During lunch, Dante and Lee had a rare argument.
Naturally, the dispute was about lunch itself—specifically, the perfect way to cook eggs. Their disagreement nearly made them forget about the food on their plates.
"Sure, fried eggs are good, but I'd prefer something with more vegetables," Lee said, moving his fork swiftly across his plate.
Dante shot him a peculiar look. "Are you a damn vegetarian now? You're the cowboys' foreman, brother. Show some common sense."
"I suppose you're right."
Unquestionably, meat was the cornerstone of any cowboy's diet. Without it, a meal would feel dull and somewhat disappointing.
After finishing their meal, Dante gathered the remaining eggs and drove back to the ranch. There, operations continued in the underground facilities.
He stored the materials collected earlier that morning in a temporary wooden crate, then descended the stairs into the basement. In a cleared space, he pulled out an odd-looking device crafted by his organization—a machine designed to secretly store weapons while disguised as a mayonnaise maker.
The massive device landed gently on the floor, clearly much larger than its kitchen counterpart.
Dante gave it a once-over and noted its height—about 1.5 meters. Its appearance retained the classic look of a typical mayonnaise machine, albeit with a retro design and a strong sense of craftsmanship.
The main body was made of high-quality white porcelain, with a smooth, delicate surface that felt warm to the touch.
The semicircular upper structure connected to a transparent bottle mouth. The top was a removable glass cover, and on the side was a meticulously polished wooden crank handle. Its functionality was clear at a glance.
Near the base of the machine, there was a button. When pressed, a drawer emerged, though it was temporarily empty.
This wasn't a device you could fully comprehend with just a casual glance.
Dante carefully opened the top of the container and found a space inside, evidently meant for storing weapons.
As soon as he placed a weapon into the designated slot, it vanished, hidden securely within the machine.
What made this device even more curious was its dual functionality: it could also make mayonnaise. Dante couldn't decide whether to be impressed or bewildered.
Still, the invention served a vital purpose. Since his workers couldn't openly carry weapons during the day, Dante needed a discreet method to keep them nearby but concealed.
The last thing he wanted was for drones or satellites to capture incriminating photos of his team and land them in trouble.
Dante understood one thing clearly: discretion was the cornerstone of consistent success.