The city was alive.
Neon lights flickered. Cars rumbled down the streets. Music and laughter spilled from nightclubs.
But in the shadows, something had changed.
The underworld was restless.
Gabriel "The Butcher" was dead, and everyone knew who was responsible.
Ochieng.
And now, they were watching.
From street corners. From tinted windows. From alleyways where whispers turned into rumors.
The underworld didn't just want revenge.
It wanted blood.
---
In a secluded warehouse at the edge of the city, a private jet had landed hours ago.
Inside, the air was thick with tension.
Nathan Wanjala sat at the head of a long, steel table, his sharp eyes fixed on the lone figure standing before him.
No one knew his real name.
No one had ever seen his face.
He was a legend. A killer with a perfect record.
And now, he had one target.
Ochieng.
Nathan took a slow sip of his whiskey.
"He killed Gabriel."
Black Fang didn't move. Didn't speak.
Nathan leaned forward.
"You don't fail. That's why I called you."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Then, a voice—cold, smooth, like a blade sliding from its sheath.
"I'll make him disappear."
Nathan smirked.
"Good."
He slid a thick envelope across the table.
"A name. A location."
Black Fang didn't even glance at it.
"I already know where he is."
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
Nathan watched him go, his smirk fading.
This wasn't just an assassination.
This was an execution.
Ochieng sat in a dimly lit café, staring at his untouched coffee.
His mind was racing.
He knew what came next.
Nathan Wanjala wouldn't stop.
The underworld didn't play fair.
But before he could think further, a figure slid into the seat across from him.
Tasha.
Her eyes burned with something between anger and concern.
"You should have left."
Ochieng didn't respond.
She leaned in, voice low.
"They sent Black Fang."
Ochieng finally looked up.
Tasha's face was pale.
"You don't understand," she whispered. "Black Fang isn't like the others. He doesn't leave bodies. He leaves nothing. No traces. No names. Just... emptiness."
Ochieng exhaled slowly.
"So, they finally sent a real monster."
Tasha shook her head.
"No."
Her voice trembled.
"They sent death itself."
---
That night, Ochieng didn't go home.
Instead, he went underground.
Not to hide.
To prepare.
His enemies thought he was just a fighter.
They thought he was just another man.
They had no idea what he really was.
Ochieng wasn't prey.
He was the storm that swallowed kings.
And when Black Fang came for him—
He would be ready.
---