Backstory

The chicken espionage school accepts one student per generation. Its single graduate — class of one, valedictorian by default — emerged wearing a tiny trench coat, a hat that offers no concealment whatsoever, and the unshakeable belief that nobody has noticed any of this. It graduated second in a class of one. The school insists this is a ranking system. Nobody at the school has explained who came first.

The Spy Chicken walks onto the battlefield the way a shadow walks into a room: confidently, suspiciously, and with a tiny notepad. It does not fight. It does not need to. Once per wave it selects one of your defences at random, disables it with a flick of its wing, and moves on as though absolutely nothing happened. Your Gatling stops mid-burst. Your bell goes quiet. The flock marches past a tower that has suddenly remembered it is an ornamental statue.

It keeps no files on you. It keeps files on your placement habits, which is worse. Every tower you build in the same spot twice is a tower the Spy Chicken has already written down, folded neatly, and tucked into its tiny coat.