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A modern American high school library in the afternoon, bright fluorescent lighting casting stark shadows between tall bookshelves and study tables. Marcus, 17, athletic build in a letterman jacket, towers over Tommy, 14, small frame in a hoodie, seated at a wooden study table surrounded by textbooks. Wide shot captures Marcus's open palm connecting hard across Tommy's face, the sharp slap echoing through the silent space. Books scatter to the floor as twenty students at nearby tables freeze mid-study, phones slowly rising to record. Behind the circulation desk, Sarah, 40s, plain cardigan and reading glasses, sets down her paperback novel and stands deliberately. Medium shot follows her measured steps around the desk toward the confrontation, her expression calm but focused. Close-up as she stops three feet from Marcus, reaches down, and pulls back her cardigan with one finger—a gold detective shield on her belt clip catches the fluorescent light with a brilliant flash. Marcus says smugly: "Mind your own business, lady." Sarah responds evenly: "That didn't look like a conversation to me." The camera captures Marcus's face draining of color as realization hits, the entire library frozen in stunned silence. No logos, no brand names, no watermarks, no text overlays.