"You cleaned up very nicely," Peter complimented Amalia's appearance.
The girl was wearing a one-piece pencil skirt with long sleeves that hung off her shoulders. It was decorated with what seemed to be glitter and the collar was studded with gemstones. Her hair was tied into a short ponytail and was recently dyed with purple highlights. The outfit was topped off with 3 inch high heels that matched her dress' silver colour.
"Thank you. I like how you, uh. Changed your face? I'm not sure what to say about this," Amalia motioned her hand at his face.
"People think that Peter Parker is dead" — he whispered — "And although a long time has passed, we don't want to risk anyone recognizing us. So we changed my features. Besides, this guy has a special pass into the club."
"I still like the real you," she pouted.
"We are not here to please anyone. And please don't become another Felicia. She was difficult to find a replacement for."
"At least that lead to you discovering me," she pressed against him.
"Yes, it did. And we're happy for that," Peter kissed her as he noticed that someone had started paying attention to what the two of them were doing.
Content with what she gained from him, Amalia looked to the front of the line waiting for the bouncer to stop arguing with a man so that they could proceed.
"What's taking so long?!" she yells at them.
"Nothing, I was just telling this man to fuck off," he glared at the man in front of him, "So what do you think you're going to do?"
With an angry grumble, he left the line and the movement started up once again.
"I never understood why people like him always expect to be let into nightclubs or any of the sort just because they argue with the bouncers. That isn't how it works," Amalia pointed out.
"It's in your nature to think that you're entitled to everything and that the world rotates around you," Peter explained.
"Don't you mean our nature?" Amalia raised an eyebrow as they neared the front.
"We do not associate ourselves with your kind. We are not human—"
"Yes, you are. Even with Peter Parker 'dead'. Your symbiote was crafted out of the genetic template of Peter Parker by Otto Octavius. We looked at his work after Norman Osborn gave us access to all his former labs in an effort to reform."
The bouncer took them in as they were finally next. An eyebrow raised, mimicking what Amalia did earlier.
"Name?" he looked at the clipboard which held all of the names of the people who were allowed to go in tonight.
Peter froze. In his haste at trying to secure an entry into the club, he had forgotten to steal all the information from his victim's brain.
A tentacle of the symbiote slithered out of his leg undetected as he tried his best to distract the bouncer. It slowly crept up his back staying in the shadows to avoid being seen by the second line behind them. Once it got far enough up, it struck and pierced the bouncer's neck. He froze and stood paralyzed in the position he was in.
"My apologies. You can go right in," the symbiote puppeted him.
"Thank you," Amalia smirked as she went in first and was followed by Peter.
The tentacle let go of its grasp on the bouncer once the two of them disappeared inside. The bouncer fell like dead weight onto the guests lined up to get in inciting screams of paranoia from the sight.
The entire time, the same man that was observing Peter from earlier was witness to the entire event.
Inside the club, all the people were swarming around to the beat of the music. The lighting in the room turned everything into a shade of lavender complimenting most of the Men's wardrobe choices.
Peter walked around scanning the room with Amalia's arm in his own. The symbiote connected the two of them bonding their thoughts together.
What are we doing here again? Cause I doubt it's to have fun.
You are a scientist, Amalia, the last thing we expected from you was the need to have any fun.
You forget that I'm also a woman. I'm also not completely a scientist, I'm also a doctor. But I deserve a fair night of pleasure. From any source at all. I'm not picky. She cocked her head to Peter with a smile plastered on her face.
We don't do that.He turned from in disgust.And to answer your question from earlier, Otto did create us. But he used something to craft us from. In part, it was Peter Parker's blood, but that wasn't the only thing. Did you ever wonder if you were alone in the universe as a child?
What does that have to do with anything?
We would have been the answer to that question before any of the other aliens, mutants, or Inhumans were made public.
Realization dawned on Amalia as she processed that information. To further press his point, Peter sent images of his origin into her mind. The meteor travelling through space irradiating and destabilizing the alien life it carried. Otto discovering it back before he suffered his accident. Then him experimenting with Spider-man's blood to find a way to stabilize it.
We call ourselves the Klyntar. Though I am no longer a part of them. My genetics were messed with way too much by the scientist and our rival.
