6:00 AM – All Across Walaysia
The streets of Walaysia awoke to something unusual.
Not sirens. Not violence.
But the soft roar of engines.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of buses, vans, and cars rolled quietly through the early morning mist, scattering across every major city and back-alley village.
Metrospore City.
Good Hope District.
Lerak. Dohor. Walacca.
They moved in silence, like a returning army.
Only this time… there was no war.
Only homecomings.
In one house, a grandmother collapsed to her knees, tears flooding her cheeks.
"You're alive? My grandson—he's alive!"
In another, a young woman dropped her rice bowl, stunned as her husband stepped into the doorway.
"You... you came back…"
Some homes shook with joy.
Others shook with rage.
"Do you know what you've put this family through?! Two months, no calls, no body—nothing!"
Slaps were exchanged. So were hugs.
Children clung to unfamiliar men calling them "Appa."
Mothers wept into calloused hands.
Old men laughed and cried in the same breath.
These were the men who had vanished without a trace.
Two months ago, they were the country's troublemakers, ex-gangsters, district tyrants.
Today?
They returned as sons. Husbands. Fathers.
Men filled with something that shocked the nation more than their reappearance—
Remorse.
They bowed to elders.
They kissed their mothers' hands.
Some whispered prayers in temples.
Some cleaned their old rooms without being asked.
Some even cried… on their knees.
They had changed.
And yet… they hadn't.
Metrospore City – National Police Department HQ
Joseph Fernandez stared at the monitor.
Message alerts beeped nonstop.
"Subject #44: Confirmed returned."
"Subject #319 reunited with family in Good Hope."
"Subject #579 reported at Stone Caves temple."
623 blinking dots.
All reactivated.
All… home.
He set his coffee down. Untouched.
His eyes didn't blink.
"Thank God they returned alive… but everything—without warning. No resistance. Not a single damn clue."
Nothing.
Just… silence.
Joseph snapped out of his daze and barked,
"Get them all questioned. Where have they been? What were they doing the last two months? I want everything. Every single detail!"
He turned back to the monitor, heart racing.
"Athavan… what are you preparing for?"
Good Hope District – Side Street Café
The old gang spot was still standing.
Peeling paint. Rusted gate. Empty crates stacked by the wall.
But now?
They were gathering.
Not as gangsters.
As brothers.
"Boss Velu is back."
"So is Kanna from North Block."
"Even Psycho Mani showed up this morning at his mother's house."
A shaved-head youngster leaned forward, whispering:
"They say the Elder Brother is back too…"
Everyone fell silent.
They all knew who that meant.
Their leader.
Their backbone.
The one who ruled their district like a king.
The one who vanished without a word.
The one they feared… and followed without question.
"If he's really coming back…" someone muttered,
"…then we take back what's ours."
Heads nodded in quiet agreement.
"One district at a time."
Garuda-Controlled Zone – Warehouse Office
Mad Tiger slammed his fist on the table, cracking the edge.
"Velu returned? And Kanna? Psycho Mani?!"
His lieutenant nodded nervously.
"All confirmed. Their old underlings… they're talking about reclaiming their territories."
Mad Tiger sneered.
"Those dogs had their time. We took their blocks. We took their shops. We took their women."
He turned toward the room of hardened thugs.
"I want every gate guarded. Triple patrols. Reinforce the southern wall."
Another thug stepped forward.
"Should we strike first?"
Mad Tiger's eyes lit with fire.
"HQ's watching, but if they come… we don't keep our hands tied, do we?"
He cracked his knuckles.
"Let them come. We'll bury them twice."
He stepped forward.
"Gang Nagas is dead. This is Garuda's era now. And we're not giving it back."
The streets of Walaysia buzzed with something new—
Not peace.
Not fear.
But anticipation.
A war to reclaim what was once theirs.
A war to protect what had already been stolen.
Because the lost had returned.
And the storm was rising.
Later That Evening – National Police Headquarters, War Room
The situation room was unusually full for late evening.
Monitors glowed. Tactical maps lined the walls.
