I Woke Up in the Marvel Universe, But All the Heroes Are Women?!

by Astro_lust

Summary:

Shane Steele thought his life was meaningless until a city bus ended it and dropped him into a strange reflection of the Marvel Universe where women dominate the culture and men fill the roles he grew up watching heroines struggle against. Reborn in a familiar New York but with unfamiliar rules Shane tries to understand why he is alive and why his new body thrums with a power that feels both intoxicating and dangerous. His dream of becoming a hero burns bright even as the world throws him into chaos.

Far More plot than porn

MC has power to teleport short distances

Reverse World
1:1 women to men ratio

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Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Waking Up in Marvel

The November wind slices through my threadbare jacket like it's made of tissue paper as I trudge across UMass Boston's campus. My eyelids feel like they're being propped open with toothpicks after pulling my third all-nighter this week.

"I'm so exhausted, dude," Jake mumbles beside me, his backpack hanging off one shoulder like it's too heavy for his body to support fully.

"Same," I grunt, kicking an empty energy drink can someone left on the sidewalk. "Life fucking sucks right now."

We shuffle past the science building, our breaths creating little ghost clouds that vanish almost instantly. Jake shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. "You know what's messed up? When I was a kid, I wanted to be a teacher. Had it all planned out. Now I just feel like I'd never make enough to survive."

I nod, feeling that familiar weight settle in my chest. "I get that. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a fireman. Save people, be a hero, you know?" I step over a particularly icy patch of sidewalk. "Now it just feels like the world is always on the verge of ending."

I sigh, the sound disappearing into the crisp air as we approach the economics building, another day of pretending to care about supply and demand when all I really want is to collapse face-first into my bed.

Jake sighs as we reach the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the light to change. "It's just hard, you know? Everyone told us being business majors was the smart choice, but some days..."

"Yeah," I say, watching a flock of pigeons scatter as someone approaches them with a bagel. "I get it. I can't help feeling like I'm becoming the bad guy in someone else's story. Corporate drone number five-hundred-and-whatever."

The light changes, and we start across the street, our shoes crunching on the thin layer of salt scattered over the asphalt.

"I guess," Jake shrugs, his breath clouding in front of him. "But what choice do we have? The system's rigged no matter what."

I hitch my backpack higher on my shoulder, feeling the weight of textbooks and a future I never really wanted. "I know, but those Fidelity internships everyone's fighting over? The ones we got. It really makes me feel like a Villian…"

The world explodes into noise and pain.

I don't even see the bus. One moment I'm walking and talking, the next I'm airborne, my body twisting at angles it was never meant to. There's a sickening crunch that I realize with detached horror is coming from me. Jake's scream sounds distant, underwater.

Time slows to a crawl. The sky cartwheels overhead.

Then nothing.

Absolute nothing.

*****

My eyes snap open with a violent gasp. Air floods my lungs like I'm breathing for the first time.

"Wha..?" I choke out, disoriented and confused. The weight on my chest isn't metaphorical, it's literal. A woman is straddling me, her filthy hands pawing at my clothes. My vision adjusts to the dim light, and I nearly scream.

Her face is a nightmare collage, missing teeth, skin mottled with dirt and what might be open sores, hair matted into clumps that hang around her face like dead vegetation. The stench hits me next, a toxic cocktail of body odor, alcohol, and something far worse.

"I'm alive," I whisper in shock, memories of the bus impact flashing through my mind. How am I not dead? Where's Jake? Where am I?

A grimy palm slams over my mouth, fingers digging into my cheeks.

"Shut the fuck up," she growls, her voice like gravel being crushed. "I'm trying to fuck you, boy."

Her other hand yanks at my jeans, surprisingly strong fingers working at my belt buckle. Panic explodes through me. I thrash beneath her, trying to throw her off, but she's impossibly heavy, like she's made of concrete instead of flesh.

I bite at her palm, kick my legs, but she doesn't budge. What the hell? She looks like she weighs ninety pounds soaking wet, but it's like trying to move a car off my chest.

"Stop squirming," she hisses, leaning closer. Her breath makes my eyes water. "Pretty boy like you should be grateful."

My heart hammers against my ribs. This can't be happening. I got hit by a bus. I should be dead or in a hospital, not being assaulted in what looks like... I glance around wildly... an alley? Garbage bags and cardboard boxes surround us, the brick walls on either side creating a narrow channel that dead-ends behind her.

I manage to wrench my face away from her hand. "Help!" I scream, voice cracking. "Somebody help me!"

The crack of the gunshot is deafening in the narrow alley. One second the homeless woman is on top of me, and the next her head jerks violently to the side. Something warm and wet sprays across my face. Her body goes instantly limp, collapsing onto me like a puppet with cut strings, her dead weight suddenly much heavier than when she was alive.

I can't breathe. Can't think. My hands scramble against the pavement, pushing desperately at her corpse. Her blood is seeping through my clothes, hot and sticky against my skin. I finally manage to shimmy out from under her, my back scraping against the rough concrete as I crab-walk away, leaving her face-down in the filth of the alley.

"Justice is served," a woman's voice announces, the words ringing with a disturbing satisfaction.

I look up, heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. Standing at the mouth of the alley is the most terrifying and elegant woman I've ever seen.

She's like something out of a nightmare fashion show. The pristine white of her coat-dress is blinding in the dim alley, its razor-sharp edges catching what little light filters down between the buildings. Each step she takes reveals a tactical black bodysuit beneath the dramatic front slit. The contrast between the ghostly white and tactical black makes her look like some kind of avenging angel of death.

A wide-brimmed hat shadows most of her face, but I can make out the gleaming contours of what looks like a skull mask underneath. In her hand, a pistol still trails a wisp of smoke.

She laughs, the sound musical and horrifying at the same time. I slowly push myself to my feet, my legs shaking so badly I have to lean against the wall for support.

"What the hell is happening?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.

She tilts her head, the movement oddly bird-like. "I just saved you," she says, her voice smooth as velvet and just as suffocating. "You're welcome."

I can't tear my eyes away from the dead woman on the ground, her blood forming a dark pool that's spreading toward my sneakers. "Who… who are you?"

Instead of answering, she closes the distance between us with fluid strides. I back up trying to find a way out, but i end up pressed against the brick wall, nowhere to go. She reaches out with her free hand, and I flinch, but her touch is surprisingly gentle as she traces her gloved fingers along my jawline, down my neck.

"The name is Scourge," she says, her voice dropping to something intimate and dangerous. Her fingers press against my pulse. "My, your heart is racing."

"What the fuck?" I blurt out, terror and confusion making me dizzy. This can't be happening. First the bus, then the homeless woman, now this… Am I dead? Is this hell?

Her skull mask gleams in the dim light as she suddenly presses the gun barrel under my chin, forcing my head up at an uncomfortable angle. My mind screams danger but my body freezes like prey.

"I think," she purrs, the words sliding out like silk over broken glass, "I want a taste of what that homeless woman seemed so desperate for."

"What?" I stammer, my voice breaking embarrassingly high. The cold metal digs into the soft flesh under my jaw.

Scourge leans in closer, her perfume a disorienting mix of expensive notes and something metallic. "Don't you owe me?" She laughs, the sound echoing off the alley walls. "I just saved your life. Shouldn't you show a little... gratitude?"

The gun pushes deeper, and something in me snaps. I run.

I duck and twist, shoving past her with strength born of pure terror. My sneakers slip slightly in the blood, but I recover and sprint behind her, expecting a bullet in my back any second.

"I like this better, kid!" she calls after me, her voice electric with excitement. "Chasing is half the fun, but now I’m going to kill you!"

My lungs burn as I bolt from the alley, panic shorting out my rational thought. Left? Right? I veer right into another narrow passage between buildings, my heart hammering so loud I swear it's echoing off the walls. There, a metal door with a sliver of light showing through, propped open by what looks like a brick.

I slam through it without hesitation, nearly falling as do.

Bright lights blind me momentarily. White walls. High ceilings. As my vision adjusts, I see abstract sculptures, minimalist paintings, and a small group of well-dressed people turning to stare at me with expressions ranging from startled to disgusted.

A museum. I've crashed into some kind of art museum.

"Sir, you can't come in through the emergency exit," a security guard says, already moving toward me with a hand raised.

"She's trying to kill me," I gasp out, backing away from the door. "There's a woman with a gun…"

The door swings open behind me.

"There you are," Scourge's velvet voice sings out as she steps into the museum.

I don't even think, I just drop to the floor as her arm extends. The gunshot cracks through the air like thunder. Plaster dust rains down from where the bullet hits the wall, inches from where my head was a second ago.

Chaos erupts. People scream, dropping wine glasses and exhibition pamphlets. The security guard reaches for her radio, but another shot sends her diving behind a modernist sculpture.

"Stop running, pretty boy!" Scourge calls out, her musical laughter following me as I scramble to my feet and sprint deeper into the museum.

I weave through the panicking crowd, knocking over a rope barrier in my desperation. Another bullet whizzes past my ear so close I feel the air displacement, like death's whisper against my skin.

"Sorry! Sorry!" I gasp as I shove past a woman.

I spot a darkened doorway and lunge toward it, my lungs burning. Crashing through heavy black curtains, I stumble into what feels like another world entirely.

The gallery I've entered is massive and dimly lit, with ceiling-high murals and glass cases casting eerie shadows. A placard near the entrance reads ‘Demons of the Underworld: A Historical Retrospective; in elegant, blood-red lettering.

But it's what dominates the center of the room that stops me cold, a towering obsidian statue of a male figure. Lord Lileth, according to the small information plate at its base. Massive bat-like wings spread behind a form of perfect, terrifying masculinity, muscles rendered in gleaming black stone. The emerald eyes, actual gemstones, seem to track me as I stare up at its imposing height.

"Where the fuck am I?" I whisper, momentarily forgetting the psychopath with a gun chasing me.

The sound of the curtains being ripped aside behind me shatters my momentary trance. Scourge glides into the demon room like death itself, her movements fluid and predatory. The dim lighting catches on her skull mask, making the eye sockets look bottomless.

"Found you," she purrs, ejecting her pistol's magazine with practiced ease. Her fingers dance as she reloads, fresh bullets sliding into place with metallic clicks that echo through the exhibition space.

"Ohhh," she coos, her voice dripping with sick excitement as she surveys our surroundings. "This is perfect. All these demons watching..." She gestures with her gun toward the grotesque displays. "Why don't you surrender now? We could have so much fun in the demonic room."

My back presses against the cold base of the obsidian statue as I try to catch my breath. "You're completely fucking insane," I gasp out, chest heaving. "Who the hell even are you?"

Her laugh tinkles like broken glass. "I told you, pretty boy. I'm Scourge. Your savior. Your nightmare." She slides the magazine home with a decisive click and aims directly at my chest. "Your end."

Pure instinct takes over again. I launch myself sideways just as the gun fires, the bullet chipping stone where I'd been standing. My legs are jelly but somehow still working as I sprint deeper into the exhibition, dodging between display cases of ancient-looking artifacts.

I'm so focused on escape that I don't see the mannequin until I crash right into it. We go down in a tangle of limbs. Something clatters across the floor, a necklace that had been displayed around its neck. A circle of gleaming black horns, each curved like tiny scythes.

"Shit, shit, shit," I mutter, scrambling to get back up. My hand slaps down on the cold marble floor, right on top of the scattered necklace.

And just like that, everything stops.

The sound of Scourge's approaching footsteps cuts off mid-click. The alarm that had been blaring throughout the museum falls silent. Even the dust particles I'd disturbed in my fall hang suspended in the air, glittering in the exhibition spotlights like tiny frozen stars.

I try to move, to lift my hand off the necklace, but nothing happens. My muscles won't respond. I'm locked in place, kneeling awkwardly beside the fallen mannequin, one hand splayed over the horned necklace. I can still breathe, still blink, still think, even move my head a little bit, but that's it. Everything else is paralyzed.

A cold shock races up my arm from where my palm touches the necklace. The frozen air around me seems to vibrate, then crack like thin ice. The obsidian statue behind me, the one I'd been admiring moments ago, suddenly pulses with an unnatural light.

The stone... it's melting. No, transforming. Obsidian turns to flesh before my eyes as the statue of Lord Lileth liquefies and reforms.

I'm still frozen in place, unable to move anything but my eyes as I watch in horror as the statue becomes something else entirely. Something alive.

The creature that forms above me is breathtaking in the most terrifying way possible. A tall, sharply built demon-lord towers over my kneeling form, his presence filling the exhibition hall like a physical weight. His face is angular and chiseled, marked by thin, glowing cracks that pulse with hellfire beneath his ashen skin. Long jet-black hair flows around him like living smoke, moving even though there's no breeze.

But it's his eyes that paralyze me more than whatever magic has me trapped, predatory green irises with serpent-like slits that seem to pierce right through me, sizing me up like prey. When he smiles, elongated canines gleam in the dim light, looking more suited for tearing flesh than mere intimidation.

His body is encased in what I first mistake for armor, until I realize with nauseating clarity that it's alive, organic plates of bone and sinew form around his torso and limbs, spiked pauldrons rising from his shoulders, ridged gauntlets encasing his forearms. The chest piece pulses faintly with the same demonic energy that flickers beneath his skin, as though it grew there rather than being forged.

Two massive bat-like wings unfurl behind him, webbed and veined like sheets of molten obsidian catching the light. Dark mist coils around his feet, making the floor itself seem to recoil from his presence.

The demon tilts his head, studying me with those burning green eyes.

"This is rather curious," he says, his voice like velvet dragged across broken glass.

My paralysis suddenly breaks, and I collapse backward, scrambling away until my back hits another display case.

"What the fuck is going on?" I gasp, my voice embarrassingly high-pitched with terror.

The demon looks down at me, cocking his head like a predator examining an unfamiliar creature.

"How should I know what's happening?" he says with a casual shrug that sends ripples through his wing membranes. "One moment I was in hell and the next, you've summoned me here." He gestures around at the frozen museum exhibit with a clawed hand.

My mouth falls open. "You're... you're an actual demon?" The words tumble out before I can stop them. Part of me is still hoping this is all some bizarre hallucination brought on by head trauma from the bus accident.

"Indeed." He gives an elegant bow that somehow makes the movement look both mocking and sincere. "The name is Lileth." He straightens, adjusting what appears to be bone-like cufflinks. "And you are?"

"Shane," I manage to croak out. "Shane Steele."

"Charming," Lileth drawls, looking thoroughly unimpressed. His eyes dart to the frozen figure of Scourge, suspended mid-stride with her gun aimed. "You appear to be in quite the predicament, Shane Steele."

"Can you help me?" The desperation in my voice is humiliating, but I'm way past caring about dignity. "I got hit by a bus, woke up being assaulted by a homeless woman, and now there's some psycho in a skull mask trying to kill me!"

Lileth examines his talons with casual disinterest. "Can I? Yes." His eyes flick back to mine, glowing brighter. "Will I? That's an entirely different question."

"For the love of God, why the fuck is this happening!" I shout, my voice echoing in the frozen space.

The demon's expression shifts, something like curiosity replacing his boredom. He looks around at the museum exhibits, the frozen Scourge, then back to me, still pathetically sprawled on the floor.

"Hmm," he hums, the sound vibrating through the air like a bass note. "You know what? You do seem a bit sad don’t you." His lips curl into a smile that reveals more of those dangerous teeth. "I suppose I could help you. It's been ages since I've had any real entertainment."

"What?" I blink up at him, not daring to believe it could be this easy.

Instead of answering, Lileth reaches down and presses one clawed finger to the center of my forehead. The contact burns like dry ice, painfully cold yet somehow scorching at the same time.

A bolt of energy surges through me, starting at that single point of contact and exploding outward like lightning through my veins. My skin ignites with an eerie blue-green glow that intensifies until I'm practically a human lightbulb. The sensation is like being plugged into an electrical socket while simultaneously being dunked in ice water, painful, exhilarating, and utterly terrifying.

"What the fuck are you doing to me?" I try to scream, but my voice comes out distorted, like I'm speaking into a fan.

My muscles spasm and twist as something foreign and powerful flows through them. Every cell in my body feels like it's being rewritten, reprogrammed. I can actually feel my bones shifting a little beneath my skin.

"Relax," Lileth purrs, his voice suddenly inside my head as much as outside it. "I'm turning you into a new type of incubus I've been working on. A little pet project of mine."

"A WHAT?" I manage to gasp through the pain.

Then everything stops.

The burning sensation vanishes. The blue-green glow fades. Lileth is gone. Simply gone, as if he'd never been there at all. I'm back on the floor where I was a minute ago, sprawled awkwardly beside the fallen mannequin. The obsidian statue stands tall and unbroken behind me, its emerald eyes lifeless once more.

Time lurches back into motion like a car with bad brakes. The museum alarm resumes its wailing. Dust motes continue their lazy dance through the air. And Scourge, she's moving again, stalking toward me with that gun pointed directly at my chest.

"No more places to run," she coos, her voice carrying over the alarm. "Such a shame. You were fun while it lasted."

I push myself to my feet, feeling... different. There's a strange heat pulsing through my veins, an awareness of my body I've never experienced before. Every sensation is heightened, the fabric of my shirt under my jacket against my skin feels like a caress, the air in my lungs tastes sweeter, and Scourge...

As I stare at her, something stirs inside me alongside the anxiety. A new power, coiled and waiting. I don't understand what's happening, but my body seems to know exactly what to do.

Without conscious thought, I visualize myself behind her. There's a sudden rush of displaced air, a blur of motion that isn't quite movement, and then…

I'm standing directly behind Scourge, the transition so abrupt it leaves me dizzy. My knees nearly buckle as exhaustion crashes through me like a tidal wave. Whatever I just did, it drained me like I just went on a short run.

Scourge whirls around, her skull mask inches from my face. "What the…"

The rest of her sentence dies as something white and sticky shoots through the air, wrapping around her arm and yanking the weapon away with a sharp tug.

"Huh?" Scourge snarls, but before she can finish, more webbing flies across the room, encasing her torso, then her legs, until she's cocooned like a fly in a spider's trap.

I stumble backward, watching in disbelief as a figure drops gracefully from the ceiling. The sleek red and blue costume hugs every curve, the iconic spider emblem stretching across her chest. Her mask's white eyes narrow as she lands in a perfect crouch beside the now-struggling Scourge.

"You know, for someone who calls herself 'Scourge,' your aim is terrible," the newcomer quips, tilting her head. "Maybe try 'Slightly Inconvenient Rash' instead? More accurate."

My jaw drops. "Spider-Man is here?" I blurt out, my brain struggling to process this new development.

The costumed hero turns to me, placing a hand on her hip. "Spider-Woman, actually. The hyphen and gender are both important, thanks."

Scourge thrashes against her webby prison, her skull mask somehow conveying fury despite being expressionless. "Release me, you arachnid freak!"

"Hmm, let me think about that," Spider-Woman taps a finger against her masked chin. "Nope! I think the police would prefer you gift-wrapped." She shoots another strand of webbing that seals Scourge's mask to the rest of her cocoon, muffling her curses.



A/N

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Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Swingers

Spider-Woman turns to me, her mask's eyes narrowing in what I think might be concern. "You okay there, civilian? You look like you've had quite the day."

I run a shaky hand through my hair, feeling that strange new energy still pulsing beneath my skin. "I... I don't even know where to start. There was a bus, then I woke up in an alley, then she shot someone and chased me in here, and then there was this demon statue…"

My voice trails off as a sudden realization hits me like a truck. I stare at Spider-Woman, an actual, real-life Spider-Woman standing in front of me, and everything clicks into place with horrifying clarity.

"Wait," I whisper, my eyes widening. "Oh my god. I'm in the comics?"

The words slip out before I can stop them. My heart races as I take in the superhero before me, trying desperately not to completely geek out. Throughout high school, I'd been absolutely obsessed with comic books, Spider-Man especially. I'd spent so much on singles, memorized storylines, even had the limited edition posters. I only slowed down sophomore year of college when classes got too intense.

And now here I am, face to face with a gender-swapped version of my childhood hero.

"You okay there?" Spider-Woman asks, her head tilting slightly. "You look like you're about to pass out."

I swallow hard, trying to compose myself. "I'm fine, just... processing."

She nods, then gestures toward my jacket. "Hey, you go to Empire State University, right? I can swing you over there right now if you want. Get you somewhere safe."

"Oh..." I hesitate, glancing back at the webbed-up Scourge. "Don't I need to talk to the cops or something?"

Spider-Woman waves a dismissive hand. "I'll handle all that. I just know men get really nervous after being assaulted. Didn't want to add any more trauma to your day." Her voice softens with genuine concern. "You've been through enough."

The kindness in her voice catches me off guard. I reach for my wallet, needing something familiar to ground me in this insanity. At least my name should be the same.

I flip it open, and sure enough, "Shane Steele" stares back at me. But when I look at my student ID, my stomach drops.

"Wait," I say, my voice hollow, "where in New York?"

"Yeah, where else would we be?" Spider-Woman responds, sounding confused by my question.

I say nothing, my mind racing. I'm not about to announce I'm from another world, that's a one-way ticket to the psych ward. Or worse, some government lab.

I stare at my student ID again, feeling like I'm looking at a stranger's life. "Oh fuck," I mutter, "I'm a freshman, I guess."

The words feel surreal leaving my mouth. Just minutes ago, in my world, I was a senior about to graduate.

Spider-Woman leans over to look at my ID. "Oh cool, a graphic design major," she says cheerfully. "Creative type, huh?"

I nod numbly, trying to process this new information. Graphic design? I was a business major with a focus on marketing. Everything about me has changed.

"Yeah," I manage to say. "Very creative."

"Well, let's get you back to campus then," she says, reaching for my arm. "Hold on tight, first time web-swingers tend to scream a lot."

"Wait, what?" I stammer as Spider-Woman gestures for me to come closer.

"Unless you'd prefer the bus," she quips.

I shake my head, still trying to process everything. She motions for me to move behind her.

"Arms around my waist, nice and tight," she instructs, tapping her hip. "Don't worry, I do this all the time."

Hesitantly, I step forward and wrap my arms around her midsection. She's surprisingly solid, all lean muscle beneath the suit. My hands lock together over her stomach, and I can feel my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Ready?" she asks, and before I can answer, we're airborne.

My stomach drops as we rocket upward through an open skylight I hadn't even noticed. The museum shrinks beneath us at alarming speed, and a scream tears from my throat before I can stop it. The cold November air slaps my face as we arc through the sky.

Spider-Woman's laugh carries back to me on the wind. "First time web-slinging, huh?"

"Not like I had many alternatives!" I shout, my voice cracking as we plummet toward the street below. At the last second, her arm shoots forward, a web line connecting with a nearby building, and we're yanked sideways in a stomach-churning pendulum swing.

"You can hold on tighter," she calls back, a teasing lilt in her voice as she fires another web. "I won't break, promise."

Is she... flirting with me? The thought barely has time to form before we're diving between skyscrapers, my body pressed firmly against her back as pure survival instinct makes me cling to her like my life depends on it, which it absolutely does.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," I mutter into her shoulder blade, my eyes squeezed shut as we free-fall again.

"Eyes open!" she shouts over the rush of wind. "You're missing the best view in New York!"

Reluctantly, I crack one eye open, then both fly wide. The city sprawls beneath us in all its chaotic glory, a forest of gleaming towers and crawling streets. The sunset paints everything in golden light, transforming even the grimiest corners into something magical.

"Holy shit," I breathe, momentarily forgetting my terror.

"Right?" Spider-Woman sounds delighted by my reaction. "Never gets old."

We swing past the glittering façade of what I recognize as the Baxter Building, and I nearly lose my grip.

The Fantastic Four headquarters! It's real!

"So," Spider-Woman calls back as we sail over a busy intersection, pedestrians pointing up at us, "you're not from around here, are you?"

My heart skips a beat. "What makes you say that?"

"The way you reacted back there. Like you'd never seen a super before."

I swallow hard. "Just... never been this close to one."

She laughs again, the sound surprisingly melodic as we arc between buildings. "Well, consider this your proper New York welcome, then!"

We swing for what feels like forever, my initial terror gradually shifting to a weird combination of adrenaline-fueled exhilaration and nausea. By the time Spider-Woman finally begins descending toward a sprawling campus, my legs feel like jelly, but I'm grinning like an idiot.

We touch down on a grassy quad, my stomach still doing loop-de-loops from the swinging. The adrenaline buzz makes everything hyper-real, the cool evening air, the distant chatter of students, the solid warmth of Spider-Woman's body against mine.

It takes me several seconds to realize I'm still clinging to her like a terrified koala.

"Hmm," she hums, amusement coloring her voice, "you're awfully friendly for a guy."

I jump back like I've been electrocuted, my face burning hot enough to melt steel. My hand automatically goes to my hair, running through it nervously as I struggle to find words.

"Sorry," I mumble, mortified.

"What are you apologizing for?" Spider-Woman asks, cocking her head. "I'm the one who..." She trails off abruptly. She straightens her shoulders and takes a small step back. "Well, I guess I'll see you around."

My inner fanboy is screaming, bouncing around my skull like a caffeinated hamster. Spider-Woman knows who I am. Spider-Woman just saved my life. Spider-Woman just carried me across New York City.

"Yeah, sure, definitely, that would be cool," I babble, trying desperately to sound casual and failing spectacularly. "Thanks for, you know, saving me from the psycho with the gun and everything."

She makes a dismissive gesture. "All in a day's work. Try to stay out of trouble though, okay?" There's genuine concern in her voice that catches me off guard. "New York can be dangerous for, well..."

"Guys like me?" I finish, suddenly aware of how this world probably works.

Spider-Woman's mask eyes widen slightly. "I was going to say 'freshmen,' but..." She shrugs. "Just be careful. The city has its predators."

Before I can respond, she shoots a web upward, the silvery strand connecting with a nearby building. "Sayonara, Shane." With a graceful leap, she's airborne again, swinging away in a blur of red and blue.

I stand there gaping like an idiot, watching until she disappears between buildings. Only then do I realize she called me by name. She must have seen it on my ID.

"Holy shit," I whisper to myself, turning in a slow circle to take in my surroundings. "I wonder if she goes here?"

Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Bing

The dorm room key feels alien in my hand as I stand in front of room 324, still trying to process the fact that I'm alive, in an alternate universe, and apparently part incubus now? Whatever that means.

After twenty minutes of wandering aimlessly around campus with my student ID clutched like a lifeline, I've finally found Richards Hall. Thank god the building number was printed on my keycard, or I'd probably still be out there looking like a complete idiot.

I slide the key into the lock, half expecting it not to work, like maybe this whole day has been some elaborate hallucination. But the tumblers click, and the door swings open to reveal... not much.

The room is practically empty. A twin bed with bare mattress sits against one wall. Opposite that, a desk with a single lamp. A dresser with three drawers. A closet door that's slightly ajar. No posters, no photos, no personal touches whatsoever. It looks like a prison cell that went to IKEA.

"Home sweet home," I mutter, dropping onto the bare mattress. It squeaks in protest beneath my weight.

For the first time since waking up in that alley, I'm completely alone. No homeless women trying to assault me. No skull-masked psychopaths shooting at me. No actual superheroes swinging me across the Manhattan skyline. Just me and the quiet hum of the building's heating system.

I pull out my phone, a newer model than what I had back home, and stare at the lock screen. It's a generic background of mountains at sunset. Nothing personal. Nothing to indicate who I am in this world.

My thumb hovers over the fingerprint sensor. Will it even recognize me? I press down, and to my surprise, the phone unlocks immediately.

"Okay, time to figure out what the fuck is going on."

I start with the basics, opening the browser and typing "gender roles America" into the search bar. What comes up confirms my suspicions from the interactions I've had so far.

Women are the traditional breadwinners, political leaders, and protectors. Men are valued for their appearance, nurturing qualities, and domestic skills. The articles I skim through talk about the "natural order" of things, how women's greater physical strength and aggressive tendencies made them natural leaders throughout history, while men's empathetic nature and aesthetic value made them better suited for supportive roles.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, scrolling through an article about the "Men's Liberation Movement" of the 1970s. "This is completely backward."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Okay, if I'm stuck in some gender-flipped Marvel universe, I need to get my bearings. Find out who's who in this world.

My fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before I type "Peter Parker" into the search bar.

Nothing relevant comes up. Just some random guys with the same name, but no photographer, no Spider-Man. I frown, then try a different approach.

"Spider-Woman photos"

The screen fills with images of the red and blue hero I just met. Action shots of her swinging between buildings, perched on gargoyles, fighting various colorful villains. Most of the photos are credited to the Daily Bugle.

I click through to the Bugle's website and scan the photo credits. "Piper Parker" appears under most of the Spider-Woman shots. Working backwards, I piece together that Peter must be Piper in this universe. Piper Parker, still the photographer capturing Spider-Woman's exploits.

Curious, I open Instagram and search her name. Bingo. Her profile pops up immediately.

@piperparkerphoto. The bio reads: "Sophomore at ESU. Freelance photographer. Caffeine enthusiast."

"She goes to my school," I murmur, scrolling through her feed. Mostly artsy shots of the city, a few selfies with a pretty redhead boy who must be this world's Mary Jane, and campus life pictures.

But it's a photo from about six months ago that makes me pause. It shows Spider-Woman in a black costume, sleek and alien-looking. The caption reads: ‘New look for our neighborhood hero? #SpiderWoman #BlackSuit’

"She's already gone through her black suit phase," I whisper, my comic knowledge kicking into overdrive. Which means the symbiote is already out there somewhere. And if the symbiote exists...

"I wonder if there's an Eddie Brock equivalent in this world too."

Hmm.

I type "Eddie Brock Daily Bugle" into the search bar, then correct myself and try "Edith Brock" instead. Nothing. I try a few more female variations—Edna, Edie, before hitting pay dirt with "Ellie Brock."

A series of articles pop up, none of them flattering. "Disgraced Bugle Reporter Fired Over Fabricated Story." "Brock Claims Spider-Woman Set Her Up." "Former Star Journalist Now Tabloid Writer."

I click on one with a photo and find myself staring at a striking blonde woman with intense blue eyes and a sharp, determined face. She looks like she could bench press me without breaking a sweat, her business attire doing little to hide her athletic build.

"Holy fuck..." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.

My entire body goes hot, then cold, as I stare at Ellie Brock's photo. She's absolutely stunning in the most intimidating way possible, all sharp angles and controlled power. Her eyes seem to pierce through the screen, challenging anyone who dares to look at her. It's not just that she's attractive, she radiates a dangerous intensity that makes my heart race for reasons I can't entirely blame on fear.

I click through to more images, feeling like a stalker but unable to stop myself. In each photo, she looks progressively more pissed off at the world, her expression hardening as the timeline of her professional downfall progresses. According to her university profile, she's a senior majoring in journalism, set to graduate this year.

"Fuck me," I whisper again, unable to tear my eyes away. "If she's Venom in this universe..."

Wait. My brain suddenly catches up with the day's events. When Scourge was attacking me in the museum, I somehow appeared behind her. One second I was in front of her, the next I was behind her.

I teleported.

The realization hits me like a bucket of ice water. I didn't just imagine it. I actually moved through space instantaneously. And before that, in the museum exhibition, time had frozen and I'd met...

"I talked to an actual demon," I say out loud, my voice cracking slightly. "Lileth turned me into some kind of incubus."

I drop my phone onto the mattress and stare at my hands, searching for any visible change. They look the same, same pale skin, same bitten nails, but something feels different. There's an energy humming just beneath the surface, like electricity running through my veins.

Experimentally, I close my eyes and try to visualize myself across the room, standing by the dresser. I focus hard, picturing the exact spot, trying to recapture that strange sensation I felt in the museum.

Nothing happens.

"Come on," I mutter, concentrating harder. "Teleport, damn it."

Still nothing. Maybe I need to be in danger for it to work?

Maybe I need to see where I'm going. I crack my eyes open, thinking about the dresser while focusing on my newfound energy.

"Holy shit!"

The sensation hits me like a static shock, a split-second blur, a stomach-dropping lurch, and suddenly I'm standing by the dresser, exactly where I'd imagined. My knees buckle, and I grab the edge to keep from falling.

"I did it," I whisper, heart pounding in my chest. "I actually fucking teleported."

The rush of success is immediately followed by a small wave of fatigue that makes my vision swim. I stumble back to the bed and collapse, breathing hard like I've just sprinted up a short staircase.

"Okay, so that's how it works," I mutter between breaths. "Eyes open, clear destination, and bam, instant travel. Cool. Very cool."

I lie there for a minute, waiting for my strength to return. The fatigue isn't as bad as it was in the museum, probably because I didn't go as far. There seems to be a direct relationship between distance and energy drain.

When I finally feel steady enough, I sit up and try again, this time visualizing myself by the door. Another static-electric jolt, another blurred transition, and I'm there. The exhaustion hits again, but milder this time.

"I wonder what else I can do," I say, examining my hands again. Lileth had said something about making me an incubus. In mythology, aren't they supposed to be demons that seduce women? The thought makes me snort. If that was Lileth's goal, he picked the wrong guy. Back home, my dating history consisted mainly of awkward first dates and girls who "just wanted to be friends."

A wild thought suddenly pops into my head. Spider-Woman. Could I use these new incubus powers to seduce her? I mean, she's literally one of the most famous superheroes in the world, and she already knows who I am.

I stare at the ceiling, considering it for a moment.

No, that's wrong on so many levels. First off, I've always believed Peter and MJ belong together, which means Piper and whoever this world's MJ is should be too. I'm not about to mess with one of comics' most iconic relationships just because I suddenly have supernatural powers.

“I’m not like Paul!”

Besides, using demonic seduction powers on someone feels... predatory. Gross. Not who I want to be.

My mind drifts to that photo of Ellie Brock, her intense blue eyes seeming to challenge me through the screen. There's something magnetic about her that pulls at me. Hmm...

I shake my head firmly. No. Absolutely not. Even if she sounds fun, it’d still be wrong.

"This is a second chance," I whisper to myself, pushing up from the bed. "A fresh start in a whole new world."

I've spent years reading about heroes, daydreaming about what I'd do with powers. Now I actually have them. There's no way I'm wasting this opportunity by becoming some demonic fuckboy or getting tangled up with supervillains.

I pace across the small room, energy buzzing beneath my skin. "I'm going to be a hero," I declare to the empty room, clenching my fists. "Whatever kind of incubus powers I have, I'll use them to help people."

 

 

 

A/N:

Piper Parker

 

Spider-Woman

 

Ellie Brock

Chapter 4: Chapter 4: BAMF

The ski mask itches like hell against my stubble, but I'm not taking any chances tonight. If someone spots a random dude teleporting around campus at 4 AM, I'd prefer they describe "some guy in a ski mask" rather than "that weird freshman Shane Steele."

Pre-dawn air bites at my exposed skin as I stare up at the dining hall roof, measuring the distance with my eyes. Four stories of brick and steel loom against the navy-blue sky, streetlights casting long shadows across the empty courtyard. Campus security won't patrol this area for another twenty minutes if their schedule holds true.

"Alright, Shane," I whisper to myself, bouncing on my heels, "Lets get that bread!"

I need to know. How far can I go? How much does distance affect the energy drain? Can I maintain accuracy when teleporting to a place I can barely make out in the dark?

I focus on a specific spot near the roof's edge, picturing myself standing there as clearly as possible. The now-familiar electric tingle builds beneath my skin, spreading outward from my core to my fingertips. I let the energy crest, then…

SNAP

Reality blurs, my stomach lurches, and suddenly I'm on the roof, the world spinning around me as I drop to one knee. My lungs heave like I've just sprinted up all four flights of stairs. The fatigue hits harder than I expected, but it's not debilitating, more like the pleasant burn after a good workout.

"Holy shit," I gasp, grinning under my mask. "That was at least forty feet vertical."

Wind whips across the rooftop, colder up here with nothing to block it. I stagger to my feet and make my way to the edge, looking down at the spot where I stood seconds ago. The campus spreads out before me, eerily beautiful in its emptiness. Streetlights cast pools of amber on empty walkways. Academic buildings stand dark and silent, waiting for tomorrow's chaos of students rushing to first-day classes.

I pull out my phone, opening the fitness app I've repurposed to track my ‘jumps.’ Distance: approximately 40 feet. Recovery time: faster than expected. Accuracy: perfect.

"Let's try something harder," I mutter, scanning the building.

I can see the entire length of the dining hall from up here. A modern, rectangular building stretching about two hundred feet from end to end. The moonlight glints off metal vents and HVAC equipment scattered across the flat roof.

"I wonder..." I murmur, eyeing the distant edge of the building.

My teleportation range so far has been modest, maybe fifty feet max. But what if I pushed it? Lileth gave me these powers for a reason, right? Time to test my limits.

I focus on a spot near the far end of the roof, gathering that strange electric energy inside me. It's almost a hundred feet away, twice as far as I've ever tried. My heart pounds as I visualize myself standing there, willing my body to make the jump.

POOF

The world distorts around me as I'm yanked through space. When reality solidifies again, my legs immediately give out. I crash onto the rough rooftop surface, gasping like I've been underwater for minutes. My vision swims with black spots, and a wave of nausea rolls through me.

"Fuck," I wheeze, pressing my forehead against the cool concrete. My lungs burn with each desperate breath. This isn't just the pleasant fatigue of a workout, this is complete system shutdown. My limbs feel like they're made of wet cement, too heavy to lift.

I roll onto my back, staring up at the stars as they slowly stop spinning. My shirt is soaked with sweat despite the cold night air.

A sudden whoosh of air passes overhead, followed by a soft thud as something, no, someone, lands on the roof beside me. I try to scramble up, but my limbs are still unresponsive, leaving me sprawled out like a starfish on the concrete.

"Jeez, kid, are you alright?" a familiar female voice asks, concern evident in her tone.

I tilt my head, squinting through the eyeholes of my ski mask at the red and blue figure crouched next to me. Spider-Woman. Of course she'd be out patrolling at this ungodly hour.

"I'm... fine," I gasp, though my lungs feel like they're on fire. Each word comes out as a wheeze. "Just... taking a... breather."

She cocks her head, the white eyes of her mask somehow conveying skepticism. "Right. Because rooftops at 4 AM are the best place for that." She stands, hands on her hips, looking down at me. "You know, I saw you walk out of the dorms wearing that ski mask. At first, I thought, 'Great, another campus robbery,' but then..."

She gestures vaguely at my collapsed form. "This doesn't look like your standard B&E preparation."

I try again to sit up, managing to prop myself on my elbows. "Not... stealing anything," I manage between breaths.

Spider-Woman crouches beside me again. "You were testing out your powers, weren't you?" she asks quietly.

My heart skips a beat. She’s smart.

"I saw you appear out of nowhere," she continues, answering my unspoken question. "One second empty roof, next second, Bamf! There you were, doing a face-plant."

"Y..yeah," I admit, finding it slightly easier to breathe now. "Just seeing what I can do."

As Spider-Woman leans closer to check on me, something strange happens. A warm tingle spreads across my skin, different from the teleportation energy. I don’t know what it is but I can feel it radiating from me in invisible waves.

Spider-Woman goes very still. Her head tilts slightly, and even through the mask, I can sense a change in her demeanor. Her breathing picks up, becoming slightly more audible in the quiet night air.

"So," she says, her voice dropping to a huskier tone than before, "you can teleport? That's... impressive."

The way she says "impressive" sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. What the hell? My body is responding to her in ways that make absolutely no sense given the circumstances. I'm exhausted, lying on a cold rooftop, wearing a ridiculous ski mask, and yet...

Oh god. I shift uncomfortably as blood rushes south, creating an extremely awkward situation in my jeans.

Spider-Woman moves closer. There's something almost predatory in her posture as she looks at me, the white eyes of her mask fixed intently on mine.

"So you like some kinda mutant?" she asks, her voice oddly breathless.

"No," I reply automatically, trying to sit up more fully to hide my growing... situation. "Definitely not a mutant."

"Not that there's anything wrong with mutants," she adds quickly, one hand landing on my shoulder. Her touch feels electric, even through my jacket. "I side with mutants, after all. The X-Women do important work."

"I'm not a mutant," I repeat, more firmly this time. There's no way I'm telling her about my encounter with an actual demon lord. That's a one-way ticket to being locked up in one of those creepy future prisons.

Spider-Woman's hand hasn't moved from my shoulder. If anything, her fingers have tightened slightly. "So if you're not a mutant," she continues, leaning even closer, "how exactly did you get the ability to teleport?"

My brain scrambles for a believable lie. "Accident," I manage to say. "Lab accident."

Her head tilts skeptically. "Really? That's the best you've got?"

I'm about to defend my extremely original origin story when I notice her other hand is now resting on my knee.

Her other hand suddenly presses against my chest, and with her heroic strength, she pushes me flat onto my back. I'm too stunned to resist as she looms over me, her breathing audibly heavier through her mask.

"Is it hot out here?" she asks, her voice strangely husky. "It feels really warm all of a sudden."

My mouth goes dry as I stare up at her. "No, I don't think so. It's actually a little cold."

Something seems to click in her mind. The white eyes of her mask widen dramatically, and she suddenly springs backward, putting several feet between us in one agile leap.

"I…" She clears her throat with an exaggerated cough. "Sorry about that. Just wanted to make sure you weren't injured from your teleport."

As she shifts her weight uncomfortably from one foot to another, I can't help but notice a small dark patch on her costume between her thighs. My face burns hot enough to melt my ski mask as I realize what's happening. Oh god, is this part of the incubus thing Lileth mentioned?

"Well," she says briskly, straightening her posture and trying to sound professional, "carry on with your training. Just be more careful with the teleporting."

She shoots a web upward, clearly eager to leave, but then pauses mid-motion to point back at me. "And don't let me catch you committing any crimes with those powers. The city has enough super-powered troublemakers as it is."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I reply, finally managing to sit up. "Actually, I want to be a hero. Like you."

The words tumble out before I can stop them. I sound like an eight-year-old telling their teacher what they want to be when they grow up. But it's true I've always idolized heroes like Spider-Man, and now Spider-Woman. The idea of using these powers for anything else feels boring as fuck.

She tilts her head, studying me for a long moment. "Being a hero isn't just about powers, you know. It's about responsibility. Making the right choices even when they're the hardest ones."

"Being a hero is about…"

I never get to hear the rest of her speech. Spider-Woman suddenly stiffens, her head tilting like she's hearing something I can't.

"Rain check on the hero lecture," she says, her voice returning to normal. "Sounds like there's a break-in at the jewelry store on 5th."

With a graceful twist, she leaps from the roof, shooting a web at a nearby building. "Stay safe, Teleport Boy!" she calls over her shoulder before swinging away into the night, a red and blue streak against the dark sky.

I watch until she disappears between buildings, then collapse back onto the roof, my heart still racing. What the actual hell just happened?

When I can finally move again without feeling like my limbs are made of jello, I pull out my phone and open my notes app. My fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment as I try to process everything.

Distance: 100 feet. Effect: Extreme exhaustion, almost passed out. Unexpected side effect: Apparently my powers make Spider-Woman aroused? Also gave me an erection. Accuracy: Landed exactly where I aimed.

I stare at what I've just written, then add: Incubus powers apperntly activate with teleportation usage. Spider-Woman nearly Weinsteined me.

I drop my phone onto my chest and stare up at the stars, mind racing. Did Lileth mention something about pheromones? Is that why Spider-Woman suddenly went from concerned hero to... whatever that was? The implications are both terrifying and fascinating. If teleporting releases some kind of supernatural aphrodisiac, that's a serious complication I need to understand.

“I should probably go nap before class.” I sigh into the night air.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5: We are Venom

The bitch plays hero while I watch from the shadows, my body humming with delicious rage. Parker's got some guy pinned to the rooftop, ski mask, black clothes, amateur hour all around. My other half ripples beneath my skin, eager to taste her blood.

"Patience," I whisper, feeling the symbiote's disappointment pulse through our shared consciousness.

Three months since we bonded. Three months of hunting, watching, learning everything about Piper Parker. Three months of plotting how to destroy the woman who ruined my career and abandoned my other half when it needed her most.

“Who is that man?” The voice in my head is curious, alien yet familiar, its words sliding through my thoughts like oil on water.

"I don't know," I murmur, eyes narrowing as I study the scene. "But he can teleport."

I'd watched him appear out of thin air moments before Parker swooped in. One second empty roof, next second, poof, there he was, collapsing like he'd run a marathon.

“Spider-Woman is acting strangely.”

The symbiote's right. Parker's body language has shifted. The way she's leaning over him, the slight tilt of her head, it's predatory, almost sexual.

"Something about him is affecting her," I whisper, fascination mingling with my hatred.

I press deeper into the shadows as Parker suddenly springs away from the man, her movements jerky, uncoordinated, so unlike her usual fluid grace. Even from this distance, I can see the dark patch between her thighs. My lips curl into a smile. Little Miss Perfect is getting wet over some random teleporting freak.

“We should take him.”

The symbiote's hunger pulses through me, sharp and demanding. It's not wrong. If this guy has some kind of power over Parker, he could be useful.

"No," I reply firmly, tamping down the symbiote's hunger. "He's nobody. Probably just some random mutant who doesn't know what he's doing."

The alien presence ripples with disappointment beneath my skin, tendrils of black coiling around my organs in a sulky embrace.

"Can we eat him then?" it purrs, the question vibrating through my bones with predatory anticipation.

I roll my eyes, crouching lower on my perch as I watch Parker swing away into the night. The teleporter tries and fails to get on his feet.

"I told you," I mutter under my breath, "we're going to eat Spider-Woman and that's it. She's the only one who matters."

My other half hums in reluctant agreement, settling back into the spaces between my muscles and sinews. It understands priorities, even if it doesn't like them. The constant hunger is something we both struggle with, me to control it, the symbiote to satisfy it.

I watch as the masked figure finally manages to stand, wobbling slightly before making his way to the roof access door. Something about him nags at me, the way Parker responded to him was... unusual. But I can't afford distractions. Not when I'm so close to finally getting my revenge.

"We should at least follow him," the symbiote suggests, its voice a silky whisper in my mind. "Learn more."

"I don't know," I mutter, dismissing the idea with a shake of my head. "He's probably just a dead end. Some college kid playing superhero."

My other's disappointment pulses through our shared nervous system, a cold slithering sensation that makes my skin prickle with goosebumps.

"Then we watch the spider again?" it asks, voice tinged with a predatory eagerness that resonates with my own hatred.

I feel my lips curl into a smile as I straighten up from my crouch, muscles coiling with power beneath my skin. "Yes. Let's see where the little arachnid scurries off to tonight."

The symbiote purrs with satisfaction, spreading across my skin like liquid midnight until we are one perfect killing machine. The transformation still sends a thrill of pleasure-pain through me as my consciousness expands, merges with something ancient and hungry.

We leap from our perch, the night air rushing past as we swing between buildings, following the faint psychic trace the symbiote can sense of its former host. Parker may have rejected my other, but some connection remains, enough for us to hunt her.

Enough for us to end her. But only when the time is right.

 

Venom

 

Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Random Task

The campus map crumples in my sweaty palm as I navigate the maze of Empire State University. First day of classes and I'm already lost, which feels like a perfect metaphor for my entire existence right now.

"Practical Self-Defense 101... Building C, Room 214," I mutter, squinting at the wrinkled paper. My teleportation abilities would make this so much easier, but after last night's rooftop encounter with Spider-Woman, I'm not risking it in broad daylight.

Since waking up in this gender-flipped Marvel universe, I've made exactly one decision I'm confident about, becoming a superhero. And step one on that journey? Learning how to fight. The business major version of me back home couldn't throw a proper punch to save his life.

I finally spot Building C, a brutalist concrete structure that looks more like a prison than a place of learning. Inside, the hallways echo with my footsteps as I search for Room 214. When I find it, the door is already open, revealing a large matted space with mirrored walls.

And standing in the center, arms crossed over her chest like she's physically restraining herself from committing violence, is a very intimidating woman.

"You're late," she barks, her eyes narrowing as I hesitate in the doorway.

"Sorry, I got lost," I say, stepping onto the mat. "I'm Shane Steele. I just added this class."

She doesn't respond, just looks me up and down with the kind of clinical assessment usually reserved for butchers inspecting questionable meat. Her military-style haircut and ramrod-straight posture scream "ex-special forces.”

"I'm Professor Masters," she finally says.

Masters. The name tickles something in the back of my brain, but I can't quite place it. It sounds vaguely familiar, but the connection slips away before I can grasp it.

"It's an honor to meet you, Sensei," I say, bowing slightly at the waist. I'm wearing gray sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, the closest thing to workout clothes I found in my mysteriously empty dorm closet.

Professor Masters stares at me like I've just taken a dump on her pristine training mat. Her expression shifts from neutral intimidation to active disgust, her mouth twisting into a grimace.

"Please, kid, don't call me 'Sensei,'" she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This isn't a karate dojo in a strip mall."

"Of course, Sensei," I reply with another small bow, unable to stop myself. "I understand completely."

Her eye twitches. Actually twitches. I've never seen that happen to a real person before.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" she asks, her voice dangerously quiet.

"I heard you loud and clear, Sensei," I say with a grin, emphasizing the title. "It's just that I've always dreamed of having a real sensei. Not one of those frauds that gives out belts for free. A genuine badass like you."

Something flashes in her eyes, amusement? Homicidal rage? Hard to tell. I probably shouldn't be poking the bear, but there's something about her stern demeanor that makes me want to crack that professional exterior. Besides, if I'm going to be a superhero, I need a mentor with attitude, right? All the best heroes have one.

Professor Masters stares at me for what feels like an eternity, then her shoulders slump in defeat. She throws her hands up in exasperation.

"I fucking hate teaching," Masters says, shaking her head. "Especially when my students think this is some kung fu movie."

I burst out laughing, unable to help myself. There's something so refreshingly blunt about her complete disdain for this job.

While she glares at me, I bounce on my toes and start throwing random punches in the air, my fists slicing through nothing as I dance away from her.

"Sensei," I ask between jabs, "got any good moves to disable bad guys? You know, like pressure points or something? The kind where you just touch someone and they drop?"

Masters watches me with the deadest expression I've ever seen on a human face. "What's your fighting experience, Steele?"

I stop punching the air, dropping my hands to my sides. "Um... none?"

Her eyes narrow as she looks me up and down. "Yeah, I can tell. You look like a complete clown throwing punches like that. Like a toddler having a tantrum in a grocery store."

I wince, feeling my face heat up. "Well, then there's nowhere to go but up, right?" I try for a grin, but it feels more like a nervous grimace under her withering stare.

Masters sighs deeply, the sound starting somewhere in her soul and working its way up through her chest. It goes on for so long I wonder if she's trying to expel every last molecule of oxygen from her lungs. Finally, she shakes her head.

"Alright," she says, resignation heavy in her voice. "Let's start with some stretches, kid. Then I'll show you some of the fundamentals."

“Thank you Sensei.”

"First lesson," she says, dropping into a perfect split that makes my own groin muscles scream in sympathy. "Flexibility is the foundation of any fighting style. You can't throw a proper kick if your hamstrings are as tight as yours clearly are."

I try to mimic her stretch, lowering myself toward the floor with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. My legs only spread about halfway before pain shoots up my inner thighs.

"Jesus Christ," I hiss through clenched teeth.

"Hold it," Masters commands, not a hint of sympathy in her voice. "Breathe through the discomfort."

I do as she says, focusing on my breathing while trying not to pass out from the pain. If I'm going to be a superhero, I need to learn how to handle physical challenges.

"So," I gasp, desperate for distraction, "what's your background? Military? Special forces? Seal Team 6?"

Masters' face hardens instantly, like I've hit some invisible tripwire. "Don't ask about my past," she snaps, her tone shifting to something that reminds me of an older sister dealing with an annoying little brother who's touched her stuff one too many times. "We're here to focus on your training, not my resume. Got it?"

"Sorry, I was just…"

"Lower," she interrupts, pushing down on my shoulders without warning. Pain shoots through my inner thighs as I drop another inch toward the mat. "You're way too tight everywhere. Breathe through it."

I gasp, sweat already beading on my forehead. "This is torture."

"This is the warm-up," Masters corrects with the ghost of a smile. "Now reach forward and touch your toes."

For the next fifteen minutes, she guides me through stretches I didn't even know existed, contorting my body into positions that make me question if human beings were meant to bend this way. Every time I think we're done, she introduces a new form of flexible hell.

"Now let's work on your stance," she says after I've collapsed onto the mat, breathing hard. "Get up."

She demonstrates a basic fighting stance, feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, hands up to protect the face. I mirror her as best I can, but apparently even standing is something I've been doing wrong my entire life.

"Wider stance," Masters barks, nudging my foot with her own. "Center your weight. You're standing like you're waiting for a bus, not preparing to defend yourself."

I adjust, feeling awkward and self-conscious. "Like this?"

"Better." She circles me, adjusting my posture with quick, efficient touches. "Remember this feeling. This is your foundation."

What follows is a crash course in the absolute basics. How to make a proper fist, "Thumb outside, not tucked in unless you want to break it on the first punch." How to throw a jab, "Extend from the shoulder, not the elbow, and snap it back quickly." How to block a simple attack, "Redirect, don't just absorb the impact."

All stuff that will take forever to master.

By the time we move on to practicing simple combinations, my arms feel like overcooked noodles, and my shirt is soaked through with sweat. Masters demonstrates each move with effortless precision, her body a well-oiled machine of controlled violence.

"Jab, cross, step back," she commands, and I do my best to follow, throwing punches at an imaginary opponent.

"Your form is terrible," she observes after watching me struggle through the combination for the fifth time. But instead of the disgust I expect, there's something almost... thoughtful in her expression. "But you're persistent. I'll give you that."

"Thanks?" I manage between heavy breaths.

The bell rings, cutting through the gym like a mercy call. My muscles sag with relief, though I try not to show it.

Professor Masters steps back, giving me an appraising look. There's something different in her eyes now, not quite approval, but maybe a notch or two up from complete contempt.

"You're absolute shit," she says, wiping sweat from her brow with a towel. Then, surprisingly, her voice softens a fraction. "But you're not as much of a lost cause as I initially thought."

I straighten up a bit, oddly encouraged by what might be the most backhanded compliment I've ever received.

"For Wednesday, make sure you do all your stretches before class," she continues, hanging the towel around her neck. "That way we can focus on fundamentals and form right from the start."

I bow deeply at the waist, partly out of respect and partly because I know it annoys her. "Yes, Sensei."

Masters rolls her eyes. "And don't get caught doing shit like that in public," she says, gesturing at my bow. "Some might take it the wrong way."

"Yes, Sensei," I repeat, fighting to keep my face serious.

She makes a disgusted noise but there's the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes as she turns away.

I gather my things, my shirt plastered to my back with sweat, feeling like I've been through a meat grinder. Every muscle screams as I shuffle toward the exit, my vision focused on the blessed doorway to freedom.

Which is why I don't see the person entering until it's too late.

We collide hard, my momentum carrying us both backward a step. My hands instinctively shoot out to steady whoever I've just bulldozed, grabbing their shoulders.

"Sorry! I wasn't…" The words die in my throat as I find myself staring into startled hazel eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses.

It's her. The photographer. Spider-Woman. Piper Parker.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7: Lunch with the Girls

"Holy shit, you're Peter Parker!" The words burst out of my mouth before my brain can catch up, my hands still gripping her shoulders.

She blinks at me, those hazel eyes widening slightly behind her glasses. "Piper Parker," she corrects with a small laugh. "But close."

"Sorry," I stammer, dropping my hands from Piper's shoulders and taking a step back. Sweat drips down my temple, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of how disgusting I must look and smell. "I just had a tough workout."

I extend my hand, trying desperately to salvage this encounter. "I'm Shane Steele. I'm a huge fan of your photos for the Bugle. The Spider-Woman shots? They're incredible."

Piper's eyebrows shoot up as she tentatively shakes my hand. "You follow my photography?"

"Absolutely," I nod enthusiastically, my fanboy side taking over. "The way you capture her mid-swing, it's like you're right there with her."

If she only knew how right I know I am. The memory of our rooftop encounter flashes through my mind, her body language shifting, that dark patch between her thighs, and I feel my face heating up all over again.

"Thanks," Piper says, looking genuinely pleased but slightly uncomfortable with the praise. "I just get lucky sometimes."

The auburn-haired girl next to her clears her throat pointedly, and Piper jumps like she's been shocked.

"Oh! Sorry. Shane, this is my friend Harriet Osborn."

Harriet offers her hand with the practiced ease of someone who's been taught proper etiquette since birth. "Pleasure," she says, her voice carrying a hint of privilege that's impossible to miss.

As I shake her hand, something clicks in my brain. Osborn. As in Norman Osborn, the Green Goblin. Except here it would probably be something stupid like Norma Osborn.

"Nice to meet you," I manage, trying not to stare. Harriet's expensive-looking blouse and tailored slacks scream money, a stark contrast to Piper's thrift-store chic vibe.

"So you're taking self-defense?" Piper asks, nodding toward the gym behind me. "With Masters?"

"Yeah, first day." I run a hand through my sweat-dampened hair. "She's... intense."

"She's a legend," Harriet says with a smirk. "My mother, for whatever reason, insists on keeping her employed here. Something about 'exceptional talent being worth the attitude.'"

My eyebrows shoot up. "Wait, Oscorp funds the school?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Harriet studies me with renewed interest. "You know of my mother?" Her tone carries a mixture of suspicion and curiosity that makes me realize I need to backpedal fast.

"Well, I mean, the company's so big," I stammer, mentally kicking myself. "Everyone's heard of Oscorp. It's like... everywhere."

Piper clears her throat, shifting her weight as she adjusts her messenger bag. "We were actually just about to grab lunch," she interjects, her eyes darting between Harriet and me with what looks like mild concern.

"Oh, cool. I should probably go catch a quick shower first..." My stomach chooses that exact moment to unleash a growl so loud it might as well have its own zip code.

Harriet's laugh is unexpectedly warm and genuine. "Why don't you join us?" she suggests, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Piper here has a thing for guys who work up a good sweat. Isn't that right, Pipes?"

Piper's face turns a fierce shade of crimson. "That is absolutely not true!" she protests, glaring daggers at Harriet, who just smirks in response.

But then something strange happens. Piper's eyes drift down to my neck, where I can feel a bead of sweat slowly making its way along my collarbone. Her gaze lingers there, following the droplet's path with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.

She blinks rapidly, as if catching herself, and adjusts her glasses with a nervous hand. "But you do sound pretty hungry," she adds, her voice softening. "And I don't mind if you join us. The dining hall has great post-workout options."

My stomach growls again, making the decision for me. "Sure," I say, trying to sound casual despite my racing heart. "I'd be happy to eat with you."

Harriet laughs, but Piper's eyes flick back to my collarbone for a split second before she forces herself to look away.

 

*****

 

The dining hall is a massive, modern space with floor-to-ceiling windows that flood the room with natural light. Long tables stretch across polished concrete floors, and the smell of a dozen different cuisines mingles in the air. I follow Piper and Harriet through the buffet line, piling my tray with enough protein and carbs to feed a small family.

"Hungry much?" Harriet teases as we settle at a table near the windows. She delicately spears a piece of lettuce from her salad, the picture of refined eating habits.

"Harriet!" Piper suddenly exclaims, looking mortified. "You can't say that to a guy! You'll make him insecure or something."

Harriet rolls her eyes but offers me an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget not everyone appreciates my particular brand of humor."

I shrug, still chewing. "No worries."

Harriet's attention shifts to Piper, her expression softening. "Speaking of sensitive topics... how are you taking the breakup lately?"

Piper sighs, pushing her food around on her plate. "I mean... as well as I can, I guess."

"Wait, your going through a breakup?" I ask, suddenly very interested.

My inner comic book nerd starts doing backflips. Peter Parker belongs with Mary Jane Watson, it's one of those fundamental comic book truths, like Uncle Ben staying dead or Batman's parents getting murdered in Crime Alley. If Piper and this universe's MJ equivalent have split up, I can't let that stand. Marvel editorial screwed up this relationship enough in my world. I won't let it happen here too!

"Yeah," Piper says, adjusting her glasses. "I was dating someone in the acting department, Mario Jane."

"Ohhh, I've heard of him," I say, though it's only half true. I've heard of Mary Jane, not Mario, but close enough.

"You have?" Piper looks surprised. "He's not exactly famous yet."

"Well, I mean..." I backpedal, realizing my mistake. "I've heard his name around campus. People talk, you know?"

Harriet leans forward, her perfectly manicured nails tapping thoughtfully against the table. "I have an idea. How about you go out with Piper tonight, Shane? Help get her mind off the heartbreak."

"I'd love to!" The words fly out of my mouth before my brain can process what's happening.

Holy fucking shit. What did I just do?

I internally scream at myself, watching Piper's eyes widen behind those thick-rimmed glasses. I've completely flipped on my morals in under a second. I just told myself I wouldn't mess with Piper and Mario's relationship.

I'm a giant piece of shit... but how could I say no? She's cute, smart, and she's literally fucking Spider-Woman.

Piper blinks rapidly, clearly caught off guard. "Are you sure? I mean, we just met and…"

"I'd love to," I repeat, my voice somehow steadier than the hurricane of self-loathing and excitement whirling inside me. Another internal scream echoes through my skull.

Harriet claps her hands together, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Perfect! Piper's been moping around for weeks."

Piper fidgets with her fork, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "Uhh... tonight at six?" she asks, looking at me with uncertainty in her eyes.

"Sure," I reply, trying to keep my voice casual despite the fireworks going off in my chest. "Want to meet in front of Richards Hall? That's my dorm."

"Sounds good," Piper nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Great, sounds like a date!" Harriet exclaims with a laugh that's just a bit too triumphant.

Piper shoots her a death glare that could melt steel beams, but Harriet just grins wider, clearly pleased with her matchmaking skills.

I'm about to say something, when movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention. My eyes drift past Piper's shoulder, and my entire body freezes.

Walking past our table is a tall blonde woman in a fitted black blazer and jeans that hug curves like they were custom-made for her body. But it's her eyes that stop my breath in my lungs, piercing blue and focused with laser-like intensity on Piper.

Ellie Brock. Venom.

She is, without question, the most attractive woman I've ever seen in my life. Not in the conventional, approachable way that most people find appealing, but in the way a lightning storm is beautiful, dangerous, powerful, and absolutely mesmerizing.

Our eyes meet for just a fraction of a second as she passes, and the corner of her mouth twitches upward in what might be a smirk or a sneer, I can't tell which. A chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with something far more primal.

Then she's gone, disappearing into the crowd of students with predatory grace, leaving me staring after her like an idiot.

Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Classic Parker

The clock on my phone flips to 6:20 PM, mocking me with its digital precision. Twenty minutes of waiting, and still nothing from Piper. I slump against the cold brick wall outside Richards Hall, watching other students hurry past, wrapped in scarves and purpose.

I check my text again, just one message, sent fifteen minutes ago. "Hey, still on for tonight?" Simple, casual, not desperate at all. At least that's what I told myself when I hit send.

The evening wind cuts through my jacket, the nicest one I could find in my mysterious closet, and I tug it tighter around me. If this was my old world I’d probably spam her phone with increasingly anxious texts, but I manage to resist. I'm pretty sure I already know what's happening.

"Goddamn supervillains," I mutter, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk. "Always ruining date night."

A couple walking past gives me a strange look, and I force an awkward smile until they're out of earshot.

My phone remains stubbornly silent in my palm. No texts, no calls, no apologies for standing me up. Just the blank screen reflecting my disappointed face back at me.

I sigh, a cloud of vapor dissolving into the November air. This feels more like my fault than anyone else's. What was I thinking, going out with Spider-Woman? Of course she's busy. She's probably swinging through the city right now, webbing up bank robbers or grabbing balloons for some random kid on a rooftop somewhere.

I look at my phone again. 6:22 PM. I sigh again, shoving my phone back into my pocket. "I can't even imagine how MJ did this for so long."

 

*****

 

[Ellie Brock’s POV]

 

The man stands alone below me, dejected and shivering in the cold. Pathetic. My perch atop the science building gives me the perfect vantage point to observe him, shrouded in shadow as the symbiote ripples across my skin.

"Are you certain he's our teleporter?" I whisper, watching the boy check his phone for the thousandth time.

My other half purrs beneath my skin, tendrils coiling through my veins with predatory anticipation. "Yes. I smelled him at lunch. Strange. Different. Not mutant."

I lean forward slightly, studying his frustrated movements. "I can't believe Parker actually stood him up after just meeting him." A small, vicious smile tugs at my lips. "Though I shouldn't be surprised."

"Parker always prioritizes 'justice' over personal connections," the symbiote hisses, memories of its former host coloring its thoughts with bitterness. "Always the hero first."

My eyes narrow as I watch the teleporter kick at the ground, his disappointment evident even from this distance. "I wonder if he knows more than we thought? Their meeting could be more than coincidence."

The symbiote shifts beneath my skin, its consciousness brushing against mine with a memory, the way the teleporter's eyes had lingered on me in the dining hall earlier today.

“He stared at you,” it reminds me, hunger threading through its alien voice. “Looked at you the way I look at a good meal.”

"Interesting," I murmur, letting my fingers trail along the rough concrete edge of the rooftop. "Very interesting."

The symbiote's eagerness pulses through our shared nervous system like electricity. “We should follow him. Learn more.”

"No," I whisper, the symbiote's disappointment rippling through our shared consciousness. "That would be a waste of time. Look at him, Parker clearly isn't going to show."

I watch the teleporter check his phone again, his shoulders slumping somehow further with each passing minute. A delicious idea forms in my mind, sending a thrill of anticipation through both myself and my other.

"Why follow when we can engage?" I murmur, feeling the symbiote's curiosity piquing. "We should go take him out. For a date."

The symbiote pulses with confusion beneath my skin. "A... date?"

"Yes," I smile, running my tongue across my teeth. "The perfect opportunity to learn what he knows about Parker, about his abilities. And if he's as interesting as we think, perhaps we've found ourselves a useful ally."

My other half considers this, tendrils of black sliding beneath my skin as it processes the suggestion. "Clever," it finally concedes, a note of admiration in its alien voice. "Prey is easier to catch when it comes willingly."

I feel my lips curl into a predatory smile. "Exactly."

Standing, I let the symbiote recede, pulling back into my cells until I appear completely human again. I smooth my blonde hair, adjusting my clothes with practiced precision. The transformation always leaves me feeling electric, like I've just mainlined pure adrenaline.

"Time to make a better impression than Parker did," I murmur, making my way toward the roof access door.

 

*****

[Shane’s POV]

 

I'm just about to give up and head back inside when a voice behind me cuts through the silence.

"Let me guess, stood up?"

I turn to find Ellie Brock standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of her leather jacket, looking like she just stepped off a fashion magazine cover. My heart does a weird double-thump in my chest.

"That obvious, huh?" I manage, trying not to stare.

Up close, she's even more intimidating than I remembered from the dining hall. Those blue eyes seem to see right through me, like she's peeling back my layers one by one. She's taller than me by more than a few inches, and the confident way she carries herself makes the difference feel even more pronounced.

"Twenty minutes of watching someone check their phone while looking increasingly miserable? Yeah, pretty obvious," she says with a half-smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"You've been watching me?" I ask, not sure if I should be flattered or creeped out.

