Paintball Apr 2026

Leo pulled his foot back and adjusted his grip on his marker. "You’ve been saying that for three rounds, Jax. My sneakers are fine. Your aim, however..."

Jax returned fire instantly. A stream of blue paint whipped past Leo’s ear, one ball clipping a pine branch and showering him in a fine mist of blue liquid. Leo rolled behind a fallen oak, his heart hammering against his ribs. He checked his hopper—maybe twenty shots left. PAINTBALL

Jax spun around, eyes wide behind his lens, but he was too late. Leo pulled the trigger. A single, perfect burst of orange bloomed right in the center of Jax’s chest protector. Leo pulled his foot back and adjusted his grip on his marker

Leo hunkered down behind a stack of weathered tires, his breathing loud inside his fogging mask. Across the clearing, his best friend-turned-rival, Jax, was pinned behind a rotting wooden crate. This was the final round of the regional tournament, and they were the last two standing. Your aim, however