"I don't know why Mason was so ominous about the mask," Holden said with a shrug. "After I asked again, she just told me they'd 3D-print several copies of the mask for the infiltration of the Rabbit Hole."

"Yeah, when the commissioner knows we'll get something done, she goes all out," Andrade replied. "We uncovered the Sentient trafficking ring, took down the House of Pleasure, and we'll do the same for the Rabbit Hole. Just gotta stay positive, Sanger."

Holden nodded his head before the two of them resumed their duties, passing through files upon holographic files of patient records. Margo sat at a desk, glaring angrily at Andrade. Ever since the night a stranger broke into her apartment, she could never see her superior the same way. She kept feeling more and more like one of the parasites who worked hard to tarnish Psychwatch's reputation, seeing the organization's sympathetic nature as nothing more than a facade. Did she even care about Holden? Would she eventually disregard his safety, too?

But one thing she definitely couldn't forgive her for was impulsively accusing Carl of cooperating with the perpetrators of the Red Riot. She had respected him and his alters up until that point. What the hell was that all about?

I don't need an apology from her, Margo thought to herself as she skimmed through more files. All I need to see is her apologizing to Carl.

"I'm surprised Mason isn't worried about patient confidentiality," Holden said, his eyes still glued to the holographic screens before him. "I mean I actually recognize some of these people from the streets, and I never would've thought they were taking stuff before. I feel like I'm invading so much privacy."

"Yeah, honey, it's remarkable seeing someone overcome their addictions," Andrade replied. "Hard to believe it's the same person sometimes. But sadly confidentiality isn't our top priority right now. Mason believes some of our patients in rehab could help us track down Wonderland suppliers here in Philadelphia. As a recovered addict myself, I can see her point."

As a brown-noser, I agree with everything Mason says and have no opinion of my own, Margo taunted in her head, although she winced at the realization people undoubtedly perceived her the very same way.

"You used to do Wonderland Mist?" Holden asked.

"Holden," Margo groaned, "don't be rude."

"No worries, you two," Andrade replied. "I'm ashamed of my past decisions, but I'm not afraid to share my story in the hopes I can persuade someone else from repeating the same mistakes." She cleared her throat and sat up straighter in her seat. "Back when I lived in Miami, I was all for that shit. Jumped straight into the deep end by trying heroin when I was twenty. Then I got into Apaths a year later in order to numb the pain of withdrawal. I fucking OD'd twice because of that unholy combination."

"What did you do after that?" Holden asked.

"Checked in at the hospital regularly. Went so often, I ended up befriending half of the doctors working in the emergency room. But I was still a dumb college kid so I didn't listen to the doctors. Sure, I stopped doing heroin. Absolute fucking miracle. But I had discovered Wonderland Mist instead. Not as addictive as heroin, but a hell of a lot more fun to use."

"Some of the kids at school said it's a lot like LSD. Is that true or just bullshit?"

"Firstly, Sanger, either ditch those friends or rat them out to us. You shouldn't be around kids like them."

"That's what I was thinking!" Margo laughed, although she couldn't hide the frustration in her voice that existed solely because of Andrade's presence.

"Secondly," Andrade continued, "I'll admit it is a lot like LSD. Or more like LSD combined with meth and Xanax. It alters all five senses, makes you so horny, you'll wanna fuck everything within your line of sight, and by the end of your ninth or tenth orgasm, you just feel calm. Like so calm, you feel like you're floating down a river without a care in the world. And once the high is over, you feel like you're alone in the world. And you feel like a hundred people had just taken advantage of your body. Which, when it comes to Wonderland, is almost always true."

Margo's frustration slowly wore away, replaced by sympathy. Not for Andrade, however, but for all the women and men who had been violated while intoxicated. She had heard horrible stories before of the things people did in their pursuit of happiness. Or whatever feeling that was close enough to that. Andrade was lucky enough to be one of those who could still tell her story, yet the experience had still cost her an arm.

Or at least Margo thought it did. She hadn't gotten a confirmation yet.

"That sounds horrible," Holden grimaced. "Was all this how you lost your arm?"

Andrade looked down at her cybernetic limb, wiggling her mechanical fingers around. "In a way, yes, Sanger," she replied. "My roommate Bethany introduced me to two out of three of the drugs I got addicted to. I found Wonderland and got her into it. Got ourselves into...each other. But she was always stronger than I was. One of the reasons why I was attracted to her. And she broke the habit years before I did. One day, I was strapped into the car seat already high on that Nympho shit. Beth told me we were driving up to Atlanta so she could introduce me to her family. What I didn't know was that Atlanta had become one of the first cities in the country to register its citizens to the P3S. Crimes committed by and against the mentally ill were totally nonexistent. When we got to the hotel room, I finally realized the whole trip was an intervention, and both of her parents worked for Psychwatch. I tried to kill her then and there in the room. Beat the shit out of her and then tried smothering her with a pillow. Then her mother finally came in with her Fatemaker trained on me and..."

Margo and Holden looked down at Andrade's arm. She had closed her hand into a fist. Undoubtedly the same hand she used to nearly take her friend's life.

"I woke up several hours later in a hospital," Andrade continued, her voice softer and sullen. "My left arm was gone, just a shrinker around the stub where my elbow used to be. I was registered to the P3S as a Threat Level 3 substance abuser, and as ungrateful as I was, my life slowly began to improve after that. Sucks how you always gotta lose a part of yourself before you can get better. I attended rehab, got my new arm, got into sociology and law enforcement with the help of Psychwatch, and worked up the ranks as a doctor-cop. And here I am now. Inspector Daniela Andrade, recovered drug addict and proud Psychwatch officer."

