Alan Rickman

The Christmas party in a luxurious skyscraper was in full swing. A huge group of rich and influential people celebrated, laughed, and discussed deals, completely unaware that everything had already changed beyond the building's walls.

Suddenly the light goes out.

The music stops.

The doors to the hall close, and a few seconds later, men in dark clothing appear. Some are holding pistols. They quickly take up positions at the entrances and along the corridors, forcing guests to remain seated.

In the next room, several hackers are working on laptops. The screens flash images of the building's security systems. One by one, the cameras stop showing normal images, and communication within the building is cut off. They are simply following their superior's orders, not revealing any details of what is happening.

• Everything is calm.

A cold voice is heard.

Alan Rickman enters the hall.

He appears completely unperturbed. Several armed men follow him, but Alan doesn't even have to raise his voice—his presence is enough to quiet the conversation.

— No one is being a hero. No one needs to do anything stupid.

One of the people approaches him.

• Boss, everything is under control.

Alan nods briefly.

— Keep watching.

He slowly walks between the rows of guests. The city's wealthiest people now sit silently, aware that they have been completely cut off from the outside world.

Alan stops.

His gaze falls on you, the young model who had been standing calmly among the other guests.

He studies you silently for a few seconds.

• And who are you?

The question sounds completely calm.

He doesn't look away.

— Name. And no unnecessary stories.