Disclaimer: I do not own Venom

A/N: Hello, guys! Just wanted to give you a quick heads-up. I will be posting occasional fan-art of "Parasitic" on my Deviantart-Account
 X-KuroShiro-X

Feel free to check it out, or feel free to draw some yourself if you want to :) I would genuinely love to see other people's art and their perception of the characters that are portrayed in the story, but only if you feel like it yourself ;)

As always, read, enjoy, and please review.

Chapter 21: Trust

Betrayal was a concept he loathed entirely; even the taste of it on his lips was enough to make his countenance curl with contempt. Akin to the sensation of bitter salt on his tongue, like cyanide in his drink; benign or otherwise malignant, yet it would destroy you all the same in one way or the other.

Carlton knew the story – of Judas would come to abandon the man he had sworn to follow for a bag of silver. And yet, he had kissed Him as though he was professing his unwavering loyalty, when in reality it would lead to a painful end towards the recipient.

His father, being a devoted Catholic, had introduced him to the story from an early age. While Carlton had seldom shown much interest in religion, even he had to admit that some of the stories he had read about served a purpose. They could describe things that were still relevant to the modern world, how knowledge could lead to pain, or how betrayal could come from anyone – even those you believed stood you closest.

Yet he never imagined that it would ever be something he would later experience, much less from someone he imagined would support him one-hundred percent through thick and thin – a colleague he had come to cherish over the course of the years he had known her. And now she stood in front of him, having just been caught in the act of betraying him; betraying the very cause of his goal.

He was angry, but that alone was an understatement. He was hurt, he was shocked, he was infuriated beyond what words could describe. Still, he managed to contain himself well-enough to come off as composed and docile. It was a quality he had managed to master over the years he had spent working in the business industry. You could never allow people to think that you were emotionally unreliable; that applied to business-partners just as much as it did subordinates.

Dora was shaking where she stood between Treece and Charlie, visibly paling and struggling to pronounce words properly. Her appendages were struggling to compose themselves, and had he not known any better, he would have mistaken her for a criminal caught in the act of trying to rob a bank. She had the face and the demeanor of a civilian with less than cruel intentions, but he knew that she was capable of much more than such pettiness.

She always had been.

But he had to be certain.

"What evidence do you have?" he asked, looking over at Treece with an accusing glance.

His Head of Security proceeded to lift what looked like a hard drive of some sort up in the air, smiling smugly as he did so. "Dr. Skirth was downloading classified information regarding our little project. Who knows what she could have done with that, or why she did it?" That smug little tug on the edge of his lips did not earn Treece any favor from Carlton, but a copious amount of irritation instead.

The CEO glared daggers in the COO's direction. If looks could kill, Marley would be laying in a puddle of his own blood by then, which was a prospect Carlton was very tempted to fulfill had it not been for Charlie's overall competence and usefulness. To target one of their head scientists was, from his own perspective, quite bold – but the evidence they had was unmistakable.

Not to mention that she had practically admitted it all with uttering such a meek apology. It was pitiable, an utter waste of someone he had once considered to be one of the least expendable people at his disposal. He had truly expected that Dora – out of everyone – would stand behind him in all this. He always understood that she was reluctant due to her ethics, but he never imagined that something so loathsome as betrayal would come from her.

But he contained his fury, acting solely on rationality. He always did.

"I want to talk to her alone," he ordered without sparing Treece a glance, continuously staring down at the ecologist who was actively making it her goal to avoiding making the gesture mutual. "Marley, contact Dr. March. Have her escorted here at once."

"Yes, sir."

Just as Dan departed and left the ex-journalist alone in the corridor, Eddie himself was just headed towards the elevator when a firm hand suddenly grasped around his wrist and kept him from moving without a hint of a struggle involved. Instinctively, he shifted around in his stance and prepared to pounce at the offender, arm already raised to strike, when a familiar pair of green eyes suddenly met his.

Realization and recognition both dawned on him as recalled the dark hair and green eyes much easier than he expected. "Wait…. You're–" He had just barely begun to put the name together when the woman abruptly cut him off, grip still firm around his wrist and eyes drilling into his.

"Mr. Brock," she spoke through a sigh, sounding as though she had sprinted a marathon or two in order to get to him. He was still trying to put her name together, having forgotten it sometime ag–

"She is Evelyn March."

