The man Matthias was searching for was Chief Inspector Frederick Latham.
A man of considerable influence and status, Latham oversaw the witness protection service and was privy to the locations of all the safe houses in the city.
Erik found this out thanks to the biological supercomputer and tasked the clone with this mission. Matthias had everything: a face, a na, a location.
The clone was currently prowling through the private quarters of the station, his eyes scanning for signs that would lead him to Latham's office.
The scent of coffee, the rustle of paperwork, the hushed conversations of officers - he took in all these details as he navigated the labyrinthine station.
After passing through a maze of corridors and offices, Matthias found what he was looking for.
A polished wooden door stood before him, the naplate reading 'Chief Inspector Frederick Latham'. He could hear the faint sounds of soone shuffling papers inside.
However, despite the clone not fearing the man inside, due to him being as strong as Samuel back in Liberty Watch Village, Matthias knew he had to be careful.
He had to stay hidden and silent, ready to escape at a mont's notice. The last thing Erik needed was for his enemies to know he had clones that could turn into animals and spy on anyone.
Besides, Erik told Matthias to only listen, to wait for Latham to reveal sothing, and once he left the room, searching for the docunts he needed. Yeah. Erik asked Matthias to stay there for the night.
With a last glance around to ensure he wasn't noticed, Matthias slipped under the small gap at the bottom of the door and into Latham's office, a feat possible only thanks to his cat-like form.
The room was an echo of a ti gone by, its walls lined with towering shelves that groaned under the weight of countless files and docunts.
Matthias wondered when was this place built. He expected the police station to be at least renovated from ti to ti, but he guessed these guys received little funds.
Each one was a whisper of the past, a testant to the many years and people this room was used for.
In the heart of this labyrinth of information, there sat a desk. It was an island amidst the sea of paper, and at it, engrossed in a dance of holographic images and data streams, was Frederick Latham himself.
His figure was sturdy and commanding, yet softened by the touch of ti. His hair, once a fiery red, was now a dignified silver that glead under the overhead lighting.
Latham's hands moved deftly, tracing patterns in the air as he handled the three-dinsional interface. His fingers were calloused and strong.
They told a story of a man who knew hard work, who had spent countless hours over docunts and typing up reports.
His clothes were simple but neat. A crisp white shirt tucked into dark trousers.
Around his neck hung a badge, glinting with the emblem of the force he served so diligently.
Despite the years etched onto his face and the silver in his hair, there was an undeniable vigor about him.
The room was not just a workspace. It was a reflection of Frederick Latham himself - ticulous, full of history.
Matthias moved with a cat-like grace. He navigated the room, his gaze careful to avoid eting Frederick Latham's.
The older man was engrossed in his work, his attention ensnared by the holographic computer.
Seizing the opportunity, Matthias slipped further into the room, his presence as unobtrusive as a shadow.
Amid the chaotic room filled with stacks upon stacks of docunts and files, he picked a corner bathed in shadows.
His figure blended with the papered landscape as he nestled himself among them.
Tucked away in the shadows, Matthias found himself with an unobstructed view of Latham's workspace.
Despite the advantage his hiding place provided, a sigh of resignation escaped him.
The clone was already dreading the monotony of waiting.
Matthias realized there was little action to take until Frederick made or said sothing significant.
Despite this, Matthias's vigilance didn't waver. His gaze remained fixed on the old man, watching every move with the intensity of a hawk.
He waited for Latham to reveal the information he sought.
The room was punctuated by the occasional chirp of incoming calls, each one pulling Latham away from his work.
Matthias watched as Latham's face would soften, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes, before he'd answer in a friendly tone. It looked like he didn't like the callers that much.
The conversations were mundane, often about people and events that held no significance to Matthias. Besides, based on their content, they had nothing to do with Frederick's work.
The man was treating this place like his ho.
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