Smith punches you in the shoulder playfully.
"Hey!" you exclaim, feigning pain. You two continue the conversation, and after a while the siren sounds to indicate the end of the game. You give Smith a look, then get out of your seat to stand outside and see who won the game. It takes about 15 minutes for the champion to jog back to base, but when he gets there everyone crowds around him to shake their hand. You hear loads of 'Good job's and "Well played's. You look at Smith; this was the guy that got you.
"Polite bunch, aren't they," you say.
After everyone had settled down, you all head into the base and enjoy a few drinks and some food before everyone begins to disperse to go home. You and Smith exchange goodbye's, and you walk over to your car. That had been a fun experience; maybe next time you could do a team game. Checking the time, you saw it was 3pm. Smiling; you start up your car and head off back home.