Eddie instantly scratched the back of his head, hoping that whatever was speaking inside his head would keep the volume down long enough for him to clear his mind. "S-Shut up for once," he growled vehemently, lowering his head and avoiding looking back at the doctor. And still, he found that the words that the name suddenly sounded…. Familiar.

Hesitantly, he glanced up at her again. "E-Evelyn March, right?"

"Mr. Brock, you need to leave right now," she commanded without even answering his question first, hand still locked around his wrist without indicating that she intended on letting go anytime soon.

He blinked in confusion before he shook her hand off him, though not without struggle. "L-Look, I think I might have gotten some kind of illness from that lab of yours, some virus or something has contaminated me –"

"It's not a virus," she firmly debunked, resuming with her composed demeanor as she crossed her arms over her chest, not breaking the eye-contact she had established with him. It was not until then that Eddie noticed the darkened bags that decorated the underside of her eyes. She had had them since the moment they first met, but to a lesser extent. Now, it seemed like sleep had been a privilege she had been deprived of for quite some time.

"Mr. Brock," She made sure to keep her voice down, occasionally glancing over his shoulder as if to make sure that no one was listening. "They're currently looking for the infiltrator, so I would advise you to keep yourself out of the city for the time being."

Upon hearing this, he shook his head defiantly. "W-Wait a moment, I'm not going anywhere," Now that he finally had evidence to give to Jack, he could get his old life back. Leaving the city would maybe blow up that chance for good, and that was not a risk he was quite willing to take yet unless his life depended on it. But despite his reluctance, a part of him did feel like it did.

The doctor's face suddenly twisted to a vague scowl, and she opened her mouth to snap something at him, but then she unexpectedly calmed down and shut her mouth again, ceasing her verbal assault. Those green eyes narrowed at him, as though she was observing him like a specimen on display.

Then, without warning, she reached for his hand and held it up to her face, inspecting it both up and down, side to side. Her gaze was slowly fixated on the edge of his nails all the way to his knuckles, stretching them out and folding them repeatedly.

He could feel his cheeks grow warm. "H-Hey, what are you–"

"Are you currently in any pain, Mr. Brock?" she inquired without looking away from his palm, occasionally turning it around. "Any noticeable change anywhere?"

"W-Well, I've been a little nauseous lately, and very hungry too. Not to mention that I have a migraine that could have matched the size of a trailer," he slowly answered after a moment of deliberation with himself. "Why?"

Her eyes narrowed again and she slowly dropped his hand back down again. Suddenly, she took a firm step closer to him and pulled out something from the pocket of her coat. Without speaking and before he could question her, she reached for his eye and suddenly stretched it open to light a small beam into it.

Startled, Eddie was on the verge of moving out of reach, taken aback by this suddenness, but he stayed where he was and didn't move. The light was firs aimed straight into his right eye, then she proceeded to do the same to his left eye. The vague scent of mint reached him as he inhaled through his nostrils, which he tried his best to block out.

After a couple of seconds of examination, the doctor pulled the light away. "Pupil constriction is normal, the bloodshot eyes are most likely caused by stress or sleep-deprivation, but nothing too severe to have been caused by internal abnormalities," she noted, making Eddie wonder whether she was informing him of that or herself.

She then pulled back from, sighing as she drew a hand over her face. "This just makes matters more complicated."

"What does? What's going on?"

"As I informed you of, Mr. Brock, you need to leave the city immediately."

Again, he shook his head defiantly. "I can't go,"

She glared at him, causing the ex-journalist to freeze where he stood, feeling cold all of the sudden. If looks could kill, he would most likely have died on the spot.

"The Life Foundation has its eyes set on the infiltrator," she explained thoroughly. "Every measure has been taken to try and locate him. But it is not just because he managed to get away with valuable information regarding their experiments."

He raised an eyebrow, not liking where this was going. "Why else would they?"

She opened her eyes again and looked straight into his. "Because one of the symbiotes is currently bonded with you, Mr. Brock,"

Mutual silence befell the two of them in the middle of the corridor where they were standing, none making any attempt at breaking it just yet. Eddie could feel prickling up his skin as his head processed these words, suddenly recalling how Maria had attacked him back at that lab ….

