Issue #2: Venomous

Angelo awoke with a start to a knock at the door. He was in his office. His office in the Fortunato Manor. His head felt like it was crushing inward. What had happened last night? He swore he had gone out into the city for… Something? Wasn't there something to do with his Oscorp spy going on last night?

The knocking continued, irking him more than it probably would have normally. Something was wrong. Angelo had only had one hangover before, and this was that to an extreme. He stood up from his desk. "Yes, yes, coming."

He took a step. Crunch. What? He looked down and saw crushed glass under his boot. From the window to his side. Which was entirely shattered, curtains blowing in the morning breeze. Huh? What happened here?

"Don't you remember?" What?! Angelo spun around. Nothing. The back wall of his office, behind his desk. A painting of his father and uncle. The bookshelf. But there had been a voice right behind him. Hadn't there?

Another knock. "We should answer them." He spun again, still no one. Breathing rapidly, Angelo opened the door. Gineto nodded to him and passed him a briefcase.

"Good morning Angelo. Papers from the Capo. Needs you to sign off on a few things with the losses last night."

Angelo shook his head as he took the briefcase. "I - hold on, I'm - losses?"

"Remember, Angelo?" "You didn't know?"

Angelo spun again, sweating now. He had only barely processed Gineto's own question. Where was that damned voice coming from?! "No, what happened?"

"They were your men. Dead. Parking garage. Looked like a gun fight, but only our dead. Your father's calling a meeting with the other families to figure it out."

Dead? A parking garage? Hold on, that was starting to sound familiar. Angelo's head was spinning. "That's… Awful. I'll have it done in a few hours. Did my father want me to attend?"

But Gineto was already leaving. Clearly not. His men, dead. But if he was remembering right, there wasn't a shot fired last night. "Not by them, anyway."

"Who's there!?" Angelo gripped the back of his head, he felt like it was splitting. "Who are you?!"

"You were unconscious for our introduction, Angelo. All you need to know for now is that we are with you. In you. We need your help with something." No… No no no…

It was in his head. IN his head. He could feel it, moving. In his body, down his spine, these weren't chills, or jitters. Something was inside him. The thing he'd taken from Oscorp… Now it came back all at once. He'd ordered the secret project stolen, and it had immediately pulled itself inside of him, and slaughtered his men. He felt sick.

"We are sick as well. We are in pain. We are… Incomplete. The humans you call Oscorp used us. We were forced to bond with a dying human. To repair him. There are pieces of us still laced within their genetics. We can feel ourselves split. It is torture you could not possibly understand."

Angelo toppled forward, grabbing his desk. He could feel it pushing on his spine! Jesus Christ, what do you want?!

"If you agree to help us, we will ease the feeling of our symbiosis. If you resist… We will make it torment. We must be complete. And we must contact our kin."

As if in a show of good faith, Angelo indeed suddenly felt tremendously better. In fact… He wasn't just better. He was better than before. The squirming pain inside him became a rush of euphoric energy. He felt invigorated, confident… Powerful. "... Alright… If this is what 'symbiosis' feels like… You have my attention… But what are you?"

"You may call us…"

" - venom could paralyze a grown adult from a single bite. So please don't mess with the spiders." Dr. Connors shooed Peter away from the specimens.

"Alright, alright, understood. Sorry doc. I promise, I'll get the donuts next time. Harry and Isaac kept me up all night. So what did you want me doing today?" Peter had been interning with Dr. Connors for about three months now. He found Connors's research into genetics fascinating. His work could save thousands in the future by preventing genetic diseases. It always felt nice to do good with both his lives.

Connors could use the extra hands anyway. Three were better than one in the lab. "I actually want to start acquainting you with my… Personal work. You have a knack for surprising me Parker, your approach to science is invigorating. And I think you may be intrigued."

Peter watched as Dr. Connors opened up a new series of notes on his computer. Peter's eyes must have bugged out. "Woah! This is… Oh wow, cross-species genetics? What are -?"

"A few different species, all sharing a similar trait. Zebrafish, crayfish, skinks… Even the axolotl." Peter scanned the list of animals, looking for the link. It didn't click until he turned to the doctor.

"I don't - Oh… Oh! Oooohhh!"

Thankfully Dr. Connors was a friendly sort, and took his disability in stride. He laughed. "Yes. I admit, this is a very personal project. All of these creatures have impressive degrees of regenerative abilities. I know you're friends with Dr. Octavius's son. His father and I are close as well. While I admire his work, I feel that I and many others would prefer… A more natural replacement."

Interesting. Peter could understand that. While he found the idea of robotic prosthesis incredibly promising, he knew it would probably never feel exactly like before. If Dr. Connors was working on a more biological solution…

"My work is far more in its infancy than Octavius's of course. The near future belongs to robotics, but I'm sure given time I can restore people to their natural selves." He scrolled further down. "Even the humble spider, like those ones by the door, can regrow a leg or two."

"Wow. I'd love to help Doc. What did you have in mind?"

