The mimic, her features a perfect replica of Blake's visage, moved through the city streets with a predator's grace. Every step, every mannerism, was a flawless mimicry of the man she had rendered unconscious in Rose's penthouse.
Her target: Rebecca Owens, the intrepid journalist whose relentless pursuit of the truth had set this entire maelstrom in motion.
Locating Becky proved to be a simple matter. Her address was a matter of public record, accessible with a few deft keystrokes and a generous application of Shelley Technologies' resources. The mimic studied the information, committing every detail to her inhuman mind.
As night fell, she made her move.
Becky's modest apartment building stood silhouetted against the city skyline, its windows dark and unassuming. The mimic slipped through the shadows, her movements silent and fluid, until she found the correct door.
