Spiderman: Venom

Black Cat growled as she tore the newspaper apart. She clutched pieces of a grainy but usable photo in her hands. It showed her in her armored catsuit with the headline, "Black Cat Menace."

Her image, along with Spider-Man and Tarantula, was plastered on every copy of the Daily Bugle she could find.

Even worse, they had cast her as some frustrated, angry housewife. Heaven forbid she might have her own reasons for going after scumbags beyond some stereotyped feminist-driven anger.

She snorted. Sexual deviant? Let them try squeezing into a latex suit after a growth spurt. Idiots.

From the rooftop, she spotted her target. The kid was back at Aleksei's place, and she needed to find out who he was.

She'd never managed to get a clear look at his face, but he was thin, dressed in jeans and a short jacket, with no bike or car. She figured he was either a drug dealer or one of the runners they paid to fetch supplies or make deliveries.

She snorted, watching as he lifted what looked like a heater. As if anyone would believe a scrawny kid could lift something so heavy. It all seemed like a setup, and as she watched him hoist it onto one shoulder, she began to follow him.

She tracked him across the rooftops to the warehouse district—straight to the site of the meth lab. Even she wouldn't be that obvious.

Pick a better hideout, genius, she thought, shaking her head.

If the cops got wind of anything, this would be their first stop, and she couldn't believe his recklessness. A lone kid with a suspicious item in an abandoned drug lab was almost too convenient.

Great, she thought, flexing her fingers as her razor-sharp claws extended and retracted. Finally, someone she could take out her frustration on after that Bugle nonsense.

She waited, a patient hunter. Darkness would fall soon, and she settled in, closing her eyes and focusing, ready for her target to make a move.

After hauling the heater into the warehouse, Peter shifted to Venom. The water heater wasn't especially heavy, but it was far easier to hold it in one hand with super strength. Slinging it over his shoulder, he climbed up to the roof where the main water junction was located.

The water heater he'd taken from Aleksei was the original model, bolts still intact, and all it needed was to be reattached to the panel it came from. It was a simple job, wrapping up with sealing all the connections.

Finally, hot water, Venom chuckled to himself. Now everything was coming together.

He had the felt underlay and tiles ready to finish the wet rooms, and now with running water, he could get started on those next.

With hot water, he could even consider spending nights here—and maybe let Gwen stay longer than just a few hours.

Venom's strength made positioning and securing the heater easy. Once it was done, he planned to shift back to Peter to handle the finer details of wiring and welding.

He was carefully positioning the large cylinder when the first attack struck.

Venom had been so distracted, daydreaming about showering with Gwen, that he hadn't noticed the presence behind him. Seagulls and other large birds often circled above, and he'd learned to tune them out—just as they ignored him when they realized he had no food.

The razor-sharp claws scraping down his back brought a hiss from his throat. He dodged the second blow, rolling to the side and spinning into a low crouch to face his attacker.

She was stunning, dressed in a tight black leather or latex suit that left little to the imagination. Venom couldn't help but notice her toned build, but he was more distracted by her striking curves.

The photos in the Bugle were nothing compared to seeing her in person. JJ hadn't exaggerated when he hinted that some images were too risqué to print; her outfit was designed to emphasize and reveal.

Her hair was thick and silvery, held back by a half-mask that revealed only the steely gray of her eyes. She was arrestingly beautiful.

Snap out of it, Parker, he told himself. You've got Gwen.

"Why?" was all he asked her.

"You took out Marko. Now you're after the kid?" She gestured toward the warehouse. "You tell me why?"

Venom was confused. The kid? Did she think he was here to hurt someone?

Then he realized that with the symbiote skin, he looked nothing like Peter—his height and build were completely different. "Parker means nothing to us. We protect him. So why?"

Black Cat looked taken aback. "Parker? Peter Parker?"

No, that couldn't be right. She'd admit that she'd tuned out when Gwen mentioned the warehouse. Peter this, Peter that—blah, blah. She hadn't paid attention, thinking about more pressing matters. Now she regretted it, vaguely recalling something about the warehouse and a junkyard job.

Damn, she thought. So that was Peter, and this is his place.

"No problem, big guy. We're good?" She raised her hands in surrender. If Peter knew Venom, that was a good sign, and she didn't want to make an enemy out of him.

Venom crouched, extending his fingernails into sharp claws. "We will be." Then he lunged.

Venom was angry. Shifting out of Parker always brought up all his pent-up frustration—his anger at Gwen's dad, at Flash, and memories of Gwen stirring something else. He'd tried to work off the extra energy with a run, but that hadn't worked. He'd tried lifting weights, but that hadn't done the trick either. So he'd decided that work might not help, but it would at least be a distraction.

But now this woman—this cat—had attacked him, and she was a far better outlet.

He'd wanted someone to test himself against. Juggling eggs was fine, but this was a real challenge—to put this woman in her place without causing serious harm. Well, at least after those claws on his back, he might make her regret that first strike.

He also felt another sensation stir within him—the way her muscles flexed under that tight leather suit. The way her strong legs moved as she retreated sparked a different feeling, one that Gwen's playful teasing had left unresolved. He might have just found the perfect way to burn off some of his frustrations.

Black Cat saw his claw coming at her face, and her heart nearly skipped a beat. She lifted an arm to deflect the strike, letting it glide along her forearm as she ducked under the massive biceps of this creature.

Its mouth split open in a hideous grin, revealing rows of jagged teeth she'd never imagined.

