This is the story of Constrictoro.

You grew up in a great city. But not the greatest of all. You didn't think about those days much since they happened. Somewhere in your tweens, was when you concluded you became who you were. You had developed your schemes. Your ideas. Your plans. And had been alone for a long time. This didn't trouble you. You only wished being alone was enough. For a long time, you had doubted you could ever do what you wished with an army. You had looked into new kinds of weapons. You had joined leagues with scientists. Even ones from the great city. And then, you got the idea. Become the weapon, itself. Become the indestructible. You got the idea from the guard of that city. The guard of such power. The city which now, from him, had so much power. For many years, you wondered if you could ever find something that would work this perfectly. Bur you then found the thing you had searched for. The perfect power. Everything went according to plan. But then, somehow, you had failed. Failed, all because of one man, with exceptional power. Just how the entire world could have failed all because of himself. There was no doubt about it. The greater man had won. And the only way to except this was to find new power. You went to New York. You had heard of Dr. Connors knowing strange things. You had found a way to make yourself stronger, but it still wasn't enough. You could still be blown up. You had then gotten rid of it, but you had gotten a far greater power. The ability to become your enemy. This, was of course, something hard to do. If failed; you could weaken yourself, or even, the other could use the power you had given them. It was best done when the person was weak. You had attempted this. The conclusion of how to defeat your greatest enemy ever. It had worked perfectly. You were now Spider-Man. You had all control over him. You could still be blown up. And now, even hot temperatures could undo you, once again. But you would find a way. You always could find a way.

Constrictoro raced through the dark labyrinth.

He was very close. He could remember it.

He felt Peter's part of the brain throbbing.

He had never felt the pleasure of torturing someone before.

The craving to hurt them.

He now finally understood what revenge was. What it was like.

This rush of excitement almost gave him amusement.

He released more brain of Peter's.

He gave Peter the ability to think.

To feel.

It was for only one reason he did this.

To savor it when Peter Parker would suffer as he had never suffered before.

If his sadness was so great for his Uncle and Aunt. What would it be for the one?

Theone who he had cared about his entire life.

The one who he would die for.

The one who would always have to be the only. Nothing else could ever be in the mind he searched.

The one who was now in his sight.

He didn't know how Peter would react, because Peter could not contemplate it, himself.

But he did know exactly how to find out. For once in his life, the answer was simple.

This is the story of Constrictoro, as Constrictoro tells it.

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This is the story of the Symbiote.

You were found briefly by a man with great power, but you had never been able to learn more about him. You were once whole, now what is left of you, is only a small fragment of before. You were tested, and sensed emotions; but you were then left in a temperature conditioned housing, frozen there to wait until a life form came. Then, one did. Your savior. A man of greater power than even Spider-Man. Normally, you hunted these powerful beings down, but this one had hunted you. He was concerned about him not being alive, like others, but had assured you: you would learn. And you did learn. You bonded closer than you had thought possible. You had truly become one. Not merely coding your host with yourself. You were your host. You were merely a parasite, but you were then everything your host was. Then, without question or any further thinking, your host attempted to murder you. Not just leaving, but murder. So you couldn't return and cause him damage. But you had survived. You had saved someone, the exact way Constrictoro had saved you. Delivering them from endless waiting. And your new host needed you. He had little control over himself. You had saved him from the machines which took him over. The machines were now under your control. Your domination. You had then fought with the one you had been so wrong about. The one you hadn't understood, even though understanding others was what you were meant to do. And then he tried to kill you, again. And even your master. And you had been weakened. Greatly.

The Symbiote lay, far from the fight. Far from it's enemy.

It's host lay knocked out from the fall.

It had barricaded him, however. Able to handle it, itself.

It now recovered Octavius.

It nudged his head, waking him through his mind.

Octavius woke.

The chains which were all that was left of his tentacle's control had already awoken.

It re-coded the tentacles, themselfs, with it's substance.

It then used it's senses of life. Of power. To find energy. To find strength.

It crawled through the dark.

A man. A worker. A life form was walking out of sight, holding a flash light.

It followed him, silently.

It crawled along the narrow walls, and then onto the ceiling.

The person didn't quicken they're pace, but he did seem to sense something.

He then froze. Seeming unable to move forward, or force himself to look back.

It was now right above him.

All of a sudden, in a mad, quick action; the man plunged the light's gaze upward.

He screamed. And ran.

It followed.

The man was fast.

It raced across wall, floor, and ceiling.

The man left the tunnel.

Right as he did so; It, too, reached the exit.

It caught a brief view of a large layer of construction equipment before plunging the teeth that covered it's host's face into the man.

The man's scream was muffled, and then silenced.

As Carnivore ate it's kill, it sensed someone.

Constrictoro was back. Entering from the other side of the large plane.

It slunk to the ground.

It would have to rely on surprise alone, this time.

This is the story of the Symbiote, as the Symbiote tells it.

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This is the story of Peter Parker.

