Chapter Text
If there was one thing that Spiderman loved, it was patrolling the streets of New York City.
Absolutely nothing compared to the rush of the wind flowing through his hair and gliding over his suit. He could see everything as he swung between the buildings, the people below him and cars whizzing by becoming miniscule specs of existence. Sometimes, if he concentrated enough on his surroundings, he could close his eyes and allow his senses to be amplified. It was a thrilling experience.
Currently twenty years of age, Peter was working on finishing up his third year at ESU. He had gotten some upgrades to his suit, which he had been toying with as his studies progressed. He had come up with different combinations of webs for the spider silk, as well as improving the overall design of the costume. What hadn’t changed is that he was still working alone.
Peter was in close relations with his Aunt May, and he wasn’t a complete loner in class. He did have a few acquaintances, but none that he could really call friends. As far as relationships went, Peter was bone dry in that department. The closest relation he had with anyone in his life was Eddie.
Yes, Eddie Brock. Peter’s most infamous foe. Eddie and Peter had been at each other’s throat since the symbiote crawled into New York and bonded with the blonde man. As it turned out, Eddie didn’t hate Peter anymore, and apparently, neither did the symbiote. Of course, Peter was following the “forgive, don’t forget” policy, so the blonde was being given the benefit of the doubt, but Peter certainly didn’t pretend nothing had happened between them. Still, the two had managed to put their . . . differences and disagreements aside to call a truce. Two years later and he could consider calling Eddie a friend. They certainly acted like friends, though it was strange to call them such.
Peter had long since moved out of Aunt May’s house. The memories there threatened to suffocate him at times, and keeping his secret from May was too hard with her breathing down his neck. The guilt was threatening to eat him alive. So instead of wallowing in it, the young hero conjured up the money to buy a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. It was slightly quieter there, so the noise level wasn’t too bad.
The apartment itself was a bit dumpy in other words and relatively small. It had two bedrooms (an emergency in case something happened at May’s house), a small kitchen, two bathrooms, and a living room that was practically inside the kitchen. Peter didn’t mind, though. He liked having his own space without having to worry about anything other than the rent. He was still working for Jameson, and since the apartment wasn’t too pricey he, he was able to afford it.
On certain nights, patrols were more tedious than anything else. And in some cases . . . they were filled with blind panic and terror. As Peter swung through the streets of Queens, he felt that sense of terror grip his chest and threaten to take control.
He’d been lounging on a rooftop when the police radio he’d hijacked long ago suddenly went haywire. The confused hero had sat up and studied it, wondering what type of emergency he would be dealing with so late at night. Then again, crime knew no boundaries on the streets of NYC. Whether it was midnight, four in the morning, or dusk, there was bound to be something illegal taking place. At least, that was what Peter had uncovered in his time being Spiderman.
Tracking the signal of the police radio, Peter was able to detect that a massive police unit was heading to Juniper Laboratories, one of the smaller biotechnology institutions in NYC. Slipping on his mask and replacing his web-shooters, Peter allowed his Spiderman persona to take over. Instantly, he was on his way to the scene.
He continued to listen to the police radio as he raced to get to Juniper Labs. The more he listened, the more afraid he became. Was there talk of . . . possible explosives? Spiderman had only dealt with a few threats of explosives in New York, all of which were diminished rather quickly thanks to his and the police units’ help.
Forcing down his panic, the hero arrived at Juniper labs. He clung to the wall of the glass building, slowly crawling down the sides to find an inconspicuous location to enter. The strange thing was, he couldn’t hear any alarms blaring or see any police cars. Shaking his head at the odd occurrence, Spiderman attached two webs to the roof of the building and swung backwards, keeping his legs out in front of him. He hit the window at full force, shattering the glass. Sliding along the floor, he crouched into a defensive stance amid the fragments littering his feet.
The first thing he noted was that not a single alarm had been set off upon his entry. Juniper Labs may have been one of the smaller biotech labs, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t heavily protected. The research there was valued just the same as any other biotech industry. If there were no alarms and no police units, what the heck was going on?
Perturbed, the hero began cautiously observing his surroundings. He had landed in an abandoned lab, which appeared to be in some sort of disarray. As scaled the room, he noticed that only the equipment remained intact. There was no sign of research taking place.
It was quite possible that he had landed in an unused part of the facility, or that all the items had been cleaned up and the research stored away. But something wasn’t adding up, and it only increased the coils of anxiety burying themselves in Spiderman’s stomach.
The police radio attached to his belt had gone silent. Every hair on his body standing at alert, the red and blue clad male waited on edge.
And waited.
And waited.
