German Army occupied territory.
A quiet little town named "Bella."
A few days ago, this place was just a regular marker on the Allied Forces scouts' maps.
Now, it has become synonymous with hell.
A roll of film brought back by frontline scouts at the risk of their lives, along with a hysterical oral report, plunged the entire Allied Forces frontline command into silence.
Colonel Phillips slammed several freshly developed black-and-white photos onto the table.
The photos were not very clear, even a bit blurry.
Yet, the content was enough to make every battle-hardened Officer's stomach churn.
The town square was filled with "people."
They were holding various eerie and stiff poses.
Some were smiling, holding hands in a circle.
Others were sitting on benches, their heads twisted toward the sky at an odd angle.
"The scouts initially thought this was some kind of German Army camouflage. Until one of them accidentally knocked over a 'person'."
"The thing fell to the ground, its arm broke off, but there was no blood—only some sawdust and stuffing fell out of the sleeve."
"But the most terrifying part was that the 'person' stood back up on its own and reattached the broken arm."
"They... they are alive."
"According to intercepted HYDRA internal communications, they call this town Puppet Town."
Another intelligence Officer added, his face deathly pale.
"This kind of weapon can completely destroy a soldier's will. The town's residents, and the platoon from our missing 79th Infantry Regiment, I'm afraid they are all..."
He couldn't continue.
It was impossible to imagine those once-vibrant comrades-in-arms turned into such horrifying "artworks," displayed in the square for people to gawk at.
"If regular troops go in, they will only be driven insane by this kind of mental contamination."
Phillips slammed his fist on the table, his eyes bloodshot.
"We need a monster... to deal with another monster."
Everyone's mind conjured up the image of the man who smashed a Tiger tank into scrap metal.
Soldier Boy.
But thinking about how that man almost twisted the Colonel's head off yesterday, everyone felt a sense of helplessness.
That "god" was currently in a rage and wouldn't listen to any commands.
"Officer," an adjutant said, steeling himself.
"Mr. Lynn Morris's reply has arrived."
Phillips grabbed the telegram as if it were a lifeline.
Lynn swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the bustling night view outside the window.
His secretary respectfully placed the detailed report about "Puppet Town" sent by Phillips in front of him.
Lynn scanned the chilling written descriptions at a glance, his expression unchanging.
Professor Pyg.
The scalpel stained with virus that he had casually tossed into the HYDRA camp had finally completed his proudest "work."
Very good.
Very good.
The value of an artwork often depends on how it is displayed and the background that sets it off.
And Professor Pyg's horror was the best backdrop to elevate the value of another piece of art.
He picked up a pen, wrote a line on a notepad, and handed it to the secretary.
"Reply to Colonel Phillips, and tell him to read these words to our God of War, word for word."
Soldier Boy's temporary barracks.
This was originally the residence of a German ArmyMajor General, but it had now been commandeered by him alone.
Two blondes sent from the rear were trembling as they massaged his shoulders, not even daring to breathe loudly.
Soldier Boy kept his eyes closed; the nameless fire in his chest ignited by "Captain America" had still not subsided.
He felt like a lion locked in a cage.
In the cage next door, a monkey was winning everyone's applause just for doing backflips.
It was an utter humiliation.
"Get out," he said coldly.
The two women, as if granted amnesty, scrambled out of the room.
Just then, the door to the barracks was pushed open, and Colonel Phillips walked in.
"If you're here to tell me how many more war bonds that sissy in the spandex sold, I'll shove your head up your ass right now," Soldier Boy's voice was filled with undisguised threats.
Phillips remembered the words Lynn had instructed him to say in the telegram.
That reporter could see through the heart of the monster before him from across the Atlantic Ocean.
"Lynn asked me to tell you this," Phillips deliberately slowed his speech, ensuring every word was clearly transmitted into Soldier Boy's ears.
Upon hearing the name "Lynn," Soldier Boy's eyelids twitched, his gaze filled with scrutiny.
"He said, Captain America?" Phillips mimicked Lynn's tone, which carried a hint of contempt.
"That's just an idol needed by the public in the rear, a mascot responsible for looking pretty. His purpose for existing is to make those housewives and factory workers willingly open their wallets."
"Real brutal battles, the 'epic oil paintings' truly worthy of you, are never in the spotlight."
Phillips's voice gradually became grave.
He laid the photos of "Puppet Town" one by one on the table in front of Soldier Boy.
"HYDRA has created true 'demons' in a small town in northern France."
Soldier Boy's gaze fell upon those eerie photos.
He saw those stiff "dolls" with eerie smiles.
"What the hell is this?" He frowned.
"It's artwork," Phillips's voice trembled, partly out of fear and partly because he was following the lines in Lynn's script.
"A HYDRA lunatic who calls himself Professor Pyg has turned our people into his collectibles."
"Regular troops are useless now; their minds would completely collapse the very first second they stepped into the town."
Phillips looked up, staring straight into Soldier Boy's eyes, and spoke the last and most critical sentence.
"Lynn says, the whole World is watching."
"Watching to see who is the 'god' capable of ending this nightmare."
"Is it that idol performing on stage, or is it... you, the one who can truly trample the demons underfoot."
The voice faded.
The barracks fell into a long silence.
Soldier Boy did not speak.
He just reached out and picked up a photo.
The unvented rage in his chest found the perfect outlet.
Vanity, anger, the humiliation of being slighted... all negative emotions transformed into a kind of dark excitement.
An idol?
A mascot?
No.
He is the god.
What a true god needs is the awe of believers, and... sacrifices worthy of being offered to the altar.
These things before him, these so-called "demons," these damned "artworks" are the best sacrifices!
"Heh..." A low, ambiguous chuckle emanated from Soldier Boy's throat.
He stood up and picked up the shield in the corner, scarred and battered yet still as clean and bright as new.
"Tell Lynn," Soldier Boy turned around, a cruel and fanatical smile on his face.
"I will paint this picture myself."
"Tell your people to get their cameras ready."
The next second, he crashed through the wall of the barracks and disappeared into the heavy night.
Leaving behind Colonel Phillips, who had survived the ordeal, and a room full of rubble.
A beast with its desire for slaughter fully awakened was sprinting toward that hellish town.
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