Spider-Man. The House Of Venom

Eddie stared at the bus station one more time. He'd been told he needed to leave New York but he had nowhere else to go. He could head home. San Fransico would always welcome him, the people not so much. No parents and a string of badly ended relationships poisoned the city for him.

Just like New York.

He sometimes wished he didn’t have these powers. That a different reporter had investigated the disappearances at Oscorp. That someone else had the mantle of Spider-Man.

Riding high on having powers he’d enjoyed the limelight. As Spider-Man, he saved people, he did good and felt good about it. Sure he made some money from it, barely slept, and in the end, was blamed for something that wasn't his fault. Even with someone like Venom running rampant in the city, he felt good about what he did, until that night.

He had stood, suited up, in a tie and everything as they read out the charges.

‘Accidental death due to gross negligence.’

That's what they called it. The trial was a race and everyone there knew it. Venom was blamed. Ther presented evidence that he launched the webbing that struck John. Venom had attacked him, throwing him off balance, and as a result, caused him to fall to his death.

Eddie knew it was bullshit. John hadn't secured his rifle to his chest, John had moved from his position to attack a man he knew was super strong. Nobody called out the string of stupid mistakes that led John to accidentally fall. No. Venom was to blame, and that was the end of it.

Then, when he tried to object, they came for him. He had sent out his own line, one that helped push John. It didn't matter that John broke protocol, it didn't matter that it was an accident. J.J. had pushed for trial, and with the public needing a scapegoat, he got as close to one as he was going to get.

Eddie had enough training to know the charges were bullshit. Nothing would stick in court, and it was all a publicity stunt. Someone needed to be accountable for the shitshow that was the Web Warrior's first outing. Harry Osborn was too rich and too well-connected. George hadn't been running the show, and it wasn't his team that failed.

It landed squarely on Eddie and Venom's shoulders. They were the ones with abilities. Even though they knew he had powers Flash was an innocent 'person', not one of the freaks. The existence of the creature was being kept top secret, even if it meant hanging Spider-Man and Venom out to dry.

Publicly Venom was responsible. No matter the evidence brought Venom would face trial and be convicted.

Eddie remembered the conversation with Venom.

They built your courts.

He was sitting outside the hearing room. His enhanced hearing picked up the conversation. Hushed tones that forgot he had enhanced senses. He was guilty. Spider-Man would be a hero no more. All the so-called Enhanced heroes would either retire or be hunted.

Unofficially he was fired for fabricating a story. Unofficial J.J. had screamed at him till he was gasping for air, and the mayor and Chief Stacy gave him the papers and a pen,

“Sign son, you get off the hook but with conditions.”

Conditions? First Spider-Man was not allowed to show himself in New York, ever. Any hint of the costumed hero would be an immediate arrest warrant and very public unmasking. This then extended to Eddie. While he was still allowed within the city the message was clear, come back and you will never know peace.

As he walked back to his hotel room he shook his head. The bastard had even withheld his pay. He could afford the crappy place for another few days, but then it was on the streets until he found a new job. He even snorted at the advert plastered on the outside of the building.

"African Dream."

⁂

Aaron wiped the head of his boss. Wilson didn’t look so good these days, but given the amount of formula he’d injected to fight Venom, he wasn’t surprised.

He knew nothing of formula, other than the one he’d taken, but he did know loyalty. He’d worked for Wilson Fisk for over a decade and he’d never let him down. He needed money for his nephew's operation, done, he needed some muscles to move his sister, done. Wilson had treated him right and now it was time to return that favour.

Aaron watched as the skin on Wilson's face rippled and then calmed down. Two eyes opened and stared at him, his wolf howled that a predator had awoken and he should run.

“How long?” Fisk rumbled,

“Few days, no more. You good boss?” Aaron replied, handing Fisk a glass of water, it wasn't cold but right now it was all he had.

Fisk drank the water like it was the greatest thing on Earth. “I'm good, finally feel like me again." As he crushed the glass in his hands the shards barely left a mark let alone drew blood. “Venom?” he asked.

“Uh, no, after trashing us he went after Osborn. Killed Jameson's kid. The place is swarming with heavily armoured and very pissed-off cops. I got you out and grabbed the bug-out bags but no sir, sorry.”

Fisk clapped Aaron on the shoulder, “We’re alive, that's all that matters,” and standing he stretched. “Feels good though huh." Wilson stood and went through a series of Kata, designed to stretch and awaken tired and sore muscles. “Stronger, faster, better eyesight, heart, probably stamina too, you?”

Aaron nodded. “I also have faster healing and uh.” He held up a hand and started at it. He grunted in pain as his fingernails sharpened and lengthened, as did his teeth.

“Fangs and claws. Your eyes are yellow now too,” Fisk said as he nodded. "Seems the formula was a bit more unstable than Osborn knew."

“Yup, can't see a lot of colours but I can see pretty well in the dark like this. But uh, what's next boss? I mean, New York's a bust.”

“One thing at a time Aaron. First, food and then get my car, head to the parking garage on Eighth. There is an RV parked there. I've always got a plan, always”

Aaron nodded and headed out. Food first, then driving.

