Disclaimer: I do not own Venom

Chapter 19: Breakable

Their mother's face was pale and there was so much she wanted to say, yet she did not utter a single word as she escorted her son to the car after that horrible ordeal – how could a mother comfort her child after he had just fallen twenty feet from the branch of a tree and to the asphalt with a living creature tucked beneath him? The impact had killed the creature and broken his arm, but his physical condition could not compare to his mental one. His arm was broken, his clothes were soaked in blood, his eyes were wide with incomprehensible trauma and had tears streaming down from them.

Upon seeing the state his son was in, their father quickly called the hospital and ordered them both to go into the car. But as young Evelyn reached to hold her brother's hand, he let out an ear-deafening scream and quickly pushed his sister back from him with such force that it was a mystery that one of his arms was broken. She fell to the ground on her behind, startled to the point where she was frozen where she sat. Her brother did not even look at her, but his lips were quivering and his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Never before had he ever pushed her, even when they were younger. He had never been mean enough to do such a thing towards her, even when she annoyed him to a great extent. As her eyes trailed up to meet his face, she could no longer see the countenance of the brother she admired so much. Instead, all she saw was … a hollow husk.

Without thinking, she crawled up to her feet and tugged behind them towards the car, but her father quickly spun around and faced her with a saddened smile, kneeling down to her height and placing a hand on top of her shoulder as to keep her from following them inside the vehicle. "Sorry, kiddo. We have to go to the hospital for a little while with Davy."

"Why can't I come?" she asked curiously. "I want to come too."

"I know, sweetie, but this is not going to look pretty. But don't worry. Uncle Patrick will come over shortly and keep an eye on you." He caressed the side of her face and kissed her forehead affectionately. "Promise me you'll be a good girl, alright."

"Okay," she assured him. "I promise."

"That's a good girl."

And with that, her father placed himself in the driver's seat of the car and started the engine. Her mother put her son as carefully as she could in the back seat as to not warrant any further pain in the arm that was bent in an unnatural angle. After shutting the door, she turned to her daughter and gave her a quick hug before she retreated to the passenger seat.

As the car descended down to the main road, the young girl spotted her brother in the window and waved at him, hoping that he would spot her and wave back. However, he neither saw her nor waved back. His eyes were plastered to the floor of his seat, his pupils had shrunk, tears stained his cheeks, and blood covered several spots on his face. She didn't know the name, but it seemed as though he had been in a place where a murder had taken place, and not even the sight of his sister standing outside their home seemed to be enough to warrant his attention.

So, she stood there alone on the sidewalk and watched as the car containing her entire family disappeared into the distance. Although her father's friend, whom both she and her brother affectionately called Uncle Patrick, would arrive shortly if her father had been true, she did not feel any less alone than she did standing there.

Evelyn did not utter a word for the remainder of the time, but she wished to say something; hoping that someone would hear his words. Maybe it would make her parents turn back and come get her, or perhaps some of the neighbor kids would come and play with her instead of staying inside to watch television.

But none of those potential outcomes ever occurred. She didn't utter a single word, her parents' car finally vanished from sight, and she remained alone where she stood on the sidewalk. Though she was no stranger towards the sensation of involuntary seclusion, it was not something she craved like water. The friends she had at school were one thing, but it was another matter entirely when not even her own brother could look at her anymore.

But it was not until a few seconds later that she would come to realize that she was not as alone as she believed.

The sound of footsteps clattering against the pavement caught her attention, and the young girl shifted her attention towards the source of the sound. A boy from across the road made his way towards her, smiling benevolently as he shortened the distance between them.

The closer he got towards her, the more of his appearance she was able to make out. He was wearing a striped shirt in red and blue, which seemed to fit his equally-red hair as well. He was smiling, showing his pair of perfectly white teeth, and his eyes glimmered in a color similar to her own, yet there was this mean streak about them she simply could not seem to shake off her. Be that as it may, he was waving her way, so it was only appropriate of her to wave back, albeit with less enthusiasm on her side.

"Good morning," he greeted her softly, evidently oblivious towards the fact that it was late enough for the sun to be setting in the horizon or simply not caring enough.

Evelyn tried to ignore his odd greeting and simply replied with a "Good day," herself, masking any unease she felt towards the boy.

