Disclaimer: I do not own Venom

Chapter 18: Regrets

Everywhere in the world, people were dying like flies. Whether it was due to natural causes or something else entirely like accident or murder, death did not discriminate between its victims. Age, ethnicity, gender, acts of 'heroism' of 'evil'; none of those things played any contributing parts in who was to die and who was to live. Children, adults, and elderly all met the same fate one day or the other. In a way, it was all up to chance, which was something she had grown accustomed to over the years despite loathing the concept entirely.

Granted, although Evelyn did not indulge in the fact, she had no power over who was to indulge in the qualities of life and who wasn't. Even after spending years of trying to figure out everything there was to know about the human body and its limits, she had gotten no closer towards finding out how to keep people from ceasing to exist before their elderly years.

That, she begrudgingly admitted to herself, was not so easily managed.

Working in a place where death was practically a mandatory attribute unless the afflictions could be remedied, she had seen everything there was to see in terms of death and 'misery'. Children crying in their parent's arms as the news of their imminent death had reached them, parents having to accept the reality of what was to come as they attempted to comfort their children, people mourning their loved ones, people turning to substance abuse to cope. Whenever people in her care proved to be untreatable, she would always be the one targeted with the blame.

Though there had only been a handful of patients who had died while under her supervision due to terminal illnesses or other maladies, their relatives would more than often see her as the one responsible for their state of 'misery'. Curses, threats, even pieces of furniture had all been thrown her way, and even though the two former ones had always left her as easily as they came, she had admittedly gotten better at dodging the latter over the years.

In other words, she had seen all there was to see, so she imagined that she would have become used to seeing corpses too.

But nothing she had ever seen in her entire career – her entire life for that matter – could have prepared her for what now remained of Ms. Nordstrom's body.

She had examined the deceased woman's features in complete silence shortly after Mr. Brock had gotten out of there. Sitting on her knees just inches away, Evelyn had observed everything from the ashen color of her face to the way her veins popped up from where they were not supposed to be visible. Her eyes were ajar, bloodshot and had tears that bore a striking resemblance to ink leaking out of them both; the pupils that had expanded to the point where there was almost no white left in the sclera. Although it had only been less than a couple of hours since she died, it already appeared as though her body had been left decaying for the last couple of days.

And this one's death was one she did feel responsible for and acknowledging that the blame belonged to her sent a tightness surging through her chest like the blood in her veins once again.

Thump, thump, thump…

She clutched her hand over her chest as the beats of her heart started to pace faster and faster the longer she stared down at the deceased woman's features. They were considerably faster now than ever before, and she could not pinpoint what caused it to begin with. Neither could she explain how she was able to hear them so vividly when there were numerous – obnoxiously loud – people around her from almost every angle possible.

Not long after the incident had alerted everyone affiliated with the Foundation, be it guards or scientists, there seemed to be little room for silence anywhere now that they were all gathered in the same space. Initially, Evelyn had not expected there to be more people under the Foundation's thumb as there were staffs in the general hospital she worked at, but that evening proved that the former clearly possessed the larger quantity of the two.

It made it seem strange that there were so many people affiliated with the project, and even stranger that the security around the place easily allowed three people access without much effort put into it. 'A piece of cake' her brother used to call things when they were easy enough for him to handle without struggle, although she had never understood how simplistic tasks could compare to slices of dessert. But if that was an appropriate term to use in circumstances such as these, then yes, it was a piece of cake.

When she had been found there in the lab with the deceased patient's body beside her, it was only mandatory for the guards to suspect her of any involvement. But much to her convenience, the scars and evident traits of hardship on her body reduced their distrust to little more than nothing. From the visible scratches and bruises on her neck and face, to the unkept way of her clothes, and her hair that was now in a messier version of its original state.

