RDR2 OMC INSERT

The next morning, Yeriel is awakened by Tilly's cheerful voice. "Wake up! Ms. Grimshaw says it's time to pack up."

Yeriel blinks in confusion. "Why are we packing?"

"I don't know," Tilly replies with a shrug, already making her way to gather her belongings. "I didn't ask her yet."

Yeriel lets out a groan, reluctantly getting off the sleeping bag. He slips on his jacket and boots, then trudges over to Dutch's tent. "Are we moving already?" he asks, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Dutch lets out a heavy sigh. "Yes, we are."

Yeriel shakes his head in frustration. "Why?"

"Leviticus Cornwall paid us a visit in Valentine," Dutch explains, his tone serious. "There are agents lurking about. It's just not safe here anymore."

"Where are we heading now?" Yeriel inquires, trying to grasp the situation.

"Charles and Arthur are clearing a spot for us at Dewberry Creek, near Rhodes. We'll lie low there for a while," Dutch replies.

Yeriel pauses for a moment, staring at the ground as he processes the information. "Okay... then I'll go help pack up," he finally decides.

———

**Dewberry Creek**

At Dewberry Creek, Yeriel sits at a rustic wooden table, meticulously cleaning his volcanic pistol. Uncle, looking a bit worse for wear, reluctantly fumbles with his own firearm, wincing occasionally as he adjusts his posture. 

Arthur strides over, his demeanor calm and steady. "What are you two up to?" he asks, eyeing their activities with curiosity.

Yeriel jumps slightly at Arthur's sudden appearance, his concentration broken. "Oh, didn't see you there, Arthur. Just cleanin' my piece," he says, gesturing to his weapon. "Gotta keep it in top shape."

Uncle sighs dramatically, clearly playing up his discomfort. "We're gettin' ready for a job, Arthur. Yeriel here's twistin' my arm, and I can hardly move with this lumbago actin' up on me," he complains, rubbing his lower back for emphasis.

Yeriel rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're fine, Uncle. Quit whinin'." He turns back to Arthur. "We're going to smuggle… um, how do you say it… 'substance.'"

Arthur raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Substance smuggling? What kinda substance we talkin' about?"

Yeriel can't help but smirk a little. "Chinese opium."

Uncle jumps in, eager to sell the idea. "But the pay's lookin' real good, Arthur! Yeriel knows one of them smugglers, and he's sayin' it's a solid deal, sure as shootin'."

Yeriel nods in agreement. "Yeah, definitely good pay."

Arthur contemplates the job for a moment, his face thoughtful. Finally, he nods. "Well, I reckon I'm in."

Yeriel raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Who said you were coming with us?"

Uncle enthusiastically echoes him. "Yeah, who?"

Arthur scoffs, a grin spreading across his face. "I'm goin' with you 'cause I don't want Uncle here gettin' y'all killed," he retorts, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Yeriel shrugs, conceding the point. "Fair enough."

"Now, you two are really gonna make me regret this, ain't ya?" Uncle grumbles, a mixture of annoyance and resignation in his voice.

Arthur smirks, a twinkle in his eye. "Regret? Nah, just keep it interestin' for me."

They make their way over to their horses, mounting them with practiced ease. Yeriel adjusts his hat, casting a glance down the dirt road that stretches before them. "So, where exactly are we headed?" Arthur asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

"We'll pick up the stagecoach in Annesburg. It's a bit far, so we planned to take the train there," Yeriel explains, his mind already on the journey ahead.

Uncle grumbles again, his irritation evident. "Great, just great—more time on that blasted train. Just what I need with my back givin' me all kinds of trouble!"

Yeriel can't help but smirk. "It ain't worse than sittin' here with you, Uncle."

Arthur chuckles, shaking his head at the banter. "Let's get movin' before you two drive me crazy." 

With that, they set off down the road.

———

The train station in Rhodes bustled with activity as Yeriel, Uncle, and Arthur arrived, dismounting from their horses and tying them to a nearby post. The air was thick with the scent of smoke from the engines and the chatter of passengers. Yeriel led the way inside, his heart racing with anticipation.

"Let's get our tickets," he said, glancing around. Uncle hobbled a few paces behind, still complaining about his back, while Arthur kept a steady pace, scanning the area.

After purchasing their tickets, they hurried to the platform as the steam engine let out a loud whistle, signaling its imminent departure. The trio climbed aboard, and Yeriel found a spot next to Uncle, who immediately shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"You're gonna be fine," Yeriel teased, nudging him lightly. "Just think of it as a nice break."

"Break my back, more like," Uncle grumbled, settling in and attempting to find a comfortable position.

Arthur sat behind them next to a well-dressed gentleman who nodded politely as the train lurched forward. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels and the whistle of the train created a soothing backdrop as they traveled.

