Five Finger Death Punch

Chapter Thirty: The Challenge

Chris Kael tossed a gun into Ivan Moody’s lap, whose ass was planted on his couch as it was a lot lately. Ivan caught the weight and inspected it in his hands: it had a large hopper stuck on the top and a compressed air tank jutting out the bottom. He ran the barrel across the curve between his forefinger and thumb and gripped the stock in the palm of his other hand. He smiled up at Chris, hovering above him, and squinted his blue eyes playfully.

“Are you up for the challenge?” The bassist asked, crossing his arms.

“Where’s yours?”

“I’ve got one. So what do you say?”

Ivan tilted the gun around in his hands again. “Paintball, huh? You think you stand a chance against me in paintball?”

“Cocky,” Chris chuckled, “I like it.” He stepped directly in front of him and loomed over him. “I’ve got stakes in mind.”

The singer raised his chin and cocked his eyebrows curiously.

“Whoever dies first has to do whatever sexual act the other person wants them to do.”

The younger man crossed his legs and smirked. “You had my attention, but now you have my interest.”

“We don’t have to shoot each other; it’s just whoever goes down first, so I’m expecting honesty.”

“Have some faith, please.”

“To prevent confusion about who was shot first if it’s not witnessed, I suggest we wear stopwatches and stop them at the time of our death. We’ll go to the paintball field, join opposing teams, and fight for the right to dominate.”

Ivan leaned back smugly and said, “Chris, baby, if you’ve got a fetish or a fantasy you want to try, I’m up for anything.”

The older man leaned in, grabbed him under the chin, and whispered, “This is more fun.”

“Heh-heh. Challenge accepted. You’re going down.”