She had explained to them that she had been ambushed by the infiltrator while delivering some last-minute assessments on the patients, who in turn had somehow managed to run off with the symbiote unscathed. It was a believable story that could be backed up by the numerous guards that had attempted to chase after him, only to fail when they realized that he was nowhere within the perimeter anymore.

When asked about the intruder's description, she had told them that she was knocked unconscious and 'roughed up' a bit before being able to make out his figure. All she informed them of was that it was a male of approximately 6'2 in height, which would have made it considerably more challenging for them to locate someone by the description when there were thousands of men who could match it.

Still, that did not spare her the numerous looks of suspicion she could feel following her every move after the situation had calmed down. While she was used to people looking at her like they wanted to do more bad than good, it still demanded more effort from her to bluntly retort something back than it did to disregard them entirely. However, for the time being, she would have to be discreet if she wished to avoid invoking further doubt from them.

In doing so, she decided that it would be best for the time being if she placed a distance between herself and the rest of the crowd, but just enough to avoid having to catch the scent of their breaths. While technically speaking, she was only standing on the side a few mere feet away from the nearest cluster of colleagues, yet it still felt like it was enough to avoid any unnecessary interaction. If somebody were to ask her about what had occurred, she was only required to shift her attention to the floor and feign shock in order to keep them off of her.

It was something she had learned from an early age was an easy method in terms of keeping people at bay. Silence bred assumptions, but it also bred seclusion, which was something she required in order to keep herself away from their radar. But it also kept her from looking over to where deceased woman's body laid motionlessly. Whether it was intentional or otherwise, Evelyn's distance from it made it easier to focus on how she would be able to sway Drake with her version of what had occurred.

Placing a hand on top of her neck, she could trace the scratches and bruises that were starting to form on top of her skin. While they were far from as severe as they could have been, they would no doubt leave scars that would remain for years to come if she did not patch them up within the hours. Although she was no stranger towards scars or other sorts of injuries, as her body was covered with a fair share of them as a result of discontent patients – or more specifically, the patients' relatives – and accidents at the clinic, Evelyn always made sure to keep them covered up with the clothes she usually wore. Long-sleeved shirts and stockings usually helped with that.

But her neck? That would become bothersome to try and conceal.

Knowing Dr. Lewis, however, she sighed with subtle frustration as she realized that keeping something concealed from him for long would be more challenging than keeping something concealed from Drake. Both of them were perceptive men, but their different agendas usually allowed different attributes to come forward. Care from Dr. Lewis, but caution from Drake.

After picking on the edge of one of the scratches she felt present by the edge of her jawbone, Evelyn's lips tugged to a short-lived frown as she contemplated on what kind of measures could be taken in order to keep them all from view. While she did not harbor any vehement dislike towards turtle-necks or scarfs in general, she sincerely doubted wearing one inside the hospital during such warm seasons would pass as ordinary. And though she did know how to apply make-up, it was a hassle.

Her arms crossed over her chest as she continued to ponder over what she could do to keep all of them out of sight. Had there been only one scratch, then a simple band-aid would have been enough, or nothing at all, but considering how her neck and throat were practically accessorized with bruises and scratches for everyone to notice, it would not easily escape everyone's notice. Much less Dr. Lewis'.

"If my problems were to cause you immeasurable pain and struggles, would you still offer your assistance so carelessly?"

"Yes, I would."

"Why?"

"Because that is what friends do."

Evelyn was usually one to keep trivial words and conversations from lasting longer than a few days at most in her memory unless they were relevant for a situation, but for some reasons, Dr. Lewis' words were not one of those within that category despite them being utterly useless to her current predicament. His lack of precaution when it came to 'caring' for others had on more than one occasion left her unable to understand his thinking-pattern despite it being so obvious.

The only thing that was reoccurring when it came to him was his inability not to help others, no matter their situations and whether they spared him any consequences. While it was her own job to help people, as long as it was somehow within her field of concern, she rarely bothered to lift a finger if it wasn't. Dr. Lewis, on the other hand, practically indulged in it.

