Margo sat slumped against the couch in the HQ lobby. She wiggled around the fingers of her left hand, relief flowing through her now that the splint was gone. Her eyelids hung low as she tiredly endured another commercial promoting the sparkling water everyone she knew seemed to enjoy so much. But thanks to the sleepless night she endured before, she wished she would've been anywhere else.

She spent the whole weekend at Carl's as she waited for Psychwatch and the police to investigate her apartment for the intruder. After all that time they spent exploring her domicile, they found zero evidence of a break-in, and she had her regenerative-glass windows to blame. Broken RG shards always dissolved into microscopic particles seconds after the glass's destruction, which means the mess would disappear just as quickly as the repairs being done, and the only marks and footprints they found on the floor were Margo's as she struggled to flee her apartment. Even with the intruder's visit disproven, she knew she wouldn't be feeling safer anytime soon. Especially since the people who hurt her most that night were her own squad mates.

She could hear Andrade's footsteps echoing against the floor as she approached her from behind. She took a quick glance at her superior and her cybernetic hand, the rest of her arm hidden underneath the sleeve of her blazer. Margo knew it was petty of her to expect an apology, especially from an officer of a higher rank, but their sudden hostility that evening took her like an ambush. Any other day, she could've blown it off as stress or frustration on their part, but in the time she needed help most, they left her out in the cold.

"Sandoval," Andrade greeted as she approached the couch.

"Andrade," Margo muttered back without taking her sight off the TV.

"Maslow told me what happened. Glad to know you made it out unharmed."

"Thanks."

"Did you manage to apprehend the intruder?"

"No, I was a little too busy running for my life."

Andrade nodded her head. "Understandable. I mean, the right thing is for all officers to remain vigilant and prepare for the worst, but I can imagine the intruder arrived at the most inconvenient time. What with your splint and what I assume is insomnia."

"Yeah, I was gonna leave him a note to come in the afternoon instead, but I thought him coming at night would provide more of a challenge," Margo deadpanned. She knew it was unprofessional of her to spout so much sarcasm, but Andrade's sudden concern for her safety felt uncanny. Almost forced, even for their jobs.

"You're very witty, Sandoval," Andrade smirked, although Margo didn't look at her. "Normally I wouldn't appreciate attitude like that, but that was clever. Holloway seems to be rubbing off on you." She started moving away from the couch before adding one final statement. "Let's just hope that'll be the only effect he'll have on you."

Try focusing on saving yourself sometimes, Margo remembered Andrade saying the other night. The memory made her roll her eyes.

Margo sat back into her seat as Andrade disappeared out of the lobby. She returned her sight to the holographic screen several feet in front of her, theme music playing out of its speakers.

"January 7, 2040," the announcer declared. "The day two of the most influential men in recent history disappeared without a trace."

My eighteenth birthday, Margo pondered with a smirk. Freaky.

"Cyrus Lynch, founder of Psychwatch, survivor of the Boston Red Riots, and the man who introduced the revolutionary ThoughtControl technology to the world. Tetsuo Fujioka, co-founder of Psychwatch, orphaned at the age of seventeen as the son of Japanese immigrants, and the man who forever changed American law enforcement with his highly advanced Neutralizer squadron. The two of them quickly became gods among mortals, not without allies and never without enemies. Lynch himself even reported dealing with an average of at least three assassination attempts every day. But still the mystery remains: how could two of the brightest minds of the century vanish so easily? This is the last known interview of Tetsuo Fujioka, recorded on January 4, 2040, three days before his disappearance."

Images of the founders flashed across the screen. The first was Cyrus Lynch. He was a handsome man who clearly worked to be in good shape. He had light brown hair, hazel eyes, and a square jaw that was the final touch of his charming smile. He wore a dark green sweater vest and jeans as he stood in front of a Psychwatch building in Boston, the first ever built. Two other screens floating beside his picture revealed that he was a Harvard graduate and suffered from OCD since he was twelve along with PTSD as a result of the Red Riots. The images were then replaced by that of Tetsuo Fujioka. He appeared to be the complete opposite of Mr. Lynch, and not just because he wasn't white. His hair was a black, fluffy mess that reminded Margo of Albert Einstein, and he wore a lab coat over a plain blue shirt as he stood in front of a holographic diagram of a prototype Fatemaker. He was slightly younger than Lynch, but the wrinkles on his face and his tired expression implied life had been harder on him. His grin seemed forced, hiding something melancholic or stressful, and every picture showed him with an evident slouch, whether he was standing or sitting.