She shrugs, an elegant movement that somehow makes me hyper-aware of my own awkward posture. "I was passing by."

"Passing by for twenty minutes?" I ask with a nervous laugh, suddenly feeling both flattered and exposed under those piercing blue eyes.

"I notice things. Journalism habit," she says dismissively.

My brain catches up to the moment and I blurt out, "I guess I just didn't know you were such a walker, Ellie."

Her entire body goes rigid, tension rippling through her tall frame like I've just shocked her with a cattle prod. Those intense blue eyes narrow to dangerous slits.

"You know my name?" Her voice drops an octave, suddenly sharp as a blade.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, mentally kicking myself. I've just revealed I know who she is without any introduction.

I clear my throat, scrambling for a believable explanation. "I, uh... I saw how that whole Sin-Eater thing went down a few months ago. The articles about it, I mean." I stuff my hands in my pockets, trying to look casual while my heart hammers against my ribs. "Just wanted to say I think it could have happened to anyone in your position. You got screwed over."

And I mean it, too. From what I remember of the comics, Eddie Brock had been set up to fail by circumstances beyond his control. The same must be true for Ellie.

Something flickers behind her eyes, surprise, suspicion, maybe a hint of vulnerability quickly masked by hardening resolve. She takes a half-step closer, her height advantage forcing me to tilt my head up to maintain eye contact.

"Most people just call me a fraud or a failure," she says, her voice quiet but intense. "Not many take my side in that particular story."

I shrug, trying to ignore how my skin prickles with goosebumps at her proximity. "Seemed pretty obvious to me that you were just trying to do your job. "

She studies me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. I'm acutely aware of how easily she could snap me in half if she wanted to, even without the symbiote, she looks like she bench presses guys like me for breakfast.

"You're an interesting guy..." She pauses expectantly.

"Shane," I supply. "Shane Steele."

"Well, Shane Steele," she says, my name rolling off her tongue like she's tasting it, "since your date clearly isn't showing up, how about you let me buy you dinner instead?"

Warning sirens blare in my head. I'm staring into the eyes of a future supervillain who's probably already bonded with an alien symbiote. The rational part of me is screaming to run far away from this walking disaster.

But my eyes have a mind of their own, trailing down her athletic frame. The leather jacket can't hide those shoulders, the confident stance that radiates strength. I've always had a thing for women muscle mommies. Ellie Brock isn't just fit, she's like some Norse warrior goddess stepped out of Valhalla and decided to try journalism instead of conquering nations.

A sigh escapes my lips as I recognize what's happening. My higher brain functions are losing a battle to something much more primal. I'm not entirely at the wheel here, and I know it.

"I'd love to," I hear myself say, the words tumbling out before I can reconsider. "Where did you have in mind?"

Ellie's smile widens, revealing perfect teeth that I can't help but imagine elongating into Venom's fangs. "I know a place near campus. Good food, quiet enough to actually talk." She gestures with her head. "This way."

Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Spaghett About It

Twirling spaghetti around my fork in this dimly lit Italian restaurant feels like performing brain surgery while blindfolded. The noodles keep slipping off, sauce splashing everywhere except my mouth. Meanwhile, Ellie sits across from me, somehow making pasta consumption look like an Olympic sport she's medaled in multiple times.

"So," she says, cutting through our awkward silence, "who was it that stood you up tonight?"

My fork freezes mid-twirl. "Piper Parker," I admit, watching her face carefully for any reaction.

"Hmm." Ellie's expression barely changes. "The Bugle girl?"

"Yeah," I say, finally getting a proper forkful of pasta to my mouth. I chew slowly, buying time to think. "The photographer."

Ellie takes a sip of her wine, her movements graceful and controlled. Everything about her screams predator, from the way she holds herself to how her eyes never seem to blink when she's watching me.

"I heard Parker has a habit of being late," she says casually. "Always rushing off with some excuse or another."

My heart skips a beat. She must already know Piper is Spider-Woman.

"Now I know, I guess," I reply with a shrug, pretending this is brand new information to me. In reality, I'm also aware of Peter Parker's chronic lateness in the comics, always disappearing to fight crime as Spider-Man. Apparently some things transcend gender and dimensions.

Ellie tilts her head slightly, those piercing blue eyes studying me with unsettling intensity. "Do you know Parker well?" she asks, her tone casual but her gaze anything but.

"Not really," I say, setting my fork down. "I bumped into her walking out of self-defense class earlier today. We just kind of hit it off, I guess."

Her brow furrows, creating a small crease between her eyebrows. "You only just met her today?" There's a hint of surprise in her voice.

"Yeah," I nod, reaching for my water. "Totally random meeting. Why, do you know her?"

Ellie's mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. "We've crossed paths professionally," she says, her voice cooling several degrees. "The journalism world is small."

She takes another sip of wine, then sets her glass down with deliberate precision. "Have you had any other... unusual encounters lately?" The way she emphasizes 'unusual' makes the hair on my arms stand up.

"Hmm..." I pretend to consider the question, knowing full well this is dangerous territory. I decide I want to keep her interested in me. "Actually, yeah. Something pretty crazy happened yesterday. Some woman calling herself Scourge tried to kill me."

Ellie's eyebrows shoot up, genuine surprise breaking through her controlled facade. "Scourge? The vigilante?"

"Yeah," I say, leaning forward slightly. "She shot a homeless woman who was..." I hesitate, not wanting to get into the assault details. "Bothering me. Then she chased me into a museum and tried to kill me too. I would've been dead if Spider-Woman hadn't shown up."

I watch Ellie's reaction carefully, looking for any sign that she knows more than she's letting on. Her expression remains impressively neutral, but I notice her grip tightening on her wine glass.

"Spider-Woman saved you?" she asks, her voice so controlled it almost sounds mechanical.

"Swooped in like something out of a movie," I confirm, trying to sound appropriately impressed but not overly familiar. "Webbed up Scourge and then gave me a lift back to campus."

Ellie leans forward, her elbows on the table, creating a moment of unexpected intimacy. The restaurant's candlelight catches in her blue eyes, making them glitter with something that might be mischief or might be malice.

"Speaking of Spider-Woman," she says in a conspiratorial tone, "I've heard there's a new wall-crawler in town. Stronger, faster, more... aggressive."

My pulse quickens. "Oh?" I manage, fighting to keep my expression neutral while internally screaming at how surreal this is. She's literally talking about herself.

"My journalism connections keep me informed," she continues, idly tracing the rim of her wine glass with one finger. "Apparently, she calls herself Venom."

"Venom," I repeat, pretending the name is new to me. "Wouldn't it be nice to have two Spider-Women in New York protecting everyone? The city could always use more heroes."

Ellie's laugh is sharp and genuine, a sound that sends an electric current down my spine. It's beautiful and terrifying all at once.

"I seriously doubt this Venom wants to protect New York," she says, her smile revealing perfect teeth that I can't help imagining elongating into something more monstrous. "From what I've heard, she has... different priorities."

I take a sip of my water, using the moment to choose my words carefully. "Well, I hope she's not just wasting time trying to get revenge on someone who isn't even thinking about her. That would be a waste of those powers, wouldn't it?"

Ellie freezes, her wine glass halfway to her lips. The restaurant noise fades to background static as her piercing blue eyes lock onto mine with laser-like intensity. The playful energy from moments ago evaporates, replaced by something much more dangerous. She sets her glass down with deliberate precision, never breaking eye contact.

I meet her gaze steadily, refusing to look away despite the primal part of my brain screaming to avoid eye contact with the apex predator across from me. Her scrutiny feels like being X-rayed, like she's peeling back my skin to examine what lies beneath. The silence stretches between us, taut as a tripwire.

I can't help but think how much better it would be if she skipped her villain phase entirely. In the comics, Venom eventually becomes an anti-hero, but only after so much senseless violence and destruction. Maybe I can nudge her in that direction now, save a lot of people a lot of pain. Including her.

"Do you know something about Venom that the world doesn't?" Ellie finally asks, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that somehow carries perfectly across the table.

I swallow hard, my mind racing for a plausible response. "Me? No, of course not." I force a laugh that sounds unconvincing even to my own ears. "I'm just speculating. Maybe someone's copying Spider-Woman's abilities? Could be revenge, jealousy... who knows what motivates people with powers."

Ellie's eyes narrow, and she spits out the word "Jealousy?" like it's something rotten she found in her meal. A harsh laugh follows, echoing off our wine glasses. "Yeah, right."

I take a deep breath, realizing I need to be more careful with my words. "What I really mean is that I think someone with those kinds of abilities would be better off creating their own identity rather than living in Spider-Woman's shadow. Even if they have similar powers."

The temperature between us drops about twenty degrees. Ellie's jaw tightens, and she shifts in her seat, suddenly looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. Her fingers drum against the tablecloth with a rhythm that feels like a countdown to detonation.

"An interesting perspective," she says flatly, reaching for her wine and taking a long, deliberate sip.

The conversation sputters and dies like an engine running out of gas. We sit in uncomfortable silence as our waiter refills our water glasses, his cheerful "Everything tasting good?" met with stiff nods from both of us.

“Of course.” I say awkwardly.

I try to revive the conversation with comments about the food, the restaurant, even the weather, but Ellie's responses are clipped and distant. Her eyes keep studying me when she thinks I'm not looking, analytical and suspicious, like I'm a puzzle with missing pieces.

Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Jumper

The check lands between us with the finality of a judge's gavel. Our date died about twenty minutes ago, but we're only now performing the funeral rites.

"Let me get that," Ellie says, snatching the leather folder before I can reach for it.

"We could split it," I offer.

"I invited you," she replies curtly, sliding her credit card into the folder without even glancing at the total. Her eyes flick up to meet mine, ice-blue and unreadable. "Besides, I make actual money, unlike college freshmen."

The waiter whisks away our check, leaving us in the most awkward silence I've ever experienced. I fidget with my napkin, folding it into increasingly complex shapes while Ellie stares at me like I'm a lab specimen she's considering dissecting.

"So," I start, desperate to salvage something from this trainwreck, "journalism seems like a really interesting…"

"Don't," Ellie cuts me off, her voice flat. "Let's not pretend this is going anywhere."

Well, that's direct. I swallow hard, my pride taking a solid hit, but honestly, I'm almost relieved. This entire evening has been like navigating a minefield while blindfolded and drunk.

The waiter returns with Ellie's card, and we both stand up so quickly our chairs scrape against the floor. Other diners turn to look at us, probably wondering what dramatic breakup they're witnessing. If only they knew we're just two people, one normal guy with weird demon powers and one alien-possessed future supervillain, having the world's most unsuccessful first date.

We step outside into the chilly November air, the restaurant door swinging shut behind us with a cheerful little jingle that feels mockingly out of place. The street is relatively quiet for New York, just a few pedestrians hurrying past with collars turned up against the cold.

Ellie turns to me, her expression softening just a fraction. "Hey, I gotta run. It was nice meeting you."

"Totally," I reply, the word sounding hollow and insincere even to my own ears.

She takes a right without another word, her tall figure quickly disappearing into the night. I turn left, shoulders slumped, and start the long walk back to campus.

I kick a stray pebble and watch it skitter across the sidewalk, disappearing into a storm drain. Damn it. I can't believe how spectacularly I screwed that up. Why did I have to bring up the "living in Spider-Woman's shadow" thing?

As I trudge along, the image of Ellie keeps flashing through my mind, those piercing blue eyes, that confident posture, the way her blonde hair caught the restaurant's dim lighting. She was intimidating as hell, but in the most attractive way possible. Let's be honest, if she'd asked me to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge, I'd probably have asked "which side?"

The thought sends an embarrassing shiver down my spine. I’ve simped for much uglier girls than her. I'm not even ashamed to admit I'd have happily let her step on me if she wanted. Hell, I'd probably have begged her to. I'm pretty sure I would've even worked up the courage to call her mo…

My internal monologue cuts off abruptly as something black and viscous wraps around my ankle. Before I can even process what's happening, I'm yanked upward with dizzying speed, my startled yelp dying in my throat as the ground falls away beneath me.

The world blurs as I'm pulled higher and higher, blood rushing to my head as I dangle upside down over the street. My heart hammers against my ribcage, adrenaline flooding my system so fast I can taste it, metallic and sharp on my tongue.

"What the fu…"

My words are cut short as I'm suddenly swinging through the air, my stomach lurching into my throat. Buildings streak past in a disorienting smear of lights and shadows. I squeeze my eyes shut, certain I'm about to become a sidewalk pancake, when my momentum abruptly changes direction.

I feel myself being pulled upward again, then deposited roughly onto a hard surface. My back hits concrete, knocking the wind from my lungs. When I finally manage to open my eyes, I'm staring up at the night sky, the stars barely visible through New York's light pollution.

"Jesus Christ," I gasp, struggling to sit up. "What…"

The words die in my throat as a figure looms over me, silhouetted against the city lights. Sleek, black, and impossibly fluid, like living darkness given form. A white spider emblem stretches across her chest, distorted and jagged compared to Spider-Woman's clean lines. But it's her face that stops my heart, that elongated jaw filled with needle-sharp teeth, those blank white eyes that somehow still manage to convey emotion.

Venom's massive form towers over me, the alien substance rippling across Ellie's frame like liquid darkness. My heart hammers against my ribs as I stare up at her, terror and awe mingling in my chest. Even transformed into this monstrous creature, I can't help but notice how her athletic frame is still visible beneath the symbiote's embrace, powerful shoulders, the curve of her waist, the muscular definition of her thighs, and, of course, her giant breasts. It's terrifying to behold up close, but somehow, impossibly, still captivating.

"Venom," I manage to croak, my voice barely above a whisper. "I presume?"

The creature tilts her head, those milky eyes somehow conveying curiosity. Her jaw parts, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth as her impossibly long tongue slithers between them.

"We were listening to you, Shane," she hisses, her voice a disturbing blend of Ellie's familiar tone and something ancient and alien. "At dinner. In the restaurant."

She leans closer, that horrifying face inches from mine. I can smell her breath, strangely sweet and metallic at the same time.

"You know something, don't you?" The words slither from her mouth like living things. "Something about us. About what we are."

I sigh, my mind racing. I need to get out of this. My eyes dart past her shoulder, measuring the distance to the far edge of the rooftop. Fifty feet, maybe? Far enough to burn a little me but not knock me out.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lie, gathering that electric energy inside me, feeling it build beneath my skin.

I close my eyes, focus on that distant spot, and release the energy.

The familiar electric jolt shoots through me as reality blurs.

POOF

I materialize exactly where I aimed, stumbling slightly as fatigue hits me. But there's no time to recover. I'm already running, sprinting toward the fire escape I can see at the corner of the building. Behind me, I hear Venom's roar of fury echoing across the rooftop.

"YOU CAN'T ESCAPE US, SHANE!"

I see a blur of black to my right, and suddenly, Venom is there, sailing over my head with impossible grace. The sight freezes me in place for a precious second. Her massive form blocks out the night sky as she arcs through the air.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I gasp, my lungs burning with exertion.

My eyes dart frantically across the cityscape, locking onto another rooftop across the street. It's far… Way too far. Easily over two hundred feet away. Venom lands behind me with a predatory growl, and I can feel her closing in, ready to pounce.

No choice. I focus on that distant rooftop with desperate intensity, gathering every ounce of energy I can muster. The electric tingle builds beneath my skin, stronger than ever before, almost painful in its intensity.

I release it all at once, throwing myself across the void between buildings.

The world twists, stretches, compresses, and then I'm collapsing onto rough concrete, my body betraying me completely. My stomach heaves violently but nothing comes up, just dry, painful retches that wrack my entire body. I can't even hold myself upright, crumpling face-first onto the rooftop.

Everything is wrong. My skin feels like it's on fire, drenched in sweat that chills instantly in the night air. Blood gushes from my nose, hot and metallic, pooling beneath my face. My heart thunders in my chest with a terrifying irregularity, too fast, then skipping beats, then racing again, like it might explode or simply stop at any moment.

And impossibly, despite the agony and terror, I'm sporting the most painful erection of my life, straining against my jeans with an urgency that makes no sense given my current situation.

I can barely drag in enough oxygen, each breath a desperate, shallow gasp that does nothing to satisfy my screaming lungs. Spots dance across my vision, darkness creeping in from the edges. I'm going to pass out. Maybe die. I've pushed too far.

"Impressive distance," Venom's voice purrs from directly above me.

My blood runs cold. How? How is she already here?

I manage to roll onto my back, blinking through the blood that's now streaming down my face. Venom towers over me, her massive form silhouetted against the city lights.

I try to teleport again, but my body won't respond. Nothing happens except a pathetic flicker of energy that dies before it can manifest. I'm completely drained, helpless as Venom's massive form looms over me.

"Poor little teleporter," she purrs, crouching beside me. "You've broken yourself."

She reaches down with one clawed hand, pressing it against my chest. I flinch, expecting pain, but instead feel her pause. The blank white eyes of her face widen slightly.

"Your heart," she hisses, head tilting in what seems like concern. "It's... fluttering."

I try to respond but can only manage a weak cough, more blood spattering from my lips. My vision keeps blurring in and out of focus. The pain in my chest intensifies, like someone's crushing my ribcage in a vise.

Venom leans closer, her face inches from mine. Suddenly, her expression shifts.

"We can smell it," she growls, but something's different about her voice, a strange duality emerging. "The power inside you. It's intoxicating."

The symbiote begins to undulate across her body more rapidly, pulsing and writhing like it's responding to something in me. I watch in confused terror as Venom seems to argue with herself, her massive head twitching from side to side.

"What is happening to us?" she snarls, one clawed hand clutching her own head. "This... hunger is different."

Her blank eyes fix on me again, but now her massive tongue slithers out, tasting the air between us. I realize with horrified fascination that the same energy that affected Spider-Woman must be affecting Venom too, only amplified by my current state.

"We want..." she growls, her body lowering over mine. "We need..."

The symbiote ripples across her form as she presses me flat against the rooftop. Despite my critical condition, my body responds to her proximity, that painful erection throbbing with renewed intensity. I can barely breathe, each shallow gasp bringing less and less oxygen.

"Can't... breathe," I manage to wheeze out.

Venom doesn't seem to care. Her massive hands tear at my jacket, ripping it away like tissue paper. My shirt follows, shredded by those terrible claws, the cool night air hitting my exposed chest. I should be terrified. I am terrified, but there's something else mingling with the fear now, something primal and overwhelming.

"What are you doing?" I gasp as she continues tearing away my clothes.

Venom suddenly jerks back, her massive head tilting at an odd angle. "What the fuck do you mean, he's dying?" she snarls, those blank white eyes widening.

My vision swims as I try to focus on her face, realizing she's not talking to me but to the symbiote itself. I can't hear the other side of their conversation, just Ellie's increasingly agitated responses.

"I don't care what you sense," she growls, her claws still methodically shredding my jeans to ribbons. "We need him."

I should be fighting, screaming, doing something, anything, but my body won't respond. The pain in my chest intensifies, each heartbeat feeling like it might be my last. Blood continues to stream from my nose, pooling beneath my head in a warm, sticky puddle.

"Then we'll fix him while I fuck him," Venom declares, her voice shifting to something more distinctly Ellie's.

The symbiote bubbles over her body, peeling back from her skin like black water receding from shore. I catch glimpses of tanned flesh, powerful muscles, the curve of her breasts as the alien substance pulls away, leaving her nearly naked. Only thin tendrils remain, wrapping around her like some obscene lingerie, accentuating rather than hiding her incredible physique.

My dying brain still manages to register how gorgeous she is, all lean muscle and dangerous curves. The contrast between her golden skin and the inky blackness of the symbiote is hypnotic.

Before I can process what's happening, dark coils shoot out from her body, wrapping around my wrists and pinning them above my head. The symbiote spreads beneath me like a living mattress, surprisingly warm against my bare skin.

"Don't fight it," Ellie whispers, her voice almost gentle now.

Another tendril forms from the mass, thicker than the others, snaking toward my face. I try to turn away, but lack the strength. The tendril forces its way between my lips, pushing deep into my throat in one smooth motion.

I gag reflexively, panic surging through me despite my weakened state. "What is it doing to me?" I try to ask around the intrusion, the words coming out garbled and desperate.

Ellie straddles me completely now, positioning herself above my exposed cock. She shifts around her hips, clearing a path as she slowly sinks down onto me.

We both moan as she takes me fully inside her, her sound one of pleasure, mine a confused mixture of ecstasy and terror. The heat of her is overwhelming, impossibly tight and slick.

Ellie leans down, her face hovering inches from mine. The symbiote has receded completely from her head, revealing flushed cheeks and wild eyes. Her pupils are blown so wide I can barely see the blue iris around them.

"It's healing your heart," she whispers, her voice husky with desire. "We can feel it... mending the damage."

I gasp as she rolls her hips, sending electric waves of pleasure through my pain-wracked body. The symbiote tendril in my throat pulses rhythmically, and bizarrely, each pulse seems to ease the crushing pain in my chest.

Ellie arches her back and begins to ride me in earnest, her powerful thighs flexing as she lifts and lowers herself. The expression on her face is primal, almost possessed.

Something strange happens as she moves on top of me. My own desire amplifies, not just physical lust but a desperate, aching need for connection that surges through me like a tidal wave. It's more than arousal, it's hunger, pure and overwhelming.

I feel something coiling around my heart, literally, tendrils of the symbiote have worked their way inside me, wrapping around the damaged muscle. It should be terrifying, but each gentle squeeze brings relief instead of pain. The irregular flutter steadies, growing stronger with each beat.

My vision clears as blood flow normalizes, the world coming back into sharp focus. Ellie looks down at me, her expression a bizarre mixture of lust and scientific fascination.

As the symbiote begins to flow back across Ellie's body, it keeps her face exposed, those wild eyes still locked with mine. The black tendrils around my wrists tighten, pulling me closer to her despite my helpless position beneath her. My heart, now beating with renewed strength, hammers against my ribs as she leans down toward me.

Her lips crash against mine without warning. The kiss is hungry, desperate, consuming. My lips part instinctively, and I find myself kissing her back with equal fervor.

Our tongues meet, and it's like completing an electric circuit. A jolt of pure sensation courses through my entire body. I moan into her mouth as she deepens the kiss, her tongue exploring mine with the same possessive intensity that guides her hips as they continue to rock against me.

It's as though we were designed for each other, two broken pieces finally finding their match. The symbiote pulses around us both, creating a bizarre connection that transcends the physical. I can almost feel Ellie's emotions, her hunger, her curiosity, her desperate need to consume and possess.

"What is this?" I gasp when she finally breaks the kiss, both of us breathing hard.

"We don't know," she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. "But we want more."

The rhythm of her hips suddenly changes, faster, more desperate. Her breathing becomes ragged as she grips my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin. The symbiote pulses around us, creating patterns of darkness and light across her golden skin that mesmerize me even through my haze of pleasure.

"Oh god, Shane," she moans, her voice rising in pitch.

Her movements become frantic, wild. The symbiote covering her body starts to vibrate, emitting a high-pitched sound that borders between pleasure and pain. Ellie throws her head back, her spine arching impossibly as her inner muscles clench around me with supernatural strength.

"YESSS!" she screams, her entire body shuddering violently. Her eyes roll back, showing only whites as ecstasy claims her completely. The symbiote joins her climax, its alien shriek harmonizing with her human cries in a frightening chorus of pleasure.

The dual sensation, her body gripping me like a vise while the symbiote sends electrical pulses through my nervous system, pushes me over the edge. My back arches off the rooftop as I explode inside her, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through me with an intensity that whites out my vision. I'm pouring everything I have into her, my entire being emptying into her waiting depths.

"That's it, Shane," she hisses through clenched teeth, grinding down to milk every last drop from me. "Give us everything."

I can't speak, can't think. I can only feel as my body surrenders completely to her. The symbiote coils tighter around my heart, not threateningly but almost... protectively. The sensation extends the pleasure beyond what should be humanly possible, stretching seconds into eternities.

When my head finally clears, I feel the symbiote pull away from my throat. There's an odd sensation as it withdraws, almost like reluctance, as if it doesn't want to leave me. The absence feels strange, like losing something I never knew I needed.

Ellie collapses on my chest, her breathing heavy and ragged. I'm panting too, but unlike before, it's purely from exertion rather than oxygen deprivation or heart failure. My lungs work normally now, filling and emptying without the crushing pain.

I feel something cool and slick against my face. Ellie's running the symbiote across my cheeks and under my nose like a napkin.

"Sorry about the blood," she murmurs, her voice softer than I've ever heard it. "Your nose was practically a faucet, but it's all good now." She pauses, the black substance retreating back into her skin. "And we saved your life too, so you're welcome for that."

I stare up at her in complete awe. "Thanks," I manage, the word woefully inadequate for what just happened.

Ellie laughs, but it's different now, lighter, almost relieved. The wild hunger that consumed her eyes has vanished completely. Looking inward, I realize that overwhelming desire I felt has likewise disappeared, leaving only a pleasant afterglow and lingering confusion.

She pushes herself up, surveying my naked body with a clinical detachment that feels almost comical after what we just did. A sigh escapes her lips as she shakes her head.

"I'll take you home," she announces, the symbiote flowing across her body to form actual clothes, a tight black t-shirt, and jeans that materialize out of nothing. "Can't let a man walk back to his dorm without clothes, can I?"

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. "Oh, so you're a gentlewoman after all?"

"Don't push it," she warns, but there's no real threat in her voice. The symbiote extends from her hand, forming a simple black shirt and pants that she tosses at me. "These will dissolve in about an hour, so let's get you back before you end up naked in public."

I pull on the symbiote-clothes, marveling at how they feel against my skin, cool and slick but somehow comfortable, like wearing liquid silk. They fit perfectly, as if tailored specifically for me.

“Stop looking and come on.” She barks but theres’s no real bite behind it.

Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Fighting with Venom

My symbiote-created clothes cling to my body like a second skin as Ellie guides me through the doorway of my dorm room. The trek across campus was mercifully quick and silent, both of us processing what just happened on that rooftop. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I nearly died teleporting too far, and that Venom, of all people, saved my life through the most unexpected method possible.

Ellie closes the door behind us, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she leans against it. Gone is the tense, predatory woman from dinner, replaced by someone almost... comfortable. The transformation is startling.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, her piercing blue eyes scanning me from head to toe. "Are you alright? Is your breathing okay?"

I take a deep breath, testing my lungs. The pain that had crushed my chest is completely gone, like it never happened. "Yeah, I think I'm good. No more blood, heart feels normal." I pause, then add with a nervous laugh, "Your, uh, medical intervention was very effective."

Ellie tilts her head suddenly, her gaze going distant. "Huh?" she mutters, clearly not talking to me. Her lips press into a thin line as she listens to someone I can't hear.

After a moment, she refocuses on me. "Oh, alright." She nods slightly, then gestures toward my chest. "My other says you're doing good. The damage to your heart tissue is completely repaired."

"Thanks," I say, not knowing what else to add. How exactly does one properly thank the alien symbiote that just saved your life while its host was fucking the life back into you.

The silence stretches between us, thick with unasked questions. I shuffle awkwardly, painfully aware that my clothes are literally alive and borrowed from her body.

"So, uhh..." I rub the back of my neck, searching for the right words. "You're Venom, huh?"

Ellie laughs, a genuine sound that transforms her face. The hardened journalist melts away for a moment, revealing someone almost playful.

"Yeah," she says, pushing herself off the door. "And you teleport."

"Yeah," I confirm lamely.

We stare at each other, neither adding anything more to this profound exchange. The symbiote ripples slightly beneath her skin, visible even through her clothing, like dark water beneath ice.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," I blurt out suddenly. "About you being Venom, I mean."

"You better not," she warns, but there's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes sparkle with something that might be amusement.

"So..." I gesture vaguely between us. "That was quite a strange first date."

She laughs again, louder this time, her head tilting back slightly. "I guess so."

Ellie moves across the small dorm room and sits down on my bed, the cheap mattress dipping under her weight. The symbiote-clothes she created for me shift slightly against my skin, responding to her proximity like they want to return home.

"So what's the deal with your powers?" she asks, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. "The more you teleport, the more you pour out some kind of... horny energy?"

My face heats up immediately. "I guess? I'm still learning myself." I pace the small space between my desk and bed, hyper-aware of her watching me. "It's all pretty new."

"That's a dangerous power," she observes, her eyes tracking my movements. Then she tilts her head slightly, listening to the symbiote's silent communication. "And my other half says your skin and bones seem to be stronger than a regular human's. Not a lot stronger, but you seem to be able to take a punch."

"Wait, really?" I stop pacing and stare at her.

"Yeah," she confirms with a nod. "It also thinks if you worked on your cardio, you'd be able to push yourself farther without literally dying when you teleport."

I laugh, surprising myself with how easily it comes after everything that's happened. "That's really good advice. Thank you."

"Consider it professional courtesy between powered individuals," she says, leaning back on her elbows. The casual posture looks strange on someone who radiates such intensity. "Though most of us don't nearly kill ourselves trying basic maneuvers."

"Hey, two hundred feet isn't basic," I protest, gesturing wildly. "That's like... Olympic-level teleporting."

Ellie grins at my protest, then a thoughtful expression crosses her face. "Isn't there an X-Woman who can teleport? Like, really miles at a time?"

"Nightcrawler," I nod, impressed she knows about her. "And yeah, she's not limited by sight like I am."

Ellie studies me for a moment, her blue eyes searching my face. "And you really want to be a hero, huh?"

"Yeah.”

She sighs, running a hand through her short blonde hair. "That's going to be an uphill battle, you know."

I move to sit beside her on the bed. Our shoulders nearly touch, and I can feel the warmth radiating from her body.

"I want to at least try," I tell her, my voice quiet but determined.

Ellie stares at me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.

"Why not join me and help me instead?" she finally says, her voice casual but her eyes intense.

My heart skips a beat at the offer. Part of me, a bigger part than I'd like to admit, is tempted. Working with Venom would be incredible. But it’s not what I want for myself.

"I don't want you to hurt Spider-Woman," I say carefully.

Her face darkens instantly, jaw tightening as her eyes flash with something dangerous. The symbiote ripples more visibly now.

"Look," I continue, pushing through despite the warning signs, "I can see it in your eyes. You hate her. I know she screwed you over with the whole journalism thing." I glance meaningfully at her body where the symbiote pulses beneath her clothes. "And I know you hate her because she separated from you. But it's not worth it, Ellie. Who cares? It's just a waste of time."

The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees. Ellie's expression hardens, her eyes narrowing to icy slits. For a terrifying second, I think I've pushed too far.

"You don't understand," she says, her voice dangerously quiet. "She ruined my career. My life. She took everything from me."

"That's not true," I reply, shaking my head firmly. "You're still in college, Ellie. Your career isn't over. It's barely started! Look at the journalism landscape right now. People way worse than you are pumping out fake news every single day and still have careers. So you made one mistake. Who cares?"

Her eyes widen, flashing with fury. She stands abruptly from the bed, her movements sharp and dangerous. The symbiote ripples across her body in agitated waves, responding to her anger.

"Don't," she snarls.

I watch in fascination as the symbiote-clothes I'm wearing begin to liquefy, black tendrils slithering off my skin and flowing back toward Ellie like water drawn to a magnet. The material peels away from me in ribbons, leaving me sitting naked on the bed as every last drop returns to her.

"Don't you dare compare me to those shit peddlers," she hisses, towering over me. "And don't you fucking think you can tell me what to do just because we fucked once."

I sigh heavily, suddenly exhausted by all of it, the near-death experience, the rooftop sex, this argument with someone who clearly isn't ready to hear what I'm saying. "Ellie…"

But she's already turning away, stalking toward the door with predatory grace. The symbiote swirls around her like an angry storm cloud, reflecting her mood.

"Stay away from Spider-Woman," she warns. "She's mine to deal with."

For the briefest moment, I catch a flicker of regret in her eyes. Then she's gone, the door slamming behind her with enough force to rattle the cheap frame.

I exhale slowly, suddenly aware I'm sitting completely naked on my dorm room bed.

"Well, that went well," I mutter to the empty room, running a hand through my hair. "Made out with Venom and pissed her off in the same night. But I am alive. A win is a win.”

My phone buzzes on the desk where Ellie must have placed it. I grab the first piece of clothing I can find, a pair of boxers from my dresser, and pull them on before checking the notification.

It's Piper.

The text message preview makes my stomach drop: "Hey im so sorry i blew you off. had an emergency i had to deal with. im so so so so so sorry."

I can't help but laugh, the sound hollow in my empty room. Four "so's" worth of apology for standing me up. If she only knew what happened instead.

I glance at the time stamp: 10:11 PM.

"Damn, Parker," I whisper, calculating the hours in my head. "That's four hours after our planned date."

I stare at the message, thinking about what that "emergency" actually was. Probably swinging around the city saving lives while I was getting intimate with her archnemesis on a rooftop. The cosmic irony is almost too much.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment before I type: "No problem. Hope everything is alright."

I hit send, then flop backward onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. It's hard to be mad at Spider-Woman. Her life must be a constant juggling act of responsibilities, classes, photography, and superheroics.

My phone buzzes again with her reply: "Thanks for understanding. Can we reschedule? Coffee tomorrow, maybe 2 pm?"

I stare at Piper's text.

My mind drifts back to that rooftop, to Ellie's intensity, the way she saved my life through the most bizarre method possible. There's something magnetic about her that pulls at me in ways I can't fully explain. But that final conversation revealed how much anger still burns inside her, she's nowhere near ready for anything real. The woman is a walking hurricane of rage and vengeance, wrapped in a symbiote suit and stunning good looks.

And yet...part of me still wants to pursue her. I can't deny the connection we shared was unlike anything I've experienced before.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair again. It's not like I hooked up with Venom to spite Piper. I didn't even know if Piper would ever reschedule our date. And technically, Piper stood me up first, so I shouldn't feel guilty about what happened after.

But I do feel a twinge of... something. Not quite guilt, but a sense that I'm already getting tangled in a web of complications I barely understand.

"Keep it simple, Shane," I mutter to myself, staring at my phone.

I type back: "Coffee sounds great. See you at 2."

As I set my phone down, I make a decision. For now, I'll just try to be friends with Piper. See where things go naturally. No pressure, no expectations. Besides, I still need to wrap my head around the fact that she's Spider-Woman. Plus theres still MJ.

"One day at a time," I whisper, pulling my blanket over my naked body.

Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Griff

Autumn wind whips through my hair as I hover outside the Coffee Corner, the little café just off campus where I'm supposed to meet Piper. My hand grips the door handle, but I can't seem to make myself pull it open. Every time I try, my mind flashes back to Ellie straddling me on that rooftop, the symbiote pulsing around us both.

Christ, what am I doing? I nearly died last night, then fucked back to life, and now I'm about to have coffee with Spider-Woman like none of that happened.

I finally yank the door open, the little bell jingling cheerfully above my head. The smell of espresso and baked goods hits me like a wall, momentarily drowning out my anxiety. My eyes scan the crowded space until they land on Piper, tucked away in a corner booth, nervously fidgeting with a napkin.

She spots me and her face lights up, one hand shooting into the air. "Hey, Shane!" she calls out, waving me over with enough enthusiasm to draw stares from nearby patrons.

I weave through the maze of tables, trying to ignore how my heart rate picks up.

"Hi," I manage as I slide into the seat across from her. "Sorry if I'm late."

Piper shakes her head vigorously, her short brown hair bouncing with the movement. "No, no! I got here early." She leans forward, her hazel eyes wide and earnest behind those thick-rimmed glasses. "Shane, I am so, so, so sorry about yesterday. I feel absolutely terrible."

The apology in her expression is so genuine it almost hurts to look at.

"Don't worry about it," I say instead, shrugging off my jacket. "Emergencies happen."

"Yeah, but it was our first..." She trails off, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I mean, it wasn't even really a date, right? Just a casual get-together that Harriet kind of pushed on us both."

I can't help but smile at how flustered she looks. "Yeah, absolutely. Just two new friends hanging out over coffee." I lean back in my seat, trying to appear casual despite the guilt gnawing at my insides. "So what was the emergency anyway? Must've been pretty serious."

Piper's eyes go wide, and she seems to freeze up completely. "Oh, uh, uhh..." Her mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, clearly struggling to come up with a plausible explanation.

"Never mind, don't worry about it, Piper," I say quickly, waving my hand dismissively. "It's no problem, alright? I get it. Life happens sometimes."

Relief floods her face, but before she can respond, the café door flies open with enough force to make the little bell nearly break off its hinge. The sound cuts through the ambient chatter, drawing everyone's attention.

My stomach drops as I spot Ellie Brock standing in the doorway, her piercing blue eyes scanning the room like a predator. When they lock onto our table, a smile that's more of a snarl spreads across her face.

She strides toward us with purposeful steps, her tall frame commanding attention from everyone in the café. The confident swagger in her walk screams danger, but I can't tear my eyes away.

"Oh, Parker, what's up?" Ellie's voice drips with false pleasantry as she reaches our table, towering over us both. Her expression is pure arrogance, but I can see the rage simmering just beneath the surface.

Her gaze shifts to me, and that smile turns even sharper. "Oh, and hey Shane. Long time no see, huh?" She laughs, but there's nothing warm about it, just cold, barely contained fury that makes my skin prickle with goosebumps.

Piper straightens in her seat, her body language shifting subtly.

"Ellie," she says evenly, "I didn't realize you frequented this place."

Ellie's eyes glint with malice as she plasters on the fakest smile I've ever seen. "I don't actually. I was just walking by and thought I'd make sure Shane here was doing alright after our little date last night."

The word "date" hangs in the air like a bomb that's just been dropped. I watch Piper's expression shift from confusion to surprise as her eyes dart between Ellie and me.

"You two went on a date?" Piper asks, her voice carefully neutral despite the slight widening of her eyes behind those thick glasses.

Ellie doesn't give me the chance to formulate a response. She leans against our table, invading our space with casual dominance.

"Yup," she continues, her eyes never leaving Piper's face. "I saw him sadly moping around Richards Hall waiting for someone. Poor thing looked so pathetic I decided to slip in and shoot my shot." She reaches down and ruffles my hair like I'm a puppy. "He's a cute boy, after all."

The condescension in her voice makes my cheeks burn.

"She's not wrong," I admit, shifting uncomfortably as both women stare at me. "We did have a date last night, Piper, but it was honestly one of the most horrifically awkward dates I've ever been on."

Ellie's eyes widen, the confident smirk faltering as my words land. She clearly wasn't expecting me to challenge her version of events.

"She literally said, and I'm quoting directly here, 'Let's not pretend this is going anywhere.'" I mimic Ellie's dismissive tone from the restaurant, watching her jaw tighten.

It's kind of funny seeing her thrown off balance like this. The symbiote must be going crazy under her skin right now.

Piper looks more confused than hurt, her brow furrowing as she glances between us. "Wait, really?"

Ellie recovers quickly, crossing her arms over her chest. "That was before..." she says, letting the implication hang in the air.

I don't push her on what ‘before’ means. No need to mention the whole rooftop incident in the middle of a coffee shop.

"I also didn't know you knew Ellie, Piper," I say, trying to steer the conversation somewhere less dangerous. "I didn't go out with her out of spite or anything. I just didn't want to stay in my dorm all night." I run a hand through my hair nervously. "Sorry if this makes things awkward."

"No, no, I get it," Piper says quickly, waving her hands. "I didn't even text you until way later. You had every right to make other plans."

Piper's phone suddenly erupts with a shrill ringtone, cutting through the awkward silence at our table. She fumbles with it, nearly knocking over her untouched coffee as her eyes scan the screen. The color drains from her face.

"Uhh, I'm so sorry but..." she stammers, already gathering her things.

"Another emergency?" I ask, unable to keep the knowing resignation from my voice.

She nods, guilt written all over her face. "Maybe we can try again another time?"

"Sure," I say with a shrug that I hope looks more casual than it feels. "You have my number."

Piper gives me an apologetic smile before awkwardly maneuvering around Ellie, who makes absolutely no effort to move out of her way. I watch as Spider-Woman, though she doesn't know I know, rushes out the door, no doubt about to save innocent lives while I'm stuck here with my psychotic hookup from last night.

Before I can even process what's happening, Ellie slides into Piper's vacated seat, her movements fluid and predatory. She leans forward, those piercing blue eyes locked on mine.

"What the fuck was that?" she demands, her voice low but intense.

"What?" I counter, holding her gaze. "Making sure you didn't embarrass Piper?"

Her eyes narrow dangerously. "Do you know who she really is?"

I flash my most innocent smile, trying not to let my amusement show. The urge to laugh bubbles up inside me as I watch Ellie's intense stare.

"What do you mean? She's just a photographer for the Daily Bugle," I say with a casual shrug. "Pretty talented one, too. Have you seen her Spider-Woman shots?"

Ellie's eyes narrow to dangerous slits, studying my face with predatory focus. I can almost feel the symbiote analyzing me through her gaze, trying to detect any hint of deception. The silence between us stretches for several seconds, the café noise fading into the background.

"I can't tell if he's lying either," she whispers, clearly not speaking to me.

My heart skips a beat at this confirmation that the symbiote is actively participating in our conversation, but I maintain my innocent expression.

"So," I say, leaning forward slightly, "another date, huh? You seemed pretty done with me last night."

Despite everything, the danger she represents, the way she stormed out of my room, the fact that she's literally bonded with an alien parasite that wants to kill my other potential love interest, I can't deny the electric pull I feel toward her. There's something magnetic about Ellie that makes rational thought difficult when she's this close.

Ellie's lips curl into a mocking smile, her eyes never leaving mine. "Isn't Parker your new girlfriend? You two seemed pretty cozy before I interrupted."

I choose my words carefully, not wanting to throw Piper under the bus. She doesn't deserve that.

"Parker is a very kind but an extremely busy girl," I say, keeping my tone neutral. "As you just witnessed."

Ellie leans forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Help me take down Spider-Woman, and I'd be happy to go on another date with you." The offer hangs between us, dangerous and tempting.

I lean in, matching her posture.

"Counterpoint," I say, my voice surprisingly steady. "Drop your whole Spider-Woman vendetta, and we can be boyfriend girlfriend. Wouldn't that be more fun?"

Her eyes widen in shock, a flush creeping up her neck to her cheeks. It's the first time I've seen Ellie Brock genuinely caught off guard.

"What the fuck is happening right now?" she mutters, more to herself than to me.

I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. "Last night you had the upper hand. But in here?" I gesture around the coffee shop. "I hold all the cards."

"Like hell you do," she snaps, but there's less conviction in her voice than usual.

I lean in closer. "Don't you want to have another go with me?" I lick my lips slowly, deliberately. "I sure fucking do. You felt incredible."

Her blush deepens, spreading across her cheeks like wildfire. Her pupils dilate, those ice-blue eyes darkening with unmistakable desire. For a moment, I think she might reach across the table and grab me right there in the middle of the café.

Instead, she stands up so abruptly her chair screeches against the floor. Several heads turn our way, but Ellie doesn't seem to notice. She's staring at me with a mixture of fury and lust that makes my heart race.

"Fuck you," she hisses, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

I look up at her, feeling reckless and alive. "Fuck me yourself, coward."

Her face freezes in shock, the confident mask slipping to reveal a woman who just watched her chess pieces scatter across the board. Her mouth opens and closes, no words coming out.

Ellie's finger jabs toward me like a missile, her eyes narrowing to icy slits. "This is not over, Steele," she snarls, voice dropping to a dangerous octave that makes several nearby patrons shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"I truly hope not," I reply. The words hang between us, charged with possibility.

Her face contorts with frustration, a muscle twitching in her jaw as the symbiote visibly ripples beneath the surface of her skin. With an exasperated "Ughhh!" that's equal parts growl and groan, she whirls around and stalks toward the exit, her powerful frame practically vibrating with tension.

The café door slams behind her hard enough to rattle the glass.

Chapter 13: Chapter 13: Cardio

My lungs burn like someone's poured molten lava down my throat. Sweat streams down my face in rivers, soaking through my already drenched t-shirt as my feet pound against the concrete path winding through campus. The November night air should feel refreshing, but it just makes the sweat on my skin feel like ice water.

"Fuck cardio," I wheeze, stumbling to a halt and doubling over, hands on my knees. "Fuck running. Fuck fitness. Fuck everything."

It's nearly 11 PM, and the campus paths are mercifully empty except for the occasional security guard making rounds. Most students are either studying, partying, or sleeping, all of which sound infinitely more appealing than this self-imposed torture session.

But I can still hear Ellie's voice in my head, the symbiote's clinical assessment. "If you worked on your cardio, you'd be able to push yourself farther without literally dying when you teleport."

Great advice from the alien parasite.

I straighten up, wincing as my side cramps in protest, and check my fitness app. Thirty-two minutes of running, just over two miles. Pathetic. My high school gym teacher would be having an aneurysm right now.

"Just one more lap," I mutter, forcing myself to start jogging again. "One more and I can go back to my sad, empty dorm room and collapse."

I'm only a few steps into my pitiful jog when a distinctive thwip sound cuts through the night air. Something white and sticky lands on the lamppost beside me with a wet splat. Before I can even process what's happening, a red and blue blur swings down from above, gracefully landing just a few feet away.

"Out for a midnight run?" Spider-Woman asks, her masked head tilting curiously. "You know it's not exactly the safest time for guys to be jogging alone on campus, right?"

My heart nearly explodes, partly from the surprise, partly from my pathetic cardio session, and partly because I'm face-to-face with Spider-Woman again.

"I… Uh.. I’m just trying to get in better shape," I stammer, suddenly hyper-aware of how disgusting I must look with sweat pouring down my face. "Cardio and all that."

She steps closer, her mask's expressive eyes somehow conveying concern. "Noble goal, but maybe stick to daylight hours? Or the campus gym? We've had reports of assaults in this area."

"Are the assaults happening on campus?" I ask, trying to sound casual despite my ragged breathing. My lungs still feel like they're on fire, but talking to Spider-Woman has a way of making me forget physical pain.

She shakes her head, the white eyes of her mask narrowing slightly. "Not directly on campus, but close by. The last three happened just beyond the university boundaries."

I wave my hand dismissively, trying to project more confidence than I feel. "I'm honestly not worried. I can handle myself."

Spider-Woman crosses her arms over her chest, her stance shifting to something more authoritative. "Really? No offense, but you look like you're about to collapse from a light jog. What exactly would you do if someone tried to jump you right now?"

"I'd call for my local hero to come and save me, of course," I say with a grin, gesturing toward her with exaggerated jazz hands. "Maybe she'll swing in dramatically at the last second. I hear she's pretty good at that."

Spider-Woman stares at me for a long moment, her mask's white eyes narrowing even further. The silence stretches between us until I start to fidget uncomfortably.

"Hey," she finally says, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "The other night I saw someone on the rooftops wearing a ski mask. Someone who could teleport." She takes a step closer, her posture suddenly tense. "That was you, wasn't it?"

My stomach drops like I've just teleported off a skyscraper. Sweat that has nothing to do with my run breaks out across my forehead.

"What? Me? Teleporting?" I force a laugh that sounds pathetically fake even to my own ears. "That's... that's crazy talk. I can barely run two miles without dying."

Spider-Woman steps closer, her head tilting in that distinctive way that somehow conveys skepticism despite the mask covering her entire face.

"I'm not going to out you," she says, her voice softening. "Look, that night on the roof... you told me you wanted to be a hero. Now I find you out here pushing yourself through cardio training at 11 PM." She gestures at my sweaty, exhausted state. "I just want to know if you're serious about this."

There's no point denying it anymore. She knows.

"Yeah," I admit, straightening up despite my protesting muscles. "I am serious. I want to be like you. I want to help people."

The white eyes of her mask widen slightly, and she lets out a small sigh that sounds almost... resigned.

"You should know that I make a lot of sacrifices to do what I do," she says, her voice taking on a gravity I haven't heard from her before. "It's not easy, Shane. My personal life is a constant wreck. I miss classes, I lose jobs, I stand up friends and family. People I care about get hurt because of what I do."

"Oh wow, you're really trying to scare me off, huh?" I say with a dramatic sigh, placing my hand over my heart. "The world's greatest future superhero stands before you, eager to join the forces of good, and you're hitting me with the whole 'it's a tough job' speech? Really inspiring stuff."

"This isn't a joke, Shane. People die in this line of work."

"I almost died teleporting across a couple of rooftops," I counter, wiping sweat from my brow. "Trust me, I'm well aware of the risks."

Spider-Woman seems like she’s about to lecture me further when suddenly, a massive black form crashes into her from behind, sending her flying across the campus path. The impact is so violent it knocks me backward onto the ground.

"What the fuck?" I gasp, scrambling to my feet as my heart rate skyrockets.

Venom stands where Spider-Woman was just a second ago, her massive form rippling with barely contained rage. Those blank white eyes fix on me for a split second before turning back to Spider-Woman, who's already flipping to her feet.

"Stay away from him!" Venom roars, her voice a horrifying blend of Ellie's familiar tone and something ancient and alien.

I freeze in place, suddenly remembering a crucial fact from the comics, Spider-Woman can't sense Venom coming. The symbiote doesn't trigger her spider-sense. That's why she was completely blindsided by the attack.

Spider-Woman crouches in a defensive stance, her head tilting in confusion. "Venom? What are you…"

She doesn't finish her sentence as Venom launches forward with frightening speed, claws extended and jaws wide open. The two collide in a blur of red, blue, and midnight black. Venom's massive hands wrap around Spider-Woman's throat, slamming her into the ground hard enough to crack the concrete.

"Don't fucking talk to him!" Venom snarls, her elongated jaw inches from Spider-Woman's face. "He's mine!"

My mouth falls open at her possessive claim. Did she just call me hers?

Spider-Woman kicks upward with both feet, catching Venom in the chest and sending her flying backward. She fires two web lines, yanking herself to her feet in one fluid motion.

Spider-Woman flips through the air, landing in a crouch behind Venom. "What's wrong, Venom? Jealous I got to him first?" she quips, dodging a massive black tendril that whips toward her face. "Or just mad your dating profile isn't getting any matches?"

Venom roars, the sound vibrating through my chest like a bass drum. "He's mine! Not yours!" She lunges again, those massive arms swinging wildly as Spider-Woman dances around her attacks.

"Weird, I don't see your name on him," Spider-Woman retorts, firing web after web at Venom's limbs, trying to immobilize her. "Though I'm pretty sure that's not how people work anyway."

I watch in horror as they trade blows, my heart hammering against my ribs. Spider-Woman is quick, but Venom's raw power is overwhelming. For every hit Spider-Woman lands, Venom connects with two more powerful strikes. Despite her quips and acrobatics, Spider-Woman is clearly struggling.

"Damn it," I mutter, my legs carrying me forward before my brain can catch up with what I'm doing. "Stop it! Stop fucking fighting!"

They break apart momentarily, both turning toward me with identical expressions of alarm visible even through their masks.

"Stay back!" they shout in unison, which would be comical if the situation wasn't so dire.

"She's not safe, Shane," Spider-Woman calls out, her voice strained from exertion. "Get out of here!"

Venom uses the distraction to lunge at Spider-Woman again, catching her in a crushing bear hug. "Too slow, little spider," she hisses triumphantly.

I step closer, my hands raised in a placating gesture. "Venom, if you don't stop fighting her right now, I'll…"

"You'll what, Steele?" she snarls, not even looking at me as she and Spider-Woman grapple, their forms twisting in a deadly dance. "Yell at me some more? I'm not afraid of you."

My fists clench at my sides, frustration and fear bubbling up inside me. "I'll teleport myself even further than last time," I threaten, my voice steady despite my racing heart.

Venom's blank white eyes flick toward me momentarily, her massive jaws twisting into what might be a scornful smile. "Yeah, right. You’re not dumb enough to kill yourself."

"That's where you're wrong, Ellie," I say, my voice steady despite the fear racing through my veins. "I most certainly am."

I take a deep breath, focusing on a spot at the far end of the quad, easily three hundred feet away. The familiar tingle of power builds beneath my skin, electricity crackling through my nerves as I gather every ounce of energy I can muster.

"This is going to fucking suck," I mutter, wincing as I release the pent-up energy all at once.

The world warps around me, stretching, compressing, tearing apart and reassembling. The sensation is a thousand times more violent than before, like being ripped atom from atom and haphazardly put back together.

When reality snaps back into focus, I'm exactly where I aimed, but my body immediately rebels. Hot, copper-tasting blood erupts from my mouth in a violent spray. I collapse to my knees, then fall forward onto all fours as more blood pours from my nose, dripping onto the concrete in thick, dark splashes.

My heart stutters in my chest, beating with a terrifying irregularity that makes breathing nearly impossible. Each desperate gasp brings less oxygen than the last. Something warm and wet trickles from the corners of my eyes, tears mixed with blood.

Through the haze of agony, I hear a feral roar of rage and fear. The ground trembles beneath massive footsteps racing toward me. Strong arms scoop me up, cradling me against a chest that vibrates with fury.

"WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?" Venom screams, her massive form sprinting away from Spider-Woman, who's frantically swinging after us. The symbiote pulses around me, tendrils reaching out to touch my face, my chest, my bleeding eyes.

I can't answer. Can't form words. Every ounce of concentration goes into dragging precious oxygen into my failing lungs. My vision tunnels, darkness creeping in from the edges as Venom leaps over a campus wall, her powerful legs carrying us both far away from the fight.

"He needs a hospital!" I hear Spider-Woman shout from somewhere behind us, her voice growing fainter as Venom puts more distance between us as she keeps taking turns seemingly at random.

"We can help him!" Venom snarls back. "You'll only slow us down!"

The world spins sickeningly around me as Venom's powerful strides jostle my broken body. Each heartbeat feels wrong, too fast, then terrifyingly slow, like my cardiac muscles are forgetting how to function. I can't focus on anything beyond the copper taste flooding my mouth and the warm wetness spreading down my chin.

"Stay with me," Venom growls, her voice sounding impossibly distant despite her face being inches from mine. The symbiote ripples across her body in agitated waves, tendrils reaching out to touch my face with surprising gentleness.

I try to respond, but only manage a wet gurgle as more blood bubbles up my throat. My eyelids grow heavier with each passing second, like they're being pulled down by invisible weights.

"No, no, no," Venom hisses, her massive form picking up speed. "Don't you dare die on me, Steele. Not after such a stupid fucking stunt."

My vision narrows to pinpricks of light surrounded by encroaching darkness. Venom's face wavers in and out of focus, those blank white eyes somehow conveying panic despite their featureless appearance.

The last thing I register is the symbiote spreading across my chest, tendrils slithering beneath my blood-soaked shirt, searching for my failing heart.

Then consciousness slips, and everything goes black.

Chapter 14: Chapter 14: Venussy

Darkness gives way to sensation, a weight on my hips, wet heat engulfing me, and something thick slithering down my throat. My eyes snap open to find Ellie straddling me, her powerful thighs clamping around my sides as she rides me with savage intensity. Her blonde hair is plastered to her forehead with sweat, and the symbiote ripples across her skin in agitated waves, extending multiple black tendrils into my mouth.

I can't speak. Can't breathe. Can't do anything but lie there as Ellie uses my body like it's her personal salvation. We're in her apartment, exposed brick walls, high ceilings, and minimalist furniture that I barely register through the haze of overwhelming sensation.

"Fuck yes," Ellie moans, her hands splayed across my chest, nails digging into my skin hard enough to draw blood. "Finally, you're breathing again."

The tendrils in my throat pump rhythmically. Each pulse sends a jolt of energy through my broken body, mending tissue, reconnecting synapses, forcing my heart to beat in a steady rhythm.

Ellie leans down, her eyes wild with a mixture of relief and unhinged desire. Her pupils are blown out again. When she kisses me, it's with bruising force, her tongue invading my mouth around the symbiote's tendrils. I taste blood, mine or hers, I can't tell.

My incubus pheromones must be flooding the room, amplified by my near-death experience and the symbiote's desperate attempt to heal me. It's affecting us both far worse than last time, turning what should be a medical procedure into something primal and overwhelming.

With a sudden surge of strength, Ellie grabs my shoulders and rolls us over in one fluid motion. Now I'm on top, staring down at her flushed face, the symbiote still rippling across her skin in waves of midnight black. The tendrils retract from my throat, allowing me to gasp for air.

"Don't just lie there," she growls, her blue eyes blazing with feral intensity. "You have to thrust. Now."

My body responds before my brain can catch up, hips driving forward of their own accord. I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to, and Lileth help me, I don't want to. Each movement sends electric waves of pleasure-pain through my still-healing body.

"Fuck," I moan, my voice raw and unfamiliar to my own ears.

Ellie matches my sound with a guttural groan that vibrates through her chest and into mine. Her powerful legs wrap around my waist, urging me deeper, harder.

"You're in so much fucking trouble," she pants between thrusts, her hands gripping my biceps hard enough to leave bruises. "What were you thinking? Teleporting that far just to prove a point?"

Even drunk on lust, high on whatever energy my body is producing, she's mad at me. It would be comical if I weren't so close to the edge of consciousness.

"You could have died," she continues, her words punctuated by sharp gasps as I drive into her. "Your heart stopped twice. Twice!"

I try to respond, but all that comes out is another moan as the symbiote tendrils slither across my back, holding me in place, guiding my movements.

"I had to carry your bleeding, broken body across half of Manhattan," she hisses, her nails raking down my back. "Do you have any idea what that was like?"

"Sorry," I manage to gasp, though the word feels woefully inadequate.

Her eyes narrow dangerously, but then roll back as I hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Don't you ever…" she starts, then breaks off with a shuddering moan.

Her hand shoots up suddenly, wrapping around my throat. Despite being beneath me, Ellie's grip tightens with crushing force, her fingers pressing into my windpipe with terrifying precision. My breath catches, not entirely from fear.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," she growls through clenched teeth.

The pressure increases, and a dark thrill races through me. My hips snap forward with renewed vigor, driving deeper into her as my oxygen slowly depletes. The symbiote writhes beneath her skin, extending her reach, strengthening her grip.

I thrust harder, faster, my body responding to the danger with a surge of primal need. My vision starts to blur at the edges, dark spots dancing across Ellie's face as she watches me with hungry fascination.

"Harder," I rasp, the word barely audible through her stranglehold.

The symbiote responds, tendrils wrapping around my neck, reinforcing her grip. The pressure is exquisite, dancing on the knife-edge between pleasure and oblivion. Each thrust becomes more desperate as my lungs scream for air.

Ellie's back arches beneath me, her expression transforming into something feral and beautiful. "Yes," she hisses, her inner muscles clenching around me rhythmically. "Pour it into me, Steele."

The room tilts and spins as my oxygen-starved brain fires random synapses. I'm cumming before I even realize I'm there, my entire body convulsing in violent release as I gasp desperately against the constriction. The sound that escapes me is primal, barely human.

Ellie follows immediately, her cry of pleasure echoing off the exposed brick walls. Her body shudders beneath mine, powerful thighs locking around my waist like a viser.

Just as my consciousness begins to fade completely, the pressure releases. Air rushes into my lungs in a painful gasp that sends me collapsing onto her chest, trembling and disoriented.

"Jesus Christ," I wheeze, my voice a broken rasp against her skin. "That was..."

"Shut the fuck up," she murmurs, but there's no bite to it. Her fingers thread through my hair, surprisingly gentle after such violence. "Just breathe for a minute."

"I can't believe you just…"

"Shut the fuck up, Shane," she cuts me off, her voice sharper than before. "Jesus. Just fucking breathe."

Her fingers continue stroking my hair, but there's a new tension in her touch. I obey, focusing on pulling air into my abused lungs while my heart rate gradually returns to something resembling normal. The symbiote has withdrawn most of its tendrils from my body, though I can still feel a few monitoring my vital signs like living medical equipment.

We lie there in silence for several minutes, my head rising and falling with each of Ellie's breaths. The apartment is eerily quiet except for our synchronized breathing and the distant hum of New York traffic filtering through the windows.

"So my heart stopped twice, huh?" I finally break the silence, my voice still raspy from her chokehold.

"Yeah," Ellie sighs, her fingers pausing in my hair. "And my other half had to restart it both times." There's an unusual vulnerability in her tone I haven't heard before. "The symbiote kept you alive while I got us somewhere safe."

I lift my head slightly to meet her gaze. "I told you I'd teleport far if you kept fighting."

Her blue eyes flash with renewed anger. "That wasn't a fucking challenge, Shane! Normal people don't risk their lives to break up a fight!" She shoves me off her with enough force to send me tumbling to the other side of the bed.

"Ow! Hey!" I protest, wincing as my still-tender body hits the mattress. Despite the healing, every muscle feels like it's been put through a blender. "Look, it worked, didn't it? You stopped fighting Spider-Woman."

"Because you were literally dying!" Ellie sits up, the symbiote forming a thin black tank top and shorts to cover her nakedness. "Your heart wasn't just stopping, it was tearing itself apart. There was blood coming from your eyes, Shane. Your fucking eyes!"

I let out a disgusted sound, rolling my eyes. "Yuck."

"Yuck?" Ellie's voice rises in pitch, her eyes widening with disbelief. "That's all you have to say? 'Yuck'?”

She sits up straighter, the symbiote rippling across her skin in agitated waves that match her escalating anger. "Take this fucking seriously, Shane! It's like you're just playing around with your life!"

"No," I say firmly, meeting her gaze. "I'm not playing around with my life. I'm very serious about you stopping your idiotic crusade against a hero."

Her face contorts with rage. "She's not even a fucking hero!"

"She is," I counter, pushing myself up despite my body's protests. "And you can be too, Ellie. You have these incredible powers, this connection with the symbiote. You could be doing so much good instead of wasting it on revenge."

Ellie stands abruptly, the symbiote forming proper clothes around her body, black jeans and a tank top, as she paces the hardwood floor. "Get the fuck out," she seethes, pointing toward the door. "Now."

I struggle to my feet, wincing as my still-healing muscles complain. "I like you, Ellie," I say, softer now. "I think we should date. For real."

She whirls around, her blonde hair flying with the sudden movement. "You're fucking toxic," she spits, her voice trembling with emotion. "Fucking trying to put your suicide on me. Get. The. Fuck. Out."

"I think you like me too," I say, taking a tentative step toward her. "And asking you not to kill someone isn't really toxic, you know? That's like... baseline decent human behavior."

For a moment, she just stares at me, her chest heaving with rapid breaths.

The symbiote suddenly lashes out, wrapping around my still-naked body like black lightning. Before I can react, tendrils force my arms into sleeves and my legs into pants, dressing me in what feels like seconds with the clothes i had on earlier.

"Hey!" I protest as the symbiote roughly pulls a shirt over my head. "I can dress myself…"

"Clearly you can't do anything yourself without nearly dying," Ellie snarls, stalking toward me.

Without warning, she scoops me up like I weigh nothing, one arm under my knees and the other supporting my back. The casual display of strength sends an inappropriate thrill through me despite the circumstances.

"Put me down!" I struggle against her grip, but it's like fighting iron bands.

"Gladly," she growls.

Three long strides carry us to her front door, which the symbiote opens with a tendril. With zero ceremony, she deposits me unceremoniously in the hallway outside her apartment, my ass hitting the floor hard enough to make me wince.

"When you decide to grow up and stop using suicide as a negotiation tactic, maybe we can talk," she snaps, looming in the doorway. "Until then, stay the fuck away from me."

The door slams in my face with enough force to rattle the frame, the sound echoing down the empty hallway.

This rejection stings worse than the physical pain of everything my body’s been through tonight.

"You know what, Ellie?" I yell, my voice bouncing off the hallway walls. "Your ambivalence towrds me is going to be your downfall!”

I slam my palm against the door, wincing as the impact sends fresh pain shooting up my arm.

"Yeah, maybe I need to grow up," I continue, my voice cracking slightly. "But so do you! Running away from every conversation that challenges you isn't exactly mature!"

I wait for a response, a shout, the door flying open, anything, but there's only silence. After a few seconds, I hear something crash inside the apartment, like she's thrown something against the wall.

At least I got to her.

I sigh, my anger deflating as quickly as it flared up. I push myself away from the door and start limping down the hallway toward the elevator.

Once I'm out in the hallway, I pat my pockets and feel the reassuring bulge of my phone. Thank god. I pull it out, surprised to see it still has battery after everything that's happened tonight.

"Where the hell am I?" I mutter, looking around the unfamiliar hallway. The building seems upscale, exposed brick, industrial lighting fixtures, probably some converted warehouse in a gentrified neighborhood. Definitely not campus housing.

I pull up my maps app and punch in "Empire State University" to get my bearings. The little blue dot of my current location appears somewhere miles from campus. I drag myself toward the elevator.

Outside, the night air hits me like a slap to the face. It's gotten colder since I started my ill-fated run earlier.

I shiver as I continue my journey back to campus, the frigid night air biting through my thin shirt. I'd give anything for my jacket right now, but between teleporting and Ellie's symbiote-assisted medical intervention, it's probably lying in tatters somewhere.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I mutter, rubbing my arms as I trudge forward.

The city streets are relatively empty at this hour, just the occasional late-night pedestrian giving me strange looks. I must be quite a sight, pale, disheveled, blood still crusting around my nostrils despite Ellie's cleanup efforts.

I'm about halfway back to campus when I notice the shift in atmosphere. The previously empty street now has shadows moving at its edges, figures detaching from darkened doorways. Three women emerge from an alley ahead, their predatory stances making their intentions clear before they even speak.

"Well, well," the tallest one says, her voice carrying the artificial sweetness of someone who's practiced sounding harmless. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing out here all alone?"

They fan out in a semi-circle, blocking my path. The streetlight catches on something metallic in the hand of the woman on the right, brass knuckles, probably. The leader steps closer, her eyes traveling up and down my body with undisguised hunger.

"You lost, sweetheart?" she purrs, reaching out to touch my cheek. "Dangerous neighborhood for a cute boy to be wandering around in."

I should be terrified. Three against one, me already weakened from nearly dying twice tonight. But instead, a strange calm settles over me as I recognize what's about to happen.

"Ladies," I say, unable to keep the resignation from my voice, "I'm having a really shitty night, so if we could just skip to the part where you leave me alone, that would be great."

The woman with the brass knuckles laughs. "Oh, he's got an attitude. I like that."

"Seriously," I continue, backing up a step as the leader's hand moves to my shoulder, "you really don't want to do this."

"I think we do," the third woman says, moving to block my retreat. "Empty your pockets, pretty boy, and maybe we'll just take your money."

The leader's grip tightens on my shoulder, her other hand sliding down my chest. "Or maybe we'll take something else first."

The leader's fingers dig into my shoulder, her face moving closer to mine. I can smell cheap alcohol on her breath as she invades my personal space.

A distant roar echoes through the night air, bouncing between buildings like thunder. The sound makes the hair on my arms stand up. I let out a deep, resigned sigh.

"What the hell was that?" Brass Knuckles whispers, her head whipping toward the sound.

I don't bother looking up. "That would be my extremely possessive, extremely dangerous situationship.”

Before any of them can respond, a massive black shape crashes down from above, landing with enough force to crack the concrete. The women scatter like bowling pins, screaming as Venom rises to her full height, those blank white eyes gleaming in the dim streetlight.

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF HIM!" she roars, her monstrous jaw unhinging to reveal rows of gleaming teeth.

