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Tony Stark looked over the documents he'd been sent... Apparently, back when he was in charge of SHIELD, he'd made arrangements to be contacted if certain events occurred but as he had been forced to wipe his mind and restore from a backup he had no recollection of that time period. So he called in someone who might have a better idea of what was going on?
A tapping came at his window, and he sighed, allowing Spider-Man to enter and wishing he'd just take the damned door for once.
"Thank you for coming so quickly," he said.
"Any time, Tony," he replied with uncharacteristic seriousness. "But I am in a bit of a hurry: I've been told by Daredevil, Cloak and Dagger, and the nice old lady who runs FEAST that a lot of homeless or runaway kids have just vanished off the streets in the last few weeks, and I got a follow up that a man who stole a whole bunch of symbiotes from Alchemex a while back was found... Only to be captured by someone else before the authorities could get him. Then just after you called I got a text from Wolverine saying that a shipment of Kick he was tracking just up and disappeared and to keep my eyes out. So, yeah. Been a busy couple of days"
Tony blinked. "...Wolverine can use a cellphone?
"Yeah, I'm, surprised too."
"Well, this might actually be related to at least one of those"
"Oh?"
"Do you recall something called the 'Venom Symbiote Virus?'" Tony asked.
Even with his mask on, it was easy to tell that Spider-Man's expression had turned grim. "Yeah, I remember. It was a Latverian bio-weapon based on Venom's DNA. Anyone who breathed it in or absorbed it through their pores would turn into a half-symbiote hybrid and then immediately go berserk. It got dropped on Manhattan by accident a few years ago, just after the Civil War but before we discovered the Skrulls had replaced all those people. Wasn't pretty."
"Well, I just got a message saying that a sample of it has been stolen from the CDC," Tony explained, "and so we have something of a problem."
I woke up groggy and cold. The last thing I could remember was a kind-sounding, well-dressed man with a British accent offering me a 'care package,' blankets, a lean change of clothes, a sandwich and a bag of chips, a bottle of water, and a bottle of OTC pain pills. I was suspicious at first but I'd heard stories of people doing things like this and... It'd been two days since I ate.
Then as soon as I accepted the package he jabbed me with a needle and tossed me in the back of his van. Figures.
My head cleared and, well, things went from bad to worse. I was in a clean, sterile, stainless steel-looking room, naked, strapped spread eagle to a gurney with some disturbingly torture-looking devices on mechanical arms hanging from the ceiling, all surrounding some kind of monitor. I could see saws, scalpels, needles... What vaguely looked like a branding iron.
The monitor clicked on, revealing a large red diamond dominating an otherwise black screen.
"Hello," came the same British-accented voice. "If you are hearing this it means you passed the physical and the genetic screening. Congratulations, you are one of the worthless street rats that have been selected to participate in my latest experiment." ...He was a lot campier now. "After a recent setback, I decided to dust off some old research. Back in the 90s, I got curious about a species of parasitic aliens with some interesting genetic traits and... well let's just say it was a bust, but now we know much more about them, such as their ability to grow stronger from conflict and/or eating each other."
"The frick are—"
"Please do not respond to this message," his voice continued, "as it is pre-recorded. Now, chances are good that you are not going to make it past the final stage of the experiment alive, so I'll be walking you through each step as it happens: Partially because you should know the reason why this happened should you die, and partly because I'm a sadistic son of a bitch."
"Oh just kill me now," I mumbled.
"To start with, the name of this experiment is Project Kodoku, and I know what you're thinking: Oh, a white man giving his project a Japanese name, what a weeb... Look, it's thematically appropriate... Which, if you're familar with east-asian folk magic sort of gives it away, but..." What the heck was he talking about? "I was going to use the name of the Chinese version, but, well, 'gu' sounds a bit too much like 'goo', and while I can appreciate a good pun I'd rather not open myself up to the jokes."
The Red Diamond on the screen was replaced by a serial number: K-011.
"Now," he continued, "you should be seeing a randomly assigned serial number. This number will now be branded directly onto your flesh."
The branding iron I noticed earlier went from cold to red hot in an instant and then slammed into my right forearm at bullet speed. Afterward, I could feel my throat bleeding from how much I screamed.
The Red Diamond returned and the man's voice continued. "Thus, should you survive to the end of the final round, I will be able to identify which base template you represent," he explained. "Next, some background: I recently came into possession of a man whose body contained samples of seven distinct parasitic aliens, Klyntar symbiotes to use their proper name.. Which was something of a surprise, truth be told, since as far as I can tell he's only bonded to six. Anyway, let's see if you recognize any of these names."
The Red diamond was replaced by a stacked list:
Agony
Riot
Phage
Lasher
Scream
Toxin
Mystery Symbiote.
I had no clue what any of that meant.
"Years ago, I combined symbiote DNA with that of mutants to try and make stronger mutants... The end results were somewhat disappointing. But science marches on, my skill has improved, we understand things better, and I recently got my hands on a virus sample that combines human and symbiote DNA with... honestly a lot of things so time for a second go around. This time, rather than making a singular chimerical mutant with five powers related by proximity, I have instead created a strain of this virus, improved significantly by my own genetic expertise, matching each symbiote to a single mutant who falls into a certain subcategory that possesses abilities complementary to the symbiote powerset and the goals of this experiment: Fangs, claws, enhanced senses, feral rages, and enhanced predatory instinct. Most of them can also regenerate, which is fun. Again, recognize any names?"
