A/N: Okay, obligatory apologies aside, there's a couple of minor updates. Summer classes, combined with a job, are a bitch and a half! I decided to spend my time focusing on my classes, so that didn't leave a lot of energy for writing. I'm done with my summer classes now, though.

I've completed my move on-campus at my university and now I have a few days of free time before the fall semester starts. It's time to get some writing done!


"Shit! I missed again!" Will exclaimed as he cocked the bolt on his rifle to load the next round. Klan's elusiveness was already testing his patience.

"She makes a small target, doesn't she?" Cal remarked, sitting a few feet away while he looked out for any incoming enemy players.

"That, and she moves pretty damn fast. Makes her a hard target to hit." Will searched around using his scope, but came up with nothing. "Dammit, she got away. Oh well, it looks like the rest of them don't even know they're about to get hit!" Will was almost salivating at the target-rich environment on the side of the hill a few hundred meters away. He checked the counter on the display on his goggles, "5 rounds left in this clip. Perfect. That's all I need to finish them off."

"Garrett!" the radio boomed in his ear, "We're getting hit from all sides! Can you hit any of them from there?"

"I'm working on it now! Give me a few moments!" he replied, then turning towards Cal for a moment, "Watch this, dude."

Cal could only sit and watch as the expert sniper zeroed in on his targets and went to work.

*POP!*... *POP!*... *POP!*... *POP!*... *POP!*

Each shot fired was skillfully followed up by a quick reload action on the rifle's bolt. It only took him a couple of seconds to fire a round after reloading, meaning that all five shots took him about 15 seconds.

"Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit. And... hit," Will confidently reported, inspecting his work through the scope. He then rolled to his side to grab another clip out of his pack, "They didn't even know who was hitting them!"

"Nice job, Babe," Nene said to him from a few feet below his perch. She and Thad were also on the lookout for any enemy players. Indeed, Pixie Team worked well as a team, no matter the situation, supporting each other's strengths.

The radio was still alive with chatter from Rabbit Team. "He's too fast!" "I can't hit him! Garrett, where the hell are-" The voice abruptly cut out. Most likely, the radio was rendered inoperative once a player has been hit, in order to keep them from giving away enemy positions afterwards.

"Shit," Will mumbled, looking through the scope after reloading his rifle. He watched as Brera effortlessly and skillfully assaulted Rabbit Team's fortified positions all by himself. "Who's the blonde guy? He's tearing them up!"

"Does he have kind of a vacuous look on his face?" Nene asked.

"Yeah, he looks like some kind of emotionless killing machine when he's doing his business. Talk about wearing a serious game face!" Will answered.

"Oh, that's Brera Sterne," Nene declared with a slight hint of amusement in her voice, "He came from the Galaxy colony. He's got a bunch of cybernetic enhancements and implants in his body, so he's got some unnatural athleticism."

"Wait, I remember hearing something about this guy," Cal said, "Wasn't he an enemy pilot?"

"Yeah. He even shot my sister down two separate times during that whole conflict. Don't worry, he's a good guy now."

Will whistled out loud in reaction.

"Shit..." Cal calmly replied. He thought for a moment about the caliber of pilot that it would take to best Klan in combat twice. "Well, wait a minute. That means he flew a VF-27, doesn't it?"

"Yup."

Cal blew a raspberry, "Big deal. If I had an enhanced body and a machine like that to fly in, I'd be totally unstoppable."

"But you don't," Nene retorted, "so watch yourself with that guy."

"We'll see about that..." Cal said as he started to inch his way down the hill.

"Where are you going?" Thad asked.

The radio opened up to the sound of Ozma's voice, "Rora, are you still out there?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Where are you guys?"

"We're still in sector C-5 covering Ensign Garrett."

"All four of you? Good, I need one of you to get down here and help us defend the base. It looks like Brera Sterne is headed this way and I'm going to need some extra bodies to take him out. The rest of you hold your positions and give us some cover when we come back up the field with the flag."

"I'm on my way," Cal replied on his radio. He then looked at his wingmates with a satisfied grin. "Does that answer your question?"

"Will, can you see our base from here?" Nene asked.

"Yeah, I've got a clear shot," he replied, looking back towards Ozma's position through his scope.