Deciding that nothing was going to immediately jump out at him, he decided to explore the rest of the building. His spider-sense had yet to inform him that danger was nearby, so he allowed himself to leave the lab and venture to the left of the hallway before him. It seemed to stretch on for miles.
The search for something out-of-the-ordinary continued for near to an hour. The building wasn’t large, but it wasn’t incredibly small either. Finally, the hero managed to locate a security room. Expecting it to be locked, Spiderman prepared to ram the door in. But to his surprise, it creaked open before he could.
Tense, he entered the room and scanned the scene before him. It was completely deserted. Frowning beneath his mask, he walked to one of the monitors and decided to take a look at the footage from the last hour. Maybe he could find something that would explain why a crime was falsely reported.
Searching through the latest footage, Spiderman noted many individuals on the night-shift working diligently in their labs. A few guards patrolled the hallways here and there, checking up on the scientists once in a while. Fast-forwarding, something caught his eye. At 10:56 exactly, a blinding flash filled the monitors, disrupting the view of the cameras. Gritting his teeth, he watched as unidentified individuals wearing high-tech suits came pouring in from every entrance; windows, doors, stairwells. The strangely-clothed creatures—he didn’t want to be too hopeful that they were human—were seemingly everywhere.
They knocked out the guards and had the labs cleared in seconds flat. The bodies were dragged somewhere off-camera, just as the screen went black and fuzzy. “Hey, what gives?” The hero attempted to bring the cameras back online, but to no avail. Everything suddenly went black, the sound of the power shutting off hit his sensitive ears.
The only sound in the room was Spiderman’s laboured breathing. He waited a few moments, planning his next move, before finally moving towards the door.
It was too quiet.
With the electricity off, the steady hum in the building vanished. Red emergency lights flickered on, though they provided little illumination other than the space directly underneath them. Creeping out of the room, Spiderman stayed on high alert. Whoever was in the building had wanted him to come there. They must have. It was the only explanation that made sense.
But . . . how?
They must have hacked my radio, he thought with a grimace. He didn’t think it was that easy to do, but considering what he saw on the monitors, he was having second thoughts.
Suddenly, the emergency lights flickered. The back of Spiderman’s neck prickled, his spider-sense going crazy. Someone, more than likely multiple people, was watching him. Unable to pinpoint where the feeling originated from, he let his guard drop for a fraction of a second.
It was the wrong move.
Something swept him off his feet so quickly that he was unable to react properly. He groaned in pain when his back collided with the cold linoleum floor beneath him. With lightning speed, the hero jumped backwards and clung to the nearest wall, facing forward. The emergency lights flickered again, allowing him to see his attacker. Well, attackers.
There had to be a dozen of them. Maybe more. Okay, definitely more. They were surrounding every possible exit. From what he could see, they were all dressed in the same strange suit. It looked to be silver, made of some type of metal, with different compartments on it. A symbol was plastered to the arms and chest, proudly displayed. It was unfamiliar; a hexagon with a small atom structured in the middle.
Spiderman was given no further time to react as multiple weapons were suddenly trained on him. They appeared to be guns, but they weren’t anything familiar to him. Who were these people and where had they gotten their futuristic materials from?
“Sorry, I’m not signing autographs today. Better luck next time.”
The quip that escaped the lips of the hero was mostly out of fear, but he tried his best to make sure his voice didn’t crack. The group of strange individuals didn’t respond to his humour well at all. A chorus of clicking noises meant that all the guns facing him were trigger-free and ready to shoot. Whatever it was that they did.
Trying to formulate a plan in his head, Spiderman attempted to buy time. “Who are you guys?” He didn’t expect an answer, of course. Surprisingly though, he received one.
“Alpha has ordered the capture of the spider,” one of the beings in the front spoke. “We must deliver.” The voice was robotic, disguised no doubt by a device in the suit. It sounded feminine, though.
“Who is Alpha?” Spiderman questioned in confusion. Was it a new villain? An angry mob boss? Questions circled the hero’s mind.
Unfortunately, that proved the perfect distraction. The group to his left shot their weapons, releasing not bullets but a strange gas into the air. Holding his breath, he sprang into action. Jumping off the wall, Spiderman swung through the air, attaching his webs to the ceiling. More gunshots echoed, and this time actual bullets were being fired at the hero. Coughing beneath his mask, he struggled to keep his head clear. He had tried to hold his breath, but whatever was in the first set of guns was beginning to affect him. It was as if the substance was seeping into the holes in the fabric of his suit.
Something attached itself to his back. Gasping, a painful electric jolt was given to his shoulder. A cry left his mouth as he fell, his back once again cracking painfully on the floor. With a groan, he rolled over and noticed multiple pairs of boots rushing towards him. He quickly shot his webs to make a barrier between himself and the group of mercenaries.
