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====== Marker. ======

[[main_chr_marker|Main Characters]]

**This story is in PRE Alpha, unfinished, please refrain from copying, will be released under CC or similar license once finished and properly edited.**

//During the 1990s, a team at the University of Texas, Austin, measured the attention spans of volunteers.//

//These measurements were turned into a series of waves using Fourier transformation.//

//The result showed 1/f fluctuations, or "pink noise", and from it you could read the attention spans of the test subjects recurring at regular intervals.//

//The objective://

//Try to write a short story that follows  1/f //

//Meaning that a story chopped up into segments fitting the standard attention span might become a better "seller".//

</fs>

**Story Premise:**

Young female cop takes on rich and stark raving mad industrialist in genetic crime thriller.
===== Red snow =====

Silence encompassed everything, not a wind moved and a thick white carpet covered everything.

Rosie Hunt was looking out her window, she smiled thoughts where whirling in her mind, this was not what she had pictured happening after the news she'd just had the week before.

Life must go on her mother used to say when the family was facing tragedy, and it did, despite everything happening in the world. Be it crazy dictators oppressing whole nations in the name of religion, political conviction or be it devious politicians sugarcoating fewer rights for the public good, all off course in the holy name of terrorism, or be it brutal natural disasters slaying hundreds of thousands in one fell swoop.

Rosie nodded to herself, yup life did go on.

Maybe if she hadn't been so preoccupied she'd have noticed something, but the magic of the outside view had her mesmerized, and as she pondered her future fate, it came to an abrupt end.

Rosie Hunt died aged 25.

....

Sandrine Henderson was tired, her beeper had gone off a full three hours before her alarm was supposed to ring, the coffee bought at The Daily Grindhouse, a gritty, no-nonsense coffee shop that served up strong, bold brews perfect for keeping alert during long shifts was nice, but usually it took a little more to get her started this early in the morning. Particularly these days, limiting herself to 1 cup per day was agony. Sandrine rubbed her queasy stomach, trying to ignore the persistent waves of nausea that had been plaguing her for the last few weeks. The mere thought of her breakfast sandwich made her feel sick.

As the Kinetica drove up toward the crime scene a traffic cop waved her over, he looked at Sandrine immediately her nose ring and face piercing, at closer inspection the cop noticed both the ear piercings and the butterfly clad tattoo swirling up her arm.

"Sorry mam, you probably need to find an alternate route. Pinewood Lane is closed for all traffic, unless you live here ?". The traffic cop paused, the woman behind the wheel did not look like the average citizens of this neighborhood.

Sandrine smiled overbearingly and flashed her EuroCop detective badge. She knew full well why she was being pulled over. Her long black swirling hair, her almond eyes and dark tan. In a world still plagued by centuries of racial prejudice she was not exactly what the traffic cop expected a homicide investigator to look like.

The traffic cop embarrassed by his stereotyping stepped up to the side of the vehicle, relaxed the hand that had been held close to the holster and put it on the rooftop, "Excuse me mam, it's up 200 meters to the right, you'll need to pull up over there. You need to walk the rest of the way."

Sandrine looked at the traffic cop "Why?" she inquired.

"It's really messy in the back, and the boys haven't quite finished looking for foot and tire marks.

Sandrine smiled, the Solar Roadway as well as solar pavement would not have left much for anything to make any marks on the surface, the built in de-icing system would have taken care of that as well as the rugged nu slip surface. This was the upgraded 21'st century infrastructure - roads and power grid in one, hell even the materials were from locally grown sugarcane plastics and abundant earth minerals, no more dependence on foreign oil or gas, nor dictatorial regimes sitting on rare mineral reserves, welcome to the 21st century. She was a bit puzzled though, she would have expected the automated roads to have tracked quite a few vehicles, why were they looking for tire-tracks?

The traffic cop barely noticed her dreamy gaze as she rubbed her chin and continued.

"I hope you're not too iffy about blood, sure some freak who did this that's for sure." he stepped back and waved her in the right direction. Sandrine thanked him and smiled. The car pulled away up to the spot pointed out by the traffic cop.

The vehicle pulled up behind the white coroners wan, she sure didn't envy those guys, at least she had the opportunity to escape the murder scene once she'd done her preliminary investigation, then she could follow her leads, those guys did it every day.

