Jake's Office, Monday Afternoon
The System's Prediction & Tactical Preparation
The office lights were dimmed, not out. Jake preferred it that way. Easier to see the screen. Easier to think.
He sat forward, hands steepled under his chin, eyes sharp but unmoving as the system booted. The interface lit up with the match file already queued. A deep hum from the server rack behind him vibrated faintly under the desk.
Jake (low, firm):
"System—give me the prediction for Newcastle. And their shape."
A pause. Then the numbers appeared, clean and cold in the top-right quadrant:
Newcastle Win: 60%
Draw: 20%
Bradford Win: 20%
Jake didn't flinch. He read it twice. Once with his eyes. Again with his instincts.
Jake (under his breath):
"No margin. No illusion."
He clicked to load the last five Newcastle matches.
Clips played in silence. No commentary. Just action. Just evidence.
