swear I'm not afraid; (wxgraham)
His professors said he was ready. He wasn't quite sure that he believed them.
Success in the practical examination, a simulated crime scene with actual donated corpses and...other removed bits was a fast-track to an internship with something either federal- or state-level, and was usually applauded. Did it count, if Danny only worked the fastest because he didn't want to be around the area for longer than he had to? Or, that he was the most careful about not contaminating the evidence because he truly didn't want to touch parts of a dead person?
Nobody explained why digital forensics students had to learn physical as well, and it wasn't until his favorite professor passed along a message that he'd picked up on a clue. They wanted to make him a nearly-one-stop shop. Collection, organization, and partial analysis. Most would still have to be shipped off to a lab, but unlike other first responders, he'd still be working long after the scene was cold. Tracing, tracking, and assisting with cloning and sweeping through any devices found or seized.
Not two weeks after hearing his test results, he found himself sitting in a waiting room, waiting to be 'picked up' and brought into the building proper. A lazy guard stood by a metal detector, resisting sleep with little assistance other than the surprisingly loud clock hanging over the check-in desk, where he'd bet they were armed.
The longer Danny sat, the more he'd hoped convincing whoever was grabbing him would be willing to listen -- to let him focus less on bodies, and more on cell phones or laptops. He wouldn't mind heading to the scene to grab those, but the less he had to handle corpses or weapons or other remainders, the better.
He still wasn't sure he believed them.
