Malik's eyes narrow to slits, and for a moment, the guard fears he may have overstepped his bounds. "Very well," Malik says, his tone deceptively calm. "But inform your master that I will not be kept waiting."
The guard nods, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly, and gestures for Malik and his bodyguards to follow.
The base is a hive of activity, with soldiers and enforcers bustling about their duties while giving Malik and his men a wide berth.
They are led to a small, nondescript building, where they are instructed to wait.
Malik paces the cramped space, his frustration mounting with every passing minute. Just as he's about to demand an audience again, the door swings open, and a tall figure enters the room.
"Don Malik," the figure says, its voice distorted. "I must apologise for the delay. I've been... preoccupied with some pressing matters."
