《Outside the Protocol》


 1. PDJA

    The procedure is not complicated. While still alive, individuals grant appropriate power of attorney and sign a contract with the association. The lawyers from Walter & Walter did an excellent job, and so far, no family, corporation, or city enforcement service has managed to challenge these agreements. The Post-Death Justice Association (PDJA) has the authority to halt cremations, appoint its own experts during court proceedings, act as a secondary prosecutor if necessary, and ensure that the deaths of association members are thoroughly investigated, with perpetrators punished if the death resulted from third-party actions.


    Despite these extensive powers and provisions, the justice system in New Polis¡ªa city of over twenty million¡ªleft much to be desired. More often than not, the association was forced to resort to unofficial paths to pursue justice, a practice not reflected in the contract but tacitly understood as part of the agreement.


    Tex was part of the investigative department, providing materials for the legal division or¡ªaccording to HR¡ªthe "security staff."


    The police officers securing the scene reluctantly let her through the cordon after she flashed the PDJA¡¯s power of attorney for the deceased.


    "Rude!" Tex quipped at the apparently high-ranking officer, currently scanning her tech¡ªa process immediately flagged by her system, which displayed a warning on her lens. Given her extensive implants, being hacked was a top concern, but it took her only a moment to neutralize the scan.


    ¡°What about my right to privacy, officer?¡± she asked, half-joking as she walked up to him, meeting his gaze boldly. The officer''s eyes, barely visible under the rain cap dripping water in the dim light of the side street, avoided hers briefly. A light drizzle fell, and her deliberate step splashed some water onto his uniform pant leg.


    The man seemed slightly embarrassed¡ªfirst, for being caught; his system wasn¡¯t top-tier military or corporate-grade tech, but as a captain with twenty years of service, he wasn¡¯t using low-grade equipment either. Second, the black-haired woman before him, appearing about thirty, wore more tech than anyone he had encountered. Her limbs, jaw, right eye, and numerous smaller enhancements weren¡¯t just reinforced¡ªthey had been completely replaced with cybernetic implants. Though he didn¡¯t catch all the details due to a glitch interrupting his scan, her extensive modifications were evident.


    "Everything important is still original," she said, noting his discomfort, running her finger along her side and waist. Her comment deepened his embarrassment; the forty-something officer looked away, coughed, and responded:


    ¡°Please don¡¯t touch anything. Your credentials check out, but this is still an accident scene. We¡¯re conducting an investigation, and please don¡¯t bother the technicians.¡±


    ¡°An accident, not a crime?¡± she asked, tilting her head. Her sharp bangs revealed dark green eyes, and her black, chin-length hair, hanging loose, was slowly getting drenched in the rain.


    ¡°For comments, please refer to the spokesperson for Precinct 21,¡± he replied in a recovered professional tone.


    Tex clicked her tongue in dissatisfaction and moved toward the deceased. Behind the barrier poles emitting holographic privacy screens, technicians were securing evidence while a nearly silent police drone circled the scene, recording everything. She complied with the officer¡¯s request, not bothering his team with questions¡ªshe knew they wouldn¡¯t share anything at this stage.


    From her vantage point, she had a clear view of her client, sprawled on the pavement, shattered from the fall. He must have fallen from a significant height. A thought crossed her mind that at least he didn¡¯t suffer.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, buddy. We¡¯ll figure out what happened,¡± she muttered under her breath toward the deceased before beginning to record the soles of his shoes, fingertips, and the rest of his body and surroundings. She made two thorough rounds, ensuring she captured everything, including close-ups. Her cybernetic right eye, worth a fortune, was indispensable for such tasks.


    No detail was too small to potentially matter later, so she never cut corners during data collection. Alex Lafayette was a junior director of innovation at a mid-sized synthetic food corporation, Sorghum NP Holding. His premium PDJA package was expensive, and recent enough to rule out suicide¡ªnobody spends that kind of money only to take their own life. His body showed no immediate signs of a struggle or injuries other than those from the fall, but more would be revealed through police and coroner reports.


