Spiderman: Venom

Peter was on cloud nine. Not even the usual sneers from Flash and his friends could bring him down from his high.

He had carefully saved the picture Gwen had sent him to his computer, then deleted it afterward. It was special, and maybe a hint of more to come. Grinning like an idiot, he hesitated briefly before sending her one back.

Whatever she thought of his flexed abs and a small hint of his pecs, he wasn't sure. She went oddly quiet and only sent a smiley face twenty minutes later.

Coming back to school would usually ruin his mood, but after his date with Gwen, he didn't care at all.

Aunt May had grilled him, and though it was clear she'd nudged him toward asking Gwen out, he couldn't be mad at her for prying. He even took advantage of her guilt to get the tracking app removed from his phone. He could've done it himself, but he knew May only meant well.

Even if the morning news had given him a ridiculous name—Tarantula, which he found dumb—he shrugged it off. He'd just make sure his next outing left someone able to tell them his real name: Venom. Phff, he thought, who thought up "Tarantula"?

He'd even sprayed his name on the ground. Stupid reporter, he thought, flipping to the photos and noting the byline: Eddie Brock. He made sure to remember the name.

Reading the Bugle, he saw that his exploits as Venom were already making headlines. His first night out was just a memory now. He knew he'd gone too hard on the mugger, but he'd learn—to cause pain, not lasting harm; to leave bruises, not permanent injuries. As long as they behaved, he'd go easy. But those who crossed him? They'd feel his wrath.

At school, Peter was now seen as more of an outcast than ever. The suspension had given him a reputation, and the video only amplified it. Now he was viewed as a delinquent—violent, and the quiet, "nice guy" image he had was replaced with something darker in some students' minds. But he couldn't care less. He was here to learn, not to worry about rumors.

He was glad to be back, glad to see Gwen and Felicia, but surprised Harry wasn't around.

As the week wore on, so did his frustration. It wasn't Flash making life hard this time; it was everyone else.

Harry had stopped showing up at school, and Gwen, though herself, seemed a bit distant.

With a little persuasion, he found out that Gwen was getting a taste of how challenging it could be for women entering the sciences.

A new hire had asked her to fetch coffee and brushed her off when she tried to explain she was there for sample collection. The higher-ups took one look at her five-foot-ten, curvy build, big blue eyes, and straight blonde hair and assumed she was unqualified.

Some hit on her, suggested she try modeling, or simply ignored her. She soon found herself enduring veiled comments about her appearance. Even those who knew her father didn't care—they either played golf with her dad's boss or had connections.

Despite Peter's encouragement, she didn't want to talk about it much, but he was fine with that. She knew he was there if she needed to vent.

At lunch, as he sat alone, he was approached by someone he didn't particularly want to talk to.

"Hey, Parker, we need to talk."

Cindy Moon. She was his co-chair on the math team and ranked third on the honor roll. She stood about his height, with graceful looks from her supermodel mom and fitness-coach dad. It was rumored she was gay, but with people like Flash around, she wouldn't risk coming out publicly.

"Yeah, so, uh, you're off the math team." Cindy was always blunt. Normally, her straightforwardness rubbed Peter the wrong way—she tended to use it as a cover for rudeness. But today, he didn't mind; it meant they could wrap up the conversation faster. Lunch and daydreaming about Gwen were more important.

"Yeah, so, I don't care," Peter said, holding back his disdain.

High school was supposed to prepare you for life, but lately, it felt like it only taught people to mistreat others.

"Look, Cindy, with everything going on, the math club is the last thing on my mind right now. So yeah, whatever—replace me, get Betty in, do whatever."

She snorted, as if to say they couldn't replace him. Peter was one of the school's top brains, right after Gwen. Losing him would mean losing the finals, and that mattered to Cindy—it was key to her college plans.

Cindy brushed her hair back and leaned in. "You don't care? Well, I do. Your little stunt will cost us the cup and look bad on my college apps. No one likes second place, Peter."

Peter idly spooned his pudding. "Well, take it up with Flash, his dad, the vice principal, and everyone else. Because, as I said, I. Don't. Care." He emphasized each word. He was tired of getting blamed for everyone else's actions.

Flash and his crew were at their usual table. They'd usually be loud, but now they were watching Peter and Cindy argue. Flash scowled, annoyed that the usually quiet Parker was standing up to someone.

"Peter, look, I'm sorry about what happened, but you should know—there's talk—" she started, but he cut her off.

"Cindy, look, you're nice and all, but when I say I don't care, I really don't." Peter dropped his spoon on his tray. "In fact, you're right—I should care. That's why," and he raised his voice, letting everyone hear him, "I'm sorry Flash is such an asshole that he can't even bully someone properly. I'm sorry he's so fucking stupid he's ruined every club I've been kicked out of. And I'm sorry you're all so stupid you believe anything that moron says. And I'm sorry you think he matters because his dad's rich and you're all suck-ups."

"And lastly," he glared directly at Flash, "I'm sorry you're all so selfish that you don't care about anything unless it affects you. You're all so fucking pathetic."

