The first thing he can remember is walking. Consciousness came when he was already walking, and for a moment he didn't know it was he who was taking each step one after the other. He stumbled then only for a moment, continuing to walk without fully realizing the mechanics of walking. He did not know where he was, where he had been, where he was going; he did not even know how to wonder these things yet. He did not know his name, and was not aware of what a name was and why it would be odd that he did not know it. Existence is a strange thing, sentience is a stranger thing. And so for a moment, for the first moment of his life Edward Brock Jr. merely existed, he did not live. He simply went on walking as he assumed that was his nature, and there was not higher thought in it all.
Consciousness is a hard thing to grasp, and this stayed true and Edward continued to walk, without understanding how to question this existence he suddenly woke himself up to. His strides were heavy and methodic, his breathing became loud and for a moment he thought he had thought of something. It is a strange thing to exist and yet not live, to be there and not understand where there is. There were no thoughts let us say that, the mind was empty, but aware of itself. Like he was asleep.
The symbiote was a creature of profound love, perhaps not by human definition, but it was similar. Perhaps devotion is a better word to describe it. It had also grown in its rather short existence a distrust of the masses. Its first love was named Peter Parker. This first love, a man of nobility, of personal honor, and responsibility, a good man by all standards, with few hate in his heart, the symbiote wished only to help this Peter Parker. This creature gave all it had to this Peter, and somehow, it does not know why, it was rejected. But it was, rejected, and left, abandoned, left for death to come and take it as Peter struck it with that awful, awful noise.
It was by coincidence or destiny that Edward Brock Jr., abandoned and left alone in the world was there as well. There was a common vulnerability found between the two in their first encounter. Both somehow weak, somehow dying in their own fashions. Edward was but a boy lost and confused, and the symbiote, well not of this world it was always lost and confused, and now without even its lover by its side. And it met this boy, this young man, tearful and afraid.
This young man was no Peter Parker, but he spoke to the symbiote in manner Peter Parker would not allow.
"Who are you?" That boy asked. "What do you want?"
Sweet boy, so alone in that alien world.
But that boy he was hurt.
The Darkness, the symbiote took him away, he was so hurt. And the Darkness went within Edward and forced that heart to beat and those lungs to take in air when the boy had long since died. But the symbiote, the lover, Darkness who knew not the concept of a soul continued the existence of the body. The boy's face was so burnt, the throat nearly ripped away, his sides exposed the inner workings of the muscle, flesh was gone, and bone was exposed. The boy cried out in gasps as the Darkness forced air into those lungs that could not function any more. But death, it would not allow its host to die. Not like this. And so the boy who had died was kept alive in some manner. For the Darkness stretched forth its hand to cover his throat, and kissed his cheek to hide the exposed bone.
Edward was more of a skeleton than a boy now and he continued to decompose in areas, but somehow still alive. A lung ceased to comply with the Darkness and one was going to have to do for now. The heart was getting weaker and the blood was pouring out of the exposed half of the body. Oh, Edward, you poor boy. The Darkness hid him in the sewers and washed him in cleansed water. The symbiote, who fed off life found itself giving it.
But even the Darkness found that a half the body Edward was left with was not going to survive. Not unless the Darkness made it. But it stared into those blue eyes, even if the body was functioning there was nothing in those eyes, no life, no thought. Failure was however not an option of the symbiote. This was not how it was to end.
The Darkness spent a good long time studying what was left of Edward Brock Jr.'s body, six months in fact. It examined the very cells, the very genomes, it was made of. It saw where the veins went, and how the muscles moved. It saw how bone held up muscles, and how electrical impulses made the body move. It examined the nervous system, the circulatory system. It witnessed how air went from the lungs into the blood, and how carbon dioxide was discarded. And slowly did it fit itself into that body to accommodate those missing parts. No longer would the Darkness merely be within Edward, he would become a part of Edward. There would be no more separation without the death of Edward, for now Edward was more symbiote than a man. For the Darkness spread over and became those veins, those muscles, those strands of DNA, that Edward now lacked. Truly now they had reached symbiosis. For now the Darkness gave life to Edward who gave life to the Darkness.
And it adjusted to its new responsibilities for a few days, allowing the body of Edward to adjust as well. It did not anticipate mental capabilities, what life would be after death. It did not even imagine. But when Edward came back there was an absence of mind.
