Spiderman: Venom

Flash felt consumed by anger—nothing but seething anger—ever since waking up in the hospital. It didn't matter that his life had been at risk; no one seemed to grasp that football was his life.

When his father decided to have his already shattered leg amputated, it didn't just mark the end of his career; it marked the end of his future.

Flash didn't care about cutting-edge prosthetics or the promise that he could walk or play ball again with them. To him, it didn't matter. He felt like a monster, less of a man, and the dream of becoming a professional football player was now nothing more than that: just a dream.

A dream he had awoken from, only to discover it replaced by a new nightmare. He had tried reconnecting with MJ, but even that seemed impossible now. Every time he looked at her, he was reminded of the diner. And every time he tried to touch her, she recoiled. She was supposed to be there for him. She was supposed to belong to him.

"Flash, you've been keeping all these feelings bottled up. All I'm saying is that you need to see a therapist in addition to the physio," MJ said.

She had finally come to visit him the day after he woke up. He had already spent hours listening to his father rant about her: how she had abandoned him, how he needed to put her in her place, how much of a failure Flash had become.

But Flash didn't care about his father's words. He sat there, staring morosely at the edge of the hospital bed where his foot once had been—where his hopes and dreams had been severed from him. And it was all because of that damn Venom. All because of that damn Parker.

Parker had taken everything from him—even MJ. She had told Flash she had signed a lease and moved out. He'd been fed up with her obsession with Parker since junior high. She could talk about him for hours on end. Even getting her to agree to date him took three tries, and even then, Flash never really felt like she was his girlfriend.

Their relationship had always been lukewarm—nothing like what the other guys bragged about. They held hands occasionally, and she had kissed him once after a major victory, but that was all. Flash tried to take things slowly, assuming she was shy, but she never seemed to respond. She wouldn't let him touch her for more than a few fleeting moments.

"Flash, are you even paying attention to me? I can't—I just can't do this anymore. You don't say anything, you don't do anything. It's too much," MJ said.

Flash remembered saving her when the ceiling collapsed. He was certain it would have crushed her if he hadn't shoved her out of harm's way. If he hadn't saved her, he would have been fine. The thought made the rage within him surge again.

"This is your fault—it's all your fault!" he bellowed, causing MJ to flinch and scramble to put some distance between them.

MJ recognized that this wasn't just anger. His fists clutched the blanket tightly, his knuckles turning white from the strain. His face flushed a deep red as he screamed at her.

She froze for a moment, then gave him a puzzled look. "Saving me was my fault? Getting trapped under a building was my fault?"

Muse stirred within her.

Say what you feel. We will keep you safe from him.

Ever since Muse had bonded with her, MJ had grown bolder in confronting people like Flash. Even when he yelled and raged, she knew Muse would protect her.

Peter had even taught her a few basic self-defense moves—enough to hold her own. With Muse's help, taking on Flash wouldn't even be a challenge.

"No, Flash. You saved me, but you don't get to sit there and pin this on me. Take some damn responsibility for once in your life, you spoiled brat," MJ said, storming toward him. "I stayed with you, I put up with your ranting and raving, and now that everything's falling apart, you're going to blame me? Screw you, Flash. Screw you and screw this." She snatched her bag off the floor. "Grow the hell up."

Harrison stood in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee. Calmly, he set them down on a side table and closed the door behind him.

"Young lady, I believe you owe my son an apology," he said flatly, his face devoid of emotion.

He is ready to strike, but we won't let him hurt you, Muse reassured her.

"Harrison, get out of my way. I don't give a damn what you think I owe—whether it's to him or to you," MJ shot back.

Harrison clenched his fist, pointing a finger at her. "Listen here, you ungrateful bitch. If you'd been a proper, obedient girlfriend, he wouldn't be in this mess. He's right—it's your fault. You'll stay here, and you'll learn your place."

