Margo sat at her desk, the Philadelphia skyline towering over her on the other side of the glass. A soft gray haze blanketed the sky, and she could still see piles of snow melting on the rooftops. Her old patient, Iris Cruz, had returned for another session. On any other day, she would've been happy to see an old acquaintance, especially one who had improved since the last time they'd met.

But while Iris grew more comfortable beyond the boundaries of her comfort zone, Margo felt lost outside hers, like a hiker wandering off the trail.

Iris didn't have a hood over her head like last time. Her lovely red hair was free to sway about her head like a curtain as she excitedly reviewed her day. She still wore that same baggy, blue hoodie that she wore the first time she met Margo, and her mom sat on a couch on the far-right edge of the room, a smile stretching across her face as she witnessed her daughter's progress make itself evident. She hopped up and down with excitement as the events of her day spewed out like a serene little waterfall.

"...And I got second place in my school talent show for singing 'Creep' by Radiohead!" she spoke at rapid-fire speed, "And then I went with my friends to a dance and ate frozen yogurt with them and..."

Margo was happy to see Iris finally come out of her shell, but too many horrifying thoughts plagued her mind as she studied her cheerful little guest. She felt like she was drowning in ice-cold water, trapped in a glass container as the flowing feeling of death rose quickly to her head and consumed her. And it was all because of one little thing catching her eye.

Iris had a spark rose planted firmly in her hair.

"But I'm just glad I'll finally be done with eighth grade on Friday," she declared with a smile, brushing her hair out of the way. "And once school is done, my friends and I plan on going to the Mental Health Awareness rally!"

Those few words were like a punch in the throat for Margo. The worrisome daze she was trapped in only moments ago vanished in an instant, and she arrived back in reality with a thud, her fingernails digging into her desk.

"Iris," her mother Madeline said in a cautious voice, "remember what I told you the other day. We need to discuss it further with your father before we allow you to go. You know how much tension has been going on lately between the offline neighborhoods and Psych..." She cut herself off as she nervously glanced at Margo. "I apologize, Miss Sandoval. I should've been thought more clearly about my choice of words. I'm just concerned about my daughter's safety."

Margo slowly rose from her seat, still gazing at that beautiful mark of death resting on her patient's head. "Where did you get that flower?" she asked.

"The spark rose?" Iris replied, nudging it with her fingers. "Someone at school was passing them out. Do you like it?"

"Who gave it to you?"

"Oh, well...sorry about this, but they were being passed around by MindLock activists. Even the founder was there! Wendell Asch? I think that's his name."

"I'm sorry, Iris, but I think it's best if you stay away from him. And the rally."

Iris frowned. "What's wrong?" she asked Margo.

"Asch isn't a trustworthy man. We've had several former members of MindLock take sessions here, and all of them claim he's been manipulating people into following his orders, and he'll go out of his way to break anybody he feels is against him. In fact, a woman was put on suicide watch because of what he put her through."

Iris covered her mouth in shock, and Margo was worried she might have gone too far. She flinched when Madeline jerked from the chair onto her feet.

"I'm very sorry to say this, Miss Sandoval," Madeline spoke carefully, "but I feel like you're saying this because of Psychwatch and MindLock's hostile interactions in the past. Surely these people are capable of redemption."

Ha! Ellie chimed in through Margo's ThoughtControl piece. Guess she didn't hear what you said about the suicides.

Margo's patience had run out. "Shut up!" she screeched, leaping from her seat.

Iris quickly scrambled out of her seat to join her mother. Margo's heart shattered as the two of them displayed the most frightful looks on their faces as if they were trapped and cornered by some unholy beast. She tapped on her piece to ensure it remained off and hectically added, "I'm very sorry! I didn't mean to be that way. I've been getting too many inconvenient and incredibly discomforting calls lately and—"

"I think it would be best if we left," Madeline replied, blatantly concerned. She grabbed Iris by the arm and dragged her over to the door. "I hope you resolve...whatever it is that's going on in your life."

