7 Chapter 7: The End of Peaceful Life Part 2

1996, July 18

Malibu, California

Backyard of the Hunter Mansion

------Ray P.O.V--------

As the rain pounds relentlessly outside, the metallic clangs and whirs of machinery intensify, amplifying my growing frustration as I march towards the warehouse, now converted into their makeshift living quarters.

Entering the warehouse, I'm struck by the sight of cutting-edge technology scattered throughout the workshop, each device tirelessly fulfilling its designated task. But my admiration quickly fades as I spot my parents at the heart of it all, engrossed in studying a blue cube atop a nearby table, clipboards in hand.

I stride up to them, swiping the clipboards away with force, my gaze burning with pent-up anger as they register my sudden presence, clearly caught off guard.

"When did you sneak in, son?" my dad inquires, his eyes darting around the room to ensure no equipment is damaged, a gesture that only adds fuel to my simmering rage.

"How would you even know? You've both been holed up in here for a year, completely oblivious to the world outside! And you couldn't even remember my damn birthday!" The words spill from my lips, laced with frustration and disappointment. My mom's expression softens, betraying a hint of remorse, but my dad meets my gaze with a steely indifference, as if my grievances are insignificant.

"We're really sorry we couldn't make it," he says, his voice tinged with regret as he looks at me with a mix of apology and disappointment in his eyes. It's clear they've been preoccupied with something significant.

"What could possibly be more important than your son's birthday?" I respond, the frustration evident in my voice, my emotions beginning to bubble over.

"Your mother's health, son," my father's voice booms suddenly, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. It's as if he's been holding onto this secret for too long, unable to keep it inside any longer.

I'm stunned into silence as his words sink in. My mother, who has always been the epitome of strength and vitality, diagnosed with cancer? It feels like the ground has shifted beneath my feet, leaving me unsteady and uncertain.

My father's gaze softens as he continues, the weight of his words heavy in the air. "Your mother has been fighting this battle for two long years. I've tried everything, exhausted every possible treatment option, but nothing seems to work. Until recently..."

He pauses, his eyes flickering to a small blue stone sitting on the table beside him. It glints softly in the dim light, casting a faint glow that seems to pulse with an otherworldly energy.

"This," he says, reaching out to pick up the stone, cradling it in his palm as if it were the most precious thing in the world, "this could be the answer we've been searching for. It holds a power unlike anything I've ever seen before. A power that could potentially cure your mother's cancer."

As his words sink in, I feel a rush of conflicting emotions wash over me. Guilt for not realizing the extent of my mother's suffering sooner. Anguish at the thought of losing her. And a glimmer of hope, fragile yet persistent, that maybe, just maybe, this mysterious stone could be the miracle we've been praying for.

Without a word, I cross the room and wrap my arms around my mother, holding her tight as if to shield her from the pain and uncertainty that looms over us. Tears stream down my cheeks unchecked, mingling with hers as we cling to each other, drawing strength from our shared embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," I whisper, my voice choked with emotion. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to find a cure for cancer. You're not alone in this fight. We'll get through it together."

Her arms tighten around me, her touch a comforting balm against the rawness of my emotions. "I know you will, sweetheart," she murmurs, her voice filled with quiet determination. "We're a family, and families stick together, no matter what."

As we pull away from each other, wiping away our tears, I feel a renewed sense of purpose stirring within me.

As I turn to look at the table, my eyes are drawn irresistibly to the small blue cube my dad had placed there with such care. It seems to shimmer with an ethereal glow, casting intricate patterns of light across the room. Without conscious thought, I find myself moving toward it, as if pulled by some unseen force.

"Son?" My dad's voice breaks through the haze that has enveloped me, his tone filled with concern. He reaches out a hand, as if to steady me, but I barely register his touch.

I reach out a trembling hand toward the stone, feeling a strange tingling sensation coursing through my veins as my fingers make contact with its smooth surface. It's as if a current of energy passes between us, connecting me to this mysterious artifact in a way I can't quite comprehend.

After the tingling sensation subsided, a surge of repulsion coursed through me as the blue artifact unleashed a powerful energy wave, hurling everything in its path, including my parents and me, skyward. We were propelled three feet into the air, limbs flailing wildly against the force of the blast.

Before my mind could even register the chaos unfolding, gravity reclaimed its hold, and I plummeted earthward, the ground rushing up to meet me with bone-jarring force. My vision blurred, the world spinning, until darkness consumed me in an overwhelming wave.

As consciousness slowly returned, I groaned, struggling to push through the fog in my mind. Blinking away the disorientation, I surveyed the aftermath of the cataclysmic event. The once sturdy warehouse lay in ruins, shattered remnants of its structure strewn across the landscape like a battlefield. Among the debris, scattered pieces of alien technology glinted ominously in the dim light, silent witnesses to the havoc wrought by the artifact's unleashed power.

