Dozens of screens floated before Mason's desk as she studied every single one. Some consisted of the data she requested from her colleagues. The rest was her own research. Combined together, the data would help her save the city. Or at least enough to justify her high ranking and the reputation of her organization.

Margo, Holden, and Andrade stood before her desk, curiously glancing at the screens unknown to them. Margo could see that many of them were maps of Philadelphia or locations within the city's Scans, and another good chunk of them were drawings and newspapers referring to the Rabbit Hole. The bizarre information gave Margo the impression Mason was secretly a conspiracy theorist, and she couldn't help but quietly chuckle to herself at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Andrade muttered to her.

"Nothing," Margo replied back, composing herself. She looked forward knowing fully well Andrade was flashing her another dirty look.

"Did you find everything you needed, Commissioner?" Holden asked sheepishly.

Mason stayed quiet, still studying the images floating before her like an art gallery. Her expression was like that of a world-renowned detective. She was stoic, hiding all weakness to the point one would be surprised to find any within her. Her eyebrow was raised as something small and most likely valuable still prevented all the details running around her head from coming together to form the big picture. And as many people would be while focused on a moment such as that, she was quiet. She couldn't sense the increasing tension in her colleagues before her, or more likely, she'd keep that observation to herself to hold their attention. They were her audience, and she wanted them on the edge of their seats waiting for anything to happen.

Thirty seconds had passed, and she tapped a button on her keyboard. All the screens and images before her condensed into a single blue light emanating from a small drive. She took the drive and held it up between her thumb and forefinger. It was at that moment her eyes met those of her fellow officers.

"Yes, I have," she replied, not even cracking a smile despite her obvious satisfaction.

"So what's next?" Andrade asked.

Mason placed the drive down in front of her. She clasped her hands together as if in prayer, collecting her final thoughts, before letting them go. "First," she declared, "we contact Noah Garrison. He should be attending group therapy later this evening. If he doesn't reveal anything relating to the mask or the Rabbit Hole during the session, we'll pull him over for a more personal interview."

"H-H-He actually can't make it today," Nikki replied, undoubtedly fearful of Mason's reaction to his absence. "I j-just checked and he had to cancel."

"Then call him back for a mandatory meeting tomorrow afternoon. You, Margo, and Andrade will interview him in his home. All the input we get from him determines how the rest of our investigation goes."

"Our entire mission is supposed to rely on this one man?" Andrade asked, unusually doubtful of her superior in.

"Not entirely. Holloway knows someone who could help. At least with a bit of force. Once we've gotten enough from Garrison, we go to him. If Garrison doesn't provide enough, we still find him. Think of him as the backup."

"Who's the other guy?" Margo asked.

"Andrade will let you know when the time comes."

* * *

Margo tapped her ThoughtControl piece. Ellie, she thought, why are you looking forward to my reaction to seeing you?

"Geez," Ellie replied. "Sounds like you're not looking forward to seeing me."

No, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry if it came out that way. I really do want to see you, but I'm worried about your excitement. Is your reappearance supposed to make me happy or scare me?

"That's up to you, sis."

How do you think Mom will react?

"I don't give a shit what she thinks. I know she'll tell me to go away. In fact, don't be surprised if she starts talking to you less once I come back."

Ellie, I don't want to risk—

The elevator dinged, and the doors creaked open. Andrade and Nikki walked out as Margo took a little longer to gather her thoughts together once again. She didn't even say goodbye to Ellie. Just tapped on her earpiece and stormed out of the claustrophobic little box delivering her to the next segment of the investigation. She didn't realize how loud her footsteps were until Andrade flashed her another look, rolling her eyes before facing the hall in front of her.

"Room number, Atkinson?" she asked.

"618," Nikki replied, and Andrade flashed her a thumbs-up before they continued walking.

