Margo and Jack stood at the entrance to the rally, not a hint of their profession found on them. As long as nobody looked closely. Their Fatemakers were hidden in their coats, emitting a signal that rendered them undetectable by scanners. Luckily, only security knew their true identities.

Carl, Andrade, and several other Neutralizers were scattered throughout the rally clad in their regular uniforms with their Fatemakers and ThoughtControl lenses on display. They kept watch over the increasingly hostile crowds surrounding them as well as their fellow, disguised doctor-cops treading through these dark and unforgiving waters they called their hometown. Psychwatch drones and portable weapon scanners hovered over Independence National Historic Park like bees around a flowerbed, controlled by Holden, Nikki, Royce and several others in a nearby building, and the officers had to warn several people to stop swatting at them. As the crowds increased, so did the number of drones, as well as the tension.

All around the park, Margo was able to hear and see every opinion of Psychwatch all at once. If she looked left, she could see the words NO ONE IS BORN A CRIMINAL hovering above the Liberty Bell in bright blue letters alongside dozens of other anti-Psychwatch slogans and imagery. To her right, the words A WAR IN THE MIND TAKES AN ARMY TO FIGHT floated high above a stage in red, where Commissioner Mason and dozens of other Neutralizers stood above rows of holo-boards promoting the organization's services. Cognitive Crafts. MoodMatcher music therapy. Even the incredibly controversial gender correction program for individuals with gender dysphoria who wished to be psychologically conditioned into identifying with the gender aligning with their biological sex through medication and therapy rather than undergo transition. Everything Psychwatch offered was up to the choice of the citizens, but even uttering that line would instantly earn a person new enemies and possibly a handful of allies if they were lucky.

Margo felt like she was walking among cult members.

Everyone around her had some distinct features about them that stripped them of their individuality, marking them as the property of something bigger. Masks. Clothing graffitied with propaganda. Conspicuous physical characteristics such as obesity or fragility. Even her fellow Psychwatch officers stood out among the crowds, with their opaque helmets obscuring their faces and silver lights tracing their uniforms and Fatemakers as if pure energy coursed through their bodies. And somehow the officers startled Margo the least. It was the only weirdness she felt she was familiar with.

What am I thinking? she thought, nudging her fake glasses up her nose. I shouldn't think of these people as threats. They're patients! They need my help.

Not all of them, she heard Mason's voice chime in, her voice rattling through Margo's skull. You said so several days ago, Sandoval. The masked man should be here. Look for him. Look for the flowers. Empathize, neutralize, stabilize.

You kidding me? Jack laughed. Look at these sad bastards. I just wanna put them out of their misery.

The awkward pair of glasses the two officers sported were more than just a disguise. They were wearing the original ThoughtControl pieces, specialized glasses that psychiatrists wore to determine the conditions of patients who were vague or cryptic when speaking, back when Psychwatch was more secretive with their methods. The lenses darkened the world within Margo's sights in a somber blue haze, and they worked just like her regular piece. The citizens' identities and conditions filled her field of vision like ads on a computer screen, and she nearly lost her balance as each item of data rushed toward her as she passed through the crowd.

"Rally capacity has reached twelve hundred," Nikki declared through her earpiece. "No weapons or illegal substances detected so far. And as Mason mentioned before, remember to be on the lookout for spark roses."

"And Layla!" Holden added. "Watch out for her and her slutty friends."

"You mean those Omni-fuckers you were talking about?" Jack chimed in. He nearly added another quip before taking a glance at the rest of the people around him. "Y'know, now that we're out here, I kinda understand your paranoia. The whole rally is a damn minefield of crazy just waiting to blow."

It sickened Margo to agree with him—even though she was arguably the sanest out of the two of them—but she couldn't help it. As they stood amidst hundreds of other people in front of Independence Hall, it was a challenge telling the potential threats apart. Everywhere she looked, all she saw were frightening caricatures of what she believed were some of the worst conditions afflicted upon the human mind. She hated to deem them that way since she was supposed to be helping them, but she couldn't find a way to resist being startled by them.

