Disclaimer: I do not own Venom

A/N: So, since it's my birthday, I decided that I would try and update some stories on my account which I haven't written on for quite some time. While Parasitic is one I frequently update, I decided to just do it today as well. I'm officially an adult ... and I don't know how to handle it quite yet. I'm not ready to become a grown-up.

Additional art will be posted on my DeviantArt account: X-KuroShiro-X

Read, write and enjoy!

Chapter 25: Dangers Ahead

Air clogged up in his lungs and he sputtered as he tried to speak, the grip around his neck keeping any oxygen from leaving and entering his lungs. He hung above ground with his toes just barely grazing the floorboards. A part of him wanted to believe that this was just another hallucination, albeit a considerably messed-up one to say the least. However, he knew that this was not the case, but ironically enough, he much preferred the voice over whatever the hell this was supposed to be.

The monster standing in front of him was grotesque in terms of appearance, to put it mildly. Between the Creature of the Black Lagoon or Frankenstein, it made them seem like angels in comparison, which said a lot since they were the fuel for his nightmares as a kid. He would often rush to his dad whenever he thought he saw either of them lurking in his closet, but the old man seldom provided any comfort and only sent him back to his room with no word of comfort.

"Grow up, Eddie. Monsters are not real," he would tell him.

But this was very, very much real.

With whatever strength he could muster, Eddie clasped his hands around the thing's arm, trying to pry it off. "L-Let me g-g-go," he croaked as he felt his head become lighter due to the lack of air. Stars started to alight in the corners of his vision and saliva drooled from his lips. He felt sleepy, which wasn't a surprise since he had not gained any since the day before, but he internally doubted that this state of near-unconsciousness was caused by sleep-deprivation.

However, just as the dark threatened to settle completely, Eddie felt the temperature in his right arm rapidly turn hot as something else him sparked. His fingers gripped tighter around the hand that was holding up, and he swore he could see the muscles under his skin darken slightly. For whatever reason, his strength had rapidly increased, and the wrist his hand was clasped around seemed to falter upon this physical contact between them.

The head of his assailant jerked to his arm, and while they lacked any pupils, they were still as terrifying as they would have been had they had any.

Before he could say anything, the ex-journalist had all remaining air inside of him knocked out as he was unexpectedly dropped to the floor on his back. Eddie coughed several times, placing a hand over his chest as he relished the sensation of his lungs expanding inside of his ribcages. Still, he only got as much as a few seconds of liberty to do so before his eyes snapped back up at his assailant, to which he crawled back in retreat without even bothering to get up on his feet.

The figure – no, that thing – was just standing there motionlessly in front of the door, shoulders slouched, and face aimed at the floor instead of at him this time. Eddie's instincts told him to make a run for it through the window while he still could, yet something urged him to remain. He couldn't tell whether it was out of curiosity or shock that he stayed on the floor, but only moments after he made his decision, the thing started to change.

The bluish hue that was once its external skin seemingly vanished into what looked like the fabric of white clothes: A lab coat, a shirt inside, black, long skirt and stockings. Ordinary human skin took its place. A pair of eyes, a nose, and a mouth materialized from what had once been a completely flat face with only white eyes to make up for what it lacked, and as soon as Eddie saw that, realization dawned on him as he recognized who it was almost instantly.

As the blueness disappeared entirely, Eddie finally managed to get back on his feet in an effort to come face to face with the woman he had least expected to see. However, as he looked into her eyes, searching for some kind of response that indicated that she was present, he found absolutely nothing. Her face was pale, considerably more so than it had before, and her green eyes were wide and in a state of shock.

While still processing everything himself, Eddie tried to stay as composed as possible. Although he wished he had not seen whatever the hell that thing was, there were more pressing matters at hand. "March," he tried calling her, taking a cautious step towards her without making the movement too abrupt. "What – What are you–"

Her pupils flashed to him for a brief second, her lips parted as though she was about to say something, but before Eddie could make anything out, March fell to the floor, gagging vehemently with her left hand covering her abdomen in writhing agony. Only then did he notice how her stomach was practically covered in blood that had stained her clothes thoroughly, and all sorts of thoughts went through his head. Some of the thoughts wanted him to run, others told him to try and get a grasp of what the fuck was going on, but one of them stood out from the rest of them by a mile.

"HELP HER, EDDIE!"

