NTERIOR – CALIOP'S APARTMENT – DAY
In her sleek, modern apartment, Caliop finishes getting ready in front of the mirror. She grabs her bag and heads down to the garage, where her sports car waits. The engine roars to life as she pulls out of the building with determination.

EXT. URBAN PARK – DAY
On a bench, Max (William) sits next to Dagmar, his loyal white Swiss shepherd. Caliop pulls up in her car and stops in front of them.

CALIOP (smiling)
—Need a ride?

Max nods, stands up, and the two get into the car.

MAX (nostalgic)
—Just like old times.

CALIOP (firmly, while driving)
—Let’s go over what we know—and our agreement—just to be clear. I go back to my life: my classes and seminars. You stay out of it. I help you, but no surprises.

MAX (nodding)
—Understood, Caliop. But you need to know this won’t be safe. And while we’re here, please—call me Max.

CALIOP
—Fine. Now, about Aman. We know he's after the object. He can influence our world—like when he sabotaged my car—and he can watch us. That means he needs us. And according to Grendel, we shouldn’t use the vinyl. We need to figure out why he wants the object. He could be lying.

MAX
—Exactly. I know he can see us… but not always. Grendel’s warning caught me off guard—if a creature that old tells us to be careful, we should listen. But it’s still better that we have the object than those guys chasing it. And I know you feel it too—that need to understand this mystery. That’s why Aman chose us. Not just for our skills.

CALIOP
—Alright. So, next stop: the record store?

MAX
—Not yet. First, we need to pick up Ivan.

CALIOP (surprised)
—He’s still here?

MAX
—Yeah. He wants to buy a few things before heading out. Stuff you can get at any supermarket here—but over there, it’s contraband. And… a couple things you can’t get in any supermarket.

EXT. SHOPPING CENTER – DAY
Caliop parks at the entrance.
Iván stands waiting, wearing flashy sneakers, sweatpants, and a Scarface t-shirt. In each hand, he holds a giant shopping bag.
Max steps out of the car and walks over to help him load them into the trunk.

INT. CALIOP’S CAR – DAY
Iván, massive as ever, struggles to squeeze into the backseat next to Dagmar, who growls softly, clearly unimpressed by the lack of space.
CALIOP (half amused, half resigned)
Let’s just hope no one I know sees me with you two.
Now then—next stop: the record store.

The car speeds off toward its destination.

EXT. MUSIC STORE FACADE – NIGHT
Caliop’s sleek sports car pulls up in front of what used to be a cozy record shop.
Now, a neon sign glows ominously above the entrance: “THE WORLD’S END.”
The doorway has been reinforced with metal plating, and a bouncer stands watch outside, broad-shouldered and stone-faced.

Caliop, Max, and Dagmar step out of the car, taking in the transformation.

CALIOP (surprised)
Max… this I did not expect.

MAX (with a sly smile)
Care for a drink, Caliop? Let’s go ask a few questions.

They approach the door, but the bouncer raises a hand to stop them.

BOUNCER (firm)
Sorry. Invitation only.

Caliop digs into her purse, pulling out a thick stack of cash.

CALIOP
Will this do as an invitation?

MAX (trying charm)
We knew the previous owner. Just want to ask a few questions.

BOUNCER (unmoved)
You could’ve known the Queen of England—still need an invite.

Suddenly, Iván steps forward from the shadows, towering over the bouncer.
He raises a fist. The letters on his knuckles spell “DEAD.”

IVÁN (low and menacing)
Invitation?

The bouncer hesitates, visibly shaken. He steps aside and opens the door with sudden politeness.

BOUNCER
Go on in. Please.

INT. THE WORLD’S END – NIGHT

The group steps inside, leaving the visibly relieved bouncer behind.
What was once a humble record store now pulses with the life of a clandestine nightclub.
Despite the renovations, the soul of the place endures—stained glass panels on the ceiling, instruments mounted on the walls, and framed vinyls hanging like sacred relics.

Neon lights bathe the space in hues of purple and electric blue. The low hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and the sharp crack of pool balls create a layered atmosphere.

Caliop, Max, and Iván walk in. All eyes turn toward them—not with curiosity, but with suspicion. They don’t belong here. Outsiders in someone else’s domain.

Dagmar sniffs the air… and sneezes.