Fisk sighed. He liked New York, it was dirty, crooked and money was easy but now, if it was a bust it was a bust. He wasn't going to sink time and money into saving a dying business. It was time for a clean slate. Too many players not playing by well-established rules. Too many strange drugs and new powered enemies. As he stared at a map on the wall he traced a finger in a straight line to the other side of the map.

San Francisco, sure, why not?

It was a strange feeling as they drove out of the parking lot. “Take a left here” Fisk ordered and confused Aaron obeyed. It wasn’t until Fisk motioned him to stop he understood.

The hotel had a poster outside, and when he saw the spare African landscape he felt it too.

⁂

Cindy Moon stared at her door. It had been webbed shut by something and she shook her head in despair. Since high school had finished her life had gone down tremendously. Once one of the top queen bees, she commanded respect. She was not only very beautiful and popular but highly intelligent and creative as well. A few words in Flash’s ear had made her rival's life hell but he still came out on top, well, right until the end of their last term.

Staring at her door she wanted to cry. Once out of school things began to fall apart. No one cared if she was talented or beautiful when it came to the rent. No one cared about that when she couldn't get a scholarship and couldn't afford college. No one cared that working in a crappy diner meant living in the crappiest place she could find. The only person who cared that she was attractive was the landlord and he was a creep. He made a comment about how she could pay her rent and grabbed her ass.

As she tried to pull on the webbing surrounding the door she wanted to scream. Nothing had gone right since high school, and she hated this town more and more. She’d thought about visiting Flash, but after the accident in the diner, she put that idea away. She’d been walking down a corridor when she heard him screaming at MJ. She quickly turned and walked away. Her life was crappy enough without an abusive boyfriend to make it worse.

It just seemed to get worse.

She'd been snapping a selfie with Spider-Man when a drone sprayed the crowd with pepper spray. The EMTs made her late for work. Nobody cared about the victims of superheroes fighting. She was late and she was fired.

Then as Venom fought some sand-covered asshole she'd been washed down the street. That was another lost job.

The final insult came as she walked home one night. Tired and depressed from a shift at the diner, the cops swarmed the building she was walking past. She had been forced to hide when Venom and Spider-Man fought. She narrowly escaped when that Agent Webb asshole came flying over the top of a roof down on where she was hiding. The fright made her so sick, once more she'd missed work and was almost fired. It wasn't her fault she'd gotten sick, it was those costumed assholes.

The only good thing right now was the ticket she held in her hand. Scratching off a lotto ticket she’d won two hundred grand and had run home to pack and move out of this crap hole. Only she found some asshole had used fake spider webs over her front door.

“Hey, you gotta pay for that,” the landlord shouted as he saw the mess, and as he turned Cindy gave him the finger.

Pay my ass, she thought.

There was nothing inside, nothing she cared about, even her high school diploma was junk. No one cared unless you had the right piece of paper and she didn't, so screw it, she had money she had looks and brains. As she ran a hand over the webbing she pulled back in surprise. She’d snagged her finger on something and it was bleeding.

For a moment it looked like a black splinter was stuck under her skin but as she pressed the cut it seemed to vanish. She shrugged after finding no mark or blood anywhere. She must have imagined it, a combination of joy and anger at the stupid shit city, and the joy of finally being free of it.

She was considering moving. Fuck that creep and fuck his roach motel of a shitty.

She stopped, her eyes drawn to the poster. A feeling echoed within her and she smiled. Maybe a little holiday was just the thing. Africa was far enough away that she could forget how crappy her life was. Plus, she’d always had a thing for Miss Munroe, well, her and half the school.

⁂

All across the globe, similar scenes were playing out, a sudden call, an urge to visit a city. Possessions were sold, houses mortgaged, all to buy a ticket to San Francisco. Even in the elusive and reclusive country of Wakanda, a Prince and his King felt the call.

“Father, Do you feel it?” Prince T'Challa asked his father,

“I do my son, we must go and prepare for the trials.” The elderly man stood from his throne. No longer the fit and proud warrior, he knew that this would be his last. Even if he survived he was no longer physically fit enough to wear the mantle of Black Panther anymore. His son would be the next King, and his son would be the next Black Panther.

As T’Chaka stared into the throne room of his palace, he hoped that once more the Black Panther would be triumphant. Its power had been keeping Wakanda at peace for centuries now. If one of the other animal tribes gained their totem's blessing, there could be civil war. A war he doesn't know if Wakanda or worse, the world, would survive.

⁂

Hearing the call another son spoke to his father. One who couldn't hear him but it still brought him comfort.

“You know pops, I did it, I heard the call and I know where I'm going.” The young man undressed and showed his chest and arms covered in scars. They were his ritual. Singular dots on his dark brown skin. Each one a kill, each one a tribute to his prowess as a hunter.

“I’ll get revenge for you pops, those fuckers’ll never know what hit them.” He grabbed a black shirt from the clean pile next to him and pulled it on. Erik Stevens finally knew how to get revenge against the country that killed his father.