She must have been successful in concealing it because he did not seem to notice the goosebumps she had crawling up her arms or the way her eyes avoided meeting his. Either that, or he simply did not care enough to make his awareness of it public knowledge.

"Who are you?" For a child that young, she scarcely hesitated to ask what was on her mind unless her mother deemed it 'inappropriate', but after analyzing the situation thoroughly, Evelyn did not find anything remotely 'inappropriate' about asking someone she had not met before for their name.

"I'm no one," the boy haphazardly replied, much to the girl's confusion. "That's what my dad always says anyway. 'That I'm a nobody'."

After hearing this, the distrust the young girl harbored towards him changed to pity and she looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and sympathy. To be called such a name by someone who was supposed to treat you with love and affections, it was monstrous. She could never imagine her own father saying such a cruel thing to her or her brother. He would have rather choked himself on her mother's (dreadful) dinner before he allowed such words to escape his mouth.

But this boy's father did not seem to find it hard to tell his child that he was a 'nobody'.

"That's not true," she quickly disagreed, shaking her head. "You're not nobody."

That seemed to pique his curiosity, and his eyes gradually trailed over to her whilst the smile on his mouth seemed to extend to a Glasgow-like grin. "Oh? Why not?"

Although slightly unsettled by the way he was looking, she felt proud over how maturely she was able to handle the situation. "The pastor says that everything with a name has a soul and that it should be treated nicely because of it."

His next answer shook her.

"And what if there doesn't exist a thing such as that?" The way he said it made her skin crawl and her heart fall into the bottom of her stomach. Because of that, she had failed to notice how the boy closed in on her, up to the point where he was practically standing over her by a few towering inches. A few strands of his crimson hair cast an ominous shadow over his eyes.

"Things like a 'soul' and 'goodness' and all that, you should know that it's just a bunch of crap those people say to put a leash around your neck –" He reached his hand up and placed it firmly around her neck, just tight enough not to threaten her inhales. " – Like a dog. Like stupid Fifi."

Evelyn usually knew when and how to back out of a situation. Her father was a policeman, after all, so he had always made that she knew when running away was an available option in any given situation. Anytime. However, she found herself frozen where she stood, eyes widened at the boy with an immense sense of dread surging through her. Though she was perfectly able to breathe, she swore she could feel his fingers tighten ever-so-slightly for each time she blinked.

The boy was smiling at her visible reaction, apparently taking immense pleasure in seeing the fear in her eyes increase. "Once you die, you're not going to any 'heaven'."

"Then," she found herself asking, "… Where do you go?"

As if by some inhuman way, his grin seemed to spread even further through his cheeks. "I've seen Death, and He's smiling on top of this giant throne made of bones in Hell. To him, it doesn't matter whether you're 'good' or 'bad'. We're all the same to Him."

"What is 'hell'?" The term had never reached her attention before, although she swore she had heard it sometime ago when her father was really angry at something. Her mother had quickly shushed him, so Evelyn had completely forgotten about it after that.

Until now.

She got the impression that it was a very bad word - or place.

The boy opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly, as if thinking of her inquiry made him aware of something, his grip around her neck lessened and his eyes shifted around until they landed on a spot beneath the tree. The very same spot where the mangled corpse of a white kitten laid in the shadow, decomposing slowly in the summer heat. The stench made Evelyn want to throw up, but she contained herself just long enough to see where this was going

"Here," he said as he picked up a stick from the ground, turning his back to her and approaching the bloody site. "Let me show you what it is."

She regretted not running away from there when she had the chance, but the sound of something hitting what sounded like a piece of flesh caught her ears. Evelyn looked down and watched the boy slam the tip of the stick into the mangled kitten's belly (what she assumed to be its belly) and draw it across the pavement.

He constantly swung it around the ground, drawing indiscernible things in the blood. At first, there was a line, then came what looked like a triangle, then a square, and then a circle. An amalgamation of all of those figures combined, but it did not seem to add up to anything. For each time he would run out of the 'paint', he would simply dip it back into the puddle of blood and continue like nothing.

As much as she wanted to run away, the young girl found herself eerily curious about what he was trying to make out of it. The sound of scraping from the concrete was subtle, nearly inaudible, but it was the fact that it was there nonetheless that still shook her.

During the time he spent drawing, the boy never once turned around to look at her to see whether she was still standing or otherwise. Granted, he would have heard her had she ran away, but it did not look like he would be bothered by her absence. Either way, he proceeded.