Never before had he heard that voice speak so loudly as it did just then, and while it frightened him to the extent where he wanted to drown it out with a bottle of beer, Eddie successfully managed to regain his equanimity long enough to behave rationally. He bent down to the floor, grabbed a towel having from the kitchen counter, and proceeded to hand it to her.

She quickly snatched it out of his grip before he could as much as say "Here.", and threw it over her mouth, coughing violently into the fabric like she was dying. For just a split second, her eyes met his, and he quickly noticed how bloodshot they both were from his perspective. The vessels were quite prominent from the corners.

"What the hell happened to you?" His answer barely came out more audible than a whisper. "What the hell was tha–"

"W-We have to leave, now," she interrupted him huskily, throwing the towel away and grasping at the kitchen counter to support her up to her feet. However, her knees were shaking, and she could barely keep herself up long enough to actually stand before she threatened to fall down again. She glared straight at him, though not out of hostility. If anything, it was wariness mixed with dread. "The Life Foundation know it was you. They're on their wa –"

Before she could manage to finish her sentence, the doctor's shoulders hunched and she let out a deafening gasp as another fit of coughs escaped her yet. She leaned over the counter, turning her face away from him as she covered her mouth with her hand.

Suddenly finding himself concerned with the well-being of a woman he could barely tolerate just a few hours earlier, Eddie hurriedly reached for the towel. Just as he was about to hand it to her, however, he glanced down at the cloth and noticed how there was blood present on it. A prominent amount. Like someone with tuberculosis had previously used it. His eyes grew in size as the sight settled with him and as he turned around, he was just in time to witness how a considerable amount red liquid was pouring onto her palm and dripping onto the counter.

"Give her the tater tots, quickly!"

There was never a moment in his long, fucked-up life where he ever considered listening to a voice from inside his head, much less abiding by its orders. His first instincts told him to retrieve the first-aid kit in his bedroom, but the voice persisted. "He's eating her from the inside, you idiot! Get her something to eat!"

"How the fuck are tater tots going to make her feel better?!" Eddie pressed urgently, stuck in a crossroad between what he was going to do. "I need to get her to the hospital!"

"She will be dead before then,"

Eddie found himself paralyzed, staring helplessly at the doctor as she continued to cough up blood on the counter with barely any room for breathing. His mind went into a state of panic, swirling up inside and causing him to almost break. To listen to the voice in your head for guidance was certainly guaranteed to send you to the insane asylum, but he thought about how many times it had actually helped that day. It had told him to watch out for that car he almost crashed into on the way from Mrs. Chen's shop, kept him from purchasing some rather questionable foods from the shelves, telling him that they "smelt bad", and then it had informed him of their unexpected visitor, who was currently vomiting blood in his kitchen.

But seriously, he couldn't just give the woman food when she was clearly–

"I'll do it myself,"

Before Eddie could protest, his hand jerked to the side and his legs started to move against his will, practically dragging him around the kitchen counter and towards the oven. He felt his teeth bite into the inside of his cheek as he continuously tried to free himself of this compulsory behavior his body was inhibiting. Although he successfully managed to move his limbs on his own accord on a few occasions, he was ultimately failing at regaining control of his actions.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on!" As his hand opened the oven door, the heat threatened to send him back away by a few feet. However, much to his surprise, his body complied with his wishes, almost as if fearful of the warmth the oven was emitting. He could only pray that whatever the hell was inside him was smart enough to use an oven mitten–

"I am not an imbecile,"

His mouth wired shut at that remark. At his own accord, Eddie put on the oven mitten and carefully pulled out the tater tots, placing them on the counter. They had been burnt quite nicely, and the stench reeked of them, but it was not all ashes. If anything, they were just edible enough not to churn your stomach 360 degrees, though he wouldn't know that from just eating raw chicken from the trash.

As he placed the pan on the counter, one of the tater tots disappeared in an instant. Then another, and then another, one after another until there was almost nothing left. One second, he was looking at a full plate food. In the next, there were practically nothing there but crumbs. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have laughed his ass off at the sight. Right now, he was anything but amused.