Again the Red Diamond was replaced by a list.
Wolverine
Wolverine(the Girl One)
Scout
Daken
Sabretooth
Wildchild
Thornn
Feral
Wolfsbane
Tier*
Native
Romulus
Remus
Wolf Cub
Maximus Lobo
*Half-Asgardian.
The Diamond returned: "One strain of the virus each pairing each symbiote to each mutant, for one hundred and five strains total. Each strain was assigned a serial number from K-001 to K-105 at random, which matches the strain to the test subject it will be injected with. Let's see what strain you're getting."
The diamond vanished again. Now the screen said 'K-011: ScoutXMystery Symbiote'
"Seconds from now, you will be injected with this strain of the modified virus and you will be rebuilt from the genetic level up: congratulations, you're about to be reborn, casting aside your status as a member of the pathetic baseline Homo s sapiens species in favor of becoming a newly created hybrid of Homo s superior and Klyntar symbiote that I am tentatively dubbing Homo superior klyntarius. Does that actually fit how hybrids are categorized taxonomically? Not really, but to do it right I'd need a taxonomic binomial for symbiotes and nobody's come up with one yet. Besides, you should be altered enough that the first sapiens no longer applies."
All I could think, before a mechanical arm jammed a needle into my sternum, was that this guy really liked to hear himself talk.
All I could think about afterward was that being rebuilt from the genetic level hurt a lot worse than being branded did but I didn't have the ability to scream.
"Next you will be subjected to immense physiological strain so that the stress will activate your new abilities. This concludes this recording."
The arms attached to blades and saws undulated threateningly as they reached for my exposed flesh.
After the torture session, the whole room was sprayed down by some kind of automated firehose system in order to clean up the resulting mess. It was so very cold.
I was then released from the gurney and essentially prodded down a shoot where I landed in a small cell. I very quickly tried to escape only to find that the walls were electrified. The weird thing is... I know I was being shocked but... It didn't hurt. Neither did the torture, after a little bit. I knew I should be hurting but, I wasn't hurting.
Still, even without pain being shocked hard enough to writhe uncontrollably was unpleasant, which, given that the cell was a metal closet, meant I had to stand perfectly still in the middle of it to avoid the shocks.
For I don't even know how long. Hours? Day's? Weeks? How long does it take to starve to death because the progression of hunger and thirst was the only frame of reference for the passage of time?
That and the building feeling that something was tearing me apart and putting me back together—strong cells kill weak cells, replace/repair damage, constant healing, toxin cleanse, genetic damage reverse, telomeric regeneration, make stronger, make better, more perfect—memories that weren't mine flooding in through my subconscious, and a dwelling on the concept of Misery.
Eventually, hidden vents appeared in two of the walls and some kind of gas flooded the cell and my thoughts started to get... Fuzzy. And violent... And...
...The cell opened just as everything went red.
Tony blasted the sealed door open and charged into the room, Spider-Man, and Wolverine following in behind him, he found an unnaturally pale man in black clothes, a cape made of strips of fabric most prominent, and a red diamond on his head sitting there eating popcorn while starring of a balcony.
From below that same balcony came sounds very much like two wild animals fighting.
"You're just in time," Mister Sinister declared between munches. "We're down to the last two candidates for project Kodoku."
This prompted quite a bit of swearing from Wolverine.
"Logan, explain," Tony asked.
"It means worm toxin," the mutant lectured. "It's the Japanese name for a curse where you put a bunch of poisonous bugs in a jar and lock them in so the only way to survive is to kill and eat each other. Eventually, only the strongest bug is left and it's grown deadlier for having taken in the poison of the others and then you can use it for all kinds of nasty magic."
Looking over the balcony, Tony saw two people seemingly bound to symbiotes tearing and scratching and biting each other in a giant arena full of human bones. A masculine but feral, almost sasquatch-like one in Toxin's colors with a set of three Wolverine-style claws erupting from their disturbingly elongated arms and a feminine one in red with white spirals over their form, four arms ending in scythe-like blades, and four more insectoid limbs on their back ending on the same, that each seemed to incorporate a blade similar to one of Logan's claws as well as a degree of carapace like armor at strategic points on their limbs and torso.
He was about to jump in, to try and break up the fight when the feminine one managed to impale the masculine one, and within seconds all of the biomass of the individual sloughed off and was absorbed into the feminine one, who then proceeded to undergo some kind of metamorphosis into an inky black chrysalis.
"I'm not sure where they got the adamantium from," Sinister observed. "That's not genetic... And the ones based on Logan over there and his daughters all seem disproportionately strong for some reason... But not the ones based on his son. And Nobody tell Rhaine, but the ones based on her son all died first. You'd think having Asgardian in the mix would have upped their odds but if anything it made them easier for the others to kill despite the boost in strength."
"You... You..." Spider-Man began mumbling in barely contained rage.
