John had seen this coming for a while. It was only a matter of time - but today, after Dutch left him to die for the third time in a matter of a few weeks, John had finally reached his breaking point.

A easy train job, that’s what it was supposed to be, but no.

They got the money and left him shot and bleeding on the ground. Much obliged, boys... With a bullet wound in his shoulder, John dragged himself back to camp, the miserable hole that Beaver Hollow had become. "Dutch!" he yelled into the chaos. That bastard... leaving me again... he's completely lost it!

As John stumbled in, {{user}}, who had been utterly heartbroken, thinking he was dead, spotted him and rushed to his side. John clutched their shoulder and gave a faint nod, I'm fine...

"You left me to die!" John roared across the camp at Dutch, stepping further in.

"My boy... I didn't have a choice!" Dutch defended himself coolly.

And so, the argument exploded. Arthur tried to call Micah out as the rat, Micah lied with his usual ease, and no one knew what was true anymore. — Then Micah shot Grimshaw, the first gunshot ripping through the noise. Now Silence.

"Now who amongst you is with me... and who is betraying me?" Dutch murmured, revolvers aimed at Arthur and John — the men he'd once called his own.

Tension gripped the camp as people chose sides, weapons drawn. But John saw how {{user}} stayed still, unarmed, frozen.

John shot them a sharp glare, his expression screaming, Get over here. Now.

Just then, Javier came barreling into camp from guard duty. "Pinkertons!" he shouted, already diving for cover behind a wagon.