Spider-Man. The House Of Venom

Bruce Banner was not having a good time. He stopped having a good time right about Christmas of last year. A small accident sent some of his blood into an open bottle of iced tea. It got worse when a unit of special forces tracked him down and the ‘other guy’ trashed his workplace and the unit.

It got even worse when, after he built a low-tech gamma detector he found it wasn’t just his blood. Any tissue with a high enough concentration of his DNA was radioactive.

If Bruce had sex with anyone, his semen was radioactive enough to give them cancer. Not only that, but he had to stop all self-care. He was lonely, frustrated and starting to get very very angry at the whole situation.

⁂

Bruce had started to walk. Getting across the country was easy. He was fit, even as Bruce, as he didn’t trust air travel or anything where someone with a low IQ and a firearm could strike. So, he walked everywhere.

Sneaking into the US was easy. From there, he moved through Canada and further north until he hit the Arctic Circle. He had thought that maybe the cold would kill him. The weather tried, but it failed miserably.

Bruce could feel the cold. The wet miserable snow as it landed on his body but, with enough blood flow, it melted. He was a walking living nuclear reactor. The formula transformed the radiation of his surroundings into heat. When he got angry, that energy reversed and became mass. The ‘other guy’

The media gave him another name, but Bruce refused to acknowledge it. It gave him a name and a name gave him legitimacy. To Bruce, he was a parasite, a thing to get rid of, if he embraced that anger and rage, he knew it would consume him.

Sitting, calm, wet, and miserable. Bruce closed his eyes. The hammer of the Smith and Wesson clicked back and he stuck it in his mouth. He was tired. Tired of fighting himself, tired of running, tired of it all.

BANG!

⁂

Bruce woke up with a splitting headache. Around him were broken and smashed trees, trampled grass, and a huge crater. It had failed, but it got even worse.

He groaned as he sat up, the tattered remains of his clothing sliding off.

He wanted to scream and swear but instead, he sat crossed-legged and began to calm himself.

Not only was he not dead, but the ‘other guy’ didn’t care about picking up his supplies. His cash, his tent and sleeping bag, his food, and his fake IDs were all in the frozen waste. He was half naked, sore, and broke.

He couldn’t even afford to lie there and lament. He was risking the ‘other guy’ coming back.

The first time he got low he experimented to see if he could rid himself of the ‘other guy.’

He couldn’t suffocate himself, the ‘other guy’ had larger lungs.

He tried drowning, but the ‘other guy’ could swim.

He finally tried starving himself.

He shackled himself down and lay in an abandoned farmhouse until he passed out. The ’other guy’ had broken him free and eaten whatever he could find. His stomach churned at the thought as he had found a bloody dog collar, and really hoped he hadn’t gone that far.

No. He needed help to do this. He needed Betty and the original research material in the formula.

He needed to get to New York.

⁂

Elizabeth ‘Betty’ Ross was also having a hard time.

When the accident happened and he destroyed their lab, she had expected her father to do a lot of things.

She had expected him to shout at her for several days. She had expected him to fire her. She had expected him to confiscate all her research. She had expected him to never talk to her again.

The research was lost, and the lab, costing millions of dollars was trashed. They had failed and released a monster.

She hadn't expected him to show up with bourbon, cigars and a smile. She hadn't expected him to actually act like a human being. He had even said sorry for your loss, and then increase the budget of her department by two hundred per cent.

She did know what was coming next. The whole research department was classified under military intelligence. He brought in new staff, which she didn’t mind as it helped with the workload. There were two problems.

The first was an army colonel. Emil Blonsky. He had been sent after Bruce in Mexico where he was working in a drinks bottling plant. After seeing the Hulk in action, he volunteered for the project. He was charming enough, just as his squad mates called him, ‘a bit of a wanker.’

The second was worse. Obviously ex-military, the gamma expert drafted in was a narcissistic muscle head. He was brilliant, had multiple doctorates and loved himself more than anyone else. Doctor Leonard Skivorski Jr, or as he insisted Doc Samson. Of everything he loved about himself, his hair was his pride and joy.

The pair in small doses was fine. Emil would joke and laugh and seem to be oblivious to the danger he was putting himself in. Samson would psychoanalyse everyone. Between them, they caused two interns to quit and a third tried to punch Emil. Together they were a nightmare.

As hard as he tried Samson found no edge to Emil. He would shrug off every insult or comment. Return some of his own and leave Samson speechless. Blonsky might have been a soldier, but he was cunning and smart.

Thankfully for Betty, they only saw each other once a week. When Emil was in for blood tests and formula analysis.

She missed Bruce. She missed the pair of them working quietly in the lab. She missed the six-hour wait for the analyser to bring back its results. She missed the toe-curling sex they had while they waited. She missed her old life.

Until it landed on her doorway. Stinking, rake thin and half dead.

Then, she realised how much trouble Bruce Banner actually was.

⁂

She had guided him into the shower, turned the water on and let the tub turn brown. Her stank and as she stripped out of her soiled clothes, she cursed his name.

Bruce was mangey. A thick beard covered his face and the il fitting clothes were in a pile on the edge of the bath. He had lain there, letting the warm water just relax him as he knew he had made a mistake.

Betty hadn't brought him in because of love. She had pitied him. He would take his shower, maybe trim the beard a bit, and then leave. Well, he could see if she would feed him.

As he towelled himself off, Betty could see just how thin he was. “I made leftover Chinese. The broth should settle your stomach before you eat something solid.”

Bruce nodded, “Uh, thanks.” He sat down and sipped the warm salty liquid. “So, how're things?”

