Transplants
You and your symbiote boyfriend were homeless in New York City.
Well, transient would be a more fitting description but that still meant you had no place to call your own. Being originally from Los Angeles and for a time the Bay Area, you had more than enough experience with ridiculous prices for horrid living conditions. You had originally guessed it would take two weeks at the most to get a place. Yet, New York had other plans for the two of you.
Decent apartments were rare and sensible prices even more so. It forced you and your partner to operate out of a cramped hotel room near the Hudson River while the many moving boxes sat in a pricey storage room in upper Manhattan. Your days were spent waking up near the crack of dawn to file in a line for apartment viewing.
Unfortunately, more than a month had passed and you were no closer to renting a place than you were the day you arrived in New York City. Money was no object, considering that you had departed Los Angeles with a healthy sum of cash, courtesy of a local kingpin’s blood-money found in his multimillion-dollar home. No longer breathing he didn’t need the money anyway.
Besides, the money helped with the biggest problem with vigilantism - the lack of time for a day job. Meaning, that this nice nest of money was meant to keep you afloat for the next few years without having to work a 9-5. Crime didn’t stop during the day so why should the two of you? Renting a relatively cheap and decent place would be better in the long run.
Thankfully, an apartment within your budget had come on the market. From the pictures and a brief tour taken the next day, the two of you were convinced and the process began underway. It wasn’t until your second day there that you understood why the one-bedroom apartment was priced so cheaply. Your apartment was on the seventh floor, easily accessible with the elevator.
An elevator that was regularly out of service until the foreseeable future according to your new neighbors.
“I guess we don’t need that gym membership after all.” You grunted as you hitched the box of kitchen items higher on your right hip, careful not to drop the set of cookbooks you held in your left arm. “We’ll have calves of steel by the time we're done. Which will hopefully be before that Thai place on the corner closes.”
A young woman passed you on her way down the stairs, giving you a small smile before continuing on her way. The sound of her shoes growing softer with each flight descended. You were slightly surprised that she didn’t seem all that concerned that you were talking with no one. Although you had a small black earpiece in your right ear, you highly doubted she could have spotted it, having walked by your left.
“Thankfully that’s one less thing we have to worry about.”
‘What? Rude neighbors?’
“Nosy neighbors.”
Venom’s laugh rang in your head, a deep pitch reverberating throughout your consciousness. The two of you continued your slow move into the new apartment. It wasn’t until the sun had long slipped below the horizon and the fluorescent lights in the hallways blinked to life that you finally placed the last cardboard box on the floor of what was supposed to be your living room.
Your so-called ‘living room’ currently consisted of numerous boxes, all varying in size and sprawled on the hardwood floor. Even with Venom’s help, tentacles and all, it would still take both of you all night to get half of your stuff out and organized within the apartment. A daunting task neither of you were excited about.
“We should start with the bedroom. Putting together the bed frame will take the most time.” Venom’s head protruded from your body, his long neck allowing him to gesture toward the closed door at the end of your small hallway.
“If we’re talking time-consuming, then we should start with the kitchen. Those cups and plates aren’t going to wash themselves.” You prodded a box labeled ‘kitchen fragile’ with the tip of your shoe. “Then there’s the matter of cleaning the cabinets before we put everything away.”
“True, but I doubt you’d enjoy sleeping on the floor.”
You scoffed, “We can always build it right before we go to bed. It can’t be that hard.”
Venom turned to look at you. Despite having no pupils he still found a way to roll his eyes at your statement. “We both know what happened the last time you tried to put something together half-asleep.”
“The uneven shelf gave it character! You said so yourself!” You wagged an accusatory finger at your life partner, fighting the urge to break out into a smile at the memory in question. Despite your best efforts, Venom could read you like an open book and a grin found its way onto his face. Knowing that your small disagreement wasn’t truly upsetting either of you, Venom eventually caved and agreed to help you dry the dishes.
Lost in the repetitive motions of cleaning and the general flow of conversation, neither of you had realized how late it had become. The moon was more than halfway done with its journey in the sky once the kitchen had been completely unpacked and dealt with. Sparkling glass cups sat diligently in their newly cleaned cupboards, all lined in neat little rows.
“See? That wasn’t so bad! And we can still finish the bed before sunrise. Not too shabby for a night's work, huh?” You waggled your brows, ignoring the way your eyelids threatened to droop closed. As stubborn as you were, you had to admit that you probably should’ve heeded Venom’s advice and built the bed frame first. Evident by the fact the bedroom floor was looking more comfortable to you by the second.
“I’m not one to tell you I told you so-”
“But?” you huffed.
Venom wore a shit eating grin, “-told you so.”
