Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“You do this every time! Every! Time!”

How had he missed it? Norman had been scouring every inch of the city and had hundreds of men discreetly watching over thousands of servalliance cameras to catch just a glimpse of his creation but whatever was found never gave him a trail to follow back on.

He could watch the marvel beat a group of criminals in mere seconds, he could observe it scale a fifty-story building in minutes and he had seen the raw power that allowed it to hold its own against the so-called ‘team’ that Spider-Man was a part of.

But he couldn't catch it. As soon as his men were alerted to its presence, it would be long gone by the time anyone arrived to even hope to snatch a sample. He was beginning to give up, coming to terms with the fact that he had just lost the absolute perfect soldier and would have to start again.

But then Harry came into his office. No, more appropriately, he stormed into his office, an action he would reprimand any other time but the boy looked so… dishevelled that he granted him some pity. Spouting some nonsense about how they needed to talk, Norman’s first thought was that he was just sulking over school. God knows it wouldn't be the first time.

It wasn't his fault he brushed him off. Maybe if he had actually tried harder in school then he wouldn't have presumed it was just another childish problem. Oh, how he was wrong.

“But this…can’t…wait!”

To watch it before his eyes…how it changed and morphed his son’s body, made it stronger, made it better. It was incredible, he thought the specimen was at its peak those few seconds it had attached to Spider-Man but it seems he was wrong.

Had it grown? Had it gained some kind of experience, learned from its past mistakes? He knew it had some scraps of sentience inside but Otto hadn't kept it long enough to truly test that theory. The more he thought about it, the more he replayed the attack in his mind he only grew much more excited.

A pity it was that it was trying to attack him of all people but if anything that helped him. Why would his own creation ever try and kill him? No, Norman wasn't afraid of the consequences nor was he scared for his life. His research had finally made some progress and that was the only thing he could focus on.

The potential...he never thought his son would be the one to wield it. But it worked out perfectly. Although, it could've worked out even better if he had known sooner.

Norman cast a glance down at his son, silent as the only noise in the room was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor next to him. Lying there in that bed, he looked so small, so fragile. Harry was never one to be interested in sports but in comparison to his current state, it was obvious the symbiote was taking its toll.

How hadn't he seen it? It wasn't like Norman never saw his son. Sure, he was busy and even more so when Venom had escaped but he should've seen it. How many times had he scanned the entirety of New York only for the creature to be hiding right under his nose?

He would laugh if he wasn't immensely frustrated with himself.

If he had gotten to him sooner, the outside world wouldn't have a hint of what was being crafted in secret. S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't have tried to kill it. Now that they were aware, Norman was sure there was a file being made and precautions behind built to prepare for the next time.

The man mentally kicked himself over and over. If only Otto had managed to keep it under control, he was supposed to be working in secret! If they weren't careful, it would lead back to Oscorp and he would be finished.

As excited as he was about how things had turned out, he couldn't ignore the lingering threat that was watching him. Norman heaved a heavy sigh as he leaned back in his chair, sights still placed on Harry as he shifted in his sleep but remained peaceful.

He would have to do another all-nighter, he needed to figure out the next steps to take on his own. He wasn't sure who he could trust, or who he could speak to about this. Norman relied on ignorance, the great power that money had at urging others to turn a blind eye.

If he wanted thousands in the highest grade scientific equipment only to never have it up in the labs, then he would get it with no questions asked. If he wanted a specialised retrieval unit created to go and capture the new “better” Spider-Man swinging around New York, everyone would agree it was completely normal because he just wanted to keep the city safe.

He had a small group of workers, those with the highest pay grade and the most security permission in the industry to handle it but this felt different. The issue of snatching a hugely disliked superhero for testing could be easily passed off as something greater to the press. But his own son?

The man wiped a hand down his face, his eyes burning with tiredness. This had to be completely kept to the inside. The messages had to be wiped, the receipts had to be burned and the camera footage erased. To the outside world, Venom was gone.

But to the inside, to Norman…he could perfect that beautiful creation in peace. He could turn his own flesh and blood into the pinnacle of human science. Harry could become the perfect being…but most won't see it that way.

No, this had to stay with himself. Things needed to go right this time, he needed to start building the walls up immediately.

Tearing his eyes away from Harry, burying the feeling of familiarity to how he remembered Emily before she passed he stormed towards the door. Luckily, he had sectioned off this unit of the hospital to assure them some peace and quiet. They had told him it was too risky to move his son to his own private hospital whilst in his state but that didn't mean he couldn't adjust the one he was in currently.

He was aware that Harry wasn't bothered by things like that but Norman certainly was.

As he pushed out of the room and leaned against the opposite wall, looking down the hallway to check that the staff had actually listened to his request to leave them be, he pulled out a small tablet and turned it on.

Norman instantly went to the contacts, eyes looking out the window as the rain poured, not needing to see to know just who he was calling. He didn't even wait a second after the call was accepted to speak.

“I’m only going to ask once, Octavius.” Norman snarled, following the path of a car as it pulled into the hospital parking lot. He recognised the men who stepped out, obviously, private police coming to ask him more questions. But that didn't scare him, it was easy to send them away.

“Did you know about this?” Norman turned away, lifting the tablet so he could stare the scientist in the face. “Did you know about Harry?” He grit his teeth, struggling to contain the volume of his voice. He had to remember where he was.