Perhaps he would have been more able to keep Ms. Nordstrom from dying than she could … But that was her blame to carry, not his. If there was one thing she was certain about, it was that Dr. Lewis was not someone who deserved to carry the burdens of her own mistakes. Those were hers, and hers alone. No one else's.

Alone.

Even as Evelyn stood on the sides, having succumbed to her own thoughts for what seemed like hours, there was no way for her to block out the persistent sounds the other scientists were producing as a result of their discontentment surrounding the difficulty which had struck them all in mutually large degree. Traits of 'anger' and 'disappointment' seemed to reoccur almost everywhere she looked (cursing? physical tension? visible outrage?), and while some of them were more composed with their behavior, the rest did not hesitate to lash out and express their discontent about having lost one of their most prominent subjects to an intruder.

The concepts of 'humanity' and 'civility' seemed to be in short supply at the moment, which did not say much considering how the majority of them indulged in unethical human experiments on a regular. Either they were simply too caught up with their ambitions to care about the consequences, or they just wanted to express themselves in less than 'civil' manners. Either way, it did little to impress her.

But even past all the aggressive ranting and the words of irritation expressed throughout the labs, something which reached the physician's attention was the sound of approaching footsteps coming to her direction. Initially expecting it to be another one of those scientists who could not help but keep themselves entertained with questions and answers, Evelyn's eyes met the floor and she was just about to keep her silence secured when she realized that she recognized those dark shoes that came into view, along with the striped pair of pants that somehow seemed appropriate for someone like him to wear.

And by him, she meant none other than Mr. Marley.

"It must have been quite a scary evening for you, Dr. March," He was smiling down at her, his tone was 'gentle', 'pleasant', the sort of voice any person would wish would accompany them on top of the mattress.

Looking up at him, Evelyn made sure to keep her shoulders hunched just enough to make it seem like it was caused by undisclosed unease. As she pretended to have all her attention on him, her pupils trailed over his features, everything from the way his shirt was neatly buttoned to the gel he had put in his hair to make it stay up to the side. Cologne reeked of him as well, which she made sure to discard from her attention.

"I appreciate your concern, Mr. Marley," Pronouncing his name left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth for some reason. "However, I am quite alright."

He courteously inclined his head her way, flashing a smile in the process. "I am glad to hear it," he said as he sighed with relief. "It would have been a shame if we lost one of our best people."

Losing one of their most prominent subordinates (if she could even be called that) was hardly an issue. Everyone was expendable in the eyes of the foundation, even her. Humans reproduced like rodents, so it would not require a lot of effort to find someone whose expertise could challenge her own. They could probably find someone whose lack of morals and ethics could even surpass her own, but that did not require even half the effort it would take to find a replacement.

In fact, it would be the easiest task of them all. She had met her fair share of people whose lack of morals even startled her to an extent (RED HAIR. GLISTENING TEETH. UNBLINKING, RABID GREEN EYES.), but few of them had managed to alarm her in similar ways like Drake and …. Someone else she knew.

Mr. Marley's stance seemed to change. Instead of being stiff and unmoving as it had initially been, it became rather relaxed and lackadaisical. This seemed like ordinary behavior for him, judging from what little she had observed the first time she met, and that was a good sign. She would have to keep it that way.

She placed a hand over her neck and let out a sigh. "I sincerely apologize for this inconvenience, Mr. Marley, it was not my intentions to–"

But he held up a hand before she could finish, successfully catching her slight off-guard. The smirk on his lips revealed gleaming white teeth that seemed like they had been practically polished with sandpaper. "You do not have to fret, Dr. March," Her name seemed to leave his lips like saliva on his tongue. "You could not foresee what was going to happen. You're only human, and humans have limits."

And humans have boundaries, she bitterly thought to herself.

Having not heard her thoughts (as expected), he continued. "Measures will be taken and both the human and the symbiote will be found and brought back for safe extraction, –" In other words, somebody would most likely be killed. "- So you can simply rest if that is what you wish. Things will be handled from here."