“Ha. Ha. You’re so funny you know that?” You made a face at your partner as you crouched to open the large box containing the various parts that made up the chic bed frame you ordered online a few days prior. You kicked yourself mentally as you took in the various pieces laying in the box. It'd be a miracle if you finished before you had to return the move-in truck at 10 AM.
Sensing your dismay, tendrils began to pull the many pieces from the box before handing you the folded instructions. “What pieces do we start with?” Venom casted a glance in your direction, finding it cute how you pursed your lips as you attempted to make sense of the instructions.
“It says to start with the four metal corners. I think those are it right there.” You pointed to a plastic bag, containing what appeared to be the parts in question. A black tendril promptly dropped them in your lap. “Ok, then it says lay the B and C metal rails into the metal corners.”
Venom held up two long metal pieces. “These must be C.”
“Ah, found B!” Crawling on your hands and knees, you began setting the pieces in order on the floor. Referring to the instructions whenever you needed to see what parts came next or whenever you were completely lost and had to retrace your steps. The whole process was going smoothly, by the time an hour or so had passed the two of you had built something that could pass as a bed frame.
“Now it says to tighten the center support with the H5 bolts… H5 bolts… You see those anywhere?” Rising from your comfortable position on the floor, you padded the length of the room, checking under discarded plastic bags and boxes in search for the elusive bolts.
Your quick search unfortunately turned into a three minute manhunt. “Please don’t tell me they didn’t come in the box.” You watched expectantly as Venom dumped out the rest of the box's contents. Nothing but bubble wrap and styrofoam spilling onto the floor. “Dammit! And we were so close!” You groaned in frustration, throwing the crumpled instructions on the floor. Just your luck that the bolts missing were meant to keep your bed frame connected to each end. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you debated if a store would be open at such an ungodly hour.
Answering your own unspoken question, Venom casually commented, “It’s New York. Something must be open at this hour."
“Ah, yes, the city that never sleeps! How could I forget?” Sleep deprivation was the obvious answer but you paid it no mind. Without missing a beat, you were out the bedroom door, knowing that Venom would promptly settle himself back into you, refilling the void between your organs and making you two whole again.
Beelining to the entrance, you snatched your keys and wallet from the kitchen counter while Venom transformed himself from fluffy pajamas into an outfit suited for roaming the streets at 2 AM. Stuffing the essentials into the pocket of your now donned hoodie, you ensured the front door was locked before closing it behind you.
The hallway was empty. Bright overhead lights illuminated the poor excuse of carpeted flooring. From behind closed doors you could hear the faintest hints of life, the muffled sounds of a tv, a couple arguing about God knows what, and the melodic notes of a piano. You were slightly surprised that anyone was awake at this hour - let alone so brazenly loud.
‘Looks like people have better things to do than sleep.’
Skipping down the numerous flights of stairs, you soon pushed past the squeaky entrance doors and onto the empty sidewalk. A quick glance at your phone told you that the store was nearly a half hour walk away. Something neither of you minded, enjoying the opportunity to stretch your legs. The apartment wasn’t by no means cramped but it also wasn’t a palace. Being cooped all day had made the walls seem a lot closer than they actually were.
Being mid-April, the nights were well into the 40s. The temperature outside would make any sane person squeeze their coat tighter against them. You watched with half interest as your exhales turned into steam, unbothered by the temperature. Craning your neck, you gazed up at the looming buildings whose tops seemed to blend with the night sky. For the city that never sleeps, it was surprisingly quiet as you made your way across and out of Hell’s Kitchen. There were a few souls out and about. You passed a group of friends that paid you no mind as they dragged from their cigarettes and laughed at something said. A grimace found its way onto your face when a man, apparently unable to stave off nature’s call, decided that facing a wall was enough privacy.
A comfortable silence settled between you and your partner, the sounds of your breathing and the rhythmic pounding of your shoes against pavement filling the space. Occasionally, something would grab Venom’s attention, causing your eyes to focus on whatever had piqued his interest.
Yet, it was the sound of something fluttering that caught your attention. Two streets ahead was what seemed to be a peeling colorful wall. Upon approach it became clear that it was a multitude of paper flyers, all varying in size, color, and content. They covered the six-foot distance between the entrance of two separate businesses. The sight reminded you vaguely of pinatas and their vibrant crepe paper. Many of the flyers boasted information on local events: a highschool’s bake sale, a play at the local rec center, and a food drive being held next week. Along with the events, businesses and other miscellaneous information was being promoted by the eye catching wall of flyers.
‘What’s a psychic private investigator? They read minds or something?’ Venom asked.
