Chapter Text
Cockroaches are some of the most feared and disgusted critters of the Earth. They carry diseases, devour unattended leftovers, and stink! They’re pests, losers. Cockroaches can also survive just about anything.
So can stubborn, protective aliens, with a little help.
Go to the road. No, to the road! The gravel is right there!
A black form emerged from the cockroach’s body, starting at the front and covering its legs one by one. It only managed to take control of two legs before the creature took flight in a panic, shaking the symbiote’s grip.
No, no! Bad bug!
The cockroach landed, searching the air with its antennae, before skittering under a rock. Venom groaned weakly. He had never felt so useless, helpless to the whims of a simple insect.
You are a terrible listener. Worse than Eddie!
The nice thing about being a bug is that you don't have any concept of aliens or imprisoned supervillains or even mortality, aside from the instinct to eat, sleep, and breed. You really don't give any fucks.
After determining there wasn't a predator nearby, this badass cockroach decided that the best way to cope with hearing a strange new voice was to ignore it. It continued with its usual behavior, scuffling around in search of food.
The symbiote sulked, unable to do much else. Being in this body, this mind, if you could call it that… it was constricting. Neural white noise droned on, a poor substitute for the disorganized chatter and banter he was used to with humans. With Eddie.
There is one advantage to a background of white noise–it's real easy to fall asleep to. Every cell of Venom's existence ached for rest.
I'm putting you in charge, roachie. Find us some good brains.
And with a final impulsive attempt to materialize, a single strand of tentacle manifested to pat the bug's head before collapsing in a goopy mess.