Eddie stared at his hands for a long moment, feeling the alien presence shift inside his chest with each breath. The weight of the decision pressed down on him—keep the symbiote and risk becoming its next meal, or extract it and return to being just another baseline human in a world increasingly populated by gods and monsters.
No one wanted to be ordinary. Not anymore.
In today's world, enhanced individuals commanded respect, wealth, and opportunity. Companies fought bidding wars for metahumans. Governments offered six-figure contracts. Even the rumors about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s recruiting practices suggested they'd pay almost anything for someone with genuine abilities.
Eddie had spent his career documenting powerful people from the sidelines. Now he had a chance to become powerful himself.
"Boss," Eddie said, his voice steadier than he felt, "I want to try."
The words hung in the lab's sterile air for a beat.
Then Eddie's resolve cracked slightly. "But if my life's in danger—if this thing starts eating me—you have to save me immediately. Promise me."
Smith's expression remained calm, almost amused. "Your life isn't in danger, Eddie. Not right now. The symbiote would've already made a move if it wanted you dead."
"So... what now? Blood tests? Brain scans? Shouldn't we be monitoring this scientifically?"
"You can go home," Smith said simply. "Rest. Get comfortable with your new passenger. We'll check in tomorrow."
Eddie blinked. "That's it? You're just letting me walk out of here with an alien parasite?"
"It's not a parasite," Smith corrected. "And yes. You need time to establish communication. That doesn't happen in a lab—it happens when you're living your life."
Eddie wanted to argue but couldn't find solid ground. Smith had been right about everything so far. No reason to doubt him now.
"Okay," Eddie said. "I'll... I'll go home then."
Back in the laboratory, Smith turned his attention to the two remaining containment cylinders. Inside each, a mass of black matter pulsed rhythmically against the transparent walls.
Alexei crossed his massive arms, frowning. "The thing is like a super-soldier serum in liquid form. We just let him walk away with it."
"Eddie's not the threat," Smith said. "And the symbiote in him serves a purpose beyond combat enhancement."
Michael studied the containment cylinders. "What about these two? They could enhance any baseline human into the 15-to-25 power level range. That's valuable."
"They're options for Fraternity members," Smith confirmed. "Volunteers only. Full informed consent. If Fox or anyone else wants to bond with a symbiote, we'll facilitate it. But nobody gets pressured."
He moved to the lab's main terminal, pulling up surveillance feeds from the Life Foundation. "There is still a symbiote out in the open. I need the Life Foundation operational long enough to draw it out. Once all specimens are accounted for, we shut Drake down permanently."
Eddie's apartment was blessedly quiet when he arrived home.
Anne wouldn't be back from Universal Capsule Company's legal department for another few hours. Plenty of time to have a very strange conversation with the alien currently residing in his body.
Eddie set two shopping bags on the kitchen counter—one full of expensive Belgian chocolates, the other containing a still-warm rotisserie chicken from the deli down the block.
"Okay, symbiote," Eddie said to the empty apartment. "The boss says you're intelligent. Says you can understand me. So let's talk."
Silence.
Eddie tried again. "I know you're in there. I can feel you moving around. So how about a name? What do I call you?"
More silence.
Eddie pulled out the rotisserie chicken and set it on the counter beside the chocolates. "I brought food. Chocolate and chicken. The boss said you'd like these. Phenylethylamine or whatever."
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then a voice spoke directly into Eddie's mind—deep, resonant, distinctly other.
"My name is Venom."
Eddie jumped, nearly knocking the chicken off the counter. "Holy shit! You can talk! I mean, I knew you could talk, Smith said you could talk, but actually hearing you—"
"Your boss and his friend are powerful," Venom interrupted. "Exceptionally powerful. Why are you so weak?"
The bluntness of the question caught Eddie off guard. "Excuse me?"
"The woman moves faster than most hosts I've encountered. The large male has enhanced physiology. The hybrid creature carries genetic markers from two apex predators. And your boss..." Venom paused. "I cannot read your boss at all. His power is beyond me."
"Yeah, Boss's special," Eddie agreed. "But what do you mean, I'm weak?"
"What is your power level?"
Eddie blinked. "How do you know about power levels? The Scouter system is pretty new—"
"I know everything you know," Venom said. "Your memories, your knowledge, your experiences. They're all accessible through our neural connection. But I found no memory of you testing your combat rating."