MJ laughed bitterly. "This isn't the 1950s, you moron. Watch." She took a step back and clapped her hands together as hard as she could, the sound echoing loudly in the room. "Try explaining that to the press, you asshole," she muttered.

Tears streaming down her face, MJ grabbed her bag and ran from the room, cradling her face. The hallway nurses had heard the shouting. It wasn't the first time yelling had come from Flash's room, and while his anger was palpable, there was no excuse for him to lash out at her.

One particular nurse saw MJ's tear-streaked face and Harrison's furious expression. She grinned, knowing that tabloids paid handsomely for stories like this. She picked up her phone. "Hey, guess what I just saw," she said.

MJ stormed through the hospital, tears streaking her cheeks. She slowed down at the main entrance, scanning for a cab before slipping into one.

The cab driver glanced at the distraught young woman, her face smeared with mascara and makeup. "Hey, are you okay, miss?"

MJ took a few deep breaths and nodded silently. The cabbie, used to picking up passengers from the hospital, knew better than to press her. If she wanted to talk, she would.

While he cast concerned glances her way, MJ was too preoccupied to notice.

Muse? Can you do that? I mean, make me cry whenever you want?

We can. We can make Mary feel anything she wants, but we didn't. Flash did that. We only help you feel it. Suppressing it hurts more.

MJ is fine, you know. Mary feels weird. She paused. But do you make me feel things?

We can, but we don't. Peter is right—too much, and you break; too little, and you break. We make you happy when needed, sad when needed.

Am I broken?

You are you, and we are us—no more, no less. We taste what you feel and experience it too, but we love and protect you.

Love you too, MJ thought.

Wiping her face during the ride home, she gave the driver an extra tip for his concern. It was a reminder that there were still kind people in the world. Flash and his friends had shown her too many of the selfish and cruel ones.

Stretching when she was sure no one could see her, MJ stepped confidently through the newly renovated front entrance. Peter was committed to turning their shared space into a real home for the three of them. With the arrival of better weather, he had repaired the cracked paving stones and begun planning improvements for the outdoor area.

He showed Gwen and MJ his designs for transforming the outside into a rockery. Gwen, however, pointed out that, with the heavy traffic nearby, spending time outside would be impractical. The interior was spacious enough, and she suggested he focus his energy on enhancing that instead.

Adding plumbing and electricity to the central square quickly became a top priority. Constantly recharging the hotplate was a hassle, and carrying dishes and cups back and forth was even more inconvenient.

Though Peter was initially hesitant—it required cutting a channel through the floor—he eventually agreed. It wasn't a particularly difficult project, just a messy one. Once complete, it would allow them to install a TV, among other upgrades. He was already brainstorming the logistics and preparing to gather the necessary tools.

Another possibility was building upward. He envisioned a cozy space near the roofline where they could sit and enjoy the view from the windows. Gwen had already picked out furniture for her deck, while MJ had been secretly browsing hot tubs.

When MJ arrived and caught sight of Peter shirtless, she bit her lip as Muse silently voiced its approval.

"I'm back," she called out, waving before heading down one of the paths to her box-style house. Flash was now firmly in her past, and she didn't even have to lie to explain it. No one would question her decision to distance herself, especially since all Flash ever seemed to do was yell. His behavior had spiraled out of control, alienating everyone around him, not just her. Breaking up with him had been the only reasonable option.

Gwen was at work. Her internship at Oscorp had evolved into a part-time lab assistant role for the summer, which would continue during college. Her earnings now far exceeded what MJ and Peter brought in combined.

Neither Peter nor MJ minded. Between his job at the junkyard and the rent paid by his two housemates, Peter wasn't swimming in money, but it was enough to keep the lights on and the fridge stocked.

MJ, meanwhile, had started landing auditions. While job-hunting closer to home, she had sent out headshots and asked her agent to find her roles—anything as long as it wasn't sleazy. She had managed to get some callbacks, even reading for a few understudy roles. Though nothing concrete had come through yet, the dreaded "We'll call you" responses weren't discouraging. According to her coworkers at the diner, she was getting more attention than most aspiring actors.

