Back to GatefoldIssue #1 by Kevin Hardwick
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A slick shadow slithered across the rooftop of the facility. Its tendrils sought out the darkness and avoided the moonlight, using its proven stealth to get around not just the security systems, but the guards as well.
This shadow was no trick of the light. It was guided and controlled by the person it was bonded with, a person that had struggled to control it at first, but had since come to commune with it regularly. Once the host had accepted the mutually beneficial relationship that the shadow offered they were able to do incredible things together.
While in the American military, the host had a variety of code names. While not standard issue, code names were common enough amongst special forces teams. Pilots had their call signs and soldiers had their code names. To each his own. Now that he wore the symbiote all that was behind him. His life as he had known it was gone forever the day he bonded with this alien creature. Now he had just one name.
Venom.
The symbiote was a living thing of course. It had intelligence. It could even reproduce, and had in the past. However, this new bonding was different. Whereas in the past it had tried to control its host or bend it to its will, it now allowed the host to take a larger role in its goals.
It had changed its appearance to better suit its host as well. Instead of the bulky facsimile of Spider-Man, it now looked more like a well-armored field operative uniform, but still black and white in color. Gone were the teeth and drooling tongue, but the white insignia still clung to the host’s chest.
Tonight, the host was taking them both into a facility that already been broken into, with hopes of learning what the first robbery was all about.
“Are you patched into their security network?” Venom asked.
“Just getting online now,” a voice in his ear answered. “I don’t see anything. Most of the cameras are disabled. It looks like the guards are down. That doesn’t mean you’re alone, though. Watch yourself.”
His handler, a man that was perhaps even more of a field expert than he was, was named Paladin. Despite their having only met once before being gifted with the symbiote, he felt like he already knew Paladin very well Or at least his kind. Stalwart. Trusted. Loyal as long as there was a paycheck. Typical mercenary.
Paladin worked for Silver Sable and was her right hand in her famed Wild Pack. He knew how to get things done and right now he was making sure that Venom got things done. Venom hadn’t yet decided if Paladin was supposed to be his handler or his watchdog just in case things went south. Silver Sable had never explained.
As for the silver vixen herself, Venom knew much more about her. She was famous all over the world. Despite the fact that she was a politician and leader in her nation, she was also an experienced mercenary and battle-ready soldier. Her Wild Pack had undertaken insane mission all around the globe and Venom was her latest recruit.
It had taken a lot to get him on board, but when he had first felt the power of the symbiote he knew he had made the right choice.
Leaping over an HVAC unit like it was nothing more than stepping over a puddle, Venom quickly maneuvered into position. The symbiote would be his armor and he had control over the webbing as well. The symbiote was a living weapon, but even still the soldier in him wanted something familiar. An MP-5 dangled at his side and three extra magazines were held in the symbiote-created web-belt around his waist.
The strength and the power amazed him. The increase in vision, too. From his spot on the roof he could see clear across the parking lot even though it was pitch black. He could pick out a flea on a dog if he needed to.
Right now he could see that Paladin was right. The place was totally dead. No lights and no guards walking around, which was weird, because this was supposed to be a fancy experimental lab that specialized in mind control.
“Confirm dead zone,” Venom said. “Moving to primary ingress point.”
Venom turned around and slipped a tendril between the HVAC grate and the air shaft it covered, easily prying it apart. He could sense the symbiote being grateful for something to do. There was a burning hunger there for something, perhaps violence, but the host could control it. Venom slipped into the air shaft silently and made his way into the facility.
Madden Technical Labs was known for creating radical training equipment that focused on downloading training material directly into a person’s brain. In an instant a person could be made an expert in everything from piloting a helicopter to king fu. Just like the Matrix, only this was real. The military applications were obvious, but so were the corporate ones. Imagine being able to train an entire class of new hires in seconds as opposed to months or even years of troubleshooting. Companies could increase their work force, their productivity, and their profits exponentially.
So when the clandestine clients that had hired Silver Sable to investigate learned of the break in they were worried. Venom didn’t know who was footing the bill for his missions around the globe, but what he did know was who the mysterious client was interested in: a deadly man named Black Tarantula.