A dozen young men and women wore black masks hiding everything but their eyes behind long, uncanny smiles. Margo knew two kinds of people who wore those masks: either adolescents suffering from depression or members of the parasite group known as the Nice Guys, a group of sociopaths and psychopaths known for using their false charisma to charm and persuade people into harming others, ranging from petty con artists and pranksters to drug dealers and serial rapists. The ones at the rally were lucky they only had a Threat Level 2, and the portable weapon scanners didn't find a thing on them, not even a pocket knife as many of them often wielded. But Psychwatch had their sights on them like a lion ready to pounce.

In another corner of the park stood a crowd of individuals so devastatingly thin, their skin was nearly see-through. Each one resembled a corpse struggling to stand on both legs, and they stared at Margo with the most agonized expressions, the kind she imagined plastering the faces of Jews during the Holocaust as they endured unimaginable suffering. The next group she saw was the exact opposite: dangerously obese individuals looking equally as dolorous as the starvation-ridden citizens besides them. Both groups carried around signs and T-shirts concerning eating disorders, either begging for an end to them or a declaration that they have become something that defines them that shouldn't be deemed a flaw, much like every other condition she saw represented that day.

The rally-goers only grew more and more bothersome in appearance the more she looked around. A dozen teenagers wearing rabbit masks scampered across the park like the animals whose motif they sported. Several others wore balaclavas etched with terrifying faces that resembled Edvard Munch's "The Scream" painting. One individual wore the transgender flag as a cape, the words NOTHING WRONG WITH ME smudged across the cape in dark red ink. Another dozen or so young adults hid their faces behind chaotic facepaint designs and wore white T-shirts emblazoned with cryptic messages, with one particularly memorable scrawl reading THE VOICES IN MY HEAD ARE PEOPLE TOO.

Margo only wished that this was all a nightmare she'd wake up from at any second. And she'd be back in Carl's guest room, still too scared to return home.

"So far the Scan's detected twenty-seven conditions listed in the DSM-6, including anorexia, binge-eating disorder, schizophrenia, BPD, several ASD's, and gender dysphoria, even though that one is technically not a disorder," Holden declared through his ThoughtControl. "It's also picked up antisocial personality disorder, PTSD, and depression. Luckily, no one's surpassing Threat Level 2. As long as they remain calm, everything will—Shit!"

"Nice job, kid," Jack deadpanned. "Setting a good example for your anxious friend there."

"Are you talking about me or Atkinson?" Royce chimed in, and the next thing the officers heard was a loud slap.

"What's wrong, Holden?" Margo asked, looking around.

"We found Omniluv," Nikki replied. "Connect to Drone 7."

"Done," Margo and Jack declared in unison, exchanging cold glances at each other.

Through the left lens of their glasses, the two officers saw a girl around Holden's age standing among a group of fellow youth wearing arguably the most bizarre clothing they'd seen in the park so far. The girl wore a pair of pink glasses with heart-shaped lenses and a pink, transparent dress that reminded Margo of a raincoat. Thanks to that dress, everyone in the rally would quickly learn that she wore absolutely nothing else underneath her dress, and the only other thing she wore that partially obscured her body from the eyes of the less poised citizens was a brown coat that she left unbuttoned, giving the rally-goers an unobstructed view of areas better kept hidden for her sake.

"Who the hell is that?" Jack asked. "And more importantly, how old is she?"

"Layla Raniere," Margo replied as she read Layla's P3S data. "Sixteen years old. Female. Displays symptoms of histrionic personality disorder. She attends Jefferson High School and is a profound member of Omniluv, possibly as a method of garnering more attention for herself. Despite having no known job experience, she has a balance of four hundred and ninety-seven dollars on her eWallet deposited from three anonymous accounts."

"Prostitution," Jack barked with a snap of his fingers.

