Unusual Connections

Digital Forensics Lab, Osaka Enforcement, Naniwa Branch Department  //  Nippombashi

“Nothing?” Mika, now dressed in her uniform after a visit to her locker, protests. She stares at the sleek holographic screen projected in front of her. A large dialog box reads “No Data” in the middle.

“I-I don’t know what to tell you,” stammers Forensics Analyst Tomomi Hikibi, running her fingers through her long, disheveled hair in a futile attempt to smooth out the unruly strands. Her dark circles demonstrate yet another sleepless night, mostly by her own choice. Over her pajama pants and plain t-shirt, she wears a white lab coat—a facade she’s adopted to appear more professional. It’s a trick she’s learned to gain trust despite her anxious demeanor.

She continues: “The chip’s contents were locked behind elliptic encryption, which I managed to crack, but the data explorer still says it’s empty.”

“There has to be something on it,” Mika insists.

“T-there is, but it seems corrupted or incomplete.” Tomomi chugs her half-finished energy drink, shivering as she feels the taste of lime-flavored caffeine travel down her throat.

“Can you read anything? Just anything at all?”

“I… I can try to scan the raw bits, but it’ll mostly be nonsense without the other parts.”

Tomomi rolls her chair to the forensic station, where the storage chip sits in a sealed clear chamber, its disassembled components meticulously suspended by micro-probes. The setup resembles a spiderweb of delicate machinery, delicately touching exposed pinouts surrounding the chip.

She peers through a magnifier, adjusting the probes with a joystick while glancing periodically at a holoscreen. Random hexadecimal code begins to scroll rapidly across the screen, a jumble of gibberish with occasional fragments highlighted.

“Interesting,” Tomomi murmurs, “I…I can read the header. It seems the chip contains part of… an algorithm model.”

“So what does it mean?”

“I don’t know. I can’t tell for what because the data is incomplete.”

Mika sighs.

Tomomi squints at the screen. “There… there are some whole words in the data stream. Hexa… hexafluoro… something.” She points at the long word on the screen.

Mika reads it flawlessly. “Hexafluoroborate? HFB? That’s a chemical formula.”

“D-Do you know what uses HFB?”

“Electroplating, usually. Making any metal look like gold with electroplating is common.”

Tomomi blinks in surprise. “You know a lot about this stuff.”

“I have to put my materials science degree to use somehow,” Mika shrugs. “Any other words?”

“I’ll have to look. Manually scanning the data stream takes a lot of time.” Tomomi types a command, and the holoscreen begins scrolling through the jumbled text, highlighting cohesive words in between random fragments.

Pushing back from the desk, Tomomi stretches and lets out a yawn. “Ugh. I’m tired.”

“Did you pull another all-nighter?”

“If you’re here, then I guess so,” Tomomi rolls in her chair over to a second desk on the far side of the room. The area is cluttered with snack wrappers and scattered papers, and next to it sits a small bed. She brushes aside the trash into a bin and boots up a primitive touchscreen monitor, then grabs a game controller.

Mika stares, her mouth slightly agape. “You live here?”

Tomomi slouches in her chair, her eyes glued to the screen. “I… I forgot to pay rent again,” she mumbles sheepishly.

“Tomomi, you really shouldn’t be living where you work.”

“It’s fine. It’s always just me here anyway.”

“And you taped up your window.” Mika peels the taped curtains slightly. Bright early sunlight blasts through the crack, directly hitting Tomomi and the screen.

“AHH! My eyes! It burns!” Tomomi shrieks, shielding herself like a vampire exposed to sunlight.

Mika quickly lets the curtain fall back into place. “Sorry.”

Tomomi gives Mika a quick glare before turning back to her game, muttering an annoyed expletive as her character loses a match.

A knock at the door draws both their attention. The door slides open to reveal Corporal Touma Hayashi.

“Hikibi, are you in here? Oh. Shinkawa, there you are,” he says, stepping inside.

Tomomi waves briefly before returning to her game, muttering another curse under her breath.

“Sir,” Mika salutes, then leans into his ear with a low tone. “You approved of Tomomi living in the lab?”

“I couldn’t say no,” Touma sighs, “even if her situation is… unconventional.”

Both Mika and Touma glance at Tomomi, who’s now fully immersed in her game.

“As long as she does the work,” he adds. “So, what are we looking at?”

Mika turns back to the holoscreen. “It seems to be part of an algorithm containing hexafluoroborate. But the data is fractured, so we can’t analyze it fully. Tomomi is running scans for other usable text…”

“Simpler words, Shinkawa,” Touma interrupts. “I’m not the one with the science degree.”

Mika pauses at that comment, then resumes. “It’s a partial blueprint for some chemical compound, but it’s incomplete. We’re trying to piece together what we can. And what we do have are only a few words after searching manually.”

Chatter comes over Touma’s earpiece. He taps it and answers, his expression shifting. “Who? What do they want?” He glances at the two women. “Excuse me,” he says, stepping out.

Tomomi groans, tossing her controller onto the desk. “Ugh. Stupid team feeds.”

Her stomach growls audibly. She clutches it with a pout. “I am STARVING.” She glares at Mika expectantly.

“Oh. Yeah,” Mika reaches into a FriendlyMart-branded bag and pulls out a strawberry cream sandwich. Tomomi’s eyes light up and she snatches it from Mika’s hand.

Tomomi practically drools as she unwraps the sweet, convenient delight. She takes her first bite and squeals in satisfaction.

The door slides open again as Touma returns.

“Corporal, you’re back,” Mika comments, “did Sarge come to visit again?”

“Actually, I have some guests with us,” he announces and steps aside.

Bradshaw steps into the room, his trench coat swaying with his stride, his sharp eyes telling his seasoned experience as usual. Behind him, Ray enters silently, his expression more hardened than before, yet seemingly uninterested. It’s almost like he thinks this visit is a waste of time. His jacket, clearly brandishing the Interpol insignia, is rolled up at the sleeves, revealing scars visible on his forearms from a deployment not long ago.

Mika straightens instinctively, feeling the heavy presence of authority from these two.

Interpol agents. This is big.