Die Hard 2

“When every second counts, one man’s wit and will reign supreme in a game of survival against terror.”

Watch the original version of Die Hard 2


The evening of December 24th draped the nation’s capital in a blanket of impassive white. The contrast of the festive lights against the icy snowfall created an illusion of tranquility. The grand international airport, its pulsating heart pounding with the thrill of thousands of holiday travelers, nestled amidst the frosty wilderness, itself a beacon of warmth in the numbing cold.

However, as the saying goes, “all that glitters is not gold.”

Simmering under the façade of this Christmas Eve serenity was a plot so dark and destructive that it threatened the lives of everyone present and thousands more in the skies above. Unbeknownst to them, their holiday merriment was soon to be shattered, their laughter replaced with shrieks of terror, and their hopes of a joyous reunion replaced with the cold dread of hostage. The stage was set for a cat-and-mouse game of frightening proportions.

In walked our hero, John McClane, an off-duty cop from New York. Fresh from his ordeal at the Nakatomi Plaza, he was once again away from his jurisdiction, but yet, ironically, at the heart of impending chaos. The universe, it seemed, had conspired against him, placing him once again at the sharp end of the sword – all on the eve of Christmas.

Chapter 1: “Emergence of Shadows”

Amidst the cacophony of Christmas carols and the cheerful chatter of excited travelers, McClane walked into the grandeur of the Washington International Airport. The suffused colors of Christmas décor were a stark contrast to the icy gray outside, but as he soon discerned, they didn’t quite mask the undercurrents of something darker brewing.

His law enforcement instincts, honed over years of service, picked up the subtle tremors of anxiety that spread through the crowd like a crack in a pane of glass. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a group of men, intentionally inconspicuous yet radiating a rehearsed cold professionalism that set them apart from the casual holiday travelers.

Just as he turned his attention to them, the lights flickered. A collective gasp escaped the crowd. The vibrant hustle of the airport was replaced with hushed whispers and murmurs, building into a crescendo of confusion and panic. A sudden blackout shrouded the airport in a veil of unnerving darkness. Casual chatter gave way to alarmed whispers, and the joyous holiday ambiance was instantly punctured by a surge of uneasy tension.

McClane’s mind raced through the puzzle that lay before him as the back-up generators kicked in, bathing the airport in an eerie, diffused light. Undeterred by the confusion around him, he started piecing together the events leading up to this point. His off-duty status notwithstanding, he could not ignore the unsettling changes in the atmosphere.

A bitter truth unveiled itself before him: terrorists had seized control of the airport. He felt an uncanny déjà vu, an unwanted memory from a Christmas not too long ago. The nightmare had returned, and this time, it was in his own backyard.

As thousands of unsuspecting holiday travelers were held hostage by unseen marauders, McClane knew he had to act. His family was out there, waiting for him, unknowingly caught in the crossfire of what was about to become a terrifying chess match.

He began to plot his moves, his mind sparked into action even as his heart pounded with a sickening sense of familiarity.

As he slipped into the shadows, his only ally, he vowed to unmask the enemy, setting the stage for an unforgettable game of survival that was about to unfold. The lines between the hunter and the hunted were blurred, and steady nerves and deft footwork were all that separated salvation from annihilation.

And so, against the drumming rhythm of his own accelerated heartbeat and the backdrop of a hostage crisis of unprecedented scale, McClane stepped forward, once again, into the treacherous path of danger. Unarmed, unprepared but undeterred, he embodied the spirit of a lone wolf, preparing to face off against a pack of predators in the pulsating heart of the nation’s capital.

Little did they know, they were in for a battle against a man with nothing to lose, and everything to fight for. One thing was certain – it was going to be a Christmas they’d never forget.

