Things to know:

Bold = Venom

Italics = Anti-Venom

Bold/italics = Carnage


Peter isn't sure what was happening.

He couldn't see right - everything was dark. Sometimes it was black, but sometimes it was red, and sometimes it was w-, but no matter what it was, it felt dark. Everything was pulsing around him too. The colors bleed together in a mushy mess that he couldn't quite understand that fell thoughtlessly through his fingers when he tried to make sense of it.

He couldn't hear right. Noises were muffled, and at other times sharp. Earlier, he wasn't sure how much time passed, he heard explosions, rapids bursts of sounds, and - and screaming? But he couldn't be sure. It was like someone had duct-taped cotton to his ears, after having stuffed his brain full of it. Only lisps got to him, pre-filtered and strange.

He couldn't think right. His memory was an extremely unreliable black hole that got darker and darker the longer he peered down it. There were some things he did remember, like being in a lab. He could also remember guards surrounding him, and Michael Morbius with a gun, promising an unpleasant death. He remembered feeling angry and hurt, and pained, and the smidgeon of a very bad idea.

He didn't feel right. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong, and he believed that something had to do with the bad idea.

There were voices everywhere. They rang in the chamber around him, echoing harshly off one another, and hissing and spitting. One of them was growling, another promised to purge an infection, and the other was laughing, and laughing, and laughing...and laughing...and laughing...

What was going on? He wondered, feeling his mind coming back up. What had happened?

He paused, breathe hitching. What did he do?

The voices stopped, and he felt them turn inward. A beat of silence, then they were all around him, prowling through his subconscious like a three shadowed beast. Peter tried to follow their progress but was stuck. Honest to goodness stuck. His feet were no longer of his control and his arms denied every order he sent. A cold finger of dragged down his spine and his sudden vulnerably felt like prickly itches sprouting over his skin, frustrating, terrifying, and unable to be scratched.

"Hosssst. Hosssst. Hossssst."

"Hossssst. Hossssst. Hossssst."

"Hosssst. Hossssst. Hossssst."

His heart spiked. Those voices were horribly familiar, and he thought back to the idea. The very, very bad idea.

He hadn't actually done it...had he? It was ludicrous. It was insane. It was dangerous. A plan that had sprung out of nowhere. But he couldn't deny the looming shadows that held him down by pin-points, the feeling of anger, adrenaline, and aggression. It felt wrong. His body, his mind, and his thoughts were out of place, disturbed from their rightful settings. Yet, somewhere within the bubbling magma of these other three minds, it felt so...so right. Like a piece of him that was missing had finally been returned. But it was a sharp and twisted sensation, and he wasn't sure if the feeling even belonged to him.

Venom, he recalled. Carnage. Anti-Venom.

The three symbiotes preened with his realization, then snapped at one another like irritated dogs. As if the other had gotten to close to its bowl of kibble. Peter tried to move away, feeling like the meaty bone thrown to three starved carnivores, but his body stayed put.

Why couldn't he move? What did they do to him? He tried to wrench his arm out of its place, and felt the symbiotes shudder, and their hold on him tightened. A pit of anger fell in Peter's stomach, and he forced his feet to move, even if it was just an inch. His jaw clenched, teeth gritting, every muscle straining, and was rewarded by his foot scooting a centimeter.

The symbiotes reeled on him.

"No! No, hosssst!"

"Ssssstay!"

"Don't move! Hossst will sssstay ssssstill."

Peter opened his mouth to snap back, but even his words were stripped of him. His throat was cold. Freezing. There was a heavy weight on it as if something was around it. A -

A collar.

The symbiotes hushed him.

"Husssssh hossst."

"Sssssshhhhhhh,"

No. NO! He would not stay still, and he would not keep quiet. They weren't going to keep him this way. He refused to be their pawn. Not this time, and never again. Muscles clenching, he pulled at his arms and legs again, wrenching with all his might. The symbiotes shrieked and pressed down on him, but it only fueled him even more.

He felt their hold on him loosen, for just a second, but as soon as their grip slackened, he doubled over. His ribs tightened, burning hotly against his skin, as every muscle ached and his brain felt rubbed down with sandpaper. The symbiotes were back over him in an instant, and as soon as he was secured again, he felt their presence press on him, and like a healing balm, all the aches and pains vanished. He took a deep, swelling breath to clarify that the pains were gone.

How did they do that? What were they doing? Peter opened his mouth to convey his confusion, but his vocals were still decidedly unresponsive.

"Hosssst mussssst heal."

