Chapter Text
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
FLASHBACK!
— ...Hey, Venomshank, over here.
— Hello, B.Zuka. It’s a pleasure to see you again.
— The pleasure is mine, my lord. How have things been?
— Good... I suppose.
— Darkheart told me you have a son.
B.Zuka’s gaze drops, finding a small Sword hiding behind Venomshank’s legs, clutching his trousers tightly.
— Huh?... Well... the way I see it, Sword is more of a disciple.
Venom places a hand on the back of his neck and scratches it, looking somewhat uncomfortable.
— Sword, huh? So that’s his name...
B.Zuka smiles gently.
Venom looks away and notices another small boy clinging to B.Zuka’s trousers as well.
— I didn’t know you had one too.
His expression softens, and a small smile escapes him.
— Ah... yes. His name is Rocket. I brought him with me from a rather... questionable daycare.
— I see...
The two continued talking calmly, as if time held no weight.
But behind them, Sword and Rocket’s eyes met.
They stood there, silently watching each other.
Sword was the first to smile.
Rocket tensed up instantly.
It was the first time he had seen someone from outside that nursery... but there was something strange about him.
Different.
His presence was warm. Light.
How could someone carry so much happiness?
...Or was he just pretending?
Sword tugged gently at Venomshank’s trousers to get his attention.
"Hm? What is it, Sword?"
The little one stepped closer and whispered something in his ear.
Venomshank’s eyes widened in surprise.
Lately, Sword had struggled to interact with other Inphernans. Ever since the incident with Winforce, many looked at him as a lingering echo of that battle.
And yet...
he wanted to talk to him.
"Hey, Zuka... Sword wants to know if he can talk to Rocket."
Sword hid himself away again, looking even more nervous than before.
"
Sure. Why not?"
B.Zuka looked down at Rocket.
"Would you like that, son?"
Rocket hesitated for a moment.
Then, he nodded.
Unaware that this would become the beginning of what it would be, years later.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PRESENT DAY “a few hours earlier”
— And what was so important about this call? I’m busy dealing with important matters alongside my son. This is no time for interruptions.
Venomshank steps into the meeting room, where the other deities were already waiting for him. His voice carried an unmistakable edge of irritation.
Ghostwalker lifts his gaze and speaks calmly.
— That’s exactly what this meeting is about. Sword.
Venomshank frowns.
— I don’t have time to sit here and listen to you point out my mistakes again. He’s my son and I deci—
— ENOUGH!
Winforce’s voice cuts through the air like a sharp blow.
— That boy carries our blood, Venom! And all you’ve done is spoil him!
Silence falls heavily over the room.
Venomshank clenches his fists, holding back more than just anger.
Ice Dagger steps forward, easing the tension slightly with his calmer tone.
— What Winforce is saying… isn’t entirely wrong.
Venom slowly turns toward him.
— Sword is two years older than me… and yet I carry more responsibilities than he does.
The words land heavily.
Not as an attack.
But as an uncomfortable truth.
For the first time, Venomshank doesn’t respond right away.
— I’m just letting him live.
Venomshank’s voice lowers, but each word weighs heavier than a scream.
— None of you know everything he had to go through.
His gaze hardens.
— Yes, he carries our blood... but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s also an Inphernal.
He clenches his fists.
— None of you were there when what happened with Winforce took place. None of you saw how I had to struggle to rebuild the bond with my own son.
His voice trembles slightly, loaded with restrained anger.
— But of course... none of that matters to you.
He lifts his gaze toward them all.
— The only thing you care about is maintaining that absurd image of perfection, even knowing that one day, all of them will rise against us.
The atmosphere grows heavy.
— And no, I haven’t spoiled him.
He takes a step forward.
— I’m just letting him learn at his own pace.
His gaze cuts across the room.
— And if that’s what you call spoiling... then I’d rather you stay out of matters that don’t concern you.
The tension in the room grows unbearable.
So thick that no one dares to speak.
For a moment, silence is all that exists.
Then, Darkheart rises to his feet, breaking the stillness.
— What our brother Venomshank is trying to say... makes sense.
His voice is firm, but calm.
— Our nephew has responsibilities, yes... but he’s still young. He carries our blood... though not entirely. Forcing him now would only make things worse. It’s better to let him move forward at his own pace.
