Dead Man's Walk
Who: Gilbert and Ludwig
When: September 23rd, dusk
Where: Outlaw (local paintball field)
What: Just a little friend competition between brothers. And some Gaga.
"I just don't get why he wants kimonos." Gilbert complained, strapping the harness around his waist, four canisters filled with red paintballs hooked into it, resting just above his ass. "It's so... Asian." Carefully, he tested his elbowpads, making sure his arms could still bend before tucking his helmet under his arm, running a hand through his hair tiredly.
He slumped down on a bench, staring up his brother. This was really a strange way for brotherly bonding but firing tiny pellets of paint at each other seemed to give them some kind of deep-inner bond so why ruin their fun? Reaching into the one pouch on his belt, he pulled out a small earpiece and a headphone. "Gaga right ear and annoying brother in left ear." he mumbled, sticking them in, turning on the tiny-two way bluetooth radio and ipod, the "paintballin'" playlist already selected and playing.
Oh yeah. Only listening to "Bad Romance" could Gilbert kick his brother's ass. Not that he couldn't anyway, the music just helped a whole bunch more. "Kimonos..." he repeated, shaking his head, resting his gun (fondly named Falke) on his lap, pulling his helmet over his head.
"Ready to get your ass kicked little bro~?"
When: September 23rd, dusk
Where: Outlaw (local paintball field)
What: Just a little friend competition between brothers. And some Gaga.
"I just don't get why he wants kimonos." Gilbert complained, strapping the harness around his waist, four canisters filled with red paintballs hooked into it, resting just above his ass. "It's so... Asian." Carefully, he tested his elbowpads, making sure his arms could still bend before tucking his helmet under his arm, running a hand through his hair tiredly.
He slumped down on a bench, staring up his brother. This was really a strange way for brotherly bonding but firing tiny pellets of paint at each other seemed to give them some kind of deep-inner bond so why ruin their fun? Reaching into the one pouch on his belt, he pulled out a small earpiece and a headphone. "Gaga right ear and annoying brother in left ear." he mumbled, sticking them in, turning on the tiny-two way bluetooth radio and ipod, the "paintballin'" playlist already selected and playing.
Oh yeah. Only listening to "Bad Romance" could Gilbert kick his brother's ass. Not that he couldn't anyway, the music just helped a whole bunch more. "Kimonos..." he repeated, shaking his head, resting his gun (fondly named Falke) on his lap, pulling his helmet over his head.
"Ready to get your ass kicked little bro~?"