After what felt like a few minutes, the boy got back to his feet and finally turned around to look at her. There was a menacing glee in his eyes that failed to leave her mind that, much to her lack of knowledge, would stay with her for the remainder of her life. It was as if … something dark was swirling in his eyes, accompanied by something black as well. A hypnotizing spiral out of control.

"Well?" he asked nonchalantly and gestured to his 'masterpiece'.

Almost daring not to look away, afraid that any absence of wariness could bring about her end, the young girl spared a brief but lingering look down at the cement, and she felt absolutely sick to the core. The crimson drawing depicted what looked like a …. Castle, or some kind of hallway.

A red place accessorized with the tarnished organs from what now resembled little else than a pulp of paint instead of an animal. Obscene-looking heads with spirals on their foreheads and no eyes, along with rows of sharp teeth, were drawn around whatever place was depicted there.

They were scaring her, feeling as though they were staring at her through that image even without eyes.

"You see," The sound of his voice caused her to snap out of the temporary paralysis she had succumb to. She glanced back at the boy.

He began to walk towards her, "My momma says I was dead when I was born, for nineteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds exactly. But during that time, I got to see that wonderful place." His eyes trailed over to the drawing again, eyes twitching and pupils filled with obscene mirth. "Until then, though, we're stuck here in this crappy world. When you die, you won't be missed, so it will be easier to say bye-bye. But you will be free."

"How do you know that?" Evelyn felt proud over knowing that despite all the shivers that went up and down her skin, and the quiver she felt creeping up on her, she still managed to speak properly without faltering. "How do you know if you are going to go there? How do you know that you won't be missed? A lot of people will probably miss you."

Without changing the expressions on his face, the boy merely let out a ghost of a chuckle and shook his head like a parent being disappointed at their child. "'Souls' don't exist, 'cause once you're dead, you're dead." He pointed the twig at the mangled kitten's corpse next to him. "Just like that. It's not going to be missed just 'cause it's dead. Nothing more than a sack of meat the crows will eat."

Despite how afraid she was, Evelyn felt her anger boil at that statement. "That's mean to say," she said defensively, ignoring the boy's somewhat irritated look. "That kitten could have had a family."

He shrugged. "It's expendable."

"Expend… able?" She did not know the meaning of that word.

Then, he proceeded to apathetically bend down towards what looked like the kitten's crushed skull, and then stab it through the top. A sickening cracking noise was heard, silencing any thoughts the girl might have had.

"Once you're dead," he said without raising his voice. "You will go to that place, and everybody here will forget about you. It doesn't matter if you're 'good' or 'bad', and I would stop thinking that something so stupid like a 'soul' is real if I were you. At some point, you're going to meet Him, and hopefully –" He looked over his shoulder, the ever-present glee still present in his equally-green eyes. " – Hopefully, I'll set you free for longer than simply nineteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds."

"Ms. March, what are you still doing here?"

The voice of her professor caused the young student to avert her attention away from the book in her grip. She got to her feet and placed the book upside-down on the table, unknowingly folding a few pages over each other. "Dr. Skirth,"

The professor nodded, noticing all of the stacked books that laid on the table in front of the girl. Her eyes then trailed up to the clock on the wall in the library. "It's awfully late. You should be at home."

"I was occupied."

"Studying?" There was a hint of skepticism creeping in her words.

"Slightly," the student admitted. "I found some reading material, and it proved to be … interesting."

Hearing this, the professor readjusted the glasses on the bridge of her nose and eyed the disheveled book on the table, scanning the title that had been placed upside-down. She recognized the title and the author's name, but could not place her finger on what had caused that particular student to want to read it. Its content was hardly something she believed would pique her interest.

"Do you find it to be an interesting story?" she asked curiously.

"Yes,"

The professor pondered on the answer, finding the prospect of one of her most diligent students reading something so obscene disbelieving. In the many years Ms. March had been tutored by her, never once had Dr. Janine Skirth seen her read or affiliate with something based on fictional circumstances – much less a story where the main protagonist changed into a giant insect. An ungeheures Ungeziefer (1).

"What do you think of it, then?" the professor asked, tilting her head slightly to the side in a questioning way. "What makes it interesting?"

