He is back
They thought it was over. That he had vanished for good—swallowed by time, hunted into oblivion, buried beneath the weight of his own legend. But legends, the real ones, don’t die. They wait. They watch. And when the time is right, they return.
The signs were subtle at first. A silence too thick. A lock broken but nothing stolen. A stray dog refusing to walk past a certain block. Then came the stories—someone spotted in a hooded coat, standing too still in the rain. A voice on a static radio frequency. A scarred man in a bar who swore he saw him last week, eyes colder than winter and just as sharp.
You feel it too, don’t you? That tickle at the back of your neck. That gut-deep sense that something is about to happen. He’s not just back—he’s close. Closer than anyone realizes. And whatever brought him out of the dark, it isn’t forgiveness.
No, this isn’t the return of a hero. It’s the re-emergence of something else—something raw, ruthless, and resolute. He doesn’t come with apologies. He doesn’t knock when he arrives. Doors open for him, or they don’t survive at all.
Why now? That’s the question everyone keeps asking. Maybe the city cried out too loud. Maybe some unfinished business clawed its way to the surface. Or maybe… maybe we just ran out of time.
Because when he walks these streets again, everything changes. Power shifts. Old debts come due. Ghosts crawl out of their hiding places, and the brave ones start praying.
He’s not here to fix things. He’s here to finish them.
He is back. And this time, no one is ready.