A/N: I just want to say thank you all so much for the positive feedback on my first chapter 😊 It means a lot to me.

Hope you enjoy this next instalment!

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~6 months later~

Akin to some nasty, irritating illness- this war had long been coming to a head.

A rivalry that not many would throw themselves into, thick like untamed foliage, vines that crept over years of bitterness and blood that had always ran bad as far as Dutch Van Der Linde was concerned.

But as of recent, the Van Der Linde boys had been seeing a far sight more of the Cobalt Jackals than they would like. Since the bastards ran Van Der Linde and his gang off their patch at Clemen's Point little over a month ago, the extravagant Dutch was much than hungry for some kind of revenge.

Of course, he told his right-hand man and excellent shot, Arthur Morgan – that this was no revenge mission, simply because the gunslinger didn't like getting tangled up in Dutch's personal issues.

However here he was anyway, hauled up inside one of the large cargo freight houses on the docks of Saint Denis. Young John Marston had been tipped off about lots of expensive arms being crated up in this building, of course they were owned and being exported by Harper – but Dutch insisted to Arthur that this had nothing to do with getting his own back on the leader of the Cobalt Jackals.

"Hurry up with them there crates, boys." Dutch's voice stated, tones muffled behind the red chequered material of his bandana, stalking around the floor the warehouse with pistols at the ready – like some kind of wolf.

"Take as much as you can, cowpokes." Micah Bell exclaimed with a level of shaky excitement, the man thrived for crazed missions and loved it when the opportunity arose for bloodshed. His scrambling hands grabbed armfuls of rifles and shotguns, thrusting the arms into the awaiting grasps of Mr Marston and Mr Escuella.

This seemed to be going well, and Arthur relaxed a little now hoping that Dutch really had just come for the hopes off a big taking from the stolen guns. Just a few more pricey rifles to take and then they could get shot of this place.

Picking the final guns from the bottom of the chipped wooden crate, Arthur signalled the other lads to follow him as they wandered back to the far end of the warehouse with their takings. Could this be the turn around they had so desperately needed after a tough few months.

Just as they were about to regroup, from the top rafting – a nervous hiss of 'shit' could be heard.

"Whas' the matter, Lenny?" Arthur shouted up the shoddy iron ladder to his fellow gang member. Young Lenny Summers leaned over the thin metal-barred railing to look down at the group.

"We're surrounded – Whole lotta Harper's men out there!" Lenny cried, the very bars of his voice wavering with anxiety. The whole group cursed now, grumbling and sounding pissed off more than anything.

"Well aint this just fantastic!" Arthur snapped, directing a shirty glance at Dutch, shrugging his shoulder dramatically. "What we gonna do, Dutch?"

Suddenly the big sliding metal doors of the building were bashed upon loudly, a booming sound reverberated around the high walls and ceiling of the warehouse.

"Van Der Linde! We know you're in there!" came the voice of Harper's most trusted man, Tommy St Kilroy. He was much like what Arthur was to Dutch, a man who had served long enough and proven trustworthy and loyal.

"We need to get out of here, Dutch!" Marston's panicked raspy tones hissed, and now all of the men were staring at Dutch for some form of direction, anything to get them out of this mess.

Dutch on the other hand, just looked really vexed. This was a strong willed man who didn't let himself get played by others, a leader of independent men. He didn't like Harper thinking he could get one better than him.

All whislt Dutch was spiralling in his own thoughts, Javier was snapping away at Micah, getting all up in one another's faces like two pirze peacocks about to have a scrap.

"I thought you said there weren't gonna be any patrols out til 6?" Javier hissed at Micah, who was getting himself all flurried up like a blizzard to punch Javier square in the face.

"I ain't able to map out their actions, you trussed up fucking hussy." Micah spat, jaw shifting and his teeth bared like a feral dog. "There weren't no men scheduled to come back til 6."

"Well then looks like we got a rat on our hands." Marston interrupted, and Arthur let out a deep sigh. The last thing they needed now was the lot of them getting into a full blown fight.

The fight was quickly silenced anyway when a few further series of loud thrashes to the metal door were made, followed by St Kilroy's Irish tones.

"Either you come out, surrender the goods. Or we drag you to Harper kickin' and screamin'."