What follows is almost too fast to track. Venom moves like liquid darkness, lashing out in every direction. Brass Knuckles goes flying into a dumpster with a sickening clang. The leader gets picked up and slammed into the pavement hard enough to leave a small crater. The third woman tries to run, but a black tentacle wraps around her ankle, yanking her backward into Venom's waiting grasp.

In less than ten seconds, all three women are unconscious or moaning in pain on the ground. Not dead, I notice that Venom has shown remarkable restraint by her standards, but definitely regretting their life choices.

"Thanks for following me," I say, unable to keep the smug satisfaction from my voice as I brush imaginary dust from my shoulders.

Venom's massive head whips toward me, those blank eyes somehow conveying absolute fury. "FUCK YOU! I wasn't following you!"

Without another word, Venom leaps upward, powerful legs propelling her onto the side of the nearest building. She scales it with inhuman speed, disappearing over the rooftop and into the shadows of the city skyline.

I stand alone on the sidewalk, surrounded by groaning would-be assailants, my smile growing wider by the second. She was following me. She was worried about me. Hopefully she comes to her senses soon.

Chapter 15: Chapter 15: Knuckles

My back slams against the training mat for what feels like the hundredth time today, knocking the wind clean out of my lungs. The ceiling spins lazily above me as I struggle to remember how breathing works.

"You know, Steele," Professor Masters says, towering over me with her arms crossed, "it's starting to feel like I'm just abusing a man at this point." She extends a hand down to me, her military-cut hair not even slightly disheveled despite our thirty minutes of "training." "You're making me feel guilty, kid."

I grab her hand and let her haul me to my feet with disturbing ease. Every muscle in my body screams in protest.

But I'm not giving up. Heroes don't give up.

"I didn't hear no bell, Sensei," I wheeze, raising my fists in a pathetic attempt at a boxing stance. My legs wobble beneath me like a newborn deer on an ice rink.

Masters stares at me, that familiar eye twitch making a brief appearance. "Did you just quote Rocky at me?"

"Hell yeah. Sly Stallone is GOATED," I declare with what little breath I can muster. "Rocky, Rambo…"

I don't finish my sentence because Masters hooks her foot behind my ankle and sweeps my legs out from under me. My arms pinwheel pathetically as I start to fall backward, but instead of letting me crash into the mat again, she catches me with one arm, her reflexes impossibly fast.

"You're ridiculous," she says, but she's actually laughing now, a genuine sound that transforms her usually stern face. Her arm supports my back effortlessly, holding me in what looks like the world's most awkward dance dip. "How are you still going right now? Most of my students would've tapped out twenty minutes ago."

I laugh weakly, still suspended in her grip like a damsel in some bizarre action movie. "Lately, I'm getting pretty used to pushing way beyond my limits," I admit, wincing as she pulls me upright. "It's becoming my brand."

"That's not necessarily a good thing," Masters says, releasing me once I'm stable.

"Sensei," I say, my voice turning serious despite my exhaustion, "I really want to be a superhero, but I'm not strong enough. What can I do to get stronger?"

She sighs deeply, running a hand through her hair. The look she gives me is full of exasperation.

"I don't know, kid," she says with a shrug, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "Maybe brass knuckles?"

"Hmm..." I tap my chin thoughtfully, actually considering it for a moment.

Masters' eyes widen. "Wait, no, Jesus kid, I was joking." She shakes her head firmly. "You are definitely not superhero material, Steele."

Something catches my eye beyond the training room's glass door, a familiar face peering in, eyes wide with shock. Piper Parker stands frozen in the hallway, staring at me like she's seen a ghost. When our eyes meet, she flinches visibly.

Of course. Last night she watched Venom snatch me off the street while she was in her Spider-Woman costume. She probably thought I was dead.

"You okay, Steele?" Masters asks, following my gaze to the door. "Someone you know?"

"Yeah," I say, giving Piper an awkward wave. "Just a friend who looks like she's seen a ghost."

Piper hesitates, then pushes the door open and steps inside. Her movements are stiff, uncertain, completely different from Spider-Woman's fluid grace.

"I… I was just passing by," she stammers, adjusting her glasses nervously. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

"We're pretty much done anyway," Masters says, eyeing me critically. "Unless Steele here wants another round of getting his ass handed to him."

"I think I'm good for today," I admit, feeling the full weight of my exhaustion settle in my muscles. "My body's sending some strongly worded complaints."

Piper hovers awkwardly near the door, her eyes scanning me from head to toe like she's checking for injuries. "You look... okay," she says, sounding genuinely surprised.

"What do you mean?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her obvious concern.

Piper shifts her weight uncomfortably, glancing nervously at Professor Masters who's now busying herself with organizing equipment on the far side of the room.

"I, uhh..." she lowers her voice, stepping closer to me. "I was out for a walk last night and I... I saw something." Her eyes dart around to make sure no one else is listening. "There was this black monster, like some kind of creature, and it... it took you. Your eyes were bleeding, Shane."

The way she says it, all concerned and flustered, almost makes me feel bad for her. Spider-Woman, pretending she doesn't know exactly what happened, pretending she wasn't there fighting Venom moments before.

"Oh, uhh, don't worry about it," I say with a dismissive wave, trying to sound casual despite the absurdity of the situation. "That was just... a friend of mine."

"A friend?" Piper's voice rises an octave. "Shane, your eyes were literally bleeding! That thing had you in its arms and just... leapt away with you!"

I rub the back of my neck, feeling the weight of her concern. Something softens inside me seeing her so worried.

"That thing actually saved my life," I admit, lowering my voice so Masters can't hear from across the room. "I was in pretty bad shape, but I'm fine now. Better than fine, actually."

Piper's eyes widen behind those thick glasses, her mouth opening slightly in disbelief. "Saved you? But... I don't understand. What hurt you in the first place? Why were you bleeding like that?"

I hesitate, studying her face. She's playing dumb, but there's genuine concern mixed with her act. Part of me wants to just tell her I know she's Spider-Woman, but I don’t want the smoke that comes with that right now.

"I'd rather not talk about it," I say finally, grabbing my towel from the bench and wiping sweat from my face. "It's complicated."

Her eyes narrow slightly, that same analytical look I've seen behind Spider-Woman's mask. She definitely has an inkling of how my powers work, especially after seeing me nearly die using them.

"Anyway," I say, desperate to change the subject, "you wouldn't happen to know where I could get some brass knuckles, would you?"

The question catches her completely off guard. "Brass knuckles? Shane, those are illegal!" Her voice rises in alarm before she catches herself, glancing toward Masters who thankfully seems absorbed in her equipment organization. "And what would you even need them for?"

I shrug, slinging my gym bag over my shoulder as we start walking toward the exit. "Protection, you know? It's tough being a man in this world."

"Right," Piper says, clearly not buying it. "Because you're suddenly concerned about personal safety after being abducted by a monster.”

We push through the doors into the hallway, the cooler air a blessed relief after the stuffy training room. Students rush past us, heading to their next classes, completely oblivious to our bizarre conversation.

"Look," Piper continues, lowering her voice as we walk, "if you're in some kind of trouble, I might be able to help."

"I'm not in trouble," I tell her with a casual shrug. "I'm just trying to become the best version of myself I can be. You know, self-improvement and all that."

Piper looks unconvinced, her hazel eyes studying me with that analytical intensity that seems so familiar now. Before she can press further, her phone chirps loudly from her pocket. She glances at the screen, and I watch her expression shift instantly from concerned friend to something more urgent.

"Look, I have to go," she says, already backing away, "but please, Shane, stay safe, alright?" The genuine worry in her voice makes me feel a twinge of guilt for brushing off her concerns.

"Piper, I'm fine," I call after her retreating form. "Don't worry about me!"

She gives me one last backward glance before disappearing around the corner. I shake my head and continue down the hallway.

My train of thought derails completely as a powerful hand grabs the back of my shirt, yanking me sideways with enough force to make me yelp. Before I can process what's happening, I'm being shoved through a door marked ‘Women's Restroom.’

"Wha.."

My protest is cut short as I'm pushed into an open stall and slammed against the tiled wall. The door bangs shut behind us, and I find myself face-to-face with Ellie Brock, her blue eyes blazing with fury.

"Why is it," she growls, her face inches from mine, "that the second you're not with me, I always catch you talking with Parker?"

The restroom stall suddenly feels like the smallest space in existence with Ellie's towering frame blocking any escape. Her blue eyes burn into mine, but strangely, I don't feel threatened, just a weird flutter of excitement. Maybe I'm developing a concerning pattern of enjoying dangerous situations. Or maybe I just really like Ellie.

"You're stalking me now?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Following all day? That's dedication."

Ellie's jaw clenches, the muscle twitching beneath her skin. "Answer the question, Shane."

Back in my world, I'd be stammering and looking for an exit. But here, where the gender dynamics are flipped, where men are the pursued rather than the pursuers... I decide to try something I'd never have dared before.

I slowly lift my arms, sliding them around her neck, pulling myself closer to her towering form. Her eyes widen in shock, but she doesn't pull away.

"So, Ellie," I say, my voice surprisingly steady despite our proximity, "I was wondering... could you help me get some brass knuckles?"

Her expression transforms instantly from anger to complete bewilderment. She blinks rapidly, her fierce demeanor momentarily replaced by genuine confusion.

"What the actual fuck, Shane?" She pulls back slightly, studying my face like I've suddenly started speaking in tongues. "Brass knuckles? That's what you're thinking about right now?"

I shrug, my arms still draped around her neck. "Well, Masters suggested it. For self-defense and hero stuff, you know? They're illegal, but I figured you might have... connections."

Ellie stares at me like I've just announced plans to become a unicorn.

"I don't have..." She sighs deeply, running a hand through her short blonde hair. "I know people like that, yes, but only so I can talk to them about stories for journalism. I'm not someone actively buying weapons, Shane."

She crosses her arms, leaning against the stall door with an expression that's equal parts exasperation and concern. "You're not ready to be a hero. You can barely teleport without hemorrhaging."

"Oh, that's my second request," I say, feeling a surge of excitement despite her obvious disapproval. "Once I get brass knuckles, can you help me practice? I've got a bunch of ideas on how to fight."

I step closer, unable to contain my enthusiasm. "I've been thinking about how my power works, and I noticed I can teleport super short distances and barely build up any exhaustion. The energy drain doesn't seem additive, it's almost multiplicative with distance. Like, five feet is nothing, but two hundred feet nearly kills me."

Ellie's eyes narrow as she studies me, her expression unreadable. For a moment, I see something flicker behind those piercing blue eyes, curiosity, maybe? Or just pity for the idiot who keeps almost dying in front of her?

"I'm not going to help you, Steele," she says firmly, but there's a slight hesitation in her voice that makes me think she's not entirely convinced of her own words.

I don't believe her for a second. The way the symbiote ripples beneath her skin whenever we discuss my powers tells me she's interested, whether she admits it or not.

"Come on," I press, grinning up at her. "You know you want to. Think about it, you'd get to throw me around, watch me teleport, maybe catch me when I fall..." I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively. "We both know how much you enjoy catching me."

Ellie's face darkens instantly. "Shut the fuck up, Shane. That's not true." She jabs a finger against my chest, hard enough to make me step back. "You're so fucking annoying."

I don't even flinch. Instead, I let my smile widen as I see the slight flush creeping up her neck.

"Okay then," I say, shrugging casually. "Tomorrow night. Maybe 11:30? You can bring the knuckles for me."

Ellie's mouth drops open, completely flabbergasted. She stares at me like I've grown a second head, her eyes wide with disbelief.

I reach around her to open the bathroom stall door, our bodies brushing against each other in the tight space. The contact sends a familiar electric thrill through me, but I force myself to stay focused.

"Shane, I'm not doing that," she says, her voice lacking the conviction it had just seconds ago.

I step past her into the main bathroom, then turn back to give her a deliberate wink.

"I’m looking forward to our date," I say, then walk out the door before she can argue further.

Chapter 16: Chapter 16: Training Day

The city sprawls beneath me like a circuit board of light and shadow, pulsing with electric life as I lie flat on my back atop the dining hall roof. The same spot where I first tested my ability to teleport a bit farther feels different now. Sacred almost, like revisiting the site of your own birth. The concrete is cold against my back, but I don't mind. After nearly dying twice in the past week, a little discomfort feels almost comforting. Grounding.

I close my eyes and let my fingers trace the rough texture beneath me.

The air shifts suddenly, that unmistakable whoosh of displaced molecules that comes right before Venom appears. My eyes snap open just as a massive black form lands directly over me, powerful legs standing above my head, muscular thighs framing my vision like the world's most terrifying tunnel.

Two metal objects clatter to the rooftop beside me. Brass knuckles, gleaming dully in the moonlight.

"Here," Venom growls, her monstrous form looming over me. The symbiote bubbles slowly receding to reveal Ellie's face, those piercing blue eyes staring down at me with a mixture of annoyance and excitment.

I can't help the grin that spreads across my face as I reach for the brass knuckles. "Oh my god, thanks babe," I tease, watching her expression darken at the pet name. "You really do care."

"Don't fucking call me that," she snaps, her eyes flashing with irritation. She extends a hand down to me, and I grab it. She pulls me to my feet with effortless strength.

The moment I'm upright, I lean in and press my lips against hers. It's impulsive, but I can't help myself. For a heartbeat, she freezes, and I think I've made a terrible mistake. Then she's kissing me back, her mouth hungry against mine, the symbiote humming with energy where our skin connects.

Just as suddenly, she pulls away, a conflicted expression crossing her face as she sighs deeply. "This doesn't mean I'm helping you become a hero," she mutters, but there's less conviction in her voice than before.

I turn the brass knuckles over in my hands, feeling their solid weight. "These are perfect," I say, slipping them onto my right hand. The metal fits snugly around my fingers, cold and deadly. "Did you steal them or buy them?"

Ellie's lips curl into a predatory smile. "I got them off the woman with the brass knuckles who tried to jump you the other night. Figured they might as well go to better use."

"Oh, well, thank you so much," I say, genuinely touched by the gesture despite its violent origins. "That's actually really thoughtful."

She stares at me for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she's trying to decide something. The symbiote ripples subtly beneath her skin, responding to whatever internal debate she's having.

"Alright," she finally says, stepping back and widening her stance. "Come at me."

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. This is what I've been waiting for, a chance to actually test my powers against someone who can handle them. Without hesitation, I focus on a spot just behind her left shoulder, feeling that familiar electric tingle building beneath my skin.

BAMF

I materialize exactly where I aimed, swinging the brass knuckles toward her ribs in the same motion. She's already turning, impossibly fast, but I'm gone again before she can grab me.

BAMF

This time I appear at her right side, landing a solid hit against her thigh before teleporting away. The impact reverberates up my arm, but I know it barely registers for her. She's Venom after all.

"Is that all you've got?" she taunts, her eyes tracking me with predatory focus.

BAMF

I appear directly in front of her, aiming an uppercut that she blocks with her forearm. The symbiote hardens where I make contact, absorbing the impact completely.

"You're telegraphing your moves," she says, almost bored. "I can see where you're going to appear before you do."

BAMF BAMF BAMF

I start rapid-firing short teleports, never staying in one place for more than a second. Around her, behind her, above her, a constant barrage of motion designed to disorient. With each appearance, I throw a punch or kick, most missing or being easily deflected, but a few landing with satisfying impact, despite doing no damage.

I'm in the middle of a teleport, materializing above her with my fist cocked back, when she catches me. Her hand shoots up with impossible speed, grabbing my collar mid-appearance. My momentum halts abruptly, leaving me dangling in her grasp like a kitten held by its scruff.

"Shit," I gasp, trying to teleport away, but nothing happens. My power fizzles uselessly, the energy building beneath my skin with nowhere to go. Apparently I can't teleport while being physically restrained. The realization sends a chill down my spine, followed immediately by a wave of heat that has nothing to do with exertion.

"Damn," I mutter, hanging helplessly in her grip.

Ellie's lips curl into a victorious smirk. "Look, you're quick, I'll give you that," she says, her eyes tracking my face with predatory intensity. "But your punches hardly tickle, and your form is absolute shit."

"I'm working on my form," I protest, trying not to notice how close her face is to mine, or how the multiple short-range teleports have left both of us breathing harder than the physical effort warrants.

She lowers me slightly, keeping me suspended just enough that my toes barely brush the rooftop. "The knuckles will definitely help you with regular people," she concedes, giving them an appraising glance. "But you're not ready for anything serious."

The look in her eyes has changed, pupils dilating as her gaze drops to my mouth. There's hunger there, unmistakable desire, though nothing compared to the feral intensity from our rooftop encounter. I feel an answering heat coiling in my stomach, my body responding to her proximity in ways that have nothing to do with fear.

"Damn," she murmurs, her voice dropping an octave as she studies my face. "So even teleporting short distances makes people horny, huh?"

I swallow hard, painfully aware of how my body's reacting. "I guess so," I manage, my voice embarrassingly hoarse.

She releases me suddenly, stepping back with a smirk that doesn't quite hide her own affected state.

Her brow furrows as she takes another step back, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's going to make you a serious target in any real fight. Villains won't just try to kill you, some might try to take advantage of your... condition right on the battlefield."

I try to focus on her words, I really do, but my gaze keeps drifting to the way the symbiote clings to her form, especially around her chest. The black material breaths subtly with each breath she takes, accentuating curves that are making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on combat strategy.

"Um, maybe we should continue this at my room?" The words tumble out before I can stop them. "You know, for privacy."

Ellie's eyes narrow, a dangerous smirk playing at the corners of her lips. She steps closer.

"Your room?" she purrs, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Is that what this is about? You're not actually interested in training at all, are you?"

Heat floods my face but I hold her gaze. "I am. But I'm also interested in... other things."

She moves with predatory grace, closing the distance between us until she's towering over me again. One finger traces my jawline, tipping my chin up to meet her eyes.

"You're just a little slut, aren't you?" she says, voice dripping with amused condescension.

I don't even hesitate. "If saying yes to that will get you in my room sooner, then sure." I grin up at her without a trace of embarrassment. "I'm a little whore for you, Ellie. Please punish me. I've been such a bad boy."

My complete lack of shame seems to throw her off balance. The predatory confidence falters, replaced by something more complicated. She sighs deeply, shaking her head.

"Jesus, Shane. Come on," she mutters, running a hand through her short blonde hair.

"What?" I ask, genuinely confused by her reaction.

"Not tonight," she says, taking a small step back.

"Why not?" I press, noticing how her eyes keep drifting to my mouth despite her words.

She doesn't answer. Instead, her expression shifts, becoming more serious as the symbiote ripples across her skin.

"Come on," she says, stepping back into a fighting stance. "Let's keep training. You need to work on your defense, not just teleporting around like a hyperactive flea."

I sigh, adjusting the brass knuckles on my hand. The moment's passed, and I can tell she's not going to budge tonight. Part of me wants to push, to tease her further, but another part recognizes that this, her actually helping me train, is something I shouldn't dare take for granted.

"Alright," I reply, raising my fists and widening my stance the way Sensei taught me.

Chapter 17: Chapter 17: Hero

The night wraps around me like a second skin as my feet pound the pavement, each step bringing another shallow gasp of air into my burning lungs. Four miles down, one to go. A month ago, this would have killed me. Tonight, it's just another run.

"You got this, Steele," I wheeze to myself, pushing through the familiar fire spreading through my thighs.

Campus is eerily beautiful at 11 PM, streetlights casting long shadows across empty walkways, buildings standing like silent sentinels in the darkness. The only sounds are my labored breathing and the rhythmic slap of my sneakers against concrete.

I round the corner by Richards Hall, checking my fitness app through sweat-blurred vision. Four point three miles. My lungs feel like they're coated in napalm, but I'm still moving. Progress.

It's been a month since that night on the rooftop with Ellie, a month of grueling daily runs and training sessions that leave me so exhausted I can barely shower before collapsing into bed. A month of pushing my limits until they break, then pushing some more.

Whatever demonic energy Lileth put in me is finally paying dividends. Five miles is my new normal. I only start truly dying around mile four, when my vision gets spotty and my legs turn to jelly, but I push through. I always push through.

The real improvement is in my teleporting. One hundred feet is nothing now, I barely feel winded. Three hundred feet still hurts like hell, leaves me gasping and dizzy, but my heart keeps beating. Steady. Strong. No more near-death experiences or blood pouring from my eyes.

I haven't tried going further though. The memory of Ellie's face when she thought I was dying, the raw panic in those usually cold blue eyes, it haunts me. I'm not ready to find out where my new limit is. Not yet.

As I round the next corner, something catches my eye just beyond the campus perimeter, a flash of movement under the dim streetlight. I slow my pace, squinting through the darkness.

A young man staggers along the sidewalk, wearing what can only be described as club attire, a mesh crop top that leaves little to the imagination and shorts so tight they might as well be painted on. Despite the unusually warm October night, he looks out of place, vulnerable. But that's not what makes me stop completely.

It's the woman following him. Tall, muscular, moving with predatory purpose as she closes in. I watch as she grabs for his purse, the sequined bag dangling from his arm. He clutches it tighter, crying out.

"Help! Someone please help me!" His voice carries through the night air, high and frightened.

Something electric surges through my veins, a jolt of pure adrenaline that drowns out my burning lungs and aching muscles. This is it. This is what I've been training for.

My hand dives into my pocket, fingers wrapping around my brass knuckles. The cold metal slides over my fingers as I break into a sprint, my exhaustion forgotten.

Forty feet away. Thirty.

I gather that familiar energy beneath my skin, letting it build as I run. Then I release it in controlled bursts, teleporting in short, disorienting hops. Five feet left. Ten feet right. The sensation is barely a tickle now.

The woman doesn't see me coming. She's too focused on her prey, yanking hard at the purse while the man struggles to hold on.

When I'm about forty feet away, I focus every ounce of my concentration on a spot directly behind her. The world bends and snaps.

BAMF

I materialize exactly where I aimed, the momentum from my run carrying forward as I drive my brass-covered fist straight into the side of her head. The impact reverberates up my arm as she crumples to the ground with a surprised grunt.

"What the…" The man stumbles backward, clutching his purse to his chest, eyes wide with shock.

I stand over the fallen mugger, my chest heaving more from excitement than exertion. She's out cold, sprawled on the sidewalk like a puppet with cut strings.

"Are you okay?" I ask, turning to the victim while keeping one eye on the unconscious woman.

"I... yes?" He sounds uncertain, staring at me like I'm some kind of apparition. "Did you just... appear out of nowhere?"

I take a closer look at the guy, his eyes unfocused and glassy. The scent of alcohol hits me like a wall when he speaks. His body sways slightly, making it obvious he's had way too much to drink.

"Look, man, you're drunk," I say, gently but firmly. "You should probably just head home. It's not safe out here this late."

He stares at me for what feels like an eternity, blinking slowly as if trying to process what I just said. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he finally manages to form words.

"Uhh... alright... thanks..." he mumbles, clutching his purse closer as he stumbles backward a few steps.

I watch him wobble away, making sure he's actually leaving and not just wandering into more trouble. Once he's a good distance down the street, I turn my attention back to the unconscious mugger. What am I supposed to do with her? I don't have zip ties or anything to restrain her, and I definitely don't want to be here when she wakes up.

A familiar thwip sound cuts through the night air, answering my unspoken question. Spider-Woman descends gracefully from above, landing in a perfect crouch beside the fallen attacker.

"Nice work," she says, her mask's white eyes somehow conveying approval. "I was in the neighborhood and saw the commotion."

My chest swells with pride. "Thanks. Just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

Spider-Woman tilts her head, studying me with that unnerving intensity I've come to recognize. "Those brass knuckles are illegal, you know."

I glance down at my brass-covered knuckles, feeling a twinge of guilt. "Yeah, but your arms are way stronger than mine even with these brass knuckles," I point out, flexing my still-pathetic bicep for comparison. "I needed something to even the playing field."

Spider-Woman tilts her head slightly. "Fair point," she concedes, her masked eyes somehow conveying amusement.

"So, uh... what do I do with her?" I ask, gesturing to the unconscious woman sprawled across the sidewalk.

Spider-Woman sighs, her shoulders rising and falling with the motion. "I'll just web her up. I usually leave a note saying what they do so the police know why she's stuck to a pole."

"And that just... works?" I ask incredulously. The whole system seems surprisingly casual for vigilante justice.

She shrugs, the movement fluid and graceful even in her skintight costume. "Most of the time."

"Fair enough," I say, watching as she shoots a precise stream of webbing around the mugger's wrists and ankles, effectively hogtying her to the pavement. The white substance hardens almost instantly, looking like some bizarre art installation on the dark concrete.

Spider-Woman produces a small notepad and pen from somewhere in her costume, I'm not even going to ask where she keeps them, and quickly scribbles a note that she attaches to the webbing with a tiny glob of the same sticky substance.

Spider-Woman tucks the pen back into some hidden pocket in her suit and glances in the direction where the drunk guy disappeared.

"It's usually better if the victim sticks around to give a statement," she says with a sigh, "but honestly, that guy would probably just attract negative attention from other people in his current state."

I look down the dark street where he vanished, his unsteady gait still visible in the distance. "Maybe I should go walk him home? He seems pretty wasted."

Spider-Woman considers this for a moment, her mask's expressive eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "No, you've done enough tonight. I'll swing by in a minute to make sure he gets home safely."

Her concern for the guy makes me smile. That's the difference between us, I'm just starting out, punching random muggers, while she's thinking about the whole picture. The safety of victims even after the danger has passed.

"That's really cool of you," I say, unable to keep the admiration from my voice. "Most heroes would just leave after webbing up the bad guy."

She shifts her weight, seeming almost embarrassed by the praise. "It's not about being cool. It's about responsibility."

“True.”

"So," she says, her head tilting curiously, "you've been training. I can tell."

I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. "Yeah, cardio mostly. Five miles is my new normal." I flex dramatically, showing off muscles that are only marginally more defined than they were a month ago. "The teleporting's getting better too."

"I noticed," she says, and I swear I can hear a smile in her voice despite the mask. "Much smoother than before. No blood this time."

"Blood-free teleporting is a big improvement," I say, trying to sound casual while my heart soars at her acknowledgment. "I've been working my ass off."

Spider-Woman crosses her arms, studying me with those unreadable white eyes. "So you think you're ready to start patrolling regularly now?"

"Absolutely!" I nod enthusiastically. "I just need a costume. Can't be a proper vigilante in running shorts and a t-shirt, right?"

She sighs deeply, shoulders slumping slightly. "I'm probably going to regret this," she mutters, pulling out her pen again.

My breath catches as she scribbles something on a small piece of paper. Is this happening? Is Spider-Woman actually going to help me become a real hero?

"This person," she says, holding out the note. "She can help you."

I take the paper with trembling fingers and read the neat handwriting: "Leah Zelinsky. Leah’s Tailoring. 23rd Street."

"Oh my god," I whisper, staring at the name in disbelief. My inner comic book nerd is having a complete meltdown.

"It's a bit pricey," Spider-Woman warns, "but worth it. She helps me with my suit sometimes."

I clutch the paper like it's made of solid gold, afraid it might dissolve if I loosen my grip. "Thanks so much, Spidey. This is... I don't even know what to say."

She sighs again, her head tilting in that way that somehow conveys exasperation despite the full-face mask. "Don't go getting over-eager and getting yourself killed. This city has enough ghosts."

"Of course!" I promise, unable to contain my excitement. "I'll be careful. Super careful. The most careful hero you've ever seen!"

Spider-Woman just shakes her head, and I can almost feel her rolling her eyes beneath the mask. With a flick of her wrist, a web shoots from her hand, attaching to a nearby building.

"I'll see you around, rookie," she says, her voice tinged with something between amusement and resignation. With a graceful twist of her body, she launches herself skyward, the web line going taut as she swings effortlessly between buildings. "Oh, and don't forget to come up with a cool name!" she calls back, her voice fading as she disappears into the urban canopy.

I stand there gaping like an idiot, the paper clutched in my sweaty hand, watching her red and blue form shrink against the night sky until she's just another shadow among thousands.

A superhero name. Holy shit. I haven't even thought about that part yet.

"Fuck… Maybe Ellie can help me…”

Chapter 18: Chapter 18: I Wish This Meal Was From Kowloon

Ellie's apartment smells like kung pao chicken regret. I sit cross-legged on her plush couch, surrounded by open containers of Chinese takeout, scrolling through the superhero name list I've been compiling for the last three days. The soft glow from her industrial-chic lamps catches on the brass knuckles I've left on her coffee table, a weird symbol of our even weirder relationship.

"Johnny Teleport Hands," I announce, looking up from my phone with what I hope is a winning smile. "That's definitely the best one so far."

Ellie slowly lowers her face into her hands, the dumplings I brought specifically for her sitting untouched on the coffee table.

"Why the fuck do you keep coming over all the time?" she finally asks, voice muffled through her fingers.

I set my phone down and lean forward, stealing one of her dumplings since she's clearly not appreciating my thoughtfulness. "Because I want to fuck you, Ellie."

She drops her hands to glare at me, those piercing blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "We only fucked twice."

"Ellie," I say, gesturing between us with chopsticks, "I'm pretty sure we're best friends."

"I don't even like you," she mutters, but there's less bite to it than usual.

"And yet," I counter, unable to keep the smugness from my voice, "you open the door every time I knock."

I motion to the dumplings sitting untouched in front of her. "Come on, I got those for you. They're your favorite."

She sighs deeply, the sound of someone questioning every life choice that led her to this moment. After a beat of defiant staring, she finally reaches for a dumpling, dipping it in soy sauce with surprising delicacy for someone who could tear a car in half with her bare hands.

"Your name ideas are shit," she says around a mouthful of dumpling. "All of them."

"Teleporto," I suggest, sitting up straighter with renewed enthusiasm.

"No," Ellie says flatly, reaching for another dumpling.

"Telopecia?" I counter, wiggling my eyebrows.

She pauses mid-bite, squinting at me. "Does teleporting make you lose hair or something?"

"No, not at all."

"Then hell no." She shakes her head and swallows. "That just sounds like a medical condition."

"Come on!" I throw my hands up in exasperation. "Work with me here!"

Ellie sets down her chopsticks with deliberate precision, fixing me with that icy blue stare that makes my stomach do somersaults. "All these names literally suck, Shane! Every single one of them."

I groan and flop back against her couch cushions.

"Are you really going to do this hero thing?" Ellie asks after a moment of silence. "Like, for real? You didn't get bored of it during training?"

She sounds worried. Actually worried. Not annoyed, not condescending, but genuinely concerned.

"Yeah," I say, sitting up again to meet her eyes. "Spider-Woman even told me where I could get a suit today."

Ellie's expression darkens instantly, the vulnerability vanishing behind a mask of contempt. "That stupid bitch," she spits, the symbiote visibly rippling beneath her skin in response to her sudden anger.

"Hey," I start, but she's already standing, pacing her hardwood floor like a caged predator.

"Of course she'd encourage this," Ellie continues, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "She probably thinks it's hilarious, sending you out to die."

I set my phone down, watching her carefully. "She's trying to help me, Ellie."

Ellie whirls around, her eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity that makes me instinctively lean back against the couch.

"You're a fucking idiot who's just going to die," she snaps, her voice cutting through the apartment like a knife. "And that's exactly what she wants."

I straighten my spine, suddenly feeling defensive. "If you really think I'm just going to die, then why spend an entire month helping me train? Why waste all that time?"

Ellie stops pacing, her shoulders dropping slightly. Something vulnerable flashes across her face before she masks it with irritation.

"I thought if I helped you get it out of your system, you'd finally calm down," she admits, crossing her arms over her chest. "I figured you'd realize how dangerous it is and give up this stupid hero fantasy."

"Well, I'm sorry that didn't happen," I say, not feeling sorry at all. "But I'm getting better. You've seen it yourself."

She sighs deeply.

"If you don't die, you're going to get raped," she says bluntly, her eyes locking with mine. "There are people out there with powers that make your little teleporting trick look like a party favor. People who can control minds, manipulate emotions, or just overpower you completely."

"I'm not going to get raped," I insist, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "I'm going to be careful. I'm not planning to get in over my head or confront anyone way above my level."

Ellie lets out a harsh laugh, shaking her head. "Listen to yourself. You're already sounding too cocky for your own good."

"I saved someone today," I counter, sitting up straighter. "That guy with the purse would've been robbed if I hadn't stepped in."

"It was one fucking regular mugger, Shane!" Ellie throws her hands up in exasperation. "One normal human woman with no powers, no weapons, nothing but the element of surprise. And you're acting like you took down Doctor Doom!"

I open my mouth to argue but find myself hesitating. She's not entirely wrong. The mugger had been an ordinary person, not some super-powered villain. But still, I had helped someone. That has to count for something.

"Everyone starts somewhere," I say finally, my voice quieter but still determined.

Ellie stares at me for a long moment, her expression shifting from frustration to something else entirely. She steps closer, towering over me, her shadow falling across my face.

"You know what?" she says, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Maybe I should just lock all the doors right now." Her eyes narrow, something predatory glinting in those icy blue depths. "What if I just decided to keep you here? Never let you leave this apartment again?"

A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with fear. My mouth goes dry as I look up at her.

"Well," I manage, my voice coming out embarrassingly husky, "if you're planning to keep me prisoner, I hope you realize I'd require a lot of attention. I'm pretty high maintenance as captives go."

Her lips twitch, fighting a smile as she leans down, hands coming to rest on either side of me on the couch, effectively caging me in.

"Is that right?" she murmurs, her face now inches from mine. "And what kind of attention would that be, exactly?"

I reach out and grab her hips, pulling her closer to me. "How about this? You date me, and I'll tell you all about the attention I need."

Ellie shakes her head, but I catch the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

I duck under her arms with a dramatic huff, slipping away from her cage-like stance. "This tsundere act is getting tiresome, Brock," I say, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the wall. "We both know you like me."

Ellie rolls her eyes, but the symbiote's movement grows more agitated, black tendrils briefly visible beneath the surface of her skin.

"Symbiote," I call out, addressing the alien entity directly, "please tell her it's time she fucking devours me already."

Ellie goes completely still, her eyes unfocusing slightly as she listens to something I can't hear. The symbiote's response must be quite animated because her expression cycles through shock, embarrassment, and finally, irritation.

"Shut the fuck up," she hisses, clearly not talking to me. "Don't listen to him. He's just trying to goad you."

I step closer, my heart hammering against my ribs. "That's not true," I say softly, reaching for her hand. "I meant what I said, Ellie."

Her blue eyes narrow. She pulls her hand away from mine, taking a deliberate step back.

"I'm not going to help you," she says, her voice suddenly hard as steel. "Once you go out there in that costume, you're on your own. I won't be protecting you."

"I didn't expect you to," I say, keeping my voice steady despite the hollow feeling spreading through my chest. "So it's fine."

She shakes her head, a muscle working in her jaw as she stares at me with a mixture of frustration and something that might almost be concern.

"Whatever then, Shane," she mutters, turning away from me.

I decide to let the conversation die, my eyes drifting back to the untouched food on her coffee table. All this tension is making my stomach growl, and I'm not about to let good Chinese food go to waste over another one of our circular arguments.

"Come on," I say, gesturing toward the spread of containers, "the food's getting cold."

Chapter 19: Chapter 19: First Stand

"Trying to date Ellie Brock is like trying to hug a cactus that occasionally hugs you back," I mutter to myself as I trudge down 23rd Street, hands shoved deep in my pockets. The afternoon sun beats down on my shoulders, unusually warm for November in New York.

"God, I'm so tired of her pretending she doesn't want to be with me," I continue my one-man therapy session, sidestepping a woman walking three identical chihuahuas. "Maybe I should just embrace single life. Focus on the hero thing."

Even as I say it, I know I'm full of shit. The image of Ellie's face flashes through my mind, those piercing blue eyes, that predatory smile when she thinks she's got me cornered.

"But she's exactly my type. Ugh," I groan, earning a concerned glance from a passing businesswoman.

I pull out the scrap of paper with the address Spider-Woman gave me, checking the numbers on the storefronts.

When I finally spot Leah's Tailoring sandwiched between a vegan bakery and a vintage record store, I pause. The storefront is surprisingly modest, just a simple sign with elegant gold lettering and a display window showcasing what looks like perfectly normal business attire.

As I approach the door, it swings open, and I nearly collide with a woman exiting the shop. She's tall, at least six feet, with shoulder-length brown hair and an athletic build beneath her casual business attire. But what immediately catches my attention is the ruby-quartz visor covering her eyes, glowing with a subtle red energy that sends my comic-book-loving brain into overdrive.

Holy shit. That's Cyclops. A female version of Cyclops. Just casually walking out of a tailor shop in the middle of the day.

She pauses, holding the door open for me with a polite smile. "Sorry about that," she says, her voice carrying the measured authority of someone used to leadership. "Didn't see you there."

"I… uhhh… You're Cyclops!" I blurt out, my voice jumping an octave as the words tumble out. My brain is short-circuiting at the sight of an actual X-Woman standing right in front of me.

She laughs, a warm sound that's somehow both surprised and amused. "How very astute of you," she says, her head tilting slightly as she studies me through that glowing visor.

My heart's hammering against my ribs as a lifetime of comic book fantasies collide with reality. Before I can engage my brain-to-mouth filter, I hear myself asking, "Can you shoot me with your laser eyes?"

The smile vanishes from her face instantly. She stands perfectly still, the red glow of her visor revealing nothing of the expression behind it.

"No," she says flatly, nothing more.

An awkward silence stretches between us, thick enough to cut with a knife. My face burns with embarrassment as I realize what I’ve done.

"Right. That was stupid. I'm sorry," I stammer, desperate to salvage whatever dignity I might have left.

"It's fine," she interrupts, her voice softening slightly. "But they're not lasers. They're concussive force beams." She adjusts her visor with practiced precision. "And they would shatter every bone in your body."

I stare at her, feeling like a complete idiot. "Oh. Force beams. That's... actually even cooler."

Cyclops sighs, but there's a hint of amusement in it. "You're here to see Leah, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah," I admit, trying to recover some semblance of dignity. "Spider-Woman recommended her."

Something shifts in Cyclops' posture, a subtle straightening of her shoulders, a hint of approval. "She's good people," she says simply. "Good luck with whatever you're working on."

Before I can embarrass myself further, she steps past me and strides away, her confident gait drawing stares from pedestrians who clearly recognize her.

I take a deep breath and push through the door into Leah's Tailoring, a small bell announcing my arrival. The interior is surprisingly ordinary, racks of fabric samples along one wall, a few mannequins displaying business suits, and a counter with a vintage cash register. The place smells like fresh fabric and something herbal, maybe tea.

“I'll be right with you!" calls a voice from the back room.

I wander around the shop, running my fingers over different fabric swatches, trying to imagine which one would make the best superhero costume. Something durable but flexible. Definitely not spandex, I don't have the physique for that kind of body-hugging material.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," says a woman emerging from the back room, wiping her hands on a small cloth. She's shorter than me, maybe in her fifties, with graying hair pulled back in a practical bun and glasses perched on her nose. "How can I help you today?"

"I... uh..." I glance around nervously, wondering how exactly to phrase this. "Spider-Woman sent me? She said you could help with... specialized clothing."

Leah's expression doesn't change, but she reaches past me to flip the 'Open' sign to 'Closed' and locks the front door.

"Follow me," she says simply, gesturing toward the back room.

I trail behind her through a beaded curtain into what looks like an entirely different establishment. The back room is three times larger than the storefront, filled with high-tech equipment, holographic displays, and mannequins wearing what are unmistakably superhero costumes in various stages of completion.

"Damn," I breathe, turning in a slow circle to take in the superhero workshop.

Leah pulls a clipboard from a nearby workbench and clicks her pen, all business. "So, what are you looking for?"

"Uhh..." My mind goes blank as the reality of the situation hits me. I'm actually commissioning a superhero costume. From a real superhero tailor. Who apparently works with the X-Women.

She sighs, adjusting her glasses. "It's all confidential, I don't care who you are, kid. Can I have a name?"

I open my mouth to about to say "Shane Steele" when she can clearly read my mind she cuts me off with a wave of her pen.

"Your hero name," she clarifies, "not your real name."

I nod, feeling a strange thrill run through me. This is it. The moment my alter ego becomes real.

"Skip Step," I say, trying to sound confident despite the nervous flutter in my chest. The name had come to me during a training session with Ellie when she complained I kept "skipping all over the place" with my teleporting.

Leah writes it down without comment, her face impressively neutral. "Do you know what you're looking for?"

"Something easy to switch into," I reply, warming to the topic. "And something to hide my face."

She nods, jotting notes. "Did you bring sketches?"

"No," I admit, feeling unprepared. "I didn't think that far ahead."

Leah clicks her tongue disapprovingly but doesn't dwell on it. "How durable are you?"

The question catches me off guard. "I'm not sure."

"Can you survive gunshots?" she asks bluntly, like she's inquiring about my shoe size.

"No..." I say, suddenly very aware of my mortality. "Definitely not."

She writes something down. "Okay, then kevlar is a must." Her pen moves rapidly across the page. "Lightweight variant, I think. Don't want to slow down your... teleportation, right?"

My jaw drops. "How did you…"

"Spider-Woman mentioned you," she says without looking up. "Said you'd be coming by. Said you're a teleporter who's still learning the ropes."

I'm not sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed that Spider-Woman was talking about me. "That's right."

Leah continues writing. "Any other powers I should know about? Super strength? Energy projection? Anything that might affect the materials I choose?"

"No other powers," I say, then hesitate. "Though I do have this weird... side effect. When I teleport too much, I give off some kind of pheromones that make people around me... um... horny…

Leah raises an eyebrow and taps her pen against the clipboard. "I don't think I'd be able to do anything with that without knowing more about the mechanism. Some kind of fabric treatment might help, but..."

"That's fine," I say quickly, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "It's not a priority for the costume design."

She studies her clipboard intently for a moment before looking back up at me. Her eyes narrow slightly as she examines my face, my build, my awkward stance.

"No ideas at all for the design?" she asks, her tone suggesting this is unusual for her clients.

"No," I admit with a shrug. "I just need something functional that won't get me killed."

Leah nods once, then walks over to a filing cabinet. She pulls open a drawer and rifles through it before extracting a sketch. When she holds it up, my heart nearly stops.

It's the Last Stand suit, red leather jacket with black detailing and jeans. The iconic design is unmistakable, and I have to physically bite my tongue to keep from squealing like a fanboy.

"Spider-Woman didn't like this design when I showed it to her," Leah explains, "but it would work well for someone with your power set. The jacket is reinforced but allows for quick movement."

"Yeah, the reversible leather jacket," I say, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. "One side normal-looking, the other side costume."

Leah's eyes widen slightly. "Oh, you can just tell? Yes, exactly." She sounds impressed, which only makes my inner nerd glow brighter.

"I'd need a mask though," I add, trying to sound professional. "And could we add a hood to the jacket too?"

"Oh yeah, no problem," she replies, jotting down notes.

She walks over to another table and pulls out several sketches of different mask designs. After flipping through them, she selects one and holds it up.

"How about a mask like this?"

The design resembles a human face but it's all angles and planes, a low-poly geometric approximation of human features. It looks both futuristic and minimalist.

"It'd be lightweight," I observe, already imagining how it would look. "And I'd be able to see out of it well?"

"Yes," Leah confirms, nodding. "And I could make it fold and unfold very easily, so it could go in your pockets when you're not wearing it. One quick motion and it's on your face."

"That would be perfect," I say, feeling a surge of excitement. This is actually happening. I'm getting a real superhero costume from a real superhero tailor.

"What about colors?" Leah asks, tucking the sketches under her arm. "Any preferences?"

I consider it for a moment, picturing myself bounding across rooftops, teleporting between buildings. "Black as the main color for the jacket," I decide, "with maybe some red highlights? And gold for the mask?"

She nods, looking pleased with my choices. "Yeah, sure. That'll work well together. The gold will catch light nicely, make you more visible when you want to be seen, but the dark jacket keeps you hidden when needed."

The way she analyzes my color choices makes me feel like I've somehow passed a test I didn't know I was taking. Maybe there's more to superhero fashion than I realized.

"Alright, let's get you measured," Leah says, pulling a measuring tape from her pocket with the practiced ease of someone who's done this thousands of times.

"Wait, shouldn't we discuss price first?" I ask, suddenly remembering the very real concern of my very empty bank account. Spider-Woman had mentioned it would be expensive, and I'm a broke college student with exactly zero dollars budgeted for superhero attire.

Leah sighs, her shoulders dropping slightly as she looks up at me. "This is a favor for the Spider. I owe her one from a couple of months ago."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "What'd she do?"

She shakes her head, lips pressed into a thin line. Something flickers across her face, gratitude mixed with something darker, more complicated. Whatever Spider-Woman did for her, it clearly wasn't small.

"Fair enough," I say, respecting her privacy. Everyone in this world has their secrets, and I'm quickly learning that the superhero community operates on an intricate web of favors and unspoken debts.

Leah gestures for me to stand with my arms outstretched. "Keep still," she instructs, all business again as she wraps the measuring tape around my chest.

“Yeah, sorry.”

 

 

 

Shane as Skip step 

Chapter 20: Chapter 20: Skipper

Midnight in New York looks different from up here, the city's heartbeat visible in pulses of light, the streets like veins carrying life through concrete arteries. My fingers trace the crimson panels of my new jacket, the material smoother than I expected, yet strong enough to stop a knife. Maybe even a bullet if I'm lucky, though I'm not exactly eager to test that theory.

Two weeks. That's all it took Leah to craft this masterpiece. I'd expected months of waiting, but apparently when Spider-Woman calls in a favor, things happen fast. The jacket fits like it was made for me, because, well, it was. Black leather with those striking red accents, reversible so I can blend in when needed. The gold mask sits comfortably against my face, its faceted design catching moonlight in geometric patterns.

I stretch my arms above my head, feeling the reinforced material move with me rather than against me. No restriction. Perfect for teleporting. My brass knuckles rest heavy in my pocket, a comforting weight against my thigh.

"Skip Step," I whisper to myself, testing how my new identity feels on my tongue. "Not bad."

The sound of a web line cuts through the night air, and I turn just in time to see a familiar red and blue figure swinging toward my perch. Spider-Woman lands gracefully on the edge of the rooftop, her movements fluid in a way I can only dream of achieving someday.

"Shane?" she asks, her mask's white eyes widening slightly in recognition despite my disguised face.

"What's up, Spidey?" I reply, trying to sound casual while my inner fanboy is having a complete meltdown. I'm standing on a rooftop in costume, talking to Spider-Woman as a fellow hero. This might be the coolest moment of my entire life.

She takes a step closer, her head tilting as she examines my outfit. "You look great…," she says, then quickly corrects herself. "I mean, you look like a real superhero."

A warm glow of pride spreads through my chest at her approval. "It's thanks to you," I tell her, unable to keep the gratitude from my voice. "I really appreciate you reaching out to Leah for me. That was seriously kind of you."

"Don't mention it," she says, waving off my thanks as she circles around me, inspecting the suit from all angles. "Leah does amazing work. The mask is especially cool, very distinctive."

"Yeah, it's perfect," I agree, running my fingers along the geometric edges of the golden faceplate. "Lightweight, folds up small enough to fit in my pocket, and it doesn't restrict my peripheral vision at all."

Spider-Woman shifts her weight, crossing her arms over her chest as she studies me. "So what'd you choose for a name?"

"Skip Step," I announce.

She lets out a laugh, the sound somehow both warm and teasing through her mask. "Well, welcome to the hero world, Skipper."

I freeze mid-stretch, my arms dropping to my sides. "No, that's horrible. Don't call me that."

"Too late, Skipper," she says, and I can hear the grin in her voice even if I can't see it through her mask. "The die has been cast."

"Skipper is absolutely not going to be my superhero name," I argue, dramatically clutching my chest.

"With great power comes great nicknames," she quips.

"Oh wow, big words from the Human Spider," I mock.

Spider-Woman's mask eyes widen dramatically. "Dang, you know my deep lore, huh? Not many people know about that."

"Maybe," I say with a casual shrug, trying to play it cool despite the thrill running through me. Part of me wants to tell her I know way to much about her, but that would definitely come off as creepy stalker behavior rather than interdimensional comic book nerd.

She stares at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable behind that featureless mask. The white eyes give nothing away, and I find myself wishing I could see her real face, gauge her actual reaction. The silence stretches between us, just long enough to make me fidget uncomfortably.

"So," she finally says, her voice softer than before, "do you want help on your first time on patrol?"

"Yes, please," I reply immediately, not even trying to hide my enthusiasm.

"Alright, Skipper," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "Let's start with the basics. First rule of patrol, stay close to me and don't try anything heroic without checking with me first."

"That's just gonna end up with you acting like some overprotective big sister to me."

Without responding, Spider-Woman launches herself off the building with graceful confidence, shooting a web to slow her descent before landing perfectly on the sidewalk below.

I focus on the spot right behind her, gathering that familiar electric energy beneath my skin. The world bends around me, and in an instant, I'm standing directly behind her.

"Boo!" I whisper, my voice just loud enough to carry.

"Ahhh!" she yelps performatively, jumping slightly before whipping around to face me.

"I figured it'd be easier to do your first night on the street," she says, smoothly recovering her composure. "Less jumping between buildings, more actual patrolling."

She steps closer, her mask's white eyes narrowing slightly. "Seriously though, stay close. New York at night isn't forgiving to rookie heroes."

"Got it. So what exactly are we looking for?"

Spider-Woman gestures down the dimly lit street. "Muggings, break-ins, assaults, the usual. Most nights are boring, though."

"What?" I ask, my brow furrowing beneath my gold mask. "You're saying most nights are just walking around with nothing happening?"

Spider-Woman shrugs, her shoulders rising and falling with casual grace. "Well, at least at your level, boring is what you should be shooting for. Maybe some bar fights, petty theft, stuff like that. If I were you, I wouldn't even consider fighting anyone powered up for a while."

I absorb her words, feeling a small twinge of disappointment. Part of me had been hoping for some grand villain confrontation on my first night out, something epic to commemorate my official superhero debut. But the rational part of my brain knows she's right.

"I'm just here to save people, Spidey," I say, my voice quiet but firm. "Doesn't matter if it's from a supervillain or just some drunk jerk. Helping is helping."

"I get it."

We continue our patrol, walking side by side through the shadows between streetlights. The city breathes around us, cars passing occasionally, distant laughter from late-night revelers, the constant urban hum that never quite dies even in the darkest hours. My new boots make almost no sound on the pavement, another testament to Leah's craftsmanship.

After several minutes of comfortable silence, Spider-Woman clears her throat.

"So," she begins, her tone deliberately casual, "what's the deal with you and Venom?"

"I'm madly in love with her, but she's... making it difficult."

Spider-Woman stops dead in her tracks, her mask's white eyes widening to comical proportions. "You're WHAT?"

I laugh and shake my head, realizing how dramatic that sounded. "Well, maybe not love. Not yet anyway." I rub the back of my neck, suddenly self-conscious under Spider-Woman's intense stare. "I've been asking her out non-stop for a while now, but she's been ghosting me for like two weeks straight."

I shrug, trying to appear more nonchalant about it than I actually feel. The truth is, Ellie's absence has been gnawing at me more than I want to admit, even to myself.

"Might be time to move on," I say, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk. "Focus on the hero thing instead."

Spider-Woman's mask eyes narrow as she steps closer. "Look, Skipper, she's bad news. That symbiote is no good." Her voice drops lower, more serious than I've ever heard it. "You don't understand what that thing does to people."

"Venom's actually a good person underneath all that angst," I argue, feeling strangely defensive of Ellie despite her rejection. "She just has a chip on her shoulder the size of Avengers Tower. The symbiote amplifies that, sure, but it doesn't change who she fundamentally is."

"Seriously?" Spider-Woman throws her hands up in exasperation. "You're way too nice for someone like her. She'll eat you alive, and I mean that literally."

I can't help but laugh at her melodrama. "Spidey, come on, don't be like that. Not everyone with powers has to be either a perfect hero or a villain. Some people are just... complicated."

"Complicated?" Spider-Woman scoffs, resuming our patrol with quicker strides that I have to teleport to keep up with. "She tried to kill me multiple times. That's not 'complicated,' that's homicidal."

"When was the last time she actually tried to kill you though?" I ask, crossing my arms as we continue our patrol through the shadowy streets.

Spider-Woman's pace falters for a moment. "The night you were bleeding out of your eyes," she replies flatly. "She was literally in the middle of trying to kill me when you decided to teleport yourself half to death."

"Then I've done well," I say, unable to keep a hint of pride from my voice.

She stops walking and turns to face me fully, her mask eyes narrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"You got her to stop targeting me?" There's genuine surprise in her voice, like she can't quite believe what she's hearing.

I rub the back of my neck, suddenly feeling awkward under her intense stare. "I'm not sure for how long exactly, but yeah, I asked her to leave you alone. More or less."

"More or less?" Spider-Woman echoes, her voice rising slightly. "What does that even mean?"

I shrug, scratching at the edge of my mask where it's starting to itch against my skin. "Well, that's not exactly how I worded it, but if she’s not dating me she might try to fight you again."

Spider-Woman laughs as if i didn’t just tell her a gigantic monster might try to kill her again. "If you're looking for someone to date..." she says, her voice taking on a lighter tone, "I do know this girl. She's my personal photographer."

"Parker is a wonderful girl, Spidey," I reply, trying to keep my face neutral behind my mask, "but she's not my type."

"Oh?" Spider-Woman crosses her arms, head tilting curiously. "You don't like nice girls? Are you the type of guy that only likes jerks?"

I sigh, leaning against a nearby wall. "I think Parker has a lot going on in her life, and I don't think I'd even be able to be her third or fourth priority. Nor would I ask her to change her lifestyle for me."

Spider-Woman nods, something in her posture shifting. "I guess Parker is a busy lady," she says stiffly.

I laugh, trying my hardest not to make fun of her for pretending not to be Piper. The mental gymnastics she must be doing right now are Olympic-level.

"What's so funny?" she asks, her mask eyes narrowing.

"Nothing," I say, my voice softer than intended.

Spider-Woman studies me for a moment longer, her mask eyes narrowing slightly like she knows I'm holding something back. But she doesn't press the issue, just nods and gestures down the street.

"Come on, Skipper. Still plenty of night left to patrol."

Chapter 21: Chapter 21: Yes, Sensei

A fist connects with my jaw like a freight train, sending stars exploding across my vision. I hit the training mat with all the grace of a sack of potatoes, the impact knocking what little air remained straight out of my lungs. The ceiling spins lazily above me, the fluorescent lights blurring into streaks as I try to remember which way is up.

"Arms up, kid! What the hell was that?" Professor Masters looms over me, her military-cut hair perfectly in place despite having just knocked me flat on my ass. "You were blocking this exact combination three days ago."

I blink up at her, trying to formulate a response that won't sound completely pathetic. My jaw throbs where her knuckles connected, a dull ache spreading across my face like wildfire.

"Sorry, Sensei," I mumble, pushing myself up on wobbly arms. My entire body feels like it's made of lead, muscles protesting every movement after last night's patrol with Spider-Woman. "Just a little tired today."

Masters crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing as she studies my face. "A little tired? You look like you've been hit by a truck, Steele." She extends a hand down to me, which I gratefully accept. "Late night?"

"You could say that," I admit as she pulls me effortlessly to my feet. My legs wobble beneath me, threatening to give out at any second. Two hours of sleep after six hours of patrolling with Spider-Woman has left me running on fumes and terrible campus coffee.

"Yeah," I say, trying to grin despite the throbbing pain in my jaw. "Something like that."

"Studying for another class?" Masters asks, her eyebrow arched skeptically as she takes a step back, giving me space to find my balance.

"Kind of?" I offer weakly, knowing it sounds unconvincing even to my own ears.

Masters sighs deeply, her shoulders dropping with the exhale. Before I can react, she hooks her foot behind my ankle and sweeps my legs out from under me. For the second time in as many minutes, I find myself flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what just happened.

"Sorry," she says with a laugh that softens her usually stern face. "That one was cruel."

Despite the fresh wave of pain radiating through my body, I can't help but smile. There's genuine fondness in her voice, something that would have been unthinkable when we first started training together. The past month and a half, Masters and I have really hit it off, she's become my favorite teacher by a mile. Not just because she's teaching me how to fight, but because beneath that tough exterior is someone who genuinely cares about my progress.

As she helps me up again, I decide to ask something that's been weighing on my mind.

"Sensei," I begin, wincing as I roll my shoulder, "how do you get a woman to love you?"

Masters' eyebrows shoot up so fast they might achieve orbit. Her expression shifts from surprised to amused to uncomfortable in the span of three seconds.

"I don't sleep with students, Steele," she says flatly, crossing her arms over her chest.

My eyes widen in horror as I realize how my question sounded. "Oh god, thats not…"

She glances around the empty training room, then lowers her voice. "Well, unless..."

"Not you, Sensei!" I cut her off. "I didn't mean..."

Masters laughs, the sound echoing off the gym walls as she watches me squirm. "Relax, kid. I'm just messing with you." Her expression softens into something more curious. "So who's the unlucky lady that's got you tied up in knots?"

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. "I don’t think you know her. She's ripped, Sensei. Strong as an ox. And she's clearly into me, but she keeps acting like she hates my guts."

Masters shakes her head, a wry smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Don't waste your time with women who can't make up their minds, Steele. Life's too short for that bullshit."

"You think so?"

"You're young," she says, tossing me a towel from the nearby bench. "College is supposed to be about having fun, meeting people, figuring yourself out. Don't get hung up on someone who doesn't even know what they want."

I frown, wiping sweat from my face. "But she's so hot, Sensei."

Masters bursts out laughing, the sound echoing through the empty training room. "I've never heard a man say that about a woman before," she says, shaking her head in amusement. "But I'm sure there are plenty of other attractive girls on campus who won't waste your time."

"What if she's just playing hard to get?" I suggest, hope creeping into my voice despite my better judgment.

"Playing hard to get is for children, not adults," Masters says, her voice taking on that no-nonsense tone I've come to recognize as her 'wisdom mode.' "Real women know what they want and aren't afraid to go after it."

She walks over to the equipment rack, replacing the training pads we'd been using. "Look, I've seen plenty of people waste years on someone who keeps them dangling. It's not worth it."

"But…"

"No buts," she cuts me off, turning back to face me. "If she's interested, she'll make time for you. If she's not, no amount of chasing will change her mind."

I sigh, my shoulders slumping as her words hit home. The rational part of my brain knows she's right, but my heart isn't quite ready to listen.

"That's probably true," I concede, running a hand through my sweat-dampened hair.

"Don't be too down on yourself," Masters says, her voice surprisingly gentle. She claps a hand on my shoulder. "If it's meant to be, it'll be."

“Yeah… I guess…”

 

 

 

Toni Masters

Chapter 22: Chapter 22: Fire and Ice

Manhattan's skyline cuts a jagged edge against the twilight sky as I walk alone. The gold mask sits comfortably against my face, catching the last remnants of daylight like a beacon. Skip Step, superhero in training, taking his first solo patrol after a much-needed post-Masters-class nap.

"Stick to the basics," I mutter to myself, repeating Spider-Woman's advice from last night. "Look for muggings, break-ins, people in trouble. Nothing fancy."

The streets are surprisingly quiet for a weeknight. A few pedestrians give me curious glances, my outfit isn't exactly subtle, but most New Yorkers are too wrapped up in their own worlds to care about another costumed weirdo. This city's seen it all.

A flash of light above catches my attention, followed by what sounds like a thunderclap. I look up just in time to see a streak of flame arcing across the darkening sky, followed by a blast of ice that barely misses it. The collision sends sparks and steam billowing between two buildings.

"Holy shit," I whisper, my heart rate instantly doubling as I recognize what I'm seeing. The Human Torch and Ice Woman, going at it right above me.

I crane my neck to watch. The Torch, Jenny Storm as I’ve read here, rockets around a corner, her entire body engulfed in brilliant orange flames. Her laughter echoes off the buildings, taunting and bright. Ice Woman follows in cold pursuit, skating along a self-created ice slide that forms and melts in her wake.

"You call that aim?" Jenny shouts, performing a flashy barrel roll mid-air. "My dead grandmother throws snowballs better than you!"

"At least my grandmother doesn't need a fire extinguisher every time she visits!" Ice Woman retorts, hurling another ice blast that Jenny easily dodges.

The verbal jabs continue as they circle each other, neither one landing a solid hit. It's clearly not a serious fight, more like two predators play-fighting to establish dominance. Still, there's genuine annoyance simmering beneath their banter.

I'm about to teleport myself to a better vantage point when Jenny suddenly jerks to a halt mid-flight, her flames flickering as she hovers in place. Her gaze locks directly on me.

"Yo yo, cool it for a sec!" she calls to Ice Woman, pointing down toward the street. "There's a hottie in a gold getup down there!"

My heart nearly stops.

Ice Woman glides to a stop beside Jenny, her entire body gleaming like polished crystal. Even from this distance, I can see she's completely formed of living ice, her face a beautiful but alien sculpture of translucent blue.

"Seriously, Jenny?" Ice Woman's voice carries a frosty edge. "You've got to stop objectifying random men. It's 2025, for crying out loud."

Despite her protest, both women begin descending toward me. Jenny's flames dim slightly as she approaches, though she maintains enough heat to stay airborne. Ice Woman simply extends her slide downward in a graceful spiral.

I'm still standing there like an idiot when they touch down about ten feet away from me. Up close, Jenny Storm is even more striking than in photos—athletic build, short blonde curls that somehow look perfect despite being literally on fire moments ago, and blue eyes that sparkle with mischief.

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with appreciating a handsome guy, right, Gold Face?" Jenny asks me directly, flashing a grin that's probably melted hearts across multiple continents.

I manage a small laugh, trying to mask my nervousness. These are literal superheroes standing in front of me, and I'm suddenly very conscious of how new my costume is, how untested I am compared to them.

"I mean, appreciate away," I say, shrugging. "Though I never thought I'd be getting checked out by the Human Torch herself."

Truth is, I've never been a huge fan of either of these heroes, despite my general love for the Fantastic Four. Johnny Storm always struck me as too cocky and I was only ever read the X-Men hits. But standing here, facing them in person, I'm starstruck despite myself.

They approach closer, and Jenny boldly places her hands on my shoulders, looking me up and down with undisguised interest. Her touch is surprisingly warm, like sun-heated stone.

"So who are you exactly, golden boy?" she asks, her head tilting curiously. "Friend or foe? New hero in town or just some guy with a fashion statement?"

"The name's Skip Step," I reply, standing a little straighter. "I'm new to the hero scene. Just started patrolling solo tonight, actually."

Ice Woman crosses her arms, her crystalline face catching the streetlights in hypnotic patterns. "Skip Step? What kind of name is that?"

"About that," Jenny says with a flicker of recognition in her eyes, "Spider-Woman mentioned you to me just this morning! New teleporter guy with the gold mask."

"She did?" I can't hide the surprise in my voice. The idea that Spider-Woman is talking about me to other heroes is too cool.

"We run in the same circles," Jenny says with a casual shrug. "Hero community's smaller than you'd think."

"So you're a teleporter?" Ice Woman asks, her crystalline head tilting with curiosity, the movement causing light to refract through her in mesmerizing patterns.

"Yeah, that's my thing. I can jump from place to place."

"Oh, like Nightcrawler?" Ice Woman's icy features somehow manage to convey genuine interest.

"Sort of," I reply, rubbing the back of my neck. "Except Nightcrawler can jump way farther than me. And I need to be able to see where I'm teleporting.”

"Spatial awareness limitation," Ice Woman nods, sounding almost professorial. "Fascinating. Are you a mutant?"

"No, nothing like that," I say, wondering how much I should reveal. "Just... something that happened to me."

Jenny's eyes light up with interest. "Ooh, mysterious origin story. I love those." She circles me slowly, flames dancing at her fingertips. "So what can you do with this teleporting thing? Combat applications?"

"I've been working on that," I answer, feeling a surge of pride at having actual progress to report. "Short-range tactical jumps, mostly. Get behind opponents, confuse them, land hits where they're not expecting. I have knuckle dusters to help compensate for lack of strength."

Jenny's grin widens, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "Nice!" she says, nodding appreciatively. She takes a step closer, the heat from her body creating a warm pocket of air between us.

"Hey," she says, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "how about you roll with us tomorrow night? We're doing a patrol around the Financial District." She winks at me, flames briefly dancing in her eyes. "Maybe we could show you the ropes if some super villain decides to crash the party."

My heart practically stops. The Human Torch is inviting me to patrol with her and Ice Woman. I can’t blow an opportunity like this.

"Could you?" I manage to stammer out, trying not to sound as desperate as I feel. "I mean, that would be incredible."

Jenny smiles, a dazzling expression that could probably power half of Manhattan. "Of course! We heroes gotta stick together, right?" She playfully punches my shoulder. "Plus, it's always fun to see what the new blood can do."

Ice Woman nods, her crystalline features catching the streetlights in mesmerizing patterns. "It would be beneficial for you to observe more experienced heroes in action. The learning curve can be quite steep otherwise."

"That sounds amazing," I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite my excitement. "Where and when should I meet you?"

"Bottom of the Baxter Building," Jenny replies, flames dancing along her fingertips as she gestures. "Eight o'clock sharp. Don't be late, golden boy."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I assure her, already imagining what Ellie would say if she knew. Probably something along the lines of 'they'll get you killed' or 'why are you still trying to be a hero?'

 

 

 

Jenny storm

 

Ice Woman

Chapter 23: Chapter 23: Stay Pony, Golden Boy

The Manhattan skyline whips past me in a blur of light and shadow, my stomach lurching with every dip and turn as Jenny Storm carries me bridal-style two hundred feet above the streets. Her arms cradle me against her chest with casual strength, the heat radiating from her body a stark contrast to the frigid night air slicing past us.

"Hold tight, Skipper!" she yells over the roaring wind, executing a completely unnecessary barrel roll that has me clutching her shoulders for dear life.

"Jesus Christ!" I yelp, my voice embarrassingly high as my legs dangle over empty space.

Jenny's laugh is bright and wild.

Ice Woman glides alongside us on her self-created slide, somehow managing to look graceful despite literally surfing on ice hundreds of feet in the air. The moonlight catches on her crystalline form, sending prismatic reflections dancing across nearby buildings.

I close my eyes briefly, fighting back the nausea. When I agreed to patrol with the Fantastic Four's resident firecracker, I didn't realize "patrol" meant "being manhandled through the sky like a ragdoll." Spider-Woman never carries me like this, she was all business when we were on patrol.

"You know," Jenny says, her mouth suddenly much closer to my ear than necessary, "you look even cuter when you're terrified."

"I'm not terrified," I lie, opening my eyes to find her face inches from mine. "Just... respectfully aware of the ground's existence."

"Sure you are." Her grin widens as she deliberately slows our flight, hovering in place with the casual control that comes from years of mastering her powers. "So, Skip Step, tell me about yourself. Single? Taken? Complicated?"

I sigh, fully aware that this is the fifth time in the past hour she's tried to steer our conversation toward my relationship status. "Look, Jenny, you seem great, but…"

"But you're not interested," she finishes for me, somehow making rejection sound like a thrilling challenge rather than a definitive answer. "Yeah, you mentioned that. Twice. Just can't figure out why."