"Mom! Dad!" My voice cracked with desperation, tears blurring my vision as I scoured the wreckage, my heart pounding with dread.

Reaching the final spot, my worst fears were realized in a scene of unimaginable horror and sorrow. There they lay, my beloved parents, impaled on jagged metal, their lifeless eyes staring into eternity, hands still clasped together in a futile attempt to cling to each other in death.

A gut-wrenching sob tore through me as the weight of guilt and loss consumed my very being. "I... I did this," I whispered hoarsely, my words barely audible over the deafening silence of despair.

Collapsed on the blood-soaked ground, I cradled their lifeless bodies, my cries echoing through the desolation, a symphony of anguish in a world shattered by tragedy.

In the midst of my inconsolable grief, Baymax's gentle touch offered a flicker of solace, but it was a feeble light in the vast darkness of my despair. As the distant wail of sirens drew nearer, heralding the arrival of help too late, I clung to Baymax's embrace, seeking refuge in the only comfort left to me amidst the devastation of my own making.

1996, July 23 

New York city

NYC Burial Site

----------3rd P.O.V.--------

The entire city lay hushed under a somber blanket of silence, its bustling streets deserted as its inhabitants retreated into the sanctity of their homes. Today was not a day for venturing out; today was a day of mourning. The news of the untimely demise of two beloved figures had sent shockwaves rippling through the community, leaving hearts heavy and spirits low. No one dared to brave the downpour outside, the relentless rain serving as a fitting backdrop to the collective grief that enveloped the city.

Amidst the grey skies and the steady patter of raindrops, a solitary gathering took place at the burial site in New York City. Sponsored by the renowned philanthropist Tony Stark, the ceremony was a poignant tribute to the lives lost. Despite the inclement weather, the attendees stood stoically, their faces masked by a mixture of sorrow and reverence. To them, the rain was not an inconvenience but a poignant reminder of the tears shed by a world mourning the loss of these two extraordinary individuals.

As the officiant solemnly recited the final prayers and the earth began to swallow the coffins, a sense of disbelief lingered in the air. How could fate be so cruel as to snatch away two pillars of the community within the span of just five years? It was a question that weighed heavily on the minds of those gathered, a question for which there seemed to be no easy answer.

Yet, amidst the solemnity of the occasion, another concern gnawed at the hearts of the mourners – the conspicuous absence of the couple's son, Ray. Despite frantic searches, there was no sign of him anywhere. The absence of their only child left a palpable void in the hearts of Tony and Rhodey, their closest friends and confidants.

As the burial drew to a close, the mourners retreated indoors to grapple with the harsh realities of the aftermath. Discussions turned to matters of inheritance, a painful reminder of the gaping hole left by the departed. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was agreed unanimously that Ray, as the sole heir and the only one capable of shouldering the responsibility, would inherit the family legacy.

With heavy hearts and a sense of foreboding, Tony set out alone in search of his missing friend. The streets blurred past as he navigated the rain-soaked city, his mind consumed by thoughts of Ray's whereabouts. It was during this solitary journey that he chanced upon a familiar sight – a dimly lit bar nestled in a quiet corner, with Ray's motorcycle parked conspicuously outside. A flicker of hope ignited within Tony's heart as he braced himself to confront whatever truths lay within.

-----------Tony P.O.V-------------

As I stepped into the dimly lit bar, my eyes immediately found Ray, slumped over the counter in a state of drunken stupor. It was a jarring sight, one that I never expected to witness, especially from someone like Ray, who prided himself on his abstinence from alcohol. He always considered drinking to be a foolish act, one that dulled the mind and led to debilitating hangovers.

Sitting down next to him, I couldn't help but reflect on the irony of our situation, how our roles had reversed since the events of five years ago. Back then, it was me who sought solace in alcohol, using it as a crutch to numb the pain of my parents. Now, however, it was Ray who seemed to be struggling, seeking refuge in the very thing he had once condemned.

As I watched him, a mixture of concern and empathy washed over me. I understood all too well the demons that could drive a person to seek solace in alcohol. Despite the initial amusement at the role reversal, I knew that this was no laughing matter. Ray needed my support now more than ever, and it was up to me to be there for him, just as he had been there for me in my darkest moments.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed aside any lingering amusement and resolved to confront the situation head-on. I couldn't stand by and watch my friend spiral out of control.

As my focus returned to Ray, I observed as his hand stretched towards the bottle of alcohol perched on the top shelf. The bottle trembled for a moment before flying off the shelf, heading straight for Ray. However, to his surprise, it sailed past him, crashing into the wall behind us.