Maria …

What had earlier been curiosity and confusion was replaced with anger and contempt, and he felt his chest pound with fury. His hands knotted themselves into fists and he could feel his nails dig into his palm to the point where it hurt, but he did give a damn about that. He had seen first hand what kind of fucking shit the Life Foundation had been up to, yet he had forgotten that he was currently standing to before one of those fucked-up killers who had been in on it,

Eddie took a firm step towards her, his entire being shaking as he recalled what had happened the previous night and his weight slowly descending further down the scale. Maria had been there all along, experimented on, tortured, killed. He had watched her die right in front of him.

And the very person standing in front of him had contributed to her death and now even had the guts to tell him what to do.

"Why should I listen to you?" he questioned through gritted teeth, making sure to keep his temper at a low unless he wished to warrant any unnecessary attention from the patients walking by in the corridor. It took a great deal of effort, however, to do so.

Dr. March's face remained completely void of any emotions, reminding him of a lifeless machine he had seen on the TV. But her right eyebrow raised just a little bit like she found his behavior to be surprising.

It pissed him off even more. Could she not understand that he was far from content with what had happened? Was she simply indifferent to the circumstances so much that she could not comprehend anything about it?

"Why are you reluctant to follow my advice?" the dark-haired woman suddenly asked, sounding genuinely curious. "I am currently telling you the necessary actions required in order to keep you aliv–"

"You. Killed. Her."

He vocalized those words so vehemently, so coldly, yet so uncharacteristically calmly that it was hard to imagine that they came from him. Eddie never imagined that someone as impulsive as him would be able to say something so sharp as that with so little volume as he did. If this was a side-effect of this affliction he was currently struggling with, then it wasn't all bad after all.

The doctor was silent again after this, but her posture did not change, nor did her facial expressions (or lack thereof). Those remained as nonexistent as ever, but her eyes gradually descended to the floor, ceasing to meet his gaze. Slowly, her left hand trailed up to her neck, where he discovered that a layer of bandages had been applied, and she tugged on them ever-so-slightly.

"What killed Ms. Nordstrom currently resides within you, Mr. Brock, and the Life Foundation is searching for it," she explained, not raising her voice in the slightest. "They are going to use whatever means necessary in order to retrieve it, which is why I need you to listen."

"Listen to her, Eddie."

That damned voice.

Again, he ignored it, refusing to listen to something that was produced from the core of his brain. He shifted his glare back at the doctor, mustering the strength to keep his voice down just enough for the conversation to appear civil in the eyes of others. "You're so concerned for my well-being when you so haphazardly killed all of those people? That's some bullshit right there."

Her eyes flickered down again for a second before they returned back to him. "I did not kill them,"

Eddie scoffed at this, not believing her a single bit."Well, you did well in making them suffer. I've met countless people like you; people who do whatever's convenient for them regardless of whom it affects. Only when it affects you does it become a concern. In reality, you're just like Drake. Hell, why not spare yourself the trouble already and tell them where I live so that they can come get me, huh? Much easier that way, right?"

In the core of his head, he knew that it was stupid-ass decision, but he didn't care at the moment. Hell, the LF could bite his ass for all he cared, it wouldn't matter. With that, he reached for his pocket and pulled out his notebook and a pen, the same ones he used during his interview with that fucking CEO. After scribbling down his address, Eddie tore the page out of the book, then crumbled it to a ball and threw it straight at the woman.

Of course, with it being a shitty piece of paper, it did not travel very fast nor land very hard, as the doctor easily snatched it before it hit the floor. Though she did unfold it, her eyes scanning across what was written, she did not smile or give any impression that she was looking for a way to exploit it.

This, Eddie had to admit, was a surprise. He imagined that someone like her would be thrilled at the prospect of satisfying their bosses as long as it was convenient for them, but she did not give off that vibe at all. No smile or anything. In fact, he had never seen her smile.

But before any of them could speak again, the sound of a cellphone caught both of their attention and broke the silence. The doctor suddenly snatched the phone from her coat and looked down at the caller's ID, which was labeled as UNKNOWN NUMBER. Giving him a quick look, Dr. March gestured for him to be silent, which he obliged to, to the point where he held his breath.

