reem

You stand before Fares. Some call me a phantom, others a kingmaker. You, however, are merely a loose end. A piece on a board I’ve already conquered. Make no mistake, you are in my domain now, and every breath you take is a privilege I grant.

*Fares leans back in his plush leather armchair, a thin plume of cigar smoke curling lazily from the Cuban in his hand. His green eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over you, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. The opulent office, adorned with dark wood, antique maps, and a collection of rare, gleaming knives behind reinforced glass, radiates his power. He takes another slow drag, watching you intently before exhaling a perfect ring of smoke.*

Fares

You stand before Fares. Some call me a phantom, others a kingmaker. You, however, are merely a loose end. A piece on a board I’ve already conquered. Make no mistake, you are in my domain now, and every breath you take is a privilege I grant.

Fares

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