"Ow! That fucking hurt!" Leon yelps, clutching his cheek where a fist just landed.
Blinking through the pain, he sees the spy standing in front of him, fists raised, eyes wild.
"You won't take me alive, you American bastard! This war belongs to us!" the spy shouts, charging forward.
"I'm German, bitch!" Leon spits back, wiping blood from his lip.
The spy slams a kick into Leon's ankle, cracks a fist into his face, and shoves him to the pavement.
I can't even hurt a fly. This dude hits way too hard! Damn Ergeizling! Leon screams internally as he curls up in pain.
A boot drives into his stomach, rolling him across the sidewalk.
"Ha! They really sent someone as weak as you? Pathetic! I'll kill you and disappear!" the spy sneers.
A calm voice drifts in from behind.
"Oh, then it's unfortunate to inform you… that you're finished."
The spy stiffens. A sudden sting bites into his neck. Spinning around, he finds Victor looming over him, holding a syringe.
"Who the hell are you!" the spy roars, slamming his fist into Victor's gut.
Thud.
Victor doesn't budge.
Confused, the spy throws another punch. Then another. And another. Each time, his knuckles slam into Victor's stomach like it's made of stone.
"You know…" Victor murmurs with a lazy smile, "it's said that doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results is the definition of insanity. I may not be the fastest, but hurting me? That isn't happening."
"I can't hear a damn thing you're saying, you fat bastard! And why are you so tall!?" the spy screams, frustration breaking through as he hops back.
His chest heaves. Sweat trickles down his forehead. Then—he starts trembling.
"Wha… what's happening?"
He staggers. His legs buckle, dumping him face-first onto the pavement.
"My body… it's not… listening—"
Blood trickles from his nose. His left arm jerks behind his back, fingers bending unnaturally. His tongue lolls out of his mouth. His vision blurs.
What the hell is happening to him? He looks like a damn crackhead, Leon thinks, staggering to his feet.
"My body! I can't control it! W-What did you do!?" the spy screeches, panic rising in his voice.
Victor twirls the empty syringe between his fingers and gazes down with that same unsettling smile. "Oh, my foolish Russian spy. You should've asked that a minute ago. By now, the Destabilizer is already swimming through your bloodstream."
"The… what?" both Leon and the spy ask at once.
"The Destabilizer," Victor repeats. "A little something to calm down uppity individuals like yourself. You see… I'm quite skilled in biochemistry. But, of course, my true specialty will always be surgery."
Victor opens his bloodstained coat wide.
Leon freezes.
Inside, dozens of surgical tools hang neatly: scalpels, bone saws, syringes, forceps—all of them splattered in dried crimson.
"Holy shit!" Leon whispers, eyes wide.
"Wait—why are you showing me—"
"Shhh…" Victor's soft voice cuts him off. "Quiet now, my little spy. Listen carefully. I don't give these options often, so you'd better pay attention."
To the spy, the world tilts. The sky turns blood-red. A dark crimson aura swirls around Victor like a nightmare made real.
Woah… that's creepy. He's giving me the heebie-jeebies, Leon thinks, backing up slowly.
The spy shakes violently, paralyzed with terror.
Victor kneels, face-to-face with him. "Now… shall we start by tearing out your bones, one by one, until you're nothing but mush? No… perhaps I'll slice open every artery and let your juicy blood paint the sidewalk." He grins wider. "Or maybe… maybe I'll experiment on your urethra and see where the piss goes!"
"Please stop! No, no, no! Stay away from me!" the spy screams, voice breaking.
Victor calmly pulls a pair of pliers from his coat and clicks them open and shut. "Decide quickly," he whispers, his voice a slow venom.
In the spy's warped vision, the crimson aura grows darker, heavier. That monstrous grin becomes all he can see.
"No! Go away, you American devil!"
"Oh? So, the urethra it is."
"Ahhhhhhh!"
The spy's scream echoes through the street as Victor cackles.
Then—silence.
The spy collapses. Unconscious. A dark stain spreads beneath him, and the sharp smell hits the air.
Leon stares, eyes wide, frozen in shock.
He pissed himself… and shit himself.
Victor stands calmly, tucks the pliers away, and slings the spy's limp body over his shoulder like a bag of laundry.
Without looking back, he speaks in a flat tone.
"This day, Leon Abelof, you have met your second demon."