Celeste let out a long sigh of fatigue. It condensed instantly. Of course she knew it was just hot air mixed with cold air, but it could have been an externalization of her very soul. If it truly was her soul... it was surprisingly white. Who would say.
While it lasted, she tried to remember a good justification for what she would do. She could not find a good reason. The operation began when she swore revenge on the teenager who made her cry. She really do not remember the specific reason of her revenge. She just remembered the crime and the one to blame for it.
The little girl reviewed every small step of her plan. She looked around cautiously. Trying to avoid missing any important detail. Everything was in place. All set, exactly as she had planned in her head two days ago.
On the physical plane of reality, her plan was launched earlier in the morning, and after several hours of uninterrupted work, the battlefield was complete. There where a lot of students looking from the windows, trying to figure what was going to happen. The air was full of expectation.
The trunk of each tree in the spacious front yard of the mansion was covered with a thick fabric made of polyethylene. Most of the windows also dressed the same way.

Everything was coldly calculated. As cold as snow. Permissions. Equipment. A lot of it. Too much. She even hired qualified personal to instruct and train all the future fighters. It was a one time occasion, there would be a charity event on behalf of the Manfrella family for all the "mutants", *cough* ...students of the institute. All they had to do to participate was to attend a short talk on how to safely operate the weapons. And of course, kneel and praise to any member of the family. Including her. What? It was not in the contract? "Note to self: Include it in the next charity."
While the little devil walked away from her comfortable limousine, she took out her phone and checked the time. She nodded, very proud of herself. At that time the talk would be over, and everyone would be getting their equipment. Tactical vests, knee pads, elbow pads, paintball mask with goggles and of course, a nice paintball pistol.
Once everyone had their equipment, they will be randomly divided into two teams. Blue and red. There was no point limit, or objective. It was just for fun. That way inexpert players could get some fun of it. Why is it always the same two colors? Another mystery of life.

Paint ball? Paint ball! Koga looked down at the battlefield and surveyed the best spots to snipe from and realized that he could rain down doom from the roof top or any of the trees, or from that line of bushes... Koga pulled on a white long sleeve; he found a pair of matching white slacks. He intended on keeping them clean. He shifted his skin to a clean and crisp white that matched the rest of him. Ryuichi rarely allowed himself to push all of the color out of his body, he could be so much more creative than a blank slate.

This would be a fun little exercise. He wondered if he could move faster than a paint ball could fly, a lot of people got shot because they weren’t willing to do what it took to dodge the little plastic paint bullet.
Koga walked to the area and listened to the breakdown of the rules, these guys had never done this with mutants or they would have restricted powers or something. They didn’t, he wasn’t going to remind them.

Sleeping in his car wasn't exactly something to boast about, but time to time he had to admit there were perks in it. This had to be the second time he parked near the mansion during the night to catch some major z's before hitting up his places he mingled about during the day. Though he also had to watch out for Chase when sleeping around here, make sure that he jetted out before he was caught sleeping away the day again. Nothing against the kid, but he wouldn't understand why he couldn't sleep in the mansion. He wasn't entirely sure why himself on his own stubbornness to sleep on the couch in Travis' garage.

It wasn't the banging on the car this time to wake him, or the blaring horn of some idiot who didn't understand what a parked car looked like on the side of the road. No today he had the wonderful alarm clock of a jackhammer thing tearing up the road. It was stinking winter, there was snow on the ground and the city had the brilliant idea of doing construction now? Hopefully they would hit the water mane for the mansion and Taylor would get stuck in the middle of shampooing her hair and get stuck with nothing but a drip from the shower-head. He despised her, no wait, that was to soft of a word of endearment....

Sitting up in the back of his car, he could barely see through the fence trees covered in something...."Holy fried chicken Fridays, there is a god." He thought this day would never come, not especially after Taylor shoved the stick up her butt so far a bit back ago. She had been so against Chase ever playing paintball, and if he was right, he was certain he was spotting the beginning elements of preparation. Manning up, he rustled about in his car switching some clothing and retrieved his hygiene tools from the glove compartment. Replacing things back into their homes, he was soon crawling out of his car and popping his trunk open. Gearing himself up, Hokee had a sly grin growing between his lips.

Since he lived at the mansion, more of past tense then present or any form of future, he had every right to strut in and have a bit of fun. At least he wasn't letting a skunk loose or tossing kids into freezing water. Keeping low to the ground and skirting about the shrubbery and such, he slowly made his way closer to where people were gathering. In the center there was some high-class-nose-up-in-the-air person giving the directions or whatever. Enough of the talking and more of the shooting. Trigger finger itching for action, he let loose the first shots for the festivities, right towards the rump of the game master. 500 points for me.

