Once the threats inside the House of Pleasure were eventually neutralized, Margo and several other officers were sent to the hospital. The target himself, Geoffrey Coggins, took a hell of a beating fighting for his illegal slice of land. Thanks to Margo, his left arm was just a collection of burnt chunks of flesh limply dangling off the rest of his body. He'd need a prosthetic limb for sure.

If he managed to impress the doctor-cops, that is.

Mason, Andrade, and Carl—who had still passed the baton over to Vince—were on their way to the interrogation room where Coggins was locked up. Other Psychwatch officers were racing up and down the hallways, many of them on their way to uncover the identities of the Sentients they had rescued. The small lens of Mason's ThoughtControl hovered in front of her eye.

"Still hard to believe only one officer was killed," sighed Andrade out of relief. "Those Blurs really work wonders, don't they, Commissioner?"

"Sure," Mason replied blankly, focused on the path in front of her. "If they were perfect, then I wouldn't have a dozen officers in the hospital right now."

"There's always a way," Vince mumbled, neither of his colleagues hearing him.

"I can't help but feel sympathy for Sandoval," Andrade added. "Poor girl came in expecting to be a regular shrink, and now she's out on the streets of the Psycho Slums picking off Bod-Modders. I mean, it had to happen at some point, but it's all happening so abruptly for her."

"What are her conditions?" Mason asked.

"Critical bruising around her torso and ribs and a hairline fracture in her left arm, both due to an upgraded shotgun that managed to blast open two holes in her Blur. She'll be feeling like shit for the next few weeks, but she'll be fine."

"Everyone else?"

"Pretty much the same, Commissioner. Nothing worse than a few small fractures. In fact, Royce was reported with two broken ribs, but all he talked about was getting home to 'Sofia' or somebody like that."

"Do you know of his personal life, Andrade?"

"I'm afraid not, Commissioner. However, many of the other officers had grown delirious due to their concussions, so we'd assumed the same happened to him. Sandoval also sounded like she was speaking nonsense."

"How so?"

"She kept claiming she heard the screams of Dottie Forrester, one of the girls we rescued a week ago. However, none of the Sentients we retrieved resemble her. Poor girl is just guilt-ridden. I told her she could sign up for a session here once she's out."

"Making her think she's crazy is the best solution?" Vince grumbled.

"Inspector Andrade didn't say she convinced her she was crazy," Mason answered. "Sandoval can believe whatever the hell she wants as long as she gets her job done."

The three officers finally reached the interrogation room. Several other doctor-cops waited in front of the transparent screen of the one-way mirror, a dozen holographic screens hovering around the room. Geoffrey Coggins sat at a silver table on the other side of the mirror. His left arm was completely gone—having been amputated an hour ago—and he sat in a slouched, austere position with his remaining hand cuffed to his seat. His eyes and expression were as cold and synthetic as the Sentients he once had control over.

"Atkinson," Mason said in reference to Nikki, who sat in front of another screen in the corner of the room, "is the subject's mind stable enough for the PACER?"

"N-N-N-No, ma'am," Nikki stuttered. "His diagnosis by the P3S uncovered multiple paraphilia within his mental state as well as symptoms of antisocial personality disorder."

"Then I guess will just have to get the truth out of him the old-fashioned way. Just a pleasant little conversation. Could you please hand me the Fatemaker beside you?"

Nikki nervously handed her the gun, and Mason activated her ThoughtControl piece once again, the lens flashing in front of her eye like a camera. She turned back to Andrade, Nikki, and the other officers in the room for one more order. "If he doesn't end up satisfying the System, don't attack him all at once please."

"You're the real Fatemaker here, Commissioner," Andrade replied. "Whether he makes it out or not is all up to you once you walk through that door."

Mason nodded her head, her stoic expression refusing to break. The door to the interrogation room slid open, and she stepped inside.

The cold breeze of the air conditioner quickly blasted against her face. The doors slid closed behind her, and the SanityScan hanging in the corner slowly pivoted toward Coggins. She approached the deranged man from behind, the two of them exchanging piercing gazes overflowing with various emotions. The only difference was that Coggins was bold enough to flash a small grin at the fearsome commissioner.

Mason took the seat in front of him, still maintaining that intimidating gaze. "Geoffrey Coggins," she said. "You mind telling me why a pedophile like you is running illegal activities out in the offline neighborhoods rather than being back in England?"

