There was a loud squelch on the bed springs of a worn out metal bunk bed. A freckled hand ran through the ginger hair of a tall, toned man. His bright orange jumpsuit reflected off the metallic prison walls. With a quick movement he flipped the pages of the newspaper he was reading.
In a large print the headlines read: "Eddie Brock. Public enemy #1!"
The man scoffed, wadding up the newspaper and tossing it into the small steel toilet in the corner. He fondly remembered a time when you didn't have to have crazy powers or brains to be the most wanted man in New York. You just had to have a knife and the will to kill.
He used to have it all.
But now all he had was a news paper every other Sunday for "cooperative behavior."
With a roar of rage he punched the guarded wall next to him, causing yet another indentation in the surface and another bruise on his knuckles.
He had been trapped in this cell for 8 years now, and he had many more to go. Since his incarceration the world seems to have forgotten about him. They moved on to bigger and better bad guys. Guys with super powers or weird machines.
But the hero always stayed the same.
The Spiderman.
A click of irritation left the mans mouth.
What he wouldn't give to go hand to hand with the masked vigilante.
To feel his bones snapping beneath his skin.
A pleasant shudder overcame him. But reality promptly snapped him back when he heard a commotion at the end of the hall outside his cell door.
"Don't we have anywhere else to put him?" A male voice quivered in distress as the sound of a door slamming resounded.
There was two people walking toward him, this much the man in the cell could hear. But he also heard a low dragging sound under all the other noise.
"All the other cells are filled right now. Its only temporary and we already have the guy under 24 hour surveillance. Nothings gonna happen in the 48 hours he has to be held here." Another gruff voice responded to the first. The jingle of keys was heard then a sharp crack as the dead bolt slid open to the red heads cell.
"Don't you fucking try anything funny, Kasady!" A large meaty finger attached to an even meatier male pointed at him. Cletus, the ginger in question, freighted hurt, stepping back with his hands up in defense.
"Aw come'on John, you know me." The murderer grinned at the two guards, both of which he just noticed we're carrying a very limp, very muscular form.
"That's what worries me." The guard huffed as he sat the lumbering figure down.
Cletus Kasady could see that the figure was a man, blonde, maybe around his age or younger, well built, and bruised and bandaged by the looks of it.
"Kasady you will not touch this man for the duration of his stay. He's on hold here while the find him a cell in the higher maximum facility. We will have guards posted at all hours so don't even think about trying anything."
"Hey maybe you can talk to them about getting me a room too! I heard the food's ten times better than your slop!" Cletus chortled, earning a swift smack of a baton to his calf. He hissed, dropping to the floor in pain.
"I'm fucking serious. Don't you try anything. Nobody would even think twice if we beat you to death in this cell." The younger guard spat at him.
"I'd love to see you fucking try." Cletus grinned maniacally at him as both the guards disappeared out the metal door, locking it behind them.
Both men in the cell now, in some form or another, were sitting on the cold concrete ground. The red head shifted and pulled himself onto the first bunk of the bed, gingerly avoiding jostling his still throbbing leg.
The blonde man leaned back cautiously and quickly surveyed the room. Not much to it but a double bunk bed and a toilet. A rough cough escaped his lips, he winced from the ache in his ribs.
"Are you fucking kidding me."
The sentence sat thick on the room. Both men now glared at each other.
"You're Eddie Brock." Was all Cletus said.
'How ironic.' He thought humorlessly to himself.
"And should I know who you are?" Brock rudely stated, straightening up once more.
Cletus wanted to kill him now.
"Well son, back in my day," Kasady started, purposefully trying to sound like a grumpy old man. " I was the head honcho on slicin' and dicin'! They used to call me the Red Ripper back in Manhattan! Until punks like you stole the spot light with your fancy superpowers and what not." His voice was laced with resentment.
Eddie had finally managed to get himself off the ground and was now leaning against the cell door, still holding his side.
"What happened to me wasn't something I had planned. The suit didn't give me superpowers. It took control of my mind, feed on my weaknesses and delusions."
"That sounds like pussy shit right there. You had all that power and you're tellin' me you didn't enjoy one bit of it?" The leaner man on the bed folded his arms across his chest. The larger mans head snapped up from the ground.
"Maybe we're not all psychotic killers like you..." Brock mumbled.
"Everyone has their breaking point..." Cletus's cackling reverberated off the walls of the cell.
