In the forest, his kind are deadly because their regal coats make them sink into dappled tree-shadows at their whim, but on the streets of New Delhi, this tiger is more dangerous than those of his brethren who have merely gained a taste for human flesh.
To the casual glance, he looks almost entirely human aside from his golden, slit-pupilled eyes, which he generally hides behind raybans. He hunts his food in the forest; honing his skill for the streets.
He catches his victims in a net of his own stripes; they are found open-eyed and staring, their heads lolling loose and broken on their necks. In the time that he has stalked those streets, twelve detectives have driven themselves mad trying to explain the bruise markings on their cold skin.