"Considering how this was caused partially due to my lack of precautions," Evelyn contradicted him. "I should contribute as well, otherwise I will be in a debt I could not possibly hope to repay."

The concepts of 'depth' and 'repayment' had zero meanings to her. If people owed her the same amount of lives that she had saved, then she was already indebted to a three-digit number of human lives by now. But she had no interest in collecting them, and neither had she any interest in providing with any either, least of all to people like him. They had taken more lives than she had lost, and that fact alone seemed to cause her an immense sensation of …. Something.

Mr. Marley, oblivious to her resentment towards him, chuckled with his hands tucked inside the pockets of his shirt. "Your dedication is admirable, Dr. March."

"Of course," She inclined her head to him. "I'm a doctor, and as such, it's my responsibility to take care of my patients. Failing to do so does not speak a lot about my competence."

And even so, several people had already died in her care and she had failed to save them even when she could. If she was indebted to those, then she also had several lives to give. But neither of those were at her disposal.

His eyes flashed to her, glimmering with something arrogant. "You are more than just that, I sincerely hope you know," he added sultry, reaching his hand up and placing it over her neck where the majority of the bruises were located as well as the scratches that had dried. The cold tips of his fingers trailed over her skin to the back of her neck, then over to the side of her jaw until they finally rested beneath her chin.

She had endured it, oblivious to what such a gesture meant. To her, it was no different from shaking hands, but something told her this was … more intimate than so.

Her eyes trailed up to him again, and she could spot him smirking down at her with something indiscernible lingering in his gaze (?). He took a step closer towards her until he towered over her figure by a couple of significant inches. While he was not as tall as Treece in terms of height, he still stood superior to her by a few inches or so (two? four? five?)

In regard of strength, however, perhaps those extravagant clothes of his provided her with no answer. From an external perspective, she would have assumed that he weighed less than (130 lbs.? 150 lbs.? 160 lbs.?), but she could not conclude anything for certain unless she him stripped to the skin. That was not something she deemed interesting, however, so she discarded the idea entirely.

But right now, there were other matters to deal with than this person. Looking over his shoulder without making it visible that she was particularly focused on much anything less than him, Evelyn spotted a familiar dark-haired woman approaching from the distance through the crowd. She had discarded her coat someplace and it was clear that she was in a state of disarray, but it all seemed to vanish entirely upon seeing the physician standing there – albeit the presence of the COO seemed to dissolve that short-lived relief a bit.

"However, in the near future, I would recommend not performing any assessments without supervision, alright?" Mr. Marley's patronizing reprimand snapped her attention back and Evelyn only nodded without uttering a single vocal.

Then, with a courteous nod, he removed his fingers from her neck and excused himself by saying that he needed to hear some reports from the guards that had been responsible for losing the intruder out of their sight, and that she would have to come to him if she could recall anything from the intruder's appearance that could be valuable.

Losing him off her trail almost seemed too easy; 'a piece of cake'. Whether or not it acted in her favor, Evelyn could only hope that he was as dense as he genuinely appeared to be. Although he was not as fierce as Drake in regard to his reputation, she did not doubt that he had not earned the title of COO without reason.

People of powerful positions more than often had powerful allies backing them up, and right now, the last thing she needed was prominent figures in society knowing her name.

"Evelyn!"

Hearing her name – her first name –, her head snapped up as Dr. Skirth approached her. The lines under her eyes and evident hints of exhaustion on her face convinced her that the ecologist had not wasted a single moment that evening, which was something they both had in common at the given moment.

"Dr. Skirth," Her awareness of her presence did not sound as welcoming as it could have been, but Evelyn did feel an amount of (relief? joy? luck?) knowing that the ecologist was alive and well. That must have meant that neither Drake nor any of the guards had been aware of either of their involvement in the infiltration that had occurred only hours earlier.

