Silva worked on missing persons cases before, but they were nothing compared to this.
People disappear everyday. It was an unfortunate fact of life that should not be considered something of a common occurrence in any shape or form. Sadly, however, someone goes missing everyday, usually by the hand of some sick pervert or pedophile or at the hands of an abusive spouse or ex-lover. Sometimes it would be a runaway case where the party in question is usually a teen acting rebelliously and wanting to be with their friends or lovers, or they were trying to escape a rough home life. Other times it would be a man or woman - usually a woman - escaping from an abusive spouse, usually with a child or two in tow. Either way, there was usually an outcome; they were either found alive - which was more favorable - and brought back into the waiting arms of their loved ones. Other times....well...there was usually a body found in a ditch, a river, a trunk of a car, deep in the woods or somewhere deep in some sick fuck's basement. It was a hard pill to swallow, especially for the friends and family of that missing someone, but at least they had that closure of seeing that someone again. Even if it would end up in a coffin. And then there were those rare times when...well, that person is never found at all.
Silva's job was hard and certainly not for the faint of heart. And while she would love nothing more than to help ease the pained look on the faces of husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and grandparents...she loathed that part of her job where she had to tell the waiting family that there was nothing they could do. They couldn't find them, and they had to accept the fact that they may never see their loved ones again. It was always hard seeing the hope diminish from their eyes and replaced with indescribable sorrow, guilt...regret. The pained wails and wet sobs that would echo through the office as they could only hug and console each other of their loss...while Silva could only stand there and watch, being their messenger of dread. 
Silva didn't consider herself as apathetic or numb when it came to these cases, but she has been able keep her emotions from showing when it came right down to it. She remembered back when she first started this job, how hard it was to keep herself from breaking down in front of the families when she had to tell them that they couldn't find the missing person. She could never forget the pleading, almost begging looks in their eyes, searching her for that last glimmer of hope, that maybe, just maybe, there was another option. But there was none. And in that moment she would feel like a failure, and often wondered why she even took the job in the first place. And then, just like that, she would remember why; to prevent more tragedies like this from happening. 
Easier said than done.
When Silva was called in to investigate the disappearance of Brooke Jordan, she didn't think nothing of it at first. She was a fresh college graduate living on her own in a one bedroom apartment, introverted, stayed to herself, no complaints from her neighboring tenants. Brooke was a person who lived by routine; Once she finished college, it was mostly work, run errands, return home, rinse and repeat. She didn't openly speak to any of the other tenants much aside from the occasional hi or hello or idle chitchat while riding the elevator. Still, Silva heard nothing but good things about young Brooke as she spoke with the other tenants and the landlord himself. She was estranged from her family after having a falling out with her mother years ago, and they could only track down an ex-boyfriend who could be a possible suspect. She couldn't have ran away either, seeing that she had left all of her clothes, money and all source of identification.
Upon entering the apartment itself, Silva noticed that something was very, very off. The first thing she noticed was that the apartment was clean. Well, not in that sense - it was tidy, yes, but clean by the fact that nothing was out of place. Everything was as Brooke had left it last - not a single cup or fork was off kilter by a few centimeters. There wasn't a sign of a break in and nothing was stolen either - her computer, money, wallet, jewelry, television...it was all there. They managed to locate a small safe in her bedroom, hidden in the closet, but even it was also untouched and had all of its contents. After speaking with the other tenants some more, no one claimed to have seen anyone enter or leave the apartment other than Brooke, and she was last seen returning to her apartment the night of her disappearance after her shift, but hasn't been seen since. No one saw her leave the following day or the day after. And after repeated attempts to contact her came up unanswered, only then were the police called. Silva was called in whenever the police couldn't find anything and needed a keener eye to find what they missed. She was the best in this particular field, but even she had to admit that this was most perplexing. Even she failed to find a single shred of evidence to lead them to a trail; the ex-boyfriend was a person of interest and would be brought in for questioning, sure, but if he had a solid alibi and had no motive to cause Brooke's disappearance, he could very well walk. Especially since they had no evidence to connect him to the crime.