"First off," Coggins replied in a raspy voice completely different from the disturbingly boisterous attitude of his robotic copy, "I'm from Wales. Sure, I snuck onto an English boat to get here, but everyone else in England is a little busy eating each other alive. Parasitic virus or some shit. Secondly, I'm not a paedophile. I'm an ephebophile. I prefer 'em when they're a little older. And finally, I'm giving these people a place to vent, is what I'm doing."

"Vent," Mason repeated. "Is that what you refer to statutory rape as?"

Coggins snapped his fingers. "You've got it wrong, miss. Not sure if you doctor-coppers have already discovered, but those Sentients are all modeled after teenagers beyond the age of sixteen, which is the age of consent here in the state of Pennsylvania if I recall."

"Wrong. They reported two of them modeled after fourteen-year-olds. And none of them were even manufactured in this state."

"Whatever. I haven't broken any American prostitution laws, believe it or not. None of these little buggers are human, remember? Just metal, plastic, wires, and synthetic sexual organs all mixed together. And not a single one has passed the Turing test. They'll only ever feel what I want them to—"

Coggins froze in place as the sounds of screaming filled his ears. He saw a brief glimpse of the city of Los Angeles, a wall of fire rising higher than the tallest skyscrapers. People were bolting across the street, their clothes engulfed in flames. Then the image and sounds faded away, and he found himself back in the interrogation room.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he asked.

"SanityScan memory probe," Mason replied, her lens floating in front of her eye. "These Scans often make people's days by neurally sending them encouraging messages only they will hear. Very few of them find out it can also do the opposite." Mason leaned forward. "Keep this up, Coggins, and every traumatic memory you've ever had will come rushing back into your head."

"Splendid. It's been a while since I've gone to the cinema. That should make up for that. Also, can I please have my arm back?"

"Later." Mason paused. "I'm guessing from that memory you've been to California. Elaborate on that. Now."

"I was gonna attempt to start my humble little trafficking business there, what with all those predators in Hollywood emerging from the shadows. Not the first place I tried, but things just kept getting in the way. The West Coast wildfires. The East Asian suicide epidemics. The Red Riots. It's like everywhere I go, human life suddenly has no meaning."

A look of suppressed rage formed across Mason's face. "What do you believe?" she asked slowly.

"Well if it ain't obvious, I'm the kind of person who measures the value of human life in numbers." Coggins sat back into his seat. "And from the way your System works, I presume you people think the same way."

"The Threat Levels do not exist to measure the value of human life. They exist to seek out people like you who live by that harmful mindset."

"To kill them?"

"To correct them."

Coggins stifled a chuckle. "Considering how 'correct' you've been about me lately, I'm not sure if I really take you—"

The room disappeared. A man with a mask branded with those sinister red X's stood in front of Coggins, a hand placed firmly on his shoulder with a grip of steel. An inhuman scream burst from the masked man's throat as he plunged a butcher knife into Coggins' stomach.

Then it all disappeared. Coggins slumped forward, a burning sensation filling his gut. "Thought you said they were supposed to be traumatic," he wheezed. "It hurt like hell, but that was honestly nothing."

"Sir, if we really resorted to unearthing your worst memories," Mason said carefully, "you'd be catatonic by the time this session is over."

"Well shit."

"Now tell me who those masked men are. And once again, I ask of you," Mason paused to rise from her seat, "why did you create the House of Pleasure?"

Coggins' irreverent grin slowly vanished, and he returned a glare just as deadly as Mason's. "I'll tell you why," he growled. "To keep up with the times."

"We should just kill him, Commissioner," Andrade insisted through Mason's piece.

"I'm pretty sure you shmucks already knew this," Coggins continued, "but the world has changed so much, especially this country. Decades ago you all tried to add value to such unimportant human characteristics, like race or gender or sexuality. Using these social constructs to alienate your own citizens and generate unnecessary conflict."

"I'm not sure how long you've been here, Mr. Coggins," Mason replied, "or how much you comprehend our values, but equality is of high importance here. We're all just human."

"Yeah, well it took you fucking long enough to finally get that. And now I'd say you've all gone a bit overboard. Everywhere I go around here is now drowning in nihilism. People searching for vices high and low, whether it hurts themselves or anyone else. Everyone's equal because everyone is suffering. Everyone's equal because no one is special!" Coggins burst out laughing. "You might be black, white, gay, straight, man, woman, but you're still not bulletproof!"