Outside a camera was flashing, the half naked body in the snow wearing only a bathrobe once white was a typical suburban housewife of the west side. She looked very peaceful as she lay there.

There were long tracks of red in the snow where pulses of blood from slit arteries had painted a macabre pattern. Sandrine shuddered, nos as much from the cold as from the visuals of the scene.

The photographers finished up, no tracks but the victims left the back door, she must have tried to run across the yard to her neighbors house before expiring on her back lawn.

Inside the house her boyfriend sat devastated, she had called, had something to tell him. Tears flooded from his eyes.

Sandrine carefully noted his very genuine behavior, she was quite sure, her gut told her this was definitely not the assailant.

Her partner was doing the rounds with neighbors.

Everyone agreed Rosie Hunt was a decent person, in fact very well liked, a bit quiet but no enemies it would seem. It was a tragedy.

Sandrine noted the Alarm system had not gone off and nothing seemed missing or disturbed in the house other than some furniture toppled over from what seemed like a minor fight in the living room, meaning this was likely not a simple break in, gone wrong.

She glanced at the black chic bathroom table. Now this was interesting, a pregnancy test. Sandrine looked closer and carefully bagged the stick as well as the wrapping. Positive, so the victim was pregnant.

Lovers quarrel, another father than the poor sod sitting in the kitchen perhaps? Was that what Rosie had planned to tell him ? Or had she told him already ?

Sandrine knew she had to probe him deeper no matter how much it would seem to hurt, early elimination in any investigation was crucial to solving a case.
===== Clues =====

Sandrine sat anxiously in the doctor's office, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. She was going to get the results of her noninvasive blood based DNA testing where all kinds of things could be found out about the baby from taking her blood, and she was worried about what they might reveal.

The doctor entered the room with a warm smile and a reassuring demeanor. "Hello, Sandrine," he said. "How are you feeling today?"

Sandrine took a deep breath and replied, "I'm fa bit worried, to be honest"

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "I understand how you feel," he said. "Genetic testing can be a bit overwhelming at first. But I'm here to help you understand what the results mean, and to answer any questions you may have."

He pulled up her results on the computer screen and began to explain. "As you can see here, Sandrine, the test has revealed that your child has a genetic disposition for a rare condition. However, it's important to understand that just because there is a genetic disposition, it does not necessarily mean that the condition will develop in your child."

Sandrine's shoulders slumped while the doctor droned on about the potential issues after a rather lenghty explanation he was finally silent.

"What can we do to prevent the condition from developing?" she asked.

"Well, at this point there isn't a lot we can do to prevent it," the doctor replied. "But there is ongoing research into treatments and therapies for rare genetic conditions, and we're making significant progress. In fact, there is a national register of rare genetic conditions that is helping to advance our understanding of these conditions and to connect families with resources and support."

He continued, "There are also some exciting developments in the field of personalized medicine, which could one day allow us to tailor treatments to an individual's unique genetic profile. And CRISPR technology is advancing rapidly, allowing us to correct a whole slew of genetic mutations and to prevent the onset of certain conditions altogether."

"But what about my child? Should I be worried?" she asked. She needed to be reassured that everything was going to be allright, the world was crummy enough as it was.

The doctor smiled reassuringly. "No, Sandrine, there is absolutely nothing to worry about. Your child is healthy and developing normally, and there is a wealth of support and resources available to families who may be dealing with a rare genetic condition. We will monitor your child closely throughout the pregnancy and after, and we will do everything we can to ensure a healthy outcome."

Sandrine felt a weight lifted from her shoulders and moments later she was headed to her car. She had not more than fastened her seatbelt when her com screen flickered on. There had been another murder and she was called to the scene.

Sandrine was working late at the precinct when the coroner's office called. She answered the phone, expecting to hear the latest on the case they were working on. But what the coroner told her left her reeling.

"We've just completed the autopsy on the latest victim," the coroner said. "And we've discovered something concerning. She was also pregnant."

Sandrine's heart sank. This was the second victim in as many weeks, and the 4'th who had been pregnant, all cases with squeaky clean partners. It couldn't be a coincidence.

"Did you run a test to determine the paternity?" she asked.

"We did," the coroner replied. "And we were able to determine that the father was the victim's husband."