Your eyes trailed to the flyer in question. “I guess everyone’s got their own niche. Too bad we can’t advertise our ‘trash removal’ services.” You laughed at your own joke, ignoring the way Venom sighed within your consciousness. “Tough crowd. How much farther until we reach the store?”
‘The internet says it should be around the corner.’
Humming in content you picked up the pace and continued your way towards Henry's Hardware Store.
Soon enough, the blinking neon sign in the store window came into view. A small bell rang as you opened the door. To your right a small south asian man was occupied with his portable TV behind a closed-off counter.
“Mornin’, where do you keep your bolts and screws?”
The worker whose name tag read ‘Issac’ didn't bother to look up, “Fourth aisle on the right.”
You huffed a ‘thanks’ and began your search. It was impossible to suppress your groan of frustration as you scanned the various rows of fastening hardware. ‘Like a needle in a haystack.’ Pursing your lips you started with the top row, hoping the elusive H5 bolts would soon be in your grasp.
It wasn't until making your way down to the second-bottom that you finally found the exact bolts. You were verifying the correct amount needed when you heard the entrance bell chimed. There was the sound of feet walking to the counter and then hushed words being exchanged. You paid it no mind until the tell tale sound of a gun being cocked caught your full attention.
‘Just what we needed.’ you thought, biting your fist in annoyance.
“Give me everything in the register, now.” The voice was gruff and hardened by the passing of years. Peaking around the aisle you were unable to see his face due to his drawn up gray hoodie, his gloved hands were steady as his finger rested dangerously on the trigger. You were too far from the counter to make a lunge for the man and the cramped store meant sneaking up on the man was near impossible. So you watched and waited with bated breath as your brain raced to formulate a plan and your stomach growled in quiet hunger.
Issac fumbled with the register, the drawer opening with a mechanical ‘ding’. “Hey take it easy man, I've got a kid waiting for me at home.” A sharp crack was heard as metal met flesh. You winced as he was pistol whipped by the man in a hood.
‘We should break his bones and bite off his head.’ You silently agreed with your partner, taking a look at the items in the aisle you currently stood in. A few bolts would be of no use to you but the bin containing an assortment of hammers, mallets, and pliers caught your eye.
“Just shut the fuck up and give me my money.” The robber barked, yanking at the wad of cash Issac clutched in his shaking hands. Without needing to look your hand knew exactly where to reach down and grab a rubber mallet laying in the overstuffed bin.
‘Should we throw it now?’ Venom asked, your arm tensing in anticipation and excitement. (His or yours you couldn't tell.)
‘No, I don't want that gun going off accidently.’ Patience was never your virtue, so it was torture for you as you waited for the exact moment the robber turned away from the counter and made a run for the door. You jumped out into the open just as the robber touched a hand to the door. Mallet in hand and your arm cocked back you shouted at the top of your lungs.
“Hey asshole!”
The man’s eyes and gun swiveled towards your direction just as the mallet left your hand and his finger pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit your shoulder faster than the mallet struck his face.
Ignoring the burning sensation the bullet created, you charged at the man currently clutching his shattered nose as he bled onto the linoleum floor and tackled him onto the ground. You heard the wind leave his lungs with a bloody wheeze. You grabbed at the gun clutched in his hand with the demeanor of taking candy from a fussing baby. His other fist connected with your torso, a fact you barely registered as Venom stopped your screaming nerves from communicating with your brain.
Prying back the man’s fingers from the gun, you tossed it behind you as you pinned his stomach with your knee, an action which made the man yelp as your weight grew exponentially as Venom turned the muscles in your leg as heavy as lead.
“Get off me you bi- AHH!” your knee pressing down harder on his intestines cut his sentence off short.
You grabbed a fistful of his hoodie as you leaned over him, “Start being polite before I really get angry.” Drops of your blood from your open bullet wound splotched onto his clothes. A problem you would have to deal with later. “Now tell me your name before I rip your head off.”
The man who appeared to be in his late 30s grimaced in pain before lifting his head, you leaned down guessing he’d cooperate, instead he spat in your face.
“Fuck you!” With his one hand still in your iron grip, his other tried to shove you off of him. His actions and refusal to acknowledge when he was beaten did nothing but piss you off.
So you slapped him hard enough to unconsciousness.
Satisfied (and vindicated), you rose to your feet, wiping the spit off your face with the sleeve of your jacket. “Jesus he was getting on my nerves.” You nudged the man’s side with your foot, when you received no response you began walking over to the counter where Issac had been hiding behind. Hopping slightly onto the counter you grabbed onto the edge and scooted your upper body across to locate the poor worker. Any normal person that just had a gun pointed in their direction would be freaking out and you desperately still needed him sane enough to ring you up for your purchase. You wouldn’t be surprised if you found him curled up into a ball or bolted off to the office behind the counter.