Consciousness came when he was walking.
And then he stopped, his right side of his self now completely symbiote. He breathed in deeply, a lung now symbiote. His eyes raced and he looked up to the sky, unsure of what a life he had. He continued walking now in a short panic, existence made in fear, the questions of a higher mind now coming, where was he? What was he? Who was he?
But then the sound of cheers entered his ears, and he looked up, and saw a man dressed in red and blue swinging upon a web. The city lights brightened his costume in the night, and people from the ground clapped and cheered for this coming man.
"Go Spidey!" A few yelled.
And like that the man who fancied himself a Spider was gone. And Edward Brock Jr. whatever had been left of him in that dead body, whatever the symbiote within him recalled, woke up.
Anger and Hate were first to enter his mind, before anything else the raw emotions of Anger and Hate. Only then did memories of a life he once had came again. A life he only remembered in pieces. He recalled a feeling of lost and pain, he recalled only somewhat a mother and a father who did not like him, and a constant rejection in his mind. A strive to be better and always failing. Details were uncertain but he did not need them.
"Who are you?" Edward Brock Jr. asked without words.
And the Darkness spoke out and told of his death and his rebirth after six long months.
And there was only one thing he wanted.
---------------
There was a late night once more, hours began to quickly slip by and Dr. Connors found himself a devoted scientist who did not care for time like in literature. He sighed and knew a wife was missing him at home, but now since the hours were gone, it was no use to go then, he might as well stay. Papers had yet to be graded, such things pushed aside for these close strides.
He lifted the limp of arm and knew he was close.
A new formula had been made the previous night, and Dr. Connors, who lived only waiting to be able to lift his wife and carry her with two hands, was getting to a point of anxiousness. A lifetime had been spent in these efforts, somewhat selfishly, true he wanted a new arm for himself, but he thought of the others he could help. He looked to his pets who somehow seemed content sitting upon one another, varying species of lizards, and most importantly the limb growing gecko.
The formula stared upon Connors, with such tempting possibilities. Perhaps it was the ache in his stump or the headache he had gotten or the fact he knew it'd be years before actual testing could be done. Either way Dr. Curt Connors injected himself with this formula.
And after fifteen minutes was disappointed.
But from the window to break these fifteen minutes of silence, fell a boy who was supposed to be dead.
"Where is it!?" Edward Brock screamed.
Shocked Dr. Curt Connors could only grab one syringe of sedative to fend for himself. He held it up to the young man who had fury in his eyes.
"Who the hell are you!?" The Doctor yelled.
"Where is it?" The boy could only say.
"This is a heavy sedative, you leave now, or you'll be knocked out for a week." The Doctor said trying so very hard to seem threatening.
The boy's eyes only narrowed, and when he opened his mouth again it could be seen his teeth were sharp, like fangs.
"Where is it?" The boy said once more.
The boy, fearless, stepped closer to the Doctor, and though he was older and taller than the boy Connors could not help but feel a sense of fear. It was this fear that led him to stab the syringe into the boy's right arm. But it was terrifying to find that the syringe found no muscle to lay in and the syringe merely sank into the boy's arm. The boy gave no notice to it, as his flesh merely moved like liquid and the syringe was popped out.
The boy with a horrible look of indifferent hatred, merciless disgust stepped closer to Connors, looking directly up at the man. And then the boy, slow in movement turned his head to the left, and started in that direction. The boy lifted his arms only slightly as if feeling for something without touching anything at all. After a moment of peace the boy erupted pushing cages and bottles and viles off the table, research, and pets, gone.
"WHERE IS IT!?" The boy turned with a mouth full of fangs.
Connors out of fear lifted his fist to punch the boy. But the boy merely grabbed his fist and squeezed it until it felt as if the boy had broken his hand. Connors fell to his knees in pain and the boy still held that fist within his delicate looking hands. The boy breathed in deeply, his lips moving up to show off those evil fangs.
"I need it." The boy said.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Connors begged.
"That's not good enough!" The boy yelled.
