Changing To Adapt ➵ TWD

➵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ

Daryl doesn't look at Glenn when he loads his crossbow over the garbage bin, but he does decide to heckle him, "You got some balls for a chinaman."

Lucas shakes his head, softly, flicking his eyes from the street to look at Dixon instead. He can't tell if he's being an ass on purpose, or genuinely doesn't realise that his words are bordering on the line of racism.

Not taking the bait, Glenn steps out from their hiding spot first, "I'm Korean." And throws his flannel behind him.

"Oi-" Lucas avoids the shirt on a mission towards his face, and tosses it on top of the bin instead. He turns his head and lifts a brow at Daryl, "You do know China isn't the only Asian country, right?" Is his parting question.

Daryl shrugs as soon as they're gone, "Whatever."

Two corpses nearby lift their heads in time to see Glenn and Lucas scurry towards the nearest blockade.

Lucas takes care of the closest one, lowering its dead weight to the gravel, and moves onto the next in order to keep the street quiet.

They sneak behind cars and jump over a sand barricade, popping their heads over the top. Lucas spots the bag, police county logo printed clearly across it. He swings a glance around in search of nearby corpses, and finds none in too close of a vicinity. "Go."

Glenn runs for it.

Snatching up the bag, he pauses, and skids back to grab the Sheriff's hat too.

Lucas follows a few steps behind, knocking a corpse back with his foot. Better be cautious and out of reach then getting too cocky. With a nudge from the other boy, they're back down the street and hoping they didn't catch too much attention.

He feels a sense of accomplishment, when he glances at the bag. It'll be more than just helpful to have them at the quarry.

Once they twist into the alleyway, however, all blundering sense of optimism is lost.

Daryl's getting beat on by three very angry men.

We should run, and keep the guns out of their reach. Lucas glances at Glenn for answers. What else is there to do? Stay and get our asses kicked?

One of the three turns around, catching sight of them, "That's it. That's the bag, Vato. Take it! Take it!" He sprints after Glenn and reaches out.

Seems like they don't have a choice in the matter.

Glenn panics: throws the bag to Lucas.

Lucas's blade plummets from his hand in order to catch the bag and he finds himself abruptly questioning how Glenn had even thrown it. It's heavy.

"Piggy in the middle, anyone?"

He shifts his foot to gain balance and spins around, using the bag as a weapon. It knocks the closest man to the ground in an instance.

"Woah," Lucas gets dragged with the momentum of the swing, close to tripping over his own feet. His satisfaction is short lived when he steadies himself and lays eyes on the fist flying towards his face.

He jerks back and throws the bag towards Glenn, knowing full-well it didn't even get half-way.

A hand latches onto Lucas's ankle and yanks, making him forget entirely about the guns and Glenn. Landing knocks the air out of his lungs and leaves him breathless, too late to dodging hit that slams down across his cheek.