The night pressed against the lonely bus stand like a cold palm over a dying ember. Everything around Sonu felt dim— the flickering streetlight, the colorless sky, even the wind that moved the dust along the empty road with a tired sigh, as if unwilling to be here.
He sat on the bench with his shoulders rounded inward, his spine curved like a question no one wanted to answer. His wallet lay open in his hand, limp and hollow. The wind flipped its empty compartments like a mockery.
His eyes—once expressive—were blank pools, reflecting nothing but the faint glow of passing vehicles far, far in the background. He breathed like someone who'd forgotten the purpose of breathing long ago.
Inside his mind, a voice rose—flat, drained, and soaked in exhaustion.
My life has always been a cycle… every day repeating itself…
Money problems… fights at home… abuses from parents… abuses at work…
Trying to earn… getting blamed for not earning enough…
Their fights… their disappointments…
After my elder brother's suicide… everything became worse.
Everything fell on me. Everything.
I hoped time would fix it… but time only breaks things quietly.
A passing car's headlights cut across Sonu's face, then left him in deeper darkness.
Silence wrapped around him—thick, unnatural, almost expectant.
Then… a presence eased into that silence.
Someone sat beside him on the bench. The wood dipped slightly, barely noticeable, like a shadow taking form. A man—no, more like a silhouette wearing a hoodie—face hidden behind darkness thick enough to seem intentional.
He said nothing.
For a long moment, neither did Sonu. He didn't flinch, didn't move, didn't acknowledge the stranger. Fatigue had eroded even his instinct for caution.
Finally, the man's voice slid out. Calm. Deep. Controlled.
"Do you know anything about the Dark Web?"
Sonu turned his head halfway, as if dragging it through mud. His gaze landed on the hooded stranger—expressionless, hollow, numb.
He thought for a moment, confusion filtering through the fog in his mind.
"…A little," he murmured.
"I've seen some YouTube videos."
The stranger hummed, a soft vibration in the air.
Sonu continued, his voice flat. "People say drugs sell there. Guns. Organ trafficking. Child trafficking. Stuff like that."
A tiny, humorless curve touched the stranger's lips—barely visible.
"You believe all that happens?"
Sonu shrugged—an empty gesture, uncaring. "I don't know. Anyway this world is already turning into hell. What difference does it make what's real?"
The stranger leaned slightly, as if tasting the mood.
"And what else have you heard?"
"Red Rooms," Sonu said, eyes half-lidded. "Live-streamed torture or something."
A beat of silence.
"Those must earn a lot of money, right? You think all that happens in the Dark Web… while the government stays silent?"
"Money would be involved, yeah…" Sonu muttered. "But I think the Dark Web isn't what people say. Whatever really exists… the government must be controlling it. Monitoring it. I think the real Dark Web is something else… something with another name. Maybe a group. Some organization. Something we don't know."
He paused.
"And anyway… live-streaming on the Dark Web isn't even possible. People just believe it blindly."
Another hum… amused this time. Almost light.
"Interesting."
The stranger reached into his pocket.
A soft click.
He pulled out a small black card and extended it between two fingers.
Sonu stared at it—not taking it immediately, merely observing. One side held a strange symbol—an eye, or maybe a triangle, something between the two, something unsettling in its ambiguity. The other side had a QR code printed in dull, dried red.
The stranger's voice lowered to a whisper.
"Red Room is about to start."
The air paused.
Sonu's breath hitched in confusion. His eyes lifted sharply toward the stranger—
But the bench beside him…
was empty.
No footsteps.
No fading presence.
No rustling cloth.
Just emptiness.
And the black card resting in Sonu's trembling hand.
---
INT. SONU'S ROOM – NIGHT
Darkness sat on the walls like a living organism. Only the phone's pale glow touched Sonu's face, drawing sharp angles around his eyes—eyes that were alert now, unsettled.
The card lay on his lap.
He stared at it for a long, still minute before finally lifting his phone and dialing the number printed in small, red digits.
Beep.
Beep.
Then—
CALL FAILED.
A vibration. A message blinked onto the screen.
> PLEASE ENTER: NAME, AGE
Sonu frowned. His fingers hovered. He considered deleting the message, blocking the number, throwing the card out the window.
Instead, he typed.
> NAME: Sonu Sharma
AGE: 21
SEND
A pause. Then another message.
> THANK YOU FOR APPLYING.
A second.
A third.
> PLEASE START THE PREPARATION FOR THE TEST…
TEST NAME: KILL THE KILLER
Sonu blinked slowly.
"Kill the Killer test…?"
Another message lit up the screen.
> TEST WILL START IN 24 HOURS..
He scoffed.
"What a stupid thing… some scam," he muttered. "Some idiot doing a prank."
He tossed the phone aside and let out a short, awkward laugh. It must be fake. It had to be. Anything else was too ridiculous.
In the silent room, the phone continued glowing.
TEST WILL START IN 24 HOURS.
Something faint and disturbing hummed under that message… as if the phone itself was breathing.
---
NEXT DAY — EXT. ROADSIDE PATHWAY – EVENING
The sky was painted in smears of orange and fading blue. Cool wind brushed against Sonu's neck, slipping through his collar like searching fingers. He walked alone, no music, no distractions—just him and the unnatural quiet of the street.
It felt like the city was watching him.
His steps slowed.
A cold prickling crawled up his spine—sudden, heavy, instinctive.
He didn't turn.
He just felt it.
Someone behind him.
Something.