LIDIA (from behind the bar, sharp smile)
I’ve been waiting for this moment.

Caliop and Max exchange a quick glance. Iván, unfazed, strides to the bar and takes a seat without asking.

IVÁN (dry, gravelly voice)
Vodka.

Lidia—sporting a silver mohawk, shaved sides, and an unmistakable punk aesthetic—pours the drink without breaking her intense gaze.

LIDIA (sliding the glass across)
Saw you on the security feed. You’re a man who knows what he wants, big guy.
Might have a security job for you, if you're interested.

Iván downs the vodka in one go and slams the empty glass on the bar.

IVÁN
More vodka.

Lidia chuckles and refills it.

CALIOP
Excuse me, we’d like to ask a few questions. We knew the previous owner and—

Lidia lifts a hand, cutting her off with a cynical smile.

LIDIA
Look, sweetheart. You’re the walking stereotype of a privileged little princess. Designer bag, polished hair...
In here, I ask the questions.

Caliop’s jaw tightens. Her eyes harden.

CALIOP (biting, sarcastic)
Oh, I see. And you’re the kind who blames the system for your own mediocrity while pouring drinks for rebels.

The tension spikes—thick enough to slice.
Max steps in before things erupt.

MAX (firm, warning tone)
That’s enough.

INT. THE WORLD’S END – NIGHT

Lidia gestures subtly with her head toward the wall behind the bar.
Caliop follows her gaze… and sees it.

The vinyl.
Framed like a prized relic, it hangs there in plain sight.

MAX (diplomatically)
We’re not here to argue. We don’t want trouble. Just answers.

Lidia tilts her head, her expression softening, just slightly.

LIDIA (slow, amused smile)
Alright, handsome. I’ll admit—I like your style.

She winks at him, then crosses her arms.

LIDIA
I know who you are.
My grandfather had cameras inside the store.
I saw the footage—the day he died. Something happened…
Something no government agency would ever talk about.

Caliop frowns.

LIDIA (with a hint of sadness)
He crawled to that vinyl…
Held it in his arms until his last breath.
I never turned over the footage to the cops—lapdogs of the system.

She pauses, eyes now locked on Caliop with defiance and pride.

LIDIA
That shop wasn’t his.
I paid the bills.
Kept him here because I loved him… and because I believed his stories.

She leans toward Max, her voice low, intense.

LIDIA
So yeah, pretty boy.
I get to ask the questions now.
Because I think you owe me more than answers.

Caliop folds her arms and smirks, arching an eyebrow.

CALIOP
Well… Max isn’t exactly a chatty guy.

Max sighs and slowly takes a seat at the bar.
He rubs a hand over his face, then nods.

MAX (low, gravelly)
That vinyl… it’s not just music.
It’s a key.
A way to speak with something… not from this world.

Lidia's expression changes—curiosity now genuine, no longer just a bluff.

MAX
The men who attacked your grandfather… they wanted the vinyl.
He was a brave man. An honorable man.

Caliop clicks her tongue, annoyed.

CALIOP
Well, look at you—an open book all of a sudden.

Max ignores the jab and pulls out the record sleeve from his bag.
He slides it across the bar. Its cover is marked with constellations and complex mathematical equations.

Lidia stares at it but doesn’t touch it.

LIDIA (fixing her gaze on Caliop)
Alright, posh girl. That’s enough.

Without warning, she vaults over the bar and strides toward a back door.

LIDIA
We’ve got a lot to talk about. Follow me.

As she passes Max, she gives him a playful slap on the ass.
He raises an eyebrow but says nothing.
Caliop, Iván, and Dagmar follow, cautious.

They reach a metal door marked STORAGE.
Lidia knocks with a distinct rhythm—almost like a code.
From the other side, the sound of locks unlatching echoes.

A peephole slides open.
A pair of dark eyes peer through, cold and calculating.
After a moment of silent judgment, the door opens.

A shirtless man greets them.
He’s lean, covered in tribal tattoos and facial piercings.
His stare is anything but friendly.

They descend a long staircase.
Dim lights buzz overhead with an electric hum.

At the bottom, Lidia pulls aside a thick red curtain and spreads her arms with a wicked grin.

LIDIA
Welcome to the End-of-the-World Hacktivist Den.