Dr. Skirth stopped right in front of her and looked into her eyes with fierce curiosity and (Fear? Dread?). "Is it true?" she asked, murmuring the words like whispers that could scarcely be detected. "About the symbiote? Was it … I saw the subject's body. She was …" Dr. Skirth's eyes trailed to the floor, mouth moving but uttering no sound.

Evelyn nodded in verification, though she did not respond verbally at first. Surveying the crowd of people from where she stood with her arms crossed and stance straight, she detected no suspicion aimed towards them at that very moment. The rest of those imbeciles were too occupied discussing the matter with their colleagues, so hardly anyone seemed to notice the two of them standing there; the true culprits of the matter which they were discussing.

"Then," Dr. Skirth proceeded cautiously, taking the view of her colleagues into consideration before speaking. "Is he alive?"

"I'm not certain," Evelyn answered and turned to meet her eyes. "They managed to escape as far as I am aware of, but whether he still lives is another matter." Symbiotes killed their host once their greed became too massive, so the chances of Mr. Brock dying unless he was able to feed himself the proper amount of nutrition was entirely up to him. On that part, she had no way of making sure of it.

"You saw him take it," It was a statement, not an assumption. Dr. Skirth was practically begging her for a suitable answer. "Tell me everything that happened."

"The intruder seemed to be familiar with Ms. Nordstrom," They both knew whom the 'intruder' was. "He decided to attempt to break her out of there."

There was no further explanation that was required other than what they already knew beforehand. Evelyn assumed that the ecologist could easily put the pieces together on her own from there.

Not only had she already elaborated on the fact to the other colleagues in an effort to shake them off her heel, but she was sincerely not in the mood to go into more details as it was. She had seen the symbiote discard Ms. Nordstrom and eagerly jumped onto Mr. Brock like a virus, which was all she had to say about the subject. If it wanted to live, then it would have a chance. If not, then it could mean problems.

As long as it remained out of reach of the LF, then she was content enough to leave the matter as it currently was. Once out of there, however, she would make sure to try to locate him and ensure that he was alive. But right now, she did not trust the Foundation would so easily let her out of their sight again. While they would physically speaking allow her to walk out of their doors with little problem, she doubted that they would not keep her under some sort of surveillance.

But the LF was not the only thing that was at the risk of becoming increasingly dangerous at the moment. If the symbiote that had escaped decided to discard Mr. Brock in a similar fashion as it had Ms. Nordstrom and live on its own, then it could plausibly decide to commit a series of mass murders around the city in an effort to find a more … suitable host. That was something that could become increasingly dangerous.

Although she had accepted that death was inevitable regardless of where and when and whom it concerned, Evelyn was by no means interested in allowing unnecessary bloodshed to occur if she could avoid it. She did not need more people's lives on her hands. If she could prevent more people from meeting a fate similar to Maria Nordstrom, then she did not object towards enduring something like that herself if it meant others were saved in the process.

For that, then her life was absolutely expendable.

But for that to happen, then she would perhaps require some assistance. Therefore, she decided that the woman standing next to her could perhaps be of further use. "Dr. Skirth, would you–"

"Dr. Skirth, Dr. March,"

She unknowingly clenched her fist to a knot as the sound of Dr. Collins reached their ears. As one of the more prominent members of their scientific field, he was one of those people Drake could simply not afford to discard just yet. Although his demeanor reminded her very much of Dr. Francis Lambert in terms of self-acknowledged narcissism and competence, the primary difference between them was their respect, or lack thereof, towards life. And although she knew that Dr. Lambert would never risk anyone's well-being because of his own pride, the same could not be said for Dr. Collins.

Speaking of which, as he entered proximity from the crowd towards them, there was an uncertain tug at his lips that indicated that he was no longer feeling so certain of himself anymore as he had before. "Mr. Drake has requested that both of you come with me."