Dr. Connors sat on the desk, studying Peter. He started to say something, but hesitated. After another moment's thought, he sighed and looked more determined. "Peter, I've worked on this project for nearly thirteen years now. Ever since the accident. But Oscorp cut me from my own team, and then killed the project. Said it was impossible. But I've seen the proof otherwise."

Uh oh. This was heading in a direction Peter thought he could predict. Now the dilemma: Play dumb, or play along? Knowing the doctor… He'd see right through feigning ignorance. "Wait… Cross-species genetics… Spiders… You mean?"

"The story he gave lines up. Bitten by a strange spider. We were working on spiders at Oscorp. If I'm right…"

Above them. What? Peter shot a glance upward, something from the balcony above toppled forward. A box full of books and equipment. "Doctor Connors, look out!"

Peter leapt forward and pushed Connors down with him. The box slammed into the table where he'd been sitting. When Peter turned back to the Doctor though, he wasn't panicked. He was smiling. Then Peter saw a glint. Fishing line. Running from the doctor's hand to the handle of the box. "So… Am I right? Was it our spider?"

Oh… Shit!

The two cleaned up and got some coffee before saying anything more. Peter decided to speak up first. "Um… So, doc… How'd you know?"

"Come on Parker. I've talked with you almost every day for months, and I've been studying Spider-Man for years. You think I didn't hear the similarities? Not to mention your habitual tardiness. A habit that tends more often than not to correlate with Spider-Man's vigilantism." He set his coffee down and raised his hand to calm Peter. "Don't worry. I'm a fan. You do good work. But it is vigilantism."

Peter couldn't help but laugh. Years of saving his friends and people close to him, and somehow only MJ and Connors had worked it out. A good track record all things considered. That, and he had actually told MJ, so this was the first person to put it together themselves.

He sipped his own coffee and then sighed. "Well, you got me doc. If it's to help your research… Yeah, it was your spider. Not sure if they had just the one or not but, uh… I kinda killed the one that bit me."

Connors waved it off. "Ah, instinct. You couldn't have known at the time, either way. If you don't mind, I have to ask about the webbing. Biological, or…?"

Peter rolled down the sleeves on his lab coat, revealing the web-shooters in standby mode on his wrists. "Nope, made 'em in my own lab. Meaning my bedroom. The formula's pretty low budget too."

He let Dr. Connors look at the devices more closely. "You really do astound, Peter. It makes what you do behind the mask all the more impressive honestly. What changes were there then?"

"Oh, you know. Proportional strength of a spider, increased reaction speed. Sticky."

"Sticky?"

Peter placed a hand on the wall, and lifted himself sideways only on his fingers. Handstanding off the wall, he nodded. "Sticky. Oh, and the spidey-sense. I have a built-in sense of danger."

All this was met with bewildered smiles from the doc. "You really are incredible Peter. You're even more than we had imagined when we were working on this. You're decades ahead of where I left off at Oscorp. I… I hate to ask it of you Peter, but… Your DNA. If I could get a small blood sample from you?"

If it were any scientist asking Spider-Man this? Peter would shoot them down immediately. But… Technically, it was Dr. Connors research that made him Spider-Man. It seemed like a fair deal. "Sure doc. If anyone asks in the future, say it was a donation from your friendly neighborhood - Er, well, you know the line."

"... It's weird without the costume." Peter couldn't help but agree with him there.

But there's never a dull moment in the life of Peter Parker. BOOM! Dust shook from the rafters of the lab. In a few steps Peter had crossed the room and was looking out the window and down the street. "Hey doc, what's at the end of the street here?"

Connors shook his head. "A bank. Well, I suppose my time with you is over for today. No worries, swing by - Oh, ha, forgive the pun - whenever you can. Do you have your suit?"

Peter was already taking the lab coat off. "Almost always. Thanks, I promise, I'll come back as soon as possible. Hopefully this will be a quick one."

Angelo hurried down the hall to his father's office with a briefcase of adequately falsified documents burying his men's deaths. The inside of the house never had many guards. No one could really touch the family after all. Not the NYPD, not the state. While costumed heroes could prove annoying from time to time, none had actually sought out and gone after the Maggia in their own homes.

What exactly are we doing here? My father was clear after the meeting, he was not to be disturbed!

"And we are content to obey? You are not a servant, Angelo. We are not meant to be beneath anyone. Trust us, this will be to both our benefits."

The single guard stopped him at the door. "Sorry Mr. Fortunato. The Capo was clear, no one in, not even the family.

Angelo felt a flash of rage, his teeth and fists clenching all at once. Who's thoughts were swimming in his head? Who are you, then? What authority do you have?! You have no idea how much more I am than you!

"Yes…" Where the order came from was unclear, but Angelo found his hand around the guard's throat. There was no pain this time as Venom erupted from his hand and enveloped the man. The guard couldn't even manage a scream as Venom filled his mouth, throat and lungs. They threw the suffocated man aside.

They… Angelo supposed it was more accurate. He had his own thoughts, at least he was mostly sure his thoughts were untouched. But he was sharing this body now. Venom was more than a passenger. More than a co-pilot even.

They opened the door enough to obscure the body while stepping through. "Father, we've finished the documents from this morning." We've? He made a mental note to watch himself when talking out loud.

