For advance/early chapters : p atreon.com/Ritesh_Jadhav0869
The press conference held by Yinsen did not just make waves; it triggered a global tsunami. The quiet, comfortable world that had just gotten used to the idea of benevolent companion robots was suddenly confronted with the terrifying, tangible truth from a horror movie they thought was fiction. New York, a city that had been quiet for a time, once again became the epicenter of a world-shaking event.
The news swept across the globe, and public reaction was a chaotic storm of conflicting emotions. A significant portion of the population, their trust already earned by the gentle heroics of the Baymax units, supported the research. They saw it as a new frontier of medicine, a potential cure for diseases that had plagued humanity for millennia. But an equally vocal portion was gripped by fear, worried that Baymax Medical Technology was simply a new Umbrella Corporation in a friendlier disguise. On the dark fringes of the internet, nihilistic subcultures and doomsday cults began to celebrate, hoping for the release of the T-Virus and the cleansing fire of a zombie apocalypse.
What prevented mass panic was Aidan's brilliant, preemptive public relations strategy. By releasing the Resident Evil films first, he had framed the narrative. He had warned the world of the danger himself, and more importantly, he had announced the existence of an antidote from the very beginning. The reveal was not a leak or a disaster; it was a controlled, scientific announcement. This, combined with a swift and unequivocal statement of support from Tony Stark, helped to stabilize the public's frayed nerves. Now, the world watched and waited, and millions of patients suffering from terminal and genetic illnesses looked to Baymax Medical with a desperate, burning hope.
The world's governments, however, were not so optimistic. Within days, an international coalition, spearheaded by Japan and with the full backing of the United States military, began to exert immense pressure. Their demand was unified and uncompromising: the T-Virus was a biological agent too dangerous to be held in the hands of a single private company and must be surrendered to international oversight.
Baymax Medical was under siege. Yet, it held its ground. The company's immense public prestige, its ironclad alliance with Stark Industries, and its discreet but valuable technology-sharing relationship with S.H.I.E.L.D. formed a powerful defensive wall. Even so, the pressure was immense. The company's global expansion plans, particularly the construction of new humanitarian rescue stations, slowed to a crawl under the weight of political obstruction.
Aidan, watching all of this from his command center on Apex Island, was unbothered. He rejected a lucrative offer from Oscorp to partner on the research without a second thought. The T-Virus was his, and his alone. They don't understand, he thought, watching the political maneuvering with cold amusement. Peace is not maintained by tenderness alone. It is maintained by a promise of tenderness, backed by the threat of absolute annihilation. Baymax was his open hand. They had yet to see the fist he held behind his back.
He arrived at the tavern on a cool evening. The sign, carved into a piece of dark, polished wood, read "Trees and Dark Green." He stepped inside and felt like he had walked into an enchanted forest. The pub was cozy and dimly lit, with living vines snaking around heavy wooden beams and soft, green faerie lights twinkling in the corners. His old film crew was already there, seated at a large round table.
"Aidan!" Bobby Lyle's eyes lit up as he saw him. "Over here!"
Aidan nodded and settled in beside them. Lyle immediately tossed him a cold bottle of beer. "Long time no see, kid. We thought you were too busy changing the world to have time for us mere mortals!"
"I'm really busy," Aidan said with a smile, taking the bottle, "but I can always make time for old friends."
"I heard you were filming here. How's it going?" he asked.
"It's okay," Lyle said, taking a deep drink. "The client this time is a bit stingy, but the pay is still generous."
"Let me tell you," Elsie, the bearded German editor, said, winking at Aidan. "Our dear Motley here met a man online. They're in love!"
"You can't understand the beauty of my soul, you old goat!" Motley, the boisterous Mexican voice actress, shot back with a laugh.
"At least she's not single anymore," Aidan teased, looking at Elsie. "Unlike some people."
The table erupted in laughter. The mood was warm and familiar.
"By the way," Jair, the French special effects artist, asked, his expression turning serious. "Resident Evil… the T-Virus… is it really true?"
The others fell silent, looking at Aidan curiously. They had all seen the news.
"Yes," Aidan said, his tone now sober. "The research is real. But the progress is slow. We've found hope, and I believe we'll have a viable cure for many genetic diseases soon."
"That's… that's great," Jair said, his voice thick with emotion. "My sister… she finally has hope to walk again."
"To hope!" Lyle said, raising his glass. The others followed suit. "Drink! There may be fewer opportunities in the future!"
Before they knew it, hours had passed. The table was littered with empty bottles, and everyone was dizzy with laughter and alcohol. Aidan, in particular, seemed to be completely confused, his head resting on the table.
"Hey, boy, you can't drink enough!" Elsie laughed.
"He's still young," Lyle slurred, a drunken grin on his face. "It doesn't matter, we'll drink him under the table later!" He stood up, a little unsteadily. "Okay, I've paid the bill… Kelsey," he said, turning to the quiet, petite character artist, Kelsey Quan. "Send him back. This is a good opportunity!"
"Okay," she nodded shyly, and came over to help the "drunk" Aidan to his feet.
So, it begins, Aidan thought, his mind perfectly clear behind a carefully constructed drunken stupor. They're testing me. Lyle is pushing Kelsey forward. Let's see how far they're willing to go.
"I'll drink it again…" he muttered, leaning heavily on her.
Outside the tavern, the cool night air did little to sober the group. After hailing a taxi for Kelsey and Aidan, the rest of the crew left one by one.
"The Baymax factory, please," Kelsey said to the driver after helping Aidan into the back seat. She tried to pull his hand out from her chest, where he had conveniently placed it. But after a moment, he was lying on her again, his head nestled against her shoulder, his chest rising and falling with the deep breaths of a man completely passed out. Her figure, though petite, was unexpectedly well-proportioned.
"It's so soft…" Aidan muttered in his "sleep."
Kelsey looked down at the drunk super-genius lying on her, and with a helpless sigh, let him be.
Soon, the taxi arrived at the massive, silent Baymax factory. The automated security gate was closed and locked. "Aidan," she whispered, gently shaking him. "We're here. How do we get in?"
But Aidan seemed to be completely asleep, offering no response. She called his name a few more times, but he was limp and unresponsive. With a sigh of frustration, she paid the driver, who sped off, leaving them alone in front of the imposing gate. She looked around, and when she was about to step forward to inspect the gate's control panel, it slid open automatically with a soft, hydraulic hiss.
She looked left and right, then noticed a small, almost invisible sensor on the gate post. She carefully helped Aidan inside. An open-topped, self-driving tour vehicle glided silently up to them. A calm, female voice emanated from its speakers.
"Mr. Parker, welcome home."
Kelsey froze, a sudden chill running down her spine. She looked from the driverless car to the "unconscious" boy leaning on her, and a terrifying realization began to dawn. She wasn't just escorting a drunk boy home. She was delivering him to a digital ghost that ran his entire, silent empire.