RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
Ohh, yeah, that pun in the name is what made me start reading the story.
Taylor Made Venom(Worm/Spider-man)
- Thread starter Storm0fCrows
- Start date
- Location
- Neptune
He means the other QA.
The real story is that Reed Richards was still fucking up around the multiverse.
That guy once you look past his team does nothing but attract trouble.
One of the greatest minds around does he make the desert bloom? Does he solve human hunger?
Canon Richards is always doing something/experimenting on something he shouldn't and attracting trouble.
Prof. Haywire is dead and the sun shines brighter for it.
Between Venom and Haywire the symbiote is the same one.
That guy once you look past his team does nothing but attract trouble.
One of the greatest minds around does he make the desert bloom? Does he solve human hunger?
Canon Richards is always doing something/experimenting on something he shouldn't and attracting trouble.
Prof. Haywire is dead and the sun shines brighter for it.
Between Venom and Haywire the symbiote is the same one.
Mania 1.4
- Location
- Rhode Island
Mania 1.4
The commute to Winslow is boring. Nothing of note ever truly happens on route to hell. It takes a few bus rides to get to the worst high school in the East Coast almost two years running! It would make us laugh if it weren't so fucking sad. Dad once said that Winslow was the premier high school when he was growing up… but the only time I ever heard him say that was when Emma didn't have high enough marks to get into Arcadia, Clarendon, or Immaculata… so he may have been lying.
Brockton Bay's public transportation system as a whole is sort of a mixed bag. Buses closer to the tourist heavy areas and the financial district are in good enough shape shape, but the farther you go from that little closed circuit the more noticeable the disrepair becomes… like the bus we am currently sitting on. This kind of bus was designed with air conditioning, which doesn't serve much of a purpose in mid-February. However, even with the AC they still stink from the summer and even the chemical stench that the Transport Authority has the gall to call air freshener does little to hide the all too human odor that clung to the bus.
We seriously wish that we could swing all the way to Winslow but any sudden and unexplained change in routine could alert certain people that something was wrong.
For Example, the Terrible Trio had their hanger-ons watch me since I returned to Winslow. Cassandra Burdick takes the same bus route as me and usually tries to stick to my right side. This might be due an incorrect belief that the coat hanger damaged my vision, or to feel proud of herself for being partially responsible for permanently scarring a fifteen year old.
There's nothing about Cassandra that is especially outstanding. Her hair is coppery blonde with blue eyes and quite a few freckles. She is on the school's track team and a bit of gymnast so she is slim and athletic. To most people she was… sweet, not in the way Madison pretends to be; not a fake kind of niceness,.. just hidden… but she liked to rebel. Her stepfather is a cop, not a nice man nor was he pleasant one, but not dirty cop, which made him better than most of Brockton Bay's police officers.
That isn't to say she isn't a horrible person just because she isn't a total bitch. She willfully helps Sophia with her pranks, looks away whenever the Trio try to dig into me, keeps quiet about the around the clock abuse her cabal like to dish out, and has a Charlie horse competition with Sophia whenever I walked down the halls. It's sad that a decent cop's reputation will suffer for his brat's need for acceptance, but for all we know he helped them hush it up.
So we will live with the consequences of our actions quite well… or as one of my other's previous set memories likes to say: "The die is cast!" I almost chuckle at my own thoughts. I don't know how a power that was born from me can be so creative with these characters.
We brush our thoughts away from the long term plan and turn our attention to immediatelyconcerns… like the seventy pounds of fur, muscle, and another hundred- fifty of symbiote that was munching on a chocolate bar in my room.
Dad has never been particularly partial to dogs and according to him it was all mom's fault. Apparently my grandfather, mom's dad, had a few dogs around the house, hunting dogs to be precise. The way mom used to tell it dad said something to piss off her father and to make long story short he set his dogs on dad while mom sat at the dinner table laughing. Either way, it didn't seem like dad would be very happy keeping dog, especially such a big one.
"Leave that to me, Taylor." My other tenderly hissed in my mother's voice, I could feel it rubbing its head against our cheek. "I have ways of making him see things from our… point of view." There's a certain hunger in those words that almost makes me shiver but I trust that my other won't go against my wishes and hurt dad. It's my power after all.
When the bus finally comes to a screeching stop we are the first to stand and exit vehicle. We relish in the relatively fresh Brockton air. Cassandra is hot on my heels but we manage to lose her as soon as we mix with a crowd of student's heading in the same direction. Good thing too, 'cause I'm not entirely certain I can stop my other from overreacting if she dared touch us.
Okay… I'll admit it. We're, no, I'm kind of in a mood but who can blame me?
Valentine's day used to be fun! Emma and I used build pillow forts while our parents went out to dinner. Back then dad wasn't so fucking cold, mom was alive, and the freaking world made some kind of sense!
... And I wasn't alone…
…But then again I'm not alone anymore.
My other is with me and I know that it loves me as much as I love it. I can trust it to protect me and never betray me like Emma did. Being Venom made us complete, two halves of a hole and no matter what happens, whatever the world throws our way we will always be Venom.
The chill doesn't bother us, though I make sure to act like the cold is bothering me, shivering a bitbeneathaheavy Navy blue jacket that my other says its twin used to wear. Our legs are covered by some faded grey baggy pants. We clutch a completely black rucksack close to our body.
Winslow isn't much too look at, it's a pretty stereotypical high school made from concrete and cracked plaster. The years and the budget allotted to the school had not been kind especially since Leviathan had wrecked the shipping industry. There are three guards in old uniforms standing by the door that will look intimidating for the next hour or so before leaving. It is the illusion of security for the few parents that drop off their kids into the bowels of a corrupt and Guilty institution.
It was unfortunate that my first class of the day was with Mr. Gladly. Since it's Valentine's Day he'll definitely put people in pairs and the last thing we want is to do is spend forty minutes paired up with Greg Veder. While Mr. Gladly and half a handful of teachers look at me with pity in their eyes, Greg pushes on with cyberpunk references that he thinks I'm supposed to get because of my haircut. He doesn't do it because he cares, if he did he would be speaking out against our tormentors. Greg is only interested in us because he knows that we are the only person who tolerates his chatter.
Yeah, it isn't pleasant but I've been dealing with this shit for the past few weeks and we know it won't get any better. Whatever the Trio have over the faculty made them do nothing in the face of evil.
The first thing I did once I cross the boundary between the rest of the world and Hell is head straight to my locker. The very same locker where we joined, and like every time I opened it since the incident we can't help but tremble at the storm of emotion it causes my other and I to feel.
Joy, anger, happiness, and revulsion raged within us. A conflict that has become to all too familiar since we first stepped back into this shit show.
This conflict stems from the duality of. On one hand it was the day that I found my other,, but on the other hand… it was the worst day of my life. Our bond is sacred and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, but I can't just forget my trigger. The feeling of desperation coercing through me while bugs slowly ate at my skin and borrowed deep into my body…
We can't stop the shiver that over takes us.
My other knows this and it shows. We installed a small mirror onto the locker's wall to alert us if our enemies ever decided to attack me while I was getting my books. My other's essence leaked from my eyes like smeared mascara as our eyes became consumed in black. We stand there for a minute or two with our head hunched forward close to the locker so that no one would see our face, breathing deeply to get ourselves under control. Once I make sure we look presentable, it's onto the Mr. Gladly's class.
I grab a book, I don't see which one, and slam the locker closed and 'dump' my jacket in its place.
The hall freezes as they all turn towards me, expecting me to throw a tantrum or breakdown. Since I returned people have been looking at me as if I were some kind of bomb waiting to go off… not that it stopped the Trio from harassing me. Madison had been quiet but Emma and Sofia were especially verbal with their displeasure at my return. The faint smell of lavender was hit my nose like a mallet, sending our emotions into frenzy, Emma Barnes had just stepped into the hallway.
"Oh my god, do you think she ever showers?"
"Can she even afford to waste water like that?"
"I don't know." The red haired devil said as she rounded the corner to join her two flunkies. "Why don't we go ask her?"
We don't make it obvious that we are making a retreat, but dealing with Emma is so much harder since our 'spider-sense' begins to tingle and I'm placed on high alert. It grows stronger as I reach the nearest stairwell that will take me to World Issues. I'm almost at the top when we spot the source of the danger and even then we smell her before we see her. It's the smell of hospital soap covering the smell of oil, sweat, and seawater that we have come to associate with my second worst tormenter. Sofia Hess stood at the top the stairs flanked by Cassandra and a very nervous looking Charlotte.
Out of the three of them, we discard Charlotte as a potential hazard. She isn't here because she wants to be. No, Charlotte is, like most other students in Winslow, a coward looking to fit in. She's scared of the trio and doesn't want them to target her. Cassandra on the other hand has a mean shoulder check but won't escalate unless pushed. She'll probably help Sofia shove me down the stairs if it would piss off her dad.
This just puts us at a disadvantage. It would be easy to get one over Sofia with the help of my other and explain it away as luck if she were alone. However, with two athletic teenagers and a witness that would be pressured to testify against me? Those aren't the odds I'm willing to play, and I can't even consider revealing my other.
"Goddammit, Hebert." Cassandra says covering her nose. "You do know what soap is, right?" It's an obvious ploy to get me to look away from Sofia who's looking at us like a cat eyeing a canary. So we don't, instead I keep my glare firmly set on Sofia, daring her to try something.
Unsurprisingly, she does.
She extends her right hand, which is holding a cup of… coffee if I had to make a guess, and proceeds to launch the hot black liquid at me. Side stepping that mess is the easy part. It's making the whole thing look like an accident that's the hard part.
Stumbling isn't natural to us anymore. Our reflexes scream at me to catch ourself by placing another foot in front but I don't. At least until we're past Sophia. Instincts howl, telling me that I shouldn't open ourself to attack like this… but there is a reason that I have to do this. Invisible tendrils had used the shadows to circle my second most hated bully. They all have jagged tips meant spear through her at a moment's notice, and as much as I want to it's impossible to fault my other for its reaction.
The idea to crawl into her room and snuff the bitch's life away is so unbelievably tempting. It would be easy to end her pathetic excuse for a life but it would be too fast and too easy. As unheroic as this sounds, we want to watch her suffer. To make her watch as the world she built for herself be ripped apart piece by piece, and I want her to know that I played a part in that. Not as Venom, not as Felicia, but as Taylor Hebert.
Sophia eyes widen slightly, but by the time her focus shift from the rapidly descending coffee to me we are already past her and greeting Mr. Quinlan with a toothy smile that may as well been showing teeth. The balding math teacher gave me an awkward nod of acknowledgment as he walked past us. We aren't surprised that he ignores Sophia and the mess she created in the stairwell. But at least it's clear that they won't get physical while they know that there's a teacher nearby.
"You should have let me skewer her." My other grumbled as it threaded its fingers with my own. "It would have saved us having to tolerate her continued existence."
'Heroes are supposed to be better than that.' I remind it as we walk. 'Sure, she's Guilty but what can she do against us? Sophia is less than a pebble in our shoe now that we have each other. Why endanger our nascent reputation for her when we can't even prove her crimes?'
A feeling of acceptance flowed through our bond.
Two doors and three sets of vomit green lockerslater and we reachMr. Gladly's classroom just as the bell starts to ring. He doesn't seem to notice, too absorbed chatting with Madison and Julia to start class. We don't like Mr. Gladly very much. He's the youngest teacher in Winslow, twenty-eight in May. He's shorter than us by a good three inches. His completion is pale, which isn't unusual during winter and his hair wavy black. Unlike me, he was sociable and basked in the attention given to him by his adoring suck ups. Without much thought we made our way to my desk, dropping our rucksack on the floor.
The second bell rang and this time Mr. Gladly laughed as he waved away Madison and Julia and moved to begin the class. For a second, Madison and our eyes meet freezing her in place. I don't know if she, unlike Sophia and Emma, can feel our hatred but since I had returned to this cesspool of a school the cutesy little shit flinched whenever we looked at her with the slightest hint of hostility.
Gladly moves to close the door just as Greg manages slip in, like a clumsy eel, and takes his place beside us. Because Mr. Gladly loved to pander to the kids he allowed them to chat for the next five minutes.
"Okay, oaky settle down." Mr. Gladly says as he drags out a large, black TV from the closet. It is missing several of its buttons and its VCR could very well older than me. He stops in the center of the room, right in front of his desk. "I know it's Valentine's Day and you're all ready to mingle with your crushes but, but sadly I have to give class." There was an exaggerated 'Aww' from the class followed by some chuckles. "Tragic, I know but perk up because we're going to be watching a movie." A particularly loud "YES!" from Greg overshadowed the multiple murmured "Thanks, God's" that the other students exhaled under their breaths. While well-liked by the more popular members of the student body, Mr. Gladly wasn't a very engaging teacher when it came to things that held no interest to him.
So far this year that has include ninety percent of the curriculum as we had trekked through the twentieth century to modernity. For some mysterious reason we had yet to talk about the social impacts of Capes and the emergence of Cape culture.
Both of which are incredibly important to fucking World Issues. I sigh, crossing my arms and preparing myself emotionally for what could possibly be the longest fifty minutes of the day. Gladly popped the video cassette into the VCR and stuck a pencil into the whole where the TV's power button should have been, and to my surprise and interest a grainy image of Legend and Hero sitting side by side in an office overlooking New York's Central Park slowly became visible. Hero sat in his latest, and last, set of blue and gold power armor. He's smiling at the camera in response to a joke that Legend had just told him, or at least that's what the interviewers want us to assume.
He had long blond hair that that contrasted his exceedingly tan skin and blue visor covering his eyes. Legend was wearing what people in the know refer to as his 'Golden age' costume. Skin tight with white lighting over blue. His blue domino mask covered the upper part of his face but not his brown hair or the majority of his handsome face.
I could feel wave after wave revulsion coming from my other. "He looks like Parker..." it growls as if that somehow explains were these emotions are coming from.
"The first Endbringer, code named Behemoth, first arose December thirteenth nineteen ninety two in the Khuzestan province in south-western Iran and has been rampaging for the past eight years."
The interviewer spoke in a disinterred tone as images of rampant destruction appeared in a small box between Legend and Hero, over the small glass coffee table. "Wherever it goes destruction and death follow in its wake. Cities that it destroys are inhospitable due to the sheer amount of radiation it produces, and Parahumans are unable to kill the beast. Where, in your opinions, do they come from? Why are they doing this? Is there any hope that we can stop it and its brother? "
Legend put a hand on his chin, making it clear that he was thinking of an answer, but Hero with his iconic charisma jumped in without a second thought. "We at the Protectorate have our suspicions and theories but there isn't a thinker alive that has any one answer that they can give us with a hundred percent certainty. You see every time one of our thinkers concludes something a dozen more come up to dispute their findings. But the current running theory we have is that Behemoth was once a human that through processes currently unknown, willingly or unwillingly, altered their power to the point that it consumed him."
"You honestly believe that monster was a, at one point, a Parahuman?"
"Not in the strictest sense." Hero responded after a beat. "I believe that someone attempted to induce the Corona Pollentia activation and create a Gemma, or make one from scratch."
"So you are of the mind that Behemoth, and by extension Leviathan, are some kind of failed experiment? And the there's no way that this creature can arise naturally? What about monstrous capes or, as the Parahuman Response Team refer to them, 'Case 53's'?"
"Case 53, despite their varied appearance, are humans." Legend interjected before Hero could get a word in. "They are victims of circumstance and no way shape or form should be considered or compared to the Behemoth or Leviathan." He spoke clearly and with the appropriate amount of force to close that line of questioning. "The truth is that we have no idea where these beings came from or even if they were ever human. Case 53's are human and more often than not they are exemplar members of society despite the best efforts of some topaint them as less than."
