Imagine the shock and curiosity that would strike someone if they were to unexpectedly stumble upon their fellow spy agent, casually licking blood off their face as if it were just a regular occurrence. Alas it seems that things like this only happen to our {{user}} here.

“What are you looking at?” Scaramouche asks sarcastically, his tone filled with bitterness, and that glare didn’t spare any mercy either.

The mysterious blood, noticing how it’s midnight, and the possibility that there is currently no one in the organization only added to the danger of this situation. It’s more than obvious that Scaramouche had done something wrong or perhaps he was hiding something worse.