The Hulkbuster strode into the massive warehouse of Weapon X Factory, dragging behind it a thick vibranium gate.
The air inside was thick with the scent of oil and steel. Hundreds of towering metal racks were stacked with all kinds of wooden and iron crates, giving the place a distinctly industrial atmosphere.
With his helmet open, Ethan could clearly see everything before him. In the distance, a dozen or so workers seemed to be checking inventory. When they saw the colossal, red-and-gold armor, they froze in shock, unsure what to do.
But as soon as they recognized the man in the cockpit, everyone exhaled in relief. Quickly, they crowded around, their curiosity drawn toward the massive vibranium gate in his hands.
"Mr. Ethan, thank goodness you're all right!" one worker said excitedly. Whether out of duty or self-preservation, none of them wanted Hydra showing up in this place ever again.
"We all thought that metal monster was an enemy!" another worker added with a nervous laugh.
Behind Ethan, the little robot Helby also caught their attention.
Their eyes turned toward the round-bodied, square-headed little machine, filled with curiosity and awe. Helby looked nothing like the crude robots they'd seen before—it was like something out of a world of future technology.
Sure, Doombots patrolled the wastelands now and then, but for those who lived outside Doctor Doom's territory, such high-tech marvels were practically myths.
"What is that thing? Looks so weird!" one worker asked.
"This is Helby—my robotic assistant."
As Ethan introduced it, Helby spun gracefully through the air, seemingly amused by the workers' curiosity. It projected a cheerful pixel animation, as if waving hello to everyone.
"Store this gate carefully,"Ethan said. "We may need it later."
He set the vibranium gate down gently and signaled for the workers to move it with a forklift.
They followed his orders with utmost seriousness, working efficiently to transport the gate to an open space and wrap it securely in protective cloth.
Ethan glanced at the metal case in his hand containing the Venom sample, gave a few more brief instructions, then left the warehouse once the workers had gone back to their duties. His destination was the prison where the duplicant mutant was being held.
The corridor leading there was wide enough for two trucks to drive side by side—so the Hulkbuster had no trouble passing through.
When the guards at the prison gate saw the red-and-gold giant emerge from around the corner and stop before them, they instantly straightened up and saluted.
The workers hadn't yet received the news, but the guards had—they knew the man inside the armor was the factory's master.
The same guard who had greetedEthan before stepped forward, his movements crisp and efficient. "Sir, the duplicant and everything he's copied are this way."
He was quick and perceptive. When Ethan nodded, the man immediately turned and led the way inside, glancing back occasionally at the towering armor that loomed half a head above him.
"During the two days you were away," the guard said carefully, "we tried using him to copy a few things, but… it didn't go too well."
"Oh?"Ethan's voice came through the armor, calm and even. "Why's that?"
"Well, at first we managed to copy over a dozen helmets without issue. Everything went smoothly. But when we found some of our vibranium reserves and tried to have him copy that… something went wrong."
The guard hesitated, clearly uneasy. He didn't know that Ethan had already returned with a massive supply of vibranium.
"Go on. Relax,"Ethan said softly.
Even if he hadn't brought back that vibranium gate, Ethan wouldn't have blamed him. The duplicant's ability had always been somewhat mysterious—no one really knew what its limits were.
"When the duplicant held the vibranium, he couldn't copy it," the guard admitted. "We even tried… uh, other methods."
His expression grew awkward, as if recalling something unpleasant, but he quickly composed himself and continued, "Later, Dr. Walter from the lab came up with an idea. He melted a small piece of vibranium and made a simple pair of earrings."
"At that point, the mutant could copy them—but the yield wasn't great. After each round of copying, he would…"
By now they had reached the end of the corridor, stopping before a decrepit cell. The dim lighting within made the place feel like an abyss of darkness.
On a large table outside the bars lay more than a dozen Magneto helmets neatly arranged. Beside them sat a box, which the guard opened to reveal dozens of identical pairs of earrings.
"Total weight—about two hundred grams," he reported.
Inside the cell sat a man with a bandaged head, slumped on the cot. His dark eye sockets told of sleepless nights and relentless exhaustion.
No one here felt any sympathy for him.
The guard picked up an iron rod and struck the bars hard, the clang echoing sharply.
The duplicant jerked awake in fright, eyes wide. When he saw who stood outside, terror flooded his face.
He backed into a corner, pressing himself flat against the wall, trembling and drenched in sweat.
Ethan leaned down and whispered something into the guard's ear. The man's eyes widened in disbelief, glancing back at the prisoner in shock and confusion.
Then the two turned and left. The duplicant exhaled shakily and collapsed onto the bed, gasping for air like a drowning man finally breaking the surface.
But before long, footsteps echoed outside the bars again. His face twisted in dread.
Ever since being captured, his life had been pure hell. He was forced to wear a mutant inhibitor every waking moment—and before every copying experiment, the guards would beat him under the excuse of "stimulating" his powers.
All it took was one hit to the head to activate his ability—but these bastards seemed to enjoy it.
A guard approached, carrying a metal tray. The duplicant looked up, his expression sour.
Clang—
The tray slid through the food slot, and without a word, the guard turned and left.
Only when the footsteps faded did the duplicant dare move. He climbed out of bed and peered down at the tray—then his eyes widened.
It was piled high with hot burgers, fries, and other fast food. Normally nothing special—but after days of choking down tasteless mush, this was a feast fit for a king.
But… why were they being nice all of a sudden?
Was this… a last meal?
In ancient times, condemned prisoners were sometimes granted one final meal before execution. The Aztecs, on the other hand, would fatten up their sacrificial victims for a year before killing them.
Sure, this was the wasteland era now—humanitarian customs were long dead—but who knew? Maybe these people were into retro cruelty.
The duplicant, Jamie, frowned nervously. But the gnawing hunger twisting his stomach soon crushed all hesitation. He hadn't eaten in over a day.
He grabbed a burger, took a bite—and his eyes lit up. The juicy meat and crisp vegetables exploded with flavor in his mouth. Tears welled up as he devoured the rest ravenously.
It smells so good.
Visit my patreon for more chapters
Advance 30+ Chapters Available
patreon.com/WhiteDevil7554