"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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What a way to be proved right. Lucas would've laughed, would've jokingly rubbed Peter's face in the whole thing, had he not been so busy getting shot. Luckily, he only took a bad hit to the stomach, Peter's tackle forcing him out of the way of any other damage. Unluckily, he was pretty sure his wound wasn't merely something superficial.

He started to scream. It felt like he had swallowed a large, jagged rock, which had now lodged itself somewhere in his abdomen. Blood was gushing from somewhere in the vicinity of his navel. With his left hand, he tried to push it back in. No luck.

He'd been right. So right. That... that bitch. Shooting him. He was... no, he was not going to die. No way. He had to... had to pull through this, somehow. It came in a flash. His gun. Six shots. Divide by three people, no, wait, two people, Peter was clear, Peter was obviously on his side, Peter had probably saved him from instant death. That meant... six shots... two people. The girl behind them, was she an ally? Or an enemy? He just couldn't care, somehow. She was second priority, but would have to be neutralized, for both their safety.

All this had gone through his head in a few heartbeats after he hit the ground. Now, Lucas forced himself to his knees. It felt like his organs were tearing, and he screamed again, but forced himself through it, cradled the gun. Everything was blurry. He though he could see Ericka, though, still in the trees. That, or it was... no. Fire. Four shots. Dang, he'd lost count there. But, well, but, well, but two would be... enough, right? For the other girl?

"P-peter. Behind you... L-look out..." Lucas slurred, turning and firing there, too, not even aiming, not even looking to see if he was shooting in the right direction.
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Not an Easy Out · The Greens