Skinning the Beast
Just a little thing I'm working on while I'm sick.
Venom is absolutely my new favorite focus, I'm loving seeing the villain get some love. The comics were so much fun, I will play around with character names and identities from the comics but this fic is about the Venom 2018 movie. 'Cause I do so adore it. :)
Howling winds, busy city streets, and heavy rain flooding poorly drained paths. People who were out on this dark rainy night did not mind the cold, carrying their umbrellas though their heavy coats already protected them.
In a shadowy corner sat a woman wrapped in blankets, old jackets and thrown away coats. Her gloves worn through and her clothes tattered. Yet her shoes were rather clean, modern, and she kept them hidden under the blankets. A thermos of hot water warmed her cold bones, the heat radiating through her chest comfortably. Long wiry black hair flowed similar to a furry mane around her neck, unkempt and dirty yet functionally warm.
She kept to herself, her oddly bright eyes watching the passing crowd just outside her alley with a combination of suspicion and confusing interesting. Her eyes pierced the darkness of her chosen alley, perhaps the only worth while thing she owned. Her head turned to her handmade hut, an amalgamate of trash, debris, and ruined materials. Her gaze rested lovingly on the hideaway hidden behind long forgotten crates and trash she had cleaned out. Everything was out of sight, she could hide in the dark of alley without worry about anyone stumbling upon her.
The rain caused many people to retreat into their homes or nearby shelter, but she looked up to the skies allowing the rain to soak into her skin and hair. She would likely get a cold at some point, her red nose and cheeks indicated that was already beginning to happen. After having fended off a fever that made her sweat and burn she was rather glad to be cold.
Pneumonia would be on the worse side of things for most people, the potential of it enough to scare most people out of the chilly weather. She seemed unconcerned however, choosing to remain outside her hut.
Rain was the best weather for begging on the side of the streets. The cold air, icy rain drops, and soaked beggar tended to twang heartstrings and people would empathize, not just pity her.
Standing from her position wrapped in blankets she tugged along one of her larger blankets long since missing its duvet, stained with mud, grit, and other mysterious substances. A perfect cry for help if ever there was one. She made her way to the store fronts, the busiest area she could find. Residing within the poorer districts provided benefits and risks.
A greater risk of being attacked on the streets, though mugging a homeless person was the dumbest choice any mugger could make and almost never happened. Mindless violence against the homeless often went unpunished, though it was more commonplace. The areas of the city populated by the poor or otherwise unfortunate benefit her as they were more likely to empathize and offer change.
Change was better than nothing. Not to mention wealthier areas of the city the people tended to hold onto their cash, not looking at the less fortunate with sympathy instead recoiling from them. That and the stores would kick any homeless away from their doorsteps, meaning the only place to set up was an alleyway where no one wanted to be or uninhabited store fronts where, again, no one was going.
Here, on the roundabout corner surrounded by outdated brick buildings and store signs that had been recycled and refurbished far more than once, she found her place. Keeping her clean shoes under her blanket, she sat on the corner, placed a colander down in front of her and she waited, hoping for anyone to take notice.
A few people seemed to like her enough to drop a dollar in and some change, not enough for a coffee at Starbucks but enough for something off the dollar menu at McDonalds.
Seeing that fast food was still her meal of choice she pulled out a strip of paper, torn from a larger page of notepaper so crumpled it was thin and delicate. Her head shielded it from the rain, on it an address. 1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center. She frowned, her brow furrowing in discontent. She would love a hot meal, but disliked everything that came with it. A deep sigh and she slipped the paper back into her pocket.
A hot meal and a world of trouble or a room temperature meal and no trouble. Raising a hand to her right cheek she touched over the raised scar on her face, the scar running from her right eye to bottom of her jaw and another smaller scar from her right nostril slightly upwards. No trouble. Her hand dropped back to the slowly cooling thermos. No trouble every time. Scars earned from a complicated history with 1407 Graymalkin Lane.
