The snow built up around the streets like walls, barricades constructed to imprison Margo with her guilt and her emotions inside a car on a voyage to nowhere. The windows of her car were one-way, giving her a view of the benumbed city she called home while reflecting the city and its hindrances away from her, further isolating her in this moving vessel she couldn't distinguish between a refuge or a prison.

She sat in the center of the backseat, a holographic TV screen hovering in front of her. "Meteorologists have detected another freak blizzard overtaking the city of Philadelphia," the newscaster announced, "reminiscent of the cold snaps of June 1816, an event often referred to as 'The Year Without A Summer'. With climate change continuing to spiral out of control, it's not a surprise a phenomenon like this could occur, and city officials are still debating whether to cancel the upcoming..."

Still curled up in her seat, Margo glanced outside at the incoming skyscrapers of downtown Philadelphia. Her vehicle was illuminated by the fabricated glow of neon as massive holographic screens and projections hovered above her and the rest of the city. The snow continued to pile up on the sidewalks, but her ThoughtControl piece continued picking up signs of life as citizens continued wandering the streets, indifferent to the weather.

"Hello? Brian?" she called Royce through her piece. "I need your help."

"Sandoval!" Royce gasped. "I-I-I'm in the middle of something! My Sofia needs me."

"I'm sorry to bother you, but someone just broke—"

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to deal with it yourself, Sandoval. You've got a Fatemaker for a reason. Use it on yourself if you have to. But make sure it's not on its Execute mode if you do, of course."

"Brian, you didn't even let me—"

Royce's connection disappeared. She then called Andrade. "Inspector Andrade," she uttered with exhaustion, "this is Officer Sandoval. Someone just broke into my apartment. I need some backup to prevent the intruder from hurting the other tenants."

"You had one damn job, Sandoval," Andrade groaned. "Don't you know how Fatemakers work? Scan your print, aim the gun, seal their fate. It's in the name."

"W-W-Well yeah, but I wanted to negotiate just in case! I thought maybe we could save—"

"Try focusing on saving yourself sometimes." Then their connection vanished.

Margo sat back, her mouth ajar. She didn't understand all of this sudden hostile behavior. The more optimistic part of her tried to convince her that they were all just cranky since she woke them up in the middle of the night, but the thought grew more childish the more she pondered it.

Her car slowed to a halt as it approached an intersection. The red glow of the traffic lights consumed her car. Looking out her window, she saw a man struggling to tread through the snow burying the sidewalk and his legs. His jacket wasn't appropriate for the weather in the slightest, and the condition of nearly every other item of clothing on his body indicated poverty. He collapsed into a pile of snow in front of him, his breathing growing slower by the second. He was only a few blocks away from the homeless shelter where Margo's mother worked.

Margo used her ThoughtControl piece to dial emergency services. "Send an ambulance over to my location!" she ordered. "A man just passed out in the cold."

"We're on our way," they replied. "Thank you."

The lights turned green. The car moved forward and Margo looked back at the man's body as it disappeared into the ashy haze. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw an ambulance rushing past her vehicle toward his location. "Glad I finally did something right tonight," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

She sat back into her seat, the TV screen still hovering a few inches in front of her. The weather report had been replaced by the regular news:

"A protest led by MindLock, an activist group infamous for their actions against Psychwatch in the past, has broken out in front of Philadelphia City Hall, standing by their beliefs that the organization has no place in the upcoming Mental Health Awareness rally. Despite the group's devoted following, the amount of attendees is hindered both by weather conditions and their own controversial reputation, with many of their critics labeling them as part of the growing parasite subculture. Authorities further commented..."

Margo paid no more attention to the report. She gazed at the Psychwatch ads flashing across the holographic billboards above her along with the brief ad for Specter's VR Strip Clubs, shamelessly returning her sight to the road in front of her once she had a good, quick glimpse of the hunks dancing across the screen. She couldn't help but smirk.

