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[code]Strongriver Plaza, Hedgemount_[/code][hr][hr]

Down the road from the Golden Throne sat a building with a simple sign out front, The White Elephant. Though despite it, the restaurant was practically invisible. It had little to no presence, was interconnected with other establishments in the same structure, and appeared to be more like a dingy old dive than anything else since, on the outside, it didn't look anywhere near as decorated as the nearby popular haunts. Entering through the door, though, revealed a hidden gem. A savory aroma of rich foods and spices, while perhaps an offensive odor to those not conditioned to such flavorful dishes, there was at least no denying the quaint atmosphere inside. A deep shade of red cloth draped the tables, napkins folded neatly to hold the silverware, water was delivered to the tables not by pitchers, but by tall glass bottles, giving the restaurant an inexpensive albeit classier experience. The dim lightning could be enjoyed by recluses and romantics alike.

Inside, Andrea was seated with the company of her Happiness notes, so she wasn't alone if you consider binders and folders of records covering the drug history of Baybridge to be suitable companionship. To be totally honest, not even Andrea thought so, and sometimes looking at her own stockpile of work made her feel sick to her stomach... but then she would recall her own history of trauma and measure it against what she knows of the current drug epidemic, and its significance becomes too much for her to ignore. There is one thing that helps her get through it though: it gave her purpose. Some people, some much older than her, are still out there looking for purpose and there is no telling what will happen after the Happiness problem gets fixed. She might as well latch onto that purpose while she still has it.

She continued to stare down her notes, tapping a pencil against her forehead as she tried to make sense of everything. There were things that she knew for certain: conventional drugs produced chemicals in the brain to make the consumer feel a certain way, but it was done at the expense of the body. It broke down tissue and sometimes deprived key nutrients. Medical records of certain citizens have shown strong correlations between Happiness usage and tumor growth, which meant that it promoted uncontrolled cell growth. Supposedly they were non-malignant, at least in the sense that it wasn't related to cancer, but instead reacted to some compounds. It wasn't an exact science and couldn't get the samples to grow in the same manner and speed as one could post-ingestion of the Happiness drug. Even with a sample, the scientists couldn't make heads or tails of the real issue of it. All they could really figure out was that the pills were made up of mostly concentrated dopamine and sugars, with the center being what was essentially extremely dense glucose, or a glucose bomb, saturated in an acidic, but unregistered mystery chemical. The center was isolated from the rest of the pill in an indigestible shell of raffinose. The concentrated hormones would probably burn holes straight into the brain and create some early onset dementia.

Most of the information after that much started to read like Greek to her – she took the wrong classes in school to be figuring out biochemistry. The minute someone needed to represent them in court or give legal advice, she'll be all over it. In the meantime, she'll just do what she can with online resources. Anyways, one problem was that there was a reason for the growth and it was difficult to pinpoint how these tumors were developing to the degree they were growing at. Cancer cells typically developed in a body exposed to stress and an acidic environment, could grow by absorbing glucose, it was just a matter of figuring out the mystery chemical... Andrea narrowed her brows, then went onto her phone to make an online search, “raffinose”. Reading an article, it said “Raffinose can be hydrolyzed to D-galactose and sucrose by the enzyme α-galactosidase (α-GAL), an enzyme not found in the human digestive tract.”

She wasn't going to pretend that she understood most of that, but what she did understand was that there was something that could break through the raffinose shell in the pill, presumably long after the soluble outer half was dissolved. Then the acidic mystery chemical could be exposed, alter the body's pH and whatever else it did, and the glucose bomb could... be digested. The gears were beginning to click into place in Andrea's head. It took several doses before serious effects took over, but it could explain why a single dose would promote tumor growth so quickly – but how would α-GAL get into the system?

The hair on her body began standing on end out of nowhere, and suddenly the world around her livened. The apparitions in her field of vision were antsy, moving about, and Andrea could faintly hear the crying of a young man and the flux of his emotions were such that even she was nearly overwhelmed. God, this... it reminded her of the time she... of  four years ago. He was right outside the restaurant. Quickly, she payed her bill and left her tip and gathered all of her research into a messenger bag and hurried outside, where she saw the man laying helplessly on the ground. She felt his mind beginning to slip. He was hyperventilating and in blind panic, but wasn't suffering any bad injuries. She rushed to his side and lifted his head off the pavement and into her hand instead. “Hey, hey! Stay with me now, okay sir?” She cooed in her efforts to comfort the man, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't feeling panicked herself. “Look at me – look at me, try to relax! Try to stop for a second, then take a deep, long breath. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

She'd issue a request to dig deeper for more information, but there was so much to sort out in this man's head that it was like trying to walk straight forward through a maze. There was no doing so unless she tore down barriers, and that would be as traumatic on her as it would be on him. All she could do is let the images and sounds come as they came – anxiety. Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety – death, dying, fear – hate, hating himself, guilty, girl – girl left behind, friend – monster. An image flashed in her head of grisly abomination. Abnormal growths, blood bubbling to the surface from beneath the skin's pores, a wretched face, and tumors everywhere on the surface of this creature's body. She raised her head and her eyes darted toward the direction of the Golden Throne where the faint sound of screaming crowds could be heard, and soon, also sirens. No, no, no, no, no... there was no way, she didn't [i]want[/i] to be right, but God... something was telling her that something was [i]very[/i] wrong. Something incredibly fucked up was going on. She looked back down to the hyperventilating man who was in her lap now. His skin felt chilly and waxy to the touch.

“Hey, it's alright,” she insisted, “you're safe now. I'm helping you.”