The dimly lit bar smelled of old wood, cigar smoke, and spilled whiskey.
Ochieng sat across from Black Fang in a secluded booth, the flickering neon lights casting long shadows over their faces.
The assassin nursed a glass of expensive whiskey, his fingers tracing the rim absentmindedly.
Ochieng wasn't drinking. His mind was sharp, his patience thin.
"Talk," he said.
Black Fang chuckled. "No small talk? No pleasantries?"
Ochieng's eyes darkened. "You tried to kill me."
"Fair point," Black Fang admitted. He took a slow sip before setting the glass down.
"Alright, I'll tell you what I know."
The assassin leaned forward. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Someone powerful wants you gone, Ochieng. And they're not playing games."
Ochieng remained still.
He had expected that.
But who?
And more importantly—why now?
---
Black Fang smirked. "I wasn't given a name. Just an order. But…"
He paused, watching Ochieng closely.
"There was one word mentioned. A codename."
Ochieng said nothing.
But his heartbeat slowed.
Because he already knew.
Black Fang tilted his head. "You already figured it out, didn't you?"
Ochieng exhaled slowly.
There was only one person who could be behind this.
A name that had been buried years ago.
A name that was supposed to be dead.
He whispered it, almost as if saying it aloud would bring a curse.
"Phantom King."
Black Fang's eyes flashed.
"You've got history with him, don't you?"
Ochieng didn't answer.
But the look in his eyes said everything.
---
The Phantom King was not a man.
He was a myth.
A shadow that had controlled the underworld for decades.
A mastermind. A ghost.
And Ochieng had buried him himself.
Or so he thought.
If the Phantom King was still alive…
It meant everything Ochieng believed was a lie.
And it also meant—this wasn't just a warning.
It was war.
---
Ochieng stood up.
"Where are you going?" Black Fang asked.
"To confirm something," Ochieng said.
Black Fang chuckled. "You're going to start digging, aren't you?"
Ochieng's jaw tightened.
If the Phantom King was back…
Then it was time for Ochieng to remind the world why they feared him.
---
Meanwhile…
A darkened office.
A single man sat behind an enormous desk, his fingers tapping lazily against polished wood.
The city lights framed his silhouette, but his face remained in shadow.
A soft knock on the door.
"Come in," he said.
The door opened. A figure entered, bowing slightly.
"We confirmed it," the figure said. "Ochieng is still as dangerous as before."
The man behind the desk smirked.
"Good," he murmured. "Then let's begin."
He turned his chair slightly, revealing sharp, piercing eyes.
Eyes that had once controlled an empire.
Eyes that should have been dead.
The Phantom King had returned.
And this time—
He wasn't going to make the same mistake.
---