Command Station: "Countdown: 30 seconds!"
"Houston, you take the lead," Ross instructed firmly, his voice echoing slightly in the tense silence. "According to our intelligence, after entering through this entrance, we'll descend a long staircase. There won't be any side doors or passageways until we reach the bottom. That means we should be relatively safe during the descent. Understood?"
The large man named Houston, clad in tactical gear, gave a sharp nod. "Understood!"
Ross turned his gaze toward James, who stood silently near the back of the group. "Any questions? You've been quiet as always, James."
If there was one person Ross trusted implicitly in this team, it was James. Among the four, he was the most disciplined, the most efficient, and the least dramatic. But he was also quiet—too quiet, sometimes.
"I'm fine, sir," James replied calmly, adjusting his weapon slightly.
Ross grinned, apparently satisfied with that answer. "That's exactly what I want to hear."
Site Command: "10 seconds to deployment. Nine-Tailed Fox, you know the drill. Once you enter, the Samsara team will follow in four hours. Maintain communications."
Ross gave a final nod, scanned the faces of his team—Houston, Jack, Noah, and James—and raised his hand.
"Let's move out!"
Under the scrutiny of viewers across the Marvel world, the five agents of the elite Nine-Tailed Fox unit stepped into the building, vanishing into the gloom of the mysterious SCP-1730 facility.
As predicted, the first thing they encountered was a long, steep stairwell leading downward into complete darkness.
Site Command: "Team, we're monitoring you from here. If you encounter anything unusual—sounds, visuals, sensations—report immediately."
"Got it," Ross responded, keeping his tone steady.
They began their descent.
The only light came from the small shoulder-mounted torches on their suits, casting long, twitching shadows on the rusted walls. The air was heavy with age and silence, and the deeper they went, the more oppressive it became. For three minutes, they walked downward in a single file, each footstep thudding dully against the metal stairs.
The silence was soon broken.
"What the hell...?" Jack murmured from the front.
"Whoa, what the f**k is this—" Houston's voice followed immediately, shocked and tense.
Ross pushed forward to get a better look and stopped dead in his tracks. His expression darkened.
"Command, listen up. The stairwell... it just ends. Three more steps down, and there's nothing but void. The light doesn't reach the bottom. It's like... it just cuts off into complete darkness."
From their vantage point, it looked like the bottom of the stairwell had simply vanished. The stairs jutted out and then... nothing. Just an endless abyss of black.
Noah squinted and suggested, "Should we throw something down there? See how deep it is?"
"It looks bottomless to me," Jack muttered, clearly disturbed.
But James, who had been carefully scanning the area in silence, suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Ross, that's not a void. Look closely. That's liquid. Pitch-black liquid. It doesn't reflect light—at all. It's like... it's absorbing it."
Everyone leaned forward slightly to get a better look. Sure enough, what had seemed like an abyss was actually a perfectly still, black liquid. It was so dark, it appeared like a gaping hole in the fabric of reality.
Ross frowned deeply. "Well, that's definitely not in the intel. Command, what's our estimated distance from the base level?"
Site Command: "Approximately fifteen meters from your current position."
Ross shook his head. "Then we're not going down this way. Everyone, back up. We'll try to find another route—"
Suddenly, a loud gurgling sound echoed through the stairwell.
Gurgle—
Gurgle—
Houston screamed, "Oh my God, it's rising!"
The black liquid began to surge upward at a terrifying speed, as if it had sensed them and was now rushing to consume its prey.
Ross didn't hesitate. "Move! Move your asses! Up the stairs! Now!"
Panic set in immediately as the team turned and sprinted back up the stairwell. The sound of their boots slamming against metal echoed like drumbeats of desperation.
James kept pace in silence, his body moving with calculated urgency.
Houston, who had been at the front during the descent, now found himself falling behind.
His boots slipped slightly on the steps—and the black liquid caught him.
The substance clung to his legs like molten tar. He screamed in pain and fear, "Jesus Christ, my legs! My f**king legs!"
Ross turned but couldn't reach him in time.
But James did.
Without a word, he rushed back and hauled Houston over his shoulder, despite the man being significantly heavier. Houston's eyes were wide with panic. "James, I—my legs—"
"We're not leaving anyone behind," James said firmly, muscles straining.
Just then, Noah yelled from above, "Door! There's a door here!"
With a slam, Noah forced the door open on the stairwell's side—something they hadn't noticed before in their initial descent.
"Come on!" he screamed.
James burst through the door carrying Houston just as the black liquid surged to the top of the stairs. The door slammed shut behind them.
The liquid slapped against the door's surface—but didn't penetrate it.
Everyone gasped for breath. The silence that followed was deafening.
The live broadcast audience watching around the Marvel universe exhaled in collective relief. No one had expected that the team would face such a nightmare scenario less than ten minutes into their mission.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
Director Nick Fury stared grimly at the screen displaying Houston's legs—or lack thereof.
"One touch... and his legs are gone?" Fury muttered in disbelief. "What the hell is that black stuff?"
Static crackled through the comms before the command center's voice broke in.
Command Center: "What happened down there? Team, can you hear us?"
Inside the room, everyone turned toward Houston, who sat with his back propped against a wall, panting. The lower half of his legs—completely gone. Smooth, clean stumps ended below the knees.
Ross swallowed thickly. "Command, it happened too fast. Houston slipped, and that stuff... it just ate his legs. There was no damage beyond the cut. No blood. It's like they were never there."
But what Houston said next startled everyone.
"I can still feel them, guys. Like they're still there," he whispered. "I watched them disappear, but I wasn't in pain. It's like... I can still move them."
Trembling, Houston stood up.
Everyone stepped back, shocked.
Despite having no legs below the knees, he was floating—hovering—as if invisible limbs were still supporting him.
Jack, dumbfounded, waved a hand beneath Houston's knees. Nothing blocked his hand.
"What the actual hell?" Jack muttered, voice shaking. "He's floating. Like... like he's still whole."
Ross looked pale but composed himself. "Houston, you okay? You feeling anything?"
Houston touched the back of his head and said, "No pain. No dizziness. Nothing. I'm... fine, I think."
"Command, are you seeing this?" Ross asked, still processing what they were witnessing.
Command Center: "...We have no explanation for this. None."
As the team tried to regroup and make sense of what had just happened, James took the initiative to inspect their new surroundings. It appeared to be a maintenance corridor. The walls were lined with rusted pipes, flickering overhead lights, and broken meters.
On one wall, bright red paint spelled out a disturbing phrase: "What Happened at Site-13?"
Jack read it aloud, voice heavy with unease. "This phrase... it's repeated all over the place."
"Command," he said into the mic, "this isn't just graffiti. It looks like a message. A warning."
Ross took a deep breath. "Stay alert. Whatever happened here, it's not over."
They moved cautiously through the corridor.
Suddenly, Houston pointed toward a corner. "There's something around the bend. Movement. Maybe a person?"
Ross stepped forward. "Approach with caution. Weapons ready."
The group slowly advanced.
Then they saw it.
Halfway embedded into the wall was a human figure—only it wasn't just stuck. It had become one with the wall. Flesh merged with concrete, bone fused with steel piping. The figure's eyes were wide open, frozen in a scream. Its fingers twitched.
Everyone froze in horror.
"What the hell is this place?" Jack whispered.
James stared at the grotesque figure, eyes narrowing. Whatever was happening here—it wasn't just science. It wasn't just an experiment gone wrong.
This was something much worse.
And they had only just opened the door.
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