"Pillows, soft foam bats, soft foam bullets, and something labeled 'feather grenades,'" Martin said, digging through one of the resupply crates.

Vlad set his jaw. "They were serious about this."

"As serious as you can get and still make this fight into a joke. Is there any way we can get them to reconsider?"

"I'm afraid not." Vlad took a crowbar and levered open another crate. More of the same: joy buzzers, collapsing rubber knives, a marshmallow launcher. "Don't ask me how we're supposed to capture any points with this stuff."

Martin picked up a water pistol with distaste. "How long do we have to adhere to the Nonlethal Weapons Testing Initiative?"

"According to the directions, 'It's all fun and games until somebody dies.'"

"Then we shall make sure someone dies quickly."

Krieg frowned at his new "flamethrower." Instead of flames, it emitted a cloud of shiny, iridescent soap bubbles. "You must be kidding me," he said flatly.

"Yes, I believe that kidding around was the full intent," Vlad said, deadpan.

It took all of an hour for Sasha and Lonnie to rig up joy buzzers to one of the bats and ramp up the power with batteries.

It took less than an hour to realize they could add rocks to the pillowcases (and save the real pillows for their original purpose).

"You know the Reds are going to do the same thing," Martin commented, working on a rubber knife.

"I still think this wasn't what they meant," Gunter said. "I was hoping you wouldn't need any healing with this equipment."

"Guess what!" Liam pushed the door open. "We found tar substitute! Now we can use the feather grenades an' tar an' feather the Reds!"

"What's tar substitute?" Gunter asked.

"That can of really gooey cheese in stores. It's perfect!"

"Canned cheese is certainly not useful for any other purpose," Martin said coolly. "Especially not for eating."

Sasha's baseball bat had been replaced with a squeaky rubber mallet. "A clown hammer?" He sounded dismayed, but his sudden grin said otherwise. He quickly filled it mostly with water and put it in the freezer, joining the water balloons spiked with food coloring.

"Cans of paint?"

"For revealing spies! It's gotta be!"

"Ah." Martin backed carefully away from the paint. "Perhaps if we opened some of those, and rigged them to fall when their gate opens?"

"What about the whipped cream?"

"Let me see," Krieg said. "Perhaps I can work with the propellant in those cans."

Samson picked up a slingshot thoughtfully. "Any marbles in there?" he rumbled.

Martin raised his eyebrows in inquiry toward Vlad: were there? "Lonnie probably has some ball bearings, if that would do any good," the spy said, glaring at the Groucho glasses which were supposed to serve as his disguise kit for the duration of this so-called initiative.

"Dis not work," Finn said.

"Finn, it's a bow. I know you know how to use a bow."

"Arrows, dey not sharp. Don't fly far." He put down the suction-cup arrow.

"That's true," Vlad said slowly. "Finn, this is a nonlethal weapons testing initiative." Too many big words. "Like a game. We're supposed to test these against the Reds."

"No point. No good."

"Okay... how about the foam ax?"

Finn looked offended. "Dis is game? Dumbass game."

"I can't say I disagree, but we have to do this."

"Why?"

"Because we don't get paid if we don't."

"So?"

Vlad stared at the Sniper. Finn stared back.

"Okay!" Vlad said, throwing up his hands. "I'll get back to you, Finn. Anyone else have a problem?"

"Wait a minute. I don't see anything in here for the Medic."

Gunter was waiting off to one side during the entire unpacking and distribution of equipment. "It's nonlethal weapons," he said, and crossed his arms. "Therefore I shouldn't need to heal you."

"Doc, you know the Reds are doin' the same thing we are, right now," Liam said. "You'll have to heal us."

"Wait, I think I found the Medic equipment," Vlad said, having reached the bottom of the crate. "A special Medigun for this testing initiative; a foam dart gun; and a cardboard saw. At least try them out, Doc."

Lonnie, meanwhile, continued experimenting with different types of grease to smooth the motions of his Tinker Toy turret. "Ping-Pong balls ain't gonna work for ammo in this," he said.

"All right, ladies, listen up," Vlad yelled, to get everyone's attention. In a quieter voice he continued: "We've got until tomorrow morning to get used to these new weapons and how to kill with them. Since we know those Red bastards will be doing the same, be sure to get enough sleep, too. We'll show them we know how to play war games!"