The entire cafeteria fell silent. Peter dumped his tray, tossed his trash, and stormed out.

Flash moved to stand up, but Cindy crossed her arms and shot him an angry look. He sat back down, muttering something that made his friends laugh.

Peter didn't care that he was now skipping class and that it could be used against him. His anger at the unfairness of it all was boiling over, and he needed to clear his head. He also had to check something.

Arriving at Nelson and Murdock, he saw they'd finally put up their sign. The office looked more professional now, with lettering on the door, and they'd managed to tidy up.

A friendly red-haired woman greeted him. "Do you have an appointment?" she asked. The nameplate on her desk read Karen Page.

"Uh, sorry, Miss Page. I don't, but could you tell Matt Murdock I'm here?"

Karen nodded and pressed the intercom, but Matt poked his head out before she could speak.

"Peter. I wasn't expecting you, and, uh, shouldn't you be in school?" Matt asked, smiling at Karen. "It's fine. My eleven o'clock can wait a few minutes."

Karen rolled her eyes. "Your eleven o'clock isn't here."

Matt grinned. "Perfect, then."

"Sorry to drop in like this, Mr. Murdock. This won't take long," Peter sighed. "If I quit school, what happens to the case?"

Matt stood, tapping his cane in front of him.

"Well, the assault case against Flash goes ahead, but the case with the school board might hit a rough patch. Has it gotten worse?"

Peter exhaled slowly. "You could say that."

Matt stepped forward. "Right now, anything that happens at school adds evidence that something's wrong, even if it's not Flash. If other teachers or students influenced by him are involved. If he hasn't attacked you again and it's just kids being mean, can you hang on a bit longer?"

"And if I can't?" Peter asked. It wasn't just stress—he was genuinely worried about accidentally hurting someone.

"Then quit. The case might be affected, but your well-being is more important." Matt placed a reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder. "Nothing is more important than you, Peter." He patted Peter's shoulder a few times. "Oh, and tell the school I called you in, and it was urgent," he added with a smile. "Karen, call Peter's aunt and confirm. Say they must have misplaced the note that he was meeting me this morning."

"Thanks, Mr. Murdock," Peter said, slipping the latest recordings from his bag. "See you." He closed the office door behind him, leaving Matt to his thoughts.

Matt shook his head. "It's Matt, Peter. Oh, Karen, could you handle transcribing those for me?" he asked before heading back into his office.

He had felt the firmness of Peter's muscles through his shirt, noting their unusual density. He was now pretty sure Peter had been exposed to the same toxin he had.

Maybe I can help, Matt thought as he ran his fingers over the braille edition of the Bugle. Or maybe he's one of those guys, though.

Peter returned to school and went straight to the main office. The secretary at the desk glanced up at the clock, then raised an eyebrow at him.

"I, uh, had an appointment. My aunt can confirm it," he said. This time, though, he didn't wait for her reply and went directly back to class.

Almost an hour late, he still got a tardy slip but no detention, since May had called not long after Peter left Matt's office.

Nobody mentioned his situation again, but Peter sensed a shift. He was used to the hushed whispers, but now he could actually make out phrases—everything from "He's on drugs" to "Wow, he's actually hot" reached his ears. Apparently, one outburst in the cafeteria was all it took to get people to give him space.

The rest of the afternoon went by quietly. Even though Gwen was caught up in her own struggles, she still gave him a hug at the school gate.

When he got home, Aunt May was pacing the apartment.

Ever since he'd gotten sick, Peter had changed. She worried it was the money—that it had made him more self-assured, almost to the point of arrogance. The situation with Flash seemed to have pushed him over the edge.

She had just gotten off the phone with the school. This wasn't like Peter, being so impulsive. It wasn't until Matt called and explained that she felt calm enough to back him up.

As Peter walked in, May hurried over and hugged him. "So… you know?"

She stroked his head as she nodded. "If anyone—"

"No, Aunt May, no one said anything. I just… needed some advice. So, make coffee, and I'll tell you everything, I promise. Just… no yelling until I'm finished."

A mix of emotions—sadness, anger, shock, and surprise—flashed across May's face. She kept her word, holding her tongue whenever she felt the urge to comfort or scold him.

Peter pulled out document after document as he explained his plans and how he'd spent the money so far. She didn't mind that he'd spent it; she minded that he had used almost all of it without consulting her.

She looked over the plans and blueprints for work yet to be done. She didn't understand most of them, but she hoped Peter hadn't taken on more than he could handle.

"So, uh, what do you think, Aunt May?" he asked, noting her clenched hands.

"Well, I guess we're going to see this warehouse of yours. I won't say I'm not disappointed, Peter. You could have still gone to college. You could have used…" She stopped, taking in the work he'd put into all his ideas and projects, and reconsidered.

"No, you know what, Peter? Your Uncle Ben and I made our own mistakes. We did things the way we wanted. So, no, you do what you want and don't let anyone ever tell you you're wrong—well, unless it's a dumb idea, then Gwen can tell you."

She smiled, and Peter couldn't help but laugh.

"All right, let me grab my coat, and let's go see this place of yours."