Chapter 6
Night in Brooklyn was loud.
Always had been.
Cars honking, people shouting, music bleeding from cracked windows.
But Gwen heard something different.
Footsteps.
Deliberate.
Heavy.
Following her.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she quickened her pace, ducking into a side alley.
"Calm," Venom rumbled in her head.
"We can kill them."
"No," Gwen hissed under her breath.
"Not killing. Just— lose them."
She turned sharply into another alley, cutting between dumpsters and broken fire escapes.
The footsteps stayed with her.
A flicker of movement in the corner of her eye. A man in a dark jacket, face shadowed, some kind of tech blinking on his belt.
"Target sighted," he murmured into a radio clipped to his shoulder.
Gwen’s blood turned to ice.
She bolted.
Her body moved too fast — almost blurred — muscles coiling and snapping like a wild animal.
Another voice, sharper, barked out from behind her. "Don’t let her get away! She’s worth twice as much alive!"
Alive.
Panic surged up, choking her.
She knew she was messed up.
She knew she wasn't normal anymore — but she hadn't realized she was something people would hunt.
The world tilted.
Her vision narrowed to a tunnel — her heart thundering so loudly she almost didn’t hear the first dart fire.
It whizzed past her ear, striking the wall with a sharp electric crack.
Gwen snapped.
Venom roared inside her mind — a surge of power — and suddenly claws tore through her sleeves, gleaming black in the moonlight.
Without thinking, Gwen twisted mid-run and leapt — higher than she should've been able to — flipping over a dumpster and landing in a crouch.
The hunters skidded after her, guns raised.
"Sedate her!" one barked.
"Now!"
Another dart zipped toward her chest — Gwen slashed it out of the air with one clawed hand, snarling.
A scream tore from one of the men — Gwen couldn’t even tell if it was his or hers.
She lunged forward, knocking him clean off his feet, his radio skittering across the ground.
The others backed off fast, shouting into their comms.
"She's hostile! Hostile!"
Somewhere overhead, Gwen heard the familiar thwip of a web line catching.
Her stomach dropped.
No. No, no, not now. Not him.
She stumbled backward, breathing hard.
The claws retracted, melted into her hands again, but it was too late — the street was already chaos.
Cars screeching. People shouting. Flashlights cutting through the dark.
A shadow swung down from the rooftops, landing lightly on the pavement between her and the hunters.
"Hey, hey!" Spider-Man said, throwing up his hands. "What's going on here?"
The hunters — clearly not prepared for him — hesitated just long enough for Gwen to bolt again.
"Hey, wait!" Spider-Man called after her.
Gwen didn’t wait.
Her body moved on instinct, scaling the wall of a nearby building like a spider herself — fingers and toes sticking to the bricks with terrifying ease.
She didn’t dare look back.
"They will not stop," Venom crooned inside her head.
"We must kill them. All of them."
"No," Gwen gasped, tears streaming down her face as she scrambled over a rooftop ledge.
Below, she heard Spider-Man’s voice, confused and worried.
"Who was that?"
But Gwen didn’t slow down.
She ran, claws ripping into the rooftop tarpaper, black veins crawling under her skin, hunger gnawing at her.
Gwen sat curled in the farthest corner of an abandoned rooftop, arms wrapped tight around her knees.
Her whole body shook.
The adrenaline was crashing hard now — the violent scene playing on loop inside her head.
The way her claws had torn through flesh.
The way the men had looked at her.
Like she was a monster.
Maybe she was.
Gwen squeezed her eyes shut, nails digging into her jeans.
She could still feel them inside her — the black tendrils — moving just under her skin like a second heartbeat.
"You're safe now, little one," a voice murmured.
Gwen flinched so hard she nearly toppled over.
But the voice was inside her.
Soft. Feminine. Familiar.
Smooth like silk stretched too tight.
"No one will hurt you again. We will protect you."
Gwen shivered.
"You're… you're real," she whispered hoarsely.
"I’m not... going crazy."
The blackness pulsed inside her — and she realized it was purring.
Like a cat curling around its favorite thing.
"You are not crazy," Venom crooned.
"You are special. Chosen."
Gwen hugged her legs tighter, rocking slightly.
"I didn’t want to hurt them," she said, voice cracking.
"I just— I didn’t know what else to do."
A tendril slipped out from under her sleeve, brushing gently against her cheek like a cold fingertip.
Not attacking.