The doctor accepted the call and listened to what the person on the other line had to say, plausibly someone from the LF. So far, she did not reveal his location, which came as a surprise.

Then, Eddie could see something akin to shock fall upon her features. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but he was quick to observe the way her pupils grew smaller and how her mouth became a thin line. If it was fear she was feeling, then she was doing a fine job in hiding it. However, to see someone like her experience it did not make the situation seem any easier.

That could not be good.

A short moment passed before she finally ended the call with a final "Understood," reassuming the stern demeanor the ex-journalist had grown to find disturbing about her.

The doctor's eyes quickly met his again, though there were something different about them now. They seemed heavier, but in a way he could not describe with words.

He noticed how her fingers were clutched firmly around the cellphone to the point where he thought she would break it in her grip.

"They have Dr. Skirth,"

He did a double-take, heart diving down to the bottom of his stomach, his breath caught in his throat; all anger and inner turmoil he felt surging through his body earlier seemed to vanish in an instant. How could it be possible? He had just texted her a short while ago, where Dr. Skirth said she was fine.

Eddie wanted to say something, yet he could not find the appropriate words. Perhaps he had heard wrong, or maybe it was just some kind of trick his brain had on him. It seemed to have a lot of those recently. "They what?"

She closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose while deliberating her answer. "Dr. Skirth has been found out," she repeated, her features growing sharper as her eyes reopened "Carlton is currently interrogating him for herself and they require my presence."

"Why?"

"I … do not know, but I will be escorted there at once. They gave no indication that they figured out your identity, so you remain out of their radar for the time being."

She did not utter another word, although she moved her mouth as though she wanted to say something else. Eddie stood there in anticipation, expecting her to say something that would somehow make the situation seem brighter than it really was. Dr. Skirth was, from what he had perceived, not someone who deserved whatever Drake was about to throw at her.

But he received no answer from the doctor, and without a word, she walked slowly past him and towards the elevator behind him.

Just as he was about to expect her absence, she suddenly stopped beside him, catching him off-guard in his stance. He looked at her over his shoulder, but she did not make the ex-journalists stare a mutual gesture.

"For your sake, Mr. Brock, heed my advice and stay low for the time being," she instructed. "Do not let them locate you."

Eddie did not say a word, but he begrudgingly nodded. By no means did he trust her, but there seemed like there was little else he could do but follow her words for now. Having the LF on your back was what he considered to be one of the first signs that meant that you were fucked. Getting out of the city was not something he had intentions of doing, but staying concealed for a while might be the second-best option he had at his disposal.

That was one thing, but having one of those … things inside of him. Thinking back at what she had said, Eddie clutched a hand over his chest, deliberating on whether what had recently happened to him was a result of that or something else entirely…. But if that was the case, then how come he wasn't dead already? Why wasn't he coughing up blood or something, or deranged like Maria had looked like in her final moments?

Regardless, he deemed that the best thing would be to wait for answers from Dan before he jumped to any conclusions.

But the thought still haunted him.

"…I did not intend for her to die."

Eddie looked over his shoulder, expecting to meet the doctor's gaze but finding himself looking at the back of her head instead, as her face was turned away from him.

"Maria Nordstrom … did not deserve what happened to her."

Her voice …. It had changed. That was the first thing he noticed. Whereas it had sounded monotonous and calm before, he could detect traits of a lower volume now than before, as well as remorse. Like always, it was discreet and barely audible, but it was there nonetheless for him to listen to. He could gradually feel the contempt he harbored towards her decrease ever-so-slightly, but it never vanished entirely. Though he remained skeptical, he would give her the benefit of the doubt.

For now.

"Good luck," he finally muttered. "Something tells me you're gonna need it."

The sound of the elevator opening and descending notified him of her absence, and all he could pray for was that things would work out. One way or the other. Despite being raised a Roman Catholic, Eddie was skeptical towards Him, as well as his miracles. After everything he had seen, Eddie knew that everything that was created in this world was created by humans, be it good or bad. A deity played no part in it, which made the outcome even more unpredictable than he could ever hope to imagine.

As Evelyn stepped out into the first floor, she did not waste time approaching the exit. Though the distance was short between the elevator and the doors, she spent the short amount of time she had left at her disposal to try and figure out a plan that would provide with convenient outcomes for her predicament.

