They quickly sprint through the forest, dashing between conifers as they make their way deeper into the endless expanse of trees. The late day sunlight filtering through the treetops illuminates their path. Spotting a downed tree trunk overgrown with moss, the pair dives over the fallen giant, barely making cover before the rounds impact the tree; bark flies and plumes of dust waft from the hits, floating almost serenely through the god-rays permeating the forest.
Derek peers over the edge of the trunk. Another round impacts the tree, he flinches as he ducks back down. "I don't see her, where the hell is she?" He turns to find John looking at him, frustration in his eyes, the rest of his face concealed beneath shatter-proof material.
"I don't know, it's like she's taunting us or something. Waiting for us to make a break for it before she finishes us off." John replies, his voice muffled. "She might still be pissed."
"Seriously? That was days ago." Derek looks over the edge again, another flurry of rounds impacts the trunk; red mist permeates the air. He returns prone once again.
"You know her, she's not afraid to hold a grudge." John says, his eyes revealing the smirk on his face. His mind wanders briefly, back to the day. He remembers with crystal clarity the sight of his mother sitting in the kitchen, sour faced; she's clad in one of her usual outfits, but something's off. The tank top is pink. Shaking his head briefly, he refocuses.
"Whatever, we gotta make a go for it before she overruns us. We move on my signal, got it?" He lifts his gloved hand, the other griping the paintball marker. Gesturing a movement order he pauses, waiting for the right moment. "Go!" Derek cries.
Rolling over, John bolts from the trunk, his boots kicking up patches of earthy green moss as he runs.
Derek tears off in the opposite direction. Looking over his shoulder, he fails to notice the obstacle in his path.
He's on the ground, the wind knocked out of him. He recognizes what he's just run into. Cameron. The "metal". She's giving him her blank stare. His eyes shift to the figure moving from behind her. He has no time to react. Trying in vain to shield himself from the plastic rain, he turns, writhing from the impacts. It feels like hours but it's only a few seconds; when it's over he looks like something from Jackson Pollock's workshop.
"What the hell was that for? One shot is all it takes!" He shouts, still reeling. Cameron tilts her head at him in curiosity.
Sarah removes her mask, the band snapping as she pulls it from her head. "My tank tops. They're pink. All of them."
He looks at her incredulously, watching as she retreats in the direction from which she came. "The fuck are you looking at, metal!" Rising to his feet, he follows Sarah's lead, making his way back to the clearing where they'd parked their cars. Cameron remains there, quickly turning her head, the long chocolate locks of hair whipping around her as she detects the soft crackling of twigs and rustling of leaves. It's John.
"Cameron." He calls, his voice muffled by the mask he's now removing. "What just happened?" He inquires, amusement painted on his features.
"Sarah exacted revenge upon Derek."
"I see. The laundry incident?"
"Yes. Her anger was misdirected though."
"Why?"
"It wasn't Derek who fouled her laundry." She pauses. "It was me." She smirks, looking at John, big doe eyes dancing with amusement.
He grins, taking hand, pulling her close to him as they begin walking back to the cars.