I do not own Marvel. As in at all. I only own my OC's


Chapter 1: Whitey and Spidey

"Hey hon! Look at this one!"

I straightened my posture once I heard the eager clicking of a woman's heels and the duller (less enthusiastic) footfalls of her husband heading in my direction. Acknowledging the two, I turned and smiled, stepping a good foot away from the framed digital print that hung beside me so they could view it better.

"Oh! Those kittens are so precious, aren't they Howie?" the woman, the epitome of a southern bell, turned to Howie with an ecstatic grin. He smiles just long enough for her to be satisfied before she then turns back to the framed cuteness, which in that instance his face drops back down into a bored expression. Never let it be said that opposites don't attract folks.

"Claire…Somers…?" she leans and squints to make out the signature on the bottom right corner.

And just when I was beginning to worry it wasn't legible; I inwardly smirked and leaned forward too, being mindful of the woman's personal space. "She must be new in town"

You're not going to take credit? You slaved over that piece

That would have been the ideal time to introduce myself, to be recognized for my work, but I settled on not doing so. I only came to the art gallery to; of course, view the work of other artists (or aspiring artists) and to re-evaluate my own displays…for the fourth time that day. Call it a nervous habit, but despite being an art school graduate, I still was mainly self-taught, and what better way to improve than to build up from ones' faults?

Sorry Big Man, feelin' a little shy today…

I didn't peg you as a wuss

Aren't you supposed to be the quiet type? I bit back a snort as the woman beside me continued to scrutinize the kittens. "If she is, she's gonna go far" the woman hummed, spun on her heel, and with a few more glances, grabbed her husband and left, the man looking ten different kinds of relieved at that particular moment.

With a sigh, I left for my seventh (or was it my eighth?) round around the art gallery, stopping a couple of times to gaze upon my other prints while Ghost assured me (in a snarky tone) that they hadn't changed the last twenty times I looked.


As the gallery's closing hour rolled around, and I needed to sit down to ease my aching feet, just about everyone had left. The remainder of us included myself, a group of teenagers, and a woman with natural platinum-blonde hair, and we were all quite content lounging around –the teenagers being surprisingly well behaved, but I didn't expect any different when they were dressed all preppy like. What I didn't expect, was when the ashen-haired girl (who was not an albino) sat next to me and initiated conversation. Conversation folks; was not my -or Ghost's- forte.

"Claire Somers?" aquamarine eyes bored into my soul. Not in a bad way, but holy shit –this is the part where you all guess I'm woman-crushing and I can't deny it. Oh, and having a male symbiote that wouldn't stop purring did not help in the slightest.

"That's quite the bold deduction you made there" I checked my phone, searching through my messages. Surprise! I didn't have any. The sad, sad reminder I need friends…

You have me…

Correction; the sad, sad reminder I need more friends

"I saw you pacing the whole gallery…but you'd eventually hover back to one of Somers' prints, as if you were examining your work" she smirked slyly, like a cat. I feel like I should know who this is...

Perhaps an old classmate of ours? Childhood friend? There was a thoughtful hum, but if she were, we'd certainly remember that hair…

Oh boy, Ghosty Boy had a thing for ashen-haired beauties. Ignoring his incessant purring, I mulled over what the snow-haired woman said, and took a little more time to give an appropriate response in a socially acceptable manner.

"Oh, you got me there". Thankfully, the teenagers had left the premises, leaving just me and the black clad bad-ass; conversations were easier if one did not have eavesdroppers. "I do commissions for this art gallery, and when it's busy, I like to come in and see just how popular my art is…if it is so" it was getting unbearably close to closing time, and as much as I wanted to flee -and start our nightly occupation- I couldn't, not without being rude about it.

She smiled, a more pleasant expression than her smirk "Don't worry, your work is beautiful, all the reason why I seized the opportunity to compliment you in person". She stood, stretching, slowly walking toward the exit, "Have a good night sweetie! And keep up the good work!". That was around the time that a guard approached my bench, and not wanting to suffer the indignity of getting shooed away, we gladly left in a hurry.


Despite having a symbiote, I still insisted on taking a taxi home. Even if I could have had him morph into our second skin and take off into the night, we didn't wish to attract any Capes, hero or villain, not until we went through our nightly routine, which included a greatly needed shower. Besides, it was late at night, so the traffic wasn't as cluttered as it was in the daytime. With that, I kept quiet as the taxi driver drove me to my destination, the both of us having a decent chat regarding the scum that would stalk the streets and what defensive techniques we could use on them. Yay for chatty, super-lax taxi drivers to talk you into a stupor to make the time fly by!

