The dull throb in Jared's thigh woke him before dawn. He grimaced against the sting of the bullet graze, which, even after a fresh round of antiseptic and gauze, refused to let him forget their narrow escape from the Greyline Depot. A single bare bulb overhead gave the cramped living room a sickly yellow cast, illuminating the worn couch where he lay. Every muscle felt stiff, tension coiled in his shoulders and back.
He took a moment to reorient himself. This wasn't Marcus's apartment, nor was it the grimy motel room he'd first stayed in when he arrived in Silvercoast. Instead, he was in the small, third-floor flat of a colleague of Ava's—a friend who was out of town for a few weeks, leaving them an empty, if modest, sanctuary. Posters of old movie classics adorned the walls, and a scattering of mismatched furniture filled the main space, but beyond that, it was relatively bare and, most importantly, off the Syndicate's radar.
Through the window, early morning light filtered in, painting the sky in soft hues of pale blue and pink. The city below remained shrouded in a faint haze, tall buildings like silent sentinels guarding a populace largely unaware of the swirling conspiracies beneath their feet. A stale ache spiked in Jared's thigh as he shifted, and he exhaled slowly—willing his breath to carry some of the pain away.
His gaze flicked to the small coffee table a few feet away, where the Shades of Authority lay nestled atop a folded towel. Even from here, the old lenses seemed to shimmer faintly, as if calling out to him. A swirl of conflicting emotions churned in his chest: relief at having recovered them, fear of what that might mean for the future, and anger at the Syndicate that wanted them so badly.
The door to the bedroom opened, and Ava stepped out, blinking sleep from her eyes. She wore the same clothes as the night before, though now rumpled—dress slacks and a creased blazer. She paused when she saw him awake, then walked over, her footsteps soft on the scuffed hardwood.
"How's the leg?" she asked, voice gentle as she took a seat on the armchair beside him.
Jared mustered a weary smile. "Hurts. But I'll manage. It's just a graze."
"That was some stunt you pulled last night," she said, lips curving into a faint grin. "Smashing display cases, dodging gunfire… You sure you're not secretly ex-military?"
He snorted. "No training besides a couple of self-defense classes in college. But the artifact gave me an edge." His expression sobered. "It let me see their moves before they made them. I can't explain it scientifically, but… you've seen it in action."
Ava nodded, leaning back in the chair. "I have the footage on my hidden camera, though I'm not sure how the lens would show up on video." A moment of hesitation crossed her features. "I also got footage of the buyers—the big shots who were there for the auction. This could blow a giant hole in Silvercoast's underworld if we release it."
Jared's heart twisted. "Which would put a giant target on our backs."
"Exactly. Releasing the footage now, without further evidence, might just tip off the Syndicate. We need a more strategic approach."
He agreed with a nod, aware that half-baked moves could cost them dearly. "We'll figure something out. First, I need to test the artifact, see if it can do more than just… aura detection in a fight."
Ava studied him quietly. "You think there's more to it?"
Jared let out a slow breath, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. "I don't know. This lens was at the center of an entire underground auction. People were ready to pay millions. That can't just be about enhanced reflexes. There might be levels to its power we haven't even seen yet."
Ava reached for a glass of water on the coffee table and offered it to him. "Well, you're not going anywhere on that leg without help. But if you're serious about testing the boundaries, I suggest we wait for Marcus to wake up. He's the tech whiz. Maybe he can rig something to measure whatever energy this artifact has."
Jared sipped water, then sank back against the couch cushions, eyelids feeling heavier than expected. The adrenaline from their night's escape had only just worn off, leaving him drained. Ava's presence, calm and unflinching, was a comfort he hadn't fully expected. She offered a sense of stability, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this fight.
"Get some more rest," she suggested, voice soft. "We'll figure out next steps after we talk to Marcus."
He nodded drowsily, letting the waves of exhaustion carry him into a shallow, uneasy sleep.
Morning Plans
When he woke again, the sun was higher, flooding the modest apartment with bright light. He found Marcus rummaging through the kitchenette, apparently trying to locate coffee filters. The residual smell of strong brew told him Marcus had made some headway.
"Morning," Marcus greeted without turning. "Hope you're ready for world-class instant coffee."