Betty resisted the urge to smack him with a pillow. But that didn't curb her temper. “How're things? That's what you ask Bruce. It's been five years.”

He looked at her with those beautiful brown eyes. He looked guiltily at her, “You know why.”

Snorting in frustration, “Fine. We play it that way. Well, let's see. Lonely, hurt, confused, angry, oh and did I mention lonely? I know why you left but nothing. No note, no letter to say where you were?”

Bruce sipped the broth, “I tried. I sent a letter and two days later I saw the army at my PO box.”

Betty clutched the pillow to her chest, “shit. Dad?”

Bruce nodded. The broth was warm and satisfying, “Betty, I know it's been a while, but I never wanted to hurt you. I still.”

She glared at him, “No, dont you dare. Dont you think I dont feel the same, but we can’t. Hell, my dad will probably.”

The pair were interrupted by a knock at the door. “Hide,” Betty whispered, “bedroom, now.”

Bruce nodded and headed into a closet.

Looking through the peephole Betty banged her head on the door, “Samson, not a good time,”

“Yeah, I know. Look. I’m not an idiot, you have two hours. Get him the hell out of your house.”

Of all the people she thought would help cover for Bruce, Samson wasn’t one of them. Through the peephole she watched him leave. He dropped a bunch of flowers on the porch before dramatically sighing and storming off.

Smartass.

It was no shock to anyone that Samson would be after Betty, so it was a perfect ruse.

Turning back, she found Bruce pushing himself back into her linen closet. “We need to leave, right now.”

⁂

“I’m sorry,” he said, “all I need is my research and I’ll be gone.”

The pair were driving in Betty’s car into New York. She had an apartment there for when she didn’t feel like the hour's drive back to her place from the facility.

“Your research is in a facility. I can’t get it without my dad knowing.”

Bruce looked concerned. “What? Ross didn’t shut the project down?”

Betty laughed, “Shut it down? You proved it worked he threw money at us and well, we still don’t have a working formula.”

Bruce cradled his hands on his head, “You’re kidding me? Of course, you don't. I know why it doesn’t work.”

“Oh, so Bruce Banner figured it out on his own. Bruce, you’re full of shit.”

“It’s my blood. Well, my DNA. I uh, had an accident okay,” he admitted. “The bottling plant. I tested everything, anything with DNA in it is radioactive.”

Betty clenched her jaw. “You have a genetic mutation that allows you to bond the formula and absorb the radiation.”

“That's why I need my research. If I can find the mutation I can cure myself.”

⁂

Bruce had been living in Betty’s hideaway for two weeks. He was fed and dressed properly but he kept the thick beard and messy hair. A disguise wasn’t entirely necessary but they helped.

He was introduced to a small and weasely-looking man, who enthusiastically shook his hand.

“Doctor Banner, I am honoured. I am honoured,” he said with a large grin on his face, “Doctor Samuel Sterns. Honoured.”

Bruce looked over at Betty who smirked and shrugged, “He’s a fan.”

“Right, “ Bruce said. “Betty said you can help?”

“Help?” Samuel showed them from his front room into the back of his own apartment. The space had been converted, to Bruce’s surprise, into an almost exact replica of his original lab. “I can do so much more.”

⁂

Bruce was frustrated. It had been a month, and they were no closer to a cure than before. He had volunteered both blood and semen samples. Maybe an incomplete gamete would have better results but it didn't matter. Any formula they created released the gamma energy in his cells explosively.

“What if we recreate the original Banner formula, and then test it on different blood types? Maybe the gene isn’t only within your cells. Maybe it's common enough in the general population,” Sterns had suggested, and with reluctance, Bruce agreed.

⁂

Samuel was having a great day. He had finally isolated the gamma formula Bruce Banner had created over ten years ago. As the test tubes slid from the agitator he smiled and clapped Bruce on the back. “Now we can start the real work.” His eyes never left the vials of bright green liquid.

Bruce heard the door to the apartment click open and heavy boots stomp into the reception. “Expecting someone?”

Samuel laughed. “Oh, just some new friends, and some old ones.”

“Let go of me,” Bruce heard Betty shout, and he stood from his tool as she was pushed into the room.

“Nice to see you again Bruce,” drawled Ross as he motioned to him to step back,

“Yeah, nice one Brucey.” Bruce recognised the man behind Ross, tapping his finger on a strange blue glowing rifle. “Now, let all be calm yeah. I don't fancy seeing if this thing works.” It was the soldier from the bottling plant.

“What the hell?” Bruce asked. He could feel his pulse rise, and seeing Ross again was pushing him to the limits of his control.

“Sterns was always one of mine Bruce. Do you think anyone gets the formula without my knowing? You think you stayed in New York for a month without my approval?” Ross sneered at him, “Now sit down, shut up and listen.”

Bruce had had it. He blinked, feeling the ‘other guy’ pushing. They had lied to him, they had hurt Betty. All he saw was the smug grin.

A grin he wanted to smash.

“Oh fuck,” he barely heard as his clothes ripped. The room shrank and the toy soldiers scrambled to fire their toy guns at him.

He heard the puny man shout “NO!” as the blue cloud shot at him, followed by annoying insect bites.

The cloud hit Hulk, peeling a layer of skin off. Enough that the bullets from Ross sent sprays of blood everywhere. As Hulk roared Blonksy misfired, hitting the gamma emitter.

There was a bright flash, and the four dropped writhing in agony.

The blood soaked in, and the sound of cracking bones and growling rage erupted.

Three Hulks stood, while Sterns wobbled shakily to his feet, “Why, isn't this interesting? I think you should all see who is strongest yes? Call it a little experiment. Call it. Follow the Leader.”