"Good. You provide any covering fire you can and we'll keep an eye out for any other targets for you in the meantime."

"You got it!" Will replied, turning and settling into his new prone orientation.

"Quit fidgeting!" Sheryl complained at Alto as she applied some cream to his arm.

A large, red welt had been raised on it due to being hit by the Blue Team sniper early on in the game. He clicked his tongue and forcefully exhaled in frustration. He leaned forward and propped his head up with his other arm while Sheryl nursed his wound.

"I just don't get why you guys insist on subjecting your bodies to such abuse. We have all of this advanced technology and you guys are still playing with paintballs. Why?"

"No pain, no gain, Sheryl," was the reply. Alto seemed to be satisfied with himself, having taken part in something of a bonding experience with his wingmates.

"You men. Sometimes, I wonder what it is that makes you all behave so irrationally," she shot back.

"Hey, there are quite a few women out there playing too. You could have come with us if you wanted to, you know."

"Hell... No." Sheryl was never going to admit that she might have even considered joining the match.

Ranka appeared from nowhere with a compression bandage rolled up in her hand. "Okay, here you go."

Just as she started to wrap it around his arm, Alto found more reasons to complain. "Oh, come on! I don't need a bandage! It's fine!"

"Hold him down," Ranka asked of Sheryl. She wasn't in the mood to argue about it.

Sheryl responded by jumping onto Alto's back, causing him to stagger his posture a bit. "What the hell?"

Both Ranka and Sheryl laughed at the situation while they did their jobs. Whether he liked it or not, Alto was getting that arm bandaged up. It's almost as if they enjoy pulling his strings the way they do.

Nanase had been sitting a couple of seats over, intently watching the action on the monitor overhead. "There he is!" she exclaimed, finally seeing Luca's image broadcast from one of the chaser cameras milling around the course. He crouched against a short metal wall, concealing his body from incoming marker fire.

"I can't hold him off for much longer, Ozma!" Luca exclaimed over his radio headset. Paintballs either impacted on the other side of the wall at his back, or sailed over his head. Suddenly, the assault seemed to stop, prompting Luca to turn around and gauge the situation from behind the safety of the wall. Seeing no more movement, he decided that now would be his only chance to retreat.

"Just keep calm, Luca. We're almost ready," Ozma's reply came over the radio.

Still short on breath and slightly panicked, Luca acknowledged Ozma's orders. He then tried to convince himself of his ability to survive the encounter. "I can do this," he muttered to himself under his breath, "I can do this..." Using all of his strength, he made a dash towards the end of the artificial wall; the safety of a run-down shack was only about 20 meters away. There, he could turtle himself inside of its protective shell to hold off his assailant for as long as possible.

Each step on the way seemed to take an eternity, and his legs began to burn halfway there. Looking around in every direction for what seemed like several times a second, he was fortunate enough to not be able to locate his attacker. The sanctuary of the shack was only a few steps away. The feeling of relief was more than welcome when he finally reached for the door and pushed it open so he could dive inside.

*POP!*

To his surprise, the only thing that stopped him from going inside was a paintball round to the chest. The sudden sound of a firing paintball marker caused Luca to flinch. Brera was already inside of the shack, sitting on the ground against the wall and covering the door with his weapon. He wore a satisfied grin on his face as he saw Luca's expression after being shot.

Luca looked down at his body armor and cupped his hand under the impact point on his chest. For a split second, he thought he had been shot for real, but quickly dropped his hands to his sides and sighed in frustration. Without a word, he turned around and walked out of the shack towards the pavilion up the hill.

"Talk to me, Kanaria," Ozma whispered into his radio. He seemed to be perched on top of one of the rudimentary buildings in Red Team's base, awaiting the impending assault.

"I'm ready," she replied, "But are you sure this is the smartest way to defend? We're not even watching the base itself."

"Trust me. This is the most direct route to the base. It wouldn't be Brera's style to try and sneak around to get there. He's not the type to avoid a head-on confrontation. He'll come, don't worry..."

"If you say so. Ever since I started following you, you've never led us wrong."

Ozma quietly laughed into the radio. "Is that why you changed your mind?"

