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A high school gymnasium decorated for prom in the evening, with dim romantic lighting from string lights and a disco ball casting sparkles across the crowd. The large space is packed with three hundred white American teenagers in formal wear—girls in colorful gowns, boys in tuxedos—with chaperones scattered throughout. Wide shot: Brandon (18, athletic build, black tuxedo, prom king crown tilted on his head) stands over Lily (17, simple white dress now stained red with punch, brown hair in an updo, trembling hands). The crowd forms a circle, phones raised, faces lit by screen glow. Medium shot: Brandon spreads his arms wide, grinning at his audience. He says loudly: "Guess you should've stayed home, charity case." Close-up: By the exit, Chief Warren (45, simple black suit, graying hair, holding a camera) slowly sets it down, jaw tightening, eyes never leaving his daughter. Cut to medium shot: Warren walks forward through the parting crowd, footsteps silent, expression controlled but deadly serious. He stops three feet from Brandon, voice calm: "Some people don't belong anywhere." Dramatic tension builds, disco ball still spinning, music fading to silence. No logos, no brand names, no watermarks, no text overlays.