Margo was impressed, but she didn't plan on admitting it to her superior. "What happened between you and Beth?" she asked.

"Well, we were never actually a thing. We experimented in more ways than one. But we were never a couple. I haven't spoken to her ever since I moved here, but I'm sure she's fine."

"Sorry about that."

"It's good. I'm not the kind of person who's easily forgiven. At least that's what her parents thought of me."

Suddenly, Margo's sympathy for her colleague decreased a bit. She couldn't have agreed more with her statement. But after having heard her life story, or a significant segment of it, she no longer felt like being unprofessional. At least not at that moment.

"So live a long, clean life, Sanger," Andrade told Holden. "Careful what you put in your body. Otherwise, other people might decide to put in things of their own."

Holden nodded his head and turned back to the screens in front of him.

"Do you miss that, Andrade?" Margo asked, still unaware of the subtle hostility in the tone of her voice.

"Never," Andrade replied. "I don't understand why someone with such positive development would yearn for their reckless past."

"I dunno, I was just wondering since...I dunno, since it was before you became a Neutralizer. Like before you saw some really screwed up stuff."

What the hell am I even saying? Margo thought with a wince.

Andrade took notice and raised her brow once more. "Sandoval, why would I miss being a junkie?" she said, sounding offended. "You make it sound like I'd enjoy being naive and stupid. You do realize that happy, confident people don't spend their days inhaling or injecting shit into their bodies, right?"

"That's not what I meant, and I'm sorry about that," she replied, her voice cracking. "What I meant was...not every solution works for people. Some people find comfort in religion while others find it stressful or hypocritical. Meditation works for some people, but others have minds that are too active for that. Like personally I've never been able to meditate since random thoughts pop into my head whenever it's too quiet or if I'm not physically doing anything else. So on a similar note, Psychwatch made you a better person—obviously—but...can't it also...make someone worse?"

Andrade's expression became indecipherable. Margo couldn't tell if she was confused or offended or a strange mix of both. Holden's expression was just as puzzling. He spent the last few minutes since hearing Andrade's anecdote typing on his keyboard, scrolling through more files, but now he was positioned in his seat toward Margo, equally as perplexed as their superior.

"What's up with you?" Andrade snapped.

"Yeah," Holden added in a calmer tone. "You kinda sound like the unsure kid in a school debate."

"What do you mean?" Margo asked Holden.

"Like the kid who either stays in between both sides because they aren't sure which side to pick, or the one who isn't very confident when defending their side. You alright, Margo?"

Margo stayed quiet, fighting with her own thoughts. Would I have been better off without Psychwatch? Was I not meant to be here? Where would I be if I didn't end up here? Would they have been hunting me down? Or Mom? Or Carl? Where is Carl anyway?

She cleared her throat. "I found several patients matching your criteria, Andrade," she said. "All checked in for chemical abuse and compulsive sexual behavior."

"Found some, too, miss," Holden added.

Andrade kept her sights on Margo a little while longer, unsure of what to think of her. Eventually, she nodded her head and said, "Good job. Atkinson should be here any second to—"

The room went silent aside from a door opening and a series of footsteps. The three officers looked around for the source to find Nikki approaching them, playing around with the sleeves on her coat.

"How can you wear that?" Holden asked. "It's like ninety degrees outside."

"It got cooler," she replied in her typical sheepish demeanor. "Plus, it just makes me feel safe."

"What's up, Atkinson?" Andrade asked her. "Did Mason send you?"

"Yes. Forensics discovered large traces of Wonderland Mist covering ninety-three percent of the mask's surface along with smaller traces of cocaine, alcohol, and blood around the mouth of the mask. Additionally, through the blood samples, they've identified a man named Noah Garrison. Thirty-six years old. African-American. Registered to the Psychwatch Societal Stability System as a Threat Level 1 substance abuser currently attending rehab."

"Found him," Holden chimed in, raising his hand. "Attending rehab for the second time. He's lost three jobs because of drug relapse and currently lives with his two twin daughters."

"He's the one who owns that mask?" Margo asked.

"Most likely," Andrade replied. "Anything else, Atkinson?"

Nikki extended her arm out toward Andrade, a small device in her hand. "Mason says any information you find on that man," she continued, "should be uploaded to this drive."

"Why can't we just send the files directly to her?" Holden asked.

"Safekeeping."

With a shrug, Andrade took the drive using her robotic arm. She walked over to Holden and handed it to him, patting him on the shoulder for encouragement. Margo could see that it didn't work. She couldn't tell if it was the fact she used her robotic arm or if it was just her overall aggressiveness, but he grew immensely uncomfortable as he worked to download the file to the drive as if he were guilty of something. He then transferred those same feelings of discomfort over to Margo by repeatedly glancing over at her, bringing her down with him if he ever got caught.

Her rationality kicked in, and she realized Holden was undoubtedly still weirded out by her dubious attempt at confronting Andrade. Or whatever the hell that rambling meant.

"Done downloading," Holden replied, ejecting the drive out of its slot. He held it up in the air, studying its orange glow.

"Good job, Sanger," Andrade said, patting him on the shoulder once again. Much like the first time, the gesture didn't put him at ease. "Anything else, Atkinson?"

Nikki nodded. Margo realized it was the first time she'd ever seen the girl look Andrade dead in the eye.

"The commissioner would like to see you all now."