54

The man in the black suit disembarked from the private jet with an air of quiet confidence, the years having weathered him like a fine wine. His steps were measured as he approached the airport's entry point, a subtle nod to the finality of the checks he was about to face—identity and luggage, two worlds colliding.

More than a decade had passed since his last touch on New Zealand soil, and the purpose of his return was shrouded in a veil of secrecy. There were matters from the past, unresolved, which called him back. One name echoed in his mind like an ancient prophecy—Alpha Stephen.

Completing the necessary airport formalities, he emerged into the open, the scent of adventure hanging in the air. His car awaited, a sleek black machine, a silent companion for a man of few words. But it was his phone that beckoned for attention, a beacon to another world.

The moment he activated the device, it sprang to life with a call from a voice that resonated with familiarity.

"David, welcome back