Marvel Multiverse Gacha

Next Day

The soldiers stepped into the dimly lit room where the mutants were confined, their faces blank and movements methodical. "Take him," one of them ordered.

Without hesitation, they advanced toward John, flanking him on both sides.

John cast a final glance at the other mutants in the room. Their hollow eyes reflected the torment they all shared, but there was something different in John's gaze. A sick, twisted grin spread across his face—calm, unnerving, and utterly devoid of fear.

They marched him through the sterile, lifeless corridors, passing guards stationed at every corner. The hum of the machinery felt cold and oppressive, a constant reminder of the twisted experiments that had taken place in this place. Finally, they reached the heavy steel door of the experiment room.

The guards stationed there exchanged uneasy glances. Something wasn't right. Mutants brought to this room were always screaming, thrashing, begging for mercy. But John? He was unnervingly quiet. Almost as if he had accepted his fate... or had something far worse planned.

Despite their unease, the guards opened the door, allowing John and the soldiers to enter.

Inside, Dr. White was engrossed in a conversation with his assistant. The sterile room, suffocating with the stench of antiseptic, seemed to close in around them. Everything about this place screamed death—clinical, cold, and devoid of humanity.

When Dr. White turned to see John, his eyes narrowed. John's demeanor was unlike anything he had ever seen—gone was the broken, obedient subject he had tortured and experimented on for months. Instead, there was a chilling, calculated defiance in his eyes.

Dr. White's lips curled into a smirk, masking his unease. "What's this, John?" he sneered. "No screaming? No begging to be spared? Are you finally learning your place?"

John's gaze never wavered, his eyes empty of the despair they had once held. Instead, they burned with a terrifying, unnatural intensity.

Dr. White felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He had reduced John to nothing—broken him, tortured him, pushed him to his limits. But now, he saw something entirely new. Something monstrous. This was no longer the subject he had control over; John was something else entirely.

"You see, Doctor," John spoke, his voice unsettlingly calm as the guards released him. He straightened, his posture one of defiance, a stark contrast to the broken man Dr. White had once known. "I'm not your puppet."

Dr. White's face twisted with fury and confusion. "What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice rising as he glared at the soldiers who had dared to let John go.

The tension in the room snapped like a live wire. The other four guards immediately raised their rifles, their barrels aimed squarely at John and the two guards who had brought him in. The air was thick with anticipation, each breath heavier than the last.

John's grin widened—a predator's grin. "I told you, Doctor," his voice dropped to a venomous hiss. "I will kill you all."

It wasn't just a threat. It was a promise. A promise that made Dr. White's blood run cold.

Without warning, the guard behind John vanished into thin air, as though he had never existed. The four soldiers nearest to him fell to the ground in complete silence, their bodies slumping lifelessly, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. The two guards who had escorted John stepped forward, only to be consumed by clouds of smoke. As the mist cleared, their forms had shifted—each now identical to John.

Now, three Johns stood in the center of the room, their mirrored grins unnervingly synchronized.

Dr. White staggered back, his face pale, his chest tightening. "What... what is this?" he stammered, panic rising in his throat. His mind raced, trying to process the impossible sight before him. Clones? Does John have this power?

"No, no," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "That's not possible. I've been experimenting on him. There's no record of any power like this."

His eyes flicked to the other people in the room. They were just as clueless, just as terrified.

They didn't even attempt to run. The speed and brutal efficiency of the other Johns had paralyzed them with fear. They knew—deep down—they were already dead. There was no escaping the nightmare they were trapped in.

But Dr. White knew better than to waste time trying to understand what was happening. He couldn't afford to think about it. Survival was all that mattered now.

His voice, sharp and commanding, broke the silence. "You! Stop moving!" He pointed toward the camera mounted high on the wall. "There are guards outside this room. You know you can't escape. They've seen this by now."

But even as he spoke, White's hands trembled behind his back. His heart hammered in his chest. The truth was, he knew—if this went wrong, if he failed to control the situation, it would be his last breath.

How could John not see that behind this courageous lion's facade... lay a cowardly pig?

John's voice was calm, but the cruelty in it was palpable. "The ones you're counting on won't come to help you, Doctor," he said, his tone mocking as he leisurely walked around the room, as if he had all the time in the world.

He moved toward the chair—the one where he had been strapped down, tortured, broken over and over. The chair that had been the symbol of his suffering. He placed a hand on its cold, metal surface, letting his fingers graze it as he looked down at the bloodstains that marred its frame.

His voice grew low, full of seething anger, each word laced with malice. "This chair, Doctor... this is where you shattered so many lives. Today, though, it's you who will understand what it feels like."

He nodded toward one of his clones, who moved with terrifying speed. In the blink of an eye, every doctor and nurse in the room who wasn't Dr. White was cut down. The kunai flashed like lightning, slicing through the air with deadly precision, and blood erupted in a torrent from their necks.

The room became a grotesque canvas, crimson splattering the walls, pooling on the floor. The bodies hit the ground, crumpling in unnatural positions, their eyes wide with shock—lifeless in mere seconds.

The doctors and nurses lay scattered across the floor, their bodies lifeless, blood seeping into the cracks of the cold tiles. The air, once sterile and controlled, now reeked of death and fear. Dr. White stood frozen, his mind reeling, unable to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before him. His eyes flickered between the grinning clones of John, knowing with sickening certainty that he would be the last to fall.

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Author's pov

Can anyone guess which world template he got ?

Which character you think.