Sandrine thought for a moment. "Do you happen to know which pregnancy test kit she used?" she asked.

The coroner sounded surprised. "Actually, we do. She used a noninvasive blood sample and pregnancy test kit from a company called Verinata. It's a new technology that only requires a few drops of blood, and it's supposed to be very accurate."

As soon as the coroner said the name, Sandrine's heart skipped a beat. Verinata was the same company that had manufactured the test kit found at Rosie Hunt's murder scene. And it was the same sh herself had used not so long ago.

"Thank you for letting me know," Sandrine said, her voice shaking slightly. "We'll need to investigate this further."

"We'll give you a full screening report tomorrow," the coroner said. "I'll make sure it's on your desk first thing in the morning."

Sandrine hung up the phone, her mind racing. Two pregnant victims, both with a Verinata test kit. It was starting to look like more than a coincidence. She knew they needed to move quickly to catch the killer before there was another murder.

Tuesday sucked just as bad Sandrine had just endured another round of torture at the precinct health offices,

I know you hate these annual health checks and particularly the psyche evaluation, but I hope you understand that at this time it is especially important. The station psychologist/psychiatrist was talking and smiled.

Sandrine squirmed on the inside at the smile, she hated these sessions, the fakeness of the police world bothered her. everyone kept as much to themselves as they could, nobody wanted to bare themselves to the system. The make believe courtesy of the psychiatrist used to dealing with unthinkable trauma was in stark contrast to Sandrine's frank and open attitude. She's always been easy to smile and getting along with people. Nothing swept under the rug made her colleagues see her as a down to earth practical co-worker.

Sandrine sat at her desk, going over the details of the case. The murder of the two pregnant women was weighing heavily on her mind, and she knew that time was running out to catch the killer.

Her partner, Jack, walked over and sat down next to her. "What are you thinking, Sandrine?" he asked.

"I'm thinking that we need to look into the other victims," she replied. "We need to see if they were pregnant, and if they had any genetic markers in common with the two women who were killed."

Jack nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea. We should call the coroner's office and get them to run some tests."

Sandrine picked up the phone and dialed the coroner's office. "Hi, it's Sandrine from the precinct. We need to run some tests on the other victims in the case. We need to know if they were pregnant and if they had any genetic markers in common with the two women who were killed."

The coroner on the other end of the line was skeptical. "That's a lot of work," she said. "Are you sure it's worth it?"

"I'm sure," Sandrine replied firmly. "We need to leave no stone unturned in this case."

The coroner sighed. "Alright, I'll get my team on it. But it's going to take some time."

Sandrine thanked her and hung up the phone. She turned to Jack. "It's going to take some time," she said. "But it's worth it. We need to find the common thread between these victims if we're going to catch the killer."

Several days later, the results of the tests came back. Sandrine and Jack gathered around Sandrine's desk as she opened the file.

"Let's see," she said, scanning the results. "No pregnancy for victim number one. No pregnancy for victim number two. No pregnancy for victim number three."

She continued to read through the results, feeling her heart sink with each negative result. But then she got to victim number four.

"Bingo," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "The record shows that victim number four was pregnant. And get this - all of the victims carry the same genetic marker."

Jack's eyes widened in surprise. "That's a huge break in the case," he said. "We can use this information to track down the killer."

Sandrine nodded. "We need to start looking for anyone who has access to this information. Someone who knows about the genetic marker and how to use it to target their victims."

Sandrine sat at her desk, staring at the crime scene photos in front of her. Another victim, another murder. But this one was different she wasn't pregnant, probably just a fluke that she had been assigned to herself and Jack. There was still nothing to tie the victims together, except for the genetic marker they all shared. And as the search had widened to include the victims' doctors and hospitals, they were still no closer to finding a pattern.

Sandrine's partner, Jack, walked over and sat down next to her. "What are you thinking, Sandrine?" he asked.

"I'm thinking that we're at a dead end," she replied. "We've gone through all the victim's records, we've interviewed their doctors and hospital staff, but we still don't have anything to go on."

Jack nodded in agreement. "It's frustrating, but we can't give up. We need to keep looking for any lead we can find."

As they continued to brainstorm, Sandrine's phone rang. It was the coroner's office.