    Leaving the scene behind, she headed to the building¡¯s entrance. The association had notified them of her arrival, so the guard simply nodded in acknowledgment and escorted her inside. They passed through a typical lobby and took the elevator to the 48th floor, where she was shown to a meeting room. Inside, two employees awaited her¡ªrepresentatives from the PR and legal departments, as she soon discovered through introductory pleasantries.


    She asked standard questions and received predictable responses. Yes, everything pointed to an accident at this stage. No, she couldn¡¯t access the site where it occurred. They promised to provide the association with their internal report after their investigation, assuring her that their best security personnel were handling the unfortunate incident. Expressions of regret for the loss of Alex followed.


    The association¡¯s procedures required starting with official channels before exploring alternative methods. Tex adhered to them without protest, though such encounters typically yielded little. Thanking them politely for their time, she confirmed they had the correct contact information for sending their¡ªexpectedly useless¡ªinternal report and left.


    Two blocks away, her colleague Jim waited in a company car. After she slid into the passenger seat, they headed toward the client¡¯s residence¡ªa modest apartment in one of the city¡¯s better districts, about an hour away according to the onboard computer. Jim was relatively new, with limited field experience, and as a junior security staff member, he wasn¡¯t assigned significant responsibilities yet. Tex noted his steady driving and, from his personnel file, his good shooting range scores. Subtle signs of attraction to her¡ªslightly elevated heart rate and minor temperature changes¡ªdidn¡¯t escape her notice. It didn¡¯t bother her; if anything, she considered it added motivation for him to perform well in her presence. She told him about the fruitless meeting with the deceased¡¯s employer, the lack of decisive evidence pointing to third-party involvement, and concluded that, in her view, all options remained on the table. Then she amused him with casual small talk, followed by a back-and-forth exchange of songs they thought the other absolutely needed to hear. They had different musical tastes, which led to some laughter.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    At the destination, their ride up the elevator was brief. Once they reached the apartment on the seventeenth floor of the residential tower, Tex ordered Jim to secure the entrance, much to his displeasure, while she stepped inside. The black, squat, heavily glassed building had a modern interior, adorned with bold, artistic geometry in its common spaces rather than traditional art or decorations. It was a relatively new architectural trend, though Tex couldn¡¯t recall its name. With the death confirmed, the association had promptly received the insured¡¯s access codes, so entering the apartment posed no issue.


    Inside, she recorded everything meticulously. At first glance, the apartment appeared tidy and sparsely furnished, typical of a bachelor¡¯s quarters. She found a few hairs that definitely didn¡¯t belong to Alex and packed them into ziplock bags. She didn¡¯t wear gloves; her synthetic skin left no fingerprints. Scanning surfaces across various light spectra revealed nothing unusual¡ªno blood, just the ordinary traces of human activity common to bedrooms.


    After inspecting a few cabinets, she raised an eyebrow at a Kinbaku rope and a few gags but found nothing out of the ordinary otherwise. She combed through the rooms twice to be sure before sitting at Alex¡¯s home terminal. Connecting remotely using the association¡¯s access codes left in case of his death, Tex began issuing commands via her system. She copied the entire system¡¯s contents and transmitted them directly to the analysis department, skimming through promising files as they were uploaded. Her custom script flagged recordings for keywords and content relevance. Within three minutes of sifting through dull work recordings and spicy accounts of rope binding of casual partners, she had a hit.


    A video message to his teenage daughter, whom his ex-wife had full custody of. He saw her only every other weekend. Tex downloaded the recording and played it as a miniature projection on her lens.


    "If you¡¯re watching this, things didn¡¯t go as I¡¯d hoped. I¡¯m sorry." Classic, thought Tex, shaking her head. Then, her system issued a warning. The code indicated an advanced cyber-weapon, military-grade. Her scanner, running in the background, had flagged it¡ªa first for her. The weapon¡¯s owner was ascending in the elevator, likely stopping at their floor.


    "If you haven¡¯t already received them, you¡¯ll soon get the policy codes and access to my account. I left you everything through your mom¡¯s uncle¡¯s law firm office." Alex¡¯s voice continued in the background.


