Читать книгу Dorian Gray - John Garavaglia - Страница 76

them from the impact but it was no use. From head to toe they were soaked with cold, red paint.

One of the soldiers quickly removed his helmet because he couldn’t see, and then threw it aside in a fit of rage.

“Dude, this is bullshit!” He whined, looking at his paint stained clothes. “That was totally unsanctioned and unfair!”

Dorian got out of his hiding spot and helped Henry to his feet. Henry was smoothing out his wrinkled shirt and wiping the blood red paint from his hands. Then Dorian walked up to the losing paintball team with a satisfied look on his face.

“Hey, I don’t make the rules.” He said to the sore loser. “I just make the difference.” Then he and Henry exchanged high-fives.

The leader of the gang took off his mask and fixed his unkempt hair. He looked down at the broken shells where the paint was kept. He knew this kind of tech wasn’t sold at the local five and dime. This was definitely a custom job. But he couldn’t understand on how it was possible to harness all that firepower in such a small compact object. Then he looked over to see his two opponents laughing at him and his bewildered friends.

“This is why I hate playing with the rich guys.” He muttered.

Before Dorian could react, there came the loud whirring sound of helicopter blades directly above them. Both paintball teams looked up to discover a NYPD chopper was hovering over their heads. Its floodlights caught them.

“Shit! Five-O!” Said one of the scared kids. He groaned at

DORIAN GRAY

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