...and here is my entry to round one. Enjoy!

Review replies;

avatarjk137: Thanks, I'm looking forward to the rest of the tournament! :)

TweenisodeOrange: Mad madness, that's what it is. XD Thanks for reading.

Clockwork Oracle King: You shall, if all goes as planned. Thanks for reviewing!


Round One – The Paintball Episode

"Paintball, huh?"

Sandy gave an amused look to her team-mate as she waited for the cleaning process to finish.

Danny was warily looking at the door, an anxious look still plastered on his face. He rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

"It seems suspicious," he mused, "Why do we need a rule not to kill in this round? What kind of people are we up against?"

"I looked," replied Sandy, "Ain't nothin' but a bunch of medieval rejects."

The door to the field opened, and an anonymous official motioned for them to step inside.

The mid-afternoon sun still shone vibrantly over the grounds, challenged only by the slowly extending shadows of the hay bales and chest-high walls. The trench that ran diagonally through the course was somewhat dishevelled from the fighting around it throughout the day, but it could still provide valuable cover if taken.

"Try to take the trench," hissed Sandy, "Better cover."

Danny nodded.

They strode confidently into the course. Danny glanced up on the way in, sighting Timmy on the balcony above. He gave a nod, and Timmy countered with a wave.

Across from them, the other team – this so-called 'Order of the Stick' – had marshalled on the other side. Their apparent leader – a black man in armour who looked as though he was missing something important to him – stood at their head in the main field. With him was an orange-haired woman with a ponytail and a single odd hair hanging to the side of her forehead. Above them, a blonde fellow with a rather strange frontal hairstyle and a blue vest was preparing to support them from the platform above. He looked most enthusiastic.

The blonde fellow gave a keen thumbs-up to the girl, who gave a small grin and returned a wave.

The loudspeaker fizzled into action.

"Welcome back!" boomed a voice, a man whose name they remembered as 'Deadpool', "We're now on our fourth match today – team one is a bunch of multi-dimensional weirdoes led by a skinny douche with ghost powers, and team two are a bunch of web-comic stick figures from Dungeons and Dragons!"

The team blinked, as Danny gave an annoyed glance to the loudspeaker.

"What did he call me?" he snapped.

"You all know the rules," reminded Deadpool, "And if you don't – meh, not my fault. Fight!"

Danny and Sandy made a run for the chest high wall at the immediate south of the field, sliding into cover. On the other side of the field, their opponents headed for the wall closest to them.

"Timmy," shouted Danny, "Pass us a gun!"

Timmy glanced over at the weapons gathered and grabbed a gun, tossing it down to Danny. He was reaching for another one, when he felt a heavy thud against his side. He stumbled backward, winded.

The blonde man had picked up a gun, and was now firing at his elevated opponent. Below him, the black man was motioning for him to pass down a weapon, to little avail.

"Crud," snapped Danny, reaching for the weapon Timmy had passed down. Holding it up to his shoulder, he took aim and fired.

The blonde man jumped as Danny's shot missed him. Regaining his bearings, he grabbed another gun and tossed it down to his friends. It hit the black man square in the head on the way down.

The leader, somewhat exasperated, broke cover. He ducked behind the nearby bale of hay and fumbled with the gun, trying to work out how the modern piece of machinery functioned.

Timmy crawled to his feet, a grimace crossing his face.

"Two can play at this game," he snapped.

He reached over to another gun (there had been three nearby him) and fired three shots at the blonde man.

The first shot missed.

The second and third shots hit the blonde man in the stomach and head. The fellow gave a slightly humorous cry as he was pushed back against the wall, hitting his head on the hard surface. Sliding down, the man began to drool as he fell unconscious.

Timmy punched the air, and grabbed the final gun. He tossed it into the pitch.

In his adrenaline-fuelled excitement, he hurled the weapon well over his team's heads. It soared across the pitch and landed at the feet of the woman, who grinned and picked it up.

"Ah, crud," Timmy cursed.

The girl stood up from her cover and fired a shot. The pellet hit Timmy clean in the head, and his world faded to a searing white.

Danny shook his head in annoyance.

"OK," he hissed, handing Sandy the gun, "If we're getting to the trench, we've gotta do it now."

"Got it," nodded Sandy, "We go on my mark."

There was a brief pause.

"Mark!"

They ran from the wall, immediately attracting fire from their enemies. Danny gave a groan of pain as his arm was hit, but he struggled onward. They dived into the trench, and began to fire at their enemies from cover.

The girl ducked out of cover to fire, shooting a pellet that narrowly missed Sandy's head and caused her to duck. Shaking her head, the woman ducked down to reload.

"Keep that other jackrabbit off me," barked Sandy, "I got an idea."

Danny nodded, and fired at the black man. He then crawled briskly up the trench, attracting fire away from Sandy.

The woman ducked up again, having finished reloading. Sandy fired a shot from her own paintball gun.

The pellet struck the girl between the eyes. Her face was splattered with the multi-coloured gunk and she fell onto her back, out cold.

The black man immediately took notice. He hissed a curse and decided to take the initiative. Breaking cover, he rushed into the trench and thrust the butt of his gun into Sandy's face. Sandy flinched, and stepped backwards. The man clutched his gun from the stock and raised it, as if it were a sword.

Sandy kicked up her foot and hit him in the crotch.

Giving a moan, the man fell onto his back, and began to crawl backward. Danny strolled up behind his team-mate, shaking his head.

"That is not cool," he muttered.

Sandy grinned, and they walked over to the warrior, groaning on the ground. She aimed at the downed man as Danny towered over him.

"Alright," he sneered, "You wanna give in?"

The man gave a scowl.

"This wouldn't have happened if I'd had my sword," he snarled, dropping the gun and holding his hands up.

"Very good," nodded Danny, "Now, what was your name?"

"…Roy Greenhilt," replied Roy, somewhat confused.

Danny ran over to a hay bale and jumped on to.

"GREENHILT!" he bellowed, holding his fists to the sky.

There was a long silence as the buzzer was sounded, symbolising the end of the round. Roy and Sandy blinked.

"Sorry," muttered Danny, "Couldn't resist."

"Is he…always this crazy?" asked Roy.

"Nah," replied Sandy, "Must be the adrenaline."


"Well," shrugged Danny as he fell on the couch, "That was surprisingly fun."

Timmy said nothing as he nursed his many bruises.

They were staying at a small, cheap hotel in the centre of the city. Despite the price, it was a fairly nice room – a double-bed, two singles and two inflatable beds were provided, along with a coach, a television and a desk.

"What was with the Rocky thing?" asked Sam, her eyebrow raised in amusement.

"What?" snapped Danny, "I was having fun!"

"There's something about this I don't get," mused Timmy, "Why did Malfoy pay for us to come here for paintball?"

"We'll just have to wait and see what the next challenge is," shrugged Sam, "It can't be too harsh, right?"

Timmy muttered to himself as he held an icepack over his aching elbow. If this was the standard of the contest, then he would be smarting for weeks.


I don't think I'll win this round, but I had fun, and that's the main thing. :)