/
The hustle and bustle space of The Daily Bugle was packed that day. Everyone was rushing around, some people were celebrating, other were crying tears of joy. The mood was celebratory.
The notorious villain Venom was finally caught and captured by Spiderman after months of his murderous rampage. The greatest villain to rock The Big Apples core since the Green Goblin died.
Families could rest at peace now and mourn for their loved ones. The city could rebuild.
And all thanks to Spiderman.
But in the crowd a lone body stuck out.
There was a petite woman sitting as a desk near the window in the back. Her auburn hair was tied back in a tight pony tail. Thin black framed glasses sat on her pointed nose. They reflected the light from her computer screen she was editing a photo on. She carefully trimmed the image so it would fit perfectly on the next days paper.
A photo of Spiderman handing over Venom to the police.
She stared blankly at it as she worked. In the back of her mind she wondered what the photo would have looked like if Venom had won.
It would be a mess. Spidermans entrails lying everywhere and his limp body being carried away by investigators, who would then learn of the person behind the mask. Who he was, where he lived, who his loved ones were...
"Hey Evie! Are you almost done editing that damn photo! We need it now! It's 6 o'clock!" Her grungy boss shouted at her from his office.
Evies head snapped up to meet his eyes and she mutely nodded.
"Yeah I'm just having a hard time getting the email to send." She lied. But she was almost done anyway so she could save a few minutes. Somewhat satisfied with her answer he returned to his desk and Evie sighed.
She was just putting the finishing touches on it when someone bumped into her in the commotion of the space.
She she looked up through her glasses at a young man with brown hair who was smiling at her.
"Good editing skills! Glad you could do it justice!" He chuckled an patted her on the back.
"I'm glad you think so, Peter. I mean you took it." She smiled at him. Peter Parker was a photographer at The Daily Bugle. And he was one of the best. Mostly for his great candid pictures of the hero everyone in this city loves.
'Mostly everyone...' a darker part or Evies mind whispered but she repressed it.
"So are you coming to the after party tonight?" He nudged her playfully. She inwardly winced at the contact.
"Mmmm..." She started slowly. "No. Parties aren't really my thing."
A look of disappointment crossed Peters eye.
"Aw man, that sucks. I don't really like anyone that's gonna be there, I was hoping to hang out with someone who feels the same." He joked, pretending to pout.
Evie laughed at the truth in that sentence.
"Maybe the next one!" She batted at him, ushering him off.
"I'm gonna hold you to it!" He laughed as he sauntered away.
The woman sighed, relaxing in her chair slightly. He was right when he joked that she didn't like anyone in the office. Peter was an exception of course, she had known him since college. She didn't hate them but they were not her favorite people.
The celebration went on in the office but Evie continued to work on editing.
Within a few minutes of her silence and concentration she finally got it done and the email sent. Not even 2 minutes later she heard her name be shouted from the big guys office.
Sweat beaded out onto her forehead as she rose and shuffled through the masses to the office across the way.
Evie popped her head into the office and looked at her boss who was sitting at his desk looking at the computer screen on his desk. A window was cracked letting in a breeze of chilly winter air and releasing the cigar smoke that was coming from the ashtray on the desk.
"You called for me, Sir?" She tested.
He looked up at her from over his screen and pointed to the chair in front of him.
"Sit down."
She promptly obeyed, offhandedly wondering how many people had pissed their pants in the chair.
"Look at this," He flipped the screen around so she could see it. "What the hell is this."
It was the photo she had just sent him.
"Uhh..." She started.
"This is bull shit is what it is. I told you I wanted you to include the destruction in the background. We have to make people remember what Venom did and what Spiderman stopped."
"But if I make it any bigger the text wont fit and I'll have to rework the whole section. That could take hours." She was anxiously wringing at her wrists.
"Well you better get started then, shouldn't you?" He folded his arms and leaned back, glaring at her.
"O-okay.." She got up and hustled out of the room.
She was right it was going to take her hours. And as time progressed people left and the office eventually became empty.
It wasn't at all unusual that the boss made people stay late working though since he was such a stickler.
Evie was now beginning to wipe the sleep off her eyes. The clock on her screen read 10:23 PM. She was sure everyone else was having the time of their lives at the after party. Not that she was going to go anyway.
When she finally thought she had it she sent the new reworked page in an email, hoping this one would be perfect enough. With a sigh she shut her computer down and packed up her stuff. She flipped the lights of the office off in a swift motion and was out.