Jared yawned, easing himself upright. The pain in his thigh flared, but it felt marginally more manageable. "I'll take whatever caffeine I can get."
Marcus poured two cups of watery coffee. He handed one to Jared and then sank onto a chair at the small dining table. "How's the leg?"
"Sore," Jared admitted, staring into the steaming liquid. "But no infection, as far as I can tell."
"Good." Marcus took a long sip of coffee, grimaced, then forced it down. "We need to talk about next moves. Ava says you want to experiment with the artifact. I'm all for it, but we need to be careful."
Jared looked toward the coffee table again, where the Shades of Authority lay. "Careful, yes. But we can't afford not to understand it. The Syndicate is after these lenses for a reason."
Marcus nodded. "I can try hooking up the same spectral analyzer I used before, see if we pick up new readings. Maybe now that you're more, uh, attuned to it, we'll get different data."
Ava emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, a determined set to her jaw. "I've also got a few leads from last night's video that might tell us more about the Syndicate's power structure. Names, faces… I recognized at least one city council staffer."
Jared's gaze flicked between them. "So it's settled: we spend today laying low, investigating the artifact and analyzing your footage. Maybe we'll find out who in the city council is backing Selina Vaughn. Then tonight, we can decide if we make a move or keep digging."
Ava and Marcus both nodded, relief etched in their faces at having a plan—even if it was thin. They spent the next hour clearing space in the living room, pushing aside an old armchair and coffee table to create a makeshift "testing area." Marcus rummaged through his duffel bag of gadgets, pulling out a small device about the size of a cellphone, bristling with custom wiring.
"Spectral analyzer 2.0," he announced, wiggling it in his hand. "I've tweaked it since last time. It should give us a real-time readout of any energy fluctuations."
Jared set the Shades on the dining table. A pang of anxiety rippled through him at the thought of wearing them again, reliving that hyper-awareness in the midst of a quiet space rather than life-or-death chaos. But he needed answers.
Marcus knelt, carefully positioning the analyzer so its sensor pointed at the artifact. He flicked a switch, and the device came to life with a faint hum, its small screen flashing random lines of code. "Okay, reading baseline… minimal emissions. Jared, can you pick them up?"
Jared slipped the glasses on. The room dimmed a shade, and at first, nothing remarkable happened—no swirling auras, no supernatural senses. Just the familiar tinted perspective. "Feels the same as always," he murmured.
"Try focusing," Marcus said, tapping away at the analyzer's controls. "Think about what you did at the Depot. You said you saw them telegraphing attacks."
Jared inhaled deeply, letting his memory drift back to the fight. He recalled the heart-pounding adrenaline, the vivid pulses of red around each attacker. He tried to summon that heightened awareness, scanning the small living room. For a moment, everything seemed painfully ordinary—just battered furniture and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchenette.
Then, a subtle flicker danced at the edge of his vision. He focused on Ava, who stood by the window, arms folded. A faint glow rimmed her figure—soft, subdued, but definitely there. Surprised, he blinked, and the glow faded.
"Something," he muttered. "It's like a glow around you, Ava. It vanished when I tried to look directly at it."
She arched an eyebrow. "So you can see my aura even without me trying to punch you?"
"Apparently."
Marcus glanced at the analyzer. "I'm getting a small spike. Whatever you're seeing, it's generating energy the device can detect. Keep going."
Jared clenched his jaw, determined to push further. He tried to hold onto that fleeting sense of heightened perception, scanning the room once more. A swirl of subdued pink bloomed around Ava, accompanied by a steadier flicker of orange around Marcus. The lights were faint, like candle flames drifting in the air.
"It's stronger now," Jared said, voice tinged with awe. "Ava, yours is pinkish. Marcus's is more orange. And there's… something else. Small sparks around the corners of the room."
Marcus's eyes lit up. "Let me see if the analyzer can interpret those sparks." He fiddled with the device's settings, and a new wave of data scrolled across the screen. "It's spiking in short bursts. Could be residual energies from living beings, or maybe leftover signals from electronics. Hard to say. This is definitely some brand-new phenomenon."
