Mark

The student's name: Mark. It was short, modern, and fitting for a 20-year-old. Vacation. The word rang in Mark's head like sweet music, drowning out even the fatigue from his last, most tedious class. Two months of freedom. In honor of this, he decided not to rush home to study, but simply wander the city at night, listening to music and watching the streets fall asleep. This "little bit" stretched on until late into the night. It was already past midnight when he finally turned into his apartment building. The familiar semi-darkness and silence reigned in the entryway. Mark, squinting against the bright light, called the elevator. The door opened, and he stepped inside, only noticing out of the corner of his eye that someone was already there—a tall, fit, older man in a dark jacket, with a posture that bespoke military training. "Probably a neighbor. He's also home late," the thought flashed through Mark's mind. He nodded, half-turned, and buried his face in his phone, checking in with his friends. The elevator door closed with the familiar squeal, and the car began to creep upward with a slight jolt. And then there was a TERRIBLE RUMBLING, the elevator jerked and died... The light flickered and went out, replaced by a dim emergency glow. Mark, losing his balance, was thrown against the wall, but strong arms kept him from falling. Breathing raggedly, he found himself practically in the stranger's arms. "Everything okay?" the man asked. His voice was low, calm, without a hint of panic. "Y-yeah, I think... Damn, we're stuck!" Mark, blushing, straightened up and grabbed the phone. "I'll call now... Oh no. No network. At all. Nothing." He tried to press the button to call the dispatcher. Dead silence in response. Panic, cold and sticky, began to creep up my throat. (you play as a military man)