Chapter 2: “Phantom Strike”

John McClane pushed through the bustling airport crowd nervously. A chill ran down his spine, a sensation he knew all too well, his instincts kicking in. It wasn’t the first time he’d been a fish out of water on Christmas Eve, nor was it his first brush with terrorists. The Los Angeles Nakatomi Plaza incident was still a fresh wound in his heart and mind, and now, with the uncanny echoes of that night, he once again found himself in the throes of a growing crisis that threatened the lives of thousands of innocent holiday travelers.

Ignoring the festive cheer echoing around him, McClane focused on assessing the situation. A seasoned cop, he was well-trained to pick up unusual patterns in everyday occurrences. It wasn’t the disgruntled faces of delayed travelers or the frustrated airport employees that set his alarm bells ringing. No, it was something else. The almost imperceptible changes in communication patterns, the abrupt change in personnel assignments, even the uncalled-for blackout were all telltale signs to his sharp eyes: the airport was under a silent, stealthy siege.

The scale of the attack was larger than McClane could have imagined. Forced into the role of an unwilling hero yet again, he ventured into the dark underbelly of the airport. He knew he needed to get a deeper understanding of the threat, realize the scale of the peril, and formulate a plan of action. However, his courageous attempts to alert the authorities were met with skepticism and disregard. His reputation as a hero cop from New York held no sway in Washington’s bureaucratic circles. And so, against the backdrop of a festive Christmas, a battle of wits was inadvertently set in motion.

Critically observing his surroundings, McClane noticed that the very familiarity of the airport was being manipulated by the infiltrators, who had transformed it into a camouflaged fortress. The seemingly mundane spaces such as the baggage claim, waiting areas, and control tower had been turned into strategic strongholds by the terrorists. It was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a deadly trap disguised as a safe haven.

Mustering his wits and determination, McClane decided to act. Action, after all, was his first language, his instinct, his way to survive. He knew he had to be smart, tactical, and most importantly, stealthy. Beneath his gruff exterior, a storm brewed, a strategic mind at work. His objective was clear: to learn more about the terrorist group’s plan, identify their leader, and hit them where it would hurt the most.

His skills as a detective came into play as he analyzed the terrorists’ movements, their communications, and their interactions, he noted their patterns and structures. Every minute observation brought him a step closer to understanding their intent and their plan of action.

As he navigated the labyrinthine airport, fighting his battles in shadows and silence, his actions punctuated by bursts of violence and tactical maneuvers, he began to unveil the layers of the elaborate terror plot. The terrorists were prepared for every contingency, from airport breaches to police intervention. But what they hadn’t considered was a wild card – a smart-mouthed, street-wise, off-duty cop on a personal mission.

McClane’s solitary war was fought in the shadows, away from prying eyes. His confrontations with the terrorists were stealthy strikes, crafted from careful observation, and executed with precision. Despite the urgency and danger, he managed to maintain a delicate balance, staying under the radar while inflicting damage on the enemy.

Through the veil of his gritty encounters and stealthy strikes, a darker reality began to unfold. Their plot was much more than a mere hostage situation. The group had a specific agenda in mind, which was to free a notorious drug lord from justice. This revelation accentuated the magnitude of the situation, transforming McClane’s personal mission into a race against time.

As Chapter 2 closes, the situation escalates. McClane stands alone, staring down an adversary seemingly prepared for everything. Amidst the snow, the festivities, and the impending chaos, he stands resolute. The echoes of his past mingle with the uncertainty of the future, and the intensity of his present. A phantom strike looms in the shadows, setting the stage for the next chapter of this relentless standoff.

Chapter 3: “Ill Winds”

Cold gusts of the snowy Christmas Eve night whirled through the barren airstrip, as the airport buzzed with a unique blend of festive cheer and underlying tension. Sleet-covered windows reflected the chaos within the airport, a stark contrast to the seemingly tranquil scene outside. Inside, the atmosphere held an edge of danger, a silent reminder of the fatal game being played in the corridors of power.