It took her a few moments to answer. "Um, partially... That, and I couldn't let you run off on this mission on your own." She laughed before continuing, "The pilots in Rabbit Team began to refer to you as my 'work husband' when I was their team leader. I think that term is brutally accurate, don't you?"

"Hm. I guess so... I never really thought of it that way." Ozma checked the compass on the HUD in his goggles to locate the flag's relative position. The bright yellow line was exactly in the center, indicating that the flag was directly in front of him. Only the distance was unknown. "Looks like I was right. Get ready."

Ozma aimed his paintball marker from his prone position down the slight slope in the direction of the flag, narrowing his eyes while he searched for any sign of movement. His patience and perception rewarded him when he suddenly found himself under fire. A quick burst of three rounds fired from inside of a bush about 20 meters down the hill. Ozma returned fire before shrinking back to avoid being hit. He waited for the paintballs to sail over his head before leaning forward and regaining his former firing posture. Just as he was able to see down the hill again, he saw Brera dashing at top speed up the hill to take cover behind a large tree. Ozma managed to fire off a few more rounds, hoping that one might land on his target. Unfortunately, Brera was moving too fast for the paintballs to actually hit.

"You know I can see you, right?" Brera yelled from behind the tree. He was now about 15 meters down the hill from Ozma.

"Yes, I'm well aware of your capabilities. It must be nice to be able to see in the infrared range of light."

"Makes you guys light up like neon signs. That kind of puts you at a disadvantage, doesn't it? Are you sure you want to go through with this pointless fight?"

"Fighting is never pointless. When you're facing a formidable opponent, one basic strategy is to neutralize his strengths; you have to level the playing field a bit."

"Oh? How do you plan on doing that?" Brera took the opportunity to move up the hill a couple of meters by dashing to the next tree.

"Come at me, if you want to find out." It was fairly obvious that Ozma had a plan, but Brera didn't seem to care. He was playing right into Ozma's mind games. "You weren't that tough to deal with when you attacked me on Island-3 so many months ago. Let's see what that artificially-enhanced body of yours can do!"

"Roger that." Brera replied with his usual casualness. With little delay, he turned himself around the tree to expose his torso to Ozma's sight, opening fire with his paintball marker. As he expected, Ozma was positioned to return fire and did not hesitate to do so. Using his lightning-quick reflexes and sharp sight, Brera managed to dance around enough to avoid being hit.

"Not bad, but I'm not yet impressed," Ozma goaded as he continued to fire upon the agile Brera.

Sensing an opportunity to advance, Brera leaped forward through the air and began to charge up the hill. He made sure to move in a serpentine motion to keep Ozma's accuracy from getting too reliable.

Just as Brera began to approach the top of the hill, Ozma rolled away out of Brera's sight and opened his radio, "Now, Kanaria!" He then used his finger to flick a peculiar bulb-shaped plant next to his body.

About the size of a beach ball, the bulb's leathery skin contained a bit of a surprise for Brera. As if it reacted to Ozma's disturbance, the bulb opened from the top and spewed a thick stream of feathery spores into the air.

From her position on top of the nearby bunker built into the earth on top of the hill, Kanaria opened fire with her paintball marker, hitting as many bulbs as she could. Each hit was confirmed by the ejection of spore material into the air. Soon, much of the space in front of the bunker was filled with floating spores.

As soon as he reached the top of the hill, Brera found himself unable to accurately locate Ozma. His thermographic vision was obscured by the spores, which seemed to give off exceptional amounts of heat as they floated through the air. "What the hell is this crap?" he exclaimed as he squinted his eyes and used his arm to try and brush the spores out from in front of him. For a moment, he had forgotten that he was now exposed to incoming fire and heard two paintball markers opening fire. All he could do was fall backwards to avoid being hit and regroup from there.

"Living on a new planet is full of wonderful surprises, isn't it?" Ozma yelled, "There's these neat fungi all over the place here that will spit out their spores if they're disturbed by something. The spores give off heat signatures that are comparable to a human body's while they're in the air. Isn't nature neat?"

Brera scoffed at Ozma's comments. He cautiously poked his head above the slope's edge to see what might be going on at the top. The spores were suspended in the air, moving at the breeze's every whim, but refusing to fall to the ground. From his perspective, the spores glowed like lightbulbs in the air, obscuring his vision at the infrared wavelength. He closed his eyes and opened them again, resetting his vision back to the normal visible light spectrum. "Never without a plan, huh?" he asked of Ozma.