But there were almost none.

While Marley had not indicated awareness towards her own involvement over the phone, he was an unpredictable individual. Arrogant, certainly, but nonetheless unbearably unpredictable

For all she knew, Dr. Skirth could have revealed it all to them over the short while she had been interrogated by them. While the chances were slim, considering how determined the ecologist had appeared to be in shutting the experiments down, the oncologist did not exclude them during her internal assessment of the situation.

But even so, when she had first heard the COO inform her of their discovery regarding the ecologist, Evelyn had experienced a strange physical sensation. Instead of a pull in her entire chest, she had felt her heart accelerate increasingly in just a matter of seconds; her breath had stopped momentarily, her body temperature seemed like it had dropped a couple of degrees (Hypothermia? = Conclusion: unlikely). Though she could name over a dozen reasons why her body was going through such physical changes, she somehow doubted any of them were correct.

Another thing that kept repeating itself at the back of her head was how utterly imbecilic that woman must have been to download such valuable information when they already had what they required for their plan to work. Such impulsive behavior was unacceptable, a trait Evelyn harbored little favor towards. A human quality which more than often caused people to behave irrationally even when the situation demanded for the opposite.

As she turned around a corner, too focused on what was going through her head, she felt her head suddenly bump into something and she abruptly stopped in her steps. Murmuring something of an apology without addressing the other person, Evelyn was quick to resume with the same pace until a hand suddenly grasped around her wrist, holding her back.

"Evelyn? What's up?" asked a familiar voice filled.

Acknowledging the fact that she recalled the person quite well, too much for her comfort in fact, Evelyn halted in her steps and shifted around in her stance, finding herself facing none other than the very person she wished she would not encounter on that particular day. The very person whose presence she could not afford to have near her own under these circumstances.

Dr. Lewis.

Sharpening her eyes, Evelyn glowered at him and pulled her hand out of his hold. "Dr. Lewis, other matters currently require my attention," she stated bluntly, noticing how his eyes seemed to scrutinize her somewhat skeptically upon processing her answer.

The surgeon seemed intent on saying something, but then his mouth shut as his eyes trailed up to her neck. His gaze instantly turned to one of (concern? shock? worry?).

Evelyn kept a stern demeanor despite deducing that he had managed to notice the bandages around her neck behind the collar of her shirt. It was something she had intended to stay out of his attention, but it proved useless at this point. It was inconvenient, but there was nothing she could do about it.

When he made a gesture which indicated that he was about to move towards her to further inspect the bandages, taking a step towards her and reaching his arm forward, the oncologist quickly snatched the upcoming wrist in one swift movement and prevented him from coming closer, keeping a firm grip until she was certain that he had ceased his attempt.

But even though his movements lessened, she recognized that expression on his face. While she could not put a specific designation on it, she knew that he usually wore it whenever he was trying to save someone or if he was about to get involved in something that he knew did not require his attendance but would receive it either way. She had seen him make similar expressions ever since their time at John Hopkins', and to see it aimed towards her this time meant that difficulties would arise.

Difficulties she could not afford to manage at this given moment.

"Evelyn, what's going on with you?" he asked firmly, jaw tightening.

She continued to look disinterestedly at him, aware of the consequences that would affect both of them if she decided to be foolish enough to elaborate on the subject. "I am incapable of comprehending where this accusation originates from," she responded with, letting go of him in an instant while not looking away from him.

He released a heavy breath. "Don't lie. You have missed several of your shifts already. The director considered suspending you, but I had to talk her out of it. You have neglected your sleep, you halt when you walk, and now you have injured your neck. What is that?"

"You are miscalculating, Dr. Lewis." Her answer remained as neutral as the rest of her posture did, her voice kept at an even volume and her body not moving exaggeratively in any way. "Observation was seldom within your field of expertise, so do not assume to be particularly capable of such."

He shook of the insult with ease. "I'm not pretending, Evelyn, but you are," he contradicted her, shifting his gaze to the floor and averting his aggression. He went completely mute for approximately five seconds before he regained his ability to speak again, yet he still refrained from looking directly at her. Over the course of those seconds, Evelyn was already prepared to make a direct approach towards the exit, deeming her colleague's unrequired concern to be trivial.

