So, wanted to write something involving Venom. Especially Flash Thompson Venom. Bit hard to do considering the convoluted mess that is 616 Marvel Continuity and that's the only one he exists in. I also mourned the loss of Anti-Venom.
And so this is possibly the start of a <s>horrible fight to the death</s> Beautiful friendship between a symbiote-addicted bilateral amputee war veteran and a symbiote-hating religious cancer-surviving homeless man.
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When one thinks of Eddie Brock, they naturally think 'The super villain, Venom.' Except that 'fact' has been out of date for a long time. Brock's moved on, found religion around the same time he found cancer. Somehow, he beat it and in the process became 'Anti-Venom,' a crusader against drugs, criminals, and every last symbiote on the planet. Someone that could really be called, in many ways, a 'super hero.'
Until today.
Because he sacrificed being Anti-Venom to save millions. The 'Spider Island' epidemic, as it now being called, had the potential to threaten the world with a mutagenic plague until it was cured by Brock giving up every last one of his Anti-Venom antibodies to create an antidote. Well, almost all of them. Though he doesn't know it, I managed to snag a vial of his 'symbiote' when we fought earlier. I was supposed to bring it in to be studied at base. I'll have to tell them it broke in the commotion when fighting against the Spider Queen.
I have this feeling I'm going to regret this, though that might be coming from the voice in the back of my head whispering angrily. I'm Flash Thompson, America's Agent Venom and the symbiote is warning me that I'm about to make the biggest mistake of my life. I ignore it.
Carefully, I pull out the vial, and the symbiote's fighting me every step of the way. Its still exhausted and drugged, but the terror and bitterness flowing through it are quickly giving it strength. If I let it go unchecked, it'll only get in the way, so I quickly pull out another bottle of sedatives and swallow its contents. Not the healthiest option, but if it wants to keep me alive, the Venom symbiote will have to process the pills for me, which will keep it quiet and calm.
With my window of opportunity quickly fading, I look over at Brock. He's pale, unconscious and shallowly breathing. Not surprising considering Reed Richards basically took away his immune system. Carefully loading the syringe with the vial's contents, I prep the shot, careful to not let any of the white, caustic material touch us- me. Careful to not let it touch ME.
This was now or never. Nobody here to stop me or observe this. Easy enough to let Brock claim a miracle, he's definitely deserved it. With trepidation, I pierce a vein and inject him with his pure anti-symbiote go-go juice.
I wait and look for any signs of success. Seconds turn into minutes. Nothing changed. Only one way to be sure.
Carefully, I bring our hand down onto Brock's shoulder before instantly recoiling as a thin layer of white-caustic goo springs from where we've touched him, the symbiote sreaming in agony, letting me feel the horrible agony it feels. A noise from Brock signals that he's coming to and that all that needed for the frightened whispers of the symbiote to beg we flee.
Even without its desperate murmurs I would have gone. The symbiote and I can still do a lot of good, today proved that, and I still have things to do. Within seconds, Anti-Venom is looking around frantically, most likely for us, but we're already gone.
Have to report to base. Betty's waiting.
PROLOGUE END.
And so this is possibly the start of a <s>horrible fight to the death</s> Beautiful friendship between a symbiote-addicted bilateral amputee war veteran and a symbiote-hating religious cancer-surviving homeless man.
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When one thinks of Eddie Brock, they naturally think 'The super villain, Venom.' Except that 'fact' has been out of date for a long time. Brock's moved on, found religion around the same time he found cancer. Somehow, he beat it and in the process became 'Anti-Venom,' a crusader against drugs, criminals, and every last symbiote on the planet. Someone that could really be called, in many ways, a 'super hero.'
Until today.
Because he sacrificed being Anti-Venom to save millions. The 'Spider Island' epidemic, as it now being called, had the potential to threaten the world with a mutagenic plague until it was cured by Brock giving up every last one of his Anti-Venom antibodies to create an antidote. Well, almost all of them. Though he doesn't know it, I managed to snag a vial of his 'symbiote' when we fought earlier. I was supposed to bring it in to be studied at base. I'll have to tell them it broke in the commotion when fighting against the Spider Queen.
I have this feeling I'm going to regret this, though that might be coming from the voice in the back of my head whispering angrily. I'm Flash Thompson, America's Agent Venom and the symbiote is warning me that I'm about to make the biggest mistake of my life. I ignore it.
Carefully, I pull out the vial, and the symbiote's fighting me every step of the way. Its still exhausted and drugged, but the terror and bitterness flowing through it are quickly giving it strength. If I let it go unchecked, it'll only get in the way, so I quickly pull out another bottle of sedatives and swallow its contents. Not the healthiest option, but if it wants to keep me alive, the Venom symbiote will have to process the pills for me, which will keep it quiet and calm.
With my window of opportunity quickly fading, I look over at Brock. He's pale, unconscious and shallowly breathing. Not surprising considering Reed Richards basically took away his immune system. Carefully loading the syringe with the vial's contents, I prep the shot, careful to not let any of the white, caustic material touch us- me. Careful to not let it touch ME.
This was now or never. Nobody here to stop me or observe this. Easy enough to let Brock claim a miracle, he's definitely deserved it. With trepidation, I pierce a vein and inject him with his pure anti-symbiote go-go juice.
I wait and look for any signs of success. Seconds turn into minutes. Nothing changed. Only one way to be sure.
Carefully, I bring our hand down onto Brock's shoulder before instantly recoiling as a thin layer of white-caustic goo springs from where we've touched him, the symbiote sreaming in agony, letting me feel the horrible agony it feels. A noise from Brock signals that he's coming to and that all that needed for the frightened whispers of the symbiote to beg we flee.
Even without its desperate murmurs I would have gone. The symbiote and I can still do a lot of good, today proved that, and I still have things to do. Within seconds, Anti-Venom is looking around frantically, most likely for us, but we're already gone.
Have to report to base. Betty's waiting.
PROLOGUE END.