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The streets of New York, as they often were, were bright, loud, and crowded. Even up here, far above the mesh of noise and pheromones, neon lights sparkled off snowflakes drifting lazily through the starless sky. But it was not just snow and empty rooftops illuminated by the city below, perched like a gargoyle was a lithe figure covered entirely in black, except for large, white eyes and a white spider emblem stretched over his chest. Scanning the streets beneath him, the man, or rather, Spider-Man, focused on his target and leapt from his position on the wall. A whip-like cable shot out of his wrist and slung him towards the pavement, before the momentum and slack pulled himself back into the air. Hundreds more calculations ran through his head as he navigated the space stories above the streets.
Peter finally landed in a dark alley, checking for any potential witnesses, before descending from the side of the wall as his mask retracted with a slithering sound. He stood from a crouching position, and the blacks and whites of his super-suit blurred and morphed into the form of a simple, snappy blazer over a black button-down and dark dress-pants. As he turned out of the backstreet, he saw Mary-Jane Watson standing outside Carmen’s, a white and purple, fur-lined coat over her green sweater. The two entered the building and picked out a booth near a full wall window.
“So…” Peter started unsteadily.
“So…” MJ responded expectingly. “Are we gonna talk about it?”
Peter scoffed indignantly. “What’s there to talk about?” As he said it, his expression shifted. “Sorry, it’s just… It’s been a lot. Ever since the Green Goblin, and then…” Peter trailed off.
“I get it, Pete, but this isn’t going to work if you keep doing this.” MJ put her hand out, and Peter retracted his own. “What Norman did was horrible, he hurt us all. But it wasn’t your fault. I know you think you’re responsible for everything that happens, but that’s only going to hurt you in the end.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Peter clutched his head, which felt hot and feverish. “This city needs Spider-Man.”
“But I need Peter. Keeping your problems from your friends, from me, that’s not responsibility-"
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Peter hissed. He looked up and felt immediately remorseful.
“Woah there, Tiger, no need to snap at me.” While she had clearly tried to play it off, Peter could tell her composure was breaking. “Look, I can tell you’re going through something, Peter, but I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“Who says I need your help? Who says there's something wrong? Is that what this is about: trying to fix us?” Peter pushed his hands hard against the table, cracking the fake wood topping. Guilt welled up in his chest, but something deeper urged him on to release all his bilious anger.
“And who is us, Pete? ‘Cause to me it looks like you're trying to make this out to be you against the world.” MJ said as she narrowed her eyes in determination.
“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if the world wasn’t against me!” Peter didn’t even really know what he was saying any more, but he couldn’t stop. He ripped his hands from the table, bits of plaster clinging to his fingers. He muttered something unintelligible as he stood, and halfheartedly stormed away.
Peter found himself on the side of a skyscraper, face to face with his black-suited reflection in the glass. He didn’t recall how he got here, everything after dinner was a blur. His head throbbed, his bruises ached; he wanted to scream, he wanted to apologize, he wanted to attack, wanted to vomit, to drown in inky black poison. He heard commotion and launched himself downwards, tendril-like strands of webbing pulling him towards his quarry. Finally, his mind pulsed, we’ve been aching for a fight.
Spider-man landed atop a turned over police car in front of the main entrance to Oscorp Tower. Opposite was a man in a long black coat with criss-crossed golden sleeves. His eyes were covered by opaque red goggles, and beneath his coat was a red bullet-proof vest. His hands were covered by steel gauntlets covered in yellow lights.
“Out of the way and nobody has to get hurt. Nobody else, that is.” Announced the criminal.
“As if you could hurt anyone.” Spider-Man cocked his head to the side. “Listen Herman, leave now and maybe it can be without any broken bones.”
“Confident as always.” Herman chuckled, “But you don’t know who you're dealing with. The new and improved Shocker is unstoppable!”
Spider-man pounced into the air, using a black webline to close the distance between him and his adversary before knocking Shocker backwards with a punch to the stomach. The man wiped his mouth with a padded sleeve. Spider-man prepared to attack again, but his instincts made him dodge a gunshot. As he turned to face his previously unseen assailant, another shot fired from across the plaza.
“Brought friends-” Spider-Man started, before one of Herman’s gauntlet’s collided with his side. The pain of the shockwave itself faded away compared to the hell of every other sense as his suit writhed and shrieked.
“So, the Spider-Man isn’t as invincible as they say.” A grin returned to Shocker’s face as his gauntlets began to glow, the air around them distorting.
“We’re done playing games.” The black-suited figure snarled as it twisted midair to avoid two more shockwaves and several gunshots. A tendril shot out of each of the Spider’s wrists, seizing either gunman' s weapon as two more offhanded web-shots incapacitated the men. Drawing the two weapons towards himself, Spider-Man spun them back at Shocker, shattering the man’s gauntlets, before attaching another line to the man’s vest. Spider-Man drew the Shocker towards him and let the momentum bring them both to Oscorp’s roof.