As Venom worked his way into the building he remembered his past missions for Silver Sable, all revolving around Black Tarantula and his growing organization. The terrorist was a mystery and supposedly immortal. He had control of deadly operatives around the world that were totally loyal and willing to die for him.
So far Venom had traced Black Tarantula’s organization through South America, up through Mexico, and now into Louisiana. He had taken down two strongholds. He had killed dozens of his diehard warriors. It didn’t seem to matter how much they charged because no matter what their mystery client wanted Black Tarantula brought down.
During the last mission Venom had uncovered blueprints for this very building being studied by Black Tarantula’s men. Obviously he was too late to stop the robbery but at the very least he could find out what Black Tarantula wanted.
Venom popped out of the air vent and crouched low to the cement floor. The room was silent. Not even his enhanced hearing could detect movement.
Then like a slight breeze he sensed something above him. He rolled out of the way just in time to see a sword slice down where he had been sitting. The sheen of the sword reflected the partial light in the room.
Venom danced backward bringing his MP-5 up. With a quick pull of the trigger he let three rounds go, spitting at the person who had tried to kill him. It was a ninja dressed in black and he proved too fast for Venom’s reflexes, spinning away from the burst of bullets and bringing his sword around again.
He ducked underneath and was now close enough to let the symbiote have a little action. A hardened tendril stretched from his forearm like a blade and blocked the ninja’s strike. The parried each other’s swings and Venom found himself being forced back into the room.
From behind he sensed again another enemy and instead of blocking the next sword strike he batted it aside and stepped out of the way. Another sword came from behind where he had been a moment ago and swung through nothing but air.
“Two of you?” Venom said. “Fine by me.”
A second tendril-blade extended from his other arm and he began dodging and weaving between them both, trading cuts and strikes rapidly with increasing speed. He knew he could take them both because they would instantly underestimate him. They didn’t know that they weren’t fighting a single man. They were fighting a pair of enemies perfectly bonded and in sync with one another.
Finally, Venom got the upper hand by swinging down and catching one of the ninja’s swords with his momentum, forcing it down to clash again the other ninja’s sword. The metal clanged and both were at a disadvantage. Venom drove his elbow into the first’s face and then snatched his dangling MP-5, shooting another short burst into the second’s center mass at close range.
“Room secure?” Paladin asked over their radio connection.
“Secure. They are down for the count. One permanently. They look like the same guys I met in Brazil.”
“So definitely Black Tarantula then.”
“Looks like,” Venom said. He took in a deep breath and cracked his neck, looking around. He mentally commanded the symbiote to slide back from his face and scalp so that he could breathe a little more clearly. “Now let’s see what they were after in here.”
No longer covered, the blonde hair of Flash Thompson, former special forces operative for the United States Army, reflected some of the moonlight that came in through the high windows. He didn’t like to reveal his face, but after a bit of action he always appreciated a deep pull of fresh air.
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
EIGHT MONTHS AGO
Flash Thompson didn’t know what he was in for. All he knew was that after his honorable discharge from the military that he didn’t feel quite at home any longer. How could he after he had been to war? His friends and family back home were supportive enough, but they didn’t understand first-hand what he had been through.
So, he accepted an offer to come visit the man called Paladin. They had met during an op in Afghanistan and apparently he had been impressed with Thompson’s skills. Impressed enough to warrant an invitation to Symkaria.
They had just sat down over a beer when she walked in. Smooth as silk, Silver Sable looked like a walking dream. She was everything a man could want in a woman: strong, determined, and easy to look at. To his surprise, she sat down with them at the bar and ordered a martini.
“Captain Thompson,” she had said.
“I’m not a captain anymore, ma’am.”
“Just because you don’t have the bars on your shoulder anymore doesn’t make you any less of a captain. At least not in my opinion. Paladin here tells me that you saved three Symkarian refugees. Is that true?”
Paladin nodded, but it was Thompson that replied. “I didn’t know they were Symkarian ma’am. I was just following orders.”
“I doubt that your orders included dragging two wounded people and a third one that was unconscious out of a burning building. My country thanks you for your heroic efforts.”