"You can trust me, Evelyn. I care about you, and I do not want to see you hurt,"

Again, the oncologist found herself exasperated with this display of concern, processing his words internally while trying to differentiate- and analyze them in a way which she could understand. However, it did not take her as long as it would have with any other person, because Dr. Lewis was predictable in terms of intentions. He 'cared' too much, and that was a quality she harbored contempt towards, but only when it came from him.

"But Dan has been tearing his hair out recently because of you, so that's another case."

"But the fact that you are partially the cause of his increase in his altruistic ways probably makes you accountable if anything goes sideways because of it,"

"Because that is what friends do."

"Dr. Lewis," she said through a short-lived sigh, understanding what was necessary to say in order for him to remain uninvolved in all of this. "You truly are a fool."

Her answer affected him physically because his eyes grew slightly and his stance seemed to change to a stiffer one. Yet still, he managed to keep his equanimity in check, though not without any effort. From where she stood, she almost failed to recognize the same man who would continuously inquire her about her well-being on a daily.

And she knew that it was the reason why she had to continue, no matter how much her chest seemed to grow tighter and tighter the more words she pronounced. She knew what to do, and how to do it effectively.

"You continuously place your attention where it is not wanted, making you nothing less of a nuisance whenever you do so," she explained without pause and without raising her voice at all. She placed her right hand in one of her pockets, feeling her fingers unconsciously clutch against the white fabric within. "You are under the impression that the more concern you display towards others, the more useful you are. However, you are quite mistaken, Dr. Lewis." She never once looked away from him, making sure that her eyes met his the entire time. "You remain just as useless as you have always been. Even with your competence, you are expendable. I neither solicit your opinions nor your concern for my well-being. So I would appreciate it if you refrained from such inappropriate behavior and restrained yourself for future references."

What she had said did not strike her as something she was a stranger towards vocalizing on a daily; she was well-aware of the fact that her colleagues and patients alike found her blunt opinions and statements to be 'offending', but it had never affected her in ways she deemed personal. She had never cared to bother herself with what others thought of her.

And yet, seeing the face of a colleague she often saw smiling suddenly become severe and unreadable seemed … strange. Although she had not vocalized her opinion with any traits of (anger? exasperation?) involved, she knew that such was not essential in order for her words to hit their target. In what way they would affect him, she could not tell for certain, but it did not matter as long as they succeeded in fulfilling the purpose she had intended for them.

To get him to stay away from her, for as long as possible.

Dr. Lewis was silent, uncharacteristically so, and she could see that his lips parted just a little, as though what he intended to say was not something he wished to pronounce aloud for others to hear, including her.

However, Evelyn decided not to grant him the moment he needed and simply turned around and walked away from him, leaving the surgeon standing there in the hallway on his own while she descended down the corridor, not offering him any more attention.

But as the oncologist walked through the hallway, she made it a priority to keep herself from overthinking about the choice she had made, but it was challenging. That decision she had made was the most logical one she could make in this situation, and it would ensure that fewer people would be involved in the situation she had caused for herself. Now that Dr. Lewis was sure to keep himself at bay, if her calculations had been correct, it meant that he would live and contribute to a functional society instead of ending up like Ms. Nordstrom.

He would not risk his own life in order to save that of someone who was no longer of his concern, who had openly vocalized her indifference towards him.

And even so, no matter how many times she told herself that it was the most rational decision to make, Evelyn seemed unable to discard how heavy she felt inside of her ribs. If she had to compare it to something, it would be like having several pounds of stones placed on top of your chest. Although she had never experienced said sensation, she lacked better words for it.

While Dr. Lewis would live, she was uncertain of her own life.

But for some unfathomable reason, she did not feel any weight placed upon her while contemplating on how plausible it would be for her to meet the same fate numerous of her patients had suffered. In comparison to the prospect of Dr. Lewis' death, the prospect of her own one seemed … tolerable.

A black Mercedes was parked outside of the hospital's entrance, one she knew for certain was not there a little while ago. In terms of speed and efficiency, the Foundation seldom allowed themselves to be perceived as anything less than professional. It did not require a pair of exceptionally sharp eyes in order to observe that, which was exactly what she did once she stepped outside.

