Disclaimer: I do not own Venom

A/N: So, guess who just came back from watching Avengers - Endgame! Jesus, that was one of the most amazing movies I've ever seen, and I can admit that it made me cry, it made me sweat, and it made me laugh like hell. After watching it, I became more inspired to continue. However, considering how both Venom and Avengers are Marvel-based creations, I'll be attempting to slide in some references here and there. There are a few in this chapter, if you squint your eyes tight enough. I may also include some references in this story which is linked to my other fanfiction "Rebirth", which follows the plot of the Avengers movies.

This chapter will follow a bit on Evelyn's internal struggles. Despite disliking the unpredictable, she's quite unpredictable herself. She wants to save people, but initially considered sacrifice as a means to do so, and now she wishes to end it because she 'thinks' it's because it's logically inconvenient for her occupation. She considers herself above lying, but she does it if she deems it important. She hates thinking of past events, but continues to do so in the chapters. She's quite a hypocrite, but she doesn't acknowledge that fact.

Anyway, enjoy the chapter. And as always, reviews are greatly appreciated and I truly appreciate those of who you have bothered to leave some for me to read. It always brings me joy to think that some people enjoy reading this. If you also have any questions, feel free to send them to me personally or leave them as a review.

Enjoy!

Edit: 15.10.21

Chapter 13 - The Reporter

Ms. Nordstom's condition was not as stable as it should have been. Her body showed every sign of unbalance, even the way she was standing seemed to radiate with pain. Evelyn refrained from engaging in physical contact under the assessment this time, and Mr. Axelson had been assigned as her personal bodyguard during the examinations at the orders of Drake. After the incident with Treece, the head of security was not allowed to touch her again, let alone guard her well-being.

"D-Do you have some more c-chocolate?" Ms. Nordstrom asked her meekly, like a child asking for sweets from their parents.

Evelyn looked up from the notepad as she finished writing. "I don't, unfortunately."

The patient frowned at this. "T-They have forgotten to give me food again."

The pen in her grip tightened. Those imbeciles. "Then I will remind them."

"T-Thank you, b-but could you make them give me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"

"If that's what you want, I'll see what I can do. I make no promises, however."

A smile came to view on the older woman's cracked lips. "Lily used to l-love it when I made them, even if I was a terrible c-cook in general. When I started using again ... her dad stopped m-me from seeing her. H-he's a good father, but a strict one. Can't blame h-him, I-I'm a mess. I was clean for so l-long, then I fucked up again."

The doctor got to her feet and prepared to walk out of there, deciding that she could handle to listen more, but the patient suddenly made a request that reached her ears and made her pause.

"W-Would it be alright if I sent her a letter?" she desperately pleaded. "Just one, that's all,"

Evelyn shook her head. "It won't be able to get past security. You are restricted from contacts outside the facility."

"P-Please, it's just a short letter! I promise!" She begged. "Whenever I got a few coins on the street, I would call her and talk to her a bit. Please … I just want her to give her something. That's a-all I ask."

Reluctantly, Evelyn thought about this request. Sending a letter could be highly risky, considering the security that was shackled around the place. She glanced down at her notes and thought … maybe.

This woman was dying; her chances were thinning out, and so, was she cruel enough to reject?

She turned around, flipped one of the pages on the notepad around to a blank side, and pointed the pen at the surface.

"Give me the address and be quick and brief about."

An appreciative smile spread across the woman's lips and she hastily reached forward to write her hurried message, all the while Evelyn stayed mindful of the distance between them and watched closely.

When the doctor finally stepped out of the cell, she could tell that the security guard's eyes were locked on her.

"Do you think that it will go unnoticed? What you did?" he asked her.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She said nonchalantly, passing him a brief glance before she proceeded to walk past him, but then she stopped and turned to glance back at him. "How long have you been working here?"

"That's a sudden question." His reply came off as snide in a way she couldn't comprehend.

"Just answer."

The guard hummed for a moment behind the fabric his mask consisted of. "A while."

"Did you know of the Foundation's questionable methods before applying?"

"Would you be disappointed if I said I did?" he asked.

Disappointment. Such an intangible emotion. "Can you be disappointed in someone whose identity you know nothing of?"

"In that case, I can admit I had heard rumors," he stated haphazardly. "But I would say that in the short amount of time you've been here, you've learned more than I have."

"… I see."

"If I were you, I would try to be more subtle. If you want to kill the body, you have to go for the head."

She looked at him one last time but saw nothing else before she left him. As she walked away, she folded the note and put it inside her coat, leaving the guard where he stood with no further adieu.