Eddie watched in utter astonishment as the doctor clawed at all of the food like she had been denied it for years, her nails scratching the surface of the pan and leaving marks there he doubted would disappear. Her dark hair, long and unkempt in a low ponytail that was barely keeping itself together, flailed as her body rapidly moved to reach each and every scrap of food she could get her hands on. The sound of her wolfing it all down was almost uncharacteristic coming from the same woman who seemed more like a machine than a human being to him. But seeing her like that, so broken and sick, he couldn't help but sympathize with her to an extent.

What the hell had happened to her?

As Eddie looked back down at the tray, he could scarcely locate any scraps left that could make up for the amount of one more tater tot. Everything was gone, and looking back at her, he found more around her mouth than anywhere else. It reminded him of how he looked like whenever he snuck into the kitchen cupboard in the middle of the night to get some cookies from the jar his father never let him take from. He was just a kid with a craving, and still, his father seldom hesitated to bring out the belt.

It seemed like whatever was happening to her was improving, as her breathing was evidently more stable, her face had regained some color, and she seemed calmer than she did when she first burst through the doors. If tater tots could cure internal bleedings, then he could become a billionaire for being the one to discover it.

March peaked up and she caught him staring at her, causing him to feel threatened. He took a step back, expecting some kind of remark, or for that thing to come back and hang him from the floor by the ears. But to his genuine surprise, he could detect none of it. Unlike before, her gaze was not particularly hostile this time, nor did she say anything. If anything, March looked completely drained, leaned over the blood-stained kitchen counter with her hand over her face.

"Are you … Are you alright?" she asked, barely in the volume of a whisper.

Eddie paused for a moment, contemplating his answer while keeping his distance from her. "I'm – I'm fine. Are – Are you …"

"I'm fine," she insisted, straightening her back as though nothing had happened. Eddie's widened as he got to see her face in the light, taking note of the grotesque traces of blood that had descended from her lips to the way her eyes barely looked like they had retained any sleep. Her clothes were torn and tainted with blood, the hole in her abdomen being more detailed now than before.

Finding a way to address how she looked without repeating what Mrs. Chen had told him earlier ("You look like shit,") would be impossible, so instead, he reluctantly reached for the towel on the floor, folded it over to get rid of the blood, then handed it to her. "Here,"

March looked down at the towel in his hands, then back up at him without saying a word. Eddie could spot drops of sweat forming on her forehead slowly trickling down her skin. She then slowly took the fabric from him and dried her face with it, successfully erasing any evidence of blood and tater tots crumbs. Her movements were slow, taking up to a minute to complete the actions before she finally put the cloth away.

"…Thank you,"

Marley could barely function properly, his heart was threatening to break through his ribs and out of his chest, judging by the way it beat so excessively. Around him, there was hardly anything but destruction and chaos, more than he had ever orchestrated his entire life. All around him, bodies laid scattered on the floor with limbs located several feet away from the physiques, blood concealed the surface of the floorboards beneath a layer of thick crimson, and he had on more than just a few occasions nearly slipped into it.

But worse of all was the fact that countless equipment had been demolished by that … that thing. Pieces of bullet-proof materials had been ripped from the walls, millions of dollars worth of advanced technology, progress, and machines … all gone in the blink of an eye. It had all happened so quickly that his mind had yet not processed what had happened. How that bug had thrown his most competent security guards around like toys, disintegrated them all in a matter of moments, torn through his most advanced equipment without effort.

He had scarcely gotten a glimpse of it before it had proceeded to get out of there, leaving a mess in its wake. The thing had been unhinged, unpredictable, an animal having been released from its shackles and yearning for freedom. And as he stood there in the midst of all of it, watching as the remainder of his personnel were cleaning up the bloody mess piece by piece, he still could not comprehend any of it. How did the symbiote manage to get a host when it was separated from everyone and everything else? The cell it was contained in had been locked, there was no one there as far as he could tell. None of it made sense, and he utterly despised it whenever it was his job to take care of it.

And how expensive his ignorance turned out to cost: he had now lost quite a number of guards, most of his equipment had been destroyed, and two symbiotes were now missing and at the hands of someone else. It was all just one shit-show after the next, and he was the one in charge of handling them whenever Drake decided that he was above getting shit on his own hands.

"Mr. Marley," Dr. Collins surfaced from the crowd in order to reach him. "We have to discuss–"

The COO had just about had enough of those incompetent scientists to put on an even mediocre display of interest. Just barely shifting his gaze to over his shoulder, he cast a glare towards the scientist that promptly halted his approach and his inquiry. Marley could feel his anger spike through the roof, but he had to applaud the way he managed to keep it so subtle. Years of working in business had left him with that trait, which turned out to be quite beneficial once you knew how to master it.