“Hey Darren, are you going to that paintball thing today?”

“Ah, I d-dunno…i-it’s not really m-my thing…” the teenager replied, rubbing the back of his neck. He had heard about the paintball game being held on mansion grounds that afternoon, but in truth, he was not interested. He was the rare fifteen-year-old boy who didn’t want to shoot at things. Besides, it was the middle of the winter. He didn’t want to get splattered and bruised by paint pellets whilst freezing his butt off.

“Oh…really? I was hoping I could get a friend to go with me…” said the skinny lad sitting next to Darren. It seemed impossible, but the boy, Tyler, was actually scrawnier than him, something he thought he’d never see. He didn’t know that Tyler considered them friends, having only known him for a short time and talked to him a few times. That made him feel a little guilty, and he felt compelled to join the paintball match for the sake of friendship. But at the same time…he really didn’t want to…

“…I heard Gina’s going, too.”

“G-Gina?” Darren felt warmth crawl up his neck to his ears and cheeks, and glanced away from his companion, who, incidentally, was grinning like a fox.

“Yeah…in fact, I heard her mention that she’d really like to see you there.” Okay, at that point, he knew Tyler was just trying to convince him to go. But…was she really going? A girl like her, he didn’t think she would be interested in something as savage as paintball. Then again, he didn’t know her as well as he’d like to, and if there was a slim chance she had asked or talked about him…

“What time did you say this paintball game was, again?”

That was why, two hours later, Darren found himself clad in foreign gear, wielding a paintball pistol that looked remarkably like the real thing, shivering as he listened to some instructor finish explaining the safety rules. Gina was nowhere in sight, and Tyler was excitedly examining his gun and chattering about how awesome the match was going to be.

The teenager was not listening to his annoying “friend” anymore. He was searching the grounds for the gargoyle girl, who Tyler swore was going to show up, and sighing every now and then. He could’ve been studying instead of wasting his time shooting paint at people.

Steven fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to another as the instructor jabbered away about rules and safety and how to use their weapons.

He had to admit that he'd been skeptical when the crumpled flier advertising this event had made its way oh-so-subtly to rest on top of his laptop. Well, that combined with the handwritten note from his mother informing him that he needed to be more social and make friends.

But true the undertext was clear to him. Target practice on moving targets. So he had rallied the troops.

“Lieutenant, you'll sneak and extra pistol when everyone's back is turned when we arm up. ” The wombat nodded solemnly as though he actually understood. So Steven continued, addressing the other wombat. “Sergeant, you will cover our front. Shoot at anything when you see movement. The Colonel will cover our back when we meet up with him again.”

Steven meandered towards the table where all the paintball guns were laid out, his 'hands' stuffed firmly in his pockets to convince anyone watching that he was merely inspecting the options. The Lieutenant, wriggled his head through his favorite hole hidden near a bright pink patch and reached out his little fingers...

“Keep pocketing as long as you have room,” he murmured, hoping the wombat's excellent hearing would pick up what he was saying even through the thick fabric.

“Make sure you are wearing your eye protection at all times...” the instructor was droning on when someone came up and shot him square in the behind.

Steven ducked and made bee line for where he had stashed the Colonel earlier in the day. Two may be better than one, but three paintball gun wielding wombats are obviously superior to even two.

They saw everything. Watchful eyes, listening ears. Max saw how the subject lifted the gun, aimed and fired. An action so important, so threatening and was conducted in such a vulgar way. So simple. Something was wrong. They had no time to think. The action was observed from two different points. Both teams reacted instantly recalling years of training.
Andrew was a few steps from the target, in a burst of adrenaline and courage leaped in front of her. Full of drama. He intercepted the shot. Directly into the stomach. He fell on the icy floor with his shoulder, cushioning the fall. Instinctively his hand lowererd to where it should be the wound. Looking for blood. He did not find it. There was no wound. Just paint. Puzzled he looked up trying to find an answer.

The remaining two bodyguards quickly crossed the street with an agility that neither one knew they had. They just had to cross the street. They saw the gun, reacted. But failed to intercept the suspect before he executed the first shot. Expecting the worst, they continued their short drift to prevent another shot.
Andrew saw everything from his comfortable bed of snow, he saw how Max and Peter were already a few feet away from the subject, while pointing directly at his head. "Drop the gun." Max shouted. "On your knees." Peter ordered furiously. Neither one was playing. They were ready to shoot at the smallest denial.

