L:   Wehrmacht shook out his feathers, gripped his gun, and nodded. He faced MA and began the first phase of taking five steps back from each other - which vaguely reminded him of the western movies imported from America. He spread his wings out fully, though he had always admired MA's multi-colored wings with star patterns much more. 

Iremacht barely heard the time that the human had reported. He couldn't help become engrossed in watching the ritual being performed - it was old, yes, but it was also something new that he'd never seen before. He just stood by the gun stall, his gun still in his hand, but he seemed to have forgotten it entirely.

M:   Wehrmacht had much larger wings than MA, when it came to wing types, the German's passive soaring wings were the largest and second-longest behind active soaring. MA's elliptical wings were the smallest of the wing types, even though they more resembled owl wings than songbirds, they were still dwarfed by Wehr's. This didn't discourage MA, however, because he knew that elliptical wings were built for maneuverability, which is what he needed in an aerial duel. 

MA started the second phase by circling with Wehrmacht, like how wolves or lions would do when they fought. Poldara had retreated further back so he wasn't in the way, then sat down to keep watching.

L:   The first circle was complete. Wehrmacht scanned MA's wings, formulating a strategy in his mind based on the number of paintballs he had loaded in his gun. The second circle was done. Wehrmacht's wings tingled, yearning to fly. 

Finally, the third circle was finished. Wehrmacht clicked his gun, flexing his finger on the trigger, wondering which of them would make the war cry first. 

Iremacht stood perfectly still by the gun booth, not wanting to distract either militant's concentration. A small part of him was proud of his father's big wings and rooted for Wehrmacht to win.

M:   The two stared each other down for a good while as they were planning their attack strategy, Poldara was actually wondering if they were going to start or not. MA's plan was simple, never stop moving, if he stayed in one place even for a second it would make him an easy target, so he was going to use his elliptical wings to his advantage and fly around so erratically that Wehr wouldn't be able to track him, let alone hit him. 

After about forty intense seconds of waiting, MA screeched at the top of his lungs and took off into the air with one strong beat of his wings. Poldara was taken aback by the suddenness of the actions, he has never actually witnessed an aerial duel before, not even from his uncle and dad, so he was surprised at the sound MA made and the swiftness of the takeoff.

L:   Iremacht dropped his gun when he heard MA screech; it broke through the silence like a gunshot, followed by a blur that soared into the sky like a bullet. A second blur flew after the first and both militants were suddenly in the air. 

Wehrmacht raised his gun as he beat with his powerful wings and shot the first paintball. It missed but he was trying to analyze MA's movements to figure out what his opponent's flying style was. 

Iremacht wanted to get a closer look. He left his gun and came to stand next to Poldara. Both of Iremacht's eyes turned red so his Enhanced Mode could see the duel better.

M:   MA made sure to be as unpredictable as possible with his movements, he was spinning, twirling, stopping in midair and dropping only to regain flight seconds later. 

On the ground, Poldara was getting dizzy from trying to track his uncle's erratic flying, he had to lean back on his hands to keep from toppling over. 

Once MA felt Wehrmacht was well distracted, he flew above his opponent, did a backflip over him, and tried to shoot him in the back, making sure to aim away from his wings.

L:   "Verdammt," Wehrmacht hissed as paint exploded on the small of his back. 

He dove to avoid any more shots. He was having trouble following MA's rapid and random movements that were easy for elliptical wings but a hassle for his soaring ones. Still, even with one point behind, Wehrmacht had to be patient. MA would tire sooner or later while soaring wings were made for endurance. With a burst of speed, he flew out of MA's range, keeping a distance between them and firing two shots at his opponent to keep him at bay. 

"Come on, Dad," Iremacht whispered, not caring if anyone heard him. He was entranced by the duel like a sports fan.

M:   MA felt one paintball graze the tips of his feathers and another hit him on his left thigh, he grunted at the small pain but kept flying. Normally, MA had an incredible amount of endurance from centuries of fighting and flying, but he neglected to realize that his inconsistent movements would tire out his wings faster than anticipated, he wasn't planning on losing though, especially in front of Poldara. 