The room wasn't far from the elevator. Once they'd reached it, Margo knocked three times on the door. Following a click, the door opened up and there stood Noah Garrison. He wore nothing but a plain shirt and jeans, and a set of reading glasses were positioned loosely on his face. His eyes were wide and worrisome. Margo presumed he was expressing a typical reaction to Psychwatch, fear that he'd be punished for something he said, thought, or did on a whim. Andrade, however, believed he had something to hide, and it involved the bandage stretched across his right cheek.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Garrison," she said quickly, intimidating her colleagues as much as it did the man before her. "May we come in?"

"Well, it'd be weird if I didn't, wouldn't it?" he chuckled nervously, and he made way for the doctor-cops. "Come on in."

The three of them marched in, studying Mr. Garrison's little domicile as he nervously stood in the corner of the room. It was smaller than Margo had originally thought. Most of the living room was taken up by a couch and a bookshelf with a Holo-TV positioned on top of it. Toy cars and Legos were strewn about the floor, and an open toy chest lay beside the far end of the couch. The kitchen, however, was small enough to fit perfectly into a corner of the room, with only a fridge, a stove, and a table that could fit only about two or three people.

Andrade walked over to the table and pulled out a seat, silently gesturing to Mr. Garrison to sit down as well. The silence embarrassed Margo as well as infuriated her. Her throat was horribly dry, yet she wanted to yell at her superior for treating this man as if he was already guilty of something horrible. The thought of Andrade trashing Mr. Garrison's apartment just as she did Carl's angered her even more, to the point she had to look away for a moment. She didn't even care that her breathing was loud and harsh.

Or at least she didn't care until it became noticeable.

"Margo, are you alright?" Nikki whispered, tugging on Margo's sleeve.

Even though she couldn't hear her, she could at least sense the growing tension in the room that was partially her fault. She slowed her breathing down, waiting until it became the faintest of sounds. She focused her attention on a portrait of two little girls, both of them happy as can be, untouched by the world's influence. They had the same curly hairstyles and even the same infectious grins. Margo couldn't help but feel a little more comfortable looking at them.

"Your daughters are adorable, sir," she said, her voice cracking a bit.

"Thank you," Mr. Garrison replied equally as sheepish. "The one on the right is Nina, and to her left is Billie. They're at my mom's place right now. As a single father, I want what's best for them after all."

"That's very admirable, Mr. Garrison," Andrade said. "This country could use more people like you. Proactive, humble, willing to improve for the good of themselves and their loved ones."

"I agree." He coughed. "And speaking of which, are you guys here because I didn't show up yesterday?"

"No, not really. Unless it has to do with the real reason why we're here."

Mr. Garrison sat up straight in his seat. "What's the problem?"

"Atkinson," Andrade told Nikki, and Nikki retrieved a small chip from her pocket. Once she clicked on it, a holographic projection of the rabbit mask materialized before them, with the streak of blood and every other fine detail.

"Oh shit," Mr. Garrison whispered.

Margo clenched her teeth, knowing fully aware that he'd regret making himself look suspicious. The consequences already went into effect as Andrade flashed him a sinister look. "Something concerning you, Mr. Garrison?" she growled. "Recognize this mask?"

Mr. Garrison gulped. Margo saw Andrade feed off his fear, staring at him with an intrigue that went way beyond the investigation. She looked like she wanted to see him fail just so she could feel the relief of locking up another person. She didn't care about his daughters or how hard he tried to keep them safe and entertained. Would she even believe what he had to say next?

Margo jumped in. "Just so you know, Mr. Garrison," she said, "we are not blaming you or holding you accountable for anything until we've heard your full explanation. We found traces of your blood on this mask, so we just wanted to determine the association between you and this mask for your own safety."

Andrade aimed her typical agitated glare at Margo and fired, sending a shiver down her spine. The opportunity she took to speak gave her a quick boost in confidence, but she felt it deflating like a balloon upon making eye contact with her superior. She cleared her throat and lowered her head so she faced the floor beneath her. Andrade took the limelight once again.

"Have you been to the Rabbit Hole before, sir?" she asked.

Mr. Garrison nodded his head shamefully. Like many other people, he couldn't look her in the eye. "Yes," he replied in a shaky voice.

