Chapter 12
Drake was angry, which was unusual.
Sure, he’d been angry when provoked by Brock, but that was a special exception to the rule. Besides, during the interview he’d been on edge from lack of sleep and the stress of juggling his public and business personas, not to mention irritated because of Pullman’s continued refusal to hand over any samples from the thing in the cavern.
Now, however, he was furious. And however afraid for her life she was currently, Skirth had to admit: it was immensely satisfying to see him so.
He was pacing, his hands gripping each other behind his back as if they were restraining themselves from wrapping around her throat. His eyes had a kind of cold light, like a star, if a star could somehow communicate absolute rage.
Drake had been sued for many things over his career. Neglecting safety standards, mistreatment of employees, endangerment of human life. But of all the things he’d been sued for, he’d never expected this.
“Building permits,” he spat. “They’re really disassembling my life’s work over building permits?”
Skirth wanted to laugh. When Officer Weying had asked for photos of the underground facility, Skirth hadn’t expected her to use them for this. Granted, a secret unsanctioned laboratory underneath the Life Foundation building was highly illegal, but so was everything else about Drake’s work. This would’ve been the least of his worries if he’d even thought to worry about it.
And now his world was crumbling down around him, because he didn’t have the paperwork for a couple of extra rooms.
The investigation was tomorrow- even if they could’ve moved everything incriminating by then, the photographs provided as evidence clearly showed the less respectable side of the Foundation.
Drake glared at the woman standing in front of him. He knew, of course- Skirth had already been in contact with the police, and the only leverage Drake had over her anymore was her life.
Which, judging from the look on his face, was about to be taken away very soon.
Drake regarded the samples that she’d brought him- little vials with droplets of black collected at the bottoms. Without turning back to look at her, he gave a slight nod.
She felt a hand clamp over her mouth, felt a needle slide into her neck. Her body dropped to the floor limply.
The man holding the syringe tucked it into his pocket, returning his employer’s slight nod before exiting the room.
Drake paused as he heard another dull thump. He turned to see the thug lying on the floor where the doctor’s body had been. Skirth wasn’t there.
“Hello, Mr. Drake.”
He glanced around, struggling to pinpoint the source of the voice he heard. Ordinarily he would’ve suspected it to be coming from the speakers- someone talking through the sound system, trying to rile him up- but the voice lacked that omnipresent sound. It was coming from somewhere- but where…?
“Who is this?” he snapped, straightening his tie. He felt the muscles in his neck tighten, and he began counting, willing himself to relax. 1…2…3…
The voice laughed. “It’s your three o’clock, of course. Don’t you remember?”
He froze. 23…24…25…
“Where are you, Brock? I don’t have time for your games.”
Something cold slipped up his spine, and he realized that despite the blood boiling through him, his fists tightening, his heart pounding, he wasn’t angry.
45…46…47…
He was afraid.
The chill up his spine wasn’t the fear, though. And it didn’t stop at his neck- it kept going, curling around his throat, pressing against his cheek, squeezing.
58…59…
60…
…
…
…
Skirth watched Drake’s body fall to the floor. Through the cameras, everything was mildly blurred, so even if they weren’t camouflaged, she doubted anyone would’ve been able to make out the slip of black wrapped around Drake’s throat. She cleared her throat before pressing the speaker button.
“Are you still in there?”
“Nope.”
Skirth jumped, standing upright as she turned to see them standing behind her. They were still camouflaged, after a fashion- her own face was smiling back at her smugly.
She sighed. “Was that really necessary?”
They laughed, and it was eerie- two voices laughing in unison, alien tones underlying a human sound.
“No, but it was fun.”
As they exited the building, Edie could feel Vivi flinch.
What is it?
Someone’s nearby.
Probably just some homeless guy, V- don’t stress about it.
They passed a man curled on the sidewalk, his head propped up on his arms as he lay against the wall of the Life Foundation. When they were out of sight, he sat upright, pulling out his camera as a different woman left the building. He didn’t snap another picture, though- he looked through the ones he’d taken, instead.
They weren’t well-lit- he hadn’t risked using the flash. But her face was distinctive enough that there couldn’t be too much doubt as to her identity.
“Edie Brock, what did you just do?” Peter whispered to himself.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Dan put out Mr. Belvedere’s food, scratching the feline’s ears as he came over to eat. The cat meowed complainingly as a pug came over to investigate.
Dan picked her up. “Come on, Arachne, you’ve already eaten.”
“Have you?”
Dan managed to keep from dropping the dog as he looked up. He frowned.
“You shouldn’t be here, Edie.”
Edie shrugged, cradling a Boston Terrier in her arms. “I’m just checking on you, dude. It’s good to see that these guys are doing well-” She indicated Anansi as he rested his head on her shoulder- “-but what about you?”
He laughed weakly. “Me? What about you? Aren’t you wanted for murder?”
Edie set Anansi down gently. “I’m wanted for questioning. They don’t have any proof I did it- those photos are circumstantial evidence. For all they know, Drake and his guard killed each other in a duel.”
Dan’s frown deepened. “…Did you really do it?”
She didn’t answer, stroking the terrier’s head.
Dan pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling the police, Edie.”
She kept petting Anansi. “You do that.”
He took his eyes off her for a second as he dialed the nine, glancing back as he dialed the first one. She was gone.
His phone chimed. He set down Arachne, checking his inbox. One new message sat there.
ED: Take care of yourself, Dan.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Peter knew Edie was sitting next to him. He didn’t acknowledge her openly, setting down his sandwich. She reached over and plucked it off his lap, taking a bite.
She swallowed. “Peanut butter and banana? Really?”
He shrugged. “Aunt May used to make them for me when I was a kid.”
They sat there for a while, him staring into the distance, her chewing on his sandwich.
He didn’t look at her when he spoke. “So how’d you know it was me?”
“Vivi recognized your scent,” Edie replied through a mouth full of peanut butter. “It’s pretty distinctive- Arachnakines aren’t native to Earth, are they?”
Peter shook his head. “So, how’d you end up here?”
Edie swallowed again, but her voice wasn’t the one that answered this time. “The Kree sent me and my brethren here for storage. And you?”
“Field trip.”
Edie smiled. “Separated from the group?”
He nodded pensively.
Her smile vanished. “So why’d you do it?”
“Stay on Earth?”
“Send in those pictures.”
“You killed someone.”
“And you haven’t?”
“No.”
From her expression, he could tell that wasn’t the response she’d been expected.
“Did that not count as murder? Snatching the life from that boy to walk around in his skin?”
He drew in a sharp breath. “He was already dead.”
There was another silence, more taut than the first.
“If we meet again,” Peter said, “I’m turning you in.”
“If we meet again, we won’t give you the chance.”
When he turned to her, she was gone. In her place was something tall and dark and strange, with wide white eyes and a maw full of needle-like teeth. Something alien.
Something like him.
“What should I call you?” he asked.
“I am called Vivi,” the alien said, speaking alone.
Her voice joined theirs again, and somehow, together, it sounded right.
“But we…we are Venom.”