Wehrmacht's paintballs did keep him at a distance for a while, but he wove his way through them and tried to fake out the German, flying at him from his left and then took a sharp right turn and fired at his chest, right where the heart was.

L:   Wehrmacht tried to swerve out of the way, but the paintball ended up hitting his arm instead. He flew out of MA's way once more, flying low to the ground. 30 feet wasn't a lot of air space for a soaring bird but he was fast when charting a single direction and maintained distance from MA - he now had to conserve his paintballs, there were only four shots left. 

In one arched move, he pulled himself up in a vertical U-turn, hanging upside down above MA, aimed his gun at MA's back and fired. Then he flapped his powerful wings and zoomed off to lengthen the distance again.

M:   Unfortunately for Wehrmacht, MA saw his attack coming and tucked in his wings to free fall right when the shot was fired, catching himself again once the danger had passed. 

 "Using my own attack against me, not very wise, German," MA shouted after him, then tried to close the distance again. 

As he flew, he could feel that his wings were reaching their limit, it hurt to flap them and they felt heavy. He was starting to pant as well from his energy being drained, he was just not built for so much flying. In an act of desperation, he fired three shots at the retreating militant, not caring if he hit his wings this time.

L:   Wehrmacht saw the incoming paintballs flying his way. He dodged the first one easily but was surprised to find a second one coming in hot. He barely skimmed past that one, which made him unprepared for the third paintball that splattered onto the underside of his wing, staining the feathers and causing him to tumble in the air. 

"DAD!" Iremacht instinctively screamed down below, running towards the descending shadow of his father.

He was fully prepared to catch Wehrmacht, but the older militant managed to steady himself before landing heavily on the ground. Iremacht stopped in front of him, gave him a once over, and turned his head up at MA. 

"Watch where you're fucking shooting!" he yelled, crimson pupils furious. 

"Machty, it's alright, I flew into it," Wehrmacht said, keeping his painted wing off the ground so dirt didn't stick to it. 

M:   MA realized what he did and dove to make sure Wehrmacht was ok, but his own wings were failing him and he too fell out of the air, thankfully he was close enough to the ground to not get injured. 

"Uncle MA," Poldara shouted when the militant hit the ground. He jumped up and ran to MA, who was laying on his stomach, panting like a dog caught in a heatwave. 

"Uncle, are you ok?" he asked as he knelt beside the militant. MA looked up to Poldara but couldn't say anything, he was just too exhausted, all he did was roll onto his side and groan as he tried to catch his breath.

L:   "MA, is everything alright?" Wehrmacht called, walking towards the Mandarians. 

"You should be asking yourself that," Iremacht grumbled beside him. "He's the one who shot you." 

"Ja, but that is part of the match. He was tired as you can see. And he hit the ground harder than I did." 

"Good. Victory goes to the fighter who suffers less pain."

"Machty," Wehrmacht began softly but they had reached where MA was lying. Wehrmacht knelt down next to the militant. "You alright? Hope I didn't break your wings too badly."

M:   MA was still breathing heavily and could hardly lift his head to Wehrmacht, let alone talk to him, his wings hurt like they were broken but he knew they weren't, so he slowly nodded to signal that he was ok. 

"Uncle, please say something, please don't be hurt," Poldara fretted, he was starting to cry from how scared he was, he was shaking MA and trying to get him to sit up, but the militant didn't have the energy to at the moment. 

"H-hey, it's ok buddy, I'm fine," MA said softly when he finally found his voice, "I just pushed myself too hard, that's all."

MA raised his hand to hold Poldara's and the kid grabbed it and hugged it tightly. MA then looked to Wehr, "I'm sorry I hit your wing, since that was against the rules, it's safe to say you won."

L:   Wehrmacht shook his head, much to Iremacht's disbelief. 

"Nein, I flew into the paintball, I got hit fair and square," Wehrmacht said. "Three shots, I lost. Though now I probably need another set of your clothes since these have paint on them." 

"Why won't you just accept the win?" Iremacht hissed under his breath. 

