"Every mark he leaves is a message. And you're running out of space."
There are cities built on noise — honking horns, flashing lights, sirens slicing through sleep.
And then there are cities that forget to listen.
Bangalore never heard it coming.
No explosions. No headlines. No cries for help.
Only silence.
It began with whispers. A name no one dared repeat.
Then came the mark — drawn in red, vanishing before the sun rose.
Always left behind. Never witnessed.
Some say it's a vigilante.
Others, a ghost.
The brave call it justice.
The smart call it a warning.
But no one knows who's next.
Because when the silence arrives…
It's already too late.
This is not a manhunt.
It's a reckoning.
This is RED X.