That brief moment of pleasure vanished like mist as her car slowly traversed in front of Philadelphia City Hall. Dozens of MindLock activists were huddled together only several feet from the building's entrance, carrying around glowing signs advocating some of the many borderline anarchistic beliefs they lived by. At least according to Psychwatch.

Margo decided to call Commissioner Mason. "Uh, Mason," she croaked sheepishly. "How are you doing tonight?"

"Doing well, Miss Sandoval," Mason replied. "Couldn't sleep tonight. Just watching the news."

Someone broke into my apartment; please send help, Margo wanted to say. But instead all that came out was, "Same. Looks like the Philly PD has this under control."

"They won't for long."

"Excuse me?" Margo asked after a brief pause, and she looked back to see multiple Psychwatch vehicles approaching the City Hall.

"Regular police are becoming outdated, Sandoval," Mason continued. "This is a city of wild animals, and Psychwatch is here to cage them."

Margo paused again. "Is that really how you see your patients?"

"See, this is proof you're still an amateur, Sandoval. You haven't learned to differentiate a patient from a lost cause. The patients beg for the help they know they require. They're the animals that eventually warm up to their caretakers. The lost causes are the ones that bite from the hand that feeds them, the kind that get put down." Mason paused, and Margo noticed she was trying to maintain her calm demeanor. "And I've started to notice there are more and more lost causes appearing every single day."

Margo found herself in an increasingly uncomfortable position, and not just because she was still shivering from the cold and her splint was still itching her arm. "But the Empaths," she spoke carefully. "Don't you think they're making some progress in this nation's psychological recovery?"

"What's the point if something keeps cancelling out whatever progress they've made?"

"Commissioner...I didn't think this was the kind of attitude you'd have. I mean, I know you were once a police chief, but empathy is a key part of being a Psychwatch officer."

"Of course I show empathy, Sandoval. In fact, I have so much empathy, I wouldn't hesitate to put you or any other of my fellow officers in a cage of their own if I had to."

Margo choked getting her next few words out. "Why would you need to—"

"There are some things you have kept hidden from yourself. So hidden, in fact, that their revelation may destroy you. For example, Andrade called me a second ago saying you requested backup to deal with a home intruder. Clearly you must be terrified of finding out who this intruder is on your own. You'd prefer to sink the whole ship rather than walk the plank alone."

"It's not like that, Commissioner! I needed to keep them from hurting the other tenants!"

"Then why the hell are you running away?"

Margo froze. She looked down at another screen hovering between the front seats of her car, displaying a GPS with the amount of progress she's made in regards to the city tour she ordered her car to follow. She fearfully turned the TV screen off. Now the only lights filling her car were the flashes of neon from the holo-ads outside.

"Wait," Mason asserted. "I get it now. You're still not putting the safety of others above your own. You haven't figured out to put your problems aside."

Margo felt like her heart was made of glass, and it shattered deep within her chest. She covered her mouth in an attempt to muffle the incoming cries. "Okay," she whispered into her piece. "I still feel guilty for everything."

"What could you have possibly done?"

"We couldn't save everyone from the House of Pleasure. And some of the ones we did save are against us. Thinking about that still hurts."

"Sandoval, no matter what we do, there will always be enemies and there will always be bodies. Psychwatch has learned to accept that. Society has learned to accept that. Now you just have to. Otherwise, either you'll end up being your own worst enemy or you're gonna be the next body in the pile. You don't want to end up being another lost cause, do you?"

"Mason," Margo whimpered.

"Just think about what effects this could have on your poor mother."

Then the connection vanished. Margo had never been more relieved to end a call.

She took another glance out the window. SanityScans hung from the corner of buildings. More Psychwatch ads shimmered against the building exteriors hundreds of feet above her. After everything Mason had said, it became harder for her to believe what she was reading. WE CARE ABOUT YOU, one sign read. YOU DON'T HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS ALONE, read another.