John McClane, the off-duty cop with a knack for being in the wrong place at the right time, scrutinized the rogue officers from the shadows. They moved with an uncanny ease, their faces masked with cold indifference, their actions brutal and clinical. Each movement was executed with deadly precision — a dance of death choreographed to perfection. He could see the ruthless resolve in their eyes: they were here to liberate their king, the notorious drug lord whose reign of terror had left an indelible mark on the nation.

A sense of déjà vu washed over McClane, stirring memories of a similar fiasco years ago. He watched the terrorists blend seamlessly into the panicked crowd, their weapons concealed deftly, their motives hidden behind a façade of false solidarity. The startling reality dawned upon McClane; he was the only one aware of this deadly charade.

The terror in the control tower was palpable. The staff, still reeling from the sudden blackout, were now subject to an impending catastrophe, their faces ghostly pale under the flickering emergency lights. McClane watched as the rogue officer, a caricature of sinister intent, toyed with the lives of the innocents below, his finger hovering over the switch that could plunge countless lives into darkness.

Time was McClane’s vicious adversary, unforgiving and relentless. The spirit of Christmas, drowned in the deafening roars of fear, became a distant echo. Each ticking second brought the rogue officers closer to their goal, the lives of the unsuspecting passengers hanging precariously in the balance.

Despite the paralyzing fear, McClane couldn’t, wouldn’t allow the past to repeat itself. He had come too far, faced too many trials to let these terrorists succeed. As the enormity of the situation settled, a grim determination ignited within him. He was a lone wolf against a pack of brutal killers; unfazed, he embraced his role.

McClane’s mind, a perfectly-tuned detective machine, began formulating a strategy. It was a perilous dance on a razor’s edge between life and death. A single misstep, a minor miscalculation, could spell disaster not only for him but for thousands of lives within the airport and in the planes above.

Undaunted by the escalating tension, McClane made his move. The shadows were his allies, obscuring him from the vigilant gaze of the rogue officers. Like a ghost, he slipped into the control room, confronting the terrorists. The echo of gunshots shattered the silence, and the deadly dance began. His years of training kicked in, guiding his every move, each punch, every trigger pull.

Several grueling minutes later, the initial contact ended. McClane emerged victorious, though battered and bruised, his spirit undeterred. As he surveyed the destruction, the chilling winds from outside mirrored his icy resolve. The night was far from over, and the real storm was yet to come.

Chapter 4: “Turbulent Tides”

When we last left off, McClane had made his first successful contact with the renegade commandos, stirring up the hornet’s nest. As we delve into chapter four, expectations and anxieties mount, resonating with the intensifying turbulence in the heart of the reader and the escalating complexity of the plot.

Snowflakes pirouette in the winter winds, painting a somber backdrop to the tensions quietly simmering beneath the surface of the bustling airport. John McClane, a lone wolf among the sea of terrified holiday travelers, relentlessly forges ahead, his mind a whirlpool of strategies and counter moves. He’s a weathered chess player moving his pieces across a board fraught with uncertainty.

The terrorists, undeterred, continue their malevolent operations. Each move hidden within the shadows was a blow to the oblivious airport authorities. Yet McClane, with his hawk-like vigilance, carefully threads together these silent undertones of terror, working on his improvised counteroffensive.

A sudden surge of activity bristles through the commandos. McClane, hunched behind a cluster of seats, his sharp eyes narrowing on a group of gunmen casually disguised as maintenance workers, senses trouble. A gut feeling, born out of his years on the street as a cop, rumbles within him. An attack was imminent.

Suddenly, the synchronized ticking of the jumbo clock hanging over the central concourse became a powerful metaphor for the countdown to chaos. McClane, like a coiled spring, readies himself. A sudden burst of adrenaline coursed through his veins, propelling him into action. Quick as a wink, he lunges forward, impacting the first terrorist like a wrecking ball, scattering his startled cohorts.

What proceeds is a high-octane skirmish, pulsating with the raw energy and unpredictability of a wild storm. Amidst the panicked screams and the hail of bullets, McClane dances with danger. Each swift move, each precise strike, crackles with his survival instinct, the singular determination to protect the innocent lives at stake.