Margo groaned. "What makes you say that?"

"Lots of money yet no job experience, said transactions come from anonymous accounts, and the fact I can see her pussy right through her dress. The only other way she could've inherited cash from hidden accounts would be if she was a dealer. And she definitely doesn't look sophisticated enough to pull that off."

"Arent you one to talk, Holloway?"

"Both of you, shut up!" Andrade hissed through her piece. "Just keep looking for the spark roses and any suspicious patrons. We'll send Royce out to escort the young lady out of the premises and any other individuals around her age."

"Y-Y-You will?" Royce stuttered.

"What's up with you?" Holden asked Royce.

"It's alright, " Margo said. "I'll go look for her and give her a warning."

"No!" Andrade barked again. "Do as you're told, Sandoval. Royce, get out there!"

"Sorry, Andrade. I've gotta do this." And Margo bolted into the crowds, Jack following right behind her.

At least until he saw the flower.

A young, white-haired girl wandered through the crowds carrying a basket full of spark roses. Another one of those spectral flowers was nestled behind her left ear, emanating a red glow. She wore the same mask donned by the Nice Guys, a black one sporting a cartoonish grin that exposed her ashy skin and blood-red eyes. Before disappearing into the crowd once again, she looked back at Jack, and he saw that red Xs were painted over her eyes as if she had burned them into her own eyelids.

"I'll be back, Sandoval, " Jack said, following behind the girl and her trail of spark roses lighting up the pavement. "Things are about to get interesting."

"Jack, where are you—"

Margo turned to find her colleague, but he had vanished. All she saw were crowds of Bod-Modders and people wearing masks marked with Xs over their eyes, every one of them holding a spark rose. Even the other rally-goers who weren't part of those two aforementioned groups held one, with some of them even sticking it into their hair or onto their clothes. Margo struggled to speak as she pondered why everyone was so obsessed with a flower associated with death, but she eventually admitted to herself that they were undoubtedly intrigued by the surprising amount of colors the flower blossomed into.

Except for one problem, she realized: spark roses were only ever white.

"Holy shit," Nikki whispered through her earpiece. "Are you guys seeing this?"

"Yeah," Holden replied with astonishment. "Now that's a lot of flowers! Looks like Coachella with less cocaine. Hope Royce doesn't get lost out there."

"Hey, could you two run a search for me?" Margo asked, watching as a masked, albino boy proceeded to pass around more of those sinister, multi-colored omens.

"Sure thing," Nikki replied. "Who are you looking for?"

"Penelope Parker, Iris Cruz, and Dottie Forrester."

As Margo waited for the results, she noticed a familiar face in the crowds. Hidden behind a trio of elderly Bod-Modders—the kind who used cybernetics responsibly, Margo thought—Layla Raniere stood with the rest of Omniluv, twirling around a spark rose that bathed her in pink light. Margo cringed as she realized the glow of that flower only brought more attention to the young girl's bare body as she slowly made her way to her.

"Penny and Iris aren't here at the rally, thank God, " Holden stated. "However, the drones found Dottie somewhere around...Wait, why the hell are you approaching Layla?"

"I've gotta warn her about the flowers, " Margo replied, pushing past several protesters coated from head to toe in red paint. "We need to get these people to safety."

"True, but maybe we don't need to save her of all people! Besides, Royce was the one ordered to find her."

"It's too late, guys. I have to do this."

"Why the fuck do you keep saying—"

It was too late for him. Margo cut off her connection once again as she finally came into Layla's view. "Excuse me," she greeted, "but I don't think it's safe out—"

"Fuck off, lady," Layla growled. "I'm just trying to normalize sexual taboos here in America, yet all the anti-progressivist bigots here keep discriminating against people like me. If you're not part of the sexual revolution, you don't belong around us."

