Spiderman: Venom

Peter was thrilled. With his new armor and abilities, he could actually head out into the city and help people. He'd be the first to admit he was nervous, but his whole body buzzed with excitement.

He felt the alien liquid within him stirring, and as his vision darkened, it suddenly came alive, spreading over him. The thick, black, viscous layer enveloped him, adding a layer of muscle. He felt taller, broader, and most importantly, powerful.

His new symbiotic skin—or "symbskin," as he'd named it—was warm around him. He knew it came from somewhere inside him, though he had no clue where, and it felt both solid and durable. The suit covered him completely, yet Peter felt no different. He could breathe easily, and his senses felt sharper than ever. Though lights appeared brighter, he could thicken the material around his eyes and ears to adjust.

He began by stretching and flexing, still getting used to being Venom. Once he felt steady, he shot a line and pulled himself up to the walkways in the warehouse.

His first task of the night was to test his precision in this form. Though a bit dull, he needed to check the antenna array he'd assembled from old satellite receivers on the roof—a perfect trial.

Peter intended to keep his Venom activities secret. First, he needed to fix the internet connection, then set up a secure Faraday cage around the warehouse.

Aleksei had let him take some broken consoles and satellite receivers, ones Peter marked as "for parts" at a discount. Once he had them stripped, soldered, and rewired, they just needed securing to the warehouse roof.

The access panel was tucked into a corner, with a metal ladder leading up to the hatch. The roof was a basic tar and felt structure with drainage along the edges, a small ledge, and a water tower and main wiring junction in the corner.

His enhanced build made hauling the dish and receiver easy. Holding them securely with one hand, he gripped the bolts with the other, shaping his symbskin into a wrench. They creaked but came loose without trouble.

Though his eyes were covered, he could see as if the skin were part of him rather than a barrier. Even as the February sun began to set, he could see as clearly as if it were daylight.

He stood up and stretched, letting the light sea breeze brush over what now felt like his skin.

Doing his best not to dwell on essentially being naked, he hooked up all the wiring. Once he added power, the warehouse would have both TV and internet. He planned to install routers for each unit in the warehouse, wiring them for both wireless and wired access.

All he needed now was a water heater. Running his hand over the clean panel where it would hang, he chuckled to himself.

Guess I need to ask Aleksei if I can get it back.

"Haaaa," the massive Venom exhaled. He'd realized he could form a mouth, but it was a grotesque, fanged maw full of nightmare teeth. After staring at it and running his oversized tongue along its gums, he decided to keep the suit fully sealed.

Truth be told, the black color was a little too goth for his liking. He would have preferred something red, white, and blue—but free superpowers were free superpowers.

His sense of style didn't exactly have room to complain. He could extend or retract the symbskin at will; it formed and dissolved instantly, even reacting to threats he didn't consciously notice. But it couldn't change color; it remained black.

One thing that puzzled him was the white spider symbol on his chest. He was aware something had bitten him—likely a spider. Was it some subconscious symbol? He didn't know, but it did look cool.

With his work done, he decided to venture out into the city. There were places in New York where even young men dared not go. Muggers didn't care about gender anymore. For now, Venom decided to stay nearby, in Sunset Park.

Patrolling the entire city was too much; he didn't know how long his powers would keep him alert, and he still had school and work. He'd avoid Hell's Kitchen for now. It was a dangerous area ruled by gangs and worse, and Peter knew he could be seriously injured, even with powers.

Soon enough, he heard cries of fear and rowdy laughter—a mugging. A drunk girl had wandered down an alley, only to be held at knifepoint. Venom shot a web at a nearby water tower and swung down the alley, crashing into the mugger. His feet connected with the mugger's torso, sending him flying.

"You shouldn't be here, miss. Club Acapulco is that way," he pointed, and with a tear-streaked face, she ran off.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Someone must've forgotten it's trash day and left this in the alley."

The mugger, who had gotten back on his feet, now pointed his knife at Venom. "What the hell are you?" he spat. "Halloween was months ago." He lunged forward.

Venom watched the knife come at him as if in slow motion. He sidestepped, chopped down, and watched as the knife clattered to the ground along with the mugger.

"You broke my wrist," the man complained, but Venom wasn't phased.

"Then stop committing crimes." He shot a web to retrieve the woman's purse. Looking up, he shot out a line, pulled himself up, and swung in the direction she had run.

A few blocks later, he realized he had no idea where she'd gone and shrugged.

I'll drop this off at the station later, say I found it in the trash.

He stopped two more muggings around the park, with late-night joggers falling prey to lurking creeps.

His last encounter of the night, nearing six in the morning, was with a square-jawed man mugging a young woman. What surprised Venom was that he thought he heard the guy apologizing for robbing her.

Venom didn't care, though, and shot a web ball, knocking the man's knife out of his hand before landing in front of him.

The woman screamed and ran, while the man raised his hands. "You're that spider-dude, right?" he stammered, dropping to his knees. "I don't want trouble. The girl's gone, no harm, no foul, right?"

"No harm, no foul?" Venom's fury flared, and he grabbed the man, lifting him into the air.

"NO HARM, NO FOUL!" he roared, slamming a fist into the man's ribs.

"No harm, no foul," he muttered with each strike.

The mugger could only cough up blood as the monstrous figure hammered his ribs. Venom, however, was lost in the worst memories of his life.

A woman's scream, the crunch of bones breaking. His uncle's killer walking free. A new school where the first person who spoke to him grabbed his wrist, twisting it, and warned him to stay away.