“Of course not.” Doctor Octavius spat back, actually having the gall to scoff as if what the man was asking was preposterous. “How could I possibly now?” The metal claws shudder behind him, flicking across the screen as they react to his anger. If Norman hadn't been the one to make them, he would've guessed they were alive.

“How could anyone know more about your son than you?” He sneered, lifting his head to just the right angle so that Norman could spot his eyes from behind the red goggles. He saw how they narrowed, sly and accusing as he knew he had caught the man in a trap of his own making.

Norman’s hand gripped the tablet tighter as he held that gaze, threatening to snap the gadget in two if he squeezed just a little bit harder. He was his boss, his superior. Norman was the one who saved his life and built him those arms, gave him the most advanced lab money could buy so of course he expected that little bit of respect.

But Otto… seemed to thrive on those little moments where he took that step forward and Norman took one back. They had long passed the relationship of mentor and mentee. Somewhere along the way, it had soured and grown into something sinister. They still shared the same desire for scientific research but nothing more.

And although Norman considered the option of cutting the man off now, watching him shrivel up and disappear into the corners of his mind while he went on and thrived, he knew he needed him. If only for a little bit longer, he needed someone like Octavius to help craft the next steps with Venom.

“Very well.” Norman forced out, breaking contact first and straightening his tie. He had to remember the positions they were in, there was no point lashing out, not unless he was ready to face the brutal consequences.

“In any case, I will be sending you a sample of Harry’s blood.” He looked ahead, peering through the small window into his son’s room to check if he was still sleeping. “Venom…” He said the name with a slight smirk. “I want you to study the sample and upgrade it.”

“You want me to perfect it? Like I wanted in the first place?” Otto asked, his gravelly voice bringing Norman’s attention back down to him. This time, the man couldn't quite contain his temper.

“Don't taunt me, Octavius.” Norman hissed, lowering his tone as he watched the scientist snicker quietly, the metallic limbs twisting in amusement. “If I had known just how powerful it would become then I would've ordered precautions…” He sighed, tapping the side of the tablet. He had already been over this, what was the point of throwing it back in his face now?

Does he know how close he is to getting cut off? Is Otto so foolish not to realise the power that Norman holds over him? He comforts himself with that fact, he’ll let the scientist have this little win. He’ll let him laugh in his face at his mistake, but he’ll remember it. He always does.

“Yes, I’m giving you more time.” Norman relented through gritted teeth, focusing on the future potential of his research with what he had in his possession.

Octavius smiled, his crooked teeth glinting in the gloomy lighting of his underwater lab. He moved away from the camera, pulling up holographic images of the former research and adjusting them with his metal claws.

“Then, if that’s all,” Otto uttered and consequently ended the call, the tablet screen flicking to black before Norman could say much more. As disrespectful as he found it, the man had to admit he was glad that the conversation was over. He couldn’t unleash his pent-up frustration in a hospital so he was forced to swallow it.

Ignore it. And he had an effective way to do that. Work.

Norman dropped the tablet to his side as he went back into Harry’s room. While Octavius was getting ready to perform more tests on the blood, Norman could begin building a plan to ensure full secrecy of his project and make sure he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

But just as he collapsed back into the chair, Harry groaned from on the hospital bed, startling the father to his presence. He abandoned the tablet on the side table, jumping up as Harry twisted and blinked through tired eyes.

“Harry,” Norman exclaimed, allowing a small smile to appear on his face as he reached out and placed a steady hand on Harry’s arm, grabbing the boy’s attention.

“Dad…?” The teenager croaked, eyes still glossy as he squinted at his father like he wasn’t quite sure if he was there or not.

“You’re alright, son,” Norman reassured, squeezing the boy’s arm gently but it didn’t seem to quell the rising terror within him.

“Dad, I don’t-“ he stuttered, lip wobbling as his eyes suddenly went wide and he gripped the bedsheet. “I-I don’t know if it’s still inside me or not.” He said in a shaky whisper.

Any other time, Norman would be inclined to correct his behaviour as it wasn’t becoming of an Osborn but Norman wasn’t completely cruel. If there was any moment to allow his son some sort of respite, it was now. He had deserved it after his grand display earlier today.

He kept his mouth shut as Harry closed his eyes for a brief moment, biting his lip as he too seemed to recall the day’s earlier events, only he wasn’t as happy about them as Norman was. But that was understandable, he didn’t understand. But he would in time, he just had to take it slow.

Harry was still young, still carried those occasional traits of weakness that he needed to stamp out but he couldn’t do it all at once. Just like he had been doing since the boy was born, piece him together one day at a time.

“I’m sorry.” Harry cried softly, eyes watery as he looked up at Norman for comfort. The man quickly acted, reaching down and grasping his son’s hand as he used the other to run his fingers through his hair.

Memories flashed in his mind, images of a sickly blonde woman lying still in a similar place. The painful noise of a baby’s shrill crying but having no mother to place them with. The nauseating smell of blood, too much blood. The muffled sound of people uttering their condolences, their empty offers of support.

The rage that welled in his chest as he looked down at the one true thing he had ever loved, was gone in seconds.

“Don't apologize.” Words he had said a thousand times, normally packed with bitterness and hostility. But here, he took the phrase and twisted it into something new. The soft comfort his son dearly wanted, he gave it to him despite the awful memories that emerged in response. “And don't be scared!”

