Project Silas

This is a story that has bounced around in my head for a few years now. I have always wanted to write it and never taken the time. I have the outline now, a roadmap to it all and hope this prompt me to keep going with it all until I am done. I will be doing it blog style, writing when the words appear and letting it ferment when they don't. I hope you enjoy it, look at the publish dates for the order. I probably need to add post numbers. We will see.

Project Silas - 16 The Glass Barrier

 The "Dermis" patch was never intended for the light of day. It was designed for the quiet corridors of executive protection—a hidden layer of insurance for men paid to stand in front of bullets. But greed and confidence are a volatile mix, and in a crowded parking garage in downtown Springfield, the secret finally shattered.


The Incident


It started as a standard robbery attempt. Three men targeted a mid-level tech executive and his two-man security detail. The exchange was captured by a low-resolution security camera, and the footage went viral within the hour.


In the grainy video, a gunman fires a high-caliber round at point-blank range into the shoulder of the lead guard. There is no blood. There is no stumble. Instead, there is a dull, metallic thud, like a hammer hitting a lead pipe. The guard simply turns, his sleeve torn away to reveal a patch of skin that looks like polished obsidian, and disarms the attacker with a speed that defies human reaction times.


The gunman’s eyes, visible for a second on camera, aren't filled with anger. They are filled with a primitive, soul-deep terror. He wasn't looking at a man; he was looking at a gargoyle.


The Reporter’s Inquiry


The footage landed on the desk of Sarah Jenkins, an investigative reporter for the Springfield Daily who had been tracking the "Jade Glow" rumors for weeks. While the rest of the internet argued about "body armor" and "deepfakes," Sarah looked at the torn sleeve.


She didn't see Kevlar. She saw biology.


She spent the next forty-eight hours digging through shell companies and horticultural supply manifests. She followed the trail of high-intensity UV rigs and industrial-grade glucose stabilizers—equipment that had no business being delivered to a residential basement in a failing neighborhood.


The Underworld Whisper


Her search led her to the fringe of the Springfield black market. In the bars where "Fixers" traded in stolen data and designer chemicals, a new name had begun to circulate. It wasn't spoken with reverence, but with a cautious, superstitious dread.


They didn't call him a scientist. They called him the Tanner.


"He doesn't just sell you a product," one source told her, his voice muffled by the hum of a ventilation fan. "He sells you a rewrite. He sells you the ability to stop being a victim of the food chain. But he’s a ghost. No records. No digital footprint. Just a shadow made of jade."


The Catalyst


By Friday, the story broke. Sarah’s headline didn't mention Oak Haven or the missing Silas Shepherd. She didn't have those pieces yet. Instead, she focused on the legality of the unregulated biological modifications hitting the streets.


"Is it a medical treatment or a weapon? If a man’s skin can deflect a bullet, is he still a citizen under the law, or is he a piece of military hardware? And more importantly—who is authorizing the distribution of these 'Jade Vectors'?"


The piece ended with a series of questions that began to echo across national news desks. The public was seeing the "Luster" on their socialites and the "Dermis" on their guards, and for the first time, they were asking about the source.


The Final Question


In his basement, Edward sat in the dark, the blue light of a monitor reflecting off the matte-black plating of his own jawline. He read the closing paragraph of Sarah Jenkins’ report.


"The fixers in the street call him the Tanner. The elite call him a miracle worker. But the manifests for the equipment used to brew these vectors are signed with a different name. A name that doesn't exist in any medical registry or corporate database."


The screen flickered as he scrolled to the final line.


"Who is Edward Tanner, and where did he come from?"


Edward closed the laptop. The indignation he had felt in the facility—the "monster in the dark"—was no longer a private grudge. He had wanted to be a sabotage waiting to happen. Now, the machine was finally starting to realize he was inside the gears.


He reached for a vial of the Zen drops, his hand steady. The media wasn't the enemy; they were the megaphone.


"I’m the man you made," he whispered to the empty room. "And I'm the one who's going to turn the lights off."


As he turned away from the screen, a stray beam of moonlight from the high window caught the edge of his face. The soft, rounded lines of Silas the scientist had vanished. Not only had his skin hardened into obsidian, but his visage had followed suit—a face carved from a dark, uncompromising will. He no longer just looked like the monster they feared; he felt the weight of it in his bones, and for the first time, he found the weight comfortable.