Mirror, Mirror--Who's the Next to Die
The plane landed smoothly and taxied up to the terminal at O'Hare International. The medium height-medium sized man blended in with the crowd. He looked like any professional man commuting from city to city, nothing remarkable stood out. Nothing remarkable, except for his intense stare, the way he lowered his chin, and the way he pulled his upper lip over his lower lip. He didn't notice the slight pain as he bit the inside of his lip or the pain from his clenched fist as his fingernails dug into his soft, smooth palms. His concentration remained unbroken.