Ever since the siege on the House of Pleasure four weeks ago, Margo felt like the world was going out of its way to make sure she couldn't rest.

She lay in bed, staring at the dull ceiling above her. Her apartment was pitch black, with only a small ray of light slicing through the curtains of her bedroom window. The sheets were cold against her bare legs, and she used her free hand to smooth over the bruises on her torso before tugging her shirt down over them. A splint was wrapped around her left forearm, another burden to blame for her insomnia, and she fought the urge to rip it off and scratch away the itches. Luckily, she only needed it for two more days.

"Stop the music," she groaned, and the soothing piano music emanating from her MoodMatcher went silent.

She tried leaning up in her bed but collapsed back into the mattress as a sharp pain jerked through her arm. Learning her lesson, she made sure to avoid putting pressure on her wound and carefully slid up against the headboard. She pulled her shirt up once again, getting a quick glimpse of her shorts as well as the yellowish contusions on her stomach. They didn't hurt as much as they did the previous weeks, but she still hated reliving the moment the shotgun blast penetrated her Blur. It was like getting nailed in the gut with a bat.

Margo turned toward her bedside table to look at the time, 2:55 AM hovering in red holographic numbers next to her glass of water. She grabbed her ThoughtControl piece from the table and nudged it into her ear. She didn't know who she was planning on talking to, but she didn't want to get through the night alone.

With a yawn, she then scooted herself over to the edge of the bed and trudged over to the window, shivering as each footstep met the cold wooden floor beneath her. Through the gap between the curtains she could see the neon green lights of a skyscraper several blocks away from her apartment building, and she advanced toward the lights like a moth. But when she swiped the curtains to the side, she was greeted by an incredibly unexpected sight.

It was snowing. And not just a calm drizzle of white powder. A blizzard had overtaken the Philadelphia skyline, and the city lights glowed hazily in the midst of the snowfall.

Another shiver rippled down her spine like electricity as she pressed her hand against the glass and quickly pulled away. "Ellie," she whispered into her ThoughtControl piece. "What's up with the weather? It's the middle of May."

"What's up with you?" Ellie shot back. "It's the middle of the night."

"I couldn't sleep. I got this stupid splint around my arm and I've been thinking too much about—"

"Let me guess. Either the girls you found in the Psycho Slums, the House of Pleasure incident, a recurring nightmare of when your Blur tore open, or all of the above."

Margo's heart sunk as she closed the curtains. "Have I really told you this so many times before?"

"Yes, and I'm not sure why you think I or anyone else care."

Ellie's connection vanished. Loneliness overcame Margo, something she rarely felt even while alone in her apartment. When she let go of the curtain, she felt like she had released her sister's hand and let her run off into the darkness. She found herself staring at the floor, hurt by that last comment. After spending so much time with clients searching for someone to talk to, she had finally seen things from their point of view. The struggle of finding that person who appeared at least mildly interested in their problems.

"Ellie?" she asked again as she walked to her bathroom, but she didn't get a response.

She stepped into the tiny room and closed the door, removing the splint to wash her hands after doing her business. She splashed her face with the cold water in an attempt to wash away the confusion. Ellie's hostile behavior. The weather. She'd return to reality every time a stinging feeling jolted through her bruised arm when she leaned on it, her injury reminding her there were other things she had more control over her.

Then she saw the masked man in the mirror.

She jerked around to look behind her, her heart suddenly pounding out of her chest. The holographic lens of her ThoughtControl piece emitted a ghostly blue glow in the limited space around her. When she turned around, all she found was a white towel hanging on a rack, red lacing trailing around its corners in the shape of X's.

What the hell, she thought.

She looked over at her bathroom window, the opaque glass preventing her from seeing outside. She could hear the ice particles lightly crackling against the glass as if tiny pebbles were pelting it, and the wind rushed by with an ominous whistle through the vents and through the small spaces in her walls. Paranoia filled her like poison as she urgently strapped the splint back on.

She heard her apartment door slam shut.

She backed into the sink and took a quick glance at the doorknob to ensure it was locked. Her grip on the marble edge of the counter tightened as she heard the sounds of footsteps clattering across her living room floor. The lens of her ThoughtControl was the only thing preventing the darkness from devouring her, but it didn't make her feel safer.

Ellie? she communicated through her piece. Where are you?

Think of your favorite places in the world, Ellie replied. Those are the places I will definitely never be at.

Ellie, I'm serious! I think someone just broke into my home!

You're the doctor-cop here. Just asks the bastard about his feelings or any known conditions he has or something rehearsed and generic like that.

Margo gripped the edge of the counter tightly once again as she heard another series of footsteps.

