The Slaughter House

Eamon sat in a sleek, modern slaughter and meat selling shop that radiated an air of cleanliness and order aside its meaty and bloody smell, a very big contrast to the usual dark underground or abandoned places one could do dirty business.

The only slight similarity was that each and every person in the meat shop was Eamon's men, even the one who posed as customers, for now.

Sunlight filtered through large glass windows, illuminating the polished wood and metal furnishings.

He sipped white tea from his teacup, tapping his fingers on the table, seeming like he was lost in thought.

Sitting across from him was his cousin Jordan Cooper-Rodge who leaned back in his chair and a casual smirk donned on his face.

“What brings you here, Cousin?” Jordan asked, tilting his head slightly. He had dark curls that framed his face perfectly well. “I didn’t expect to see you in base for at least a week.”

As it is, this clean slaughterhouse was their base to meet up and talk about the family business