68: Chapter 68 Hydra's Weapons (2)

Early the next morning, Peter and Uncle Ben set off driving the delorean DMC-12, arriving at a container storage yard.

Each box was spray-painted with a bright orange serial number.

The two parked the car and walked into the matrix-like container array.

Peter looked around; there were very few security cameras, with only a scattered few in the corners.

"Which one was it again?" he asked.

"342." Uncle Ben pointed to the end of that row of containers, "Right over there."

They stopped in front of Warehouse No. 342.

That container was no different from the surrounding ones, with a heavy iron lock and a rusty roller shutter.

Uncle Ben squatted down to unlock it, and the roller shutter rattled up, revealing the scene inside—Peter had only one word in his mind: messy.

It was practically the ultimate dream of a hoarder.

Clutter piled up like mountains: men's and women's clothing, computer parts, experimental test tubes, piles and piles of document papers, photographs, furniture, and even a small crib.

"After they passed away, I moved all their things into this storage unit." Uncle Ben walked over to the side of the crib, patted the edge of the bed, "This is yours, you slept in it when you were little."

Peter nodded, his gaze sweeping over the bookshelf.

The books on it were all extremely profound, the kind Reed Richards would read as casual reading.

Most of them were genetics, mixed with a little bit of quantum physics.

The computers were all taken apart, but the hard drives were still intact and looked like they could still be used.

He put away the hard drive, and then looked through the scattered books and documents.

Uncle Ben let him busy himself, walking outside to answer a phone call.

Peter sifted through the piles of documents, finally picking out some materials whose timeline was around his father's college years.

He picked up a few more books that might be useful and walked out of the container.

Uncle Ben was lost in thought staring at a photo album.

Peter leaned over; in the photo album was a picture of little Peter being held by his parents.

"They didn't want to leave in the first place." Uncle Ben's eyes were red, "They hated the very idea of leaving.

Mary always felt something bad would happen, Richard Parker didn't believe it... but she guessed right in the end."

Peter looked at the photo.

The man didn't look like a mad scientist creating monsters, but rather like a gentle husband and a loving father.

He was definitely not a man who created demons.

He had to prove his father's innocence.

"Uncle Ben, I'm done taking things, let's go." he said.

"Good." Uncle Ben closed the photo album and handed it to him, "Show it to Aunt May, she will definitely be pleased."

Peter acknowledged.

Uncle Ben locked the warehouse, and Peter drove home.

As soon as he got home, he locked himself in the Underground Room laboratory and began connecting Richard Parker's old hard drive to his own computer.

The interface was old, and it took a lot of tossing and turning to adapt successfully.

He leaned against the back of the chair, waiting for the data migration to complete.

The files on the screen were copied into his hard drive one by one.

After the migration was complete, he began to browse.

A bunch of college papers, a few email correspondences, and deep in the folders he even dug up some pornographic movies—bad films from the nineties.

Peter almost laughed out loud, but at least he could be sure now that Peter's love for red-haired girls was definitely inherited from his old man.

But eventually, he found what truly mattered: an encrypted file hidden deep in the folders.

It required a password, ten letters, not one more, and only one chance.

Peter tried various combinations: his own name, his mother's maiden name, his birthday, and even tried the name of the German-American scientist who provided the Super Soldier Serum for Captain America.

None of them were right.

In discouragement, he flipped through the old books left by his father and found that Richard Parker liked Charles Dickens.

He tried entering the author's name initials, but it was still wrong.

He leaned back against the chair in discouragement.

His father must have written down the password, right?

This might be his life's work, and he couldn't possibly risk losing it.

Peter's own computer at the Baxter Building had emergency permissions set up so that Johnny Storm or Susan Storm could use it if he wasn't around.

So... he turned to the stack of books and notes brought back from the storage room.

His father began his research on genetic theory in college, which meant that the encrypted file was also created at that time.

The password was likely hidden in these manuscripts.

He picked up the book and flipped through it page by page, trying to find words marked with special attention.

As a result, besides the doodles left from exam cramming, there was nothing.

He threw the textbook aside and looked at the notes instead.

Richard Parker's handwriting was simply a scrawl, looks like this was also inherited.

However, he recorded it extremely meticulously, with formulas piled on top of formulas.

Peter wasn't good at biology, being better at machinery and a bit of chemistry, but he could still understand what his father was trying to create.

That was a basic molecular chain of testosterone, which Richard Parker modified in some way to allow the user to increase muscle mass to three times the original almost instantly.

And this modification was based on a set of gene codes he obtained from spiders.

It seemed the Parker family's fate with spiders was destined from back then.

Peter had seen similar applications before, not the "Venom" monster he ran into, but the green enhancer called "Venom" that Bane used to beat up Batman.

This was precisely the basic prototype Richard Parker played with in his early years.

