A loudpoprings out, familiar but off, and suddenly there’s a bright red stain on Zayden’s chest. He cries out and stumbles back.
Everybody jumps up and starts moving, right as several large guys dash out of the trees wielding guns. Thepop popfollows, and I’m still confused about the sound until one of the bullets hits me in the arm.
I look down and find my shirt stained in bright red. I touch it, and although the bruise stings, it’s nothing like a bullet wound.
Paint.
They’re shooting us with paint guns.
“They’re fucking paint pellets!” Asch shouts. He dashes forward, River on his heels, to meet the attackers.
It’s hard to tell what’s going on. Most of the attackers are large, and they’re all wearing masks that cover their entire faces, completely white except for the eye slits and a few holes near the nose and mouth.
When one of them gets close to me, I throw a punch. I’msurprised when the guy manages to dodge, although I use my momentum to redirect myself and slam my arm against his neck. I hear him grunt, but he doesn’t go down.
I’m too close to avoid the punch he throws at me, directly into my stomach. I wheeze, but I’ve taken a few blows in my time, so I know how to breathe through it.
Everybody joins the fray, Tate and Brock and Zayden all taking on their own attackers. I try to keep track of Asch and River, but with the low light and my own opponent keeping me occupied, it’s an impossible task.
Then Franklin comes rushing in my direction, holding his spatula up. His shirt has several splatters of red paint on it.
“Stay back!” I shout, but Franklin ignores me and starts swatting my attacker with the spatula.
My attacker stops and looks down at Franklin. There’s at least six inches of height difference between them, and Franklin isn’t anywhere near as built as this giant of a man.
“Move,” the attacker growls.
Franklin shakes his head. “N-No! I won’t… I won’t let you hurt my brothers!”
What an idiot, I think, but I’m kind of proud of him too. Maybe he does deserve to be in Kappa Alpha.
While Franklin has my attacker distracted, I do a sweeping roundhouse kick against the back of the guy’s knees.
The guy buckles forward, and I use the opportunity to punch him in the throat.
What I really want to do is remove the mask so I have a clue who the fuck I need to take out later.
Whoever these people are, they’re going to regret attackingmyfraternity.
They don’t know who they’re fucking with.
The guy gasps audibly, but before I can grab the mask, his hand whips out and wraps around my wrist. It’s the only warning I get.
Then I’m sent flying, my world turning upside down as I slam hard against the dirt.
“Blaze!” Franklin cries out. “Leave… leave him alone!” He tries to go for the guy again, but he gets a fist directly into his face for the trouble. Franklin crumples to the ground.
I hear footsteps, and someone else approaches with quick, light steps. There’s red dripping down his face, and it takes me a second to recognize that it’s River. I can’t tell if it’s all paint or if any of it is blood, and the idea that he might’ve taken a hit to the face that would result in blood infuriates me.
I don’t understand that reaction. River is nothing to me.
River gets in the way of me and the big guy, and with a series of quick blows, he manages to push him back so I can get back up to my feet.
I note River’s stance, the kind boxers use. It’s so different from mine or Asch’s fighting style.
The big guy lunges forward again, but River blocks him with his forearms before going for an uppercut. He catches the guy square in the solar plexus, stopping him in his tracks.
Just how strong was his punch?