    ¡°Jim, inside now, and lock the door!¡± she barked. Jim complied quickly before asking questions.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on, Tex?¡± he asked, drawing a compact Mercer12 pistol from his holster. It held three dozen penetrating rounds per magazine and boasted excellent aiming assistance.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a company¡ªmilitary-grade weaponry holder, an expensive toy I must say,¡± Tex replied, rising from the console. She drew an identical pistol from the holster on her back. The files continued uploading to their servers. She grabbed Jim¡¯s arm and retreated with him to the window, keeping out of the line of fire while maintaining a view of the entrance. Through thermal imaging, she spotted their target¡¯s heat signature behind one wall. To her dismay, six others accompanied him. They moved as a unit toward Alex¡¯s apartment. There was no way it was a coincidence. Tex figured they carried simpler weapons with no electronic signatures, rendering them invisible to her scanner.


    "The PDJA agents should deal with those responsible for my disappearance, but you and Mom should still be cautious. Leave the city for a while until it¡¯s resolved," Alex said on the video, his voice breaking.


    ¡°Damn it, Jim, it¡¯s a seven-person team,¡± she whispered, struggling to maintain composure. ¡°Call for backup. I¡¯ll find a way out.¡±


    She took a deep breath, quickly pulling up in her system the layout of the apartment and the building section she¡¯d observed earlier. Though the building¡¯s black exterior seemed solid, structural reinforcements every five floors jutted out about thirty centimeters. It would have to do. Tex opened the nearest window fully. They had to descend two floors. With luck, they could balance on the ledge. Her tech made it feasible for her to just jump down there, but not Jim.


    "Take care of yourselves. I love you, sweetheart," Alex finished, sniffling.


    ¡°Backup¡¯s on its way,¡± Jim reported quietly. Tex looked at him, eyes bright with realization.


    ¡°Two floors down, there¡¯s a ledge. We¡¯ll climb it and enter another apartment. BDSM will help us!¡± she said in a hushed tone. Jim looked confused until she returned with the rope, quickly tied a rescue knot around his waist, and urged him to go first. Both holstered their weapons and she pushed him out the window, steadying him as he descended onto the narrow ledge. He barely fit but stood his ground. Tex tossed him the rest of the rope.


    She vaulted out the window, hung by one hand, and closed it from the outside with her other. Her synthetic skin allowed for enhanced grip on demand. Sliding down slowly using both hands, she monitored the advancing squad. They carefully entered Alex¡¯s apartment as Tex clung to the ledge. Not wanting to risk Jim being blown off by the wind, she used her remote connection to Alex¡¯s central unit to blast loud rock music at full volume. Taking advantage of the distraction, she smashed the nearest corridor window with a single punch, her cybernetic muscles straining under synthetic skin when she did.


    Pushing Jim inside, she leapt through after him.


    ¡°To the stairs,¡± she ordered, propelling him toward the emergency exit. Jim obeyed, behaving commendably for a rookie while gathering the rope to not trip over it. Soon, they were sprinting downward without looking back.


    ¡°Backup¡¯s 30 minutes out,¡± Jim informed her shortly by the eighth floor. They descended the rest in silence, Jim¡¯s labored breathing filling the air. As they reached the street, he leaned on his knees, trying to rest for a second.


    ¡°The car¡¯s over there. Come on, you can catch your breath inside. I¡¯ll drive,¡± Tex said firmly, guiding him to the vehicle. As they reached it, a massive explosion echoed from Alex¡¯s apartment, shattering glass and flinging debris down the street. Both ducked instinctively before glancing at each other to ensure neither was injured. Nodding silently, they sat in the car and promptly left the scene.

 2. Climbing

    They drove in silence, sticking to the rules and avoiding attention. Jim''s adrenaline ebbed after a few minutes, and Tex noticed he was trembling slightly, so she discreetly turned up the heat.


    ¡°Fuck me, if we hadn¡¯t gotten out in time¡­¡± His voice trailed off as he shook his head and exhaled heavily, resting his forehead on a hand propped on the dashboard.