However, his entire thesis seemed to revolve around this chain; although he gave it up later, no one forgets their first theory.

Just like Peter himself still had a soft spot for the Scanning Adapter to this day, even using its abbreviation as part of his password.

Richard Parker nicknamed this theory—"STR-SPIDER".

Perfect.

Peter spread the notes out next to the keyboard and typed in this string of letters.

The screen flashed, and the encrypted file was unlocked.

Inside were a dozen more folders.

He opened the earliest one in chronological order, dated shortly after his father left college.

Inside were some video files.

Peter clicked on one.

The screen lit up: a laboratory, the tables filled with test tubes and instruments, with a chair in front.

A brown-haired young man walked into the frame—it was Richard Parker, his father.

The voice was startlingly similar to Peter's.

"Day one log.

I joined a private research organization today.

According to regulations, I cannot reveal the name; the risk of being discovered is too high, and the people here take security extremely seriously.

I was introduced to everyone and assigned my own laboratory.

I don't know when I can record the next one, hopefully soon."

The next video was a month later.

"A month has passed since the last log.

I finally know what to do.

To be honest, I am ecstatic; this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to recreate the miracle created by the late Dr. Abraham Erskine many years ago!

I started my research based on the small amount of existing Super Soldier Serum data, mostly handwritten notes.

Unfortunately, the spider serum I designed wasn't the direction Erskine wanted, so I had to abandon that train of thought."

The next video was the next day.

Richard Parker was flushed and was wiping his wet hair with a towel.

"Today I met my partner—" he laughed like a fool, "Mary Fitzpatrick, specializing in gene splicing.

That woman is incredible.

She is my soulmate, red hair, a perfect smile, and that ass!

Oh, that ass!"

Peter rolled his eyes—he really was his biological father.

"I'm not sure how she feels about me, but... ah, I'm so excited!"

A year later.

"Mary found something interesting."

Richard Parker's expression was serious, "Deep in the archives, there is a document ignored by many people.

There is no attributed author, and the content is about how to modify human cells so that they can accept subsequent genetic modifications.

A brilliant manual, the people here have been using it as a guide manual for a long time.

But Mary proposed a different theory—it's not just a guide.

It—"

"Parker? Are you in there?" A woman's voice interrupted him.

"Right here, Mary."

Richard Parker immediately turned off the camera.

A month later.

"Based on the book Mary found, we developed a new formula."

Richard Parker looked exhausted, but still wore a smile, "As just mentioned, we believe the author of that book is none other than Dr. Abraham Erskine himself.

We found the writing style extremely similar; in other words, this book might hide an answer we have been searching for bitterly.

Also, I finally got a date with Mary.

So, not bad."

Nearly another year later, Mary also appeared in the video.

She was sitting next to Richard Parker, both of them looking haggard.

"Things are not looking good."

Richard Parker's voice was hoarse, Peter had never seen his father looking so haggard, "We successfully cracked half of the encoding of the Super Soldier formula and handed it over to Herbert.

I should have listened to you, Mary."

He sighed.

Mary reached out and grasped his palm.

"We made a terrible mistake."

Mary took over, "These people are not what they claim to be.

Colleagues are starting to disappear, and anyone involved in this project is gone.

We plan to leave bright and early tomorrow.

I've already contacted the government to ask for help.

I don't know what's going on next."

The final video was three years later.

The scene was not in a laboratory, but in a warmly decorated living room.

This image pierced into Peter's mind like a sharp sword; he remembered this place, that was his home.

Richard Parker and Mary walked into the frame, looking much older.

Mary was holding a brown-haired toddler in her arms, with a red pacifier in his mouth.

Peter widened his eyes, his fingers touching the screen involuntarily.

That was... little Peter.

Richard Parker and Mary sat down on the sofa in front of the camera.

The little guy bounced around endlessly in Mary's arms, and she managed to steady him with difficulty, smiling while gently rocking him.

Richard Parker smiled at his family, then turned to look at the camera, sighing: "I pray I never have to open this camera again... They found us.

I don't know how they did it, but they really did.

Someone tracked me and Mary for a full week.

They want that formula, I'm quite sure of it.

We perfected it half a year ago, but now... it must never fall into their hands.

We must make sure they never get it."

Mary handed the child into Richard Parker's arms, facing the camera: "We stored all the videos in Richard Parker's old computer, and inside there is also enough evidence pointing to the person we believe is the mastermind behind it all.

We pray that these fall into the right hands, rather than triggering a war that could end human civilization."

The screen darkened.

This was the last video.

Peter cursed under his breath, quickly flipping through the attached materials in the remaining files: deeds, bank statements, photos of a creepy laboratory, and a few photos of a black-haired, bearded man.

All clues pointed to the same person—Herbert Wyndham.