He inhaled once, sharply, as if bracing for impact.
And then—
A presence loomed from behind.
Wrapped entirely in white medical tape, head to toe. Black jeans. Heavy boots thudding like dropped weights. One hand holding an axe. The other clutching a knife. Long black hair spilling down like wet ropes.
Eyes wide open.
Mouth sealed under layers of tape.
A dead stare.
A creature wearing a human shape.
The attack came without warning—an axe slicing the air toward Sonu's skull.
Reflex kicked in.
Sonu twisted away, heart punching his ribs. He shoved the attacker back with desperate strength.
"What… what is this?!"
The killer didn't respond.
Didn't hesitate.
The knife lunged next—fast. Sonu stepped back, barely missing the slash. He struck back—elbows, punches, kicks—but the killer absorbed them like stone.
Panic twisted in Sonu's chest.
He turned and ran.
---
CHASE — EMPTY ROAD
The wind tore past his ears. The streetlights flickered like dying nerves. Behind him, boots hammered the pavement—slow, heavy, mechanical. The knife shimmered with every swing.
Sonu dodged cuts by inches. His lungs burned. His throat tasted of metal.
He fought back when cornered—punching, kicking—but nothing slowed the Tape Killer.
Minutes blurred like smeared ink.
Sonu slipped into a narrow, shadow-choked alley.
---
DARK ALLEY — NIGHT
The air was colder here. Shadows stacked on shadows. A thin veil of smoke drifted across the ground.
Sonu entered, breathing harshly, slipping his boxing wraps from his pocket. He tightened them around his fists with practiced precision. Something hardened in his expression—an edge long suppressed.
He stepped into a sliver of light.
"Finally," he murmured, a faint, unsettling smile touching his lips. "I've been waiting for this."
Across from him, the Tape Killer emerged slowly, like a nightmare rising from darkness. Axe and knife glinting. Head tilting slightly. Eyes staring without soul.
They stood still.
Silence pressed between them.
Sonu exhaled.
"…Come."
---
THE FIGHT
The killer charged.
Axe swinging downward with brutal force. Sonu rolled aside, the blade shattering concrete where his skull had been.
He countered with a barrage—punches, elbows, quick jabs. The killer blocked most, shrugged off others, and sliced back with the knife.
Sonu ducked.
Leaned.
Spun.
At one moment, he planted a hand on the killer's skull and flipped into a one-hand stand—an impossible, instinctive motion born of adrenaline. The knife swiped under him but missed by a breath.
He landed lightly, pulling out a small bottle from his pocket.
Petrol.
He splashed it over the killer. The liquid soaked the bandages instantly.
The killer twitched—slowly, almost curiously.
Sonu flicked a match.
The flame trembled, then steadied.
He threw it.
WHOOSH.
Fire erupted, swallowing the bandages. Cloth curled and blackened, turning the killer into a burning effigy. Smoke hissed upward, twisting like tormented spirits.
Sonu stared, chest rising and falling sharply.
The flames reflected in his eyes.
But the killer…
kept walking.
Burning.
Crackling.
Unstoppable.
Sonu's breath hitched.
"Sala Rakshas…" he whispered.
The killer lunged.
This time faster. Stronger. A blade like a whisper of death.
The knife plunged into Sonu's stomach.
Pain exploded.
His knees buckled. His vision trembled. Warmth poured down his torso, soaking his shirt.
The killer shoved him to the ground and knelt over him, knife poised at his throat.
A voice leaked through the taped mouth—cold and robotic.
"Still… weak."
---
ON A DISTANT ROOFTOP
Far above, unseen, the Mysterious Stranger stood on a building edge, hands tucked into pockets, the city's breeze brushing his hood.
He smiled faintly.
"This is why I like psychopaths," he whispered.
---
BACK IN THE ALLEY
Blood pooled beneath Sonu. His breath thinned. Darkness curled at the edges of his sight.
The killer raised the knife—
—but Sonu snapped upward.
Like a starving animal, he bit into the killer's taped neck—feral and vicious. Blood spilled through the torn fabric.
The killer jerked, stunned.
Sonu used the moment—flipping the killer off balance, reversing positions. Pain screamed through his abdomen, but rage drowned it.
He tore a small knife from his pocket.
And stabbed.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The killer writhed soundlessly, limbs spasming, blood leaking through torn tape. His body finally collapsed, twitching… then stilled.
Sonu fell beside him, panting, bleeding, slipping into a cold haze.
Silence returned.
Until his phone vibrated.
---
PHONE SCREEN
> Test Ended.
Congratulations. You just created a new record.
You just killed a Special Killer in under 4 minutes.
Congratulations for becoming Special Killer 262.
Live Stream Ended.
This is your earnings and reward –
0.5578579591160525 BTC
57 lakhs INR (including a 20-lakh INR reward)
A final message –
Your Task or Mission Coming Soon.
Stay healthy and fit…
The glow from the phone trembled against Sonu's blood-splattered chest. His breathing hitched. His body shook from pain, shock, and something far darker.
Then—
He laughed.
A small, broken chuckle.
Then louder.
Wild.
Hysterical.
His laugh cracked, twisting into a scream that clawed its way out of his chest. Pain. Terror. Release. Madness.
He cried.
Realizing what he had done.
Realizing what he had become.
The phone screen flickered.
Then—
A new text bled across it in harsh, blood-red letters:
> RED ROOM
Starting Soon…
The world around him seemed to hold its breath.
And somewhere in the shadows…
someone else began watching.