Her student narrowed her eyes on the floor for a moment. "I find it strange how a human is able to metamorphize into an insect-like being overnight. However, something else seems strange about the story."

"What?"

"The protagonist does not question his affliction, nor does any member of his family. They seem to view it as a common occurrence – his change – or perhaps as an occasional illness that hardly deserves any noteworthy attention. Not even his employer question his malady."

"Well, some people believe that it's not about the protagonist's affliction itself, but rather his family's own change after the changes– particularly his sister's."

"His sister's?" Something akin to confusion manifested itself on her features. "I don't understand."

"Even though the point-of-view character is the one who changes physically, his sister is the one who matures as a subsequent symptom of her brother's increasing demands and needs," Dr. Skirth explained. "By the end of the story, she is the one who changes the most. She is the one who develops because of the circumstances."

The explanation the student received seemed to strike her flabbergasted, though her facial reactions remained subtle to the point where it could be mistaken for nonexistent. Still, the professor knew her well enough to read her. "Not what you were expecting?"

"The story is about one character, but the circumstances revolve around someone else?"

"Yes, that is the hypothesis." Dr. Skirth did not mind spoiling the content, not if it succeeded in sending the message she was trying to convey. "By the end of the story, however, his sister is the one who suggests that killing her brother would ease the family's problems."

"Would it work?" Ms. March asked completely serious, causing the professor to slightly pause. "Would killing their son ensure that the family would have a better life and stable finances?"

"… It's a cruel thing, to sacrifice something you once loved for something else. The family's sentiments and sympathy towards their son dissolve in the wake of hunger."

"But they survive, correct? Even though their son died, they were only able to live just because he ceased to exist?"

She sounded disturbingly indifferent to the prospect of the family killing their own son to further advance their situation. Dr. Skirth had seen various different people throughout her career, some who were empathic to the point where killing a fly would send them in a fit of crying, and others who would gladly put others in a disadvantageous position as long as it paid off for themselves. This, however, was somehow different. Disturbingly so, yet also not so.

But Dr. Skirth kept her equanimity intact and merely looked at her young student, taking note of everything from the dark bags beneath her eyes as a result of sleep deprivation to the way her clothes aligned perfectly with each other. A dedicated scholar, yet poorly so in terms of taking care of herself in ways that ought to be defined as vital. Dark hair kept in a low ponytail, green eyes, pale complexion; her appearance alone was plain, yet she had a brain that exceeded even one of her most gifted colleagues. She simply had not reached her potential yet.

And for some reason, Janine was afraid of what would happen once she reached that peak.

"Although I can understand the perspective of those who believe that the strong survive and the weak ceases to do so, I cannot justify the death of others for the sake of my own survival."

"But what if it contributed to the majority surviving as well?" Ms. March asked. "If the death of one individual contributed to the survival of many, would you not consider that sacrifice to be necessary?"

"Then, let me ask you, Ms. March." The professor sighed before she continued "Would you be willing to kill in order to save?"

"I would."

Janine was genuinely petrified by how quick that answer arrived. Though she had anticipated a brief moment of hesitation or reluctance that would indicate that the student had not been entirely truthful about her reply, she found none on Evelyn March's.

None at all. It was almost … 'inhuman' … 'monstrous'

Evelyn cast a glance up at the clock on the wall. It had been precisely nineteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds since Drake had summoned them for a thorough examination of the body, yet he had failed to show up himself. It was expected, but also not so. He was an unpredictable man when it came to his movements, and there was nothing more she loathed than the unpredictability of people.

Most of all, unpredictable – powerful – people like Drake.

More so, her shift was about to begin in not too long, and she would prefer to refrain from running late again. If she could avoid problems from the hospital's director and the nagging from Dr. Lewis, then she would grasp the chance at doing so rather than to waste time catching up on her sleep.

With her arms crossed and her stance stable enough to fool even an alcoholic-affected person, Evelyn pretended not to let her focus linger on the body that laid in front of her for more than she felt she was required to. Although getting a view from afar was considered ill enough, even from someone with her occupation, standing closer to it made her want to walk away without consideration towards the consequences of her absence.

She did not really understand why standing so close to the decomposing corpse. She had seen them before, of course, just not quite like this.

Never like this.

"This … is unlike anything we've ever seen," One of the scientists spoke in a hushed tone. "The others did not perish like this. What could have caused it?"