"I kidnapped a bunch of street kids, screened them for health and compatibility with viral modification, and once I had 105 healthy baseline humans who were suitably receptive I euthanized the spares and injected the remaining subjects with a modified version of the Venom virus that had been enhanced with the DNA of different symbiotes and different feral-gene mutants, tortured them, starved them for a week, then got them all hopped up on kick before releasing them into an arena to kill and eat each other."
"Why?!"
"Oh, Mister Itsy-Bity Spidey," the deranged geneticist replied, "it's not about why, it's about why not? Why not conduct an experiment that will give me valuable data on how symbiote empowerment by cannibalism works, generate an incredibly powerful mutant/symbiote hybrid, ensure the best possible combination of traits from the subjects being studied, and provide me with some much-needed entertainment?"
Spider-Man leaped for Sinister with as close to murderous intent as the hero could manage, only to be batted away with far more strength than Sinister typically had in this day and age.
As Sinister stood up from his seat, he shifted, purple slime pouring out of his pores and forming over him so that he appeared as a typical symbiote host, purple with green tiger ripes, dressed in his typical outfit with the colors changed to match.
"Poor Corwin Jones," Sinister mocked in a much deeper voice, "terminally ill and unable to control the symbiotes he was bonded to so they controlled him, overwhelming his mind with Madness. He's in a stasis tank back on Bar Sinister since for some reason he's got seven trends of symbiote matter but only six symbiotes bonded to him, but my impeccable mental defenses allowed me to dominate what dominated him." Sinister stepped forward. "Now then, why don't you leave me to—"
He was then tackled by a figure that leaped up and over the balcony and sank its fangs into his neck, consuming his body and enslaved symbiotes and like all other victims clattered to the ground as dry bones.
Then the figure turned to them. The feminine figure from earlier, but.. Bigger. Their hair was visible now, long and black as night. The color of their symbiote biomass had changed, black but with a reddish-purple sheen in the light, with swirls and tiger stripes of true crimson. Their eyes and what was visible in their throat glowed a fiery green. The four scythe-like four limbs turned back into proper hands, and the carapace was a little thicker and more expensive.
They sniffed the air, growled, and stalked forward on four, or rather six, limbs only to pause. They seemed to grow disoriented, mumbled "Hwuh?" and then collapsed.
So apparently I 'won' Project Kodoku, by which I mean I killed and ate the other hundred and four test subjects while blitzed out on a drug that causes homicidal rage and genuine insanity. I should probably feel bad about that but I honestly just... Don't remember any of it.
I'd also seemingly killed the man who put me through all that and devoured the orignal sources for all the symbiotes my fellow test subjects and I, though I was informed that there were good odds that he was either a decoy clone or that he had a backup clone ready to go.
I had more instincts and more memories to process that weren't my own but... Honestly, all I could feel was... Like...
Survivor/Predator/Alpha/Winner/Apex/Hive-Queen
...Great.
Mr. Stark had tried a 'cure' for the virus that had altered me while I was passed out, but it turns out the cure doesn't work on the modified strain, so I was a mutant-alien thing for life but... Okay, that was a problem given the regularly scheduled genocides and rampant anti-mutant and, to a lesser extent, anti-alien bigotry but... It's fucked up, but...
I liked the new me.
After the three heroes made sure I wasn't going to flip out again and got me back into the city proper from wherever the hell that lab had been... Well, there had been questions. What was my name? How old was I? Did I have anywhere to go? What did I want to do going forward?
Right now there was no Xavier school and no Krakoa, so neither of those were options. And Anything else would take a bit of time. I'd processed enough instinct and memory by then to hide my extra pair of arms and disguise my symbiote side, so Mr. Stark hooked me up with a decent room at a decent hotel for the night while he talked with the other Avengers and tried to see as to my options and as I admired my new body in the mirror, I thought over those questions.
How old was I? Old enough to know that I didn't want to be in the system, young enough that the system's my best-case scenario if the wrong authorities get their hands on me. Name? Didn't have one. The old me died years ago and I could never settle on a proper name for my new self... Now though... I wanted to own what had happened to me this week, the good and the bad... I was reborn through Project Kodoku, and the foreign memories told me what that meant. I was the Kodoku, the worm toxin, the curse poison... So that would be my new name.
Did I have anywhere to go... Not since my birth givers tried to send me to that camp in Colorado.
What did I want to do going forward?
I liked my new body. This was the kind of body I'd dreamed of for years, tall, lean, muscular... Feminine. My ideal self. My true self. The extra pair of arms were a bit much, but they looked cool and I could hide them when they were inconvenient.
This hadn't happened when I was first exposed to the virus. This happened when I was consuming the other subjects, as I was becoming something... More than what I'd been made into.
Evolution/Metamorphosis/Rebirth/Reconstruction/Reincarnation
I suited up, back in full symbiote mode, and wrote an apology note on the hotel's provided stationary before sneaking out a window... I don't think the Avengers would much like me going out to do this, but I had to test my limits and... I wanted to...
Propogate/Infect/Corrupt
....Share this power with others. Let them feel as good as I did, let them unleash their true selves.
Besides... What's a Queen without a hive?