After what felt like an eternity of bouncing along the tracks, the train finally pulled into its destination. Yeriel jumped up, eager to get moving. "Come on, let's go!" he urged, waving to Uncle and Arthur as they disembarked.

Once outside, they whistled for their horses, who loyal followed them. Carol, Yeriel's loyal steed, trotted up to him, and he rewarded her with a crisp apple. Uncle and Arthur provided their horses with oatcakes.

"Time to ride!" Arthur declared, mounting his horse with a determined look. They set off down the dirt path toward the water, the sun shining brightly overhead.

As they approached the designated meeting point, they spotted Chen standing beside his boat, flanked by a couple of his burly goons.

Yeriel led the way, dismounting as they reached the group. "Hey, brother!" he greeted Chen, shaking his hand firmly.

"Nice to see you too, Xiōngdì," Chen replied, his accent thick yet familiar.

Yeriel gestured to his companions. "These here are my partners. Arthur and Uncle." He then nodded toward Chen. "Arthur, Uncle, this here is my long-time friend, Chen."

"Hey," Arthur tipped his hat in acknowledgment.

"Howdy," Uncle saluted with two fingers, still nursing his back.

Chen smiled, his eyes gleaming with business acumen. "Good to see that my friend has friends." He turned to his men, barking orders in Chinese, "快動起來!你們站在這裡幹什麼,你們這群傻瓜!快把貨物裝上馬車!" His men sprang to action, moving boxes with urgency.

Once the crates were loaded into the waiting stagecoaches, Chen turned back to them. "Now onto business." He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. "The amount is quite big, so I expect a big amount of Qián."

"How much exactly?" Yeriel pressed, his curiosity piqued.

Chen paused, his fingers flying over a notepad. "There's five tons of opium..."

"Five tons?!" Arthur exclaimed, incredulous. "One stagecoach can't bear that much weight."

"Yes, that is why I have more than one stagecoach ready," Chen replied. "Some of my men will go with you three." He finished calculating and looked up. "Anyway, I expect twenty thousand dollars."

"And how much is our cut, friend?" Uncle asked, eager.

"You three each get five percent. That's one thousand each." Chen smirked, his eyes bright.

Uncle whistled, clearly pleased. "That's quite a good haul."

"That's... really good," Arthur remarked, crossing his arms.

"Told ya, haven't I?" Yeriel grinned. "Chen is the best in this business." He clapped Chen on the back, and Chen laughed appreciatively.

Once everything was loaded, they piled into the stagecoaches, with Uncle driving one while Arthur settled into the passenger seat beside him. Yeriel clung to the edge, the wind whipping on his face as they got moving. "Where to?" Uncle asked, glancing back at Yeriel.

"Just follow the others," he instructed, pointing ahead.

The journey was quiet, the only sounds being the clip-clop of hooves and the rustle of trees as they traversed winding paths. The trio enjoyed the peaceful ride, letting the tranquility of nature wash over them.

As they approached Three Sisters, the atmosphere shifted. They arrived at a clearing where a group of miners awaited them, bribed for the transfer. The exchange was swift; the miners handed over twenty thousand dollars, and the trio got their cut too. As Chen's men began to unload, the tension in the air became tangible.

But just as they turned to leave, the unthinkable happened. A gunshot rang out, echoing through the clearing, and one of Chen's men dropped, hit in the head. Panic ensued as everyone dove for cover.

"Get down!" Arthur shouted, instinctively reaching for his weapon. He began firing back at unseen assailants, his shots accurate and precise as chaos erupted around them.

Yeriel followed suit, adrenaline surging as he aimed his volcanic pistol. He squeezed the trigger, but a few of his shots missed their mark, ricocheting off the surrounding rocks. "Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, focusing harder.

Uncle, despite his complaints, found a spot to shoot from and began firing as well. "I shouldn't be doin' youngsters' jobs with this lumbago!" he whined, pulling the trigger sporadically.

Yeriel shot back, "Shut up and shoot, Uncle!" He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the older man's theatrics, even in the heat of the moment.

Arthur reloaded, taking out two more attackers with quick precision. The gunfire was deafening, but they held their ground, pushing back against the threat.

After what felt like an eternity, the last of their assailants fell silent. Dust settled, and the remaining Chinese men looked around, shaken but alive. Half of Chen's crew had survived, and they expressed their gratitude fervently. "Thank you," one of them said, bowing slightly.

The dead were loaded into the stagecoaches as quickly as possible, and the survivors prepared to leave. As the trio collected their share, each receiving one thousand dollars.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Arthur suggested.

They split up, fading into the landscape, each with one thousand dollars in their pockets. The thrill of the job had turned sour, but they had survived, and as they rode away, the sun dipped low on the horizon.