"I'll say that it is inappropriate for us to comment on the origin of the two 'Endbringers' at this time but what we can say with certainty is that despite the heavy losses that we have suffered at the hands of these creatures the Protectorate stands against them, unified by our humanity. We will not waiver, nor will we allow the innocent to die without fighting these creatures. We will-"
That's the point when we stop listening. I was five the first time this aired and I had watched it dutifully with Mom's arms around me. I know that Legend talks about hope and responsibility for the next twenty minutes and Hero chimes in a few time in an effort to make it look like Legend hadn't just shut him up. They will mention that they are taking steps to develop countermeasures for the Endbringers, but it's been ten years and whatever they were coming up with is either still in development or dead, along with Hero.
XxX
Five classes later and we are sitting at an empty table in the middle of the lunchroom staring at what was supposedly a sloppy Joe. There is a metallic tray that used to be covered with mashed potatoes, greyish gravy, corn, and a chocolate pudding cup on the side. All that remains is the patty composed of an unknown pink substance between two slices of bread that my other has trouble identifying. We had devoured everything but the supposed meat. It wasn't that we are worried that it will poison us, myother can break it down… it's that neither one of us wants to have that inside our body.
"It's partially biological but… I don't know what spawned- she's coming this way."
Looking up from today's mystery meat and refocusing on our surroundings, it's pretty easy to hear Sophia coming up from behind while Cassandra walks towards us. They are the only pretty girls heading this way not flanked by gang prospects. Like always there is something cruel in her eyes that puts us on edge. It's animalistic but at the same time it doesn't worry us because when it comes down to it we are the apex predator in this environment.
It takes every ounce of my restraint not to sigh as Sophia approached that at any moment my other can deal with my bullies in a way that it will never be linked to any of my personas, I know it's true, but that doesn't mean we will. We are going to be a great hero and that means that with great power-
'Don't you DARE finish that thought!'
Okay…
"Blackwell wants to see you, Hebert." Cassandra says mockingly and she looks so fucking pleased playing the messenger for the old crone. "I think she wants to talk about throwing coffee down the stairs." We shoot her a scathing glare before shifting into a smirk. We stood up, always facing Cassandra.
"You have to tell me, Cassie, how does it feel to always be bait?" My other keeps an "eye" on Sophia whose two tables away and grinning. "or the messenger? 'Cause that's pretty much what you are to them." She looks outraged at our implication; questioning friendship gets teenagers up in arms faster than almost any insult. We continue before she cans speak. "They'll get bored of you sooner rather than later, you know. I heard Julia telling Evan about that convict daddy of yours." Bringing up family that's no longer here hurts. Doesn't matter if they're dead or in prison.
Denial.
"Watch it, Hebert." She scoffs. "As much of an attention whore as you are, I didn't peg you for a liar."
"Why would I lie about that?" I say picking up my stuff. "You don't matter enough to me to waste the energy. I was just warning a future pariah-."
Hurt followed by anger.
"Shut the fuck up, Hebert!" She growls while clenching her fists. "Sophia would never let Emma do that!"
It's my turn to scoff. "Look, like I said before; I thought you needed a friendly warning before it happened. Clearly it would have been better to leave you ignorant..." I sling the rucksack over our shoulder. "…and let Emma and Sophia do what they do best." I pat down my clothes as if checking that we hadn't dropped anything.
Sadness.
"You don't know what you're talking about." She insists, her voice wavering ever so slightly. "Sophia is my best friend, you bitch." And yet you're buying what we're selling.
I don't have to fake being insulted by her little comment, I genuinely am. "And I thought Emma was mine."
"Bullshit, Emma-"
"Knows secrets that no one else is supposed to know. Things I never told my own father, but fuck it if you don't deserve each other, Lang" Betrayal flashes, horror dawns across her face and I can't believe how convenient it is to have the memories of investigative journalist in our head. We can see when she starts to rationalize. She's drawing comparisons and not liking what she sees.
It's all moving so quickly that she's stuck in place when Sophia finally reaches my table and strikes.
We move to the side just as her knee is about crash our thigh. It probably would have hurt her more if I hadn't moved. My other would have made sure of that. Sophia's knee made contact with the rubber covered metal grate but surprisingly that doesn't have my complete attention. Her yelp is drowned out my alarmed gasp as I followed a nearly invisible tendril that originated from our butchered hair and is currently loosely coiled around Cassandra's neck.
My other oozed glee while watching Sophia clutch her wounded knee, but I didn't sense any hostility towards Cassandra... well not enough that it would go against my wishes and try to kill someone when we've worked so hard to keep criminals alive.
No, this is something else entirely.
I don't know why it would want to touch- and then I remember exactly what my other said on the bus. "I have ways of making him see things from our… point of view". I know for a fact that teenagers aren't the most rational bunch, but there's just no way that anyone would believe me over their best friend without any real evidence, but… God… we are a Master.
I will the tendril back and make our waypast the quickly amassing students.
'You and I are going to have a very serious talk later.' Blackwell can wait until after we sort out whatever other powers my beloved other has been hiding from me.
'It's not Mastering!' It defends as it perches itself on my shoulder. 'it's thought implanting. Your lie wouldn't have worked unless I gave it a little push.'
'You know that's not what's bothering me!" I almost snarl. We push past the green doors of the lunchroom and into the winding hallways with identical locker on each side of the walls, some tagged and others with a fresh coat of paint. 'You were going to use it on Dad without telling me!'
My other grows quiet and guilt floods our bond. It's almost enough to make me forgive It on the spot.
We pass Ms. Knott's computer room without being noticed by any members of the faculty, and right by the principal's office going similarly unnoticed. From there it's a straight shot to the exit, to find a place where it doesn't feel like we're trapped.
XxX
The Boardwalk is peaceful during winter.
There aren't as many tourists as there are in the summer months, when tourism peaks, and it's a weekday so there aren't as many lovey-dovey couple sucking face and buying expensive jewelry. We're here as Felicia because there is no way that the local guards/muscle would let a scarred kid like me wander around the Boardwalk without either checking my wallet or a calling a truancy officer to come pick us up.
Felicia looks high class, moves like a socialite, and knows what buttons you have to press to get what we want. It's a shame that my other never created memories of bonding with her so we have to mimic it all from an outside perspective. Its not hard but… there's a disconnect between us pretending to be Felicia and… well being Felicia.
…
I know it's not right… and that wanting to be someone else isn't healthy but… it's like reading a good book. It's an escape from a dull reality and a chance to be someone else.
Heh.
It's sad.
We spent so much time wanting to be a hero and now that I am one I want to wear a mask all the time. As Taylor, I have no friends, no home in a few years' time, when I'm out of Winslow, but that doesn't really help us now.
But enough, we can't spend the day throwing a pity party.
The Boardwalk is one of the safest places to be in Brockton Bay and best kept since it doesn't strictly rely on the local government for upkeep. Like the Market, visitors and locals can see the PRT ENE Headquarters looming over the city like an ineffective guardian angel.
Nothing much happens in the Boardwalk because no one is stupid enough to piss of both the Protectorate to the East and the neighboring Lung to the West.
*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
Our 'spider'-sense goes wild as an armored green figure soars through the air. It crashes against a guard-rail, denting it before the figure tilts precariously towards the water, nearly falling in. The remains of its gun clatter at my feet while an deafening roar shakes the wooden planks of the Boardwalk. Screams erupt from the Boardwalks sparse occupants as three more explosion draw closer. Another roar confirms that it isn't Lung going up against some newbie cape. It doesn't sound like the Dragon of Kyushu in the slightest. We have seen enough of his bitch fits on the news to know what he sounds like.
We examine the remains of the gun for any clues to see what we're up against and all we can really tell is that it looks advanced enough to be tinkertech, but that's all we can say with any certainty. It's large and thick, about half the size of the green armored guy currently knocked out besides us. The letters BFG are neatly printed on the side.
We're grown up enough to admit when we're wrong. Someone is stupid enough.
Another three explosions detonate close to us sending clouds of debris into the air, providing us cover to change into our more natural form. It's liberating to be back in black after a day of bullshit. Tendrils of our long flowing hair snake around Green's leg and drag him away from danger as we wait for the cloud to disperse and see what we're up against.
Another roar later and we got a clear enough view to know that this is our big break.
Twenty feet tall horned monstrosity stood on the street with its left hand replaced with what could only be a rocket launcher and the other glowed red with what we can assume is some sort of energycanon. It was pinkish and covered in a mix of natural armored scales and machinery that worked like armor. It saw us huddled over the weapon and charged, accelerating faster than what I would expect from a creature of that size.
"Eddie loved this game!" My other chirped happily using our mouth.
'What!? This is from a game!?' Which means that greenie is either Uber or Leet and that this thing is being recorded/broadcasted makes us grin as we crouch down. Our hair becomes jagged like spools of fishing line and our fingers become claws. Small spikes sprout from our joints as we coil our muscles to attack.
"It's time to fight like Hell!" We roar back as we scramble to meet the demon's charge!
XxX
A/N: All praise the BFG!
Okay, now that's out of the way and before anyone tries to crucify me.
Yes, that is Cassie Lang, the adorable ball of Fluff from the Ant-Man movies. Sharp eyes if you noticed that before the Author's Note if not, well did base her off the comic book so there's that. She's gonna play a role like to Kong to Sophia's Flash from the Ultimate universe.
Origins of the Cyberdemon will be revealed next chapter but speculation is always welcome.
Share your thoughts in a review!
The commute to Winslow is boring. Nothing of note ever truly happens on route to hell. It takes a few bus rides to get to the worst high school in the East Coast almost two years running! It would make us laugh if it weren't so fucking sad. Dad once said that Winslow was the premier high school when he was growing up… but the only time I ever heard him say that was when Emma didn't have high enough marks to get into Arcadia, Clarendon, or Immaculata… so he may have been lying.
Brockton Bay's public transportation system as a whole is sort of a mixed bag. Buses closer to the tourist heavy areas and the financial district are in good enough shape shape, but the farther you go from that little closed circuit the more noticeable the disrepair becomes… like the bus we am currently sitting on. This kind of bus was designed with air conditioning, which doesn't serve much of a purpose in mid-February. However, even with the AC they still stink from the summer and even the chemical stench that the Transport Authority has the gall to call air freshener does little to hide the all too human odor that clung to the bus.
We seriously wish that we could swing all the way to Winslow but any sudden and unexplained change in routine could alert certain people that something was wrong.
For Example, the Terrible Trio had their hanger-ons watch me since I returned to Winslow. Cassandra Burdick takes the same bus route as me and usually tries to stick to my right side. This might be due an incorrect belief that the coat hanger damaged my vision, or to feel proud of herself for being partially responsible for permanently scarring a fifteen year old.
There's nothing about Cassandra that is especially outstanding. Her hair is coppery blonde with blue eyes and quite a few freckles. She is on the school's track team and a bit of gymnast so she is slim and athletic. To most people she was… sweet, not in the way Madison pretends to be; not a fake kind of niceness,.. just hidden… but she liked to rebel. Her stepfather is a cop, not a nice man nor was he pleasant one, but not dirty cop, which made him better than most of Brockton Bay's police officers.
That isn't to say she isn't a horrible person just because she isn't a total bitch. She willfully helps Sophia with her pranks, looks away whenever the Trio try to dig into me, keeps quiet about the around the clock abuse her cabal like to dish out, and has a Charlie horse competition with Sophia whenever I walked down the halls. It's sad that a decent cop's reputation will suffer for his brat's need for acceptance, but for all we know he helped them hush it up.
So we will live with the consequences of our actions quite well… or as one of my other's previous set memories likes to say: "The die is cast!" I almost chuckle at my own thoughts. I don't know how a power that was born from me can be so creative with these characters.
We brush our thoughts away from the long term plan and turn our attention to immediatelyconcerns… like the seventy pounds of fur, muscle, and another hundred- fifty of symbiote that was munching on a chocolate bar in my room.
Dad has never been particularly partial to dogs and according to him it was all mom's fault. Apparently my grandfather, mom's dad, had a few dogs around the house, hunting dogs to be precise. The way mom used to tell it dad said something to piss off her father and to make long story short he set his dogs on dad while mom sat at the dinner table laughing. Either way, it didn't seem like dad would be very happy keeping dog, especially such a big one.
"Leave that to me, Taylor." My other tenderly hissed in my mother's voice, I could feel it rubbing its head against our cheek. "I have ways of making him see things from our… point of view." There's a certain hunger in those words that almost makes me shiver but I trust that my other won't go against my wishes and hurt dad. It's my power after all.
When the bus finally comes to a screeching stop we are the first to stand and exit vehicle. We relish in the relatively fresh Brockton air. Cassandra is hot on my heels but we manage to lose her as soon as we mix with a crowd of student's heading in the same direction. Good thing too, 'cause I'm not entirely certain I can stop my other from overreacting if she dared touch us.
Okay… I'll admit it. We're, no, I'm kind of in a mood but who can blame me?
Valentine's day used to be fun! Emma and I used build pillow forts while our parents went out to dinner. Back then dad wasn't so fucking cold, mom was alive, and the freaking world made some kind of sense!
... And I wasn't alone…
…But then again I'm not alone anymore.
My other is with me and I know that it loves me as much as I love it. I can trust it to protect me and never betray me like Emma did. Being Venom made us complete, two halves of a hole and no matter what happens, whatever the world throws our way we will always be Venom.
The chill doesn't bother us, though I make sure to act like the cold is bothering me, shivering a bitbeneathaheavy Navy blue jacket that my other says its twin used to wear. Our legs are covered by some faded grey baggy pants. We clutch a completely black rucksack close to our body.
Winslow isn't much too look at, it's a pretty stereotypical high school made from concrete and cracked plaster. The years and the budget allotted to the school had not been kind especially since Leviathan had wrecked the shipping industry. There are three guards in old uniforms standing by the door that will look intimidating for the next hour or so before leaving. It is the illusion of security for the few parents that drop off their kids into the bowels of a corrupt and Guilty institution.
It was unfortunate that my first class of the day was with Mr. Gladly. Since it's Valentine's Day he'll definitely put people in pairs and the last thing we want is to do is spend forty minutes paired up with Greg Veder. While Mr. Gladly and half a handful of teachers look at me with pity in their eyes, Greg pushes on with cyberpunk references that he thinks I'm supposed to get because of my haircut. He doesn't do it because he cares, if he did he would be speaking out against our tormentors. Greg is only interested in us because he knows that we are the only person who tolerates his chatter.
Yeah, it isn't pleasant but I've been dealing with this shit for the past few weeks and we know it won't get any better. Whatever the Trio have over the faculty made them do nothing in the face of evil.
The first thing I did once I cross the boundary between the rest of the world and Hell is head straight to my locker. The very same locker where we joined, and like every time I opened it since the incident we can't help but tremble at the storm of emotion it causes my other and I to feel.
Joy, anger, happiness, and revulsion raged within us. A conflict that has become to all too familiar since we first stepped back into this shit show.
This conflict stems from the duality of. On one hand it was the day that I found my other,, but on the other hand… it was the worst day of my life. Our bond is sacred and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, but I can't just forget my trigger. The feeling of desperation coercing through me while bugs slowly ate at my skin and borrowed deep into my body…
We can't stop the shiver that over takes us.
My other knows this and it shows. We installed a small mirror onto the locker's wall to alert us if our enemies ever decided to attack me while I was getting my books. My other's essence leaked from my eyes like smeared mascara as our eyes became consumed in black. We stand there for a minute or two with our head hunched forward close to the locker so that no one would see our face, breathing deeply to get ourselves under control. Once I make sure we look presentable, it's onto the Mr. Gladly's class.