"Sandrine, we've completed the autopsy on the latest victim," the coroner said. "And we've discovered something interesting. The victim also had that rare genetic disorder that was expressed in her genes."

Sandrine's heart skipped a beat. "Can you tell me more about it?" she asked.

I know we were not asked to test for it, but I just couldn't help it the MO was too similar, I mean could be a breakthrough if there is a connection"

Are you sure you're not a detective Sandrine laughed. "I owe you one"

"Yes Sandrine, yes you do!", the coroner replied.

She thanked the coroner and hung up the phone. She turned to Jack. "I think we have something," she said. 
ack sat at his desk, going over the case files with a furrowed brow. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something, some crucial detail that would tie everything together.

As he looked up, he saw Sandrine standing in front of his desk, a concerned look on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, putting down the papers.

"It's just... this case," she replied, trailing off.

Jack nodded in understanding. "I know, it's tough. But we'll get to the bottom of it, Sandrine. We always do."

Sandrine smiled weakly, but her expression quickly turned to one of shock as Jack spoke again.

"Hey, you know, it's funny," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You share traits with your assailant. You have the same genetic marker."

Sandrine's eyes widened in surprise, and she felt a pang of unease. She had told Jack once, during a moment of intimacy, about her genetic marker. But she had also emphasized that she had not gotten pregnant, despite their lack of protection.

Jack seemed to sense her discomfort and quickly backtracked. "I mean, of course it doesn't mean anything. Just an interesting coincidence, that's all."

Sandrine nodded, feeling relieved but also a little embarrassed. She and Jack had agreed to just stay partners, but she couldn't help but wonder if there was something more there.

As she turned to leave, Jack couldn't help but steal a glance at her. He was still infatuated with her, even though they had agreed to just stay colleagues. But he knew that their work was more important than any romantic feelings he may have. So he turned back to the files, determined to find the missing piece of the puzzle that would solve the case once and for all.

Jack and Sandrine sat in front of their computer screens, their eyes fixed on the data being displayed by the AI they had deployed. They had decided to try a new approach to the case, using artificial intelligence to analyze the data from various databases and find correlations that they might have missed.

As they fed the data into the system, they watched as the AI began to highlight cases of other murders that shared similarities with their current case. They searched for random and unconnected people with the same genetic marker, even in other countries, and began to find a pattern emerging.

They both sat back in their chairs, staring at the screen in disbelief. there was one global database where all the cases of the specific marker were being collected for research purposes. But what if the data they had received wasn't properly sanitized? What if the privacy protections had not been followed properly, or if someone had root access and was able to back-engineer through the whole system and discover victims that way?

Their thoughts turned to the top researchers involved in finding a cure for the genetic disorder. Could it be one of them who was behind the murders? It seemed like a stretch, but they couldn't ignore the possibility.

andrine stumbled through the door of her apartment, exhausted after a long day at work. She was looking forward to taking a hot shower and just relaxing for the rest of the night.

But as she stepped inside, she was immediately attacked from behind. A hand covered her mouth, and she felt a sharp object press against her back in  the ensuing scuffle the glass coffee table in the living room was smashed to pieces. Sandrine was thrown onto the table, but she used some of her aikido training to turn the fight on its head.

Just then, she heard a loud crash as the front door was kicked open. Jack had come by to check up on her, must have heard the scuffle, and came barging in weapon drawn.

Sandrine take by surprise lost her grip and the assailant turned his attention to her partner and aimed his weapon and fired as Sandrine's partner lunged at him and knocked the gun out of his hand before he fell to the floor.

For a moment, Sandrine frozeand, the assailant worried about other cops managed to break free and flee from the apartment.

Sandrine was left standing in the wreckage of her living room, shaken battered and bruised. Her partner, however, lay on the ground, bleeding from a gunshot wound.

She knelt beside him, tears streaming down her face. She had always been conflicted about their relationship, unsure if she should take the next step and commit to him fully. But as she looked at him now, she realized that she loved him more than anything.

She stayed with him, holding his hand and whispering words of comfort until the paramedics arrived.
===== To the Next Level =====

Sandrine sat in the Chief's office, her mind still reeling from the events of the night before. Her partner was going to pull through, but he was going to be in the hospital for a while.

