A humanoid statue stood eerily in the corner of a silver metal containment room. At first glance, it resembled a peanut — its body squat and disproportionate, with stubby limbs protruding awkwardly. The material of its surface looked like yellowed plaster, uirough and slightly cracked, giving it an unsettling texture. Its oversized head sat atop its small torso like a grotesque balloon, its face deeply wrinkled and rusted, frozen in a grimace that could only be described as grotesque.
What was even more disturbing was its pose: standing sideways in the corner, hands pressed against the wall as if it were shy — or hiding something. That strange posture, paired with its twisted features, evoked an eerie, almost theatrical kind of horror. The floor was stained with rusty red secretions that looked like dried blood.
Even the experienced viewers — those who had witnessed many supernatural events and survived bizarre anomalies — couldn't help but frown at the sight. Meanwhile, the live broadcast chat exploded into chaos.
"What the hell is that thing?!"
"Ugh, it's so ugly and creepy. I swear I'm going to have nightmares now."
"Wait a second — it can teleport? That thing?"
"Look at those arms and legs. How could it even reach someone's neck to break it?"
"I'm calling BS. This thing looks like a failed art project."
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
Nick Fury squinted at the live feed, a deep furrow on his brow. He wasn't one to jump to conclusions — he'd seen far too many so-called 'anomalies' turn out to be elaborate hoaxes or misidentifications. But even so, the image of the statue left him unsettled.
He turned toward the other agents in the room.
"Are we seriously treating this... plaster sculpture as a threat?" he asked skeptically, though he already knew the answer.
No one responded. The tension was growing, and not without reason.
In the containment room, the experiment began.
Yellow-haired D-class personnel D-1526 had the task of initiating visual contact with the statue — the key method of preventing it from moving.
Only three seconds had passed when he shouted out in panic.
"Damn it! What are you all waiting for? My eyes are drying up!"
D-1245, a burly, bearded man, hesitated, caught off guard by the urgency. But James, the third member of the team, had already stepped forward. His eyes were locked on the statue with unwavering focus.
He entered the room without hesitation, announcing clearly and calmly:
"Visual contact established. Maximum hold duration: 15 seconds. Beginning countdown. 15… 14…"
Most people could only hold their eyes open without blinking for about 10 to 30 seconds — some could manage longer — but James wasn't taking any chances. He had carefully chosen 15 seconds to balance safety and practicality.
The audience watching the stream fell silent. James's composed demeanor, especially when contrasted with the panicked reactions of the other two, was impressive. He exuded calm under pressure, and that sense of control even seemed to quiet the previously mocking chat.
Back in the room, James counted to "11" before the bearded D-1245 finally snapped out of it. He fixated on the statue and began his own 15-second countdown.
Moments later, yellow-haired D-1526 rushed in with a collection kit, eyes wide and bloodshot from the strain.
"5… 4…"
James turned slightly, still not blinking, and barked out a reminder:
"D-1526, start your count! 3…"
The young man blinked in confusion, sweat rolling down his cheeks. "Uh… oh, right! Fourteen! Thirteen!"
The stream's viewers collectively held their breath. Nobody dared blink at the screen, let alone look away.
Even those who had previously doubted the danger of the statue were now fixated, their disbelief swallowed by tension.
This is intense…
"1… D-14134, stop your countdown and begin collection," James instructed, his voice urgent but even.
His eyes were wide open, bloodshot, and strained. He hadn't looked away once. The psychological toll was clearly building, but he refused to falter.
Once he confirmed that the other two had established visual contact and begun their own countdowns, James exhaled softly. With practiced precision, he began to collect the reddish secretions from the floor, scraping them into the designated sample box with steady hands.
At that point, D-1245 had reached "8" in his countdown, while D-1526 was at "11."
The team rotated their roles with robotic discipline. Under James's leadership, they completed the delicate collection procedure without incident for the next three minutes. There were no sudden movements, no mistakes. The viewers watching finally exhaled, some slumping in their seats as the tension released.
Extraordinary Chat Group (Marvel World)
[Black Widow]: Damn, that thing might not have even moved, but just looking at it makes my skin crawl.
[Tony Stark]: Be serious. A plaster statue that can teleport and snap necks? Please.
[Steve Rogers]: Forget the statue — James was incredibly composed. That level of calm in a high-risk op? Impressive.
[Nick Fury]: He's a promising candidate. Might be worth reassigning him.
As familiarity set in, the tension in the room began to lessen. The bearded man and the yellow-haired man even started to joke a little — perhaps an attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere.
"Hey, blondie," the bearded man whispered while keeping his eyes on the statue, "what do you think that red smear on its butt is? 8…"
The yellow-haired man rubbed his nose, grinning. "Probably its time of the month. 13…"
James didn't react. He continued collecting the samples with unwavering focus, his back to the others.
The bearded man chuckled. "Maybe another statue got freaky with it. 6…"
Then, he tried to rope James into the joke. "Hey bro, we did good this time, right? 5…"
James ignored him. Focused. Steady.
"Tch… whatever," the bearded man muttered, rolling his eyes.
Just then, a drop of sweat dripped into his eye. Reflexively, he shut it — just for a moment. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe even to warn the others — but he never got the chance.
Right behind him, D-1526 inhaled sharply.
"Ah… AH-CHOO!"
The sneeze exploded through the containment room like a gunshot.
He hadn't warned anyone. He hadn't even tried.
And as the sneeze echoed, one horrifying fact hit every viewer — both in the room and watching remotely — like a thunderclap:
No one can sneeze with their eyes open.
Time seemed to freeze.
Two sets of eyes — bearded and yellow-haired — had shut simultaneously.
No words.
No scream.
No chance to recover.
Then came the sound.
Crack.CRUNCH.
Two heavy, unnatural, sickening tearing noises reverberated through the speakers. It was a sound that would haunt those who heard it for weeks.
The viewers stared, slack-jawed, hearts pounding.
They hadn't seen the statue move — not even a twitch. It was as if reality had glitched. One second, it was frozen in its shy pose. The next, the bearded man and yellow-haired man collapsed to the floor like discarded dolls, their necks twisted in ways no human body could survive.
Blood slowly pooled on the metal floor.
James stood frozen in shock, his wide eyes trembling as he stared down at what remained of his teammates.
In the live stream, someone finally typed what everyone was thinking:
"It... It really killed them in an instant…"
No one argued.
No one laughed.
The plaster statue hadn't needed legs. It hadn't needed grace or agility.
Just one moment — a lapse in attention — and two men were dead.
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