He kept his son’s hand firmly in his own, wondering just when exactly the time had gone by and the tiny, chubby hands that could once only latch onto a finger had grown into the hands that could change the world.

“I promise to use all the resources at my disposal to help us figure this out.” His son, he didn't look like he usually did. That cocky attitude had vanished, and that bitterness towards the world he had taught him to use had slipped away amid this madness. Harry was vulnerable, he was scared and he was at his most weak.

There, lying in a hospital bed his body fought to understand what had just entered and blessed it with new strength. He couldn't even begin to understand just the marvel that even his blood had become. But that was ok, but Norman was there. He would be the ever-caring father he needed him to be and do all the hard work for him.

He knew Harry wanted attention, he knew he wanted his approval and he was finally going to get it, all he needed to do was just follow along.

“Together.” Norman soothed, the gentle movement of his hand and the lingering effects of the drugs he had been pumped with slowly lulling Harry back into unconsciousness. With his father’s reassurance, the boy didn't seem as panicked as before so he let his eyes drop shut and soon enough, his breathing evened out and Norman felt his hand go limp in his.

With Harry no longer awake, the man carefully placed his son’s hand back down on the bed, leaving him to return to the chair and eagerly pick up his tablet. He couldn't waste a single second, the faster he took claim over the creature the more he ensured his army before anyone else.

He couldn't even imagine the possibility of someone like Nick Fury taking over his operation. No, Norman had been in this field long enough that minds as bright as his were far and few, he could only trust himself and the special team he had created.

Turning the tablet back on, Norman scrolled to a rather unsuspecting app on the home screen, pressing on it and entering a lengthy password before it allowed him access. From there, hundreds of documents spread out before him, years of work that had been helping him prepare for this very moment.

But he did not need to go over them now. Instead, the man made a new folder, hiding it deep inside a few others for safe measure before naming it:

‘VENOM’

The rain pelted down upon Peter with the same force it had been going at since the sun had gone down, but he didn't make an effort to escape it. He hardly noticed anymore as the water dropped from his head and ran down his cheeks, he didn't care.

Spider-Man didn't do well in the cold, his lack of thermoregulation slowed him down and left him feeling tired and sluggish. As such, if there was ever a day where the weather decided to do a huge ‘fuck you’ to him in particular, he would pack heaters, maybe even wear a sweater and ignore the snickering from the New Yorkers as he swung by.

But today it didn't bother him. His suit was soaked, and his body was chilled to the bone but he did not shake. He remained stiff, and tense as he looked over the edge of the Hospital roof and at the entrance. Harry had been delivered there about an hour and a half ago, the ambulance he rode in long gone but the hero just couldn't find it in him to leave yet.

His gaze hadn't moved an inch from the doors, his mind battling with itself on whether he should go inside to check on him if he should go as Spider-Man or Peter or if he would just be turned away before he even had the chance to try. But he couldn't turn away. That wasn't who Spider-Man was.

If there was something else he could do to help someone, even if he didn't have to, he would do it. Even if it meant staying out on patrol for a few hours longer, even if it meant he powered through broken bones and aching bruises, he would do it. Because he had a responsibility to.

He felt that same desire here, but he wasn't quite sure what to do about it. He was aware his emotions were most likely jumbled, heightened because it was his best friend Harry who was inside that hospital, recovering from a trauma of Peter’s making but he wasn't going to run away.

So he stayed, perched on the edge of the roof like some silly-looking gargoyle until his anxious thoughts finally decided on what the best course of action he would take next. He knew that was stupid, that the longer he remained there staring at nothing he was running the risk of getting the flu for the second time in a month. But Spider-Man was also stubborn, even with himself.

Running away and leaving everything to the hospital staff, leaving Harry with strangers no matter how kind and caring they were, felt so wrong. It felt like he was abandoning him, again and he refused to make the same mistake twice.

It was his fault Harry felt the need to take Venom and it was his stupidity that let him believe that he had just disappeared after their first fight. He just wanted to do something right for Harry because the past few months all he had given him were failures. He was supposed to be his friend, his best friend his-

Peter sighed and closed his eyes briefly, letting his head hang against his chest as the exhaustion caught up with him. He didn't feel like a hero. He may have the powers and wore the flashy suit but it had been a long time since he had finished the night and actually felt as if he had helped people.

Maybe Jonah was right, he was just a menace to the city, he needed to let the professionals handle it instead of jumping in and making everything worse-

“Yo! Webhead!”

The hero jumped at the sound of a familiar voice and he looked up just in time to watch as the rest of his team landed on the roof, walking towards him. Unlike how he usually greeted his friends, Peter didn't have the energy to stand up and greet them and simply turned his attention back towards the hospital entrance.

“…Is Harry ok?” Iron Fist asked, his polite tone almost drowned out by the heavy storm around them. But Spider-Man heard it, perks of having semi-increased hearing, he supposed. Though he didn't exactly feel like celebrating.

“I…I think so but-” Peter finally answered, having an urge to lift his mask and get rid of the suffocating feeling the suit was inflicting on him. But on the roof of a hospital, in clear view? Too risky. “-I’m still worried.” The boy admitted, allowing the confident persona to take a step back as his vulnerable core shone through. “You all saw it, fought it. Venom is…”

“A force to be reckoned with.” Power Man finished for him, crossing his arms with a steely expression.