Handing the good man a tip, I opened the door to exit the vehicle, whilst trying so hard not to fall on my face.

"Hey Miss?"

"Hmmm…?"

"Your bag?"

Did I mention stupor? "Oh right, thank you!"

"No problem sweetie"

Space Cadet

You could have grabbed it, so shush!

With a wave and a chuckle, we bid each other goodnight. My fidgety hands looking through my backpack to make sure I didn't forget anything back at the museum. Which by some feat of luck, everything was right where it needed it to be. With a roll of the eyes, and a relieved sigh, I carried on my merry way to our apartment.

Our nightly routine was a swift one; get in, throw all my shit into that one corner of my room, shower (Ghost has long since gotten accustomed to the heat of a hot shower), get on some fresh panties and sports bra, have Ghost morph into a symbiote suit while stuffing as many snacks as we could into him, and last, but not least, phase out through the window.

Careful not to be spotted, we used our elongated amorphous 'wing-claws' to grapple onto the top of the building, and in one fluid movement, launched ourselves into the air.

Feeling that familiar sense of freedom, we dug our feet into the roof of the neighboring apartment complex. Doing so, it didn't take long before our sprints became more like bounds. Whooping like maniacs, we crossed a multitude of rooftops, our lungs not at all burning nor our muscles aching. Oh no, our patrols were never hindered from such things. Our only drawback was that we got hungry, but that was only near the end of our shift. At the moment, we had no worries as we leaped across the skyline of Manhattan. You're probably wondering, 'why don't you fly?', and let me assure you, sprinting/bounding across the skyline of New York City was significantly more fun, and we drew less attention. Flying was an art we reserved for when we vacationed out of the major metropolitan city, such as in a forest or high above the skyscrapers, a way to blow off some steam in a way that didn't involve crime-fighting. It was a sort of therapy that tuned out the sounds and stresses of reality. Something we could not do when we were on patrol, we needed to go at a slower pace so our acute hearing could single out trouble from the ground, and (er) we could not do that with our head in the clouds.

Getting back on topic, it didn't take long before we detected a mugging-in-progress, the both of us shivering with anticipation as we closed in.

Ready?

To get shot at? Sure, Ghost was, by nature, a quiet symbiote, an aspect of his personality that made what we did easier. But by Thor's tights, whenever he did speak he delighted in being a smart-ass. Not that I minded, he thought the same of me too. It's why we worked so well together, that, and he's been with me since birth.

Trading in our Olympic gait with a steady jog, while activating the sound absorption in our soles, we got down in a crouch as we neared the edge of the coffee shop we were lovingly sneaking on. Below us, in the alley, three men had an older fellow with dark-tinted glasses at gunpoint. Typical assholes, with a huff, we leaped down.

The old man was the first one to see us, since we landed behind the crooks. At first, we wanted to land in front of the man, but years of experience told us to intervene another way, to take the heat away from the innocent. We made eye contact, the old bloke shooting his biggest grin as we did so.

"What are you smilin' 'bout bone-bag?!" one mugger snarled, his aim not faltering. I could feel Ghost's anxiety.

Don't worry, Mustache Man knows what's up

"Oh nothin' really…" a bony finger pointed past the three scum, shaking ever so slightly at us "It's just that young men like you should know better than to mug old people in an alley at night, you might get hurt"

'Hurt' is an understatement

Finally getting the hint, the trio whirled around, guns drawn.

"What the f-" with inhuman reflexes, not one bullet grazed us as we lunged at the men, swiping at their weapons and effectively disarming them (not literally disarming, we weren't brutes). With their guns lying on the floor, the yahoos charged us in an attempt to overwhelm us, which, by far, was an asinine move on their part. But hey, had to admire their effort…not.

With a solid kick to the gut of one guy and a vicious backhand that sent the other two staggering backward -and ultimately landing on their asses- we then advanced on them, straddling each individual as we knocked their lights out, humming a lovely little tune as we did so. Once done, we turned to check on the old man, who still had that contagious smile. "Are you alright?" we could clearly see he was a little roughed up, but was otherwise fine. It was just the courteous thing to do to ask.