Lynch and Fujioka disappeared from the screens just as they did in real life, and the TV screen displayed a beautiful newswoman parked at a desk, blue streaks tracing down her wavy black hair like circuits. Beside her sat Mr. Fujioka, whose grin and attire was as relaxed and subtly wistful as ever. Margo remembered Carl telling her that Fujioka had visited the same hospital she was taken to following the car crash that led to her father's disappearance. Her fifteen-year-old self was dying to meet him that day, but she didn't get the chance. Instead, she had the honor of meeting Carl, someone she hoped would remain her friend from that day on.

"I'm Vanessa Kim, and today we have a special guest," the newswoman announced. "All the way from his hometown of Honolulu, Hawaii, the co-founder of Psychwatch himself, Dr. Tetsuo Fujioka!" She turned to her guest as the audience cheered in the background, and he waved at the camera with that trademark awkward grin of his. "Thank you for joining us today, Mr. Fujioka. I've been dying to meet you for a very long time."

"Please, call me Fuji," he replied. "And I'm definitely pleased to be here, too, Vanessa. Glad you could have me."

"How have you and Mr. Lynch been lately?"

Fuji shrugged and chuckled. "Honestly, things couldn't be better. Now that the year has begun, Psychwatch's territory has expanded to eleven of the original thirteen colonies. Last we checked, there are fifty thousand officers now part of the organization and hundreds of SanityScans installed each day."

"Uh, actually," Vanessa added nervously, "I was just wondering about you and Cyrus Lynch on a personal level. Families, mental health, things like that. There should be more to life than your occupation, right?"

"Mr. Lynch is doing fine, I presume. Despite his empathetic nature, he prefers to keep to himself, especially in regards to his own treatments. And my wife and I are doing fine as well. Just enjoying the beginning of the new year and the success of our organization."

"Yeah, good for you," Vanessa chirped, sounding impatient. "Are you aware that, despite this 'success' you claim Psychwatch has become, your Neutralizer officers have been coming under fire lately for their mistreatment of the mentally ill?"

Well they're off to a great start, Margo thought as she leaned her head on her fist to keep herself up.

Fuji's grin slowly vanished. "I was aware of the controversy their initiation would garner," he replied, "but I stand by my belief that this is all for the best."

"What makes you say that, Mr. Fujioka?"

"The first sign of this insanity epidemic was the Red Riots of the 2020's. Mass urban hysteria and violence like no one had ever seen before. The amount of crimes committed by mentally ill citizens before that were so small, they were almost nonexistent. But after the Riots, it skyrocketed to twenty percent of all violent crimes. They had become Hollywood stereotypes, just bloodthirsty animals killing without reason. But once Psychwatch was unveiled, violent crime went down by eighty-nine percent and any threat to our organization eventually received justice, whether they were reborn as a better person or died as the animal they unfortunately devolved into."

Speaking the truth, Margo thought with a smirk. In your face, lady.

A series of nervous murmurs could be heard throughout the audience in the background. "Isn't there a more polite term to use than 'animal', Mr. Fujioka?" inquired Vanessa.

Fuji paused for a moment, fully aware he was walking on eggshells now. He cleared his throat and said, "I apologize for that. But really, that viewpoint simply comes from a personal insecurity of mine. Having witnessed my parents' deaths at the hands of a schizophrenic man when I was seventeen, I thought they were all animals. But that man was the reason I created the Neutralizers. To purge a man of his demons without purging the man himself."

"But other sources claim you broke into that man's house and nearly killed him."

"Like I said, I was young and broken. I believed there was no difference between revenge and justice."

"They said you enjoyed it. That you were smiling when you knocked his teeth out."

Fuji no longer kept his frustration hidden. He glared at his interviewer with a cold look. "Vanessa," he spoke carefully, "I faced reality in ways no other human should that day and I hated every second of it. I would never go out of my way to hurt someone for my own pleasure, especially after that day. I'm a man who cherishes valid evidence. So next time, please gather your information from people who don't see through lenses clouded by their own biases. It's the only thing that'll keep you from ending up like the parasites."

Vanessa was very blatantly shocked, concerned about the direction their interview was headed. "Well, uh..." she continued nervously, "you mind informing us what these parasites are?"

Ha! Everyone knows who the parasites are. You're just asking that because you're trying so hard not to strangle him on camera.

Fuji cleared his throat before sitting up in his seat. "I'm surprised you're asking," he replied. "You've interviewed so many of them—"

"Just answer the (bleep!) question please."

Not very professional of you, lady, Margo thought again with a quiet snicker.

