The Assassin Bureau: Imagines and Preferences

Paintball: Modern Team

It was the longest game of paintball you'd ever played and you weren't even sure if the others realized that it was still just a game. Of course they took it too seriously. You agreed to play paintball with a bunch of Assassins and Desmond, worst of all, relived the genetic memories of his highly trained ancestors.

Desmond was one of the quietest, sneaking around and climbing up on top of everything he saw. He would scale onto the highest thing, whether it was a wall or a tree, and he would crouch down until completely hidden. The moment someone passed by he'd tag them and slip out of sight.

Shaun was a strategist, using the course's set up to corral the others together until they were more focused on each other rather than Shaun. Then, when they forgot all about him, he'd circle around and tag them rather haughtily, boasting about his skills while he jetted off across the field into hiding.

Rebecca was the worst of them. She was a fierce competitor and her speed was beyond imagining. She would run behind an object and completely show up on the other side her target. She would shout out a loud war cry during a combat roll, precisely tagging the person before rolling out of sight again.

And by target, it was mostly you. You were losing. Badly. And you decided to bunker down into one of the broken down shacks on the very edge of the course. You were exhausted, covered in mud and sweat, and you think you might have swallowed a few bugs. You huddled behind a box, your eyes locked on the door across from you and the window near your head.

You hadn't seen anyone since Shaun was shot from above, Desmond likely having posted himself on the roof. It was dead silent now, not a single pop sounding in the distance. It was getting darker outside, a sunset of orange and pink hues, when you heard Rebecca's laughter. You lifted up onto your knees, peering out the small window.

"Jeez, Becca," rasped Shaun as he rubbed the paint off of his face. "Better aim, next time, won't you?"

"Dude." Rebecca grinned all too pleased with herself. "What makes you think I missed? Besides, should've worn your mask."

"I lost it," excused Shaun.

Desmond chuckled, focused on unbuckling his chest armor. "Sucks for you, man."

"Oh, yeah, he thinks he's top dog, is that it?" Shaun shot off a round at Desmond's leg. "Another to add to your collection."

"What the hell." Desmond shot him a fierce glare but Rebecca's laughter broke the tension between them.

You poked your head out the window, nearly sighing that it was all over. "Does this mean we can go home now?" You got up onto your feet and walked through the cramp shack to where they stood waiting. "I'm really hungry."

All three of them looked about, finally finding your hiding place before grinning and laughing. You rolled your eyes, dreading to see later on what you looked like.

"Let's pick up a pizza," Rebecca chimed in, hurrying her way over to you. "I'm starved."

Shaun lifted his hand, adding rather happily, "And a few beers."

Desmond made it to your side, dropping his hand onto your hair and roughing it up even worse. "We gotta do this again next weekend."

You nearly groaned, your body cringing. "Or, maybe, just popcorn and a movie."

Shaun and Rebecca exchanged glances, both of them blurting, "Paintball."

"Definitely, paintball again." Desmond patted your back. "Don't worry. We'll get you trained."

You nearly crumpled to your knees. You didn't want to think about what that training was going to involve.