"Only fools charge into battle without one. You young ones are often too brash and cocky to realize when you're in over your heads."

"We'll see about that," Brera barked as he got up and dashed in towards the bunker. At that point Ozma and Kanaria had fortified themselves nearby and opened fire on him. Due to the incoming fire, he had to cut his assault short and take shelter behind a fallen tree trunk. Several rounds impacted on the wooden barrier just as he reached it. Another bulb nearby erupted from being shot, renewing the level of spores in the air. It was Ozma's determination to keep Brera's sight on the same level as his and Kanaria's.

From his hiding spot, Ozma kept his paintball marker trained on Brera's last-known position. His radio crackled in his ear.

"I'm in position, Ozma," Cal's voice sounded. It seemed to be slightly muffled, however.

"Good! Stay there and await further orders. I've almost got this guy, so we may not need you after all..."

"Roger that."

A complete silence fell over Ozma as he waited for Brera to make his next move. However, he knew that the spores wouldn't stay airborne indefinitely. He had to consider the possibility that Brera was going to wait for the air to clear up a bit before continuing his advance. Although the spores obscured the heat signatures in the area, they didn't cloud up the air too much for him to clearly see through them with his "normal" vision. "Kanaria," he whispered into his radio, "We need to flush him out before the spores settle out of the air."

"How? He's too fast and accurate for us to attack him directly."

"Keep firing at him at a slow and steady rate just to make noise and to draw his attention. I'll try to move into a better position while you distract him and keep him pinned down."

Ozma hopped down from his perch and dashed into the brush nearby. It appeared that his plan was to flank Brera through the woods and hope to remain undetected. The sound of Kanaria's marker firing intermittently echoed through the woods near Ozma, doing a pretty good job of obscuring the occasional rustle of the leaves and snapping of twigs below his feet.

It didn't take him too long to reach a better vantage point from which to fire upon Brera. Kneeling down in preparation to fire, Ozma noticed that the other side of the huge fallen tree was devoid of a target. The yellow flag simply laid there on the ground, attracting the indicator on Ozma's HUD. "Kanaria!" he forcefully whispered into his radio, "He's not there! He somehow got away!"

"Shit... Any idea as to where he went?"

"No, but hold your position and keep your eyes peeled. He dropped the flag so we couldn't track him. At the first sign of trouble, blow that spore pod next to you and run back to Wagner's position!"

"Okay, but this is the last one that I can see. We seem to be running short on options," Kanaria replied.

The best thing for Ozma to do at that point was to try to remain concealed from Brera's sight while he tried to locate his elusive target. The sudden sound of a native bird squawking in the trees above his head startled Ozma. He looked upwards to see it fly from its perch and sighed in relief as he realized that it wasn't Brera. A moment of silence followed, but Ozma was once again alerted to the sound of a single footstep behind him. Almost immediately, he felt the metallic muzzle of a paintball marker tapping on the top of his helmet. "Nevermind, I found him," Ozma chirped into his radio with a notable hint of disappointment in his voice.

Kanaria turned to look in his direction in the woods just in time hear the sound of a single paintball round being fired and saw Ozma's visual marker disappear from her goggles's display. "Ozma?" she replied, hoping that it was simply an equipment glitch. No answer came.

Instead, Ozma slowly appeared from inside of the woods and casually walked across the field towards the pavilion. He tried not to look up at where Kanaria was so he wouldn't give her position away. When he was in plain view, he turned away from her to show her the back of his helmet. There was a pronounced discoloration splattered all over his helmet in an almost abstract-art kind of way.

Kanaria knew that she was now all alone at her current position. She slowly inched herself away from Ozma's former spot, keeping in mind the location of the spore bulb nearby. She might need to burst it, just in case she needed to escape from Brera's inevitable assault.

From the distant viewer's perspective, it was only a few moments before an eruption of spores coincided with the trading of paintball marker fire. Kanaria seemed to let out a battle shout in the midst of the firefight, but the encounter quickly dissipated back into silence.