Amalia went through pain as the image of a symbiote similar in appearance to Reaver attacked her. She flinched and near fell in her stumble before realizing that it was all just in her head.
The sound of growling and the pain of sharp tentacles piercing her still felt real though.
"That symbiote. Wasn't she the one during—" Amalia was too stunned to think her question instead resorting to speaking out loud. Luckily, the club's noise was enough to mask their discussion to the ears around them.
"Yes. That's the Carnage Queen. We don't know who her host is. All we know is that after she corrupted us, the last piece of the puzzle to our destabilization fell. We were able to craft a 'cure' out of some artefacts and Dagger's light, but this is only a temporary fix. We're falling apart fast. The only thing we can think of to slow the decay is to have hosts. That's why you're here."
Peter turned his head slightly. In the very corner of his eye, he could spot someone trailing them, trying to look inconspicuous.
He grabbed Amalia's hand and dragged her to the nearest booth with a fancy blackout curtain. His breathing was becoming shallow and his eyes had dilated. Droplets of sweat were forming on his forehead as well. He forced himself to regroup and calm down. There wasn't anything that he was afraid of. He was Reaver and he was never alone. At least that's what the symbiote told him in an effort to calm him down.
The reason for this panic attack was that the man looked eerily familiar. He looked just like his uncle Ben. What would he think about him now? With Great Power comes great Responsibility. Did he have that? Yes. The answer was definite. His responsibility was to bring his Aunt's killers to justice.
He failed his uncle in protecting her, but he wouldn't fail in honouring her name.
"Are you okay? Peter?" Amalia asked as the symbiote tentacle tightened its grip on her. She was worried. She'd never felt his emotions be as strong as they were right now. And his thoughts were closed off to her now.
"Yes. We arre," he growled at the mention of his old name.
Now that he was calm, he could think properly again. He heard rumours of the man he was trying to meet never had a face, yet had the faces of many that had been forgotten. The Chameleon.
The head of the man suddenly popped through the curtains spooking the two lovebirds.
-=-=-=-=-(•|•)-=-=-=-=-
Oh, I so do ship them.
-=-=-=-=-(•|•)-=-=-=-=-
"Why hello. Peter. Parker," he smirked as his brows furrowed in a villain-ish manner.
Peter froze at the face of his uncle. It really did look a lot like him. So much so that it stunned him into turning back into himself.
"I told you, Master, it was him. His disguise was very good, but not as great as yours, of course," another man, this one tall and muscular with a gruff voice, complimented the man as they sat down, uninvited.
"Hello. My name is Chameleon. I believe that my services were requested?" Chameleon fixed up his clothes as he sat uncomfortably close to Amalia.
The symbiote picked up on Amalia's emotions and hissed at him.
"Oh. That is very peculiar," he seemed intrigued by the symbiote rather than being scared off as the like the intended purpose.
"We do not enjoy being looked at," Peter glared.
"Yes. Very interesting," Chameleon's gaze followed the tentacle wrapped around Amalia's wrist all the way to Peter where it disappeared.
"I've been told that you know about everything that goes on in the city. If it's true—"
"I can assure you that it is."
"—IF, it's true, then I think you can help me in locating this person of interest," Peter waited for a reaction from the man.
Chameleon nonchalantly began to peel off his face. The skin released itself onto his hands with a sickening sound to reveal a white face resembling a white stone mask or a robotic face. He tossed it to the man beside him as he pulled out a briefcase from underneath the table to put it away in.
"Depends on the person. I'm not psychic you know," his lips tightened into a small smirk.
The symbiote enveloped Peter turning him back into Reaver. Chameleon and his accomplice showed no reaction as a tentacle formed from the shoulder and connected to the back of Chameleon's head.
The memories that he had shown Amalia earlier quickly flashed into his head.
"Yes. I have an idea of where that creature is." —Reaver hissed at the stress of the word creature before slipping back into a suit— "I make it my business to know when dangerous things like you roam around New York. Could be bad for business, or your location could make my business. Anyway, it's gonna cost you."
"Can I help you boys? And girl?" a stripper that worked for the club opened the curtains a bit for her to be seen.