Now isn't the time for me to be an Empath, she continued.

Good. Because if this situation relied on you being a good Empath, you'd be screwed.

That last comment got to Margo. She had to do everything she could to maintain her composure, especially in this situation. I know I've made mistakes, she explained to her sister, but I've been doing my best to be a better person.

Then if you're looking forward to being a better person, how about you get the hell out there and deal with that intruder of yours?

Ellie, why are you acting like—

But she couldn't send another message. She could feel the connection cutting off, reminiscent of the abrupt feeling of forgetting something. Like a part of her mind had disappeared from the rest.

She froze in place as her unwanted guest wandered around her living room a little while longer before she heard the sound of her door closing once again. Her apartment grew eerily quiet. All she could hear after that was the snow pelting her window and the wind.

I'm a Psychwatch officer, Margo told herself. I've got this under control. She placed her hand in her pocket and winced in embarrassment. It would be easier if I had my Fatemaker, damn it.

She waited a little longer, hoping the sound of the breeze outside would eventually be the only thing haunting her home. She kept herself against the sink, contemplating sending another message to one of her colleagues at Psychwatch before turning down the idea. She wanted to handle this on her own. Something made her feel like she had something to prove.

Five minutes later, she opened the door.

The blue glow of the holographic lens of her piece lit her path. The rest of her home was shrouded in the dark of night. To her left was the living room, her only way out. She tiptoed over to the coffee table, where her Fatemaker and car key were hidden in a drawer. The floor was cold against her bare feet, and she repeatedly glanced back into her bedroom, hoping she'd be the last person to emerge from it that night.

You're safe, she reassured herself as she used her piece to unlock the main door. You're safe.

Finally approaching the coffee table, she carefully leaned down and wrapped her fingers around the drawer handle before looking over at the light switch on the wall. She couldn't remember the last time she'd used it thanks to her preference for her apartment's voice-activated controls. "All apartment lights, on," she whispered, but nothing happened. "All apartment lights, on," she repeated again slightly louder.

She tensed up as the light switch beeped several times, and a series of small holographic letters trailed across the wall. Her hand remained on the drawer handle, her palms growing sweaty. Once the message had finished filling the small projected screen on the wall, Margo knew the night wouldn't be working in her favor.

ELECTRICAL INTERFERENCE DETECTED DUE TO ADVERSE WEATHER CONDITIONS. VOICE ACTIVATION TEMPORARILY DISABLED FOR 30 MINUTES.

Margo groaned under her breath. She returned her sight to the her hand, still holding onto the handle with a grip of iron. She took another deep breath as she dragged the drawer out of its hiding place, the sound of wood scraping against wood bringing her discomfort. Margo clenched her eyes shut as she continued pulling, not knowing what consequences her actions would have next.

Almost...there...

Margo heard the sound of glass shattering in her bedroom.

She froze in place, her hand finally fitting inside the drawer. She felt the grip of her Fatemaker, and she carefully pulled it out, repeating the process with her car key. She was looking back at her bedroom, the lights from outside briefly flashing through her room, and suddenly her entire apartment grew significantly colder. Goosebumps rippled across her skin, and once she successfully retrieved her gun and key, she dropped to the floor, hugging herself tightly as the room transformed into an icy trap.

Please...just go away, she wanted to scream at her intruder.

She could hear footsteps back in her room.

The frigid air penetrating down to her bones, Margo carefully maneuvered around the coffee table, remaining as close to the floor as possible. She activated the silencer on her Fatemaker as she reached the other side of the table. Once she'd emerged her head, she had a perfect view of the path back into her bedroom. And if she was lucky, the intruder.

And if her plan to apprehend the intruder failed, she had two other targets in mind to reach: her shoes and her coat.

Two more steps broke the silence. Margo could tell they were at the bedroom door.

She leaped from the floor, her Fatemaker in front of her. "F-F-Freeze!" she ordered with a stutter. "By order of Psychwatch!"

Her ThoughtControl piece's lens activated, casting that familiar blue glow on the area in front of her. Her bedroom was still pitch black as well as the rest of the apartment outside of the light's range. The only lights managing to break through to her bedroom were infrequent flashes of the city lights every time the curtains parted in the wind, illuminating her room with various disorienting colors, like alarms alerting her of the chaos this unwelcome guest would unleash upon her.

The Scan didn't pick up her visitor's identity, and all she could see was their silhouette. It appeared to be an adult man wearing a jacket of some kind, maybe a suit. His hair was a wild mess of spikes. His hands were coiled up into fists. Each step he took was a loud, daunting clap against the floor.