Now, however, he was struggling to keep it beneath the surface much longer.

"You allowed one of our most prominent subjects to escape, Dr. Collins," he spoke gravely low, turning his body around and taking a deliberately heavy step towards the frightened squint. "In doing so, it ruined almost half of our equipment, and only left a tedious amount of soldiers behind."

Another step.

"We are now empty of subjects to experiment on,"

A new step.

"We are out of volunteers,"

Another firm step.

Dr. Collins took one back in retreat. "S-Sir, I was –"

But Marley held his finger up, silencing him on the spot. "The Life Foundation is near ruin because of your neglect, doctor. I invested a lot in you, gave you access to these labs, to tools most people within the scientific field could only dream of getting their hands on, and this is how you repay my kindness?" He placed a hand over his chest, feigning heartache. "I thought I could trust you, but it seems that I was mistaken,"

Dr. Collins' face paled for each step back he took, and for each step forward which Marley took. The hair on his skin strutted upwards as he saw the menacing way his boss was staring him. "Mr. Marley, sir, I– "

"Maybe you too are expendable, Dr. Collins?" Marley suggested with a shrug, seemingly indifferent. "A scientist who is unable to keep watch of his tests is no good scientist at all, now is he?"

"I – I wasn't – "

"But tell me this," he interrupted again, sparing the man no time to finish his sentences. "How come the symbiote managed to gain a host? Who else was there but Dr. Skirth?"

"I – I don–"

"WHAT THE FUCK IS IT THAT YOU CAN ACTUALLY FUCKING DO, COLLINS?!"

"Charlie,"

The scent of mild cologne hit his nostrils and forced Marley to pause in his rant. Soft and deliberate footsteps approached from behind him until they were placed but a few feet behind him. Marley, already fully aware of who it was. If he wished to keep his tongue intact, he would have to play his card right. Otherwise, anything that could be viewed as a transgression could result in his disposal.

Dr. Collins, pale as a sheet, took the opportunity to back away step by step until he was out of range before he promptly exited the labs with the intent of getting out of potential danger. In his nature, Dr. Collins was a coward, but a brilliant one. He knew the measures to take to keep himself alive, which was a trait they both cherished and resented at the Life Foundation.

"Carlton," he uttered as decently as he could without revealing any internal turmoil. He shifted in his stance to face him, clenched hands tucked away in his pockets. "Our assumptions were correct. SYM-A02 has escaped with a host." His words leaked from his lips like liquid, meant to satiate the thirst for information the CEO was experiencing. His eyes felt as though they grew five pounds heavier for each second they spent looking into Carlton's chocolate-colored orbs, filling him with a sense of dread he seldom felt.

Even so, what agonized him the most was how utterly calm Carlton was; his stance remained stiff, his movements restricted, and his countenance was neutral. One could never have guessed that someone with his sense of equanimity could be able to inhibit such destructive anger once released and that alone made him feel threatened to stand within such close proximity.

They had known each other for years, even before the establishment of the Foundation. Still, Marley never considered himself as someone who could avoid Death in Carlton's presence. He was just as disposable as the rest of them were. The only difference was that he still served a purpose others could doubtfully fulfill, which was why Carlton had yet to deem him replaceable.

Yet.

"We have lost all of our symbiotes due to negligence," Carlton said, incredibly calmly as though he was weighing his each of his words. "One died due to lack of proper maintenance, the other one was stolen from us, and now, the last one escaped through the use of a host."

Marley tried to protest. "SYM-A02 took down some of our best men. We didn't have a chan–"

"Apparently," Carlton interrupted without raising his voice in the slightest, though his obscene glare made up for that. "It didn't kill enough,"

The COO felt his breath get caught in his throat, rendering him silent. Another word or so, and he felt that the entire world would come crashing upon him quite literally. While he doubted that it could really happen, he did not doubt that Carlton possessed the funds to make that happen if he wanted to.

"Who was it?" Carlton asked.

