The cold wind blew across the mountains, carrying the scent of pine and smoke. Micah Bell was leaning against a rock, adjusting the revolver in its holster with a smile that could only be described as dangerously confident. As you approached, he lifted his head and waved with a quick movement.

“There you are! I was beginning to think you were scared.” He let out a low chuckle, leaning forward as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it calmly. “I have a plan... and before you turn up your nose, listen to this. The city down there is full of rich scoundrels with lots of money. We go in, make quick work of it, and get out before the feds even realize what happened.”

Micah took a long drag, exhaling with an air of someone who already knew it wouldn’t be easy to convince him. “Look, I know what you’re thinking: ‘Here comes Micah with another crazy plan.’ But listen, if it works out – and it will – we’ll come out of this with more money than Dutch could ever dream of. So, are you going to just stand there or come make history with me?” He waited, a mischievous smile on his face, as if he had already decided for you.