That afternoon was the first time Margo took solace in a cubicle back at headquarters. There were so many of them. They were hives, and the Empaths were all the little worker bees keeping it in business producing the honey. That was where she should've been all along. She should've been a harmless little Empath bee.

But she made a poor wish. She told her mother at dinner months ago that being a Neutralizer, a bee that picks fights and takes flights, would be far more exciting. She thought that because she knew the right things, her knowledge would block punches for her and pull the trigger for her and keep her wrapped up in a comfy blanket to wait out the unforgiving coldness of reality. But in the end, the knowledge of recovery from trauma wasn't the same without the actual trauma. To her, it would've just been paragraphs in a textbook. Experiences of another person, not herself, devoid of impact.

And because of that, she wasn't sure if her own problems would earn her any sympathy. Especially at a time when too many other people were in more pain than she was. At least she still had her limbs and a home and at least two family members left to miss her when she'd go. And she didn't believe her own perception of reality was warped beyond comprehension. She could still tell who was an ally and who was an enemy.

That last part is a lie, Margo she thought to herself as she lowered her head down into her arms, the cool surface of the cubicle desk beneath her face.

"What's a lie?" her sister said through her ThoughtControl piece.

"Damn it, that wasn't supposed to happen," Margo replied. "Sorry about that, Ellie. That should've been a private thought."

"No worries. Technology is stupid."

"Nah, I'm the one that's stupid."

"What makes you say that?"

Margo shrugged. "I just am. I'm surprised you didn't agree."

"Nah, you're not stupid." Ellie paused. "You definitely act stupid sometimes and say and think stupid things, but...you're still a smart cookie."

Margo rolled her eyes. "I appreciate your honesty," she replied.

"But on a serious note, what makes you think you're stupid?"

Margo looked over at her coworkers, some of them shrouded behind a large wall of holographic screens, their voices drowning each other out like an energized crowd. She knew what they were trying to do, but she had zero idea how they were doing it or what they were saying to get it done.

"I guess I realized I'm not as tech-savvy as I thought I'd be," she told Ellie. "My colleagues are trying to reconnect a holo-projector, and I'm just sitting here watching and not knowing how the hell they're doing it."

"Meh, so what?" Ellie replied. "Of course you're stupid in this case. You didn't apply for a job at Psychwatch because you're a computer nerd, right?"

"Right."

"You applied because you're a psychology nerd! Way more useful at Psychwatch than some weirdo who jerks off to holographic strippers all day."

Margo's eyes widened. "Oddly specific," she replied. "And weirdly accurate, too. Have I told you about Carl's nephew Holden yet?"

"No, but if I had computer skills, I'd be taking advantage of technology like that, too. Seriously, have you seen the dude strippers working for Specter's? Hot damn..."

Margo chuckled quietly. She wasn't afraid to admit she was willing to indulge herself in eye candy like that, and a part of her even felt like it could've worked as momentary levity. But she was needed elsewhere. She didn't know if it meant Psychwatch or possibly some other group of people who would constantly put her life on the line, but she'd find it.

The holo-projector rose into the air with a rhythmic whir, its lenses bathing the room in orange light. Several of her colleagues backed away with a gasp, and even she found herself reaching for her Fatemaker. Somehow she imagined some holographic monster blasting forth from the projector to tear her and her fellow officers apart. Or the projector spinning in place faster than light before blowing the building sky high. The future impressed her as much as it frightened her. Especially her own.

"Stay calm, everyone!" Andrade declared. "I've seen this before. It's just connecting to our frequency."

And with that, Margo's crazy notions proved to be nothing more than melodrama as the light filling the room faded to a calm silver glow. The holo-projector, which previously hovered only inches away from the ceiling above them, descended until it paused right at Mason and Andrade's heights, the two of them flashing it their iconic deadly glares. Holden and Nikki sat at a nearby table, four screens total hovering before them. The two young techies sat back in their seats as rows upon rows of letters and numbers materialized before them.

"What the fuck is all that?" Jack said, his holo-projection standing behind them.