The next morning, the Blues were ready at the gate, bristling with improvised no-longer-quite-nonlethal equipment.

Gunter had the special Medigun. He had never liked carrying any of the weapons he'd been assigned, but that hadn't stopped his teammates from trying to make him more of a battle medic, especially today.

"We put the cardboard around an actual saw blade, see?" Liam pointed out before breakfast. "So it'll really cut."

"Liam, I don't use the saw anyway."

"Lord love a jumpin' duck, give it a try!" Liam wheedled, and finally Gunter gave in to carry the thing. He didn't have to use it.

Now it was time to put these modifications into practice. "Remember," Vlad said, as the siren wailed, "This is war! Finn, I told you to use the toys. Let's go, Blues!"

Gunter couldn't help but laugh at the chaotic mess of bodies, squeaky rubber toy noises, and angry yells as the two teams smashed together and tried to use their nonlethal weapons. It was like two deadly serious college fraternities slugging it out for dominance.

Then the real yells started, cries of pain, because the nonlethal weaponry could still hurt like hell.

Gunter squared his shoulders, ducked a suction-cup dart, and ran forward to the fighting. Real blood was already flowing. He switched on the Medigun to heal - there was no 'uber' function on this one - and looked on in horror as Samson and anyone nearby were covered in a thick, slippery stream of foam.

Lonnie found a good placement and quickly attached the pre-built sections of his Tinker Toy turret. He turned the top a few times to wind the string tight, and ducked behind cover before releasing the rubber band that held it in place.

It couldn't distinguish between red and blue, of course, like an ordinary turret; but he'd placed it carefully. The ball bearings it was throwing in all directions would serve well to throw the Reds off balance.

The foam was almost the last straw. The ball bearings, Ping-Pong balls, and reddish slime from the other special Medigun were the last straws that broke the camel's back.

With both groups now floundering to stay upright, fighting had come to a near-complete halt. The Medics were still upright, having hung back, and the Red Sniper looked bemused from his own nearby stance, but overall there was so much slipping and sliding that no fighting progress was being made.

(Well, the Spies might be around somewhere too by now, but if so, they'd avoided the blue foam and red slime. Lucky them, Gunter thought.)

The Spies weren't supposed to use their usual equipment, just like everyone else, but someone hadn't listened. Martin smiled in satisfaction as a small explosion and a curse in French heralded the unveiling of the Red Spy. The exploding cigarettes he'd snuck into the man's gear the night before had done their job.

And that was a good thing, because he hadn't been the only spy to sabotage equipment in the night. He'd used the Groucho glasses as he was supposed to, only to find the nosepiece filled with itching powder, and was now coughing uncontrollably as tears streamed from his eyes.

Finn refused to take part in this nonsense. Nobody had explained anything to him, as usual, but he suspected an explanation wouldn't have helped.

Well, he wasn't going to run around with useless weapons. It was time to get to work.

Another explosion, but this time it was Red Medic's head.

Finn was brought to this place to kill Reds. Whatever the goddams were up to, it was silly to the point of being offensive. They were here to kill and kill again. He did his job.

It was especially easy today, too, since they refused to play by the rules of the war.

"I think we won," Sasha said. "Red Medic was the first one down."

"But Finn cheated, according to the Reds." Gunter made sure the foam gun was completely unloaded. The sink was now piled high with light blue foam.

"The directions said 'until somebody dies.' That's all that counts," Vlad said.

"'Sides, Samson got their spy next," Lonnie pointed out. "Can't argue with a slingshot and ball bearing through the eye."

"Lads?" Liam leaned in the doorway, clad only in shorts. "That stuff from the Mediguns, it doesn't wash out."

"We're gonna have to pay to replace our own uniforms?" Sasha squawked.

"So it would seem," Martin said with a wheeze. At least he'd avoided the indignity of getting the foam and slime on his suit, even if he'd been the only one to require actual medical attention thanks to the powder he inhaled. "But look on the bright side: they could have required us to wear clown suits."

The Reds could argue with Samson's kill, of course, and later they did, on the grounds that they'd been distracted by the illegal sniper fire; but they dropped the matter quickly, once the Administrator made it clear that lodging an official protest would only lead to her ordering a rematch using the same equipment.