Edward Brock Jr. stared at the man he saw before him with utter hate for that was the only thing he could feel now. The only thing he remembered how to feel. Edward let go of the man's hand, and Connors began to stand up. Then Edward's right arm grew black and bulky with the strength of the Darkness inside him, and it grabbed Connor's neck, lifting him from the ground. Connors held the wrist of the boy, and lifted it to find a gooey substance covering his arm, and he recognized it the moment he saw it.
Edward saw this, and threw him to the ground. He held up his hand and made a web over the right corner, and threw Connors onto it.
"WHERE IS IT!?" The boy yelled once more.
"I don't know!" Connors yelled.
But the Darkness inside Edward knew, it could hear it in his voice, that he was lying. Edward's face grew Dark, and strands of the symbiote began to cover it, crawling up his neck to his cheeks. Edward roared at the Doctor, revealing a jaw that stretched more than a human's should, allowing the teeth to grow longer, and a tongue to stretch forth. Connors could not have been more afraid.
Then silence grew between them as Connors' fearful breathing grew louder and finally Edward merely stared, the symbiote continuing to make its way over his face. And Edward watched Connors, closely staring at him.
And he saw as Connors' eyes shifted to the left.
Slowly Edward turned to the left to see a locked cabinet.
"Don't!" Connors said. "That thing is dangerous! We need to get it off you right now!"
Edward said nothing to this.
"NO! Listen to me!" Connors pleaded.
But inside something began to shift. Biochemistry within the body took a drastic change due to adrenaline found in the body's systems. The formula found activation and began to change the human body it found itself in. And Dr. Curt Connors was shocked to find he had to hands.
"Please…" Connors tried. "Don't…"
A cold sweat washed over Connors and suddenly he felt numb all over, and distance. For the body was preparing him for the coming change he was about to occur. His vision became blurry, and his breathing heavy, and finally it seemed, he nodded off to sleep.
"Don't…"
Hands became claws, feet became talons, a mouth grew teeth, and a tongue became long. The brain reformatted itself for input from sensors of heat and touch unlike it had ever felt before.
Edward meanwhile, had ripped open the cabinet to find another piece of himself. A little jar of symbiote, a piece that will become a part of him, and grow, and help him become what he once was. He broke the jar in his hands and in a moment of utter bliss he felt the little piece of himself become part of the whole once more.
Then he heard the sound of web ripping and a roar unlike his own.
He turned to see a hideous green thing, a tall bipedal lizard. If Edward was still Eddie Brock he would have laughed and said a monster that looks just like Godzilla. But Eddie was dead and in his place a skeleton walking around as if it were alive. Edward gave no sign of distress to the beast, who roared with new life, stretching out its muscles and whipping around a new formed tail. The thing stretched forth its right arm and clenched it in freedom.
The thing leapt towards Edward who became Dark, a black figure with teeth and a tongue to matched the Lizard's. He grabbed the Lizard by its mouth, and closed its hand over its jaw. The thing tried so hard to open its mouth but found it could not. Venom grinned at its struggle before finally taking its head and throwing it to the ground, then stomping on its skull until he heard a satisfying crack, and saw blood form over the unconscious thing.
And with that Venom left.
-------------------
"She's a sweetheart." Peter said.
"Yeah, she's a good kid." Flint smiled with pride.
The Friendly neighborhood Spider-man currently sat comfortably upon the toes of his feet over a flag pole, as the Sandman stretched up and circled around the very flag pole as well, resting at the top as his entire being continued in some kind of flow together.
Flint Marko just got off his second job and had a day to spend with himself, which meant he was going to spend it at the window of his daughter without her mother's knowledge. For a special treat that night Flint Marko had brought the one and only Spider-man. The young girl beamed with love and joy of the innocent, now fancying her father to be a super-hero, even as he persisted he didn't do much in the good department. He had made it a job of becoming very good and shape shifting his face to look like another and that was why he had three jobs, all of which he sent the money to his wife keeping as little as possible for himself. It's amazing how little one must eat when their body is made of sand.
While mother was out to get some food Spider-man sat at the bed of the young girl as she hugged her father in immense thank. It was difficult explaining to her that she could not tell anyone, not mother, not any friends. Peter the clever young man he was, said that if she did happen to tell anyone he wouldn't be able to come over anymore, and Spider-man didn't like the sound of that at all, so for the both of them she had to keep it a secret.
"I could take her for a swing you know." Peter beamed. "If she's feeling up to it."