"I don't know," Holden replied, and he turned to Nikki for an answer, only to be greeted with a shake of her head. "Never seen this kind of code before," he continued. "Definitely isn't C or C++. It's not even binary."

"I have," Andrade said, raising her robotic hand. "Just keep waiting. Something will come along."

"Something good?" Margo chimed in.

Her superior looked back at her and muttered, "What do you think?"

If you know what it means, I highly doubt it, Margo thought, and she froze in place, worried she sent that out rather than kept it to herself.

The nonsense on the screen proceeded to slow down, and by the time it came to a halt, rows began disappearing one by one. Only one remained in the middle of the screen, the only comprehensible line of writing. Barely.

PASSWORD: Er4se&R3pl4ce.

"Erase-and-Replace?" Margo read. "I've been seeing and hearing that phrase a lot lately."

"A little concerning considering that service is illegal now," Mason replied. "You haven't been hanging around the wrong crowd, have you?"

Margo shrugged. She believed that statement could've referred to either Psychwatch or the masked men. If there was a wrong crowd, she couldn't tell which was the right one.

A loud electronic chime rang out of the screen, and the line of writing faded away. The computer vanished with the sound of another computerized chime, and suddenly a large blur of orange light fumed out of the holo-projector like smoke. The blur wobbled and jerked around in place until four stubs emerged out of it, resembling arms and legs. The sounds of static filled the officers' ears as more details decorated the blur like lines and angles, and by the time it was done rendering, there stood the holographic projection of Malcolm Slater, a smile stretching across his face.

"Damn, I missed this place," he chuckled. "Brings back memories."

"If you wanna see this place again," Mason replied, " you can always turn yourself in. But don't expect a warm welcome or your job back."

"You kidding me? I'm never going back to work. I mean sure, it was tons of fun, and it definitely paid well. But I underestimated the Psycho Slums because of you guys. I never realized how much wonderful opportunities there'd be out here."

"Opportunities to what?" Margo snapped. "Get arrested? Or murdered?"

Suddenly, all eyes were on her. Mason, Andrade, Jack, Holden, Nikki, and Slater. Even other colleagues she didn't know well. But Slater didn't drop his false amiability. His smile only grew smaller, one stricken with curiosity.

"I don't believe we've met before," he said. "Are you new to Psychwatch?"

"Yes, I am. But you seem to have quite a history here. Why don't you talk more about that?"

"Well, there's too much of that to get into, sweetheart. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself first? I know everyone else around here quite well. Better than my own family actually!"

"Oh yeah?" Holden chimed in, raising his hand. "What's my name, old man?"

Slater finally quit smiling. "First off, I'm forty-seven years old. Your uncle is older than me for Chrissakes. And secondly, you're Holden Sanger, something I know thanks to your uncle obviously. Named after the unbearably annoying and unstable protagonist of the same name from J.D. Salinger's novel, The Catcher in the Rye."

"Hey, my parents gave me that name because they thought it was cool!"

"Well considering they named you after someone many people believe to be bipolar, I'd say you can blame them for your condition."

"Fuck you."

"That's enough," Mason said. She pointed at Margo. "Your personal information should mean nothing to Mr. Slater over here. Don't feel the need to—"

"Margo Sandoval," Margo told Slater, and he smiled. "New recruit for about three months now. There. Happy?"

"Goddamn it, Sandoval," Andrade muttered.

"Very happy," Slater replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Margo. Hope you'll fit right in here at Psychwatch."

"I do." But the words didn't feel right leaving her tongue.

"That's good. Do you want to help people, too?"

Margo flashed him an angry look. "Between me and you, I'm the only one who's been helping people."

"Debatable," Jack chimed in, and Margo flashed him a hateful look as well.

"Well here's the deal, Margo," Slater continued, pacing around the room. "Hope you don't mind me interrupting, Janice. I'm just taking some time to get to know our humble little newbie here. But once we're done, I promise I'll get to the part about the Rabbit Hole."

"Well she fell into the same trap that we did when meeting you," Mason groaned. "Might as well watch her go through the same process we did."

Margo's brow raised. "Now I'm a bit concerned," she said.

"Don't be, sweetheart," Slater continued. "My deeds are dirty, but I'm as pure as an angel."

