She runs!

Samantha barely hesitates before turning away from the questions and hassles that would be inevitable if she approaches the nurse's station. Instead she moves swiftly and quietly in the opposite direction hugging the shadows where possible and instinctively turning her face away from the cameras that were placed in the ceiling overhead at regular intervals.

As she walks she checks the contents of the pockets, she finds a handkerchief, a few small disks that look more like casino tokens than anything else; a small multi-tool; a photo ID with a picture of a bull necked man with thick eyebrows and a broken nose that she recognizes as her attacker; the small leather wallet has a few cards and scraps of papers. Ahead she sees an elevator door, with a familiar looking exit sign marking the doors. Above the elevator doors the sign informs her that she is on the 145th floor. Samantha's mind reels in protest, but before she can digest this information she sees her reflection in the polished elevator doors before her.

It's not her at all! The reflection is of a beautiful woman with thick raven-black hair that falls over her shoulders in luxurious waves. Her complexion is creamy and her lips are red and full; but not as full as her lush (ridiculously lush) curves. She has giant breasts, a thin waist and hips that flare attractively even in the plain brown oversized trousers taken from her attacker. In stunned disbelief Samantha presses the down button, and waits impatiently. The button doesn't light-up; neither does she hear the rumble of moving cars.

"What's wrong with this thing?!" Samantha hits the button much harder in frustration but still nothing happens. With a sigh she closes her eyes and leans against the wall desperately hoping that all this is nothing more than a horrific nightmare. And then, almost as if in an altered state, Samantha watches herself use the small multi-tool to pry open a concealed door just below the call buttons. Her nimble fingers slice away the insulation from two of the many wires that enter the control box and she presses them together briefly and is rewarded by a familiar 'ding'.

The sound is intensely reassuring. Her body is unfamiliar; her face unrecognizable, and somehow she knows how to bypass the security protocols of the elevator in a building that is impossibly tall, but still the sound of an elevator responding to a call is unchanged. Samantha watches perfectly manicured hands that must be hers rearranging the wires to hide the evidence of her tampering and wipe away any fingerprints from both the elevator buttons and the access panel with the handkerchief from the pocket.

The doors open before the confusion that threatens to overwhelm her grows any worse and she steps into the relative privacy of the elevator. Once inside she looks through the man's wallet again trying to figure out who it was that attacked her. The name on two of the business cards in the small wallet matches the picture ID.