As she ducked, she drove a knee into his stomach, hoping to knock the air out of him, but he laughed as he grabbed her thigh.

"Mmm, nice," he purred, his hand gripping her thigh.

The brute was actually groping her. Her indignation was short-lived as he lifted her and slammed her down onto the rooftop.

The impact forced the air from her lungs, and she struggled against his grip. His hand was wrapped around her thigh, squeezing it intermittently.

Damn pervert, she thought, and she brought her other knee up to strike him in the head.

He reeled back with a roar, and Black Cat managed to get to her feet. She was faster, and as she pivoted, she landed a powerful roundhouse kick to the side of his head.

He staggered, dropping to one hand, but quickly shook his head and glared at her.

He had the advantage of reach and strength, but she was quicker. As he swung his bulky fists at her, she wove around them and scratched his biceps with her claws. Whatever his suit was made of healed itself within seconds.

He swung again, and she thought, Amateur.

He was clearly untrained, not used to fighting someone skilled. But her luck ran out. As she dodged a swipe aimed at her head, he managed to land a solid punch on her side.

She hoped it was just her corset cracking and not her ribs, as pain surged through her, expelling the breath from her lungs.

Damn, she thought. Breathing in the tight suit was getting harder, and one more hit like that could break her ribs.

She was sure she could win, but the risk was too high—she needed to escape. His thick arms swung at her repeatedly, and she dodged and sidestepped out of range.

He hissed at her in frustration, and Venom realized he was right: fighting someone trained was much tougher than taking down a random thug.

As he roared at her, she took the opportunity to put some distance between them. She kept a variety of small gadgets in her belt: smoke bombs, flashbangs, trackers, painkillers, and small throwing knives.

Drawing a knife, she threw it directly at his head. When he turned to dodge it, she dropped a smoke bomb at her feet and launched a flashbang at his face.

By the time the bomb detonated, she'd already leapt off the roof and hit the ground running. His enraged screech echoed behind her, but she kept sprinting, determined to get as far away as possible.

"We will find you! Yes, we will. We are VENOM!" he shouted into the night.

His eyes burned from the flashbang she'd tossed, and even now, bright spots clouded his vision. He closed his eyes, and as the air grew calm and the night returned to stillness, he retreated back into the warehouse.

Now he knew he had a weakness: bright lights and loud noises. Even if it meant wearing an extra mask beneath his symbiote skin, he couldn't allow anyone to exploit this.

Black Cat stopped on the roof of a warehouse about a mile away from her fight with Venom. Carefully, she touched her side, and while her ribs weren't broken, they were definitely bruised.

Her back throbbed from where he'd slammed her, and she checked herself for any other injuries.

Only my pride, she thought, remembering how the creature had grabbed her thigh. She examined the black residue on her claws, watching as it disintegrated into fine dust.

Damn, she thought, a self-repairing suit would be useful.

Rummaging through her belt, she pulled out a couple of capsules, crushing them between her teeth. She leaned against the air duct and took a shallow breath. As the pain in her side faded and breathing became easier, she straightened up. Clutching her side, she began her slow journey home.

If Venom was somehow connected to Peter, she'd have to rethink her plan, maybe even see if he'd be willing to help her. Her father had always warned her against working with others, but right now, she could use the help.

If Peter was getting mixed up with Aleksei, he might need her assistance. If he owed her, maybe she could convince him to get Venom on her side.

Why didn't that fool just ask whoever's under that mask to help him with Flash? she wondered. That guy was massive. She snorted. A massive jerk. Then she groaned as even a small laugh made her side ache.

In the distance, a blue-and-red-suited figure watched the battle unfold. He had followed the mysterious woman—his Black Cat—first to a junkyard and then to a warehouse. He felt a bit guilty about tailing her, but he needed the cash, and she was far more interesting than Tarantula.

She had a striking figure. Even with her face obscured by a mask, her photos sold much better than those of a muscle-bound goon.

It was a sad truth of the industry. Even though Jonah spun her as an angry feminist, he knew she had her reasons.

Unlike Tarantula, she kept out of the streets. Instead, she stalked neighborhoods for targets, always following the same pattern.

She mostly attacked men with records of violent crime or connections to crime families. She was after something, and he figured it was probably the elusive figure known only as Kingpin.

He'd stumbled upon her and her target, hoping for a few good shots, but this was a jackpot. His camera's memory was full—not only of his own heroic saves but now with high-definition footage of two supers trading blows on a rooftop.

Sure, he was too far to catch what they were saying, but it didn't matter—J.J. wouldn't care. All that mattered were fists flying and kicks landing.

More importantly, this was payday for Eddie. A video of these two going at it would sell better than the shaky phone footage of Hulk vs. the army. He'd taken his time, ensuring the quality was excellent without getting noticed.

He nearly drooled thinking about the steak he'd buy with the payout from these shots. Oh yeah, he'd make Jameson pay handsomely for these, along with the syndication rights. Plus, he had a name—a loud, clear shout that was more attention-grabbing than any dialogue.

He'd been so focused on reviewing his files that he'd lost track of Black Cat when she'd jumped off the warehouse. He tried getting closer, but he didn't want to alert Tarantula to his presence. When he moved in again, both had vanished.

It didn't matter. He could already see tomorrow's headline:

"Black Cat Vs Tarantula: Super-Villain Showdown"

Venom. Phff. What a lame name, Spider-Man thought. Tarantula was way cooler.