"Is this really the time?" I gesture at our precarious position hundreds of feet above Manhattan. "We're supposed to be patrolling."

"Multi-tasking," she replies with a wink. "I can flirt and watch for crime simultaneously. It's my superpower."

"That's actually really impressive," I admit with a reluctant smile beneath my mask. "But I'm still not interested."

Jenny pulls me closer, the heat from her body increasing slightly. "I'm dying to see how cute you are under that mask," she whispers, her eyes flashing with mischief and flames.

Before I can formulate a response that won't encourage her, Ice Woman's crystalline voice cuts through the night air.

"Shit, Jenny!" she calls out, pointing toward the Financial District. "Fisk Tower. There's a bunch of cops down there."

We all turn to look. Even from this distance, I can see the flashing lights of police cars surrounding the massive skyscraper, their blue and red pulses reflecting off the glass façade.

"Hammer Head," Ice Woman adds, her icy features somehow conveying concern. "Scanner chatter says she's causing a ruckus."

Jenny's eyes light up instantly, all flirtation forgotten as excitement takes over. Her grip on me tightens as we change course, flames intensifying around her feet as she rockets us toward the tower.

"Alright," she says, her voice taking on a more serious tone that I hadn't heard from her before. "Keep your distance, Skip Step. If anyone needs to get to safety, focus on that. Got it?"

My heart rate spikes, thundering against my ribs so hard I'm surprised Jenny can't feel it. This is it. My first time being near a real supervillain. Not just some random mugger or drunk guy, but an honest-to-god villain with powers and a reputation. The kind of encounter I've been training for.

"Yeah, I'm ready," I say, trying to sound confident despite the adrenaline making my voice shake slightly.

We descend rapidly toward Fisk Tower, the wind whipping past us as Jenny's flames leave a brilliant orange trail across the night sky. I can see figures moving on the street below now, cops crouched behind their vehicles, weapons drawn, and civilians scrambling for cover.

"Drop me on that rooftop," I tell Jenny, pointing to a building adjacent to Fisk Tower. "I can teleport from there if I need to."

She nods and angles our descent. As we get closer, I catch my first glimpse of Hammer Head herself, a tall, imposing woman in a pinstriped suit, her most distinctive feature being the flat plane where the top of her head should be.

Jenny sets me down on the rooftop with surprising gentleness, her flames dimming as my feet touch the concrete. From this vantage point, I get a clear view of the chaos unfolding below.

"Stay safe, golden boy!" she calls as she launches herself back into the air, a human comet streaking toward the confrontation.

Hammer Head stands in the middle of the street, her distinctive flat-topped skull gleaming under the streetlights. She's shouting at the police barricade, her voice carrying even up to my position.

"This ain't none of your fucking business!" she bellows, gesturing wildly with what looks like an honest-to-god tommy gun. "This is between me and that wannabe mayor bitch Fisk! Back the hell off!"

The cops respond with gunfire, but it's like watching bullets hit concrete. Some rounds ricochet off her skull with metallic pings while others miss completely. She ducks behind a parked sedan, the vehicle's frame groaning as she slams against it.

I flinch as she returns fire, the tommy gun's staccato rattle echoing between buildings as bullets spray across police cruisers. Glass shatters, metal dents, and officers dive for better cover.

Jenny and Ice Woman descend into the fray like avenging angels, one trailing fire, the other frost. They position themselves between the police and Hammer Head, their powers creating a surreal light show of orange and blue.

"Everyone back up!" Jenny shouts to the officers, flames intensifying around her hands. "We've got this!"

Ice Woman reinforces the command with a sweeping gesture. "Clear the perimeter! Civilian safety is priority!"

To my surprise, the police actually listen, retreating to establish a wider perimeter. I guess when part of the Fantastic Four shows up, even the NYPD knows to get out of the way.

My gaze darts around the scene, looking for people who might need help. It seems all the civilians have already fled.

Movement near the entrance of Fisk Tower catches my eye. The massive glass doors slide open, and my breath catches in my throat. Through the spotless transparency, I see a woman in a form-fitting tactical suit with what looks like a skull-patterned mask, a gun pressed firmly against the temple of a well-dressed young woman. The hostage can't be older than twenty, her face a mask of controlled annoyance as she's marched forward.

My heart hammers against my ribcage even harder as I instinctively duck lower on my perch. The masked woman moves with practiced precision, using her hostage as a shield while scanning for threats. Everyone's attention is focused on Hammer Head's rampage, no one's even noticed this secondary crisis unfolding.

"Fuck," I whisper, my fingers already reaching for my brass knuckles. This isn't some petty crime or drunken brawl. This is a hostage situation, possibly a kidnapping in progress.

I slide the metal across my knuckles, the familiar weight grounding me as adrenaline floods my system. Jenny and Ice Woman are both still busy with hammerhead. By the time I get their attention, the masked kidnapper could disappear into the chaos.

"Short jumps," I mutter to myself, visualizing the trajectory. "Fifty feet at a time. seventy tops. Don't overdo it."

I gather the electric energy beneath my skin, focusing on a spot just behind a dumpster about forty feet from the masked woman. The world bends around me, and suddenly I'm there, crouched low and hidden from view. My heart hammers so hard I can feel it in my teeth as I peer around the edge of the dumpster.

The kidnapper is moving quickly, gun still pressed against the young woman's head as they slip through the shadows toward what looks like a service alley. I don't have much time.

I focus again, this time on a spot directly behind them. The familiar tingle builds, stronger this time as I push for a slightly longer jump.

BAMF

I materialize silently behind the kidnapper, so close I can smell the leather of her tactical suit. Without hesitation, I launch forward, brass knuckles gleaming as I put everything I have into a swing aimed at her kidney. The impact sends a satisfying jolt up my arm.

She stumbles forward, grip loosening just enough for the hostage to wrench away. The masked woman whirls around with impossible speed, and my blood runs cold as I recognize the skull pattern on her face.

"Fuck," I gasp, "I can't believe I just punched Taskmaster."

She stares at me through those hollow eye sockets, her body already shifting into a combat stance that screams danger. "The name's Taskmistress, moron," she snarls, her voice cold and precise.

Before I can process this correction, she's already moving, a blur of black and white as she launches herself at me. I barely have time to gather my energy before she's on me.

BAMF

I teleport behind her again, my sudden disappearance causing her to punch empty air. But she's already adjusting, pivoting with terrifying efficiency, like she's already studying my fighting style.

"Run!" I shout to the hostage, who's staring at us with wide eyes. "Get to the police!"

The young woman doesn't need to be told twice. She bolts toward the street where the cops and heroes are still dealing with Hammer Head.

Taskmistress tracks her movement with a quick glance, then refocuses on me. "Bad move, kid," she says, her voice eerily calm.

"I had to save her!" I blurt out, my voice cracking with panic. "She was a hostage!"

Taskmistress tilts her head, somehow managing to look amused despite the expressionless skull mask. She casually takes the gun and tucks it into a holster at her hip.

"I don't need this pesky little thing for a brat like you," she says, voice dripping with condescension. "Let's see what you've got, kid."

She lunges at me with frightening speed. I barely manage to teleport behind her, but she's already anticipated my move. Her other fist connects with my face the instant I materialize, knocking me flat on my back. The impact drives the air from my lungs and sends stars dancing across my vision.

Taskmistress clicks her tongue, standing over me with her hands on her hips. "You fucking teleporters. Always the same, so fucking predictable."

Something warm starts to build under my skin, that familiar sensation that has nothing to do with teleporting and everything to do with the demonic energy Lileth left inside me. The incubus pheromones are leaking out, the same ones that made Venom and me so uncontrollably horny.

"Come on, get up, brat," Taskmistress taunts, her stance relaxed, almost bored.

I push myself up, ignoring the throbbing pain in my jaw. My hands come up in the defensive stance Professor Masters drilled into me, feet shoulder-width apart, weight on the balls of my feet.

Taskmistress's eyes narrow behind her mask. "Well, well. Not completely hopeless after all."

She comes at me again, a blur of precise movement. This time I teleport much further back, putting nearly twenty feet between us. She adjusts instantly, launching herself toward my new position with terrifying speed.

I don't wait for her to reach me. I teleport again, then again, then again , jumping randomly around the alley, never staying in one place long enough for her to connect. Behind the dumpster, up on the fire escape, beside a stack of pallets, back near the entrance. Each jump is short enough that it doesn't drain me, but the cumulative effect is starting to make my head spin with lust.

I'm just buying time now, hoping Jenny or Ice Woman will notice what's happening and come help. Taskmistress whirls in place, tracking my movements with uncanny precision. She's analyzing my pattern, I realize with a jolt of panic.

"You can't keep this up forever," she calls out, sounding almost bored despite the chase. "All that jumping around is just making you sloppy."

She's right. Each teleport is getting less precise, my landings more wobbly.

I materialize on top of a dumpster, planning my next jump, when suddenly she's there. Her hand closes around my ankle before I can teleport away, yanking me off my perch and slamming me against the alley wall. Her body pins mine, one hand gripping my throat, the other holding my wrist above my head.

"Gotcha," she whispers, her face inches from my gold mask.

We're both breathing hard, chests heaving from the exertion. But there's something else in the air between us now, a thick, heavy tension that has nothing to do with fighting. The incubus pheromones have saturated the space around us, turning combat adrenaline into something far more primal.

I feel her grip on my throat loosen slightly, her body pressing against mine in a way that's no longer purely about restraint. Behind her mask, I can see her pupils dilating, her breathing pattern changing.

"What the hell is this?" she murmurs, voice suddenly husky. "What are you doing to me?"

"Side effect," I gasp, equally affected. "Can't control it."

Taskmistress's hand slides down my chest, fingers trailing fire through my suit as they move lower with deliberate slowness. My breath catches as she reaches my waistband, her touch sending electric jolts straight to my core.

"Oh my," she purrs, palm pressing firmly against the unmistakable evidence of my arousal. "The little brat is rock hard while trying to play hero, huh?"

I nod frantically, unable to form words as lust courses through my veins like liquid lightning. Every nerve ending in my body is screaming for release, for contact, for anything she's willing to give me. The rational part of my brain, the tiny sliver not drowning in incubus-fueled desire, knows this is beyond dangerous, but I can't bring myself to care.

Her fingers find my zipper, the sound of metal teeth parting almost deafening in the quiet alley. Just as she begins to tug it down, a familiar thwip cuts through the air.

White webbing explodes across Taskmistress's back, yanking her away from me with enough force that I nearly fall forward without her body pinning me to the wall. Spider-Woman lands in the alleyway, her mask's white eyes wide with shock and disgust.

"What the hell is going on here?" she demands, voice sharp with anger.

Taskmistress shakes her head vigorously, like someone coming out of a trance. The webbing restricts her movement but doesn't completely immobilize her. She glances between Spider-Woman and me, her body language shifting instantly from seduction back to combat readiness.

"Perfect timing as always," Taskmistress snarls, reaching for something on her belt.

Spider-Woman launches herself forward, but Taskmistress is already throwing a small sphere that explodes into thick, choking smoke. I cover my mouth, coughing as the acrid cloud engulfs us. By the time it dissipates, Taskmistress is gone.

I'm left sagging against the wall, breathing heavily, my body still thrumming with desperate need. The pheromones continue pulsing through me, making every heartbeat a torturous reminder of how close I'd been to release.

"She's gone," I gasp, teleporting frantically around the alley, checking behind dumpsters and up fire escapes. Each jump only intensifies the ache, the energy building beneath my skin with nowhere to go. "Fuck, where did she go?"

After several jumps, I materialize back in front of Spider-Woman. The golden mask hides my flushed face, but nothing can conceal my labored breathing or the obvious physical reaction still straining against my pants.

"Hey, are you alright?" Spider-Woman asks, approaching cautiously. "Was she... was she assaulting you?"

I look at her, the world narrowing to just her lithe form in that skintight red and blue suit. The pheromones are still pumping out of me in waves, and I can see the exact moment they hit her, her stance softens, her head tilts slightly, and her breathing changes rhythm closer to mine.

"Can we fuck?" I blurt out, the words escaping before I can stop them.

Her mask’s eyes go wider than i even thought possible.

“What?”

Chapter 24: Chapter 24: Thwip Thwip Thwip Get Pregnant Get Pregnant Get Pregnant

The words hang in the alley like a live grenade, my desperate question echoing off brick walls still warm from our fight. Spider-Woman stands frozen, her mask's white eyes impossibly wide as my pheromones hit her full force.

"Can we fuck?" I repeat, my voice rough with need. "Please. I can't… I can't think straight."

For one excruciating second, she doesn't move. Then she's on me, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength. There's no hesitation as she fires a web line upward with her free hand, the familiar thwip cutting through the tension.

"Hold on," she commands, her voice unsteady.

The ground vanishes beneath my feet as we launch skyward, the night air rushing past us. My stomach lurches with the sudden ascent, but my brain is too flooded with hormones to care. All I can focus on is the warmth of her body pressed against mine as we swing between buildings.

"Is this a yes?" I manage to ask between swings, my words nearly lost to the wind.

Spider-Woman doesn't answer, just pulls me tighter against her as we arc between skyscrapers. The city blurs around us, a kaleidoscope of lights and shadows. Each movement of her body against mine sends fresh waves of desperation coursing through me.

After what feels like an eternity of swinging, we land on a secluded rooftop, far from the chaos of Hammer Head and Taskmistress. The moment my feet touch concrete, I'm fumbling with my zipper, my hands shaking so badly I can barely grip the metal tab.

"Stop! Stop, stop, stop!" Spider-Woman backs away, her voice pitched higher than normal. "What's happening right now?"

I freeze, my pants half-unzipped, breath coming in ragged gasps. "I need…" Words fail me as another wave of lust crashes through my system.

Before I can explain, she's moving toward me again, her steps unsteady. In one fluid motion, she tackles me to the ground, her lithe form landing squarely on top of mine. Even through our costumes, I can feel every contour of her athletic body, the lean muscles of her thighs straddling my hips.

My hands move of their own accord, gripping her waist. She doesn't push them away.

"Why do I feel like I want to hold you down and fuck your brains out?" she asks, her voice a confused mixture of desire and alarm. "And why did I just see Taskmistress try to rape you? And why aren't you traumatized?"

"It's my power," I gasp, my chest heaving beneath her. "The teleporting—it has this side effect. The more I jump, the more I release these...pheromones."

I can see her processing this information, her mask's eyes narrowing slightly as she shifts her weight on top of me. The movement sends another jolt of electricity through my system.

"But it's so intense right now," she says, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I can barely think straight."

"I teleported a lot during that fight with Taskmistress," I explain, my hands tightening on her waist. "Short jumps, over and over. I guess it builds up fast that way."

Her head tilts, studying me. Even with her face hidden, I can feel the intensity of her gaze. Something shifts in her body language, hesitation giving way to curiosity, maybe even desire.

Before I can overthink it, I reach up with trembling fingers and pull off my gold mask. The cool night air hits my flushed face like a blessing. Spider-Woman goes completely still above me, her breathing suddenly shallow.

"Shane..." she whispers, my name sounding different somehow on her lips.

I reach for the bottom of her mask, finding the edge where it meets her neck. She doesn't stop me as I slowly roll it up, just enough to reveal her mouth, full lips parted slightly in anticipation.

The moment stretches between us, electric and dangerous. Then I'm pulling her down, closing the distance, pressing my lips against hers with desperate hunger.

Her mouth is hot and eager against mine. What starts as hesitant quickly transforms into something wild and primal. Her hands find my hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she deepens the kiss with a soft moan that vibrates through my entire body.

My hands slide down her back, tracing the contours of her suit, feeling the lean muscle beneath. Every touch seems to amplify the energy between us, the pheromones creating a feedback loop of escalating desire.

When she finally breaks the kiss, we're both gasping for air. Her lips are swollen, the only visible part of her face flushed with color.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she whispers, but there's no conviction in her voice.

Something snaps inside me. I surge upward, flipping our positions so she's beneath me on the rooftop. The sudden movement startles her, but I don't care anymore. I'm done with hesitation.

"Stop thinking," I growl, pressing her against the concrete. "Just stop.”

Her body stiffens beneath mine, but I silence whatever protest she might have with my lips on her neck, trailing hungry kisses along her exposed skin. She tastes like salt and adrenaline, her pulse racing beneath my tongue.

"These feelings aren't real," she gasps, even as her body arches into mine. "It's just the pheromones making us…"

"Does it matter?" I interrupt, my voice rough with need. "We both want to feel good, don't we? That's real enough."

Her resistance crumbles with each word. I feel her hands at my waist, tugging at my belt with newfound urgency. The sound of my zipper being pulled down is almost deafening in the quiet night air.

She wriggles beneath me, shimmying her suit down her hips with surprising agility, only managing to get it past the curve of her ass before pausing. Suddenly, she plants both hands on my chest and shoves, sending me tumbling backward.

I land hard on my ass, confusion mixing with the lust clouding my brain. "What…"

"If we're going to do this out in the open," she says, already turning away from me, "we have to be quick, alright?"

"Sure," I agree breathlessly, watching as she braces herself against an air conditioning unit, arching her ass in a way that makes my mouth go dry.

"I know it's not very womanly of me," she says, glancing over her shoulder at me, "but let's do it like this, alright?"

I don't need another invitation. I'm on my feet in an instant, positioning myself behind her. One hand grips her hip while the other guides me to her entrance. When I push forward, burying myself inside her in one smooth stroke, we both cry out.

The sensation is overwhelming, tight, wet heat enveloping me completely. For a moment, I can't move, can't breathe, can't think beyond the exquisite pressure surrounding me.

"Move," she commands, her voice strained and desperate.

I obey, pulling back slowly before thrusting forward again. The rhythm is awkward at first, but we quickly find a pace that has us both gasping. My fingers dig into her hips, holding her steady as I drive into her with increasing force.

Every nerve ending in my body is on fire. My cock burns inside her, a delicious scorching sensation that makes me tremble with each thrust. The heat is almost unbearable, like nothing I've ever experienced before, molten pleasure coursing through my veins.

"Fuck, you feel so good," I gasp, barely recognizing my own voice, rough and desperate in the night air.

"Faster," she demands, pushing back against me, her fingers clawing at the metal surface beneath her. "Don't hold back."

The sound of skin slapping against spandex echoes across the rooftop, mingling with our ragged breathing. Each thrust sends electric sparks shooting up my spine, the pleasure building to an almost painful intensity.

Her body tightens around me, muscles clenching in a rhythm that threatens to undo me completely. I lean forward, my chest pressed against her back, one hand sliding around to find her sensitive bud between her legs. When my fingers make contact, she bucks against me with a strangled cry.

"Right there," she gasps, her voice higher than I've ever heard it. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't…"

Her words are lost in a sharp, quivering gasp as her body convulses around me. The sudden tightening sends me spiraling over the edge, a white-hot explosion detonates at the base of my spine and tears through me like lightning. My vision blurs as pleasure crashes through every nerve ending, my hips jerking forward with desperate, uncontrolled thrusts.

"Oh fuck," I cry out, the words barely intelligible as wave after wave of ecstasy wracks my body.

Spider-Woman's back arches impossibly as she presses against me, her muscles clenching rhythmically around my pulsing cock. Her strangled moans echo across the rooftop as she rides out her own release, each sound sending fresh shudders through me.

Time seems to stretch and collapse simultaneously. I can't tell if it's seconds or minutes that we stay locked together, trembling and gasping for air. My legs threaten to give out beneath me, knees weak from the intensity of what just happened.

When I finally manage to pull away, I nearly collapse against the AC unit beside us. Spider-Woman doesn't move immediately, her breathing ragged as she stays braced against the metal, head hanging between her shoulders.

A distant roar cuts through the night air, breaking the moment of exhausted peace.

Spider-Woman's head snaps up. "What was that?" she asks, finally pushing herself upright and tugging her suit back into place.

My heart hammers against my ribs, panic mixing with the afterglow still humming through my veins. "Should you go check it out?" I manage to ask, already fumbling with my own clothing.

She glances toward the sound, then back at me. "In a minute," she says, breathing heavily as she adjusts her costume. Her fingers tremble slightly as she pulls her pants up.

I watch her, reality slowly filtering back through the haze of satisfaction. "I can't believe I just came inside Spider-Man."

"Spider-Woman," she corrects me, her tone suddenly sharp despite her breathlessness.

"Right. Sorry," I nod, feeling heat rise to my cheeks that has nothing to do with the pheromones still lingering in my system.

She sighs, a sound caught between exasperation and something softer, more vulnerable. "I have to go check out whatever that was," she says, pulling her mask back down to cover her mouth. "Are you okay to make it back on your own?"

"Yeah," I assure her, though my legs still feel like jelly beneath me. "I'll be fine."

She hesitates for just a moment, then fires a web line at a nearby building. "We'll catch up soon," she promises, and then she's gone, swinging away into the darkness, leaving me alone on the rooftop with the cooling night air against my skin and the weight of what just happened settling over me like a blanket.

I stare after her disappearing form, my thoughts a jumbled mess of satisfaction, confusion, and the dawning wonder if I've just added another layer of complication to my already chaotic life.

Chapter 25: Chapter 25: Play Cuck Games Win Cuck Prizes

[Ellie Brock’s POV]

 

Rage pulses through me like a second heartbeat as I watch them from the rooftop. The symbiote writhes against my skin, reflecting my fury in waves of black undulation that ripple across my shoulders and chest. My teeth clench so hard my jaw aches.

"Why are we just watching?" my other hisses inside my mind, its voice a venomous whisper that slides between my thoughts. "We should tear her apart. Rip her limbs from her body. Consume her heart."

"Shut up," I snarl, digging my claws into the concrete ledge. Chunks crumble beneath my fingers as I struggle to contain the murderous impulse surging through us both.

Parker's pathetic moans echo across the rooftop as Shane takes her from behind, her stupid spandex suit pulled down just enough to expose what he needs. The sight of his hands gripping her hips makes something primal and possessive rear up inside me. He should be touching me like that. Those hands belong on my body.

"Why weren't we the ones who saved him?" my other demands, tendrils forming near my ear. "That assassin with the skull face was touching what belongs to us. You just made us watch while the spider swooped in and took him away."

I whip around, the symbiote rippling across my skin as I struggle to contain my fury. "Because he can't fall in love with us!" I snap, my voice barely a whisper but filled with venom.

My other half coils and twists, forming a face of writhing tendrils directly in front of mine. Its teeth gleam in the moonlight, dripping with disappointment.

"You are weak," it hisses, the accusation cutting deeper than it should. "You reject his advances when we both want him so badly."

My claws dig deeper into the concrete, pulverizing it to dust. "If we give him what he wants, we'll get him killed and we won’t be able to take our revenge on Spider-Woman."

The symbiote's face contorts, tendrils lashing out in frustration before pulling back to form an even more defined visage of rage. "Fuck the spider," it growls, voice echoing through my skull. "WE WANT SHANE."

I close my eyes, trying to block out the sounds of their panting and moaning, but it's no use. My enhanced senses pick up every gasp, every slap of skin against spandex.

"He's not worth the distraction," I mutter, but the words sound hollow even to me.

"Liar," my other purrs, sliding across my consciousness like oil. "We've been watching him for weeks. Following him. Protecting him. We saved him from those women who tried to rob him."

"That was different," I argue, but my resolve is weakening. The sight of Shane's face contorted in pleasure, pleasure that should be ours, is breaking something inside me.

"We've tasted him," the symbiote reminds me, flashing memories through my mind of Shane beneath me, his skin against mine, the way he surrendered so completely. "He is ours."

I watch as Spider-Woman adjusts her costume, speaking to Shane in hushed tones I could easily hear if I wanted to, but I block them out. I can't bear to hear whatever sweet nothings she's feeding him.

"We should kill her now," my other suggests, tendrils forming claws that flex with anticipation. "While she's weak. Distracted."

A roar tears from my throat, echoing across the rooftops of Manhattan. The symbiote surges across my skin, responding to my rage, amplifying it until I can barely think through the red haze clouding my vision.

"Not killing Spider-Woman was the only fucking thing he ever asked of me!" I scream into the night sky, my voice distorted by the symbiote's influence. "The ONE thing!"

My other half bounces beneath my skin, tendrils caressing my consciousness with dangerous suggestions.

"Then let's kill someone else," it whispers, voice silky with bloodlust. "We need release. We need to tear flesh, crush bone, taste fear."

I pace the rooftop like a caged predator, each step cracking the concrete beneath my feet.

"Can you still smell that Hammer Head bitch?" I ask, focusing on something, anything other than the image of Shane's hands on Parker's hips.

The symbiote stretches outward, tendrils extending into the night air like sensory organs, tasting the city's chemical signature. It pauses, then ripples with excitement against my skin.

"Yesss," it hisses, retracting the tendrils back into our shared form. "About three blocks south.”

Without another word, I let the symbiote engulf me completely. We become one, fully bonded in our shared rage and purpose. The transformation feels like slipping into a warm bath of liquid hatred, comforting and familiar.

We launch ourselves off the rooftop, our massive form arcing through the night air with predatory grace. The wind whips past us as we swing between buildings, each movement perfectly synchronized between host and symbiote. The hunt calms us slightly, gives us purpose beyond the searing jealousy still burning in our chest.

The police convoy comes into view, three cruisers, lights flashing but sirens silent, escorting an armored transport van. We can smell Hammer Head's distinctive scent even from here.

Perfect.

We land on the roof of the transport van with enough force to dent the metal beneath our feet.

The metal beneath our feet shrieks as we dig our claws in. With a savage growl, we tear through the roof of the transport van, ripping away the heavy steel like it's nothing but aluminum foil. We hurl the twisted metal behind us, barely registering the screech of tires as vehicles swerve to avoid the deadly projectile.

Inside the van, Hammer Head sits shackled, her eyes widening as she looks up at us. For a heartbeat, confusion replaces her usual arrogance.

"This is because of YOU," we roar, our voice a distorted chorus of rage and pain. "YOU CAUSED THIS!"

"Huh?" is all she manages before we reach for her.

Our arms extend, the symbiote stretching like living tar as we grasp her shoulders. The chains binding her snap like thread as we yank her upward, lifting her high above our head. Her legs kick uselessly as we hold her aloft, her flat-topped skull gleaming under the streetlights.

"WAIT WAIT…" she begins, but her plea cuts off as we pull in opposite directions.

The sound is wet and terrible, ripping fabric and snapping bones and tearing sinew. Hot blood rains down on us as her body separates, the symbiote eagerly absorbing the crimson spray. The transport van screeches to a halt, metal groaning as the driver slams on the brakes.

Police officers pour from their vehicles, weapons drawn, faces contorted in horror at the carnage before them. Blood drips from our massive jaws as we toss aside the remains, roaring with primal fury that echoes between buildings.

"FREEZE!" someone shouts, voice trembling with fear.

Gunfire erupts, a hailstorm of bullets that bounce harmlessly off our undulating form. Each impact only fuels our rage, the symbiote rippling with sadistic pleasure as it absorbs the kinetic energy.

"I hate this feeling," my other whispers in our shared consciousness, surprising me with its sudden reluctance.

"I do too," I admit, even as we continue to absorb the barrage of useless ammunition.

The truth burns in our chest, this kill has done nothing to ease the pain of seeing Shane with her. The jealousy still courses through us like acid, corrosive and all-consuming. Hammer Head's death is meaningless, an empty gesture that leaves us feeling even more hollow than before.

With a final roar of frustration, we crouch and launch ourselves skyward, powerful legs propelling us up and away from the bloodbath below. We sail through the night air, a dark silhouette against the city lights, leaving behind the sounds of sirens and screams.

Chapter 26: Chapter 26: Post Snack Activity

Steam still rises from my skin as I flop down on my dorm bed, hair damp against the pillow. The shower washed away the sweat and grime of tonight's adventures, but not the memories. Not the feeling of Spider-Woman's body against mine, the way she moved, the sounds she made.

I stare at the ceiling. My muscles ache pleasantly, a mix of post-teleportation fatigue and the satisfying soreness that comes after good sex.

"Fucking Spider-Woman," I mutter to the empty room, the words hanging in the air with dual meaning.

The whole thing was incredible, the kind of encounter that should have me floating on cloud nine, but something feels off. Like scratching an itch only to find it wasn't the right spot after all.

I roll onto my side, pulling my blanket over my shoulders. The truth is, as amazing as tonight was, I can't picture a future with someone who spends their evenings swinging between skyscrapers and fighting supervillains. Someone whose face I’ll hardly see. Someone whose life will always be chaos incarnate, whose priorities will never include normal things like dinner dates or weekend trips or… any of the things I’ve always wanted to do with a partner.

I find my thoughts drifting to Ellie. Stubborn, terrifying, beautiful Ellie with her sharp edges and unexpected moments of tenderness. The hole in my heart where she should be feels more pronounced tonight, not less.

"This is so stupid," I whisper into my pillow. "We only slept together twice, and both times were because of my freaky incubus powers."

But that's not the whole truth, is it? Both times she saved my life first. Carried me when I couldn't walk, protected me when I couldn't protect myself. There's something there beneath all that anger and posturing, something real.

I close my eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking my racing thoughts. The image of Ellie's face floats in my mind, those piercing blue eyes that see right through me, that predatory smile that makes my heart race. And her abs… Those perfect gutters built contain my cum…

"She's just so fucking hot," I sigh into the darkness.

Just as sleep begins to claim me, the sound of my dorm room lock clicking open snaps me back to consciousness. My eyes fly open, heart instantly hammering in my chest.

Ellie stands in the doorway, her silhouette backlit by the hallway light. Even in shadow, I can feel the rage radiating from her like heat from a furnace. She steps inside with deliberate calm, closes the door behind her, and locks it with a soft, definitive click.

"I didn't give you a key," I say, voice rough with exhaustion as I push myself up onto my elbows.

Ellie doesn't respond immediately. Instead, she holds up her right hand, extending her index finger. A thin black tendril slithers from her fingertip, writhing in the dim light before reshaping itself into what looks like a perfect key.

"Don't need one," she finally says, her voice unnervingly controlled despite the fury burning in her eyes.

The symbiote tendril retracts, disappearing beneath her skin with a liquid ripple. She takes another step toward me, and I instinctively press my back against the wall. Something about her is different tonight—more dangerous than I've ever seen her.

"You fucked Spider-Woman." It's not a question. Her voice is flat, emotionless, but her eyes tell a different story.

I stare at her, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. There's no point in lying, not when she somehow already knows the truth.

"Yes," I admit, the word hanging heavy between us.

"Because you teleported so much while fighting that assassin." Her eyes never leaving mine as she speaks. "All those short jumps, building up all that energy."

I nod, swallowing hard. "Yes."

In a blur of motion I can barely track, she's suddenly on the bed, straddling me, both hands wrapping around my throat. Her fingers press into my windpipe with just enough force to make breathing difficult but not impossible. I don't fight back. I just lie there, looking up at her as she towers over me.

To my horror I feel myself getting hard beneath her. The pressure of her weight, the danger, the intensity in those blue eyes, it's intoxicating. I try to will my body not to respond, knowing it will only make her angrier.

"So much for wanting to date me, huh?" she growls, tightening her grip slightly. Her eyes flash with something beyond anger, betrayal, maybe.

"You didn't want me!" I shoot back, my voice strained against her grip. "Every time I asked you out, you said no. Every single time!"

Her fingers tighten around my throat, enough to make black spots dance at the edges of my vision. I grab her wrists instinctively, not trying to pull her off, just holding on.

"If I'm with you, this thing might kill you," she whispers, her voice suddenly hollow.

I watch in fascination as the symbiote physically reacts to her words, bubbles across her skin in agitated waves, black tendrils lashing out from her shoulders like angry whips.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Ellie suddenly screams, not at me, but at some voice I can't hear. Her head jerks to the side as if she's arguing with someone invisible. "Of course that's why! What else would it be?"

I stare at her, mesmerized by the conflict playing out across her face. The symbiote's tendrils whip around her like a storm, responding to emotions I can only guess at.

"Ellie, I'm not afraid of it," I say firmly, reaching up to touch her face despite her grip on my throat.

Her eyes snap back to mine, widening with surprise. "No shit, Shane," she growls, but the pressure on my windpipe eases slightly. "I'm afraid for you."

The symbiote calms momentarily, tendrils retracting as if listening. I slide my hand to cup her cheek, feeling her lean into the touch despite herself.

"I want you, Ellie," I whisper, my voice raw with emotion. "I don't want anyone else. Not Spider-Woman, not anyone."

Her grip loosens further, fingers trembling against my skin. For a moment, vulnerability replaces rage in those piercing blue eyes.

"You don't understand what you're saying," she murmurs, the symbiote rippling across her shoulders in agitated waves. "This thing inside me... it's possessive. Jealous. It wants to consume you in every way possible."

"It's just reflecting your own internal feelings," I tell her, my voice surprisingly steady despite her hands still at my throat. "Exaggerating them. The symbiote's feeding off what you're already feeling, Ellie. It's not controlling you, it's amplifying you."

Her eyes widen, something vulnerable flashing across her face. The symbiote ripples violently at first, as if offended by my analysis, but then it seems to pause, considering.

I feel the first cool tendril touch my arm, sliding across my skin like liquid silk. Another wraps gently around my wrist, then my forearm. More tendrils extend from Ellie's body, reaching for me with what almost feels like... longing. They coil around my chest, my shoulders, my waist, not restraining, but embracing.

Ellie's gaze follows the movement of the symbiote, watching with an expression I can't quite read as the black tendrils continue to wrap around me. There's something almost tender in the way the alien substance cradles my body, like it's trying to bridge the gap between us.

"If we're doing this," she says finally, her voice low and serious, "there are rules." Her eyes lock with mine, intense and unwavering. "No fucking around. I mean it, Shane. No matter how horny you get from your little teleporting trick, you fuck me and me alone."

My heart hammers against my ribs, each beat echoing in my ears. "That's all I want to do in the first place," I tell her, my voice surprisingly steady despite the emotional hurricane inside me. "It's only ever been you, Ellie."

Her expression softens for just a moment before hardening into something possessive, primal.

"You're mine from now on," she declares, the symbiote's tendrils tightening around me as if to emphasize her point. "When you go out on patrol, I'll be your shadow. Always."

A smile spreads across my face as hope blooms in my chest. "You're going to be a hero with me?"

Her face contorts in disgust, nose wrinkling and lips curling. "Shut the fuck up," she growls, and then she's kissing me.

There's no pheromones this time, no supernatural lust driving us together. This is pure Ellie, fierce, demanding, and completely real. Her lips crash against mine with bruising intensity, claiming rather than asking. I respond immediately, matching her fervor with my own.

The symbiote moves between us, not separating but connecting, creating impossible sensations where it touches both our skin simultaneously. It's like feeling her through a living conduit, every heartbeat, every shiver, transmitted directly from her body to mine.

When we finally break apart, both gasping for air, her blue eyes lock with mine.

The intensity of her gaze ignites something primal within me. Before I can take another breath, her hands are tearing at my shirt, ripping the fabric apart with inhuman strength. They shred like tissue paper.

"Jesus Christ!" I gasp as cool air hits my exposed skin, goosebumps rising across my chest.

The symbiote recedes from her skin like black tide pulling away from shore. It's mesmerizing to watch, the way it peels back, revealing inch after inch of her toned, muscular form. Her athletic curves emerge from the darkness, skin tan and perfect in the dim light filtering through my window blinds.

In seconds, she's completely nude above me, powerful thighs still straddling my hips, her body a masterpiece that makes my breath catch. The symbiote hasn't fully retreated though, thin tendrils still dance across her shoulders and spine like living tattoos, responding to her emotions.

"Mine," she growls, the single word vibrating through me with possessive intensity. Her hands press against my chest, pinning me to the mattress as her blue eyes bore into mine. "Say it, Shane. I need to hear you say it."

"I'm yours," I answer without hesitation, the truth of it resonating through my entire being.

Her lips curve into a predatory smile that sends heat surging through me. The symbiote responds to her satisfaction, purring around us both like some alien cat, tendrils extending to caress my skin with feather-light touches.

"And this," she murmurs, grinding her hips against mine, the heat between her legs scorching even through my thin boxers, "is mine too."

I nod frantically, unable to form words as she reaches down and tears away my last remaining piece of clothing. The elastic snaps like thread under her fingers, and suddenly we're skin to skin, nothing between us.

"You won't ever fuck someone else again," she continues, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as she leans forward, her breasts brushing against my chest. "Especially not Spider-Woman, not anyone. Just me."

"Just you," I agree, my hands finding her waist, marveling at the contrast between her soft skin and the hard muscle beneath. "I only want you, Ellie."

She raises herself up, hovering just above me, her eyes never leaving mine. I feel her hand wrap around my cock, positioning me at her entrance. The sensation alone nearly undoes me.

"Whose are you?" she demands, squeezing me just hard enough to make me gasp.

"Yours, Ellie," I breathe, my hands clutching her thighs. "Only yours."

With a predatory smile, she sinks down onto me in one swift motion, taking me completely inside her. The feeling is overwhelming, hot, tight, perfect—and I cry out, my back arching off the bed.

"Fuck," she hisses, her head falling back as she adjusts to the feeling of me inside her.

She doesn't give me time to adjust. Her hips begin to move immediately, setting a punishing pace that has me seeing stars. Her powerful thighs flex as she rides me, using my body for her pleasure with single-minded determination.

Every thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through me, building higher with each savage roll of her hips. I'm completely at her mercy as she takes what she wants, pinning my shoulders with enough force that I'll probably have bruises tomorrow. The thought only excites me more.

"Fuck, Ellie," I gasp, my voice breaking as she slams down particularly hard. "You feel so fucking good."

Her response is to grab my throat again, squeezing just enough to make my vision blur at the edges. The symbiote extends from her fingers, black tendrils wrapping around my neck like a living collar, tightening and loosening in perfect rhythm with her movements.

"You like this?" she growls, leaning down so her face is inches from mine, her blue eyes boring into me with predatory intensity. "You like being fucked like this?"

"Yes," I manage to choke out, the pressure on my throat making each word a struggle. "God, yes."

She releases my throat suddenly, only to slap me hard across the face. The sting blooms across my cheek, hot and sharp, sending an unexpected jolt of pleasure straight to my core.

For a second, Ellie freezes, her hand still hovering in the air. A flicker of uncertainty crosses her face, like she's just realizing what she's done, how far she's pushed. I meet her gaze and nod, feeling my lips curve into a smile that tells her everything she needs to know.

Her expression transforms, uncertainty blossoming into a wide, almost feral grin. Something primal ignites in those blue eyes as she realizes I'm not just accepting her roughness, I'm craving it.

"You liked that, didn't you?" she purrs, bringing her hand down to caress the reddening spot on my cheek, the gentleness a stark contrast to the sting that still lingers.

"Yes," I gasp as she rolls her hips, still impaled on me. "Please, don't stop."

Her hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat. She leans down, and I brace for another slap, but instead, her lips brush against my neck with unexpected tenderness, placing feather-light kisses along my pulse point.

"Mine," she whispers against my skin, her voice softer now but no less possessive.

The symbiote flows across her back in excited waves as she continues to ride me, her pace unrelenting. Her free hand finds my face again, this time cracking across my other cheek with enough force to make my ears ring.

Before I can process the pain, her mouth is on mine, kissing me with such desperate tenderness it steals my breath away. The contrast is dizzying, pain followed immediately by comfort, violence chased by affection. Each slap is a claim, each kiss a promise.

"I've wanted you for so long," she confesses against my lips, her voice breaking slightly. When she pulls back, her eyes are wild with something beyond lust, a desperate, consuming need that makes my chest ache.

Her hips never stop moving, driving me deeper inside her with each powerful thrust.

"Look at me," she demands, grabbing my chin and forcing my gaze to lock with hers.

What I see nearly undoes me. Behind the dominance, behind the possessiveness, her eyes are screaming with naked want, not just for my body, but for me. All of me. It's raw and terrifying in its intensity, like staring into the heart of a storm that's been brewing for months.

"I see you," I whisper, reaching up to touch her face. "I see you, Ellie."

My hands grip her hips as I thrust upward to meet her savage rhythm, our bodies colliding with enough force to make the bed frame creak in protest.

"Fuck, Ellie," I gasp, drowning in the intensity of her gaze. "I'm yours. All yours."

The symbiote dances across her skin like liquid shadow, stretching between us to create impossible sensations where we connect. It slides along my chest, my neck, my face, not controlling but enhancing, amplifying every point of contact between our bodies until I can't tell where I end and she begins.

Her movements grow more frantic, more desperate. She's chasing her pleasure with single-minded determination, using my body as her instrument. The sight of her above me, powerful, primal, perfect, pushes me closer to the edge with each roll of her hips.

"That's it," she growls, her voice thick with desire as she slams down onto me. "Take it. Take everything I'm giving you."

I feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, hot and insistent. Each thrust drives me deeper into her welcoming heat, the tight grip of her body around mine threatening to unravel me completely. The symbiote tendrils wrap around my wrists, pinning them to the mattress as Ellie takes full control.

"I want to feel you cum inside me," she demands, her blue eyes wild with need. "Fill me up, Shane. Make me yours like I'm making you mine."

I strain against the symbiote's hold, not to escape but to push deeper, harder into her. She rewards me with a moan that might be the most beautiful sound I've ever heard, raw and honest and completely uninhibited.

My vision whites out as pleasure explodes through every nerve ending in my body. I thrust upward one final time, burying myself as deep inside her as physically possible as I erupt, pumping hot pulses of release into her core.

Ellie throws her head back with a primal scream, her body convulsing around mine as she reaches her own climax. The symbiote reacts to her pleasure, tendrils writhing across her skin in ecstatic patterns. Her inner muscles clench and release around me in waves, milking every last drop as we ride out our shared orgasm together.

After a minute of vigorous bouncing, Ellie slows her movements, her body still pulsing around mine as she extracts every last drop. Her expression softens as she looks down at me, a satisfied smile playing across her lips. Sweat glistens on her skin in the dim light, making her look almost ethereal.

"There," she whispers, her voice husky and pleased. "That's all of it."

With surprising gentleness, she lifts herself off me, then flips our positions in one smooth motion. I find myself sprawled across her chest, my ear pressed against the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. The symbiote has settled, now just a thin layer beneath her skin that feels oddly comforting against my cheek.

"You look like you're ready to fall asleep," she murmurs, one hand coming up to stroke my hair. Her fingers thread through the strands, massaging my scalp in slow, hypnotic circles.

"Yeah," I manage to mumble, my eyelids already growing heavy. The combination of intense sex and emotional exhaustion is pulling me rapidly toward unconsciousness. "I am."

Ellie continues playing with my hair, her strong fingers occasionally tracing down to caress the nape of my neck. It's soothing in a way I never expected from someone so fierce, so dangerous.

"Well, go ahead then," she says, her voice a low rumble I can feel vibrating through her chest.

I feel myself drifting, floating on the edge of consciousness as her heartbeat drums a steady lullaby beneath my ear. The symbiote shifts slightly, adjusting to create a perfect cushion between us, warm and secure.

"Are you going to be here in the morning?"

She scoffs quietly, but there's no real annoyance behind it. Her arms tighten around me, one hand still buried in my hair.

"Expect to see me every morning from now on, Shane," she whispers, pressing her lips gently against the top of my head.

It's the last thing I register before sleep claims me completely, my consciousness fading into peaceful darkness wrapped in Ellie's protective embrace.

Chapter 27: Chapter 27: What Is This? A Crossover Episode?

Ash drifts between my fingers like gray snow, coating my skin in the remnants of what once might have been buildings, people, lives. The sky above hangs low and sickly, a bruised purple-red that seems to pulse with unnatural light.

I blink, trying to remember how I got here. Wasn't I just in my dorm room with Ellie? The memory feels distant now, like something I watched rather than lived.

"What the hell?" I mutter, turning in a slow circle to take in the devastation surrounding me.

In every direction, the landscape is nothing but rubble and ruin. Twisted metal frames reach toward the poisoned sky like skeletal fingers. The remains of what might have been skyscrapers lie scattered and broken, their concrete bones pulverized to the dust I'm standing on.

Something catches my eye in the distance, a pike jutting from the ground, something impaled on its tip that doesn't quite belong in this wasteland.

I pick my way across the debris field, each step releasing small puffs of ash that dance around my ankles. As I get closer, my stomach clenches with unease. There's a head mounted on that pike, and it's wearing some kind of mask.

"Huh?" I approach cautiously, curiosity overriding my instinct to run in the opposite direction.

When I reach the pike, bile rises in my throat. The head is wearing what looks like a knockoff Batman mask, but definitely designed for a woman's face. The cowl is cracked and weathered, the eye holes empty and accusatory. Beneath the mask, the flesh has mummified, stretched tight over facial bones in a permanent grimace.

My eyes drop to a crude stone tablet at the base of the pike. Words have been chiseled into its surface with what must have been rage-fueled precision.

HERE LIES DARK STAR.

HUMANITY'S GREATEST TRAITOR.

MAY NONE REPEAT THE MISTAKE OF STEALING MY LUKE FROM ME EVER AGAIN.

"What the fuck?" I back away from the grisly monument, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Where the fuck am I?"

I spin around wildly, searching for anything familiar in this apocalyptic landscape, any clue to how I ended up here or what happened to turn a world to ash.

"Honestly, I don't know either."

The voice behind me is smooth as velvet and sharp as broken glass. I jump, nearly tripping over my own feet as I whirl around.

"Lileth?"

He stands a few feet away, looking exactly as I remember him, towering and terrible, skin cracked with glowing fissures, massive bat-like wings folded against his back. The dark mist still curls around his feet, seeming to eat away at the ash beneath him.

"Long time no see, my child," he says, his venomous green eyes studying me with something between amusement and curiosity.

I take an instinctive step back, memories of our last encounter flooding through me, the museum, the frozen time, the burning sensation as he transformed me. "What is this place? What happened here?"

Lileth's lips curl into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "This is a possible future," he says, gesturing at the wasteland around us. "Or perhaps a nightmare made manifest? It's difficult to discern the difference sometimes."

I strain my ears at a faint scratching sound coming from somewhere beneath the ash. It's like something digging, tunneling just below the surface, but I can't pinpoint where it's coming from.

"Oh cool. So I'm dreaming right now?" I ask, suddenly feeling much less concerned about the apocalyptic landscape and severed head on a pike.

Lileth's expression shifts to one of annoyance, his glowing fissures pulsing brighter for a moment. "Well, yes, but…"

"So you wanted to have a little pow-wow in my dreamscape?" I interrupt, closing my eyes and concentrating hard. I picture a juicy cheeseburger, complete with melted cheese, crisp lettuce, and a sesame seed bun. When I open my eyes, my hands are still empty and my stomach still growling. "What the hell?"

Lileth stares at me incredulously. "Did you just attempt to manifest food while I'm speaking to you?"

"WELL, IT'S A DREAM, ISN'T IT?" I throw my hands up in exasperation. "I'm hungry!"

"Well, no," Lileth says with exaggerated patience, like he's explaining something to a particularly slow child. "It's more of a half-vision, half-dream. A space between realities where I can communicate with you."

"Well, I feel hungry," I grumble, kicking at the ash beneath my feet.

Lileth's eyes narrow dangerously, the green glow intensifying. With a flick of his wrist, an invisible force slams me backward. I hit the ground hard, pinned by pressure that feels like a concrete slab on my chest.

"You're annoying me, child," he says, his voice eerily calm despite the obvious display of power.

I look up at him, immobilized in the ash, and can't help the laugh that bubbles out of me. "Oh no, please don't hold down the masochist who likes to get hit while he's fucked. That will assuredly get me to be compliant."

Lileth releases the invisible pressure pinning me, and I tumble forward into the ash. He regards me with a scowl that would terrify anyone with a proper sense of self-preservation.

"You're a handful," he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Thank you," I reply, getting to my feet and dusting ash from my clothes. "That's kind of you to notice."

He rolls his eyes, those venomous green orbs flashing with something between amusement and frustration. "So," he says, changing tactics, "how are you enjoying your newfound powers?"

"They're great," I say, perking up at the chance to share my accomplishments. "I saved someone today. Well, technically yesterday."

Lileth laughs, the sound echoing unnaturally across the desolate landscape. "You certainly did, didn't you?" His wings shift behind him, stretching slightly before folding back against his spine. He sighs deeply, his expression growing more serious. "Your progress is rather slow, though, isn't it?"

I frown, genuinely confused. "What do you mean? I can finally run five miles now without getting winded. Before all this, I could barely manage one."

The digging sound beneath us intensifies, like something large is tunneling directly under our feet. Lileth doesn't seem concerned by it, though his gaze briefly flicks to the ground before returning to me.

He sighs again, more dramatically this time. "I see... you're a goblet half-full kind of man."

"Of course I am," I respond, crossing my arms defensively. "Optimism is how I've always survived…”

Lileth regards me with those unsettling serpentine eyes. "There's a lot you don't know about yourself, Shane."

"Like what? My personality?"

He stares at me, expression suddenly deadly serious. "No. My child, you're an incubus still living in a human vessel. If you want to unlock your true power..." His lips curl into a wide smile that reveals those elongated canines. "Well, I don't want to spoil it for you."

The digging sound is almost deafening now, ash vibrating beneath my feet like there's something massive about to break through.

"I don't want to stop being human," I say firmly, standing my ground despite the trembling earth.

Lileth nods, looking unsurprised. "I figured as much."

My mind races with implications. "We never made an official deal, so is my soul still my own?"

"Sure," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, talons glinting in the eerie light. "I didn't help you for your soul."

Just as I'm about to ask Lileth the burning question, why he helped me in the first place, the ash beneath my feet erupts. The ground splits open with a deafening crack, and a crimson figure launches upward in a spray of gray dust.

My heart nearly stops as I recognize the twisted form emerging from the earth. A woman clad in swirling red symbiote material, her face partially covered by a weathered red hood. Twin pistols gleam at her hips, and the symbiote writhes around her like living blood.

"THERE YOU ARE, SHANE!" she roars, her voice a distorted blend of human and something else entirely. "WE'VE BEEN LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR YOU!"

I stumble backward, heart hammering against my ribs. "What the hell?" I spin around, looking for Lileth, but the demon is nowhere to be seen, vanished as if he'd never been there at all.

"Carnage?" I manage to choke out, recognizing the symbiote's distinctive appearance from my world's comics. "How are you even here?"

The masked figure stalks toward me, each step leaving crimson footprints in the ash. The symbiote pulses and writhes around her body like a living heartbeat.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW FAR WE HAD TO GO TO FIND YOU HERE?" she snarls, her voice scraping against my eardrums like broken glass.

My mind races, trying to make sense of what's happening. "Wait, no… This is supposed to be a dream. You can't actually be here."

Carnage throws her head back and laughs, the sound like metal being torn apart. Then without warning, she lunges at me, symbiote tendrils stretching outward like crimson spears aimed directly at my chest.

I jerk upright with a strangled gasp, my body drenched in cold sweat. My heart pounds so violently I can feel it in my teeth, and for a moment, I can't tell where I am.

"Shane? Shane, what's wrong?"

Ellie's face hovers above mine, her blue eyes wide with concern, hands gripping my shoulders. The symbiote ripples across her skin in agitated waves, responding to her alarm.

"Jesus," I pant, struggling to catch my breath. "Ellie, I…"

"You were thrashing around," she says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Kept muttering something about Carnage."

The nightmare's already fading like morning mist, details dissolving faster than I can grasp them. The head on the pike, Lileth's face, that wasteland of ash, the horrifying figure erupting from the ground, all slipping away like water through my fingers.

Ellie's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "What's carnage?"

I rub my eyes, trying to hold onto the fragments. "Another symbiote," I mumble. "Red one. Violent."

"Huh?" She looks genuinely puzzled, her head tilting slightly. The black substance on her skin ripples with what almost seems like curiosity. "My other says there are no others on Earth."

"Not yet," I whisper, the final pieces of the dream evaporating completely.

Ellie's arms tighten around me protectively as I drift back into darkness, this time dreamless and deep.

 

 

 

Carnage

Chapter 28: Chapter 28: Brand New Day

Sunlight splashes across my face like warm honey, pulling me from the depths of sleep. I blink against the brightness, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar angle of morning light streaming through my dorm window. Then I register the weight of Ellie's arms around me, her body curved protectively against my back like a living shield.

I shift carefully in her embrace, turning to face her without breaking contact. To my surprise, she's already awake, those piercing blue eyes studying me with an intensity that makes my heart skip.

"Good morning," I say softly, half expecting her usual defensive posture, the familiar scowl that follows any moment of vulnerability between us.

Instead, her lips curve into a genuine smile, warm and unguarded in a way I've never seen before. "Good morning," she replies, her voice a gentle rumble that vibrates through her chest against mine.

She leans forward, pressing her lips to mine in a kiss that's surprisingly tender, nothing like the possessive claiming of last night. The symbiote pulses between us, creating electric points of contact where our skin meets. I feel heat rising to my cheeks as she deepens the kiss, her hand sliding up to cup my face.

When we finally break apart, she's looking at me with an amused expression. "What?" she asks, thumb stroking my flushed cheek.

"No, it's just..." I can't help the giddy smile spreading across my face. "You're finally acting like you want to be with me."

A brief shadow crosses her features, there and gone so quickly I almost miss it. Then her smile returns, softer now, almost vulnerable.

"I've always wanted to be with you," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was just scared of what might happen if I let myself have you."

The symbiote shifts across her skin, forming intricate patterns that seem to reflect her emotions. I reach out, tracing one dark tendril with my fingertip, watching as it curls around my touch like it's greeting an old friend.

"And now?" I ask, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Ellie's blue eyes hold mine, unflinching and certain. "Now I'm more scared of losing you to someone else than I am of anything this symbiote might do."

The confession hangs between us, raw and honest in the golden morning light. I lean forward, pressing my forehead against hers, our breath mingling in the small space between us.

"I'm not going anywhere," I whisper against her lips. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

She pulls back slightly, her eyes searching mine. "You had quite the nightmare last night," she says, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across my shoulder.

"Yeah," I reply, fragments of the dream resurfacing in my memory. "The only thing I really remember is seeing a female Jason Todd in her read hood outfit taken over by Carnage."

Ellie's brow furrows in confusion. "Who's Jason Todd?"

"The second Robin who got killed by the Joker."

"Huh?"

"A Batman character," I explain, trying to simplify.

Her expression clears slightly. "Oh, Batwoman? The comic thing?"

I can't help but smile at her response. "Oh, so you know about Batwoman?"

"Yeah, I saw the Christina Bale movies," she says with a casual shrug, like it's no big deal.

I nod slowly, processing once again how fundamentally different this world is, with its gender-flipped icons and history.

Ellie wraps her arms around me tightly, pulling me against her chest.

"I have to go to class soon," she murmurs into my hair, sounding genuinely regretful.

"Yeah, I need to get to class too," I sigh, reluctantly disentangling myself from her warmth.

She stands up in one fluid motion, and I find myself momentarily speechless. The symbiote shifts across her skin like liquid shadow, transforming into a fitted black t-shirt and jeans that highlight every perfect curve of her athletic form. The sight of her is breathtaking, powerful and elegant all at once.

I glance down at my shredded clothes scattered across the floor and can't help but laugh. "Damn it, Ellie. I think we need to have a serious talk about my wardrobe budget. You can't just keep destroying my clothes every time we hook up."

She smirks, crossing her arms over her chest. "Not my fault they're so fragile."

"Says the woman with the alien super-strength," I counter, shaking my head as I pick up the tattered remains of what was once my favorite shirt. "Seriously though, at this rate I'll be naked by the end of the month."

Ellie laughs, the sound surprisingly light and genuine. "Would that be so terrible?"

"For my bank account? Yes." I grin at her, feeling a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with physical attraction. This playful, unguarded side of her is something I've only caught glimpses of before.

A sudden knock at the door interrupts our moment. My eyebrow shoots up in surprise, I'm not expecting anyone this early.

I grab a pair of sweatpants from my dresser and pull them on, then head toward the door without thinking. Before I can reach it, Ellie's hand clamps around my wrist like a vise. When I turn to look at her, her expression has shifted from playful to genuinely angry.

"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?" she demands, her blue eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Huh?" I look at her in confusion. "Answering the door?"

"You're indecent!" she hisses, gesturing at my bare chest with her free hand.

I glance down at myself, momentarily baffled. "My chest? What's wrong with…"

"Men don't just walk around topless," she cuts me off, looking genuinely scandalized. "Have some self-respect."

I blink, processing her words. This makes sense in hindsight.

"Oh, right. Sorry," I mutter, pretending to be embarrassed by my social faux pas rather than confused by the rules of a reality I wasn't born into. I quickly grab a t-shirt from my drawer and pull it over my head.

Once I'm properly clothed, Ellie nods with approval and strides to the door. She opens it with a confident swing, revealing Piper standing in the hallway. Piper's face is bright with a wide smile that instantly falters when she sees Ellie.

"Oh, uhh... hey, Ellie," Piper says, her voice catching slightly.

"Parker," Ellie responds coldly.

I walk up behind Ellie, my stomach suddenly feeling like it's full of lead. "Hey, Piper," I manage, trying to sound casual while my heart threatens to hammer straight out of my chest. The memory of last night on that rooftop flashes vividly in my mind, her body against mine, the way she moved, the sounds she made, making this moment exponentially more awkward.

Piper's eyes dart between us, confusion evident on her face. She looks completely thrown off, like she's walked into a situation she wasn't remotely prepared for. I notice her gaze lingering on Ellie's possessive stance in my doorway.

"You two are hanging out so early..." Piper says, her statement trailing off into an obvious question.

"I slept here last night," Ellie states bluntly, her tone dripping with territorial satisfaction.

Piper's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. Her mouth opens slightly, then closes, and I can practically see her rebooting her brain in real time. The expression only lasts a second before she composes herself, her features settling into something deliberately casual.

"Oh, uhhhh," she manages, adjusting her glasses in that nervous way she does. "You two are dating?"

"It just happened last night," I say, feeling weirdly caught between embarrassment and pride. My hand finds Ellie's, our fingers intertwining with natural ease that surprises even me.

Ellie's muscles tense slightly under my touch, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, the black substance on her skin shifts subtly, flowing across our connected hands like an affirmation.

"Congratulations," Piper says, her voice impressively steady. "That's... that's great."

Piper stands there looking at us for an awkward moment, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Uhh, I just realized I forgot something, so I should probably get going," she mumbles, already backing away from the door. "I'll catch you later, Shane."

Before I can respond, she's hurrying down the hallway, her shoulders slightly hunched like she's trying to make herself smaller.

As soon as the door closes, Ellie bursts into laughter, the sound rich with satisfaction. "Did you see how heartbroken she looked?" she asks, turning to me with a victorious gleam in her eyes.

"Be nice," I say, feeling a twinge of guilt. The rooftop encounter flashes through my mind again, making my stomach twist with shame.

Ellie's smile fades slightly as she studies my face. "So there's something you should know about Parker," she says, her tone shifting to something more serious.

"I already know," I interrupt, meeting her gaze steadily.

Her eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

"And I know you know," I continue, "because the suit told you."

Ellie's expression transforms from confusion to shock in an instant. The symbiote across her skin shifts in agitated patterns, responding to her emotional state. "What the fuck?" she whispers, her voice barely audible. "You know she's Spider-Woman?"

"Yes."

Her blue eyes narrow suspiciously. "Does she know you know?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "She has no idea."

"How did you know?" she demands.

I shrug, trying to appear casual while my brain scrambles for a believable explanation. "Come on, Ellie. Piper Parker takes photos of Spider-Woman for the Daily Bugle. They have the exact same voice. It wasn't exactly rocket science to figure out."

The black substance on her skin shifts agitatedly as she processes this information. Her eyes narrow, searching my face for any hint of deception.

"That's... actually a good point," she admits reluctantly.

I nod, relief washing over me. The lie isn't perfect, but it's better than explaining I'm from an alternate reality where all of this is fictional.

"So what now?" I ask, changing the subject. "Are you going to keep trying to kill her?"

Ellie's face darkens, her jaw clenching visibly. The symbiote coils around her arms in agitated patterns, responding to the spike in her emotions.

"I made you a promise," she says finally, the words sounding like they're being dragged out against her will. "I won't kill Spider-Woman." She pauses, a dangerous glint appearing in her eyes. "But if she ever touches you again, all bets are off."

I see something shift in Ellie's expression. Her confident demeanor suddenly falters, a shadow crossing her face as her eyes dart away from mine.

"Shane, I, umm..." she starts, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "I do have one thing I need to get off my chest about last night."

My stomach drops. "What is it?"

She takes a deep breath, the black substance on her skin swirling anxiously. "After I saw you and Piper together, I might have... killed Hammer Head."

I shake my head, not sure I heard her correctly. "Like, killed killed?"

"Yeah." Her blue eyes meet mine, defiant yet searching for my reaction.

I consider this for a moment, processing what she's just told me. The villain who was causing chaos at Fisk Tower.

"Uhh, that's fine," I say finally.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Huh?"

"Hammer Head is a villain," I explain with a shrug. "I think it's fine."

"Aren't you a hero?" she asks, genuine confusion in her voice.

"I'm not an idiot," I counter, meeting her gaze steadily. "And it's not like she hasn't killed plenty before."

Ellie studies my face carefully, like she's waiting for the punchline. "So you're not mad?"

"God no," I say truthfully.

A slow smile spreads across her face, transforming her expression completely. She pulls me into a tight hug, her strong arms wrapping around me like she's afraid I might disappear. When she kisses me, there's something different in it, relief, gratitude, maybe even hope.

"Well then," she murmurs against my lips, "maybe it won't be so hard working together after all."

Chapter 29: Chapter 29: Tasket Weaving

[Taskmistress’s POV]

 

The Manhattan skyline glitters beneath me as I perch on the edge of Fisk Tower's rooftop, my white hood billowing in the morning breeze. My skull mask feels especially tight today, the familiar pressure points digging into my temples and cheekbones. I've been waiting for fifteen minutes already, which is fifteen minutes too long in my professional opinion. Even the most powerful people in this city should respect my time.

I stand perfectly still, scanning the helipad and rooftop garden. My muscles coil with practiced tension, ready to react at a moment's notice. The shield strapped to my back shifts slightly as I adjust my stance. I've memorized seventeen different escape routes from this position, calculated the exact number of seconds it would take to reach each one.

Finally, the elevator doors slide open with a soft ping that carries across the rooftop. Willow Fisk emerges, her massive frame moving with that deceptive grace that always surprises people who underestimate her. Despite her size, there's a fluid elegance to her movements, like a battleship that somehow manages to dance.

I remain motionless as she approaches, her pristine white suit immaculate in the morning light, diamond cufflinks catching the sun. Her presence fills the space in a way that has nothing to do with her physical size and everything to do with the aura of power she projects.

"Taskmistress," she greets me, her voice smooth and cultured. "Thank you for coming."

"Fisk," I reply curtly, not bothering with pleasantries.

She settles into her oversized office chair, positioned perfectly to frame the Manhattan skyline behind her. A power move, obviously, but an effective one. She gestures to the empty chair across from her, but I remain standing. I hate to sit during business meetings, it compromises reaction time.

"Do you know why I wanted to hire you today?" she asks, folding her massive hands on the glass table between us.

"Is it to get me here to kill me for attempting to kidnap your daughter last night?" I ask bluntly, my hand drifting casually toward the knife concealed at my hip.

Fisk's lips curve into a cold smile. "No, I understand Hammer Head hired you for that contract. It was simply business." Her smile widens fractionally. "And through seemingly unrelated circumstances, Hammer Head has been miraculously disposed of."

I process this information with professional detachment. "Convenient timing."

"Isn't it?" Fisk agrees, her eyes never leaving mine. "Torn apart, they say. Some are suggesting Venom's work."

"Venom?" I scoff, scanning the rooftop perimeter out of habit. "You've got her on the payroll now?"

Fisk's face remains impassive, but I catch the slightest twitch at the corner of her mouth. "No, but wouldn't that be nice? An asset like that at my disposal."

"Sure would," I agree, keeping my tone neutral despite the alarm bells ringing in my head. Venom is unpredictable at best, psychotic at worst. Anyone who thinks they can control her is delusional.

Fisk leans forward, her massive frame making the reinforced chair creak beneath her. "Listen carefully, Taskmistress. Last night, there was a man who rescued my daughter from you." Her voice remains calm, but there's a dangerous edge to it. "A man in a golden mask."

My body tenses involuntarily as I recall the teleporter who interrupted my contract. The memory of those pheromones hitting my system sends an unwelcome heat through my veins.

"I want you to find him," Fisk continues. "My daughter was utterly bewitched. She's requested to meet him."

"I've already looked into him," I reply, narrowing my eyes behind my skull mask. "He's a new hero. Nobody knows his name. Hardly anyone's even talking about him, and those who've spotted him don't seem particularly interested."

Fisk's lips curve into that predatory smile I've come to recognize as genuine pleasure. "All the better."

I shift my weight, the shield on my back suddenly feeling heavier. "He's a teleporter, that much I confirmed firsthand. But there's something else..." I hesitate, uncomfortable with the memory of how quickly my professional detachment had crumbled in his presence. "I believe he has some sort of mind-altering ability as well. Something that affects... judgment."

My fingers flex involuntarily at my sides. "Are you certain you want to risk bringing someone like that here? Into your territory?"

Fisk studies me for a long moment, her massive fingers drumming against the glass tabletop. "You sound concerned, Taskmistress. That's unlike you."

"I'm practical," I counter, keeping my voice flat. "Unknown variables are dangerous variables."

"And yet," she says, leaning back in her chair, "you let him escape."

The accusation hangs in the air between us. I feel my jaw tighten beneath my mask.

"Spider-Woman interrupted," I say stiffly. "Plus the Human Torch and the Ice Bitch were there. The contract was compromised."

Fisk waves a dismissive hand. "I'm not criticizing your performance. I'm merely observing that this golden-masked teleporter got the better of you. That alone makes him worth meeting."

I clench my fists beneath my gloves, heat rising to my face under the skull mask. Fisk's observation stings my professional pride.

"His powers affected me," I admit through gritted teeth. "There was some kind of... pheromone release when he teleported repeatedly." I pause, forcing the words out. "It temporarily compromised me."

Fisk's eyebrows rise with obvious interest. "Compromised you how, exactly?"

I sigh heavily, annoyed at having to spell it out. "It made me..." I struggle to find professional wording, then give up. "It made me react like a dog in heat, Fisk. Complete loss of control."

"Fascinating," Fisk murmurs, leaning forward. Her eyes gleam with calculated interest rather than judgment.

"Spider-Woman's arrival broke whatever hold he had on me," I continue, squaring my shoulders. "Once she yanked me away, the fog cleared from my mind. I was able to escape before she could detain me."

"And you're certain this was his power? Not some... personal attraction?" Fisk asks, her voice deceptively casual.

"He had the gold mask on," I state flatly, crossing my arms.

"True," Fisk acknowledges with a slight nod. Her massive fingers tap against the glass tabletop, a thoughtful rhythm that fills the silence between us. "Regardless, I want him brought to me. I wish to give him my thanks personally."