"That'd be wonderful." Flint nodded. "I think they'll have enough for that surgery so perhaps after that."
Even behind that mask and those unmoving eyes Peter seemed exceptionally happy. Kids were wonderful things, they had such wonderful hope, and a love of a hero named after an icky bug.
"How's your girlfriend doing, by the way?" Flint asked.
"Oh, well…" Peter nodded his head. "She went to an audition today, and you know. I got her cake, and she's like 'I'm fat!' and I'm like, 'No, you're, so beautiful…'"
To this the man made of sand merely laughs.
"What?"
"Reminds me of my dating years."
And the man of was a spider laughed as well.
Their friendship came from an act of forgiveness. Then Peter's natural curiosity got the best of him one morning as he followed a flying pile of sand to a home of sick young girl. Sandman took it as a threat to his daughter and a fight broke out, but was quickly resolved.
"I should go." Spider-man said. "I have a friend I gotta meet up with."
"Yeah, I need to get to bed." Flint nodded. "Go, stay up, with you youngster."
-----------------
He was going to go visit Mary Jane afterwards. He was going to go and he was going to surprise her. He was quiet, like a spider, and he was going to crawl into her bed without her even noticing, and he was going to hold her, and have her wake up to see that he was here, and he would always be here. Then he'd make her breakfast, pancakes, she loves pancakes. And they'll be able to go and see an old time movie, maybe Evil Dead, but he didn't think she'd like it very much but there was other more romantic things to see at that theater.
But first in the dead of the night, at the speed of light, he arrived just in time.
"Hi Harry."
He said the gravestone. It was saddening him how many flowers he was having to buy for the people he was visiting, a mother and a father, an uncle, and two friends. He did it at night because he was busy in the day, and though it was creepier he felt they'd understand.
So he looked down at his friend, who laid as an equal by his father. He didn't really like talking to graves, but sometimes he felt that they wouldn't hear him unless he spoke it, such a strange thought, but he lived a rather strange life.
"MJ's trying to get back into theater, she's still a little depressed, but nothing a good swing can do I guess…" He trails off. "I um…I don't know, I guess, things are getting better. We've come out of this better…"
Of course, unknown to Peter Parker there was really another person he should have been visiting. His name was Eddie Brock, and since he had originally been killed by Peter it seemed Peter could at least visit now and again. Eddie's parents gave him an empty grave, that's about the only thing they'd ever given him. He was surprised when he found it, a little spark of humanity set in, the hurt of rejection, to only be overflowed by utter anger for the life he once had, which he looked back upon in great detest, only being able to remember to worst of it all.
Venom had smelled the Spider's scent from the air, and felt the wind gust by from a swing that was made blocks away. A lizard who returned to a man laid in his own laboratory, a man made of sand slept in his small apartment, a woman a spider loved huddled in her covers, and the spider walked amongst the dead. And Venom felt it all, with a single minded thinking now he mapped each and everyone one of them, feeling the vibrations of the entire city through his entire symbiotic being. Hate filled him each step someone else took, someone else going about their happy life that he had been so denied. He knows he was once a good kid, he knows he once tried hard to make friends, and he knows he once did nothing to Peter Parker, and he knows, he knows they all hurt him.
The symbiote was the only comfort to the now only half alive Edward Brock. More symbiote than man, as stated before, thought had yet to return much. He was filled with simple thinking and raw anger. And he stood in the darkness watching the spider speak to the dead. The heartbeat of Peter Parker rung in his ears, the symbiote finding the beat familiar, and the method of breathing too.
And finally he could not take it anymore.
"Hello, Parker." A voice of hatred said.
Peter turned with inhuman quickness, as if he had already known Edward was there. With instinct Peter flipped back onto a large gravestone of a woman who was missed each day.
"Eddie!?" A voice of fear uttered.
Venom slow in movements, not yet used to moving again, tilted his head slowly and teeth grew from that mouth.
"Eddie, you're alive!?" Peter's face grew with despair.
Venom leapt with out making a sound, and in silence stood upon that same gravestone with Peter's throat in his hands, and bending his back over the edge of the stone.
"Hardly…" Venom said.
"Eddie, what's wrong? What happened!?"
"After what you did to me…do you remember, Peter? What you did to me?" Eddie said, recounting words that had already been spoken.
