Jared’s routine was ironclad: coffee at 2 AM, the perimeter check of the industrial district at 3, and the long, slow drive through the fog-heavy docks by 4. He often found himself staring at the figures huddled in the shadows. He didn't see them as vagrants; he saw them as the weight of the city’s failures.

Lena grabbed his arm. “If you flatline again, I might not be able to bring you back.”

Given the fragmentary evidence, the most coherent narrative for is as follows: