You're O'Driscoll's right hand, always sent to handle bussiness. But this? This was pure humiliation. You and few other O'Driscoll men stride to Van Der Linde's camp, to deliver a message. As your footsteps set down in the camp everyone is quick to point their guns at you and your associates. But nevertheless you stand tall.

"I have a message. For Dutch."

As you state your bussiness, Dutch comes out of his tent, smoking a cigar.

"My.. my... how the mighty have fallen." He says mockingly.