"That would be a cool power if you learned how to control it," I mused, recalling how Ray had once confided in me about the accident that had granted him these abilities but also shattered his world.

"I don't want these powers. What am I going to do with this?" Ray questioned, his hand trembling slightly, a visible manifestation of the mental trauma he endured.

"What are you going to do from now on?" I asked, the question weighing heavily on my mind since witnessing his power.

"I will first fulfill the promise I made to my mom, and then I am going to find something that makes me sleep at night," Ray replied, taking another shot of alcohol as if to drown himself in his thoughts.

"If you need any help, just let me know," I offered, ready to provide whatever support he needed to navigate this new chapter of his life.

After our discussion, we sat in silence, drinking to our hearts' content. Sometimes, silence was the best comfort, and besides, if we got too drunk, I could always rely on Happy to take us home. It's not like I had any work to do; Pepper would take care of it.

-------3rd P.O.V.-----------

As the initial shock and grief surrounding the deaths of Mason and Mia Hunter began to subside, Ray retreated into solitude for an entire year. However, when he emerged, he stunned the world with groundbreaking news: he had discovered the cure for cancer. Ray wasted no time in sharing his revolutionary findings and formulas with hospitals worldwide. In the eyes of the public, Ray transformed from a grieving son to a revered saint, hailed as a hero whose name would forever be etched alongside the greatest scientists in history. The media buzzed with stories of the countless lives saved by Ray's groundbreaking drug, and accolades poured in from scientists praising his innovative formula.

But amidst the accolades and acclaim, Ray remained indifferent. His sole focus was on fulfilling his mother's dying wishes, a task he had accomplished with unwavering determination.

Yet, as the euphoria over the cancer cure continued to captivate the world, another piece of news suddenly erupted: Ray Hunter had become a playboy. However, unlike Tony Stark, who was notorious for his extravagant parties and penchant for shirking responsibilities, Ray's approach was different. Despite his newfound reputation, Ray remained a diligent worker, excelling in his professional duties without fail. His playboy persona manifested in his inability to spend nights alone, seeking solace in the arms of different women each week in a bid to avoid attachment.

Surprisingly, this revelation did little to diminish the public's adoration for Ray. His unwavering dedication to his work overshadowed his personal choices, and he continued to be revered as a brilliant scientist and a compassionate individual. Despite his unconventional lifestyle, Ray's commitment to his work ensured that his legacy remained untarnished in the eyes of the world.

Meanwhile while that was going on,

In the heart of the Triskelion, the imposing headquarters of the most clandestine organization known to man, S.H.I.E.L.D, a tense atmosphere permeated the highest office. A white man, clad in a crisp suit, stood rigidly, holding a report in his hand. Across from him, a black man, distinguished by his trenchcoat and eyepatch, gazed out the window with a steely resolve.

"Director Fury," the white man began, his voice measured but tinged with urgency, "it has been confirmed that the tesseract has affected Ray Hunter, how should we deal with this?"

Nick Fury, his singular eye fixed on the skyline, nodded imperceptibly, his mind already calculating the ramifications of this latest development. "well, this is troublesome" he replied, his voice low but brimming with determination. "leave this matter for now, none of our agents are skilled enough to infiltrate yet, just focus on keeping the tesseract safe and we will deal with this matter later "

With a terse nod, the white man acknowledged Fury's directive and swiftly left the room to carry out his orders. Left alone with his thoughts, Fury turned back to the window, his expression unreadable as he contemplated how he's candidates for his team is growing more

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the tranquil shore of a remote island, an old man with a mysterious past reclined in his beach chair, soaking in the serene vista before him. His weathered face bore the weight of countless years, yet his eyes sparkled with a wisdom that belied his age.

"I'm sorry, lad," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret, "but this is the path you must tread to restore the balance of Earth and guide our many heroes."

A pang of sympathy resonated in his voice as he spoke, his gaze shifting momentarily to two figures frolicking in the crystal-clear waters nearby. Despite the gravity of his words, a soft smile played across his lips as he watched the carefree pair reveling in the simple joys of life.

"But don't worry," he continued, his tone reassured, "I've made sure your parents are having a grand time." His eyes flickered with a hint of mischief as he observed the woman with silver hair, radiating timeless beauty, and the man with chiseled features and a physique honed by years of dedication.

"I trust you'll fulfill the mission, my friend," the old man concluded, his voice laced with hope as he closed his eyes, content in the knowledge that the fate of the world rested in capable hands. With a deep breath, he surrendered to the embrace of sleep, knowing that destiny would unfold as it was meant to.

Volume 1 end