5 Chapter 5: Uncle Ben's Universal Formula

The Parker household, nighttime.

"Peter? Are you sure you won't try some?" Aunt May stood in the kitchen, holding a tray of freshly baked pancakes.

"They're banana-coconut flavored, with cinnamon and honey. They taste really good, maybe you should give them a try to see if you like them," Uncle Ben chimed in.

Peter, who was standing by the hallway closet flipping through today's newspaper, looked up at Aunt May and Uncle Ben after hearing their words. "I've already eaten, Aunt May, Uncle Ben."

"We didn't see you eat anything," Uncle Ben shook his head. "Peter, don't tell me you ate out. If you keep eating out every day, your allowance won't be enough."

"Maybe I can earn my own money," Peter replied, setting the newspaper down. "I've been doing fine, Uncle Ben, so don't worry about me."

Aunt May disagreed with Peter's words. She placed the tray on the table, wiped her hands with her apron, and walked over to Peter.

"Your mood has been low lately, I can feel it, Peter. You're not the type to keep things bottled up," she said, holding Peter's hand. "Maybe we can help you."

After a moment of silence, Peter lifted his head and met Aunt May's concerned gaze. "I'm fine."

In the end, he uttered the words that slightly disappointed Aunt May.

Although Peter hadn't been spending much time with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, he could still sense their genuine care and concern for him.

But the problem he was facing was not something they could solve.

Uncle Ben, sitting at the table, broke the silence in the room.

He stood up and addressed Peter, "Peter, if you're not adjusting well at school, you could try taking a couple of days off. Maybe I can take you to the Metropolitan Museum, as you mentioned before. Remember you wanted to experience that?"

"No, thanks, Uncle Ben." Peter shook his head, declining. "I'm not interested at the moment."

"Well, perhaps you think I'm being preachy, but I still want to tell you, Peter, you don't have to fret about it. Everyone has strengths and weaknesses; you may not be a physically strong lad, but you have a sharp mind, you excel in science."

"And my talent is delivering long-winded sermons," Uncle Ben added solemnly.

And with a cough, he reached for a notebook from the chair beside the couch. "I know a formula that always holds true for me, regardless of the situation. I believe it might apply to you too, Peter."

As he spoke, he wrote down a formula on the notebook: "W/G^p==G^r"

"The greater the ability, the greater the responsibility," he explained.

Peter remained silent upon hearing Uncle Ben's famous line.

"..."

'Why do I sense an air of doom around you, Uncle Ben?' Peter thought to himself and sighed.

"There's no such formula, Uncle Ben. Did you make it up yourself?"

After a pause, Peter looked up at Uncle Ben and asked.

"Of course not, I can explain the meaning of the symbols to you, like P represents—"

Before Uncle Ben could finish his sentence, Aunt May interrupted him.

"Alright, Ben, no need for a lengthy lecture. I don't know what P represents, but I know 'G' probably stands for 'Goofy.'"

Aunt May walked over, giving her husband a stern look and patting Peter's shoulder. "Our little Peter might need some rest. My ears are ringing from all this talk."

Being thwarted by his wife, Uncle Ben shrugged helplessly. "Well, maybe I've been a bit too verbose today."

Having dealt with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, Peter sat at his desk, browsing the web on his computer.

Downstairs, there was the faint buzzing sound of Aunt May using the vacuum cleaner to clean the floors.

Chemotherapy, hospitals, radiation.

Peter typed on the keyboard, entering keywords into Google, and all the information about New York-related hospitals popped up.

After the battle with the Hand, he was certain that the alien genes were constantly affecting him.

The alien placenta would attach to his organs like cancer cells.

Radiation therapy and chemotherapy could remove cancer cells, but they wouldn't have any effect on the alien embryo.

Although the medications couldn't help suppress the embryo's development, at least he needed to find out what mutation was happening inside his body.

"New York Presbyterian Hospital."

After some searching, Peter settled on a hospital.

This hospital was one of the top medical systems in the United States, with its neurosurgery and oncology departments consistently ranking among the best in the country. Many presidents and officials had received treatment there.

The next step was to come up with some money.

As everyone knows, the American healthcare system has always been the most expensive.

He had previously heard of a "treatment run" who went to the hospital for a backache. The dedicated and kind doctor only spent fifteen minutes chatting with him before politely escorting him out. The next day, the "treatment run" received a bill for $5670.

So much so that the "treatment run" was puzzled: is a simple touch worth $5670?!

It should be noted that many experienced technical workers in the United States earn only about $1000 a week.

When the doctor saw everyone's confusion, he wrote a sentence on the bill: "Touching, $10; Knowing where to touch, $5660."

"Treatment run" :)

Back to the money issue.

For a law-abiding citizen, acquiring a sum of money for public service might take some time.

But for someone like him who arbitrarily tramples on rules, making money should be the easiest thing.

Standing up, Peter glanced at the clock on the wall, ticking away.

The hour hand pointed to eleven, with some time left before midnight.

He needed to wait until Aunt May and Uncle Ben were asleep before he could move.

A wave of hunger swept through his body, a danger signal his body was sending him.

Accompanied by a feeling of nausea in his throat.

Although the fusion of alien genes endowed him with physical qualities beyond ordinary humans, the discomfort in his body reminded him.

He had a sword of Damocles hanging over his head, ready to fall at any moment.

And once it fell, it would mean death by "breaking the chest."

While waiting for time to pass, Peter ate a bit of chocolate, ingesting a tiny amount of energy.

Only after midnight, when Aunt May and Uncle Ben were both asleep, did Peter begin to act.

Putting on a baseball cap he grabbed from the cabinet, Peter quickly entered the neighborhood known for being the most rampant with gangs in his memory.

In the thick darkness of the night, his body almost blended into the blackness.

...