"It's not all about winning, Machty," Wehrmacht said. "It's about the sport and the sportsmanship." He turned back to MA. "Can you get up or shall I carry you back?"

M:   MA frowned, he definitely didn't want to get carried, that would be degrading for him and troubling for his people. 

He slowly picked himself up and sat cross-legged, "I'll be fine, I just need a minute," he said. 

Poldara immediately bear-hugged his uncle, tears still running down his face. 

"Woah, bud I told you I'm ok, look at me, I'm not hurt," MA reassured him. 

"Y-you w-weren't talking, Uncle, I-I was s-scared," Poldara sobbed into his shoulder.

"I know, I know, I didn't mean to scare you, I was just out of breath, but it's ok now I promise," the militant shushed his nephew, petting his wings comfortingly. 

MA turned back to Wehrmacht, "next time we want to duel again, remind me to back out before we even start, I think I'm just getting too old to do it anymore."

L:   "You're probably the oldest country alive at this point," Wehrmacht added. "Still pretty spry for an old man though. You're still Mandara's militant entity so you have to keep up that physique." 

Iremacht was watching Poldara crying into MA's shoulder, feeling angry and compassionate at the same time. He didn't like it when people cried - that was a sure sign of weakness. But this was Poldara and he wanted badly to stop his tears and make him happy again.

"Hey kid." Iremacht touched Poldara's shoulder. "It takes more than an aerial duel to kill your Uncle. He's just tired. Stop crying now and be a strong boy for him, okay?"

M:   Poldara sniffled a little as he looked up to Iremacht, but he nodded and tried to wipe away his tears. MA was grateful that Iremacht was trying to help, so he added, "he's right Blue-Jay, I survived banishment, WWI and two, the cold war, and imprisonment by Ukraine, there is no way I'm gonna let a small duel take me down, who else will protect you and your dads?" 

"Ok," Poldara murmured, but then his face lit up when he got an idea, "you may have survived all that, but can you survive me?" The kid then made for MA's ribs and started tickling him, the militant squeaked and fell on his back as he squirmed from Poldara's attack.

"NATIN!!!! Natin, emgah jalto zey reno, peht wenzera!" (No! No, don't do that, it tickles) MA screamed, laughing and wriggling like he was a hyena that inhaled laughing gas, his wings were flapping so much that they were stirring up a small dust storm.  

"W-Wehrmacht ... h-help," he wheezed.

L:   Wehrmacht stood up and took a step back as MA squirmed from Poldara's tickle attack. Frankly, that looked like some painful laughter and Wehrmacht would rather stay out of it. He shook his head apologetically at MA. 

"Tut mir leid, I can't help you here," he said. "Poldara is a secret weapon that I don't want to fight." 

At that statement, Iremacht's fingers itched to tickle Wehrmacht and give him the same treatment. But he refrained from his childish temptations and crossed his arms instead. 

"Kid, you're going to kill him at this rate," Iremacht said to Poldara. "When you start learning to properly tackle someone, you'll really turn into a war machine." Then he grabbed Poldara by the back of his shirt and tried lifting him off MA.

M:   Poldara was surprisingly light for a 12-year-old and not only did Iremacht lift him off MA, but he lifted him off the ground entirely. Poldara just hung there for a second like a cat being held by its scruff, but then he let his feet touch down on earth again and pouted that his fun was ruined. 

MA was still laughing a bit as his brain was struggling to calm down, but he eventually stopped and sat back up. 

"You got that right Machty," he chuckled, "the little soldier is going to be ruthless one day."

MA finally decided to stand up and dust himself off, ruffling his feathers to shake off any dirt they most likely picked up. "Well, looks like I don't need to take a dust bath this month," he remarked. 

"Iremacht, let me go now, please," Poldara grumbled.

L:   "Can't wait to deal with you when you become a militant," Iremacht said, releasing Poldara. 

Wehrmacht opened his painted wing and went to ask the human monitoring the gun stall for two wet towels. He gave MA one of the towels and used the other to start scrubbing off the paint that hadn't yet dried into his feathers. 

 "Should we head back?" He looked at the sky to check the time of day. "The others might have arrived at the estate by now."