Eddie Brock had become a familiar face at the bar. Ever since losing his job and getting dumped, his life had spiraled into a total mess. Fo
Eddie Brock had become a familiar face at the bar. Ever since losing his job and getting dumped, his life had spiraled into a total mess. Fo
Eddie Brock had become a familiar face at the bar. Ever since losing his job and getting dumped, his life had spiraled into a total mess. Fo
Eddie Brock had become a familiar face at the bar.
Ever since losing his job and getting dumped, his life had spiraled into a total mess. For the past two weeks, he'd been practically living in this dimly lit dive, drowning his sorrows one drink at a time. He'd grown close to the bar's owner—Tracy, a plump woman with a warm smile and a sharper tongue.
"Hey, Eddie! Long time no see. The usual?" she called from behind the counter.
"You know me too well," Eddie replied with a tired grin.
Tracy poured him a glass of rich amber whiskey and slid it across the counter.
"So? You look like you're doing better. Found a new gig?" she asked, wiping her hands on a towel.
"Yeah... something like that," Eddie said, twirling the drink in his hand. "You could say I'm back in the game. Lucky me."
"Still in journalism?"
"Not really. Found something better, I'd say."
"Well, that's fantastic news," Tracy laughed. "You looked like crap the last time you were in here—like you'd been hit by a truck made of sadness. Congrats on not being a total mess anymore."
Eddie twitched slightly at the comment.
She moved off to tend to other customers, and Eddie nursed his drink alone, his thoughts drifting. Ever since joining S.W.O.R.D., life had felt surreal—like he'd stumbled into someone else's destiny.
That's when a soft, melodic voice interrupted his train of thought.
"Hi, excuse me... mind if I sit here?"
Eddie looked up and was momentarily stunned. A beautiful young woman with long emerald-green hair and eyes that shimmered like cut jade stood before him.
"Oh! Of course, please," Eddie stammered, gesturing to the seat.
"Eddie," came a low, rumbling voice in the back of his head, "We should leave. I don't like her. Something's… wrong."
Venom's instincts prickled like alarm bells.
"Shut up," Eddie muttered under his breath. "I'm working here."
The woman raised an elegant eyebrow.
"Sorry," Eddie coughed. "Not talking to you. I have a… bad habit of talking to myself."
"I'm a psychologist," she replied with a playful smile. "I meet all kinds. People who talk to themselves usually have… pressure. Deep pressure."
Eddie blinked. Something about her words tugged at something inside him—something unsettling.
"There's another version of you, Eddie," she said, her smile never fading. "A darker one. One that wants to break free. One that hungers for power and recognition. Isn't that right?"
A flicker of black shone across Eddie's eyes.
"Who... who the hell are you?" he whispered, his tone darkening. "You're no psychologist."
She leaned closer, her breath brushing his ear.
"Did you really think 'maintaining peace' was your only purpose?" she whispered. "Don't you feel it, Eddie? You were born to do something great. You're destined for more."
The room began to spin. Eddie hadn't even had much to drink, but a strange dizziness washed over him like a wave.
He closed his eyes to steady himself—but when he opened them again, the man known as Eddie Brock was gone.
His pupils were now pools of midnight black.
"Eddie's not here right now," came a gravelly growl. "But I'm ready to talk."
Venom had taken over.
The green-haired woman giggled, brushing her fingers along the edge of Venom's monstrous face.
"Excellent. I think we're going to get along very well."
Elsewhere, back at S.W.O.R.D. HQ, Gene Mason stood before a holographic display, Wanda and Daisy watching intently.
"We can now confirm," Gene began, "that what you two encountered during the mission was a high-interference light construct. Very advanced."
He gestured, and the screen showed a still image of a bespectacled man with thinning hair.
"Arthur Parks. Expert in laser design and optical projection tech. Once pitched his miniaturized diode prototype to Mason Industries… I rejected him."
"Wait—why?" Daisy asked. "That light weapon was incredible. If we could replicate that tech, it could be a game-changer."
Gene's expression remained cold.
"Because we already have something better."
"Right," Daisy sighed. "I should've known."
She shrunk back slightly, embarrassed. Her boss always had contingencies.
Gene raised a finger, and the screen changed again—this time to a security feed from Isle Prison.
"Colonel Emil Blonsky. Codename: Abomination. Broke out a few days ago. But the most surprising part…"
The feed zoomed in on a man standing amidst flames and rubble—stoic, unflinching.
"...was who helped him escape."
"Baron Zemo?" Wanda said grimly.
"Baron Zemo the Second," Gene clarified. "I personally eliminated his father when I dismantled HYDRA and took it over. Now the son wants it back."
"Reports indicate that a small cabal has formed under Zemo's command. Members include the Asgardian sorceress Amora, the Executioner, Living Laser, and now Abomination. Together, they're likely planning an assault on our operations."
Wanda's eyes narrowed.
"You already have a plan, don't you?"
"Of course. Their power is formidable, but their greatest weakness is their ignorance. They have no idea what they're truly up against."
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