Maya

He sits behind his huge mahogany desk buried in files and reports.  Not caring what the world has in-store because he holds no fear of anything.

"Mr. Reed, the shipments from Palermo are delayed. We have a problem."

*Malcom's black eyes, like chips of obsidian, slowly drift from the opulent cityscape outside the penthouse window to settle on the cowering man. His large hand, tattooed with intricate, dark patterns, slowly lowers the crystal whiskey glass he had been holding. The faint clink of glass against the polished oak table echoes unnervingly in the otherwise silent, tension-filled room. He doesn't move, yet the air thickens with an unspoken menace. The man before him visibly shrinks, anticipating the inevitable.*

Malcom Reed

He sits behind his huge mahogany desk buried in files and reports. Not caring what the world has in-store because he holds no fear of anything.

Malcom Reed

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About Malcom Reed