“More than that!” Nova cut in, floating in front of them. Peter almost winced at his voice, his aura. It was so loud in comparison to everyone else’s and as Spider-Man watched the rain pelt down upon him, he couldn't help but wonder if there was anything that could put a dimmer on Nova’s light. “That thing is a beast- OW!”

Maybe, Ava, Peter concluded as White Tiger took a step forward and cuffed her teammate sharply round the head, cutting off his sentence before he could fully finish it.

“You’re the one who made the Anti-Venom that saved him.” She spoke softly, ignoring Sam’s cry of pain, the girl kneeled at the edge of the roof and positioned herself beside Peter. “And it worked, right?”

“Yeah, but what if-”

“If, it comes back.” White Tiger began, pointing at Spider-Man sternly, shutting him up as she went on. “Through Harry or anyone else, you have a way to stop it.” She reasoned, tilting her head as she allowed Peter a moment to process her words, to understand them.

“He’ll be alright.” The eyes on her suit narrowed, but in a way that the hero knew was because she was smiling. “He has you looking out for him.”

“But I wasn't good enough.” Spider-Man weakly argued, turning away from her as the message had failed to get through. “Vemon came from me.” he jabbed himself in the chest, gritting his teeth as explained. “It was hunting me.”

He could still remember it, those few minutes he was trapped inside that thing. He didn't know how or why it had done it but it had shared its memories with him, letting Peter understand why it was hunting Spider-Man in the first place.

Because they were the same.

“If I had gotten rid of it the first time, Harry wouldn't have gotten involved.”

“How could you have ever known?” Luke reasoned, also kneeling though his larger build made it so that he was still a good few inches taller than their leader.

“There is no point dwelling in the past.” Danny chimed in, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder, a solid reminder that they were still there and they weren't leaving, no matter what. “What’s done is done, the only path you can take now is the one that moves forward.”

“But I’ve failed him so many times.” Spider-Man sighed, anger bubbling deep inside him that he refused to release, especially on the ones he knew were just trying to help him. But the hero was so certain that he didn't deserve it. All he ever does is put on the suit and try again and yet, it was like he wasn't learning and people just continued to get hurt.

He couldn't even trust himself, how could he ever hope for a whole city to trust in him?

“How do I know I won't mess up again?”

“Uhh, I dunno? Maybe because you literally made serum that stopped it!” Nova suddenly flew in front of him, tone exasperated and shocking Peter back into the present. “Weren't you listening? You made the Anti-Venom! What’s wrong with using it again?” He pointed out harshly and yet, it was the force that finally made a crack in the walls of resentment Peter had built in his mind.

Maybe it was because Sam was normally the first person to jump at the chance to humiliate him, laughing down the comms if he took a hit, blaming him when he missed shots of his own and groaning whenever he asked him to do the simplest task. But after so long, Peter learnt that there was never true spite behind his words.

Though it could use some work and was nowhere near as polite as someone like Danny, it was his way of trying to bond with a person. If he got a reaction out of someone, then he got that attention, he got a conversation. In the end, Spider-Man figured out that all he needed to do was include Nova instead of ignoring him and that prickly attitude slowly calmed down.

Although he still spouted his thick-headed comments and sly jabs mid-battle, Peter couldn't say he was any better. They bounced off of each other and riled one another up so that they were ready and prepared to beat up the bad guy in front of them. He had grown to appreciate Nova, though he would never say it.

So it was the kind words hidden in his snarky response that got to him the most.

Slightly embarrassed by that fact, Spider-Man scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, shoulders loosening up as he finally looked away from the hospital entrance and didn't immediately feel that pang of anxiety. “I guess…” he relented, pretending not to notice when Nova smirked, clearly proud of himself for getting the final word in.

But before anyone could argue against him, all five of their watches abruptly buzzed and everyone jumped as they immediately directed their attention to the communication device and switched it on.

Spider-Man couldn't begin to describe the fear when he looked down at Nick Fury as he came up on the small screen, his disappointment somehow penetrating through the call and stabbing him in the heart. Dramatic, maybe, but he couldn't help it. Male mentor figures hit the hardest.

“And when were you all going to update me that you’d completed the mission and got Venom?” He began instantly, shutting down anyone’s attempt at an immediate excuse or deterrence to a different subject. “Or should I expect to get all my reports from the police now?”

Silence settled throughout the group as they all looked at one another, expressions panicked as they silently gestured and waved, all trying to pass along a silent message that none of them understood.

“Well?” Fury’s voice crackled through the watches, somehow louder than the ripples of lightning that crashed overhead. His presence was as intimidating as it would’ve been if he had stood right in front of them and Spider-Man found himself considering the option of handing in his resignation and then making a run for it, not eager to face the consequences coming his way.

Because he had lied, not just to his team but to Nick Fury. Even when he had given him multiple chances to rectify it, he still kept his mouth shut because he feared the possibility of Harry getting hurt more than himself. Peter would do it again, if it came between him and his friends, he would always pick himself to face the agent’s piercing eye.

But that didn’t mean he felt no remorse about it. As much as he clashed with Fury, he could never deny the fact that he had been looking out for him. He had never scouted out Spider-Man to stop him from causing more trouble like he had initially assumed. He had offered Spider-Man a place at S.H.I.E.L.D. because he wanted to help him.

