Contemporary, being hunted, unfamiliar location.

“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.”

The words looped endlessly through Gerry’s head, try as he might to shut them up.  The gun slipped in his sweaty hands, his feet stumbled on the uneven ground.

“Why did I agree to this?” he groaned, out loud this time, which was a mistake.

“Over there!”  The voice was far away and barely above a whisper, but the acoustics of the high ceilinged building carried it right to Gerry’s ear, and he jumped, slipped, fell.  The bulky padded vest broke his fall.  Gerry scrambled to his feet again and mentally chastised himself - he wasn’t even wearing the right shoes.

He tried to slow his heart rate and take stock of the situation.  The room he was in was large, but felt claustrophobic, divided as it was with a maze of pillars, blockades and walkways, places to climb and places to hide.  An eerie fog obscured the floor. It was dimly lit, and roving black lights caused accenting, dissonant colors to flare as they rotated around the room.

Somewhere in the distance there was an electronic firing noise that Gerry knew all too well.  The scoreboard near the ceiling lit up, indicating another loss, even as the corresponding sound echoed from Gerry’s vest.  The sudden illumination of a disappointing pattern of LEDs lit his stricken face, and a victorious whooping issued from behind an especially large quadrahedron of foam.

A bead of sweat hit the floor.

“Teambuilding, my ass,” Gerry grumbled.