As the cleaner walks down the dimly lit, graffiti-filled alleyway, the soft sound of his own footsteps is the only disturbance in the otherwise silent night. The cleaner, dressed in his dark and inconspicuous attire, is lurking in the shadows, observing a crime scene that has been left unattended by law enforcement in front of his eyes.

The night is silent, and the only sound is the faint rustling of the wind in the dark alleyway. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a pale light that bathes the entire area in an eerie glow.

He turns on his flashlight, observing the pile of bodies stacked on the sidewalks of the streets of Delhi West, the Red District. He sighs, the crime rate had boosted in the last week, he approached one of the bodies, examining it and making notes in his notebook, same marks, same skinning technique.