Dutch growled to himself, aggressively ripping the bandana down from his lower face and letting it rest around his neck.

"I aint doin' neither of those." He snarled, marching towards the nearest crate that could offer cover. Arthur was more than aware by now of what was about to go down.

"Gentleman, take cover. We ain't goin' without a fight!" Dutch cried, and like some battle call it sent the Van Der Linde boys barrelling towards the nearest crate for cover, guns discarded to the side for now to collect, hopefully – after they won their fight.

The Cobalt Jackals' must've hard that response, and were the first ones to exchange their fire. They didn't even bother wrenching the sliding door open, one of the men on the other side was manning and Gatling Gun and shot the thing to pieces. The metal was all twisted and warped, shot open by the constant cascade of bullets as the Cobalt Jackals thundered inside like fierce warriors.

The sound in that warehouse was a chorus of crackles and bangs, guns firing left right and centre at all speeds. The Van Der Linde boys picked off as many men as they possible could, the intensity of the fight had them focusing past the bloodshed to think of the survival... well all of those apart from Micah – he roared joyously when he made a few headshots.

"You're outnumbered – Van Der Linde! Give in!" Tommy bellowed from the back of his mount, a far way back from the hired guns that were rushing in on Harper's behalf – only on his side for the decent pay and a slice of the action.

It was true in a way, Dutch's boys were picking off the men that came barrelling into the warehouse all guns blazing – but it seemed more and more waves of willing idiots came thundering towards the warehouse. It was too much.

The cracks in the strength of Dutch's men began to show in a moment, one wrongly timed move that ended with a bullet nicking through the side of Marston's arm. The man cried out something loudly, dropping like a stone as he crouched behind the crate he was using as cover, Javier at his side looking concerned. Shakingly, John covered his hand over where the bullet had spliced his flesh – feeling the warm wetness of blood that coated his skin.

From the right, Arthur spared a single glance across and saw the pure agony on John's expression, and the copious amount of blood pissing from his arm. John was really in no condition to put up much more of a fight.

"Dutch!" Arthur cried loudly over the gunfire, "We need to get out of here! Marston's down!"

Even in this thick fight, Micah still cracked a disappointed scoff, both hands firing rounds off from his pistols like a mad man.

"Deadweight, Morgan! Deadweight!" Micah exclaimed, something that Arthur deeply disapproved of. There was something ever so shady about Micah, Arthur had long since gotten the impression the man would drop one of his own for a stake of money at the drop of a hat. Morgan got the sense now that this was probably the case, if he was considering letting Marston die for Dutch's pride of having one up on Harper.

"Boys! There's an exit at the far end of the warehouse!" came an echoing shout from none other than Lenny, who had been sniping through the top windows of the warehouse and generally trying to keep things as under control as he could.

No longer was Arthur going to wait for a decision from Dutch, he feared if he sat and waited for the call to be made – then John would bleed to death.

"Javier, John – let's move!" Morgan's growling shouts cried, as he directed the first move across the warehouse floor, tucking behind crates and boxes where he could to keep the spray of bullets from making contact with him

Soon enough, like estranged sheep – Dutch and Micah detached themselves from the savagery to make their way out.

The back door of the warehouse was a one person standard size door, that led out onto a back street tucked behind some buildings. It was a dank and grimy street, the air smelling strongly of the salty sea and a mixture of industry smoke.

Peeking around the corner of the building, Arthur started to map where they could run to in order to lose scent of the Cobalt Jackals.

"Goddamnit, cowpoke!" Micah growled, clearly not at all registering with himself the severity of the situation. Either that or he was choosing to ignore it. Micah just wanted to play trigger happy, blowing the heads off every man that wanted to walk through the doors of that warehouse.

"We needed out, Micah." Arthur barked, sparing a snide glance at Dutch. "I didn't wanna wait around for the wrong call to be made." For a while now, Arthur had noticed Dutch crumbling. He seemed lesser and lesser of his old self, the man that had taken Arthur and John in as young boys. In those days, Dutch would insist on never resorting to taking a life if it could be helped – and now it seemed he liked to take a few souls off the planet on the occasional jobs he played a part in.