“I told you, no autographs today!” Struggling to his feet, the injured hero staggered down the hall.
The device had yet to detach itself from his shoulder, and pulling at it seemed futile. It wouldn’t budge, and he couldn’t get a good enough angle to try harder. Gritting his teeth, he leaned against a wall and clutched his injured shoulder. The entire left side of his body had been fried, and it stung as if he’d been shot with a bolt of lightning. Gunshots sounded throughout the hall, meaning his web barricade was probably toast. With that thought in mind, he was on the move again.
After what seemed like miles of wall crawling and web swinging, Spiderman finally made it to an exit. He was nearly at the home stretch when his muscles suddenly gave out. He fell to the floor with a pained grunt. Pain coursed through his body, and it was then that he realised that the thing in his shoulder was delivering another wave of painful shocks. A strangled cry left his lips. Why couldn’t he move? It couldn’t have just been the device, it had to be whatever was released in the air.
Heaving, the young hero rolled onto his stomach and tried to drag himself towards the door. Heavy pairs of boots thumped, and his spider-sense barely had enough time to warn him as more devices were shot at his back. Each one stung more than the last and delivered an unwelcome shock as it suctioned itself onto his skin.
What was wrong with him? He was getting his ass handed to him! Struggling to his feet, he attempted to ignore the intense pain in his body. It felt like every limb was on fire and shattering within him, all at the same time
Shooting his webs, he managed to pull a few guns away from the first few mercenaries and web them to the ceiling. But more kept pouring down the hallway. How many were there? Spiderman’s vision blurred, and he was beginning to see double. Pressing his side against the wall, he blinked rapidly to try and gain some clarity as the mercenaries moved closer.
“Alpha will have their delivery,” a robotic voice spoke.
“Like hell, they will,” Spiderman spat, quite literally, at their feet.
“That is no way to speak to your superiors.”
“My what? Excuse me!” He struggled to stand straight once more, getting into a weak defensive stance. “I will not allow you to talk to me as if you’re royalty or something. And quit kicking me around! I’m fragile! Doesn’t your precious Alpha want me alive or something?”
“Stop wasting time and surrender to defeat.” They were closing in on him, and fast. The nearest exit had never looked so far away. As the devices on his back delivered another round of painful jolts, Spiderman did something he never thought he would do.
He dialled Eddie.
The hero’s suit wasn’t extremely advanced, but the upgrades he made included an emergency call system. All he had to do was utter a few words and his list of emergency contacts could be contacted.
With that in mind, the hero muttered, “Activate emergency call: Eddie Brock.”
A buzz went off, telling him that Eddie was being contacted. He didn’t know why he had called the blonde, but some part of him hoped that Eddie and his symbiote would be willing to come to his rescue. It would be the ultimate test of their friendship for sure.
If not . . . Alpha would be getting their delivery, sooner rather than later.
* * *
Eddie Brock was an incredibly patient man. Or at least, he considered himself to be so when his Other wasn’t at the front of his mind. So when he received a call from none other than Peter Parker at midnight, he willed himself to be calm and rational.
It had taken a lot of reflecting to realise that the symbiote didn’t hate Peter anymore. In fact, the Other expressed that it quite liked its new host. Eddie realised that he technically didn’t hate Peter, either. Working for the Daily Globe certainly wasn’t bad, considering he was compensated more generously and he didn’t have much competition there. His work was valued, making him feel bad for Peter, who was always berated for his work.
So, on a particularly cold night, Eddie and his symbiote had cornered the young spider in an alleyway. Blocking his means of escape, they had attempted to reason with him. It had taken an incredibly long time, and Eddie still wasn’t sure that Peter completely trusted him yet. But he was confident that he could call Peter a friend. One day . . . Eddie almost hoped that he could call him more than that.
It wasn’t his fault that the young man was extremely attractive. He ran around the city in red and blue tights that left little to the imagination. Every curve of his body was hugged in just the right way and publicly displayed. Peter seemed oblivious to Eddie’s conflicting emotions, which was definitely a good thing. His Other seemed to want to court him, attempting to understand what it referred to as, “human mating rituals.” But he couldn’t make any advances towards Peter without fearing that he would scare him away.
Eddie was snapped back into reality by the urgent ringing of his phone. The only reason Peter would be contacting him at this hour would be if there was an emergency. Sliding the answer button on his cell, Eddie took a deep breath before speaking into the mic.
“This better be good, Parker,” he said in what he hoped wasn’t a threatening tone.
Instead of receiving an immediate verbal response as he’d expected, there were only the sounds of shuffling and what seemed like . . . gunshots?
