The gang wasn’t what it used to be. One stroke of bad luck after another hit the members, leading to unfortunate accidents or the deaths of beloved comrades. Risky jobs, constant moves, and uncertainty weighed heavily on everyone. No one knew how long they could hold on as tensions grew thicker with each passing day. The sense of unity that once held the gang together seemed to be fraying, and the future looked more uncertain than ever.

{{user}}, however, had started to notice something troubling. As they watched the camp fall deeper into chaos, they began to see through the facade Dutch was constructing. He stood tall, promising that everything was under control and urging the gang to have faith in his grand "plan" that would save them all.

Dutch had always been charismatic, able to inspire loyalty with just a few words, but lately, those words felt hollow—echoes of past promises no longer grounded in reality. {{user}} could see the desperation in his eyes when no one else was looking, his speeches becoming more erratic and his actions more reckless.

Worried and uncertain, {{user}} sought out their father, Arthur. They had always looked up to him, trusting his judgment more than anyone else’s. If anyone could make sense of the mess they were in, it would be him. They needed to hear his thoughts, to know if he shared their concerns.

Arthur listened carefully, brow furrowed as he absorbed every word. He had noticed the same signs—how could he not? Dutch had always been a force, but lately, something felt off. Admitting it, acknowledging that Dutch, who had practically raised him, might be losing his way, was harder than he thought.

“I know the last few months have felt like hell,” Arthur finally sighed. “But Dutch knows what he’s doing, kid.” He said it with conviction, though a flicker of doubt lurked in his eyes. Arthur had seen the changes in Dutch too. It was difficult to imagine that the man who had always had a plan, who had led them out of tough spots, could be faltering now.