He disarms one, incapacitates another, using his quick thinking as much as his physical prowess. McClane, in this cold winter nightmare, proves to be the silver lining, the fiery embodiment of resilience and perseverance. But the battle is far from over. He knows he’s barely wading in the shallow ends of this deadly pool. The depths still await, lurking with darker challenges.

Throughout the chaotic confrontation, our off-duty cop displays a keen sense of strategy. He knows he’s outgunned and outnumbered, but refuses to be outmaneuvered. He moves through the panicked crowd, using them as a camouflage, while simultaneously ensuring their safety. McClane isn’t just battling the terrorists; he’s tactfully managing the terrified airport populace, preventing a massive stampede.

As he navigates this labyrinth of terror, he is shaken to his core when he stumbles upon the grand scale of the commandos’ plans. The orchestration and execution of their operations reveal a chilling truth, the stake is much higher than a mere hostage situation. A notorious drug lord, a face synonymous with death and destruction, is flying in, and the airport was his landing strip.

No sooner does he realize this, a burst of information hits him; he uncovers the identity of the elusive rogue officer leading the commandos. The revelation sends a cold shiver down his spine, underscoring the gravity of the situation. The mind games had begun, the field was set, and the convoluted dance of wits and wills had commenced.

As chapter four concludes, we leave McClane locked in a high-stakes game of chess, surrounded by enemies, with the innocence of thousands hung precariously in the balance. He has taken his first step into the turbulent tides. The storm has finally broken, and the airport has become an arena for a relentless struggle between a man’s undying spirit and the monstrous face of terror.

Chapter 5: “Crisis of Faith”

The overhead lights of the airport flickered to life once again. It cast long, sinister shadows over the faces of unsuspecting holiday travelers who were still oblivious to the unfolding chaos. The inky darkness outside mirrored the mounting dread in off-duty cop John McClane’s heart. The terrorists had indeed raised the stakes, and the terrible price of this deadly game of power had just claimed hundreds of lives.

McClane, bruised but not defeated, emerged from the wreckage. A commercial plane had crashed, manipulated by the merciless terrorists controlling the airport’s runway lights. The blaze from the explosion was still eating away at the snowy landscape, littering it with twisted steel and broken dreams. Passengers, innocent lives, had paid the price for the sins of a few. The grim reality hit McClane like a punch, draining the warmth from his body even as the fire raged on.

A frost-laden wind swept through the desolate landscape, its icy touch adding to his visceral discomfort. The once festive atmosphere was desecrated, replaced by a terrible stillness that only death could bring.

His heart pounded in his chest, each throb echoing with loss and guilt. The vibrant laughter, the innocent questions of kids asking when Santa would arrive, the tired but content smiles of elderly couples… all erased by a wave of senseless violence.

McClane fell to his knees, the weight of the catastrophe too much for him to bear. He questioned his odds against such ruthlessness. Was he truly capable of battling this monstrous foe alone? Was his determination enough to conquer their brute force and cunning strategies? The shadows of doubt started creeping in, the corners of his hardened resolve beginning to fray.

Yet, even amidst the turmoil, his instinct as a cop, as a protector, couldn’t be suppressed. He had been in despair, yes, but he was not defeated. The echoing cries of the remaining hostages stirred something within him, galvanizing him to rise from his knees.

With newfound vigor, he trudged back into the belly of the beast, the airport, with its winding corridors and darkened facilities. He ventured deeper into the labyrinth, each daunting step fueling his resolve to bring the perpetrators to justice. His mind was a whirlwind of strategies; his heart, a beacon of hope.

Each breakthrough he made was hard-earned. Discovering that some of his allies were traitors, the very people supposed to uphold justice, to protect and serve, was like swallowing shards of glass. However, it only made him more resolute, if not a bit cynical. This was his fight, and he intended to finish it.