Thompson said nothing. He was a little uncomfortable with the praise, especially from someone so beautiful and famous. They talked a little while and he received a second invitation to visit their training compound. The Wild Pack were legendary mercenaries and Thompson was beginning to get an idea of where this prelude was leading. Why else would a paramilitary organization go to the trouble of inviting a recently discharged special forces operative to their location but to try and recruit him?
He was planning on saying no, but then the other shoe dropped. Behind closed doors, Silver Sable showed him something that had recently come into her possession.
She opened a door to a lab or sorts, only it was devoid of any intriguing equipment. A few tables spread around the room had laptops, cables, and lamps among piles of loose papers. In the center of the room was a large floor to ceiling glass cylinder and inside it was something that would change Thompson’s life forever.
A black ooze at the bottom of the container moved in reaction to their entrance. It grew tendrils that clung to the inside of the glass tube, like it was trying to get out. Then a face formed with white fangs and huge white eyes.
He had jumped back because the thing looked like a nightmare. Silver Sable ushered him forward, assuring him it was safe to enter. “It’s okay,” she said. “This is called a symbiote and I would very much like to make you a special offer.”
“A symbiote. What does that mean?”
“It’s a living weapon,” Paladin said. “An alien life form that bonds with a human host to create something powerful. It can give you abilities you would never even dream of having.”
“How did you get it?”
“I bought it on the black market as soon as I realized what it truly was,” Silver Sable said. “There were a lot of interested buyers but I have greater resources than most. When I realized what this was I knew I had to keep it out of the wrong hands.”
“You want me to bond with this thing? Why? Why me?”
“Because of the courage you showed my people. Because Paladin says you’re the man for the job. Because you’re a soldier without a home. I can list more reasons if you prefer.”
Thompson turned to leave. “Sorry. I don’t think handing my life over to an alien life form sounds like a good job description. Thanks for the beer.”
“Wait,” Silver Sable said and she put her hand on his shoulder. The soft touch of such a strong woman made him pause. “You’re a good man, Captain Thompson. Think of the damage the symbiote could do if someone less than a good man were to try and control it.”
“Can it be controlled?”
“We believe so,” Paladin said. “The man bonded to it before now was a little reckless, but ultimately it appears that he learned to control it. Before that it was bonded to one of the premiere heroes of our day.”
“Yeah? Who’s that?”
“Spider-Man.”
Thompson turned back around and stared at the creature bubbling inside the glass tube. It slithered and thrashed, but something it didn’t come across as violent. It looked more like a caged animal pleading to get out for some fresh air. He could relate to that.
If they weren’t lying to him, and he had no reason to believe that they were, then they had just said the magic words. Spider-Man had been his teenage idol. More than once he had seen the wallcrawler in action. Sometimes it seemed like Spider-Man was around his high school at least once a month. Thompson had admired the obvious heroism in the webbed vigilante and never believed a word that the Daily Bugle said about him being a criminal.
Spider-Man had been Thompson’s hero and was the main reason he had joined the army. He didn’t have powers, but he wanted to help people just like his idol. He wanted the training and the discipline that it would take to be a hero.
If Spider-Man had actually bonded with that thing then at least some of what Silver Sable was telling him had to be true.
“Spider-Man, huh? You should have led with that. Let’s talk.”
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
Venom was back on the roof of the facility, but he wasn’t alone. A pair of tendrils gripped the ankle of the still breathing ninja, hanging him upside down over the edge of the roof. Another tendril reached out and slapped the ninja hard to wake him.
Even though he was hanging upside and likely he thought he would be executed he still held his composure. The ninja stared back at the masked Venom waiting for him to speak first.
Venom dug the nozzle of his MP-5 into the ninja’s nose. “What were you looking for here?”
The ninja said nothing.
“Why did Black Tarantula send you here?”
Still nothing.
“Tell him that you’re going to peel his skin back slowly with a cheese grater,” Paladin said in his ear.
Ignoring his handler, or his watchdog, whichever Paladin turned out to be, Venom continued on his own. “I’ll pay you $50,000 to sell out your boss.”
