After throwing the wrench, Stark realized what he had hit. He suddenly pulled his hand back, looked at the Triage Room that had been completely transformed, and gave an awkward smile. "Sorry, I just came out to take a look. You all carry on..."
With that, he ducked back into the passage without looking back, pretending not to see Schiller rolling his eyes at him.
Strangely enough, Stark was actually afraid of ghosts. As one of the world's greatest scientists, and even one of the few Iron Men in the Multiverse proficient in magic, he was afraid of ghosts.
And Schiller knew that he was especially terrified of jump scares. Sudden frights like that could make him exhaust every curse word he knew, then fly into a rage and destroy everything in sight.
Yet he refused to admit that he was afraid of ghosts. When Peter played horror games, he always insisted on leaning over to watch. Before Peter even reacted, he would be the first to jump three feet into the air.
Schiller turned his gaze back to the desiccated corpse and, after considering it for a moment, said, "I'm sure you can tell that I'm not afraid of you. Aside from wasting your energy, these effects serve no purpose. How about this? Turn on the lights, make some late-night snacks, and the two of us can have a proper talk."
The charred figure remained motionless. Then Schiller heard the ethereal voice of a little girl. "Do you know what they did to me?"
"I can probably guess." Schiller nodded. "The people who wrote the script have no imagination when it comes to human cruelty. I'm guessing they borrowed from some classic horror game and gave you a tragic backstory. But it was probably nothing more than various forms