[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/QLPeQ5j.png?1[/img][/center] [indent]She's falling. The world has slowed to a near stop. Rain drops hang suspended in the night sky, glittering orange from the flames below. Smoke curls upward in noxious black tendrils. The gout of blood spraying out from my stomach gleams bright as it catches hints of moonlight that peak through the rainclouds. A scream tears at my vocal chords, forced through gritted and red-stained teeth. She's falling. She doesn't scream as the cold black waters of the river below rush up to meet her. She just gasps, more out of surprise than fear. She never thought something like this could happen to her. Not while I was around. I'd sworn on her father's grave that I'd protect her. We loved each other with a fire that could ignite the stars. She was the happiest girl in the world, and I was her unbeatable hero. It was all so perfect. It couldn't go this wrong, this fast. Now it's all gone to hell. She's falling, and I can't catch her. Over the sound of my own screaming I hear his laughter, that awful cackle that makes my skin crawl and my blood boil. He's won. He's gotten everything he could have wanted from this moment. This is his perfect revenge: impaling me on the front of his glider, forcing me to watch helplessly as the woman I love dies before killing me himself. I can't get free. I can't reach her. God, please, [i]don't do this.[/i] Don't let this happen. Without thinking, I throw out a line after her. I can still catch her, slow her down. There's a sharp pull on the line, and an audible [i]SNAP.[/i] Then everything goes red. My senses reel, the shooting agony radiating from the spike through my stomach crashes over me like waves in a storm. The horrible, mocking laughter screeches in my ears, like drills boring into my brain. If there's an opposite of numbness, it overwhelms me, such sheer crushing force of pain and horror and rage and hate that I can't register any of it. I feel and see and hear and smell and taste every awful detail of what I do in the next few seconds, but none of it means anything to me. By the time the wave has washed over me in full, I'm free from the spike, blood still gushing from the ghastly wound. It doesn't mean anything. I've pinned him to the ground and ripped away his mask. I know his face. I've known it for years, the face of a man I trusted and respected. I don't care. His eyes are wide with fear as my hands crush down around his throat. [color=LimeGreen]"Pe---*[i]hgk![/i]*---Peter....."[/color] he gasps as he claws vainly at my fingers. [color=LimeGreen]"I couldn't--.......I--*[i]ngh![/i]*....I'm so-.....sorry......fo-...*[i]kkh![/i]*.....-give me...."[/color] I blink, and he's gone. I feel hands squeezing around my own throat, the thumbs pressing against my Adam's apple, ready to crush the trachea. Pinning me down, as I'd pinned him, she looks down at me, her head hanging limply at a horrific angle from a broken neck. One of her eyes looks at me with that same sparkling vibrant blue, the same love and trust she'd had for me since we were children. The other is dull, vacant. Dead. Gasping for air and for mercy I know I won't receive, I beg in his words. [color=Red]"Forgive me....."[/color] She leans down to look me in the eye, and she says to me the same thing I said to him. [color=LightSkyBlue]"No."[/color] Her fingers close like a steel trap, and my throat collapses......[/indent] ........and I wake in a cold sweat. [color=Red]"Damn it,"[/color] I mutter as I sit up in by bed, a cold draft coming in through the open window. It takes me a few moments to collect myself, sitting at the edge of my bed and running my hands through my greasy, sweat-soaked hair, the only light in my filthy, cramped bedroom coming from the street lights outside. It's been over a year since that night on the George Washington Bridge. Since I made a stupid, thoughtless mistake and killed Gwen Stacy, the girl I'd loved since elementary school. Since I strangled Norman Osborn, my best friend's father, to death with my bare hands. Since I let Spider-Man die of a broken reputation. Every night since then, I've had the same nightmares. The same guilt, the same shame. I wake up, and feel the same emptiness. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something black slither across the floor, ducking away into the shadows. I shudder, and look out of the open window, wondering exactly what I've been up to. I don't know what this......[i]thing[/i] is, exactly. I don't know where it's from. I don't know how long it's been on me. All I know is that about three weeks ago, I woke up hanging upside-down in a warehouse in Red Hook, covered in black goo and surrounded by people who'd been beaten half to death. This goo, it's some kind of unknown organism. Probably alien-- my guess is that it came to Earth during the invasion ten years ago, possibly as a stowaway or a barnacle on one of the Chi'tauri ships. Every time I think of knocking on the windows of the Baxter Building or trying to take a sample to the labs at ESU, I suddenly find myself finding a hundred different reasons not to. It's somehow bonded to me, and it's responded to my powers, amplifying them. I'm stronger, faster, tougher than Spider-Man ever was, capable of doing things I never could before. The tradeoff is that it likes to joyride, taking my body out for a spin when I'm not using it. Sometimes I'm conscious and can control what I'm doing. Sometimes I'm just along for the ride. Every time we go out, I see reports the next day about drug dealers and gang bangers who'd been smashed into bloody pulps. Snapped limbs, broken spines, scrambled brains-- no deaths, but we're a hell of a lot rougher than I ever was on my own. I should feel some kind of remorse over this. Really, though, I'm just glad the people getting hurt are the ones who deserve it. The first couple of times we went out, the news ran an article claiming Spider-Man was 'back in black.' I made sure the next people we brutalized set the record straight. Spider-Man is dead. Venom, on the other hand, is just getting started. There's a loud thump outside my door, voices murmuring, and I