Top-down shot of the circular table. PILOT NY leans forward, dead serious. Around the table, other NYs murmur worriedly.
PILOT NY: “One of us has breached containment. He’s taken on a twelfth job.”
BUSINESS NY (grimly): “He has become… Freelance NY.”

Cut to a hologram projection in the middle of the table showing a chaotic figure: NY in a poncho, riding a segway, juggling briefcases, a jackhammer strapped to his back.
ENGINEER NY: “He’s everywhere. He’s gigging across timelines. Driving rideshare in Atlantis, officiating weddings in Neo-Brooklyn…”
CHEF NY (interrupting): “He catered my cousin’s baptism and he isn’t even baptized!”

Back outside the chamber: EXI presses buttons on a panel with glee as IVY watches skeptically. ISEN stands behind them, motionless, bottles in hand.
EXI (smirking): “You guys ever see what happens when a man becomes a statistical impossibility?”
IVY: “Just say ‘I broke the NYs’ like a normal person.”
ISEN: (silent, holding out one bottle of Corgi Gin to Ivy)

Inside the chamber. MILITARY NY slams both fists on the table.
MILITARY NY: “He threatens the sacred equilibrium. If one man can do all jobs, what becomes of the rest of us?”
DOCTOR NY: “Existential redundancy.”
SAUL (quietly): “…That’s also what happened to my Tinder profile.”

Suddenly, alarms blare. The central hologram goes static before showing a shadowy silhouette of a rogue NY with glowing red eyes.
HOLOGRAM VOICE: “Unauthorized occupation detected. Intrusion Level: DEITY.”
COUNCIL IN UNISON: “He’s becoming… Jobless and Jobful… at once.”

Close-up on PILOT NY. His expression hardens.
PILOT NY: “We must summon… the Original NY.”
SAUL: “Wait. I thought YOU were the original.”
PILOT NY (ominously): “No. We are but echoes.”