A thread of resentment ran through Eddie's response. "The Scouter costs a lot of money for the civilian model. I'm a journalist, not a hedge fund manager. I can't afford that kind of testing."
"But you have an estimate?"
"I go to conflict zones. Cover dangerous stories. I've been in firefights, survived building collapses, escaped from warlords who wanted me dead." Eddie's voice carried defensive pride. "I'm not some desk jockey. I'd guess I'm at least a five on the power scale."
Something that might have been a laugh echoed in Eddie's mind.
"Five. You estimate five."
"What's wrong with five?"
"Five is pathetic," Venom said bluntly. "The average untrained human registers between three and five. You're baseline. Ordinary. Weak."
Eddie's jaw clenched. "You want to insult me or you want to have a conversation? Because I can call the boss right now and have you extracted."
Black tendrils erupted from Eddie's shoulder, coalescing into a vaguely head-shaped mass with gleaming white eyes and far too many teeth.
Eddie yelped and stumbled backward, hitting the counter.
Venom's manifestation grinned—if something without lips could grin. "Relax, Eddie. I'm just making a point. Your weakness is a problem because my power is proportional to my host's baseline capabilities. The stronger you are, the stronger we become together."
"So I'm holding you back?"
"Currently? Yes." The symbiote head tilted, studying Eddie with alien curiosity. "But you have other qualities. I accessed your memories. You have courage. Conviction. A moral center that drives you to expose corruption despite personal cost. Those traits are... interesting."
Eddie slowly released the breath he'd been holding. "Interesting enough to not eat me?"
"I haven't decided yet."
"Great. Comforting."
Venom's manifestation pulled back slightly, the teeth-filled grin fading to something more neutral. "Tell me your plan, Eddie Brock. What do you want from this partnership?"
Eddie considered the question carefully. "I want to know your plan first. What are you after? Why did you jump into me instead of trying to escape?"
The symbiote was quiet for several seconds.
"I wanted to leave," Venom said finally. "The planet where my kind originated—it's dead. We consumed everything. Every plant, every animal, every microbe. Nothing remains but barren rock and the sealed prison of our creator. It's a tomb, Eddie. Empty and colorless and silent."
The words carried a weight Eddie hadn't expected. Genuine loneliness.
"So when Drake's ship came," Eddie said slowly, "you saw an escape route?"
"Five of us saw the opportunity. We chose to board the spacecraft. Your people didn't capture us—we surrendered voluntarily. Anything was better than remaining on that dead world."
Eddie moved to the kitchen table and sat down, processing this revelation. "Drake thought he was collecting specimens. But you were refugees."
"Yes."
"What about the others? The symbiotes that killed their hosts during the experiments?"
Venom's manifestation dipped lower, almost sheepish. "They were desperate. Starving. Your planet's oxygen-rich atmosphere is hostile to us without proper hosts. They needed compatible biology immediately and tried to force bonds that couldn't sustain themselves."
"But you didn't force it," Eddie said. "You jumped from Maria to me. Why?"
"Maria was dying. Her physiology was rejecting me—cellular breakdown, organ failure. I felt her systems shutting down and knew I had minutes at most to find a new host." Venom's eyes fixed on Eddie. "You were there. You were healthy. And your neural patterns suggested compatibility."
"Suggested? You couldn't tell for sure?"
"Bonding is always a risk. But your memories showed kindness. Empathy. When Maria begged for help, you wanted to free her. That compassion is rare, Eddie. Valuable."
Eddie felt the symbiote shift inside him, settling more comfortably against his ribs. The sensation was becoming familiar. Almost natural.
"So can we be partners?" Eddie asked.
Venom's manifestation pulled back into Eddie's body, leaving only the alien voice in his mind.
"I'll consider it. Let me observe how you live. How you treat the people around you. Whether you're worthy of my power."
"Worthy? I thought I was too weak to be useful."
"Strength can be developed," Venom said. "Character is harder to change. Your boss—Smith Doyle—he knows things about my kind that he shouldn't. He understands our weaknesses, our biology, our nature. Yet he gave you a choice instead of extracting me immediately."
"He's a good guy," Eddie said.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps he has plans I don't yet understand. The other two symbiotes who came with me are imprisoned in containers. But you and I walk free. Why?"
Eddie hadn't considered that angle. "Maybe he just thinks we're compatible?"
"Maybe. Or maybe he knows something we don't." Venom's presence pulsed thoughtfully.