"Perhaps extended period with the symbiotes affect their organs differently than they would upon brief contact?" Dr. Collins answered as he examined the body from the top. "We'll could an X-ray of the subject as soon as Mr. Drake has seen it for himself."

"Did T790129 have a family?"

"No, she was just a homeless tramp we found on the streets. No one even knew she existed."

"I WANT TO SEE MY DAUGHTER AGAIN! I WANT LILY!"

"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 know I love her. That's a-all I ask."

"From mommy?"

"I love you"

"She had …." A child. As she started to say something, Evelyn thought better of it and remained mute. If she mentioned the daughter in front of people who were more than enthusiastic about keeping their secrecy intact regardless of what and who … If the Foundation was not above killing people in general, then killing a child would be 'a piece of cake'.

Her right hand clenched into a fist, her stomach tightened to the point where it ached her earlier injuries, and she swore she could feel her nails dig into her flesh and draw blood. Dr. Skirth, who was standing right beside her, seemed to notice this change in her behavior. "Dr. March, are you alright?"

"We just lost one of our most promising subjects." Her eyes were glaring holes through the floor as she answered. Whether it was sheer discipline or luck that kept her from revealing her internal (?), it remained obscure. "We were at the peak of a major breakthrough."

Dr. Skirth seemed slightly surprised, but then she nodded and stepped back, understanding that her words were not ... genuine.

"Well, at least we won't have to worry about cleaning the mess. No one will miss her, so it will be easy to dispose of her once we're finished with the last examinations."

MARIA NORDSTROM.

Dr. Collins' indifference must have had some kind of physical effect on her. All Evelyn recalled was her heart reaching a brief pause and her clenched fist lifting itself up. The next thing she knew, she was up against his face – left hand clenched around his tie to an asphyxiating point whereas the right one was inches away from crashing into his lateral cartilage. It was unbearably tempting to hit him straight where it hurt, and although it would most likely do little else than break his nasal bone - followed by a nosebleed - it would be worth it ….

But she withheld herself just barely. Her fist stood practically less than a few inches away from his skin, and she stopped it mid-air just to watch his pupils shrink and his skin pale significantly. The air went deathly still; you could have dropped a needle to the floor and still heard it.

All eyes were on them – more specifically, on her. She could care less.

"Evelyn–" Dr. Skirth tried to intervene but took no more than a simple step closer before she paused.

Evelyn glared coldly at the scientist in her grip. The urge to shout at him that his indifference was a fault, that the loss of life was more than simply the loss of an experimental specimen was more than just an inconvenience. But she knew she could not.

Instead, she said what was necessary. "We just lost one of our subjects to a simple intruder, and all you seem to concern yourself with is the disposal of a trivial woman."

HER NAME WAS MARIA NORDSTROM.

The grip around his tie slackened and she took a step back, allowing the scientist to breathe after what seemed like a long time of being denied inhalation. Evelyn did not linger on her display of (anger? irritation) for long, and promptly regained her composed demeanor. She readjusted the hem of her sleeves and looked disinterestedly at the scientist whose physical well-being she had just threatened.

"Apologies, Dr. Collins." She feigned regret, though only her words expressed such. "I merely lost control of myself."

SHE HAD A NAME.

Dr. Collins was visibly shaken, trembling as he struggled to regain his stance. He readjusted his tie until it was decently-looking again and then smiled through quivering lips. "O-Of course, Dr. March. It's understandable." His ability to regain himself was admirable.

She nodded, then turned her attention back to the corpse, whose features were more disintegrated now than they were minutes earlier.

AND IF THERE EXISTED SOMEBODY WITH A 'SOUL', IT WOULD HAVE BEEN HER.

"I suppose the fault is partially mine." Dr. Skirth cast her a nervous look from the side as she said this, but Evelyn pretended not to pay it any notice. "However, what surprises me is that the security allowed an intruder to infiltrate so easily. It truly displays their lack of –"

Marching footsteps had all of the scientists present in the corridor shift their heads towards their approaching CEO and his Head of Security. Next to Treece, just a few steps behind him, was Mr. Axelson – his face partially concealed as always.

"Competence," she finished, raising an eyebrow as she caught sight of utterly infuriated Drake came closer and closer.

"How bad?" he asked, just barely able to contain the rage that was reeking of him.

Dr. Collins was the first to speak up. "It's bad."

