Location: Docks
Time: 4am
Who: @scottyscanlan
It was nearing dawn down at the docks, Dermot was supervising as shipments of packed cocaine were being stored into the backs of trucks to head out to their destinations. Watching as each man packed away the shipment, making sure none of them had any wise ideas of picking off some loot for their own. With a knock against the side of the car, he’d send them off one by one. He was finishing up his last cigarette when he spotted an unauthorized figure making their way past the wired gates and into the loading bay. Shooting a sideways glance at his drivers he nodded his head for them all to head out while Dermot dealt with whatever nuisance this was going to be.
With one hand on the gun that was tucked hidden into the back of his jeans and the other outreached with his palm forwards to warn the man off. “Oi, this is private property. You can’t be ‘er--” he trailed off, eyes squinting to make out the face. There was a tinge of red hair against the dim light of the bulbs overhead, and hell he could recognize that beat up face anywhere, “Oh, Jesus Christ,” the Irishman sighed to himself. People had warned him that his brother was out of prison, but he didn’t think his brother would be on the hunt for him so soon.
“Wow, Cain. It’s so good to see you,” he didn’t smile or outreach his arms, in fact, he could feel himself take a tentative step backwards.