"When was the last time you went there?"

"The day after the rally."

"So you went there to get your mind off of it?"

"No." He paused. "I was trying to find my ex."

Andrade raised her brow. "Is that so?"

"Yes. She couldn't handle postpartum so she ran away. She was struggling with depression and anxiety even before that. I guess that was what finally got to her."

"How was your relationship before that?"

An awkward silence ensued. "It went up and down," Garrison replied. "I loved her, but she was very emotionally exhausting to talk to sometimes. She always wanted help but never actually went searching for it. That was incredibly frustrating for me. I kept getting angry, and then she'd get angry since I got angry and shit just kept getting worse. And as soon as Nina and Billie were born, she left them in my care and ran off."

Andrade quietly nodded her head. "I'm still very sorry to hear that," she replied. "What was her name?"

"Brandy Spencer," he said. "She should be a part of the System now. Had to join in the day she gave birth for the children's sake."

Nikki's ThoughtControl piece beeped several times as she took note.

"Anything on her, Atkinson?" Andrade asked.

"Th-Th-Threat Level 3," Nikki replied. "Diagnosed with severe depression. Hasn't been to a doctor or psychotherapy since February 19, 2043, the day she gave birth to her children. Her Threat Level rose by one last year since she's been contemplating suicide on a regular basis."

Margo's mouth dropped open. She wanted to cover her face, knowing her expression was somewhat rude, but the news of someone with suicidal tendencies always stung her. Seeing the heartbroken look in Mr. Garrison's eyes only dug deeper.

"Is that why you believe she went to the Rabbit Hole, sir?" Andrade asked slowly, finally attempting to sound sympathetic.

Mr. Garrison nodded without a word.

"I know this hurts, Mr. Garrison. It's difficult to discuss. But if you tell us everything, there's still a chance we can save her and find her some help."

"She found someone else down there," he croaked, and he pointed at the bandage on his face. "He's the one who gave me this."

Margo's eyes widened. "That's not your mask, is it?" she asked as quiet as a whisper.

He shook his head. "Mine had more blood on it."

Andrade's eyes went wide this time. "Tell us everything that lead up to your injury," she said.

Mr. Garrison took a deep breath. "I got to the Rabbit Hole," he said. "Had my mask on and everything. You have to take an elevator to reach it since it's underground. But once I got out of the elevator, everything was fucking crazy. Like the music is blasting so loud, you can't even hear anyone or anything else in the room. People were doing drugs, having sex, and even raping and killing each other. And you can't tell who anyone is because of the masks and all the bright lights, and there's always someone trying to grab you and pull you away or rip your clothes off. I've honestly never felt more violated in my entire life."

The three officers winced at the imagery, their imaginations undoubtedly worsening it. Margo was especially shaken up, doing her best to set her mind on something else.

"So anyway I'm doing my best to push through the crowds," he continued. "All these girls and guys are harassing me and grabbing me, and I managed to fight them off. I remember seeing a room filled with tables and seats like a restaurant and I saw Brandy sitting there with this other guy. From a distance, it looked like she was high because she looked more relaxed than I had ever seen her before, and it turned out I was right because when I got to the table, there were handfuls of Xanax right in front of her. I told her it was me, and all she did was laugh and shake her head and blow me off like I didn't even exist anymore. Then the guy next to her started me telling me off, saying shit like she was over me and she was a lost cause, and I got really fucking angry unsurprisingly. But the guy overpowered me and stabbed me right in the face! And Brandy just sat there...doing nothing. She just watched."

He paused to rub the wound on his face while his audience remained awestruck. "How did you manage to get out of there?" Margo asked.

"I just ran," he said. "Blood was filling the inside of my mouth, and I spat some on that asshole's mask. But it kept filling up and I was scared it would get infected. So I just ran through the crowd again. Took the same elevator back outside. But once I got back to the surface, these guys forced me into another van while holding their guns to my head. Their masks were different, too. They were basically just dirty white rags with red Xs over the eyes."