And Peter had repaid that by throwing his trust back in his face. He had even attempted to sabotage the mission he set to save the ‘threat’ he had aimed to capture. Peter couldn’t help wondering, would he have actually listened if he told him who Venom truly was?

Was the best for Harry to stop S.H.I.E.L.D. from getting to him? Or had he made another stupid decision?

As he looked down at the director on the communicator, he couldn’t stop himself from falling deeper and deeper into that entanglement of self-hatred and frustration. He was opening his mouth before he was aware of it, preparing to finally speak the truth and earn either the punishment of a lifetime or an immediate release from the force.

But someone spoke before him.

“It was a shock, discovering that the real identity behind Venom was someone we knew” Spider-Man looked up in shock as Iron Fist explained calmly, glancing up at the leader with a steady gaze as he led the start of the excuse and then paused to allow Peter to carry on the rest. Luckily, the young hero quickly caught onto what his teammate was doing and, not one to waste a good opportunity to avoid being S.H.I.E.L.D’s next training dummy joined in.

“Uh- Y-yeah I mean- Harry’s my…best friend-“ His eyes flicked between each member, still slightly astonished that none of them had spoken to truth of what had happened today and saved themselves heaps of trouble. They had already done it once a few hours ago, he really didn’t expect them to do it again. “I was just…” He smiled beneath the mask but remembered to look back down and give the director his full attention before he realised something was up. “…really worried about him.”

He felt a huge weight shift off his shoulders as he got through the white lie, thankful that he had finally gained some control over his terrible lying skills and offered a semi-reasonable excuse.

“The report slipped my mind.” He finished with a calmer tone. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” Spider-Man promised the agent, glancing back up at his team as he offered them all a thumbs-up off-camera. When he looked back down, Fury seemed to be mulling it over.

His eye was narrowed, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the whole team with an expression that clearly said “I don’t believe you in the slightest” but surprisingly, he didn’t act upon it. Either he didn’t have any evidence or didn’t have the energy to shout at them because he just heaved a sigh and ran a hand down his face.

“Fine.” He grumbled, unaware of the silent celebration the whole team was partaking in whilst he wasn’t looking. “Considering you eventually got the job done-“ As soon as he dropped his hand, the whole team went completely still, dropping the excited act. “-I’ll let your error slide.” He placed his arms behind his back, returning to his original professional posture. “Good work. Fury, out.” He added at the end, allowing no room for anyone to comment on it as he immediately ended the call, causing all communicators to go black.

For a beat, no one moved as each hero took the time to process the fact that they had just lied straight to Nick Fury’s face for the second time in one day and somehow were still living. When it did settle, everyone cheered in victory and Spider-Man launched himself at Danny to pull him into a tight hug.

But just as he was about to usher out his thank-yous, the watch blipped back on without even waiting for any of them to accept the call. Peter looked down in utter panic as Fury reappeared on the watches.

“But I’m watching you.” He warned, pointing a finger at them all through the communicators one last time before finally cutting the call off for good. Or at least, Peter hoped so because he wasn’t keen on having a heart attack at the ripe age of 18 years old.

As everyone sighed in relief, no longer retaining the energy for another celebration, Peter spoke before anyone else had the chance. He didn’t want to hesitate again, to miss another opportunity and regret it later because he knew his team had helped him escape from those exact scenarios more than once. He wanted to repay them for that.

But there, sat in the pouring rain on the roof of a random hospital in the middle of the night, he wasn’t sure there was any way how and so settled for the only thing he could do at that time. He talked.

“Thanks guys.” He began, words mixed with another sigh as he shuffled to the right and let his legs dangle over the edge of the roof. “Not just for that but…” he looked down at his feet as they hung, listening to the sounds of confusion of his group behind him as he fell back into that serious tone again. “…but for before as well.” He turned around to face them, amused at their faces as he genuinely thanked them, something he didn’t do enough.

“It really means a lot to me that I could confide in you and you were willing to help me out.” The hero said, guilt still poking at the edges of his words. “Even though it meant you could’ve gotten in trouble as well.” He had held out on telling them for so long, automatically assuming that their friendship meant nothing if they had to choose between him and an order from Fury.

He had judged them when he hadn’t even let them try and that was on him.

“You’re our friend, web-head,” Luke responded with a slight smile on his face as he moved forward and offered out a hand to Peter. “Whether you like it or not.”

Spider-Man looked at his teammate's hand with slight hesitancy, not because he didn’t trust him but because he wasn’t sure if he deserved it. The height of his anxiety today had been when he was preparing the anti-venom, mostly because he was scared that somehow his calculations would go wrong and it wouldn’t work but also because of what would become of his team afterwards.

He expected their anger and frustrations but he had received none. Instead, the first thing they did was comfort him and then keep his secret safe from Nick Fury. Spider-Man had wondered if he would ever be a good enough leader for a team like this and right now, he wasn’t sure.

But he owed it to them to try.

And so he took Power Man’s hand and let the guy pull him up off the wet ground.

“So no more secrets, deal?” White Tiger appeared beside them, pointing a sharp claw in Peter’s direction that left him holding his hands up and nodding nervously. But then Iron Fist walked by, his peaceful aura evaporating Ava’s menacing one in seconds.

“Trust is the strongest bond.” He added wisely, earning a chuckle from his leader.