Brera stood on top of the earthen bunker as he watched Kanaria walk away towards the pavilion. A cloud of spores still hung over his head, but he could now clearly see the goal at the end of the meadow to his right. He began a brisk walk towards the rudimentary structure, removing himself from the bothersome spores before switching his vision back to infrared. He had already visually inspected the meadow for anymore spore sacs and proceeded with the notion that there would be no more surprises. No significant heat sources were in view from his perspective.

It seemed that three paths intersected right in front of the goal structure. The course designers had created it this way to give attacking players multiple ways to enter the enemy base. It's easy to look good while defending; having multiple possible alleys of attack made defense a more difficult job, though.

Brera stopped just in front of the intersection, squatting down in the tall grass to survey the area before moving forward. All he had to do was enter the building and touch the goalpost with his hand. The flag remained securely tucked in one of the belt loops on his pants. He first checked for spore sacs with his normal vision, and then checked for heat signatures with infrared vision. Despite the eerily quiet atmosphere, he confidently began to dash across the large intersection of paths. As he jogged along, his vision was firmly set on a hollowed-out log that was partially submerged into the ground. That would be the perfect spot for someone to camp, hoping to get a lucky shot off on him.

Sure enough, a paintball marker began to fire upon him from that very spot. Because he had correctly deduced the possibility of attack, Brera was quickly able to leap backwards to avoid the incoming fire.

"Surprise, asshole!" Cal yelled as he jumped up from his hiding place and ran after the retreating Brera. The semi-circle-shaped, hollowed-out log followed him, seemingly attached to his back like a tortoise shell. Behind him, he had left a rather large divot in the ground. He appeared to have dug the hole to hide his feet from view and used the dirt to stop up the front end of the log, so it would block his heat signature.

Rather brazenly, Cal continued to pursue Brera while firing his paintball marker at him. He kept Brera from returning fire with any semblance of accuracy because he was able to accurately predict Brera's landing points. With every leap, Brera found himself becoming more and more off-balance, due to Cal leading him with his marker fire.

All it took was one more misstep before Brera tumbled to the ground and started to slide down the slope at the edge of the meadow. A colony of slippery moss had made its home all over the ground in the area, making it nearly impossible for him to right himself.

"Aha! I've got you now!" Cal said as he reached the top of the slope to come into line of sight of the now-sliding Brera. He stopped running, knelt down, and aimed his rifle to deliver the killing blow, only to find that his marker was no longer firing paintballs.

*Tik tik tik!*

He looked at the ammunition indicator on his goggles's display to see that his hopper was empty. "Shit!" he said as he ejected the empty cartridge from his marker and reached to his hip to grab another.

Brera used this opportunity to try and turn the tables on his attacker. He plunged the retractable blade from his arm into the ground to stop his momentum. With his free arm, he pointed his marker back up the slope to return fire.

Cal realized his moment of vulnerability and spun himself around behind one of the trees at the top of the slope. He finished reloading his marker and peered around the tree to continue his assault. He fired just as Brera retracted his blade to continue the slide down the slope. At that point, it was all Brera could do to avoid being hit.

"You didn't fire," Cal spoke to Brera over the open frequency on the radio, "Why?"

Brera took a moment before he answered, "It wasn't worth firing on you there. I didn't have a good angle."

"Bullshit," Cal laughed, "It doesn't get much better than that. I was completely defenseless and standing up in the open, there. I think you're almost out of ammunition. You've seen a lot of action, no doubt. I would be willing to bet that you're trying not to run out." He waited for a response, but got none. "I don't hear you disagreeing with me. Honestly, you're the first live target that I've fired upon this whole game. So, I've got plenty o' ammo."

"First 'live' target?"

"Uhh... don't ask." Cal rolled his eyes at his own response. He didn't want to admit that he had mistakenly fired upon an inanimate object earlier in the game. "That was a pretty good move back there, to drop the flag so they couldn't track you. I also heard about your special 'eyes' and how you can see heat signatures. That's a pretty cool trick, but I've devised a few countermeasures. A good pilot always uses his countermeasures to win a fight, am I right?"

"An even better pilot doesn't need to use them to win."

"While that's technically true, it doesn't mean that you're better."

"Why's that?"

"Because you're using your artificially-enhanced body as an advantage over us. You're fast and hard to hit because of it. Poor old me, I have to do things the old-fashioned way. So, which is it?"

