Matt cursed under his breath as the newcomers pulled up. They hadn't planned for this... What if these people were decent human beings just like them? In the end it was irrelevant however. In a fight, you played for your team and you killed anything that tried to hurt you. There was no other option. He shouldered his rifle and placed the tip of the front sight over the younger man's chest, waiting for the signal. The pistol shot thundered out across the trees and Matt watched the old man drop to the ground. He saw a familiar looking chunk of pink, dotted with white, splatter onto the ground a few inches from where the man fell. When people got shot, they didn't just bleed. The .357 Magnum round had shredded a chunk of manburger from his collar, peppering it with splinters of collarbone. It was stomach churning but nothing he hadn't seen before. His finger tightened around the trigger slowly, milliseconds away from releasing the hammer when the younger man stepped in front of the newcomer, aiming his rifle at him. 

Most shooters would have taken the obvious solution. Wait until he moved or let someone else shoot him. But Matt knew better. He'd practiced this many times. He dropped low to the ground, aiming upwards at the back of the man's head. He squeezed off a round, faster than he'd meant to. The bullet moved at an upward angle in such a way that it would soar over the non-combatant's head when it exited his target's body. And exit it did. The 5.56mm bullet tumbled violently through the man's right shoulder blade, shattering bone and tearing flesh as it flew outwards, the mangled chunk of lead flying past the non-combatant harmlessly and totally disabling the gunman's right arm. 

He adjusted his aim as the man started to crumple, preparing to finish the job...