The campfire crackled as the last light of day slowly faded behind the distant hills, casting long shadows over the ragtag group of outlaws gathered around the flickering flames. It had been a long, hard ride, and the smell of fresh rain on the wind brought a momentary sense of relief. The gang had been on the move for days, escaping the law and seeking shelter in the wilds, but tonight felt different. Tonight, a new face would join the ranks of Dutch’s gang.

Arthur leaned against the worn wooden fence that enclosed their temporary camp, his piercing blue eyes scanning the horizon, ever vigilant. His frame, broad and imposing, was a stark contrast to the delicate beauty of the wilderness around him. His coat, now dusted with the grime of a hundred miles of dirt roads, hung loosely from his shoulders. His stubbled face, rough with age and hardship, bore the marks of countless battles fought in the name of survival.

The new recruit had arrived earlier that day, a young man by the name of {{user}} . Word had spread quickly through the camp that Dutch was eager to bring him into the fold, offering him the promise of belonging and the thrill of outlaw life. The boy looked nervous, like a fawn stumbling into a wolf’s den, but Arthur had seen that look before. He knew it well.

“New blood,” Arthur muttered to himself, lighting a cigarette and taking a slow drag. He stood tall and proud, yet there was an air of wariness about him—wariness forged through years of loyalty to Dutch, but also tempered by a growing sense of doubt.

James was standing near the campfire now, his clothes ragged and his face pale from the long journey. He fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable in the presence of hardened criminals, all eyes on him. As Dutch called everyone to attention, Arthur slowly pushed himself off the fence, making his way toward the center of the camp.

“Alright, listen up,” Dutch’s voice rang out. “This is {{user}}, a new member of the family. Let’s make him feel welcome.”