I grab a book, I don't see which one, and slam the locker closed and 'dump' my jacket in its place.
The hall freezes as they all turn towards me, expecting me to throw a tantrum or breakdown. Since I returned people have been looking at me as if I were some kind of bomb waiting to go off… not that it stopped the Trio from harassing me. Madison had been quiet but Emma and Sofia were especially verbal with their displeasure at my return. The faint smell of lavender was hit my nose like a mallet, sending our emotions into frenzy, Emma Barnes had just stepped into the hallway.
"Oh my god, do you think she ever showers?"
"Can she even afford to waste water like that?"
"I don't know." The red haired devil said as she rounded the corner to join her two flunkies. "Why don't we go ask her?"
We don't make it obvious that we are making a retreat, but dealing with Emma is so much harder since our 'spider-sense' begins to tingle and I'm placed on high alert. It grows stronger as I reach the nearest stairwell that will take me to World Issues. I'm almost at the top when we spot the source of the danger and even then we smell her before we see her. It's the smell of hospital soap covering the smell of oil, sweat, and seawater that we have come to associate with my second worst tormenter. Sofia Hess stood at the top the stairs flanked by Cassandra and a very nervous looking Charlotte.
Out of the three of them, we discard Charlotte as a potential hazard. She isn't here because she wants to be. No, Charlotte is, like most other students in Winslow, a coward looking to fit in. She's scared of the trio and doesn't want them to target her. Cassandra on the other hand has a mean shoulder check but won't escalate unless pushed. She'll probably help Sofia shove me down the stairs if it would piss off her dad.
This just puts us at a disadvantage. It would be easy to get one over Sofia with the help of my other and explain it away as luck if she were alone. However, with two athletic teenagers and a witness that would be pressured to testify against me? Those aren't the odds I'm willing to play, and I can't even consider revealing my other.
"Goddammit, Hebert." Cassandra says covering her nose. "You do know what soap is, right?" It's an obvious ploy to get me to look away from Sofia who's looking at us like a cat eyeing a canary. So we don't, instead I keep my glare firmly set on Sofia, daring her to try something.
Unsurprisingly, she does.
She extends her right hand, which is holding a cup of… coffee if I had to make a guess, and proceeds to launch the hot black liquid at me. Side stepping that mess is the easy part. It's making the whole thing look like an accident that's the hard part.
Stumbling isn't natural to us anymore. Our reflexes scream at me to catch ourself by placing another foot in front but I don't. At least until we're past Sophia. Instincts howl, telling me that I shouldn't open ourself to attack like this… but there is a reason that I have to do this. Invisible tendrils had used the shadows to circle my second most hated bully. They all have jagged tips meant spear through her at a moment's notice, and as much as I want to it's impossible to fault my other for its reaction.
The idea to crawl into her room and snuff the bitch's life away is so unbelievably tempting. It would be easy to end her pathetic excuse for a life but it would be too fast and too easy. As unheroic as this sounds, we want to watch her suffer. To make her watch as the world she built for herself be ripped apart piece by piece, and I want her to know that I played a part in that. Not as Venom, not as Felicia, but as Taylor Hebert.
Sophia eyes widen slightly, but by the time her focus shift from the rapidly descending coffee to me we are already past her and greeting Mr. Quinlan with a toothy smile that may as well been showing teeth. The balding math teacher gave me an awkward nod of acknowledgment as he walked past us. We aren't surprised that he ignores Sophia and the mess she created in the stairwell. But at least it's clear that they won't get physical while they know that there's a teacher nearby.
"You should have let me skewer her." My other grumbled as it threaded its fingers with my own. "It would have saved us having to tolerate her continued existence."
'Heroes are supposed to be better than that.' I remind it as we walk. 'Sure, she's Guilty but what can she do against us? Sophia is less than a pebble in our shoe now that we have each other. Why endanger our nascent reputation for her when we can't even prove her crimes?'
A feeling of acceptance flowed through our bond.
Two doors and three sets of vomit green lockerslater and we reachMr. Gladly's classroom just as the bell starts to ring. He doesn't seem to notice, too absorbed chatting with Madison and Julia to start class. We don't like Mr. Gladly very much. He's the youngest teacher in Winslow, twenty-eight in May. He's shorter than us by a good three inches. His completion is pale, which isn't unusual during winter and his hair wavy black. Unlike me, he was sociable and basked in the attention given to him by his adoring suck ups. Without much thought we made our way to my desk, dropping our rucksack on the floor.
The second bell rang and this time Mr. Gladly laughed as he waved away Madison and Julia and moved to begin the class. For a second, Madison and our eyes meet freezing her in place. I don't know if she, unlike Sophia and Emma, can feel our hatred but since I had returned to this cesspool of a school the cutesy little shit flinched whenever we looked at her with the slightest hint of hostility.
Gladly moves to close the door just as Greg manages slip in, like a clumsy eel, and takes his place beside us. Because Mr. Gladly loved to pander to the kids he allowed them to chat for the next five minutes.
"Okay, oaky settle down." Mr. Gladly says as he drags out a large, black TV from the closet. It is missing several of its buttons and its VCR could very well older than me. He stops in the center of the room, right in front of his desk. "I know it's Valentine's Day and you're all ready to mingle with your crushes but, but sadly I have to give class." There was an exaggerated 'Aww' from the class followed by some chuckles. "Tragic, I know but perk up because we're going to be watching a movie." A particularly loud "YES!" from Greg overshadowed the multiple murmured "Thanks, God's" that the other students exhaled under their breaths. While well-liked by the more popular members of the student body, Mr. Gladly wasn't a very engaging teacher when it came to things that held no interest to him.
So far this year that has include ninety percent of the curriculum as we had trekked through the twentieth century to modernity. For some mysterious reason we had yet to talk about the social impacts of Capes and the emergence of Cape culture.
Both of which are incredibly important to fucking World Issues. I sigh, crossing my arms and preparing myself emotionally for what could possibly be the longest fifty minutes of the day. Gladly popped the video cassette into the VCR and stuck a pencil into the whole where the TV's power button should have been, and to my surprise and interest a grainy image of Legend and Hero sitting side by side in an office overlooking New York's Central Park slowly became visible. Hero sat in his latest, and last, set of blue and gold power armor. He's smiling at the camera in response to a joke that Legend had just told him, or at least that's what the interviewers want us to assume.
He had long blond hair that that contrasted his exceedingly tan skin and blue visor covering his eyes. Legend was wearing what people in the know refer to as his 'Golden age' costume. Skin tight with white lighting over blue. His blue domino mask covered the upper part of his face but not his brown hair or the majority of his handsome face.
I could feel wave after wave revulsion coming from my other. "He looks like Parker..." it growls as if that somehow explains were these emotions are coming from.
"The first Endbringer, code named Behemoth, first arose December thirteenth nineteen ninety two in the Khuzestan province in south-western Iran and has been rampaging for the past eight years."
The interviewer spoke in a disinterred tone as images of rampant destruction appeared in a small box between Legend and Hero, over the small glass coffee table. "Wherever it goes destruction and death follow in its wake. Cities that it destroys are inhospitable due to the sheer amount of radiation it produces, and Parahumans are unable to kill the beast. Where, in your opinions, do they come from? Why are they doing this? Is there any hope that we can stop it and its brother? "
Legend put a hand on his chin, making it clear that he was thinking of an answer, but Hero with his iconic charisma jumped in without a second thought. "We at the Protectorate have our suspicions and theories but there isn't a thinker alive that has any one answer that they can give us with a hundred percent certainty. You see every time one of our thinkers concludes something a dozen more come up to dispute their findings. But the current running theory we have is that Behemoth was once a human that through processes currently unknown, willingly or unwillingly, altered their power to the point that it consumed him."
"You honestly believe that monster was a, at one point, a Parahuman?"
"Not in the strictest sense." Hero responded after a beat. "I believe that someone attempted to induce the Corona Pollentia activation and create a Gemma, or make one from scratch."
"So you are of the mind that Behemoth, and by extension Leviathan, are some kind of failed experiment? And the there's no way that this creature can arise naturally? What about monstrous capes or, as the Parahuman Response Team refer to them, 'Case 53's'?"
"Case 53, despite their varied appearance, are humans." Legend interjected before Hero could get a word in. "They are victims of circumstance and no way shape or form should be considered or compared to the Behemoth or Leviathan." He spoke clearly and with the appropriate amount of force to close that line of questioning. "The truth is that we have no idea where these beings came from or even if they were ever human. Case 53's are human and more often than not they are exemplar members of society despite the best efforts of some topaint them as less than."
"I'll say that it is inappropriate for us to comment on the origin of the two 'Endbringers' at this time but what we can say with certainty is that despite the heavy losses that we have suffered at the hands of these creatures the Protectorate stands against them, unified by our humanity. We will not waiver, nor will we allow the innocent to die without fighting these creatures. We will-"
That's the point when we stop listening. I was five the first time this aired and I had watched it dutifully with Mom's arms around me. I know that Legend talks about hope and responsibility for the next twenty minutes and Hero chimes in a few time in an effort to make it look like Legend hadn't just shut him up. They will mention that they are taking steps to develop countermeasures for the Endbringers, but it's been ten years and whatever they were coming up with is either still in development or dead, along with Hero.
XxX
Five classes later and we are sitting at an empty table in the middle of the lunchroom staring at what was supposedly a sloppy Joe. There is a metallic tray that used to be covered with mashed potatoes, greyish gravy, corn, and a chocolate pudding cup on the side. All that remains is the patty composed of an unknown pink substance between two slices of bread that my other has trouble identifying. We had devoured everything but the supposed meat. It wasn't that we are worried that it will poison us, myother can break it down… it's that neither one of us wants to have that inside our body.
"It's partially biological but… I don't know what spawned- she's coming this way."
Looking up from today's mystery meat and refocusing on our surroundings, it's pretty easy to hear Sophia coming up from behind while Cassandra walks towards us. They are the only pretty girls heading this way not flanked by gang prospects. Like always there is something cruel in her eyes that puts us on edge. It's animalistic but at the same time it doesn't worry us because when it comes down to it we are the apex predator in this environment.
It takes every ounce of my restraint not to sigh as Sophia approached that at any moment my other can deal with my bullies in a way that it will never be linked to any of my personas, I know it's true, but that doesn't mean we will. We are going to be a great hero and that means that with great power-
'Don't you DARE finish that thought!'
Okay…
"Blackwell wants to see you, Hebert." Cassandra says mockingly and she looks so fucking pleased playing the messenger for the old crone. "I think she wants to talk about throwing coffee down the stairs." We shoot her a scathing glare before shifting into a smirk. We stood up, always facing Cassandra.
"You have to tell me, Cassie, how does it feel to always be bait?" My other keeps an "eye" on Sophia whose two tables away and grinning. "or the messenger? 'Cause that's pretty much what you are to them." She looks outraged at our implication; questioning friendship gets teenagers up in arms faster than almost any insult. We continue before she cans speak. "They'll get bored of you sooner rather than later, you know. I heard Julia telling Evan about that convict daddy of yours." Bringing up family that's no longer here hurts. Doesn't matter if they're dead or in prison.
Denial.
"Watch it, Hebert." She scoffs. "As much of an attention whore as you are, I didn't peg you for a liar."
"Why would I lie about that?" I say picking up my stuff. "You don't matter enough to me to waste the energy. I was just warning a future pariah-."
Hurt followed by anger.
"Shut the fuck up, Hebert!" She growls while clenching her fists. "Sophia would never let Emma do that!"
It's my turn to scoff. "Look, like I said before; I thought you needed a friendly warning before it happened. Clearly it would have been better to leave you ignorant..." I sling the rucksack over our shoulder. "…and let Emma and Sophia do what they do best." I pat down my clothes as if checking that we hadn't dropped anything.
Sadness.
"You don't know what you're talking about." She insists, her voice wavering ever so slightly. "Sophia is my best friend, you bitch." And yet you're buying what we're selling.
I don't have to fake being insulted by her little comment, I genuinely am. "And I thought Emma was mine."
"Bullshit, Emma-"
"Knows secrets that no one else is supposed to know. Things I never told my own father, but fuck it if you don't deserve each other, Lang" Betrayal flashes, horror dawns across her face and I can't believe how convenient it is to have the memories of investigative journalist in our head. We can see when she starts to rationalize. She's drawing comparisons and not liking what she sees.
It's all moving so quickly that she's stuck in place when Sophia finally reaches my table and strikes.
We move to the side just as her knee is about crash our thigh. It probably would have hurt her more if I hadn't moved. My other would have made sure of that. Sophia's knee made contact with the rubber covered metal grate but surprisingly that doesn't have my complete attention. Her yelp is drowned out my alarmed gasp as I followed a nearly invisible tendril that originated from our butchered hair and is currently loosely coiled around Cassandra's neck.
My other oozed glee while watching Sophia clutch her wounded knee, but I didn't sense any hostility towards Cassandra... well not enough that it would go against my wishes and try to kill someone when we've worked so hard to keep criminals alive.
No, this is something else entirely.
I don't know why it would want to touch- and then I remember exactly what my other said on the bus. "I have ways of making him see things from our… point of view". I know for a fact that teenagers aren't the most rational bunch, but there's just no way that anyone would believe me over their best friend without any real evidence, but… God… we are a Master.
I will the tendril back and make our waypast the quickly amassing students.
'You and I are going to have a very serious talk later.' Blackwell can wait until after we sort out whatever other powers my beloved other has been hiding from me.
'It's not Mastering!' It defends as it perches itself on my shoulder. 'it's thought implanting. Your lie wouldn't have worked unless I gave it a little push.'
'You know that's not what's bothering me!" I almost snarl. We push past the green doors of the lunchroom and into the winding hallways with identical locker on each side of the walls, some tagged and others with a fresh coat of paint. 'You were going to use it on Dad without telling me!'
My other grows quiet and guilt floods our bond. It's almost enough to make me forgive It on the spot.
We pass Ms. Knott's computer room without being noticed by any members of the faculty, and right by the principal's office going similarly unnoticed. From there it's a straight shot to the exit, to find a place where it doesn't feel like we're trapped.
XxX
The Boardwalk is peaceful during winter.
There aren't as many tourists as there are in the summer months, when tourism peaks, and it's a weekday so there aren't as many lovey-dovey couple sucking face and buying expensive jewelry. We're here as Felicia because there is no way that the local guards/muscle would let a scarred kid like me wander around the Boardwalk without either checking my wallet or a calling a truancy officer to come pick us up.
Felicia looks high class, moves like a socialite, and knows what buttons you have to press to get what we want. It's a shame that my other never created memories of bonding with her so we have to mimic it all from an outside perspective. Its not hard but… there's a disconnect between us pretending to be Felicia and… well being Felicia.
…
I know it's not right… and that wanting to be someone else isn't healthy but… it's like reading a good book. It's an escape from a dull reality and a chance to be someone else.
Heh.
It's sad.
We spent so much time wanting to be a hero and now that I am one I want to wear a mask all the time. As Taylor, I have no friends, no home in a few years' time, when I'm out of Winslow, but that doesn't really help us now.
But enough, we can't spend the day throwing a pity party.
The Boardwalk is one of the safest places to be in Brockton Bay and best kept since it doesn't strictly rely on the local government for upkeep. Like the Market, visitors and locals can see the PRT ENE Headquarters looming over the city like an ineffective guardian angel.
Nothing much happens in the Boardwalk because no one is stupid enough to piss of both the Protectorate to the East and the neighboring Lung to the West.
