Enjoy what's to come B-) Heheeheeheeheehee.
Peter's POV
It's been a while since he's felt hunger like this. It wasn't a small, slight grumbling in his belly, but the kind that rolled around in his stomach and made him queasy from lack of nutrition, yet too nauseous to eat anything. A vicious, ironic cycle that he hasn't felt since his pre-SHIELD days.
Stumbling around with a grumbling belly was the norm back then. But after years of eating enough to keep up with his metabolism, it had become an old, backstabbing friend he had forgotten about until it was knocking at his door.
But it wasn't just him. The symbiotes were hungry too. It amazed him how they could go from being the most lethal, protective set of slimy guard dogs he's ever known, to a trio of whining, grumbling toddlers just a hair shy of throwing a tantrum. Not that he didn't feel like throwing his arms around and stomping his feet too. A part of it was, yes, because his stomach felt ready to eat itself, but the other half was because no matter how much he tried to explain it to them, the idea that that the symbiotes couldn't eat people didn't seem to be getting through.
He's gone over every question, every angle, every single scenario, and they couldn't wrap their minds around sparing people's lives. He supposed, to them, it made sense. They didn't see anything wrong with it. As much as far as they knew, they were just trying to survive. But he wasn't going to succumb to eating people, no matter how homeless or dirty they were. He wasn't a cannibal, nor did he ever intend to be, no matter how much the symbiotes tried to convince him that it was worth it.
So, with that option off the table, they resorted to different means of feed. Which basically meant they hunted rats and stray animals. And, yeah, a part of him still felt guilty. He and his big, bleeding heart couldn't take scarfing down the innocent dogs and cats that had yet to be scooped up by animal rescue. But it kept the symbiotes quiet for the time being, so he corporated. It wasn't enough to keep them satisfied, but it was better than nothing.
As it turned out, one of the greatest perks to having the symbiotes was that as long as they were fed, they'd nourish and give his body the energy and nutrients it needed. It was an actual symbiotic relationship. They needed him to get the food, and in turn, they kept him fed too. Which was cool. At least they didn't need to worry about feeding him too.
Still, what Peter wouldn't to for some take-out right now. Just because they kept him nourished didn't stop his longing to eat something. They could try knabbing some street-food from a vendor, but after their last time attempt on the street, the symbiotes were far more hesitant.
It's only been about a day and a half since his freak-out when they let him take control, and were adamant about never doing that again. But it was only after a long, grueling argument did he finally convince them to have another go at it. With some conditions of course. Instead of pulling away completely, they'd stay hooked up to his brain. They'd keep the noises down, and the lights low, and stop all those pesky memories from overwhelming him, and if they felt like he was threatened in any way they'd take back control instantly.
They were still uneasy about it, but they agreed all the same. Since he was still wearing the torn jumpsuit Hydra dressed him in, they had to get a little creative. Anti-Venom turned itself into a pair of whi- pants (that Peter did his best to ignore, even with the symbiotes help it was hard to look at), Carnage became a redshirt, and Venom a large hoodie. To any outside eye, it'd only look as though he had a garish sense of fashion.
But the symbiotes didn't like staying still for too long, especially Carnage, and he could feel them shifting and moving around his body. They were doing their best, he knew that much, but Peter still had to feign smoothing his clothes over more than once to calm them down.
But even with their disguise, they stuck close to alleyways and shadows and rummaged through garbage for any salvageable food. By the time they got to anything good though, the strays had gotten to it first. Ugh, Peter just wanted to eat something that wasn't a second-rate rat passed down to him through the symbiotes weird digestive system. What he wouldn't do for the worlds biggest, greasiest cheeseburger this side of the Statue of Liberty.
Unluckily for him, vendors and fast-food joints expected money in exchange for food, and that was the last thing Peter had on him. He'd offer them a bit of anxiety and the opportunity to pet his symbiotes, but he doubted they'd take him up on the offer.
Besides, because of the collar, he couldn't really socialize either. Heck, the only reason he could even function right now was because of the symbiotes. Anytime lights flashed too brightly and noises got too loud, the symbiotes smothered it. It was weird walking in a filtered world. Things should be louder. He knew that. But it was as if he were wearing the strongest pair of sunglasses and ear-muffs known to man. That, and whenever something reminded him of his time with Hydra, before he even had the opportunity to panic, the symbiotes swept that thought away like dust under a rug.
Not the best solution to his problems, but there wasn't much he could do about them right now.