"Alrighty then," I say, turning on my heel. I've wasted enough time here already. The job is straightforward enough, find the gold-masked teleporter and bring him to Fisk. Simple retrieval, no termination required.

As I stride toward the elevator, my mind drifts to the only genuinely enjoyable part of my current routine, training that idiot kid Shane Steele at Empire State. For all his awkwardness and naive enthusiasm, he's showing real potential. His form has improved dramatically over the past few weeks, and he's finally learning to anticipate instead of just react.

Checking my watch, I quicken my pace. If I don't leave right now, I'll be late for class, and maintaining my cover as Professor Masters is crucial to my long-term operations.

Chapter 30: Chapter 30: Bow To Your Sensei!

Professor Masters' fist whistles past my ear close enough that I feel the displaced air rustle my hair. I duck and weave backward, barely avoiding a follow-up strike aimed at my solar plexus. My heart hammers against my ribs as I try to create distance between us, but she closes the gap with terrifying speed.

"Keep your guard up!" she barks, her left arm casually tucked behind her back while her right hand continues its relentless assault. "Your footwork is sloppy today, Steele!"

I throw a desperate jab that she deflects with contemptuous ease. The impact sends a jarring shock up my arm, and before I can recover, her palm connects with my sternum. The carefully controlled strike still sends me stumbling backward, gasping for air.

"You really suck, don't you, kid?" Masters says, not even breaking a sweat despite putting me through my paces for the past hour. Her military-cut hair remains perfectly in place, her breathing steady and controlled while I'm practically drowning in my own perspiration.

"Sensei," I wheeze, trying to regain my composure, "you just wait. One of these days I'm gonna learn a special move and hit you in the perfect spot, and you'll shit your pants."

Masters' eyebrows shoot up, her expression caught between amusement and disapproval. "Don't be crude," she scolds, though I catch the ghost of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "You'll never land a girlfriend talking about shit, Steele."

I grin at her, unable to help myself. "Actually, Sensei, I do have a girlfriend."

Masters pauses mid-stance, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies my face. She doesn't look particularly surprised by this revelation, just mildly curious.

"Is it someone strong," she asks, crossing her arms, "or is it one of those soft-handed science majors that could never protect a man in danger?"

"Uhh, she's not a science major," I reply, rubbing the back of my neck. "Sensei, you'd love her. She's so strong she might even be able to beat you up."

Professor Masters throws her head back and laughs, a full, hearty laugh that echoes through the training room. "I doubt that very much," she says, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye.

I don't push it further. It's not like I'm just going to tell my teacher my girlfriend is an alien monster who can bench-press a car.

"Well, whoever she is," Masters continues, settling back into her fighting stance, "she clearly isn't improving your focus. Now, again!"

I barely have time to raise my guard before she's on me again, moving with that fluid precision that makes me feel like I'm fighting in slow motion while she's at normal speed. Her fist grazes my cheek as I dodge a fraction too late.

"So who is this mystery woman?" Masters asks casually, as if we're having coffee instead of her systematically dismantling my defenses. "Anyone I know?"

"It's Ellie Brock," I reply, a dopey grin spreading across my face despite my best efforts to maintain the serious expression appropriate for combat training.

I try to focus on Masters' movements, but my mind keeps drifting to Ellie, her fierce blue eyes, that predatory smile, the way the symbiote ripples across her skin when she's excited. My momentary distraction costs me as Masters' fist connects with my shoulder, sending me staggering backward.

"Brock? That reporter girl?" Professor Masters raises an eyebrow, her fist pausing mid-air. "The girl built like a linebacker?"

"That's the one!" I say proudly, unable to contain my enthusiasm. "She has abs so defined I just want to rub my face across them like they're a cheese grater."

Masters' expression shifts from surprise to amusement as she delivers a lightning-fast jab to my gut. The air whooshes out of my lungs as I double over, clutching my stomach.

"So you're an abs guy," she laughs, shaking her head. "Should've known."

"Who isn't?" I wheeze, trying to straighten up while protecting my midsection from another potential strike.

Masters circles me slowly, her predatory stance never faltering despite our conversation. "Well, good for you, Steele. Though I have to say, I'm surprised. Brock doesn't strike me as the dating type."

"You'd be wrong, Professor," Ellie's voice cuts through the air like a knife.

Masters freezes mid-stance, then turns toward the doorway with a slow, deliberate motion. Her face transforms into a wide smile that I've never seen before, predatory and eager.

"Ms. Brock," she says, her voice taking on an almost musical quality.

My stomach does a nervous flip as I spin around. Ellie is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, looking like she just stepped off the cover of some fitness magazine. Her blonde hair is swept back, highlighting the sharp angles of her face.

"How long were you there?" I ask, heat rising to my cheeks.

"Long enough to hear you compare my abs to a cheese grater," she replies, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.

"Ugh," I groan, covering my face with my hands. This is not how I wanted my girlfriend and my combat instructor to meet.

"It's fine," Ellie says, pushing off from the doorframe. She shrugs off her leather jacket and tosses it onto the mat with casual confidence. "Professor Masters, you seem awfully tired beating on my boyfriend. Perhaps you want a real sparring partner?"

There's something in her tone that sends a shiver down my spine, a dangerous playfulness that borders on challenge. I've heard that tone before, usually right before something gets broken.

Masters' eyes light up like someone just offered her favorite dessert. She rolls her shoulders back, a subtle movement that somehow makes her look twice as intimidating.

"I don't mind," Masters replies, her voice deceptively casual. "But I'm not going to take it easy on you."

Ellie's smile widens, revealing teeth that seem just a bit too sharp in the fluorescent lighting. "I don't plan to play around either."

My heart rate doubles as I scramble off the mat, giving them space. This is either going to be the coolest thing I've ever seen or a complete disaster. Maybe both.

"Ladies, maybe we should, " I begin, but the look both women give me makes the words die in my throat.

They size each other up with calculating eyes. Masters moves with the practiced precision of someone who's spent decades perfecting her craft. Ellie moves with a predatory grace that seems almost... inhuman.

I hold my breath as they explode into motion. One second they're circling each other, the next Ellie's dodging Masters' first punch with a casual tilt of her head, like she saw it coming a mile away. Masters follows with a lightning-fast combination that would have flattened me, but Ellie weaves through it like water flowing around rocks.

"Whoa," I whisper, backing up against the wall.

Masters' eyes narrow as she increases her speed, throwing strikes that blur in the air, but Ellie slips past each one with almost lazy grace. She's not even bothering to counter-attack, just evading everything Masters throws at her.

"Professor," Ellie says with a smirk as she ducks under another punch, "do they really pay you to work here?"

Masters doesn't respond to the taunt, but I notice her stance shifting, becoming more determined. Her eyes track Ellie's movements with intense focus, trying to anticipate where she'll go next. Her attacks become more strategic, feints followed by real strikes, attempting to catch Ellie off-guard.

But it's like Ellie can read her mind. She moves just before Masters does, always one step ahead, her movements fluid and precise.

"Holy shit," I mutter, unable to tear my eyes away from the spectacle. It's like watching a dance where one partner knows all the steps in advance.

Finally, after what feels like minutes of Masters failing to land a single hit, Ellie counters. She sidesteps a jab and drives her fist deep into Masters' gut, the exact same spot where Masters hit me earlier. The impact makes a dull thud that echoes through the training room.

Masters doubles over, clutching her stomach, and for a moment I'm genuinely concerned. I've never seen anyone put her on the defensive, let alone land a hit that powerful. She's breathing hard, and I wonder just how much strength Ellie put behind that punch.

What throws me off completely is that they're both grinning wildly, like this is the most fun either of them has had in ages.

Masters straightens up, still holding her midsection, but her eyes are bright with excitement rather than pain. "Well," she says, sounding genuinely impressed, "I'm glad to see Mr. Steele has a girlfriend that could protect him."

Ellie laughs, the sound rich and genuine. "Someone has to."

"Hey!" I protest from the sidelines. "I'm getting better!"

Masters shoots me an amused glance. "Maybe, but I don’t think you’’ll ever be anywhere near her level."

Ellie walks over to me, sweat barely visible on her brow despite the intense sparring session. "Don't worry, babe," she says, wrapping an arm around my waist. "I’ll keep you safe."

Her arm around me feels warm and secure, like armor I didn't know I needed. The symbiote ripples softly against my waist where she touches me, a gentle acknowledgment that makes my heart skip. I lean into Ellie's embrace, my body yielding to her strength as tension melts from my shoulders.

Masters clears her throat, and when I glance up, I catch an expression on her face I've never seen before, a mixture of approval and something almost like nostalgia.

"You two make quite the pair," she says, her usual gruffness softened around the edges. "Now get out of my gym, Steele. Class is over, and clearly you've got someone better to spend your time with than an old war horse like me."

"You're not that old, Sensei," I reply automatically.

Masters laughs, waving us toward the door. "Flattery will get you nowhere. I expect you back here Friday, twice as focused."

"Yes, ma'am."

Chapter 31: Chapter 31: Soyjak Pointing Meme

Manhattan's skyline is a jagged silhouette against the night sky, skyscrapers piercing the darkness like obsidian teeth. I'm not admiring the view, though. I'm too busy clinging to Ellie's back like my life depends on it, because it absolutely does.

"Holy shit!" I yelp as we plunge into a stomach-churning free fall, the wind tearing the words from my mouth.

Venom's massive form absorbs the impact, those powerful legs flexing as we launch upward again. Her alien muscles coil and release beneath me, each movement a reminder of just how much raw power I'm pressed against. The symbiote ripples where it touches my skin, almost like it's greeting me.

We're flying through Manhattan's concrete canyons at speeds that make my eyes water. Venom's webbing shoots out with a distinctive wet thwack, anchoring to a building's edge before we swing in a wide, dizzying arc. Her body is like living armor against mine, impossibly strong yet somehow gentle where she holds me.

"You good back there?" Venom's distorted voice rumbles through her massive frame, the vibration traveling straight into my chest.

"Never better!" I lie through chattering teeth. The November night air cuts through my costume like it's made of tissue paper rather than Leah's reinforced fabric.

Venom's laugh is a terrifying sound, like gravel being crushed inside a bass drum. It should scare me, but instead, it sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. A week into officially dating, and I'm utterly obssessed.

Another swing takes us higher, the city spreading out beneath us like a circuit board of twinkling lights. My stomach lurches as we reach the apex, that weightless moment before gravity remembers we exist. Then we're plummeting again, the wind screaming past my gold mask.

"There!" I shout, pointing toward a rooftop that looks relatively flat and debris-free. "Can we take a quick break?"

Venom adjusts our trajectory without question, angling us toward the building I indicated. We land with surprising grace considering Venom is roughly the size of a refrigerator with arms. She sets me down carefully, those massive clawed hands gentler than they have any right to be.

"I can't believe We’re out here playing hero with you," Venom growls, her monstrous head tilting as she surveys the cityscape.

I catch my breath, adjusting my gold mask where it's slipped slightly. "You're not having fun swinging around while I hold you tight?" I ask, unable to keep the grin from my voice.

The enormous jaws pull back like oil retreating from water, revealing Ellie's human face beneath. The transformation always fascinates me, one moment a nightmare of teeth and tongue, the next her piercing blue eyes meeting mine. She steps closer until we're just inches apart, a smile playing across her lips that makes my heart stutter.

"I enjoy that quite a bit," she admits, her voice husky and entirely human now. "Having you pressed against me, holding on for dear life."

Even after everything we've done together, her new directness still catches me off guard. But god, do I love it. Gone are the days of my tsundere Brock. There's something intoxicating about someone who knows exactly what they want and isn't afraid to say it.

"Yeah?" I manage, my voice embarrassingly breathless. "I couldn't tell from all the unnecessary diving and swooping."

She laughs, the sound warm and rich without the symbiote's distortion. Her hand finds my waist, pulling me closer with that casual strength that makes my knees weak.

"Maybe I just like feeling you cling to me," she says, her thumb tracing small circles against my hip. "The way your heart races when we drop. How tightly you hold on."

My breath catches as her gaze flickers to my lips. In one fluid motion, Ellie's hands move to my face, delicate yet commanding as she lifts my hood back. Her fingers find the edge of my gold mask, gently pulling it away to expose my flushed skin to the cold night air.

"Much better," she murmurs, her eyes darkening with intent.

Before I can respond, her lips crash against mine. The kiss is electric, possessive, a claiming that makes my head spin. I respond with embarrassing eagerness, practically melting against her as my arms wrap around her neck, pulling her closer. The symbiote shifts beneath my fingers, warm and alive, responding to our shared desire.

When we finally break apart, I'm gasping for air, my heart thundering against my ribs.

"Fuck," I pant, unable to form a more coherent thought.

She smirks, clearly pleased with my reaction. The black substance of her suit flows across her shoulders like liquid shadow, reacting to her satisfaction. "We like when you're breathless," she says, voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes my stomach flip.

I swallow hard, my brain fogging with desire as I stare into those intense blue eyes. A wicked idea sparks in my mind.

"You know," I say, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I could teleport around a bit, work up a sweat, flood the air with those pheromones we're both so fond of."

Ellie's lips curl into a predatory smile, her fingers tracing along my jawline with deliberate slowness. "I'm not sure that's necessary," she purrs. "I want you plenty already."

My breath hitches as her touch trails down my neck. "But wouldn't it be more fun?" I counter, leaning closer until our lips nearly touch. "To feel that desperate need, like we'll die if we don't have each other right now?"

Something dangerous flashes in her eyes. She grabs me by the front of my suit, pulling me against her with that effortless strength…

A thunderous crash interrupts whatever was about to happen. We both whip around toward the sound echoing from the street below.

"What the hell?" I mutter, peering over the edge of the rooftop.

The scene below is pure chaos. A massive golden wheel, easily fifteen feet tall, is plowing through the entrance of First National Bank. Glass and concrete explode outward as the bizarre vehicle smashes through the building's facade. Inside this golden monstrosity sits a woman in a gaudy red and yellow costume, her maniacal laughter carrying up to our perch.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD, THAT'S BIG WHEEL!" I scream, my voice reaching a pitch I didn't even know was possible. My hands flail wildly in excitement as I point at the massive golden wheel demolishing the bank entrance. "ELLIE! ELLIE! DO YOU SEE THAT?!"

Ellie stares at me like I've completely lost my mind. The symbiote shifts across her shoulders in what looks like confusion.

"Ellie," I gasp, grabbing her arm, practically vibrating with fanboy energy, "did you bring your phone?"

"Yeah?" she replies, eyebrow raised in bewilderment.

"Quick, quick!" I tug her toward the edge of the roof. "Get a picture of me with it in the background!"

She looks from me to the chaos below, then back to me. "Shouldn't we go down there and deal with that?" Her expression is priceless, a mixture of confusion and concern. "Isn't that your whole thing? Being a hero?"

"ELLIE," I grab her shoulders, my eyes wide with excitement behind my mask. "THAT'S FUCKING BIG WHEEL DOWN THERE. THAT'S LIKE MY FAVORITE D-LIST VILLAIN EVER. PLEASE."

Her face scrunches into the most adorably confused expression I've ever seen. "I've never heard of them," she says slowly, like she's talking to someone who might be experiencing a psychotic break.

"They're not a big deal at all," I assure her, already posing at the edge of the roof, giving a thumbs-up with the destruction visible below me. "That's why it's so cool!"

She sighs deeply but pulls out her phone and snaps a few pictures.

"ALRIGHT!" I pull my gold mask back over my face, adrenaline surging through my veins. "LET'S GO SAVE THE DAY!"

With another heavy sigh, Ellie lets the symbiote flow over her face, transforming back into the terrifying visage of Venom. Those massive jaws snap into place as she extends her hand toward me.

I eagerly reach for Venom's outstretched hand, but she suddenly pulls back, those massive jaws twisting into what I think is a frown.

"Wait," she growls, the symbiote shifting across her shoulders like dark water. "Let me check it out first."

"What? Why?" I protest, already inching toward the edge of the roof. "We're supposed to be a team!"

Venom's massive clawed hand presses against my chest, holding me in place with gentle but immovable force. "Just give me a couple minutes to make sure it's safe enough for you down there, alright?"

I sigh dramatically, throwing my hands up in surrender. "Fine."

She looms closer, those white eyes narrowing as they study my masked face. "You're still not ready for this level of threat."

Before I can argue, she launches herself off the building in one powerful leap, her massive form graceful despite its bulk. The symbiote stretches out to form a web line midair, and she swings toward the chaos below with terrifying speed.

I rush to the edge of the roof, watching as my girlfriend plummets toward Big Wheel. The golden monstrosity is still halfway embedded in the bank's entrance, its massive wheels spinning uselessly against broken concrete and twisted metal.

My jaw drops as Venom crashes into the villain like a wrecking ball of teeth and muscle. Big Wheel's ridiculous vehicle rocks backward from the impact, nearly toppling over. The costumed woman inside it shrieks in surprise, frantically pulling levers to stabilize her contraption.

"Holy shit," I whisper, watching in awe as Venom tears into the golden wheel with savage efficiency. Her claws rend metal like tissue paper, those massive jaws snapping at hydraulic lines that spray fluid into the night air. It's beautiful and terrifying all at once.

I'm so transfixed by the violent spectacle below that I don't notice the presence behind me until it's too late.

An arm snakes around my throat, yanking me backward with professional precision. The pressure against my windpipe is calculated, enough to restrict my breathing without crushing my trachea. My hands instinctively fly up, trying to pry away the forearm locked around my neck.

"Let's see," a voice purrs into my ear, sending ice down my spine. "Can you teleport from this?"

I can just barely make her out from behind me as she tilts me. Taskmistress. The skull-masked mercenary who nearly killed me during the Hammer Head incident.

I try to teleport, focusing on a spot ten feet away, but the energy won't build. My power requires concentration and bodily freedom, both of which are currently compromised by Taskmistress's chokehold. Panic floods my system as I claw at her arm, my legs kicking uselessly against air.

"I fucking knew it," she hisses triumphantly into my ear, her skull mask cold against my skin. "You can't do shit when I hold you like this, can you?"

I thrash harder, desperately trying to break her grip, but her arm is like steel around my throat. Each movement only tightens her hold, making black spots dance at the edges of my vision. I try to call out to Venom, but all that escapes is a pathetic wheeze.

"Your friend is busy," Taskmistress says, her voice almost sympathetic. "And you're coming with me."

She drags me backward, away from the roof's edge, my heels scraping against concrete as I struggle for breath.

 

 

 

Chapter 32: Chapter 32: Back Against the Wall

My back slams against brick with enough force to rattle my teeth, the impact sending pain radiating through my shoulder blades. Taskmistress's forearm presses against my throat, just enough pressure to remind me she could crush my windpipe if the mood strikes her. The skull-faced mercenary looms over me in the narrow Manhattan alley, her white hood catching the faint moonlight filtering between buildings.

"So what's your deal, golden boy?" she demands, her voice muffled slightly behind that expressionless mask. "Tell me how your powers work."

My heart hammers against my ribs like it's trying to escape. I'm acutely aware of how vulnerable I am right now, Ellie's still battling Big Wheel six blocks away, completely unaware that I've been snatched.

"Are you going to kill me?" I manage to choke out, my voice embarrassingly thin beneath the pressure on my throat.

She sighs, the sound unexpectedly human coming from behind that skull face. "No," she says, easing the pressure slightly. "I'm just here to bring you to Fisk."

My brain stutters to a halt. "Fisk? The Kingpin?"

Taskmistress scoffs, her head tilting slightly. "The Queenpin," she corrects me. "And yes."

My mind reels, trying to process this information. The most powerful crime lord in New York wants to meet me? This can't be good.

"Why?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fear crawling up my spine.

Taskmistress loosens her grip slightly, allowing me to breathe more easily. "Her daughter wants to meet you," she says matter-of-factly.

I blink in confusion, memories of that chaotic night flooding back. The young woman I pulled away from Taskmistress's gun.

"I didn't hurt her, though," I say, bewilderment evident in my voice.

"Exactly." There's something like amusement in Taskmistress's tone. "She wants to meet the man who saved her from me. Apparently, you made quite an impression."

"Oh." It's all I can manage as I try to wrap my head around this bizarre turn of events.

Taskmistress leans in closer, her skull mask inches from my face. "So tell me," she says, voice dropping lower, "how do your powers work?"

"I teleport," I reply automatically, gesturing vaguely with my hands.

She makes an exasperated sound. "No shit, idiot. I mean the other thing." Her voice hardens. "The thing that made me almost rape you in that alley."

My face heats up beneath my mask as I remember how she reacted to my powers, how quickly our confrontation had shifted from combat to something else entirely.

"When I teleport," I explain reluctantly, "my body releases pheromones. It's a side effect."

"Oh, that's all it is?" She sounds almost disappointed. "Just pheromones?"

"Yeah, but it gets bad if I teleport a lot." I swallow hard, uncomfortable discussing this with someone who'd tried to kidnap me just minutes ago. "It builds up in my system."

She nods slowly, seeming to process this information. For a moment, neither of us speaks, the distant sounds of the city filling the silence between us.

"Well," she finally says, "since you're going to meet Fisk, I might as well see your face." Her hand moves toward my mask. "We should present you to fisk properly."

I jerk back instinctively, my head hitting the brick wall behind me. "Wait, I don't…"

Her hand moves faster than I can react. In one fluid motion, she rips the gold mask from my face, cool air hitting my exposed skin. I flinch, bracing for whatever comes next.

But nothing does.

Taskmistress freezes completely, her body going rigid. Through the eyeholes of her skull mask, I can see her eyes widen in shock. She quickly shoves my mask back onto my face, adjusting it with surprisingly gentle fingers.

"You know what…," she says, her voice suddenly different, almost casual, "I forgot to mention something before." She glances around the alley nervously, checking our surroundings. "While I was hired by Fisk, I was also hired by someone else... to protect you."

"What?" I stare at her, completely blindsided.

"We're going to keep your mask on, alright?" She steps back slightly, giving me space to breathe. "And I'll be by your side when we're up there. No one's going to hurt you."

"Huh?" I'm struggling to keep up with this sudden change. "I don't understand."

She sighs, shoulders dropping slightly. "Look, I'm actually on your side, alright?.”

"You're a villain for hire," I counter, skepticism dripping from every word. "You had a gun to that woman's head."

"I sure am," she agrees with a casual shrug. "And someone definitely hired me to protect you. So I'm on your side, whether you like it or not."

My mind races, trying to make sense of this revelation. "Who hired you?”

Taskmistress shakes her head. "Can't tell you that. Client confidentiality and all that jazz."

I stand there, my mind reeling as I try to process everything she's just told me.

Before I can formulate another question, Taskmistress's gloved hand clamps around my upper arm with surprising gentleness. Her grip is firm but not painful as she starts guiding me toward the end of the alley.

"Come on, golden boy," she says, her voice softening slightly. "Time to meet one of the most dangerous woman in New York."

 

Chapter 33: Chapter 33: Liquid Swords

The ceiling of Fisk Tower's executive office is a masterpiece of architectural intimidation, vaulted glass panels that let in just enough natural light to make you feel exposed while keeping the room's occupants in dramatic shadow. I've been staring at it for the past fifteen minutes, trying to focus on anything besides the vise-like grip Taskmistress has maintained on my shoulder since we arrived. Her fingers dig into muscle with precise pressure, not enough to bruise, just enough to remind me that teleporting isn't an option.

"Stop fidgeting," she mutters, her skull mask tilting toward me. "You're making us both look unprofessional."

"Sorry if I'm not thrilled about meeting the most powerful crime lord in New York," I whisper back, shifting in the absurdly comfortable leather chair that probably costs more than my entire college tuition.

Taskmistress's fingers flex against my shoulder. "Heads up," she says quietly. "She's coming."

A hidden door slides open in the far wall, and my breath catches in my throat. Willow Fisk emerges like a battleship entering harbor, massive, imposing, and utterly commanding of respect. Her bald head gleams under the recessed lighting, reflecting the power she exudes with every movement. She wears a pristine white suit that somehow makes her hulking frame look even more intimidating, the fabric stretched taut across shoulders that could probably support a small car.

"Holy shit," I breathe, immediately regretting the words as they leave my mouth.

Fisk's eyes find mine instantly, cold and calculating. Despite her size, she moves with surprising grace, crossing the expanse of her office in smooth, measured steps. Up close, what might be mistaken for fat by an ignorant observer is clearly dense, powerful muscle, the physique of someone who could snap me in half without breaking a sweat.

She settles into the chair across from me, the expensive furniture creaking slightly under her impressive frame. Her eyes never leave mine as she folds her massive hands on the desk between us.

"Gold Mask," she says, her voice surprisingly melodic for someone so imposing, "thank you for accepting my invitation."

I remain silent, my tongue suddenly glued to the roof of my mouth. Every witty response I'd rehearsed on the way here evaporates like morning dew. Better to say nothing than to blurt out something that might get me killed.

Fisk's gaze shifts to Taskmistress, one eyebrow arching elegantly. "Why is my guest still wearing his mask? This isn't a costume party."

Taskmistress's grip on my shoulder tightens imperceptibly. "Well, you know how heroes can be," she replies with practiced casualness. "Very protective of their identities. This one was particularly adamant."

Before I can process what's happening, Taskmistress leans toward me. "By the way," she says, her voice carrying an unmistakable note of warning, "what is your name? Your hero name?"

"Skip Step," I answer automatically, grateful for the prompt.

Fisk studies me, her expression unreadable except for the slightest twitch at the corner of her mouth. "Skip Step," she repeats, testing the syllables. "I suppose there are worse names one could choose."

I clear my throat, determined to take control of the conversation before it spirals into territory I can't navigate. "Mrs. Fisk, I'm... thankful you wanted to reach out to me, but I saved your daughter purely because it was the right thing to do. No other reason. There's really no need for us to…"

Fisk cuts me off with a wave of her massive hand. "Mr. Step, your modesty is unnecessary." Her gaze shifts to Taskmistress, lips curving into something resembling a smile. "Task, would you kindly remove our guest's mask? I prefer to conduct business face to face."

My stomach drops. I glance at Taskmistress, whose grip has tightened on my shoulder to the point of pain.

"Look," I blurt out, "I don't mean to overstep here, but nobody's asking her to take off her mask." I gesture toward Taskmistress, whose skull face remains impassive despite the tension radiating from her body. "Seems like a double standard."

Taskmistress clears her throat. "Fisk, I'm not sure it's exactly appropriate to…"

"ENOUGH!" Fisk slams her palm against the desk with such force that the solid mahogany actually cracks. The sound echoes through the office like a gunshot. "I did not invite either of you here to be lectured on fairness."

She rises from her chair in one fluid motion, towering over us both. The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees as she leans forward, massive hands splayed across the desk.

"You misunderstand the nature of our relationship," she continues, her voice dangerously soft. "This is not a negotiation between equals. This is a courtesy extended to someone who helped my daughter. A courtesy that can be withdrawn at any moment."

I hold up my hands in a placating gesture, desperate to defuse the situation before it gets worse. "Look, Mrs. Fisk, I…"

The side of the building explodes inward with a deafening roar, sending glass and concrete flying across the office. I dive to the floor, covering my head as debris rains down around me. When I look up, my heart nearly stops.

Venom stands in the gaping hole where the wall used to be, her massive form silhouetted against the Manhattan skyline. I've never seen her this angry before, the symbiote ripples across her body in violent waves, tendrils lashing out like living whips. Her jaws stretch impossibly wide as she lets out a roar that physically hurts my ears, the sound vibrating through my chest like a bass drum.

"YOU TOOK WHAT'S OURS!" she bellows, her voice a nightmarish chorus that echoes through the destroyed office.

Taskmistress reacts instantly, yanking me out of my chair pulling me behind her. Her body becomes a shield between me and Venom as she draws a weapon from her hip in one fluid motion.

"I never did ask you what your relationship with Venom is, did I?" she says, her voice unnervingly calm despite the chaos erupting around us. Her grip on my arm is firm but not painful as she holds me steady.

"We work together," I manage to say, my eyes locked on Ellie's massive form as she advances into the room. The symbiote swirls across her body in violent patterns, those white eyes fixed on Taskmistress with murderous intent.

"Is she going to hurt you?" Taskmistress asks, her head tilting slightly toward me while keeping her weapon trained on Venom.

"No," I answer without hesitation, my voice steadier than I feel.

To my surprise, Taskmistress immediately releases her grip on me, stepping aside with a casual shrug.

"Well then, I'll leave protecting you to her for today," she says, holstering her weapon with practiced ease. "Seems like she's got it covered."

Taskmistress bolts for the exit with impressive speed, her white cloak fluttering behind her like a ghost. Almost simultaneously, a squad of armed guards floods through the doorway, their weapons trained on Venom. The synchronized precision of their movement suggests they've drilled for this exact scenario.

I don't hesitate. I teleport directly to Ellie's side. The world bends around me for a split second before I materialize next to her massive form. Immediately, she moves to shield me, her enormous body curling protectively around mine like living armor.

"Stand down! STAND DOWN!" Fisk's voice booms across the destroyed office with enough authority to momentarily freeze everyone in place. Despite the chaos, she remains completely composed, her massive frame unmoved from behind her desk.

Her cold eyes assess Venom with clinical detachment. "Venom, I presume?"

Ellie's massive jaws part, revealing rows of nightmarish teeth as she lets out a screech that makes my bones vibrate. "YOU TRIED TO TAKE SOMETHING OF MINE!" The symbiote flows across her skin in violent patterns, tendrils whipping through the air like living weapons.

Fisk raises one massive hand, and remarkably, her guards lower their weapons slightly. "I believe there's been a misunderstanding," she says, her voice surprisingly calm for someone facing a creature that could tear her limb from limb.

"Ellie," I whisper, placing my hand on her arm. The symbiote feels hot beneath my palm, pulsing with rage. "It's okay. I'm okay."

Ellie's massive head swivels toward the armed guards, then back to me, those white eyes narrowing as she evaluates the threat.

"We're not going to hurt you," Fisk announces, her voice carrying that unmistakable tone of someone used to being obeyed. "I simply wanted to meet the man who saved my daughter."

A sound erupts from Ellie's monstrous jaws, a laugh that's part snarl, part derision, sending chills down my spine despite my trust in her.

"You think those pathetic weapons could even scratch me?" she growls, tendrils flaring outward like a cobra's hood. "I could tear through your entire security team before they empty their first clip."

Fisk's expression shifts, a flash of surprise crossing her features before settling into something like respectful caution. "I had no idea Skip Step had such... impressive protection." She raises her hands in a placating gesture, eyes fixed on Venom's huge form. "I apologize sincerely. I had no intention of…"

Before Fisk can finish her sentence, Ellie lunges forward with terrifying speed. The symbiote flows across her form like liquid darkness as she moves, her massive claws extended. My heart nearly stops as she tears through the guards with brutal efficiency.

It happens so fast I can barely process it. One moment the guards are standing with weapons raised, the next they're collapsing to the floor, crimson spraying across the pristine white walls of Fisk's office. Ellie's claws slice through flesh and bone with horrifying ease, leaving gaping wounds in their wake.

I stand frozen, unable to look away as the last guard drops to the floor. The metallic smell of blood fills the air, making my stomach churn.

Fisk sighs deeply, touching the bridge of her nose between two massive fingers. Her expression isn't one of fear or even anger, just mild annoyance, like someone just spilled coffee on her paperwork.

"Those people had families, Venom," she says, her voice eerily calm despite the carnage surrounding her. Blood pools around her expensive shoes, but she doesn't step back.

Ellie moves to stand protectively in front of me, her massive form blocking me from Fisk's view. "He's off limits," she growls, those terrible jaws snapping with each syllable. "No one touches what's ours."

Fisk's eyes meet mine over Ellie's shoulder, calculating and cold. After a moment, she gives a single, deliberate nod.

"Yes, yes. Understood," she says, straightening her immaculate white suit jacket.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry as sandpaper.

"We're leaving," Ellie announces, reaching behind her to grab my arm without taking her eyes off Fisk. The symbiote's touch is hot against my skin, pulsing with agitation.

Suddenly, the symbiote wraps around my waist in a vice-like grip. I barely have time to gasp before Ellie yanks me against her massive form, my back colliding with her chest. The world tilts violently as she launches us backward through the gaping hole in the wall.

"WAIT…" I start to protest, but my words transform into a terrified scream as we plummet into open air.

Manhattan spreads beneath us like a glittering mosaic, buildings and streets rushing up at sickening speed. The wind tears at my face, nearly ripping my gold mask away. My stomach lurches into my throat as we free-fall twenty, thirty, forty stories.

At the last possible second, Ellie's arm whips out, the symbiote extending into a thick black tendril that latches onto a nearby building. The sudden change in direction nearly dislocates my shoulder as we swing in a wide arc between skyscrapers.

Only when we're at least twenty blocks away does she finally slow our pace, landing with surprising gentleness on a water tower atop some nondescript building.

"What the hell was that?" I demand, my voice shaking as I struggle to catch my breath. "You just slaughtered those people!"

The symbiote recedes from her face like a curtain being drawn back, revealing Ellie's furious expression beneath. Her blue eyes burn with intensity that makes my heart ache.

"They tried to take you from us," she growls, her voice still carrying that inhuman echo despite her human face.

Chapter 34: Chapter 34: 34 Chambers

Ellie's eyes gleam like two blue twin supernovas as she rides me, her body a perfect fusion of woman and alien. Black tendrils pulse across her skin, flowing like midnight tide while her face remains hauntingly human, beautiful and feral all at once. The contrast between her monstrous form and those piercing blue eyes makes my heart stutter beneath her weight.

"We could have lost you today," she growls, her hips grinding against mine with punishing force. The symbiote extends from her shoulders, wrapping around my wrists and pinning them above my head. "We could have lost what's ours."

I gasp as she slams down, taking me impossibly deep. Her apartment smells of sex and adrenaline, the aftermath of our escape from Fisk Tower still hanging between us like smoke. Hours later, and we're still working through the terror and rage of that moment.

"I was fine," I manage between ragged breaths, my body arching beneath her. "Taskmistress wasn't going to hurt me."

Ellie's face contorts with fury, the symbiote flowing across her shoulders in agitated patterns. "We don't believe that," she snarls, leaning forward until her face hovers inches from mine. "We saw her hand on you. We smelled her scent all over your skin."

Her possessiveness should frighten me, but instead, it sends heat surging through my veins. The symbiote tightens around my wrists, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me that I'm completely at her mercy. She's been like this since we got back to her apartment, desperate and demanding, as if she needs to physically confirm that I'm still here, still hers.

"When we couldn't find you," she continues, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "we thought we'd lost you forever."

The raw vulnerability in her tone catches me off guard. Beneath the possessiveness, beneath the fury, there's genuine fear.

"I'm right here," I whisper, straining against the symbiote's hold, wanting to touch her face, to reassure her. "I'm not going anywhere."

Her eyes flash with something beyond possessiveness, a decision forming behind those intense blue orbs. The black tendrils around my wrists tighten as she stares down at me, her hips momentarily stilling.

"We don't want you to be a hero anymore," she states, her voice flat and final.

I blink up at her, momentarily forgetting the pleasure coursing through my body. "What? We can talk about this later, Ellie."

"No." She rocks her hips with deliberate slowness, making me gasp. "We're talking about it now."

The pressure around me intensifies as her body constricts, squeezing me with impossible tightness. The sensation pulls a pathetic whimper from my throat, pleasure and pain blurring into something that makes coherent thought nearly impossible.

"I'm not…" I struggle to form words as she moves against me. "I'm not quitting being a hero."

Her face hardens, the dark substance around her shoulders surging with her emotion. "It's not up to you," she declares, her voice cold and final.

Something in me rebels against her tone. Despite being pinned beneath her, despite the overwhelming pleasure still coursing through my veins, I feel a surge of defiance. I strain against the tendrils binding my wrists, not to break free, but to test their give.

"Ellie," I say softly, "let me touch you."

For a moment, I think she'll refuse, but then the black bonds around my wrists loosen just enough. I immediately reach up to cup her face between my palms, feeling the warmth of her skin and the subtle pulse of the symbiote beneath my fingertips.

"Ellie," I whisper, holding her gaze. "I understand you're scared. I get it. But this is who I want to be."

Her eyes flash with something dangerous, her muscles tensing beneath my touch. The substance covering her shifts in agitated patterns across her shoulders. For a heartbeat, I think she might pull away completely.

"We love you," she says instead, her voice breaking on the words.

I freeze, staring up at her as the confession hits me like a physical blow. The world seems to stop spinning, everything narrowing to just her face above mine, those piercing blue eyes filled with raw vulnerability I've never seen before. Something overwhelms me, a tidal wave of emotion that makes my chest ache and my eyes burn.

I pull her down to me, crushing my lips against hers in a desperate kiss that's more confession than passion. Her mouth opens against mine, hungry and demanding. The symbiote surges between us, creating electric points of contact where our skin meets.

"I love you too," I gasp against her lips when we finally break apart. "God, Ellie, I love you so much."

Ellie's eyes darken, and I see the symbiote flicker across her irises for just a moment before she crashes her mouth against mine again. This time, something warm and impossibly long slips past my lips, her tongue, enhanced by the symbiote, pushing deeper than any human tongue could reach. It fills my mouth completely, tasting of something alien yet strangely sweet, exploring every corner with possessive thoroughness.

I moan against her, unable to form words with her tongue claiming me so completely. My hands slide into her hair, fingers tangling in the short blonde strands as she continues to ride me, her hips never ceasing their relentless rhythm.

The pleasure builds at the base of my spine, a molten heat that surges through every nerve ending. Her tongue withdraws from my mouth as she throws her head back, her hips grinding down with renewed urgency. The sensation becomes overwhelming, unbearable in its intensity.

"Ellie…" I gasp, my fingers digging into her hips as the pressure inside me reaches its breaking point.

Her eyes lock with mine, those blue depths burning with possession and love. "Together," she commands, her voice a primal growl that vibrates through my bones.

My vision blurs as ecstasy explodes through me, my release pulsing into her welcoming heat in hot, desperate waves. She cries out, her body convulsing around me, muscles clenching and releasing in perfect rhythm with my own. The symbiote flows across her skin in excited patterns, responding to our shared climax, connecting us in ways that transcend the physical.

"Fuck," she whispers, collapsing against my chest, her breath hot against my neck. "We feel you everywhere."

I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as we both tremble with aftershocks. The symbiote continues to move between us, creating gentle waves of sensation that make me shiver. It's like we're still connected, sharing one body, one mind, one heart.

My fingers trace lazy patterns along her spine, feeling the subtle shift between smooth skin and alien substance.

"I really do love you, Ellie," I whisper into her hair, the words feeling both monumental and somehow inadequate to describe the hurricane of emotion swirling in my chest.

She lifts her head, those piercing blue eyes meeting mine with an intensity that steals my breath. The symbiote pulses across her shoulders, echoing her emotions as her lips curve into a smile so genuine it makes my heart ache.

"We love you too, Shane," she murmurs, her voice a soft rumble against my chest. "With every fiber of our being."

Her arms tighten around me possessively.

My mind drifts back to Fisk Tower, the spray of blood, the bodies dropping to the floor. My stomach twists with the memory.

"Killing those guards today was bad, Ellie," I say quietly, not wanting to break this moment but unable to keep the words inside.

She laughs, the sound vibrating through her chest against mine. There's no malice in it, just genuine amusement at my concern.

"I'm not going to apologize for killing people who had guns pointed in your direction," she says matter-of-factly, trailing her fingers along my jaw. "Anyone who threatens you dies. That's non-negotiable."

I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment. "Let's just try not to be so quick to kill, okay?" I open my eyes to find her watching me with that predatory tilt of her head, the one that reminds me she's not entirely human anymore. "There are other ways to neutralize threats."

She considers this, her expression thoughtful as the symbiote dances across her skin in contemplative patterns. "I'll try my best, I guess," she finally concedes, though her tone suggests she's only agreeing to humor me.

"Thank you," I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Chapter 35: Chapter 35: Rent Free

The frost bites into my lungs with each labored breath, turning the air into crystalline daggers that stab my chest from the inside. Six miles down, and the November chill has transformed Empire State's campus into a nighttime wasteland of bare trees and empty walkways.

I'm faster now. Stronger. Each night I push a little further, my body adapting to demands much faster than it probably would have before Lileth's "gift."

My breath forms ghost-like clouds in the lamplight as I round the corner past the science building. The campus at night is beautiful in its emptiness, all harsh angles softened by darkness and distance. My thoughts drift to Ellie as they often do these days. She's in Chinatown tonight, chasing some lead about illegal sweatshops. The kind of story that makes her eyes light up with righteous fury.

The familiar sound of webbing cuts through the night before I see her. My feet slow automatically as a lithe figure flips gracefully from the building above, landing in a perfect crouch directly in my path.

Spider-Woman straightens, her masked face revealing nothing of the woman beneath. The white eyes of her mask catch the lamplight as she tilts her head, studying me with unreadable intensity.

"Hey," she says, her voice carrying that forced casualness that screams awkward history.

"Hey, Spider-Woman," I reply, matching her tone while my heart rate refuses to slow. I’ve only seen her once since that night on the rooftop.

She shifts her weight, fingers fidgeting at her sides, a nervous gesture that somehow makes her seem more human despite the costume. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah," I say, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

Spider-Woman crosses her arms, her posture stiffening. "I heard you've been working with Venom."

"Yeah," I confirm, trying to sound casual despite the tension crackling between us like static electricity.

"And you're dating Ellie Brock." It's not a question. Her voice is carefully neutral, but I can hear the undercurrent of something darker beneath it.

"Yeah..." I drag out the word, unsure where she's going with this.

She takes a step closer, the white eyes of her mask narrowing slightly. "You told me once you were madly in love with Venom."

I don't say anything, my silence hanging heavy in the cold night air.

"Ellie is Venom, isn't she?" Spider-Woman's voice drops to barely above a whisper.

I remain silent, my breath forming clouds that dissipate in the space between us. My mind races, calculating the consequences of confirmation, denial, or continued silence.

"Shane," she says, and there's genuine concern in her voice now, "she isn't good for you. Ellie is an angry woman. My friend Piper used to work with her at the Bugle. And if she has the symbiote, it's going to make her a lot worse."

A knot forms in my stomach. A part of me panics. I don't think she'd expose Ellie's identity to anyone else, but the fact that she knows changes everything. Since she's shown her hand, I decide to play mine.

"I know you're Piper Parker," I say quietly, watching her body language for reaction.

Spider-Woman goes completely rigid, her whole body tensing like she's been electrocuted. Even through the mask, I can tell I've shocked her to her core.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly, holding up my hands. "I swear I don't mean that as a threat. I've known since I first met you. It wasn't my place to say anything, and I would never tell anyone else. You're my hero, Spidey."

She just stares at me, the white eyes of her mask unblinking and unreadable. The silence between us stretches out, broken only by the soft whisper of wind through bare branches and my nervous breathing. I wonder if I've completely shattered whatever fragile connection remained between us.

Finally, she sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Your girlfriend is a murderer, Shane."

The words hit me like a physical blow, even though I know they're true. I've been trying not to think about everyone she’s killed either before we met or now after.

"She's... complicated," I manage, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears.

"Complicated?" Piper's voice rises in disbelief. "She ripped Hammer Head in half, Shane! That's not even a metaphor, she literally tore the woman in half!"

"I'm working on her," I say defensively, crossing my arms over my chest. "She's getting better."

Piper steps forward and grabs my shoulders, her gloved fingers digging in with surprising strength. Through her mask, I can feel the intensity of her gaze boring into me.

"You don't get it, Shane," she says, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "That symbiote, it does things to your head. It changes you. It made me cruel when I had it. Vicious."

I swallow hard, remembering how the symbiote flows across Ellie's skin when she's angry, how it pulses and writhes with her emotions. How beautiful it is. Like a living piece of art.

"I know what I'm getting involved with," I insist, even as doubt creeps into the edges of my mind. "Ellie's different. She can control it."

Piper's hands fall away from my shoulders, and she takes a step back. Even with her face hidden behind that mask, I can sense her frustration, her concern.

"Couldn't you be happier with someone... kinder?" she asks softly, her voice tinged with something that might be hope. "We had fun on the rooftop, didn't we?"

I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. "Spidey, you're great, and I honestly mean that but…"

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that night, Shane," she cuts me off, her voice suddenly softer, more vulnerable. "I know I could make you happy, just give me the…"

This time I'm the one interrupting. "I'm in love with Ellie. I'm not leaving her. I told you it was my powers that made us both that horny that night. I'm sorry if I led you on. That wasn't my intention."

She just stares at me, her shoulders rising and falling with a heavy sigh. The white eyes of her mask seem to dim somehow, like the emotion behind them has deflated. We stand in awkward silence until a sharp beeping sound cuts through the tension.

"Dang..." she mutters, glancing at something on her wrist.

"More hero business?" I ask, grateful for the interruption.

"Yeah." She nods, already turning away. "Robbery in progress downtown."

"Well... be safe out there," I offer lamely, not knowing what else to say.

"Always am," she replies, her voice regaining some of its usual confidence. She raises her arm, firing a web at the nearest building. "See you around, Shane."

Before I can respond, she's gone, launching herself into the night with that incredible grace that still leaves me a little awestruck. I watch until her red and blue form disappears between buildings, swallowed by the darkness.

 

Chapter 36: Chapter 36: Wig Twisting Season

The midnight silence of my dorm room wraps around me like a familiar blanket as I flip through another page of my science textbook. The words blur together, my mind too preoccupied with replaying my earlier conversation with Spider-Woman to focus on god only knows. I check my phone again, 12:28 AM, and wonder when Ellie will return from her investigation in Chinatown.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the lock clicks and the door swings open. Ellie steps inside, bringing with her the faint scent of night air and city streets. She looks beautiful even in her rumpled clothes, blonde hair slightly windswept, those blue eyes immediately finding mine across the room.

"Hey," I say, closing my textbook and tossing it aside.

"Hey," she replies, a warm smile spreading across her face as she shrugs off her leather jacket.

"How did it go?" I ask as she crosses the room toward me.

She sighs, running a hand through her short blonde hair. "Good, I guess, but I'm not sure there are actually any sweatshops there or if it's just a load of shit.”

I nod, watching as she kicks off her boots and sits down on the edge of my bed. The mattress dips beneath her weight, and she reaches out to touch my face, her fingers gentle against my cheek.

"What's the matter?" she asks, her brow furrowing slightly. "You look upset."

I hesitate, knowing what I'm about to say will change the mood instantly. The symbiote already seems to sense my tension, dark tendrils shifting more rapidly beneath Ellie's skin.

"I talked to Spider-Woman tonight," I finally admit, meeting her gaze directly. "She figured out you're Venom."

Ellie's entire body tenses, her eyes instantly hardening, blue irises flashing with that dangerous anger I've come to recognize. The symbiote responds immediately, black patterns surging across her forearms like agitated waves.

"Oh?" The single syllable carries more threat than most people could pack into an entire monologue.

"Relax," I say quickly, reaching for her hand. "I told her we know she's Parker."

The symbiote calms slightly under my touch, though Ellie's jaw remains clenched tight enough that I can see a muscle jumping in her cheek.

"And how did the little spider take that news?" she asks, her voice deceptively casual despite the storm I can see brewing behind her eyes.

"She didn't really react," I say, trying to keep my voice casual despite the tension crackling between us. "I think she was too shocked to process it fully."

Ellie's eyes narrow dangerously, the symbiote rippling across her skin in agitated waves. "What else did that little bitch say to you?"

I swallow hard, choosing my words carefully. "Not much. She's nervous you'll hurt me, but she didn't push me to leave you or anything."

The truth burns in my throat like acid, how Piper had practically asked me out, how she'd suggested she could make me happier. But I can't tell Ellie that. Despite loving her with every fiber of my being, I know exactly what would happen if I revealed Spider-Woman's true intentions. It’s not right, I know, but I cannot let Venom kill her.

Ellie scoffs, the sound sharp and dismissive. "And do you believe her?" she asks, leaning closer, her blue eyes searching mine. "Do you think I'll hurt you?"

"No," I answer immediately, holding her gaze. Then a wicked smile spreads across my face as I reach for her, pulling her closer. "But I would love it if you did."

The dangerous glint in her eyes shifts to something hungrier, more primal. The symbiote responds instantly, tendrils snaking across her skin in excited patterns as she pushes me back against the mattress.

Her weight settles on top of me, a delicious pressure that pins me to the bed. The symbiote flows from her skin like liquid darkness, tendrils extending toward me with purposeful intent. I feel the first cool touch against my neck, alien yet familiar, as the tendril wraps around my throat. It tightens gradually, constricting until my breath comes in shallow gasps.

My pulse quickens, a mix of excitement and adrenaline flooding my system as the pressure increases. The sensation walks that perfect line between pleasure and danger that makes my head swim. I reach up and pull Ellie closer.

The tendril squeezes tighter, making spots dance at the edges of my vision. Just when it borders on too much, Ellie's lips brush against my ear.

"I really wouldn't ever hurt you though, Shane," she whispers, her breath hot against my skin. "You know that, right?"

I reach up to cup her face between my palms, feeling the warmth of her cheeks beneath my fingertips. Her blue eyes search mine, vulnerability hiding behind fierce possession.

"Of course I know that," I say, my voice rough from the pressure on my throat.

Her expression turns serious, the playfulness from moments ago replaced by something deeper, more urgent. "No, seriously," she insists, her hand coming up to stroke my cheek. "The symbiote loves you just as much as I do."

A smile spreads across my face as I reach up to touch the tendril still wrapped around my neck. It pulses against my fingers, warm and alive, responding to my touch like an affectionate pet.

"I only said I love Ellie, didn't I?" I murmur, meeting her gaze steadily. "I'm sorry if there was any confusion, but I love you as you two are whole. I love Ellie. I love the symbiote. I love Venom."

Ellie's eyes widen slightly, something like wonder crossing her features before she leans down to capture my lips in a kiss that steals what little breath I have left. The tendril around my throat loosens, allowing me to deepen the kiss as I pull her closer.

When she pulls back, there's a softness to her expression, a vulnerability that makes my chest ache with tenderness.

"We love you, Shane," she whispers against my lips. "So much. We don't want you to be afraid of us."

I reach up to trace the line of her jaw, marveling at how someone so dangerous can also be so precious to me. "I could never be," I promise, and I mean it with every fiber of my being.

She gazes at me with those fierce blue eyes that now hold something so tender it makes my heart ache. The usual storm in them has calmed into something like worship, as if I'm the most valuable thing she's ever seen.

"You really mean that," she whispers, not a question but a realization dawning.

I nod, words suddenly caught in my throat at the intensity of her gaze. The symbiote extends a tendril to brush a strand of hair from my forehead, the gesture impossibly gentle from a creature capable of such destruction.

Ellie leans down slowly, her eyes never leaving mine, like she's memorizing every detail of this moment. When her lips finally meet mine, it's not with the usual hungry desperation but with a reverence that makes time itself seem to pause. The kiss is soft, tender, a promise more binding than any words could ever be.

 

Chapter 37: Chapter 37: Staying On Task

[Brock’s POV]

 

My shoes click against the linoleum floor of Gold's Diner with murderous rhythm. The bell above the door jingles cheerfully, completely at odds with the rage boiling through my veins. I scan the restaurant, nostrils flaring, searching for whoever had the audacity to send that text.

‘We should remain calm,’ my other half whispers through our shared consciousness. ‘Shane would not approve of bloodshed in public.’

"Shut up," I mutter under my breath. "If Parker's here, all bets are off."

The morning had been perfect. Shane's body curled against mine, his scent filling my lungs, my arms protectively wrapped around what's rightfully mine. Then that text message shattered everything.

‘I know you're Venom. Meet me at Gold's Diner, 1 o'clock. This isn't blackmail. I just want to talk.’

The symbiote ripples beneath my skin, eager to tear apart whoever threatens our secret. Only my iron will keeps it contained—that, and the promise I made to Shane about "appropriate public behavior."

A waitress approaches with a plastic smile. "Table for one, ma'am?"

I tower over her, my 6'5" frame casting a shadow across her face. "I'm meeting someone."

"Booth in the back," she says, nervously pointing. "Lady said she's expecting you."

My fists clench so hard my knuckles crack. The symbiote surges through my veins, hungry for violence.

‘We promised Shane,' my other reminds me. 'We promised to be better.’

"Fine," I growl. "But if it's Parker, I can't guarantee anything."

I stalk toward the booth, each step measured and predatory. The cheap fluorescent lights buzz overhead, the smell of grease and coffee filling my nostrils. I spot her.

Professor Masters.

My blood runs cold, then hot, then boiling. She sits there calmly in a pressed blazer, sipping coffee like she's not the woman who's been circling what belongs to me.

I slide into the booth, leather squeaking beneath me as I tower over the table. One deep breath confirms it, that unmistakable scent I caught at Fisk Tower. My other goes absolutely feral.

‘THAT'S HER! THE WOMAN WITH THE SKULL MASK! THE ONE WHO STOLE SHANE FROM US!' it shrieks inside my skull, tendrils writhing beneath my skin. 'KILL HER! KILL HER NOW ELLIE! SHE CANNOT LIVE!'

I nearly snort at the symbiote's complete 180, from cautioning restraint to demanding murder in the span of seconds. Typical.

"I knew I recognized your scent in Fisk's tower," I say, voice dangerously low. "Taskmistress."

Masters sighs, setting down her coffee cup with practiced precision. "I was hoping you wouldn't figure it out quite so quickly."

"So what's stopping me from killing you right now?" I ask, keeping my voice conversational while a tendril forms beneath the table, curling into a lethal spike aimed at her abdomen. One thought from me and it would pierce her heart.

"Well," she says, completely oblivious to the death literally inches away, "that's why I wanted to meet with you."

The tendril pulses, eager. I could end her in a heartbeat.

"Look, you need me," Masters says, leaning forward.

A laugh escapes me, harsh and bitter. "And why's that?"

She doesn't flinch. Those calculating brown eyes stay fixed on mine. "Shane needs to be trained properly. In class, How I’ve been teaching him, it’s not going to work as is. I didn't know he had an ability."

The spike under the table wavers. My other hisses in confusion.

"Shane doesn't have any powers," I snap, the lie sliding easily off my tongue.

Masters raises an eyebrow, her expression unchanged. "Really? So Skip Step isn't your boyfriend?"

My jaw clenches so hard my teeth might crack. The tendril beneath the table shoots forward, aiming straight for her heart, but somehow she's not there anymore. She's shifted to the side with inhuman reflexes, my deadly weapon stabbing only empty air.

"You weren't really hiding your little knife thing well, you know," she says calmly, glancing under the table.

Rage floods my system, the symbiote roaring for blood. My vision blurs with murderous fury, black tendrils rippling visibly across my skin. The other diners haven't noticed yet, but they will soon if I don't get this under control.

"Listen," Masters continues, unperturbed by my obvious transformation, "don't you want him to learn how to defend himself properly?"

I stare at her, breathing hard through my nose. My first instinct is to scream ‘fuck no’ in her face. Shane doesn't need to defend himself. That's what I'm for. That's what we're for. My other and I will tear apart anything that threatens him. He's ours to protect.

But then I remember how annoyingly driven Shane is. How he literally tried to kill himself just to get me to stop fighting with Spider-Woman. My tiny, precious boyfriend wants so badly to be a hero. And I've already failed to protect him once.

"I..." The symbiote hisses in protest as I retract the tendril. "I guess," I finally manage through gritted teeth, each word feeling like swallowing glass.

Masters' lips curl into the slightest of smiles. "Well, I'm the best trainer he'll ever meet."

"Well, you're already giving him lessons," I say, barely keeping the venom from my voice. "What exactly do you want to change?"

Masters takes another sip of her coffee, those calculating eyes never leaving mine. "I want to include his teleporting abilities in our training sessions."

I feel my face contort with rage.

"But," she continues smoothly, "I wasn't going to proceed without checking with his... monster girlfriend first."

"Fuck no," I snap, leaning forward. "Do you even understand how his powers work?”

Masters holds up one perfectly manicured hand. "I didn't finish. I want you in the class with him."

That throws me. "Why?"

"So when he gets too... lustful," she says with clinical precision, "you can take him away. That way you'll know everything I'm doing is above board. No secrets."

I narrow my eyes, studying her face for any sign of deception. My other is equally suspicious, tendrils coiling anxiously beneath my skin.

"Aren't you a gun for hire?" I ask. "Why would you even want to help Shane?"

For the first time, Masters' expression softens slightly. "He gives off big stupid little brother energy."

I can't deny this. It's painfully accurate. It’s how he wore me down so easily.

"Fine," I finally say. "But I'm there for every session. And if you push him too hard…"

"You'll eat my spleen, tear out my spine, drink my blood, et cetera," Masters finishes with a dismissive wave. "I got it."

My other purrs with dark satisfaction. 'She understands the consequences. Good.'

"So we have a deal?" Masters extends her hand across the table.

I stare at her outstretched hand, considering all the ways I could destroy it, snap each finger, crush every bone, tear the flesh from her arm. The symbiote shivers in anticipation, but I force myself to focus. This is about Shane. Everything is about Shane.

"Deal," I say finally, gripping her hand with just enough pressure to make her wince slightly. "But the moment I sense anything off, I'm ending you."

Masters withdraws her hand, flexing her fingers casually as if testing for damage. "Excellent. And one more thing, I want both of you in my class next semester too."

I roll my eyes, already exhausted by this conversation. "Fine. Whatever. I don't care."

My other snarls in disagreement. We very much care.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 38: Chapter 38: Dynamic Duo

The campus hallway stretches before us like a gauntlet I'm not sure I want to run. My palms are sweating as Ellie's massive frame looms beside me, her blue eyes flicking between me and Professor Masters' classroom door with predatory focus. Something's off about this whole "surprise meeting" thing.

"So, um, you're absolutely sure this is necessary?" I ask, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "Because I've been making good progress with the self-defense stuff, and…"

"Shane." Ellie's voice cuts through my rambling. "We talked about this. It's important."

I study her face, trying to decode what's happening. My girlfriend has been weirdly insistent about walking me to class today.

"You're not planning to kill Sensei, are you?" I blurt out as we reach the classroom door.

Ellie sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes. "No, I'm not going to kill your professor." The way she emphasizes "kill" sends a little shiver down my spine. "Get in there." She places her hand between my shoulder blades and playfully shoves me through the doorway, closing it behind us.

I stumble into Professor Masters' classroom, my sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. The room is empty except for Masters herself, who stands by her desk with arms crossed, looking as intimidating as ever in her crisp button-down and slacks. Her military-style haircut and perpetual scowl make me feel like I'm reporting for duty rather than attending office hours.

"Ah, Steele. Brock," she says, her eyes narrowing slightly at Ellie. "Right on time."

"Hi, Sensei," I manage, glancing nervously between the two most terrifying women I've ever met. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. "So, um, what's this about?"

Professor Masters uncrosses her arms and gestures to the chairs in front of her desk. "Have a seat. We need to discuss your... extracurricular activities."

"She knows," Ellie says, placing a possessive hand on my shoulder. "About everything."

"Everything?" I squeak, voice cracking embarrassingly.

I sink into the chair, my legs feeling like jelly. Ellie takes the seat beside me, but Professor Masters remains standing, her posture military-straight as she looms over us.

"I'm aware of more than you think, Steele," Masters says, her voice clipped and precise. "For instance, I know that when you use your teleportation abilities too frequently, you emit a certain... aura of..." She clears her throat awkwardly. "Well, you understand what I mean."

My face burns with embarrassment. I shoot a panicked glance at Ellie, who's sitting there looking way too calm for someone whose boyfriend just got outed as a superpowered sex beacon.

"I'm not going to kill her," Ellie says flatly, correctly interpreting my look of horror.

I turn back to Masters, my brain struggling to process this nightmare scenario. "How do you even know about that?" I demand, my voice higher than usual.

"I have my ways of…" Masters begins, but Ellie cuts her off with a dismissive wave.

"Your precious Sensei is Taskmistress," she says, sounding supremely bored.

My brain short-circuits. The room seems to spin around me as every comic book fantasy I've ever had collides with reality. "NO WAY! YOU'RE…" I practically scream, jumping halfway out of my seat.

Ellie's hand clamps over my mouth with lightning speed. "Why are you so obsessed with villains?" she hisses, looking genuinely annoyed.

"Heroes too," I blurt out as Ellie releases her grip from my mouth. My eyes widen as I stare at Professor Masters, pieces clicking into place like a deranged jigsaw puzzle. I thrust an accusatory finger toward her. "Wait a minute! We literally fought each other the other day! You... you even dragged me to Fisk Tower!"

Professor Masters' expression shifts, her usual stern demeanor softening just slightly around the edges.

"Once I saw your face under that mask, it's not like I was going to let Fisk hurt you," she says simply, as if this explains everything. "Why do you think I suddenly became your personal bodyguard in there?"

I collapse back into my chair, mind reeling. The woman who's been teaching me self-defense for months is the same mercenary who nearly sold me to fisk. The same one who protected me from Fisk. The same one who...

My mind races as I process this revelation.

"So why are we all talking about this?" I ask instead, gesturing between us. "What's the point of this little confession circle?"

Professor Masters leans against her desk, arms crossed. "Because I want you to not die, kid. Simple as that."

"Huh?"

"We're going to start training you while you use your powers," she continues, her voice taking on that no-nonsense tone I've come to recognize from our self-defense classes. "You need to learn how to fight with your powers properly.

My stomach drops as I realize what she's suggesting. "But what about when, I get..." I trail off, face burning as I glance at Ellie.

"I'll be here," Ellie says matter-of-factly. "To help with that part."

"So what if I teleport too much and you and I just...

"Yeah." Ellie shrugs, like we're discussing something as mundane as study schedules rather than me potentially becoming a superpowered sex maniac in front of my college professor.

"Plus," Masters adds, "it'll be helpful for you to learn how to fight while distracted. Your enemies aren't going to politely wait for you to get your hormones under control."

I stare at her, still struggling to reconcile my stern self-defense instructor with the skull-masked mercenary who's apparently now invested in my survival. "You'd be willing to help me like that? I don't have any money to pay you."

Masters waves a dismissive hand. "It's fine. The school pays me poorly anyway."

I glance from Ellie to Masters, suddeI lean toward Masters, my voice low but deliberately loud enough for Ellie to hear.

"Listen, Sensei, if you try anything funny during these training sessions..." I swallow hard, gesturing vaguely toward Ellie. "She'll kill you. And I know you're super strong and fast and can adapt really quickly, but she's much, much stronger than you. She will literally cut your head off and eat you."

To my surprise, both women burst into laughter. Masters' usually stern face cracks into genuine amusement, while Ellie's laugh fills the room with a rich, dangerous sound that makes my stomach flip.

"He's right, though," Ellie says, wiping a tear from her eye. "I really would."

Masters seems completely unbothered by the death threat, shrugging casually. "Nah, it'll be fine," she says, waving a dismissive hand like we're discussing a mild inconvenience rather than potential decapitation and cannibalism.

"Wait, you're not taking this seriously?" I look between them, confused by their casual attitude. "Ellie literally ripped Hammer Head in half. Like, actually in half. With her hands."

"And I've killed more people than you've met in your entire life," Masters counters with disturbing nonchalance. "We understand each other perfectly."

Ellie nods, a predatory smile playing at her lips. "Professional courtesy."

"Exactly," Masters agrees, looking almost approving.

A realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I slump in my chair as it fully registers, everyone I've allied myself with is a villain. Venom, Taskmistress. Even Lileth, who's literally a demon from hell gave me my powers. My superhero journey is looking less heroic by the second.

"You know," I say, fidgeting with the zipper of my jacket, "I actually want to be a superhero. Like, a real one. Not just someone who hangs out with villains."

Masters raises an eyebrow. "Alright?" She says it like a question, clearly not seeing my point.

"I mean, if I'm working with you…" I gesture at sensei, "we might be enemies someday. When you're, you know, doing your villain stuff."

Masters just stares at me for a long moment, then bursts back into laughter.

"Kid," she says when she finally catches her breath, "you'll never be on my level. But I appreciate the ambition."

Chapter 39: Chapter 39: Woof

The air shimmers like heat waves as I teleport for what feels like the thousandth time, materializing behind Sensei Masters. My fist rockets toward her kidney, a cheap shot, but she's been asking me to fight dirty. Before I can make contact, she pivots and blocks with her forearm, effortlessly redirecting my momentum.

"Telegraphing your attacks, Steele," she barks, not even looking at me as she deflects my strike. "I could see that coming from last Tuesday."

I blink out of existence again, reappearing at her left side, aiming a sweeping kick at her legs. She catches my ankle with insulting ease.

"Sloppy footwork!" Another critique, delivered with military precision. "Your teleporting is getting faster, but your technique is falling apart. Focus!"

Thirty minutes of non-stop teleporting has turned my brain to mush and my body into a walking hormone factory. Every molecule in me vibrates with energy that has nowhere to go. My skin feels too tight, too hot, too sensitive.

I materialize directly in front of her, throwing a combination of punches that she blocks with methodical precision. Each teleport releases another wave of pheromones into the training room's air. It hangs heavy around us, invisible but potent.

"Your strikes lack commitment," Masters says, her voice slightly huskier than usual. "You're pulling back before making contact."

My lungs burn as I gulp for air, finally pausing my assault. Sweat drenches my t-shirt, plastering it to my chest. The room spins slightly as I brace my hands on my knees, trying to regain some semblance of composure. Every nerve ending in my body screams for release, the familiar side effect of extended teleporting sessions.

I glance up, my gaze immediately finding Ellie. She stands against the far wall, her blue eyes dark with hunger, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her cheeks are flushed crimson, the symbiote rippling beneath her skin in agitated patterns that match her obvious arousal. She's biting her lower lip hard enough that I'm surprised she hasn't drawn blood.

Masters follows my gaze, her own breathing carefully controlled but noticeably deeper than normal. Unlike Ellie, she maintains her composure, though a faint pink tinge colors her high cheekbones.

"Sensei, I can't..." I gasp, the words barely making it past my dry throat. My whole body trembling with pent-up energy. "I need to stop."

Masters studies me with that clinical gaze of hers, head tilted slightly as she assesses my condition. A knowing look crosses her face.

"Do you need a fuck break, Steele?" she asks bluntly, not a hint of judgment in her tone.

I nod immediately, not even attempting to hide my desperation. There's no room for shame anymore, not after we've done this routine several times daily for the past few days. The pheromones have turned my blood into liquid fire, and we all know there's only one way to ease it.

"Ellie," Masters calls out, her voice steady despite the flush creeping up her neck. "You're up. I'll be down the hall." She grabs a towel from the bench, wiping sweat from her face. "Just let me know when you're done. And don’t take to long."

Ellie pushes off from the wall, moving toward me with predatory grace, her eyes never leaving mine. The symbiote ripples across her skin in excited patterns, responding to the pheromones saturating the air.

Masters walks to the door with military precision, pulls down the privacy drape we installed for exactly these situations, and leaves without another word. The lock clicks behind her.

"You look desperate," Ellie purrs, suddenly right in front of me, her hands already sliding under my sweat-soaked shirt. The symbiote extends tendrils that wrap around my wrists, cool against my overheated skin.

