Chapter 33: Me, Agent Durex Dupont
"Relax, I won't let you take such a risk."
Dr. Zola thought to himself—how could such a great reward of ten beautiful women possibly go to a lunatic like you?
Allen's face showed disappointment, but he quickly regained his composure and firmly said, "Please, the organization must send ten tall, blonde, blue-eyed beauties to test me!"
"Where am I supposed to find you ten women, let alone tall, blonde, blue-eyed ones?"
Dr. Zola rolled his eyes and, after regaining his composure, continued, "This mission is crucial. You'll need to act as a triple agent."
"Oh? A triple agent!"
Allen formed his right hand into the shape of a pistol, resting it against his chin, and solemnly declared, "This mission is highly challenging and perfectly suits my identity as Agent Durex Dupont, 007!"
"…"
Durex? That's just the name of a condom company founded four years ago.
If Dr. Zola hadn't used the product himself, he might have actually believed Allen's nonsense.
"The mission is simple. We will create a cover identity for you. First, you'll infiltrate the Soviet Union, then make your way to America to establish an espionage network. Don't worry, there will be people to support you."
Allen said confidently, "There's nothing that I, Durex Dupont, can't accomplish. I will spread Hydra's glory to every corner of the world!"
Dr. Zola nodded in satisfaction.
Although Allen's mind was a bit unhinged, his fanatic loyalty to Hydra was unquestionable.
Just listen to him—he never stops singing praises.
When they took over that city, Allen ran around shouting, 'Hail Hydra!'
Red Skull saw this and immediately recognized his potential, pulling him into the ranks.
As the war escalated, Red Skull planned to establish an intelligence network and decided to plant spies within enemy territory.
Following the principle of utilizing every available resource, Allen's seemingly deranged state might actually serve as an effective disguise.
"Sorry for the trouble." Dr. Zola offered a perfunctory consolation.
"What trouble?"
Allen suddenly realized, "Wait, are you really getting me ten blonde, blue-eyed beauties in lace garter belts, white stockings, and G-cup bras?!"
No women, but how about ten strong men?
Dr. Zola signaled to the nearby soldiers. Immediately, two of them stepped forward and seized Allen by the arms.
"Dame! I'm not ready for this! This is my first time with men—Dame! Dame!"
The two soldiers dragged Allen out of the room.
Dr. Zola adjusted his glasses and muttered to himself, "Forget it, he's just a smoke screen. I hope the real agents succeed."
Hydra's spies all underwent rigorous training—there was no way they would actually pin their hopes on a madman.
The more disposable pawns they sent, the harder it would be for the Soviets and Americans to identify their real target.
At that moment, Allen let the soldiers drag him along, his legs trailing behind as he refused to walk on his own.
"I'm innocent! You have to believe me! Let me see the Führer! I was his classmate at the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts! If you dare to harm a single hair on my armpits, he won't forgive you!"
The soldiers were well-trained, completely ignoring Allen's endless rambling.
They shoved him into a prison cell and impatiently pushed him forward before slamming the door shut.
Before leaving, one of the soldiers couldn't resist mocking him, "Everyone knows the Führer was a dropout."
Allen stopped struggling and began observing the cell's occupants.
Most of them were older, skeletal from starvation, their sunken eyes staring at him.
One of the prisoners casually asked, "Kid, what did you do to get locked up in here?"
"I was too handsome, and jealous people framed me."
Allen flicked his bangs dramatically, his voice full of narcissism. "My devastatingly good looks wake me up every morning at precisely 8 AM—I've never been able to sleep in. It's both a blessing and a curse!"
"…"
The prisoners exchanged glances, their eyes filled with pity.
One of them sighed, "A perfectly good young man… tortured into madness by the Skull Division."
"We're all scientists who opposed the war. Our refusal to cooperate means we likely won't leave this prison alive."
"Science should serve humanity, not be used for war."
"Exactly! War is a crime against humanity!"
Allen quickly grasped the situation—he was locked up with a bunch of scientists.
"Don't worry, everyone. Justice will prevail over evil, and we will all escape from here alive."
Allen struck his signature hand-gun pose and confidently declared, "No one can kill Durex Dupont!"
"Save your strength. These Nazi bastards only feed us once every three days. Even if the cell door was open, we wouldn't get far."
A prisoner lifted his shirt, revealing a row of protruding ribs. He was practically skin and bones.
They were so emaciated that even walking a few steps left them gasping for air—escaping the Skull Division's prison was a pipe dream.
"Good thing I'm smart! Before coming here, I caught a Pokémon!"
Allen reached into his pocket and pulled out a half-dead lizard, holding it up proudly. The poor creature trembled in his grasp.
"Look at this beauty! It's big enough to provide protein for three days!"
Gulp.
Some prisoners looked disgusted, while others swallowed their saliva.
Starving as they were, they'd eat anything edible.
"You seem like good company, so I'll give this to you as a gift. Let's be friends."
Allen handed the gecko to the scientist he had spoken to first.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, the scientist stuffed it into his mouth and swallowed it whole, fearing someone else might snatch it away.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Just then, soldiers banged their batons against the iron bars.
"Dinner time! Dinner time!"
They dropped off two wooden buckets and left.
The scientists eyed the buckets with disgust—none of them stepped forward.
"Why aren't you eating?"
Allen eagerly checked the contents.
Someone explained, "Don't eat it. It's just leftover swill mixed with scraps of bread—even pigs wouldn't touch it."
"Tastes fine to me."
Allen casually munched on a piece of black bread while holding a grilled sausage in his hand.
"That's bread!"
"And sausage!"
"I must be dreaming!"
In an instant, the starving scientists swarmed forward, desperately grabbing for food.
Urgh…
The scientist who had just eaten the gecko was now doubled over, vomiting uncontrollably.
Life was full of surprises—one moment, he was celebrating his "meal," and the next, fate played a cruel joke on him.
Smack!
Allen suddenly threw his food to the ground and shouted, "Don't eat it! It's poisoned!"
The room fell into silence as everyone stared at him in shock.
"They never fed you before, and now they're offering food? Obviously, they're trying to poison us!"
Allen's brilliant mind reached a perfectly logical conclusion.
"That… makes sense. Let's wait and see if anyone who eats it gets sick before we touch it."
"Damn those Nazis! I actually thought they were being generous for a moment."
"Thank God I didn't take a bite."
"Me neither—almost fell for it."
…
A while later, soldiers returned to retrieve the buckets. Seeing the untouched food, one muttered, "Ungrateful bastards—always whining about hunger, but won't even eat when we give them food."
The scientists suddenly realized—they had just thrown away a perfectly good meal.
"I didn't get to eat! Come back!"
"Please, just one piece of bread!"
"Please! I'm begging you!"
But the soldiers ignored them, disappearing down the corridor.
Now, every pair of eyes in the cell turned to glare at Allen.
If not for listening to this lunatic, they wouldn't still be starving.
Allen pointed to the bread and sausage he had thrown earlier.
"Relax, my intelligence saved a portion for us."
Saved?!
That was the food you threw away!
But at this point, no one cared. They pounced on the scraps like starving dogs, even resorting to fighting over them.
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