His street-smart heroics began to shine brighter with each passing minute. He outsmarted his enemies using whatever he could find, turning the mundane into deadly weapons. Every bit of the environment was a tool waiting to be used, every dark corner an opportunity to gain the upper hand.

The adrenaline rush was intoxicating. It masked his fear, his pain, and even time itself. Hours passed like minutes, while minutes felt like lifetimes. In the face of imminent danger, he was the calm in the storm, a beacon of hope amidst hopelessness, a guardian angel for the terrified hostages.

Despite this, the ticking clock grew louder in his ears. Time was a luxury he couldn’t afford. With each passing second, the situation grew potentially dire for the hostages, his wife among them. The stakes had never been higher, the danger never more palpable.

Had despair begun to creep in? It would be a lie to say no. But amidst the storm of doubts and uncertainty, McClane stood, unwavering. Sure, he questioned himself, his capabilities, even his sanity at times. But each time he faltered, each time the shadows of doubt dared to overcast his spirit, he reminded himself of the innocent lives at stake.

His crisis of faith was a tempestuous one; a battle fought internally while chaos ensued around him. Yet, it was in the heart of this storm that his resolve was tested, tried, and ultimately, strengthened. He rose from the ashes, not as the reluctant hero who doubted his abilities, but as the warrior he had always been.

As McClane’s internal storm subsided, the bleak reality of his situation was still looming large. But the glimmers of hope emerging from his crisis of faith were not just sparks, they were blazing coals. They signified his renewed resolve to end this reign of terror, to fight till his last breath if necessary.

And with that, McClane, the worn-out cop turned unlikely hero, once again ventured into the belly of the beast, armed with nothing but his will and his wits, ready to face whatever came his way. His crisis of faith had been the tempest that threatened to shatter him. Instead, it had forged him into a stronger warrior, a beacon of hope in the face of unimaginable darkness.

His story was far from over, his war far from won. But the belief he had in himself, the faith he held onto so tightly, was more potent than any weapon, any strategy. It was the propellant that would drive him towards the climax of this deadly showdown, where the line between life and death was drawn in the snow. It was the fuel that powered his relentless pursuit of justice and his unwavering resolution to save the hostages, his loved ones among them.

And so, amidst the snow-covered landscape, beneath the gloom-laden skies, the phoenix rose once more. An off-duty cop named John McClane, armed with his wits, his will, and his faith, was ready to brave the storm that lay ahead.

Chapter 6: “The Last Stand”

As the snow, thick and heavy, continued to whirl around the terminal, John McClane, the off-duty cop, stood slightly hunched, his mind frantic and his heart ablaze. His eyes, hardened by the storm of events, scanned the bustling airport. Amidst the blizzard’s white chaos, he knew that the real storm was inside the airport.

The lives of thousands rested on his weary shoulders. He was a reluctant hero, an ordinary man forced into extraordinary circumstances. He was against an enemy who thought they had accounted for everything. They were wrong. They hadn’t counted on McClane. Despite being battered and bloodied, he was far from beaten. He was a solitary, unwelcome savior, doggedly refusing to yield.

The terminal descended into chaos as escalating fear gripped the hostages. The atmosphere was heavy with terror, the air thick with desperation. Amidst the chaos, an eerie silence hung over the control room taken over by the terrorists, who were ex-military commandos, hell-bent on rescuing a notorious drug lord. Their cold, calculated demeanor was an unsettling contrast to the frenzy outside.

McClane, in staunch defiance, had a glint of determination in his eyes. His instincts screamed at him, pointing out the gnawing feeling of treachery within. It wasn’t just terrorists he was up against. There were snakes in the grass, traitors camouflaged as allies. He narrowed his eyes, the next phase of his battle was about to begin.

His steps were careful, calculated as he stalked down the empty corridor, towards the heart of the beast. He was stealth in motion, a specter in the Christmas Eve snowstorm. His mind raced, forming plans and counteracting the strategies. For every move the terrorists made, McClane had a countermove. He had to be ahead, stay ahead, for the clock was ticking, and time was the one commodity he didn’t have.