"What did they tell you?" Andrade urged, startling the others, including Mr. Garrison.

"They said something like, 'This place will be under new management soon. If you're leaving now, burn the mask and never come back. You're dead if you come back.' So once they dropped me off in a different offline neighborhood, I found a small fire nearby, threw my mask in, and ran to the hospital."

"And where were your kids during all this?"

"Staying with my mom like they are right now."

Andrade nodded. "Did you recognize the man who stabbed you?"

"No, but I noticed he was wearing one of those illegal shape-shifting suits under his mask. It glitched out a little after I spat on him, and for a second he went from a white guy to a black guy and then back to white."

Andrade's eyes widened, garnering confused looks from everyone else in the room.

"Y-Y-You alright, Inspector?" Nikki asked, but Andrade held her hand up to silence her.

"Did you by chance see a journalist named Arthur Cohen in there?" Andrade continued.

"I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name. Sorry about that."

Andrade nodded her head. "And just outta curiosity, how did you get to the Rabbit Hole in the first place?"

Mr. Garrison scratched his head. "It's a complicated process," he said nervously. "You have to get there in a van. A plain white van with zero windows and two drivers. They stand around wearing plumbing or maintenance uniforms, and you need to say a sentence with the word 'rabbit' in it to get their attention. Then you show them your mask, and they take you there. But I never knew where we were going the whole time."

"Wow!" Margo said. "This is all very helpful. Thank you so much, Mr. Garrison."

"We're not finished yet, Sandoval," Andrade muttered. She looked back at Mr. Garrison. "Where did you find the van?"

"They appear in random spots in offline neighborhoods. I honestly got lucky. I just wandered around until I found one at the edge of Nicetown. Pretty sure the drivers were Sentients, too. They only blinked like two times, and their smiles were weird to look at."

"Geez, nothing nice ever happens in Nicetown," Margo quipped, and Mr. Garrison and Nikki chuckled at the comment. Andrade, however, remained stiff.

"Anything else you think is worth adding?" she said.

"I'm pretty sure you guys already knew this," Mr. Garrison continued, "but that place is where they make the Wonderland Mist. In fact, the main area has these large fans, and sometimes people spray that shit into the fans so it fills the entire room. I got out just before they did that. So if you guys ever find it, I highly recommend wearing gas masks or protection of some kind in addition to the rabbit mask."

"Did you see them manufacturing it?"

"No, but I kept seeing these guys in masks, aprons, and gloves handing out entire crates full of Blue Caterpillars to people. They kept coming and going out of this set of doors at the far end of the main area."

"And is it absolutely necessary to wear a rabbit mask to get in?"

"The elevator scans you to make sure you're wearing one. If not, it doesn't go down. It just appears as if it were out of order."

Andrade nodded her head once again. She rose from her seat and said, "Thank you very much for your cooperation, Noah Garrison. Excuse me as my colleagues and I discuss what's next outside."

"No problem," Mr. Garrison replied, and he watched as the three officers stepped back out into the hallway.

Once the door was closed, Andrade took a deep breath and continued. "So far everything he's said is immensely informative, but we should have him take a drug test to be sure everything is reliable."

"Don't you think they would've had him take one at the hospital?" Margo asked.

"We don't know for sure. The Psycho Slums is full of black market doctors. He may have just gone to one of them to mend his injury. And even if he did go to a real hospital, he could've left out the part about him being at the Rabbit Hole."

"Isn't your ThoughtControl piece connected to the Psych Expressors back at headquarters? Because if so, we could just see if the images are surreal or incomprehensible to tell whether or not he was under the influence that day."

"We can't just rely on mental imagery, idiota. He was assaulted multiple times that day! That could also affect his perception of that day's events besides narcotics. We don't even know if that was the full story or if he changed some of those events."

"You were intimidating him! Do you really expect someone like him to just open up to such a threatening presence? You should've brought out your inner Empath, Andrade! We were supposed to make him feel safe, not frightened."