Luca stood in front of an abandoned warehouse with his fingers wrapped around a can of scarlet red. This was the biggest wall he had ever worked on.
The biggest statement he had ever made. And he wasn't afraid. Not anymore. Santi stood beside him, arms crossed with a cigarette dangling from his lips. "So, what's the vision this time?"
Luca exhaled slowly, his mind already seeing the image before it even touched the wall. "A revolution," he said.
Santi smirked. "Then let's start one." Luca pressed the nozzle and Scarlet's next masterpiece began.
By the time the sun rose, the warehouse wall had transformed. The image stretched across the entire building; a figure standing in the middle of a burning city, holding a spray can like a weapon.
Behind them, faceless figures watched in silence. At their feet, the words:
"IF YOU WON'T LISTEN, THEN WATCH."
It was bolder than anything Luca had ever painted. Louder. Unapologetic.
By noon, people had gathered in front of it, snapping photos and arguing in the streets.
Some called it defiance.
Some called it war.
But no one dared to ignore it. And that meant Scarlet was winning.
The reaction was immediate. Social media exploded.
"#ScarletLives" trended worldwide, with people praising his work as a symbol of resistance.
But another hashtag followed. "#StopScarlet"
The city's elites; the business owners and the politicians, they all were furious. Luca read the comments under a news article while sipping coffee in a quiet café.
"Scarlet is turning Milan into a playground for criminals."
"This is not art. This is an attack on tradition."
"He needs to be arrested before he poisons the youth."
Luca smirked. They were afraid of him. And that meant he was doing something right.
Santi sat on the rooftop, watching as Luca admired his own work. "Not bad, ragazzo," Santi said, smirking. "You're getting faster." Luca wiped the sweat from his brow. "You think it'll last?"
Santi shrugged. "Maybe not. Maybe someone will paint over it. Maybe they'll try to erase you again." He flicked his cigarette into the night.
"But that's the thing about people like us. We don't disappear that easy." Luca's chest swelled. He wasn't scared of being erased. Because Scarlet was no longer just a name. Scarlet was everywhere. And there was no stopping him now.
Later that night, Matteo Romano and his crew found him.
Luca had just finished adding another piece near Brera Academy, a mural of a boy standing at the edge of a crumbling city when he heard footsteps behind him.
Slow. Deliberate. Then, "Didn't think I'd find you out in the open, Varela." Luca turned. Matteo stood with two of his friends, arms crossed, smirking like nothing had changed.
Luca exhaled through his nose. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
Matteo chuckled. "You think you're some kind of legend now?" He nodded toward the mural. "You've got half the city fooled but I still see you. Same loser who couldn't pass a math test."
Luca felt nothing. Not the old shame. Not the fear. Not the anger. Just calm.
He stepped forward. "You want to talk about failure, Romano?" He gestured to the wall. "My work is everywhere. What do you have?"
Matteo's smirk faltered. Luca took another step forward, his heart steady.
"You spent years making me feel like nothing," he said. "Now, the whole city knows my name. What do they know about you?" Silence.
Matteo's fists tightened. "You think this will last?" he spat. "You think you're untouchable?"
"No." Luca smirked. "I think I don't need your approval anymore." Matteo's face twisted with anger. But for the first time, he had no comeback.
He stepped back. Then turned and walked away. And Luca? He didn't even watch him leave.
That night, Luca painted three more murals.
Santi worked beside him, lighting the way with a cheap flashlight, his laughter filling the air as they moved like ghosts through the city.
They hit old theaters, forgotten tunnels and abandoned buildings. They left marks that couldn't be erased. Luca no longer cared if he got caught.
Because this was who he was. And Scarlet was here to stay. Luca had just finished another mural near Porta Venezia when his phone buzzed.
He wiped paint from his fingers and checked the screen.
Unknown Number: "This isn't a game. Stop now, or you'll regret it."
His blood ran cold. Santi, who was packing up their supplies, noticed the change in Luca's face. "What's wrong?"
Luca clenched his jaw. "Nothing." But deep down, he knew this was more than just critics. This was a warning.
And whoever had sent it? They weren't going to stop at words.
Back at the apartment, Luca paced the room, reading the message over and over. Santi leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You think it's just some rich idiot pissed off about your murals?"
Luca shook his head. "No. This feels… different." Santi's expression darkened. "This isn't the first time someone's tried to scare you."
"Yeah, but this time, it feels personal." Santi let out a long breath. "So what now?" Luca glanced at his sketchbook, flipping through rough ideas for his next piece.
"Now?" He grabbed a spray can. "I make them regret sending that message." Santi grinned. "That's my boy."
That same night, Luca and Santi hit the streets harder than ever. No more hiding. No more subtle murals in forgotten corners. They went big.
Luca found a six-story building in a busy district, one no street artist had dared to touch before. And he claimed it. His latest masterpiece spread across the concrete like fire:
A lone figure staring down at a faceless crowd, their hands dripping with paint and across the bottom, in bold, defiant letters:
"I AM NOT AFRAID." This was a very bold statement. And now he was more bold than ever. By morning, it was the biggest story in the city. Some called him fearless. Others called him stupid. But one thing was clear, Scarlet had answered.
.