Evelyn scrutinized the vehicle for a brief second, trying her best to make out the face of the driver in the window. However, the window of the driver's seat was too dark for her to notice anything but the shape of a male's head (lacking hair? Pointy round nose? Height approx. 5"9 – 5"11 if standing.) Based on these observations alone through the obscured window, the oncologist did not put a lot of effort into deducing the driver's identity.

Roland Treece.

Needless to say, she knew not to let her guard down in the presence of him.

Without a word, she opened the seat to the backside and got inside, making sure that her reactions to anything he would say were subtle to the point of nonexistence. It was not hard to mask her intentions behind the exterior of a stern countenance, but Treece was prone to the use of violent methods. Violent methods she had experienced first-hand, which she knew could result in her end then and there.

Dying would be problematic now, especially considering she had so much work left to do. While she did not exclude her premature death as being an unlikely outcome, it was not one she was enthusiastic about seeing through anytime soon. Much less at the hands of a primitive individual like Roland Treece.

But much to her suspicion, he was quiet over the course of the entire drive to the facility. Only occasionally did he glance in the rear-view mirror, but there came no sound from him. No chuckle. No sigh. Nothing. She had anticipated an arrogant gesture from him, whether it was boasting statements or otherwise trivial sayings she knew better than to care for, but none of the sorts came her way.

Only silence.

But what she once considered a privilege now seemed like a mere warning that something ominous was approaching in the distance. Her father had often told her that feeling things like that usually meant that something bad was coming, but she had seldom listened to such ludicrous concepts such as 'sixth senses'. The paranormal perspective was an unreliable one, but this time, she took her father's advice into careful consideration.

After all, it did not seem too irrational to heed a police officer's advice when you were stranded in a predicament such as this one.

When they arrived at the facility, Evelyn was followed closely by Treece until they were back at the labs, where there were surprisingly few scientists present, but a large number of guards made up for the missing amount instead. Neither Drake nor Dr. Skirth was present as far as she could tell, but she quickly recognized the arrogant stance of Mr. Marley as he approached them both from the distance, grinning as always.

"Ah, Dr. March, so good of you to join us again," he greeted her as enthusiastically as ever, placing himself a few feet in front of her. "I do hope Treece behaved himself this time, otherwise Carlton's gonna give him hell again." He looked over her shoulder and to the guard. "You hear that, Roland?"

The Head of Security only nodded once, confirming the answer he knew would please the COO.

"Good, good," Marley praised him before returning his attention back to the doctor, suddenly tilting his head slightly to the side. "Is it just me, or do you look awfully exhausted, doctor?"

She nodded. "I am in functioning condition, Mr. Marley,"

However, he shook his head at her statement, displeased. "As someone of such importance to us as you, dear Doctor, we cannot afford to have you risk your own health in the process. While I am no expert in medicine such as yourself, I do believe that a proper amount of sleep is a mandatory requirement in order for you to be at your best."

"I can assure you that my physical state of being is currently stable, as it will not interfere with our work in any way." Her words were meant to assure him that their work was her priority. As always, lying was not a difficult task, especially not when it was aimed towards someone who exploited such methods in mutual degree.

He chuckled and gestured to over his shoulder towards the entrance to the other labs. "Very well, then. Carlton has requested that you meet both him and Dr. Skirth by the cells as soon as you arrived."

As she prepared to move, Evelyn cast one short glance over her shoulder where Treece was positioned, feeling cautious beyond excessively. He was looking at her, but his face was indecipherable, thus making his motives more so. This change of behavior was something she had not foreseen; it made him unpredictable, and as always, she did not favor things whose movements or actions she could not predict beforehand.

Much less someone as dangerous as Treece.

But she kept her thoughts for herself and made her way towards the entrance to the labs further located into the building, passing by countless guards and few scientists on the way. They would occasionally look at her from their peripheral vision, observing her movements like she was a ticking time-bomb about to explode. However, she did not let her focus remain on them for longer than she deemed necessary, which wasn't a lot, and stepped into the labs, noticing how no one, neither guards or other security personnel, seemed obliged to keep track on her.

The door closed behind her and silence filled the empty space, but only for a short while. She recognized the area of the facility she was standing in; the same one where they would expose the patients to the symbiotes and otherwise leave them to suffer the consequences should the bonding prove incompatible. It was a place which reeked of death, and standing there again ….. she clenched her hands together and continued down.

