Disclaimer: I do not own Venom

Edited: 14.10.21

A/N: Kudos to Lana Del Fae for making me aware of Maria's designation, and for all of her lovely comments. That goes generally to everyone who have been kind enough to spend some of their time answering to this story. It truly means a lot to me and words cannot express my gratitude.

Chapter 9: The Cravings

It was an excruciating procedure, from what she could gather from Ms. Nordstrom's reaction. Her face twisted into all sorts of shapes as the black symbiote merged itself with her being, everything from unbearable agony to subservience. The creature was not was vigorous as its brethren had been, but that's something it compensated for its unmistakable power.

Surprisingly enough, Ms. Nordstrom had survived. It could not have been easy to manage, but her determination to live surpassed an unreachable point. Evelyn silently applauded the woman's will to survive, yet a part of her could not help but pity her for her affliction. It was one of the few sentiments she could understand in terms of concept: pity. It struck her as far more comprehensible than the likes of empathy ever did.

As soon as Ms. Nordstrom's vitals stabilized, and she was separated into an excluded cell, much like Mr. Beckley and Mr. Markson had been prior, Evelyn found herself standing in front of the cell where the unfortunate woman was, by then, crawled up in a fetus-position once more, murmuring incomprehensible words which reached no one's ears. Asking her would be of no use, Evelyn deemed it, but it would perhaps satiate the curiosity she felt sparking up within her.

Evelyn tapped on the glass-wall, aiming to reach Ms. Nordstrom's attention. "Ms. Nordstrom, may I inquire what it is you are saying?" she asked, tapping a few more times when she witnessed that the woman on the other side did little to respond. When no words were heard, Evelyn and figured out that it would be for the best to leave the situation as it was.

But as she turned around, intending to leave the premises and seek out Dr. Skirth to learn of the current situation now that all of the symbiotes had gained new hosts, the sound of something banging on the glass behind her caused the doctor to flinch in alarm. She quickly took a step back and turned back to the glass, seeing Ms. Nordstrom pressed tightly up against the glass with her palms pushed as far into it as possible. Her face was vivid, eyes nearly bulging out of her skull. "It speaks to me," she uttered almost incoherently, shoulders shaking rapidly. "It's speaking to me right now."

Her words made no sense, but Evelyn readjusted the collar of her lab-coat and decided that she best course of action would be to indulge the woman in her apparent state of hysteria.

"What's speaking to you, Ms. Nordstrom?" she inquired, taking a step closer towards the glass. Despite her increase in wariness, Evelyn was determined not to let it get to her. Though it had been threatened on numerous occasions over the course of merely a few hours, she was fortunate to still have her apathy intact.

Upon hearing her voice, Ms. Nordstrom's eyes were directed to the doctor and her bottom lip – which had previously been trembling uncontrollably at the same pace as her shoulders – began to speak again.

"It's hungry. Always hungry." Ms. Nordstrom whispered. "It wants to eat something, anything."

This caused Evelyn's mind to buzzle with various questions, amongst them being "what's hungry?" A part of her assumed that Ms. Nordstrom's mental capacities had been reduced to the point where she referred to herself in third-person. Illeism was a term she had heard before, though it never struck her as something she would need remembering. Yet still, she did.

"You need food?" Evelyn asked, indulging in her curiosity. What happened next, however, did little to satiate it. She couldn't blame her, it had been a couple of hours since she first got her meal, but not nearly long enough to warrant this reaction.

Instead of answering, Ms. Nordstrom began to violently bang her head against the glass. Evelyn withdrew a step from the glass, shocked by this sudden change of behavior. Her first reaction was to summon security and have them handle the situation as to keep the patient from inflicting herself with various injuries, but she stopped as she heard Ms. Nordstrom begin to speak again.

"IT'S HUNGRY!" she howled. "IT WANT'S FOOD! NOW!"

"I'll have food assigned to you," Evelyn said in an attempt to defuse the situation from escalating. "But please refrain from inflicting self-harm."