Jared lowered the glasses, blinking to reorient himself to normal vision. "So it's not just fight or flight. The artifact can show me auras in everyday conditions—though it's weaker if there's no aggression or heightened emotion."
Ava approached, looking intrigued. "If you can see our auras, maybe you can read emotional states. That might be huge. You could sense deception, hostility… maybe even hidden intentions."
"That's a dangerous power," Jared murmured, glancing at the tinted frames in his hand. The adrenaline from earlier in the morning crept back, feeding a potent mix of excitement and dread. "And it might explain why the Syndicate wants it so badly."
Disturbing News
They continued experimenting for the next hour, with Jared wearing the Shades in various states of focus. He found that if he deliberately calmed his breathing and heartbeat, the auras around Ava and Marcus showed up as muted glows. In more intense moments—like when Marcus intentionally startled him or when Ava asked him a barrage of pointed questions—the colors grew brighter, more dynamic. Marcus's analyzer recorded each fluctuation, creating a messy but compelling graph of "aura intensity" over time.
By midday, they were exhausted. Jared's leg throbbed from standing too long. Marcus complained of a headache from the analyzer's constant whirring. Ava's phone buzzed with a text, and she pulled it out, frowning at the screen.
"News update," she announced, scanning the message. "Looks like the cops hit Greyline Depot after we left. They've seized part of the property, but the Syndicate is nowhere to be found. A few stragglers got questioned, but no arrests on major players."
"Detective Gallagher, maybe?" Jared mused. "I heard that name mentioned at the station when I was still at Bernington. He's tough but fair."
Ava tapped at her phone. "He's one of the senior detectives rumored to investigate the more… complicated cases in Silvercoast. If he's on this, we might have a chance at real scrutiny on the Syndicate. But they'll be trying to cover their tracks."
Marcus slumped into a chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So the Syndicate remains hidden, and we're probably on their hit list. Great."
Ava typed a quick reply to her contact, then locked her phone. "This place isn't safe for long. Once the Syndicate regroups, they'll track us here if they get any whiff of a clue."
Jared ran a shaky hand through his hair. The combined knowledge that the Syndicate was still at large and that the authorities were investigating only deepened the pit in his stomach. "They want these glasses. They'll keep coming unless we strike first or find a way to shut them down."
Ava's gaze flicked to his injured leg, then back to his eyes. "Which means we need a real plan. We can't keep reacting."
Jared inhaled, forcing the tension out of his shoulders. "Agreed. Let's see the footage you got last night, see if we can identify key Syndicate members. We might even find proof of who bribed which officials. Once we know who's in their pocket, maybe we can cut off their power base."
Marcus sat up. "And in the meantime, I'll comb the black-market forums for any new listings or chatter. The Syndicate might try to offload something else, or place a bounty on us. We'll need to keep our eyes open."
Testing Personal Limits
The hours passed in a blur of technology and tension. Ava's footage revealed a rotating cast of well-dressed criminals and corporate sharks, their faces partially obscured by flickering lights or angled camera shots. Yet a few seconds of clear recording showed Selina Vaughn up close—her swirl tattoo on full display, as well as her commanding presence on stage. Another snippet captured glimpses of high-profile figures rumored to be on city council payroll. If they could match these faces to official records, it could blow the Syndicate's cover wide open.
While Ava meticulously cataloged each frame, Jared slipped the Shades back on. This time, he walked gingerly around the apartment, exploring what else he could sense or do. The faint auras around objects—an echo of previous touches, perhaps—sometimes shimmered. Marcus's laptop glowed with a faint blue tinge, possibly from constant electronic pulses. A leftover coffee mug on the counter had a ghostly outline where Ava's hand had gripped it moments before.
At one point, he noticed a strange glimmer near a battered bookshelf in the corner—like a swirl of light hanging midair. When he reached out, his hand passed through it, sending ripples of faint color outward before it vanished. The analyzer beeped from across the room, noting a minor spike.
Residual energy was the best explanation he had. He wondered if the glasses could eventually help him track a person's movements through such subtle imprints.
Marcus eventually coaxed him back to the couch, worried about how the strain of constant heightened perception might affect Jared's mind. "You don't want to fry your senses," he cautioned. "Overuse could cause hallucinations or migraines, maybe something worse. This artifact wasn't exactly tested by normal R&D."