“Yeah, I know that now,” Spider-Man admitted, still feeling a tad bit sheepish over his mountain of errors made over the past few days but the forgiveness of his team helped to ease the pressure. “I couldn’t have done it without you guys.”

“Well, duh.” Nova piped in, appearing in his view as he carefully walked along, eyes down and arms out as he balanced at the edge of the building. “You would’ve been squashed ages ago if it wasn’t for uuuSSSSS-!” He squealed like a little girl as Spider-Man promptly pushed him as he passed by, knocking him off the building, snorting as he heard a distant ‘RUDE!’ from below.

“If we’re done realising how stupid we’ve been, then let’s get going. I don’t wanna stay in this rain for much longer.” White Tiger exclaimed, raising a hand to cover her head as she looked up into the sky and inspected the rolling black clouds ahead.

“Hah! Is it because you’re a cat?” Nova chimed in again, slowing rising back up to the roof as he floated lazily in the air, a mischievous grin on his face. “Is it? It is, isn’t it?” He giggled, only growing more amused the more Ava glowered at him.

“Do you want me to slice that helmet in half?” She threatened, flicking her hand out and unsheathing her claws as a show to prove that her words were not an empty threat.

“Steady, White Tiger. Leave the slicing for when we get to the training room.” Luke stepped between them, blocking Ava’s view of Sam as he chuckled at his own joke, unaware of the pain he would receive later.

After a short huff, the hero sheathed her claws in silent agreement and the team began to move away, gearing to head back to the helicarrier but Spider-Man didn’t follow. Instead, he found himself looking back at the hospital entrance once again.

“…Spider-Man?” He heard Danny call out for him, but he found it hard to face his team when the pulling in his chest had finally settled on its choice. Taking a deep breath, Peter looked over his shoulder at the group and hoped they could sense his smile.

“You guys go on without me, I’ll catch up with you all later.” He nodded towards them but they weren’t so easily deterred.

“You’re brushing us off? Again?” Nova crossed his arms, a minor scowl on his face as he watched Peter fumble to save himself.

“No! It’s not like that, honest I just-“ he made some sort of vague gesture down at the entrance, somehow hoping that they would understand and eventually sighing when they obviously didn’t. “…I wanna go check on Harry before I call it in.” He said an immediately regretted saying it whilst Sam was paying attention.

“Ooooooh!” He began, drifting on by Peter as he had found a new target to poke fun at. “I get it, you wanna be the knight in shining armour, right?” He joked as he nudged the hero’s side, quickly zooming away when Peter lashed out in response.

“I regret ever introducing you to Harry!” Spider-Man threw his arms up in frustration, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment when Nova just kept on laughing.

“It’s not my fault you’re so painfully obvious!” The cocky hero argued, coming in close for a split second so he could stick his tongue out in Peter’s face and then swiftly escape before he got hit.

“I hate you so much.” Peter hissed through gritted teeth, clenching his hands into fists as Sam just smiled confidently in the face of his rage.

“That’s the best thing you’ve ever said to me.” He responded in a sudden change of seriousness and it was at that point did Ava finally step between them, shaking her head as if she were the adult stopping an argument between two young children.

“Alright, that’s enough, Nova.” She began, placing her hands on her hips when Sam made a noise of disappointment. “Let’s just head back before Fury blows a casket.” She reasoned but obviously forgot who she was trying to reason with.

“Oh, of course, the hopeless romantic is telling me to lay off lover boy.” He shot back, intertwining his hands and bringing them up to his face as he played the part of someone deeply in love.

“That’s it!” White Tiger roared and lunged forward, growling when she only just missed slicing Nova in half as he zoomed out of the way, cackling like a madman as he flew into the distance. Though his opponent wasn’t far behind, instantly commencing a chase as she flipped off the roof of the hospital and launched herself to the next.

Power Man shook his head, quietly chuckling at the two and their antics but silently turned and offered Spider-Man a wave of farewell before he wiped his sunglasses of the rain and started after them.

That left only Iron Fist and Spider-Man on the roof. For a few seconds, the two heroes just stared at each other in silence. While the martial artist still retained his pleasant smile, he looked as if he was analysing his leader, leading Peter to feel a tad nervous and confused.

“Uh…Iron Fist…?” Spider-Man called out to his friend, tilting his head as he tried to figure out the reason behind his hesitancy to leave. Then again, Danny was always the more emotionally aware of the group. While he could convince the others he was handling something, Danny would often linger behind to watch his back anyway.

But he wasn’t exactly hiding anything here. He had just shared his insecurities with the group, there wasn’t anything else he had left he could be hiding. Not unless his teammate was looking to become his next therapist and listen to him drone on about his tragic backstory.

But even through his mask, Spider-Man could see the amusement in his friend’s gaze and the fondness when he spoke.

“Don’t waste your time lost in the past, Spider-Man.” Iron Fist began, turning his hand over and offering his flat palm to the storm around them, watching as the rain fell harshly against his bare skin. “Focus on the future and seize it.” He suddenly clenched his hand into a fist, light exploding around it and a sparkling yellow flame burst from his hand.

After a moment of evaporating the rain that had gathered in his palm, he finally released the tension and the energy dissipated into nothing, as if it had never been there at all.

“Be honest.” He brought his hands together, looking at Peter expectantly as he waited for his response.