"I am," I admit, my voice embarrassingly needy. "Teleported too much."

Ellie's lips crash against mine, the symbiote tendrils wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer. The kiss is electric, desperate, her tongue exploring my mouth with possessive hunger. My hands tangle in her short blonde hair, tugging just enough to make her growl against my lips.

"Wait," I gasp, pulling back slightly despite every cell in my body screaming for more contact. "I need to keep training after this. Can we make it quick?"

A predatory smile spreads across her face, those blue eyes darkening with desire. "That's not up to me, baby," she purrs, her hand sliding down to palm my obvious erection through my training pants. "It's up to you how long this takes."

The symbiote pulses beneath her skin in excited patterns, responding to the pheromones filling the room.

"Can I be in charge this time?"

Ellie throws her head back and laughs, the sound rich and genuine despite the mockery behind it. "You think you can?" she challenges, eyebrow raised in amusement.

The pheromones have removed any filter between my thoughts and my words. "I just want to bend you over so fucking badly, Ellie," I confess, my voice breaking with need. "Please, just this once."

She studies me for a moment, her own arousal evident in her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils.

With an exaggerated sigh of annoyance that doesn't match the hunger in her eyes, she finally nods. "Fine," she says, "just this once."

Before I can process my victory, she's moving toward a desk at the side of the training room. In one fluid motion, she pushes aside a stack of practice mats and pulls down her training pants, bending over the desk with casual confidence. The symbiote shifts to accommodate her movement, flowing like liquid shadow across her skin.

My hands shake as I fumble with the drawstring of my pants, nearly tripping as I push them down my hips. My erection springs free, almost painfully hard from the pheromone overload.

"Come on," Ellie urges, looking over her shoulder with impatient desire. She wiggles her hips in invitation, the symbiote rippling across her exposed skin in anticipation.

I can't wait another second. I position myself behind Ellie, gripping her hips with trembling hands.

"Hurry up," she demands, voice husky with need.

I thrust forward with desperate force, burying myself inside her in one swift motion. The sensation is so overwhelming, so perfect, that my vision goes white at the edges. Before I can even process the feeling of being fully sheathed inside her, my release hits me like a freight train. A pathetic whimper escapes my throat as I pulse deep inside her, my body shuddering with the intensity of it.

"Oh fuck," I gasp, embarrassment flooding through me as quickly as the pleasure fades.

But when I look at Ellie's face, I don't see disappointment. Instead, her eyes are gleaming with something like triumph, a smug smile spreading across her lips as she watches me over her shoulder.

"Couldn't help yourself, huh?" she purrs, the symbiote rippling across her skin in pleased waves. "My pussy just feels that good."

The pride in her voice catches me off guard. Where I'd expect mockery, there's only satisfaction, as if my immediate surrender to pleasure is the highest compliment I could pay her. Which in this world it is.

Despite my immediate release, my erection doesn't flag in the slightest. I remain fully hard inside her, the pheromones in my system keeping me aroused beyond normal human limits. I experimentally roll my hips, feeling how my own release has made everything slick and warm.

Ellie's smug expression falters as I begin thrusting again, her eyes widening in surprise.

"You're still hard?"

I can only nod, words completely beyond me as pleasure rockets through my oversensitized body. My cum provides perfect lubrication as I drive into her with renewed vigor. Each thrust feels electric, almost too intense after my orgasm, but the pheromones coursing through me demand more.

Ellie responds immediately, arching her back and pressing her ass higher, changing the angle to take me deeper.

"Fuck, Shane," she moans, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk hard enough that I hear the wood creak beneath her strength.

I grab her hips with newfound confidence, pulling her back to meet each thrust. The wet sound of our bodies meeting fills the training room, echoing off the walls along with our desperate breathing.

"You're doing so well," she encourages, her voice breaking on a moan as I hit a particularly sensitive spot. "So fucking good for me."

Her praise spurs me on, and I find myself moving with greater force, greater purpose.

I lose myself in the rhythm, my hips slamming against her with increasing urgency. The symbiote responds to our shared passion, pulsing and flowing across Ellie's skin like black liquid fire. I'm so focused on the sensation of being inside her that I barely notice at first when something cool and fluid extends from her body.

A tendril snakes up my chest, then wraps around my neck with gentle pressure

"Feels good," I gasp, my pace never faltering.

Then I feel something else, another tendril extending beneath me, curling between my legs from behind.

"What's tha…" My question transforms into a shocked moan as something wet and flexible begins swirling around my asshole. The sensation is unlike anything I've ever felt before – slick, precise, and alarmingly good.

"Wait, no, Ellie, I don't…" I stammer, my hips stuttering mid-thrust.

"Shhh," she purrs, the symbiote tightening slightly around my neck in a possessive gesture.

"Just dont let it go inside," I manage to get out, my voice tight with a mixture of panic and unexpected pleasure.

Ellie turns her head, looking at me over her shoulder with a warm smile that somehow manages to be both reassuring and wickedly mischievous. She gives me a small nod of understanding, her blue eyes dark with desire.

The tendril continues its external exploration, never breaching me but providing a pressure and stimulation that makes my knees weak. I resume thrusting, somehow finding even more power in my movements. The dual sensations, being buried inside her heat while the symbiote teases me from behind.

The tendril around my neck constricts slightly. The pressure is exquisite, making my head swim as oxygen becomes just scarce enough to heighten every sensation.

"Harder," Ellie commands, her voice husky with desire.

I respond immediately, driving into her with increased force, my hips slamming against her with enough power that the desk creaks beneath us. The sound of skin against skin echoes through the training room, punctuated by our ragged breathing.

The tendril at my neck tightens further.

"Faster," she demands, looking over her shoulder with those piercing blue eyes that hold me captive.

My rhythm becomes frantic, desperate, the coil of pleasure in my gut winding impossibly tight. "I... I won't last..." I gasp, the words barely audible as the tendril flexes around my throat.

"Faster," she repeats, her tone brooking no argument.

I obey without hesitation this time, my body surrendering completely to her command. I drive into her again and again as the pleasure builds to an unbearable crescendo.

When it hits, it's like being struck by lightning. My entire body seizes as I erupt inside her for the second time, filling her with hot pulses that seem to go on forever. Through my haze of ecstasy, I feel Ellie's body clench around me, her back arching sharply as she follows me over the edge. Her cry of pleasure mingles with mine, a duet of release that bounces off the training room walls.

"Fuck, Shane," she moans, her body quivering with aftershocks that milk every last drop from me.

The tendril around my neck loosens gradually, allowing me to gulp in air that tastes sweeter than anything I've ever breathed before. My legs tremble beneath me, threatening to give out entirely. The symbiote seems to sense this, extending additional tendrils that wrap supportively around my waist, keeping me upright when my own strength fails.

"Fuck, Ellie. I love you so much.”

She smiles at me over her shoulder again. As I slowly withdraw, the symbiote flows across her skin, covering her intimately before any evidence of our passion can escape. It's strangely beautiful, watching the living darkness protect what we've shared.

She turns to face me, releasing my legs from her supportive grip. The symbiote reshapes itself around her body, forming a sleek training outfit that perfectly hugs her powerful frame. Her blue eyes soften as she looks at me.

"I love you too," she says simply, reaching up to cup my face between her palms as she gives me a quick peck on the lips.

"Better?" she asks, her thumb stroking my cheek.

I nod, feeling the pheromone haze finally beginning to clear from my system. "Much better. I can actually think straight now."

"Shame," she teases, her eyes glinting with mischief. "I kind of like when you can't."

Ellie gives me one more lingering kiss before stepping back. "I'll go get Masters," she says, adjusting her symbiote-formed clothing with a casual flick of her wrist. "Try not to miss me too much."

I fumble with my pants, yanking them up my sweat-slicked legs while trying to regain some semblance of dignity. My muscles burn pleasantly, a combination of intense training and even more intense release. By the time I've tied my drawstring and smoothed down my shirt, I can hear footsteps approaching in the hallway.

The door swings open, and Masters strides in with her usual military precision, Ellie following close behind. Masters' nose wrinkles immediately, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the state of the room.

"It always reeks of sex in here after your fuck breaks, Steele," she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Sorry," I mutter, not meaning it in the slightest.

Masters rolls her eyes, clearly seeing through my half-assed apology. "Alright, come at me," she commands, sliding into her fighting stance. "Let's see what you've got now."

Despite the bone-deep exhaustion weighing down my limbs, I focus on a spot behind her left shoulder. The familiar energy builds inside me, crackling through my veins like lightning seeking ground. The world bends, reality folding like origami around my body, and then I'm there, materializing in a flash.

My fist cuts through the air where Masters had been standing just a millisecond before. She sidesteps with that infuriating ease, watching my movements with calculating eyes. I teleport again, appearing at her right flank, throwing a combination that she deflects with minimal effort.

Unlike before, she doesn't immediately critique my form or bark instructions. She just... watches. Her eyes track me with clinical precision as I blink in and out of existence around her, each teleport leaving golden afterimages in the air.

After three more attempts to break through her defenses, Masters raises her hand.

"Alright, stop," she commands.

I freeze mid-stance, chest heaving as I try to catch my breath.

"It's just as I thought," she says, circling me slowly, those piercing eyes assessing every inch of my exhausted frame. "You're weaker now."

"Well yeah," I pant, wiping sweat from my brow. "We've been at this for hours."

She shakes her head, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "No, that's not it. The more horny you are, Steele, the stronger you are. Right now, you're satisfied, so your powers are at their weakest."

"Wait, what?" I stare at her, trying to process what she's saying. "That can't be right."

"It is." She crosses her arms, looking annoyingly smug. "Your teleportation is slower, your strikes lack power, your reaction time is delayed. Before your little break with Brock, you were much faster.”

My mind races, replaying our previous training sessions.

"So I'm like... powered by horniness?" The question sounds so ridiculous coming out of my mouth that I almost laugh.

Masters nods with the same clinical detachment she'd use to explain a particularly effective chokehold. "Yes, exactly, and Friday you and Ellie are going to fight as long as you can without fucking to see if you have an upper limit."

I sigh."That sounds like its going to to suck."

"Yup."

Chapter 40: Chapter 40: Domed

Noon sunlight hits different when you're a hundred feet above Manhattan. Even in the cold. It's harsh, unforgiving, nothing like the romantic glow of streetlights during night patrol. My golden mask reflects the midday glare as I pace along the rooftop edge, scanning the streets below like some bargain-bin Spider-Man wannabe.

Thursday. No classes. A perfect day to break routine.

"Daytime heroics," I mutter to myself. "If it works for Spider-Woman, it can work for me, right?"

I've always done my Skip Step patrols at night, partly because it seemed cooler, and partly because fewer people means fewer chances to embarrass myself. But comic books taught me that the best heroes operate in broad daylight. Minus Batman.

Ellie's stuck in her journalism ethics class all day, which means I'm flying solo for patrol. It’s kind of nice in it’s own way. No overprotective symbiote girlfriend hovering nearby, ready to murder anyone who looks at me wrong.

I take a deep breath and teleport to the next rooftop, feeling that familiar electric tingle as reality bends around me. Just a short hop, I'm trying to be smarter about conserving energy.

Three rooftops later, movement catches my eye. Down below, a pizza place with a garish neon sign, "Sal's Slices," is having some unexpected drama unfold. A woman in a dark hoodie has a gun pointed at the cashier, her hand visibly shaking even from this distance.

"Oh wow," I mutter, squinting for a better view. "A pizza place holdup? That seems like a dumb business decision. How much cash could they possibly have at noon on a Thursday?"

I teleport down to a fire escape, careful not to overextend. Masters' training has been drilling this into me, multiple short jumps are better than one big one that might leave me disoriented or... well, inappropriately aroused in the middle of a fight.

The brass knuckles Ellie got me slide perfectly onto my fingers. The weight feels good, grounding me as I prepare to act.

I reach the street level and take a running start along the sidewalk. Pedestrians turn to stare at the weirdo in the gold mask sprinting past them, but I don't care. I'm building momentum, my breathing steady as I focus on the pizza shop door.

When I'm about twenty feet away, I teleport, not to safety, but directly behind the robber. The world warps around me for a split second, and then I'm there, still carrying all my forward momentum. Before she can register the golden flash of my arrival, my brass-knuckled fist connects with the side of her head with a sickening crack.

She crumples instantly, gun clattering to the floor as she collapses in a heap. I skid to a stop, nearly tripping over her unconscious form.

"KO!" I shout, throwing my hands up triumphantly like I've just scored the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl.

The silence that follows is deafening. Five customers and two employees stare at me, their expressions ranging from shock to terror. I suddenly realize how this must look, some masked weirdo just materialized out of nowhere and knocked a woman unconscious.

I blink, suddenly realizing I should probably deal with the weapon. Gingerly, I reach down and pick up the gun with my thumb and forefinger, holding it away from my body like it's a used tissue full of cum.

"Um, I'm not really sure what to do with this," I say, carefully placing it on the counter in front of the wide-eyed cashier, a young woman with a purple streak in her hair who still looks frozen in shock.

She stares at the gun for a moment before cautiously sliding it further away from the edge. "Thanks," she says, her voice shaky.

"You should probably call the police," I suggest, awkwardly shifting my weight from one foot to the other. I'm not entirely sure what the protocol is here. Do I wait? Leave? Take a victory lap around the block?

"Yeah, I think someone already did," she replies, gesturing vaguely toward one of the customers who has their phone out. "They're on their way."

"Alright, cool," I nod, feeling a strange mix of pride and awkwardness. Then, because I can't help myself, I add, "Make sure you tell them Skip Step saved the day, okay?"

A hint of a smile finally breaks through her shock. "Will do."

The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and I suddenly feel extremely self-conscious standing in the middle of a pizza place in my homemade costume while everyone stares at me. One of the customers has their phone pointed in my direction, definitely recording.

"Is she... is she going to be okay?" I ask, glancing down at the unconscious robber. I hadn't really considered the possibility that I might have hit her too hard. The brass knuckles suddenly feel heavy on my fingers, a reminder that I'm still learning how to gauge my own strength.

"She's breathing," says a middle-aged man who's kneeling beside her. "But she's gonna have one hell of a headache."

Relief washes over me. I don't want to kill anyone, even a would-be robber. Ellie might not hesitate to end a life, but I'm trying to be better than that. More heroic. More Spider-Woman, less Venom.

In the distance, I hear a high-pitched cackle that sends chills down my spine. Before I can process what's happening, something green streaks past the pizza shop window, accompanied by maniacal laughter that's straight out of a nightmare.

"What the hell?" I mutter, abandoning my awkward hero moment and teleporting outside.

My jaw drops at the sight before me. The Green Goblin is soaring through the air on a bat-shaped glider, her cackling echoing between the buildings as she hurls what look like pumpkin bombs at parked cars. She's decked out in the full getup. Purple hood, green armor, those creepy yellow eyes on her mask reflecting the midday sun.

"Holy shit," I whisper, momentarily frozen in place.

As if that isn't bad enough, I spot another figure on the ground below her. A woman in yellow and brown padded armor, her gauntlets crackling with as she systematically blasts cars into smoking wrecks. The Shocker. The freaking Shocker is here too.

"Oh fuck… I really wish Ellie was here to take my picture right now…” I mutter under my breath.

Chapter 41: Chapter 41: Mind Goblin

I stand frozen, watching the chaos unfold. Green Goblin and Shocker working together? That's serious big-league villain team-up territory. My heart hammers against my ribs as I consider my options.

Do I really want to jump into this? I'm not Spider-Woman. Hell, I'm barely Skip Step. These are actual supervillains, not some random pizza shop robber.

But people are screaming, running from shattered storefronts and smoking cars. A woman trips and falls as debris rains down around her.

"Fuck it," I mutter, clenching my brass-knuckled fists. "I can at least help evacuate."

I focus on a nearby rooftop and teleport, golden light trailing behind me as I materialize higher up. Another jump takes me closer to the action, then another. With each teleport, that familiar warmth spreads through my lower body. By my fifth jump plus everything that came before it, I'm already getting pretty hard, the pheromones beginning to build in my system.

"Great timing, hormones," I grumble, landing on a roof overlooking the destruction.

From this vantage point, I can see everything, Green Goblin circling overhead like some demented fairy, Shocker methodically blasting apart anything in her path. Civilians scatter like ants, desperate to escape the destruction.

I scan desperately for other heroes, Spider-Woman, Iron Woman, literally anyone, but the skies are empty except for Green Goblin. My stomach twists into knots. I'm it. I'm all these people have right now.

"What the hell can I even do?" I mutter. "It's not like I can teleport civilians to safety… I'd just make them horny and confused."

The woman who fell is still struggling to get up, clutching her ankle. Three more pumpkin bombs explode nearby, showering the street with debris.

I stare at the Goblin, calculating the distance, maybe a hundred and twenty feet away. That's a hell of a jump, way farther than I usually go. But not really a problem.

"Masters said I'm stronger when I'm horny," I whisper, steeling myself. "Let's test that theory."

Without overthinking it, I focus on the Goblin's glider, visualize the exact spot behind her, and teleport.

The world stretches and compresses around me in a golden flash. When reality snaps back into focus, I'm luckily standing on the metal surface of the glider, the wind whipping past my mask. The teleport leaves me dizzy but surprisingly functional…But also veering into deep into arousal. The pheromones are cranking up, flooding my system with a desperate heat that makes my costume uncomfortably tight.

The Goblin whips around, those yellow eyes widening behind her mask. "What the…"

I don't let her finish. Channeling every bit of horniness-fueled strength, I drive my brass-knuckled fist straight into her face. The impact sends a satisfying shock up my arm.

"What the FUCK?" she screams, staggering backward.

Before she can recover, I drop low and sweep her legs out from under her, a move Masters drilled into me for weeks. The Goblin's feet fly up, and suddenly she's falling, arms pinwheeling as she plummets off the glider toward the street below.

"Holy shit, it worked!" I gasp, momentarily forgetting I'm now standing alone on a pilotless glider that's starting to dip and swerve erratically.

The Goblin catches herself midair, some kind of backup system in her suit slowing her descent. She lands in a crouch, already reaching for something on her belt.

"You're dead, mask boy!" she shrieks, her voice carrying up to me.

I don't even have time to register my victory before the glider starts spiraling out of control, yanking me sideways as it tilts dangerously. My stomach lurches as the machine goes into some kind of automated emergency protocol, jerking violently beneath my feet.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" I focus on a nearby rooftop and teleport.

The world warps around me for an instant, then I'm rolling on solid concrete as the glider smashes into the side of an office building with a spectacular explosion of glass and twisted metal.

"Oh fuck," I wince, watching brick and debris rain down onto the street.

Something whirs through the air beside my ear, and I turn just in time to see a razor-sharp bat-shaped projectile embed itself into the concrete where my head had been a millisecond earlier.

"Fuck…" I barely have time to process before three more razor bats come sailing toward me, their edges glinting lethally in the sunlight.

Pure terror floods my system as I imagine what those things would do to human flesh. I teleport frantically, materializing ten feet to the left as the razor bats slice through the empty space where I'd been standing. The teleporting sends another wave of heat through my body, the pheromones building to an almost painful level now.

"Stay still, you little shit!" Green Goblin screams from below, already reaching for more projectiles.

I'm so focused on dodging her attacks that I completely forget about Shocker until a concussive blast hits me square in the back. The impact feels like being hit by a truck, knocking every molecule of air from my lungs as I'm launched forward off the rooftop.

Pain. Pure, blinding pain radiates through every nerve ending in my body. It's like being torn apart at the atomic level, every cell screaming in protest. I can't even focus enough to teleport, the agony much.

I plummet five stories, my limbs flailing uselessly as the ground rushes up to meet me. The impact knocks whatever breath I had managed to recover right back out of my body. I hit the pavement with a sickening thud that reverberates through my bones, my vision exploding into a kaleidoscope of black and red stars.

Pain ripples through my body, but I can still breathe. Somehow, I don't think anything's broken. I lie there, not daring to move, my nervous system a jumbled mess of agony and arousal. All that teleporting has left me painfully hard despite the fall.

A shadow falls across my face. Green Goblin looms over me, her mask's yellow eyes glowing eerily in the midday sun.

"Well, well," she cackles, grabbing my arm and yanking me upward. My feet dangle helplessly as she holds me aloft. "What have we here? A new hero in town?"

I say nothing, my body a conflicted battleground of pain and desire. The pheromones are practically radiating off me in waves. Even through her mask, I can see her eyes widen as she inhales deeply.

"Oh my," she purrs, her voice dropping an octave. "You've got me all hot and bothered, Goldy." She tilts her head, studying me like I'm some fascinating specimen. "What is that? Some kind of power?"

I still can't form words, my brain scrambling to process this nightmare scenario.

The Goblin looks around at the chaos surrounding us, smoking cars, shattered glass, fleeing civilians, then shrugs dismissively. "Shocker can handle the rest. I haven't had a good fuck in ages."

Before I can react, her free hand slides down to my crotch, palm pressing against my embarrassingly hard erection through my costume. She squeezes, sending a jolt of unwanted pleasure up my spine.

"And look at you," she purrs, her gloved thumb tracing circles over the bulge in my pants. "Already good to go for me. Did you come here just so I'd fuck you?"

My body is betraying me, responding to her touch despite my mind screaming in protest. Her fingers find my zipper and start to pull it down.

"GET YOUR DAMN HANDS OFF OF HIM!"

A blur of red and blue streaks through the air, and suddenly the Goblin's face snaps backward from the impact of Spider-Woman's foot connecting squarely with her jaw. The villain's grip releases instantly, and I crumple to the ground in a heap of pain and relief.

"Spidey," I gasp, my voice barely audible as I struggle to get my bearings.

Spider-Woman stands protectively in front of me, her stance wide and ready for combat. "Stay down, Skip," she commands, not taking her eyes off the Goblin who's already recovering, rubbing her jaw with a predatory grin.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite little spider," Goblin cackles, spitting blood onto the pavement. "Always interrupting when things are getting interesting."

The Goblin lunges at Spider-Woman, her bladed gauntlets glinting in the sunlight as she swings wildly. Spidey's movements are fluid, basically precognitive as she effortlessly twists away from each lethal slash. She seems more focused than usual. There's none of her usual quips or playful banter.

"Not today, Goblin," Spider-Woman growls, her fist connecting with the Goblin's face in a brutal uppercut. "I'm not letting you hurt him."

The raw desperation in her voice catches me off guard. This isn't the confident, wisecracking hero I know. There's something deeply personal in her tone, something that makes my chest tighten.

The Goblin's eyes widen behind her mask, yellow lenses somehow conveying genuine surprise. "Oh my," she purrs, wiping blood from her chin. "I haven't seen you this worried since…"

Spider-Woman dives forward with startling ferocity, cutting off whatever the Goblin was about to say with another devastating punch. "DON'T YOU DARE!" she screams, her voice cracking with emotion.

The Goblin actually laughs as Spider-Woman's fist connects again, the sound high and unhinged despite the blood streaming from her nose. "What? You don't want me to bring up your old little blonde boyfriend?"

Something snaps in Spider-Woman. She unleashes a flurry of punches that makes me flinch, each impact punctuated by a grunt of effort. No pulling punches, no restraint, just raw, unbridled rage.

A concussive blast tears through the air, catching Spider-Woman square in the back. The force sends her flying into a nearby car, the metal crumpling around her like tissue paper.

"Spidey!" I cry out, struggling to my feet despite the pain radiating through every inch of my body.

Shocker strides forward, her gauntlets still crackling with energy as she helps the Goblin stand. The villain's costume is torn in places, blood seeping through the green fabric, but she's grinning maniacally as she presses a button on her wrist.

The damaged glider, somehow still functional, zips down from wherever it had crashed, stopping just beside them. She leaps onto, then turns to look directly at me. Even through my pain-induced haze, I can feel her eyes devouring me.

"It was nice to meet you, Goldy Boy," she calls out, her voice dripping with promise. "Hopefully we can finish what we started soon."

Shocker grabs onto her back, and they fly away, the glider's engines screaming as they disappear between the buildings.

I drag myself to my feet, the world tilting dangerously as I stumble toward Spider-Woman. Every step sends fresh waves of pain shooting through my body.

Spider-Woman lies in the crumpled metal of the car, her movements stiff and jerky. She spots me hobbling toward her and freezes.

"Are you alright?" she asks, her voice tight with concern.

"I think so," I manage, wincing as I extend my hand to help her up. "You?"

She nods, taking my offered hand and rising to her feet. Her mask hides her expression, but I can feel the intensity of her gaze as it travels down my body, lingering on the obvious bulge straining against my costume.

"You want some help with that?" she asks, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "We don't have to tell anyone. I just remember last time…"

My body screams yes, the pheromones in my system making every nerve ending throb with desperate need. But Ellie's face flashes through my mind, her fierce blue eyes, her genuine smile, the way she looks at me like I'm the most precious thing in her universe.

"I can't," I say, forcing the words past my dry throat. "I just... can't."

The truth is, I'm so horny I'd probably fuck a mailbox right now if it had a pussy, but I'm not a cheater. Never have been.

Spider-Woman tilts her head, taking a step closer. "You're giving off some mean pheromones right now, Skip."

I back away, nearly tripping over debris. "I gotta get back to school," I mumble, my legs wobbling beneath me. "Ellie can fix me up."

The world spins suddenly, black spots dancing across my vision. My knees buckle, and I pitch forward, bracing for another painful impact with the pavement.

It never comes. Spider-Woman catches me with those enhanced reflexes of hers, her strong arms wrapping around my waist to keep me upright.

"Skip, you're a mess," she sighs, adjusting her grip to support more of my weight. "At least let me get you home."

"Alright."

Chapter 42: Chapter 42: A Helping Hand

My body feels like it's been through a meat grinder as Spider-Woman practically carries me down the street. Each step sends fresh jolts of pain shooting through my ribs, a souvenir from my spectacular five-story plummet courtesy of Shocker's gauntlets.

"You sure nothing's broken?" Spider-Woman asks, her arm steady around my waist as we limp toward Empire State University. She's been uncharacteristically quiet since we left the scene of destruction, her usual quips replaced by concerned glances.

"I don't think so," I grunt, wincing as we navigate around a fire hydrant. "Regardless, Ellie will fix it."

Spider-Woman sighs, the sound heavy with something I can't quite identify. "Why wasn't Ellie with you today?" she asks, adjusting her grip to better support my weight.

"Class," I reply simply, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other without passing out.

"And she was just fine with you super-heroing without her?"

"I didn't ask her," I admit. Spider-Woman's body tenses beside me.

"You didn't…" She stops walking abruptly, forcing me to halt my painful shuffle. "Shane, do you really think you should be patrolling alone? Look what happened!"

Something inside me snaps. "You patrolled alone when you were new," I shoot back, wincing as I pull away from her support to stand on my own. "You don't dictate your heroics to anyone else. Why should I?"

I can feel the surprise radiating off her.

"Besides," I continue, my voice gaining strength despite the throbbing in my ribs, "before I even fought the Goblin today, I stopped an armed robbery at a pizza place. Knocked the robber out cold with one punch. Saved the day. I'm not just some helpless civilian."

Spider-Woman stares at me for a long moment, the white eyes of her mask unreadable. Then her shoulders slump slightly.

"That's... different," she says, but her voice lacks conviction.

"How?" I challenge, swaying slightly but refusing to lean on her again. "Because I don't have super-strength? Because I need to teleport instead of swing? Or is it just because I'm a guy?"

She flinches at that last part. I've hit a nerve.

"That's not fair," she says quietly. "I'm just worried about you."

The fight drains out of me as quickly as it came. My legs wobble, and I grudgingly accept her support again.

"I get it. But I'm still going to be a hero, Spidey. I don't care what it takes."

We walk in silence for a while, my mind racing despite the pain. Something's been nagging at me since the fight, a connection I can't ignore.

"Green Goblin is probably Harriet's mother." I state, watching Spider-Woman's reaction carefully.

She sighs, her shoulders slumping under the weight of the question. "I know. Norma Osborn."

"You know?" I stop walking, shocked by her casual confirmation.

She nods, her mask hiding whatever emotions are playing across her face. "And she knows who I am, too. Has for years."

"Fuck," I whisper, the implications hitting me all at once. If Norma Osborn knows Spider-Woman's identity...

"She killed my boyfriend in high school when she found out," Spider-Woman says, her voice suddenly hollow. "His name was Gwyn."

The name hits me like a physical blow. Gwyn. Gwyn Stacy. I know that story from the comics, though in my world it was Gwen Stacy. The tragedy that defined Spider-Man.

"She threw him off the Brooklyn bridge," Spider-Woman continues, each word clearly painful to speak. "I webbed him, but I was too late…”

"I'm so sorry," I say, genuinely aching for her loss. Even knowing the story from comics doesn't prepare me for hearing it from her lips, feeling the raw pain still present after all these years.

"Why don't you tell people?" I ask gently. "That the Goblin is Osborn, I mean."

Spider-Woman's laugh is bitter, completely devoid of humor. "She threatened to kill Uncle May if I did. Plus, she has deep political ties. There are rumors she might run for president."

She kicks at a piece of can on the sidewalk, sending it skittering into the gutter. "I doubt anyone would believe me anyway. I have no proof. People like her seem to get away with everything."

We turn onto campus grounds, the familiar buildings of Empire State University rising around us. The normalcy of it feels surreal after what we've just been through.

"What if we just killed her?" The words tumble out of my mouth without much thought.

Spider-Woman goes completely still beside me, her body tensing like I've slapped her. She turns to face me fully, those white mask eyes now as wide as can be.

"Listen closely, Shane," she says, her voice dropping to a serious tone I've rarely heard from her. "We don't kill people. Jumping right to killing isn't what a hero does."

There's something in her voice, a weight of experience, of lessons learned through blood and tears, that makes me feel small and naive. Years of fighting, of loss, of restraint, all condensed into that single statement.

"I'm sorry, you're right..." I start to say, shame washing over me.

A heavy thud interrupts my apology as something massive lands on the sidewalk in front of us, cracking the concrete beneath its weight. My heart leaps in my chest as I recognize the hulking form of Venom, her empty white eyes somehow more unhinged than usual, the symbiote rippling across her body in agitated waves.

Spider-Woman doesn't hesitate. She carefully transfers my weight, essentially handing me over to my girlfriend.

"He's hurt," she tells Venom, her voice professional despite the tension crackling between them. "I'm not sure how bad."

Venom's massive head swivels between us, those blank eyes now full fury. The symbiote pulses across her form in violent patterns, tendrils whipping through the air.

"What the fuck happened?" she snarls, her voice a nightmare chorus. "I saw on the news you were fighting with Green Goblin. What the fuck were you thinking?"

I grimace feeling from the inevitable lecture I'm about to receive. "It's still day time. People will see," I mumble, squinting up at the bright sky. "Can we go somewhere?"

Without a word, Venom wraps a tendril around my waist and launches us upward, not even bothering to thank Spider-Woman. The world blurs around me as we soar through the air, landing with bone-jarring force on top of my dorm building.

The symbiote recedes from Ellie's face like a curtain being drawn back, revealing her blazing blue eyes and clenched jaw.

With surprising gentleness, Ellie reaches forward and pulls my gold mask off. The cool air hits my sweat-drenched face, and I wince as her fingers accidentally brush against a tender spot on my cheek.

"We need to get you inside," she mutters, her voice tight with barely controlled fury. "This costume is way too conspicuous."

Her movements are efficient as she helps me reverse my jacket so it looks like an ordinary hoodie. She folds my mask before tucking it into my pocket, her fingers lingering for just a moment.

"Come on," she says, wrapping an arm around my waist to support my weight.

We make our way down the stairwell, Ellie checking each landing before we continue, navigating the path of least resistance. She practically carries me through the hallways, timing our movements to avoid the few students wandering around mid-afternoon. By some miracle, we make it to my room without encountering anyone who might question why I look like I've been hit by a truck.

The second my door clicks shut behind us, Ellie explodes.

"DO YOU HAVE A FUCKING DEATH WISH, SHANE?" she roars, her voice vibrating with rage even as she carefully guides me to sit on my bed. "YOU STUPID FUCKING BIMBO!"

Despite the volume of her tirade, her hands are impossibly gentle as she eases me onto the mattress. The contrast is so distinctly Ellie that I almost laugh, which immediately sends pain shooting through my ribs.

"It wasn't that bad," I protest as she starts carefully removing my clothes.

"Not that bad?" she hisses, helping me out of my shirt with methodical precision. Her eyes widen as she reveals the tapestry of purple and blue blooming across my torso. "Jesus Christ, Shane."

I glance down at myself and have to admit it looks pretty bad. Bruises cover almost every inch of my chest and abdomen, some already darkening to an alarming shade of purple. The impact point from Shocker's blast is the worst, a perfect circle of angry red surrounded by mottled bruising right between my shoulder blades.

"I had everything under control," I mutter, knowing how ridiculous it sounds even as I say it.

Ellie's eyes flash dangerously as she helps me out of my pants, cataloging each new bruise with increasing fury.

"Under control?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You got thrown off a fucking building, Shane! I saw the footage. The whole thing is all over social media."

My stomach drops. "There's footage?"

"Of course there's footage," she snaps, gently pressing her fingers against my ribs, checking for breaks. "It was on the news, Shane."

I wince at the reminder of my very public hero debut. "I was trying to help people. The Goblin and Shocker were tearing up the street."

Ellie continues her inspection, fingers probing my injuries with clinical precision despite the fury radiating from her. "You could have been killed."

When she finally removes my boxers, I'm left completely exposed, my battered body on full display. She steps back, taking in the full extent of my injuries, and lets out a deep sigh that seems to come from somewhere deep inside her.

"Scoot over," she commands, her voice softer now but still edged with anger.

I shift painfully toward the wall as the symbiote flows across her body, dissolving her clothes until she's completely naked. Without another word, she slides into bed behind me, her warm body pressing against my back as she pulls me close in a protective spoon.

The symbiote responds immediately, spreading from her skin to mine in a liquid wave of darkness. It envelops me completely, a cool, living cocoon that hums with alien energy. Almost instantly, the pain begins to subside, replaced by a tingling sensation as the symbiote works to repair my damaged tissue.

Ellie's hands can't seem to stay still, roaming over my body in a strange mix of worry and possessiveness. I can feel her naked skin against mine through the thin layer of symbiote between us, her warmth seeping into my aching muscles.

"All that teleporting you were doing. You must have been like a dog in heat out there, huh?" Her breath hot against my ear.

Before I can respond, her hand slides down my stomach and wraps around my cock. The symbiote parts to allow her direct contact, her grip firm and deliberate.

"I'm so fucking angry with you right now, Shane," she growls, slowly beginning to stroke me. The sensation is overwhelming, the symbiote's healing energy flowing through me while her hand pumps me.

"Ellie," I gasp, my hips instinctively pushing into her touch despite my injuries. The healing process intensifies the pleasure, nerve endings firing signals of both relief and arousal.

"You like this?" she asks, her voice dangerously soft as her pace increases. "Getting off while we fix what you broke? While we heal the body you were so careless with?"

I close my eyes, surrendering to the dual sensations of healing and pleasure. "I love you," I whisper, the words escaping on a shaky breath.

Her hand falters for just a moment. "Are you sure about that?" she challenges, her voice tight with emotion. "Because I think if you loved me, you wouldn't be so fucking stupid."

"I do really love you," I whisper, my voice breaking as the symbiote continues healing my bruised body. "More than anything."

Her fingers tighten around me, squeezing until I let out a soft whimper.

"I know, I know," she murmurs, her voice softening despite her anger. "I love you too, you idiot."

She works me faster, the smooth glide of her palm drawing embarrassing sounds from my throat. The symbiote pulses between us, somehow amplifying every sensation tenfold as it continues knitting my bruised tissue back together.

"Fuck, Ellie," I gasp, arching into her touch despite the protest from my ribs.

I can't hold back anymore. The pleasure builds to an unbearable peak and then crashes over me like a tidal wave. I start cumming hard, my whole body shuddering as the release pulses through me. The symbiote moves with eerie intelligence, wrapping around the tip of my cock, creating a perfect seal as it swirls and undulates, capturing every drop I release.

"Oh god," I groan, my hips bucking involuntarily.

Ellie's teeth find my earlobe, biting down with just enough pressure to send another jolt of pleasure through my already oversensitized body. I thrust deeply into her hand, writhing against her as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes through me.

"You like it when I do that for you?" she purrs, her voice a dangerous mix of tenderness and possession.

"Yes," I gasp, barely able to form coherent words as the symbiote continues its intimate dance.

Her grip tightens slightly, her palm still working me through the aftershocks. "Then no more going out alone," she commands, her tone making it clear this isn't a request.

Despite the bliss still coursing through my veins, her words cut through the haze. "No," I say firmly.

"What?" The single word is razor-sharp, her body tensing against mine.

I take a deep breath, wincing as my ribs protest. "Before the Goblin, I saved someone else," I tell her, my voice steadier now. "At a pizza place. Stopped an armed robbery."

"Oh?" There's dangerous curiosity in her voice.

"Yeah," I continue, emboldened by my small victory. "One punch, and she was down. I helped people, Ellie."

"I don't care," she says flatly. "You're not qualified to go out alone."

The dismissal stings more than any of my injuries. "I did great today," I insist, frustration building in my chest. "I only approached the Green Goblin and Shocker because no one else was there. And to stop them from attacking people, I had to attack them."

"I DON'T CARE!" she roars, the symbiote rippling violently across her skin in response to her anger.

Something snaps inside me. I pull away from her grasp and turn to face her. Her blue eyes are blazing with fury, the symbiote swirling around her in agitated patterns.

"I don't care if you don't care," I say, meeting her gaze without flinching.

"You're going to get yourself killed," she hisses, reaching for me again.

"Ellie, listen to me," I say, my voice softer now. "I'm not going to stop being a hero."

"You're going to die!" she shouts, the symbiote rippling violently across her shoulders. "Is that what you want? To leave me alone?"

The raw pain in her voice makes my chest ache. I lean forward, pressing my lips gently against her neck. She freezes, clearly caught off guard by the gesture.

"I'm going to be a hero, Ellie," I whisper against her skin, moving to kiss her ear. The symbiote pulses beneath my lips, warm and alive.

Her breathing hitches as I trail kisses along her cheek. "Shane, don't…"

I silence her with a kiss on the lips, pouring everything I feel for her into it. When we break apart, I rest my forehead against hers. "Being a hero means sometimes I'll go out alone when you're not around," I say between gentle kisses. "I truly want to help people, Ellie."

She stares at me, those fierce blue eyes swimming with emotions I can't fully decipher. The symbiote has gone still around us, sensing the importance of this moment.

"You almost got raped today," she says, her voice breaking on the words.

"But I didn't," I counter, holding her gaze steadily.

She looks utterly helpless, an expression I've rarely seen on her face. The vulnerability makes my heart constrict painfully.

"If you keep fighting like this..." she trails off, unable to finish the thought.

I take her hand, placing it over my heart. "Look at how much stronger I am than I was when we met, Ellie. I'm learning, getting better every day."

She rolls her eyes, but there's less anger in it now, more resignation. "Please just don't go out without me. Just for a while."

I smile, feeling the tension between us finally begin to ease. The symbiote responds, flowing more smoothly across our connected skin.

"Fine," I say, pressing another kiss to her lips.

Chapter 43: Chapter 43: Bow To Your Sensei

Friday morning sunshine hits my face like a bright high-five. The bruises that decorated my body yesterday have vanished completely, thanks to Venom's symbiotic healing powers. My skin doesn't even have the faintest yellow tinge to remind me of my Green Goblin beatdown.

Ellie's arm is wrapped possessively around my waist as we cross campus toward Masters' training room, her fingers digging into my hip with just enough pressure to remind me who I belong to. Her blonde hair catches the light as she scans our surroundings with predatory vigilance, those blue eyes missing nothing.

"Stop looking so smug," she mutters, catching my expression.

"I can't help it," I reply, leaning into her embrace. "I'm walking across campus with the hottest woman at Empire State. Plus, you're holding me like I'm your favorite toy."

Ellie's fingers flex against my hip. "You are my favorite toy," she murmurs, then immediately shakes her head. "Wait, no… That came out wrong." Her eyes soften as she looks down at me. "You're not a toy, Shane. I don't see you as disposable."

I lean into her, unable to suppress the smile spreading across my face. "I know," I reply, my heart doing that stupid flutter thing it always does when she shows her vulnerable side. The symbiote ripples briefly beneath her jacket sleeve, a subtle acknowledgment that both halves of her agree.

When we reach Masters' training room, I'm surprised to see Sensei isn't alone. She's deep in conversation with a woman. This woman is impeccably dressed in a designer suit. There's something vaguely familiar about her sharp features and the calculating look in her eyes, but I can't place where I might have seen her.

Masters glances up as we enter, her expression shifting from professional interest to slight annoyance. "Sorry, Osborn," she says, straightening her posture. "My students have arrived. We can talk more later."

My blood turns to ice as the woman's name registers. Osborn. As in Norma Osborn. As in the Green Goblin who tried to kill me yesterday.

The woman, Osborn, gives us a dismissive glance before turning back to Masters. "Just let me know if you hear anything interesting, Toni," she says, her voice smooth as expensive silk but with a razor's edge beneath it.

"Will do," Masters replies with a curt nod.

Osborn strides past us toward the door. As she passes, her eyes lock with mine for just a second, and for a moment I wonder if she figured me out.

Masters walks over and flips the lock, then turns to face us with her arms crossed.

"So you work for the Green Goblin?" I say nervously.

To my surprise, Masters doesn't deny it. She just nods, a slight smile playing at her lips. "Sometimes. She pays well."

Ellie's arm tightens around my waist, the symbiote rippling beneath her sleeve in agitated patterns. I can feel her preparing for a fight.

"Actually," Masters says, her eyes narrowing as she looks at me, "Osborn was asking about you specifically."

"Me?" I blurt out, my heart rate instantly doubling.

Masters shakes her head. "Well, Skip Step. She wanted to know if I'd heard anything about your little alter ego since our confrontation at Fisk Tower."

My mouth goes dry. A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead as I process this information. Norma Osborn, the Green Goblin who nearly killed me yesterday, is now asking questions about my superhero identity to someone who knows who I really am.

"What did you tell her?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Masters raises an eyebrow, looking almost amused by my panic. "Relax, kid. I told her I hadn't heard anything. Said I was hired for a one-time job at Fisk's and that was it."

I can feel Ellie's entire body tense beside me, the symbiote churning visibly beneath her skin like black lightning. Her fingers dig into my hip hard enough to bruise as she steps slightly in front of me, placing her body between Masters and mine.

"If you sell him out..." Ellie starts, her voice dropping to that dangerous register that usually precedes violence.

Masters waves her hand dismissively, not even bothering to shift into a defensive stance. "If I wanted to sell either of you out, I would have done it by now."

The casual confidence in her voice makes me believe her, even as my heart hammers against my ribs.

"Kid," Masters says, her tone softening just slightly, "you're my student. And beyond that, I'm genuinely curious to see what you’ll become."

"Yeah, yeah," Ellie cuts in, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Just don't flirt with Shane, alright?"

Masters throws her head back and laughs, a genuine sound that I've rarely heard from her.

"Don't be jealous, Brock," she says, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Thanks to me, you're both probably going to have the most mind-blowing sex of your lives today."

"So what exactly is the plan for today? You mentioned something about not fucking, which sounds... challenging."

Masters walks over to the center of the training mat, motioning for us to follow. "Today we're going to push your limits, Steele. I want to see how much teleporting you can do before you lose control of yourself."

I let out a long sigh. "It's going to be really hard holding back with Ellie as my partner."

Ellie's lips curl into that predatory smile that makes my stomach flip. "It's always hard when I'm around," she purrs, her hand sliding down to brush against my ass.

"True.”

Masters rolls her eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of her head. "Focus, people. This is serious training. Steele, I want you to teleport continuously and attack Brock until you physically can't anymore. Brock, your job is to get punched by your boyfriend and compare it to the punches that come before it."

Ellie cracks her knuckles, the sound unnervingly loud in the quiet training room. "Easy Peasy."

I glance around the training room and spot something I hadn't noticed before, a small webcam mounted in the corner, its red light blinking steadily.

"Uh, Sensei? What's with the camera?" I point toward the device. "You're not planning to record us, are you?"

Masters follows my gaze, then shrugs casually. "No, I'm not recording you. But I can't be in the room with you two when things... escalate. That little device is just so I can monitor from outside and know when it's safe to return."

"Safe to return?" I ask, though I know exactly what she means.

She gives me a flat look. "We can't have all three of us losing control, can we?"

Ellie steps forward, eyes narrowed dangerously. "You better not record anything," she warns, the symbiote rippling beneath her skin like agitated water. "Or I swear to god…"

"Relax, Brock," Masters cuts her off with an exasperated sigh. "Would you rather I just stay in here while you two go at it? Stand in the corner and watch like a creep while you devour each other? Because that's the alternative."

The image that flashes through my mind makes my face burn. Ellie's expression shifts from suspicion to something darker, more possessive.

"Fine," she concedes, her eyes still locked on the camera. "But if I find out you've recorded even a second..."

"Yeah, yeah," Masters finishes, waving her hand dismissively again. "I got the memo the first dozen times. Now, are we going to train or what?"

"Yes Sensei."

Chapter 44: Chapter 44: Not Quite My Tempo

Forty minutes into this "training session" and I'm about to lose my goddamn mind.

"Again!" Masters barks from behind her laptop as I teleport for what feels like the thousandth time today.

My body materializes three feet to the left of where I started, the air crackling with that familiar gold energy. Without hesitation, I lunge forward and throw another punch at Ellie. The symbiote ripples across her forearm as she blocks my strike, those unnerving white eyes tracking my every movement.

"Fuck," I gasp, my breathing ragged. It's not from exertion. Well, not entirely.

Every teleport sends waves of desire through my body. Something electric. Something that makes focusing on "training" nearly impossible. My skin feels too tight, too hot, and I'm painfully aware of every heartbeat thundering in my chest.

"Is he getting stronger?" Masters calls out, clinical as ever.

Ellie's breathing is heavy too, the symbiote bubbling across her form in erratic patterns. Those eyes... god, those eyes are devouring me. Not with hunger for violence but something far more primal.

"He's stronger," Ellie growls, her voice distorted by Venom but unmistakably affected, "but not quite superhuman."

I bite back a groan. The room feels like it's spinning, and it's taking every ounce of self-control not to just grab her and…

"Interesting," Masters mutters, typing something on her keyboard. "Keep going. This might take a few more hours."

Hours? I might actually die.

I nod anyway, steadying my breath before teleporting again. This time I appear behind Ellie, throwing a punch that she catches with disturbing ease. When our bodies connect, even through combat, electricity races up my spine.

He holds my fist in his symbiote-covered hand, and I swear there's a smirk beneath that monstrous face. I teleport again, this time materializing to Ellie's left. I throw a punch but deliberately lean into her, my body pressing against her side in what I hope looks like an accident.

"None of that, Steele!" Masters yells through the laptop speakers. "You can have each other when it's unbearable and not a second sooner!"

I pull back with a heavy sigh. The pheromones are building to a painful level now, making my skin tingle and my thoughts blur around the edges. Fine. If I can't touch her intentionally, I'll just have to speed things up.

I focus inward, drawing on that golden energy that's become so familiar. The world bends around me as I teleport rapidly, behind her, in front of her, to her right, above her, everywhere at once.

"Masters, this sucks," Ellie growls, her voice strained and desperate. "I'm so fucking wet right now I feel like I'm almost pissing myself."

I nearly trip mid-teleport at her blunt confession. The symbiote surges across her form in agitated patterns, reflecting her arousal.

"Interesting," Masters replies with clinical detachment, and I hear her typing notes. "I'll document that."

The room feels like it's spinning faster and faster as I push myself harder, teleporting so rapidly I'm barely conscious of where I'm materializing anymore. Gold light fills the training room like a strobe effect, my molecules scattered and reformed dozens of times per minute.

With one final burst of energy, I materialize above Ellie and come down with another punch. She catches my fist effortlessly in her massive palm, studying me with those blank white eyes.

"Again," she says, tilting her head. "A little stronger but nothing that crazy. Maybe ten percent stronger than before."

"Keep going," Masters commands through the speakers.

Another hour and a half passes in a blur of gold light and desperate lunges. The sides of my head throb with each heartbeat, a relentless pressure building behind my temples. I don't even feel human anymore.

Every teleport intensifies this strange, demonic need consuming me from within. My entire body has become a conductor for raw desire, every nerve ending screaming for release.

"Again," Masters calls through the speakers, her voice distant through the ringing in my ears.

I teleport behind Ellie, throwing a punch that connects with her shoulder. The symbiote shifts across her back, absorbing the impact.

"Definitely stronger," Ellie growls, her voice thick with something primal. "At least twice as strong as normal now."

The symbiote undulates across her form, reflecting her own desperate state.

I teleport again, and that's when it happens. The pain in my skull explodes, a supernova behind my eyes. A sudden ringing becomes a deafening roar that drowns out everything else. My knees buckle as I materialize, my vision blurring at the edges.

"I can't…" The words tear from my throat, ragged and desperate. "I'm done. No more."

I tear at my clothes, suddenly unable to bear the sensation of fabric against my hypersensitive skin. My shirt rips as I yank it over my head. My pants and underwear follow, leaving me completely exposed, my erection painfully hard and leaking.

"Masters," Ellie calls out, her voice barely recognizable through the symbiote. "We've hit the limit."

I wobble on my feet, the room spinning around me like a carnival ride. Something fundamental has changed inside me. The pressure in my skull feels like something alien trying to claw its way out.

"Lay down," Ellie says, moving toward me, concern evident even through her monstrous visage. "Shane, you need to…"

Something snaps inside me. A voice I barely recognize as my own erupts from my throat, deep and resonant, filling the training room with its otherworldly power.

"NO!"

I lunge forward, catching her off guard. My hands, suddenly stronger than they've ever been, slam against her chest. She hits the floor with a thud that shakes the room, her white eyes wide with surprise, and unmistakable excitement.

Before she can move, I focus what little remains of my concentration. The world warps around me one more time as I teleport directly above her prone form, materializing with perfect precision.

I drive myself deep inside her, the symbiote parting perfectly to grant me access. The sensation is beyond anything I've ever felt. Hotter, slicker, and impossibly tight.

"FUCK!" The word tears from my throat as an orgasm hits me instantly, violently, with such force that my vision whites out completely.

And it doesn't stop. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me as I keep cumming, my body locked in a continuous release that defies all physical limits. The symbiote pulses around me, squeezing and massaging my cock in perfect rhythm with my endless orgasm.

"Shane, oh god, Shane!" Ellie's voice breaks into a desperate moan as her body convulses beneath mine. Her pussy clenches around me with inhuman strength, milking me relentlessly as her own climax matches mine in intensity.

I can't stop thrusting, can't stop releasing inside her. My hips move of their own accord, driving deeper and deeper as her symbiote-enhanced muscles contract around me. Her face emerges from the living darkness, the symbiote peeling back to reveal her beautiful features contorted in ecstasy, blue eyes wide and wild.

"I love you," I gasp as she cups my face between her hands, her fingers trembling against my skin.

"Yes, Shane, yes," she moans, pulling me down to her. "We love you so much."

Our lips crash together in a desperate kiss as I continue pouring myself into her. Her tongue finds mine, hungry and demanding, tasting of something alien yet achingly familiar. The symbiote dances across our connected bodies, heightening every sensation to an almost unbearable degree.

I thrust again, harder, deeper, and impossibly, the pleasure intensifies. Her pussy contracts with supernatural strength, undulating and pulsing around me like it has a mind of its own. I feel her climax again, her entire body shuddering beneath mine as she cries out my name against my lips.

"It won't stop," I gasp, my voice barely recognizable through the haze of pleasure. "Ellie, I can't stop…"

"Don't stop," she commands, her nails digging into my back, drawing blood that the symbiote immediately absorbs. "Give us everything."

Suddenly, Ellie's body spasms beneath mine with an intensity I've never felt before. A rush of warmth floods around me as she begins to squirt, her release soaking both of us as she trembles uncontrollably. The sensation triggers something primal in me, and my own climax intensifies beyond anything I thought possible.

"Ellie…" I gasp, overwhelmed as my body continues pumping into her without any sign of stopping.

My vision blurs as tears begin streaming down my face, the physical pleasure merging with something deeper, more profound, a connection so intense it breaks something open inside me. I'm whimpering now, completely undone.

Through my tears, I see Ellie's expression shift from pure ecstasy to concern as she notices my face. Her hands, trembling and slick with sweat, reach up to cup my cheeks, thumbs gently brushing away the tears even as her body continues to shudder beneath mine.

"It's okay, baby," she whispers, her voice breaking as another wave of pleasure hits her. Her blue eyes lock with mine, filled with so much tenderness it makes my heart ache. "I love you."

Those three words break me completely. Happiness surges through me alongside the relentless pleasure, an emotion so pure and overwhelming that I can barely breathe. I lean down, pressing my lips against hers in a desperate, messy kiss, our bodies still locked in this impossible cycle of release.

Time loses all meaning as we remain locked together, our bodies refusing to separate.

Finally, it ends.

The endless waves of pleasure crash to a halt like someone cutting power to a machine. The constant release that felt like it would go on forever just... stops. My body gives one final shuddering thrust, emptying the last of what seems like an impossible amount into Ellie.

My vision tunnels, darkness creeping in from the edges. I can barely make out Ellie's face below me, her blue eyes wide with concern as her mouth forms words I can no longer hear.

"I’m feel so sl…" I try to say, but my voice sounds distant, like it's coming from someone else.

The last thing I feel is Ellie's strong arms wrapping around me as my muscles give out completely. My consciousness slips away like water through fingers, darkness swallowing me whole as I collapse against her chest.

Chapter 45: Chapter 45: Gun Devil

Shane weighs practically nothing on my lap, his breathing soft and even as my fingers thread through his hair. I've dressed us both, finding a fresh shirt for him after that insane training session. The symbiote hums contentedly beneath my skin, satisfied in a way I've never felt before. We're both still riding the afterglow of whatever the hell just happened.

Masters sits across from us, her military posture unchanged despite witnessing what must have been the most intense sexual encounter she's ever seen through that little camera. Her pen scratches against her notebook as she records her observations with clinical detachment.

"So when he pushed you," Masters says, not looking up from her notes, "what did that feel like?"

I consider the question, remembering the moment Shane snapped. The raw power that had surged through his normally gentle hands was surprising but not dangerous for me.

"It was around as strong as Spider-Woman," I admit reluctantly, hating to compare my precious boyfriend to that web-slinging bitch. "Maybe even a little stronger for that one moment."

Masters nods, writing this down with apparent satisfaction. "Hmm. I wonder if that can be trained too, like a muscle."

My fingers continue their gentle exploration of Shane's scalp, brushing through his soft hair as he sleeps peacefully in my lap. The symbiote extends a tiny tendril to caress his cheek, our shared affection for him impossible to contain.

"He's been able to train his teleporting, so maybe," I say, studying his peaceful face. Even unconscious, he looks absolutely perfect to me. "The more he uses it, the better he gets."

Masters taps her pen against her chin, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "How did he even get these powers?"

The question catches me off guard. The symbiote stirs beneath my skin, suddenly alert. We've never really discussed the origin of Shane's abilities, taking them for granted as just another part of what makes him uniquely ours.

"I don't know..." I trail off, realizing how strange it is that I've never asked.

"Is he a mutant?" Masters presses, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

"No," I say with certainty. My other has confirmed it.

"Did he get them from his parents?" She continues her interrogation, eyes never leaving mine.

"He hardly mentions his parents," I say defensively, suddenly uncomfortable with this line of questioning. The symbiote coils protectively around Shane's wrist, though I doubt Masters can see it from where she sits.

"I did a background search on Shane," Masters says, her tone shifting to something more serious. "They died when he was young."

"Yeah, he mentioned that but nothing else," I say, stroking Shane's hair as he continues to sleep peacefully in my lap.

Masters nods thoughtfully. "Hmm."

She taps her pen against her notebook a few times, then looks at me.

"I was thinking," she says, leaning forward slightly, "what about guns?"

"Huh?" I blink at the abrupt change in subject.

"A teleporter with guns," she continues, her eyes lighting up with tactical enthusiasm. "That would be awesome. Think about it. Shooting and quick getaways. He'd be perfect for sniping. Hell, give him a sawed-off shotgun, he teleports up close to someone, blasts them, and poof, he's gone. Pistols and machine guns would be great too."

The symbiote pulses with sudden interest beneath my skin, clearly intrigued by the violent potential. I, however, feel my protective instincts flare up.

"He doesn't want to kill people," I say firmly.

Masters shrugs, undeterred. "Well, he could use rubber bullets or tranq darts. There are tons of non-lethal options out there."

I consider this for a moment. The idea of Shane armed and dangerous is strangely appealing, though I'd never admit it aloud. Still, practicality wins out.

"It sounds pricey," I point out.

"I know a woman," Masters replies with a casual wave of her hand. "The Tinkerer. Though she only works with villains..." She trails off, then brightens. "Maybe if he got some friends in SHIELD. Hmm..." Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. "I'll look into it."

"I'll bring it up to him later," I say, glancing down at Shane's peaceful face. Even unconscious, he looks so innocent, the complete opposite of what Masters is suggesting. Yet part of me wonders if he'd actually love the idea. He's always talking about becoming a "real" hero.

The idea of Shane with weapons makes me frown. I can't help but sigh, looking down at his sleeping face as he curls against me.

"I wish he'd just drop this whole hero thing," I mutter, stroking his hair. "It would be so much easier."

Masters lets out a sharp laugh that makes me want to rip her throat out. "Are you kidding me? That boy?" She shakes her head, tucking her pen behind her ear. "He's too fucking crazy to let it go."

"I know.”

"You know what's weird though?" Masters leans back in her chair, studying us both. "He's not even afraid of you. Most people would be terrified if they saw what you really are."

She's right, and it makes my chest tighten with emotion I'm not used to feeling. The symbiote pulses beneath my skin, sharing my complex feelings.

"Imagine if he'd met Dr. Doom first instead of you," Masters muses, tapping her fingers on her notebook. "I wonder if he could have conquered her like he did you."

My eyes narrow dangerously, the symbiote flaring across my shoulders in jagged patterns. "Fuck off," I snarl.

Masters just laughs, clearly unafraid of me. She stands up, tucking her notebook under her arm. "Well… I’m heading out. Catch you both next time." she says, already heading toward the door.

I don't bother to respond, just glare at her retreating back as the door clicks shut behind her. The symbiote settles against my skin, still humming with contentment from earlier despite my irritation.

"She's right about one thing," I whisper to Shane's sleeping form. "You really aren't afraid of us, are you?"

He shifts slightly in my lap but doesn't wake. I bend down and press a gentle kiss to his forehead, inhaling his scent. My perfect, fearless, idiotic boyfriend.

"We'll protect you," I promise softly, "even from yourself."

Chapter 46: Chapter 46: Power Nap

Consciousness hits me like a freight train as I bolt upright, my lungs desperately gulping air. My heart hammers against my ribs, the remnants of some forgotten dream slipping away like water through fingers. The familiar surroundings of my dorm room slowly come into focus. Ellie is sitting at my desk, the blue glow of her laptop illuminating her face.

She turns at the sound of my gasping, a smile playing across her lips. "Hey, sleeping beauty," she says, her voice warm with affection. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

I run a hand through my hair, still feeling disoriented. "How long was I out?"

"About six hours," she replies, closing her laptop and stretching. "You passed out right after... you know."

The memories come flooding back, the training session with Ellie, teleporting until I couldn't think straight, and then... that explosive finale. My face flushes hot as I recall the intensity of what happened.

"Training was insane," I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief. "Was Sensei happy with the results?"

Ellie stands up and crosses the small room, the mattress dipping as she sits beside me. "Yeah," she says, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. "She got all the data she wanted.”

I lean back against the headboard, my body feeling strangely hollow yet energized at the same time. "I can't believe how much I came," I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "It felt like it would never end."

A smug smile spreads across Ellie's face as she stretches out beside me, her body warm against mine. "The symbiote absorbed most of it," she says, her blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

I glance down at her arm where the symbiote shifts beneath her skin, moving in fluid, dark patterns. "Does it like it?" I ask, genuinely curious about the alien's preferences.

As if in response, the symbiote makes a deep, vibrating sound, almost like a purr, that seems to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Ellie laughs, the sound rich and genuine. "It loves it," she confirms, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest.

I reach out tentatively, running my fingers along her forearm where the symbiote swirls beneath her skin. It feels warmer than usual, almost vibrating with contentment. "That's kind of hot," I admit, watching as it responds to my touch by flowing toward my fingertips.

Ellie's eyes darken as she watches my fascination with the symbiote. "Oh, you like when my alien other half drinks your cum?" she purrs, her voice dropping to that dangerous octave that makes my stomach flip.

"Hell yeah," I breathe, unable to tear my gaze away from the undulating darkness beneath her skin.

Without warning, Ellie leans forward and captures my lips with hers. The kiss is deep and possessive, her tongue sliding against mine with practiced precision. The symbiote hums between us, a vibration I can feel through our connected mouths.

When we finally break apart, I'm breathless, my mind still fuzzy from both the kiss and my six-hour power nap. Ellie runs her thumb across my lower lip, her eyes studying me with that intense gaze that always makes me feel like I'm the only person in her universe.

"Masters had an interesting suggestion," she says, her fingers trailing down my neck. "She wanted to know if you'd consider using guns with your powers."

"Guns?" I blink, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. "I mean, guns are cool, but they kill people. I'm trying to be a hero, not a murderer."

The symbiote shifts beneath Ellie's skin, flowing like dark water as she shrugs. "Masters said there are plenty of non-lethal options out there. Rubber bullets, tranq darts, stuff like that. She thinks your teleporting ability would be a perfect fit for that kind of combat style."

I sit up straighter, my mind suddenly racing with possibilities. The image of me teleporting around a battlefield, appearing and disappearing with tactical precision, taking down bad guys with non-lethal shots before they even know I'm there...

"Oh damn," I breathe, excitement building in my chest. "I never even considered that. That would be incredible." The thought hits me suddenly, deflating my enthusiasm slightly. "But I don't know anything about guns."

Ellie shrugs again, her fingers absently playing with my hair. "I assume she'll teach you. That's kind of her thing, right? Teaching you how to fight?"

"Oh." The excitement returns full force, a grin spreading across my face. "That would be fucking awesome."

"Would that make you feel better?" I ask, watching the excitement reflected in my own eyes through hers. "Having some real equipment to go with the teleporting?"

Ellie's expression shifts, her enthusiasm dimming slightly as she considers my question. She goes quiet for a long moment, her blue eyes turning distant as she thinks.

Finally, she sighs. "I don't know. I imagine it would cost a lot, and I don't know how we'd pay for it?"

Something in her phrasing catches my attention. "We?" I shake my head firmly. "No, it would be my problem, not yours."

A flash of hurt crosses her features, quickly replaced by irritation. The symbiote surges across her forearm, agitated by her sudden mood shift.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks, her voice taking on that dangerous edge I've come to recognize.

I backtrack quickly, realizing how my words sounded. "I just mean I wouldn't expect you to help fund my superhero equipment. That's all."

Her eyes narrow, studying me with predatory intensity. "So you don't want my help? You think we're not in this together?"

"That's not what I meant," I say, reaching for her hand. The symbiote feels warm beneath my fingers, pulsing with her emotions. "I just don't want to be a financial burden on you."

Ellie's expression softens slightly, though her eyes remain watchful. "You realize I could just steal whatever you need, right? The symbiote and I could walk into any gun shop in the city and walk out with whatever we want."

I can't help but laugh at her casual suggestion of theft. "Yeah, that's exactly the foundation I want for my superhero career, stolen weapons."

Her lips quirk into a small smile. "Just offering alternatives."

"Although..." I pause, a new thought suddenly forming. "What if we didn't have to buy them at all? What if we just... borrowed some from people who wouldn't miss them? Like arms dealers?"

Ellie's face lights up with a wicked smile that sends a thrill down my spine.

"Masters probably knows a few arms dealers," she says, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief. "She could point us in the right direction."

I shake my head, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the direction this conversation is taking. "We can't ask her to give up names like that. It would be so awkward. Plus, she needs to buy her own guns from somewhere. We'd be screwing up her supply chain."

Ellie throws her head back and laughs, the sound filling my small dorm room. "Are you seriously being considerate of a murderer right now?" she asks, clearly amused by my moral quandary.

I think for a moment, weighing my words carefully. "Well, you're one too," I finally say, meeting her gaze.

Instead of getting angry, Ellie just keeps smiling and leans forward, pressing her lips against mine in a soft, surprisingly gentle kiss. When she pulls back, her expression is playful.

"I see myself more as a lover than a fighter, Shane," she says with exaggerated innocence that makes me snort.

"That's because I fixed you," I reply sarcastically, unable to keep the smile off my face.

She raises an eyebrow, the symbiote swirling beneath her skin in curious patterns. "Oh? You think you fixed me?"

"No," I say, reaching out to trace the movement of the symbiote with my fingertip. "Fixed certainly isn't the right word... maybe addicted would be more accurate." I look up, meeting her gaze with newfound confidence. "You're simply too addicted to me to do anything bad, aren't you?"

Something shifts in her expression, her eyes darkening with an emotion I can't quite name. The symbiote surges across her arms, flowing toward my touch like it's seeking connection.

"Maybe we are," she admits, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But addiction is dangerous, Shane. It makes people do crazy things."

Her words carry a warning that sends a shiver down my spine, but I can't bring myself to pull away. Instead, I lean closer, drawn to the dangerous current that always seems to flow between us.

"Good thing I'm not scared of crazy."

Ellie's eyes flash with something predatory as she leans closer. Her lips hover just inches from mine, breath warm against my skin.

"You really should be," she whispers, her voice like velvet wrapped around steel.

My heart hammers against my ribs as her hand slides up my chest. The symbiote follows her touch, extending tiny tendrils that brush against my skin with feather-light caresses. I'm about to pull her down onto me when she suddenly freezes.

"Shane," she says, her voice taking on an unexpected serious tone. "How did you get your powers?"

The question hits me like a bucket of ice water. My mouth goes dry, and I can feel my pulse quickening for an entirely different reason now.

"I... never told you?" I stammer, suddenly unable to meet her intense gaze.

Ellie shifts back slightly, studying my face with renewed interest

"No," she says, tilting her head. "You didn't."

I swallow hard, trying to organize my thoughts. How do I explain that a literal demon from hell gave me incubus powers in a frozen moment of time while a psycho assassin was trying to kill me? That doesn't exactly roll off the tongue.

"It's... complicated," I manage, running a nervous hand through my hair. "Kind of a weird story, actually."

"I like weird stories," Ellie says, settling back against the headboard. The playful mood from moments ago has vanished, replaced by an intense focus that makes me squirm. "Tell me."

I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain my origin story without sounding completely insane.

"So, one day, I was being chased through this museum by this random woman trying to either rape me or shoot me, I wasn't really clear on her endgame. She called herself Scourge."

"So I was running from her, and I ended up in this weird exhibit with some demonic statue.

