Elena crouches behind a shipping container in Warehouse 12, laptop balanced on her knees as she hacks into the Blackwood Institute's backup servers. Her fingers fly across the keyboard, bypassing security protocols she helped design.
"Come on, come on," she whispers, watching data stream across the screen. Personnel files, research notes, project budgets everything Richard tried to hide from their government handlers.
A footstep echoes through the warehouse. Elena draws the gun Marcus gave her, hands trembling as she aims toward the sound.
"Elena? It's me."
Marcus emerges from the shadows, Detective Morrison beside him. Elena keeps the weapon trained on Morrison.
"She's FBI," Marcus says. "She knows about the memory protocol."
"Everyone knows about the memory protocol," Morrison replies grimly. "We just didn't know it was real."
Elena slowly lowers the gun. "How many people have they processed?"
Morrison pulls out a classified folder. "According to this, the protocol was tested on forty-seven subjects over the past six months. Military personnel who showed signs of PTSD, government scientists with security clearances, anyone who might have sensitive information they wanted to extract."
"Forty-seven people." Elena's voice cracks. "Forty-seven people had their memories stolen."
"Or worse," Marcus says. "Elena, show her the video."
Elena turns her laptop screen toward Morrison. The detective watches in horror as the security footage plays not the manufactured evidence from the FBI bulletin, but the real footage Elena recovered from the backup servers.
The video shows Elena entering the Blackwood Institute Friday night, just as the official timeline claims. But it also shows what happened next: a black SUV arriving at 11:52 PM, three figures in tactical gear entering the building, Elena being carried out unconscious at 2:17 AM.
And then, most damning of all, Elena being brought back into the building Saturday morning—unconscious, drugged, positioned over Richard's body while someone in surgical scrubs operated the memory extraction equipment.
"They used the protocol on her," Morrison breathes. "Erased her memories of witnessing the murder, then implanted false memories to make her believe she committed it."
"But why kill Richard?" Marcus asks.
Elena's fingers hover over the keyboard. "Because of this."
She opens a file labeled "Project Tabula Rasa" Richard's secret research into mass memory manipulation. The documents reveal plans to use the memory protocol on entire populations, selectively editing traumatic events, political dissent, even personal relationships.
"They weren't just extracting information," Elena says. "They were planning to rewrite history. Remove inconvenient memories from voters, activists, journalists. Create a population that remembers only what the government wants them to remember."
Morrison sits heavily on a nearby crate. "That's not interrogation. That's mind control."
"And Richard found out," Marcus adds. "That's why they killed him."
Elena nods. "He discovered they were going to weaponize our research. He was going to expose the entire program." She looks up from the laptop, eyes bright with unshed tears. "He died trying to protect people from what we created."
A new sound echoes through the warehouse the distant whup-whup-whup of helicopters.
Morrison checks her radio. "Federal task force inbound. They're not here to arrest you, Marcus. They're here to clean up loose ends."
Elena slams the laptop shut. "How long do we have?"
"Maybe five minutes."
Marcus scans the warehouse, looking for exits. "There's a storm drain that leads to the sound. We can"
"No." Elena stands, her voice steady with new resolve. "I'm done running."
She pulls out her phone and starts typing rapidly.
"Elena, what are you doing?"
"Sending everything to every major news outlet in the country. Richard's research, the victim list, the video evidence. All of it."
Marcus grabs her arm. "They'll kill you the moment you send that."
Elena looks at him, and for the first time since this nightmare began, she smiles. "Then you better make sure they don't catch me."
The helicopter sounds grow louder.
Morrison draws her weapon. "There's another way out through the back. Move."
As they run toward the rear exit, Elena's phone chimes with delivery confirmations. Dozens of them. The story is out there now, spreading across the internet faster than any government agency can contain it.
Behind them, tactical teams rappel through the warehouse skylights.
Elena grabs Marcus's hand as they burst through the back door into the Seattle night. "Marcus, there's something I need to tell you. About why they really chose me for this."
"Tell me later. Right now we run."
"No, you need to know this now." Elena stops in the alley, forcing him to face her. "The memory protocol wasn't just my research. It was based on my brain patterns, my neural architecture. I'm not just the co-creator of the technology."
Marcus stares at her, understanding dawning in his eyes.
"I'm the template. Every memory extraction, every mind wipe, every false implantation they're all modeled on how my brain processes memory. Which means..."
Gunfire erupts from the warehouse behind them.
"Which means what, Elena?"
"I'm the only person who can reverse what they've done to those forty-seven victims. And they know it."