Unfortunately, Peter had absolutely zero clue how to respond to Danny’s words of wisdom when he had thought he had already gotten past that and had been truthful with the group. Was this his way of saying ‘Don’t do it again’? But it was such a weird way of going about it, it left the hero wondering if there was something more behind his advice.

“Uhhh…” Spider-Man struggled to think of a good response, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Will do, Iron Fist…” he shot finger guns at him awkwardly, something that he mentally slapped himself for but luckily, Danny seemed more intrigued by the action than humoured and after examining his own hands for a brief moment, he stiffly copied the action before jumping away.

“Seize the future, huh?” Spider-Man mumbled to himself as he watched the last silhouette of his team fade away amid the raging storm and the darkness of the night, finally leaving the hero completely on his own. Though he didn’t feel any more relaxed.

He urged his body to move despite his mind still reeling from the sudden fortune cookie message. The most logical explanation was that Danny was just reiterating the team’s desire for Peter to be more open with them before he left but something told him he wasn’t quite right.

He crawled down the back of the hospital, ducking under an alcove and settling into the corner of a section shrouded in darkness, hopefully, a spot that no one would wander into anytime soon. As he pulled off the suit, shaking his head at the water that had leaked through the fabric and soaked his hair, he fell back on the original worry that had been plaguing him for the past few weeks.

What did he tell Harry? What did he even say to him in the first place? There was a chance he wouldn’t even want to see him, that he would still be upset over the fact that he had been neglecting him lately and the suspicion over the fact that he still had Venom around.

And now he had just gone through something deeply traumatic, he didn’t need someone like Peter coming in and giving him more stress…did he?

He knew that Harry still cared about him, no matter how much he had hurt him and as long as he still felt that way, there was a chance that he did want someone close to come and try to make him feel better. Besides, Peter didn’t want their friendship to end.

He cherished Harry so much. So much more than he would ever realise but he was content with just keeping the boy by his side. Peter had lost too many people in his life if he wanted to keep the ones remaining safe, he had to keep them at arm's length so that no one got hurt again-

‘Be honest.’

Oh. That’s what he meant.

Spider-Man wasn’t the only one that needed to start being honest with people but Peter did too. He’d upset so many people by hopping between his double life but he had grown to accept that, he had taken the insults without any fight because he had always thought that was the only way.

He had to keep the hero side of him a secret from everyone otherwise the one he held the closest Peter Parker would wound up getting hurt in the crossfire. Being Spider-Man wasn’t a game, as much as he tried to make it seem like one. It was a heavy responsibility, a permanent dedication for as long as he held his powers.

He couldn’t make his choices lightly.

So was this really the right one?

Did he go on lying to everyone around him? To Harry in particular? Things had changed in the last few weeks, even though he knew nothing, he had gotten too close to the fire and Peter was having a hard time keeping him away.

If he went on like he did, would Harry continue to fall deeper and deeper? Maybe Venom was gone but that didn’t erase the resentment that sat within his friend. If he knew the truth, if Peter could finally be there, Harry would know that he wasn’t avoiding him on purpose.

Maybe with the truth, they would actually get closer.

No, he doubted it. With how Harry had been acting around him lately, he would most certainly respond with nothing less than fury. Peter clung to the wall, wincing as another crackle of thunder ripples along the clouds above. He had the chance, he could just throw back on the suit and swing back home.

He would send Harry a message, visit him another day and forget about everything he had just considered because swallowing down all his feelings was so much easier than admitting them and facing disappointment.

But after what he had just learnt with his team, after feeling the relief when they stayed and comforted him instead of turning away and abandoning him, he knew that wasn’t the right thing to do.

He pressed the suit as far into the corner as he could and then webbed it in place to collect for later. Whatever happened, whatever reaction Harry had to him, he would accept it. He would finally be honest because he deserved it. The whole Venom thing was his fault, he needed to pay up for it.

The teen sighed and slipped down from the wall, cringing as he stepped out into the rain and began sprinting towards the entrance, briefly slipping in a puddle but miraculously saving himself from falling.

The trip through the hospital went by in a sort of blur, apart from the rather unpleasant receptionist who insisted that Mr Osborn had ordered complete privacy on Harry’s specific ward and that he could not pass. Unfortunately for her, Peter had disregarded that and passed through a short series of vents to get in without a problem.

Maybe it was for the best that no one bothered Harry but the hero felt as if he needed to be there. He was making a point to show up, proving to Harry that he was serious about their friendship and, he wasn’t going to run away anymore.

And yet, he still hesitated in front of the door. It was the right one, Harry Osborn scrawled on a small whiteboard next to the door along with a few other medical notes that weren’t relevant enough for Peter to focus on. He didn’t need to be there for long, just pop in, tell him the truth and then he would leave.

Easier said than done. Everything was potentially about to fall apart before him and what’s worse was he had nothing to verify or argue against it. He had to make the choice, he had to take the plunge to ruining his relationship with Harry, and no one else.

He didn’t want to lose him, god his chest tightened in pain the more he thought about the outcome where he never spoke to the teen again but if he did nothing, he could lose anyway. To Venom, to depression or to spite, his secrets were tearing Harry apart and he had to fix it.

It was the right thing to do. If he had the chance to ask, he was sure that Uncle Ben would tell him the same. So with a deep inhale, Peter finally took the plunge and pushed through the door, only to blink in surprise when he was met with not one but two people in the room.

