Marvel: A Journey Begins From the Zombieverse

The group walked through the canyon, sunlight piercing down through its narrow openings, casting their elongated shadows as though they strode upon a golden pathway.

Sheer cliffs towered on either side, their jagged granite faces radiating heat under the sun. The harsh terrain was barren, not even the hardiest weeds taking root in the hostile environment.

Just as they were about to exit the canyon, Noah abruptly raised the hand that wasn't holding a gun. At the same time, the Punisher, who brought up the rear, dropped his pack and drew a pistol, scanning the surroundings with sharp vigilance.

"What's going on?" Pietro looked around, confused. Aside from the cliffs and rocks, there wasn't a single soul in sight. Half a minute ago, they had been transported into this canyon via Doom's portal, entirely clueless about their new location.

Had the zombies somehow caught up to them?

"Wanda, take off his collar."

"Of course."

Wanda stepped forward and tapped a few times on the collar around the captive's neck. The mutant restraint beeped twice and dropped to the ground. Fury had provided them with the passcode before their departure; attempting to forcefully remove it would have caused it to detonate.

"Beep—beep—DON'T MOVE! Move, and I'll shoot!"

A sharp whistle pierced the air, followed by a raspy voice echoing through the canyon.

At the exit, a group of people appeared, flooding in like a tide.

The expressions of Noah and the others stiffened slightly as they took in the sight of the newcomers. Their appearances, clothing, and even hairstyles were identical, as if they were all copies of the same person.

When the group drew closer, their features became clearer. Every one of them was a flawless replica, their facial features identical down to the smallest detail. Eyes, noses, and mouths mirrored one another perfectly. Even the subtle curve of their smiles was the same.

Their outfits were similarly uniform: green jackets over black vests adorned with six golden sequins. The creases and stains on their clothes matched perfectly, as if meticulously replicated.

Each man sported scruffy sideburns of the same dull yellow hue.

The only distinction among them lay in the headbands tied around their foreheads. These varied in color and pattern—some plain, others floral, and a few covered in hand-drawn designs.

"Why do they seem so familiar?" Pietro muttered under his breath, his brow furrowed. He had seen this face before, but… something felt off. Too old. It couldn't be.

Before he could unravel the thought, the group had already surrounded them in a loose circle.

"What's the matter? Too scared to talk?"

The man with a purple headband raised an eyebrow, his disdain apparent. These newcomers didn't seem to recognize who they were dealing with. How amusing.

To think there were still people roaming the Wastelands who didn't know the Tenebrous Canyon belonged to them.

"Hand over everything you've got. The Madrox Gang might let you die quickly!"

"Hand over everything you've got. The Madrox Gang might let you die quickly!"

"Hand over everything you've got. The Madrox Gang might let you die quickly!"

The group spoke in eerie unison, simultaneously raising their weapons and aiming at Noah. However, upon closer inspection, their differences became apparent.

Only five of them carried hunting rifles, and even those were old, rusted models. The rest wielded nothing more than axes and clubs, a testament to their poverty.

Pietro, however, paid no attention to these details. His eyes widened in disbelief as he exclaimed, "Jamie? Is that you?!"

Noah rubbed his chin, realization dawning in his eyes. He had a pretty good idea where the portal had sent them—but confirmation was needed.

Before he could speak, the man with the purple headband sneered, "We've got nothing to do with that old man anymore. I'll say it one last time: hand over your stuff!"

He gestured toward Frank's bag with his rifle. "What's in there? Food? Water?"

"Your death warrant."

Frank raised his gun and shot the purple headbanded man in the forehead without hesitation, the muzzle flashing briefly before the man crumpled to the ground.

"Kill them all!"

The remaining Madrox clones roared in unison, and Pietro sprang into action. Despite his injured leg slowing him down, he still moved faster than the eye could follow, leaving a blurred afterimage as he charged into the group.

The clones were sent flying one by one, hitting the ground with sickening thuds and pooling blood beneath them.

"Uh… Jamie needs more Jamies!"

One of the clones struggled to his feet and deliberately slammed himself into a nearby rock. His head hit the stone with a dull crack.

To everyone's shock, his body twisted unnaturally, as if torn apart by an invisible force, and split into two identical figures.

The process was so abrupt and surreal that it defied all logic. Both new clones recovered from the impact and stood up, locking eyes briefly before turning to face Noah and the others.

Noah pressed a finger to his temple, frowning. "I forgot how annoying Multiple Man can be. We only need one alive for questioning. Fall back for now."

Pietro returned to Noah's side as the latter picked up the mutant restraint from the ground and strode toward the newly-formed clones.

"More—"

"That's enough, thanks."

Noah shot the clone attempting to create another duplicate, leaving the other scrambling to raise his hands in surrender.

James Arthur Madrox—the infamous Multiple Man from the X-Men. His ability was as troublesome as his overly long name.

He could duplicate himself.

Whenever he sustained significant physical impact, a new copy of himself would emerge. This ability wasn't just a nuisance—it was outright dangerous, as his clones could also duplicate themselves.

Each clone had independent thoughts but remained connected to the original and other clones via a psychic link. This was how they always managed to speak in unison.

Frank followed close behind Noah, executing the downed clones with precise headshots to prevent further duplication.

"You can't kill me! The Madrox Gang has more members than you can imagine! They'll come for you—"

Smack!

Noah slapped the remaining clone hard across the face, cutting off his rant. He then affixed the mutant restraint to the clone's neck.

The device emitted a soft beep as it activated, causing the clone's complexion to pale. Satisfied, Noah punched him in the head to test its effectiveness. When the clone didn't split again, he nodded approvingly.

"I'll ask, you answer. Got it?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Who's the president now?"

"Red Skull, sir."