The colour red pops out like fresh blood on the walls. Everything in the room seemed to be shade of red or mahogany, gold trimmings along the side. From the books on the wall to the velvet couch in the middle of the room, the decanter on a side table to the two thousand year old Persian carpet on the floor, regality was paramount in the design of the room. There was a waft of almond and vanilla in the air, mixing together to welcome that familiar smell of an old book with yellow stained pages.

The sweet yet panicked vibrations of Johannes Brahms force the heart to race along with the spikes and settle with its gentler notes. A wisp of smoke comes into view, following its trail leads you the glowing tip of a cigar. The brightly burning tobacco mixes another sweet and peppery smell into the room. At the other end of the cigar is the grinning face of our protagonist, lips pursed and puffing away, eyes wide and excited.

Danny’s face is painted black and red, reminiscent of certain loved Sith Lord and in line with the colour scheme of the room he finds himself in. Across the bridge of his nose and a little lower than it should be, lies the silver bridge of a pair of eyeglasses. He’s dressed in a pristinely pressed pink suit that looks fresh out of Gatsby’s closet, a little stretched around the chest and a little short around the ankles. He glances up at you, looks you straight in the eyes and follows your gaze at his suit. Look at the slight creases caused by the stretch, he smoothens it out, hunching his shoulder a little to make it look like it fits better.

You glance around the room, only seeing one other chair. Looking over at Danny, you notice him staring back at you expectedly, his face smiling and eyes unblinking. You move towards the red couch, easing your body into its inviting embrace. The couch sinks comfortably down with your weight, as you watch Danny walk around you towards the decanter. He lifts a crystal glass, pouring himself some of the crimson liquid in the glass decanter. He raises it to his lips, taking a sip as his gaze fixes onto your own. He drinks down the whole glass with a slow, steady pace, his visual lock on you never wavering. After an awkward minute of sipping and slurping, Danny settles in the seat next to yours, crossing his legs and pulling out a notepad.

He leaps off the armchair, trotting along to a closed mahogany door. He raps his knuckles against the door to the “S.O.S” beat before giving the doorknob a twist. The door swings in words and with a loud crack, smacks into something hard and firm. You peer over the couch to look at what might’ve caused the sound, to see a silver head full of hair against the foot of the door. Danny shakes his head, clicking his teeth as he squats down to observe the damage.

With a swoop of his arm, he picks up the individual, giving you a better view of him. He’s quite obviously tied up, showing little resistance, and seems to be an elderly man. Danny walks to the long couch and plops the body across it, revealing the man’s face to you. A glimmer of recognition flits through your mind and after a few seconds you realize where you’d seen him before. A flashback to the promo cut by Danny previously washes through you. A pan over the downed man who was playing checkers with a lady, held down to the ground by Danny’s hand comes to memory. Danny snaps you out of your recollection by laughing at the man, patting his silver hair and moving back to his own chair.

Danny eases off his arm chair once more, reaching under the couch and pulling out a cardboard cutout. You realize it’s a mask of some sort, with an elastic string along the back to help secure it to a face. Danny forces the mask over the bound man’s face, the image printed on the mask becomes clear to you. Imprinted on it is the anguished face of Scully from an unknown match. Danny smiles to himself, patting the mask and walking back to his seat. He slips into the armchair, pulling out a notepad and puffing on his cigar.

You glance at Danny, wondering where he’s going with this. Danny pauses for a second, before opening his own mouth, in the most audacious British accent.

You feel your jaw relax, slowly dropping lower as what is happening becomes clear.

Danny turns to you, his mouth spreading into a grin. You lower the camera, struggling to process what just occurred in front of you. Slowly the scene fades to black as you lower the camera, the muffled moans of the tied up man being heard as the feet of Danny are seen advancing towards him.