The silk tie felt like a noose.
I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my new office at Aegis Global. The person looking back at me was Oliver Thompson—sharp, powerful, and clean. My hair was perfectly styled, and my suit cost more than what I used to earn in a year in Brooklyn. To the world, I was the miracle survivor, the hero who took back his kingdom.
But as I adjusted my cufflinks, I looked at my hands. They were steady, but the skin on my knuckles was still tough from years of fighting. The 'Oliver' mask was perfect, but underneath it, 'Hotdog' was restless.
"You look like a king, Oliver," a voice said from the doorway.
I turned to see Sophia. She was wearing a soft elegant dress, her face glowing with a peace I hadn't seen in twenty years. She walked over and straightened my collar.
"Your father would be so proud," she whispered.
I forced a smile. "It's all because of you, Mom."
I felt a pang of guilt. I was lying to her every single day. She thought the danger was over. She thought the bruises had stopped. How could I tell her that even now, in the middle of the night, I still heard the city calling me? That the Obsidian Circle might be broken, but the rats were still crawling in the dark?
"Are you coming home for dinner?" she asked.
"I have some late meetings, Mom," I lied smoothly. "Don't wait up for me."
She nodded, kissed my cheek, and left. The moment the door closed, my smile vanished.
I picked up my phone and dialed a number that didn't exist on any public record.
"Is it ready?" I asked.
"The warehouse at Pier 19," Ethan's voice was low and gritty. "The smugglers are moving a shipment of illegal tech. High-grade stuff. If it hits the black market, the Circle's remnants will grow teeth again."
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"And Oliver?" Ethan paused. "Don't forget who you are now. If you get caught, there's no Andrew Parker to hide behind. You're the face of a billion-dollar company."
"I know," I said, my voice hardening. "But Oliver Thompson can't do what needs to be done tonight. Only Hotdog can."
I walked to a hidden panel behind my bookshelf. Inside was a small black bag. I pulled out the old black cap and a lightweight carbon-fiber mask.
Ten minutes later, I wasn't the CEO. I was a ghost in a black hoodie, slipping out through a service exit that the security cameras were programmed to ignore for exactly sixty seconds.
Emily was finishing her shift. Her office was filled with the scent of lilies—a gift from a grateful patient. She was tired, but there was a spark in her eyes. She reached for her coat when a knock sounded on the door.
It was Ethan.
He wasn't in his tactical gear. He was wearing a plain leather jacket, leaning against the doorframe. He looked out of place in the sterile, white hallway of the hospital.
"Still working, Doctor?" Ethan asked. His voice was usually like sandpaper, but around Emily, it always seemed to soften just a little.
Emily looked up and smiled. "Someone has to be, Ethan. Not all of us have 'mysterious' jobs like you."
Ethan walked in, his eyes scanning her desk, then landing on her face. He stayed at a distance, always maintaining a professional gap, but his gaze lingered a second too long.
"Oliver asked me to check on your security," Ethan said, a classic excuse. "The new building still has some blind spots."
"Oliver is paranoid," Emily laughed softly, putting her stethoscope in her bag. "But I appreciate you coming all this way just to tell me that."
Ethan didn't tell her that he had been standing outside her office for fifteen minutes before knocking. He didn't tell her that seeing her safe was the only part of his day that didn't feel like a war.
"I'm heading to the cafe downstairs," Emily said, looking at him. "Do you want a coffee? Or are you too busy protecting the world?"
Ethan cleared his throat, shifting his weight. "Coffee sounds... good. I'll buy."
As they walked down the hall, Emily talked about a difficult case she had that day. Ethan listened to every word, his eyes constantly scanning the hallway for threats, but his heart was focused only on the woman beside him.
He was a man who lived in the shadows, and she was the brightest light he had ever known. And that was the most dangerous thing in his life.
Back at Pier 19...
The air was thick with the smell of salt and diesel.
Four men were unloading crates from a small boat. They were armed, talking in low Russian whispers.
