Where the hell is he?

Normally Terence replies to any message I send within seconds,

but he hasn't answered any of my texts in the last 24 hours. Come on, Terrence, come on.

Hi, this is Terrence Libra. Leave a message and I'll call you back. I try not to imagine the

worse. Terrence missing like several other clones over the past few days.

There's a gray area that exists between the public and the police, a gray area James Zhang knows well.

The public doesn't trust me. The officers don't either.

And James has a problem that only his clone, Terence, can help him with.

In the four months since we met, Terence has proven more than helpful.

He's never missed a scheduled drop until last night.

Clones are common in Los Angeles.

They make up the underclass, relegated to the slums of Echo Park.

No one seems to care about what happens to them, except James.

Something big is about to go down. Something bad.

I picture Terence gagged and bound in a basement.

I can't give up on him.

They say the longer anyone remains missing after 48 hours,

the worst their chances of ever coming home.

I'll have to do this myself.

To save Terrence, does James have to become him?

I stare at the barrel of a gun.

All the questions Terence dodged over the months surged through my head.

...