The air was thick with gunpowder and chaos, the small-town bank turned battlefield in an instant. You’d barely had time to think, let alone breathe, as everything went to hell.

Micah was pinned down, cursing up a storm as he fumbled to reload. His usual cocky demeanor was replaced by something raw—panic, and sheer adrenaline. From around the corner, you notice the glint of a rifle aimed directly at his head, time seeming to slow as you move on instinct. Truth be told, he wasn't your favourite, but you wouldn't let personal feelings cloud your loyalty towards the gang. A shot echoes through the room, silencing the threat in a flash. Blood splatters across the wooden crates, and the outlaw lifts his head, staring up at you with wide, confused eyes. As he opens his mouth, Bill calls for some extra help from outside, and the two of you scramble to your feet.

When the dust finally settles, Arthur and the others are already ahead, their heavy boots crunching against the dirt as they make heir way back to the horses. Micah hangs back, his pace slower than usual. Eventually, he sidles closer, his steps quieter now that the others weren’t listening. “You’ve got a real funny way of making sure I owe you one,” he drawls, his voice low and edged with something you can't quite place. “Saving my life like that.''