"Hurt. Hosssst musssstn't move."

"Hossssst isss fragile."

Peter nodded, whether to himself or the symbiotes he wasn't quite sure, and took their advice. He did feel fragile, like moving an inch would break him into splinters, so there would be no movement from him until he could twitch a finger without it sending him to his knees. The symbiotes agreed with him, which also meant they had a direct connection to his thoughts. So, there goes scheming for an escape.

The three prowlers circled him closer, drawing in as if to get a better look, and Peter tried to quell the rising tide of panic. His spider-sense wasn't telling him he was in danger, in fact, he couldn't feel anything from it at all. His head was empty as if the symbiotes hadn't just taken away the pain, but his 6th sense too. It, honestly, left Peter feeling stripped of something incredibly valuable. His spider-sense was never really gone, it just operated on different pitches. There were always things that could go wrong, potential threats, things that could harm him, from a gun hiding in someone's pocket to a dirty streetlamp crawling with flu germs. Spider-sense was always there, just on a low frequency. It was background noise. Something too low and harmless to alert him, but still there.

But now it's gone, and Peter's head felt incredibly empty. A piece of himself was missing, and that, coupled with his restricted movement, left him too vulnerable. In here, surrounded by the symbiotes, he couldn't detect anything. It was black, red, w- in here. Sometimes he felt the press of a presence and he could detect their movement around him, but his head was empty. It was unnerving, belittling, and completely terrifying.

The symbiotes must've picked up on his growing anxiety, cause they jumped closer.

"Why isss hosssst sssscared?"

"Hossst iss sssssafe."

"Hosssst musssstn't be afraid!"

"Hossst mussst calm down."

They're words only made his anxiety grow. He couldn't calm down. There was nothing telling him if he was safe, but there was nothing telling him he was in danger. Because there is nothing at all!

Nothing - no thing...nothing...no - no thing...nothing - nothing...

He was hyperventilating. He couldn't breathe. They were too close. Something was around him. Somethings were around him. They were everywhere, but he couldn't see there. He can't find them. There was nothing, but there is something. No thing. But there was Some Thing.

The Thing is back. Back to haunt him, and hurt him, and scare him. He couldn't escape. No Thing could exist anywhere.

"Hossssst musssst calm!"

It was behind him!

"Calm Hosssst!"

No - it was in front of him!

"Hosssst will hurt himsssself."

It was to the side of him.

Black. Red. W-.

W-.

Wh-.

Whi-.

Whit-.

WHITE!

Hysteria. Peter pulled away from them, as every muscle, nerve, and tendon told him to MOVE. His spidey-sense was gone, but everything told him there was danger. He flailed, flinging out, forcing his limbs out of the lock they were put under. The pain was back, huge and overwhelming, but he moved anyway. Anything to get away from it. White was bad. It hurt. It was lonely and empty. The thing was with the white. No. No, he can't go back to it.

NO!

But they were everywhere. They were boxing him in and trying to hold him. He was being confined again. Isolated.

"Sssstop hossst."

"Hosssst isss sssscared of you. You musssst leave."

The white hissed vehemently, in obvious disagreement.

"Leave! You hurt hossst! WE will calm hossst."

"You will be terminated!"

"Anti-Venom will SSSSAAAVE hossssst!'

They symbiotes reared at each other, and suddenly the prowlers were attacking. They whirled around, their presence morphing and striking. They hissed and spit, clawed and bit, and Peter could feel it. The pain was back, he couldn't breathe, everything hurt, and with the symbiotes fighting, somehow it was even more painful. Weakening, even.

He felt brittle and gritty, like any moment he was about to flake away. Stop. They needed to stop! He tried to tell them, but there wasn't enough air in his lungs, his ribs burned, his head was filled with sand.

Desperately, he clamored away from them. He reached out, past the symbiotes, past the hysteria, and felt his body outside respond. Suddenly, he could see again. It was dark outside, the tang of salt in the air told him that the ocean was nearby, cars were in the distance at his back. But no sooner had he gotten a taste of the outside was he being dragged back under by the symbiotes.

"Hosssst called to usss."

"We help hosssst."

"We sssssaved hosssst."

They were still fighting, but their attention was focused over him. Peter tried to make sense of their words, feeling itchy anxiety over another building fight. Even more horrifying, was that they were right. All of them, because he had called them. As soon as he escaped from Morbius's dissection lab, he could feel the pull of the symbiotes. They led him through the halls, to the lab. They offered him a chance.