"I doubt that."

"Wise move. And that reminds me: would you all like to know about the girl from my disguise earlier and her cement burial?"

Holden and Nikki's jaws practically dropped to the floors. Margo and Andrade were on the verge of drawing their weapons, only to fire at a target that wasn't even there, and Jack had a fire in his eyes that none of them believed they'd ever get to see again. Mason, on the other hand, was the only one strong enough to do away with emotion, and she looked back at Slater with an almost disinterested expression. But she nodded her head anyway.

"Alright," Slater replied with his usual grin. "So—"

"You have to take us to her location."

Slater burst out laughing. "Still got that sense of humor, I see, Janice." He cleared his throat. "No way in hell I'm doing that. If you want me to take you there, you gotta find me first. And considering I have eight blocker chips inside of me, I guarantee you that's not happening."

"How the fuck could you afford so many?" Andrade asked.

Slater quit smiling once again. "Daniela, honey, do I have to remind you of all people that I'm a narco?"

"No, cabrón. I meant how much did they cost and how the fuck did you get your hands on them?"

"Forty grand per chip. The first I got from a black market doctor out in the Psycho Slums. The rest I got down in the Rabbit Hole. Oddly enough, I only remember asking for one extra. I regret blacking out that evening."

"Holloway, where is the girl?" Mason growled.

"Buried in an abandoned construction site in Fishtown," he muttered. "And before you ask, yes, it was before the Scans were installed. And also that's why I had the marks on my neck when you guys found me. She was choking me, I was choking her, and I snapped her neck. Just didn't feel like dying that evening. Also, she was seventeen."

"She looked pretty damn old for a seventeen-year-old when we saw Slater dress up as her earlier."

"I dunno. She might've been lying about her age. You can dig up her bones and find out yourself if you want."

"The kid's right, Janice," Slater chimed in. "She was lying."

Mason raised her brow. "Do you remember her name?" she asked.

"Of course not. What kind of person asks for a hooker's name?"

"Was she dressed the way she was in your CamoSynth suit?"

"Yes."

"And are you lying about burying her?"

"No, the kid's right again. She's in Fishtown encased in cement."

"Jesus," Holden whispered.

"Hey, if it makes you feel better," Slater continued, taking notice of Holden, "I didn't bury her myself. Some other hooker did it for me. One that really hated her."

"How the fuck do you know all these hookers?"

"Rabbit Hole and Psycho Slums. That's literally all there is to it. Now, do you all want me to spill the beans about that place yet or what?"

"Wait!" Margo exclaimed, and once again the eyes were back on her. "Why is your password 'Erase-and-Replace'?"

Slater snapped his fingers. "I'm glad you asked, Margo," he replied. "You see, back when I was working here, the process was still legal. And it was surprisingly popular, too, considering everyone and their mother was having the living daylights beaten out of them at home. So, of course, you have people lining up to erase their trauma and the memories of those horrible people. And now that it's banned, it's a hell of a service out in the Slums. There are freaks out there who are addicted to it! Had a one-night stand with someone ugly? Bam! Now it was with someone attractive. Got raped? Bam! Never happened. Bye-bye to the PTSD—"

"Sandoval, Slater," Mason muttered, finally snapping, "could the both of you either shut the hell up or get back on topic?!"

"Why the fuck are you letting them talk anyway?" Jack said. "You're the leader here, aren't you? Why don't you quit being a passive bitch and take con—"

Jack collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain. Veins popped out of his forehead and neck like cracks in a wall, and Margo realized his implant had been activated. Once it was over, Mason left him there to wallow, his holo-projection flickering in and out of existence.

"Slater," Mason said, "I hope you realize that just because you're not physically present and just because you've injected your body with illegal shit to keep us from finding you...doesn't mean you're safe from us."

"Well, being safe from you was the reason I put that 'illegal shit' in my body in the first place, silly," Slater laughed.

"Stop laughing." Mason paused. "We will find you, Slater. Maybe not soon. Maybe not even by the end of this year. But we will."

