*Parker's house, night.*
"Peter? Are you sure you don't want to try some?" Aunt May stood in the kitchen, holding a plate of freshly baked pancakes.
"They're banana coconut flavor, with cinnamon and honey. They taste great. You should give them a try, see if you like them."
Uncle Ben chimed in, "May spent two hours making these because she thought you didn't have much of an appetite."
Peter, standing by the door, flipping through the day's newspaper, glanced up. "I already ate, Aunt May, Uncle Ben."
"We didn't see you eating," Uncle Ben said, shaking his head. "Peter, don't tell me you're eating outside every day. If you keep that up, you'll run out of pocket money real fast."
"Maybe I'll start earning my own money."
Peter set down the paper and said, "I'm doing fine, Uncle Ben, no need to worry about me."
Aunt May, however, wasn't convinced. She placed the plate on the table, wiped her hands on her apron, and walked over to Peter. "You've been down lately, Peter. I can tell. You're not one to hide your worries easily."
Taking his hand in hers, she added, "Maybe we can help you."
After a moment of silence, Peter looked up into Aunt May's concerned eyes. "I'm fine."
Though he said the words, Aunt May seemed slightly disappointed.
Even though Peter had only spent a short time with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, their genuine care for him was clear. Still, he couldn't share his problems with them—these were issues they couldn't help with.
Breaking the silence, Uncle Ben stood up and said, "Peter, if school is stressing you out, you could take a couple of days off. I could take you to the Metropolitan Museum. You've mentioned wanting to go before."
"No thanks, Uncle Ben. I'm not in the mood right now."
"Well," Uncle Ben continued, "maybe you think I talk too much, but let me tell you something. Everyone has their strengths and abilities. You might not be the strongest guy, but your mind is amazing, Peter. You've got a gift for science."
"And my talent," Uncle Ben added, smiling, "is sharing life lessons."
He coughed, grabbed a notebook from the chair, and jotted something down. "I have a formula that always works for me, no matter the situation, and I think it'll help you too, Peter."
On the paper, he wrote: **"W/G^p = G^r"**
"With great power comes great responsibility."
Peter fell silent, recognizing the famous line. Why do I feel like I can see death looming over you, Uncle Ben?
"That's not a real formula, Uncle Ben. Did you just make that up?" Peter asked after a moment.
"Of course!" Uncle Ben responded. "I can explain it to you, P stands for—"
Aunt May interrupted him. "Alright, Ben, stop going on about it. I don't know what 'P' stands for, but I'm pretty sure 'G' means 'gag.'"
She patted Peter's shoulder. "Our little Peter needs some rest. My ears are ringing from all this chatter."
Uncle Ben shrugged helplessly. "Okay, maybe I went overboard today."
---
*Upstairs, Peter sat at his desk, browsing the web on his computer.*
The soft hum of Aunt May vacuuming downstairs filled the air.
Typing into Google, Peter searched for keywords: *chemotherapy*, *hospital*, *radioactivity*.
A list of New York hospitals appeared.
After his fight with the Hand, Peter was certain that the alien genes were constantly affecting him. The abnormal embryo inside him was connecting to his organs like cancer cells would. Radiation therapy and chemotherapy could eliminate cancer cells, but they wouldn't stop the alien embryo.
Still, hospitals had the best detection equipment and medicine, tools that might help him inhibit the embryo's growth. At the very least, they could help him understand what mutations were happening inside him.
*NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital.*
After some searching, Peter chose this hospital. It was one of the top facilities in the United States, renowned for its neurosurgery and oncology departments.
Now, he needed to make some money. Everyone knew how exploitative the American healthcare system could be.
He remembered hearing about someone who once went to the hospital for a simple back pain issue. After talking to the doctor for fifteen minutes, he received a bill for $5,670 the next day. Just for touching his back!
Peter wasn't about to let himself get trapped like that.
He stood up and checked the time on the clock. It was just past eleven. There was still time before midnight. He had to wait until Aunt May and Uncle Ben were asleep before heading out.
The hunger in his body was growing, a dangerous signal that he couldn't ignore. Along with that hunger came the feeling of nausea clawing at his throat.
While the alien gene gave him enhanced strength and agility, it was a constant reminder that he had a ticking time bomb inside him. Sooner or later, the alien embryo would break free, and when it did, it would kill him.
To buy time, Peter snacked on some chocolate, hoping the sugar would help.
Finally, after midnight, when the house was quiet, Peter put on a baseball cap and slipped out. He headed towards the most gang-infested parts of the city, his body blending into the shadows.
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