Margo held her hands out defensively. "I understand, " she said carefully. "I just wanted to let you know that your attire might be attracting the attention of some very disturbed individuals out here and that you and your friends should—"

"I don't have to do shit! People can look if they want. I didn't ask for the attention. I wore this because I want everyone to know that it is Omniluv's top priority to portray sexual freedom and nudity as a positive act of liberation that shouldn't be frowned upon. If they're thinking perverted thoughts about me, then that's on them, not me."

"Well, of course, you have the right to dress as you please, but you need to be careful around here, especially in a place located so close to offline neighborhoods. There are men and women out there who will do whatever they want to please themselves, even if it means taking advantage of people such as yourself."

"What the fuck is up with you?" Layla scoffed, lowering her glasses so the doctor-cop could see the frustration burning in her eyes. "You part of Psychwatch or something? Why the fuck are you so worried about me? You don't even know me."

Margo did her best to say something else, but all that came out was mindless gibberish. She nudged her glasses further over her nose like how Royce often did. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, and she felt like sand was being poured down her throat. Seeing the rally-goers walk around here while drenched in blood certainly didn't help in the slightest, and she had the hardest time figuring out what they were mumbling under their breaths. Undoubtedly something about her. She could tell.

Margo saw Dottie approaching her from behind the members of Omniluv, something she was able to make out even when the world proceeded to spin uncontrollably around her.

She wore a white, raggedy mask over her face marked with those disturbingly familiar, red Xs over her eyes along with a heavily tattered, yellow coat smudged with dirt and soot, and she smelled like she'd just walked out of a burning building. Margo could sense that the poor girl had only grown worse than the last time they met, and she believed that her Threat Level 3 didn't do her descent into madness justice.

"She's a doctor-cop," Dottie growled, swiping a strand of her sandy blonde hair away from her face. "She doesn't care about anyone. It's all just part of her job."

Margo felt like she would collapse to the floor at any second. "It doesn't matter what I am!" she shouted. "All of you just need to get to safety and get rid of those flowers now!"

"And why should we listen to you?" Layla snarked.

"I'm telling you! You're all in danger, and it's all because of those flow—"

Margo screamed as Dottie's fist collided with her jaw, and she stumbled back into a duo of MindLock activists. The rather unforgiving pair shoved her away, and she stumbled around to regain her balance as the rally-goers reduced her to a punching bag.

Something snapped in Margo. All she heard, even when drowning in the chaos of the crowds around her, was, You belong to Psychwatch. You're above these people.

Before Dottie could land another hit, Margo grabbed her fist and shoved it away. Her Fatemaker was in her hand before she could say another word, and she opened fire on the young girl, a blast of green energy rippling through her body as she crashed to the pavement.

Now with all eyes on her, Margo grasped onto her gun with a grip of steel. She looked at Layla, then the MindLock activists, and anyone else that looked like they were in the mood to piss her off. She slowly spun around in a circle, ready to pacify everyone in the park if she had to.

"Sandoval!" Andrade exclaimed through her earpiece. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm being a Neutralizer," Margo muttered, her gun trained on an incredibly flustered Layla. "Could you please send over some officers to escort Miss Forrester out of the rally?"

"You heard her," Mason stated in her usual, callous demeanor.

"But she just blew her cover!"

"So did the people we're looking for. The flowers are in bloom, Andrade." Mason paused. "Now if you excuse me, I have a message to deliver to these people."

Margo nearly leaped out of her defensive position as the sounds of feedback exploded out of the speakers around the park, yet her finger didn't leave the trigger. It felt impossible to move it away. Hundreds of faces in disguise surrounded her. She couldn't decide which one to shoot first.

"Thank you all for coming, ladies and gentlemen," a voice boomed out of the park speakers. "And now for a word from Psychwatch Commissioner Janice Mason."

Margo and the rest of the rally-goers around her dropped everything they had against each other and turned their heads toward the stage. It was at that moment that Margo realized she wouldn't have to pull the trigger of her Fatemaker to unleash the eventual chaos that awaited them.

Her kind and sympathetic boss would do it for her.