Each bully, each shock, every time someone had said, "Stay quiet, don't complain, just endure it," surged through his mind as his rage finally spilled over. His fists moved on their own, but as the red fog lifted, Venom saw the damage he had done.

He watched as the mugger collapsed at his feet, his breathing as ragged as Venom's own. His hands trembled as he looked at the man's chest, barely rising and falling. He hadn't intended to lose control—to punish, yes, but not to injure this badly.

He searched the man's jacket, finding a bundle of cash and a phone. The mugger had been careful, keeping only the money and discarding everything else. The phone was locked and there was no ID.

Venom held the phone with both hands and hit the emergency call button on the screen.

"911, what is your emergency?"

Venom's voice cracked as he spoke. "Uh, yeah, I found someone hurt pretty bad at the corner of 20th in Sunset Park. I have his phone… please send help."

In shock over what he'd done, Venom dropped the phone, ignoring the operator's voice. He shot a web to a nearby rooftop and pulled himself up, climbing higher.

He waited what felt like an eternity until an ambulance arrived, followed by a police car. The mugger's chest was a bruised mess, with bone fragments poking through his skin.

Venom felt a wave of sickness. He hadn't meant to harm him this severely, hadn't planned to lose control like that. He clenched his fists, noticing he still held the cash—a stack of tens and twenties totaling around six hundred dollars. Whoever the guy was, he'd scored well, but now his victims were worse off for encountering him. The man wasn't Uncle Ben's killer, but he had reminded Venom of him, becoming the outlet for his fury.

Peter allowed the black skin to retract, exposing the boy beneath.

He'd lost control, and it had been happening more often lately. His emotions flared every time he used his powers. Even calling on the armor seemed to require thinking about his time at school. He knew it wasn't healthy, and he knew it was the price of his powers.

Peter gazed out over the city. It looked beautiful at night. Streetlights glowed amid the rising steam in the cold air. But it felt so empty, and the blackness of the water mirrored his own inner darkness.

As the black skin receded, Peter sat alone in the dark, feeling his anger ebb away. Sitting on the edge of a rooftop, Peter took deep breaths, trying to calm himself after the encounter. As his hands finally stopped shaking, he wondered if his powers were influencing his mood. Did they make him angrier, or was it his anger that fueled his powers? Was the rage just a side effect?

Does it even matter? he thought. The Hulk destroyed that campus, but he only fought the people attacking him.

Was his anger such a bad thing? He'd lost control once, on some lowlife who'd stolen people's money and scarred them for life.

Had he ever lost it with Gwen? No. Aunt May? No. None of his loved ones had felt his fury. Actually, he loved them.

The thought of Gwen being hurt made his chest ache, not just with anger but with love too. It was like every nerve was heightened, and Peter loved it.

He wasn't some helpless kid, crying over being picked on anymore. He was Venom. He was vengeance. He would make this city, and everyone who wronged him, pay.

Venom just had to make sure he didn't kill anyone. That would bring cops, and he didn't want cops—they were useless anyway.

The girl he'd saved had run off, leaving no witnesses to what he'd done.

The city was corrupt, it was broken, and Venom knew he was going to set things right.

He looked at his armor, flexing as he created a pouch within the symbskin. After stowing the cash, he scanned for a higher vantage point. Spotting a few tall buildings, he shot a web and swung off into the night.

There were more crimes to stop. More criminals who needed a reminder they weren't at the top of the food chain anymore. More importantly, they needed to know the streets weren't safe for their kind anymore.

As he hunted, muggers and criminals discovered that a new predator stalked the city. By the end of the night, Venom had stopped four muggings and collected over two thousand dollars in cash. The last mugger, sobbing as Venom towered over him, kept stammering, "What the hell are you, man?" while Venom let a slight grin slip.

When he finished, he sprayed his message onto the sidewalk, a warning to New York's criminals:

Beware the Venom

Across town, Max paused outside his boss's office, reluctant to deliver news he knew would be unwelcome. Taking a deep breath, he knocked and entered.

Max had been with Aleksei since the beginning. He'd started by hotwiring cars while Aleksei drove, and now he was second in command. But tonight, it was his unfortunate job to deliver bad news.

"So, boss, we've got a problem." Max stood in front of Aleksei's desk. "Looks like we got hit twice last night, and Marko got roughed up by some big guy in black. Johnny got nabbed holding up a store, and Freddy got busted selling on Ninth. Three guys, three different people hit them, but here's the kicker, boss: one was dressed like a cat, another in red and blue spandex. And, uh, Marko keeps going on about some big guy in black, but he's on meds, so it could be nonsense."

Aleksei rubbed his face. "You're sure? Those three, all hit? Damn." He tossed his pen onto the desk. "So, what's the story with Marko? If the other two are in jail, why isn't he?"

"Uh, he says this guy stopped him before he could reach the target, then beat the crap out of him. His ribs are busted," Max said, looking at his boss. "He won't be back in action for months. Our guys got him out of the hospital before the cops showed, but he's in bad shape."

Aleksei clenched his fists. "Shit," he muttered. "We're this close to getting the heist ready, and Marko gets hurt, and the others get nabbed." He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a vial of pale blue liquid. Max frowned.

"You sure, boss? That's the last one. And, I mean, Marko—he's not exactly top-tier."

"Yeah, yeah. Tell him his daughter will be safe if—and I mean if—he does this. Now go. Let me know how it goes."

The container in Aleksei's hand was now empty. The other vials had all been used by him and Max. It was a risk, but if Marko gained even a fraction of what they'd gotten, nothing would stand in their way next week—not even some big guy in black.