But - but he - it was hard to recall what happened after that. There was so much screaming, loud noises, and red lights everywhere. It was disconcerting and blurry, but something told him it was bad too.

It was bad.

But he was safe.

It was red. There was red light everywhere.

But he was safe.

Was - was it all red light?

But he was safe.

Could it have been bloo-

"Spidey?" the voice was so sudden it even stunned the symbiotes. They all looked outward. This time, Peter spotted houses nearby, and the docks farther away. Water twinkled in the bay, under the light of a slivering moon, and in the distance, he spotted a bridge. High, glittering buildings glowed across the ocean and he realized it was New York. He was close to New York.

"Spidey, are you in there?"

He turned his attention to the newcomer. Vulture stood in front of him, hands out as if to palliate an upcoming attack, voice small and soft. He was reverted back to his regular human form, with dark brown eyes that almost seemed black and a pale face with heavy bags - but no beak or feathers. He wore the same black outfit from the last time Peter saw him, only it was dirty, tattered, and singed in some places.

Relief drugged Peter's systems, and his hysteria fell down a notch. He knew Vulture. In fact, he knew more than that, this was Adrien Toomes. He's done research, endless searching, and he found him. Adrien Toomes. Peter could work with him, they knew each other.

But the symbiotes were far less thrilled. Inside, Peter knew he wasn't moving, but it was like his mind had been moved into a transmundane state. He wasn't moving, but his body was. The symbiotes crouched, his outside limbs responded, but he didn't feel the movement. They hissed at Adrien, long tongue curling outward, tasting the air.

Adrien backed up uneasily but wasn't deterred. "Spidey - Spidey can you hear me? You - those- those things have you, but I know you're still in there," his voice was smooth but monotonous. Like he didn't have the energy to put much life into it. But his hard eyes made up for the lack of emotion.

Yes, Peter wanted to say. Yes, I am still here!

The symbiotes stepped forward and growled, only no sound came out. Their act of dominance sputtered out weakly and they fell back unhappily. Looks like Peter wasn't the only one who couldn't speak.

Adrien took another step, arms out, and feet careful. Peter noticed how he favored his right leg, and, in retrospect, so did the symbiotes.

Mussssst attack! Carnage reared. Enemy isssss weak. Eassssily killed.

We mussst leave. Venom bit back. Hosssst needsss to heal. No harm mussst come to hossst.

Thisss iss how we keep hossst sssafe! Carnage sneered. We are ssstrong! Enemy iss weak, we can kill enemy firsssst.

You are an infection! Ant-Venom roared. You mussssst be dessstroyed. Hossst iss not ssssafe with you.

Carnage and Venom roared back in anger. Peter winced, feeling the uneasy shift among them. He really hoped they weren't going to start fighting again. The white was coming back to him, going from a helpless prick to a spike being slowly drilled into his brain. The panic was coming back, crawling up through his fingertips and toes, so he focused on Adrien in an attempt to keep himself sated.

Just ignore it. Just ignore it. Just ignore it. Just ignore it. Just ignore it.

Adrien stepped closer, which only served to rile the symbiotes more. They were hissing, both at each other and the newcomer.

"Come on Spider-Man, come on. I don't know what Morbius did to you, but -" he licked his lips, eyes suddenly anxious. "But - but he hurt me too. I get it. But you've got to come out now. There is no protection in the mask of terror you wear."

He's just as dark and brooding as Peter remembered! Slightly Iron Fist-y too, and for the first time since becoming aware, he felt like he was going to cry.

Enemy wantsss hossst. Venom said, and Peter could feel the symbiote glaring. Enemy wantsss to take hosst from uss."

Which is why we mussst kill enemy firsst! Carnage snarled and left Peter imagining gnashing teeth. Kill him NOW! Hossst ssstaysss.

Maybe... Venom prowled through the darkness, as if in thought, while Carnage stayed up front baring teeth at Adrien. A slip of Carnage surrounded Peter and squeezed him tightly. He held his breath, eyes clamping, before realizing that it didn't feel like a threatening hold, but more of a protective embrace. A tight protective embrace.

Anti-Venom hissed at Carnage and barged the symbiote. As soon as the Wh - bright color hit Carnage, the red receded with a pained growl and lashed out with several pointy tendrils. Adrien bounced away outside as several physical tendrils whipped around on the sidewalk, and broke up the concrete. With a start, Peter realized that, perhaps, the symbiotes fights weren't just reserved for him or their shared subconscious, and he wondered just how much Adrien was seeing.

Venom slipped between the two symbiotes and threw them apart harshly.

