Rebellion (After the Haunted FF)

Chapter 27

MOST.STRESSFUL.CHAPTER.YET! It actually gave me headaches, no joke. I over think things way too much...
And another late chapter. I just can't keep a schedule, can I? Despite that, I did have fun with this once I finally got the hang of it, and this chapter is very long, but I have my reasons. (You guys are going to hate me by the end of this one...)
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Third person point of view-

Every heart seemed to skip a beat as the loud booming sound of gunfire ran throughout the clearing. Their ears rung and the bright light caused them all to shield their eyes by looking away and shutting them tight. An awful feeling of dread filled the air, each of them anticipating that the worst had finally come upon the assassin.
Luke laid flat upon the ground, his body spread out and his different colored eyes closed. Red slowly went down his limbs, oozing from his wounds and staining the snow. The warmth of the blood slowly melted the flakes of ice underneath it until it touched the browning grass and moist mud. His body didn't move, stiff and motionless. The others looked back, gasping at the bloody sight before them.
Luke's eyes snapped open with his breath staggering with each gasp he took in, his mind trying to take in the moment and process the events that had happened so suddenly. His rapidly beating heart pumped blood through his veins, causing the red to gush from his wounds faster. The blood loss and rushing fear caused his head to feel light yet heavy at the same time. As he laid there on the tainted snow, his vision went in and out of focus.
Even with most of his face numb from shock and the cold, he could feel something other than the snow delicately drifting down onto his face. There was a different feeling like that of a warm, thick liquid. He knew the feeling of blood from anywhere. There was no mistaking it in this situation. The aroma of blood worsened but had always been present on his stained mask. It smelled like that ever since he first faced Drake's possessed body head on, when he was punched in the stomach and blood sprayed from his mouth.
Luke blinked a few times, tears running down his face and snow drifting into his dim blue and orange eyes. There was pain from wounds and aching throughout his body, the agony both internal and external.There was so much so that he couldn't even feel where the iron bullet at penetrated his body.
In a way, he was glad that he hadn't died instantly. Every ounce of pain he felt he deserved to suffer through. His eyes shifted to look at the blurred form of his comrades, smiling for a quick second as he coughed. At least he got to spend his last moments in the company of people he cared for, and died nobly. At least he had the opportunity to be friends with Grayson again before his demise. These past few days were truly some of the best, despite their hardships, that he had had in so long.
The assassin lifted up his head to examine his own body, wanting to see where he had been shot and watch the blood seep from his own body. His eyes scanned as much as he could, seeing lots of blood seeping from wounds caused by swords but so far his eyes rested on nothing that looked fatal or anything like that of a wound inflicted by a bullet. His chest plate looked undamaged other than the dent that had been put in it the previous day. His arms, legs, pelvic area, and upper chest not covered by his armor all had nothing that looked like a spot of entry for a gunshot wound.

  If I wasn't shot, then whose gun was fired and more importantly, what did the shot hit?

His gazed shifted, spotting a drop of red dripping to the snow a few feet away. He gasped with wide eyes looking up Henry standing before him, the end of the revolver still pointing directly at his body. The mercenary's form trembled, his dark hazel eyes staring straight ahead of himself, gazing into the forest with his eyes wide with horror and shock but looking at nothing in particular. Blood was dripping from his lips as he choked on his own vital fluids.
Luke's gaze moved down, staring at the open wound of the mercenary's chest. A bleeding hole was in his body, the crimson staining the white of his shirt and the tan of his coat. The gun slipped from his fingers before his arm fell limp to his side. He coughed up blood as his eyes suddenly rolled to the back of his head, his eyelids closing before his body collapsed.
His eyes opened again as he gasped for air and coughed up his own blood once more. His eyes slowly became dimmer and becoming deprived of life. Behind where the captain once stood was the auburn haired traitor to the empire. His pistol was drawn, with smoke almost visibly rising from the barrel of the weapon. Nathan's fist was trembling violently, with constricted pupils and sweat drenching his pale skin. His heart was racing so much that it hurt, the muscle feeling as if it would break free from his aching chest. It hurt so much so that he struggled to take in a proper amount of oxygen.
The realization of what he had just committed made him feel sick to his stomach; wrapped with his immense guilt. He never wanted it to go this far... It was never his intention to take a life, but what choice did he have? He wasn't going to stand there and watch Luke get killed. He wasn't going to be a silent, cowering witness any longer.
He let out a small gasp the firearm slipping from his fingers covered with leather from his gloves. It fell to the snow covered ground, joining the splatters of red against the white; Nathan's own blood continuing to drip from his wounds and fall onto the surface of the pistol. The leather of his gloves pressed against his lips as he began gagging with saliva filling his mouth. He could feel his stomach threatening to push up the contents within his stomach, feeling ill with guilt.
The ex-mercenary suddenly sprinted towards the broken airship, placing one hand on the wood to keep him standing and putting the other over his stomach as vomit rose up and spilled from his mouth. He gasped with his legs shaking underneath his light weight.