"I know I'm horrible at my job," Margo whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes, "but please! Please don't go to the rally on Friday. It's for your own safety!"

Before the Cruzes disappeared out the door, the broken doctor-cop caught a small glimpse of the sympathy in her young patient's eyes. "We won't," Iris replied softly. "You know what's best, Margo."

Then the door shut. Margo was free to be alone with her inner demons and the possibility of another call from her despicable sister. She approached the window, wondering how long things would remain within her control.

* * *

Hours later, Margo was back at her desk, tasked with helping out someone a little bit closer to her.

Holden paced back and forth across the room, blowing off steam as he rode out the rest of his mania episode. Carl sat in a gray armchair beside Margo's desk, and his eyes paced back and forth with Holden as he watched his nephew quench his inner flames with streams of profanity.

"...have to deal with this shit every day because of this!" he growled in the middle of a rant about Psychwatch's involvement in the rally. "People nowadays have no fucking sense of individuality anymore! It's like once one person in the group fucks up, suddenly the whole group is guilty of that one fuck-up. We're all just insignificant parts of an equally insignificant whole. Why can't I just have my own identity, Uncle Carl?"

Carl chuckled. "You wanna ask the guy with dissociative identity disorder about having a clear identity?"

Holden's jaw quickly dropped. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry, Uncle Carl. I should've thought more about—"

"Buddy, it's all right. I'm not offended or anyth—"

"No, I should've fucking remembered. I've known you my whole life! Not right for me to just forget shit like that."

"Holden," Margo interrupted, carefully thinking of what to say next. "Sweetie, you need to try your best to relax right now."

A look of absolute frustration crossed the boy's face. "I have bipolar II!" he shouted. "Don't you think I'd fucking calm down if I could? This is my process! Just because you're a doctor-cop doesn't mean you can fucking patronize me like—"

"You're right, you're right!" Margo shouted worriedly, her hand extended to reassure her patient. "That was very unprofessional of me, and I'm very sorry for what I said. I only meant to tell you to take your time and continue your process. We're here for you."

"Margo, you really..." Holden tried to say, but he suddenly choked. "I probably don't have the right to say this, but you're not a very good doctor-cop."

Ha! Ellie laughed in Margo's ear. Even this little bastard looks down on you.

Margo angrily grabbed the ThoughtControl piece from her ear and slammed it down on her desk. Her grip was so tight on the device, she felt like it would shatter into a hundred pieces right between her fingers. As long as she'd no longer hear her sister's voice, she didn't care how much it would cost to replace it.

However, no amount of money could repair the damage she had done to her reputation. At least that's what she thought when she looked up to see Carl and Holden giving her two very confused looks, her patient slowly placing a pill in his mouth.

"Margo, are you alright, honey?" Carl asked. "You're as red as a stoplight."

Margo hung her head low and replied quietly, "I'm fine."

Knowing fully well how she was really feeling, Carl activated the lens of his ThoughtControl piece. He let out a heartbroken sigh as he got a glimpse into the mind of his close friend, and it was evident he was struggling to withhold whatever he wanted to tell her. But they both knew this therapy session wasn't for them, so he did what he could to cool her down by sending a single message directly into her thoughts with his piece: Feel free to talk to me about it later.

"Now, Holden," Margo exhaled, "is there anything in particular that is making you feel this way?"

Holden had finally calmed down. Carl gave him a tender pat on the back as he slumped forward in his seat, staring at the black carpet beneath him as if it were a wonderful sight to behold. "Layla Raniere," he mumbled.

"Oh!" Margo sat up in her seat, playing around with the ThoughtControl piece in her fingers. "I've never heard you talk about her before. Has he, Carl?"

"No, ma'am, he has not, " Carl added in a cheeky tone. "Has she been on your mind lately, buddy?"

"Yeah. Girl from school. She's part of Omniluv."

Carl's grin quickly vanished. "Okay, stop thinking about her before your mom finds out and gets angry at me."