recognize the sound of [url=https://youtu.be/AgObLNPlBzY]music playing[/url]. Still half-awake, I struggle to my feet and stumble to the door. I'm greeted with a slurred, sloppy [color=Khaki]"Heyyyyyyyyyy, iss [i]Parker![/i]"[/color] when I open the bedroom door and look blearily around the living room. Harry's hosting about a dozen or so people, clumped either around the couch or around the drinks in our kitchenette. Most of them I either only kind-of know or have never met, but I recognize a couple of faces. A couple of high school friends, like Randall Thompson and Glory Grant. They both give me a polite nod when they see me, before going back to their conversations. Felicia Hardy, a high-society heiress and friend-of-a-friend who occasionally likes to slum it with us 'common' people. She's leaned against a wall, idly sipping at her drink while sizing everyone up, like an apex predator on the prowl. And the big drunken goof currently trying to give be a bro-hug, Flash Thompson, the former bane of my existence. [color=Khaki]"Mannn, it's been, like, [i]ages[/i], Pete!"[/color] Flash says, like he's some old friend catching up on the good old days and not my perennial tormentor. [color=Khaki]"How've you been? Lemme getchyou a beer, huh?"[/color] [color=Red]"Flash, it's--"[/color] I squirm for a second before easily escaping his grasp. [color=Red]"I'm good. I, err, I don't drink."[/color] Flash's face sours, and he looks at me like I've got lobsters crawling out of my ears. [color=Khaki]"Come on, Parker, it's a [i]party![/i]!"[/color] he insists. [color=Khaki]"Harry told me you've been feeling down, so how 'bout we knock back a few to cheer you up?"[/color] I raise an eyebrow, unable to help myself. [color=Red]"You realize alcohol is a chemical [i]depressant[/i], right?"[/color] [color=YellowGreen]"Pete!"[/color] From across the living room, Harry strides out from his bedroom, instantly taking command of the place when he enters. Behind him, Liz Allan emerges and gives everyone a "we totally weren't just having sex, and if we were it's not a big deal, stop staring" smile. As the partygoers part like the Red Sea, Harry walks over to me, arms out wide like we hadn't seen each other in years. [color=YellowGreen]"Pete, you're here?"[/color] he asks as he gives me my second unsolicited hug in less than a minute. [color=YellowGreen]"I knocked on your door like five times, how the hell did you sleep through all this?"[/color] I give a weak shrug. [color=Red]"I was just....out cold, man."[/color] Which technically is true-- whatever the black suit was doing all evening, I wasn't conscious for it. [color=Red]"So, erm, what's the occasion?"[/color] Harry beams widely. [color=YellowGreen]"I finally got the Board of Directors to give in. Took me the last two months and probably took a good five years off my life, but they folded, gave into every one of my demands. You, Peter, are now looking at the new CEO of OsCorp."[/color] I'm actually taken aback by this. Harry never really had any interest in inheriting the keys to the kingdom while his dad was alive. So to see him suddenly become a power-player like this is....well, I can't say it's the biggest change of character for the two people living in this apartment, but it's damn close. [color=Red]"Wow, man, that's.....congratulations!"[/color] I stammer for a bit. [color=Red]"So, um, do I have to start calling you Mr. Osborn now, or--"[/color] [color=YellowGreen]"You do and I'll throw you out the window,"[/color] he says with a laugh. [color=YellowGreen]"C'mon, we're having a drink."[/color] I start to shake my head. [color=Red]"I [i]just[/i] got done telling Flash here I don't--"[/color] [color=YellowGreen]"You don't drink, I know,"[/color] Harry nods. [color=YellowGreen]"And I don't run multi-billion dollar corporations. But hey, first time for everything, right?"[/color] I look back and forth between Harry and Flash, both of whom give me pleading looks in return. [color=Red]"....fine, what the hell,"[/color] I shrug. [color=Red]"Just....lemme put on some clothes first. If I'm gonna be partying with New York's newest corporate mogul, I should try and dress for the occasion."[/color] [color=YellowGreen]"Good man,"[/color] Harry pats me on the shoulder. [color=YellowGreen]"Go get dressed-- once we're done pre-gaming here, we're hitting the town. If you're not out of your room in five minutes, I'm sending in Flash after you."[/color] I give him a half-hearted laugh, then duck back into my room, looking around for something to wear. Stripping off my plain white T-shirt and pajamas, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Jesus, I look like hell. My skin's paler than usual, which only highlights the collection of scars across my body. Claw marks from the Black Cat. Burns from Electro. A handful of cuts and gouges from Doctor Octopus. And plenty from the Green Goblin, in particular an angry knot around my solar plexus from being impaled on his glider the night that..... I shake my head, closing my eyes, trying to shake those memories out of my head. Nobody needs to see me like this. This is Harry's night, the least I can do is not come crawling out of my hole looking like a wretch. I feel the black suit as it crawls across the floor, grabbing onto my ankles and slithering its way up my body. I picture the form I want it to take, and it listens. When I open my eyes again, I'm wearing a black button-down shirt with slacks and a sport coat. That should do. After running some product through my hair and managing a halfway-decent facsimile of Matt Smith's do, I step back out into the party. [color=YellowGreen]"There we go, man, looking sharp!"[/color] Harry says, passing me a shot. [color=YellowGreen]"You good to party?"[/color] Something catches my eye on the other side of the room. Rather, someone. She must have come in while I was changing, but she's chatting with Felicia, a finger toying with a lock of striking red hair. Turning to see me, Mary Jane Watson looks at me with those piercing green eyes, and smiles. I snatch the shot from Harry's hand without even looking. [color=Red]"Like you said,"[/color] I say, [color=Red]"first time for everything."[/color]