The investigators and Silva searched the apartment like a fine-toothed comb, only to come up empty in the end. With no further leads, they could only pack up and return to the station, but not before taping off the apartment and labeling it as a crime scene to ensure there wouldn't be any further interference.  Silva spent that evening in her office, making calls, combing through documents, avoiding the media...the usual. The way this woman seemingly vanished off of the face of the Earth rubbed Silva the wrong way and she couldn't place why. However, after a little more digging, Silva discovered that Brooke's case was....strikingly similar to one that happened just a few states away. A month ago, a suburban family vanished from their home one rainy morning. The Crawfords, they were called. A husband, wife, two teenage boys and the family cat. They were all well-liked in their community, had plenty of friends...your typical white-picket fence family. Their disappearance was easily noticed when neither member of the family made their appearance the following Tuesday for work and school, and after a thorough search of the home, the only thing missing were the Crawfords themselves. Even the goddamn cat was gone. Again, there were no signs of a break-in, nothing was stolen or out of place, and neither member of the family had a single enemy. 
Just like Brooke.
But what struck Silva as odd was the fact that something similar happened states away. This couldn't have been the same perpetrator, right? And if so, what was the motive? Did they even have a preferred target, going for an entire family and then a single woman on her own...? Perhaps to deter the police? Seems like too much trouble to go through, and it didn't look like a real pattern either. It looked and felt too much like a coincidence to be connected, and yet she couldn't ignore the fact that both disappearances were too similar to be dismissed as such. Still, Silva was determined to find this woman somehow. She didn't know how, but she needed a clue. Even if it was a drop of saliva or a small piece of fabric from Brooke's clothing, she needed something.
Silva spent weeks going back and forth to Brooke's apartment, searching endlessly for a single piece of evidence that would lead to Brooke, or at least her last shadow. However, no matter how many times she went, she found nothing. Nothing changed from her first visit, and nothing would for every other time she would go there. Still, she refused to allow another case to end up cold without a resolution, and she was not facing Brooke's mother and step-father without giving them that sense of closure, regardless of the outcome. Everyone told her it was hopeless, that she was overworking herself for nothing, that Brooke would never be found...and for a while, Silva started to believe it.
It was an overdraft morning when Silva returned to the office for another long day of no answers. She was punctual, always arriving before anyone else. She valued the short time of solitude; it gave her time to think, to reflect...and occasionally have that breakthrough that would bring her closer to solving a case. In this instance, she was hoping for that same breakthrough to come along to enlighten her, to point her in the right direction. To lead her to Brooke.
Silva sipped at her coffee idly, shifting through more documents and responding to emails. She heard the janitor go out the back exit as he completed his shift, the department falling silence once again, at least for the next hour or so. It would only be ten minutes into her routine when she began to feel particularly....drowsy. That couldn't be right...coffee always perked Silva up for the day ahead, not do the opposite. Maybe she wasn't drinking enough? No, couldn't be. This case made her drink more coffee than usual, not less. Still, she started drinking more and was down over half of her cup within minutes, but that did nothing. She was still feeling sleepy, and it seemed like it was getting worse as the minutes ticked by. Within twenty minutes, she consumed the entire cup of coffee. And in those same twenty minutes, her vision began to blur and she found it hard to concentrate on her work. She tried to focus, tried to slap herself awake, but nothing helped. She even nodded off once or twice. Now that she thought about it...her desk was beginning to look very inviting. It wouldn't hurt to take a little catnap in the morning, would it? She did have a long night...maybe just...ten minutes...
~ * ~ * ~
Silva awoke with a jolt, only to find herself no longer in her office and lying on a hard floor, naked, vulnerable and warm. Panic began to rise through her very being as her head whipped back and forth, her eyes scanning her new surroundings hurriedly. The room she was in was small, like a padded cell without the padding, but a cell nonetheless. The room was bright, yet lacked a visible light source on the ceiling or walls. It was white all over, the walls, floor and ceiling was smooth without a single crack or dent. There was also this low...humming she was hearing reverberating through her ears. It didn't appear to be coming from the room itself as it felt more like a gentle strumming starting form the back of her head and traveling through the rest of her mind. 