Winforce grits his teeth.
His chair scrapes harshly against the floor as he stands abruptly.
— Are you serious?
His eyes burn with anger as he points at Venom.
— Banhammer carries our blood too, and yet he bears more responsibilities than your damned son!
The air freezes.
Venomshank remains still.
For a few seconds...
far too still.
Then, slowly, he raises a hand to his mask and tears it off.
His face, almost always hidden, now shows something far worse than anger.
Fury.
— Damned...?
His voice comes out low. Trembling.
But dangerous.
He takes a step forward.
— Damned will be your son.
His gaze cuts through Winforce like a blade.
— I decide what to do with Sword.
Another step.
— And he will decide what the hell he wants for his life.
His breathing is heavy.
— So stop talking about him as if he were just another tool for your wars.
Ghostwalker abruptly rises from his chair before the argument can escalate into something worse.
— ENOUGH!
His voice echoes throughout the entire room.
Silence falls again in an instant.
His gaze moves across everyone with annoyance.
— You all act like newspawns with those attitudes... when will the day come when we can have a meeting in peace?
He frowns and brings a hand to his face, exhausted.
For a few seconds, no one answers.
Not even Winforce.
Not even Venomshank.
Then, the sound of a phone breaks the silence.
Venomshank’s phone vibrates from within his clothes.
Venom looks at the screen for a moment.
His expression changes.
— I need to take this. I’ll be back in a moment.
His voice, which only minutes ago was filled with fury, now comes out tired. Softer.
Darkheart lets out a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood.
— Don’t use this as an excuse to run away.
Venom lets out a small exhale.
— Yeah... yeah.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Five minutes later.
The room is calm.
Too calm.
The door opens again.
Venomshank walks back in.
But something about him feels... different.
Ghostwalker lifts his gaze.
— Well, brother Venomshank... what was the reason for the interruption?
Venom’s voice takes a moment to come out.
As if the words weighed too much.
— His wings...
He lowers his gaze.
— They came out.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PRESENT DAY 3:21 AM
Venomshank finally arrives home.
Most of the lights are still on.
Calmly, he turns them off one by one as he walks down the hallway.
His presence is still heavy, dominant...
but his steps are strangely delicate.
Cautious.
Worried.
He quickly goes upstairs and throws the door open.
For a moment, his chest tightens.
But when he sees the scene in front of him...
he sighs.
There they were.
Sword and Rocket, asleep on top of each other, tangled in the sheets.
Both of them were breathing calmly.
They were okay.
And that was enough.
Venom’s gaze shifts to the floor.
Blood-stained sheets.
His expression changes.
He slowly steps closer, lifting the fabric in his hands.
Still wet.
— ...So it already happened.
His voice is barely a whisper.
He looks at Sword for a few seconds.
His wings.
They had come out.
And with that...
there was no turning back.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
10 minutes later
Venomshank carefully approaches Rocket and gently lifts him from between the sheets.
— Eh...?
Rocket barely opens his eyes, still half asleep.
But the moment he recognizes who is holding him, he startles and straightens up immediately.
— E-Ehm...! Hello, Mr. Venomshank... I guess I should be going now...
Venom gently shakes his head.
— Relax. Your father is downstairs. He came to pick you up.
Rocket lowers his gaze, a little embarrassed.
— T-Thank you very much...
With slow steps, still sleepy, he walks downstairs.
When he reaches the entrance, he finds B.Zuka waiting for him.
His expression is a mix of exhaustion, worry... and a bit of anger.
— ROCKET! By the Spawn, I was so worried! You left and didn’t come back, you didn’t even say anything!
Rocket lowers his head.
— Sorry...
His voice comes out small, almost asleep.
B.Zuka looks at him for a moment.
Then he sighs.
All the anger leaves him at once.
— It doesn’t matter anymore...
He kneels down and picks him up into his arms.
It only takes Rocket a few seconds to fall asleep again.
Without saying much else, B.Zuka carries him to the truck and leaves.
The door closes.
Silence fills the house once again.
Venomshank watches through the window for a few seconds.
Then he turns around.
And walks back upstairs.
His son was still waiting for him up there.