And just like that, the ninja spilled it. “Three of us were sent to collect the schematics for a new mind control technology called pscholar.”
“Three of you?”
“Yes. The third had left by the time you arrived. He is meeting with the rest of our group and departing for the extraction point.”
“Where are they headed next?”
“I do not know. Only the extraction team knows.”
“What is pscholar?”
“Black Tarantula believes it is a powerful new form of mind control that can permanently render someone enthralled.”
Venom suppressed a shiver. He had seen firsthand what Black Tarantula could do with already loyal subjects. Enslaved victims turned into fresh recruits would be catastrophic. He said, “You stole the schematics but not the device?”
“It was not built yet. A man in their New York division is supposedly building it now.”
Venom raised the ninja via his tendrils up to the lamp post that illuminated the parking lot. When his feet were at the right angle, Venom pointed his arm at the ninja and thick gobs of gray webbing erupted from the top of his hand, covering the ninja’s feet. The sticky substance clung to him and the lamp post so that when Venom released the tendrils the ninja still hung by the webbing.
“Wait!” the ninja called. “What about my money?”
“As a fellow mercenary I figured you might jump at the chance of a bigger payday. I guess good ninjas are hard to buy these days. Have fun with the authorities when they get here.”
The ninja called for him but he ignored the pleas and threats. Venom hopped off of the rooftop as easily as stepping off of a porch, landing on top of a black van. He slipped off the top and pulled open the sliding side door to see a man in purple body armor sitting at a row of computers. It was Paladin, still looking patched into the facility’s dead security system.
“I just contacted the local authorities with an anonymous tip,” Paladin said. “Let’s move before they close off the local roadways. I don’t need to hop any roadblocks tonight.”
“How long to New York do you think?”
“Depends on who’s driving.”
Venom slammed the side door behind him and jumped into the driver’s seat. He could feel the symbiote squirm slightly at the thought of returning to its old stomping grounds. Perhaps getting back to New York would be a good thing for both of them.
TO BE CONTINUED! Venom tracks down the creator of the pscholar technology, hoping to learn the full extent of its capabilities. Plus, how was the symbiote separated from Eddie Brock? Learn the startling truth in the next issue!
This shadow was no trick of the light. It was guided and controlled by the person it was bonded with, a person that had struggled to control it at first, but had since come to commune with it regularly. Once the host had accepted the mutually beneficial relationship that the shadow offered they were able to do incredible things together.
While in the American military, the host had a variety of code names. While not standard issue, code names were common enough amongst special forces teams. Pilots had their call signs and soldiers had their code names. To each his own. Now that he wore the symbiote all that was behind him. His life as he had known it was gone forever the day he bonded with this alien creature. Now he had just one name.
Venom.
The symbiote was a living thing of course. It had intelligence. It could even reproduce, and had in the past. However, this new bonding was different. Whereas in the past it had tried to control its host or bend it to its will, it now allowed the host to take a larger role in its goals.
It had changed its appearance to better suit its host as well. Instead of the bulky facsimile of Spider-Man, it now looked more like a well-armored field operative uniform, but still black and white in color. Gone were the teeth and drooling tongue, but the white insignia still clung to the host’s chest.
Tonight, the host was taking them both into a facility that already been broken into, with hopes of learning what the first robbery was all about.
“Are you patched into their security network?” Venom asked.
“Just getting online now,” a voice in his ear answered. “I don’t see anything. Most of the cameras are disabled. It looks like the guards are down. That doesn’t mean you’re alone, though. Watch yourself.”
His handler, a man that was perhaps even more of a field expert than he was, was named Paladin. Despite their having only met once before being gifted with the symbiote, he felt like he already knew Paladin very well Or at least his kind. Stalwart. Trusted. Loyal as long as there was a paycheck. Typical mercenary.
Paladin worked for Silver Sable and was her right hand in her famed Wild Pack. He knew how to get things done and right now he was making sure that Venom got things done. Venom hadn’t yet decided if Paladin was supposed to be his handler or his watchdog just in case things went south. Silver Sable had never explained.
