Of course! I'm not beaten yet!

You realize that you have no chance to struggle against the Spy. Defenseless and beaten, you raise your hands helplessly and are rewarded to find him lift off of you. Your back is relieved of its weight and you breathe in fully. The Spy grabs you by the throat and forces you to the side. You oblige and roll upright to look at him face to face. His smile is evil, terrifying, and cold. It is not an expression of joy, but a habit born of anticipation. His knife trails down your front, caressing your cheek and licking its cold body against your neck. You feel the blade scrape your skin several times as it traces a line down your chest. It finally finds the lowest point on your low cut top and he changes his hold on the handle. With a quick slice, your top falls open to the sides. Your breasts are open for all to see, but with his focused and steely eyes, the Spy steals the sights for himself. You are helpless.