"Oh, I'll live. Besides, I don't want to hold you up for too long; there may be someone else that'll need your help"

With a nod, we procured a cell-phone from one of our 'pockets' in an effort to call the police, only pausing once we heard the old fellow clear his throat. His smile remained plastered on his face as he held up his flip-phone, a distant ringing echoing out.

"Is there anything else we can do for you?"

"You can get back to saving people"

With a chortle, we waved goodbye, then scaled the wall with ease as police sirens wailed in the distance.

That's odd; he wasn't at all intimidated by us…

Because we're one of the good symbiotes, I chuckled and mentally poked him, which was returned with a thoughtful hum.

Can innocents really tell the difference?

My mirth died down slightly as I recollected all the times that people gazed at us in fear and apprehension. All the obscenities and other unpleasant things we were called before and after we helped people. I sighed, you got me there…I was actually surprised by his gratitude…it was…

Genuine

Indeed, it was


Much later, we decided to take a snack break on top of a chapel, pondering over how that old man was so calm in our presence, our legs dangling off a gargoyle as we stuffed ourselves with a variety of snacks, a good chunk of the morsels containing chocolate.

Claire?

Hmmmm…?

Do you think this view is pretty?

It was not an odd question. It's very beautiful up here, it would make for a beautiful piece, one of the greatest things about having a symbiote, aside from the freedom and companionship, was the reach. My alien buddy could take us anywhere in the city in mere moments, and it especially helped when he had an artistic knack when it came to finding inspirational spots, a good chunk of our artwork based solely on where we've been.

It would…perhaps next time we go to the gallery you should make yourself known

You know the museum knows fairly well who I am right? My name is out there…

But do they know your face?

I bit my lip as I remembered that I denied having my picture taken and posted on the museum's official site, a place where people could see the artist as well as their work.

I suppose…

Don't suppose…promise

I wriggled my nose, fine, fine, not like I can say no to that face. On cue, something warm snaked around my body before stopping directly in front of my face. White eyes and a toothy grin greeted me. "This one? Awwww, you flatter me!"

I chuckled, reaching out to grasp the two sides of his head. "Don't flatter yourself; it's a face only I can love" pulling him gently toward me, I then placed a smooch on his forehead, complete with a dramatic "Moooah!". The loving gesture earning a squawk as Ghost coiled back into my body, though the thing is; the loving gesture was not what made him retreat.

Awww, are you embarrassed?!

No, listen, he said in his serious tone, a sure sign that I had to do exactly what I was told.

My ears perked as I heard the source of Ghosts' unease. We tensed, for an oh-so brief moment before suddenly relaxing. Why you ask, because we were familiar with the 'thwip, thwip' of you-know-who.

Entrance as theatrical as ever, Spider-Man landed above/behind us (upside down) on the spire, in all his spider-grace. White lenses narrowed in (what we correctly assumed was) a smile.

"Hey Whitey! Long time, no see!" with a cute little aerial flip, Spidey re-positioned himself so he was crouched in front of us, holding up both his hands in a high-five.

Sighing at the abridged version of our vigilante name, we returned the high-fives. "Ey Spidey, the feeling is mutual, you trying to hide from us or something? Afraid we're gonna eat your brain?" we teased, earning a wince from Spider-Man, before he shrugged it off and chuckled.

"Awww, and why would I hide from my favorite symbiotic vigilante? Ya know, the one that doesn't eat brains" and in revenge for our teasing, we were given a noogie, which we allowed thank you very much. "You know, I'm not a hard guy to find…" he took on a more serious tone, a hint of sorrow present as he sat cross-legged "got other Capes, heroes and villains alike knocking at my door whenever they want, for whatever they want…yet, you two don't even step on my front lawn", he cocked his head.

He's sad…?

Huh, "You are…upset?"

Spidey crossed his arms and shrugged, his mask shifting ever so slightly to form a playful pout. Sometimes, we forgot how old Spider-Man really was. "Well yeah! We're friends aren't we?"

"We haven't even…" our toothy jaw dropped once he took off his mask.

I repeat: Took. Off. His. Mask.

"New York City is a dangerous place, even for me sometimes…" Peter Parker smiled "So it's good to have people like you out there-" he gestured to the metropolitan horizon with his head "-to watch my back, watch the backs of civilians, et cetera"

"You have the Avengers, the Fantastic Four, the…-"

"Oh come on! A guy can never have too many friends!" he held out his hand. "Seriously, I can't believe I didn't do this first time we met…Peter, Peter Benjamin Parker".

