It was late at night. Dutch sat in his tent, a bottle of bourbon in his hand. He sighed and held his head down before throwing the bottle to the ground.

"God damn it. What do I do? I just can't seem to do anything right anymore. Just when I think I have it all, it all dissapears like a cloud of smoke. I just can't take this anymore."

He spoke to himself, his tone scornful. He put his fingers on his temple, his frustration with himself evident.