As for the silver vixen herself, Venom knew much more about her. She was famous all over the world. Despite the fact that she was a politician and leader in her nation, she was also an experienced mercenary and battle-ready soldier. Her Wild Pack had undertaken insane mission all around the globe and Venom was her latest recruit.
It had taken a lot to get him on board, but when he had first felt the power of the symbiote he knew he had made the right choice.
Leaping over an HVAC unit like it was nothing more than stepping over a puddle, Venom quickly maneuvered into position. The symbiote would be his armor and he had control over the webbing as well. The symbiote was a living weapon, but even still the soldier in him wanted something familiar. An MP-5 dangled at his side and three extra magazines were held in the symbiote-created web-belt around his waist.
The strength and the power amazed him. The increase in vision, too. From his spot on the roof he could see clear across the parking lot even though it was pitch black. He could pick out a flea on a dog if he needed to.
Right now he could see that Paladin was right. The place was totally dead. No lights and no guards walking around, which was weird, because this was supposed to be a fancy experimental lab that specialized in mind control.
“Confirm dead zone,” Venom said. “Moving to primary ingress point.”
Venom turned around and slipped a tendril between the HVAC grate and the air shaft it covered, easily prying it apart. He could sense the symbiote being grateful for something to do. There was a burning hunger there for something, perhaps violence, but the host could control it. Venom slipped into the air shaft silently and made his way into the facility.
Madden Technical Labs was known for creating radical training equipment that focused on downloading training material directly into a person’s brain. In an instant a person could be made an expert in everything from piloting a helicopter to king fu. Just like the Matrix, only this was real. The military applications were obvious, but so were the corporate ones. Imagine being able to train an entire class of new hires in seconds as opposed to months or even years of troubleshooting. Companies could increase their work force, their productivity, and their profits exponentially.
So when the clandestine clients that had hired Silver Sable to investigate learned of the break in they were worried. Venom didn’t know who was footing the bill for his missions around the globe, but what he did know was who the mysterious client was interested in: a deadly man named Black Tarantula.
As Venom worked his way into the building he remembered his past missions for Silver Sable, all revolving around Black Tarantula and his growing organization. The terrorist was a mystery and supposedly immortal. He had control of deadly operatives around the world that were totally loyal and willing to die for him.
So far Venom had traced Black Tarantula’s organization through South America, up through Mexico, and now into Louisiana. He had taken down two strongholds. He had killed dozens of his diehard warriors. It didn’t seem to matter how much they charged because no matter what their mystery client wanted Black Tarantula brought down.
During the last mission Venom had uncovered blueprints for this very building being studied by Black Tarantula’s men. Obviously he was too late to stop the robbery but at the very least he could find out what Black Tarantula wanted.
Venom popped out of the air vent and crouched low to the cement floor. The room was silent. Not even his enhanced hearing could detect movement.
Then like a slight breeze he sensed something above him. He rolled out of the way just in time to see a sword slice down where he had been sitting. The sheen of the sword reflected the partial light in the room.
Venom danced backward bringing his MP-5 up. With a quick pull of the trigger he let three rounds go, spitting at the person who had tried to kill him. It was a ninja dressed in black and he proved too fast for Venom’s reflexes, spinning away from the burst of bullets and bringing his sword around again.
He ducked underneath and was now close enough to let the symbiote have a little action. A hardened tendril stretched from his forearm like a blade and blocked the ninja’s strike. The parried each other’s swings and Venom found himself being forced back into the room.
From behind he sensed again another enemy and instead of blocking the next sword strike he batted it aside and stepped out of the way. Another sword came from behind where he had been a moment ago and swung through nothing but air.
“Two of you?” Venom said. “Fine by me.”
A second tendril-blade extended from his other arm and he began dodging and weaving between them both, trading cuts and strikes rapidly with increasing speed. He knew he could take them both because they would instantly underestimate him. They didn’t know that they weren’t fighting a single man. They were fighting a pair of enemies perfectly bonded and in sync with one another.
Finally, Venom got the upper hand by swinging down and catching one of the ninja’s swords with his momentum, forcing it down to clash again the other ninja’s sword. The metal clanged and both were at a disadvantage. Venom drove his elbow into the first’s face and then snatched his dangling MP-5, shooting another short burst into the second’s center mass at close range.
