He'd had a talent for straight lines ever since he was a kid.  Even now he was one of the only architects in the entire world that could design without a ruler for the angles.  Still, out of an anal retentive desire for perfection, he usually ended up double and triple checking things with various pieces of equipment as the designs began to come to life on the page.  This project was boring him.  Even if it tended to pay better and be more consistant, he hated doing government work.  Everything was so structured and organized and there was so little room for him to work anything into it.  He'd much rather be working on some lottery winner's McMansion... they always accepted his designs as gospel, gleefully eating up whatever his head created.<br/><br/>What disturbed him most was when he had specific measurement codes to work through.  He liked to put codes into his measurements as he made them.  Little subtle things that wouldn't effect the building in the least.  Numbers representing the letters of his sister's name.  Or the date of her birth.  Without being so blatant about it, Malcolm had been putting Madison's name over this city ever since they'd moved here to get away from anywhere that recognized them as family.  She was his Goddess, his loyal slave.  Ever since the first time he'd raped her, the two shared a love that most people couldn't understand.  So long as she worshipped him, the rest of the world should in turn be made to worship her...<br/><br/>Malcolm leaned back in his chair and pushed his glasses up his nose to rub at the bridge before turning to look out his window at the city that bore so much of his sister's name.  It was like magic the way he'd imprinted her on the town.  Consigning the soul of the city to her as if it were his right of Psychopomp.  His reflection stared back at him, like a ghost towering over the city beyond the glass.  Sandy brown hair had gone gray more with stress than it had with age.  He had the same sky blue eyes as his sister... his wife.  The love of his life.<br/><br/>His assistant was trying his best to hide the sound of shame and embarassment on his voice when he buzzed in to tell Malcolm that his soul mate was on the line holding for him.  He'd just left the house, she couldn't have already found someone she needed his permission to take into bed could she?  "Benjamin is blushing, darling," he said as he picked up the phone, "Are you still harassing him about the Christmas Party?  You know he thinks I don't know about it, don't you?"  He kept the phone close to his ear as he let his chair drift away from his desk for a moment, "It's early, my Love..." he said with a hint of curiosity, "Even for you.  Everything is okay, isn't it?" he kept a firm tone with her, often letting it sound like he was speaking to a child.  Sometimes she would call him just for permission to eat breakfast, asking him to specifically tell her what to make for herself.  Sometimes she'd call for permission to use the bathroom.  Every time she asked for permission for anything... it thrilled him.  Often he would deny her just for the sense of power it gave him over her.<br/><br/>"If you're thinking about fucking someone, darling..." he said as he licked his lips and imagined her, "No.  Not today.  I have plans for dinner that I don't want spoiled by your<em>fatigue</em>like last night."  He smirked and let out a soft chuckle, "But I think I told you that already, didn't I?  So certainly you're not calling about that..."