*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
Our 'spider'-sense goes wild as an armored green figure soars through the air. It crashes against a guard-rail, denting it before the figure tilts precariously towards the water, nearly falling in. The remains of its gun clatter at my feet while an deafening roar shakes the wooden planks of the Boardwalk. Screams erupt from the Boardwalks sparse occupants as three more explosion draw closer. Another roar confirms that it isn't Lung going up against some newbie cape. It doesn't sound like the Dragon of Kyushu in the slightest. We have seen enough of his bitch fits on the news to know what he sounds like.
We examine the remains of the gun for any clues to see what we're up against and all we can really tell is that it looks advanced enough to be tinkertech, but that's all we can say with any certainty. It's large and thick, about half the size of the green armored guy currently knocked out besides us. The letters BFG are neatly printed on the side.
We're grown up enough to admit when we're wrong. Someone is stupid enough.
Another three explosions detonate close to us sending clouds of debris into the air, providing us cover to change into our more natural form. It's liberating to be back in black after a day of bullshit. Tendrils of our long flowing hair snake around Green's leg and drag him away from danger as we wait for the cloud to disperse and see what we're up against.
Another roar later and we got a clear enough view to know that this is our big break.
Twenty feet tall horned monstrosity stood on the street with its left hand replaced with what could only be a rocket launcher and the other glowed red with what we can assume is some sort of energycanon. It was pinkish and covered in a mix of natural armored scales and machinery that worked like armor. It saw us huddled over the weapon and charged, accelerating faster than what I would expect from a creature of that size.
"Eddie loved this game!" My other chirped happily using our mouth.
'What!? This is from a game!?' Which means that greenie is either Uber or Leet and that this thing is being recorded/broadcasted makes us grin as we crouch down. Our hair becomes jagged like spools of fishing line and our fingers become claws. Small spikes sprout from our joints as we coil our muscles to attack.
"It's time to fight like Hell!" We roar back as we scramble to meet the demon's charge!
XxX
A/N: All praise the BFG!
Okay, now that's out of the way and before anyone tries to crucify me.
Yes, that is Cassie Lang, the adorable ball of Fluff from the Ant-Man movies. Sharp eyes if you noticed that before the Author's Note if not, well did base her off the comic book so there's that. She's gonna play a role like to Kong to Sophia's Flash from the Ultimate universe.
Origins of the Cyberdemon will be revealed next chapter but speculation is always welcome.
Share your thoughts in a review!
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you might want to edit the text a little here
Seconded on please break up the wall-of-text.
- Location
- Rhode Island
Sorry about that. I was in a rush to leave when I posted this.
- Location
- Poland
Thanks, God's -> Thank God
whole -> hole
- Location
- Poland
Draxsis
SANLOST
- Location
- United states
Ok there is a song called 'Fight like Hell' on YouTube that I'm now dieing to see Venom sing as she kicks the cyberdemon's ass. Not linking as it's a bit nsfw due to blood, gore, violence and language but it's by 'JT music' look it up and enjoy. As it is good chapter and I'm happy to see this continue. I'm liking how you have Taylor trying to keep Venom on, if not the strait and narrow, at least a better path then he usually wanders down in other venom fics.
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Interlude 1.x (Uber)
- Location
- Rhode Island
Interlude 1.X
(Uber)
Teetering at the edge of the Boardwalk, resting on a dented metal rail, Uber watched in horror as an unknown cape flung herself at Doom's coolest boss… but the fear wasn't for the sake of the newbie, no, he was scared of her. There was something primal within Uber that urged him to move away. To run, if he could and hide, if he couldn't. Sadly, he could do neither as his damaged green Doom Slayer armor had entered emergency Armor Lock in an effort to keep him alive after taking both the Cyberdemon's rocket barrage and laser cannon simultaneously to the face.
This measure was designed for when Lung decided to intervene with the heist but Uber would definitely prefer facing down Lung than standing next to lithe black and white monstrosity crouching a few feet away from him. She was tall, nearly or over, six feet tall. Large white eyes rested above an inhuman grin laden with rows upon rows of sharp teeth. Her hair had initially looked like strands of thin black string but now they were like a cross of fishhooks and security wire. Spike like blades sprouted from different points of her body, her fingers became slightly more elongated and infinitely sharper.
She had an androgynous look going for her, which if it weren't for the fact that he had caught a glimpse of her body before she had shifted Uber would definitely called the tentacled nightmare a he.
But it was the large white spider that covers her rather flat chest and most of her upper back that brought the fear in him to new heights. Uber hated spiders with a passion. Those eight-legged freaks always seemed to find a way to sneak up on him when he was in the bathroom but that logo… just brought it to another level. There were no non-threatening curves, no effort to hide the message of intimidation, and no way to disguise the slight zebra pattern where the legs connected over her ribs.
It kind of sent a message when you could be confused as Nega-Siberian.
"It's time to fight like Hell!" The voice was wrong, like something out of his nightmares. A symphony of voices weaved into one yet obviously individualistic. There was anger in there but the amusement drowned it out, as if she were happy that she was about to face something capable of punting two ton power armor across eighty feet.
With that Nega-Siberian flung herself through the air like something out a comic. Dodging the rockets with the practiced ease of a Thinker/Mover combo. She danced and twirled impossibly as she moved closer to Blasto's liberal interpretation of one of Doom's signature bosses. White webs pulled her closer while also creating a barrier to slow the Cyberdemon down. But she never aimed it at the Tinker tech monster directly. No, if the webs she produced were made out of actual silk they may have had a chance of stopping it in its tracks but she wasn't even going to try.
Why would she when she was clearly intent on trapping it in her white web? In less than eight seconds, she had created a makeshift arena by using the buildings as turnbuckles. Uber wasn't sure if Nega-Siberian was playing with the Cyberdemon, which was thrashing wildly, or if it was in an effort to protect the screaming public.
Oh, yeah.
There were still people screaming and pointing but only a few were smart enough to runaway instead of letting their curiosity root them in place. They pointed and aimed their phones at the fight. The residents of Brockton Bay really were a special kind of stupid; at least he had powers that helped keep him and Leet alive.
Uber, in his current state, couldn't even move to warn them away when it raised its cannon in an attempt to target easier prey but it turned out that he didn't need to. Nega-Siberian flipped high above the Cyberdemon's head and used her webs to launch herself downwards, feet first into the cannon. The fusion of metal and flesh crumpled under the force and for the first time since its creation Uber heard the Cyberdemon roar in pain. It was a sickening sound that only seemed to excite Nega-Siberian as she stopped strengthening her web and went on a brutal offensive.
The Cyberdemon flailed as she jumped onto it and she began to dig into its body. It wasn't an explosion of gore as much as it was a shower of it. Red blood and guts, all redundant, flowed from the human shaped hole in its stomach… but not as much as it was supposed to… Leet had wanted to capture the gore effect of the game without spending too much cash on a multitude of demons, so the Cyberdemon's defeat was supposed to be spectacularly bloody.
The monster fell to its knees, trying to clutch it open wound, it shook for a solid minute before roaring one last time in pure agony. Blood trickled down from its toothy maw.
Then it stopped as if there were something caught in its throat.
Uber would have liked to say that he was prepared for Nega-Siberian pulling an Aliens: Resurrection but that would have been a lie. Black tendrils sprouted from the Cyberdemon's mouth, stopping the flow of blood, then there was a cracking as the was pried further and further away from the roof of the mouth. Three seconds later Nega-Siberian 's torso poked out and her wire like hair was even longer. There was no blood on her, she looked as clean as she did before she began ripping away at the Cyberdemon.
She looked around for a second, basking in the glory of the kill, before aiming am arm into the air and pointing it at one of Leet's newer Snitches, a completely redesigned drone that looked like the gun upgrade bots from Aleph's Doom remake. She closed her hand into a fist, and from the back of it a line of web shot out hitting the camera. With a tug she pulled it towards her as she freed herself from the Cyberdemon, caching it in a clawed hand.
"Little Parasites." She hissed as she walked closer to Uber. Each step causing his heart to beat faster than he thought possible. "You enjoy their fear, don't you?" No matter much he wanted to refute that statement the Armor Lock wouldn't allow him to move his jaw enough to speak so he had to listen to her his into the camera. "Clearly the punishments that you have suffered have been too lax, limited by an uncaring criminal justice system, but do not worry." At this point she was kneeling at his feet holding the snitch to his visored face. Uber closed his eyes when a long pink tongue dragged itself over his helmet.
Her reflection clearly visible on his HUD.
"We are only limited by the boundaries of our vivid imagination. We are Venom and we will not tolerate this action in OUR city, you have been warned." With that he was shoved and the rail gave way.
-thwip-
The sensation of falling was terrifying but not as much as the idea that he was going to drown because of a stupid stunt that he and Leet had come up with for kicks. He heard a splash and knew that death was close.
…
Minutes passed but nothing happened. By this point water should have entered the suit, depriving him of oxygen but he was fine, he could breathe. Uber tentatively opened his eyes and saw the crumpled remains of the snitch floating in the water less then a foot away from him but not drawing any closer.
With a weak chuckle Uber promptly fainted while hanging off the Boardwalk's edge.
XxX
A/N: Sorry for the delay but between returning to college from summer break and studiying for my LSAT i really didn't have ime to write. Sorry if this is too short for your liking but i like to keep interludes short unless they need to be as long as a regular chapter.
(Uber)
Teetering at the edge of the Boardwalk, resting on a dented metal rail, Uber watched in horror as an unknown cape flung herself at Doom's coolest boss… but the fear wasn't for the sake of the newbie, no, he was scared of her. There was something primal within Uber that urged him to move away. To run, if he could and hide, if he couldn't. Sadly, he could do neither as his damaged green Doom Slayer armor had entered emergency Armor Lock in an effort to keep him alive after taking both the Cyberdemon's rocket barrage and laser cannon simultaneously to the face.
This measure was designed for when Lung decided to intervene with the heist but Uber would definitely prefer facing down Lung than standing next to lithe black and white monstrosity crouching a few feet away from him. She was tall, nearly or over, six feet tall. Large white eyes rested above an inhuman grin laden with rows upon rows of sharp teeth. Her hair had initially looked like strands of thin black string but now they were like a cross of fishhooks and security wire. Spike like blades sprouted from different points of her body, her fingers became slightly more elongated and infinitely sharper.
She had an androgynous look going for her, which if it weren't for the fact that he had caught a glimpse of her body before she had shifted Uber would definitely called the tentacled nightmare a he.
But it was the large white spider that covers her rather flat chest and most of her upper back that brought the fear in him to new heights. Uber hated spiders with a passion. Those eight-legged freaks always seemed to find a way to sneak up on him when he was in the bathroom but that logo… just brought it to another level. There were no non-threatening curves, no effort to hide the message of intimidation, and no way to disguise the slight zebra pattern where the legs connected over her ribs.
It kind of sent a message when you could be confused as Nega-Siberian.
"It's time to fight like Hell!" The voice was wrong, like something out of his nightmares. A symphony of voices weaved into one yet obviously individualistic. There was anger in there but the amusement drowned it out, as if she were happy that she was about to face something capable of punting two ton power armor across eighty feet.
With that Nega-Siberian flung herself through the air like something out a comic. Dodging the rockets with the practiced ease of a Thinker/Mover combo. She danced and twirled impossibly as she moved closer to Blasto's liberal interpretation of one of Doom's signature bosses. White webs pulled her closer while also creating a barrier to slow the Cyberdemon down. But she never aimed it at the Tinker tech monster directly. No, if the webs she produced were made out of actual silk they may have had a chance of stopping it in its tracks but she wasn't even going to try.
Why would she when she was clearly intent on trapping it in her white web? In less than eight seconds, she had created a makeshift arena by using the buildings as turnbuckles. Uber wasn't sure if Nega-Siberian was playing with the Cyberdemon, which was thrashing wildly, or if it was in an effort to protect the screaming public.
Oh, yeah.
There were still people screaming and pointing but only a few were smart enough to runaway instead of letting their curiosity root them in place. They pointed and aimed their phones at the fight. The residents of Brockton Bay really were a special kind of stupid; at least he had powers that helped keep him and Leet alive.
Uber, in his current state, couldn't even move to warn them away when it raised its cannon in an attempt to target easier prey but it turned out that he didn't need to. Nega-Siberian flipped high above the Cyberdemon's head and used her webs to launch herself downwards, feet first into the cannon. The fusion of metal and flesh crumpled under the force and for the first time since its creation Uber heard the Cyberdemon roar in pain. It was a sickening sound that only seemed to excite Nega-Siberian as she stopped strengthening her web and went on a brutal offensive.
The Cyberdemon flailed as she jumped onto it and she began to dig into its body. It wasn't an explosion of gore as much as it was a shower of it. Red blood and guts, all redundant, flowed from the human shaped hole in its stomach… but not as much as it was supposed to… Leet had wanted to capture the gore effect of the game without spending too much cash on a multitude of demons, so the Cyberdemon's defeat was supposed to be spectacularly bloody.
The monster fell to its knees, trying to clutch it open wound, it shook for a solid minute before roaring one last time in pure agony. Blood trickled down from its toothy maw.
Then it stopped as if there were something caught in its throat.
Uber would have liked to say that he was prepared for Nega-Siberian pulling an Aliens: Resurrection but that would have been a lie. Black tendrils sprouted from the Cyberdemon's mouth, stopping the flow of blood, then there was a cracking as the was pried further and further away from the roof of the mouth. Three seconds later Nega-Siberian 's torso poked out and her wire like hair was even longer. There was no blood on her, she looked as clean as she did before she began ripping away at the Cyberdemon.
She looked around for a second, basking in the glory of the kill, before aiming am arm into the air and pointing it at one of Leet's newer Snitches, a completely redesigned drone that looked like the gun upgrade bots from Aleph's Doom remake. She closed her hand into a fist, and from the back of it a line of web shot out hitting the camera. With a tug she pulled it towards her as she freed herself from the Cyberdemon, caching it in a clawed hand.
"Little Parasites." She hissed as she walked closer to Uber. Each step causing his heart to beat faster than he thought possible. "You enjoy their fear, don't you?" No matter much he wanted to refute that statement the Armor Lock wouldn't allow him to move his jaw enough to speak so he had to listen to her his into the camera. "Clearly the punishments that you have suffered have been too lax, limited by an uncaring criminal justice system, but do not worry." At this point she was kneeling at his feet holding the snitch to his visored face. Uber closed his eyes when a long pink tongue dragged itself over his helmet.
Her reflection clearly visible on his HUD.
"We are only limited by the boundaries of our vivid imagination. We are Venom and we will not tolerate this action in OUR city, you have been warned." With that he was shoved and the rail gave way.
-thwip-
The sensation of falling was terrifying but not as much as the idea that he was going to drown because of a stupid stunt that he and Leet had come up with for kicks. He heard a splash and knew that death was close.
…
Minutes passed but nothing happened. By this point water should have entered the suit, depriving him of oxygen but he was fine, he could breathe. Uber tentatively opened his eyes and saw the crumpled remains of the snitch floating in the water less then a foot away from him but not drawing any closer.
With a weak chuckle Uber promptly fainted while hanging off the Boardwalk's edge.
XxX
A/N: Sorry for the delay but between returning to college from summer break and studiying for my LSAT i really didn't have ime to write. Sorry if this is too short for your liking but i like to keep interludes short unless they need to be as long as a regular chapter.
C4d
Has approximate knowledge of many things.
- Location
- Germany
Totally a missed opportunity, she should have shouted "RIP AND TEAR UNTIL IT IS DONE!"
