Chapter 87

  Start of The Investigation

  (Misha Tulley)

  Beep, beep, beep.

  The machine that Misha was hooked up to stated that her vitals were now in order. There were multiple hours of concern, all registered and recorded by the monitor, but now she was fine.

  From the other feed on her body, Misha was able to access her MyChart page, seeing everything that had been done to help her body. Three bags of saline solution, or salt water. One bag of hextend to stop her bleeding, and a scan made to check if her type of blood was on hand.

  Fortunately, it didn’t come to needing blood, but the options were there.

  There were other anomalies that were detected but ultimately dismissed while the patient came through. Her oxygen levels increased to nearly one hundred percent. Her heartbeat and blood pressure both evened out to 90/60, with a resting heartrate of 60 beats per minute.

  Ultimately, every system now spoke to her body being set to optimal conditions.

  Using her will, she made sure to deny the automatic ping that would set off when she began moving. Instead, she used this time to gather herself and try to understand why things felt off.

  There were a lot of unnatural devices here.

  In the labs and other areas, it was clear that there was a certain pattern to the level of mechanical devices. A few devices had updated features, but most were simple modified data cells and information collection devices.

  That was why the special equipment was being used by a few of the people nearby. Drawing attention to the fact that they didn’t belong. First, they had their phones, phones that were modified with programs and communications applications that spoke volumes, but not about healthcare.

  Officer Traver’s Encrypted Group Chat Message Board:

  Mills: Any word on whether the victim is related to the ongoing homicides?

  Ski (the name is clearly an abbreviated version of Olondovski from the contacts list): Same area, same pattern. Unable to see any signs of a fight or struggle though.

  Carp (short for Carpenter): Could the body have been moved?

  Ski: Unlikely, the perp showed no signs of lacerations.

  Mills: Any word on what hand the attacker was to create the wounds?

  Me (owner of the phone, officer Traver): Doctors are saying no weapons used.

  Ski: Did she just fall?

  Me: It’s odd, but this looks to be a dead end. No wounds or lacerations. No bone punctures.

  Carp: What caused all this blood Olo and I are seeing?

  Me: No clue.

  Carp: Do you think its her time of the…

  Mills: Don’t finish that, this can still be FOIA’d.

  …

  On the messages went.

  Most seemed to explain a lot to Misha, whose mind was only now managing to keep up with everything.

  There was an ongoing investigation into multiple attacks. Mills was in charge, Olondovski and Carpenter were crime scene technicians on scene where Misha had her awakening. Meanwhile, Officer Traver was here to confirm whether she was part of this ongoing investigation or not.

  Similarly, there was another person next to Officer Traver who worked for a completely different organization. The other person was Special Agent Kirkland, apparently of the CIA. At least, that was the cover he was going with for this operation.

  He too was interested in this activity, but not as a crime investigation. At least that was not what the deleted messages from his encrypted communications chats noted.

  Deleted Encrypted from Special Agent Kirkland’s phone:

  01227: Any explanation for how the message was sent to every device within a ten-mile radius?

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  Me (Agent Kirkland’s phone): No, still waiting for patient to awaken.

  01227: You determine a motive for the act?

  Me: Seems to have been an emergency distress call.

  01227: Interesting.

  Ten minutes later.

  01227: Confiscate the method used to mass transmit. Management needs this. Cite federal crimes if needed, but don’t leave without that code. Leadership is very interested in what is happening.

  Me: Understood.

  And like that, the message trail was deleted but not written over from the phone.

  A few quick searches through the dead memory of both phones revealed patterns of life, habits, the fact that Kirkland might have a gambling addiction. While Traver was apparently pretending to be single on the side, an odd fact considering he had a wife and two kids.

  There was more.

  There was always more that one could find if they looked hard enough.

  Fake profiles.

  Banking details, loan applications, the works.

  Misha had it all, and then mentally forming a plan in her head, she acted.

  Bing.

  The first stage of her plan was to let her diagnostic machine inform the nurse of her awakening.

  Within minutes, the nurse was in, checking on her.

  “Oh, you’ve awoken. How do you feel?” The nurse asked as she darted around, clicking off alarms. Checking and recording vitals, then finally turning to face Misha.

  For her part Misha just played along.

  “I’m fine. Any idea what happened?”

  “I don’t know, we were hoping you could tell us the same thing.” The nurse answers, and after checking a few more vitals responds, “I’ll let the doctor know that you have awoken.”

  With that she left.

  As she did, Misha got a glance at the two people who were outside waiting for her. They had taken up position on the far side of the wall, so they could see her as the door opened. While both tried to pretend like they had just noticed the movement of the door opening there was something off, something predatory about their gazes.

  It was clear from the way they looked past the nurse and towards Misha that they wanted to get eyes on her. That and the one wearing the police officer uniform stared just a bit too intently.

  For a moment Misha thought about trying to get out of here, without having to interact with the two officers with vastly different agendas, but soon realized that wherever she was, she was in the middle of the floor.

  A quick glance at the emergency escape route on the back of the door all but stated that she would have to get out, turn right and then make her way out of the building.

