In a flash the girl is over Jester's shoulder. The van's engine ignites and the doors all spring open.

"Everybody in. Jester hobbled over to the van and layed the girl down on the padded bench seat, gently locking her in a safety harness. Calisto , I need you in the passenger seat. Let's move like we got a purpose people."

Trixie:

Screams fill the hallway, cut short by the muted response of sentry guns cutting people down in their tracks. Drones crawl along the walls and ceiling, dropping down occasionally to sink hooks and claws into hapless victims and drag them away to suffer under the harsh experimental mind of Deus. From your vantage point under the table, hiding behind the luggage your parents said to pack as your family fled the Arcology, you are able to watch your father and mother both sprout the chemical darts that subdued victims before they would be adapted to be perfectly loyal.

An old man with one eye scarred beyond repair seems to walk through the chaos.

"Come to me and this will never happen again. The world of terror and rage must be left behind. Believe that I am the one to help you."

The flashbacks shift again as you are running down corridors, fleeing the monstrous hounds unleashed to find the Children of the Matrix. Henry reaches out from behind a door and grabs you. His strong hands hold you still and keep you from screaming out. You see a tranq patch come towards you from another person in the darkness.

The cool rush of chemicals relaxes the muscles in your body and you collapse into a pleasant, drug-induced stupor, free of nightmares and the atrocities you have watched.

"MOM! DAD!"

Silence...

Team:

Hafiz wheels his boss out of the hangar and into the waiting SUV.

"I will be meeting you there."

Movement of drones in the back of Hafiz's car show that the rigger has logged into his network and is taking extra precautions in case someone decides to tail them.

Calisto turns from the passenger seat to address the back of the van. "In my duffel you should find a medkit, can any of you use it?"

The large van eases out of the hangar with the team loaded in. Jester gets out momentarily to limp back inside. Tapping a series of keys on the security panel, the system engages and the large metal doors of the hangar start to close.

Climbing back into the van, the silver haired man checks his mirrors to make sure the building has finished its lockdown and starts to drive away.

"I'm not really trained, but ah can figure out out how to use it if it's got a computer attached to it." He gives a shaky grin, glancing at Trixie, obviously unsettled by the girl's words.

Biomage follows closely, at a run, behind Jester. He climbs into the back seat, next to Trixie and begins digging out his medkit to administer treatment.

"Leave it to me. Drive!" he says.

"Do you have a biomonitor?" he asks Trixie.

The intercom crackles to life.

"Ok folks I need a destination, as I see it we can get Trix to a safe house and hope she makes it, or get her to a street doc."

Trixie's eyes seem to take focus for a moment, then they close and open a few times slowly as she starts to come back to the real world. She sits herself up and brings a hand up to her head.

"Ugh..." She then stops and looks around, "Where are we? What happened?"

Biomage looks over Trixie and surmises that there is no real physical trauma; and that she is only stunned from the ordeal.

"She's ok; just stunned. We got her out in time. Let's move on to the next phase. She can sleep it off during our trip."

Jack leans up towards the driver seat and rattles off an address.

"Ah need some clothes and stuff for the trip. Then everybody else's place?"

Trixie glances at Biomage, "Scan me for brain damage."

"Jack, it hit me with Psychotropics. As soon as I hit the SatComm it had a trap waiting for me, pulled some memories from my past and threw me into them. I'm not sure what it was planning, but whatever they were, it underestimated me. I broke free before much happened and dumped myself before it got a chance to trap me again."

She takes a breath. "The worst part was the dreams. When I passed out I dreamed of the day the Arc shut down. Through the chaos a man with a scarred eye came walking towards me, promising that if I come to him, the pain and rage would stop, the he wanted to help."

Then she realizes something... "Drek! I didn't get the data to Shadowland!"

Jack curses under his breath.

"We'll have to move and hit another satcomm system and try again. I don't have access to Shadowland, so you're going to have to post it if we want it to go up. That's not anything that can't wait a few hours though."

Biomage says, looking Trixie in the eye, "I can try to detect physical damage. If there was any kind of psychotropic conditioning going on, I won't know. If you didn't remember the man who asked you to go with him, then it sounds like someone was trying to change your memories. I would need more and better equipment to tell if they succeeded."

Looking up, he says, "The kind that a street doc would have. We should get her to a doc and see if she is still totally with us. I know someone who can help. Let me drop by my house while we are out to grab some extra clothes and ammo, and then we can go and see my friend."