Instead, peering over the edge you were met with Issac mid-conversation with a dispatcher. His eyes widened as large as saucers as your very open gunshot wound began bleeding all over his counter and dribbling onto his shirt.
“Really, dude??” Issac squeaked and dove farther beneath the counter looking as if he was going to puke.
“What’re you yelling at me for?!” You exclaimed, taken aback by Issac’s newfound bravado, practically hanging off the counter to shout at him. “We were helping you and you called the cops??”
‘No! After all we did, no snack?!’ Venom complained, knowing that there wouldn’t be enough time to clean up the large pools of your blood, grab the bolts and the robber before the cops arrived.
Grunting in annoyance you hopped back onto your feet and began running through possible scenarios that didn’t land you in the back of a squad car. Venom had the ability to change your appearance down to the cellular level but any blood not currently circulating in your body was 100% your own and could catch you in serious trouble. Venom made quick work of repairing the hole in your shoulder as you began stripping the unconscious man on the floor. The blood on his clothes were a mix of his and your own, and his hoodie would make more than a decent cleaning rag.
You began mopping at the pools of oxidizing crimson splattered on the linoleum floor, Venom, extending and hiding himself within the hoodie to help absorb any traces of blood. The floor was soon as spotless as it was before the scuffle and the counter shone like new (-not really but it was good enough). The faint sounds of sirens getting increasingly closer made your nerves stand on end.
‘Don’t forget the bolts.’ Venom advised, satisfied that any lazy cop would simply write off what happened here as a botched robbery.
“Right.” You leaned down to where the now half-naked would-be-robber laid on the floor, the large wad of cash still clutched in his hand. Prying his fist open you threw the cash and your own 10 dollar bill onto the counter before hastily walking back for the bolts and then headed towards the door.
You threw out a ‘You’re welcome’ in the direction of the counter before you remembered something that made you turn around on your heels.
Someone still had your blood on his shirt.
As if on que, the man in question popped his head from behind the counter, having hoped to God that you were gone. Unfortunately, you stood in front of his counter rather than standing at the door where he had expected you to be.
“Gimme your shirt, man.” You waved your hand at him, as if asking him to pass you the salt at dinner and not the very shirt off his back.
“Hell no!” Issac exclaimed. He could take being pistol whipped, bearing witness to a violent altercation, but he’d be damned if he was going to wait for the police half naked. “Just leave already! I wasn’t planning on saying anything!”
“Don’t be like that! I saved your job practically. You owe me!” You nodded in the direction of the still unconscious man. “Just be cool and do me a solid, please?” Issac blanched, knowing that the police would be there any minute but he doubted someone who just took a bullet would take ‘no’ as an answer.
Yet, his head still shook in determined refusal.
You pounced over the counter, before he could blink, you had a fistful of his shirt as you landed next to him. “Just give it to me! You were gonna let that guy have the money but you won't give me a stupid shirt??” The three of you were all equally surprised at the turn of events, you and Issac tugging at his shirt like children unwilling to compromise.
“It's the store’s money, it's my shirt!” He grabbed at your wrists, trying to pry away your iron grip. “Why are you so strong?!”
“I workout. Now stop fidgeting before I-” Your sentence was interrupted by the sound of Isaac's blue polo ripping down his back.
The two of you looked down at the torn shirt clutched in both your hands. “Yikes.” You meekly smiled as you met each other's gaze.
Issac wished he had called off of work.
He let go of his tattered shirt, defeated he tuned out your quick apology and watched as you jumped the counter and ran out the door. All he could wish for was for the police to arrive quickly and let him go home.
Now outside in the cold a thought struck you. “Did you check for any cameras?” You asked, now halfway down the street, Venom mimicking a tote bag that contained the blood stained clothes. “I always forget to check for that.”
‘There was a camera pointing down at the register but we should be ok.’ Venom hadn’t thought to mention it since any film would be useless, having only captured your interaction with the worker and not the fight beforehand. Although Venom didn’t worry much about the possibility of being jailed (breaking out would be no problem), he was aware that keeping a low profile would be best if he wished to continue eating his fill of brains without interference. He also wasn’t afraid to admit that after the years you’ve shared together he trusts in your judgment.
“Well, we got what we needed.” You placed a hand on your stomach. “Wish we had a snack though.” ironically, it growled, signaling the start of a hunger that couldn’t be satiated with a simple bodega run.
“Let’s head out tonight, it’s time we started figuring out the best places to eat around here.” Venom laughed at your double entendre, daydreaming about what delicious finds the two of you would later discover. You continued walking home, placing more and more distance between yourselves and the swarm of police cars now stationed outside the hardware store.