A delicate dance of falsehood and pageantry, she thought to herself as she finished writing down the last observations on her report. The scientists chattered of their achievements in the background, expressed excitement towards the progress of their experiments. Had she had an ounce of care in her, she might have joined them in their trivial conversations, but the urge to engage in social activities did not reach her interest even remotely. Much less with people who deliberately engaged in manslaughter, although she could consider herself a hypocrite for stating such.

She had managed to get food assigned to the cells but started to notice a pattern of neglect from the scientists. After some deliberation with herself, she concluded her report and made sure to repeat 'Sustenance is required on a daily' before conveying them.

Mr. Markson had shown surprisingly stable vitals; his heartbeats, albeit a little pitched, showed no signs of being irregular. His liver-functions, however, were less fortunate. If the bond between the symbiote and the patient proved to be cooperative, then it would mean that Drake would have something to look at before going to bed, most likely. But if the liver did not improve, then less pleasant dreams could be expected on his account.

"Ah, Doc. How're we doing?"

The pen stiffened in her grip as that unbearably annoying voice reached her ears. She turned around and subtly glared at the Head of Security entered proximity.

"Treece," she coolly greeted him. "The patient is stable, for the time being, if that is your primary concern."

"I didn't refer to the freaks," he dismissed and stood only one step away from her. Like always, he towered over her, but his size somehow did not seem to pose a threat as it did earlier.

"What do you want?"

"Always so cold. Indulge me at least once," he sighed in faux disappointment. "I've seen you spent quite some time with Dr. Skirth as of lately."

"And?" she raised an eyebrow. "I assume that you wish to inquire about the subject of our conversations?"

"Perceptive as always," he praised her. "But seriously, indulge me, if you would be so–"

"What Dr. Skirth and I converse about is strictly limited to the progress of the experimentations and are relevant only to those who are a part of the science group within the facility," she abruptly cut him off. "In terms you can understand, it means that you are not of relevance enough to know the full details of our conversations."

(Fingers curling? Lips bending downwards? Forehead crinkling?) She knew she had insulted him, and that was the result she aimed for. His emotions were uncontained; impulsive. It made it easier to ignite them.

"It seems," he began slowly, surprisingly collected. "that you have not learned your lesson from last time, have you, doc?"

"Lesson?" It threatened to make her scoff. "I don't take particularly well to physical reprimands."

"Then that's something that ought to be improved," he said. "A person who fails to learn their place earns no privileges around here, you know."

"Neither does the lack of competence on your part," she retorted, managing to mask the sass with the same neutral countenance she always wore. "The use of brute force usually indicates a lack of proper technique and strategy."

"Why you petty bit–"

"Everything alright here, Treece?"

Nothing could escalate before Drake appeared in the middle of them, posing as a barrier, instantly silencing his bodyguard with no effort whatsoever. Evelyn, surprisingly, found the CEO's presence to be convenient on her part for once. Without another word said, she shifted her attention elsewhere.

"How long is it now until they reach symbiosis?" Dr. Skirth asked, trembling as the prospect of creating monsters. It churned her insides to smudge.

Evelyn did not reply at first, deciding that silence was more of an answer than any letter could provide with. Truth be told, there was no answer she could give her that would be satisfactory, neither for Dr. Skirth nor herself. If anything, a lie would have been convenient, but she loathed the sensation of one rolling off her tongue now.

"A couple of months if we remain at the same pace we are now." She explained. "The patients are showing progress, some of them."

The two women stared at each other for a disclosed amount of time, yet none of them said anything. It was as though something had claimed their voices and forced them to submit to the quiet, whether they consented to it or otherwise. As if to drown her nervousness, Dr. Skirth took a big sip from her drink, allowing a small drop to fall down the side of her lip. It was coffee, black, with only an ounce of sugar. Maybe it was enough, or maybe the sweetness was a way for her to shroud the anxiety.

Meanwhile, Evelyn's own glass contained a fair amount of Cognac. Granted, she loathed the bitter taste of alcohol much like she loathed the sensation of smoke filling her lungs, but she needed it. She had tried her fair share of addictive substances in the past, none which lasted longer than small periods of time at most. It had been … temporarily blissful, but forgetting reality in the wake of hardships could do little more than offer impermanent solace.

As the ecologist put her drink down, her eyes fell to the half-empty glass in the oncologist's grip. "I didn't know you drank."

"I try to restrict it,"

Ordinarily, she would have had no objections towards coming with some cold comment, but the will to do it had been reduced it. She couldn't be bothered at the moment.

She eyed the woman and tilted the glass to her, "This, however, is an exception."

"I'll drink to that."

