The familiar virtual roulette wheel emerged in his mind and began to spin wildly.
Countless strange and familiar names turned into streaks of light before his eyes.
Batman... Deathstroke... Constantine...
Each of these names made Lynn's breathing become rapid.
He felt his palms starting to sweat.
The speed of the roulette wheel slowly decreased.
The pointer lazily glided over one slot after another.
Lynn's gaze followed it closely.
[Spawn]... passed by.
[V for Vendetta]... passed by.
[RoboCop]... passed by again.
"Please, give me someone normal!"
Finally, amidst thousands of rays of light, the pointer tremblingly stopped on a slot that looked somewhat familiar to him.
The roulette wheel dissipated.
[Congratulations, Host, you have drawn the Super Villain — Professor Pyg.]
A new character card floated in Lynn's mind.
Lynn was speechless.
Sending away one troublemaker only to have a source of contamination shoved at him?
He had just been praying for a helper with a good brain, but the system gave him one whose brain was completely broken.
He was in no position to be picky.
"There is no such thing as trash, only resources in the wrong place."
He whispered to himself, trying to convince himself.
The role a top-tier, mentally unstable Doctor could play on a battlefield filled with wounded soldiers was... immeasurable.
Moreover, his "shocking" methods should come in handy in certain special situations.
Lynn refocused his attention on the card in his mind.
The man on the card was wearing a sloppy white coat, a crudely stitched pig mask on his face with two hollow black holes for eyes, and was holding a bone saw that gleamed with a cold light.
"Summon... Professor Pyg."
Very soon, Lynn smelled that pungent odor mixed with formalin, rotting flesh, and some kind of chemical agent.
This smell was even more nauseating than the whiskey and sweat on Soldier Boy.
A figure in a dirty white coat was standing less than three meters in front of him.
Lynn saw that pig mask.
The rough stitches, the hollow eye sockets, and a faint, suppressed breathing sound coming from under the mask, carrying a wet, rattling noise.
He did not have the overwhelming aggression of Soldier Boy, but he exuded a deeper, hair-raising, eerie aura.
[10% of Professor Pyg's abilities have been synchronized and boosted to the Host's main body.]
Professor Pyg.
Lazlo Valentin.
A once-talented Doctor, an artist who finally fell into the abyss of madness.
Lynn looked at the silent figure not far away, and a crazy and bold plan quickly took shape in his mind.
The monster before him was a scalpel.
A scalpel stained with viruses and pus, capable of precisely cutting into the enemy's body and injecting the most vicious infection.
The stage of the Allied Forces could not contain this Loki.
But there was one place in this World that was a perfect theater tailored for him.
An organization also composed of madmen, ambitious people, and extremists.
HYDRA.
What he had to do was to hand this filthiest of knives to the enemy.
"You..."
Upon hearing the sound, Professor Pyg moved slightly, and the stitched pig mask turned toward him.
Something in the hollow eye sockets was examining him.
"...Do you crave a perfect stage?"
Lynn did not ask who he was, nor did he explain the current situation.
He cut directly to the only topic the other party was interested in.
Professor Pyg did not answer.
He just tilted his head, and an unintelligible gurgling sound came from his throat, as if he were evaluating an interesting piece of material.
The next second, a cold light flashed!
Without warning, Professor Pyg lunged, and in his filthy-gloved hand, a gleaming scalpel appeared, stabbing straight at Lynn's eyeball!
He wanted to dissect him!
This madman!
Lynn did not panic; the 10% strength derived from Soldier Boy was enough for him to handle this guy.
He didn't even retreat, just simply raised his hand.
Professor Pyg's wrist was clamped tightly by Lynn.
The sharp scalpel stopped less than a centimeter from his eyelid, unable to move an inch further.
The breathing sound under Professor Pyg's mask hitched; he had not expected this seemingly frail "raw material" to have such strength.
He tried to struggle, but Lynn's palm was like an iron clamp, leaving him unable to move.
"Forgot to introduce myself."
Lynn snatched the scalpel, and before Professor Pyg could react, the tip of the blade was already pressed against the eye socket of the pig mask.
"I am your Master."
The tip of the blade passed through the hollow eye socket and touched the warm skin beneath the mask.
"Your art, your tools, your life, they all belong to me."
Lynn's voice was very low, "Next time, I will turn you into my first piece of art. Do you understand?"
"Argh—!"
A hoarse scream erupted from under the mask, and Professor Pyg trembled violently; he suddenly felt as if countless red-hot steel needles were piercing his brain.
He helplessly knelt on the ground, his hands clutching his head tightly.
Lynn let go, looking down at the madman twitching on the ground, his eyes indifferent.
It was useless to reason with such a madman; only pain and fear could make him learn the rules.
It wasn't until Professor Pyg's screams turned into heavy gasps that Lynn spoke again.
"This World is sick."
Lynn cast his gaze toward the direction of the camp.
"Everywhere there are broken limbs, shattered souls, ignorant beliefs, and ugly wars."
"Some want to heal it with artillery fire, some want to stitch it together with lies. But they are all wrong."
Lynn gently kicked his shoulder with the tip of his foot.
"They do not understand true art. Their so-called purification is nothing but brutal destruction."
"But there is one person who, like you, also pursues perfection."
Lynn slowly recounted everything he knew about HYDRA and Red Skull.
Johann Schmidt.
The leader of HYDRA.
The Tesseract.
The extreme worship of the Aryan race.
That crazy ambition to build a "pure" new World.
Professor Pyg's twitching stopped.
"His... his work... is not perfect..."
A hoarse voice came from under the pig mask.
This was the first sentence Professor Pyg had spoken.
It worked!
"Yes, very imperfect."
Lynn continued along with his words.
"He is just a clumsy imitator who thinks that by removing the impurities in his eyes, he can obtain a perfect work. How childish, how ridiculous."
"True art is not about removal, but reshaping!"
"You should go and correct him. Use your scalpel, your philosophy, to tell him what true perfection is."
Lynn's voice was filled with seduction; he was giving a madman the creative inspiration and direction he dreamed of.
"He will provide you with the best laboratory, the most advanced equipment, and... endless raw materials."
Lynn deliberately emphasized the last few words.
Professor Pyg's breathing became heavy.
He raised his hand and touched the stitches on his pig mask with his filthy-gloved fingertips.
"Raw materials..."
He repeated the word in a low voice, his tone filled with a morbid obsession and longing.
"Where should I go... to find him?"
"I will arrange everything for you."
"You just need to take your art into their World, and then... create to your heart's content."
Professor Pyg fell silent.
He stood in place, motionless.
Lynn did not urge him; he waited quietly.
This madman's desire to create could overcome everything.
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