Biomage then goes about trying to examine Trixie for physical signs of possible brain damage using a combination of medical readings and aura scanning.

Biomage:

You don't see any permanent damage in Trixie's body or aura.

"Right," replied Jester over the intercom.

The van swerved over three lanes of traffic and quickly accelerated onto the I-5 onramp.

"ETA, ten minutes."

Trixie nods and leans back in her seat, rubbing her temples.

Biomage finishes his tests and says, "Nothing permanent that I can see. Now, if everyone wants to go to see my friend, the good doctor, then let's figure out when to go. If you'd all rather take your chances, then we've got a boat to catch. Let me remind you that any psychotropic effects that Trixie might have been exposed to, would be undetectable until they showed up in her actions. We won't know unless we have her tested."

Trixie continues to massage her temples, but growns that the thought of her head getting messed with by another AI.

I'll never be free of these damn things!

A tension-filled quiet looms throughout the van as you drive through the city. Brief stops at various safehouses and storage lockers yield a plethora of hidden drops. Large duffel bags full of clothing, weapons and armaments get piled in the back of the van amidst smaller packs of specialized electronics.

Pulling out of the corporate core and into more disparate landscapes, the team pulls in front of the dilapidated remains of a three-story mall on the outskirts of Puyallup. The Crime Mall--home to every illicit activity that money can buy. Today's home for cybernetic surgeons and street docs who don't question your many sins.

The team pushes through the throngs of low -grade thugs and high level enforcers until they stand at the last storefront before the open sky offers scarce refuge. Two large trolls that are more cyber than flesh stand blocking the door. One holds a rusty pipe with a trigger on it, filled with all sorts of nasty bits sure to give you a horrible infection if the blast doesn't kill you outright. The other rests his weight on a huge sword, the dikoted blade rising to his shoulders.

Biomage steps forward to greet the trolls.

"Hello, Brian, " he says to the troll with the sword, "Chuck," to the other one with the club, "We're here to see Dr. Roth. I've got a new patient for him."

The troll with the sword looks down and squints at Biomage for a moment, seemingly checking his identity, before standing back up and saying, "You may pass."

The troll nods his head a few times to the other one and gestures to the side of the door. The other one nods his head a few times back, and they both move out of the way and to the sides of the doorway. Brian watches you as you pass through the doorway. Chuck rolls his eyes, grunts disdainfully, and looks away, across the mall. You get the feeling he doesn't exactly like Biomage, or people in general.

The interior of the office is fairly clean. You step through the door and into a waiting room. Stolen hotel convention chairs with the labels ripped off line the sage green walls. The chairs vary in color and style. No two are the same, making you suspect that collecting chairs is a hobby for the doctor. Large art pieces sit just above them, portraying a ship on the ocean with a storm, a Greek scene with a woman beheading someone, an Asian picture with people in a canoe about to be washed over by a big wave, some modern abstract art piece, and various other pieces, all of which are regally framed to match their style. The far wall, which faces you as you walk in, has a couple of very large couches with a sign holder on a pole mounted to a moveable base that is sitting in front of and between them that reads 'Trolls And Orks Sit Here'. The office waiting room is empty, except for a few pieces of trash on the floor that were tracked in from outside onto the outdoor carpet and an Elven female receptionist behind the desk, who also has some obvious cyberware. She is somewhat attractive under the chrome, and appears to be in her thirties.

"He-e-ey!" she says with a friendly smile from where she is sitting, "Welcome back. You brought some friends with you this time?"

Biomage answers, "Yes. We need a neural scan to test for psychotropic conditioning. Is Dr. Roth available?"

The lady receptionist answers, "Doctor Roth is with a patient right now. Do you have an appointment?"

After Biomage shakes his head, she says, "Well, you do now! - sort of." She smiles and says, "I'll tell him you're here." She gets up and returns after a couple of minutes, saying, "It should only be a few minutes," and sits back down.

After nearly an hour, you hear a man joking around with another person. He says, "Let me know if that thing doesn't work. We'll put in a replacement, free of charge, and I'll have the vendor killed. Bsht! I'm just kidding with ya. It's fine. Come back in three weeks, and we'll run some diagnostics to make sure it's connected properly. Let me know if there is any undue swelling, or if you start bleeding."