Or the straight up meme version "YOU ARE HUGE! THAT MEANS YOU HAVE HUGE GUTS! RIP AND TEAR!"
But i guess doing a chest burster impression on an uncensored internet livestream is a pretty good first public appearance.
Or the straight up meme version "YOU ARE HUGE! THAT MEANS YOU HAVE HUGE GUTS! RIP AND TEAR!"
But i guess doing a chest burster impression on an uncensored internet livestream is a pretty good first public appearance.
Interlude 1.y (PHO)
- Location
- Rhode Island
Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.
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■
♦ Topic: My knight in black armor:
In: Boards ► Messages ► America ► Brockton Bay
Impbynight (Original Poster) (Unverified Menace)
Posted On February 13th 2011:
Yo Venom, sorry for bailing! But big bro was being kind of a bitch and his girlfriend isn't being much better! The way you dealt with those Merchants was legit!!!!!!!! Xb Keep up the good work! We'll be seeing each other a lot!
Description: at least six feet tall, lean like a scarecrow, hair that defies the wind, nice smile, full black body suit with white and a kick ass white spider! If you see her send her to this thread! [LINK]
EDIT: Looking to team up? We'll have blackjack and chocolate milkshakes!
EDIT: First Venom thread on PHO. First! Wooooooo!!
EDIT: You awesome bitch You killed the Cyberdemon! My big bro couldn't kill that bastard in game and you did it in IRL! PM Pls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [LINK]
► White Fairy (Veteran Member)
Replied On February 13th 2011:
…
Not sure if this is real or click bait but I'll leave that to people in the know.
Edit: First!
► XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied On February 14th 2011:
Dudes I was totally there eating a burger when the Merchants crossed the street. He came out of nowhere and shot them up and then ran like hell before the cops showed up.
► Impbynight (Original Poster) (Unverified Menace)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
Void, did you just watch the random parts of the video? My GIRL, I know 'cause I talked to her before it all went down, didn't shoot the merchants! She just gave them their bullets back. Go to sleep you troll!
► Glory Girl (Verified Cape) (New Wave)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
Impbynight, are you sure 'your girl' is a hero? She was pretty brutal for some punks with guns.
► Impbynight (Original Poster) (Unverified Menace)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
Rich coming from you, Collateral Damage Barbie, last week you splintered an E88 gangbanger's arm. Splintered if Panacea hadn't ben there that asshole wouldn't have regained its full function!
► Glory Girl (Verified Cape) (New Wave)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
That is an unsupported rumor but we literally have Venom on video brutalizing gangmemebers.
►Mrs. Sym (Unverified Biote)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
That's not entirely true. There's that video of you dropping a Archer's bridge Merchant from a significant height, breaking his legs, The only difference between both situations is that Venom did it combat while you were trying rip off Earth Aleph's Batman. You are lucky enough that New Wave is clean and respectable enough to have gotten away with your use of excessive force. At least Shadow Stalker is only 'rumored' to have crucified a E88 initiate.
For more information on this story check out the Brockton Daily! (SHADOW STALKER: THREAT OR MENACE?!) (GLORY NO MORE? INDEPTH LOOK AT NEW WAVE'S BIGGEST BRUTE!)
@ Impbynight PM later. We can chat about the details.
Edit: This account is in no way affiliated with the Brockton Daily… I just like to read.
► Impbynight (Original Poster) (Unverified Menace)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
…
SS is a bitch but I'm keeping my tag. @Mrs. Sym thanks for backing me up!
► Glory Girl (Verified Cape) (New Wave)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
You are using a tabloid to justify the actions of a dangerous vigilante. I'm done with this.
►Mrs. Sym (Unverified Biote)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
Glory Girl the fact that you don't agree with the publication makes it no less accurate and while I am sure that your intentions are pure your delivery method is make you sound hypocritical at best and malignant a t worst. As it stands, Venom could have her reasons for acting the way she did. New trigger, agitated Case 53, extra dimensional alien, or simply a cape that had another bad day.
Page 1 2 3 4 5 … 47
XxX
♦ Topic: New Cape in the Bay
In: Boards ► News ► Events ►America
Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know) (Original Poster)
Posted On February 15th 2011:
By now all of you have seen the video. First things first; Uber is alive and well in PRT custody but the 'Cyberdemon' is completely wrecked. It's hollowed out like a pumpkin but good news is that this was one of Blasto's hybrids commissioned by Uber and Leet not a new Case 53 roped into the gamer duo's antics. I've been told by a reliable source that the local PRT are treating the self-named Venom as a Case 53 with a strong Brute rating, weak Mover rating, with a dash of Changer.
On September 13th Venom's web was found on the broken bodies of three ABB member's broken bodies in an alleyway near the Docks. One of which was missing part of their hand. Minutes later Venom is recorded defending Fugly Bob's from a Merchant assault, leaving at least half the members severely injured. Panacea had to be called in for both cases.
You know what happened the next day.
Venom is to be considered extremely dangerous.
Do not approach.
If spotted contact the PRT hotline and retreat to a safe distance.
►Judge
Posted On February 15th 2011:
I'm gonna get ahead of this and warn you all to keep on topic. This board is reserved for power discussion and sightings of Venom. Identity speculation is strictly prohibited and please try to avoid speculation in general.
Our goal here isn't to cause mass panic.
►Morgan Sinister
Posted On February 15th 2011:
That's hard to do considering the limited information we have on Venom. So far we've seen him shoot some kind of web like liquid from the back of his hand that solidifies as soon as it impacts a target. He ripped and tore into the Cyberdemon like it was tissue paper and destroyed Leet's Snitch, which was supposed to be indestructible (according to Leet). The web was strong enough to encircle the Cyberdemon
►Xyloloup
Posted On February 15th 2011:
Why the spider? Creep.
►DestituteRonin
Posted On February 15th 2011:
I want to add that there wasn't any blood on Venom after killing the Cyberdemon… and the hair looks longer. Organic matter conversion could be a possible power?
► XxVoid_CowboyxX
Posted On February 15th 2011:
Saw Venom perched on a tree eating a bird. Some spiders in south America do this. Are cape spiders a thing?
► Impbynight (Unverified Menace)
Posted On February 15th 2011:
Pics or it didn't happen. Bagrat Venom is a she and she's only dangerous to dangerous ppl. Merchants were gonna hold up Fugly Bob's. She kicked their asses after they decided to shoot up the place.
►Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)
Posted On February 15th 2011:
Hwy @Impbynight if you manage to get in contact with Venom please tell her to pass by the PRT building. Most Case 53's are disoriented when they first pop up and the PRT has resources to help them out and even offer shelter.
►Mrs. Sym (Unverified Biote)
Posted On February 15th 2011:
Don't do it. the Parahuman Response Team will Strong arm into the organization you or worse.
►Judge
Posted On February 15th 2011:
@ Mrs. Sym I'm going to let you of with an infraction for your post. Idk what your problem with the PRT is and frankly I don't want to know, the fact of the matter is that they are offering an olive branch to a violent cape.
Don't interfere.
XxX
A/N: Man... this was a bit of pain to make so i hope you enjoy it! I'll try to get the next chapter out by next week, if this week goes well, if not well... i'll try my best.
Please leave comment! i love reading feedback especially when it points out something that i have overlooked.
see you next time!
You are currently logged in, Mrs. Sym (Unverified Biote)
You are viewing:
• Threads you have replied to
• AND Threads that have new replies
• OR private message conversations with new replies
• Thread OP is displayed.
• Ten posts per page
• Last ten messages in private message history.
• Threads and private messages are ordered chronologically.
■
♦ Topic: My knight in black armor:
In: Boards ► Messages ► America ► Brockton Bay
Impbynight (Original Poster) (Unverified Menace)
Posted On February 13th 2011:
Yo Venom, sorry for bailing! But big bro was being kind of a bitch and his girlfriend isn't being much better! The way you dealt with those Merchants was legit!!!!!!!! Xb Keep up the good work! We'll be seeing each other a lot!
Description: at least six feet tall, lean like a scarecrow, hair that defies the wind, nice smile, full black body suit with white and a kick ass white spider! If you see her send her to this thread! [LINK]
EDIT: Looking to team up? We'll have blackjack and chocolate milkshakes!
EDIT: First Venom thread on PHO. First! Wooooooo!!
EDIT: You awesome bitch You killed the Cyberdemon! My big bro couldn't kill that bastard in game and you did it in IRL! PM Pls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [LINK]
► White Fairy (Veteran Member)
Replied On February 13th 2011:
…
Not sure if this is real or click bait but I'll leave that to people in the know.
Edit: First!
► XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied On February 14th 2011:
Dudes I was totally there eating a burger when the Merchants crossed the street. He came out of nowhere and shot them up and then ran like hell before the cops showed up.
► Impbynight (Original Poster) (Unverified Menace)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
Void, did you just watch the random parts of the video? My GIRL, I know 'cause I talked to her before it all went down, didn't shoot the merchants! She just gave them their bullets back. Go to sleep you troll!
► Glory Girl (Verified Cape) (New Wave)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
Impbynight, are you sure 'your girl' is a hero? She was pretty brutal for some punks with guns.
► Impbynight (Original Poster) (Unverified Menace)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
Rich coming from you, Collateral Damage Barbie, last week you splintered an E88 gangbanger's arm. Splintered if Panacea hadn't ben there that asshole wouldn't have regained its full function!
► Glory Girl (Verified Cape) (New Wave)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
That is an unsupported rumor but we literally have Venom on video brutalizing gangmemebers.
►Mrs. Sym (Unverified Biote)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
That's not entirely true. There's that video of you dropping a Archer's bridge Merchant from a significant height, breaking his legs, The only difference between both situations is that Venom did it combat while you were trying rip off Earth Aleph's Batman. You are lucky enough that New Wave is clean and respectable enough to have gotten away with your use of excessive force. At least Shadow Stalker is only 'rumored' to have crucified a E88 initiate.
For more information on this story check out the Brockton Daily! (SHADOW STALKER: THREAT OR MENACE?!) (GLORY NO MORE? INDEPTH LOOK AT NEW WAVE'S BIGGEST BRUTE!)
@ Impbynight PM later. We can chat about the details.
Edit: This account is in no way affiliated with the Brockton Daily… I just like to read.
► Impbynight (Original Poster) (Unverified Menace)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
…
SS is a bitch but I'm keeping my tag. @Mrs. Sym thanks for backing me up!
► Glory Girl (Verified Cape) (New Wave)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
You are using a tabloid to justify the actions of a dangerous vigilante. I'm done with this.
►Mrs. Sym (Unverified Biote)
Replied On February 14th 2011:
Glory Girl the fact that you don't agree with the publication makes it no less accurate and while I am sure that your intentions are pure your delivery method is make you sound hypocritical at best and malignant a t worst. As it stands, Venom could have her reasons for acting the way she did. New trigger, agitated Case 53, extra dimensional alien, or simply a cape that had another bad day.
Page 1 2 3 4 5 … 47
XxX
♦ Topic: New Cape in the Bay
In: Boards ► News ► Events ►America
Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know) (Original Poster)
Posted On February 15th 2011:
By now all of you have seen the video. First things first; Uber is alive and well in PRT custody but the 'Cyberdemon' is completely wrecked. It's hollowed out like a pumpkin but good news is that this was one of Blasto's hybrids commissioned by Uber and Leet not a new Case 53 roped into the gamer duo's antics. I've been told by a reliable source that the local PRT are treating the self-named Venom as a Case 53 with a strong Brute rating, weak Mover rating, with a dash of Changer.
On September 13th Venom's web was found on the broken bodies of three ABB member's broken bodies in an alleyway near the Docks. One of which was missing part of their hand. Minutes later Venom is recorded defending Fugly Bob's from a Merchant assault, leaving at least half the members severely injured. Panacea had to be called in for both cases.
You know what happened the next day.
Venom is to be considered extremely dangerous.
Do not approach.
If spotted contact the PRT hotline and retreat to a safe distance.
►Judge
Posted On February 15th 2011:
I'm gonna get ahead of this and warn you all to keep on topic. This board is reserved for power discussion and sightings of Venom. Identity speculation is strictly prohibited and please try to avoid speculation in general.
Our goal here isn't to cause mass panic.
►Morgan Sinister
Posted On February 15th 2011:
That's hard to do considering the limited information we have on Venom. So far we've seen him shoot some kind of web like liquid from the back of his hand that solidifies as soon as it impacts a target. He ripped and tore into the Cyberdemon like it was tissue paper and destroyed Leet's Snitch, which was supposed to be indestructible (according to Leet). The web was strong enough to encircle the Cyberdemon
►Xyloloup
Posted On February 15th 2011:
Why the spider? Creep.
►DestituteRonin
Posted On February 15th 2011:
I want to add that there wasn't any blood on Venom after killing the Cyberdemon… and the hair looks longer. Organic matter conversion could be a possible power?
► XxVoid_CowboyxX
Posted On February 15th 2011:
Saw Venom perched on a tree eating a bird. Some spiders in south America do this. Are cape spiders a thing?
► Impbynight (Unverified Menace)
Posted On February 15th 2011:
Pics or it didn't happen. Bagrat Venom is a she and she's only dangerous to dangerous ppl. Merchants were gonna hold up Fugly Bob's. She kicked their asses after they decided to shoot up the place.
►Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)
Posted On February 15th 2011:
Hwy @Impbynight if you manage to get in contact with Venom please tell her to pass by the PRT building. Most Case 53's are disoriented when they first pop up and the PRT has resources to help them out and even offer shelter.
►Mrs. Sym (Unverified Biote)
Posted On February 15th 2011:
Don't do it. the Parahuman Response Team will Strong arm into the organization you or worse.
►Judge
Posted On February 15th 2011:
@ Mrs. Sym I'm going to let you of with an infraction for your post. Idk what your problem with the PRT is and frankly I don't want to know, the fact of the matter is that they are offering an olive branch to a violent cape.
Don't interfere.
XxX
A/N: Man... this was a bit of pain to make so i hope you enjoy it! I'll try to get the next chapter out by next week, if this week goes well, if not well... i'll try my best.
Please leave comment! i love reading feedback especially when it points out something that i have overlooked.
see you next time!
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
Glory Girl tossed a Merchant off a bridge, but managed to only break their legs? Neat. You go GloryGirl. GG.
- Location
- Painting, Peach's Castle
I dunno, could have been a small bridge. Y'know, the kind of bridges that go over a, like, 20 ft gap?
zhuull
SB still lying to protect Racists what else is new
Since it's a PHO thread do you want spelling corrections or should they be considered intentional?
Touch 2.1
- Location
- Rhode Island
Touch 2.1
"The world was on fire and no one could save me but you." We sing under our breath. "It's strange what desire will make foolish people do. " I can honestly say that I've never heard this song but the tune in our head was nice and catchy. "Cause I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you" There isn't any particular reason that we're mumbling through the verses there just nothing to do right now except wait. "No, I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you."
In the days following our début we have learned a few things.
The first thing we discovered was that we are being followed. Someone has been tracking the broken Merchant bodies that we have left behind in our wake. The person following us is female, or at least appears to be. It is dressed like a clown, white and gold striped stalking, baggy pants held up by thick leather straps. It would crouch down next to the Merchant's downed form and asks about what we were told and what we asked. The merchants, too afraid due to our earlier encounter, would usually answer truthfully. This unknown Parahuman reminded my shadow of woman called Mary and that worried my other. We didn't confront the cape just incase this was some devious plot orchestrated by some mastermind type villain.
It's always better to allow them to dig their own graves. Less clean up that way.