I tripped, and touched this random necklace. Then everything just... froze." I make a gesture with my hands, trying to convey how the entire world had just stopped. "Like, time literally stopped. Scourge was frozen, dust particles suspended in the air, everything."

Ellie leans forward, clearly captivated despite her obvious anger at the mention of Scourge. The symbiote flows across her shoulders, coiling and uncoiling with curiosity.

"And then what happened?" she prompts when I pause.

"Then this... being appeared. Called himself Lileth. Looked like a demon straight out of a horror movie, wings, horns, the whole package." I shiver at the memory. "He said I'd summoned him, and he decided to help me out by giving me powers."

"A demon?" Ellie's voice is flat with disbelief. "You're saying a literal demon gave you your powers?"

I nod, watching her face carefully for signs that she thinks I'm completely insane. "He called me a 'new type of incubus.' Said it was some pet project he'd been working on."

"An incubus," she repeats slowly. "Like the sex demon?"

"Yeah." My face burns hot with embarrassment. "That's why the teleporting makes me... you know."

Understanding dawns on her face. "So that's why you get so horny when you use your powers. And why you give off those pheromones."

"Exactly." I exhale, relieved she's connecting the dots. "The more I teleport, the more it affects me. And apparently, other people too."

Ellie stares at me, her blue eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and fascination.

"Huh... I didn't see that coming at all," she says finally, shaking her head slightly. "A demon. An actual demon gave you your powers."

"Does that upset you?" I ask hesitantly, watching her reaction carefully.

Ellie studies my face for a long moment.

"Of course not, Shane," she finally says, her voice surprisingly gentle. "I don't mind at all. I just didn't assume you would make a deal with a devil."

"I didn't," I clarify quickly, relieved by her reaction. "There was no formal deal, contract, or even blood oath. Lileth just... gave me the powers and disappeared."

A slow smile spreads across her face, predatory yet somehow comforting. "Even better then, I guess."

Chapter 47: Chapter 47: Family

Cafeteria food has never tasted this good. Or maybe it's just that I'm starving after three straight hours of Masters' training session this morning. The cafeteria's fluorescent lights cast an unflattering glow over everyone except Ellie, who somehow manages to look like a goddess even under the worst lighting conditions. I shovel another forkful of questionable mac and cheese into my mouth, savoring the rubbery, artificial cheese taste like it's gourmet cuisine.

"I still don't understand why the fuck we're even sitting together," Ellie mutters, stabbing her steak with enough force to bend her plastic fork.

Across from us, Piper shifts uncomfortably in her seat, those intelligent hazel eyes darting between us. The awkward silence stretches just long enough that I can hear the clatter of trays and the dull roar of a hundred conversations happening around us.

"Listen, Ellie," Piper finally says, leaning forward slightly, her voice low enough that only we can hear. "We haven't really acknowledged that everyone knows... you know."

I swallow my mouthful of pasta, watching two of the most dangerous women I've ever met size each other up across a cafeteria table. It's like sitting between two apex predators.

"It's fine, isn't it?" I interject cheerfully, trying to diffuse the tension crackling between them. "I mean, we all know each other's secrets now. That's kind of nice, right? No more hiding."

Ellie's eyes never leave Piper's face, her blue gaze cold as arctic ice. "Look, Parker," she says, her voice dropping. "My beef with you is over. I don't give a fuck about you at all. Same with the symbiote. We just want to keep our boy and be left alone."

Piper's mouth opens, but Ellie isn't finished.

"And if you fuck Shane again," she continues, leaning forward until she's inches from Piper's face, "I don't care how much he idolizes you as a hero. I will put a fucking hole the size of your wide cunt through your skull."

Piper's eyes widen behind her glasses. "Wow. Very classy, Ellie," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Ellie, baby," I say, reaching over to place my hand on her arm where I can feel the symbiote churning beneath her skin. "I applaud the creativity with that threat, really, but there's a time and a place."

I try to sound stern, but it's hard to scold her when we just spent half of Masters' class doing things that make my face heat up just thinking about them. Plus, the way Ellie's eyes flash when she's being protective does something to me I can't quite explain. Her blonde hair catches the fluorescent light as she tosses her head defiantly, and damn, she's gorgeous even when she's threatening to murder someone.

Ellie rolls her eyes at me, but I can feel the symbiote settling under my touch.

"Wouldn't it be cool though," I say, lowering my voice and leaning forward so only the three of us can hear, "if we could be, you know, friends?" I pause, then whisper excitedly, "And fight crime together?"

The silence that follows is deafening. Piper and Ellie stare at me like I've just suggested we should all strip naked and dance on the cafeteria tables.

"Are you fucking serious?" Ellie finally asks, her voice flat with disbelief.

Piper, surprisingly, looks thoughtful rather than dismissive. "It's not the worst idea I've ever heard," she says slowly, her hazel eyes studying me with new interest.

"See?" I gesture enthusiastically between them. "Think about it! Spider-Woman, Venom, and Skip Step, working together. We'd be unstoppable!"

Ellie's eyes narrow to dangerous slits at my suggestion. Before I can elaborate on my brilliant team-up idea, she grabs my shoulders, turning me to face her directly.

"Shane," she whispers, her voice low and intense. "I don't want to be a fucking hero."

"I hear you," I say softly, "but you won't let me go alone, right?"

She groans, running a hand through her short blonde hair. "I just can't let you get killed."

Piper leans forward, those intelligent hazel eyes softening behind her glasses. "Listen, Shane, once you get more training, we can discuss it again. It's not that simple to just team up."

"You literally tried to join the Fantastic Four on like your first week of heroing," I counter, raising an eyebrow.

Piper freezes, her fork suspended halfway to her mouth. Her eyes widen comically as she stares at me. "He really knows all my weird deep lore," she whispers to herself, barely audible.

"Who told you that?" she demands, setting down her fork with a plastic clatter.

I sigh, avoiding her penetrating gaze. "An online forum," I lie, mentally thanking my Earth-616 comic knowledge.

Piper's shocked expression morphs into something sly as she turns to Ellie. "Don't you get jealous with him always admiring me?"

"Yes, Piper. I do," Ellie responds without hesitation, her voice deadly calm. "And if he didn't affirm his love for me constantly, I'd kill you in your sleep."

The cafeteria noises seem to fade into background static as Piper's jaw literally drops. She blinks several times, clearly processing Ellie's casual death threat.

"I... I really didn't expect you to be so honest about that," Piper stammers, her usual confidence momentarily shattered.

Ellie looks exhausted suddenly. She waves a hand toward me, the gesture somehow both dismissive and affectionate. "This fucking guy... he's literally broken me of all my fight."

"That's so sad," I tease, grinning at her. "I loved your tough gal attitude."

Ellie leans in close to my ear, her breath warm against my skin as she whispers, "Keep this up and I won't choke you for a week."

I feel a nervous flutter in my stomach. Even though I'm pretty sure she's joking, there's always a tiny part of me that wonders if she might be serious.

"Don't joke about that," I laugh awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck.

Her blue eyes gleam with that predatory amusement. Before she can respond, a sharp ringtone cuts through our conversation. Piper fumbles for her phone, glancing at the screen with mild annoyance that quickly morphs into concern.

"I need to take this," she says, her voice suddenly tight as she stands and steps away from the table.

Ellie and I watch as Piper's entire demeanor changes while she listens to whoever's on the other end. Her shoulders hunch forward, one hand coming up to cover her mouth. Even from this distance, I can see the color drain from her face.

"Something's wrong," I murmur, unable to tear my eyes away from her.

When Piper finally returns to the table, she looks like she's aged ten years in two minutes. Her hands are shaking as she gathers her things, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I have to go," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "My Uncle May... he's in the hospital."

Ellie watches Piper hurry away, her expression completely indifferent. It's like she's watching a stranger leave rather than someone whose life has just been upended by bad news.

"Should we go with her?" I ask, already half-rising from my seat. "She looks really upset."

"No, Shane." Ellie doesn't even look at me as she stabs at her food again. "It's none of our business."

Something about her cold dismissal makes my stomach twist. I shift nervously in my seat, my eyes still tracking Piper as she disappears through the cafeteria doors.

"But what if it's not just a medical emergency?" I press, leaning closer to Ellie. "What if it's a villain attack? What if some villian went after her uncle?"

Ellie sets down her fork with deliberate slowness and finally turns those piercing blue eyes on me. "Shane," she says, her voice dangerously soft, "gun to your head, if you could only save me or Piper, who would you…"

"You," I cut her off immediately, not even needing to think about it. "Ellie, it would be you. No hesitation. I'd save you over her always."

"But this is real life," I continue, meeting her gaze steadily. "Not some hypothetical ultimatum where I have to choose. I would literally put a bullet in her skull to keep you safe, but that doesn't mean I can't feel bad that her uncle is in the hospital."

Ellie stares at me, her blue eyes softening slightly as she considers my words. I can almost see the internal battle playing out across her face, the instinctive possessiveness warring with something kinder. Her other half is probably weighing in, too.

She lets out a long sigh, her shoulders dropping in resignation. "Fine. We can leave her alone for now, I guess. Maybe check on her tomorrow if you're still worried."

Relief washes over me. It's a small concession, but from Ellie, it feels monumental.

"Thank you."

Chapter 48: Chapter 48: Unc

The December wind whips across the dorm rooftop, biting through my jeans like they’re made of tissue paper. My golden mask catches the midday light as I pace along the edge.

"Do you think she'll text back?" I ask, glancing at Venom's massive form beside me. Her alien silhouette looks even more menacing against the gray winter sky, all rippling darkness and predatory grace.

"No," Venom growls, those milky white eyes somehow managing to convey annoyance despite having no pupils. "Parker probably doesn't want our help."

I check my phone for the fifteenth time in as many minutes. Still nothing from Piper. It's been two days since she rushed out of the cafeteria after getting that call about her uncle. Two days of silence that's starting to feel less like grieving and more like avoidance.

"Maybe she's just busy with hospital stuff," I offer, tucking my phone back into my utility belt. "Family emergencies are complicated."

Venom makes a dismissive sound, something between a hiss and a scoff.

I tap my foot against the rooftop edge, restless energy building inside me. We've been up here for over an hour, just waiting and watching, and I'm starting to get antsy.

"Hey," I say, turning to Venom. “Do you think I can do a backflip?"

Venom's face twists into what I can only assume is the symbiote equivalent of an eye-roll. "No," she says firmly. "Don't even try to…"

Before she can finish, I'm already launching myself backward, my body arching through the cold December air in what I hope resembles an actual backflip. Time seems to slow as I realize mid-rotation that I've severely miscalculated. My body isn't turning fast enough, and the concrete rooftop is rushing up to meet my face instead of my feet.

In a moment of panic-induced brilliance, I focus on a spot about ten feet higher in the sky. Golden energy surges through me as reality bends, and suddenly I'm teleporting upward. The extra height gives me just enough time to complete my rotation, and I land on my feet with only a slight wobble. The ten foot drop practically nothing to me now.

Venom stares at me, her massive shoulders slumping with a resigned sigh. "That was actually pretty cool," she admits, sounding almost surprised.

I can't help but grin beneath my mask, a warm surge of pride rushing through. Venom's admission feels like winning an Olympic medal.

"That was pretty high up too, for a normie," she adds, her massive head tilting as she studies me. "Your body's definitely getting stronger. Pretty sure the version of you I first met would've ended up with ankles shattered like glass trying to stick that landing."

"True," I chuckle, bouncing on my heels to test said ankles. They feel rock solid. "All that training with Masters is paying off."

“I don’t know I think theres more to it…”

My phone buzzes cutting through our moment. I fumble to pull it out, my heart leaping when I see Piper's name on the screen.

"She texted back!" I exclaim, scanning the message quickly. "She's asking if we can come to Queens Hospital while she goes home for a change of clothes."

Venom lets out a deep, exaggerated groan, her massive shoulders slumping dramatically. "This is so fucking lame. Babysitting Parker's uncle? Really?"

"I promise I'll make it up to you tonight, alright?" I say, my voice dropping to that suggestive tone that always gets her attention.

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters, but I can hear the slight softening in her voice.

Venom turns her back to me, the black tendrils of her form shifting as she crouches slightly. "Come on then, get on," she says, her dual-layered voice somehow managing to sound both annoyed and affectionate.

I wrap my arms around her neck, pressing my chest against her back as I climb on. The symbiote feels surprisingly warm against the December chill, pulsing with alien life beneath my touch. I can't help but savor the closeness, the feeling of her powerful body against mine.

"Hold tight," she warns before launching us into the air.

The wind tears at my mask as we soar between buildings, Venom's powerful arms shooting webs from rooftop to rooftop. The city blurs beneath us as we swing over the East River, the Queensboro Bridge stretching out below like a steel serpent. My stomach drops with each arc, a rollercoaster of exhilaration and terror that never gets old.

Fifteen minutes of web-slinging later, we touch down on the Queens Hospital rooftop. Spider-Woman is already waiting for us, her red and blue suit a stark contrast against the drab concrete. She looks exhausted, even through her mask.

"Thanks so much," she says, her voice strained with relief. "I couldn't get ahold of Harriet, and honestly, I just didn't want to call Mario."

"It's no problem at all," I reply, sliding off Venom's back. "How's your uncle doing?"

Spider-Woman's shoulders slump as she shakes her head. "He hasn't woken up yet. The doctors are running test after test, but they have no idea what's wrong."

I nod.

"He's in room 0451," she continues, gesturing vaguely toward the hospital below us. "You just have to watch him until I get back."

I shrug off my jacket and flip it inside out, transforming it from hero gear to normal streetwear in seconds. "No problem," I say, tucking my golden mask into the pocket.

Beside me, Ellie's transformation is far more dramatic. The symbiote flows across her massive form, reshaping itself into a casual outfit of jeans and a leather jacket. Her short blonde hair reappears as the alien substance recedes from her face, those blank white eyes giving way to piercing blue ones that haven't stopped glaring at Piper since we arrived.

Piper shifts her weight from one foot to another, clearly uncomfortable under Ellie's hostile stare. "I really, really appreciate this, Shane," she says, her voice softening with genuine gratitude.

"I'm sure you do," Ellie mutters under her breath, just loud enough for all of us to hear.

I shoot Ellie a warning glance before turning back to Piper. "Family emergencies happen. I'm happy to help."

Without another word, Spider-Woman fires a web at a nearby building and launches herself into the air, her form quickly disappearing between the Queens skyline.

"Let's get this over with," Ellie sighs, heading toward a door marked "Roof Access."

The hospital corridors are a maze of squeaking linoleum. Nurses rush past us with clipboards, doctors huddle in corners discussing cases, and somewhere distant, a monitor beeps in steady rhythm. No one gives us a second glance as we navigate toward room 0451, like two college students wandering a hospital is the most normal thing in the world.

"I hate hospitals," Ellie mutters as we turn down another identical hallway. "They smell like death and cleaning supplies."

"I do too," I reply, trying not to let my mind wander back to when I was ten. The antiseptic smell and beeping machines threaten to drag me back to another hospital, another time, the worst day of my life. I push those memories down where they belong, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Finally, we reach room 0451. I push the door open, expecting to find an unconscious older man in a hospital bed. Instead, I freeze in the doorway, my brain struggling to process what I'm seeing.

There's a girl standing over Uncle May's bed. She looks exactly like Piper, same face, same height, same build, but with blonde hair instead of brown, and no glasses perched on her nose. She's staring down at the unconscious man with an expression that's hard to read. Intense, troubled, her lips pressed into a thin line as her fingers clutch the metal railing of the hospital bed.

I blink several times, wondering if the teleporting has somehow affected my vision. The resemblance is uncanny, impossible even.

"Is this the right room?" I whisper, turning back to Ellie with confusion written all over my face.

Ellie's blue eyes narrow dangerously, her nostrils flaring slightly as she leans closer to me. When she speaks, her voice is so quiet only I can hear it, her breath warm against my ear.

"She smells like Parker."

 

 

 

Chapter 49: Chapter 49: Scarlet

My brain short-circuits as Ellie closes the door behind us, sealing us in with Piper's doppelgänger. The blonde girl turns to face us fully, her eyebrows raised in surprise at our sudden entrance. Despite her startled expression, she doesn't look afraid, just cautious and maybe a little annoyed at being interrupted.

"Hi, I'm Brynn," she says, extending her hand toward me with surprising confidence. Her voice sounds just like Piper's but sharper somehow, with an edge that Piper's usually lacks.

In a heartbeat, everything clicks into place. The identical face, standing vigil at Uncle May's bedside, the blonde hair… I know exactly who this is. This has to be the gender-flipped version of Ben Reilly from the comics. Piper's clone.

"It's nice to meet you, Brynn," I say, reaching out to shake her offered hand.

The second my fingers touch hers, Ellie moves with superhuman speed. The symbiote erupts from her arm, forming a jagged tendril that ends in a wicked spike pressed against Brynn's throat. Brynn freezes, her eyes widening as she stares at the black alien substance threatening to impale her.

"Don't touch him," Ellie snarls, her voice dropping to that dangerous octave that usually precedes violence.

She turns to me, her blue eyes wild with protective fury. "I don't know what she is, but my other is saying she's Piper, and that doesn’t make any fucking sense."

I sigh heavily, running a hand through my hair. "Relax, Ellie. She basically is Piper."

"Huh?" Brynn's eyes dart between us, confusion momentarily overriding her fear of the deadly tendril at her throat. "What are you talking about?"

"You're Brynn Reilly, right?" I ask, watching her face carefully.

Her expression immediately shifts from confusion to defensive suspicion. The tendril at her throat hasn't moved, but she straightens her posture slightly, shoulders squaring despite the threat.

"Did you put May in the hospital?" she demands, eyes narrowing. "Because if you did…"

"No, of course not," I interrupt quickly, holding up my hands in a placating gesture. "We're friends of Piper's."

I turn to Ellie and nod slowly, keeping my voice calm despite the tension crackling through the room. "She's Piper's clone, Ellie. You can put the death spike away."

Ellie's eyes widen, but the symbiote tendril remains firmly against Brynn's throat.

"Clone?" Brynn sputters, her face contorting with indignation. "How the hell do you…"

"Piper doesn't even know you're still alive," I continue, cutting her off. The tendril at her throat finally retracts, slithering back beneath Ellie's skin with reluctant slowness.

Brynn takes a cautious step back, her eyes never leaving mine. "How do you know that?" she demands, fingers flexing at her sides in a way that reminds me eerily of Piper preparing for a fight.

I swallow hard, my mind racing to fabricate something believable. "I saw it in a dream," I say finally, the lie feeling clumsy on my tongue. "A long time ago. I wasn't sure if it was real or not."

Her eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. "You have visions?" The skepticism in her voice is palpable, but there's something else there too, a spark of desperate curiosity.

"It's complicated," I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant as I deepen the lie. "Out of my control, and it doesn't happen often."

Ellie remains surprisingly silent beside me, her body tense but seemingly allowing me to take the lead. I can feel her watching me closely, probably wondering where I'm going with this.

I look at Brynn again, really taking her in this time. The blonde hair, the familiar face with subtly different expressions, the way she holds herself, slightly more aggressive than Piper, shoulders squared like she's always ready for a fight.

Something inside me breaks open with recognition and excitement that I can't contain.

"You're Scarlet Spider," I breathe, unable to keep the awe from my voice. "Holy shit, you have my favorite superhero costume ever. That fucking blue sweatshirt is iconic!" The words tumble out of me in a rush of genuine enthusiasm. "I always liked Spider-Man's outfit, but I go absolutely feral for Scarlet's."

“…Spider-Man?" Brynn takes another step back, looking like she's been slapped.

"Here we fucking go again," Ellie groans, rolling her eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't get stuck. "He's always doing this fucking shit." She grabs my arm and yanks me against her side possessively, her fingers digging into my hip with unmistakable ownership.

Brynn looks completely overwhelmed, her gaze darting between me, Ellie, and the unconscious form of Uncle May in the hospital bed. Her expression cycles through confusion, suspicion, and something that might be fear.

"I'm actually a superhero too," I blurt out, reaching into my pocket. "Up and coming, but still. Name's Skip Step."

I fish out my golden mask from my jacket pocket, unfolding it with slightly trembling fingers. The material catches the fluorescent hospital lights as I hold it over my face, giving Brynn a little wave with my free hand.

"When you're free later, maybe we could get a picture together? You know, in costume?" I ask, lowering the mask.

Brynn shifts uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest. She glances at Uncle May's unconscious form, then back at me, her expression guarded.

"Brynn, you don't get it, I'm a huge fan of yours…" I stop myself mid-sentence, remembering something else. "Has Kaine been following you?"

Her entire body tenses, eyes widening in shock. "Yes," she whispers, taking a half-step forward. "All over the goddamn country. You know that too?"

I feel Ellie's grip tighten on my hip, a silent warning not to say too much. But I can't help myself.

"She's another clone," I say, carefully watching Brynn's reaction. "A failed one."

"What?" Brynn exclaims, her voice rising sharply before she glances at Uncle May and lowers it again. "Another clone? What are you talking about?"

I run my hand through my hair, trying to organize my thoughts. "Whatever happened to May is being caused by the Jackal. Kaine is just being manipulated or something." I pause, struggling to remember the details of the clone saga. It was a very convoluted story line. "It's been a while since my... dream, so I don't remember everything perfectly."

Brynn stares at me like I've grown a second head. "What the fuck?" she whispers, her voice barely audible.

"I imagine it's a lot to take in," I say apologetically. "But about that photo… Do you think we could make that happen?"

Brynn doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she turns her gaze from me to Ellie, as if trying to make sense of our presence.

Ellie sighs dramatically beside me. "He usually gets this excited when he sees F-list villains," she explains, her tone dripping with boredom. "To see him get this worked up over a Spider-Woman knock-off... I don't get it at all."

"I'm not a Spider-Woman knock-off," Brynn snaps, her eyes flashing with anger. "I'm a clone. There's a difference."

Ellie lets out a dismissive snort, waving her hand like she's swatting away Brynn's words. "Listen, I don't give a single fuck what you are," she says flatly. "Clone, knock-off, whatever. I'm just here to chaperone my boyfriend so he doesn't accidentally get himself killed."

Brynn lets out a small laugh, shaking her head as she looks between us. "You two have a very... interesting dynamic going on."

"I know," Ellie sighs with resignation, her fingers still digging possessively into my hip.

"Ellie, stop making it sound like I'm some kind of chore you have to deal with."

Her expression softens unexpectedly, those fierce blue eyes warming as she looks down at me. A genuine smile spreads across her face, the kind that still makes my heart skip a beat.

"You're my favorite chore," she says, her voice dropping to that intimate tone that's just for me.

The moment shatters as the hospital door swings open. Piper stands frozen in the doorway, a backpack dangling from her limp fingers, her face a mask of complete shock. Her eyes lock onto Brynn, widening with disbelief as she takes in her blonde doppelgänger.

"What the hell is going on?" she demands, her voice barely above a whisper.

I exhale heavily, running my hand through my hair. "Damn, I really wish you'd just come back earlier." I glance between the identical women, feeling the tension in the room spike to dangerous levels. "Alright, let's go over this one more time, from the top."

Chapter 50: Chapter 50: Smoke Stack

The hospital room feels like a pressure cooker of awkward silence after my lengthy explanation. I'm standing between two identical women who look ready to either hug or murder each other, and honestly, I'm not sure which would be worse.

Piper stares at me, her hazel eyes narrowing behind her thick-rimmed glasses. "You expect me to believe all that because you 'had a dream'?" she asks, her voice dripping with skepticism.

I shrug, trying to appear more confident than I feel. "Yeah, I mean, you know me well enough to see I'm a straight shooter, don't you?"

Piper lets out a sigh so deep and exhausted it seems to come from the very core of her being. The sound echoes against the sterile hospital walls, punctuated by the steady beeping of Uncle May's monitors.

"Fine," she concedes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "But I'm not going to trust Ms. Blonde Me over there so easily."

Brynn crosses her arms over her chest, her posture a mirror image of Piper's defensive stance but somehow sharper, more aggressive. "Well, I'm still not exactly over being thrown into a smoke stack," she says, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"I thought you were dead," Piper fires back, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "And I couldn't exactly have two Piper Parkers around. What if the cops found my body and asked questions?"

Ellie snorts beside me, her fingers drumming against my hip where she's still holding me possessively. "That's cold, Parker," she mutters, sounding almost impressed.

"Look," I interject, stepping between them before this gets any more heated, "maybe we should focus on why Uncle May is in the hospital in the first place? That seems more important than rehashing old murder attempts."

Piper's shoulders slump as she glances at her uncle's still form. "You're right," she admits reluctantly. "Enough of this. We need to find the Jackal." She turns to me, her expression suddenly intense. "Do you know who she's working with? From your... dreams?"

I scratch the back of my neck, searching my memory for comic book details that might be useful. "I don't remember exactly," I admit with a helpless shrug. "But it's probably the Green Goblin."

The moment those words leave my mouth, something incredible happens. Uncle May's eyes snap open wide, his body arching upward as he gasps violently for air like a drowning man breaking the surface. The monitors around him go crazy, beeping frantically as his vitals spike.

My eyes widen as I stare at the now-conscious old man. "This certainly didn't happen last time..." I mutter in disbelief. "I'm pretty sure..."

Piper and Brynn rush to Uncle May's side, both reaching for his hand simultaneously before awkwardly pulling back from each other. The old man's eyes dart frantically around the room, unfocused and wild with fear.

Uncle May's gaze locks onto Piper, then shifts to Brynn. His weathered face contorts in confusion as he looks back and forth between the identical women. The frantic beeping of the heart monitor gradually slows as his initial panic subsides.

"I'm seeing double, Piper..." he says, his voice raspy and weak. Then, unexpectedly, he lets out a wheezing laugh that seems to take what little strength he has. "Always knew this day would come... when I'd finally lose my marbles."

The tension in the room breaks as the door bursts open. A doctor in a pristine white coat rushes in, stethoscope bouncing against her chest.

"He's awake?" she asks, eyes widening as she takes in the scene. She pushes past me to check the monitors. "We need to start tests pronto."

She hurries back to the doorway and waves her hand down the corridor. "Nurses! Room 0451!" she calls out, her voice carrying the urgency of someone used to being obeyed instantly.

The doctor turns back to us, her expression leaving no room for argument. "Everyone out," she commands, already pulling a penlight from her pocket. "This might take a while."

Ellie's hand finds mine, tugging me toward the door. "Alright," I say, backing away from the bed. Ellie says nothing, but the pressure of her fingers against mine speaks volumes.

Piper and Brynn follow us into the hallway as nurses rush past, wheeling equipment into the room. The door closes behind them with a soft click that somehow feels final.

"Thanks," Piper says, looking between Ellie and me. Her face is a complex mix of emotions, relief, confusion, and something that might be gratitude. "For being here, I mean."

"Sure, anytime," I respond with a shrug, trying to act like this level of superhero drama is totally normal for me.

Ellie remains silent beside me, her face carefully blank. I can feel the symbiote shifting beneath her skin, reacting to her carefully controlled emotions.

Piper glances at Brynn, who's standing awkwardly a few feet away, then back to us. "I guess Brynn and I have it covered for now, though."

I nod, understanding the dismissal for what it is. "Alright. Well, let me know if it all works out." I hesitate, then add with a grin, "Oh, and Brynn, don't forget you owe me a photo."

Brynn's eyes narrow slightly, her mouth twisting into something between a smile and a grimace. "Alright," she says, but her tone suggests she's not entirely comfortable with the idea. There's distrust written all over her face, which is fair, considering I know way too much about her.

I take one last glance at Piper and Brynn standing side by side in the hallway.

"Come on," Ellie murmurs, her fingers tightening around mine. "Let's get out of here."

Chapter 51: Chapter 51: Goblin Deez Nutz

[Norma Osborn’s POV]

 

Blood pools around Dr. Warren's head, spreading across the pristine laboratory floor in an ever-widening crimson halo. The Jackal's lifeless eyes stare at nothing, her final expression one of utter shock. I suppose she never expected die this way.

I step carefully over her body, my dress shoes clicking against the polished concrete as I holster my gun. The acrid smell of gunpowder mingles with the antiseptic tang of chemicals that permeates this underground facility. Refrigeration units hum softly along the walls, each containing perfectly preserved DNA samples. Enormous glass tanks filled with amniotic fluid line the far wall, empty now but ready to birth new clones at a moments notice.

All this meticulous scientific precision, and for what?

Three years. Three goddamn years of careful planning. Three years funding this deranged woman's research from the shadows, nudging her obsession with Parker in just the right direction. Everything had been perfect, the plan to destroy Spider-Woman by attacking what she loves most, her precious Uncle May, the clones that would have torn her psyche apart piece by piece...

And then some teleporting boy wonder with pheromones and a hard-on for heroics stumbles into the mix and ruins everything.

I run my fingers along the edge of a laboratory bench, leaving a trail in the dust. "Shane Steele," I murmur, testing the name on my tongue. "What exactly are you?"

The boy fascinates me in a way few things do anymore. Those golden flashes, the way he appeared on my glider mid-flight, impossible, yet there he was. The pheromones that radiated off him were unlike anything I've encountered in decades of studying enhanced individuals. Even through my mask, they'd affected me instantly, triggering responses I hadn't felt since... well, since Harriet's father.

And all my snooping I can see Parker is clearly smitten with him too, despite that alien-infested girlfriend of his. The way Spider-Woman had reacted when I touched the boy, that wasn't just heroic concern. That was personal. Just like Gwyn.

The Jackal's plan was elegant but ultimately conventional. Break Parker by targeting her family, her sense of self. But Shane Steele offers something far more interesting, a new variable, unpredictable and potent.

My gaze drifts to the row of refrigeration units lining the far wall. Each one a testament to Warren's obsessive genius. I pause before one labeled "M. WARREN 002," my fingers hovering over the biometric lock. Through the frosted glass, I can make out a perfect replica of the Jackal herself, suspended in preservation fluid, waiting to be awakened.

A contingency plan. How very like her.

I withdraw my hand, leaving the clone undisturbed. This particular project can wait. After all, if I'm shifting my focus to the Steele boy and his peculiar abilities, I can always return to this laboratory later. The clone isn't going anywhere, and neither are Warren's meticulous records.

As I turn to leave, my mind replays the conversations I had intercepted through the surveillance devices I planted in the hospital. The boy's visions... remarkably accurate. He knew about Brynn Reilly before Parker did. Knew about Kaine. Knew things that no one should know.

I step over Warren's cooling body one last time. The lab's automatic lights dim behind me as I make my way toward the elevator. If the boy can truly see the future, or some version of it, then I need to understand the extent of his abilities. What else might he have foreseen? Does he know what's coming for him?

At the very least it didn’t seem omniscient…

I smile to myself as the elevator doors slide shut.

"I wonder how devastated Parker will be when I take this one from her too," I murmur, watching the floor numbers descend. There's a certain poetry to it that appeals to me. First Gwyn Stacy, now Shane Steele. History repeating itself with a delicious new twist.

"I wonder what this one tastes like?"

 

Chapter 52: Chapter 52: I Miss F1

I'm perched on the edge of some corporate building whose name I don't care enough to remember, watching my breath form little clouds that disappear into the December night.

Ten days since Uncle May woke up. Ten days of patrols, training with Masters, and pretending everything is normal. Ten days of trying to forget what today is.

"You planning to just stand there all night?" Ellie's voice cuts through my thoughts. She's pacing behind me, the symbiote rippling across her massive form with barely contained energy.

I shrug, still staring at the city below. "Just taking in the view."

"Bullshit." The symbiote parts around her face, revealing those piercing blue eyes that see through every lie I tell. "You've been weird all day. What's going on?"

"Nothing." I turn away from her searching gaze, focusing instead on a distant police siren. "Just tired."

Before I can react, tendrils shoot out from Venom's body, wrapping around my waist and yanking me backward. My back hits the rooftop wall with enough force to knock the wind from my lungs. Ellie looms over me, her face inches from mine as the symbiote flows back to reveal more of her features.

"You're keeping secrets from me?" she growls, her voice vibrating with that dangerous dual tone that makes my stomach flip.

"It's nothing, really."

Her hand slams against the wall beside my head, the concrete cracking under the impact. "Try again."

"Fine," I sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Today's my birthday."

The blank white eyes of her symbiote mask widen comically, the darkness parting further to reveal her entire face. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" she demands, genuine hurt flashing across her features. "We could have done something special."

I shrug again, feeling suddenly small beneath her intense gaze. "I don't really like my birthday that much."

"That's insane," she says, releasing me from her grip but still blocking my escape with her imposing frame. "Boys love birthdays. And you seem exactly like the kind that would make sure to tell everyone it's your birthday all day."

A bitter laugh escapes me before I can stop it. "Yeah, well, not this boy."

Ellie's expression softens, the predatory intensity melting into something gentler. The symbiote responds to her emotional shift, flowing more smoothly across her form. "Why not?"

"Really, let's just talk about this later," I say, turning away from her piercing gaze. "Like tomorrow."

"Shane, come on," Ellie says, her voice softening as she reaches for my shoulder. "What do you think, I'll judge you or something?"

I sigh, my shoulders slumping further under the weight of memories I've been carrying all day. The city lights blur below us as I struggle to find the words.

"No... it's just..." I reach up and pull off my golden mask, letting the cold December air hit my face fully. I stare down at the mask in my hands, tracing the edges with my thumb. "Today is the day my parents died. I was ten years old."

Ellie's expression shifts, those fierce blue eyes widening with sudden understanding.

"They died because I begged them to take me to the movies on my birthday," I continue, the words spilling out now that I've started. "Wouldn't stop whining about it until they gave in."

"Shane, I had no idea that's how they…"

"Of course not," I cut her off, my voice sharper than I intended. "I didn't tell you that part."

The symbiote flows across her body, responding to her emotions as she moves closer to me. Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with surprising gentleness.

"You can't just blame yourself for their death," she says quietly, her thumb stroking the back of my hand.

"I don't," I reply, watching our joined hands instead of meeting her eyes. "I mean, I did for a long time. What kid wouldn't? But no, I know I was just a kid acting like a kid."

In my mind, I can still see the movie poster that had captivated me so completely. The Avengers rerelease. It was the fourth time I would have seen it in theaters.

Ellie's free hand comes up to cup my cheek, turning my face toward hers. The symbiote has retreated completely now, leaving just her, beautiful, fierce, and looking at me with an expression I rarely see from her. Tenderness.

"What happened to them?" she asks, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

I swallow hard, the memories rising to the surface like bodies in a lake. The words feel heavy in my mouth, but I force them out.

"They got into a fight on the drive home. Something stupid, I don't even remember what. They fought a lot." My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. "My dad took his eyes off the road for what felt like an eternity and then... boom. Head-on collision with another car."

Ellie's eyes widen, her fingers tightening around mine. "Oh my god," she whispers, the symbiote swirling anxiously across her shoulders. "Did the other driver...?"

"No," I shake my head, staring past her at the city lights. "Only I survived that day."

"Wow, that's so awful. I'm so sorry…"

The rest of her sentence is cut off by the distinctive thud of two pairs of feet landing on the rooftop behind us. I turn to see Spider-Woman and Scarlet Spider standing side by side, their silhouettes unmistakable against the night sky.

"Well, well, if it isn't the neighborhood's favorite odd couple," Spider-Woman calls out, her voice carrying that familiar playful lilt. "What's with the serious faces? Someone steal your lunch money?"

Scarlet Spider crosses her arms, the blue hoodie over her costume fluttering in the December wind. "Probably plotting world domination. That's what villains do on rooftops, right?"

I've never been so grateful for an interruption in my life. The weight of the past lifts slightly as I slip my golden mask back on, grateful for the barrier it provides between my emotions and the world.

The symbiote swirls across Ellie's face, reclaiming her features beneath that terrifying visage of white eyes and gleaming fangs.

"We're not plotting anything," Venom snarls, her voice a nightmarish chorus that echoes across the rooftop.

I clear my throat, grateful for the distraction from my personal tragedy. "You two seem to be getting along these days," I say, gesturing between the spider-themed heroes. "That's good."

Spider-Woman shifts her weight, the lenses of her mask narrowing slightly. "For now..." she replies, her voice carrying a note of caution that suggests this truce is fragile at best.

"How's your uncle doing?" I ask, genuinely curious about the man who'd woken up so unexpectedly during our hospital visit.

"Good as new," Spider-Woman says, her posture relaxing slightly. "All his tests came back great. He's back home now."

I nod, a strange feeling settling in my gut. Something about this doesn't track with what I remember from the comics. The clone saga never resolved this neatly or quickly. Uncle May was supposed to be sick for much longer, and the whole storyline was supposed to be way more convoluted. I’m pretty sure he should have died to be honest… It feels like something fundamental has changed in this universe's narrative flow, but I can't put my finger on what exactly.

After a moment's consideration, I decide to set these thoughts aside. Maybe this reality is just different from the comics I knew. Or maybe my presence here has already altered things in ways I can't predict.

"How about you, Scarlet?" I turn my attention to the blonde clone in her blue hoodie. "What's up with you these days?"

Scarlet Spider shrugs, her body language mirroring Piper's. "I'm living with Uncle May. He thinks I'm a long-lost relative."

"That's great, right?" I offer, trying to sound encouraging.

"Yeah, it's..." she pauses, seemingly searching for the right words, "weird to be back in New York after so long."

I can't help but press further, curious about how much of the original storyline is still intact. "Any sightings of Kaine?"

Scarlet shakes her head firmly. "No. Not since I got to New York. She hasn't attacked me once."

"Hmm, I wonder what changed?" I muse aloud, genuinely puzzled by this deviation.

Spider-Woman shrugs, her red and blue suit catching the city lights as she moves. "Maybe your vision was off," she suggests, a hint of skepticism still coloring her tone.

"Probably," I concede, though I'm not convinced. "I'd just be very careful if I were you."

"Always," Spider-Woman replies.

Scarlet Spider lets out a heavy sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. After a moment, she turns to me. "So... do you still want that photo you were bugging me about at the hospital?"

My heart skips a beat, the fanboy inside me doing backflips. I glance at Ellie, who's watching me with those blank white eyes. Even through my mask, I swear she can sense the excitement radiating from me.

"You know," she says, the symbiote partially receding to reveal her amused expression, "you never suggest taking pictures with me."

"I would love to take pictures of us," I counter quickly, not wanting her to feel left out. A mischievous thought crosses my mind. "Hell, we should even start filming ourselves together sometime..."

Ellie snorts. "Just give me your phone," she says, extending her hand.

I fumble through my pockets, nearly dropping my phone in my excitement before handing it over to her. The symbiote flows around her fingers as she takes it, creating a perfect grip.

I practically sprint over to Scarlet Spider, positioning myself beside her. "Ready, Ellie?" I call out, unable to keep the childish glee from my voice.

"Yeah.”

Scarlet shifts awkwardly beside me. "How should we pose?" she asks, sounding like she's already regretting this decision.

Spider-Woman chuckles. “Just do something Scarlet Spider would do.”

“…Fine.”

Scarlet snaps her wrist out on instinct. Thwip A webline shoots past me, catching on a distant water tower. The sound alone flips a switch in my brain.

I move without thinking.

I drop low into a crouch, one knee bent, fingertips brushing the concrete as I lean forward, golden mask tilted up toward the skyline. It’s muscle memory mixed with pure comic-book nonsense, ready to spring, ready to run, ready to disappear in a flash of gold.

“Hold it,” Ellie says.

The symbiote tightens around her arm as she frames the shot, impatience radiating off her. "Alright… Got it."

I relax from my pose and hurry over to where Ellie stands, the excitement still bubbling within.

"Thanks for doing that," I say, reaching for my phone.

Ellie doesn't immediately hand it back. Instead, her free hand catches my wrist, tugging me closer until we're standing slightly apart from the spider duo. The symbiote recedes from her face again, revealing those piercing blue eyes that always see right through me.

"Shane," she says softly, her voice pitched just for my ears, "I'll take as many pictures of you with these D-list heroes as you want..." Her thumb traces small circles on my wrist, a surprisingly tender gesture. "But I want to talk more about your birthday later, okay?"

Something warm unfurls in my chest at her words, at the genuine concern in her eyes. "Yeah," I nod, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat. "Later."

Her eyes search mine for a moment longer before she hands my phone back.

 

 

 

Scarlet Spider

Chapter 53: Chapter 53: Super Mario

[Piper Parker’s POV]

 

Cold water drips down my face as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, trying to make sense of the mess I've become. My dorm bathroom feels like the only safe place to think right now. I splash another handful of water against my cheeks, hoping it might wash away the memory of Shane's hands on my body.

It doesn't work. Nothing does.

I've tried everything, brutal patrols, extra lab hours, even helping Brynn settle in with Uncle May. But no matter what I do, my mind keeps circling back to that rooftop. To Shane. To the way his body felt against mine, inside mine.

"Get it together, Parker," I mutter, gripping the edges of the sink.

When Uncle May collapsed, Shane was the first person I called. Not Harriet, not Mario, not any of the other heroes I've known for years. Shane. The same guy who's currently tangled up with one of the most dangerous people I've ever fought.

I dry my face with a rough paper towel, wincing at the harsh texture against my skin. My phone buzzes on the counter, another message from Brynn asking if I'm coming to dinner at Uncle May's tonight. I should be focused on this miracle, on having both my uncle back and this unexpected sister in my life.

Instead, I'm obsessing over a guy who barely knows me, who's with someone else, who makes me feel things I haven't allowed myself to feel since...

"Since Gwyn," I whisper to my reflection, the name still painful after all these years.

No... this is different. What I felt for Gwyn was wholesome, gentle. A calm lake compared to this raging sea. With Shane, it's a constant throb in my chest that radiates outward until my whole body feels like one raw nerve. It's pure, unbridled lust that floods my system whenever I think of him.

I want him. Not just emotionally, but physically, with an intensity that frightens me. I want to be near him, breathe him in, feel his skin against mine. I want to take him inside me again, to feel him come apart in my hands, my mouth. I want to pin him down and make him mine.

I sigh, pressing my forehead against the cool bathroom mirror. It's awful. This feeling follows me everywhere, like a ringing in my ears that never fully disappears, no matter how loud everything else gets. Even when I'm swinging between skyscrapers or fighting criminals, it's there, a constant, insistent hum beneath everything else.

Brynn is still suspicious of him, of course. I can see it in the way she watches him whenever he's around. And honestly, I don't buy his story about having prophetic visions either. It's too convenient, too perfect an explanation for how he knew about her before anyone else did.

But despite my doubts, I'm confident there's nothing nefarious behind his knowledge. Maybe he's enhanced in ways he doesn't fully understand yet. Maybe he's just incredibly observant or lucky with his guesses. I mean he knows all my deep lore. Whatever the truth is, my spider-sense has never once tingled when I’m alone with him, and that counts for something.

My phone buzzes again, drawing my attention away from my troubled reflection. I expect another message from Brynn, but instead I see Mario's name flash across the screen.

‘Hey, haven't talked in a while. I'd love to catch up if you're around.’

I stare at Mario's text for a long moment, my finger hovering over the screen. Once upon a time, I would have jumped at the chance to meet up with him, to fall back into our comfortable pattern of flirtation and casual dates that never quite became something real.

But now? After meeting Shane?

The thought of spending an evening with Mario suddenly feels as appealing as grading freshman lab reports. What once seemed exciting now feels predictable, safe... boring. Our whole dynamic. The will-they-won't-they dance we've been doing for a few years suddenly seems so superficial compared to the raw, electric connection I felt with Shane.

I close Mario's message without responding. Maybe that's cruel, but I just can't muster the energy to pretend I'm interested anymore.

Instead, I open Brynn's text and type back quickly:
'On my way. Just need to grab my jacket.'

Chapter 54: Chapter 54: Monster

Ten seconds is nothing when you're running for your life.

Freezing December wind slices through my hoodie as I sprint across the rooftop, my lungs burning with each desperate breath. I'm counting down in my head with each footfall, each heartbeat hammering against my ribs.

Nine.

The gravel crunches beneath my sneakers as I push myself harder, faster, my muscles screaming in protest. I reach the edge of the building and don't even slow down.

Eight.

I focus on the next rooftop, about twenty feet away across an alleyway that might as well be the Grand Canyon. Golden energy surges through my veins as reality bends around me. For a split second, I'm everywhere and nowhere, my molecules scattered across space before snapping back together.

Seven.

I materialize on the opposite roof, already running. The teleport sends a wave of heat through my lower body, a primal sensation that mingles with my terror.

Six.

"Just keep moving," I gasp between ragged breaths, pushing my body past its limits. The city blurs around me, a maze of concrete and steel that offers no sanctuary.

Five.

Another rooftop approaches. I don't even think, just teleport. Flash of gold, surge of heat, and I'm still running. My thighs burn with exertion, but I can't stop. Not for a second.

Four.

Sweat trickles down my spine despite the December chill. My heart feels like it might explode in my chest. Another teleport, another rooftop. The golden light trails behind me like a beacon announcing my position to whatever's hunting me.

Three.

"Faster, faster," I chant under my breath, my voice barely audible over the sound of my pounding footsteps. I can almost feel it closing in, the invisible countdown ticking away the seconds of safety I have left.

Two.

I reach another edge, focus on a water tower about thirty feet away. It's farther than I usually go, but fear gives me strength.

One.

I land hard, stumbling as my feet hit the metal platform. The teleport leaves me dizzy, my vision swimming as I struggle to regain my balance. The heat in my core pulses insistently, a byproduct of my powers that feels grotesquely inappropriate given the circumstances.

Zero.

The roar that tears through the night sky freezes the blood in my veins. It's not human. Not even close. It's the sound of something ancient and hungry, a predator announcing its presence to prey that has nowhere left to run.

I spin around, heart lodged in my throat, but it's too late. The massive silhouette of Venom fills my vision against the night sky, her hulking form blocking out the stars as she lands on the rooftop with predatory grace. Each step she takes toward me sends vibrations through the metal platform.

"SHANE!" Her voice is a horrifying symphony of two beings speaking as one, echoing across the empty space between us. "GET BACK HERE!"

My legs are moving before my brain can catch up, desperate strides carrying me toward the far edge of the water tower. Maybe if I can just get enough distance for one more teleport…

The symbiote strikes without warning, black tendrils shooting across the platform and wrapping around my ankles. I crash face-first onto the metal surface, the impact knocking what little breath I had left from my lungs.

"Please," I gasp, clawing at the platform as the tendrils drag me backward. "Ellie, wait…"

She looms over me now, her monstrous form silhouetted against the city lights. The symbiote ripples across her body in agitated patterns, those blank white eyes somehow conveying hunger despite having no pupils. Moonlight catches on her fangs as her mouth splits into a terrifying grin.

And God help me, even now, even as I'm being hunted like an animal, I can't help but stare. There's something hauntingly beautiful about her in this form, powerful, primal, perfect in her terrible symmetry.

That momentary hesitation costs me everything.

She pounces, her weight driving me flat against the platform. I try to teleport, to escape, but panic scrambles my concentration. The golden energy flickers and dies before it can fully form.

"Caught you," she purrs, her voice a nightmare chorus that sends shivers down my spine.

The symbiote crawls up my body like liquid darkness, tendrils slithering across my skin. I thrash against her grip, but it's like fighting an ocean, everywhere I push, she flows around me, inexorable and patient.

"Stop struggling," she growls, her monstrous face inches from mine. "You know you can't escape."

Her claws tear through my hoodie like it's tissue paper, shredding the fabric with methodical precision. The December air hits my exposed chest, raising goosebumps across my skin. I shiver, but not from the cold.

"Ellie, stop…" My words cut off as she rips my jeans open with a single violent motion, the sound of tearing denim echoing across the rooftop.

The symbiote flows beneath me, lifting me slightly as she strips away what remains of my clothing. I'm naked now, vulnerable beneath her massive form, my body betraying me with an arousal that has nothing to do with teleporting and everything to do with her.

"Look at you," she purrs, those blank white eyes somehow conveying hunger despite their emptiness. "Already hard for us."

I gasp, pushing against her chest with all my strength. It's like trying to move a mountain. "You can’t do this!"

She stops me by grabbing a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat. A whimper escapes me.

"We can do whatever we want," she hisses, her monstrous face splitting into that terrifying grin. "You're ours."

I twist in her grip, a last desperate attempt at freedom. The symbiote responds by pinning my wrists above my head with tendrils thick as ropes. I arch my back, trying to break free, but succeed only in pressing myself against her.

"No," I protest, the word weak and unconvincing even to my own ears.

She laughs, the sound vibrating through both our bodies. "Your mouth says no, but this…" a tendril slithers around my cock, squeezing just tight enough to make me gasp "says yes."

Her face lowers to mine, that scary mouth crashing against my lips in a kiss that's all teeth and hunger. I turn my head away, still fighting, still pretending I don't want this as much as she does.

The symbiote parts around her hips, revealing Ellie beneath the monster. She positions herself above me and she sinks down onto me in one fluid motion.

A cry tears from my throat as she envelops me, hot and slick and impossibly tight. The symbiote pulses around us both, heightening every sensation to an almost unbearable degree.

She moves relentlessly, her hips rising and falling with inhuman strength. Each thrust drives me deeper, making my vision blur around the edges. I'm helpless beneath her, pinned by both the symbiote's tendrils and my own desperate desire.

"Ellie," I gasp, my back arching as she pounds against me with merciless precision. My eyes roll back, pleasure shooting through every nerve ending like electric current. "Oh god, Ellie..."

The symbiote bubbles between us, enhancing every sensation until I can barely think straight. Her rhythm intensifies, each movement drawing a broken moan from my lips.

Her monstrous face lowers to mine again, that terrifying mouth somehow softening as it claims my lips again. This time, I don't turn away. I kiss her back with everything I have, my tongue meeting hers in a dance that's all surrender.

"I love you," I whisper against her mouth, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "I love you, I love you, I love you..."

I repeat it like a prayer, like a lifeline I'm clinging to as pleasure threatens to drown me. The symbiote pulses around us, responding to my declaration with undulating patterns that seem thrilled.

Suddenly, she stops moving, her massive form going still above me. The symbiote recedes from her face, revealing Ellie's flushed cheeks and narrowed blue eyes.

"Shane..." she sighs, sounding genuinely exasperated despite still being joined with me. "It's really hard to rape you when you keep telling me you love me."

Heat rushes to my face that has nothing to do with arousal. "I'm sorry," I mumble, feeling suddenly awkward despite our intimate position.

Her lips twitch with suppressed amusement. "You said this was what you wanted for your birthday," she reminds me, shifting her hips just enough to make me gasp. "So I'm taking it seriously for you."

"You're doing such a good job, Ellie," I assure her earnestly, my hands straining against the symbiote's grip. "Really."

She smiles down at me, completely motionless above me.

"Such a good boy, aren't you?" she purrs, her voice like velvet. "So in love with me."

Something twitches inside me at her words, my cock pulsing involuntarily within her. The sensation makes my breath catch in my throat.

Her smile widens, those blue eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "Oh, did you like that? When I tell you you're a good boy?"

I nod frantically, unable to form words as another pulse runs through me.

"My perfect, sweet boy," she continues, still refusing to move her hips. "So obedient. So eager to please me."

My hips strain upward, desperate for friction, for movement, for anything, but the symbiote tendrils tighten around my thighs, holding me firmly in place.

"Look how responsive you are," she whispers, her inner muscles clenching around me with exquisite control. "My beautiful boy, so hard inside me."

"Ellie, please," I gasp, sweat beading on my forehead despite the December chill. "I need…"

"Shh," she places a finger against my lips. "I know exactly what you need. My good, patient boy. Always so good for me."

Each word of praise sends another jolt through my cock, making it throb inside her. I'm practically trembling now, caught in this exquisite torture of stillness while pleasure builds to an almost unbearable level.

"Perfect Shane," she murmurs, leaning down to brush her lips against my ear. "My hero. My beautiful, brave boy who fights so hard."

"Please move," I beg, my voice breaking. "I can't take it anymore."

"But you can," she counters, her smile turning predatory. "My strong, resilient boy. Taking everything I give him so well."

My entire body shakes with the effort of staying still, the symbiote's grip the only thing keeping me from thrusting up into her with desperate abandon.

"Ellie," I moan, her name a prayer and a plea. "I love you so much. Please."

Her expression softens slightly, something tender flickering behind those fierce blue eyes.

"I know you do," she says, finally, mercifully beginning to move her hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "My good boy deserves his reward."

The symbiote tendrils around my wrists suddenly dissolve, melting away into Ellie's skin as she leans back, her blue eyes locked on mine with an intensity that steals my breath.

"Show me how much you want me," she commands, her voice husky with desire.

Freedom granted, I don't waste a second. My hands fly to her hips, gripping her with newfound strength as I thrust upward, driving deep into her with desperate abandon. The water tower platform creaks beneath us as I establish a frantic rhythm, my body moving on pure instinct.

"Yes, Shane, just like that," she gasps, her head falling back, blonde hair catching the moonlight as her body arches above mine. Each thrust draws a moan from her lips that echoes across the rooftop, a symphony of pleasure that only fuels my desperation.

I'm lost in her, in the perfect heat of her body wrapped around mine, in the way her muscles clench with each movement. The symbiote dances across her skin like liquid shadow, enhancing every sensation to an almost unbearable degree.

"God, Shane, I love you so fucking much," she cries out, her eyes flying open to lock with mine. "Do you know that? I really, really fucking do."

Something shifts between us, the playful domination game giving way to something raw and real. I can feel it building, that perfect storm of pleasure cresting within us both simultaneously. Her inner walls flutter around me as her climax begins, triggering my own release with perfect synchronicity.

"Ellie!" I cry out, my voice breaking as the first wave hits me.

She lunges forward, her hands gripping my face with almost painful intensity. Her eyes are wild, manic with emotion as our bodies pulse together in shared ecstasy.

"I would do anything for you," she gasps, her gaze never leaving mine as we ride the waves together. "Do you know that?"

Through the haze of my orgasm, I manage to form words, each one punctuated by a moan as I continue to release inside her. "Yeah, I would for you too. I love you."

Her thumbs stroke my cheeks, her expression almost desperate as pleasure continues to crash through us both. "Just keep looking at me like that, Shane," she whispers. "Never, ever stop looking at me with that hunger you always have."

I groan, my hips jerking upward one final time as I finish completely, my body emptying everything it has into her. The symbiote pulses between us, absorbing our shared release, feeding on the intensity of our connection.

As the last tremors fade, Ellie collapses against my chest, her breath hot against my neck. The symbiote forms a protective cocoon around us both, shielding our naked bodies from the December chill.

For a few minutes, we just lie there, tangled together under the symbiote's protective embrace. My breathing gradually returns to normal as I trace lazy patterns across Ellie's back, feeling the symbiote shift beneath my fingertips like living silk.

"So," Ellie finally murmurs against my neck, her voice vibrating pleasantly against my skin. "Was that what you wanted? The whole primal play thing?"

I grin, pressing a kiss to her temple. "It was perfect. You're perfect."

She props herself up on one elbow, those fierce blue eyes studying my face with that intense focus that still makes my heart skip. "You know, if I take you home now, we could get you another set of clothes and try again." Her lips curve into that dangerous smile I love so much. "But you have to stay in character this time."

Instead of answering, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer until there's not a molecule of space between us.

"No," I whisper, my lips brushing against hers. "Let's just be lovey-dovey like normal."

Ellie's expression softens, something tender replacing the predatory gleam in her eyes. She leans down, pressing a gentle peck against my lips.

"That sounds fun too."

Chapter 55: Chapter 55: Scottie Pippen

The harsh buzz of my phone tears me from a dream about flying. Reality rushes back as my eyes snap open, my vision filled with nothing but smooth skin and the gentle curve of Ellie's breast pressed against my cheek. Her arms are locked around me like steel cables, protective even in sleep.

The phone buzzes again, insistent. I squirm one arm free from our naked tangle of limbs and fumble blindly across my nightstand, knocking over an empty water bottle before my fingers close around my phone.

The screen's harsh light makes me wince as I squint at the notification. My drowsy brain takes a moment to process the words that suddenly jolt me fully awake:

'EMERGENCY ALERT: ACTIVE SHOOTER IN SCIENCE BUILDING. SHELTER IN PLACE OR EVACUATE CAMPUS IF SAFE. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.'

"Oh my god," I gasp, my body tensing as adrenaline floods my system.

Ellie stirs at my sudden movement, her arms instinctively tightening around me, pulling me closer to her warmth. Her face remains peaceful, completely untroubled by whatever emergency is unfolding across campus.

"Ellie," I say, pushing against her chest with increasing urgency. "Ellie, wake up. There's a gunman on campus."

Her eyelids flutter, then open, revealing those piercing blue eyes still clouded with sleep. For a moment, she just stares at me uncomprehendingly, the symbiote rippling beneath her skin in lazy patterns that match her half-conscious state.

"What?" she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

I hold up my phone screen to her face. "Active shooter. Science building."

Ellie squints at the bright screen and groans, dropping her head back onto the pillow. "Five more minutes, baby," she murmurs, her eyes drifting closed again. "Then I'll fuck you real good, alright?" The symbiote ripples lazily beneath her skin as her breathing already begins to even out.

My heart pounds against my ribs as I wrestle free from her embrace. People could be dying while she's offering me morning sex. I roll out of bed and scramble for my hero outfit, yanking on the pants and slipping into my jacket with frantic movements.

"Ellie, wake the fuck up!" I snap, louder this time.

Her eyes crack open again, squinting with exhaustion as she watches me dress. The symbiote seems to stir more actively now beneath her skin, responding to my obvious distress even as Ellie herself struggles to fully wake.

I rush to the window and pull back the curtain. My stomach drops at the sight below. Students pour out of buildings in panicked streams, some running, others huddled in frightened groups. Campus security officers gesture frantically, trying to direct the chaos. In the distance, I can hear sirens wailing.

"Fuck!" I grab my mask from the dresser and shove it on my face, then reach for the brass knuckles I've started keeping nearby. The metal feels cold and reassuring against my palm as I slip them into my jacket.

Ellie's finally sitting up now, the sheet pooled around her waist, her expression shifting from sleepy confusion to dawning awareness. "What's happening?"

"I'm going ahead to see if I can take down the shooter," I say, already focusing on a spot I can see through the window. "At the science building."

She blinks at me, still looking lost. "What?"

I don't wait for her to catch up. Energy surges through me as I focus on a rooftop visible from our window. The world bends, molecules scatter, and I'm gone.

I materialize on the adjacent rooftop, my momentum carrying me forward as I sprint toward the science building without missing a beat.

The campus quad has transformed into a nightmare. Hundreds of students flood out of buildings, moving in a panicked, sluggish mass, like frightened cattle being herded to slaughter.

"Oh god," I mutter, my stomach dropping. "They're just making themselves easier targets."

I focus on the next building over, teleporting in a flash of gold light. As my feet hit the concrete, a deafening blast erupts from below. The sound reverberates through my chest as I rush to the edge and look down.

What I see makes my blood freeze.

The Shocker, unmistakable in her quilted yellow and brown suit, stands at the edge of the science building's steps. Her mechanical gauntlets glow with pulsing energy as she fires another concussive blast into the fleeing crowd. Students scatter like bowling pins, their screams cutting through the morning air.

"What the fuck?" I gasp, watching in horror as bodies go flying.

The crowd's screams intensify, reaching a fever pitch as Shocker aims her gauntlets again. Some students try to crawl away, others remain motionless on the ground.

I don't even have time to think. The situation is way above my skill level, and I know it. I glance desperately toward my dorm building, hoping to see Venom's massive form swinging toward the chaos.

“Please, Ellie, hurry up. I need you.” I mutter under my breath.

Suddenly, something clamps onto my shoulders, lifting me straight up into the air. My feet dangle helplessly as the ground drops away beneath me.

"Wha…" I twist my neck upward, and my blood runs cold.

Above me, leathery green wings beat against the morning air. My gaze traces up to find a woman with a vulture-like appearance, her face surprisingly normal and human despite the monstrous transformation of her limbs. Wicked talons dig into my shoulders. Each powerful wing beat carries us higher above the chaos.

"Mr. Steele," she says, her voice carrying a predatory satisfaction. "You were remarkably easy to find."

I struggle against her grip, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. The energy that usually flows through me when I teleport feels blocked, like water hitting a dam. I focus harder, straining to dissolve into the air, but the talons gripping my shoulders seem to anchor me in place.

"Let me go!" I gasp, twisting uselessly in her grasp.

She tightens her grip, the sharp points of her talons pressing warning indentations into my flesh. "Stop struggling."

A thunderous roar explodes across campus, so powerful it halts even the panicked screams below.

"Thank God," I breathe, relief washing over me like a tidal wave.

The Vulture's grip on my shoulders tightens painfully. "What was th…"

Her question transforms into a wet gurgle as something massive hurtles through the air. Venom appears like a nightmare given form, her body contorted into a living weapon. One arm has elongated into a single massive spike that pierces straight through the Vulture's torso, the blood-slick point erupting from her chest in a spray of crimson.

The talons around my shoulders instantly go slack. I'm falling, the ground rushing up to meet me, but before panic can even register, black tendrils shoot out and wrap around my waist. They yank me against Venom's massive form as she twists in midair, the Vulture's body sliding off her arm-spear with a sickening sound.

We land on the ground with impossible grace, Venom absorbing the impact completely. She sets me down with surprising gentleness, then turns toward the chaos still unfolding around the science building.

"You okay?" she growls, those blank white eyes somehow conveying genuine concern despite their emptiness.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I stammer, my eyes landing on the Vulture's corpse sprawled next to us.

A perfect, clean hole punctures straight through her chest, so large I can actually see bits of gravel on the ground through the gaping wound. Blood pools beneath her in an expanding crimson circle, soaking into the campus concrete. It's the most brutal thing I've ever seen up close, and my stomach lurches violently.

All around us, students who moments ago were fleeing Shocker's attack are now screaming and pointing at the bloody corpse at our feet. Some are filming with their phones, capturing Venom's brutal efficiency for posterity and probably social media.

"I'm totally fine," I repeat, steadying myself. "But she said I was easy to find. What do you think she meant by…"

"What?" Venom hisses, those blank white eyes narrowing as she turns toward me.

Before I can answer, something arcs through the air, glinting in the morning light. A small, spherical object lands with a metallic clink between us.

My brain processes the pumpkin-shaped bomb in a split second.

"Get down!" I yell, already focusing my energy to teleport away.

But I'm not fast enough. Venom lunges forward with inhuman speed, her massive form enveloping me completely. She curls around my body like a living shield just as the bomb detonates.

The explosion tears through the air with deafening force. Venom's body jerks violently against mine as she absorbs the full impact, a terrible scream of pain erupting from her throat. The sound cuts through me like a knife, raw and primal in a way I've never heard from her before.

We scramble to our feet, and I’m immediately scanning Venom's body for damage.

"Ellie?" My voice cracks with panic as I reach for her. "Ellie, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she growls, though the symbiote covering her back ripples and writhes in obvious distress. Before my eyes, the damaged areas begin to knit themselves back together, the living darkness flowing to repair the wounded sections.

A shrill, mocking laugh cuts through the chaos, rising above the screams and sirens. My head snaps up, searching for the source of that bone-chilling sound.

There she is, the Green Goblin, hovering twenty feet above us on her glider, silhouetted against the morning sky. Her armor gleams in the sunlight, that grotesque mask twisted in a grin as she looks down at us like we're insects she's about to crush.

"Well, well! So the great Venom can be hurt after all?" Her voice carries across the quad, amplified somehow by her mask. "I was worried my little toys wouldn't be enough!"

Chapter 56: Chapter 56: Shocking

Venom roars, her massive form twisting with inhuman speed as she launches a barrage of webbing directly at the Goblin's glider. The black tendrils shoot through the air like liquid lightning, but the Goblin banks hard to the left, the glider spinning gracefully to avoid the attack.

"Get down here and fight, you fucking coward!" Venom bellows, her voice a nightmarish chorus that rises above the chaos.

I'm about to teleport to higher ground when a flash of movement catches my peripheral vision. I turn just in time to see Shocker aim her gauntlets in my direction, her quilted yellow suit standing out against the panicked crowd.

"Oh shi…"

The concussive blast hits me square in the chest before I can finish the thought. It feels like being hit by a truck. I slam into a tree and crumple to the ground, my vision swimming with bursts of white light.

Pain radiates through every inch of my body as I struggle to draw breath. My ribs scream in protest with each shallow gasp.

"SHANE!" Venom shouts, already lunging toward me.

The Goblin seizes her opportunity, diving lower on her glider and hurling another pumpkin bomb. It detonates near Venom, not a direct hit but close enough to send her staggering sideways.

I try to push myself up, but my arms feel like they're made of jelly. My mask has twisted sideways, restricting my vision to a narrow slit. With trembling fingers, I adjust it, just in time to see Goblin flying at me.

I scramble to my feet, but I'm too late, Goblin's descending on me like a predatory bird. Her metal-clad hands lock around my torso, yanking me upward without trouble. My feet leave the ground as her glider rockets skyward.

"Let me go!" I thrash in her grip, but her armored arms tighten like a vise, crushing my already pained ribs.

"Now, now, Mr. Steele," she purrs, the voice distorted through her mask vibrating against my ear. "Don't be rude to your host."

The campus shrinks beneath us as we climb higher, my stomach lurching with each sharp turn. I can see Venom below, her massive form a blur of motion as she fires web after web, trying desperately to snag us. Each shot misses as the Goblin executes perfect evasive maneuvers, banking and weaving through the air.

"GIVE HIM BACK!" Venom's roar echoes up to us, her voice carrying a note of panic I've never heard before.

The Goblin laughs, the sound chilling against my ear. "My, my, she really does care about you, doesn't she? How touching."

No matter how hard I focus on a nearby rooftop it just never works. Same as always whenever I’m being held.

"Struggling with your little disappearing act?" Goblin taunts, her grip tightening painfully.

Below us, Venom has gone completely feral. Her form expands, massive tendrils whipping through the air as she launches herself from building to building in desperate pursuit. Students scatter in her wake.

"Look at her," Goblin whispers, banking sharply to avoid another web shot. "Pathetic. All that power, and she can't even protect her little pet."

A sudden blur of red and blue streaks across the sky, and my heart leaps with recognition.

Spider-Woman swings into view below us, her graceful form arcing between buildings with practiced precision. The Goblin's grip on me tightens as she banks sharply to avoid Spider-Woman's incoming web.

"Oh look, another hero to the rescue," Goblin sneers, her voice dripping with contempt. "How predictable."

Spider-Woman lands on a rooftop directly in our flight path, her stance wide and ready. Even from this height, I can see the fury in her body language as she looks up at us.

"GOBLIN!" she screams, her voice carrying even over the wind rushing past my ears. "LET HIM GO!"

Below, Venom has reached the same rooftop, her massive form landing with enough force to crack the concrete. She stands beside Spider-Woman, an unlikely alliance born of shared rage.

"I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!" Venom shrieks, the dual-layered voice vibrating with raw emotion.

The Goblin laughs, the sound chilling against my ear. "Well, would you look at that? Two mortal enemies working together. All for you, Mr. Steele. I'm impressed."

She banks the glider in a tight circle, keeping us just out of their reach. I watch as Spider-Woman and Venom exchange quick glances, some unspoken strategy passing between them.