It seemed strange, but this temporary solace caused her heart to beat irregularly. Evelyn had to pause for a moment and deliberate before she brought the glass to her lips, head filled with thoughts she could not make out. Whether it was the alcohol or not, the ruse didn't simply go away at first. It was ironic, somewhat. They were supposed to commit themselves to end what they meant was a disgrace to all of humanity, yet they were currently sitting in a bar, drinking down black coffee and a pint of cognac respectively.

This seemed so unlike her that she allowed herself this moment of relaxation in such dire circumstances. Why wasn't she working as she should? Why wasn't she currently planning on how to ensure that Drake would not have any suspicions? Why was she wasting valuable time that could otherwise be spent on trying to make use of herself in a bar? This was useless, pathetic, she could feel her fingers grip harshly around the glass as though it was on the verge of breaking to pieces.

But Dr. Skirth seemed to have discarded her earlier traits of fretfulness. In fact, she seemed quite relaxed now, if only scarcely. The music in the background must have contributed to it, because in a matter of moments, the ecologist got to her feet and started to wave her arms around as though she was at a social gathering.

Evelyn didn't know whether to be horrified or slightly amused by the display. The ecologist did, perhaps, deserve some sense of happiness for once. Even as eyes began to dart towards them in the bar, she cared little for it as Africa by TOTO continued to play in the background.

A classic piece of music, foreign in the ears of the ignorant whilst recognizable and enjoyed to those who knew it. Evelyn could feel something tug at her chest as the memory of her brother dancing around the room to the music penetrated her head like a parasite. Toto had always been her father's favorite band, even if her mother had been less than enthusiastic about coming home to see him hum their songs in the kitchen each day while making dinner.

The sight of her colleague dancing so carelessly inevitably earned a disinterested reaction from her once she realized that they were wasting time. This was not the time for such. They had work to do, and unless they spent every second trying to make it work, they were useless.

"People die as you're dancing," she interjected coldly, not fully aware of her words until they left her mouth.

In less than a moment, Dr. Skirth stopped and her face became void of the joy she had previously inhibited. Dr. March saw her lips slip down and her face grew weary, but her answer remained firm. "We have work to do. The less distractions, the better."

"Yes – I … I suppose you're right."

Dr. Skirth sat back down again, silent as could be. "What is our next step?"

"I've managed to get a hold of the security patrols. It will not ensure that we manage to predict them precisely, but it will make them less unpredictable."

"That's something, at least." Dr. Skirth commented optimistically. "I've been trying to get some footage from the security tapes, in case we can show it to the government, but Treece…. He's been hounding me for the last couple of days. If he suspects anything..."

"Then this plan is as good as impossible, but it's not complete." Evelyn finished for her, reaching for the glass before downing another round of her drink. The bitter aftertaste did not cease to strike her as nauseating, but she could keep it down quite easily. Alcohol tended to easily affect her if she ever took it in large dosages, but she decided to keep it limited for the evening. "In the worse case, killing Treece might become a necessity–"

"No!" The yelp which escaped the ecologist earned them a short amount of eyes from the others in the bar, none of stared at them for long before turning their attention back to either the pool games or the television. As soon as they turned away, Dr. Skirth leaned forward and hissed, "Killing him will be too drastic!"

"It won't be too hard unless he sees it coming. Might simply put him in a temporary coma." Evelyn explained bluntly, as though they were conversing about the weather. "Treece's arrogant, dependent on addictive substances for comfort. I'm sure Drake won't find it suspicious if he died from a heroin overdose. Either that or I could simply render him partially incapacitated from the waist down if I'm precise with a scalpel and have some sedatives at my disposal."

"Aren't you an oncologist?"

"I did study surgery for a period, but with a rather narcissistic attending."

She recollected the memory of the supervising surgeon as she poured the last drops of alcohol down her throat. He was a prodigious intellectual, photographic memory, and unmistakably stable hands. He was known in New York for being one of the city's most competent men in the medical field, and he had agreed to make her his intern for a time being before she turned her primary focus onto oncology. The man was competent indeed, but nonetheless too prideful for his own good.

In her own terms… he was quite a Strange man.

But she had respected him, granted he never seemed to harbor the same patronizing attitude towards her as he did with so many of the other understudies. His teaching had also been fairly useful during the period of time she spent there but after the … incident that took place later the same year, she left and never saw the surgeon again. It had not bothered her in the slightest, but there were few others who could match his brilliance.

"To be honest," Dr. Skirth said softly. "I didn't think you would agree on this like me."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "I do believe we have different reasons for doing this, Dr. Skirth."

"For whatever reason, you still wish to end this. Why?"

"Logically, the experiments will sooner or later be made public." She explained matter-of-factly as she stared into her empty glass. "The Life Foundation would be ruined and everyone who was involved would be prosecuted accordingly, not to mention that Drake does not appear to be the man I initially anticipated. He's ... childish."