“Time to finish this.” Spider-Man struck Herman across the face, shattering his visor. He gasped and gritted his teeth. Another punch knocked his nose out of position. Peter looked into the eyes of the man in his web, and saw Norman Osborn glaring back at him. He lifted his arm back as a pointed edge rose from his wrist, before striking… the empty air.
“Oh- oh god. I almost…” Peter stammered to no one in particular. He looked down at his shaking hands, burying his face in them as he tried to tear away his second skin. As he grappled with his own actions, a jet black tentacle ripped itself from his side and struck Herman Schultz, knocking him towards the concrete below. Looking up, all indecision faded as, almost by reflex, Spider-Man launched himself off the building after his former opponent. Using a webline to speed his descent, Peter wrapped his arms around Herman and twisted in the air to absorb the impact, before creating a makeshift net below them both. He hurriedly apologized to the tied up criminal and disappeared into the night.
“This thing, I have to destroy it.” Peter thought out loud as he landed on the side of a cathedral. Crawling through the window, he approached the central bell, “So it doesn't like loud noises, huh?”
“But we’re so much more powerful now.” He reasoned, “It would be irresponsible to just get rid of it.”
“I almost killed Shocker.” He retorted. “I swore I would never take a life in my crusade. Not again.”
“Like we killed Osborn? We can orphan our best friend but not take trash off the street?”
Peter punched the bell as hard as he could. The symbiote that stretched over his body lashed out. A thick black strand of goo attached itself to the wall from Peter's back. Pushing forward, he struck again with his other fist, bruising his now bared knuckles. More tendrils shot out, attempting to hold Peter back. He ripped at the mask over his face and it shrieked.
“You’re not getting away.” Hissed a voice that was not Peter’s. Struggling to pull away from the symbiotic mass that glued him to the wall, Peter fumbled with his phone, but dropped it as his vision went dark
Peter found himself on a stretching plane of dark liquid that rippled around him. He could not tell if the black sea below him mirrored the empty skies above, or vice versa. He could see nothing but the same, vast scene in the distance, and yet the space felt claustrophobic. Peter looked down and saw his old, red and blue costume. His reflection was wearing black and white, its hands twisted, bony claws. As he looked into the eyes of this distorted mirror, it turned its head.
Peter took a quick step backwards as the other him lunged out of the dark pool.
“What are you?” asked Peter.
“What you wanted. What you needed. Don’t you remember?” The thing that was not Peter shifted into the monochromatic visage of a boy about fifteen years old with shining round glasses. It had only been a few years, but he looked so young.
“Someday they’ll see. Someday I’ll make them all sorry that they laughed at me. Soon they will marvel at the awesome might of Spider-Man!” The mimic cried in a mockery of young Peter’s voice. “Isn’t that what you said? Well now you have the power you need.”
“That was before I learned what it meant to be a hero.” The real Peter called out. “So get out of my head!”
The copy twisted back into pure black sludge as it reared upwards before taking the form of an older man who bore a striking resemblance to the child it had just been. His dark and messy hair was held in a ponytail, his eyes obscured by the reflective lenses of his square glasses, his expression was severe. Peter had known the man only from photographs.
“And let you abandon my legacy?” Asked a voice Peter did not recognize, “I wanted you to have this, Peter. This was the culmination of all my research. I lived and died to give you this, and you would try to destroy it?”
“You’re not my father. I may not have known him, but I know he cared about his family more than he ever did about his research. Everyone I save, all I do to help this world, that’s my father’s legacy, not some experimental alien goop.”
“And what a legacy you have been. A liar, unfaithful, unloyal, just like he was.” The thing called out in a harsh voice. Its form was now that of Norman Osborn. Peter reflexively struck out at his arch nemesis.
“Yes! Strike me down like you did before! Prove what you are, Spider-Man!” The false-Norman grinned, bearing the sharp teeth the G-Serum had given the man.
“I didn’t kill you. You brought your end with your own weapons.”
“Oh, but you wanted me to die. You let me die. Like you let me die.” Its voice became all too familiar, as its face rippled into that of Ben Parker, Peter’s late uncle. Tears welled in Peter’s eyes as fell to his hands and knees. The black poison below started to crawl up the Spider-suit, dying it black. Peter ripped himself free from its grip as he stood back up, taller than before.
“You’ve made your worst mistake yet, buddy.”
“And what might that be?” The creature hissed, changing back into the black-suited Spider-Man.