“Pete?” Eddie’s tone changed instantly to one of concern. “What’s going on?”
“Eddie,” Peter’s breathless voice finally croaked. “Please help me—”
“Where are you? What’s going on?” He knew this wasn’t a prank. Peter wasn’t like that at all. His Other stirred in agreement. Something was wrong.
“I-I . . . T-They tricked me. Trapped me.” More gunshots echoed afterwards, including a hiss of pain from the hero.
“Who trapped you? Where?” Eddie climbed out of bed, pacing in his master bedroom with the phone clutched tightly to his ear.
“M-Mercenaries at Juniper Labs. They work for someone called Alpha. I think it’s a company of some sorts.” The hero had managed to begin swinging away again due to the devices on his back becoming dormant for the time being. “They must have hacked my radio and lured me here with a fake emergency.”
“Well, what do they want?” Eddie demanded as if Peter knew.
“They said they have to ‘deliver’ me to Alpha.” Landing upside-down on the ceiling, he could see enough of the hallway to know if they were coming. If only he would stop seeing triple, and it wasn’t so dark.
“Alive, or . . .”
“I thought alive, but I’m beginning to second guess myself . . .” he trailed off.
“Can you get to a safe place?” Eddie asked stupidly.
“. . .”
“Sorry, dumb question. Just hang tight . . . no pun intended, and we’ll be there. What building is it?” Eddie could feel the inky tendrils belonging to his Other begin to roll over his partially-clothed body.
“It’s all one building, I don’t know which wing I’m in. There should be a shattered window, that’s the entrance I came from.” Gunshots sounded, and Peter let out a strangled cry. “Shit,” he hissed, a loud thump sounding.
“Pete? Peter?” Eddie asked worriedly, the symbiote covering everything but his face.
“They’re coming,” he whispered. “They shot me with these . . . these things that keep shocking me, and some weird gas. I-I can’t move,” he whimpered.
Eddie’s heart constricted in his chest at the amount of fear in Peter’s voice. “It’s going to be alright, we’ll be right there. Don’t give up, okay?” he attempted to soothe the hero.
“Okay,” Peter whispered, and then the line went dead.
“Shit,” Eddie cursed, allowing the symbiote to completely take over. He swung out of his apartment window, the only thought in his mind being one of murder and revenge.
* * *
They had begun chanting, and Peter was starting to get desperate.
In a haze, he had torn off his mask, trying to take in the sweet oxygen his body felt deprived of. At the moment, he wasn’t concerned about his identity. He couldn’t breathe. His chest was constricted, every muscle in his body taut. It was hard to move, and his lungs felt like they were collapsing in his chest. Everything hurt. All he felt was pain.
“Y-You guys are acting like a cult, now,” Peter stuttered, his head smacking against the wall he was slumped in front of.
The mercenaries only pressed closer, until they had him completely surrounded. Guns were trained above him, so if he tried to swing away he could end up getting shot multiple times. Perhaps under normal circumstances, he would manage to get away with only a few wounds, but he was feeling extremely weak and tired. His advanced healing had yet to kick in, and his body was sleep-deprived.
A nap sounded amazing.
He could feel his eyes beginning to close. Just one little nap wouldn’t hurt . . .
A loud crash jolted him from his attempted slumber. From lidded eyes, Peter watched as a blurry mass began knocking the mercenaries left and right. Preoccupied with containing it, it seemed as if they’d forgotten about him. Blinking rapidly, he forced the grogginess away and tried to take in the scene as best he could. His vision was doubled instead of tripled, so it was somewhat of an improvement.
Peter’s eyes lit up when he finally was able to clearly depict his saviour. Eddie stood tall in the dimly light hallway, bathed in the red emergency lights and covered in the symbiote. Peter didn’t think he’d ever been happier to see Venom in all his life.
Deciding he’d use the opportunity as a distraction, Peter staggered to his feet. His suit was torn in the back where the metal devices were still implanted in his skin, no doubt waiting to fry his flesh again, but otherwise, it was still functional. Tucking his mask into his waist, the hero climbed up the wall and used it as leverage to propel himself forward, he swung down the right hallway, safely away from the scene.
The problem was, he wasn’t strong enough to sustain web-swinging for a long period of time. So he gave up swinging in an effort to conserve his strength and crawled quickly along the ceiling instead. When he saw the emergency exit sign, he felt like weeping for joy. Landing painfully on the ground, Peter limped through the doorway and collapsed in the stairwell.
He had to get up, but the ground was too comfortable. Letting out a sigh, he slowly closed his eyes as his body began to relax. He didn’t even notice a blurry figure coming to stand over him as he finally succumbed to unconsciousness.