The Chief spoke in a calm, even tone. "Sandrine, I'm taking you off the active duty roster. You'll do desk work until you're properly healed."

Sandrine couldn't believe it. "So, I'm just going to bumble around here doing nothing?"

The Chief sighed. "You can take a leave of absence if you need to."

"Hell, I will," Sandrine said, standing up and throwing her hands in the air. "I'm not going to just sit around and do nothing. I need to find the person who did this."

The Chief raised an eyebrow. "I understand your frustration, Sandrine. But you need to take it easy. We can't afford to have you injured again."

Sandrine nodded, resigned to her fate. But then the Chief continued. "However, there is something you can do. The policeman's ball is coming up, and an extremely rich person is going to show up. He's a famous researcher who owns a genetic research facility and test production facility."

Sandrine's interest was piqued. "And what does this have to do with me?"

The Chief smiled. "I think it's an opportunity for you to sniff around and look for connections to your case while playing the good girl to the rest of the department."

Sandrine nodded. "I see what you're getting at. I'll do it."

The Chief smiled. "Good. I knew I could count on you. And Sandrine, I want you to know that we'll do everything we can to find the person who did this. But you need to take care of yourself first."

Sandrine left the Chief's office, a sense of purpose returning to her. She was going to find the killer, no matter what it took. And the policeman's ball was the perfect place to start.

Sandrine stood in front of her mirror, staring at her reflection in frustration. She had been trying to squeeze into a beautiful dress for the past half hour, but no matter how hard she tried, it just wouldn't fit.

She tugged at the fabric, trying to stretch it over her curves. But it was no use. The dress was too small, and Sandrine felt uncomfortable playing dress up.

She sighed and slumped down on her bed, feeling defeated, she felt anything but glamorous.

Her phone rang, and it was Jack. She hesitated for a moment before answering, unsure of what to say.

"Hey," she said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Hey, how are you holding up?" he asked, his voice strained.

"I'm fine, you sound like shit," Sandrine said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. "Is it hard to talk with a hole in you?"

Jack coughed and let out a small laugh. "Yeah, it is. But I wanted to check on you. How are you doing?"

"I'm okay," Sandrine said, feeling a sense of comfort in talking to Jack. "Just having some trouble with this dress."

There was a moment of silence before Jack spoke again, his voice serious. "Sandrine, I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what. And I know you'll do a great job tonight."

Sandrine felt a lump form in her throat. "Thanks, Jack. I really appreciate it."

They talked for a few more minutes, and then Jack hung up. Sandrine looked at herself in the mirror again, taking a deep breath. Maybe the dress didn't fit, but that didn't mean she couldn't do some kick-ass police work.

at policemans ball there se sees her assailant it is the rich researcher or his brother

Assailant is extremely rich person owning genetic research facility and test producer, thus assailant finds victims world wide. Determined to eradicate the genetic problem.

Evt schitzo gen marker
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/02/090203145504.htm
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2007/01/070124120337.htm

They meet - staring each other down

EuroCop asks about DNA business, assailant cant really escape as she's with some vip

smalltalk but in a way that it is clear to the both of them that they are fully aware who's who

Heard u were attacked

I was, too bad the wireless cameras were jammed or we would have had a very clear picture of the assailant

yeah too bad, it is unfortunate that people have no respect for law and order any more, if only such traits could be bred out of existence.

Excuse me I have to go to the toilet

EuroCop goes out to barf.

Assailant uses the opportunity to slip away from party

EuroCop fuming with anger also leaves the party

At the hospital talking to partner

be careful etc.

No problem

===== Mouse and cat =====

EuroCop begins following assailant

Assailant knows

something something

stuff happening investigation homing in on assailant, manages to steal customer records by help of hacker - dares not go through channels as assailant is very powerful individual

===== Endfight =====

EuroCop presents her evidence to assailant at some place she has chosen

he flees as he understands game is up

death defying motorcycle chase on a construction yard, brother of researcher is a construction mogul

after assailant is brought down by eurocop making stuff fall inn front of him by flying through air on motorcycle and shooting her gun felling assailant from his bike

EuroCop half dead when cops arrive

seems berieved partner of assailant finally has discovered the secret of the assailant and called in the cops after following him.

However it is EuroCop that manages to bring assailant down before "the cavalry" arrives

The End

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