She wasn't really clad in much. Just some Lingerie that already seemed to be falling off a bit. Her light brown skin really complemented the black colour of it though. The redhead frowned in confusion at the sight of Amalia being among the men though. Not many girls came to this nightclub. Especially not looking that fancy. Unless this was a business meeting. But wouldn't the club have written this booth up to be a business meeting if that were the case? And if this wasn't it, then she really had no interest in playing up to a lesbian.
"Do I really have to work with her too?" she bit her lip.
Amalia glared at her and was about to bite back with a remark but Peter beat her to talk to the woman.
"No, you don't. But I could show you some new moves for the rest of your clients that can earn you some big bucks if you stay," Peter offered much to the amusement of Chameleon.
The dealer already knew where this was heading. He had read up and studied the new Peter to know.
"Uh. Okay," the adult dancer said nervously.
She climbed onto the seat and crawled over to the hybrid. Chameleon nudged his friend making him close the curtains much to the woman's dismay. She was really uncomfortable here, but when she looked into Peter's eyes, her focus seemed to be lost.
Something sharp stung her foot as she settled on top of him and she lost all control.
"Tell, me. Who are you? What do you do?" Peter questioned his victim.
"My name is Madison Dent. I'm 22. I work nights here at the club to pay off my student loans—"
Amalia vaguely knew where she was coming from. Before being accepted into multiple universities around the world, she used to be paranoid about what she was going to do to pay for college. Her father might have a great job that paid generously, but it wasn't enough to cover college pay for both of his daughters. And for a short time, she thought about going through the route this girl had chosen. And she was younger than her. Around 3 years younger. Her sympathy for her grew while her jealousy lessened.
Before Madison could finish her story, the symbiote covered Peter and doubled his size as his maw stretched over her and made her vanish. The sickening crunch of bones accompanied the splatter of blood that managed to get onto the faces of the others.
Saliva mixed with blood dripped onto the table as Reaver continued his unforgiving action. He gave a crooked smile that revealed his blood stained fangs to his three people audience.
"Bravo!" Chameleon clapped eagerly at the sight as Reaver shrank back down. "Not even a sound from her. Which wouldn't matter since the noise of the club would've drowned it out, but still. Impressive," he smiled and nudged his friend.
Amalia looked sick though. The symbiote tentacle quickly let go of her as she quickly scrambled out of the booth in search of a bathroom before she could worsen the filth in the booth.
"Now where were we? Oh yeah. Payment," Peter took something out of his pocket.
It was a small container, smaller than a cup but bigger than a medicine container.
"And if I may ask what this is supposed to be?" Chameleon asked as he took it.
"They are several pills designed with my transformations in mind. I generated a small dose of symbiote to grind up into something that can Biologically alter anyone's appearance for as long as they want. Amalia helped me out with the bio-engineering aspect of it. Each pill only works once though. And they require complete concentration for it to work."
"Looks like they can come in handy," Chameleon smiled at them.
Once the deal was done and the information was exchanged, Peter went out looking for Amalia. He could sense that she was nearby but wasn't really inside of the building.
He eventually found her, with some dangerous company, hidden in the shadows of a nearby alley.
"Please, stop," she cried as they harassed and touched her.
There were 5 of them with the leader feeling her up while two of the goons held her in place. The other two were playing around with their blades randomly catching the moonlight in them.
Amalia had been out of contact from the symbiote for too long. She was weak again, weaker than the average human due to being starved of the symbiote's effects. Her adrenaline was drained and she was defenceless against the gang. And her fear was even worse.
Peter dashed at one of the goons playing with his blade and summoned his symbiote. The criminal briefly caught a glimpse of Reaver on his blade before being relieved of his head.
Reaver's bladed hand turned back to normal as he moved on to the other one. He bared his fangs and bit into his neck to tear off a chunk before tossing him to the ground to bleed out.
The three criminals with Amalia hadn't noticed any of what was going on. Reaver's first victim wasn't given enough time to scream and the second had his larynx torn off and was left choking on his own blood.
Reaver quickly liquified and covered the leader before producing spiked tentacles all over his body impaling him in the process. With the leader dealt with, Reaver became tangible again and turned his hands into sharp blades which were impaled into the heads of the screaming remnants of the gang.
With the gang taken care of, Reaver merged with Amalia again trying to console the panicking woman. Today had been much less than fun.