She heard the sound of a falling body in the snow. The sound was muffled. Almost off. She turned around in time to see how Andrew looked incredulous at his hand stained with blood. Surprised, she dropped her cellphone. The girl was trained for these situations, but could not react. She just froze not knowing what to do. Her memory and short training blocked by panic. Responding to her silent question Andrew smiled and said "It's paint." She shook her concerns quickly, trying with all her might to look brave. But the big smile of relief betrayed her, she quietly raised her phone from the snow. Her arm trembled slightly. Celeste tried to hide her small tremors. Recovering her self-control, the little demon gave a few rapid orders to Andrew, so that "undesirable" will not cause more problems that day. Two bodyguards following him all day would be enough to discourage any stupidity on his part. Fortunately Andrew was still alive after such a heroic action. He deserved a raise. She would not admit she was scared. Never. Without thinking, Celeste ran the stretch that separated her from the crowd. After all, she needed the equipment to participate. No more interruptions in her almost perfect plan.
The air was warn near the whole group. It was comforting.The instructors were already helping to "dress up" several students. As one of them was saying, the students would disperse in groups of two persons from the same team. They had a minute to get away before another couple of the opposing team chase after them. Fair enough. That gave her enough time to switch to her combat gear.

The school was buzzing today and Sam knew why, he was however trying his best to avoid the whole situation. Paintball, as far as he was concerned it did not class as an enjoyable sport and if you believed anyone who had ever played it, it hurt like hell. So he had glanced at the notice boards for no more than a brief second before dismissing the whole thing as a waste of time. Therefore he had gone about his morning activities trying hard to ignore all of the excited students that pushed past him, but as people started to crowd the windows and whisper about how it was starting, curiosity won over.

He made his way across to the window that gave the best view of the grounds outside and looked out. The scenery had definitely changed, the trees were all wearing a protective coating and some of the lower more exposed windows on the ground floor had been boarded up. Well at least they were doing things properly, the school suffered enough accidental damage from its mutant residents; it did not need any more broken windows. Slowly his gaze turned to the group of students, there were quite a few of them gathered already, mostly boys but that was no real surprise. But there was a girl right in the center of the group… a girl with long flowing blond hair.

A chill ran up his spine, some kind of awful premonition of things to come. His gaze went from the girl to the road bordering the school and the large black limousine parked there and back again. As the pieces fell into place, his stomach sank. He should have known that letting her take him home was a bad idea. She was the most unstable person he had ever met and she was rich to boot. As far as Sam was concerned that was a deadly combination. What was she doing here anyway? He prayed silently for a moment that she had not decided to enroll here, although to do that she would have to be a mutant and she had shown no signs of that when they met.

Just as he was deciding to just ignore the whole situation, he watched in horror as one of the younger more eager students fired his paintball gun straight at her. He held his breath… this was going to be bad. Thankfully her body guards were well trained, although the guns they now pulled of the students were not the paintball kind. God, that horrible brat was going to start a war here. Did she have any idea what could happen if you threaten a school full of supercharged mutants? No she was probably clueless.

With a sigh he decided that if he wanted to avoid a massive diplomatic incident he was going to have to step in and try and “manage” the Celeste situation. Resigned to his fate he turned and made his way down towards the entrance hall.

Carrick was grinning during the presentation and ‘how-to’s’ with all the equipment, once it was time to pick teams and get started Carrick grinned and picked the blue team and grabbed some of his gear. He didn’t need a gun not yet; he had his own small collection of paintball gear he had been itching to try out. The money that burned a hole in his pocket was well spent as far as Carrick was concerned.

After he strapped some goggles around his head and the vest around his chest Carrick pulled his wings through and looked at his competition briefly and shook his head. It was going to be a mess, and the lack of a ban on mutations just made Carrick laugh and take to the air without grabbing any of the guns there was no need for Carrick to grab any of their guns for he had some of his own stashed away just for occasions such as these and even more back home.

Jumping into the air and looking from Koga, to the blonde and her body guards ‘who brings body guards to a paintball fight?’ thought Carrick as he looked to the next group of mutants, one had rats for hands and the other was firing at the game-instructor. The shots fired only meant one thing to Carrick. With a jump and an opening of his wings Carrick was off towards the tree that singled out his and Kai’s room. His arsenal awaited his return.

Once inside his room Carrick passed the towers of red bull and rummaged under his bed pushing several empty pizza boxes and birdseed bags aside he found what he was looking for. Equipping his extra paintball holsters to his sides Carrick swung a back up gun on his back and exited his room through the window. Opening his wings Carrick flew into the air and gained altitude. It was time for war.