    Without a word, Tex patted his shoulder and kept driving, meanwhile sending reports and footage of the explosion seen from her perspective to headquarters. Two of the organization¡¯s strike teams were already heading to the scene, though they didn¡¯t expect to find any suspects. Whoever had orchestrated this had erased all traces of evidence in the apartment. The analysis department informed her they had managed to retrieve 32.8% of the data she had been transferring before the explosion. Better than nothing, she thought, her expression souring.


    To distract him, Tex said, ¡°Untie that rope, coil it properly, and toss it into my bag in the back. Along with this evidence.¡± She pulled several small zip-lock bags containing strands of hair from her inner pocket and handed them to him. He stared at the items absentmindedly before looking down at the loosely tied rope still around his waist.


    ¡°Sure,¡± he mumbled in a slightly dazed tone and began working slowly. Halfway through, he took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and steadied his nerves. ¡°You said ¡®coil.¡¯ Climbing or sailing?¡±


    ¡°Climbing,¡± she replied flatly, maneuvering smoothly through another intersection.


    ¡°Nice, wanna check some climbing walls together this weekend?¡± he asked, attempting to keep the conversation going.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not into it anymore,¡± she replied, her tone final. Her face remained unchanged, but Jim took the hint and quietly finished packing the rope and evidence into the designated bag.


    Unintentionally, Tex¡¯s mind drifted to those thrilling moments¡ªwhen her exhausted legs propelled her toward a handhold just out of reach, unsure if her fingers would make it. Would the chalk on her hands provide enough friction for a firm grip? Did she calculate correctly, or had she overestimated her strength? The exhilaration of barely catching a hold, her body swinging slightly before her other hand reached the next hold on the climbing wall, body and mind working in unision.


    After her incident, the cybernetic implant procedure, and months of recovery, she had only gone climbing once. Her cybernetically controlled mechanical legs seamlessly integrated into her system that calculated angles, surface traction, and adjusted the texture of her synthetic skin to optimize grip. Her new tech shattered all her personal bests on her favorite routes, but by the fourth climb, she felt nauseated. It wasn¡¯t her climbing anymore¡ªit was the engineers from OneStepAhead Lab. Sure, without the tech, she¡¯d have been a bedridden husk of a person, but the joy of climbing was gone. The memory left her throat dry, and the small patch of real skin on her back grew clammy with cold sweat. She made a mental note for her trigger journal. Once a month, she had mandatory sessions with a shrink to discuss events or words that triggered such reactions¡ªa part of the cost of her procedure. Few people legally inhabited the far end of the spectrum between human and machine.


    A quiet snort of frustration escaped her at the thought of the dissertations likely to be written about the disintegration of her personality or whatever waited for her at the end. When she returned her focus to reality, they were nearly at her apartment. She had spent the better part of an hour drowning in her frustrations, driving on autopilot. She hated herself for it.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take the car and evidence bag to the office. We¡¯ll stay in touch,¡± Jim offered, seeming fully recovered. ¡°Thanks, Tex. You kept your cool and got us out of there. Despite that I¡¯m the one in security,¡± he added, slightly embarrassed but genuinely grateful.


    ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it. Before investigations, I spent nearly a decade in security. You¡¯ll get there,¡± she replied lightly, her tone carefully controlled. Not wanting him to press further, she got out, patted the car roof, signaling he could leave, and headed toward the row of elevators leading to her residential hub.


    Her apartment was small and tidy, entering directly into a kitchen-dining area. Behind it lay her bedroom, with a bathroom at the rear. Every door, internal and external, was reinforced, as were the walls. Located in the heart of a massive residential hub near one of its structural pillars, Tex felt confident that her home was secure as long as the hub itself stood. Authorizing entry with a frequently updated code, the doors locked automatically with a soft click behind her. She removed her shoes to avoid tracking dirt inside and stripped on her way to the bathroom, tossing her entire outfit into the washing machine before stepping into the shower.


    The disinfectant-cleanser mix was pleasantly warm. Her synthetic skin transmitted sensory signals to her brain, but the fragment of real skin on her back felt the most soothing under the spray. Engineers claimed it was psychological rather than a flaw in their design, but Tex thought they didn¡¯t have a clue. After her shower, she examined herself in the mirror, a habit that helped stave off dissociation. To an untrained eye, the transitions between human and machine parts were imperceptible. However, she knew every detail to the millimeter. The lab had done excellent work, and focusing on the reflection, especially with just her left eye, helped her feel whole again.