What hurt most was the words Mason had in regards to her mother. Was Margo really putting her in danger? Would the intruder or these masked men come for her next? Was Margo the most dangerous thing in this poor, innocent woman's life?

"Mom?" she called through her piece.

"Margo!" her mom replied. "I'm surprised you're up this late. Hope you're still finding time to get some rest. And how's your arm doing, sweetie?"

Margo looked down at the splint engulfing her arm. It had somehow become the least discomforting thing bothering her that evening. "It's fine," she replied softly. "Getting better. How about you?"

"A little stressed. Some of the visitors here at the homeless center are getting incredibly paranoid, what with those masked freaks and that incident with the Sentients and all. Poor girls. I hope they got home safely."

Margo covered her mouth again to muffle her cries, hoping her frustration would remain behind the walls she built to keep them in. Nausea plagued her stomach. "Yeah, they're fine..." she croaked.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Yeah, of course. I just wanted to call you to..." Margo cut herself off. She wiped away a tear and gazed down at her feet, her hand clutching the edge of the seat cushion in an attempt to hold her sorrows back. "I just wanted to tell you I love you so much. And I'm sorry if I've hurt you in any way or if I've let you down."

"Margo, sweetie, I..." her mom said, thinking carefully about her words, "I love you so much. I don't know if you've done anything or what's making you feel this way, but I'm sure it's not your fault." There was a long pause as Margo maintained an unmoving gaze toward the floor of her car. "Margo?" her mom asked again.

Margo raised her head, wiping away another tear. "Stay safe, Mom," she concluded. And she ended the call.

The car halted at another stoplight. The street to her right went on for miles into dark nothingness, only a single streetlight brightening the entrance into the void. Not a single SanityScan in sight. It was a road directly into the Psycho Slums. She returned her view back to the GPS. From where it was directed, she'd be passing by Carl's home in several minutes.

The light would remain red for only a minute longer. Tears were streaming down Margo's cheeks. She didn't want to risk putting her mom in danger by meeting up with her. The call alone already felt like a huge risk. She couldn't call Jack since his access to the outside world was restricted once work was over for him, not that she planned on wasting her time on him anyway. Holden was too young to help her and Nikki would've been equally as crippled by fear, possibly more so given her anxiety. That only left Carl.

She took the risk. "Hello?" Carl answered.

"Carl," Margo whimpered, leaning her head against the window, still wiping away tears. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Margo? Are you alright? You sound upset. Anything I can do for you?"

"Carl, someone broke into my home and I'm not sure if the authorities are coming to check it out. Everyone I ask keeps telling me to deal with it myself and that I'm a lost cause and—"

"Whoa, calm down, honey," Carl interjected, doing his best to sound approachable. "Did you contact Mason or Andrade?"

"They're the ones who told me all of that!" Margo couldn't hold it back any longer. She sobbed. She knew she would've lost the respect of anyone who'd been watching her break down, but she just wanted to find a moment to herself where she could finally stop being ashamed of making mistakes and being human.

"You sound like you're really dealing with a lot," Carl continued. "I totally get it, Margo. There are still things I haven't forgiven myself for, and it hurts. It hurts so damn much. But you're not going through this alone. None of us are perfect, kiddo."

Margo couldn't speak. She was curled up in a fetal position in the backseat of her car, her head buried between her legs. She was only seconds away from rolling down the window and chucking her ThoughtControl piece into the snow. As for where she'd sleep that evening, she was still deciding between her spot in the car or leaping out into the blizzard and letting the weather determine whether she'd see the sun rise the next day.

If it weren't for Carl, she would've died that evening. "Come over to my place," he said. "It's warm, it's safe, and you'll be free to vent everything else on your mind. I'm always free if you need to vent."

Margo remained silent. She lifted her head up as the lights turned green, and her car trudged along to the other side of the intersection.

"Margo?" Carl asked.

"Y-Y-Yeah, I'm still here," she stammered. "I'll come by."

She ended the call. She took one more wavering look out the window before directing the car to Carl's place.