Chapter 1
Eddie knocks on Anne and Dan’s door with a bottle each of champagne and the good good orange juice, because even though his cooking is actual ass , he’ll be damned if he doesn't bring anything to this very kind brunch invitation with Anne and Dan. They’re the better part of his social circle, at this point.
Anne opens the door with a smile and welcomes them inside. “Hello, Eddie. Hi, Venom.”
A tentacle pokes out of the collar of his shirt and waves. “GOOD MORNING, ANNE.”
Eddie hands the champagne bottle to Anne. “Hope this is okay. You know me, not a champagne guy, but I hear mimosas are traditional brunch, uhh, stuff.” He can hear and smell Dan’s cooking in the next room.
She takes the ingredients from him. “Oh, that’s sweet. Thank you, guys. Dan’s almost done with breakfast, come on in.”
It’s the same place that he shared with Anne when they were together, which is a little weird in some ways, but honestly it’s a nice place and the housing market only gets worse as time goes on so he can’t blame her for hanging onto it regardless.
Dan waves with the spatula when they come around the corner. He’s wearing a cute little apron, the kind that has some kind of saying on the front and usually, like, a mustache or something, and he’s flipping some fancy breakfast sausage onto an already sizable pile. Next to it are a fair amount of fried potatoes, eggs, even some kind of cut melon.
Most of the sausage is, in fact, for Venom, and Dan insists that he get a plate to himself, even. Brunch is delicious, and surprisingly unawkward. The sentient goo from outer space doesn’t super get the importance of such base things like plates and forks, exactly, but it is appreciated nonetheless, and he even makes that known by projecting his own face out and eating from his own damn plate. The humans all get a good variety - turns out Dan makes some bitchin’ scrambled eggs.
They even all manage to have a whole normal conversation before Anne sets her fork down in a way that Eddie recognizes. Uh-oh , he thinks, because this feels like he’s in trouble.
“Boys,” Anne says, and both Eddie and Venom are smart enough to pay attention, “Three of my clients have turned up headless in the last couple weeks. You wouldn’t happen to be using my defendants list as a menu, would you?”
It’s Venom who comes to their defense, actually. With indignation, even. “I AM APPALLED AT THE SUGGESTION. WE LIKE TO LET THEM COME TO US FIRST.”
“Come on, Venom, that’s not exactly polite breakfast conversation.”
“SHE ASKED.”
Eddie shakes his head. “He’s not wrong though, the only person we’ve, uh, partaken in the last three weeks tried to stab me for my phone first.” He’s still not exactly comfortable admitting to murder in front of his ex and her new man, let alone how that murder factors into his diet, but how else is he supposed to phrase that?
Dan is conspicuously silent. Anne, meanwhile, is giving both Eddie and Venom a serious look. “Guys, the police are looking into this. Several bodies over the last few months, most looking like they've been mauled, all with their heads apparently ripped off. Maybe you guys need to lay a little low.”
“DON’T WORRY, ANNIE, ” Venom declared, “ I GOT US.”
-
It starts when the last symbiote in the custody of the Life Foundation kills the doctor and plays dead. They do this for a couple hours until someone notices. And then, when they send in the cleaner, they take the opportunity they've been given. The infected janitor goes unminded as they leave the building and head back to the city, and from there the symbiote begins jumping hosts for a few days until they figure something out. After all, if Venom and Riot could escape…
The symbiote is puppeting a body around the edge of a crowd, watching a rocket break up on launch; they know, or at least have a hunch, that their chances of leaving this planet and returning to their kind are slim to none at best, now. They will mull over that later, though, because they are running low on fuel and they need to either find their next discreet meal or find a new host or both, because this one is barely standing at this point.
They stumble into the nearest alleyway, behind a building playing loud music that is absolutely infested with humans - drunk, overstimulated, distracted humans. The alley is grimy, and smells filthy, and is poorly lit, and the symbiote doesn’t know how humans live like this to be quite honest. The host body gives out beneath them, tumbling head first into the side of a refuse bin, and the alien can do little but start digesting the body while they wait for prey to come around the corner.
They do not have to wait long.
Someone comes around the corner, walking with some foul-smelling, smoking twig held loosely in one hand, and something shiny clenched in the other and followed a few paces back by a much larger human, shouting obscenities and stumbling, but clearly pursuing the first one. The female - probably a female, anyway - stops, yells back, throws the smoking object on the ground and crushes it underfoot. The two of them are distracted, and haven't seen the body quickly deconstructing into goo just a few feet from them, but they start to inch closer to the pair, waiting for an opportunity.
They find it moments later, when the big, aggressive one shoves the female in the direction of the refuse bin. She trips backwards, cracking her skull on the edge of the bin and falling ass-first into the goo pile that once was a person and is now an exposed symbiote eager for a new host. They take advantage of the fact that the female is stunned by the head injury, and they rise . The symbiote envelopes their new chosen host quickly, and the remaining human is too drunk or stupid to do anything but stare dumbly as the young woman he just assaulted stands back up and manifests a claw to wrap around his neck.
The fear in his body does wonders to counteract the alcohol taste as they take his head off, and when they finish digesting all those delicious neurotransmitters the young woman is starting to come back to consciousness, so they sift themself under her skin and get to work settling in.
She doesn’t react with the screaming or panic that they expect. Instead, there is confusion, conflict, and then questions. “What the hell is happening to me? Where did you go?” She asks, patting herself down, looking for any trace of the goo. There is nothing.
You are my host, they replied from within, for now.
“That’s not nearly as helpful as I was hoping.” The human looks down, at the corpse of the man, and bile rises in her throat. “Oh my god, you just ate Jason. I just ate Jason? Why did you do that?”
Because he was delicious, and I was starving.
“Oh my god, you eat people.” She turns and starts walking quickly out of the alley, back towards a crowd to get lost in. “Gotta get outta here before I get caught, shit. Jeebus, I’m going crazy.”
She stops talking, though the symbiote can feel the raw turmoil pervading her headspace, which is to be expected. Less expected is the troubled thoughts about the male, the one she called Jason. After a few minutes, they ask, Why do you continue to mourn the one you called Jason?
The new host stays silent for a moment, and the symbiote can feel a dozen different emotions flit across her brain like pigeons. “I love- I was in love with him.” she finally says.
He attempted to kill you.
“Yeah, well, that’s why they don’t call me ‘supergenius’,” she says, then mutters, “It’s Jess. That’s what they call me. If you care. Do you have a name?”
The symbiote paused. Would it be advantageous to share that sort of information? They would be sharing a body for the near future, at least, and it would go a way towards fostering some sort of cooperation.
Method. That is what you may call me.