The Gate Traveler

I never thought I'd be excited about getting shot at, but here I was, grinning like an idiot as I hefted the small paintball gun in my hands. The Nevada desert stretched out around us, a sea of sand and scrub brush with the glittering oasis of Las Vegas shimmering in the distance. The weapon felt alien yet familiar, like a distant cousin to my bow. Its weight was reassuring, a promise of messy vengeance to come.

"Alright, John," Mahya called out, her voice tinged with amusement. "Let's see if you remember something from the training in Romania and can hit the broad side of a barn."

I rolled my eyes, but my smile didn't fade. Mahya perched atop a large boulder, her lithe form coiled like a spring ready to unleash. Sometimes, I forgot just how different she was from us mere mortals. With her ability to leap six meters into the air and dash along walls like some fantasy parkour expert, she would be a nightmare to hit.

"Don't get cocky," I shot back, squinting against the harsh desert sun. "I may be new to guns, but I know a thing or two about projectiles."

Al chuckled, his slim frame sprawled casually against a nearby Joshua tree. "This is bound to be captivating," he mused, idly twirling his own paintball gun. "The clash between the wizard and the acrobat."

I tried not to let my gaze linger on the fourth member of our little training group. Sonak stood off to the side, his face set in its usual mask of disdain. He looked about as comfortable holding a gun as I'd be trying to dance a tango with a porcupine. Part of me felt a pang of sympathy, but the memory of his constant sneers and cutting remarks quickly washed it away.

Oh yeah, I was going to enjoy painting him all the colors of the rainbow.

The hot, dry air seemed to crackle with tension as we faced each other—an odd quartet in the middle of nowhere. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I could taste the dust on my tongue. This was it, my first proper step towards mastering a new weapon. Sure, it wasn't as elegant as a bow, but I needed every edge I could get to infiltrate the base.

"So," Al asked, breaking the silence. "Can you clarify the specific steps we will take to accomplish this? Free-for-all? Teams? Is it possible for me to be exempt from being on Sonak's team?"

Sonak's scowl deepened. "Trust me, the feeling is mutual. I'd rather be perfecting my arcane arts than wasting time with this primitive nonsense."

I bit back a groan. Here we go again.

"Look," I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. "We're here to learn. All of us. Even you, Sonak. Magic isn't always going to save your hide. Sometimes, you need to get your hands dirty. And if you want to benefit from Al’s potion, you must learn how to hit somebody with it."

Mahya nodded, her eyes scanning the surrounding terrain. "John's right. Let's start with basic target practice, then move on to one-on-one duels. After that, if we're feeling brave, we can try a free-for-all."

My pulse quickened at the thought. It was a chance to put all my archery skills to the test in a new medium and maybe teach Sonak a lesson in humility while I was at it.

"Any objections?" Mahya asked, her gaze lingering on Sonak.

He opened his mouth, probably to spout more complaints, but thought better of it. He simply shrugged; his lips curled in a sneer.

"Alright then," I said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into the group. "Let's set up some targets and get to work."

We spread out, using rocks, cacti, and whatever else we could find as makeshift targets. The smell of fresh paint and gun oil filled my nostrils, mixing with the dusty scent of the desert. It was an odd combination, but somehow invigorating. I took a deep breath, trying to center myself the way I did before loosing an arrow.

"Ready?" Mahya called out. We all nodded. "Then let's begin!"

The air erupted with the rapid popping of paintball guns. I squeezed the trigger, feeling the unfamiliar kick of the weapon. My first shot went wide, splattering harmlessly against a rock. Gritting my teeth, I adjusted my aim and fired again.

This time, the paintball found its mark on a nearby cactus, rewarding me with a satisfying splat. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. I could work with this.

To my left, Mahya was painting her targets with deadly precision, her movements fluid and graceful even in this unfamiliar task. Al seemed to have more trouble, his natural flexibility working against him as he overcompensated for the gun's recoil.

And Sonak... well, let's just say the only thing he was in danger of hitting was his own foot.

As we continued to fire, I felt myself slipping into a rhythm. The gun might be different, but the principles were the same. Breath control, stance, follow-through—it all translated. With each shot, my accuracy improved, the grouping of paint splatters on my targets growing tighter and more centered.

"Not bad," Mahya called out to me during a lull in the firing. "Looks like all that fancy bow work is paying off."

I grinned, a warm flush of pride spreading through my chest. "Thanks. You're not so shabby yourself. I'm even surprised."

She winked at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, I'm full of surprises. Just wait until we start moving."

The thought sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. This was going to be fun.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, turning the desert into a shimmering oven, we decided it was time to up the ante. The rocks and cacti we'd been using as targets were now a kaleidoscope of paint splatters, looking like some deranged artist had gone wild in the wasteland.

"Alright, folks," Mahya announced, wiping sweat from her brow. "Time for some one-on-one action. Who's up first?"

Al stretched, his joints popping audibly. "I am willing to try," he said with a grin. “John, I extend an invitation for you to join me in a dance.”

I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in my gut. "You're on, athlete boy. First to three hits wins?"

"I favor that proposition," Al replied, twirling his paintball gun with unnecessary flair.

We spread out, using the scattered rocks and vegetation as cover. The desert seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the faint whisper of wind over sand. I crouched behind a large boulder, my heart pounding in my ears.

"Ready?" Mahya called out. "Begin!"

I peeked out from behind my cover, scanning for any sign of Al. The tricky bastard was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, a flash of movement caught my eye. I whirled, squeezing off a shot more out of instinct than aim.

