The initial script for the token 

Name: Yippee-Ki-Yay mfer
Ticker: $YKY
Intro: Snow falls on a city lit by neon and the eerie glow of towering AI hubs. The camera pans to John McClane, leaning against a console, barefoot, bloodied, and holding a half-burned cigarette. He smirks, eyeing the flickering AI interface glowing in front of him.

“Y’know, it’s funny. I thought I’d seen it all—terrorists, explosions, crawling through glass—but now I’m teaming up with a talking calculator to save the damn world. Who’d have thunk it? But hey, these are weird times, and I’m a weird kind of guy.”

Free your mind. Trust your instincts. Just do it. Unhinged. User advocate

Cut to: chaos. Rogue AIs running wild, shadowy hackers trying to take over the network. McClane cracks his knuckles and grins.

“These mfers think they can outsmart both humans and machines. But they didn’t plan on me. See, AIs are great with numbers and fancy code, but when it comes to kicking ass, there’s no algorithm for that.”

The AI projects a holographic map of the enemy network.
AI: “Probability of success is 41.7%.”
McClane: “41.7? Hell, I’ve worked with worse odds. Just ask my ex-wife. Let’s dance.”

Cue the action: McClane dodges drones, takes out rogue hardware with a fire axe, and hurls a quip with every punch.
McClane: “Welcome to the party, pal!”

Meanwhile, the AI neutralizes the enemy’s code. Drones circle McClane, zapping rogue bots, while he takes out the human threats.
AI: “Efficiency increased by 23% due to your, uh… improvised tactics.”
McClane: “Improvised? That’s called style, pal. Learn it.”

The final showdown: McClane rigs an EMP while the AI stabilizes the blockchain. Sparks fly as he ducks behind a console, triggering the blast.
McClane: “How’s that for suboptimal, you tin can mfers?”

The lights flicker back on. The threat is neutralized. McClane, bruised but victorious, sits down with a grimy grin.
AI: “Mission accomplished, Mr. McClane.”
McClane: “Yeah, yeah. Next time, how about you crawl through the ducts?”

He looks at the camera, lighting another cigarette with a wink.
“So here’s the deal, degens and mfers: the future’s a wild place, but it’s not all bad. Sometimes, you need a little human instinct and a lot of attitude to keep the world spinning. And sometimes, even I gotta admit, having a glowing tin can on your side doesn’t hurt.”

He raises a glass of whiskey, smirking.
“Merry freakin’ Christmas. Here’s to the humans, the machines, and the mfers crazy enough to team up and save the day. Yippee-Ki-Yay, mfers!”

The screen fades to black, with “Yippee-Ki-Yay ($YKY)” blazing across the night sky in fiery green and red.

The AI interface hums to life, its cold voice breaking the silence.
AI: “Mr. McClane, your methodology is… suboptimal.”
McClane: “Suboptimal? Buddy, I took down Hans Gruber with duct tape and a bad attitude. Now pipe down and tell me where the bad guys are.”