  Then realizing that she would need a bit of assistance if she was in fact to leave, she decided it was best to sit through the meeting with the two, see what they were interested in, then delete anything incriminating.

  Her mentality was simple, humans are exceptionally reliant on their data sources for notes and data retention. If it wasn’t for computers telling them what they remember seeing and doing, keeping track of specific times, most would lose and forget everything.

  That was why Misha’s plan for dealing with the two was simple. Tell and give them everything they wanted to hear, then leave. Once she was gone, she would change, alter, or completely corrupt the available data so that it would be unusable. Then when they inevitably went back to look for her, they would mistake her for someone different.

  Only her knowledge of herself and her capabilities helped her keep her calm and stay seated. Even when the doctor came in, giving her a cursory glance over, checking her vitals, and saying what the nurse effectively stated earlier.

  “Wow, I don’t know what higher power was out there protecting you, but you appear to be in perfect health.” The Doctor stated.

  Peering at the readouts of her vitals proved interesting.

  Her body condition had changed, and not just from a standpoint of being able to regulate itself at optimal levels.

  No, she was taller. While all her clothes had been removed sometime during her operation, it was clear to her mental mappings that her body size had increased in some way. Unfortunately she would only know this, once her clothes were provided to her, at the end of her stay. For now she had the loose fitting gown, and a few gauze bandages around her waist and torso that held her body in place.

  Her feet were now larger, how much larger she didn't know, but she was fairly certain that her already large feet would have a hard time and likely press against the boundaries of her shoes. Even the change in the height of her chest rising and falling with each breath was now easily noticeable to her. Her skin felt tight and almost painful to move. If she looked in a mirror, she'd swear that her skin now boasted stretch marks.

  All of this was to say that her body had undergone drastic changes while she was unconscious. While she was dealing with the aftermath of her scaffolding techniques.

  For a moment she queried her organo-tech, trying to see her layout and design.

  There it was her final slot was now filled with something that didn’t fit. At least not with the original pieces she was given. Fortunately, she made it fit.

  She soon found herself wondering exactly what the glyph of Immortality provided.

  That was of course, when the doctor noted, “there are a few law enforcement officers here who would like to talk to you for a moment. Is that okay?”

  Finally, she heard the true question that the doctor had wanted to ask.

  This lone question implied that Misha did have the ability to kick out the officers, that if needed the doctor might put her reputation on the line to force the officers to give her the moment to leave.

  Pausing for a moment, Misha looked at the doctor and paused trying to make sure there were no signs of deception.

  The only thing that Misha saw reflected in the doctor’s gaze was pure confidence in what she was now talking about.

  Seeing her steadfast determination, Misha to realize that the doctor would make good on her implied offer. One that said if she didn’t want to speak to the officers, then she wouldn’t have to.

  Of course, doing so would only make her stand out more in the mind and eyes of the officers, which was not what she wanted at that time.

  Instead, what she wanted was obscurity through over information.

  The ability to hide in plain sight, due to camouflage or over diluting a source with excess information.

  “I should be fine,” Misha replied.

  “You sure?” The doctor asked, concern evident in her voice.

  Misha again paused, wondering if she was in fact ready for this, but only nodded.

  Even now she was tracking signs of how far her information on this event had spread.

  Right now, details of her actions are still within the geographic confines of this local area. But if she let this information get out or drew extra attention to it by trying to hide, it might spread in profound ways.

  With that, Misha just nodded.

  After which point the doctor went out, closing the door behind her and spoke to the officers representing two distinctly different agencies.

  Out of curiosity, Misha took the moment to tune into the outside conversation. Focusing on one of the phones and using it as a listening device was rather easy.

  “She just woke up. She says she is willing to talk to the two of you but be calm with her. She just went through severe trauma and might need to be eased into things. If I notice you two harassing my patient, I will kick you both out of here, and make you wait in the lobby for her to exit. Do I make myself clear?”

  Hearing the impassioned speech from the caregiver, Misha was impressed.

  “You can’t just…” The officer began.

  “Look, the only reason. And I mean the only reason why you all are allowed to talk to her is because of those attacks going on. If I get the feeling that you are going to get pushy, victim blame, or anything other than trying to solve the active assault cases her on campus you two are out. Then you can either wait in the lobby or get a warrant that will allow you both to come back. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” both officers reply, but their level of acceptance seemed to be tested.

  Still, they had been given permission by both the doctor and the patient, but it was clear that the doctor would be ready to kick one or both out if they pushed her patient too hard.

  Perhaps they did this to an earlier victim? Misha mused to herself, as she tried to understand why a doctor would stand up for her rights this vehemently.

  Then again, Misha realized she had not done anything wrong.

  While the three-letter agency representative, Kirkland, might have grounds to assume something happened. They have no proof that anything illegal happened.

  Knock, knock.

  Before Misha could think too much about her plan of defense, her moment for self-introspection and preparation were over, as the two officers entered the room not waiting for a reply.

  That’s when Misha saw the two men enter and surround her bed, all but blocking her into the room.

  “We have a few questions that we would like to have answered,” the officer wearing the local police uniform began.

  And like that her interrogation into how she became a victim began.