It didn't take long for Silva to realize that she had been abducted, and began to wonder if she was taken by the same party who took Brooke and the Crawfords. And the fact they were so brazen to snatch her right out of her office so early in the morning...! But what was most alarming to her was the fact she woke up in a strange cell bare, and it made her skin crawl at the thought that someone touched and stripped her while she was unconscious. She hated to imagine what the fiends did to her body while she couldn't fight back, although she didn't...feel anything out of the ordinary. She had no recollection of the events prior to awakening either, other than sitting at her desk and feeling a sudden spell of drowsiness. Was this their doing? Had they used some sleep-inducing gas or laced her coffee? Both scenarios were impossible; she got her coffee at the Dunkin' Donuts just a few blocks from the office, and the employees there knew her. Why would they go out of their way to lace her coffee? On top of that, if the abductors had used a gas, she would have been able to smell it in the air...unless it was odorless. Was it a gas? Urgh...her head was spinning for her to come to a solid conclusion.
It was then when she looked up and saw the only thing of interest in the entire cell; a mirror. The length of the entire wall in front of her, half of the height of the wall itself. She started to stand, only to immediately stop herself and sat on her knees, using her arms to cover her breasts the best of her ability. She wanted to inspect the mirror - she needed to. Perhaps it was her own little way of coping with the situation she was put in, or that after years on the job, "investigating" had became a second nature like breathing or blinking. Perhaps it was both...regardless, she needed something to keep her mind busy, to keep it off the fact that she was sitting in an unmarked cell who knows where, naked, without any visible indication that there was an chance to escape. 
Silva swallowed hard as the fear and realization of her situation began to set in, and she suddenly felt very ill. What was more, the "mirror" wasn't a mirror at all, but a one way window. She was being observed, like an animal in a zoo to entertain the sick bastards who locked her up. The cell suddenly felt cold. Silva almost vomited.
The humming in her head was getting louder. Stronger. It was the only thing she could hear other than her breathing in the otherwise silent room. She scooted away from the window, her head spinning as she could almost feel eyes staring at her scrambling, trembling form. Why was she taken? why was she brought here? What were they going to do to her? How was she going to get home? These thoughts ran through the young woman's mind on repeat, memories of her friends and family flooding through her mind, her stomach twisting in several knots at the thought of never seeing them ever again...she almost wanted to cry. She tried to rationalize to calm herself. The humming was getting louder.
A thud made her freeze. It echoed through the cell. It startled her, scared her even. Something was stirring in those walls, she could even hear what sounded like machinery turning, coming to life. For what, she had no idea. But the fact she heard them through the walls so closely made her panic rise further. The walls shifted, the smooth surfaces suddenly grew cracks in straight lines and turned into tiles revealing the that the walls were actually panels. Those panels slid open a few inches, revealing little nozzles hidden deep within pointing right at her. She released a startled yelp and attempted to scramble backwards where another noise made her pause. This time, it was the sound of an intercom switching on overhead.
"Now, now, there's no reason to panic." A feminine voice spoke gently, and the voice of a female made Silva's nerves ease up somewhat. Somewhat. "You will not be harmed, little human."
Little human? "Who are you?" She immediately demanded, her head immediately turning towards the window. "Why was I brought here?"
"Those details are irrelevant for now." The woman - she hoped it was, anyway - spoke, keeping that gentle tone. "Right now, all you need to do is focus on one thing. Tell me: what is your name?"
"My nam--why do you need to know my name?" 
Something inside the walls clicked loudly, the nozzles adjusted themselves. "Well, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine. Many of you didn't want to at first. Just focus on it. Always remember who you are."
The woman fell silent, the intercom switched off, Silva hopped up to one knee. "W-wait! What do you mean? What are you about to do? Hello?? Answer me!"