"Angelo?" His father sat in his luxury armchair, head in one hand and glass of bourbon in the other. "I thought I was clear that… Ugh… No, nevermind. Thank you, son. You can leave the case on my desk. Please, sit. Have something to drink."

"Thank you." He laid the briefcase down and fixed himself a small glass of whiskey. He took a sip while he sat.

"Oh? What is… You humans are strange. Why seek to make something toxic so… Palatable?"

His father leaned forward and looked him in the eyes. "Seven of our men, dead. That spy you worked so hard to plant in Oscorp, dead. I'm sorry about that, I know how keen you were on that front… What happened in your office, by the way? I saw the window was broken when I got back."

Angelo waved the question off. "Ah, just an… Overly aggressive friend of mine. They've proven useful though, so I'll pay for the damages." The conversation continued this way. What exactly are we doing here? I didn't take you as one to politic your way into power.

"We aren't. But isn't it annoying you have to do that yourself? You are his son, yet he denies you the control due your lineage. Is a fireside drink enough for you to forgive him the years of him spurning you?"

What? It was true. Angelo had never been his father's favorite. He was the rightful next Capo, but they had never seen eye to eye on the Maggia's running and operations. He had done all he could aside from outright denouncing Angelo to slow his own growth of power.

He was going to deny him his right. Angelo knew it. Wait, is that right? He'd been screening his son for years and had decided he wasn't good enough. Well he has given me more to do recently...

The rational thoughts trying to calm him began to slow. Angelo could feel his heart rate increasing. He began to twitch. How dare his father work against him like this? Angelo was more ready than ever to take the reins. Perhaps he should. They should take the reins. This old man was just holding them back!

Wait… No, stop, what's going on?

"We are expediting the process. Do not worry, Angelo."

He felt it before he knew it. It wasn't reassurance, it was an order. An order he suddenly found himself obeying. He knew he didn't want to do this. If he were in control of his own body, he would have stopped it. But he wasn't allowed to worry. Not allowed to intervene.

"Angelo? What is it so - Wha… What the hell!?" His father shot up from the chair, eyes widening. "Who are… What are you!?"

Angelo found himself smiling. He could feel the left half of his face distorting as Venom decided to show themselves. They spoke with Angelo's voice, only slightly deeper and more gravely than normal. "Hello, 'Father'. We are Venom, and we have need of your resources."

Angelo tried to fight it off. He couldn't. Venom didn't even afford him the mercy of dulling the realization. Angelo could feel himself enveloped again by the thing he'd been bound to. He could still hear his father's screams as Venom devoured him.

"You will thank us for this Angelo."

Isaac slipped into his father's lab, Dr. Trainer waving to him. While Isaac knew the reason his father hadn't gone to the event last night was more about Norman than anything, it was equally true that he was working himself harder than ever. Every whiteboard was entirely full of spur-of-the-moment notes and design details, there were different alloy and material samples on every table.

"Hey dad. I brought those readings I told you about from the Ant. How's the work going?"

Otto finished typing and stood from his desk. "Ah, Isaac, fantastic. That goes for the work as well. Absolutely fantastic! I think I've finally perfected the material composition, initial simulations are looking good. Hopefully it's as comfortable for our volunteers as it looks to be."

He motioned toward a screen displaying the design. The arm looked fantastic. Stylish as well, enough to make it look less like a medical device and more like something… Well, Isaac knew his dad wouldn't want to simplify it, but cool. It was really, really cool. "Impressive. When can we get the materials to build it?"

"That's the best part! We've already got them all here. I'm sending them to the workshop tomorrow, we should have a prototype in a -"

Isaac heard the crash before he even noticed his dad had stopped talking. He spun, Otto was on the floor, barely on a knee. "Dad! Holy shit! Are you ok? Wha -?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. It's passing…" With Isaac's help, Otto stood and made it to a chair. Dr. Trainer was by his side now too.

"Otto… I mean, Dr. Octavius… You have to tell him."

Isaac looked from one of them to the other. "Tell me…? Dad, tell me what? What's going on?"

Otto nodded, clearly uncomfortable. Isaac knew his dad well enough to read it. Frustration, anger, bitterness… Sadness. "I know, Carolyn. I know… Take the rest of the night off. I'll see you tomorrow."

She nodded and reassuringly touched his shoulder. As she was leaving, Otto sighed. "I didn't want you to find out… Like this…" So you didn't want me to find out at all. "It's something I'd learned about a few years ago. It's… A neurological condition. A degenerative state, a loss of control over the muscles."

"Oh my… How series is it? What's the treatment?!"

That angry forced smile. "There isn't one. Not right now, anyway… I'm fine, really Isaac. For now, all I can do is keep working… With the time I have."

He couldn't believe this. "Is… Is it fatal?"

"It may as well be… Ugh, no, I'm sorry. I just… Wanted more time, to find a way to come to grips with it myself, before I had to tell you…"

Isaac sat down next to him, taking his hand firmly. "You shouldn't have to keep something like this secret… I'm here for you dad. We'll get through this." They sat like that for a while, the quiet but constant noise of the lab filling the dead air as both their minds raced.