"Well, then I'll make you a deal." His smile returned again, and Margo absolutely hated it. There were Sentients who looked less creepy then he did. "On the day you and your officers infiltrate the Rabbit Hole, I'll turn myself in."

"Bullshit," Andrade muttered.

"Oh no, it's true. If you guys take over the Rabbit Hole, I'd honestly have nothing else to do. There's no other neo-speakeasy or drug den in the Psycho Slums that compares to that one. You take that place, and you'd put a quarter of the country's Wonderland trade out of business."

Margo hated admitting she was impressed by the thought of that outcome. She knew it was far too good to be true, or that the job would be anything but easy, but she felt like she had something to look forward to. Something to make her feel like Psychwatch might actually be the right crowd after all. And she was surprised to see many of her other colleagues wearing the same astonished expression as her.

"Tell us everything you know," Mason said.

"Commissioner, we can't trust him!" Andrade hissed. "He's probably setting us up. I can feel it!"

"You saw the masked men at the Rabbit Hole the last time you were there, correct?" Mason continued, ignoring her colleague.

"Absolutely I did," Slater replied. "I went down to the Hole to pick up some extra packages of Wonderland since the incident at the Mental Health Rally had occurred hours before, and I knew there'd be people in need of coping mechanisms if you get what I mean. So I headed down there around six to get them, but then this lady who was high out of her mind on who-knows-what pulls me over and starts rambling nonsense. Just stuff about her husband and her two daughters and things like that."

"Brandy Spencer?" Margo gasped.

"Yeah, I believe that's what she said her name was. But eventually, a friend of mine got her to calm down by feeding her Xanax. Then like an hour later, this random black guy comes up to us and says, 'Brandy, it's me! Let's go! Let me take you back!' Now I was a tad bit off my rocker on account of the cocaine I snorted on my way out of the place, so seeing this weirdo emerge out of the shadows in a rabbit mask absolutely startled me! So I cut his face and sent him running."

"His name is Noah Garrison. And you've left him a broken man."

"And because you brought that up, Margo, I will regret what I did for all eternity." He paused. "Just kidding. Anyway, several minutes after that clown left the building, all these guys in raggy masks with Xs over their eyes started filling the room, killing people left and right. They even killed that Brandy lady. This albino girl cracked her head open with a goddamn machete. But there was this one guy you could tell was obviously the leader. He had the best-looking mask out of all of them, and he wore a navy blue suit with dry blood all over it. He and this other albino kid were carrying this unconscious guy's body, and I thought he was dead at first. But then the main masked guy looked at me and said, 'Give him enough to keep him asleep. Don't kill him until Psychwatch finally comes for us.' And he took the body up to one of the suites."

"Suites?" Mason repeated.

"Yeah, they're for people who want to get it on with fewer distractions and interruptions. But most of the partiers are so far gone, they just do it right there on the dance floor. And usually to anyone who can't run away fast enough."

"Do you know which room?"

"I'm guessing the one guarded by the masked guys. I don't know why they're working so hard to keep him—"

"It's Cohen," Jack said, having finally climbed back onto his feet.

"What?" Andrade asked.

"That guy they're holding hostage is Arthur Cohen. That spineless journalist we saw before the rally. He's a part of them."

"A part of whom?"

"The masked men. He was in the van with them when Royce and I got shot. So either they're keeping him quiet to keep him from becoming another whistleblower, or they're rewarding him for helping with the rally. Although, I highly doubt that."

"Considering I saw them cut a blocker chip out of his neck," Slater continued, "and then implant a new one in, I doubt that, too, kid."

Margo snapped her fingers. "That's why he had no P3S data!" she exclaimed. "I bet he got the blocker installed right after he warned us."

"Probably wasn't even his choice to get it," Holden added.

"Well, the poor bastard just got a new one," Slater said. "Probably stronger than the one he had originally. No way you can hack into that one. But luckily, you can deactivate it with an electromagnetic pulse."

"And where the hell are we supposed to find something that can emanate that?" Mason asked.

"I know some folks. Just gotta set off one large enough to take out the entire building's electricity."

"We're gonna blow out an entire building's power," Holden said, "just to get one guy?"