Most students were looking for their best friends among the crowd to form teams. It was not absolutely necessary. But they did not know that. It was most likely the most rebel students would ignore that rule. Some others, whispered with their friends plotting against their enemies, trying to be on the opposing team. The crowd was ready, too excited to wait.
At the instructor´s order, the first couple was prepared to leave.
Some of them looked too normal to be mutants, others seemed to come out of a cartoon. A twisted cartoon. Some have wings, others tails, scales, hair all over their bodies, more than two eyes, no eye at all. Seeing them all together gave her a pulsing headache. The variety of mutants was awesome.
The instructors did a quick check of the equipment again for the first two fighters, mainly from the protective mask of both. Once completed, the two ran off to hide in the trees.

Despite having the need to run from the strange crowd, she did not run. She needed to stay until the end, or escape without a partner. Otherwise she would need to escape from her partner later. But it was so hard to stay there. She tried to stay as still as possible, without touching anyone. One girl in particular gave her chills, her skin was covered in mud... it was not the worst part of it. She came crawling across the floor... she was a shapeless mass of mud, until she approached the group, and as if it were witchcraft, she raised out of the floor. The girl that magically appeared from the formless mass was a little older than her. Mudgirl clothes and skin were completely covered in more mud. It was disgusting.
Her bodyguards also had their equipment ready, apparently they had the right to have fun. She must revise their contracts... Celeste was sure "fun" was not included. With the entire gear, they looked like giant tortoises, they would be easy targets. Without a doubt.
At least she was surrounded by mutants that looked normal. But nothing could get the fear off of her. At any moment any of them could explode into millions slugs.
Two new students left trotting, ready to hunt. They looked much more aggressive than the previous couple...

Koga did a quick check of his equipment, firing a round into the grass. the blue paint spilled over the snow covered grass and he grinned as he took off to find a good vantage point, Red team was going down!

He managed to get to a tree and run circles around and up it, from there he broke open a heat pack and slid it into a holder that would keep him conscious for the remainder of the game, he couldn't afford to nap during the game.

His solid black eyes observed the suits. He was glad to see they were now behaving, he didn't like to think about what he might have had to do if they refused to put away their weapons.

No then , he just had to wait for unsuspecting red to come by.

It was a clear shot, a guarantee hit....until some guys in suits decided to jump in and take the shot. "What the hell!?" Not caring in the slightest about his mouth, a few other curses came out as the suited men were soon in pursuit against him. He didn't have to be smart to notice that they were armed and ready with something that didn't shoot out paint. Damn them! Dropping his paintball gun to the ground, he took the set back in stride. Eventually the to lards were off of him and out to cause havoc with someone else.

Bitter. Annoyed.

The squinted eyes stared down at the girl the shot was meant for. If the lard guards hadn't jumped in, that shot would have been a perfect shot. Taking up his weapon, he kept his eye on the brute squad. Sure he could be rather tricky at times, but having your own personal brute squad of goons taking the hits for you, that was a low blow in the cheaters world.

Circling about, he found a location where he could gather himself and focus on why he was there. While looking about for the perfect target, he couldn't help but feel his stomach churn about. He was fairly sure there was a kid running about with either puppets on his hands or his hands were animals. Freaks. Sleeping in a room in the mansion drew further and further from his mind as his car looked more like a hidden xanadu. School full of freaks, and your the fat hen in charge of it, stupid Taylor.

Flicking his hair, Hokee tightened his grip on the paintball gun and his shots flew out into the air. Flying mutants, couldn't be much different shooting at them with a paintball gun as tossing shoes onto the telephone lines. Shooting flying targets was harder....maybe he could shoot at the freak puppet hand show kid. Man, this was the weirdest game of paintball ever. Was it possible he died in his car during the night and this was some wicked form of hell he was living? Though shooting at others with a paintball gun couldn't possibly a form of torment...oh well.

The students were too excited, too intrigued to see what would feel to be hit by a bullet. Rules no longer mattered, everyone was leaving the group on their own under the astonished gaze of the instructor that was trying to understand how his ideal order was not shared by others. With a sigh of resignation he grabbed the remaining equipment and entered it to the security of the mansion. She followed him. And as a lot of the youngest children that could no participate, she began to watch from the inside.
The shooting had already begun. The younger kids ran from one side to another. Without much order, without much strategy. Firing in all directions. Others were already in their bird's nest, firing at discretion trying to avoid disclosing their positions. It was a real battlefield. A great distraction too.
Even his bodyguards were playing, and they were all covered in paint. They were easy targets. Their aim was remarkable but also their size, any shot with low accuracy seemed to be attracted to their expensive suits. They had spots of paint all over their suits, but that did not stop them. It seemed they were really enjoying it.