Nose scrunching, he sifted through the garbage he spilled out from the trash can. There were a few rats that the symbiotes gulped up eagerly, but nothing quite appealing for his own tastes.
Moldy bananas. Empty coffee cups. Filters. Tissues. Papers. An old shoe. Trash that had nothing of value to him. He sighed and got to his feet, stuffing his hands into the hoodie pocket.
On to the next alleyway.
Thissss isss pointlesssss, Anti-Venom hissed. Jusst let usss hunt.
~You can't kill people,~ Peter told it. ~That's not how we do things.~
We're hungry, Carnage complained, basically sulking over Peter's knees. He rolled his eyes and rubbed his pants in a somewhat awkward pet-like gesture. Hoping for the life of him that no one was watching. That'd make for an awkward conversation. Or one-sided conversation, at least.
~I know,~ he told it. ~But we've gotta find an alternative.~
Like what?
Peter shrugged, bowing his head as they entered the streets. People generally left him alone, but it still tickled him the wrong way to be crowded in so close. It was claustrophobic and smothering and as soon as he could, he side-stepped into the next alley.
The smell of trash and hobo excrements would've been revolting if the symbiotes didn't cover that up too. He rummaged around in the dumpsters and trash cans for a while, digging for treasure amidst a terrain of slime. When he failed to find anything good there either, he sat back on his haunches with his fists balled up in his lap.
He was starving. When was the last time he had an actually decent meal? Maybe he should just head back to SHIELD. Aunt May, Dr. Connors, his teams, they'd help him. Heaven knows how much his chest ached just thinking about staying away from them another day.
But he couldn't go back there yet. For one, the symbiotes would never agree to it. To swap one organization for another? No, they'd much rather hit it up with Shriek or Electro than go to SHIELD. Besides, even if they did, Peter couldn't promise that he'd be able to keep them in check. Flash had a symbiote, so who knows how well that would go down. And if they felt even the slightest bit threatened, they'd attack any one of his friends and the SHIELD staff. At least out here, they were open and free. If they were caged back up in a cell it'd drive them into a panic.
It'd drive Peter a little crazy too if he were being honest.
But before he could throw himself the worlds grossest pity party with slimy napkins and green-black sludge, something caught his eye. Perking up, he moved the trash cans and garbage bags aside to reach underneath the dumpster and pulled out a $5 bill.
He nearly kissed it in ecstasy. It was wrinkled and a little dirty, but still useable. Thank Odin and every other god or deity out there! This would at least get him something from a street vendor. It'd have to be small, but it was something.
~See this,~ he told the symbiotes, who moved as if to look at the slip of paper better. ~This is how we get food. Oh yes! Street-food, here I come!~
Mossst impresssive, Venom glowered.
Peter told it to hush up and proudly marched them back out into the street's, this time to scout out the closest vendor. He spotted a hotdog cart down on the corner and made a beeline for it.
~You guys be good,~ he told the symbiotes. ~Don't do anything. Just act like normal clothes, okay, and we'll be in and out.~
They all grumbled - Carnage growling grumpily - but begrudgingly kept still.
He felt so weak with hunger he thought he might just faint. But that could've just been the product of his own dramatic nature. He joined the line quickly and made do with the time by staring at the cracks in the sidewalk as the people in front of him dwindled.
It was without incident until he was almost to the front of the line when the symbiotes suddenly perked to life, shifting around him uneasily.
~What now?~ Peter snapped.
Ssssomeone isss watching usss, Venom growled.
Peter blinked and glared at the concrete.
~What?~
Sssssomeone isss watching ussss. Behind usssss. The one in the big sssshirt.
Breath staunching, the bill crumbled under his fist as a chill clambered down his spine. His spider-sense hadn't gone off, but the presence of everyone around him was suddenly very stifling. It would've told him if there was danger nearby, right? It couldn't be Hydra, could it? Were they back for him? They couldn't be.
Dammit it, he never should've insisted on coming out in the open. He was so stupid. Rats and stray dogs would've been good enough for the time being. Hotdogs weren't worth getting captured by Hydra again!
But he was going to be cowed. If they thought he was going down without a fight they were sorely mistaken. Never in a million years was he about to let himself get taken again. Swinging around, Peter held his fists out abrasively and squared his feet. He wasn't going to wait for them to attack him first. If they wanted him, they were going to have to take him down fighting tooth and nail.
The person supposedly watching him backed up, startled, with wide eyes and a slack-jawed expression. He was wearing a hoodie too. Though, it was grey rather than black and...very familiar.