Jared rubbed his temple, where a dull ache had formed. "You're probably right. Let's call it a day with the experiments."
He removed the Shades, blinking in the sudden brightness of unfiltered reality. If anything, normal vision now felt slightly off—flatter, less vibrant. His heart hammered with the realization that he was already becoming accustomed to that enhanced state. Was that how addiction started?
Ava glanced up from the laptop. "We've confirmed at least three big players in the Syndicate's circle. But none of the footage directly ties them to bribery or corruption. It's all circumstantial." Her expression hardened. "We'll need something bigger—a paper trail, an inside witness, or a direct confrontation that we can record without them spinning it."
Jared sank into the couch, wincing at the pain in his leg. "Then we go after answers the old-fashioned way: by finding the Syndicate's weak link. Someone who'll talk if pressured… or someone who hates Selina Vaughn enough to sell her out."
Marcus shut down the analyzer, stowing it in his bag. "We'd need to be careful. Approaching any Syndicate member is a gamble."
"Agreed," Ava added, closing the laptop. "But we can start small—ask around the warehouse district, talk to black-market contacts, gather rumors on who's disgruntled or in over their head."
Jared nodded. "Meanwhile, the city cops might dig up something. If we can figure out how to coordinate with that Detective Gallagher—without landing ourselves in jail for theft or assault—we might get legitimate legal backing."
They exchanged glances, the weight of their predicament settling like a lead blanket. The path forward was risky, paved with half-truths and hidden agendas. Yet none of them spoke of backing down. Too much was at stake: Jared's rightful name, Ava's chance to expose real corruption, and Marcus's vow not to let the city's shadows devour his friend.
An Oath of Resolve
Outside, the sun dipped toward late afternoon, gilding the skyline with amber hues. Traffic noises wafted through the half-open window, mingling with the constant hum of Silvercoast's restless energy. The city might have turned a blind eye to the underworld's dealings, but Jared and his allies wouldn't let the Syndicate operate unchecked.
Ava set aside her notes. "We should relocate soon. Or at least prepare to."
Marcus's eyes flicked to the battered duffel bag holding his gear. "Agreed. This apartment is a good temporary hideout, but we can't assume it's safe forever."
Jared rose, testing his wounded leg. It held, though pain lanced up his side. He steadied himself with a grimace. "Give me a few more hours, and I'll be ready to move."
Ava stepped closer, concern etched in her features. "You sure you're up for it? We could scout potential safehouses without you, let you rest."
He managed a small, determined smile. "I'm fine. Besides, if the Syndicate tracks us here, we won't have time for a leisurely departure."
Her expression softened, but she didn't argue. Marcus packed up the analyzer and remaining electronics, while Ava gathered her camera pen and laptop, securing them in a discreet shoulder bag. They agreed on a rough plan to slip out after dark, heading for another location Ava had in mind—some deserted coworking loft that a friend owed her a favor on.
Before they started the packing in earnest, Jared paused near the coffee table, picking up the Shades of Authority. He stared at the etched swirls, remembering how they had saved his life at Greyline Depot—and how they could easily become his downfall if the Syndicate cornered him again.
In that moment, he made a silent oath: to use the artifact not merely as a shield or a weapon, but as a tool to peel back the city's layers of corruption. He might not be a detective or a vigilante by training, but fate had handed him a power that could shift the balance in Silvercoast's murky war between truth and lies. If he had to endure bullet grazes and sleepless nights, so be it.
Ava and Marcus finished their preparations, standing by the door. Their gazes met his—tired but resolute. Each of them had scars now, whether physical or emotional, carried from the betrayals and trials of the past weeks. Yet those scars bound them together in a shared cause: to unravel the Syndicate's hold and restore some measure of justice to the city.
Jared slipped the artifact carefully into his jacket's interior pocket, feeling its cool presence against his side. "Let's go," he said quietly. "We have a lot of boundaries left to test—and I'm done hiding."
With that, they headed out, one step at a time, deeper into the labyrinth of Silvercoast's underbelly. The road ahead was perilous, but the flicker of determination in their eyes burned brighter than ever, illuminating the path they had chosen.