Apparent the game lacked some fundamental rules... the mutants with the ability to fly were doing it, raining bullets that where really difficult to dodge. Another mutant was leaping over long distances, even when his shots were not as accurate by the movement, the other students also had trouble shooting him.
A mutant in particular caught her attention... he clearly had an advantage over others. Four arms, four guns. His strategy was not one of the best, but he fired continuously. Achieved some hits.

Sam kept tabs on the game of paintball as he made his way through the school. It was an easy enough thing to do as large windows ran the long of the corridor bordering the grounds. The game seemed to have started and to say it was a mess would be an understatement. Young mutants were running rampant all over the place having a great time using their powers to try and gain a strategic advantage over the opposing team.

Sam had picked up one of the flyers that had been advertising the event on the way and now looking at the company name, it seemed obvious that Celeste was the one behind this event. He felt foolish for not having realized it earlier, but then again how was he supposed to predict that she would do something this stupid? The silly girl was meddling with things she did not understand. He was at least relieved that she was doing it here, for the academy was probably the best place to handle any “powers mishaps”.

Even though he knew that he should be hurrying, he just could not convince his feet to move any faster. It was chaos out there and he had no wish to have any part in it, he was only doing this to knock some sense into Celeste. All he had to do was make sure that he did not get shot by overzealous body guards. As he thought about all the things that could go wrong his steps slowed even further. Why did he feel responsible for her? Surely someone in the school’s administration must have approved this? So why were they not dealing with it?

So many useless questions filled his head, serving only to make him feel more miserable. He sighed and pushed them aside. He was committed now, there was no turning back. Reaching the top of the stairs that lead down into the entrance hall he paused to survey the scene bellow. It seemed that a group of people including some of the equipment handlers for the event had taken up residence just inside the doors. As his gaze swept the crowd he spotted, a now all too familiar, head of blond hair.

Relief swept over him; Celeste had come inside and set herself apart from the game. Therefore she could not cause any diplomatic incidents anymore. He smiled a kind of a giddy smile; he was not needed here after all. The game was now out of her control and she would just have to wait patiently till it ended, and then she could say whatever she wanted no one would care anymore. He gazed at her a few seconds longer before turning to make his way to the library.

(OCC: OK writing myself out here, don’t wait for anymore posts from me)

The fierce battle was extremely interesting, worthy of being seen. Although she felt an internal conflict. She wanted to stay and see. It was fun. But at the same time she was extremely afraid. Nobody could deny that it was a strange event that would not repeat again. Never. Fortunately. So many mutants together gave her chills. Still she could not feel comfortable there. Even in the "security" of the mansion. Everything there could be something else than what it looked like. It was like a house of mirrors.
Someone touched her shoulder. Celeste jumped in her place, scared. Fortunately it was just Peter. He was just too bitter to join the game. He carried her bag with all the things she would need. She grabbed it with suspicion. She looked around just to be sure. Nobody was paying attention to her. All the eyes were on the battlefield. It was the right time.


(OOC: Celeste will jump from here to a separate thread on the mansion to avoid delaying the flow of the battle. She will be back to join the match later. Feel free to post in the meanwhile.)

Steve made it to the cover of some trees with his arm clutched to his chest so the Lieutenant could see behind them over his shoulder. He was confident that the senior wombat on his hands would be able to pick off anyone trying to follow or intercept them. What he didn't count on was his combat-trained hands suddenly losing their cool.

The Lieutenant squealed loudly only inches from his ear. It was arguably the highest pitch Steve's human ears were capable of translating into sound. Steve's eardrums vibrated painfully and he dropped to the ground hoping to escape the sound. He hit hard on his tail bone and pressed flat down. The adrenaline pumping into his system from the still trembling wombats. The Sergeant seemed to have picked up on the distress and was frantically search the sky with his beady eyes.

Steve followed their line of sight, scanning the sky to see.... a boy flying through the air. Ah, the predator-near-by explained the reaction. He spied the weaponry in the boy's hands. He couldn't tell what colors the boy was sporting, but it didn't matter. He needed to take that guy down to their level so he could gather his troops. Now if only his heart would stop racing so he could get a clear shot off.

"Get it together! And open fire when clear-" he began, but was cut off by the pop-pop-popping of the paintball guns in his hands.

He couldn't see if any of them hit, but hopefully their fear-induced shooting mania would yield some results.