Chapter 20: Beneath the Surface

Karon's mind churned as she replayed the events in the alley. The copycat's taunts, his confidence—each detail unnerved her, which was unlike her. But she was beginning to understand this man was not simply copying her; he was pushing her, testing her resolve. And while she craved the thrill of danger, she despised the feeling of being cornered.

The precinct was buzzing the next morning, but Karon remained sharp, observing every movement, every glance from her colleagues. It felt as if the walls were closing in around her. Her mind lingered on the copycat's ominous words: Others are watching you. She couldn't ignore the possibility that her work—her real work—had become exposed to more than just him.

As she reached her desk, she noticed a rookie officer—a fresh face she hadn't seen before. He was being shown around by Detective Reiner, a gruff, experienced officer who rarely took the time to welcome new recruits. Something about the rookie's posture struck her, a familiar confidence in his step despite his youth. When he glanced in her direction, his gaze lingered a little too long, as if he recognized her.

Karon's skin prickled. She didn't know why, but something about him felt off. His face… no, it couldn't be. She dismissed it as paranoia and focused on her case files, hoping to push the nagging feeling aside. Yet, as the day wore on, her unease only grew.

---

That evening, she decided to visit an old contact of hers—a street informant named Marcus, who had helped her track targets in the past. He was a known recluse, but if anyone could confirm whether she'd been compromised, it was him.

Marcus's usual spot was a seedy, dimly lit bar in one of the rougher parts of town. Karon found him tucked in a corner, his wiry frame hunched over a glass of whiskey. He looked up as she approached, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"Karon," he drawled, motioning for her to sit. "Haven't seen you in a while. Thought you'd forgotten about me."

"I need information," she said, keeping her voice low. "Someone's been watching me, and I need to know if anyone's been asking around about my… side work."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, his grin fading. "That's a dangerous question, Karon. I'd have to know what kind of mess you've gotten yourself into."

"Nothing you need to worry about," she replied, irritation creeping into her tone. "Just tell me what you know."

He sighed, taking a sip of his drink. "Well, it's not just one person. Word on the street is that some people are curious. There's a rookie on the force who's been asking around. And he's not the only one—there's also someone who's been looking into your past cases, almost like they're… studying you."

Her pulse quickened. "What's his name?"

"Name? The rookie? I think it's... Vance." Marcus frowned, as if the name tasted bitter. "New kid, barely out of the academy. But he's not your average rookie. Word is, he's got connections higher up."

Karon felt a chill wash over her. Vance. The rookie she'd seen at the precinct that morning. She remembered the way he had looked at her, the familiarity in his eyes. Suddenly, it all clicked. The copycat, the escalating murders, and now a rookie infiltrating her place of work. This was no coincidence.

Without a word, she turned and left Marcus behind, her mind reeling. This was bigger than she'd thought. If Vance was her copycat, then he was more than just an amateur killer—he was infiltrating her world, blending into her life, and challenging her on her own turf. And it was time she taught him a lesson.

---

The following day, Karon walked into the precinct with her mind set. She'd play this smart. Confronting Vance directly would be a mistake; he was counting on her to react impulsively. Instead, she decided to gather her own intelligence. She'd been through the academy, knew the habits of rookies, the ways they'd break protocol when they thought no one was watching.

She found an excuse to be near him, quietly observing as he filed through old cases. He didn't seem to notice her, his attention fully absorbed in his work. But something about his mannerisms struck her—he was meticulous, almost too meticulous, like someone who had studied her methods closely.

It was after lunch that she found her opening. She saw Vance slipping out of the precinct and decided to follow, keeping her distance as he made his way toward a storage area in the basement—an area rarely frequented by other officers. Her heart pounded as she descended the stairs, keeping her footsteps light, her breaths steady.

Vance stopped in front of an old storage locker, pulling out a file from his coat. Karon watched from the shadows as he opened it, flipping through the pages with a strange intensity. And then she saw it—a photo of her handiwork, one of her earlier crime scenes. He had documented it, analyzed it, and even marked up the photo with his own notes, his handwriting scrawled across the page in red ink.

Her blood boiled. He wasn't just copying her—he was dissecting her. Every detail, every choice she made, he was trying to understand her mind, to anticipate her moves. She stepped forward, making her presence known, watching as he froze, then slowly turned to face her.

"Well," she said, crossing her arms, her voice dripping with venom. "Enjoying your little research session?"

Vance didn't flinch, didn't even look surprised. Instead, he smirked, a confident, calculating expression that sent a jolt of anger through her. "Karon. I figured you'd find me eventually."

She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. "What's your endgame, Vance? Why go through all this trouble just to mimic me?"

He shrugged, his gaze unwavering. "I'm not just mimicking you, Karon. I'm improving you. You've hit a ceiling, a limit you can't seem to break. I'm here to push you past it, to make you better."

"Better?" she spat, fury blazing in her eyes. "You think you can improve on my work? You're nothing but a cheap imitation."

His smirk widened, unfazed by her anger. "You say that, but deep down, you know it's true. You've grown complacent, predictable. And you hate it. That's why you haven't killed me yet."

She clenched her fists, struggling to keep her composure. He was taunting her, trying to provoke a reaction, and she couldn't afford to lose control. Not here, not now.

"I won't make the mistake of underestimating you again," she said, her voice like steel. "But know this, Vance: you're playing a game you won't survive."

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "We'll see. But in the meantime, maybe we can work together."

Karon stared at him, caught off guard by the suggestion. "Work together? You're out of your mind if you think I'd ever ally with you."

"Oh, it's not an alliance," he corrected, his tone cool. "It's competition. We both keep going, both push each other, and we see who comes out on top."

She studied him, the audacity of his proposal both infuriating and… intriguing. A twisted part of her almost liked the idea, the challenge he presented. She hadn't felt this alive in years, hadn't had a reason to sharpen her skills, to stay one step ahead.

But she couldn't ignore the danger he posed. He was reckless, ambitious, and completely unpredictable. And if she let him live, she was inviting chaos into her life.

"Fine," she said finally, her voice laced with a dark promise. "But when this ends, it'll be on my terms. And you'll regret ever challenging me."

Vance's smirk remained, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Looking forward to it."

They stared at each other, the tension between them electric, a silent promise of the storm that was to come. And as Karon walked away, she knew she had just crossed a line, stepping into a game that would test her in ways she had never anticipated.

But if Vance wanted a challenge, she'd give him one he'd never forget.