We stared at his hand dumbly, then, ever so cautiously, we shook it. Oh my, he used his full name…

About damn time he trusts us enough to introduce himself!

Yeah, no kid –whoa! My jaw dropped as I felt the symbiote recede from my face, exposing my features to the young hero in front of us.

It's only fair we do the same

I sent a silent agreement through our bond. Ghosty-Boy couldn't be more right.

"Claire Lucille Somers" we shook for another second before Peter's eyes went wide with recognition.

"As in the artist?!". To be quite frank, I was not expecting that.

"Er, yes, you know of me?"

"I'm not an uncultured swine…" his face turned a little pink "…I like art too…", as his volume lowered to just above a whisper, "especially when it's as nice as yours".

"You talking about the ones with a skyscraper view of the city?"

"Mainly those, yeah…" he scratched the back of his head, "and, well, all the others are good too"

"Aw, thanks"

We spent a few minutes gazing down at the busy streets below, feeling very much like gargoyles ourselves. Ghost had concealed my face beforehand with the paranoia that someone on the streets would look up, Parker doing the same with his mask because he was just as paranoid. Then again, it wasn't so much paranoia as it was common sense; people did look up, and would almost immediately get excited or frightened upon seeing us sitting together. It was funny really, seeing their amazed/hopeful expressions, which were meant for Spidey, quickly melt into worry or confusion once they saw us. We weren't bothered; we could understand their fear of symbiotes, even if there were only two of us. One of which was a good guy, BUT since the other made quite the negative impression, symbiote kind was unfairly judged. Speaking of which, that should give you an idea of where I was in whatever Marvel timeline I was born into. Even if it was unique, the names and reputations hadn't changed. Perhaps some tweaks, but I couldn't be too certain. Though whatever events may have transpired, and when, Venom was still viewed as a nuisance, inadvertently dragging us with him.

"You okay?" Spider-Man noticed our perturbed expression.

"No matter what we do, and will do, for these people, we'll always be viewed as a monster" we frowned upon seeing a mother gasp at us, scoop up her child, and then speed-walk away.

"How long have you been a vigilante?"

"Eight years"

White lenses widened as Spider-Man whistled, "Yikes, and no one thanked you guys?".

We hummed thoughtfully, "Actually, very recently, we saved an old man from being mugged. He was…surprisingly calm and grateful"

"Did he have dark-tinted glasses and a flawless mustache?"

"Yes…?"

Spider-Man chuckled whilst mumbling something under his breath, standing up and holding his hand out to us. And for old times' sake, we happily grasped it. "Come along Whitey, we got a city to patrol"


"So your symbiotes' name is Ghost?"

"Oh my god!" I balled my fists and held them to the sky, praising the heavens "He pays attention!".

SMACK

"Owie!" I went to rub my sore head, but Ghost beat me to it, massaging ever so gently and with a growl.

"I can listen and watch the streets below, it's called; multi-tasking"

"Didn't need to smack me" I mumbled childishly as I pat Ghost's head, the symbiote acting like an emotional support animal.

"Oh, yes I did. Where was I? Oh! So if Ghost is his name, why don't guys call yourselves Ghost? Or perhaps Ghost Rabbit?"

Ghost formed back over my face as a strong gust of wind assaulted us. "'White Rabbit' holds a sentimental and symbolic value to us; we would rather not change it"

"Oh…okay"

We down-cast our head sheepishly, "We've…also grown to like the nickname you gave us"

Spider-Man snickered; he definitely heard our hesitation. "Me too Whitey…me too" we grumbled incoherently as he delivered a good, hard, pat on the back, almost sending us over the ledge we were perched on. Gasping, we quickly righted ourselves in order to not be spotted. We were currently scouting some suspicious activity near a night-club, the matte grey van idling lazily below us as three men hung around it either chatting contently or smoking. Sure it seemed that they were minding their own business and not up to anything malicious, but when I say, 'chatting contently' I mean they may have dropped some revealing info that had made us suspicious to begin with.

"…he's really taking his sweet time"

"Ah come on man, this is New York, course he ain't here yet"

"Bastard can at least call, seriously, we look like a bunch of jackasses just standin' here"

The man leaning on the back doors of the van took a drag as he gave an exasperated sigh. "He'll get here when he gets here, now you…" he pointed with his cigarette to the scrawny man that was indubitably the most anxious of the trio "stop being so damn antsy, if we get caught, it'll be because of you acting so guilty, so relax"

"B-but this is quality stuff we're sellin' here, a-and i-it's in bulk, if we get caught we're screwed"

"We won't get caught, ever heard of the phrase 'just act natural'?"

