 The members of a feminist group turn into pigs. The office of a political party occupied by screaming apes. All the participants in a religious ceremony lobotomized without a single drop of blood being spilled. Faced with the horror encountered on each occasion, Maher couldn't stop wondering what the point of what he was witnessing was, what the culprit of these insane acts was up to, and what was the meaning of the flyers found at each site, sometimes stained and partially destroyed, but always filled with meaningless scribbles. And even more, what could be the next step of that guy? Because even though he was one of the best detectives in the world, he had to admit with regret that he was always one step ahead. Back noon on a Sunday, Baptist Church of, well, its name and location are not relevant. Besides, they should take care of cleaning up the place later. Once I conclude my investigation, thought Maher. It had all happened during the morning, during which time the entire congregation was missing. On that occasion, Maher was lucky to arrive even before the police. The front door of the building was slightly open, so he was able to enter without any problems. Being immediately his nose punished with a stench similar to a farmyard. He found in front a grip of sheep, two or three dozen animals of different ages, bleeding frantically, confused and frightened, and with them a shocked clergyman, squatting and unable to comprehend what was in front of his eyes. Apparently, Maher talking to him was not the best idea, since the surprise ended up overcoming the man, causing him to faint. It was at that moment when he noticed for the first time that guy, laughing loudly from the entrance of the building. I can't believe it, who has been my stalker in aspiring foe as a cat. I cat and even more with a hat. In the name of Darwin, this is incredible, sublime, and unheard of. Are they so understaffed that they must degrade to send a kitten in pursuit of me? said the monkey. Because his interlocutor was not a person but an ape, specifically a chimpanzee. Apparently the specimen had nothing exceptional about him, except that he spoke and wore a pair of sunglasses. After taking a deep breath and still smiling, the monkey continued. Now, kitten, tell me what you think of my art. Is it true that the message conveyed by each piece is powerful and unique? Although sadly I can't consider myself an original artist, I just help others to express what's inside them. Maher pulled back his ears and hissed with anger. You call this art, you sick fuck? What the hell do you mean there's a message involved? All I see is a crude joke and lousy taste. You're no better than a monkey throwing its dung at zoo visitors. Clearly offended, the monkey replied. Shut up you servile pussy. You judge me and you are nothing more than a pet, playing at being somebody. If it bothers you so much what I do, why don't you stop me? Before he could finish saying those words, Maher jumped right into the space, hurting him. The struggle was brief, although he clung fiercely to his rival, the ape ended up grabbing him, throwing him violently towards the benches, towards where the grip of sheep was, after which he fled. My name is Pan, pussy, was the last thing Maher heard before he was knocked unconscious. The next few days were a time of depression for Maher. He stopped grooming and eating and used catnip to excess, even more than the doctor would have tolerated. He felt like a failure for having acted that way and lost a valuable opportunity, but anger had blinded him. At least the monkey, Pan, he corrected himself, had not acted up again. Perhaps he feared being discovered again, although he doubted it. In the past, he had managed to take down teams of well-trained men with conceptual traps and worse things. He wouldn't stop for a couple of scratches from a simple cat. The monkey only believed in what he called art, and what he took as a personal mission, and after meeting him personally, he understood that nothing would stop him. It was during a furry convention that some of their attendees began to behave strangely, emitting disjointed vocalizations and moving around on four legs, as well as trying to mate with domestic animals present at the venue. When other assistants managed to immobilize him and tried to remove their costumes, they discovered that the costumes refused to their tissues and that the fantasy features were now functional. According to witnesses, all of those affected have received flyers from a short guy in a very realistic Champagne Z costume. They came and took the transformed subjects away, making the witnesses forget what they had seen. Again, he was one step ahead. It's just a hunch, Marr told himself. The monkey bragged about his creativity. He never repeated himself in his plays, but that was the closest public event. Besides, he couldn't help thinking that the last performance he had done was directed at him and that it was a direct challenge. That was why he had left without the knowledge of his superiors. On his way to what he hoped would be his final confrontation. Early in the days that a Japanese animation fan's convention, when arrived, he found the monkey in a ridiculous costume, consisting of a turban and a cape, in addition to the ever-present sunglasses, taking a picture with a girl about 15 years old, dressed as the character of a popular series. The girl, after thanking him for the photo, accepted a flyer that the monkey was handing out. It was only a few seconds after reading a document that the girl began to scream and her body proportions altered, her eyes embraced enlarging, and her waist narrowing in front of the horrified gaze of her friends. Hello, kitty. I see you're a little early for the show. I must congratulate you for following the clues correctly and finding me. It shows that no matter how much you deny it, you are a real fan of my work. Before he finished saying those words, Marjora Smith and Wesson M642 from a holster strapped to his side and shot him five times, taking him down.