"The parasites," Fuji continued, "are a growing subculture known for their political involvements that more or less devolve into anarchy and abuse of the rights to assembly and free speech in one way or another. Given Psychwatch's many, many experiences with them, they're almost always diagnosed with either depression or some kind of personality disorder. Usually both at the same time. But in the end, they can be summed up as self-destructive hedonists wishing to spread their lifestyles to other people."

"If you think they have so much issues, why doesn't Psychwatch do anything to aid them?"

"Because they still have the freedom to change their ways or not. Lynch and I make our Empaths vow never to enforce their treatments upon people who refuse them. That job belongs to the Neutralizers. However, we believe some of these parasite groups are the reasons entire city districts within our own territory remain offline. It's either their safety or their happiness, and they decided to choose happiness, something they don't seem to realize doesn't last forever."

I mean, props for thinking logically, Margo thought, but I can kinda see what someone might have against him considering that comment on happiness.

"So you'd rather permit your forces to kill off innocent people than find them the treatments they deserve?" Vanessa asked, eyebrows raised.

"Miss Kim," Fuji replied, visibly losing patience, "another thing we make our officers vow is to never kill innocents. Anytime the trigger of a Fatemaker is pulled, it's because we've found someone in our society who can hardly be described as human. And it's not because they're not aware of the destruction they've caused, but rather the opposite. Anyone who overlooks violence and its effects on innocent people cannot be described as human. And if violence is how they choose to live their lives, it will also be how it ends."

"I understand, Mr. Fujioka," Vanessa said. "Anyone with common sense would understand. But why are you singling out the parasites? What harm have they done to other people through their pursuit of satisfaction?"

"Gerald Gein," Fuji uttered with disgust. "An activist from Atlanta campaigning against racism. His cause and the group he worked with were actually quite noble, but he was something else entirely. The System diagnosed him with histrionic personality disorder, which means his real goal in life was to make sure he was always the center of attention. But he crossed the line when he started carving the flesh off people both living and dead and stitched them to his own body in order to represent 'racial equality'. It went on for three months until he finally re-emerged in public looking like a piece of rough patchwork before dying in the city's Red Riot a week later. Then there's Omniluv, a group that thinks it will start the next sexual revolution by legalizing polygamy, prostitution, and the distribution of Wonderland Mist in the United States. Then it was revealed most of its founders consisted of rapists, sex traffickers, pedophiles, and other sexually-depraved individuals hell-bent on lowering the legal age of consent to justify whatever the hell they planned on doing next. But all that controversy only made them more appealing."

"Right," Vanessa commented monotonously, further muttering without looking at her guest, "As a supporter of Omniluv, I'm hurt by those statements."

"Well that's awkward," Royce chimed in as he approached the couch from behind. He circled around the chair and plopped down on it a few feet away from Margo, quickly glancing at her without saying a word.

You told me to use my own weapon on myself, thought Margo as anger boiled within her, and you think this is awkward?

"I know some of them aren't good people," Vanessa continued on the screen, "but why do you call them parasites? Why should they be the ones speaking for their whole groups?"

"I think anyone who feels the need to acquire attention through harm and self-pity fits the definition of a parasite. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Kim?"

Vanessa glared at her guest with a stupefied look, remaining still for several seconds before facing the camera and declaring with a forced smile, "We'll be right back after the break. Coming up next is—"

Margo winced as Royce's chuckles filled her ears. "He showed her, didn't he?" he chuckled, almost as if he was purposefully trying to distract her. "Y'know, I admire Mr. Fujioka. That man could never tell a lie. Even if the truth made the other person break down crying. Good thing he works with shrinks, am I right?"

Margo remained quiet, slowly turning her head toward the oaf beside her. "Is there something you need to tell me, Royce?" she asked coldly.

The cruel way those words left her tongue surprised her, and the more sympathetic part of her wanted to apologize profusely like she would've done any other day. Even Royce was caught off-guard. His grin vanished immediately, and he nervously cleared his throat in preparation to speak, nudging his glasses back up.

I'm sorry, Sandoval, Margo imagined him saying in her head. The other doctor-cops and I should've been there as backup. We're supposed to look after each other, so that was foolish of me. I was just trying to protect Sofia, who's probably my wife or daughter or a hooker or something. I don't actually know. We never talk about my personal life, so you hardly know anything about—okay, now my thoughts are just getting weird. Just say what you need to say already, Royce.

"Right," Royce said, clasping his hands together. "Mason needs you. It's about the Mental Health Awareness rally on Friday. All this talk about parasites reminded me of that."

Margo raised a brow. "What for?" she inquired in a calmer tone than before.

"MindLock wants to ban us from the rally. All thanks to that bastard journalist."