The second is unsurprisingly connected to the first; the Merchants we interrogated claimed that the higher ups are planning a heist somewhere Downtown… that was all we were able to uncover… well that's not necessarily true… it's supposed to go down today.
The third discovery actually surprised me despite my other's nonchalance. The PRT pulled all stops to blast us for our handling of the "DOOM' incident. Apparently dealing with something quickly and efficiently makes us fucking dangerous. Piggot, director of Brockton's branch, called us unhinged and Armsmaster gave a detailed report about our psyche out of my declaration of intent. He stated that we're suffering from dissociative identity disorder because we used we and our. There were also a few conspiracy theorists that on PHO that drew parallels with Siberian and The Butcher, which from an intimidation point of view but not very heroic. The heroes didn't comment on this, which pretty much confirmed the aluminum hat wearing loser's suspicions about us.
I'm so thankful that I never made a PHO account. The Internet really does rot your brain.
In the days after our first official outing as Venom and the PRT's attempted character assassination we became rather busy. Ants came out of the woodwork in small insignificant attempts at discrediting us. We have yet to encounter any villainous capes just powerless underlings that tried their best to make us want to EAT THEIR EMPTY BRAINS!
We take a deep, calming breath.
We don't mean that, not literally at least... but the sentiment…
Though I disagree with my other's wording… I sort of agree. We felt like a fucking maid! It felt like we've been stopping crime every five minutes. ABB, Merchants, E88, and dumb punks that don't think that we're watching all of them seemed exited to face us. To quote one of these little turds "You ain't hot shit, motherfucker." Defiance and stupidity appear to be the pre dominant thoughts that all gang members shared.
The fourth discover is as sad as it is flattering. Now I want to make it clear that we never intended to uncover just how desperate single people were when someone like Felicia walked past them. Vendors gave us heart shaped boxed chocolate, various men and one particularly brave woman gifted us flowers, and there were plenty of benefactors in various cafes who fed our thirst for hot chocolate but as much as we enjoyed the attention… it quickly grows rather irksome.
Lastly our spectacular discovery was made earlier the day before last. Shortly after Valentine's Day stores try to dump their chocolate stock! Sales upon sales helped relieve some of the constant stress on my wallet.
Eating for two isn't cheap. "The wicked games you play. To make me feel this-"
Which is why we are currently standing in line in a speck of a convenience store off McFarlane Way about three blocks from Arcadia and a few more from Brockton Central. Normally we wouldn't walk this far to buy some food but we have business in this district.
As we stand in line with bundles of heart shaped boxes, neatly stacked in deep blue plastic basket, and a bag of frozen tatter tots we notice the man standing behind us. He is tall, slightly muscular, with a goofy grin on his face that makes us want to smack it right off with one powerful slap. He's about thirty, give or take a few years. His fiery red hair is spiky, like some punk rocker wannabe, that didn't quite fit for someone of his age. He has his phone glued to his ear as he talked with someone he semi-constantly cooed 'Puppy'.
He doesn't really smell out of place but there was something about him that makes us weary. His focus isn't on the cashier, on us, or even in the passionate conversation he was currently having instead his gaze and body language seemed to be absorbed by the girl. It isn't threatening, at least, it reminds us more of a bodyguard rather than a future kidnapper… but then again, we might just be overthinking it. The man is more likely to be some kind of military instead of a kidnapper in this part of town.
It might be the way he stands, appearing relaxed to the untrained observer but we are not so inexperienced. He doesn't stand like a soldier or like a cop but he is ready for anything non-the less. He reminds us of someone from my other's imagination but those are murky so we ignore them. Or perhaps my other simply dislikes their voice.
It is a petty reason but I do not blame my shadow.
We turn our attention to the girl standing in front of us. She is shorter than us in as Taylor but looks much smaller because she hunches over. We can't see her face from our spot behind her as her frizzy brown hair covered the side of her face. She is dressed in bland colors of Arcadia, it's a modest uniform, different shades of gray compliment each other and looks rather comfy for the winter months. She smells like our old hospital room and nicotine… judging by the lack of items in her hands we can conclude that she is going to feed her habit.
'We should help her.' My other said as it popped atop the cash register. It was a skinny thing but the smile it sent our way was very endearing. Our vision flooded with images of a woman with died white hair that wasn't Felicia. I could feel sympathy for the girl. Jenna Cole was her name; she was stubborn and foul-mouthed but had a good heart. She had helped the one my other called Eddie takes down a whole cartel before her untimely death somewhere in Mexico. 'She is Innocent, Taylor. We must save her!"
The emotions that we are feeling… are pure but we have no clue how to engage the problem. Addiction is a black hole that is nearly impossible to escape from, I mean look at dad, either he's working or he's drinking which leaves us with no avenue for intervention. Now how the hell are we supposed to help her? A girl we have never talked to or ran into before needs a personal touch… sadly, there are nothing we can do for her.
Confusion floods me because there is something inside us can help her despite my assertion that there was no way we could. Smoking, like drugs, can't be broken just because of a onetime intervention by a stranger, never mind that as Venom we don't have the reputation make those kinds of suggestions.
'We can, Taylor!' My other refuses stubbornly but he suddenly stills. It turns its head towards the door and bares its teeth menacingly. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand what's about to happen but it does put us in a rather tough spot. We can't just change into our-
'Move back.' It hisses in my mother's voice. 'Act like you're going to grab a soda, someone's coming!' We don't hesitate to do as my other suggests, moving past the chatting man on his phone and hid behind a Mouse Protector cut out next to the cold fridges. With a chime of the doorbell three skinheads walked in each brandishing one visible weapon, a bat, a chain, and a bowie knife. The man on his phone tensed almost immediately and moved to intercept them before they could reach the mousy girl.
The skinheads aren't nervous; they've probably done this kind of shakedown a thousand times, intimidating small business owners for their own gains and chipping away at any hope of a better life that these people strive to create. They are a plague that eats away at the foundation of society from within! It's self-replicating virus. They drag those around them to their level and those infected spread it to others commencing a slow decay that needs to be PURGED before they turn the whole city necrotic.
Marquis used to be the stopgap for Brocton Bay. He was curbed the worst of the worst in this city, repelled the Slaughterhouse Nine, and drove the Teeth out of our home. Marquis represented a time when crime was organized, targeted, and tended to leave the Innocents alone… unless they wanted his protection. Under Marquis the drug trade was kept away from schools, and the majority of casualties of Parahuman-on-Parahuman violence were Parahumans.
The number of Innocents that Marquis could potentially save outweighed the Guilt of his crimes. It is simple calculus; you don't remove the most effective tool in your arsenal just because it makes you look ineffective. Yet the heroes had scales covering their eyes. In the final days of Marquis's reign the Brockton Bay Brigade focused exclusively on him allowing worse parasites like Allfather.
It is disgusting, we know, having to pick between evil. Many will fault us for our way of thinking. Even now as we crawl up the wall and onto the off white ceiling I can't help but remember the words my mom read to me months before her accident.
"Lesser, greater, middling, it's all the same. Proportions are negotiated, boundaries blurred. I'm not a pious hermit; I haven't done only good in my life. But if I'm to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all."
We disagree. Inaction is the same as guilt. After all…
We were innocent once…
"It's that time of the month again, Castiglione." The apparent head skinhead demands shoving the brown haired girl back and puling out a shiny grey revolver. The old man behind the cashier glares at him with pure hatred but starts reaching for something under the counter. For a second we think Mister Castiglione is going to pull a gun and blast him away but instead, much to our disappointment, he pulls out a bright manila envelope.
Our attention drifts monetarily to the man that had been behind us. Two of the Nazi filth has him pinned onto a shelf.
You know… it's funny, watching a holdup while hanging upside down from the ceiling. It's almost a surreal experience, one moment you're waiting to pay for chocolate and the very next three skinheads with chains, bats, and a gun march into a convenience store like they own the place. They have no idea what's coming for them.
They don't notice me; instead they focus on Mister Castiglione. The wrinkly old cashier that had manned this small convenience store since my dad was a kid. He had come to Brockton Bay five years before Scion first showed himself. He had survived every gang that had tried to bring him down but he was older now and couldn't swing a bat the same way anymore but there is no need to fear.
We are here to protect the Innocent after all.
Invisible tendrils wrap around the two skinhead by their necks and immediately yank them into the air quicker than their brains can register the weightless sensation and then we them into the fridges where we had originally hid. The shattering of glass made the last skinhead turn and blindly fire.
Two shots escape the chamber before we realize our mistake. Our eyes widen in horror as thick stream of red arterial spray of blood erupted from the brown haired girl's neck and her body crumples like a puppet with cut strings. We launch ourselves at him before he can turn the gun on the red haired man.
We barely register his scream when wrap our hand over his wrist and squeeze.
My shadow drinks the blood that seeps from the mangled remains of his weapon and his hand, absorbs the muscle and bone. With each agonizing second we grow stronger while the Guilty grows weaker.
"We just ate that dude's arm!'
'Fuel in the tank, Taylor, fuel in the tank!'
He looks at us with terror in his eyes that would have mirrored our own just a few scant moments ago. "You thought yourself a hero, didn't you?" We hiss digging deeper taking more. One moment of contemplation later we shake our head. "No, you didn't. You never wanted to be a white knight or a soldier for a righteous cause. You just wanted a vent for your anger, your rage, and your hatred because you wanted to make the world pay for every thing it has taken for you. Do you honestly believe that you're the only one that's been hurt?" We lift him up by the stump of his arm and snarl. Who hates this world?" Wait, what? Who's suffered?!"
With his free hand he tries to claw himself free. "Answer US!" His nails break against our skin.
He doesn't answer, so we march him to his friend and run his face through a plate of glass.
Once.
Then again.
And again.
Until he stops moving but he will not die. He'll live but with scars from that will remind him what it's like to suffer like those Innocents who have suffered because of him. He will be better for it or he will be seeing us again, soon. We drop his still bleeding mess of a body with a huff of disgust and our attention turn to the red haired man and the dying girl.
The man kneeled over the girl, hand on her neck and phone long forgotten. His face is an easygoing mask but the tension is there. The wound to the neck is lethal unless they have Panacea on speed dial. Comforting and teasing words spill out of his mouth like a waterfall. Well, at least Arcadia isn't that far…
"Holy shit!" We look away from the victims and lo and behold there is a cape standing over a puddle of blood. The cape is obviously female… her costume was rather skintight black cat suit, like those of a stereotypical femme fatale … goddammit Felicia. The voice is familiar even though we can't place it, at least, not muffled by that mockery of our face. The cape has clearly modeled part of her costume to match ours as there is a large white spider covering her chest. Her mask looks like us when we keep our mouth shut, white glassy eyes and everything.
'We have a fan…' I tell my shadow dryly, as we shifted our attention back to the bleeding girl. Looking closer it is clear to us that moving her will only worsen her condition. She lost too much blood and there's no telling what kind of damage the second bullet did to chest. We look at the red haired man's bloody hand pressing on her neck while the other puts pressure on her chest. There is nothing we can do!
'Yes, there is.' Without warning my hair shoots out like a blanket and begins to cover the girl from head toe while my arms push the man back. As soon as our hair bundled itself around her like a blanket we felt her pain as if it is our own. Then came the weight of emotion, years of self-hatred, scathing looks, and mental manipulation by exterior force that inspired adoration and fear, but most of all there was an overwhelming sense of relief. As if her death would be a release. From every crushing expectation, from the cold eyes of a woman pretending to be a mother, of a vacant eyed father who she knows she could fix but fear of self stops her, and from an inappropriate desire from he beautiful sister.
She remembers a time before all this but not well. A pearl pink princess dress and tea parties with a handsome man with the same brown hair. I remember the comforting smell of cigars covering something vaguely metallic. I remember being Amelia…
The connection isn't one way though much to our ire. She sees us at our best as often she as at worst. Every dark impulse share between my shadow and me, every action we could have taken to pacify our enemies quicker and less violently than we handled them but we don't regret our actions. Showmanship, pain and, fear are the languages that these barbarians speak. Showmanship allows the masses to digest even our most brutal attack. Fear justifies our brutality because it spreads like a virus; it's a useful tool after all. The PRT uses it and the gangs use it for their own purposes… violence just pulls it all together in a neat package. Amelia understand this too despite how much she hates it.
But not for the reasons most would think.
Amelia hates when they make her work on Guilty filth like this.
Our connection deepens for every second that passes as my other flushes the every poison in her system. Thoughts become clearer as we take more and more weight onto our shoulders… except for…
There is something else…
…Another Seed?
(Shaper)
"AHHHHH!" We scream in pure agony, both her and I, as that inhuman word echoed through our minds. It lasts for a good three second before it stops and we are violently pulled away. We are disorientated as we soar through the air, across the street and into a parked car. Before either of us can reorient a small, shimmering fist smashes into our jaw driving our head through the windshield.
There's no pain at first only a feeling of weightlessness as we come back to ourselves but that is easily ignored in favor of listening to the tingling spider sense.
We dodge the next punch and retaliate with our own one-two combo. A barrier of some kind stops the first hit but the second makes contact with an up coming fist... for some reason it snaps like wood. We immediately capitalize at the apparent advantage and launch ourselves at the assailant, pinning them to the ground with enough force to the road.
It is only then that we recognize the face of our attacker. Blonde and beautiful Victoria Dallon is glaring at us with levels of anger that is only surpassed by the pain she must be feeling. I'm ninety percent sure that I just splintered the bones in Glory girl's arm.
Fuck.
XxX
A/N: and here's the next chapter of TMV. Sorry for the delay but October has been... difficult. Loved the Venom movie and i honestly can't wait for the sequel Woody Harrelson looks like he'll make a good Cletus Kasady. As for Carnage joining with Jack Slash... well i can't really say if that will happen... their motivation are too different despite the similarities in means for achieving their goals. Carnage just wants to kill but he wouldn't strive to end the world because then there would be nothing to kill.
"The world was on fire and no one could save me but you." We sing under our breath. "It's strange what desire will make foolish people do. " I can honestly say that I've never heard this song but the tune in our head was nice and catchy. "Cause I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you" There isn't any particular reason that we're mumbling through the verses there just nothing to do right now except wait. "No, I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you."
In the days following our début we have learned a few things.
The first thing we discovered was that we are being followed. Someone has been tracking the broken Merchant bodies that we have left behind in our wake. The person following us is female, or at least appears to be. It is dressed like a clown, white and gold striped stalking, baggy pants held up by thick leather straps. It would crouch down next to the Merchant's downed form and asks about what we were told and what we asked. The merchants, too afraid due to our earlier encounter, would usually answer truthfully. This unknown Parahuman reminded my shadow of woman called Mary and that worried my other. We didn't confront the cape just incase this was some devious plot orchestrated by some mastermind type villain.
It's always better to allow them to dig their own graves. Less clean up that way.
The second is unsurprisingly connected to the first; the Merchants we interrogated claimed that the higher ups are planning a heist somewhere Downtown… that was all we were able to uncover… well that's not necessarily true… it's supposed to go down today.
The third discovery actually surprised me despite my other's nonchalance. The PRT pulled all stops to blast us for our handling of the "DOOM' incident. Apparently dealing with something quickly and efficiently makes us fucking dangerous. Piggot, director of Brockton's branch, called us unhinged and Armsmaster gave a detailed report about our psyche out of my declaration of intent. He stated that we're suffering from dissociative identity disorder because we used we and our. There were also a few conspiracy theorists that on PHO that drew parallels with Siberian and The Butcher, which from an intimidation point of view but not very heroic. The heroes didn't comment on this, which pretty much confirmed the aluminum hat wearing loser's suspicions about us.