Suddenly, the light above them shattered.
Silence followed. Then, a shadow moved. It wasn't a man; it was a blur. A spinning kick sent the first man flying into the water. A strike to the throat silenced the second.
Within three minutes, all four men were on the ground, groaning in pain. They never saw his face. They only saw a flash of a black mask and felt the terrifying speed of his strikes.
The 'Hotdog' had returned.
I stood over the crates, my breath steady. I pulled out a small piece of paper from my pocket. On it, in bold, jagged letters, was a single word.
I pinned the note to the leader's jacket with a small throwing blade.
"HOTDOG WAS HERE."
By the time the police sirens echoed in the distance, I was already gone, disappearing into the Brooklyn fog.
Five months.
That's how long it had been since the "Hotdog" name had last appeared in the streets of New York. For five months, I had been the perfect CEO. I attended charity galas, signed billion-dollar contracts, and sat through endless board meetings. To Sophia, William, and Emily, I was finally safe. They thought the violence was a shadow of my past, something I had left behind in the alleys of Brooklyn and the fire of Shanghai.
I wanted them to be right. I really did.
But peace is a fragile thing for someone like me. While I was busy fixing Aegis Global, the city's underbelly was busy growing a new cancer. The Obsidian Circle wasn't dead; it was just evolving.
Tonight, I was standing in my private study at the manor. The clock on the wall struck midnight. I looked at the news report playing silently on the television. A group of masked men had been arrested for smuggling high-tech weapons into the city. The police were baffled. Not because of the crime, but because of what they found at the scene.
The reporter looked pale. "Police are investigating a strange lead found at the warehouse. For the first time in five months, a signature has appeared at a major crime scene—a name that was thought to have disappeared."
The camera zoomed in on a piece of cardboard pinned to a crate.
"HOTDOG WAS HERE."
My heart hammered against my ribs. It felt like an old engine roaring back to life. I wasn't just Andrew Parker, the athlete, or Oliver Thompson, the billionaire. I was the ghost that kept this city from burning.
"Oliver? Are you still up?"
I jumped slightly at the sound of Emily's voice. I quickly turned off the television.
She was standing at the door, wearing her white lab coat over her clothes. She looked exhausted. Her shifts at the hospital were getting longer, and I could see the dark circles under her eyes.
"Just some paperwork, Emily," I said, my voice steady. "What are you doing here? I thought you were staying at the hospital tonight."
"Ethan gave me a ride," she said, walking into the room. She leaned against my desk, rubbing her temples. "He was nearby. He's been 'nearby' a lot lately, actually. He's very protective of the medical wing."
I felt a small smile tug at my lips. Ethan. The man was as subtle as a sledgehammer, but I knew he was doing it for me. Or maybe, just maybe, he was doing it for himself.
"Ethan is a good man," I said. "He knows how dangerous the world can be."
"He's strange," Emily whispered, her eyes drifting to the dark window. "He doesn't talk much about his past. But when he's around, I feel... safe. Like nothing can touch me. Is that weird?"
"No," I said, my chest tightening with guilt. "It's not weird at all."
"He told me he'd wait for me to finish my coffee before heading back to his station," she continued. "He's downstairs with William right now. They're arguing about sports."
I walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. "Go get some sleep, Emily. You've done enough healing for one day."
She nodded, gave me a tired smile, and left the room.
The moment she was gone, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A secure message from Ethan.
Ethan:They found the note. The police are going crazy. The 'Hotdog' legend is officially back. Meet me at the old gym in 30 minutes. We have a problem.
I looked at the suit I was wearing. It felt like a costume. I reached into my drawer and pulled out the old black cap. My hands were shaking—not from fear, but from excitement.
The five-month silence was over. The city was screaming for a savior, and I was the only one who knew how to be a monster for the right reasons.
I stepped out onto the balcony, looked at the glowing skyline, and whispered to the wind.
"I'm back."