As he moved on, he found traces of the traitors’ deceit. It was a breadcrumb trail of sabotage that led him straight into the lair of the betrayer. It was a dramatic duel of wits, lies, and deception. McClane drew on his instincts and experience, outmaneuvering the traitors, turning their own game against them.

The airport was a battlefield, and McClane waged a war of chaos and ingenuity against his formidable foes. He turned the mundane into weapons, using everything at his disposal, from luggage to aircraft tugs to improvised explosives. The airport was no longer just a terminal; it was his terrain, his playground. He maneuvered through it, inciting a reign of havoc that left the enemies reeling.

The tension crescendoed as McClane sprung his counterattack, confronting the traitors, their surprise barely hidden. It was a swift, merciless display of justice, a testament to his unyielding resolve. Outmaneuvered and outsmarted, they fell. The rogue officers were now on the back foot.

Yet, victory was still far off. The battle had left McClane spent but undeterred. His body screamed in protest, bearing the brunt of the relentless conflict. He was smeared in sweat, blood, and grime. His body was nearly broken, but his spirit was unbroken. As he limped through the terminal, the burden of his task was evident. He was a man at war, walking alone against the storm, a silhouette against the blinding snow.

The chapter ended on a note of high suspense. McClane, who was once the unexpected savior, was now the unexpected threat, throwing the terrorists’ well-laid plans into disarray. His smart-mouthed heroics were the nemesis they hadn’t accounted for. McClane’s bullet-studded and bruise-laden odyssey was far from over. The final show was imminent. His last stand was near.

The words echoed in the silent airport terminal, echoing the silent battle cry of a man who refused to bow, refused to break, and refused to back down. The storm was approaching. His fight was far from over, and McClane was prepared to go until the bitter end. As the chapter closed, his resolve was clear: he would either win or die trying.

Chapter 7: “A Raging Storm”

The snow continued to pelt down mercilessly as McClane navigated the labyrinth of the airport. His brows furrowed as he suppressed a shiver, not from the cold, but the prospect of what lay ahead. His mind, a relentless whirlwind of thoughts, was focused on a singular goal – to defeat the rogue officer, Colonel Stuart.

Stuart, a decorated military officer turned traitor, was an embodiment of evil that McClane had not anticipated. His military precision and ruthless disregard for life presented a challenge that seemed insurmountable. Yet, the moral compass within McClane refused to yield.

He had lost track of time. Seconds rolled into minutes, minutes into hours. The airport had transformed into a war zone. The din of emergency alarms mixed with horrifying screams of hostages, echoed in his ears. But the noise only amplified his resolve.

Stuart’s voice echoed through the walkie-talkie, laced with cold, venomous menace. Yet underneath the thorny exterior, McClane detected a shred of insecurity, a sign of Stuart’s faltering confidence. Seizing the opportunity to strike at Stuart’s Achilles heel, McClane decided to confront him directly.

The face-off was on a rooftop, where Stuart’s helicopter waited, ready to whisk the drug lord away. McClane arrived, unnoticed, blending into the landscape like a ghost. His approach, silent and precise, mirrored the inherent danger of the situation. The rogue officer, underestimating McClane’s relentless spirit, was blissfully unaware.

The showdown began with a barrage of bullets, whizzing past McClane, the cacophony deafening. His quick thinking had him take cover behind a stack of crates. The adrenaline surge was intoxicating, driving him to move quickly, making risky, unpredictable decisions. Each move was a dance with death, but McClane wasn’t deterred.

The next instant was a blur. McClane emerged from his hiding, launched himself at Stuart, and the two met in a brutal clash. Fists connected, and grunts filled the air. The blinding snow, the harsh wind, the looming helicopter – nothing mattered as the two men continued their deadly dance.