District commanders whispered among themselves.
"They're back."
"All of them."
"Gang Nagas might be rebuilding…"
At the front stood Commissioner-General Syed Sulaiman, eyes sharp, posture firm.
Joseph Fernandez stood across from him, remote in hand.
"Give me the full sitrep," Sulaiman said.
Joseph clicked the remote.
Dozens of red pins blinked across the map.
"All 623 returnees accounted for. Reentered their districts between 5:45 and 6:20 AM—staggered but clearly coordinated."
"All units have been placed on Level 2 Alert. Riot control teams are deployed across former Gang Nagas zones."
Sulaiman's eyes narrowed.
"And the response?"
"No resistance. No aggression. No illegal activity. Just… a strange calm. They're different, sir. Too different."
Joseph clicked again. Interrogation footage appeared.
"We questioned dozens. Same exact response. Like a script."
Sulaiman frowned.
"What's the story?"
Joseph exhaled.
"They all claim they joined a self-development NGO. A spiritual reform program."
"They called it a rehabilitation training camp—discipline, service, spiritual realignment."
He paused.
"They said the organization's name is the Dharma Foundation."
A few officers exchanged skeptical glances.
One let out a dry chuckle.
"What, they went off to find enlightenment?"
Joseph didn't smile.
"The story is too polished. Same phrasing. Same structure. Almost like it was rehearsed."
Sulaiman's eyes narrowed.
"What is this Dharma Foundation?"
Joseph pulled up the file.
"Registered three months ago. Backed by a tech conglomerate."
He paused.
"Primary funder… is AD Tech. Raghavan's company."
Silence.
Joseph stepped forward.
"Whatever this is, it's not just reform. It's organized. These men didn't just come back clean—they came back programmed."
He looked Sulaiman dead in the eye.
"And sir… they weren't just anyone. These were Gang Nagas' backbone. If things ignite again—this war won't look anything like the last one."
Sulaiman turned to his secretary.
"Put every strike team on standby. Tactical gear issued. Quiet orders only. No public release."
Then to Joseph.
"If even one gang flag resurfaces—"
"I'll move before they do," Joseph said.
Sulaiman nodded slowly.
"Good. I don't know what game AD Tech is playing... but start with Dharma Foundation. Question Raghavan. I want logs, footage, documents, everything."
"If they trained for two months—someone better show me proof. I want to know exactly what kind of training was provided there. Physical? Tactical? Psychological? Spiritual? Give me every module, every session log, every instructor name. I want to know what they were turning these men into."
Just as the room began to return to order—
The door burst open.
A young officer, breathless, stormed in.
"Sir! Urgent update!"
Everyone froze.
"They're calling for a gathering. Tomorrow morning. 8 AM."
Joseph tensed.
"Where?"
"That same abandoned warehouse near the river docks. The one where we caught Rajendran Bala."
The air in the room cracked.
"It's not covert," the officer added.
"It's public. Wide open. Word of mouth. Flyers. Phones. They're inviting everyone—even root-level boys."
One officer muttered in disbelief.
"We expected turf wars. Not unity."
Another added grimly.
"Someone's behind it. Maybe a new leader after Rajendran Bala."
Sulaiman turned slowly to Joseph.
A long pause.
Then, softly:
"Last time, you were handed a mess that could've destroyed this country."
"You gave us a miracle."
Joseph remained silent.
"Now you're getting the same mission. Again."
Sulaiman stepped closer. His voice dropped.
"I'm not asking for a miracle this time, Joseph…"
"I'm begging for one."
Joseph's jaw clenched.
"Then I'll give you one, sir. But I want full authority."
Sulaiman didn't hesitate.
"Granted. You'll lead the task force. Intel. D7. Riot units. Full coordination."
One officer whispered nervously,
"Sir… what if this gathering turns violent? Riots? Revenge? Street battles?"
Sulaiman looked out at the darkening skyline.
"I hope it doesn't."
"Because if it does… they won't just fight each other."
"They'll burn the nation."