“We have a rather…existential target for you, Voelker,” said Grinds. “Not so much a who, or a what, but a why.

“You’ll forgive me, Grimes, if I ask for a little more than that.”

“That’s just it,” said the station chief. “We don’t have it. Every time we have encountered this person of interest, they have looked different.”

“So a disguise fanatic,” Voelker said. “Like Kaminsky. Hardly what I would call existential.”

“No,” said Grimes. “The differences in height, frame…too great to be a single individual disguised. Other than the fact that we’ve has a similar range of eye colors reported, and never a sighting that was not a female, there are no similarities.”

“Then how do you know it’s a single…thing?” Voelker snapped. “Jumping to strange conclusions in a world that’s strange enough and all that.”

“We thought of that too, that it might be a network, directed individuals. Yet the behavior we’ve seen, the modus operandi…the similarities in the way our operatives have been interfered with is too striking. It has to be some sort of individual, maybe even a gestalt.”

Voelker sighed. “You’re not giving me a lot to go on here, Grimes,” he said. “If they always look different and we can never tell it’s them before they interfere, how will I know?”

“The bird,” Grimes said. “The bird is always with her. Not always the same bird, but always white.”

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