    She applied a special balm to her new skin and spent a few minutes in the armchair in her bedroom, where she ran a thorough diagnostic of all her components and inductively recharged her power cells. Everything was in order.


    Afterward, she changed into casual homewear and heated a single-serving Toshioki Ramen. Sitting in the dining area with her warm bowl of soup, she reviewed the files they had managed to extract. She also searched for information on the deceased¡¯s ex-wife, daughter, and the uncle with a law firm mentioned in the recording. Headquarters confirmed the sole heiress had received all the credits. She began profiling potential employees who might be persuaded to talk, knowing the company¡¯s internal report wouldn¡¯t reveal anything significant. By the time she finished eating, she had a shortlist of six candidates.


    Before bed, she retrieved her dry, fresh-smelling laundry, folded it neatly, and stored it away. While finally in bed, she was watching news projections. Searching for coverage of the explosion, only a few outlets had mentioned it. They had nothing significant to report, reiterating the police¡¯s statement that the cause was still under investigation, though suspected to be an energy cell malfunction. Unsurprising, given the ever-increasing client list of her organization.


    After an hour of combing through news and articles, she gave up and decided to sleep. She took her medication for nightmares and insomnia, lowered the room temperature, and tucked herself in¡ªa ritual despite not needing a blanket. She always woke up uncovered anyway.


    That night, the pills didn¡¯t keep the nightmares at bay. She dreamt of Alex¡¯s apartment, where TurboNews24¡¯s speculation about a malfunctioning cell proved accurate. Standing a few steps from it, she heard the hissing. Alarmed, she crouched instinctively, shielding her face with her hands and her torso with her legs¡ªjust as she had during her accident. In the dream, she observed herself from the outside, like a journalistic drone. The cell exploded, the heat and shockwave stripping her of everything but life. The scene replayed frame by frame. The psychiatrist had warned her against looking at pre-surgery photos of the incident. He was probably right. Now, those images were part of her nightmares¡¯ regular repertoire.


    By morning, the dream faded quickly, aided by the medication¡¯s effect of suppressing recall. Only her slightly swollen, stinging left eye, irritated by salt tears, hinted that the night had been anything but peaceful.

 3. Unannounced meeting

    She was woken up by a notification about a bonus for yesterday''s mission. Instead of just saving herself, she had ensured that the new security division employee, Jimmy, also made it out unscathed. The company encouraged such behavior. She wasn¡¯t planning to tell him that his life had been valued at a thousand credits¡ªthe equivalent of a dinner at a really nice restaurant, as long as you didn¡¯t order too many drinks.


    The first data about the hair strands found in the deceased''s apartment had also come in. The blonde strands belonged to a young woman captured on one of the recordings; based on her profile, she seemed to be a hired companion. Meanwhile, the red strands belonged to an intern from the holding where he worked. From the one-third of the data they¡¯d managed to download, there was nothing inappropriate or suggestive of a private relationship between them. However, if she had been to his apartment, she might be willing to share something about the ongoing internal investigation or at least the general atmosphere among the employees.


    As Tex headed for breakfast at the dumpling shop on the tenth floor of the residential hub, she also skimmed through the conclusions of her fellow analysts working on the case. There was consensus that it wasn¡¯t a suicide¡ªthe tone of the farewell video strongly suggested as much. Even if it were, it seemed coerced, and the most obvious leverage for such a scenario would have been the safety of his daughter.


    At this hour, she had to wait in line for a bit. She ordered steamed vegetarian dumplings to balance out the instant ramen from the previous day. Tex agreed with the preliminary findings, so she added her thoughts to the shared report draft. She also noted that her analysis of the metadata from the farewell video with his daughter indicated it had been recorded in his apartment three days before his death. He must have known or sensed the danger closing in on him even then.


    She sent a request for more data on the intern, intending to visit her today. Before she finished her meal, the central office had provided all available information. She got enough to arrange a meeting. Melinda Horton, 21 years old, a laboratory technician by training with a degree from a low-cost urban institute. She had worked with Alex for six months. Tex decided to catch her off guard for an unannounced lunch.