“Room secure?” Paladin asked over their radio connection.
“Secure. They are down for the count. One permanently. They look like the same guys I met in Brazil.”
“So definitely Black Tarantula then.”
“Looks like,” Venom said. He took in a deep breath and cracked his neck, looking around. He mentally commanded the symbiote to slide back from his face and scalp so that he could breathe a little more clearly. “Now let’s see what they were after in here.”
No longer covered, the blonde hair of Flash Thompson, former special forces operative for the United States Army, reflected some of the moonlight that came in through the high windows. He didn’t like to reveal his face, but after a bit of action he always appreciated a deep pull of fresh air.
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
EIGHT MONTHS AGO
Flash Thompson didn’t know what he was in for. All he knew was that after his honorable discharge from the military that he didn’t feel quite at home any longer. How could he after he had been to war? His friends and family back home were supportive enough, but they didn’t understand first-hand what he had been through.
So, he accepted an offer to come visit the man called Paladin. They had met during an op in Afghanistan and apparently he had been impressed with Thompson’s skills. Impressed enough to warrant an invitation to Symkaria.
They had just sat down over a beer when she walked in. Smooth as silk, Silver Sable looked like a walking dream. She was everything a man could want in a woman: strong, determined, and easy to look at. To his surprise, she sat down with them at the bar and ordered a martini.
“Captain Thompson,” she had said.
“I’m not a captain anymore, ma’am.”
“Just because you don’t have the bars on your shoulder anymore doesn’t make you any less of a captain. At least not in my opinion. Paladin here tells me that you saved three Symkarian refugees. Is that true?”
Paladin nodded, but it was Thompson that replied. “I didn’t know they were Symkarian ma’am. I was just following orders.”
“I doubt that your orders included dragging two wounded people and a third one that was unconscious out of a burning building. My country thanks you for your heroic efforts.”
Thompson said nothing. He was a little uncomfortable with the praise, especially from someone so beautiful and famous. They talked a little while and he received a second invitation to visit their training compound. The Wild Pack were legendary mercenaries and Thompson was beginning to get an idea of where this prelude was leading. Why else would a paramilitary organization go to the trouble of inviting a recently discharged special forces operative to their location but to try and recruit him?
He was planning on saying no, but then the other shoe dropped. Behind closed doors, Silver Sable showed him something that had recently come into her possession.
She opened a door to a lab or sorts, only it was devoid of any intriguing equipment. A few tables spread around the room had laptops, cables, and lamps among piles of loose papers. In the center of the room was a large floor to ceiling glass cylinder and inside it was something that would change Thompson’s life forever.
A black ooze at the bottom of the container moved in reaction to their entrance. It grew tendrils that clung to the inside of the glass tube, like it was trying to get out. Then a face formed with white fangs and huge white eyes.
He had jumped back because the thing looked like a nightmare. Silver Sable ushered him forward, assuring him it was safe to enter. “It’s okay,” she said. “This is called a symbiote and I would very much like to make you a special offer.”
“A symbiote. What does that mean?”
“It’s a living weapon,” Paladin said. “An alien life form that bonds with a human host to create something powerful. It can give you abilities you would never even dream of having.”
“How did you get it?”
“I bought it on the black market as soon as I realized what it truly was,” Silver Sable said. “There were a lot of interested buyers but I have greater resources than most. When I realized what this was I knew I had to keep it out of the wrong hands.”
“You want me to bond with this thing? Why? Why me?”
“Because of the courage you showed my people. Because Paladin says you’re the man for the job. Because you’re a soldier without a home. I can list more reasons if you prefer.”
Thompson turned to leave. “Sorry. I don’t think handing my life over to an alien life form sounds like a good job description. Thanks for the beer.”
“Wait,” Silver Sable said and she put her hand on his shoulder. The soft touch of such a strong woman made him pause. “You’re a good man, Captain Thompson. Think of the damage the symbiote could do if someone less than a good man were to try and control it.”
“Can it be controlled?”