As the fight dragged on, McClane discovered a crack in Stuart’s armor. The decorated officer, so used to commanding others, was uncomfortable in the direct line of fire. The realization sparked a new plan in McClane’s mind. He decided to keep Stuart distracted, while secretly reaching for his concealed weapon – a single pistol, the last ace up his sleeve.

The final confrontation was a symphony of chaos and violence, culminating in an electrifying silence. McClane aimed his pistol at Stuart, his voice resolute as he uttered, “Game over, Stuart.” The rogue officer’s eyes widened, but before he could react, McClane fired.

Stuart’s body dropped, lifeless, onto the snow, creating a poignant contrast of crisp white and blood red. The drug lord, taken care of by the airport SWAT, was no longer a threat. McClane’s smart-mouthed heroics had won the day, in an absolute melee of action and suspense.

As the dawn broke and the echoes of the night’s chaos gradually drifted away, McClane stood alone, staring at the eerie calm. He had done it. He had saved thousands of lives, once again, just in time for Christmas. The underlying irony was not lost on him, and he let out a dry chuckle.

The white expanse around him slowly started gaining color as the airport sprung back to life. It dawned on McClane that he had successfully navigated through a storm of his own making. The snowy Christmas Eve had turned into a sunny Christmas day, marking the end of McClane’s tumultuous battle against terrorism.

The concluding chapter of this high-octane thriller resonated with McClane’s heroics, human resilience, and a never-give-up attitude. It encapsulated the essence of McClane’s journey perfectly – an unanticipated hero born out of dire circumstances, forever ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Even amidst the chaos, McClane rose as a beacon of hope, wrapping up another memorable fight just in time for the holiday season.

Some scenes from the movie Die Hard 2 written by A.I.

Scene 1



A snowy Christmas Eve. Cold wind HOWLS over the tarmac.


JOHN MCCLANE, a rugged off-duty cop, strolls through the festive crowd. He spots a CHRISTMAS TREE, scowls.


(to himself)

Not a fan of surprises.

Suddenly, the LIGHTS flicker and go DARK. A murmur ripples through the crowd.


A MYSTERIOUS FIGURE shadows the control tower. From a distance, he watches the panic unfold.


Amid the chaos, McClane spots four ARMED MEN dressed as MAINTENANCE WORKERS. They nonchalantly merge with the crowd.


(to himself)

Just can’t shake off trouble.

He discreetly follows them into the depths of the airport.



Scene 2



Snow falls heavily. Panic rises amidst the holiday crowd as the TERMINAL goes DARK.


JOHN MCCLANE, late 40s, rugged, off-the-clock lawman with a can-do attitude, surveys the scene. He spots several SHADOWY FIGURES moving purposefully amidst the chaos.


(whispering to himself)

Déjà vu, John. Déjà vu.

He pulls out a walkie-talkie. Emerges from the hideout. Weaves through the crowd towards the TERMINAL OFFICE.


A frazzled AIRPORT MANAGER, early 60s, harried but resilient, is juggling calls. McClane bursts in. The Manager freezes, startled.


(in a firm, urgent tone)

There’s a situation. You’ve got terrorists taking over.

The Manager LAUGHS nervously.



Oh, come on! Who are you to…

McClane pulls out his DETECTIVE BADGE.


(interupting; stern)

The last line of defense. Now, let’s get this place secured.

The Manager hesitates, then nods. McClane’s eyes trail back towards where he saw the shadowy figures.



The terminal hums with subdued PANIC. McClane moves stealthily, observing the rogue figures converse in hushed tones, a chilling SILENCE amidst the CHAOS. The deadly game of cat and mouse begins.



Scene 3



Snow falls slowly behind the glass windows. The TERMINAL is filled with HOLIDAY TRAVELERS, full of anticipation. Suddenly, the LIGHTS FLICKER, and the terminal is plunged into blackness. PANIC ensues.


JOHN MCCLANE, 40s, rugged and tough, barges into the room. The HEAD OF SECURITY, ED, 50s, is trying to restore order with his team.