Not grabbing.
Soothing.
"You did what you had to, Gwen," Venom said.
"They would have hurt you. We stopped them."
Gwen bit her lip, tasting blood.
It felt true.
It sounded right.
But somewhere deep down, she still felt wrong.
She wiped her face on her sleeve, breathing hard.
"What… what even are you?" she asked finally.
Her voice was small. Like a child asking why the sky was blue.
Venom chuckled — a low, rattling sound that somehow wasn’t entirely unkind.
"We are Venom," she said simply.
"And now... you are, too."
Gwen stared down at her trembling hands.
The black veins had faded, but she knew they were still there, waiting just under the surface.
"I can’t do this," Gwen whispered.
"I’m not strong enough."
Another tendril slithered up her arm, coiling loosely around her wrist like a snake — but it wasn't tight.
It was... almost hugging her.
"You are strong," Venom said.
"You are mine. And I will make you stronger still."
Gwen pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, fighting the fresh tears threatening to spill out.
Venom’s voice softened even more, barely a breath in her mind. "You don't have to be afraid anymore, Gwen. I am here. I will always be here."
A broken, shuddering sob tore from Gwen’s chest.
She wanted to believe it.
She wanted to believe that someone — anyone — would stay.
Even if that someone lived inside her.
Even if it wasn't human.
She didn’t realize she was nodding until Venom purred again, victorious and satisfied.
"Good girl."
Above her, the night sky stretched endless and cold, but for the first time in days, Gwen didn’t feel quite so alone.
She closed her eyes, letting the dark crawl closer.
Letting it wrap around her like a second skin.
The hunger didn’t go away.
No matter how much Gwen ate — no matter how much she stuffed herself until she thought she’d puke — the gnawing void inside her only worsened.
She sat at the kitchen table now, shoulders hunched, staring blankly at the crumbs on her plate.
Everything tasted like ash.
Her dad had left for work hours ago.
Said something about overtime, said he trusted her to "take it easy."
If he could see her now…
Gwen clutched the edge of the table, nails digging little crescents into the wood.
"We are starving," Venom whispered inside her mind.
"You are starving."
"No," Gwen said out loud, her voice shaking.
"I’m not... I just need to sleep."
But even as she said it, her eyes flicked toward the counter.
Toward the grocery bags they hadn’t unpacked yet.
There was meat inside.
Uncooked.
Cold.
Fresh.
Gwen’s breath hitched.
"Please," Venom said, softer this time. "Help us. Help me. I am so small still. I need you."
It sounded so sad.
So pitiful.
Gwen squeezed her eyes shut.
Her stomach twisted, sharp and cruel.
She didn’t even remember standing up.
One second she was in the chair, the next she was at the counter, yanking the bag open with trembling hands.
The raw steak inside glistened under the overhead light.
"Just a bite," Venom coaxed.
"One small kindness."
Gwen's hands shook violently.
"This is crazy," she whispered, barely able to hear herself over the roaring in her ears.
"I’m not— I’m not an animal."
"You are surviving," Venom corrected gently.
"And surviving is beautiful."
Something hot and wet slid down Gwen’s cheek — a tear or sweat, she couldn’t tell — and before she could think, before she could stop herself, she tore the packaging open with her claws.
The smell hit her first.
Rich. Metallic.
Mouthwatering.
The first bite was messy, clumsy — Gwen's teeth sinking into the bloody meat like a starved wolf.
She gagged.
Choked.
But Venom purred, encouraging her, wrapping her in warmth, whispering how proud she was.
"Good girl. Good girl. Good girl."
The second bite was easier.
The third didn’t even register.
Gwen dropped to her knees on the tile floor, shivering, blood smearing her mouth and hands.
When she finally stopped — when she finally tore herself away — she stumbled backward like she’d been shot.
Her reflection stared back at her from the oven door — wild eyes, blood-smeared chin, hair plastered to her sweaty forehead.
She barely recognized herself.
Gwen pressed a hand over her mouth, bile rising in her throat.
"See?" Venom crooned.
"You feel better already."
And... horrifyingly...
She kind of did.
The hunger had dulled.
Just a little.
Not gone. Never gone.
But enough for her to breathe again.
Gwen sank against the cabinets, curling in on herself, trying to steady her breathing.
Maybe this was just her life now.
Maybe she could manage it.
She had to.
Because no one — not even Miles — could ever know what she was becoming.