Peter froze again, lungs faltering as if he'd been punched in the gut. He recognized that face. The brown, buzz-cut hair. The large scar across the bridge of his nose. Hard blue eyes that looked downright perplexed now as they started down at Peter.
The symbiotes hissed in his head.
"Peter?" Ben whispered, with a voice so rough and familiar it's the equivalent of getting slapped by the Hulk. "Is that you?"
Peter shook his head, but it's not so much to answer the question than it is to make sure he's not seeing things. Cause he's had the problem before and he honestly couldn't trust his own brain. This wasn't right. It couldn't be. What was Ben doing here?
He should've been happy to see him, Over-joyed. Leaping with happiness because he hasn't seen any of his team in forever. But looking at him put a sour taste on his tongue and he swallows thickly. Ben's standing a few feet away, but it feels as though he's crowding him. There was a weight on Peter's back, as if someone were on top of him, shoving his face into the ground, probing a knife in his back. He was cold. Wet. His entire body ached. Everything hurt.
Ben took a step forward and Peter scrambled back, breathing heavy, and bumping into the person in front of him, who harshly turned and shoved him back, "Watch it, kid!" Instantly, a strand of Venom shot out of the sleeve of the hood and latched onto the man's arm, throwing him into the nearest story window where he disappeared behind a shower of glass and an explosion of products.
A pause in the crowd. Then a shriek and the people around Peter clambered back, giving him a wide girth as if he were suddenly diagnosed with a contagious disease.
Right. They're in public. People are staring. Scared. Phones were already out, either to video what was to come next or to call the police. Probably both. They were bringing attention to themselves. Not good. Not good. Not good.
Threat, Carnage said, hissing low and menacingly. Hossst issss ssscared.
He hurt hossst, Anti-Venom agreed.
~No,~ Peter told them earnestly. ~No, I'm not. He's not a threat. He's a friend. I promise.~
Musst protect hossst, Venom ignored him, Take back control. Fight.
~No!~
But they weren't listening. They were moving, sliding over his limbs. It wasn't enough to be noticeable yet, but someone was bound to pick up on his clothing turning into maniacal, blood-thirsty monsters. Gosh, that sounded like something out of a Goosebumps book.
~He's not going to hurt us,~ Peter told them, desperately shaking off the cold chill clinging to his bones. The symbiotes were pressing the memory down to help, but their attention was focused on the teenager who'd hadn't backed away and was stepping closer, cautiously. Ben's eyes were soft but so confused. It was rare to catch him off guard like this. But he was reaching out with a hand as if urging Peter to take it. Or maybe he was just trying to calm him down.
"Whoa, easy there Punk."
~He's one of my friends. We can't fight him.~
Hurt hossst, Venom reminded him. Betrayed hossst. Remember.
Right, they could see his memories. They knew all about the time Ben attacked him. The fact that Peter reacted in such a way probably didn't help either.
~He's better now,~ Peter insisted. ~It's alright. I promise.~
No, Carnage growled. Can't trussst him.
Can ssstill hurt hossst, Anti-Venom added. Mussst protect Hossst from all.
They were eager. Licking their lips, eyes gleaming. Claws brandished and trembling in excitement.
They were going to hurt him. Kill him. Peter could taste their blood-lust and the way it bled into their hunger. They weren't listening and nothing he said was going to change that. They were paranoid, easily threatened, and very hungry. They were wrapping thicker around his body now, moving, twisting, and it wasn't going unnoticed. The crowds back up more, murmuring uneasily. Ben stepped back this time, eyeing his apparel with new skepticism.
Ben would fight back, of course. But the symbiotes would give it everything they got. They didn't care about bystanders or property damage, or the fact that Ben was his friend. A fight here would be catastrophic, and they'd definitely attract attention they didn't want.
Peter back up, palms up and facing Ben as if to ward him off. The collar seemed heavier now more than ever. He couldn't even tell him to back off.
"Peter, wait,' Ben followed him step for step and Peter glared at him, trying to muster as much as he could so Ben understood that he couldn't come after him. It was for his own safety.
"Peter," he repeated, but Peter wasn't there. He turned on his heels, cast one last look at Ben over his shoulder, and took off down the street as if the Sinister Six were hot on his heels.
"PETER! WAIT!"
He grit his teeth and ignored Ben's protests as he bolted around the nearest bend.
Whoo! Welcome, Ben!
What a lovely turn of events :D