"HOW BAD?"

His below caused the majority of them to flinch. Dr. Skirth included, and she unconsciously clutched onto Evelyn's left sleeve as a result. This act caused the oncologist to glance her way, somewhat confused, but she let it slide and merely placed her focus back onto the CEO without a word.

"W-We assume the intruder took it."

Drake stopped in front of the head of the corpse, eyes scanning over it. Its appearance startled him, his hands were shaking. A few seconds passed before he seemed to recover his voice. "Took it? Took it?"

"A Caucasian male broke into the facility while I was doing some last assessments on the patient," Evelyn explained and gestured to the deceased woman in front of her without averting her eyes away from the CEO. "He was successfully able to break her out of her cell, then subsequently was bonded to the symbiote."

"Seems a little strange –" Treece crossed his arms firmly over his chest, lips tugging at a smirk as he eyed the physician with a mixture of (skepticism? affirmation?) " – That you just happened to be there the moment an intruder showed up."

"I wasn't allowed a proper examination on the patient before the security guards ordered me out of the cell at the command of their superior," If she was at the liberty, she would have smirked. But now was not the time for such indulgences. "Intending to fulfill my part of the experiment, I arrived here to finish my assessment and my reports. Delivering unfinished ones would have been inconvenient."

"Still doesn't explain how you got inside the labs, which was supposed to be heavily guarded."

"There were guards around the perimeter? Must have escaped my notice."

"I-I was there," The guard who Dr. Skirth had occupied sheepishly raised his hand. "I met Dr. Skirth at the entrance, but I could not see you anywhere, Dr. March."

She quickly thought of an explanation. "Dr. Skirth was helping me get inside because I lacked a passport required to get in. The guards by the entrance to the facility may vouch for it."

All eyes suddenly landed on top of Dr. Skirth, who was visibly becoming distressed by the amount of attention she received. Evelyn's gaze was enough for her to understand what to do.

"Y-Yes, I was simply helping Dr. March as she said. I didn't want anything to go wrong now that we were so close to achieving our goals, s-so I assumed that it wouldn't be any problem."

Her declaration seemed to be enough to convince Drake.

"All clear, Treece," Drake suddenly spoke up, looking exasperated at his Head of Security. "The guards by the entrance stated that they saw both Dr. March and Dr. Skirth arrive alone. There was no one else."

Treece's eyes widened in disbelief. "B-But–"

Evelyn gestured to the bandages around her throat. "The intruder managed to incapacitate me long enough to successfully escape. I assume that will be verification enough, Treece?"

But before the Head of Security could proclaim something in retaliation, with merely the flick of a finger, Drake had rendered him entirely mute. "Of course, Dr. March," he said calmly, not raising his voice in the slightest. "You were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. Marley interrogated her himself, Treece, so that will be all from you."

"I … But …" Succumbing to the commanding demeanor of his boss, Treece reluctantly took a step back and placed both of his hands behind his back. "Of course, sir."

"Unfortunately, we don't know the current whereabouts of the intruder," Dr. Skirth explained. "He vanished."

"I want to speak to every manager that was on duty last night." Treece was determined to regain what trust he had lost from his boss.

"Already did, sir." But it was quickly lost once again as the other guard had already finished that task.

"But I didn't."

Too infuriated to even concern himself with their bickering, Drake ordered the decomposing corpse to disappear from his sight and the scientists obliged at once. Evelyn and Dr. Skirth shared a brief look before they both silently agreed on what to do. As the ecologist zipped the body bag shut and the oncologist prepared to assist her in disposing of the corpse, unknowingly avoiding touch with the bag, they both heard something that had them freeze where they stood.

"Carlton, you need to see this." Dr. Collins ushered the CEO with him towards the entrance to the cell that confined Mr. Markson.

"What's new?"

"His blood pressure's back to normal. Lever-functions, too."

Without wasting a moment as soon as those words were processed, Evelyn stormed over to where the CEO was being led towards, internally hoping her assumptions were wrong. However, as she found herself standing in front of the cell of Mr. Markson, she could physically feel her heart drop to her stomach.

Mr. Markson was sitting up, eyes no longer blood-shot and movements considerably more stable now than they had previously been. He appeared to be … normal. As if there was no extraterrestrial parasite residing inside of him, tearing at his organs in need of sustenance.