"Sir!" Margo urged again, her finger on the trigger. "Please cooperate! We can find you therapy of some kind to treat whatever conditions you may be dealing with. Y-Y-You just need access to the P3S."

The stranger took two more steps. Margo did the same but in reverse, moving closer toward the door.

"You've been keeping secrets," the stranger said in a distorted voice, almost alien-like. "I know your loyalty has been swaying."

"Sir, remain silent please."

She heard more footsteps. She opened fire. Two shots of bright green energy zapped across her room in less than a second. The stranger jumped out of the way. Margo could hear him scampering into her kitchen. He was behind the counter. She could sense him glaring around the corner at her.

"You don't think I know what's really been going on?" the stranger asked in a voice dampened by phlegm. "The kinds of people you've been around? The kind whose favor you desire so much?"

"Sir, if you could just—"

"You don't see the potential in people like me. You all just want to put me in place."

Margo remained silent. All she focused on was finding which creepy little corner he was lurking around.

"Well, darling...I'm afraid it's my turn to put you in your place."

Margo let out a gasp as he charged toward her.

She opened fire, each shot flashing through the room like lightning. And all she could see with each flash was a shadow racing across the room, inching closer and closer to her.

"Stop!" she screamed, her back against the wall. She no longer had control over her breathing. Her gun rattled in her hands, only taking one accidental twitch of her finger to fire another shot.

The stranger paused next to another curtained window on the opposite side of the room. "Keep quiet!" he growled.

Margo was still backed against the wall, the unforgiving coldness of the room refusing to show her mercy. She spotted her shoes beside the door and hurriedly slipped them on as she kept her gun trained on whatever patch of darkness she believed the stranger was hiding in.

Once she got her shoes on, her next step was to retrieve her jacket.

She took a step to the left. Another step followed but not her own.

Who are you? she thought as she slowly reached for her coat. The next words that left her invader's tongue stopped her in her tracks.

"This is all your fault. You have no control over me. You didn't have to learn that this way."

He ran toward her.

Taking several more shots, she yanked the door open and leaped into the hallway with her arm wrapped around her jacket. She slammed the door shut as soon as she was free, and the last thing she heard in that room was deafening, distorted shrieking.

She sped down the hallway toward the stairs, her heart pounding out of her chest. Hundreds of thoughts flooded her mind as she worked frantically to get the jacket on. She shoved the Fatemaker into her pocket before reaching the stairs, racing to the bottom without looking back.

He's come for me, she thought, He'll be coming for all of us.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she burst through the door and found herself in the lobby. The white emergency lights reassured her safety thanks to the backup generator. She was alone with the concierge, the soothing sound of a small fountain warding off the silence.

"Miss Sandoval?" the concierge asked. "Is everything alright?"

"Javier!" Margo gasped as she ran to the front desk, still zipping up her jacket. "Call the police immediately. Someone just broke into my apartment."

"But...aren't you the police?"

Margo chuckled nervously as she continued taking fearful glances back at the elevator, expecting her invader to emerge like a wild animal and pounce. "I'm off-duty right now, honey," she replied in exhaustion, "but I need to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else. So please, Javi, alert the authorities."

"Of course, Miss Sandoval."

Margo let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much." And she ran toward the exit, pressing the single button on her key.

"Where are you going, Miss Sandoval?" Javier asked. "It's freezing out there!"

"If he's coming for me," she replied back as she pushed open the door, "I'll lead him away from here! I'll be fine!"

"You don't seem very fine, ma'am!"

Margo couldn't hear anything else once she had stepped outside. The world became a war zone, just her against the forces of nature. The wind blew by in a deafening howl, pounding Margo left and right, and she was assaulted by particles of ashy gray snow. It was a struggle just to keep her eyes from clamping shut. The petrifying feeling of coldness engulfing her only grew worse as the snow soaked her bare legs and jacket, and she felt like she was alone out in the wilderness where her over-reliance on technology would finally get the best of her. She felt weaker and weaker with every passing second. Even the city lights started fading out like dying stars.

Those seconds of enduring the cold paid off once her car approached the front of the building.

The car's back door popped open and she quickly jumped in, the door automatically closing behind her. "Full city tour," she exhaled as she landed in the back seat.

The front seats rotated to face her, and the car slowly trudged forward away from the building's entrance. "A full city tour of Philadelphia lasts a total of two hours," the car's automated voice replied. "Are you sure you want to proceed?"

"Yes. Just me get out of here."

And the car dashed out of the parking into the eerie white haze of the city. Margo was now alone with her thoughts, her regrets, and access to the dozen people she planned on calling through her ThoughtControl piece.