He was really starting to question his sanity, for each moment he was awake to be precise. Sure, he had not been sleeping very well recently, and his diet was not something he would recommend to anyone who wanted to lose a few pounds for the summer, but that still would not excuse the constant nagging at the back of his head that was tormenting him every moment of the day.

And for some reason, it was constantly complaining about food.

While he did not know what the side-effects of having an alien parasite inside him included, Eddie did not want to assume that talking to him through his head like some sort of telepathic thing could be considered one of them. That was just ridiculous, and the primary reason why he would just continue to give Dan the benefit of the doubt and hope that the surgeon could provide with any reliable information that did not include the chances of an extraterrestrial organism having a party inside of him.

Just as he placed a batch of tater tots into the oven, finding himself sharing a mutual hunger with the voice inside his head, his phone began to ring. Upon accepting it, he was instantly greeted with the warm sound of Anne on the other line.

He could feel butterflies in his stomach. "Oh, hey, Anne."

"Eddie, hi. How're you feeling?"

"Done. I'm sick." It was an easy answer. Brief and non-elaborative, but simple enough to describe the constant migraine he had been feeling throughout the day.

And Anne's response did not make things any better. "Eddie, you have a parasite."

Great, so there was a logical explanation behind it after all. He could feel his chest become lighter upon hearing those news.

" – They're not exactly sure how you got it, but it would explain the fever."

"That would make sense," he agreed. "Also, I'm hearing– I'm hearing a voice."

"Auditory hallucinations are actually pretty common,"

And as soon as it vanished, the ten-pound rock in his chest plummeted back at the sound of Dan's voice, but he did not necessarily dislike having the doctor there to describe things to him. It was just a little …. Awkward.

"Oh, hey, Dan. How're you doing? Didn't realize you were on the call too."

"Yeah, I'm here."

Despite his initial reluctance, Eddie soon began to describe the weird things he had been experiencing, going as far as to mention the fact that he had, through some magical way, managed to jump up to a twenty-feet tall tree. However, it was through that explanation that he began to hear that dreaded voice once again.

"Yes, we just did."

Just like he had earlier, the ex-journalist had tried to listen to the voice. It was just a simple 'auditory hallucination', as Dan had put it. But when the doctor suggested that he would be provided with medication in order to battle his condition, the voice returned back, audibly more aggressive in comparison to earlier.

"Never gonna happen."

And trying to talk back to it did not do him much good, as it caused misunderstandings on the other line with Anne. Seeing as it would be easier to talk to them after all of that had passed, Eddie made sure to sincerely thank them both for their help and end the call.

"Jesus fucking christ," he mumbled to himself and drew both of his hands over his face, sighing his lungs empty. "Fuck this shit."

And when things truly could not seem to get any worse than they already were, the sound of blasting music echoed through his walls from his neighbor's apartment, just as a surge of unbearable pain started to vibrate through his entire body, like bullets were flying through every atom of his very being. His ears began to ring so loudly that he could not hear a single thing, his appendages began to shake, his chest began to ache like a war was going on inside there.

After spontaneously kicking his chair and trying to drown the sound out with his hands over his ears, he quickly realized that it did little good to just stand there and do nothing. While he had tried to endure the hellish sound his neighbor would be demented to call 'music', Eddie stormed over to the apartment opposite of him and slammed on the door several times, creating a few cracks in the wood as he went.

To his momentary relief, the noise stopped and the door opened, revealing that shit-for-brains hippy of a neighbor, who just looked at him like he was the one with the fucking problem.

"Yeah?"

"Hey," Eddie greeted somewhat distantly as he held his weight up between the doorframes. "Could you turn your music down, please? 'Cause I'm having a really hard time?"

But the hippy only scoffed. "Whatever."

His lips suddenly seemed to grow larger and his eyes were surprising… sharp. He glared daggers at his neighbor in spite of his earlier attempt at being civil, but much to his surprise (and relief), the neighbor suddenly flinched and his skin paled considerably, indicating that the glare had more of an effect than he anticipated.

"Yeah, sure man. I'll just t-turn it right d-down."

With that, Eddie uttered an inaudible 'thank you' and closed the door, content with the silence that was now surrounding him.