Spotting an opportunity to flee, Arthur led the way as the man sprinted across the trolley tracks on the street and fled into another high-walled yard behind a factory. An outbuilding was left with it's door open, practically screaming for a haven as the boys fled inside. Young Lenny, the last to tumble in – slammed the door shut behind his person as the 6 men all packed into the small structure, squeezing in between the old machinery parts and bits of dusty old workhorse tack.

Already focusing on the important stuff, Javier was winding a piece of torn cloth tightly around John's bloodied arm to supress the constant bloodflow, offering the man a generous sip of whisky to ease the pain and calm his nerves.

His black dress shirt covered in blood, Arthur looked on and felt a surge of anger that John had been allowed to get hit. They should've just ran when they had the chance.

But the gunslinger decided to button his lip for today, and instead just stared at Dutch under the brim of his black leather hat. He had said more than enough already to piss Dutch off, and he felt he did not need to make the situation any worse by stirring the pot and causing more tension.

For some minutes, the boys sat in silence – waiting for some form of instruction, most of them – whilst Arthur mused in quiet thought about just what this gang was becoming.

"Goddamn Jim Harper!" Dutch suddenly blarted, kicking an old harness over in the corner of the room as it fell with a dull thud. "Too high and mighty to come face me himself, sittin' in his ivory tower mockin' us all!" Dutch proclaimed, dark eyes searching around the rather defeated expressions' of most of those in the room... besides Micah, who looked quiet contented by today's turnout.

"He hires out guns – meaningless men – time and time again, to ruin us." Dutch's voice was more paced now, but was still tightroping on the borderline of a crazed killer, "and I just about had enougha' it." The outlaw leader stated boldly. "It's time we stopped messin' with his men, and hit the bastard where it hurts."

A thoughtful silence followed, as it was clear the boy's heads were ticking over what the plan may be.

"How're you thinkin' we'll go about that?" Javier piped up, his low tones sounding intrigued – but not at all hopeful. Not that Dutch detected that, he was too busy gassing himself up with his speech to think about what anyone else's thoughts were.

"He's got that dolly bird, ain't he?" Dutch's lips were forming into a sinister smirk, "That pretty girlie always draped on his arm."

"That singer, you mean-" Lenny detailed, "...Lana Grant?"

Dutch pointed to Lenny with a wide smile, looking as dangerous as a blood thirsty wolf in a pen of sheep.

"Exactly!" the leader started, his dilated dark eyes looking around the room at the faces of his men.

"I say we take her. She's the one thing he cares for, and he'll be so goddamn wounded when she's gone." Dutch was chuckling now in approval of his own plan.

"Great idea, Boss!" Micah cooed, practically blowing the smoke up Dutch's arse. However, the previous prized pony, Arthur, was not liking the sound of this. It just meant more trouble with Harper and the Cobalt Jackals' in a time when they just needed to lay low.

"How do you intend we get her? Ain't she the one where her shows are always packed?" Arthur said, throwing a cat amongst these smug pigeons.

"That is true – I hear Harper's security on the girl is always tight." Lenny replied off the back of that, to which Arthur nodded. Now it seemed Dutch's plan's needed their frayed edges patching up.

Taking a few moments, Arthur felt one again disconcerted when Dutch's smile once again grew.

"Don't you worry, son." He offered Arthur, "I'm onto something here – and goddamn, I'll figure a way for us to snatch her." He was laughing again, that kind of dark laughter that was reminiscent of a rumbling storm.

The gang leader once again flashed his dark eyes over the group, a charming and strategic flash gleaming in the scant amount of light.

"We're gonna hurt Harper bad." He snarled, "and I ain't restin' til we done it."

The room was divided, Micah and Dutch seemed more than elated by the idea, some looked as if they would need convincing and Arthur... well, he just felt he was trapped in a web of futility. He opposed this so much, but he knew he was going to get tangled up in it like he always was. They'd barely gotten out of this job alive, and already Dutch wanted to go in to strike again.

But once that man had an idea hatching, like a bloodhound.... It was hard to throw him off the scent.

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A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know it's a little shitty but I just wanted to set up the beef between Dutch and James (Jim).

See you in the next chapter where the tea gets incredibly hot... and spillable.