They fight. Monster vs. Ghost. Claws against blade. The Predator overpowers him, pinning him down. Its mandibles open wide for the killing bite.

He walks away as police sirens blare. The city knows him only as a myth: “The Accountant” — because he settles every blood debt.

On a Predator spaceship, a dozen red dots flicker on a holographic map—over Mumbai, Delhi, and Tokyo. A deep voice growls:

"Unhe lagta tha main sirf killers ka killer hoon. Lekin aaj maine jaana… main unka rakshak bhi hoon jo aasmaan se nahi darte." (They thought I was just the killer of killers. But today I realized… I am also the protector of those who do not fear the sky.)

He walks into the mist, a new legend in his heart. The hunt… will never end.

He limps to a cliff. He looks at the helmet, then at the setting sun.

From the canopy, it descends. 8 feet of armored dreadlocks, mandibles clicking. Its plasma caster charges with a wicked hum.