Faint Trails

Glossy black eyes scanned unblinkingly over dozens of sheets of printed paper, inspecting signatures, answered questions, choices…
It had taken several days to see it. The slight discontinuity in some of the reports. But it was there. There was something… off... about the Illuminati’s recent failures. They were never major events, of course, that’s what made the oddity so hard to spot. But they were too clean. Too easy. Most would never see the inconsistency.
But the almost invisible pattern was caught by the eyes of Talon Nightfall. Whoever was hiding the pattern—because it was clearly being hidden—was very good. They’d obviously had experience in hiding their tracks. Whoever it was, they certainly knew the inner workings of Nightfall’s organization. That could only mean one thing.
A mole, thought the assassin, how… curious.
Talon didn’t know who it was. He didn’t even knew where they worked. But he would find them, sooner or later. Smiling coldly to himself, Nightfall collected up his papers and snapped his folder shut.
“Run while you can, traitor,” The assassin whispered. “Because if you do not, I will end you.”

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