To my surprise, I heard a yelp, followed by Al's laughter. "Nice shot! However, I expect a higher level of effort from you."

I grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

That thought evaporated as I felt the sting of a paintball splattering against my shoulder. Al had used my moment of triumph to flank me, his flexibility allowing him to contort into impossibly small spaces.

"One all," Mahya called out cheerfully.

The duel continued a frantic dance of dodging, weaving, and firing. Al's ability to bend and twist made him an infuriatingly challenging target, but my trained eye gave me an edge in accuracy. In the end, I managed to eke out a narrow victory, landing my third hit just as Al was lining up what would have been the winning shot.

"Good game," I panted, offering him a paint-stained hand.

Al shook it with a rueful smile. "Not bad for a novel experience. But be mindful not to let your guard down, for Mahya's skills and prowess are bound to overpower you."

As if on cue, Mahya stepped up, her eyes gleaming with predatory excitement. "My turn," she purred.

I swallowed hard. This was going to hurt.

The duel with Mahya was like trying to hit a hyperactive hummingbird with a water pistol. She was everywhere and nowhere, leaping impossible distances and running up vertical surfaces as if gravity was merely a suggestion. More than once, I found myself gaping in awe, only to be rewarded with a face full of paint.

"Come on, John!" she taunted, bouncing effortlessly from rock to rock. "I thought archers were supposed to have good aim! Or did you forget everything we trained you for?"

Gritting my teeth, I tried to predict her movements, to lead my shots the way I would with a moving target and my bow. Slowly, painfully, I landed a few hits. But for every paintball that found its mark, Mahya seemed to nail me with three.

By the time she claimed victory, I looked like I'd gone ten rounds with a rainbow. But despite the bruises and the wounded pride, I couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, okay, I yield to the paint goddess," I gasped, hands raised in surrender.

Mahya grinned, offering me a water bottle. "You did better than I expected," she admitted. "A few more sessions, and you might be a challenge."

As I gulped down the water, my gaze fell on Sonak. He had been suspiciously quiet during our duels. "Your turn, Sonak," I called out. "Unless you're scared?"

His eyes narrowed. A flicker of something—fear? Anger?—passing across his face. "I fear nothing, least of all your childish games," he spat.

But as we squared off for our duel, I could see the uncertainty in his stance and the awkward way he held the paintball gun. For a moment, I almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

The duel, if you could call it that, was painfully one-sided. Sonak's shots went wild, barely coming close to me as I easily picked him off. With each splatter of paint that marked him, his face grew redder, his movements more frantic.

"Stand still, you insufferable blasphemer!" he shouted, frustration clear in every syllable.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Not a chance. Maybe you should try casting a spell on your gun?"

That was the last straw. With a roar of anger, Sonak charged at me, abandoning all pretense of using the paintball gun. I sidestepped quickly, watching as he stumbled past me, tripping over a rock and face-planting in the sand, with a slight pushing help from my hand.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then Al burst out laughing, followed quickly by Mahya and me. Even I had to admit that the sight of the proud mage sprawled in the dirt, his back a canvas of colorful paint splatters, was hilarious.

Sonak pushed himself up, spitting out sand and fixing us with a glare that could have melted steel. "You'll regret this," he hissed before storming off.

As his figure receded into the distance, Mahya cleared her throat. "Well, that was... something. Who's up for the free-for-all?"

I grinned, feeling a surge of adrenaline. "Bring it on."

The free-for-all was chaos incarnate. Paint flew everywhere, splattering against rocks, cacti, and bodies alike. The desert echoed with shouts, laughter, and the constant pop-pop-pop of our guns.

Mahya was everywhere at once, leaping and dashing with inhuman grace. More than once, I stared in awe as she ran up a near-vertical cliff face, raining paint down on Al and me.

Al, for his part, seemed to have mastered the art of becoming one with the landscape. He contorted himself into impossible positions, using the tiniest bit of cover to maximum effect. Half the time, I couldn't tell if I was shooting at Al or just an oddly shaped rock.

As for me, I fell back on my training with Mahya in the mountains of Romania. I found high ground where I could, picking my shots carefully and trying to predict my opponents' movements. It wasn't perfect—Mahya's acrobatics made prediction nearly impossible—but I held my own.

The battle raged on, the scorching desert sun baking the paint onto our skin and clothes. By the time we called a truce, we were all gasping for breath, covered head to toe in a rainbow of colors.

"I think," Al panted, "We may classify this result as an even match."

Mahya nodded, her usual grace somewhat diminished by exhaustion and the layer of paint covering her. "Agreed. Not bad, boys. Not bad at all."

I flopped onto my back, staring up at the cloudless sky. Every inch of my body ached. I was pretty sure I had paint in places paint should never be, and I could already feel a nasty sunburn forming.

And yet, I couldn't stop grinning.

"Same time tomorrow?" I asked.

Mahya and Al's laughter was all the answer I needed.

As we trudged back to the motorcycle and ATV, leaving a trail of multicolored footprints in the sand, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Sure, I had a lot to learn about handling a gun, but today, I proved that my archery skills weren't useless.

And if I was plotting new strategies to take down a specific acrobatic pain in the ass next time? Well, that was just part of the learning process.

The Las Vegas skyline glittered in the distance, a mirage of neon and promises. But out here in the desert, covered in paint and surrounded by friends (and one sulking idiot), I felt more alive than I had in weeks.

Bring on the next challenge. I was ready.