"Okay.." is the reply that can be heard. The door opens, and a short and skinny ork staggers groggily through. You can see a fresh band of gauze around the base of a VCR on his head. He pays the receptionist with his credstick and then staggers through the exit door carrying a prescription sheet, presumably painkillers.

Through the doorway, you can see a human man in his forties wearing surgical scrubs. "Be right with you," he says, "Come on in."

The receptionist comes around from her desk and leads you to a consultation room.

After a few minutes, Dr. Roth comes in wearing his white doctor's smock.

"So.. what brings you to see me today. Kelly mentioned a neural scan."

Biomage explains, "We need a neural scan to test for psychotropic conditioning, and we need to know how much it's gonna cost."

Team:

Dr. Roth frowns slightly.

"Well, do you know what the nature of the conditioning is? Psychotropics are hard to identify, especially if I don't have a baseline to compare against. If it's positive conditioning or the like, the price is 200 an hour. You can determine when I pull the plug or I go until I'm done. If the patient has violent conditioning, same price, but I have Brian inside with us."

The street doc leans back against his desk, his body language very open.

"Does that work for you?"

Jack tugs the duster a little tighter around him, tilting the brim of the Stetson down to cover most of his face. He seems tense, obviously uncomfortable moving through the collection of thugs, runners, and wanna be runners.

Biomage says, "That'll work. We aren't sure what kind of conditioning there might be, if any. She got attacked by an AI, and it tried to change some of her memories. It could have been positive conditioning, but we just don't know."

"Hmm. In that case, we'll have Brian in here to bo on the safe side. Now then, how much did you want to spend on the scan or should I use my best judgment?"

The street doc shifts his weight back to his feet as he moves towards the door.

"Kate can you send Brian back here in a few minutes."

Turning back to the group, his attention is fully upon your sordid team.

Biomage says, "1,000 at the most. Does that give you enough time, or would more be better?"

"If that's what you want to spend, I can do it. Until I get the unfortunate strapped down and tests running I won't know how much time I really need. To be honest, this could take anywhere between 30 minutes and a full day."

Dr. Roth's honesty and candor seems genuine and is a shot in the arm from dealing with the backbiting of criminals and organized crime.

Jester looks none to pleased about the prospect of leaving Trixie in the good doctors hands. He steps close to her and leans down to whisper in the girls ear.

"You don't have to do this. We can find another way."

Jack tilts the brim of his hat up to eye the doctor for a minute.

"Any problem with all of us staying while you work?"

"If you would prefer to wait, that's fine. I would have to add a Soy Mocha Latte to my charge though."

Dr. Roth smilles broadly, as if he'd been expecting the team's reluctance.

"So, shall we get going or do I need to go and get my own latte?"

Trixie blushes a bit, shes not used to having people give a damn about her.

"Thanks guys. Some company would be nice..."

Straightening, the street-doc claps his hands together.

"Good then, I presume you ma'am are the decker in question...I will need you to follow me."

He holds out his hand directing the young model and her entourage down a small hallway. He steps into a large room that obviously used to be some kind of kitchen before the mall picked up its current residents. High tech gadgets and machinery are spread around the room.

Brian comes into the room a few seconds after you enter. He looks around and heads back out, returning shortly with several chairs in tow from the waiting room.

"Now then, Miss, i will need you to sit here and put this on."

Dr. Roth holds out a trode rig attached with several cables to a machine that goes bing every minute or so.

"The only thing before we get started is the matter of my Soy Mocha Latte and who is paying for this procedure?"

"I guess I'm paying."

She digs into her pocket and pulls out a certified stick and hands it over. She looks up at the doctor and pauses, thinking somehting through. "Umm... I guess I should tell you something, cause I don't know if it'll make a difference or not, but I want to be sure. I'm Otaku. You know what that is?"

Dr. Roth slots the chip into a reader and shows you the current balance.

"Just let me know when to stop the scan. As for otaku, you look a little young to be one of Halberstams kids. Were you picked up by a tribe or did you just figure these things out on your own? That'll change a couple of levels that I scan in."

"I was taught. It happened inside the Arcology when things went bad there. I wasn't part of Dues' Whites though, I was taught by the Resistance."

Bing!

"Okay, well I would say you have seen your fair share of horror. This procedure should be fairly painless. You may see odd visions and hallucinate while the scan is happening. Each should be short lived, a few seconds at most, but I wanted to warn you in case a fish started to swim across the room and only you could see it."