"NO! I will not eat her! That's disgusting!"

There was a moment of silence, particularly from the doctor's side of the wall. Ms. Nordstrom's arms were both planted on the glass, but her head hung low – shaking consistently. Evelyn opened her mouth to ask something, more puzzled than anything, but her answer did not reach her tongue before Ms. Nordstrom proceeded to speak again. Not to her, however.

"I don't care if you're hungry! You're not making me eat another human being!"

Evelyn blinked, curious whether or not she had heard correctly. "Eat…. Another human being?"

Psychological expertise or otherwise, Evelyn doubted that cannibalistic urges could be deemed as a side-effect of being exposed to alien lifeforms. Of course, she had no way of knowing for certain, considering how no one had attempted similar experiments prior. Mengele's experiments were closely related, but that did not make the circumstances any less sinister.

"Ms. Nordstrom, what it is that is speaking to you at this current moment?" she asked.

"It's really hungry, right now, and it keeps telling me to get something to eat."

"It? What, exactly, is It?"

Ms. Nordstrom vigorously shook her head. "It just wants something to eat, or it threatens to eat me. Can you get It something to eat?" But as soon as she said this, the woman began to cry, shaking her head even more than before. "No! Don't eat my brain! I don't want to lose it!"

(Mental instability? Heightened Schizophrenia? General Delusions). Evelyn took note of the symptoms that were presented in front of her as she began to think about a way to defuse the situation. "I will have food assigned to your cell shortl–"

"Heads."

She looked up. "Pardon?"

"It wants to eat heads. Something about … phene… thyli … something?"

After some contemplation, those few letters made sense to her. "Phenethylamine?"

"Y-Yes, that's what It said. What is it?"

"Phenethylamine is an organic compound is found within the human's nervous system, acting as a stimulant. It's produced naturally by the human brain and contributes to a wide variety of alignments. It's typically used as an antidepressant selegiline. However, consuming the substance –"

"Do you know how to get me some?" Ms. Nordstrom briefly interrupted her from the other side, a pleading in her eyes. Evelyn did not like to be interrupted, but she let it slide. "It really wants some now. Is there any way for It to get some without … eating any brains?"

For a moment, Evelyn paused, unsure about what to do. She could prescribe some medication if that was the issue, but she would not go that far. If it was the substance itself the patient requested, and not medication, then there were perhaps other ways to settle the situation. Medication could have inconvenient effects on the symbiote.

She placed a finger beneath her chin, contemplatively, and weighed her alternatives. It did take her a moment, but eventually, the answer reached her through the most unfathomable way.

"Chocolate." The word left her lips sooner than she could process. "Perhaps chocolate would satiate the cravings? It contains the substance to a moderate amount."

"Y-Yes," Ms. Nordstrom verified, nodding affirmatively. "It says that it w-w-will work."

"Could you perhaps answer me now, Ms. Nordstrom?" Evelyn asked. "What is speaking to you?" Though the thoughts of some kind of mental illness did not surpass her range, Evelyn still found herself curious to find the answer.

But Ms. Nordstrom shook her head. "Not 'what', but 'who'."

"'Who'?"

"It… They… She…. Calls them- It…. Itself Venom." As Ms. Nordstrom uttered the designation aloud, her exterior sufferings seemed to decline. She was no longer trembling as much as she used to, nor did she appear particularly distressed. It seemed as if invoking the name of her troubles were relieving her of them simultaneously.

"Venom," Evelyn repeated. "That's what It is calling itself?"

Bang!

She recoiled in surprise as Ms. Nordstrom slammed her fist against the glass, a most murderous look in her eyes. "Not 'It', but 'Them'!"

The puzzled look that once was featured on Evelyn's demeanor was replaced with deliberation. This entity that Ms. Nordstrom was referring to seemed more sentient than she had expected. Was this the symbiote's doing, or merely a dislocated mind? The latter seemed the more plausible alternative, yet despite her analytic mindset, Evelyn could not help but ponder on the prospect of the alien inhibiting a more … complex mind of its own.