Silva would get her response, but not in the way she wanted. The nozzles switched on, spraying the young woman in this strange, purple liquid on her body from all angles. She screamed, immediately closing her mouth as she felt the liquid hit her tongue. It was horribly bitter and felt heavy and slimy on her tongue,  even heavier on her skin. It felt gross, viscous, seeping into every nook and cranny and soaking her hair. She breathed heavily as she could only lay on the floor and relentlessly sprayed by the strange substance until every inch was thoroughly soaked. It felt like it lasted forever, but in reality it was only an entire minute before the nozzles were turned off. The once white pristine room now had jarring splatters of purple on every surface with the exception of the window. Silva was panting,  feeling violated in a way she had never thought possible. The humming got louder, deafening almost, even to the point where she could feel a throbbing going through her skull.
Her skin started to feel tingly, itchy. She rubbed her arms, only to feel that heavy liquid coating her body. Her eyes fluttered, her vision blurred, her mind became fuzzy. She was scared, far from home, humiliated and didn't know if she would even be able to escape. Silva could only lay there, curled into a ball, warm despite the fact she was covered head to toe in an unknown substance with people staring, watching. And the humming...the goddamn humming...! It was becoming unbearable! She tried covering her ears to block out the noise, but that was fruitless and even made it worse. The throbbing through her skull didn't help; it felt like someone was beating a drum against her temples with increasing rhythm. She tried to distract herself from it all by thinking back to the moments before this. Back when she was warm in her bed just the night before, tossing and turning and stressing over Brooke's case. She remembered when she declined a dinner date with David - another investigator who worked in the office - the day before that. He seemed so crestfallen, disappointed...She remembered back when she made that phone call to her mother to wish her a happy birthday. That would be the last time she would hear her mother's voice.
She scratched at her skin out of reflex, the itchiness getting more and more intense. She scratched her arm, feeling the slimy and thick liquid and...hair? No, wait, this was a lot more hair than usual, as if she was wearing a thin fur coat. She looked down at her arm, only to shriek in horror as her once pale arm was now covered in bright ginger colored fur with white spots. Her hand trembled as she could only watch her fingers meld together to make three rather than five, the skin hardening up from the proximal phalanges and turning a dark color. She tried to sit up, but her body moved strangely, alien, as she could feel her bones, joints and muscles shift and morph. Her legs and feet became thinner, her toes melding together into two, dark and hardened appendages.
Hooves.
Silva started sobbing as she could feel her ears grow longer, her nose becoming rounder, wetter, her mouth forming into a muzzle. There was no pain, but the shock and the fact her body was being altered right in front of her eyes was enough for her to breakdown. She called out for help towards the window, begged and pleaded for them to make it stop, to change her back to normal.  They didn't hear her, or pretended not to. Her cries for help falling on deaf ears. They only watched.
The humming....now it was so loud that she couldn't even hear her own voice anymore, just muffled nonsense. She fell to her side, her sobs dying down to trembling whimpers as she could only curl into a ball and wait until the changing stopped. As Silva laid there naked and terrified, only one question kept repeating through her mind: Why? Why was this happening to her? Why were they doing this? Is this what they did to Brooke? To the Crawfords?
The minutes ticked by. Silva fell silent. The changes stopped, her body no longer her own. She could see her reflection through the pool of purple liquid on the floor, but what she saw was someone she did not recognize. She was not human, she was no Silva. The only thing that remained were her green eyes and short, wavy red hair. She reached out into the pool, using her hand to wipe at the liquid, leaving a purple smear before it reformed back into a puddle, and she could see herself again. But that...thing....looking back at her wasn't Silva. but it wasn't a monster, either. She knew what she was, but refused to accept it.
She laid in that puddle of purple thinking, reflecting, letting her mind drift back to happier memories. Back when she could recognize herself. Back when she was a...when she was a...what was she before now? Was there even a "before now?"...Why was she lying on the floor? 
No...no! She had to remember! She had to remember who she was! Who was she? Her name...what was her name? S...Silva...that's right...her name was Silva. Her name was Silva. She was Silva. That never changed...but why would it in the first place? Her face was wet, and she could taste the salty residue of tears. Was she crying before? What for? She couldn't remember...she couldn't remember anything...only her name.
The humming stopped.