Then the worst images flashed through his head. He was back on the boat leaving England, a massive barge lined with rows of cargo crates. People left and right were being gunned down or ripped apart by the infected. The men with the guns were armed soldiers, each doing their best to stop the spread of infection, showing no hesitation as they tore apart other people with bullets. Coggins saw a teenage girl in the distance at the edge of the ship, standing on the rails, ready to leave the chaos around her. There was deep, messy bite mark on her arm. Before she could leap, an infected man grabbed her away from the rails and pulled her out of his view, her screams nearly drowning out the gunfire.

The last thing Coggins saw before he returned to the interrogation was blood. A nauseating amount of blood, splashing the rails, coming from where that girl disappeared.

Mason had to stun him with her Fatemaker to silence his screams. "Tell me who those masked men are!" Mason bellowed angrily with her gun trained on him.

Coggins was more hesitant this time, his face twitching as the electricity rippling through his body slowly faded away. He coughed a few times, trying not to think about that beautiful girl he saw get ripped to shreds. "Kindred spirits," he croaked. "Th-th-they warned me not to go through with the deal I made with the Bod-Modders. But I didn't care. I spent seventy-five grand per person for the ones they promised to bring me, so I just wanted my money's worth."

Coggins paused for a moment, trying to regain his breath. Mason slammed her hand on the table. "I didn't say to stop," she uttered in a chilling voice.

"Andrade? Mason?" Carl asked, finally regaining control from Vince. "What the hell is going on?"

"These masked men," Coggins continued. "They took my weapons. Then you took my new additions. And just earlier they sent me flowers. A bouquet of spark roses."

"Funeral flowers," Andrade added. "He's a dead man."

"All in all," Coggins exhaled, "I was just trying to have some fun. I didn't need any of you getting in my way and in my head."

"If you don't want us in your head," Mason said, "then you shouldn't have given us reasons to go in." Mason paused to calm down. "In fact..."

Mason returned to her seat in front of the lunatic and sat down, the Fatemaker still in her hand. "I always keep my word, Mr. Coggins," she spoke softly. "And I realize I haven't told you more about the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I offered to redeem yourself."

"Are you serious?" Carl muttered through their pieces.

"One of our own officers, a young man diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder, had volunteered to engage in redemption therapy, a method of psychotherapy that's essentially a job opportunity here at Psychwatch. You can work alongside us to expose the people who've wronged you and set you on this dark path. You will receive the most beneficial medications our Empaths could ever provide you with. You will slowly rediscover the ways you can contribute to society and learn to comprehend the value of human life."

Coggins raised an eyebrow. "What's the catch?" he asked.

"I'm afraid, given your hostile behavior, you will receive a correctional shock implant to restrict your more harmful impulses. Plus, like the man I mentioned a moment ago, you will be subjected to multiple empathy tests that include additional shock therapy and any other method we deem necessary for your recovery."

Coggins nodded his head in amusement. "I'll pass."

"I should also note," Mason continued slowly, "that the Psychwatch Societal Stability System has deemed you a Threat Level 5 and a registered sex offender. Rest assured, you'll have no place out there without our help, especially considering what you've been diagnosed as."

"Yeah, I'm good. I don't want to fit in. I just wanna enjoy my time."

"Very well," Mason declared. She rose from her seat. "May I ask what you've done to the original young men and women whose likenesses your Sentients copy?"

"They're all fucking dead."

"No..." Carl growled over the ThoughtControl. He presses his hand against the glass.

"Naturally, they didn't appreciate my clients' advances very much," Coggins explained. "And this was before my deal with the Bod-Modders, so we didn't have all those fancy weapons at the time. Just a few cattle guns. They were screaming when we lined them up, but they went out peacefully."

Mason nodded her head. Her thumb smoothed toward her gun's fingerprint ID scanner, and the Fatemaker shifted into its Execute mode, its green lights engulfed by orange. Carl banged his fists against the two-way mirror. If he had been allowed in the room, he wouldn't need Vince's help in ensuring this man's death.

"Congratulations, Coggins," Mason said. "You're a free man."

"I'm a free man?" he repeated skeptically.

"Yes, sir. You're the freest man in the world."

Coggins let out one final gasp before Mason shot him three times, the third shot burning a hole through his head. He slumped to the side, never moving or hurting anyone else ever again.

The officers on the other side of the mirror went completely silent. Not out of disgust, but out of fear and relief that their leader was now the most dangerous person in that room.

Mason holstered her gun and slowly turned to the one-way mirror, fully aware her colleagues' sights were on her. "Once we've retrieved all evidence from the House of Pleasure," Mason asserted, "burn the place to the ground."

"W-W-We're still the good guys," Nikki said sheepishly. "Right?"

"As long as there's a worse person out there," Andrade replied, "yes, we are."