She rubbed the cuff of her reclaimed jacket across her nose, feeling her nose cold and wet. Sipping the hot water she thanked a few more people that dropped more change in. A few nickles, pennies, and dimes. Quarters were appreciated, though most of the people in this area only had nickles to spare. It did mean she had enough for a cheeseburger meal instead of just a dollar burger. Which was less sad than a dollar burger on its own.
Being cold, wet, hungry, and entirely free was better than warm, comfortable, full, and constantly in danger.
Though she knew many people would disagree, saying that it was better than struggling on the streets; she knew otherwise. The stress that ate away her days, the crushing feeling that at any moment someone would try to kill you and everyone you know simply because they didn't like the person you were affiliated with - months at 1407 Graymalkin under the pressure of protecting others, protecting herself, and nearly being killed more than once...
She stood up one day and walked out the door. No goodbyes, no heartfelt assurances that she would be fine on her own. Just left with the clothes on her back, some money in her pocket, and a backpack of necessities. That was it for her and she knew someone watched her leave, a few people she knew, others she could not tell. Sometimes enough was enough.
The simple life was not meant for the people there and the life of a warrior for the people was not meant for her. Guarded like a soldier on the battlefield in their own home; she could not do it. Though she tried, fought with herself for so long, she eventually came to a realization she was not like them. She needed to find her own path.
That path, the good and the bad, lead her here. She sat on the stone ledge that held up a grassy area with a large tree in the center, she listened to the rustle of leaves and branches.
She would rather be here.
"Hey." A voice broke her day dreaming. She looked to the familiar face of a man, his shoulders hunched and a beanie failing to protect his head from the rain. He came this way occasionally, usually when he was on the hunt for something or someone.
With a sniffle, she returned his greeting. "Hey yourself."
He leaned down and dropped a few bills in the colander. "How ya' been?" He shivered somewhat, his jumpy nature coming through. While he did not come this way often, he always gave something, and rarely stopped to chat. He did this when he wanted something. Curious and playfully cautious, she narrowed her eyes at him.
"Y'know me, I love to take my showers in public." She winked at him, earning a chuckle audibly strangled through chattering teeth. Tilting her head to see his face partially hidden behind the upturned lapels of his jacket. "You're not here to talk about the weather, what are you here for?"
He nodded, his eyes flicking all around the place before meeting hers. "Looking for some information on someone in the area. Goes by the name Lee Price. Here," He appeared to struggle in his pocket before shoving a picture to her. It was an image taken from across a street, possibly in a car while spying on this person. The face was clear enough, maybe, but she just shook her head.
"Has this person been in the area...? Should I be careful?" Her concerns were noted though he was frustrated not having any new leads.
Hinting at the risk behind it, he stuffed the picture back in his pocket and wavered his hand slightly. "From what I've picked up the gang doesn't mess with you if you don't mess with them. They hit high value targets, been causing problems for some questionable people. Seems like they got some specifics in mind. If you notice him around, just hit up the payphone, eh?" He pulled out four quarters, reaching out to hand them to her directly. "Give me a call."
He patted his jacket pockets, finding his pen but unable to find his notepad. "Son of a bitch, where'd I- I left it in the car." He winced, "Got anything to write on that isn't, uh, soaked?"
She nodded, pulling out that scrap of notepaper and handed it to him. He took it, eyeing the address with mild interest. She watched him, no recognition on his face. He flipped it over and scribbled out a number before giving it back. He handed her the pen absent mindedly as if giving a pen back to a bank teller. When she tried to return it he just waved it off.
"Keep it and remember, you see him you give me a ring. If you hear anything, write it down." He gave her a sly smirk, "In case you need to use those quarters, I'll come back. Meet back here same time next week? If you find something or see him I got a reward for you." He asked, trying to work out some small spy network she was sure he did with the other invisible people in the area.
Wrapping herself in her jacket, she looked around. The promise of more money to satisfy her hunger and possibly some new clothes, a few trips to the laundromat sounded nice. "I don't have a clock and I don't know what day it is."