"The diagnostics Dr. March delivered to us earlier, he shows progress from how he was then," Dr. Collins continued. "He's recovering."

"It seems that you are correct, Dr. Collins," she affirmed, trying not to seem displeased. "He seems to be recovering from his state."

"I knew it." To say that Drake, on the other hand, was displeased would be incorrect. He was relishing the sight in front of him. "His body just needs time to adjust. I don't want to waste any more time. I was to up the test, okay?"

"Mr. Drake," Evelyn interjected. "As glorious as this change of events is, my shift at the general hospital is about to begin. I ought to leave and arrive later."

All signs of enjoyment quickly left him as Drake turned to face her. "You need to leave now."

"My absence has already been noted by the director," she explained. "If it were to continue, it would most likely have severe consequences for me. I formally ask for your permission to arrive later and continue the studies at another time."

Drake was visibly debating with himself, torn between the choices of allowing her to depart or force her to stay with them. Although he was at the liberty of doing both, he reluctantly nodded and sighed. "You have obligations elsewhere," He forced a smile. "That is understandable. Will you be alright?"

"I will," she assured him, glancing back at Mr. Markson, whose visibly distressed state did not escape her attention. "Once I return, we will finish the tests."

"Then, I'll have one of our guards escort you."

"It is appreciated."

"You have to find him." Dr. Dora grasped her by her coat and did not let go, looking straight into Evelyn's eyes like a devoted Catholic would look at their deity. "You have to find him, and make sure that they are alive."

Evelyn, despite standing taller than the ecologist by a few inches, could not answer at first. The life of Mr. Brock was currently at the disposal of the symbiote, and she could only hope that it would be courteous enough to allow him to live for the sake of itself. She was in no position to have such power. Life, it was not something she could force on someone.

"I cannot …. I cannot–"

"Please!" Dora pleaded, speaking just loud enough to escape the notice of the driver in the car behind them. "Please, just find them."

Promises depend on trust. Someone trusts you to keep it, and if you value that trust, you keep your word.

Was she willing to place her trust in someone she had not known for more than a few weeks? She didn't even trust people she had known for longer than that, and yet …. Why did she feel like she was obligated to keep this one? She could not understand it.

'I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.'

She let out a sigh, then nodded. "I promise, I will find him."

The words must have had a larger impact on the ecologist than Evelyn had anticipated because she sagged in her stance as though the ground beneath her seemed to shake due to the movements of the tectonic plates. As she was about to support her, the oncologist suddenly found herself embraced by the other woman, surprising her to the point where she did not know how to breathe properly.

"Thank you," Dora whispered softly against her ear. "Thank you so much."

As Dora did this, Evelyn could feel the other woman's hand fall down to the side of her coat, leaving behind an insignificant weight in one of her pockets. It was hardly detectable, but still there.

The ecologist finally leaned back with her hands around her colleagues – her friend's – own hands, her smile still present. "Good luck."

"We will not die," Evelyn proclaimed firmly, unconsciously holding onto the other woman's hands as well. "We will live. This will work."

"I hope so too."

If anyone could hear them there, they would assume that the subject of their conversation was Project Symbiosis. But it wasn't. It never was.

As Evelyn turned around and opened the door to the backseat of the car, she spared Dora one last look. Her mouth threatened to open, to say something, but instead, she shut it and silently stepped inside and closed the door. She watched as the view of Dr. Skirth vanished into the distance as the car drove out of the backside of the facility and towards the city.

She wanted to say something. She truly did. The weight in her chest … it had become even greater. It was almost undetectable but felt as though it had merged with the organ in her chest that provided her body with blood through her veins.

"San Francisco General Hospital?" Mr. Axelson asked, looking at the passenger through the rear-view window in search of affirmation.

"Yes," Evelyn responded, just barely above a whisper. "Get me there."

(1): ungeheures Ungeziefer = (German) "Monstrous/Ginormous Vermin".
A reference to Franz Kafka's literary work "The Metamorphosis" (German: "Die Verwandlung"). It revolves around a man who wakes up one morning to find himself completely transformed into a giant insect, and how he himself and his family and friends changes as a result of his transformation.

This indirectly alludes to Evelyn's situation. While the story itself centers around Eddie Brock and his change to Venom, Evelyn is the one who also changes at a different point, much like the main protagonist in "The Metamorphosis" and his sister changes in the original story.