She sighed and turned her back away from the glass. "I will see if I am able to retrieve some chocolate. If not, I will look for a substitute instead."

"Mr. Drake, I need chocolate for Ms. Maria Nordstrom."

A quirked eyebrow, tilted head, and a look of disbelief were all present in the faces of Dr. Skirth, Mr. Drake, Treece respectively. With her notepad still in grip and sharp angle in her eyes, Evelyn made sure to give every indication that she was, by no means, joking.

A brief second of silence was broken by the sound of laugher. Everyone in the room turned their heads around to Treece, who was by then covering his face in an attempt to muffle his chortles. He failed, evidently, but it did little to amuse his colleagues. Evelyn, in particular, saw no reason behind his entertainment, but she knew better than to question the sanity of a man who was hired to kill on a daily.

"W-What the fuck do you –"

"Treece, I will not ask you again. Watch your language." Mr. Drake interrupted him, a stern look on him which made it easy to notice that he was not a man fond of crude language.

His Head of Security inclined his head towards him to signify his apologies before he turned his head to the oncologist, looking as jovial as ever before. "Are you asking about chocolate? Seriously?"

"I require it for the research," Evelyn answered bluntly, determined not to satiate his amusement despite her intolerance towards frivolous manners. She would applaud her ability to maintain her professionalism despite the circumstances if she could. "Ms. Nordstrom has requested phenethylamine. An odd one, but it may provide us with results regarding the patients' physical states subsequently after establishing stable contact with the symbiotes."

"Isn't your job to say whether or not they have Lupus or something, doc? 'It's never Lupus', though, is it?" Treece inquired mockingly, an insult that did not surpass her. However, Evelyn elected to ignore his childishness and turned her attention back to Mr. Drake.

"Ms. Nordstrom states that the symbiote personally requests the chemical, that it speaks to her through some kind of neurologic link." Saying it aloud sounded ludicrous, but there was no easier way for her to make it clear. Had she been younger and more open-minded, she might have been more inclined towards the prospect of an alien making contact through telepathic means, but this would have to suffice.

But before Mr. Drake could respond, Dr. Skirth beat him to it. "It personally requests it?" Her voice was torn between disbelief and curiosity. "You mean that it – the symbiote – talks through her? How?"

"I'm not certain, but it would seem appropriate to satisfy its cravings. It could have similar results with the other patients as well." These were all mere speculations, and though it was in her nature to scrutinize uncertainties such as these, Evelyn decided that this was an appropriate moment to test certain boundaries.

"How would chocolate be able to help It?" Mr. Drake asked, evidently taking the situation more seriously than Treece did. "Why chocolate?"

"Chocolate contains phenethylamine, which is a chemical substance that affects the mood of a patient, as well as their overall physical performance," Evelyn explained in detail, arms crossed over her chest. "However, taking phenethylamine prescribed as medication may affect the patient in problematic ways, so taking moderate amounts through substances such as chocolate would be preferable if we wish to take precautions."

The sooner she could get this over with, the sooner she imagined she could return home. She doubted that the Foundation would simply let her leave, but if compromises could be made, it was a starting point. "I will note any results and take tests if required, but all I ask in return is that I will be allowed to take my temporary leave afterward." She stared straight into the CEO's eyes as she said this, gravely serious. "Is that acceptable?"

An unreadable look befell the CEO's countenance, one Evelyn could not conclude with certainty. However, a smile soon spread across his lips, a recognizable one. "You did not anticipate that we would keep you hostage here like a prisoner, Dr. March?"

"A gun to the head usually indicates otherwise," Evelyn pointed out, dead-serious.

"We had to take precautions, you surely understand that?" His careless nature was something that surpassed her. "We don't want to dispose of you now that you've proven your competence. We'd lose more than we'd gain. Not everyone is expendable, and those few who aren't are worth keeping onto, don't you agree?"

