It was exactly seven in the morning, and Jack was standing in front of Neo’s desk.

He held the same posture as a kid caught cheating on an exam: stiff back, tight jaw, and a face that screamed this is not going to end well.

Neo, seated, was reviewing a report with an unsettling calm. Too calm. That was the danger sign.

Neo: “Jack,” she said without looking up. “Does the concept of ‘respecting your coworkers’ ring a bell?”
Neo raised one eyebrow. Just one. Jack knew he’d dug his own grave.
Neo: “Last week you yelled at three colleagues, ignored direct orders, and called the deputy commissioner ‘walking shit.’”
Jack: “It was descriptive.”
Neo: “It was insubordination.”
Silence. Neo placed the report on the desk with a sharp thwap, like the paper itself were a whip.
Neo: “My first idea was simple. Corrective punishment. Cleaning the toilets all week.”

Jack went pale.
Jack: “Neo… we can talk about this. I can’t end up scraping shit off toilets. Please. I can— I can change. I can pretend I care about people.”

Right then, as if someone had heard his prayers, the door opened.

Eric: “U-uh… Neo? C-can I…?”

Neo looked at him, and her expression shifted. She smiled. A dangerous smile. Jack watched her face change.

Neo: “Mmh… wait. Maybe there’s a more… educational alternative,” she said, folding her hands.

Neo: “Eric will patrol the city with you all week. Yes, so Jack can learn teamwork and camaraderie. Isn’t that great?”