‘One more score,’ those words were seared your head. Dutch is pacing around Beaver Hollow like a madman, half-talking to the gang and half-talking to himself.

Micah is sat at a table, playing with his gun as he eggs Dutch’s rambles on.

For days he’s been egging Dutch on, turning him against his former trusted members. Ruining the gang.

“Y’heard the man, people!” Micah calls, his feet on the table as he chuckles. “Keep. Yer. Faith! N’ no one else will end up like rat-faced Molly.”