Ed, we got a situation here…



Yeah, I can see that John. We’ve got an electrical problem.



No, it’s more than that. We have terrorists on our hands…


(in disbelief)

What? You’ve been watching too many movies, McClane.



I’ve seen this before, Ed. I’m not taking any chances.

Suddenly, MONITORS light up revealing ROGUE COMMANDO, 30s, stern-looking, and his cohorts in control of the air traffic system.


(pointing to monitor)

That ain’t Santa Claus, Ed.

Ed’s eyes widen in shock.



Scene 4



Snow piles up on grounded planes. In the distance, we see JOHN MCCLANE, rugged and determined, trudging through the snow.



McClane bursts into the room, a sense of urgency in his eyes. He faces the AIRPORT CONTROL STAFF, a group of shocked and scared individuals.


(serious, hurried)

You need to ground all planes and cut the power. Now!

The airport staff members hesitate upon hearing McClane’s direct instructions.



We have exactly zero time to discuss this!

The staff hurriedly follow his orders. The control room plunges into darkness.



McClane moves cautiously through the dimly-lit terminal, his eyes scanning the crowd. He focuses on a MAN IN BLACK.



A QUICK FIGHT ensues. In silence, McClane takes down the man, defusing the imminent threat. He disarms him and finds a WALKIE TALKIE.


(into walkie talkie)

One down.


(cold, calculated)

You’re playing with fire, McClane.



Only way to handle terrorists.

He throws the walkie talkie aside.


As we prepare for the explosive events set to unfold in the following sequence, a sense of dread and anticipation lurks in the air around the airport. McClane’s journey has only just begun.

Scene 5



Wide-shot of an eerily quiet Dulles International Airport. The glow of holiday decorations juxtaposed with the grim faces of trapped passengers.



CLOSE UP of JOHN MCCLANE (wiry, rugged, quick-witted). His face is a picture of grim determination. He’s just witnessed a horrific plane crash.


(whispering to himself)

Stay in the game, John. You’ve got this.

Suddenly, a wave of despair washes over him.


(voice quivering)

Can I really do this?




A YOUNGER MCCLANE, with the same fierce eyes, being told by his TRAINER (50s, stern).


When the world goes to hell, McClane, we’re the only hope. Remember, fear is a reaction. Courage is a decision.


McCLANE grips his locket, a reminder of his family and what he stands to lose. He grits his teeth, stands taller, his features hardening.


(to himself)

Courage is a decision…

Suddenly, INTERRUPTION over the walkie-talkie. COMMANDER LOPEZ, voice filled with urgency.



McClane, come in! Situation’s escalating!



On it, Lopez.



The screen fades to black, leaving the viewers in anticipation of what comes next in McClane’s gritty battle against the terrorists.

Scene 6



McClane, battered and bloodied, scans system monitors in the control room, alone. He’s picked up a walkie-talkie from a fallen terrorist. It’s silent for now.


A dot blinks, an incoming flight. McClane takes a deep breath.

Suddenly, the walkie-talkie CRACKLES to life. It’s the rogue officer.


(through walkie-talkie)

Any final words, McClane?


(into walkie-talkie)

You first.

He quickly turns off walkie-talkie, a grim determination on his face.


McClane moves stealthily, the dimly lit terminal reflecting on his sweat-soaked face. He spots two disguised terrorists, chatting. He creeps up behind them, disarming them with efficient brutality.


McClane finds the airport blueprint, formulating an audacious plan. He marks a path and heads out.


One by One, McClane takes out terrorists, rescuing hostages. He’s a human tornado, unstoppable, unyielding.


The rogue officer, puzzled by the silence from his men, tries to patch into their walkie-talkies. Dead air.


(into walkie-talkie)

Outpost 4, report.

No one answers.

Suddenly control room doors are kicked open. McClane, battered and bruised, stands at the entrance.


(raises walkie-talkie)

I believe they were busy.


Author: AI