Ssstop ssscaring hossst! It objurgated and, somehow, the other two listened and withdrew to their own personal corners. Venom's attention returned to Adrien. We mussst get rid of enemy.

Kill him! Carnage repeated, and Peter was horrified when Venom grunted low in agreement.

Anti-Venom moved to the front, and Peter looked away. Or at least tried. He was subjected to his own mind, where was there to look? The heavy press of panic held his lungs, but Peter focused his attention back on Adrien and it stayed put. For now.

We need to go, Anti-Venom added, peering at the teen who was slowly walking forward again. Thisss, it paused, enemy, it decided, musst be desstroyed if we are to keep hossst sssafe. For the time being. It bit out the last part if just to let the other two know that it wasn't on board with them.

Venom peered ou, indifferent to Anti-Venom's grossed discomfort. Then it issss decided.

Carnage let out an excited, hysteric laugh, and claws erupted from their hands outside. Peter looked between the looming figures around him and the pale, skinny boy outside. His eyes widened, and he lurched forward just as other three lunged.

"NO!" Pain exploded like invisible shrapnel as soon as he moved, but Peter pushed it to the back of his mind as much as possible. He tussled with the three subconsciousness mingling with his own, fighting for control. Outside, the monster shrieked soundlessly in pain and fell to its knees, holding its head in its hands.

"You won't kill him!" Peter shouted at the symbiotes, uncaring that he nothing he said was heard. "You WON'T kill him!" He looked out at Adrien, who had backed a considerable distance, but was now running forward. "Adrien, get out of here!" he tried shouting, hands slipping into the controls, "Run! Get out of here!"

The boy halted in his steps, noticing the change in the monster, "Spidey?" he called, hesitantly.

"Run, please," Peter begged, already feeling the control being pried from his fingers. "They'll kill you. Please, just go!"

The symbiotes washed over him again, pushing him back. They took control and raced toward Adrien. Peter clawed at them, feebly pushing and shoving, breathing hoarsely with each stab of pain in his chest. But it was enough to give Adrien time. Feathers sprouted from his arms, his skin changed, a beak grew out from his face, and Adrien pushed off into the air. He didn't stop flapping until he found a roof perch a safe distance away, where he continued to peer down solemnly. The symbiotes screeched in irritation, or disappointment in Carnage's case, and they turned on Peter.

Hissing surrounded him, and he was herded back into his spot as they inundated him. Their presence pushed the pain away, and Peter took a deep inhale. He let his limbs freeze again, feeling a heavy, settling weight of exhaustion on his eyelids.

Perhapsss we ssshouldn't kill enemy-bird, Venom muttered. It upssetsss hossst.

We know whatssss good for hossst, Carnage snapped back. Hossst isss hurt.

We mussst keep hossst sssafe, Anti-Venom put in. Hossst will fight USSS if we kill enemy-bird.

Hossst doesn't know what he wantsss, Carnage berated.

Hossst is unhappy! Anti-Venom pushed back. Venom. Carnage. Infectionsss! Infectionsss that musst be burned away!

Carnage and Venom hissed and prowled Anti-Venom, and Peter felt the brewing of another fight.

"Please, not now," Peter thought out loud, though it came as a tired hush. "Please. No - no killing." The symbiotes split apart and rounded on him again, oddly quiet. Their anger was still there, riding beneath the surface, but pushed to the side.

Hosssst isss tired, Carnage said.

Hossst mussst sssleep, Venom agreed.

Then he felt them crowding him again, coming from all sides. They fell over his head, his shoulders, his arms and legs, and he felt the impression that he was being pushed down.

"NO!" he tried to fight back, but his limbs had exhausted their fuel. "No! I - I don't want to," they shushed him, and he felt his mind shutting down. They were forcing him to sleep. Pulling him deep into his own subconsciousness.

"No - no, I don't...I don't want to..."

Ssssleep.

They covered him, and he felt himself slipping away. The last thing he noticed before he was gone, was the monster outside looking out toward New York.

Home, the symbiotes said.

And they were right. They were painfully right. Peter, really, really wanted to go home.

I finally finished my entry into a writing contest! So, obviously, this was going to my the first story to update. Hope you guys enjoyed some symbiotes, Peter, and Adrien. More on them later ;)

Thank you all who have been commenting/voting on my stories! And *trumpets* I've breached the 150 followers on Wattpad, guys! :D This is so amazing! I love you all! T.T

Thanks for the patience! See you next time Chillada's!

- OfficialUSMWriter