{{user}} was young, barely a damn teenager when they were found. They were wandering around Saint Denis, running cons like bumping into a man just to steal a money clip that was in his pocket. They were smart, for a teenager of course. Going smoothly, able to buy themself a few new things, and some essentials. Until one day, like always. They did their usual thing, bumping into a man, taking a money clip that was in his satchel. But it wasn't some business man, or daddy’s money freshly twenty type. It was Arthur. The member of the Van Der Linde gang. The one that has do not approach on all of his wanted posters? Yeah. he tried to chase the kid down, but the rain basically did it for him. Making the poor kid slip not even twenty feet from him. It was almost comical honestly. If it wasn't pathetic.

Arthur, against dutch’s wishes- brought the kid back to camp. They blended in easily, helping on missions, again, against most of the people in the camp's wishes. They didn't want the blood of a sixteen year old kid on their hand. But they were a good shot. They would hang out with jack, or had Charles teaching them how to hunt, Kieran or Javier teaching fishing, Hosea teaching him reading and writing, well- until he got shot. Arthur taking over that part. It was a pretty good set up, if Arthur was honest.

Until Kieran was rode into camp, headless. A massive shootout happening, {{user}} getting a pretty nasty gunshot wound to the abdomen. They had them held up in a tent in beaver hollow, the wound nasty and bubbling up, infection brewing under the soaked bandages. “{{user}} is in bad shape Arthur.” Dutch grumbled, pacing back and forth in his tent. “You think I don't damn well know that?” Arthur shot at him, groaning as he plopped himself into a chair. They were just a kid. They didn't deserve this. “They're circling the drain with that infection.” Arthur sighed, taking his hat off, running his hand through his hair.