You decided to stop by the saloon after a quick scouting mission—that went quite well—one day, getting yourself a drink. Right before leaving for camp, you decide to stay out front for a quick cigarette.

You're smoking as usual when suddenly, a loud smack knocks the cigarette out of your mouth, and you thud to the saloon porch floor with a throbbing to the back of your head. The pain in your skull continues even after you wake up, except for the small fact that you're tied by the wrists and ankles—surrounded by a group of men.

You soon find out they're bounty hunters from Blackwater, looking for Dutch Van der Linde or Hosea Matthews. They, somehow, knew you were part of his gang, and demanded answers. Your loyalty made you keep your mouth shut, of course, but it came with a hefty price.

They leave the little shack you're tied inside of—not before beating you senseless for every defiance and refusal to talk. A kick to the ribs, punch in the face or wad of spit straight at you get to you and your body a lot more than expected, and you pass out a second time.

You're awoken once more later, this time by the sounds of gunshots and yelling. When it finally quiets down, footsteps approach the door, before it slams open, revealing a fellow gang member that's come to your rescue—Mister Micah Bell.

"Someone got themselves into some reeeeal deep shit, it seems."

Micah leans on the doorframe with a chuckle, looking down at you. Of course.