"O-Of course"

"For what purpose?"

Glancing at each other at the sound of their voices intertwining, both the ecologist and the oncologist came to a silent understanding that, regardless of why they were required to go there for, it would be for the best if they obeyed without interjection. Even so, as they accompanied Dr. Collins on the way to the cell area of the labs, both experienced a painfully-tight knot forming in their stomachs.

While one of them knew what produced it, the other did not.

Eddie vehemently cursed to himself as he felt his stomach churn to inhuman degrees. His insides were threatening to burst out of his abdomen, his nerves were piercing him like a thousand needles through his skin, and arms and legs were shaking uncontrollably. He felt cold, so cold that even the tips of his nails ached, yet he also felt hot. So hot that he had on more than one occasion debated ripping his shirt right off rather than to take it off like any man with sanity would.

Fuck sanity!

Ever since he managed to get out of that fucking facility and back to the city, nothing about him had felt right. Even after trying to contact Dr. Skirth through the card she gave him when they first met, she wasn't picking up.

He didn't know if what he was experiencing was just in a state of shock after seeing people – actual people – get experimented on like they were guinea pigs or if it was something else entirely. He had always known that Carlton Drake and that bullshit he called the Life Foundation (ironic name) was shady, yet he had never been able to imagine that horror he had seen first-hand once there himself.

Black markets, human trafficking, forced prostitution, he had seen it all, yet none of those could compare to the horrors of that facility.

But more than horrified, Eddie felt immensely hungry for some reason. He had tried to consume everything in his kitchen that was edible; food, beer, even junk from his trash. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have thrown up after eating something so infested with bacteria.

And he did.

He had thrown up several times already, head hanging over his toilet like a pregnant woman during the second trimester. While technically speaking, he wasn't unfamiliar with the sensation of throwing up after a couple of bottles of whiskey and beer, this could hardly compare to those incidents. When he and Anne were still together, they had discussed the possibility of having children. Now, however, he quickly discarded that idea after coming to an understanding of how dreadful it would have been on the woman's part.

Not that it mattered anyway now …

Damn it.

After what felt like a while, which was in reality little more a half hour at most, he got to his feet a little wobbly and tried to regain his composure after all that shit. Still, it wasn't easy. Half his head was still stuck to the toilet seat and the rest of him was just a little less messy than what was at the bottom of it.

But eventually, he was able to get properly up, though there were black spots decorating the corners of his sight and sounds were growing faint and distant in his ears. It all felt like a bad – really bad – hangover. He sure hoped that was the case, but luck rarely tended to be on his side of things. Especially now that he was in desperate need of it.

Turning the faucet on, he splashed a fair amount of water into his face and indulged in the coolness. His temperature seemed to calm down and so did his nerves, but there still remained that tingly sensation inside him he could not simply put a name on. He could compare it to … to feeling his heartbeats grow heavy, or his lungs expanding to the edge of his ribcages. He had never experienced the latter sensation per se, but it was the easiest comparison he could find that actually made – to some degree – sense.

After spending a couple of minutes in contemplative silence, he pulled out his toothbrush from the mirror-drawer and decided that for now, he would rid himself of the foul stench in his breath before taking a shower, and finally take a quick nap to ease his mind before he went to his old boss with the proof he had managed to collect. That dumbass would have to take his word for it now.

But, unfortunately, Eddie never got that far. One moment, he was brushing his teeth and spitting it out over the sink. Next, he swore he could see an unrecognizable monster in his reflection which called his name and sent him shrieking back into his bathtub. The rest after that… Well, it was easy to say that it did little to ease the headaches that had bothered him for the past couple of hours.

And to his lack of knowledge, the creature that currently resided within him could not wait but to see what kind of use this host would have … although the male was, in human terms, a 'pussy'. Maybe it would have been better to use the doctor after all, but when it came to survival, Venom didn't discriminate. And right now, it was too late for regrets.

Too late for them all.