“You reminded me of something. Every memory you used to taunt me, you’ve brought them back for me too. You’ve made me remember the people I love, the people I lost, the people I learned from. You made me remember why I became who I am, and you showed me that you are nothing but bile and venom.”
The creature twisted its head quizzically. Its movements had an odd quality to them, like it was a costume being worn by something that didn’t quite fit.
“We… are venom?” It mused, almost somberly. Suddenly, its head split into a toothy maw, its body twisted into a hulking yet wiry collection of tendrils. What used to be an arm pinned Peter to the ground as the symbiote brought its face close to his. “We are Venom.”
Peter struggled against the taught, ropelike vines they attempted to pull him through the viscous floor. He tried to scream, but the ocean of black blood began to fill his throat and cover his body. As he attempted to pull away the makeshift mask, twisting strands of goo pushed their way into his mouth, and covered his eyes.
The tolling of a bell rang out, and Peter was finally able to rip a piece of the writhing goo off his face. He was back in the church, suspended above the ground by the writhing symbiote. He saw MJ, and a wave of relief flooded over him. Black lashes stung at him as he attempted to tear the outfit from his chest. The toothy mask lunged from Peter’s face at MJ, as she struck the bell with her baseball bat again. The creature began to lose its form, and subsequently its grip over its host. Peter reached out as the formless creature twisted around him, and caught MJs hand on his own. Boosted by her pull, Peter lunged out of the squirming mass and struck the bell one final time. The symbiote shrieked, before collapsing into an inert puddle.
“I, uh… I got your message.” MJ said after a moment, “Sorry it took my so long to-”
She was cut off as Peter wrapped his arms around her and fell into her own. The two hung there in silence for a while, supporting each other’s weight.
“Hell of a Valentine's it’s been.” Whispered MJ.
“If it’s any consolation, saving me from an alien parasite is about as grand a romantic gesture as I could ask for.” Peter responded.
MJ chuckled lightly as a tear rolled down her cheek, and Peter felt his own eyes sting with relief. The first rays of sunlight began to creep in through open walls of the belltower, bathing the couple in rose-gold light.
“Oh, yeah, before I forget.” MJ tossed her backpack from her shoulders as she unzipped it, proudly producing a large, conical vial with a magnetic seal over its lid. “Oscorp dangerous substance storage container. Gwen gave it to me. And…” She reached back into the bag, and pulled out a bundle of red and blue fabric. “A change of clothes.”
Peter looked down at himself and blushed. He hadn’t noticed that he was dressed in the insulating underlayer he wore beneath his suit. In a few moments, Peter had changed into the spider-suit. He webbed the containment unit from across the room and turned towards the open window.
“Go get ‘em, tiger!” MJ cheered as Spider-Man leapt out into the morning sunlight.
In the heart of Oscorp tower, Spider-Man clicked the vial into place and typed an activation code into the incinerator. The slime within the vial began to churn as the machine emitted a loud humming and lights running down the sides turned on sequentially.
“You!” Called out a familiar voice. Spider-Man looked over and saw Harry Osborn, glowering from the darkness. “What are you doing!”
“Just thought I’d pop in to use your incinerator quickly.” Spider-Man quipped, “Hope you don’t mind-”
“Don’t you do this with me.” Harry lunged at the intruder with an antique blade. Spider-Man leapt backwards and webbed the weapon to the wall.
“Okay, the medieval weaponry is a little uncalled for.”
“You don’t get to just stroll in here and act like you’ve done nothing wrong. First you kill my father, now you destroy his research!” Harry spat.
Spider-Man’s demeanor tensed. “I didn’t kill your father, Harry. It’s a lot more complicated than that.”
“I get, I really do. Everyone has their secrets. My father had his, and you have yours. But those secrets were the death of my father, and I’m going to make sure they’re the death of you, Peter.”
“You… you know?” Spider-Man took a step back.
“Do you really think I’m that stupid.” A detached grin crept across Harry’s face. “Like I said, people have their little secrets. When it feels like everyone’s keeping something from you specifically, you start to catch on. Now get out.”
Spider-Man took another look back as he climbed the wall. “You don’t have to do this, Harry.”
“I said: Get out!”
Spider-Man somberly climbed a web and disappeared into the darkness of the facility.
Harry stood in the darkness for a moment, a tear ran down his face. He drifted across the room, pulling his sword from the ground, before violently beating the incinerator over and over. He collapsed to the floor with heaving sobs which turned to mirthless laughter and then raspy coughs as scalding ooze fell from the smoking machine and began to coat his body. Harry struggled with the symbiote as he pulled himself across the room. In the commotion, a corkboard clatted from the darkness, spilling photographs and newspaper clippings across the floor. A clawed hand picked up a photograph of Harry and Peter, each’s arm around the others’ shoulder.
“The Spider-man” rasped Venom, “Our enemy.”