The familiar virtual roulette wheel appeared in his mind and began spinning wildly.
Countless names, some unfamiliar and others familiar, flashed before his eyes in streams of light.
Batman... Deathstroke... Constantine...
Every one of those names made Lynn's breathing quicken.
He could feel his palms beginning to sweat.
The wheel gradually slowed.
The pointer drifted past one slot after another.
Lynn's eyes followed it closely.
[Spawn]... it passed.
[V]... it passed.
[RoboCop]... it passed again.
Please, give me someone normal!
At last, amid the countless glimmers of light, the pointer came to a trembling stop on a slot that looked somewhat familiar to him.
The roulette wheel vanished.
[Congratulations, host. You have drawn the supervillain: Professor Pyg.]
A new character card hovered in Lynn's mind.
Lynn was speechless.
He had just gotten rid of one troublemaker, only to be saddled with a source of contamination?
He had just been praying for a capable helper, and the system had given him someone whose brain was completely broken.
He wasn't in a position to be picky.
"There's no such thing as a useless resource, only one in the wrong place."
He muttered to himself, trying to convince himself.
The role a top-notch, mentally unstable surgeon could play on a battlefield littered with wounded... was immeasurable.
Besides, his "horrifying" methods might prove unexpectedly useful on certain special occasions.
Lynn focused his attention on the card in his mind again.
The man on the card wore a sloppy white coat and a crudely stitched pig-head mask. Two hollow black holes gaped where the mask's eyes should have been, and he carried a bone saw that gleamed coldly.
"Summon... Professor Pyg."
Soon, Lynn caught a pungent smell: a mixture of formalin, rotting flesh and blood, and some kind of chemical.
It was even more nauseating than the whiskey and sweat on Soldier Boy.
A figure in a filthy white coat stood less than three meters in front of him.
Lynn saw the pig-head mask.
Crude stitches, hollow eye sockets, and the faint, suppressed sound of breathing came from beneath the mask, accompanied by a wet rasp.
He lacked Soldier Boy's in-your-face aggression, but he gave off a deeper, more sinister aura that made Lynn's scalp tingle.
[10% of Professor Pyg's abilities have been synchronized to enhance the host's body.]
Professor Pyg.
Lazlo Valentin.
A once-brilliant surgeon, an artist who had ultimately fallen into the abyss of madness.
Lynn looked at the silent figure nearby, and a mad, daring plan quickly took shape in his mind.
The monster before him was a scalpel.
A scalpel coated in viruses, pus, and blood, capable of precisely slicing open an enemy's body and introducing the most venomous infection.
The Allies' stage had no room for this evil god.
But there was another place in this world that was practically a perfect theater tailor-made for him.
An organization likewise made up of madmen, opportunists, and extremists.
Hydra.
All he had to do was put this most tainted of blades into the enemy's hands.
"You..."
At the sound of his voice, Professor Pyg stirred slightly, turning his stitched pig-head mask toward him.
Something in those hollow eye sockets was studying him.
"...do you long for a perfect stage?"
Lynn didn't ask who he was, nor did he explain the current situation.
He went straight to the only subject that interested him.
Professor Pyg didn't answer.
He merely tilted his head and made an unintelligible gurgling sound in his throat, as though assessing an interesting piece of material.
The next second, a cold glint flashed!
Professor Pyg lunged without warning, a gleaming scalpel appearing in his filthy gloved hand as he stabbed straight at Lynn's eye!
He wants to dissect me!
This lunatic!
Lynn didn't panic. The 10% of Soldier Boy's strength was more than enough for him to handle this guy.
He didn't even step back, simply raising his hand.
Lynn clamped down hard on Professor Pyg's wrist.
The sharp scalpel stopped less than a centimeter from his eyelid, unable to advance another inch.
The breathing beneath Professor Pyg's mask caught. He hadn't expected this frail-looking "raw material" to possess such strength.
He tried to struggle, but Lynn's hand held him immobile like an iron clamp.
"I forgot to introduce myself."
Lynn took the scalpel from him, and before Professor Pyg could react, its tip was pressed against an eye socket in the pig-head mask.
"I'm your master."
The tip passed through the hollow eye socket and touched the warm skin beneath the mask.
"Your art, your tools, your life-they're all mine."
Lynn kept his voice low. "If there's a next time, I'll turn you into my first work. Understand?"
"Aaargh!"
A hoarse scream erupted from beneath the mask. Professor Pyg's whole body trembled violently as he suddenly felt as though countless red-hot steel needles were piercing his brain.
He collapsed to his knees, clutching his head with both hands.
Lynn released him and looked down at the madman convulsing on the ground, his gaze indifferent.
There was no use reasoning with a lunatic like this. Only pain and fear could teach him the rules.
Lynn didn't speak again until Professor Pyg's screams had turned to ragged gasps.
"This world is sick."
Lynn turned his gaze toward the camp.
"Severed limbs, broken souls, ignorant beliefs, and ugly wars are everywhere."
"Some want to heal it with artillery fire, and others want to stitch it up with lies. But they're all wrong."
Lynn gave his shoulder a gentle nudge with the toe of his boot.
"They don't understand true art. What they call purification is nothing more than crude destruction."
"But there's one man who, like you, also pursues perfection."
Lynn slowly told him everything he knew about Hydra and Red Skull.
Johann Schmidt.
The leader of Hydra.
The Tesseract.
His extreme worship of the Aryan race.
His mad ambition to build a "pure" new world.
Professor Pyg stopped convulsing.
"He... his work... isn't perfect..."
A hoarse voice came from beneath the pig-head mask.
Those were the first words Professor Pyg had spoken.
It worked!
"Yes, very imperfect."
Lynn followed his lead.
"He's just a lousy imitator. He thinks removing what he sees as impurities will give him a perfect work. How childish, how ridiculous."
"True art isn't about removing things, but reshaping them!"
"You should go and correct him. Use your scalpel and your philosophy to show him what true perfection really is."
Lynn's voice was full of seduction. He was giving a madman the creative inspiration and direction he had always dreamed of.
"He'll provide you with the best laboratory, the most advanced equipment, and... an endless supply of raw materials."
Lynn deliberately emphasized the last few words.
Professor Pyg's breathing grew heavier.
He raised a hand and ran his filthy gloved fingertips over the stitches on his pig-head mask.
"Raw materials..."
He repeated the words in a low voice, his tone filled with a morbid obsession and longing.
"Where do I... find him?"
"I'll arrange everything for you."
"All you need to do is bring your art into their world, and then... create to your heart's content."
Professor Pyg fell silent.
He stood where he was, motionless.
Lynn didn't rush him. He waited quietly.
This madman's desire to create could overcome everything.