    Most of the journey was via metro. Along the way, she fine-tuned her facial recognition system to a high alert for spotting Horton. Once she arrived, she settled on a bench with a clear view of the entrance to the Sorghum NP Holding building, hoping the intern would stick to her usual routine of eating lunch at a cheap diner two streets away. Tex remained resigned to the fact that such personal data was absurdly inexpensive to buy from providers of navigation services or banks handling remote transactions. The average resident of New Polis was helpless when it came to maintaining anonymity. Without the right know-how, tech, and a stash of credits, people were at the mercy of corporations eager to trade in any kind of data. Checking the invoice, she noted that learning where Horton typically ate lunch had cost the company the equivalent of a cheap synthetic sandwich on sale.


    She didn¡¯t have to wait long. After about half an hour of observation, her system identified the target. Melinda emerged from the building briskly, turning left, which pointed toward her usual diner or at least its vicinity. Tex crossed the street with the crowd and discreetly followed the girl. She waited a moment before entering the old Thai food joint behind her. Inside, it was bustling, serving about two dozen patrons seated at a long U-shaped counter. Melinda sat down and began selecting her meal on the panel, looking distracted. The man beside her finished his meal, and as he got up, Tex slipped into his spot. She quickly ordered a banana Thai roti and coffee¡ªthe girl¡¯s favorite dessert¡ªand stared at her boldly.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The girl must have felt her gaze because, after placing her order, she looked over shyly and asked, ¡°Excuse me, do we know each other?¡±


    ¡°Hi, Melinda. I know you. I have a few questions about our mutual friend,¡± Tex replied in a completely neutral tone.


    The intern frowned and said, ¡°I don¡¯t think we have any mutual friends.¡±


    ¡°Our dear friend Alex might have a different opinion on that,¡± Tex said with a slight edge, fixing her gaze on the girl even more intensely.


    Melinda looked uneasy and turned her back on Tex, swiveling on her round stool, intending to leave. Tex gently grabbed her arm¡ªnot squeezing, just holding her firmly enough to prevent her from moving even an inch. The tech in her arm had immense power, rendering the intern¡¯s resistance futile.


    ¡°We have your tapes, you know, the ones with the ropes,¡± Tex said quietly yet suggestively, pausing for effect. It was a bluff, but one that could work.


    The girl stopped struggling and, after a few tense heartbeats, turned back to Tex with a slightly flushed face and a frustrated tone. ¡°Fine, ask your questions.¡±


    ¡°Can you think of any reason why someone would want Alex dead?¡± Tex asked, sliding over the Pad Thai that had just arrived. She also opened the wrapper with the chopsticks, pulling them out slightly to make them easy to grab. Melinda took them hesitantly and began eating slowly as she answered, slightly bothered by the directness of the question.


    ¡°Sometimes, after everything, he¡¯d suggest he was close to climbing higher, but in our company, that didn¡¯t seem likely at all,¡± she said, trailing off.


    ¡°Go on,¡± Tex encouraged her.


    The girl sighed before continuing, ¡°Our department, under his leadership, was very close to introducing a new, slightly more efficient method of sorghum synthesis, but all the credit went to his boss. Maybe it wasn¡¯t going to be revolutionary, but it would have given us a temporary edge over the competition¡ªmaybe even let us compete with the really big players,¡± she paused to eat a few bites.


    ¡°And what went wrong?¡± Tex asked. Her own food and coffee had arrived, but she didn¡¯t touch them.


    ¡°Four days ago, Future Plants Incorporated launched a very similar solution on the market,¡± she said, finishing her noodles.


    Tex slid over the coffee and dessert, then triggered a contactless payment with fake routing for both meals. Leaning in, she said, ¡°You can consider your tapes destroyed now.¡±


    She stood up, brushed the girl¡¯s shoulder with her hand, and when Melinda looked at her, Tex winked, turned on her heel, and left the diner with her hands in her jacket pockets.