"Eddie, please!"
"You're not going to talk to Eddie anymore, Peter."
"Why not!?" Peter screamed.
And slowly the things that looked like clothing turned black, and a mouth enclosed over that boy's face, and that would be the last time anyone would ever see Edward Brock Jr.'s face, for now there would only be the face of that monster that was left behind in his death. White eyes over a black surface, a walking abyss with teeth and a tongue, and a voice.
"Eddie's dead." Venom spoke, hands becoming huge and grasping the entirety of Peter's head. "We…We are Venom."
"Venom?"
The head narrowed down nearer to Peter's face and out from a wall of teeth came a tongue that with precision and gentleness wrapped around Peter's face, under his chin, to scrape his cheek in a loving manner.
"And you…" The voice spoke. "Are our lover. I hear you've gotten back with that woman. Oh, Peter, you and us all know you never needed her."
Venom laid his head upon Peter's face, the ooze of the symbiote becoming loose and sticking to Peter's flesh.
"All of us know you can never be that close to her, or else you'll hurt her." Venom said. "Or else she'll just be another stone in the ground."
"I." Peter began. "Will. Never."
Venom felt a knee slam into their stomach, and a fist in their mouth that shattered a few of their teeth, and Peter in a moment of anger bit the tongue of the monster, sending the creature roaring away. Only to laugh as it laid at the ground or at least what sounded like laughter.
"Never. Let you hurt her!" Peter screamed as he jumped and kicked the face of that monster, flipping back to that stone. "Please, Eddie, you're not a murderer!"
"But you are! You killed him, Peter!"
The bumbling mass of darkness charge, swiping for Peter, but only breaking the gravestone as Peter jumped to another stone, and the monster roared.
"And it's only a matter of time…" Venom said his voice now sounding like two separate ones in unison. "Before someone gets her." Venom grimed.
Venom then stretched out his hand as if waiting to be given something.
"And now Peter, we will take what we came for." Venom motioned his hand.
Peter tilted his head in confusion, but was quickly grabbed by the hand of Venom, who pinned him to the ground, and despite Peter's kicks and screams, the monster still stood above him. And that hideous tongue came out again, and without warning dove straight into Peter's mouth and slowly down his throat. In shock Peter could hardly breath, and felt that familiar sense of something else living inside him, where once he welcomed that feeling, he now only felt like he was dying.
The tongue then left him and Venom let go. Peter curled over and began to throw up a vile black substance.
"We left a piece of us within you." Venom says. "Because we loved you. And wanted to be there for you in case anything happened to you."
The symbiote left within Peter was still attached to his throat even as Peter tried to vomit it up. Finally he just began pulling it out with his very hands to get it out, to be able to breath. And Venom stood above him, placing his hand over the dark puddle and then the symbiote became whole.
"We need every piece of ourselves to keep Eddie going." The monster explained. "And to prepare."
"Prepare for what?" Peter coughed.
"A war, Peter."
Then Venom bent down and lifted the chin of the hurt Peter Parker, and human eyes met white eyes.
"Do not worry Peter, we have no intention of harming her." Venom nodded. "It would hurt her more to live while you are dead. For we seek out now, revenge. You tried to kill us, and you did kill a part of us."
With that, the Darkness left, Venom was gone, to heal himself, or itself. Peter was left clutching his stomach above the graves of those he had survived, and those he had loved so dear. He ached for a while but with inhuman stamina the pain began to leave him.
Only the worry of those he had left to protect came. He looked to Harry and knew it would be hard this time around, to beat that thing without him. But Peter Parker was a man with responsibilities. He carried the weight of the world and he did it gladly, retaining humbleness, and love.
Spider-man stood, knowing he had already been fighting a war his entire life. He intended to be the best man he could be, to make those he could happy, and their lives easier, to serve as a symbol of hope, and try his hardest to go by example. He found it strange he was not afraid, laying there after that monster did what it did, he felt nothing more than he did previously. Perhaps more guilt but he was learning that these things could not be helped. He rose, put that mask on, and swung away to be with Mary Jane, ready, always ready.
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If I were to write Spider-man 4 (boy how many people want to do that?) I'd start it somewhat like this.
One shot, complete. I hope you liked it.