Her words seemed to inflict the ecologist with some indescribable sensation. Her shoulders were raised, her eyes seemed to widen, her fingers gripped tightly against the cup she was holding as though she wished to break it to pieces. It would have been illogical, as glass tended to easily pierce through the skin if the impact was tight enough. It wouldn't have been befitting if that was her intentions.

Even so, the oncologist was slightly perplexed with this display. "What is the matter?"

Dr. Skirth's aimed her glare down at the table. "So, you only wish to help because it will have consequences for you eventually otherwise? Is that it?" Her voice was strained as not as audible as human speech tended to be.

Evelyn blinked. "Should there be another reason?"

"What about the fact that human lives are at stake?!" she hissed vehemently, making sure to keep her voice down this time. The table rattled as she pronounced her words, causing the coffee-cup in her hand to spill a few drops. "Are you truly that arrogant that you can't see past yourself and care for others for once?"

"Caring won't bring back those who are dead. Regardless of my motives, my actions will ensure that Drake won't come to use anyone else for his experiments. Shouldn't that be satisfactory enough?" Perhaps it was anger the ecologist inhibited or disappointment. It was difficult to differentiate both of them, even if the physical signs were tremendous.

Yet still, Evelyn couldn't deny that her motivations were also partially backed by her overall need to stop all of this, before it was too late. But Dr. Skirth didn't need to know that; it wouldn't do any of them any good. So, for the sake of keeping things easier on her part, Evelyn deliberately let herself play the part of the scapegrace.

Dr. Skirth seemed to allow the (anger? disappointment? Aggravation?) to ease off her. She lowered her shoulders and sat back into her seat, silent for a couple of seconds. "Perhaps it was too much to expect from someone like you." She grumbled.

"Someone like me?"

"A person who only cares about themselves." The words poured out of Dr. Skirth's mouth with intended slowness, to add effect, no doubt. "Has it ever occurred to you that your actions have consequences for those around you? The things you say and do hurt others, even if you don't notice it. Tell me, what would your family say if they knew how you treat everyone like you treated those people?"

"If that's your attempt to appeal to me, I'm afraid that it's not working," Evelyn said, trying to block the view of her mother crying on the floor and her father holding onto her for comfort. She had to admit, the ecologist was correct. Her family would have despised her if they knew, but then again, she was already hated enough. What was another pound of resentment on her plate to her?

"And if I recall correctly," she added. "t was your interference which got me involved in all this, to begin with."

"What if Drake asked you personally whether you would consider the job, would you decline?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Why?"

The image of her patients laying on their death beds with no expected happy ending in sight reached her focus. The memory of her brother's parting had an irreversible effect on her, one she had spent years trying to escape from. Death was an enemy to life, one she did not wish to have people befall to soon unless it was inevitable. "Believe it or not, my primary goal is to save people. The reason why I volunteered for the work was because I believed that we would perhaps be able to save others. To keep them alive."

"Keeping their heart beating is not the same as saving them!"

"Neither is exposing them to alien lifeforms."

"Will you women shut the fuck up?! I'm trying to watch the game!"

A mutual silence befell them as the two women turned around to address the man who had interrupted their conversation. A balding man (late thirties? early forties? Mid-fifties?) in a white shirt that was greased with sweat and whiskey was glaring their way. He was obviously intoxicated, which would make the situation difficult should he decide to come their way.

"Perhaps we should find someplace else to speak," Evelyn suggested

Dr. Skirth sighed. "I know a place that's not too far away."

"But first I have to make a stop someplace. I have a letter to deliver."

He was browsing through the wares, desperately looking for something to satiate his increasing hunger. The regret of having spent so much money on that damn whiskey was creeping up on him like some… some ugly… piece of shit boogeyman or something. Sure, he wasn't completely wasted yet. He ran out of stuff before he could get that far, and it made him even more pissed.

Trying to get a job went to hell, trying to reconnect with Annie went to hell, trying that damn yoga-crap Mrs. Chen suggested also went downwards, and now he couldn't even stay sober long enough to find some damn tater tots. He was soon out of them soon, those fucking shits never lasted long anyway.

"I used to be a reporter," he muttered to himself. "I was pretty successful as well. My job required you to, you know, follow people who didn't want to be followed, hiding in plain sight."

No one answered him, yet he could hear someone on the other side of the shelf.

"Bet you're fun at parties." He commented with a sarcastic chuckle. "But in my line of work, you have to know how to disappear. I was pretty good, but you, whoever you are, you suck."

As he looked over to the other side of the shelf, he came face to face with a woman he had never seen before. There were many people he had never seen before, but this one, he was certain of it. Cold, green eyes met him, and he could have sworn the temperature just dropped a couple of degrees.