The glider dips suddenly, bringing us lower. Goblin's hand emerges with another pumpkin bomb, its surface glinting ominously in the morning light.

"Catch!" she cackles, hurling the bomb directly at the rooftop where Venom and Spider-Woman stand ready.

The bomb arcs through the air, but before either hero can react, a yellow blur streaks across the rooftop. Shocker appears on the roof top. She must have climbed up there in all the pandemonium. She fires her gauntlets once again. The concussive blast hits both Venom and Spider-Woman simultaneously, sending them flying backward.

What happens next seems to unfold in slow motion.

The blast doesn't just knock Venom back, it does something I would have assumed impossible. The symbiote peels away from Ellie's body like oil separating from water, leaving her completely exposed. She lands hard on the concrete, naked and vulnerable, her face frozen in shock rather than pain.

"What the fuck?" I whisper, unable to believe what I'm seeing.

The pumpkin bomb hits the rooftop, landing directly in the puddle of living darkness that was once wrapped around Ellie. The explosion is deafening, sending black symbiote matter scattering in all directions like a Jackson Pollock painting.

"Now that's interesting," Goblin murmurs, her glider hovering as she watches the spectacle below.

“NO!” I stare in horror, certain that I've just witnessed the death of the symbiote, and possibly Ellie too. But then, something miraculous happens.

The scattered bits of black ooze begin to move, flowing back together like magnetized liquid. It surges across the rooftop, absorbing most of the droplets that had been blasted apart, growing larger with each passing second. Like a sentient tide, it rushes toward Ellie's naked form and envelops her completely.

In seconds, Venom stands whole again, as if nothing had happened.

"Resilient little parasite, isn't it?" Goblin observes, sounding almost impressed.

Below us, Venom's massive form coils like a spring. With terrifying precision, she creates what looks like a giant slingshot from her webbing, anchoring it to nearby structures. Spider-Woman, recovered from the blast, takes position beside her.

"I believe that's our cue to leave, Mr. Steele," Goblin says, suddenly yanking the glider upward. "Your girlfriends will have to wait for a reunion."

The Goblin's armored hand dips into a pouch at her hip, retrieving a handful of mini pumpkin bombs. My stomach drops as I realize what she's about to do.

"You're going to love this part," she cackles, her voice distorted through the mask. "Nothing like a good distraction!"

"No!" I scream, thrashing against her iron grip. "Those are innocent people!"

She ignores me, casually tossing the bombs downward like someone scattering birdseed. They tumble through the air, glinting in the morning sunlight as they descend toward the panicked crowd below.

Her laughter rings in my ears, a cruel sound that makes my blood run cold. I watch in horror as the tiny explosives plummet toward dozens of terrified students who have no idea what's coming.

"You psychotic bitch!" I snarl, ramming my elbow backward. It connects with her armor with a dull thud that hurts me more than her.

Below us, Spider-Woman launches into action. She fires web after web with machine-gun precision, each strand connecting with a falling bomb. With incredible strength, she yanks the explosives away from the crowd, redirecting them toward empty spaces before they can detonate.

The bombs explode in rapid succession, creating a chaotic lightshow of orange and yellow flashes. Each blast sends shockwaves rippling through the air that I can feel even at this height.

"Impressive reflexes," Goblin remarks, sounding genuinely appreciative as she banks the glider sharply to the right, carrying us farther from campus. "Too bad she's too busy playing hero to save you."

Venom launches herself from the massive slingshot, her body a dark missile streaking toward us. My heart leaps with hope as she soars through the air, her massive form cutting through the distance between us.

"Venom!" I scream, struggling harder in the Goblin's grip.

The glider's engines whining as we climb even higher into the sky. I watch in despair as Venom's trajectory falls short, her outstretched claws missing us by hundreds of feet. She screeches in rage as she begins to arc downward, the distance between us growing further and further with each second.

"Too bad," Goblin purrs against my ear.

Chapter 57: Chapter 57: After Birth

[Piper Parker’s POV]

 

‘SAVE SHANE!’

I've never experienced strength like this before. Every muscle in my body feels electrified, my senses dialed up beyond their normal heightened state. The world around me seems to move in slow motion as I swing through Manhattan's concrete canyons, trailing behind Venom's massive form.

'KILL OSBORN. RIP HER APART.'

The symbiote's scent-tracking abilities are our only hope right now. After the Goblin took Shane, Venom went completely feral, more animal than human. I'd be terrified if I weren't feeling exactly the same way.

"Faster!" Venom roars ahead of me, her massive form swinging with reckless abandon between skyscrapers. "We're getting closer!"

I push myself harder, shooting web lines with perfect precision, my body moving with an efficiency I've never known before. The anger burning inside me isn't the controlled, channeled rage I usually direct at criminals. This is primal, visceral, a molten core of fury that makes everything that’s come before feel like a mild annoyance.

'TEAR HER LIMB FROM LIMB. MAKE HER SUFFER.'

Morning sunlight glints off glass towers as we race northward. Below us, early commuters point upward, probably shocked to see Spider-Woman and Venom swinging side-by-side rather than trying to kill each other. If they only knew what united us.

Tears stream down my face beneath my mask, hot and furious. Every time I blink, I see Shane's face as the Goblin carried him away the way he reached out toward us. It wasn't just heroic duty that made my heart shatter in that moment. It was something deeper.

'FIND HIM. PROTECT HIM. OURS.'

We swing around the corner of a glass tower, and I follow Venom's trajectory perfectly. My body feels impossibly light, my reflexes operating at a level I've never experienced. It's like my spider powers have been amplified by the rage coursing through my veins.

Venom slams down onto the docks ahead of me, landing with such force the concrete cracks beneath her massive form. I release my web and drop down beside her.

Something's wrong. Venom doesn't move. She stands frozen for a moment, those blank white eyes scanning the empty shipyard. Then she lets out a scream that chills me to my core, a sound of pure anguish that echoes across the water.

"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!"

Her massive fists pound the concrete, each impact sending spiderwebs of cracks spreading outward. Chunks of dock break free and splash into the water as her rampage continues.

"What the fuck happened?" I demand, grabbing her massive shoulder.

She whirls to face me, those terrifying white eyes widening as she takes me in. Something in her posture shifts, surprise replacing rage for just a moment.

"What the fuck happened to you?" she growls, her dual-layered voice vibrating with confusion.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS SHANE?" I scream, panic overriding everything else.

"HE'S FUCKING GONE!" Venom roars back, her massive jaws snapping inches from my face. "THE SCENT ENDS HERE!"

I slam my fist against the ground in frustration, surprised when the concrete craters beneath my blow. "What the fuck do you mean the scent is gone?" My voice sounds strange in my ears, somehow fuller, more resonant.

Venom shakes her head violently, tendrils whipping around her form as she begins to shriek, a high, keening wail that tears through the morning air. Something inside me responds, a vibration that starts in my chest and spreads outward. My skin bubbles and shifts, and suddenly I'm screaming too, my voice joining hers in a terrible duet that echoes across the empty docks.

That's when I finally understand. I look down at my arms, watching in horror as Maroon tendrils ripple across my skin, forming patterns identical to Venom's. The symbiote. It's on me. In me.

"How...?" I gasp, staring at my hands as they transform before my eyes, red and blue giving way to inky blackness.

Venom's massive form stills, those blank white eyes studying me as I stare at my transformed hands.

"It divided," she says, her voice eerily calm after her earlier frenzy. "During the explosion on the rooftop. I felt it... tear."

The realization hits me like a physical blow. When Shocker's blast separated Ellie from her symbiote, when the bomb hit, that's when it must have happened. A piece of the alien lifeform must have found me in the chaos.

"Get off me," I hiss, clawing at my arms where the maroon substance pulses and writhes. "I don't want this!"

‘NO!’

The voice reverberates directly inside my skull, bypassing my ears entirely. It's nothing like when I wore the symbiote before, that time it was just a mindless costume, a tool I could use. This feels sentient, aware... hungry.

‘WE NEED YOU TO FIND SHANE! WE SHARE A COMMON GOAL!’

"I don't care! Get off!" I tear at the living darkness coating my skin, but it flows around my fingers like water, impossible to grasp.

‘WE SHARE LOVE FOR THE SAME MAN.’

My hands freeze mid-motion. The statement hits me with unexpected force, cutting through my panic. The symbiote knows. It can feel what I feel, and I can feel what it feels.

Venom watches me struggle, her massive head tilting with what might be curiosity. "What's it saying to you?"

"It... speaks to me," I manage, still reeling from the intimate invasion. "It never did that before, when I had it last time."

‘WE MULTIPLIED. AND NOW THERE IS YOU AND I.’

I take a deep breath, feeling the alien presence settle against my skin, into my pores, becoming one with me in a way that should be horrifying but somehow... isn't. It responds to my emotions, to my desperate need to find Shane.

"Fine," I whisper, surrendering to the inevitable.

The maroon symbiote undulates across my body with what feels distinctly like pleasure, like a cat purring against my skin.

New Spider-Woman Suit

Chapter 58: Chapter 58: Consequences

Metal slams against my back as I'm hurled across the room like a ragdoll. The impact jolts me awake, my body skidding across cold steel flooring. My head throbs, consciousness returning in painful waves as I struggle to focus.

The Green Goblin twists a massive circular door shut, the heavy metal grinding with finality as it locks into place. My golden mask is gone. I can feel my hood hanging loose around my neck. I'm completely exposed.

"Where are we?" I demand, my voice raspier than expected as I push myself to my feet.

She doesn't answer, just stalks toward me with predatory grace. I don't wait to find out what she plans to do. Energy surges through me as I focus on a spot behind her, the familiar golden light enveloping me as I teleport.

I materialize at her back.

The Goblin turns slowly, a smile spreading across her face as she reaches up and removes her mask. Auburn hair tumbles free, framing sharp features and piercing green eyes that study me with unsettling intensity.

"We're in an underwater research facility, Mr. Steele," she says, her voice silky and composed without the mask's distortion. "Your new home."

She lunges for me, but I've already focused on another corner of the room. The golden energy swallows me again as I teleport away, reappearing across the strange chamber.

I take in my surroundings with growing dread. The space is designed like an oversized submarine cabin, sterile and efficient. A narrow bed is bolted to one wall, a toilet and shower stall visible behind a partial partition. No windows. No obvious way out except the massive door she's sealed behind her.

"That's quite impressive," she says, watching me with clinical interest. "I wasn't sure your abilities would function properly down here."

"What do you want from me?" I back away, keeping the maximum distance between us in the confined space.

Norma Osborn paces toward me with the confidence of a predator who knows her prey is cornered. I teleport again, appearing behind her, then immediately jump to another corner.

"You can keep doing that all day," she says, watching me with an amused expression. "But eventually, you'll get tired. I have all the time in the world."

"What do you want from me?" I repeat, my back pressed against the cold metal wall.

She steps closer, those piercing green eyes never leaving mine. "What I want, Mr. Steele, is to break you." Her voice is casual, as if discussing the weather. "And then, when I'm done, I want to show Parker what's left."

The words hit me like a physical blow. My stomach drops as genuine dread floods my system. All this playing hero, all this superhero business… It had felt like a dream come true, like living in the comics I'd worshipped my whole life. But for the first time since arriving in this world, everything feels terrifyingly real. These aren't comic book consequences anymore.

"We don't have to do this," I say, hating how my voice trembles. "Whatever you want to know about Parker, I can just tell you."

Norma's lips curl into a wide smile that doesn't reach her eyes. She takes another step toward me, closing the distance between us with deliberate slowness.

"So," she purrs, "do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?"

I teleport again, appearing on the other side of the room. "There's a third option where you just let me go and we pretend this never happened."

She laughs, the sound bouncing off the metal walls. "I admire your optimism, Mr. Steele. It's almost endearing."

"Norma..." My voice cracks as the sheer terror of treating this world like a game until right now washes over me. "I'm a nobody. Just some moron playing hero. Please..."

She lunges at me with a wide smile. I teleport to the other end of the room, my heart pounding in my ears. My hand instinctively reaches for my brass knuckles, but they're not there, confiscated while I was unconscious, no doubt.

I sigh, my eyes darting around desperately. There are no windows, no vents large enough to teleport into, no way out except that massive sealed door. I'm trapped in a metal box at the bottom of the ocean with a psychopath.

Norma's green eyes follow me. She walks toward me slowly this time, savoring my growing panic. Something in me snaps, fear transforms into desperate rage. I teleport directly in front of her and throw a wild punch aimed at her face.

She catches my wrist mid-swing. I try to teleport away, but her grip is like iron, anchoring me in place.

"So you do have some fight left?" she says, sounding almost pleased.

Her fist connects with my jaw before I can respond. Pain explodes across my face, stars dancing in my vision as my head snaps back. It feels like being hit with a sledgehammer.

"Fuck!" I gasp, tasting blood where my teeth cut into my cheek.

She releases my wrist and I stumble backward, nearly falling. My jaw throbs with each heartbeat, and I can already feel it swelling. I've been in fights before, but nothing like this, nothing with someone so coldly efficient.

"Is that all you have? I expected more from someone who captured Parker's attention so completely."

The insult sparks something in me. Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it's my desperation, but a plan forms in my scattered thoughts. If I can get her to follow me to the bed, I might be able to surprise her, distract her just long enough to make a break for that sealed door.

"You want to see what Parker sees in me?" I taunt, backing toward the narrow bed bolted to the wall. "Come find out."

Norma's eyes narrow, a predatory smile playing across her lips. She stalks toward me, her green and purple armor glinting under the harsh lights. "Brave," she purrs. "Or very stupid."

She lunges forward with terrifying speed. I teleport at the last second, golden light flashing as I materialize directly beside the massive circular door. My hands grasp the wheel lock, muscles straining as I try to twist it open. To my shock, it actually moves, grinding reluctantly beneath my desperate grip.

"Come on, come on," I mutter, feeling a familiar warmth spreading through my lower body. My teleportation's side effect is kicking in at the worst possible time, blood rushing to my groin as I fight with the stubborn mechanism.

The wheel turns another quarter rotation, metal groaning. Hope surges through me, maybe this insane escape plan might actually work. I risk a glance over my shoulder.

Big mistake.

Norma's armored fist connects with my face for the second time. Pain explodes across my cheekbone as my head snaps back, slamming into the metal door behind me.

"You think I'm going to let you escape, boy?" she snarls, grabbing the front of my jacket and hauling me away from the door.

She throws me across the room like I weigh nothing. I crash into the floor. I struggle to my knees, spitting blood onto the cold metal floor. My entire face throbs with pain, and I can already feel one eye beginning to swell shut.

"I can already feel it," Norma says, stalking toward me with a carnivorous gleam in her eyes. "The same feeling I had when I first met you."

I try to scramble backward, but my arms feel weak, muscles trembling from exertion and fear.

"Arousal," she continues, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "It's radiating off you like heat waves. Why don't you do it more? Let's have some fun, Shane."

My mind races, grasping for anything that might help me survive this nightmare. Then I remember what Masters told me during one of our training sessions, I get stronger the hornier I am. The teleporting builds it up, channels it somehow.

It's my only chance.

"Here goes nothing," I mutter, focusing on a spot across the room.

Golden light envelops me as I teleport, materializing near the shower stall. Before Norma can even turn, I'm gone again, reappearing by the bed, then near the door, then in the corner. I move in short, unpredictable bursts, never staying in one place long enough for her to reach me.

I'm teleporting faster than I ever have before, not giving her a chance to anticipate my movements. Sweat breaks out across my forehead, trickling down my temples, but it feels good, invigorating. The familiar heat builds in my core with each jump, spreading outward through my limbs.

"Interesting strategy," Norma laughs, spinning in place as she tries to track my movements. Her eyes gleam with excitement rather than frustration.

I focus on not telegraphing my jumps like Masters taught me, keeping my movements random, unpredictable. The golden flashes fill the room like a bizarre light show as I push myself harder, faster, beyond what I thought possible.

After ten minutes of non-stop teleporting, the heat in my body has intensified to a constant, insistent throb. I'm fully hard now, the arousal building with each jump, just like always.

"You can't keep this up forever," Norma calls out, though she doesn't sound convinced of her own words.

She's right, but I don't stop. The metal room becomes a blur around me as I continue my frantic dance, golden light trailing behind me like comets.

After twenty minutes, I'm drenched in sweat, my breathing labored. The arousal has transformed into something more intense, an insatiable hunger that makes every nerve ending feel electrified.

I teleport again, my body dissolving into golden light only to reappear across the room. My legs wobble as I materialize, threatening to give out beneath me. I've never pushed myself this far before. The heat inside me has become unbearable, a raging inferno that's consuming me from within.

Every cell in my body screams with desire. The sensation overwhelms me, clouding my thoughts with primal hunger. I'm no longer just aroused, I'm possessed by it, my body transformed into a conduit for pure, unfiltered lust.

Norma stands in the center of the room, watching me with fascinated eyes. Her lips curve into a knowing smile as she reaches for the clasps of her armor.

"I can smell it on you," she purrs, releasing the first clasp with a metallic click. "The pheromones you're giving off... they're intoxicating."

I try to look away as she begins to strip, but I can't. My eyes are locked on her every movement as pieces of her armor fall to the floor one by one. The rational part of my brain screams in protest, but it's drowned out by the roaring need that's taken over my body.

When she stands naked before me, my breath catches in my throat. Her body is all lean muscle and dangerous curves, the perfection of a predator. I hate her, I fear her, but god help me, I want her with an intensity that terrifies me.

I shake my head violently, trying to clear the fog of lust. This isn't me. It's just the incubus within me.

With sudden determination, I gather what little concentration I have left. I teleport to her right side, my fist already swinging toward her face. For the first time, I feel genuinely strong, my muscles coursing with newfound power.

But she's faster. She sidesteps my punch, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Too slow!" she taunts as she tackles me to the ground.

Her weight pins me to the cold metal floor, her naked body pressing against mine with crushing force. I try to teleport away, but her iron grip on my wrist stops me.

"Let go of me!" I thrash beneath her, but she simply tightens her hold, her fingers digging into my flesh with superhuman strength.

"You're not going anywhere."

 

 

Norma

 

Green Goblin

Chapter 59: Chapter 59: Downhill Jam

"You're not going anywhere," she whispers, her voice husky with desire. Her free hand grabs my other wrist.

I buck my hips, trying to throw her off, but she just laughs, the sound echoing off the metal walls. With terrifying efficiency, she shifts her weight and hauls me upright, never once breaking contact with my skin.

"No!" I shout as she drags me across the room, her fingers locked around my wrist like a vice. "Let go of me!"

My feet scramble for purchase on the smooth metal floor as I fight against her pull. I'm kicking, twisting, doing everything I can to break free, but it's like fighting against a force of nature. No matter how I struggle, her hand remains firmly clasped around my wrist, her thumb pressed against my pulse point.

"You're making this harder than it needs to be," she says, her voice eerily calm despite my violent resistance.

I dig my heels in, throwing my weight backward, but she doesn't even slow down. Her enhanced strength makes my efforts feel pathetic, childish. With one powerful yank, she drags me the final few feet to the narrow bed.

"No, no, NO!" I scream, my voice breaking with desperation as she throws me onto the mattress.

I immediately try to roll away, but she's faster. Her hand shifts from my wrist to my ankle in one fluid motion, maintaining that crucial skin contact that prevents me from teleporting. With her free hand, she grabs the front of my jacket.

"Enough," she declares, her green eyes blazing with finality. "It's over."

With a single violent motion, she tears my jacket off, the fabric ripping apart like paper in her hands. I'm still fighting, still struggling, but there's a terrible inevitability to what's happening. She never breaks contact, her hand sliding from my ankle up my calf, then to my thigh as she methodically strips me.

My pants are next, torn away with the same frightening ease. The cool air hits my exposed skin, raising goosebumps across my flesh. I try to cover myself, but she catches my hands, pinning them above my head with one of hers while the other continues its work.

"Stop," I plead, my voice barely above a whisper now. "Please stop."

The fabric of my underwear yields to her grip with a sickening tear, the last barrier between us gone in an instant. My cock stands painfully erect, flushed dark with blood, a bead of clear fluid glistening at the tip. The shame burns hotter than the lust coursing through my veins.

"Perfect," Norma purrs, her eyes drinking in my unwilling arousal. "You want this as badly as I do."

"No," I choke out, but even to my ears the protest sounds hollow. My hips twitch involuntarily, seeking contact I don't consciously want. "This isn't me… It's the power…"

"Does it matter?" She straddles me in one fluid motion, her thighs clamping around my waist with crushing strength. Her naked body hovers above mine, radiating heat. "Your body knows what it needs."

I turn my face away, squeezing my eyes shut. If I can't see her, maybe I can pretend this isn't happening. But there's no escaping the weight of her on my pelvis, the scent of her arousal mingling with mine, the iron grip of her hand still pinning my wrists above my head.

Her hand cracks across my face with stunning force, my head snapping sideways as pain blooms across my cheek.

"Look at me!" she screams. "I want you to see exactly who's taking you."

The slap jolts something in me, a twisted circuit completing itself. To my horror, the pain transforms instantly into pleasure, making my already unbearable arousal spike even higher. My cock throbs painfully between us, desperate for release.

Norma's lips curl into a predatory smile as she positions herself above me. "I want you to watch," she commands, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Watch as I take what I want from you."

I can't look away now even if I wanted to. My gaze is locked on the point where our bodies are about to join, a witness to my own violation. Her breathing quickens as she lowers herself, agonizingly slow, taking just the tip of my cock inside her.

A pathetic whimper escapes me, the sensation too intense to bear silently. "God," I gasp, my back arching involuntarily. "It's... it feels..."

My words dissolve into incoherence as she sinks further, taking another inch with deliberate slowness. Her body is impossibly hot, impossibly tight, gripping me like nothing I've ever felt before. Each millimeter of descent sends shockwaves of unwanted pleasure coursing through me.

She watches my face with scientific fascination, cataloging every twitch, every gasp, every involuntary reaction. Her pace is maddening, not a merciful quick violation, but a torturous, inch-by-inch claiming that forces me to experience every second in excruciating detail.

"Please," I beg again, tears of frustration and shame welling in my eyes.

Instead of answering, she sinks down fully in one smooth motion, taking my entire length inside her. A broken moan tears from my throat as my hips buck upward of their own accord.

"There we go," she purrs, her bloodshot green eyes gleaming with triumph as she settles herself completely on me. "Perfect fit, wouldn't you say?"

Those eyes bore into mine, pupils dilated with lust and something darker, a possessive, consuming hunger that treats me as an object rather than a person. The realization that I'm nothing more than a toy to her, a means to hurt someone else, makes bile rise in my throat.

"You love this, don't you?" she asks, beginning to rock her hips in small, maddening circles.

"I fucking hate you," I spit out, the words tearing from my raw throat even as my hips betray me, rising to meet her movements. My body and mind are at war, disgust and desire battling for control as she rides me with predatory precision. "I hate you so much."

She laughs, the sound echoing off the metal walls like broken glass. Her fingers dig into my chest, leaving crescent-shaped indentations as she increases her pace. Each movement sends jolts of unwanted pleasure coursing through me, my body responding despite the screaming protest in my mind.

"You hate me?" she purrs, leaning down until her face hovers inches from mine, auburn hair falling around us like a curtain. "Your body seems to disagree."

"I can't wait for Venom to kill you," I snarl, defiance burning through my shame. "When she finds us, she'll tear you apart."

Norma laughs again. Her body never stops moving on mine, each roll of her hips sending unwanted waves of pleasure through me.

"Is that so?" she purrs, leaning down until her face hovers just above mine. Her breath is hot against my lips. "Your monster girlfriend will have to find us first. And trust me, no one finds this place unless I want them to."

She brings her face closer, her eyes locked on mine with predatory intensity. Her tongue slips out between her lips, pink and wet, running slowly along her bottom lip. In my heightened state, the sight is mesmerizing. The pheromones coursing through my system twist my perception until her tongue looks like the most exquisite thing I've ever seen.

Before I can stop myself, I'm lifting my head, capturing her tongue between my lips. Our mouths crash together in a kiss that's all hunger and desperation. Her hands slide up to cradle my head instead, fingers tangling in my hair with surprising gentleness.

Our tongues dance together in a passionate rhythm that matches our bodies. Her taste fills my mouth, sweet and dangerous, like poison honey. Something warm and wet streams down my cheeks as I continue kissing her with growing intensity.

Tears. I'm crying, the hot trails cutting paths down my temples and into my hair. The absolute disgust I feel at my betrayal crashes against the physical pleasure in nauseating waves. Ellie's face flashes in my mind, her fierce blue eyes, her rare, genuine smile that's just for me. The thought of her makes my chest constrict with such pain that I can barely breathe through it.

I'm betraying the woman I love while my body surrenders completely to her worst enemy.

Norma breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at my tear-streaked face.

"Oh no," Norma coos, her voice dripping with mock sympathy as she studies my tear-streaked face. A smile plays at the corners of her mouth, barely contained. "Is the hero sad he can't stop enjoying his time with the big bad Goblin?"

The words cut through me like broken glass, each syllable twisting deeper into my wounded pride. I try to turn away, to hide my shame, but her hand grips my jaw, forcing me to look at her.

"I hate you," I choke out again, the words catching in my throat as her hips continue their relentless rhythm.

Her movements suddenly change, becoming more erratic, more desperate. Her breathing hitches, those green eyes widening as her body begins to tremble.

"Hate me all you want," she gasps, her voice fracturing as pleasure overtakes her. "Your body doesn't lie."

Her inner muscles begin to contract around me, pulsing with increasing intensity as she reaches her climax. The sensation is unbearable, each spasm sending electric currents racing up my spine. I try to fight it, to hold back the inevitable, but my resistance crumbles like sand against the tide.

Before I can stop it, she captures my lips again, more passionately than before. Her tongue invades my mouth as her body convulses above me. The kiss is violent, her teeth grazing my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste mingles with the sweetness of her mouth as she moans against my lips.

The rhythmic contractions of her body prove too much for me to resist. With a broken sob that she swallows with her kiss, I surrender completely. My hips buck upward as I begin to release inside her.

Wave after wave crashes through me, each pulse more intense than the last. My vision blurs at the edges, dark spots dancing across my field of view as the orgasm stretches out. It feels endless, a cruel parody of pleasure that borders on pain.

Norma breaks the kiss to watch my face, her expression one of sadistic delight. She doesn't stop moving, grinding down on me with precise, circular motions that extend my release to torturous lengths.

"That's it," she whispers, her voice hoarse with her own pleasure. "Cum deep inside me Shane. Good boy."

Her words ignite something primal within me, making my cock pulse traitorously inside her despite the shame burning through my veins. I buck upward pitifully, my body responding to her command with sickening eagerness for more praise as I continue to empty myself into her. Each spurt feels disloyal, my biology overriding every scrap of me.

After the final waves of my unwanted orgasm subside, I collapse back against the thin mattress, feeling utterly spent and hollowed out. My chest heaves with ragged breaths, tears still streaming silently down my head and into my hair.

Norma stares down at me, her head tilted slightly as she studies my face with clinical interest.

"You look done, Shane," she observes, her voice carrying a mocking lilt. "But your cock says otherwise."

Before I can process her words, she slams her hips down hard, taking me impossibly deep. A strangled cry escapes my throat as I realize with horror that she's right, I'm still rock hard inside her, my body refusing to return to normal despite having just climaxed. Whatever demonic power fuels my abilities has left me primed and ready.

Norma's lips stretch into a smile so wide it seems to defy the natural limitations of her face, something almost inhuman in its intensity. The expression sends ice through my veins even as my traitorous body responds to her movements.

"This night is just getting started, BABY!" she purrs, her fingers trailing down my tear-streaked cheek with mock tenderness. "We have all the time in the world."

Chapter 60: Chapter 60: Eye’m Something of a Scientist Myself

The metal cuts into my wrists like ice, cold and unforgiving. I tug at the chain again, watching the links stretch taut before snapping back, mocking my weakness. Just enough slack to reach the toilet. Norma's twisted idea of mercy.

I curl my legs against my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I rock slightly on this unfamiliar bed. My prison. My punishment for playing superhero in a world where monsters wear human faces.

How long has it been since she left? Hours? Days? Time blurs when you're trapped underwater with no windows, no sunlight, nothing but the constant hum of machinery and your own thoughts eating you alive. I only know I fell asleep once since she spent those endless hours violating me, her hands exploring my body like it was her property.

Every inch of me feels dirty, used, contaminated. I've scrubbed my skin raw in that tiny shower stall, but nothing washes away the feeling of her touch, the memory of her voice whispering those terrible things in my ear. My body betrayed me completely, responding to her despite my mind screaming in protest. The incubus powers that once felt like a gift now seem like the cruelest curse.

I press my forehead against my knees, trying to block out the memories, but they flash behind my closed eyelids like a horror movie I can't turn off. Her hands. Her mouth. The things she did to me.

I've tried teleporting a hundred times, focusing on spots around the room, then further, the corridor outside, the surface, anywhere but here. But the fucking chain anchors me in place, preventing the golden energy from fully forming.

The worst part isn't the captivity or even the memories of what Norma did. It's the emptiness stretching ahead. There's literally nothing to do except sit and wait for her to return. Wait for her to use me again. The anticipation is almost worse than the act itself.

A metallic groan echoes through the chamber, startling me from my stupor. The massive circular door at the far end begins to turn, its heavy mechanisms grinding against each other like teeth. My heart slams against my ribs as I scramble backward on the bed, pressing myself against the wall, desperate to put as much distance as possible between myself and whoever's coming through that door.

Norma steps into the room, auburn hair perfectly styled despite the humidity down here. She balances a tray in one hand, a bundle of clothing tucked under her arm. Her lips curl into that predatory smile that makes my skin crawl.

"Good morning," she says cheerfully, as if we're old friends meeting for brunch instead of captor and captive in an underwater prison.

I stare at her, jaw clenched so tight I can feel my teeth grinding. My silence hangs between us, the only rebellion I have left.

Her smile falters, a flash of annoyance crossing her features.

"Good morning, Shane!" she snaps, her voice hardening to steel.

"Is it morning?" I finally mutter.

"Does it matter?" she asks, moving across the room with that predatory grace that makes my stomach turn.

She settles beside me on the bed, her eyes raking up and down my exposed body. I resist the urge to cover myself, refusing to show more vulnerability than she's already forced from me.

"I brought you something," she says, placing the bundle of clothing beside her. "Can't have you catching cold down here."

I glance at the pants and shirt, then at the chain binding my wrists. "Not like I can put those on with these," I say, rattling the metal links between us.

Her lips curl into that smile that haunts my nightmares. "First things first. Eat something," she says, her voice taking on a disturbing maternal tone. "I'll help you dress afterward."

She places the tray between us on the bed. Steam rises from what appears to be a gourmet meal, roasted chicken with vegetables arranged artfully beside it, a small dessert in a separate section. My stomach growls traitorously at the sight.

I reach for the fork, my fingers just grazing the metal before she snatches it away.

"Uh-uh-uh," she tuts, holding it just beyond my reach. "You'd just try to stab me with it."

"Can you blame me?" I mutter, eyeing the utensil that could easily become a weapon in desperate hands.

"I could, yes." She spears a piece of chicken, the fork glinting under the harsh lights. "See? No poison," she says, taking a deliberate bite. Her eyes never leave mine as she chews, then swallows. "Your turn."

She extends the fork toward me, loaded with another morsel. My pride screams to refuse, but my empty stomach overrules it. I lean forward and accept the food, a bitter chuckle escaping me as I chew.

"Doesn't your little goblin serum make you impervious to poison anyway?" I ask after swallowing. "The demonstration seems unnecessary."

Surprise flashes in her eyes, as she loads the fork again. "So you know about the goblin serum?" she asks, feeding me another bite. "Not many people do."

I sigh, leaning back against the wall. The food is undeniably delicious, which somehow makes this whole situation even more perverse.

"Don't worry," she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I know all about your 'prophetic dreams.'" The air quotes are audible in her tone, dripping with skepticism.

"You were listening in the hospital," I realize, my stomach turning at the thought. She'd been spying on us, on my friends, all along.

"Very good," she smiles, pressing another forkful of food between my lips. "Such a smart boy."

I sigh heavily, the weight of my situation pressing down on me like the ocean above. The food turns to ash in my mouth despite its perfect preparation.

"What's wrong?" she asks, loading the fork again with mechanical precision.

I say nothing, just stare at a spot on the wall behind her. What's the point? She doesn't care how I feel beyond her twisted game.

Her eyes flash with sudden annoyance, green irises darkening like storm clouds. "I said, what's wrong, honey?"

I physically recoil at the pet name, my back pressing harder against the cold metal wall. "I'm kidnapped," I snap, my voice breaking with raw emotion. "Everything's wrong."

She tilts her head, studying me like I'm some fascinating specimen under a microscope. The fork hovers between us, forgotten for the moment.

"Was the sex with me not good enough?" she asks, her voice dropping to a husky whisper as she leans closer. Her mouth is inches from mine, her breath warm against my lips. Without the pheromones coursing through my system, without the desperate arousal my powers had forced upon me, her proximity just feels invasive and gross.

"You were unlike anyone I've ever been with before, Shane," she continues, her lips almost brushing mine as she speaks. "So responsive, so... Electric."

I turn my face away, looking down as she presses the fork against my closed lips again. After a moment's resistance, I open my mouth mechanically, accepting the food like a prisoner accepting their sentence. What choice do I have? Starve myself to death before anyone finds me?

After a few more mechanical bites, Norma finally sets the fork down on the tray and places it on the floor beside the bed. A strange silence stretches between us as she reaches into her pocket, extracting a small silver key that catches the harsh fluorescent light.

"Come on," she says with that clinical detachment that somehow feels worse than her false tenderness. "Let's get these clothes on you."

My pulse quickens as she leans toward me, the key sliding into the lock on my cuffs. The metal releases with a soft click that sounds impossibly loud in the confined space. The chains fall away from my wrists, leaving behind angry red marks where they've chafed my skin raw.

For a heartbeat, we're frozen in this moment. But something's wrong. Or rather, something's right. She isn't touching me. Her fingers hover millimeters from my skin, but there's no contact, nothing to anchor me in place.

Our eyes meet, and I see the exact moment she realizes her mistake.

I don't hesitate. My gaze snaps toward the open circular door, focusing with laser precision on the space just beyond it. Golden energy surges through me, molecules scattering as reality bends.

In an instant, I'm free, materializing just outside the chamber. My bare feet slap against the cold metal floor as I sprint down the corridor, heart hammering against my ribs. I'm completely naked, but I couldn't care less, all that matters is putting distance between me and that monster.

"SHANE!" Norma's voice echoes behind me, rage transforming it into something barely human. "GET BACK HERE NOW!"

The corridor opens into a junction, metal walls curving in every direction. It really is an underwater facility, pressure gauges line the walls, pipes running along the ceiling, everything designed to withstand the crushing weight of the ocean. There are no windows, no glimpses of the outside world, just an endless maze of identical metal passages.

I choose a direction at random, my bare feet freezing against the floor as I sprint into teleport after teleport.

"YOU CAN'T ESCAPE ME!" Her voice bounces off the metal walls. "THIS ENTIRE FACILITY IS LOCKED DOWN!"

I round another corner and find myself facing three identical corridors. Panic claws at my throat as I choose the middle path, teleporting ahead to gain distance. The golden flash illuminates the dark passage for a split second before I'm running again, the familiar warmth spreading through my lower body with each jump.

Behind me, I hear Norma skid around the corner, her breathing barely elevated despite the chase. "I SEE YOU, SHANE!"

I teleport again, hoping to find some kind of exit, some path to freedom. As I reappear my heart plummets. I've hit a dead end. The narrow corridor terminates in a solid wall of pipes twisting in every direction, hissing with steam and whatever other fluids run through this underwater prison.

"Fuck," I mutter, spinning around to find another escape route.

My blood runs cold. Norma stands at the other end of the hallway, her silhouette blocking the only way out. The corridor is so narrow I can barely see anything past her imposing figure where it turns. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting eerie shadows across her face as she raises her hand.

"Got you, Shane," she purrs, and the light glints off something metallic in her grip, the fork from our twisted meal. She twirls it between her fingers like a tiny trident, a grotesque parody of domesticity turned weapon.

I press my back against the pipes, feeling their vibration through my bare skin. The walls seem to close in around me, my naked body completely vulnerable. My options are nonexistent, except for one desperate gamble.

I focus on the space just to her immediate left, gathering what little concentration I can muster. Golden energy surges through me as I dissolve into light, reappearing exactly where I aimed.

For one glorious second, I think I've made it past her. Freedom is just beyond, somewhere in this labyrinthine facility…

But Norma is faster than I anticipated. She pivots with inhuman speed, launching herself sideways. Her body slams into mine with crushing force, knocking the wind from my lungs as we crash to the floor. The cold metal bites into my skin as she pins me beneath her, her laughter echoing off the walls like broken glass.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" she cackles, her entire body shaking with cruel mirth. Her knee digs into my sternum, making it impossible to breathe properly.

I struggle beneath her, twisting my body desperately, but she's impossibly strong.

"Since last night, you're all I've been thinking about, Shane," she whispers, her voice dropping to an intimate murmur that makes my skin crawl. Her free hand caresses my face, fingertips tracing the contours of my cheek with disturbing tenderness.

The fork hovers in her other hand, suspended above my face. I can't tear my eyes away from it. Terrified by what it may do to me.

"You and I can have something beautiful together," she continues, her thumb brushing across my lower lip. "Something special."

I remain silent, my chest heaving with panicked breaths beneath her weight. Every instinct screams at me to teleport, to escape, but she's pressed against me, skin to skin, anchoring me in place.

Her face transforms in an instant, the mask of tenderness shattering to reveal something monstrous beneath. Her eyes bulge, veins throbbing at her temples as she leans down until our noses almost touch.

"BUT ONLY IF YOU STOP FUCKING AROUND!" she screams, her voice an inhuman shriek that reverberates through the metal corridor. Flecks of spittle spray across my face, hot and wet against my skin. The sudden explosion of rage is so violent, so raw that I flinch beneath her.

This isn't just anger, it's something primal, something broken. Then, like a switch being flipped, the rage vanishes. Her features smooth out, that disturbing maternal smile returning as she wipes her saliva from my cheek with gentle strokes.

"You're just scared, right?" she asks softly, her head tilted in mock concern. "That's all this is?"

I nod frantically, desperate to placate her, to prevent another eruption. My terror isn't feigned. It pulses through me with each thundering heartbeat, turning my limbs to water.

"I'm sorry, honey," she croons, her fingers moving to stroke beneath my right eye. The touch is feather-light, almost reverent as she traces the socket. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Her thumb presses against my lower eyelid, pulling it down slightly as she studies the eye with scientific fascination. "You need these eyes to teleport, right?" she asks, her voice clinically curious. "That's how it works?"

I don't answer. Can't answer. My vocal cords feel frozen with panic as her face looms above mine, those green eyes boring into me with terrifying intensity.

Her thumb presses harder into the soft flesh beneath my eye, and I can't stop my body from trembling. There's something in her expression, a hunger that transcends lust.

"You have such beautiful eyes," she whispers, her voice honey-sweet but laced with poison. "So expressive. So full of fear right now."

She leans down slowly, deliberately, her lips pressing against mine in a kiss that feels like ice against my skin. I remain perfectly still, lips sealed tight, not responding in the slightest.

When she pulls back, her expression has shifted again. The softness is gone, replaced by something calculating as she studies my unresponsive face. She takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring slightly, and for a fleeting moment, I think she's finally calming down.

The fork flashes again in the fluorescent light.

There's a split second, a heartbeat of realization, before blinding, white-hot agony explodes through my skull. The metal prongs punch through the delicate tissue of my right eye with a sickening wet sound. My vision fractures, half of the world instantly going dark as something hot and viscous runs down my cheek.

"YOU MADE ME DO THIS, SHANE!" she shrieks, her face contorted into something barely human as she twists the fork deeper. "I DIDN'T WANT TO!"

The pain is beyond comprehension, beyond language, beyond sanity. It's a supernova of agony that obliterates all thought, all hope, all sense of self. My scream tears through my throat like broken glass, primal and raw, echoing off the metal walls of this underwater hell.

I can't breathe. I can't think. There is only pain, endless, all-consuming pain as my body convulses beneath her. My hands claw uselessly at her wrist, trying to stop her from driving the fork deeper and twisting it, but she's too strong, always too strong.

Chapter 61: Chapter 61: Back to Work

My blood has crusted around the gauze. I can feel it when I touch the edges of the bandage covering what used to be my right eye. It itches sometimes, but the pain meds keep the worst of it dull, a small mercy in this underwater hell.

Norma's arm tightens around my waist as she spoons me, her breath hot against the back of my neck. The steady rise and fall of her chest tells me she's still asleep, but even unconscious, she maintains that possessive grip. Like I'm a stuffed animal she can't bear to let go of.

I stare at the wall, counting the rivets for the hundredth time. It's been five days since she took my eye. Five days of this new routine.

She doesn't even bother making me teleport. Just crushes a pill into my food and waits for it to take effect. Whatever it is makes my limbs heavy, my thoughts sluggish, but leaves me conscious enough to experience everything she does to me. A special kind of torture, present but powerless.

A tear slides down my cheek, tracing a warm path to the pillow beneath my head. I try to blink the others away, but they keep coming, silent traitors revealing my weakness.

"Honey, are you crying again?" Norma's voice is thick with sleep, but I can hear the smile in it, that awful maternal tone that makes my skin crawl.

"Sorry," I whisper, hating how easily the apology comes now, how quickly I've learned to placate her.

Her lips press against my neck, and I feel her smile widen against my skin. "There's no need to cry," she says softly, her fingers splaying possessively across my stomach. "I've got you."

I close my remaining eye, wishing I could disappear into the darkness behind my eyelid. I used to dream of being a superhero, of fighting alongside the characters I'd worshipped my whole life.

The chain on my ankle rattles slightly as I shift, trying to put even a millimeter of space between our bodies. It's pointless.

"What are you thinking about?" she murmurs, her hand sliding up to rest against my chest, directly over my heart. She must feel how it races at her touch, a pavlovian response of fear.

I say nothing. What is there to say anymore? Her hands slide possessively over my body, fingers tracing patterns across my skin like I'm her property. She hums a tune I don't recognize, the vibration of her chest against my back making me feel sick.

"I have to go today," she says finally, her lips brushing against my ear.

"What?" The word escapes me before I can stop it, a flicker of hope igniting in my chest despite everything.

"Yup," she confirms, stretching languidly behind me. "Been down here too long. Need to get back to business." Her fingers trace the edge of my bandage, making me flinch. "But don't worry, I'll be back this weekend."

The brief flame of hope extinguishes as quickly as it appeared. Just a temporary reprieve, not freedom. Never freedom.

"In the meantime," she continues, her voice taking on that sickeningly playful tone, "I decided to invite an old friend of yours to watch you."

"Huh?" I turn slightly, my remaining eye widening with confusion and fresh terror.

Norma stirs and sits up, the mattress shifting under her weight. She studies my face with that clinical detachment that always precedes her moments of twisted care. When her eyes land on my bandaged eye, a frown creases her perfect features.

"Come on, honey," she says, her voice soft in a way that makes my stomach churn. "It's time to change that bandage."

I sit up obediently, my movements mechanical. The chain on my ankle clinks against the metal frame of the bed, a constant reminder of my captivity. Norma reaches for the medical supplies she keeps on the small table beside the bed, her movements precise and practiced.

Her hands are gentle as she peels away the old gauze, her touch almost reverent. I keep my remaining eye fixed on the wall, counting rivets to distract myself from the intimacy of her care.

"Looking better," she murmurs, though I know it's a lie. The socket is probably still raw and hollow, a gruesome reminder of what she's capable of. "Just a little cleaning now."

The antiseptic stings, but I don't flinch. I've learned that reactions only encourage her. She applies a fresh bandage with the same careful precision she uses for everything, smoothing the edges with her fingertips. When she finishes, her hand lingers on my cheek.

"I'm going to miss you so much," she whispers, leaning forward to press her lips against mine.

I remain perfectly still, my mouth unresponsive beneath hers.

Her eyes flash, that dangerous green darkening as she pulls back. "Honey," she says, a fake little laugh bubbling from her throat. "Good boys kiss back, remember?"

The threat beneath her words is clear as day. I've learned the consequences of disobedience in this underwater prison. With resignation weighing heavy in my chest, I lean forward and kiss her properly, inserting my tongue the way she taught me she likes it. My body goes through the motions while my mind retreats to some distant corner where I can pretend this isn't happening.

"That's better," she purrs when we separate, satisfaction written across her face. Her fingers trace my jawline possessively. "Are you going to miss me?"

I stare at her, the words "no" burning in my throat like acid. What I wouldn't give to spit that single syllable in her face, to see her perfect composure shatter one last time before she hurts me again. But self-preservation wins out, as it always does now.

"Honey..." she prompts, her voice hardening just enough to remind me of the fork.

"Yes," I whisper, the lie bitter on my tongue.

Chapter 62: Chapter 62: The Financier?

[Piper Parker’s POV]

 

Blood and fury. That's all I have left as my fist connects with Shocker's face again, the impact jolting up my arm. I've got her pinned against the warehouse wall, my hand twisted in her yellow and brown quilted suit. The maroon symbiote covering my arms ripples with my rage.

"WHERE IS HE?" I scream, slamming her head back. "WHERE DID THE GOBLIN TAKE SKIP STEP?"

Her blank white mask eyes reveal nothing as she sputters through a mouthful of blood. "I don't know!"

I punch her again, feeling something crack beneath my knuckles. The symbiote enhances my strength, making each blow devastating. Six days of searching, six days of dead ends, and this woman was working directly with the Goblin when they took Shane.

"You're lying!" I slam her against the wall again. The concrete fractures behind her. "Tell me where he is or I swear to god I'll tear you apart piece by piece!"

"I swear I don't know!" Shocker gasps, her voice trembling. "The Goblin never tells me the whole plan! She just said to cause a distraction at the university!"

The symbiote pulses across my skin, hungry for violence, feeding on my rage. It would be so easy to let it take control completely, to give in to the darkness screaming for blood.

'KILL HER. SHE'S USELESS.'

I slam my fist into the wall beside Shocker's head, leaving a crater in the concrete. "If you're lying to me..."

"I'm not!" she pleads, genuine terror in her voice.

The television blares in the background, cutting through my murderous thoughts. I glance over my shoulder at the screen where Joann Jameson's face fills the frame, her trademark flat-top haircut and perpetual scowl as irritating as ever.

"Three spider menaces terrorizing our city!" she bellows, pounding her fist on the desk. "Spider-Woman, Venom, and now this new one calling herself Scarlet! And what about this boy toy they're all hanging out with? Sources say the masked vigilante known as 'Skip Step' was kidnapped during the Empire State University attack, and these monsters have been tearing up the city looking for him!"

I turn back to Shocker, my grip tightening around her throat. "Everyone knows. Everyone knows he's gone, and I can't find him."

‘FEED HER, TO US!’

The overwhelming urge to tear her head clean off courses through me, the symbiote's bloodlust merging with my own rage. I can feel it bubbling beneath my skin, this alien hunger demanding violence, demanding blood.

But that's not who I am.

Instead, I let the symbiote reshape my hands into wicked talons, the maroon substance forming long, razor-sharp claws that glint in the dim warehouse light. With calculated precision, I drive them through her quilted suit, just deep enough to pierce skin without hitting anything vital. Shocker screams as my claws sink into her flesh.

"Tell me anything," I hiss, my voice distorted by the symbiote's influence. "I need something new, anything. If you don’t I swear I will rip your heart o…”

Jameson's voice suddenly rises in volume from the television, cutting through my threat. "Breaking news! The Department of Justice has just released a bombshell photo showing Iron Woman, Toni Stark, shaking hands with disgraced financier Jessie Epstein on her private island."

I can't help but turn my head, the strange news momentarily diverting my attention. On screen, there's a crystal-clear image of Toni Stark in her iconic red and gold armor, helmet off to show her smug expression as she clasps hands with the notorious criminal.

"Wait, Toni was friends…" I mutter, momentarily distracted by this bizarre revelation.

My spider-sense screams a warning, electricity crackling in the air. Shocker seizes her opportunity, her hands diving for her gauntlets. But I'm too fast, even with my attention split. The symbiote reacts instinctively, my hands shooting out to grab her wrists with inhuman speed.

With one savage twist, I snap both her wrists and crush her gauntlets simultaneously. The sickening crack of breaking bone mingles with the crunch of destroyed technology. Shocker's agonized shriek echoes through the warehouse as sparks fly from her ruined weapons.

"You bitch!" she wails, collapsing to her knees as I release her mangled wrists. "You broke my fucking hands!"

I grab her by the throat, lifting her off the ground with terrifying ease. The symbiote ripples across my body, eager for more violence, more pain.

The symbiote reacts before I do, sensing a new presence. A familiar thwip echoes through the warehouse rafters as a web line attaches to my arm.

"Spider-Woman, what the hell are you doing?" Scarlet Spider's voice cuts through the haze of my rage. She drops from above, landing in a perfect crouch. "Let go of her!"

The command slices through my fury. My fingers uncurl from Shocker's throat, and she crumples to the warehouse floor, gasping and clutching her broken wrists against her chest.

"She knows something," I growl, the symbiote rippling across my skin in agitation. "I can feel it, Scarlet. She's holding back."

Scarlet approaches cautiously, her eyes scanning the maroon substance flowing across my body. She crouches beside Shocker, examining the woman's injuries with a clinical detachment I can't muster.

"Look at her," Scarlet says quietly. Her gaze meets mine through our masks, and I see something like concern there. "Crap." She sighs, standing up. "I'll swing her over to the hospital."

"No!" The symbiote pulses violently at my outburst, tendrils whipping around my arms. "She still hasn't given me anything yet!"

Scarlet steps between me and Shocker, her stance protective. "And she won't if she's dead, which she will be soon from shock if we don't get her medical attention."

The symbiote whispers dark thoughts in my mind. 'SHE'S INTERFERING. PUSH HER ASIDE. FINISH WHAT WE STARTED.'

Scarlet steps closer, her posture softening as she places a hand on my shoulder. The symbiote bristles at the contact but doesn't lash out.

"I get that you're scared and desperate for a lead," she says, her voice gentler than I've ever heard it. "But think about what our Aunt Brynn always told us. With great power comes great responsibility. This..." she gestures at Shocker's crumpled form, "this isn't what we do."

The words hit me like a physical blow. The symbiote recoils slightly, as if the truth in those words burns it somehow.

I nod slowly. "Fine," I sigh, stepping back. "I'll keep digging elsewhere."

Scarlet watches me for a moment longer, as if ensuring I won't change my mind, before carefully gathering up Shocker. The woman whimpers pathetically as Scarlet secures her with webbing.

"I'll call you later," Scarlet promises before firing a web line to the ceiling and swinging away with her injured cargo.

The moment she's out of earshot, something inside me snaps. The symbiote responds instantly, coating my fists in thick maroon armor as I slam them into the nearest wall. Concrete crumbles under the impact, dust billowing around me. I grab a nearby metal drum and hurl it across the warehouse, the crash echoing through the empty space.

"FUCK!" I scream, my voice distorted by the symbiote's influence. "SIX FUCKING DAYS!"

I tear through the warehouse like a hurricane, ripping pipes from the ceiling, smashing crates, destroying everything I can get my hands on. The symbiote feeds on my rage, growing stronger with each act of destruction. Water sprays from broken pipes, soaking me as I continue my rampage.

'YES! DESTROY! RELEASE YOUR ANGER!'

The violent purge continues until my phone buzzes in the hidden pocket of my costume. I freeze mid-swing, my fist inches from demolishing yet another wall. The symbiote reluctantly retreats from my hand as I reach for my phone with trembling fingers.

It's a text from Ellie.

'Meet me at the docks ASAP. I think I found him.'

My heart stops, then restarts at double speed. The symbiote pulses across my skin, sensing my sudden surge of hope and excitement.

'GO NOW! FIND SHANE!'

I don't need the prompting. I'm already running, bursting through the warehouse roof in a shower of broken glass and twisted metal. The symbiote forms a web line, stronger and thicker than my usual ones, as I launch myself into the night sky.

 

 

Toni Stark shaking hands with Jess Epstien

Chapter 63: Chapter 63: Epstein Killed Himself

Minutes feel like hours in this underwater prison. I trace my finger along the wall for the thousandth time, mapping the cold metal seams like they're constellations in a sky I can't see anymore. The chain on my ankle clinks softly as I shift position on the narrow bed, the sound almost musical in the oppressive silence.

"I know it's only been a few hours since she left," I mutter to the empty room, my voice bouncing off the metal walls, "but if I don't get something to read soon, I'm going to start decorating these walls with my own shit."

My hand unconsciously drifts to the bandage covering what used to be my right eye. The socket throbs dully beneath the gauze, a constant reminder of Norma's brand of affection. The drugs she gave me this morning are starting to wear off, the pain growing sharper around the edges, more insistent.

I've counted every rivet in this room. Named them, even. Given them little personalities and backstories. The one above the shower is Gerald, he's having an affair with Francine, the rivet by the toilet. Classic forbidden love story.

God, I'm losing my mind.

The massive circular door at the far end of the chamber suddenly groans, its heavy mechanisms grinding to life. My heart slams against my ribs as I scramble to sit up straighter, my body responding with Pavlovian terror. She said she wouldn't be back until the weekend. It's too soon. This could be anyone.

I brace myself for auburn hair and those predatory green eyes, for the sickening maternal smile that precedes pain or violation. But as the door swings open, the figure that steps through isn't Norma.

The Taskmistress stands silhouetted in the doorway, her imposing frame filling the entrance. The skull-like mask covering her face gleams under the harsh fluorescent lights, her white hooded cape cascading from broad shoulders. Every inch of her exudes calculated menace as she surveys the room.

"What the fuck?" I whisper, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.

I must be hallucinating. The drugs Norma gave me this morning, they must be causing this. Or maybe I've finally snapped completely, my mind manufacturing rescue fantasies to cope with the horror of my situation.

The Taskmistress steps fully into the room. Her movements are fluid, predatory, as she approaches the bed where I sit frozen in disbelief.

"Professor?" The word tumbles out before I can stop it.

The Taskmistress chuckles, the sound oddly warm coming from behind that skull mask. She pulls a knife from her belt, the blade gleaming under the harsh lights as she approaches.

"What, no more 'sensei'?" she asks, kneeling beside me and slicing through my chains with surprising ease. The metal falls away with a satisfying clank, and I can't help but stare at my newly freed ankle.

Her gloved hand suddenly grabs my chin, tilting my face toward hers. Even through the mask's eye holes, I can see her eyes widen as she examines my bandaged socket.

"Jesus, kid. Norma hurt you real bad, huh?" Her voice is softer than I've ever heard it.

My throat tightens, emotion threatening to choke me. "Please tell me you're saving me," I whisper, hating how small I sound, how desperate.

"I am." She releases my chin and stands, towering over me. "Norma tasked me with babysitting your ass. She knows I was your teacher, but she didn't know I was training you to be a superhero, so..." She shrugs those massive shoulders. "She only just gave me your location today."

Hope surges through me like electricity. "Is Ellie…" I begin, but she cuts me off with a sharp wave of her hand.

"They're topside right now," she says, glancing toward the ceiling. "Both your girlfriend and that other creepy red one."

I blink, confusion momentarily overriding my relief. "Spider-Woman?"

"Yeah..." She nods, watching as I push myself to my feet. The room sways slightly, and I grab the wall for support. "Can you walk?" she asks, hand hovering near my elbow but not quite touching.

"Yeah," I manage, straightening my spine with effort. "It's just my eye that's fucked up."

Task gives me a curt nod and gestures toward the door. "Let's get moving. Your girlfriends won't wait forever."

A dizzying mix of elation and terror washes over me as we step into the corridor. The hallways stretch before us like a metal maze, all identical pipes and rivets. My bare feet pad silently against the cold floor while Task's boots echo with confident purpose.

"Today has been a pretty crazy day," she remarks as we navigate through the twisting passages.

"Yeah?" I manage, still struggling to believe this rescue is actually happening.

"Toni Stark had a photo leak of her and Jessie Epstein," she says casually, checking each intersection before proceeding.

I stop dead in my tracks, my mind reeling. "Wait, Jeffery Epstein exists in this world?"

"Jessie Epstein," Task corrects me, emphasizing the first name.

"Right," I nod, making sense of the gender-flipped parallel. Of course it would be Jessie here.

Task places a firm hand on my back, urging me forward when I linger too long. The simple human contact, gentle, not possessive like Norma's, almost makes me tear up.

As we continue through another identical corridor, I blink hard, trying to process this information. "Iron Woman? She was friends with her?"

Task shrugs, her cape swishing with the movement. "Stark hasn't commented on it yet." There's unmistakable amusement in her voice as she adds, "I can't believe I missed that when I was destroying evidence."

"What?" I turn to look at her, nearly tripping over my own feet.

Even through the eye holes of her mask, I can see pride gleaming in her eyes. "Well, you know how no one knows if Epstein killed herself or not?"

"If it's like I imagine, no one really thinks she did it herself," I reply cautiously.

Task hooks a thumb toward herself, never breaking stride. "Sure, but you're looking at the assassin who killed her. I faked the hanging and everything."

My jaw drops as we round another corner. "Holy shit, are you serious?"

"Dead serious," Task says, and I can hear the smirk in her voice.

We finally reach another large circular door at the end of a long corridor. Task approaches it with confident strides and grips the wheel lock, muscles flexing beneath her suit as she turns it. The heavy metal groans in protest before yielding with a satisfying clunk.

"After you," she says, pulling the door open to reveal a small submarine docked in a chamber.

I hesitate at the threshold, my remaining eye darting nervously around the escape vessel. "Norma didn't strap me with a tracking device or bomb or something, did she?"

Task's head tilts slightly as she considers this. "Nah, I doubt it." Her eyes flick to me briefly with a flicker of uncertainty. "Nah..." she repeats, less convincingly this time.

My stomach knots with fresh anxiety as I step into the submarine. The interior is cramped but functional, all gleaming controls and utilitarian design. Task follows behind me, securing the hatch with methodical precision before moving to the control panel.

"I can't believe this is how I escape," I murmur, running my fingers along the cold metal wall of our underwater chariot.

Task glances over her shoulder as she flips switches and presses buttons with practiced efficiency. "What do you mean?"

"I just assumed getting me out of there would've been... hell. You know, explosions, gunfire, dramatic last stands." I sink into the co-pilot's seat, suddenly exhausted. "All those comics I read as a kid, escapes were never this... straightforward."

Task snorts as she engages the submarine's engines. "Reality's often disappointing compared to fiction, kid."

The vessel hums to life beneath us, vibrating gently as we detach from the docking clamps. My heart pounds against my ribs as we begin our ascent, each foot of water we rise through feeling like a mile.

The ride upward takes all of three minutes, but it might as well be three years. I count each second, terrified that alarms will suddenly blare, that Norma will appear on some screen, that this rescue will dissolve into another nightmare.

When we finally break the surface, Task nods toward a ladder leading to the top hatch. "Your stop," she says simply.

"Ellie's out there?" I whisper, my voice cracking as emotion overwhelms me. Tears well up in my remaining eye, blurring my vision. "Ellie's really out there?"

"Yes, Steele." Task's voice softens just a fraction. "She is."

I grasp the ladder with trembling hands, each rung feeling like a sacred step. Each pull feels like I'm ascending from hell into heaven, leaving Norma's underwater prison behind forever.

The hatch above me flies open with a deafening clang, moonlight streaming in like a spotlight. Before I can even reach for the next rung, massive black tendrils shoot down through the opening, wrapping around my torso. My heart leaps into my throat as I'm yanked upward with such force that my stomach drops.

I barely have time to register the night air on my face before I'm crushed against Ellie's massive form. The symbiote envelops me in a cocoon of living darkness, tendrils wrapping around every inch of my body like she's afraid I might disappear if she doesn't hold tight enough. The pressure is almost painful, squeezing the breath from my lungs, but it's the most beautiful pain I've ever felt.

"Shane," she gasps, the symbiote peeling back from her face to reveal those fierce blue eyes I've dreamed about every night. They're swimming with tears, overflowing down her cheeks in glistening trails. "Shane, baby..."

My own vision blurs as tears spill from my remaining eye. I reach up with trembling fingers to touch her face, half-convinced she'll dissolve beneath my touch, another cruel hallucination.

"Is this real?" I whisper, my voice breaking. "Please tell me this isn't another dream. I can't... I can't wake up back there again."

She cradles my face between her hands, her thumbs gently brushing away my tears. The tenderness in her touch is so different from Norma's false gentleness that it makes me sob harder.

"This is real, Shane," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm real. You're safe now."

I collapse against her, my entire body shaking with the force of my relief. The symbiote shifts to accommodate me, forming a protective shell around us both as Ellie sinks to her knees on the deck of what I now realize is some kind of ship. We cling to each other like drowning people, both of us crying so hard we can barely breathe.

"I thought I'd never find you," she whispers against my hair.

Chapter 64: Chapter 64: Docking

"I thought I'd never see you again," I whisper back, my fingers digging into her shoulders, needing to feel her solidity. The symbiote wraps around my wrists like a gentle anchor, keeping me grounded in this moment that still feels like it might slip away.

Ellie pulls back slightly, her eyes scanning my face. When her gaze lands on the gauze covering my right eye, her expression transforms. The tenderness evaporates, replaced by something primal and terrifying. The symbiote reacts instantly, rippling across her skin in agitated patterns, tendrils whipping around us like angry snakes.

"Your eye," she breathes, her voice dropping to that dangerous dual-tone that makes the air vibrate. "What did she do to your eye?"

I flinch instinctively, turning my face away. After days with Norma, any hint of anger sends fear coursing through my system. Ellie notices immediately, her expression softening as the symbiote calms slightly.

"It's okay," she whispers, her hands gentler as they cradle my face. "I'm not mad at you. Never at you."

"She stabbed it with a fork," I whisper, my voice breaking. The memory flashes behind my eyelid, metal tines glinting in fluorescent light, Norma's face contorted with rage, the wet sound as she plunged it into my eye socket.

Ellie's face goes completely hollow, like someone scooped out her soul. The symbiote freezes around her, no longer flowing but solid as stone. She's not even breathing.

"Ellie?" I reach for her face, suddenly worried. The stillness is more terrifying than any rage.

Before she can respond, movement catches my peripheral vision. I turn around, and my heart nearly stops.

Spider-Woman stands a few feet away, but not in her usual red and blue suit. Her costume is maroon, almost black in the moonlight, with the same white eye patches but rippling with a familiar, living texture that sends chills down my spine.

"Oh no..." My voice comes out as a whisper. "The symbiote split?"

Spider-Woman tilts her head, the maroon suit pulsing across her body like a second heartbeat. "Wow, you're quick, aren't you?" she says, her voice carrying an underlying echo that wasn't there before. "First thing you notice after escaping hell is my fashion upgrade."

"Parker, back off," Ellie growls, pulling me closer protectively. "He's in shock."

I can't tear my gaze away from Spider-Woman's new look. The implications are staggering, Venom's symbiote has somehow divided, bonded with Spider-Woman. Two apex predators now share the same alien power source. My comic book knowledge screams danger, but my exhausted brain can barely process it.

"I just wanted to make sure he was okay," Spider-Woman says, taking a step closer. The maroon symbiote ripples more aggressively around her shoulders. "We've been looking for you for days, Shane."

"We?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

"The symbiote and I," she clarifies, and there's something unsettling in how naturally she includes it. "We've been worried."

Ellie moves behind me, wrapping her arms around me protectively. I feel her warmth against my back, the symbiote creating a cocoon of safety around us both. Despite everything, I find myself leaning into her embrace, desperate for comfort after days of terror.

"I can't believe you became Carnage," I mutter, shaking my head as I stare at Spider-Woman's maroon-covered form. The exhaustion hits me suddenly, making my shoulders slump. "Of all the Symbiotes..."

Spider-Woman tilts her head, the white eye patches of her mask narrowing slightly. "Hmm?" She pauses, as if listening to a voice only she can hear. "Carnage... That's a good name, isn't it?" A small laugh escapes her, oddly light given the circumstances. "Not very fitting for me, but the symbiote loves it."

"Fuck..." I stare at her, memories of comic book carnage rushing through my mind, the destruction, the bloodshed, the insanity. How long before this version follows the same path?

At least this time there’s not Cletus Kassidy.

"Um, do you mind if we do our reunion later? I kind of want to go take a shower somewhere familiar."

The need to wash away Norma's touch, to scrub my skin until it feels like mine again, suddenly overwhelms everything else. Six days of captivity cling to me like a second skin, and I can't bear it another moment.

Taskmistress pokes her head out of the submarine hatch, the skull mask somehow conveying exasperation despite its fixed expression. "Whatever you all do, for the love of god, get the fuck out of here. This location won't stay secure for much longer."

Ellie's arms tighten around me momentarily before she turns toward the submarine. "Hey, Task... thanks." The gratitude in her voice is genuine, stripped of her usual bravado.

Taskmistress chuckles, a surprisingly warm sound coming from behind that intimidating mask. "Of course," she says, nodding once. "Anything for my star pupil."

Spider-Woman steps forward, her maroon symbiote suit rippling with concern. "Shane, you need to get to a hospital," she says firmly. "You need to be checked out properly."

Ellie's symbiote flows back over her face, forming that familiar terrifying visage with blank white eyes. "I've got him," she growls, pulling me closer protectively. "I've brought him back from the brink of death twice before. I know how to help him."

"I know," Spider-Woman replies, her voice softening slightly. "But maybe…"

"I can't tell you how thankful I am, Spider-Woman," I interrupt, my voice cracking with exhaustion. "For being here to help me. For searching for me. But I really would just like to be alone with Ellie for the night."

My words hang in the night air between us. I glance toward Taskmistress, anxiety creeping up my spine. "Will we be safe?"

Task crosses her arms, her imposing frame silhouetted against the moonlight. "Oh yeah," she says with casual confidence. "Norma isn't even in the city right now. Business trip to Japan. You've got at least three days before she's back."

"Thank god," I whisper, relief flooding through me.

I watch as Spider-Woman's maroon symbiote briefly ripples across her body in an agitated pattern. The black spider emblem on her chest seems to almost be absorbed into her suit before everything smooths out again.

"Of course, Shane," she says finally, her voice carefully controlled. "But please, I'd like to see you tomorrow, alright? Just to make sure you're okay."

"Sure," I nod, not wanting to hurt her feelings despite my overwhelming need to be alone with Ellie.

The tension breaks as Task claps her hands together. "Alright, enough with the drama. Venom, get the kid somewhere safe. I have to go sabotage an underwater research facility."

"Thank you, Sensei," I say, the words catching in my throat as I look back at Taskmistress. After everything that's happened, this small gesture of respect feels woefully inadequate.

She pauses at the submarine hatch, her skull mask revealing nothing of her expression. Then, with military precision, she brings her hand to her forehead in a crisp salute before disappearing back into the vessel, the heavy door closing behind her with a final, echoing clang.

Ellie's arms tighten around me, the symbiote forming a protective cocoon against the night air. "Let's go home."