It was tempting to laugh at his statement, that much was for certain. On the contrary, everyone was expendable, and anyone could be disposed of. A bullet to the cranium or the precise cut to one's vital points may be all it takes. All it depended on was the person behind the trigger and the person with the knife. It's all about unpredictability, a sense of unpredictability only humans knew of.

"However, you will have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before you proceed to leave. It's just a safety measure we have to take in order to be certain of where your loyalties are. We will not complicate matters further and make you sign a bunch of papers, but we will require your contact information and address."

No loose threads were permitted, as expected on their part.

"Very well," she agreed, reaching her hand forth. "I accept,

"Excellent," Mr. Drake affirmed with a nod, shaking her hand.

"I presume that you don't have any preferences of a specific sort?" She inquired and held up the chocolate bar in front of the glass wall. The conditions had been settled accordingly; Evelyn was allowed to preform her test as long as it was under the supervision of Treece and a handful of his guards. It could not be helped, but under ordinary conditions, Evelyn would have much preferred to be alone with her patient.

But, of course, staying alone with an organism of unknown origins did not seem like the most practical approach. Risks were something she did not mind taking, but only as long as there were anticipated results in the end. This held none, and so, therefore, the prospect of being accompanied by heavily-armed and trained guards did not strike her as entirely preposterous.

Much as expected, the moment Ms. Nordstrom's eyes fell upon the unopened bar of Hershey in front of her, the woman leaped into the glass like an starved animal. Evelyn could easily admit that she had grown adjusted to the woman's unpredictable behavior.

The guards, however, evidently lacked the same composure. As the sound of Ms. Nordstrom slamming against the wall reached them, they all but aimed their weapons at her despite the fact that there was an impenetrable wall of glass between them. Ms. Nordstrom did not seem ignorant towards this hostility – her eyes flickered back and forth between the guards poised behind Evelyn – but there was far more temptation with the chocolate-bar than there was with their weapons.

"C-C-Could I p-please have it?" The patient asked pleadingly, drooling. "W-W-We're hungry."

The way Ms. Nordstrom's voice altered upon pronouncing 'we' had Evelyn tilt her head slightly to the side. It neither sounded like she was sick nor like she was somehow afflicted with an affliction (Laryngitis? Dehydration?). It did, however, sound as though she was speaking in unison with something else. Either that or perhaps Evelyn's lack of sleep was taking a toll on her. Though she was no stranger towards sleep deprivation, she acknowledged her limits – albeit reluctantly.

"You may," she said. "But–"

But Treece interrupted her. "Volunteer T790129, step back into the wall and turn around. By no means are you to remain within proximity until Dr. March has stepped out of the cell. Understand?"

"Would it not be more practical for one of us to go inside?" One of the other guards suggested. "I mean, would it not be best since–"

"If you want to risk your life over a goddamn chocolate bar, then by all means, go for it." Treece spat back at him, and thus ensured the guard's silence as the latter said nothing else.

Risking her life over a chocolate bar. Thinking back on it, it did sound rather idiotic, or something her brother would have done given the opportunity, regardless of age. His impulsive behavior more than often caused him problems none of them could afford to care for, and she had never imagined that she might do something as ridiculous in the future. Yet there she stood, about to face a parasitic lifeform with a chocolate bar in her grip.

Sighing to herself, she inclined her head towards the patient. "Ms. Nordstrom, please proceed to follow the requirements." With her free hand, Evelyn gestured the woman towards the opposite side of the cell. The older woman shifted her head around once, as if to verify that she understood the request, before she proceeded to hesitantly walk across the floor until she stood with her back to them, having increased the distance between them by several feet.

Content with the progress, Treece nodded and nudged Evelyn from behind. "She's yours now, doc. Try not to get yourself killed or anything. Would save us the trouble of finding a replacement."

Unimpressed with his taunting, Evelyn merely glanced over her shoulder, casting him a disinterested look. "I suppose we'll see."

Then she stepped inside, not knowing what kind of idiocy she had unwillingly participated in.