    The girl¡¯s story made sense and warranted further investigation, but it didn¡¯t settle the case. Tex decided to head to the office, reviewing messages from the analysis department and double-checking the available footage at high speed along the way. Her thoughts drifted as she sat in the metro, staring absently at an ad display. The narrator spoke confidentially, ¡°She doesn¡¯t have to know you¡¯re recording. Colorless, thin, and invisible lenses¡ªObserver GX 120, now just 9,999 credits. Don¡¯t wait!¡±


    Tex snorted, then muttered, ¡°Actually¡­¡± She adjusted herself on the seat, focused, and created a new script in her system. It would filter out recordings likely made with such lenses or similar devices. It took her a few moments. Running the script, it excluded 217 of the 218 recordings, leaving one. She checked it personally, and there was no doubt. The metadata indicated it was relatively new¡ªrecorded a week before the incident.


    She jumped off the metro at her stop and almost sprinted to the office, requesting a personal meeting with her supervisor on the way. They would need to organize access to the morgue, and that would require his approval.

 4. Any last words?

    After showing the department head the footage and the accompanying calculations to support her theory, he believed her assumptions and approved the expense of hiring their own pathologist for the investigation. According to the manufacturer, a correctly installed Observer GX was nearly undetectable. Tex hoped that the authorities hadn¡¯t been overly meticulous, giving them a good chance to retrieve footage from it. The recording was triggered by a sequence of rapid blinks, and while the storage capacity was minimal, the recording¡ªno matter how short¡ªwould undoubtedly be invaluable for reconstructing the circumstances of the victim¡¯s death.


    Within a few hours, they secured their pathologist, who regularly collaborated with the association and was willing to perform extra tasks for a corresponding fee. It wasn¡¯t a cheap service¡ªTex¡¯s boss always frowned at the cost¡ªbut the stakes were too high not to try. Tex was assigned to accompany the doctor for as long as possible, and they were also provided with two security personnel. When the doctor arrived at the office, she personally escorted him to the parking lot, where the car and security team were already waiting.


    Jim was the driver, joined by another middle-aged security guard Tex recognized from the office but had never worked with before. Tex handed the doctor a small flashlight-like device capable of retrieving data from short distances. They double-checked its functionality before departure. It was an expensive but extremely practical gadget they had used before, so she didn¡¯t need to explain how it worked. The drive was smooth; Jim seemed eager to make a good impression on the senior colleague, staying focused and speaking little.


    At the morgue, they had to wait outside. Only the pathologist was allowed in the room with the bodies. He was gone for a good two hours but nodded knowingly upon his return. Once in the car, he confirmed that he had retrieved something. Tex congratulated him on the job, and they headed back to process and review the data.


    At the office, the doctor bid them farewell in high spirits¡ªa trip like this was a lucrative job for him. Jim and his colleague stayed on the ground floor, wishing Tex good luck before heading off to their next tasks. She went upstairs and handed the device to the technical department.


    Less than an hour later, Tex, her boss, and a few technicians gathered in front of the monitor of the unit decoding the data. Only video had been captured, but lip-reading algorithms reconstructed the dialogue, providing subtitles. The footage began with a scene showing a man, identified as Alex¡¯s superior, removing a chip from a reader.


    ¡°I¡¯ve checked the chip, everything matches. I¡¯ll handle the credits. I knew you¡¯d manage to sell our project to them,¡± the man said, patting Alex on the shoulder with a predatory smile. ¡°Now, if you don¡¯t want my agents to blow up your daughter and ex-wife, you¡¯ll jump out of the window after I leave.¡± He showed Alex a live feed on a personal reader¡ªhis daughter and ex-wife were gardening together. The camera then shifted to the interior of a car filled with armed men. Tex recognized the advanced rifle one of them carried¡ªit was the same model used by the leader of the unit that had destroyed the victim¡¯s apartment.


