Chapter 1: The Unexpected Return

The sun was setting over the bustling streets of modern-day Medina, casting a warm orange glow over the city. People rushed to and fro, hurrying to complete their daily tasks before the evening. Amidst the chaos, a peculiar figure emerged from the crowd. He was a man in his mid-50s, with a strong build and a familiar face. His piercing brown eyes and gentle smile seemed to hold a deep wisdom, but there was something unsettling about him. As he walked through the streets, the man, who claimed to be Muhammad, the Prophet of Islam, drew curious glances from passersby. Some stared in awe, while others crossed the street to avoid him. He wore simple, yet elegant clothing, reminiscent of a bygone era. A small crowd began to gather around him, whispering among themselves. Muhammad, seemingly oblivious to the attention, continued on his way, stopping at a local tea stall. The vendor, a gruff but kind man, looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Welcome, sir. What can I get for you?" he asked. "A cup of tea, please," Muhammad replied, his voice low and soothing. As the vendor poured the steaming liquid into a cup, a police car screeched to a halt beside them. Two officers, a seasoned veteran and a younger rookie, stepped out, eyeing Muhammad warily. "Excuse me, sir," the veteran officer said, his hand resting on his baton. "We've had reports of a... historical figure... matching your description. Can you tell us who you are?" Muhammad's smile never wavered. "I am Muhammad, the Messenger of God." The officers exchanged skeptical glances. "Sir, I'm afraid you're coming with us," the rookie officer said, his voice firm but nervous. Muhammad's eyebrows rose. "For what reason?" The veteran officer cleared his throat. "There have been... allegations of crimes committed under your name. Pedophilia, terrorism, and murder, to name a few." The crowd around them began to murmur, some people defending Muhammad, while others looked on in horror. "I am innocent of these accusations," Muhammad protested. "I am a man of peace and compassion." The officers were unmoved. "Sir, please turn around and put your hands behind your back," the rookie officer repeated. Muhammad's calm demeanor began to falter, and for a moment, a glimmer of frustration flashed across his face. Without warning, he stood up, towering over the officers. His eyes seemed to bore into their souls. "I will not be taken," he declared, his voice low and commanding. The officers tensed, hands on their batons. The crowd gasped, sensing a confrontation. And then, in a swift motion, the officers moved in, grabbing Muhammad's arms and slamming him against the tea stall. The vendor cried out as the stall was overturned, tea spilling everywhere. As the officers wrestled Muhammad into handcuffs, he looked up at the crowd, his eyes burning with an inner fire. "This is not the end," he whispered, his voice carrying on the wind. The officers dragged him away, as the crowd watched in a mixture of awe and fear. What happens next?