The doctor moves around the room, turning knobs and adjusting digital counters. Time seems to stretch and distort as the world is measured in a series of bings. Internal chronometers track the time lapse as 63.14 seconds between the sound.

Nineteen beeps later, Dr. Roth looks over the team. His eyes settle on the violet-eyed elf amongst you.

"Excuse me sir, but now that we have started, would you mind getting me that Latte we discussed as payment for allowing you to accompany the young lady through her procedure?"

Wren shrugs. "Sure, I'll be right back."

Bing!

Trixie settles back into the doctors chair and does her best to remain as calm as possible.

Trixie:
Minutes crawl by, measured perfectly by the sounding of the machines in the doctor's office. The old man with a scarred eye walks into the room with a large Soy-Kaf. He hands it over to the doctor.

"Choices have been made by others. You must pick."

Team:
Wren comes back a few minutes later and hands the large Soy Latte over to Dr. Roth. He sits down, obviously preoccuppied.

Trixie frowns slightly, looking at the man. "What choises?"

Trixie:

The old man distorts and coalesces into Wren's sitting form.

Trixie's eyes focus with clarity on Wren, "This is gunna be a long, strange day..."

Jester leans against the door jam and folds one arm against his side. His other arm hangs at his side, his fingers tapping the metal of his cyber leg.

Day 2 1930 (Ten hours into the Mindscan)
Hours blur together into the mind-numbing continuity that comes from a night of heavy drinking. The sun sets and you hear the sounds of the Crime Mall wind down. Wren volunteers to go and get food for everyone, his mind still fogged over from his own internal monologue.

Another hour passes, you're violet eyed elf has not yet returned.

Trixie:

You take solace in the fact that there have not been any fish swimming across your vision yet. The old man has not returned but you have caught several blurred visions of a raven that pecked at Wren's head, reaching in and pulling out bits of string and fluff. When the elf left, the raven settled on his chair and stared at you unblinkingly for a few seconds before distorting and coalescing into Wren's longcoat.

Jester raised his wrist, glancing at the old fashioned watch. An hour had passed since the elf departed. To long.

"Callisto, walk me to my van, will yah?"

The old man gave a parting glance in Trixie's direction.

"Jack, heads up, go to the alternate freq."

As the door closed behind the two, servo's whined and Jester's cyber leg opened expelling the Glock heavy pistol with enough force to put the pistol in his waiting hand.

"Wren's bin gone to long. I need to get to the van and pop the drone, once that's done I'll fly overwatch and we'll see what we can see."

Over the com: This may be nothing Jack but I think we may have been comprimised, keep an eye on the door.

Calisto/Jester:

The nature of the criminal underworld being what it is, the Crime Mall is not completely closed down though night has fallen on the disheveled merchants. Wary eyes watch you pass, stiff bodyguards moving hands and tails closer to their weapons almost reflexively. You pass by them all without steel actually being drawn or high-grade synthetic polymers being unholstered.

The parking lot is nigh abandoned. The Marauder rests thirty meters from the closest car. Jester's eyes scan the lot thoroughly stopping on a familiar sports car. There is no sign of Wren anywhere near his car.

Calisto nods towards the seasoned rigger. She takes a moment to assess the area.

Calisto:

You scan over the area but don't see the tell-tale signs of movement or the emanating heat of bodies. As Jester runs in his lopsided limping manner toward the van, you brace yourself for an attack which never comes.

Jester:

The van hums to life at a few mental commands and the side door opens just as you get to the vehicle. Climbing inside the drone is almost finished with its warm-up routines and ready to launch at your command.

Jester plugs the fiber optic cable into the van's dash as the dor slides shut. Laying down on the seat he closes his eyes and enters the drone.

The Firebat rotor drone launches from it's tube, blades springing into place as condensed air blasts it into the sky. With a barely audible hum it comes to life and begins circling the parking lot.

Over the Comm.

This may all be for not, but better safe then sorry. The van is secure Cal, head back inside and I'll keep an eye on things out here.

Jester keep a lock on me, I'm going to retrace Wren's steps to see where he dropped off the radar.

Calisto moves back through the Crime Mall, heading for the restraunt where their food was ordered. She moves with the usual "shadowrunner" indifference to everyone around here.