"I've just got more advanced technology, that's all. Deal with it."

"Pfft... all you Galaxy pilots think you're the hot shit just because your bodies can withstand for more g-force then ours and you have those fancy-ass BDI/BDS systems in your birds. Despite your quote-unquote advantages, I still managed to shoot down a bunch of your pals out there in combat."

"Well, first of all, they're not my 'pals'. Second of all, 'good for you'. Now stop whining and let's finish this."

"Ladies first!" Cal taunted.

Brera chuckled at his response and began to formulate his plan of attack. It seems that he's going to have to take things from a different approach when dealing with this nuisance. Taking extra care to not be detected, Brera used the long grass located on the side path leading to the base to conceal his movement. He had already learned that a head-on attack wasn't working well for him. Both Ozma and Cal had prepared well for that contingency. He decided to drop the flag in the midst of the tall grass on the eastern path leading to Red Team's goal. He couldn't afford to give his position away. Klan was right; the Skull pilots are a crafty bunch.

As Brera circled around the back of the base through the woods, he realized that the only entrance was on the front side. Wherever Cal happened to be hiding at, he was going to have to risk another encounter to capture the flag and finally put and end to the match. The sight of the same hollowed-out log caught his attention, though. It was positioned in the tall grass in the midst of the west path, covering the middle and east paths leading to the base. Cal's shoes could be plainly seen poking out the backside of the log, along with the muzzle of his marker sticking out the front end. Brera rolled his eyes and scoffed under his breath, "How stupid does he think I am?"

Almost instantly, Cal opened up his radio to try and goad his opponent into attacking, "I've got other things to do later on today. Quit stalling already! I've got a paintball with your name on it right here!"

Brera chose to ignore the taunting and quietly approached the familiar disguise Cal was wearing. Just like with Ozma, Brera couldn't wait to deliver the execution style kill-shot to the back of Cal's head. Using every bit of stealth he could muster, he finally reached Cal's position from behind and tapped on the log with his marker. "Hey... Your stupid disguise didn't work again. Just tell me if you want it in the head or in the chest." Brera taunted.

No movement nor verbal response came from underneath the log. Brera again made his presence known. "Hey! I've already got you! Just get up and take your punishment!" he said as he kicked Cal's shoe. The shoe tumbled through the grass because there was no foot inside of it. Realizing that something was out of place, Brera used his foot to flip the log over. Inside, Cal had placed his protective helmet on top of his marker and his shoes at the back end of the log. At a glance, it looked like someone was inside, but once the subterfuge was removed, it was nothing more than a distraction. Brera picked up Cal's marker and scoffed. "Hey, dumbass," he taunted over the radio, "How do you expect to beat me without your marker?"

"Oh, shit," came the response, "I hadn't thought that far ahead. What ever will I do?"

Cal's sarcasm really came out at the end of his response, causing Brera to stop to think about what he could possibly be planning. Just as he shook any doubts from his mind, Brera felt the impact of a high-velocity paintball round square on his back. Not even flinching from the pain, he rolled his eyes and displayed his disgust, "Ugh!" He dropped his marker to his side and noticed Cal emerging from inside of the goal bunker.

Despite only wearing socks on his feet, he confidently approached Brera's position, slowly and sarcastically clapping his hands to his defeated foe. "Couldn't dodge that one, could you?"

Brera momentarily stood there in disbelief and simply had to ask. "Why on earth would you leave your weapon on the ground and leave yourself defenseless like that?"

"Because I knew I could count on my teammates to help me out," Cal replied, "I knew that the only way we could hit you is if I could get you to stand still in the open like that. I figured that the only way you'd let your guard down is if you thought I was no longer a threat to you. That's teamwork, baby!" Cal put his hand out, expecting to have his marker returned to him.

"I hope you step on something sharp," Brera replied with a wry grin as he tossed the marker back to Cal.

Cal watched Brera calmly walk away and opened up his team channel through his goggles. "Once again, you've come through for me, Will. Nice shot, dude!"

"Just doing my job!" came the reply.

"Give me a few minutes to get my shoes on and retrieve the flag. I'll meet you guys there and we can move on their base. Any visuals on Blue Teamers?"

"Nope! We're doing good! See you when you get here."