You have learned of responsibility. Sacrifice. Duty. You have learned of many things. Yet, somehow, you still haven't tapped into the knowledge you still needed to have. You grew up normally. Normal, compared to how you have grown since. You achieved great powers. And you won against greater enemies, almost always just barely. You achieved greatness, if the definition of this title could ever be achieved. You have achieved many things. And, yet, you seem to have no more luck. Just barely winning; became losing without contest. You first met Constrictoro only months ago. You were shocked by his might. His domination. The fact he was the more powerful man. He had been defeated. And, yet, he returned. He came back, and gave you no more time to rest. He struck, killed, and struck again. He rapidly gained power and still more dominance. Your determination to defeat him was at a higher point than ever before. In the last days, what he has done to you has been extraordinary. And he then did the most maddening thing possible. He was you; you were he. You couldn't kill him, yet he could still kill you. And would. You didn't know where to go or what to do, even if you could move. Even if you could fight. He then sought his determination on who you cared most about. Nothing was secret to him, anymore. When you died, so would the world. You know you are going to die. You only wish you could take him with you.

Peter Parker looked, and saw through Constrictoro's eyes, Mary Jane Watson.

He felt something.

What he felt, was the sensation of feeling.

The suit turned red and blue, again.

He felt his face exist, again.

He realized what Constrictoro was doing.

He placed all concentration into the part of his brain that controlled actions.

The part he no longer owned.

The part that no longer even existed.

He felt crystals lift off his face, and he felt his face revealed.

He could see normally, again.

Mary Jane rushed for him.

It didn't madder what she said in happiness.

What did madder was that it wasn't himself.

His hand went over Mary Jane's throat, at once. Like an instinct.

Mary Jane seemed to realize what may have somehow happened.

All that was left of Peter Parker struggled with his mind.

He would not let this happen.

He could control his actions no madder what.

He would not let this ever happen.

His force, his energy to stop it from happening, was strength he had never felt before.

This kind of struggle.

He concentrated all being on the hand that continued to squeeze Mary Jane's neck, the hand that was lifting her from the ground.

No!

He was everything the hand was, yet the grip did not slacken.

It tightened.

He would not let it happen.

Constrictoro's strength, through the hand, surfaced.

Mary Jane's neck was thinning past what would seem possible.

He was running out of time.

He struggled to dominate his brain.

He struggled to recreate what controlled his actions.

He had to stop it.

The neck broke.

Now, Constrictoro let go.

She clattered back down to the hard surface.

Mary Jane Watson was dead.

What mind he possessed seemed to explode.

He needed to move.

He needed to scream.

He needed to kill.

"Constrictoro," Peter struggled to think, though Constrictoro thought it, too, "I... will... kill-you one-day!"

The sound of laughter seemed to bounce across the walls of his mind.

"I'll soon grant your greatest wish." Thought Constrictoro, and also Peter, "Death."

No.

He had to kill Constrictoro.

He had nothing else to live for, anymore.

Something lurched, and gripped Constrictoro by the neck.

At first, Peter thought he had finally seized control, but then he realized it was Octavius. Or all that was left of him.

"Are you Constrictoro!" The monster seemed to almost demand it as an order.

Then, the red and blue suit turned green, again.

His face was stiffened.

And then crystals rolled back onto him to complete the dark green mask of Spider-Man.

"I am Constrictoro." He said, without fear.

Peter's emotions and thoughts vanished.

He returned to the way he had been earlier.

He didn't kill him yet.

He could feel it was because he still wanted to torture him with what had happened.

As all of it vanished, once more, he realized one last thing before he lost ownership of his own memories.

Tomorrow would have been they're wedding.

This is the story of Peter Parker, as Peter Parker tells it.

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This is the story of Octavius.

Your mind was always filled with ideas. Good ideas. Ideas, most, had never thought of in they're lives. You went out into the world, trying to be a scientist. And you became an absolute failure. People said your ambitions were too great. Then, you met a man who not only thought your ideas were possible, but absolutely adored them. He gave you funding, and he helped you with your ideas, as long as you helped him with his. You helped him with things, you even back then, questioned. A type of war glider. A type of bomb. Many types of things you weren't sure about. You eventually realized, through his secrecy to gain trust of others, of what the man really wanted to do. You knew his friend, his sponsor, knew the truth; yet, didn't object to it. You left. Leaving yourself without funding, but also leaving with greatness. People thought of you as some kind of legend. A legend, though they didn't wonder where precisely you got money. Then, another man had arrived. The son of James Price's accomplice. His innocence and eager behavior made you believe he was simply wanting to help, and perhaps, to get a bit of glory. You aren't sure, anymore, however. By any means, things failed. You lost control of yourself, and your being. You traveled and fought. And then half-died. You were then awoken, again, to only be brought back into the behavior you had almost died to destroy. And worse. You were not only held captive by a machine, but a creature. A true monster. You have now been forced passed any point of return. Any chance to be great, again. You could remember all of this. You could know what you would normally wish you were. But you couldn't actually wish it. You, now, could only shrug and think about how those times were now a lifetime gone.

In Carnivore's anger, he threw Constrictoro from his grip.

He was angry he hadn't simply killed him.

Why did he have to ask if it really was him?

He could see him change.

And if it wasn't, he could have easily checked the body.

He picked up the wielding torch, he had found.

Blue flames hissed from it's nozzle.

He let out an animal cry, and lunged at the green figure.

Constrictoro leaped into the air, missing the lethal weapon.

Constrictoro tore off it's nozzle.

He ran across the large plane, searching for another.

But Constrictoro had already gone.

He saw a green bler rush from the great cave of a hall.

He roared in anger as he dashed after him.

He would not lose Constrictoro, this time.

He would chase him until he died.

He had only one reason to be alive, now. Only one purpose.

Kill Constrictoro. Kill Constrictoro. Kill Constrictoro.

This is the story of Octavius, as Octavius tells it.