Peter walked in, drying himself off with a towel, and MJ felt her breath hitch. Muse stirred, and MJ had to fight to stay composed.

No, we can't. I want to as well, but we need to practice control.

Muse huffed. We know, but he's so amazing. There's nothing wrong with wanting him—or others.

Quiet. Just let me enjoy my time with Peter, okay?

She hated being reminded that Gwen had kissed her. It had been pleasant, but she knew Poison's influence was behind it. Gwen had joked that it wouldn't be a problem if MJ joined in, but MJ considered herself strictly straight—or at least she had thought so. Watching Gwen and Peter together awakened feelings that made her question that certainty.

"Damn it," she thought. I need to stop dwelling on this.

Lately, it had become harder to control her thoughts. Once she discovered the deep connection they shared, it became clear she needed more discipline. She had always judged her father for succumbing to alcohol, but now she understood the pull of addiction.

If Peter let her, she would gladly spend entire days in bed, overwhelmed by her desires, with Muse cheering her on. The physical pleasure and emotional intimacy were intoxicating. More than that, Peter provided her with stability—a safe haven amidst the whirlwind of emotions she often struggled with.

She loved him deeply, but Peter could be clueless at times. As Gwen had described him, "Book smart, street dumb" fit him perfectly.

It didn't bother MJ when he became animated about breakthroughs in "hexatexmexapoutine" or whatever it was. Watching him and Gwen get excited about their discoveries was endearing. To MJ, it was just some device humming and making a noise before spitting out a piece of paper. To them, it was like reinventing fire.

MJ had her own passions, though. She became animated about auditions, and Peter and Gwen always supported her by helping her rehearse. Most of the time, they acted as a sounding board, though Muse's flawless memory was her secret ace. Muse loved running lines with her, but MJ wanted to share the joy of acting with Peter and Gwen.

"So, how did it go?" Peter asked, sitting down awkwardly in one of her armchairs.

"It was fine," MJ replied with a shrug. "We broke up, and, uh, yeah. I might have yelled at his dad." She leaned in and kissed Peter on the nose. "Flash was just whining, so I played along until I could leave."

She grimaced, recalling how Flash had tried to grope her during their last fight. She had reflexively pulled away, which led to yet another shouting match.

After changing into more comfortable clothes, MJ cheekily flashed Peter before slipping into slacks and a loose blouse. Once she was settled on the couch, she continued, "Enough about him. Flash is history. We broke up, and he's not going to show up here. But Peter, Gwen and I are worried about you."

"Me?" Peter asked, frowning.

"Yes, you," she said, cuddling closer to him. "It's been over a week since the diner incident. Gwen and I have moved on, but you're not patrolling anymore. You're either here or at the junkyard. What's going on? If it's because Gwen and I won't join you, just tell us."

Peter squirmed. "I, uh, you know, I'm just trying to focus on Parker Inc."

MJ pressed a finger to his lips. "Peter, if it's guilt over the accident, you need to let it go. Those guys were criminals, and they were after something. Gwen could have been seriously hurt—or worse. It was that gray brute who brought the building down, not you."

Peter smirked. "Yeah, I know." He still hadn't told them about the two buildings Black Cat had left for him.

"Tiger, you need some motivation. Even if you're not hunting bad guys right now, you should at least prepare for when you are. To help, Gwen and I came up with a little system." MJ reached behind the couch and pulled out a glass jar filled with folded pieces of paper. "Every time you hit a milestone—like finishing a project or a course—you get one of these."

Peter frowned. "What, a piece of paper?"

"No, you idiot. Just take one and read it."

Peter pulled a slip of paper from the jar, unfolded it, and broke into a wide grin as he read it.

"Are they all sex-related?" he asked, chuckling as MJ laughed in response.