Margo let out a quick chuckle before moving on. "What Carl means is, you should be a little careful who you hang around. But before either of us jump to conclusions, tell us a little more about your friend. We now know she's part of Omniluv. What else would you like to mention?"

"Uh, well, considering she's part of a parasite group, she's very anti-Psychwatch and she plans on protesting at the rally on Friday. Also, she identifies as aromantic."

"Not a problem," Margo chirped with a grin. "We still need to be there for this city, even for people who may think less of us. And there's nothing wrong with feeling different kinds of attractions as long as they don't intend to harm anyone."

"I mean I guess, but it doesn't help that she uses it to justify every fucking thing she does. All she ever wants from people is sex! Like y'know how I tell you guys that some of the other kids at school just try to vent and turn each other into their own personal shrinks without actually giving a shit about forming bonds?"

"Y-Y-Yes, we remember, Holden," Carl replied impatiently. "But please keep your voice down and stop swearing. Your mother is right outside—"

"Well instead of making friends, all she does is complain about Psychwatch, brag about the sexual revolution Omniluv is supposedly starting, and proposition people for sex." Holden rolled up his sleeve to reveal a bruise in the middle of his arm. "And she doesn't like it when they say no."

Both Margo and Carl looked at his wound in disgust before he let the sleeve drop over it like stage curtains. Carl placed his hand on his nephew's back, working hard to make sure Catty wouldn't come racing out of the depths of his mind to kick this girl's ass. "Buddy," Carl choked, clearing his throat before continuing, "I know this might be easier said than done, but I think it would be best if you stayed away from her."

"I want to, but..." Holden paused, "she invited me to the rally."

"Then you should turn down the invitation."

"I can't. I already told her I'd go."

"Holden, you shouldn't let her have so much control over you," Margo asserted.

"I know! It's just...I kind of like her. And she somehow managed to be one of the only people at school who doesn't know that I work here. So now she just treats me like shit for other reasons. Like I said before, one person fucks up and suddenly the whole group is responsible for it."

"If you know she doesn't respect you, why do you like her?"

"I dunno. I guess it's because she used to be nicer when I first met her. Just been clinging to the memories. Plus, since she's part of Omniluv, I thought maybe I'd actually be able to—"

"Absolutely not," Carl chimed in. "These urges are totally normal, buddy, but you need to show self-control. Too many things could go wrong if you do some kind of activity like that without thinking it through first, especially if you plan on doing it with someone you're not that close with." He patted his nephew on the back once again. "It's for the best, kiddo."

Holden dropped his head down once again. "Doesn't matter, " he muttered. "I'm still going."

Margo sat up in her seat in an attempt to look more authoritative. "What makes you say that?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Mason assigned me to help survey the rally that day. Ensure their protection and shit. And considering I'm not actually a Neutralizer, I'll just be watching the surveillance footage with Nikki. But please don't stop me from doing this! I just want to do the right thing for once." He took a quick glance at the Psychwatch logo emblazoned on his jacket above his heart. "Too bad this uniform is practically a death sentence for us."

As soon as those last words left his tongue, hundreds of thoughts and images raced through Margo's head. She imagined that sinister masked man holding a bouquet of spark roses, treading through an empty street flooded with blood and corpses. All around him, protest signs and Mental Health Awareness posters fought against the wind like flags in a war, and the city around him was completely devoid of life and color. All the bodies floating around them dressed exactly like him. Same hair color, mask, gloves, navy blue tuxedo. And yet there were men, women, and children of all genders and body types sporting his clothes, each one of them motionless as they waded on the surface of the sanguine sea like ferries into the Underworld.

That's when Margo realized this masked man, with his inhuman voice and cryptic fondness for luminescent funeral flowers, could be anyone. He could be a single person in the crowd or the entire crowd all at once.

That was it, Margo decided. The man they were looking for—the one who killed those Wonderland dealers, Donny Redford, and the Bod-Modders—was going to be at the rally. And thanks to Holden, she had a new idea for finding him.

This uniform is practically a death sentence for us, she repeated to herself. Well when in Rome, do as the Romans do.