I'm so thankful that I never made a PHO account. The Internet really does rot your brain.
In the days after our first official outing as Venom and the PRT's attempted character assassination we became rather busy. Ants came out of the woodwork in small insignificant attempts at discrediting us. We have yet to encounter any villainous capes just powerless underlings that tried their best to make us want to EAT THEIR EMPTY BRAINS!
We take a deep, calming breath.
We don't mean that, not literally at least... but the sentiment…
Though I disagree with my other's wording… I sort of agree. We felt like a fucking maid! It felt like we've been stopping crime every five minutes. ABB, Merchants, E88, and dumb punks that don't think that we're watching all of them seemed exited to face us. To quote one of these little turds "You ain't hot shit, motherfucker." Defiance and stupidity appear to be the pre dominant thoughts that all gang members shared.
The fourth discover is as sad as it is flattering. Now I want to make it clear that we never intended to uncover just how desperate single people were when someone like Felicia walked past them. Vendors gave us heart shaped boxed chocolate, various men and one particularly brave woman gifted us flowers, and there were plenty of benefactors in various cafes who fed our thirst for hot chocolate but as much as we enjoyed the attention… it quickly grows rather irksome.
Lastly our spectacular discovery was made earlier the day before last. Shortly after Valentine's Day stores try to dump their chocolate stock! Sales upon sales helped relieve some of the constant stress on my wallet.
Eating for two isn't cheap. "The wicked games you play. To make me feel this-"
Which is why we are currently standing in line in a speck of a convenience store off McFarlane Way about three blocks from Arcadia and a few more from Brockton Central. Normally we wouldn't walk this far to buy some food but we have business in this district.
As we stand in line with bundles of heart shaped boxes, neatly stacked in deep blue plastic basket, and a bag of frozen tatter tots we notice the man standing behind us. He is tall, slightly muscular, with a goofy grin on his face that makes us want to smack it right off with one powerful slap. He's about thirty, give or take a few years. His fiery red hair is spiky, like some punk rocker wannabe, that didn't quite fit for someone of his age. He has his phone glued to his ear as he talked with someone he semi-constantly cooed 'Puppy'.
He doesn't really smell out of place but there was something about him that makes us weary. His focus isn't on the cashier, on us, or even in the passionate conversation he was currently having instead his gaze and body language seemed to be absorbed by the girl. It isn't threatening, at least, it reminds us more of a bodyguard rather than a future kidnapper… but then again, we might just be overthinking it. The man is more likely to be some kind of military instead of a kidnapper in this part of town.
It might be the way he stands, appearing relaxed to the untrained observer but we are not so inexperienced. He doesn't stand like a soldier or like a cop but he is ready for anything non-the less. He reminds us of someone from my other's imagination but those are murky so we ignore them. Or perhaps my other simply dislikes their voice.
It is a petty reason but I do not blame my shadow.
We turn our attention to the girl standing in front of us. She is shorter than us in as Taylor but looks much smaller because she hunches over. We can't see her face from our spot behind her as her frizzy brown hair covered the side of her face. She is dressed in bland colors of Arcadia, it's a modest uniform, different shades of gray compliment each other and looks rather comfy for the winter months. She smells like our old hospital room and nicotine… judging by the lack of items in her hands we can conclude that she is going to feed her habit.
'We should help her.' My other said as it popped atop the cash register. It was a skinny thing but the smile it sent our way was very endearing. Our vision flooded with images of a woman with died white hair that wasn't Felicia. I could feel sympathy for the girl. Jenna Cole was her name; she was stubborn and foul-mouthed but had a good heart. She had helped the one my other called Eddie takes down a whole cartel before her untimely death somewhere in Mexico. 'She is Innocent, Taylor. We must save her!"
The emotions that we are feeling… are pure but we have no clue how to engage the problem. Addiction is a black hole that is nearly impossible to escape from, I mean look at dad, either he's working or he's drinking which leaves us with no avenue for intervention. Now how the hell are we supposed to help her? A girl we have never talked to or ran into before needs a personal touch… sadly, there are nothing we can do for her.
Confusion floods me because there is something inside us can help her despite my assertion that there was no way we could. Smoking, like drugs, can't be broken just because of a onetime intervention by a stranger, never mind that as Venom we don't have the reputation make those kinds of suggestions.
'We can, Taylor!' My other refuses stubbornly but he suddenly stills. It turns its head towards the door and bares its teeth menacingly. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand what's about to happen but it does put us in a rather tough spot. We can't just change into our-
'Move back.' It hisses in my mother's voice. 'Act like you're going to grab a soda, someone's coming!' We don't hesitate to do as my other suggests, moving past the chatting man on his phone and hid behind a Mouse Protector cut out next to the cold fridges. With a chime of the doorbell three skinheads walked in each brandishing one visible weapon, a bat, a chain, and a bowie knife. The man on his phone tensed almost immediately and moved to intercept them before they could reach the mousy girl.
The skinheads aren't nervous; they've probably done this kind of shakedown a thousand times, intimidating small business owners for their own gains and chipping away at any hope of a better life that these people strive to create. They are a plague that eats away at the foundation of society from within! It's self-replicating virus. They drag those around them to their level and those infected spread it to others commencing a slow decay that needs to be PURGED before they turn the whole city necrotic.
Marquis used to be the stopgap for Brocton Bay. He was curbed the worst of the worst in this city, repelled the Slaughterhouse Nine, and drove the Teeth out of our home. Marquis represented a time when crime was organized, targeted, and tended to leave the Innocents alone… unless they wanted his protection. Under Marquis the drug trade was kept away from schools, and the majority of casualties of Parahuman-on-Parahuman violence were Parahumans.
The number of Innocents that Marquis could potentially save outweighed the Guilt of his crimes. It is simple calculus; you don't remove the most effective tool in your arsenal just because it makes you look ineffective. Yet the heroes had scales covering their eyes. In the final days of Marquis's reign the Brockton Bay Brigade focused exclusively on him allowing worse parasites like Allfather.
It is disgusting, we know, having to pick between evil. Many will fault us for our way of thinking. Even now as we crawl up the wall and onto the off white ceiling I can't help but remember the words my mom read to me months before her accident.
"Lesser, greater, middling, it's all the same. Proportions are negotiated, boundaries blurred. I'm not a pious hermit; I haven't done only good in my life. But if I'm to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all."
We disagree. Inaction is the same as guilt. After all…
We were innocent once…
"It's that time of the month again, Castiglione." The apparent head skinhead demands shoving the brown haired girl back and puling out a shiny grey revolver. The old man behind the cashier glares at him with pure hatred but starts reaching for something under the counter. For a second we think Mister Castiglione is going to pull a gun and blast him away but instead, much to our disappointment, he pulls out a bright manila envelope.
Our attention drifts monetarily to the man that had been behind us. Two of the Nazi filth has him pinned onto a shelf.
You know… it's funny, watching a holdup while hanging upside down from the ceiling. It's almost a surreal experience, one moment you're waiting to pay for chocolate and the very next three skinheads with chains, bats, and a gun march into a convenience store like they own the place. They have no idea what's coming for them.
They don't notice me; instead they focus on Mister Castiglione. The wrinkly old cashier that had manned this small convenience store since my dad was a kid. He had come to Brockton Bay five years before Scion first showed himself. He had survived every gang that had tried to bring him down but he was older now and couldn't swing a bat the same way anymore but there is no need to fear.
We are here to protect the Innocent after all.
Invisible tendrils wrap around the two skinhead by their necks and immediately yank them into the air quicker than their brains can register the weightless sensation and then we them into the fridges where we had originally hid. The shattering of glass made the last skinhead turn and blindly fire.
Two shots escape the chamber before we realize our mistake. Our eyes widen in horror as thick stream of red arterial spray of blood erupted from the brown haired girl's neck and her body crumples like a puppet with cut strings. We launch ourselves at him before he can turn the gun on the red haired man.
We barely register his scream when wrap our hand over his wrist and squeeze.
My shadow drinks the blood that seeps from the mangled remains of his weapon and his hand, absorbs the muscle and bone. With each agonizing second we grow stronger while the Guilty grows weaker.
"We just ate that dude's arm!'
'Fuel in the tank, Taylor, fuel in the tank!'
He looks at us with terror in his eyes that would have mirrored our own just a few scant moments ago. "You thought yourself a hero, didn't you?" We hiss digging deeper taking more. One moment of contemplation later we shake our head. "No, you didn't. You never wanted to be a white knight or a soldier for a righteous cause. You just wanted a vent for your anger, your rage, and your hatred because you wanted to make the world pay for every thing it has taken for you. Do you honestly believe that you're the only one that's been hurt?" We lift him up by the stump of his arm and snarl. Who hates this world?" Wait, what? Who's suffered?!"
With his free hand he tries to claw himself free. "Answer US!" His nails break against our skin.
He doesn't answer, so we march him to his friend and run his face through a plate of glass.
Once.
Then again.
And again.
Until he stops moving but he will not die. He'll live but with scars from that will remind him what it's like to suffer like those Innocents who have suffered because of him. He will be better for it or he will be seeing us again, soon. We drop his still bleeding mess of a body with a huff of disgust and our attention turn to the red haired man and the dying girl.
The man kneeled over the girl, hand on her neck and phone long forgotten. His face is an easygoing mask but the tension is there. The wound to the neck is lethal unless they have Panacea on speed dial. Comforting and teasing words spill out of his mouth like a waterfall. Well, at least Arcadia isn't that far…
"Holy shit!" We look away from the victims and lo and behold there is a cape standing over a puddle of blood. The cape is obviously female… her costume was rather skintight black cat suit, like those of a stereotypical femme fatale … goddammit Felicia. The voice is familiar even though we can't place it, at least, not muffled by that mockery of our face. The cape has clearly modeled part of her costume to match ours as there is a large white spider covering her chest. Her mask looks like us when we keep our mouth shut, white glassy eyes and everything.
'We have a fan…' I tell my shadow dryly, as we shifted our attention back to the bleeding girl. Looking closer it is clear to us that moving her will only worsen her condition. She lost too much blood and there's no telling what kind of damage the second bullet did to chest. We look at the red haired man's bloody hand pressing on her neck while the other puts pressure on her chest. There is nothing we can do!
'Yes, there is.' Without warning my hair shoots out like a blanket and begins to cover the girl from head toe while my arms push the man back. As soon as our hair bundled itself around her like a blanket we felt her pain as if it is our own. Then came the weight of emotion, years of self-hatred, scathing looks, and mental manipulation by exterior force that inspired adoration and fear, but most of all there was an overwhelming sense of relief. As if her death would be a release. From every crushing expectation, from the cold eyes of a woman pretending to be a mother, of a vacant eyed father who she knows she could fix but fear of self stops her, and from an inappropriate desire from he beautiful sister.
She remembers a time before all this but not well. A pearl pink princess dress and tea parties with a handsome man with the same brown hair. I remember the comforting smell of cigars covering something vaguely metallic. I remember being Amelia…
The connection isn't one way though much to our ire. She sees us at our best as often she as at worst. Every dark impulse share between my shadow and me, every action we could have taken to pacify our enemies quicker and less violently than we handled them but we don't regret our actions. Showmanship, pain and, fear are the languages that these barbarians speak. Showmanship allows the masses to digest even our most brutal attack. Fear justifies our brutality because it spreads like a virus; it's a useful tool after all. The PRT uses it and the gangs use it for their own purposes… violence just pulls it all together in a neat package. Amelia understand this too despite how much she hates it.
But not for the reasons most would think.
Amelia hates when they make her work on Guilty filth like this.
Our connection deepens for every second that passes as my other flushes the every poison in her system. Thoughts become clearer as we take more and more weight onto our shoulders… except for…
There is something else…
…Another Seed?
(Shaper)
"AHHHHH!" We scream in pure agony, both her and I, as that inhuman word echoed through our minds. It lasts for a good three second before it stops and we are violently pulled away. We are disorientated as we soar through the air, across the street and into a parked car. Before either of us can reorient a small, shimmering fist smashes into our jaw driving our head through the windshield.
There's no pain at first only a feeling of weightlessness as we come back to ourselves but that is easily ignored in favor of listening to the tingling spider sense.
We dodge the next punch and retaliate with our own one-two combo. A barrier of some kind stops the first hit but the second makes contact with an up coming fist... for some reason it snaps like wood. We immediately capitalize at the apparent advantage and launch ourselves at the assailant, pinning them to the ground with enough force to the road.
It is only then that we recognize the face of our attacker. Blonde and beautiful Victoria Dallon is glaring at us with levels of anger that is only surpassed by the pain she must be feeling. I'm ninety percent sure that I just splintered the bones in Glory girl's arm.
Fuck.
XxX
A/N: and here's the next chapter of TMV. Sorry for the delay but October has been... difficult. Loved the Venom movie and i honestly can't wait for the sequel Woody Harrelson looks like he'll make a good Cletus Kasady. As for Carnage joining with Jack Slash... well i can't really say if that will happen... their motivation are too different despite the similarities in means for achieving their goals. Carnage just wants to kill but he wouldn't strive to end the world because then there would be nothing to kill.
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kind
their
He curbed?
same way
fire?
glad to see a new update!
Vaalintine
Wild Wondorous Wolfalope
Calling it now, Panacea dies because GG is too busy trying to fight the cape trying to save her life. But hey, its not like anyone is going to actually help. They'll probably just support the person who saw an unknown cape fighting villians and publicly labeled them "Evil" because they looked scary.
Touch 2.2
- Location
- Rhode Island
Touch 2.2
She doesn't give us a chance to explain and a broken arm doesn't stop her.
Glory Girl kicks us into the air with a knee strike that could have killed a minor brute. She's not thinking if she were she'd be clutching her damaged limb protectively instead of charging at us like a drugged up bull. She punches us higher until we clear a six-story building and then she hits us again with a wild haymaker. The longer she fights the more we notice the pain getting to her. Her strikes are becoming unfocused and getting sloppy. The teen before us is a far cry from the idealistic hero that's plastered onto every teen Parahuman magazine from here to New York.
She is rage personified. Glory girl doesn't stop to consider the consequences of her actions as she attacks; she's trying to kill us. She thinks we're a threat because we are getting results. Because we've been doing what she wishes she could be doing. Cleaning up the streets. Healing the wounded. Protecting the Innocent and purging the Guilty.
And then she spikes us towards a building. From the look of it was rather pristine without any signs of graffiti or the usual wear and tear that frequented poorer neighborhoods. There was even an old man in a suit by the door standing at the edge of a green carpet meant to welcome guests. As we gracelessly towards the hotel on a hill I realized that we are currently heading to the Convent, aka the oldest and most expensive hotel to ever. EVER, be built in Brockton Bay. I had only been in there once when mom published her first book.
And then she died a week later.
Our mind flings into overdrive as we try to think of ways to slow ourselves down but none of would be violable. The shield prevents us from webbing Glory Girl and swinging away, if we grew wings it would stop us but Glory Girl would just drive us through a wall. Right now my mobility is reduced because there's nothing I can latch onto but if we wait until-
Dodge!
There was a sound, distant at first… almost like humming and then it hits like a freight train.
"ARRGHHH!" Pure. Fucking. Agony. My body felt like it's tearing itself apart. That's the only way to describe getting hit by whatever that was. It pushes us away from the hotel but puts us in the street. My other recoils… pulling back just as my back hits the pavement.
KRAAK!!
There is a short burst of pain before I go numb.
My body goes ragdoll and my shadow goes silent.
Hurt.
Alone.
God… so… alone.
The pain from the blast was nothing compared to the silent dread that filled me. It's been weeks since I felt so small and vulnerable. Instinctually I reach out to my other… both mentally and physically but all I feel is numbness and that the only thing that is coming is pain.