“We believe so,” Paladin said. “The man bonded to it before now was a little reckless, but ultimately it appears that he learned to control it. Before that it was bonded to one of the premiere heroes of our day.”
“Yeah? Who’s that?”
“Spider-Man.”
Thompson turned back around and stared at the creature bubbling inside the glass tube. It slithered and thrashed, but something it didn’t come across as violent. It looked more like a caged animal pleading to get out for some fresh air. He could relate to that.
If they weren’t lying to him, and he had no reason to believe that they were, then they had just said the magic words. Spider-Man had been his teenage idol. More than once he had seen the wallcrawler in action. Sometimes it seemed like Spider-Man was around his high school at least once a month. Thompson had admired the obvious heroism in the webbed vigilante and never believed a word that the Daily Bugle said about him being a criminal.
Spider-Man had been Thompson’s hero and was the main reason he had joined the army. He didn’t have powers, but he wanted to help people just like his idol. He wanted the training and the discipline that it would take to be a hero.
If Spider-Man had actually bonded with that thing then at least some of what Silver Sable was telling him had to be true.
“Spider-Man, huh? You should have led with that. Let’s talk.”
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
Venom was back on the roof of the facility, but he wasn’t alone. A pair of tendrils gripped the ankle of the still breathing ninja, hanging him upside down over the edge of the roof. Another tendril reached out and slapped the ninja hard to wake him.
Even though he was hanging upside and likely he thought he would be executed he still held his composure. The ninja stared back at the masked Venom waiting for him to speak first.
Venom dug the nozzle of his MP-5 into the ninja’s nose. “What were you looking for here?”
The ninja said nothing.
“Why did Black Tarantula send you here?”
Still nothing.
“Tell him that you’re going to peel his skin back slowly with a cheese grater,” Paladin said in his ear.
Ignoring his handler, or his watchdog, whichever Paladin turned out to be, Venom continued on his own. “I’ll pay you $50,000 to sell out your boss.”
And just like that, the ninja spilled it. “Three of us were sent to collect the schematics for a new mind control technology called pscholar.”
“Three of you?”
“Yes. The third had left by the time you arrived. He is meeting with the rest of our group and departing for the extraction point.”
“Where are they headed next?”
“I do not know. Only the extraction team knows.”
“What is pscholar?”
“Black Tarantula believes it is a powerful new form of mind control that can permanently render someone enthralled.”
Venom suppressed a shiver. He had seen firsthand what Black Tarantula could do with already loyal subjects. Enslaved victims turned into fresh recruits would be catastrophic. He said, “You stole the schematics but not the device?”
“It was not built yet. A man in their New York division is supposedly building it now.”
Venom raised the ninja via his tendrils up to the lamp post that illuminated the parking lot. When his feet were at the right angle, Venom pointed his arm at the ninja and thick gobs of gray webbing erupted from the top of his hand, covering the ninja’s feet. The sticky substance clung to him and the lamp post so that when Venom released the tendrils the ninja still hung by the webbing.
“Wait!” the ninja called. “What about my money?”
“As a fellow mercenary I figured you might jump at the chance of a bigger payday. I guess good ninjas are hard to buy these days. Have fun with the authorities when they get here.”
The ninja called for him but he ignored the pleas and threats. Venom hopped off of the rooftop as easily as stepping off of a porch, landing on top of a black van. He slipped off the top and pulled open the sliding side door to see a man in purple body armor sitting at a row of computers. It was Paladin, still looking patched into the facility’s dead security system.
“I just contacted the local authorities with an anonymous tip,” Paladin said. “Let’s move before they close off the local roadways. I don’t need to hop any roadblocks tonight.”
“How long to New York do you think?”
“Depends on who’s driving.”
Venom slammed the side door behind him and jumped into the driver’s seat. He could feel the symbiote squirm slightly at the thought of returning to its old stomping grounds. Perhaps getting back to New York would be a good thing for both of them.
TO BE CONTINUED! Venom tracks down the creator of the pscholar technology, hoping to learn the full extent of its capabilities. Plus, how was the symbiote separated from Eddie Brock? Learn the startling truth in the next issue!