    ¡°Any last words?¡± the man asked Alex with a nasty grin. Alex must have replied with something, because the man simply shrugged and coldly added, ¡°Don¡¯t hate the player, hate the game. In my place, you¡¯d probably do the same.¡±


    Narrowing his eyes, he added as he left, ¡°Don¡¯t make me wait long for results.¡±


    After the man exited, Alex massaged his forehead and slowly sat at the workstation. Without saving or sending anything, he typed into an open text file: ¡°I hope this recorded. Matthew Lopez and I sold the project to the competition. Now I¡¯m going to die because of him. Please, whoever sees this, protect my family.¡± He then listed from memory the places, dates, and names of people involved. He deleted the text immediately afterward and closed the file. His hands were shaking, and he made several typos along the way. Standing up, he walked to the window, opened it, stepped one leg over the ledge¡ªand the recording ended.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    After a moment of silence and head-shaking, Tex¡¯s boss broke the tension.


    ¡°That bastard,¡± he muttered. ¡°Sold the project using his deputy¡¯s hands, then erased him from the equation. Tops my list of scumbags of the quarter.¡±


    ¡°Tom, I think one of the men in the car was on the team that blew up Alex¡¯s apartment,¡± Tex said quickly. ¡°He not only eliminated Alex but also every shred of evidence linking him to the case¡ªexcept for this recording,¡± she added, nodding toward the monitor.


    ¡°Got it. We¡¯ll factor that in. Add your comments to the file by 9 a.m. tomorrow. I¡¯ll schedule a meeting with management to decide the association¡¯s next steps. Good work, Tex. And you guys too,¡± he said, nodding to the technicians.


    He motioned for Tex to go ahead, and they both left the room. As they walked down the hallway toward the elevators, Tom stopped at his office door.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be in touch. See you tomorrow!¡± he called after her.


    She waved a hand in acknowledgment and continued to the elevator. On her way out of the building, she spotted Jim. He noticed her too, quickly finishing his drink before crushing the can and tossing it toward the trash bin she was passing. It bounced off the rim and almost fell to the ground, but Tex kicked it back up with her heel, landing it squarely in the bin.


    ¡°Assisting counts!¡± Jim said, approaching her. ¡°Need a ride?¡±


    ¡°Sure, but I¡¯m picking the music,¡± she replied with playful defiance.


    ¡°Deal. I¡¯m taking this beauty today,¡± he said, nodding toward a sleek black car, one of the more comfortable models in their fleet.


    ¡°What¡¯s the occasion?¡± she asked as they walked to the car.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a last minute assignment. Got to pick up the director for an important meeting tomorrow. Is it because of that recording?¡± he asked, opening the passenger door for her. She got in and answered, ¡°Exactly. They¡¯ll be deciding the next steps for the case.¡±


    Once she was settled, he closed the door and got behind the wheel. The drive was smooth¡ªJim, free of stress, was quite a capable driver. Tex played some niche post-electro from three decades ago. He didn¡¯t object.


    Something seemed to be on his mind; she could tell he was searching for words. She studied him for a moment but was relieved to realize it likely wasn¡¯t about anything romantic¡ªthank goodness, she thought. During the third track, he finally spoke, somewhat sheepishly.


    ¡°Sorry about that question back then. I didn¡¯t know¡­¡± he trailed off, uncertain how to continue.


    It wasn¡¯t his fault; she knew that and held no grudge. He couldn¡¯t have known. Tex assumed he¡¯d talked to one of the department veterans, who must have given him an overview of her situation. Now he felt awkward about suggesting a climbing gym outing. She found his concern endearing.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Jim. Don¡¯t worry about it. You couldn¡¯t have known. We¡¯re good,¡± she assured him gently. ¡°It¡¯s nice that you care, but remember, you don¡¯t have to tiptoe around me, or then we¡¯ll have a problem. Got it?¡± she added, squinting at him playfully with mock sternness.


    ¡°Got it. Thanks,¡± he replied, visibly relieved.


    The rest of the ride was lighter, filled with speculation about management¡¯s upcoming decision and catching up on office gossip. Soon, Jim dropped Tex off near her place, and they said their goodbyes. As per Tom¡¯s suggestion, Tex added her comments, video clips, and system logs regarding the man with the distinctive weapon to the joint report before going to bed. The rest was up to the analysis team and leadership. She wasn¡¯t sure what they¡¯d decide, but something told her they wouldn¡¯t take a strictly legal route¡ªnot after seeing that recording.