Glory Girl's fist goes through my heart like tissue paper and there is nothing I can do about.
"No!" Someone yells as darkness clouds my vision. A man in a rather plain costume with golden lion heads runs towards me but I could feel myself fading… away.
'
Heal up, kid.' A gruff voice whispered in my ear. It wasn't the hiss of my shadows sweet voice but it was equally familiar. It brought a sense of security and love lost. Even though the numbness I could feel my other's joy and elation despite the raw waves anger that radiated from it. 'I'll take it from here.
…
Eddie?
XXX
Taylor!
No.
NO!
NOT AGAIN!
NEVER AGAIN!
XXX
The false heroes were too busy arguing to notice when we rose. My other turns her faux her back into muscle and makes us swell in in muscle and in size until we're like we were before. We are taller than Taylor as Venom and were built to take the Juggernaut. The girl in the school uniform while looked pissed as hell while the kid with the lion aesthetic was raging at her pretty hard. Probably had something to do with my other's newest host… good kid. A bit young and far too angry but at least she wasn't swearing up a vendetta against a kid like Parker.
It felt good to be back despite how we left things. After all the manipulations and Carnage… seeing my beloved this happy and protective of a host warmed our heart up something good.
Well… their heart.
Shit. I'm probably dead.
'The boy fightsss with ssoundsss, Eddie!' My other hissed out. Its anger and rage pouring into me like a typhoon… these emotions would have consumed the new host but to me? It was just another drop in the ocean 'He hurt Taylor! Rip him apart! Eat hissss BRAIN!'
"Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
"I was-"
"You don't get to talk! She was on the floor and you killed her like she was nothing!"
"She was hurting Amy!"
"Witnesses say otherwise!"
"I know what I saw."
"You killed-."
"She's moving!"
We didn't let diet-Shriek turn. One quick punch to the back of the head, strong enough to knock Frank Castle out cold later and he was unconscious… with a dent the size of our fist in his helmet… and a concussion that'll bother him for a good long while. Blondie tried to sucker punch us while our attention was focused on the other kid but Spider-Man used to that all the time.
Of course, we dodge it, Parker was faster than this and his sucker punches had a quip to go with it.
"You wanna fight like an adult?" It comes out like a growl and that's fine. Neither of us is feeling chipper, despite our reunion… however brief it may be. "Fine."
Discount Sentry was as clumsy of a fighter as that Black and red Spider-brat but then again he was angry and so was she… so perhaps there was some skill there but anger is as poisonous to humans as it is to Symbiotes. Our muscles bulge as we strike the girl's shield. It cracked and shattered giving us the opportunity to finish the fight before it escalated into a full-on brawl with a full team, maybe this worlds Avengers if it took too long. A kick to the leg shattered her knee, a smack a tug and the splintered arm aggravates the wound and a twist decommissions it for good. She screams, I scowl but continue our assault anyway. My beloved wants her to die and I'll admit that I'm not feeling particularly merciful.
I won't kill her. I won't be responsible for dragging them through that dark path but making her suffer a fraction of Taylor's pain is the type of justice I can happily get behind.
Even without the punch through the chest without our Symbiote Taylor would have become a paraplegic with all her dreams of becoming a hero smothered by an overzealous teenager and she sure as hell didn't deserve to die.
Like I said Taylor is a good kid but its way too early for her to have a moment like this. It's one of those moments that either make or break you. Taylor hesitated and she paid the price. She'll learn from this and come to understand that 'heroes' are a hotheaded group that won't listen until you MAKE them listen, the same thing happened with Spider-Woman when we were pregnant with Sleeper.
It was pretty brutal but fuck that kind of violence isn't spontaneous. The way she hit Taylor… it couldn't have been her first time fighting like that. There was a time when I would have taken the hits like a champ, fought for the fun of it but the girl inside us was missing most of her heart and I couldn't risk this little shit having some kind of secret power.
We take her out but we make it hurt and we sure as hell don't hold back. A solid punch to the jaw knocks her down with enough force that she rebounds off the ground. In the span of a few seconds the brat is a bloody whimpering mess but it doesn't make us feel anything resembling guilt.
'KILLL HERRR'
So we turn around, ignoring my other's demand that we finish the brat, just in time to see a kid on a flying skateboard and another dressed as a medieval Iron Man drop in. Iron lad hit us with a beam of energy… that did absolutely nothing to us? He kept at it though.
'This universe really sucks.' We sigh as we prepare to dodge Marty Mcfly's laser gun but we didn't have to worry… because a girl in a homemade Venom costume appeared out of nowhere and threw a large wrench at his head… knocking him off the board, to the ground.
Taylor has some badass fans.
"Guess she really threw a wrench in your plans, huh?" I joke but the smile drops when we feel our children approach. Four Symbiotes possessing a dog charge at Iron lad with enough force to dent his knightly armor.
"You really don't sound like Venom, her jokes are wayyyy better." Taylor's fan chimes as she approaches us and I realize that despite the fuller body we're dealing with a kid. "What's up with that? Are you her dad or something?"
"Or something…" We answer with a smile while we watch our children knock switch between pinning hoverboard boy down and knocking Iron Lad down whenever he got to his knees. Watch a hero in power armor turtle is always fun. "But I really don't have time to get into that. You gotta place where we can lie low?"
"Depends where Venom is." She challenges while picking up her weapon. "Can't leave my girl hanging, capeesh?" Knowing that it would be easier to show her than explain we open our chest to show Taylor, as she would look like as Venom.
"She's pretty banged up."
The girl's posture changed from cautious to angry as soon as the words "Should have nailed Glory Hole when I had the chance." She muttered in a way that made us certain that she didn't want us to hear. "Yeah, I know a place. My big bro won't like that I'm bringing you but he can go suck a whole box of…" We don't let her finish because we can hear several vehicles approaching the hotel. In one fluid motion w place her around our wide shoulders and take off into the air. "Hey! " Hybrid, or what's left of them camouflaged and followed close behind.
"You point, I swing." My instructions were short and sweet despite the indignation in the girl's protest. "Cooperate and we might survive." Pause for effect, grin and say: "Do we have a deal?"
XXX
A/N: Sorry about the long wait but between the seventeen rewrites this chapter went through, finding the time to write them, and a busy schedule it took a bit to finish and I am sorry. I can't promise it won't happen again but I will do my best so it won't.
Now to clear something up before some people cry foul, Eddie Brock isn't back. He's a failsafe. I got the idea from Venom 8 when Flash Thompson's personality took the wheel while Eddie and a catatonic Symbiote tried to escape from Ultimate Reed Richards' base on 616. If you're not caught up with Venom's current comic run, I highly recommend it. It uses retcons effectively and dare I say, well, beautifully.
Hope you liked the chapter. See you soon.
She doesn't give us a chance to explain and a broken arm doesn't stop her.
Glory Girl kicks us into the air with a knee strike that could have killed a minor brute. She's not thinking if she were she'd be clutching her damaged limb protectively instead of charging at us like a drugged up bull. She punches us higher until we clear a six-story building and then she hits us again with a wild haymaker. The longer she fights the more we notice the pain getting to her. Her strikes are becoming unfocused and getting sloppy. The teen before us is a far cry from the idealistic hero that's plastered onto every teen Parahuman magazine from here to New York.
She is rage personified. Glory girl doesn't stop to consider the consequences of her actions as she attacks; she's trying to kill us. She thinks we're a threat because we are getting results. Because we've been doing what she wishes she could be doing. Cleaning up the streets. Healing the wounded. Protecting the Innocent and purging the Guilty.
And then she spikes us towards a building. From the look of it was rather pristine without any signs of graffiti or the usual wear and tear that frequented poorer neighborhoods. There was even an old man in a suit by the door standing at the edge of a green carpet meant to welcome guests. As we gracelessly towards the hotel on a hill I realized that we are currently heading to the Convent, aka the oldest and most expensive hotel to ever. EVER, be built in Brockton Bay. I had only been in there once when mom published her first book.
And then she died a week later.
Our mind flings into overdrive as we try to think of ways to slow ourselves down but none of would be violable. The shield prevents us from webbing Glory Girl and swinging away, if we grew wings it would stop us but Glory Girl would just drive us through a wall. Right now my mobility is reduced because there's nothing I can latch onto but if we wait until-
Dodge!
There was a sound, distant at first… almost like humming and then it hits like a freight train.
"ARRGHHH!" Pure. Fucking. Agony. My body felt like it's tearing itself apart. That's the only way to describe getting hit by whatever that was. It pushes us away from the hotel but puts us in the street. My other recoils… pulling back just as my back hits the pavement.
KRAAK!!
There is a short burst of pain before I go numb.
My body goes ragdoll and my shadow goes silent.
Hurt.
Alone.
God… so… alone.
The pain from the blast was nothing compared to the silent dread that filled me. It's been weeks since I felt so small and vulnerable. Instinctually I reach out to my other… both mentally and physically but all I feel is numbness and that the only thing that is coming is pain.
Glory Girl's fist goes through my heart like tissue paper and there is nothing I can do about.
"No!" Someone yells as darkness clouds my vision. A man in a rather plain costume with golden lion heads runs towards me but I could feel myself fading… away.
'
Heal up, kid.' A gruff voice whispered in my ear. It wasn't the hiss of my shadows sweet voice but it was equally familiar. It brought a sense of security and love lost. Even though the numbness I could feel my other's joy and elation despite the raw waves anger that radiated from it. 'I'll take it from here.
…
Eddie?
XXX
Taylor!
No.
NO!
NOT AGAIN!
NEVER AGAIN!
XXX
The false heroes were too busy arguing to notice when we rose. My other turns her faux her back into muscle and makes us swell in in muscle and in size until we're like we were before. We are taller than Taylor as Venom and were built to take the Juggernaut. The girl in the school uniform while looked pissed as hell while the kid with the lion aesthetic was raging at her pretty hard. Probably had something to do with my other's newest host… good kid. A bit young and far too angry but at least she wasn't swearing up a vendetta against a kid like Parker.
It felt good to be back despite how we left things. After all the manipulations and Carnage… seeing my beloved this happy and protective of a host warmed our heart up something good.
Well… their heart.
Shit. I'm probably dead.
'The boy fightsss with ssoundsss, Eddie!' My other hissed out. Its anger and rage pouring into me like a typhoon… these emotions would have consumed the new host but to me? It was just another drop in the ocean 'He hurt Taylor! Rip him apart! Eat hissss BRAIN!'
"Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
"I was-"
"You don't get to talk! She was on the floor and you killed her like she was nothing!"
"She was hurting Amy!"
"Witnesses say otherwise!"
"I know what I saw."
"You killed-."
"She's moving!"
We didn't let diet-Shriek turn. One quick punch to the back of the head, strong enough to knock Frank Castle out cold later and he was unconscious… with a dent the size of our fist in his helmet… and a concussion that'll bother him for a good long while. Blondie tried to sucker punch us while our attention was focused on the other kid but Spider-Man used to that all the time.
Of course, we dodge it, Parker was faster than this and his sucker punches had a quip to go with it.
"You wanna fight like an adult?" It comes out like a growl and that's fine. Neither of us is feeling chipper, despite our reunion… however brief it may be. "Fine."
Discount Sentry was as clumsy of a fighter as that Black and red Spider-brat but then again he was angry and so was she… so perhaps there was some skill there but anger is as poisonous to humans as it is to Symbiotes. Our muscles bulge as we strike the girl's shield. It cracked and shattered giving us the opportunity to finish the fight before it escalated into a full-on brawl with a full team, maybe this worlds Avengers if it took too long. A kick to the leg shattered her knee, a smack a tug and the splintered arm aggravates the wound and a twist decommissions it for good. She screams, I scowl but continue our assault anyway. My beloved wants her to die and I'll admit that I'm not feeling particularly merciful.
I won't kill her. I won't be responsible for dragging them through that dark path but making her suffer a fraction of Taylor's pain is the type of justice I can happily get behind.
Even without the punch through the chest without our Symbiote Taylor would have become a paraplegic with all her dreams of becoming a hero smothered by an overzealous teenager and she sure as hell didn't deserve to die.
Like I said Taylor is a good kid but its way too early for her to have a moment like this. It's one of those moments that either make or break you. Taylor hesitated and she paid the price. She'll learn from this and come to understand that 'heroes' are a hotheaded group that won't listen until you MAKE them listen, the same thing happened with Spider-Woman when we were pregnant with Sleeper.
It was pretty brutal but fuck that kind of violence isn't spontaneous. The way she hit Taylor… it couldn't have been her first time fighting like that. There was a time when I would have taken the hits like a champ, fought for the fun of it but the girl inside us was missing most of her heart and I couldn't risk this little shit having some kind of secret power.
We take her out but we make it hurt and we sure as hell don't hold back. A solid punch to the jaw knocks her down with enough force that she rebounds off the ground. In the span of a few seconds the brat is a bloody whimpering mess but it doesn't make us feel anything resembling guilt.
'KILLL HERRR'
So we turn around, ignoring my other's demand that we finish the brat, just in time to see a kid on a flying skateboard and another dressed as a medieval Iron Man drop in. Iron lad hit us with a beam of energy… that did absolutely nothing to us? He kept at it though.
'This universe really sucks.' We sigh as we prepare to dodge Marty Mcfly's laser gun but we didn't have to worry… because a girl in a homemade Venom costume appeared out of nowhere and threw a large wrench at his head… knocking him off the board, to the ground.
Taylor has some badass fans.
"Guess she really threw a wrench in your plans, huh?" I joke but the smile drops when we feel our children approach. Four Symbiotes possessing a dog charge at Iron lad with enough force to dent his knightly armor.
"You really don't sound like Venom, her jokes are wayyyy better." Taylor's fan chimes as she approaches us and I realize that despite the fuller body we're dealing with a kid. "What's up with that? Are you her dad or something?"
"Or something…" We answer with a smile while we watch our children knock switch between pinning hoverboard boy down and knocking Iron Lad down whenever he got to his knees. Watch a hero in power armor turtle is always fun. "But I really don't have time to get into that. You gotta place where we can lie low?"
"Depends where Venom is." She challenges while picking up her weapon. "Can't leave my girl hanging, capeesh?" Knowing that it would be easier to show her than explain we open our chest to show Taylor, as she would look like as Venom.
"She's pretty banged up."
The girl's posture changed from cautious to angry as soon as the words "Should have nailed Glory Hole when I had the chance." She muttered in a way that made us certain that she didn't want us to hear. "Yeah, I know a place. My big bro won't like that I'm bringing you but he can go suck a whole box of…" We don't let her finish because we can hear several vehicles approaching the hotel. In one fluid motion w place her around our wide shoulders and take off into the air. "Hey! " Hybrid, or what's left of them camouflaged and followed close behind.
"You point, I swing." My instructions were short and sweet despite the indignation in the girl's protest. "Cooperate and we might survive." Pause for effect, grin and say: "Do we have a deal?"
XXX
A/N: Sorry about the long wait but between the seventeen rewrites this chapter went through, finding the time to write them, and a busy schedule it took a bit to finish and I am sorry. I can't promise it won't happen again but I will do my best so it won't.
Now to clear something up before some people cry foul, Eddie Brock isn't back. He's a failsafe. I got the idea from Venom 8 when Flash Thompson's personality took the wheel while Eddie and a catatonic Symbiote tried to escape from Ultimate Reed Richards' base on 616. If you're not caught up with Venom's current comic run, I highly recommend it. It uses retcons effectively and dare I say, well, beautifully.
Hope you liked the chapter. See you soon.
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