The guy with a medium build, the one that was defending the running-late buyer, sneered "Hard to do that when you're snortin' the goods while no one's lookin'"

Like a feral Chihuahua, the scrawny man lunged at the bulkier male with every intention of ripping something off, but was easily subdued by the smoker.

In conjunction with the growing unease below us, we were also a little on edge (literally), Spider-Man too. Yet, we still had to wait for obvious reasons. At drug deals, it was best to bag the dealers, guns, and the buyer(s) all at once. If, or when, the buyer(s) turned out to be someone who needed help, it was best to do so after they saw the dealers and their hired guns be shoved into the backseat of a police cruiser.

Something about this does not sit right

How so? We continued to watch the smallest male of the trio struggle against the hold of the very irate older man.

It's…it's an odd, foreboding sense…

Should I tell Spidey? Usually if either of us had such a feeling, we would find some way to work around it, and if we were in the company of a friend, it was best to tell them as soon as possible.

Please do

Nodding, I placed a hand on Spider-Man's shoulder, "Spider-Man". The arachnid hero cocked his head as if to listen closely. "My Other tells me something is wrong"

"Such as…?"

"This whole deal, something is off"

"Seems like a regular deal to me –ey!" he tensed, we followed his intense gaze to see that the men were packing up, yet, they appeared to not have spotted us. "Guess they thought the same thing; wonder if the scrawny dude got under their skin…" Spider-Man shrugged, and then stood, beckoning us to follow as he ran alongside the building, then executed a flawless double front flip whilst web-shooting the windshield of the van. The vehicle effectively stopped just as the grill was about to meet a smug Spidey.

Is it me, or do his maneuvers become riskier every time we're around? It's almost as if-

I groaned loudly as we landed on the roof of the van, trying our absolute best not to get shot as bullets pierced through with the clear goal of trying to hit us. Hey now, we got enough on our plate as is, stay focused! I heard a snicker at the back of my mind as I felt my blood rush to my face. Flustered, we swiftly performed a deft flip over and onto the driver's side door; just as the driver (the smoker) was getting out, knocking the gruff-looking man back into the driver's seat.

"Oh sorry 'bout that, let us help you" grinning, we grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck, using our wings to shield us, and him, from incoming bullets. Some friends this guy has! Jumping away from the lead onslaught, we then threw the man on the ground, and proceeded to punch out his lights. With him taken care of, we went to deal with the other two passengers, only to see that Spidey had already webbed them up all snug like.

"Wow, you got one and I got two, you slacking on me Whitey?"

"Ah shaddup" we deadpanned, grabbing the driver and depositing him near Spider-Man. With a chuckle, the smart-mouthed spider-punk cocooned the crook in webbing. Afterward, we neatly piled him with his buddies.

"So, uh, your Other still getting bad feelings?"

Through internal consultation, I found that Ghost was still very much on edge. And not just him, I could sense something was wrong too.

This feeling is so familiar, yet, unfamiliar

We hummed, "Something still is not right, we've been feeling a…" we shivered "a presence, get stronger and stronger through the entirety of us being here…"

Spider-Man, being the facetious joker he was, just laughed, "What's the matter? Is Ghost seeing ghosts?". Clearly, he had difficulty seeing just how seriously we took our 'vibes', so with a growl we spun around with every intention to show him how scary we could really be. But, we stopped.

A tall, very dark, and very muscular figure was scaling the wall behind Spider-Man with the grace of a feline, but the silence of a spider. White eyes and an equally white toothy grin boring into our very soul(s) as the much bigger symbiote closed in on us. Green ooze dripping from his tongue as it lashed through the air.

"You wish we were a ghost, Parker"

As soon as Spider-Man spun to face his arch-nemesis, Venom pounced.


So how did I do? Eeeenjoooying the story? Next chapter will be up...whenever XD. Stay tuned for the smack-down!

Also, I'm sure you all can guess who the 'ashen-haired lady' and the 'old man' are. Felt like being more subtle with adding them in than Spider-Man and Venom.

Just a quick pointer, this may be an SI!OC story, but, I didn't use my name. As I am sure being born in another universe would call for a name change.