Chapter 2: Moving
Disclaimer: All characters mentioned herein are property of Marvel Entertainment
At the top of that high—rise Peter had been climbing stood a huge white mass. Peter smiled; he was proud of his work. Well, now it was their work, now that he had been with the symbiote. Standing in front of him was a body—shaped web sac which covered a most unfortunate man. The only hole in the entire body—covering webbing was around the man's nose so he could stay alive. Peter walked over to the sac and pulled it apart with simply his black hands. Out fell a trembling man, clothed in normal street garb.
Peter started to monologue with the man, saying in his now symbiotic tone, "work, now that he had been with the symbiote. Standing in front of him was a body—shaped web sac which covered a most unfortunate man. The only hole in the entire body—covering webbing was around the man's nose so he could stay alive. Peter walked over to the sac and pulled it apart with simply his black hands. Out fell a trembling man, clothed in normal street garb.
Peter started to monologue with the man, saying in his now symbiotic tone, "You! You killed my Uncle Ben! You destroyed my family and my hopes to live a normal life! You robbed my Aunt May of the love of her life and have wrought depression upon her! For that, you must pay!"
The man looked up at the younger man in fear. Trembling, he replied, "I-I-had no idea! I-I-I'm sorry! You have to believe me!"
The man's remarks seemed to only anger his aggressor more: "You had no idea! No idea! No matter. Picking up the man by two tentacles that shot out from Peter's sides, Peter held the man right in front of his face and stuck out a long, slender tongue, dripping with green saliva, to get a foretaste of his prey. Soon, as I consume your brain, you will know what pain you have caused me! Wait, you'll be dea—"
Peter stopped in mid—sentence, realizing what he had just said. It was never his desire to kill anyone, even someone who had done so horrible a deed. Peter, still with the man hanging by his tentacles, looked down at his hands in fear and saw two hands that were growing further appendages. Long claws were extending from his normal fingers. I've become a monster! Peter thought. Suddenly, a strong presence started speaking in his head. Let us be free, let us truly help you be free of those who have hurt you and those you hold dear! Let us all become one!
Responding verbally, Peter shouted, still in the symbiote voice, "No, we will not let you!" Peter inwardly shrunk back; the symbiote presence was becoming too strong for him to master. Mustering the strength to leave the situation, Peter dropped the man from his grip and shot a web towards the next building. As he landed, the symbote spoke to him again, now speaking verbally with the same voice Peter used.
"Why did we leave him? He deserved to die!"
"Because we—I am not like that!"
"Yes, we are. We are venom!"
"No! I am Peter Parker! I am Spiderman! I have the love of my life, Mary Jane Watson!"
"Yes, we are all those things too. And soon we will have Mary Jane with us as well."
Peter struggled with the symbiote for ultimate control of his mind. The thought of Mary Jane bonded with him and the symbiote horrified him, and he lost his concentration. Peter felt the symbiote slowly invading the parts of his mind that held the thing most dear—Mary Jane. As it started to take them into its blackness, Peter's thoughts of keeping them from this monstrosity were changed to an uncontrollable desire to have her with him.
Suddenly, a clock tower extending from the building on which Peter stood struck midnight. Peter felt an immense pain shoot through his mind. Yes! he remembered. We—the symbiote—is vulnerable to sound waves! Struggling for control of his body, Peter forced his legs forward toward the clock tower, all the while holding his head. As he walked, random tentacles shot out from his body, a display of the symbiote's pain. Finally, after the twelfth toll, the symbiote, weakened to the point of exhaustion, liquefied and slid off Peter's body.
Peter Parker walked away from the tower where he had disengaged from the symbiote. He didn't know what to think because he had been under the influence of its power for the past few weeks. It had spoken to him, giving him suggestions as to what to do, who to kill, who to allow to live. He was tired and ready to go home to Mary Jane, try to fix the relationship once again from the rift that the symbiote had caused, and return to life that would be as able as could be expected for a man with the ability to walk on walls and shoot webbing from his hands.
The symbiote was hurt by and angered by Peter at the same time. The symbiote had nearly gained full control of Peter's mind and body and wanted him back. At the same time, the symbiote abhorred him so much that it was ready to strangle him, force the lifeblood out of him, ready to make him suffer. A semi—gelatinous mass, the normally pulsating blob stopped; it had come up with a plan. Suddenly, it was on the move again—moving with purpose.
Mary Jane Watson stepped out of a public bus like every other night, except that it was 3 o'clock in the morning. She was exhausted from the party that had ensued that would serve to close her most recent gig, The Importance of Being Earnest. To her, things were finally starting to look up. She had held the lead of a major Broadway production. Her performances had been viewed by thousands of people, some of which were scouts from television studios in Hollywood, others that were representatives for businesses interested in a new spokeswoman, and still others that simply were adoring fans, showering her with the appreciation she had never been allowed growing up under an abusive father and a mother she never knew. Granted, the thunderous applause and screaming fans were shallow as she was a nobody and many of them had come to see other performers, but the appreciation was more than enough to raise her from the pit of despair she had been raised in.
As she began to walk the five blocks back through Manhattan to the crumbling brick building that encompassed her apartment, Mary Jane noticed that the night was extremely quiet. It was too quiet. Normally there would a certain white noise—boisterous children arguing with parents, the rumble of the subway as its cars passed underneath the street, an occasional taxi that carried the drunken partygoer home; tonight there was nothing. Her heart beating furiously, MJ sped to a quick walk.
Fear gradually increased. MJ stopped, sensing a second presence nearby. With a certain sense of urgency, MJ whipped around. Nothing was in sight. The dead silence was just that—dead. With a certain feeling of relief, MJ took a sigh of relief and turned around, only to see a massive, black blob sitting right in front of her. MJ started to scream but her scream was muffled as the blob swiftly leapt onto her mouth. The blob became a thick liquid as it slowly spread with long, slender tentacles across her body. As it made its way down her body, MJ shook in fear and began to let out a stream of tears. At last, it created a tight skin—like cast over her body, engulfing her in its darkness. The female mind, though strong, was no comparison to its past host. The black mass fell to the ground, writhing and seething. The black goo swirled around the female, taking advantage of its volatile emotions, especially its fear. Finally, like it had Peter, the symbiote receded into a skin—tight body suit and forced the wearer to stand. Jerking its right hand up, the female shot a web line towards a nearby building and swung away.