Anya hated this the most.
She thought, standing behind a screen next to the director looking at a dead body.
Kai occasionally brought freshly dead bodies, or specially frozen ones, for Anya to look at.
Or more accurately, for Anya to listen to.
"Put your hands down." He said when Anya covered her face as the doctors prepared the bone saw.
"You're going to have to learn to do this eventually, don't shy from it." Kai insisted.
Anya's hands left her face, but couldn't help but look away as the saw bore into the mans skull.
"Look!" He said, placing a hand on her head and forcibly turning it.
The saw buzzed, making it's way around. Blood splatters painted the doctors protective overwear.
Anya had seen this before, but never got used to it.
The doctor put the saw down, and removed the top of the man's head, exposing his untouched brain.
"Pay attention. This part is important." The director instructed her as the doctor pulled out a machine attached by wires to two, small, devices.
He tested them to make sure they worked before placing them on the hippocampus, sending electrical currents.
"Search his memories for his killer, what do you see?" Kai asked.
Anya took a deep breath.
She closed her eyes, concentrating.
Dead minds were cold. Hollow. They gave her chills when she touched them. They felt dead. Made her skin scrawl and shiver. Sometimes they felt slimy and dank. Maybe dark and foggy. Or like that one time when it felt like it was trying to drag her down with it.
Anya already started to feel the affects.
She saw the faint flickering of memories flashing around, bringing her to attention. None of them organized or filed away. Like floating about aimlessly, nothing to tether them down.
Her stomach turned, fighting to rise up. Dizziness making it hard to focus.
'Anya better do this quick', she thought.
This mind was especially foggy.
Anya guessed it was from fear taking over the persons thoughts as they died, unable to focus on anything else.
She roamed through them for a couple minutes, trying to keep her stomach down, when she finally found it.
A man pointing a gun at her, or rather the dead guy, and shooting him in the chest.
As if it'd happened to her, she gasped stumbling away, eyes flying open.
The nausea from reading his mind overcoming her, she threw up in the bucket Agent Fisher held out for her.
Reading dead people was the worst.
"What did you see?" Kai wasted no time.
"He was shot." She croaked, coughing into the bucket.
"Yes, I know that. There's a bullet in his heart." He replied deceivingly calm.
"He had grey hair and brown eyes. And a drawing on his neck." She said turning to him.
"A tattoo? What was it?"
"Umm..." Anya tried hard to remember, but the memories of dead people were hazy. Details were always hard to see.
"It was swirly. I don't know. . .I couldn't see it very well." She mumbled at the ground.
He exhaled through his nose. "That'll have to do then. That should be enough for our client to identify him. Fisher." He turned to the woman.
"Bring her to Doctor Fairaway for a follow-up, they've analyzed the results." Kai said to the woman before walking away satisfied. Writing notes on a pad he kept in his pocket.
"Let's get you washed up first." Fisher said.
———
Anya screamed at them, hurling every insult she could think of as she thrashed and thrashed as Fisher tried to strap her down once more.
"LET ANYA GO! ANYA DOESN'T WANT TO!" She yanked on Fishers hair.
"Ow!"
"Anya! Calm down!" Doctor Fairaway's voice drowned out by Anya's, grabbing one of her arms.
"YOU CALM DOWN!" She cried through her tears, Fisher finally getting a fist in a cuff.
"NO!! NO NO NO NO NO NO!" Anya tried harder, but she wasn't a match for the agent who managed to wrangle her other hand into the next cuff.
"This is the last one, I promise!" Fairaway helped Fisher with the last of the straps. Buckling it down.
They both stood up straight, took a breath. Tucked away the strands that came loose.
Never had a four year old caused them such problems.
Fisher said something.
"What?!" Fairaway called over the unintelligible screaming.
Fisher said it again.
"What?!"
The agent gave up and left the room.
"Anya! Calm down!" The doctor tried again. She sighed and turned to the counter to prepare the needle.
The next minutes were filled with Anya's crying and hollering until it deescalated, her throat raw and tired.
"Anya doesn't need anymore!" She sobbed.
"Yes! You do! Do you want your brain to stop working? You'd only live a couple more years without it." Fairaway sighed dramatically, tired of Anya's antics.
"This is the last stage. It will keep you for the rest of your life. So calm down. The pain only lasts a couple days."
"It lasts forever!" Anya objected, her lip trembling at the sight of the doctor flicking the needle and approaching.
—————-
Loid sat in the principal's office a few days later.
The second of the schools that had a black and grey uniform.
His searching paid off, an announcement made at the school to come forward if anyone had met a pink-haired little girl with green eyes and horns on her head named Anya about year ago. He was lucky the schools administrator had agreed to help. The principal understanding his parental dedication to finding his daughter.
She was a very proper person: auburn hair kept perfectly in place, posture straight as a board, a light smiled that assured parents their children were in good hands.
He sat across from her desk, waiting patiently.
They turned to the door as it opened, revealing a boy, maybe fourteen years old. A head of dark blonde, accompanied by hazel eyes.
He looked curiously from the principal to Loid who stood to greet him.
"Good morning. My name is Loid Forger." He held out his hand.
"Hi. . .I'm Sam. . ." Hesitantly shook it. He glanced to the principal uncertainly. "What's this about?"
"Have a seat." She motioned to the chair next to Loid's.
"Mr. Forger tells me you might know his daughter." Ms. Jacklyn began once he sat.
"Anya?" He guessed.
"Yes."
"She's your daughter? I thought she was an orphan?" He stated bluntly.
"She's adopted." Loid hated revealing this, but the school was far enough away from people who'd ask questions, that he hoped it wouldn't cause problems. "I was hoping you could tell me how you met her?" Loid prompted.
Sam thought this was weird. Sam looked to the principal who nodded in encouragement.
Shrugging, like it was a normal thing, said: "Found her hiding out in the school's supply closet by the field. Don't know how she got in there."
"You what?" Asked the principal. "Why did I not hear of this?"
"Uhh. . . " Sam paused, realizing his mistake. "Well. . .she. . .wasn't harming anything. Said she was hiding and when I asked where her parents were, she didn't answer."
"Hiding from what?"
Shrugged again. "Said it was 'bad guys'".
They both blinked at him. "Why didn't you bring her to the police?" Loid asked.
He rubbed at his neck, laughing nervously. "Honestly I thought she was a street kid. She looked like a street kid. . . kinda. And even if she was hiding from these 'bad guys', I doubted the police would care much about her. . . " He trailed off. "But she was so young and scared, I figured I could at least show her where she'd have a roof." He twiddled his thumbs.
"The orphanage." He stated. Aware of the shoddy police work you could find most anywhere.
A nod.
Loid Backtracked. "What do you mean she kinda looked like a street kid? I was told she was wearing pyjamas."
"Pyjamas?" Sam squinted as he looked up, searching his memories. "Yeah I mean, I guess they could've been. But I don't think so. They looked more like. . . hospital clothes. . .except not. But she didn't look sick and she said she felt fine so.... She just looked dirty, ya know? Like she hadn't bathed in awhile."
Mr. Forger nodded, thinking carefully. Realizing how little he knew.
"Did she say anything else?"
Sam shrugged, shaking his head.
Loid nodded in acceptance that that was all he'd get. He thanked them both before leaving, glad to know his next task.