"We don't – We don't know," Marley answered while ignoring the urge to falter in his stance. "The security footage was destroyed by the time we tried to see what happened. No one was supposed to be there, and Dr. Skirth's body remained in the debris. It couldn't have been her,"

Anger. It reeked from him, oozed from him like saliva from his lips. Balancing his emotions had always been an easy task when it came to Carlton, but once he showed them, you knew that you were fucked. Marley could see his jaw tightening, bones showing from beneath his skin, the grip around Marley's shirt threatening to burst holes through the fabric.

Conclusion: He was pissed.

Suddenly, something seemed to dawn on Drake. His eyes grew wide, his skin paled, and his grip around Marley lessened. "Where's Dr. March?"

"Dr. March?" Marley adjusted his clothes properly. "I assumed you had dismissed her for the day?"

"She didn't leave with me," Drake insisted, his face changing back to how it always was; cold and solemn. He drew a hand over his mouth contemplatively before he turned his back to the COO. "Find them both, Charles," he ordered as he began to walk away to an unknown destination. "Find them both,"

With barely a moment to spare, March quickly dried her face with the towel, dropped it to the floor, and forcefully grabbed Eddie by the arm. Despite her frail appearance and considerably thin physique, he had to admit that her grip was disturbingly strong. He could feel his ulna ache beneath his soft skin to the point where he believed it would bruise sooner or later. "Hey," he called as he was dragged across the floor, barely able to keep up with her as he stumbled in his steps. "Where the hell are you taking me?"

"Treece will be here any moment," she explained as she continued to drag him over to the door, not even halting to grant him time to regain his balance. "We need to leave,"

"To where?"

"My place might be a temporary solution, but we'll have to be quick,"

She reached her hand forth to touch the doorknob but suddenly stopped. Her fingers lingered over the metallic surface of the mechanism. "I… I think I … It …. Killed someone …"

Eddie looked over her from behind, but could not see her face. Her shoulders, on the other hand, began to tremble like she was locked in a cold cellar. "It killed people …. I think it … I think it did … There was blood …. Screams …"

A wave of concern washed over him, but when he tried to place a hand on her shoulder, someone knocked on the door outside. They both froze in unison where they stood, waiting anticipatingly for someone to announce their visit or give some sort of indication of who they were.

"Do not open that door,"

Eddie felt his ears ring and his head hurt worse now than ever before, which was saying something considering how he had been plagued with a longlasting migraine for the past twenty hours or so. He scratched the back of his head and sheepishly tried to reach for the doorknob, but stopped not even a second later. His rationality returned and he quickly retreated in his steps, feeling an overwhelming sensation of wariness erupt inside of him like a maggot crawling through his esophagus.

Something wasn't right.

He looked over at March, and she returned the gesture. Her eyes, heavy as stones with significant darkness lurking beneath them, were staring through his orbs as though she wanted to say something in any other way but verbal. He could tell that she was …. Scared? It was not something easily detected, but he knew fear when he saw it. But even though he too began to experience an urge to get out of there, curiosity remained with him. After all, it was a contributing factor behind why he made a prominent career as a journalist.

He had a tendency to stick his nose where it didn't belong.

A moment of contemplation later, he took a step forward, but subsequently felt a hand place itself firmly on his chest and he stopped. With one look, March placed a finger over her lips, and he obliged to the silent demand as though something was forcefully keeping his lips glued together. She tilted her head and gestured to his window, and his legs began to move towards the unconventional exit as if something else was pulling him. Eddie swore he could not feel his own muscles move like they were anesthetized. While he could physically feel the weight on his legs, he could not control their movements.

"What the hell?"

"We're getting out of here, now,"

After opening the window and pulling himself out of it onto the stairs outside, March moved closely behind him with unsteady steps that made it seem like she was on the verge of collapsing again. She pulled herself out, hands gripped tightly on the window-frame but suddenly fell forward as she lost her balance.

Eddie, having anticipated this, quickly moved forward and grabbed her shoulders, keeping her from landing face-first into the metallic boards beneath them. He felt her crash into his chest, her weight depending on him for support. His cheeks began to feel warm as he looked down at the dark-haired woman who was leaned into him, and seeing her so … uncharacteristically soft struck him as almost … cute. He imagined that she would push him away anytime now, but instead, she just regained her balance, moved away from him, and walked towards the stairs leading down, not saying a single word.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Eddie. We need to move,"

"What the hell? I wasn't–"

But before he could argue, the door leading into his apartment slammed open.