"There's a clock up on the Lenox building a block down and it's Tuesday. I'm sure if you stop at a convenience store they'll tell you." He twitched in place, the cold getting to him. Rain soaked his beanie, his clothes absorbed as much water as they could. "Here," He pulled out more quarters, "In case you lose track of time or need to move, there's extra for some more calls."
She took them happily, still deciding if she would use them for a phone call or for food. Still, she pocketed the change. "What's all this for, who is this Lee Price?"
His shoulders shook, "Just a guy, trying to figure it out myself. But he's made a few long calls to a burner phone I managed to find belonged to a particular person. From what I can tell he's got things going on under the table, deals I'm hoping to bring to light. He's always on the streets, but no one's seen him, got it?"
Nodding, she bundled up tighter under the blanket. "He know you're looking for him...?" She asked quietly with her brow raised.
"Undoubtedly." His answer as cocky as ever.
She scoffed, "Sounds like I don't want to be caught looking at him, talking about him, or talking to you." Her paranoia itched at the back of her mind, telling her to look around the area and see if anyone was watching. Instantly the mood changed.
Agreeing with her, he turned to leave. "Don't do anything risky. When I come back I promise we'll get a hot meal somewhere, alright?"
Her pockets jingling with change, the colander on the ground holding enough money to get a two small McDonalds meals now. She could spare the change for now, to uphold her end of the bargain. If she did happen upon something to share with him than she also could get a reward, that and a meal was promised upon his return regardless of any information. A deal worth her while since all she had to do was look for the man's face.
"Wait," She reached out for him before he left, "Can I keep that picture? I'm not too good remembering faces. It would help."
The request told him she was agreeing to go along with his plan. He had asked a good deal of people on the streets, people located at points in the area that would have a good view or at least see the most traffic where this man might pass by. She was in a good spot, moved around a bit, but hung out around in a spot that most everyone in the district had to pass through. During the day and night street performers took any open space to earn some change, but in the rain on a freezing cold night, there was only one person out on this street.
It was a good time for the person of interest to show up too. With less people on the streets came less risk of being spotted doing something he shouldn't.
With a pleasant grin, he pulled the picture out of his pocket. Reaching forward he pressed the picture into the palm of her hand, grasping her hand around it with a firm shake. A little surprised, she watched him and returned the polite shake. It was a thank you without saying it.
She nodded and looked at the picture once more before folding it into her pocket with the rest of the change.
Without another word, he left the sidewalk and crossed the road, heading towards a car obscured to her by heavy rain, fog, and other cars passing by. He was quite pleased, the first person of the day to ask for the picture. She showed promise, even if she did not see the man he was looking for, she was providing this service to him. There was a deal being worked out there, just the beginning of it, but if she could be a trusted eye on the streets than he knew investing in her loyalty to him would pay off one day.
The homeless around the area usually were happy to pass on any information to help so long as he was willing to negotiate the cost of that information. There was no ill will there, no greediness; they were people trying to survive. Information was one of the best products they could sell since very few people ever have their eyes on the streets as much as they did. Even less willing to pass that information along.
She sat in the rain and he watched a moment after having slid into his car. The engine rumbling as it started, warm air slowly washing over him. He was freezing cold, shivering, and wet enough to soak the car seat. Pulling the beanie off his head, it slapped onto the passenger car seat with a wet slop. While he warmed up, she remained outside in the cold.
He could see her looking at him or at his car, he didn't know how well she could see through the downpour and splashing of passing cars. He couldn't see well, but he saw her enough.
Making a mental note to bring her a jacket from his closet, something to start this symbiotic relationship. It would build trust, reliance, and his journalism career could benefit having an extra pair of eyes. He was able to buy a few homeless folk for information, some street workers, some less fortunate. Many of them saw the picture and said the same thing.
"We don't talk about Price."
She didn't tell him no, didn't refuse to look deeper. There was no information to share yet, but loyalty always paid off in the end. Assuming he could get that of her.
Switching his headlights on, his indicator to signal his intent; he made another note. Get her name.