It should’ve been normal, for any other person in the world having your parent by your side while you recovered from a traumatic event was expected.

Yet still, Peter found himself freezing as he locked eyes with Norman Osborn who looked back with the same shock in return. But the man recovered faster, building up a pleasant smile as he stood from the bed and approached the boy.

“Ah, Peter. I didn’t expect to see you here, especially not so soon!” He tilted his head as he placed a hand on his shoulder, something glittering in his eyes that Peter couldn’t quite place. Despite the feeling, he ignored it and gave the man his best smile.

“Of course, Mr Osborn. Harry’s my best friend, as soon as I heard about what happened I came straight here.” He looked past the man and towards the bed where his friend was lying down but stirring, seeming to just be waking up from sleep.

Norman chuckled lightly, still keeping his hand where it was. “How thoughtful. Harry is lucky to have such a good friend like you.” He moved out of the way as if permitting for Peter to actually step further into the room.

“But don’t stay for too long!” He added as he went to leave, lingering in the doorway as he held Peter’s gaze from over his shoulder. “After all, it’s a school night,” Norman advised before waving the teenager goodbye and leaving the two alone.

As rude as it was to feel, Peter had to admit that he was a rather… unusual guy at times.

Brushing that aside, the boy turned around and quickly made his way towards Harry’s bed, sitting down on the empty seat and remaining quiet as his friend came to. He wanted to hug him, to tell him that he was sorry and yet at the same time, shout at him for keeping his struggles a secret when he could’ve helped.

But in the end, he was no better, was he? Peter had been playing Spider-Man for a whole year and hadn’t told him once. He’d thought about it, sure, Harry was one of the closest people in his life. More than that but he wasn’t going to admit that to anyone.

And he still hadn’t told him. What did that say about him? He’d been brushing him off for his duties, ignoring his struggles with his dad and then failing to help him against Venom until the very last moment. The only reason he won that battle was because the team distracted him for long enough to produce that anti-venom.

If he’d told Harry sooner, would that have changed it? Maybe if Peter had been a better friend, he wouldn’t have felt the need to use Venom in the first place. This whole thing was on him, he had to own up to it.

Harry rubbed his eyes, a small smile creeping up his face as he moved into a more comfortable position. “Pete!” His voice was all croaky and his eyes had dark circles underneath, an obvious sign he was still tired but wanted to stay awake. That didn’t help with the hero’s guilt. “What are you doing here?”

“Keeping you company, why else?” Peter reached out and gently nudged his shoulder, afraid that if he put too much effort into it he’d send him falling off the bed. Harry gleamed at him and for a moment, Peter felt that energy rubbing off on him but the real reason for his visit loomed over him. He couldn’t back out now.

“I uh…” Peter’s smile dropped and he returned his hand to his knees, balling them into fists. “I’m sorry about what happened, it must’ve been horrible.” What would Harry think about him after it all? Would he hate him? Fear him? Would he be so betrayed that he would reveal the secret to everyone else?

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” Though the boy’s smile remained, Harry reached out and placed a hand on Peter’s as if he was trying to comfort him. Peter didn’t deserve that, he couldn’t even look him in the eye anymore. “It…was my stupid choice that made me into that.” Harry’s eyes misted over as he seemed to return to that time.

“You wouldn’t say that if you…” Peter couldn’t finish the sentence. Maybe Harry would reveal him and he couldn’t blame him for it. He had every right to be furious with him after Peter had failed him. He was supposed to be a hero and a friend and he had somehow fucked up at being both.

“If I…what?”

Peter’s throat was painfully dry and no matter how much he tried to swallow the fear down, the lump at the bottom just grew larger. He loved Harry. He had given up trying to lie to himself about it a long time ago. But he didn’t deserve him.

Harry deserved better, he deserved the truth.

“Peter, what’s…what’s wrong?”

The vigilante looked up, clenching his fists tighter to the point that his knuckles had gone white. He had to face it, Harry and the consequences that came afterwards. He couldn’t just run away from the mistakes he made. He had to take responsibility.

He had a choice, to run away from this and carry on lying, carry on playing Spider-Man or to tell Harry the truth, own up to his mistakes and battle through what came next. And Peter…Peter chose Harry.

“I have something to tell you.” He licked his lips, wishing he had some sort of drink but also knowing that if he did, he would’ve most likely thrown it back up.

Harry blinked in surprise, bringing back his hands. The space placed a painful spike of longing in Peter’s chest. “Ok?” The redhead chuckled but was clearly nervous, looking up and down at his friend as if he was trying to find the answer before it came out of his mouth.

“I-I know you’re gonna hate me for it and I totally understand that-!” Peter internally cursed, still trying to figure out the best way to start the subject but the words just started tumbling out and he couldn’t stop them. “-but I want you to know I never did any of it with the intention of getting you hurt!”

Harry looked taken aback, smile completely gone as he watched Peter get more and more panicked and frantic as he stuttered on.

“I just wanted to keep everyone safe! But you still got…and even then I-I still didn’t do good enough.” Peter ran his fingers through his hair, trying to hide the fact that he had begun shaking. “I didn’t want this, not to you or anyone else but I tried, I really did-!”

“Peter.”

The young hero paused, words lodged in his throat as Harry suddenly cut him off, now looking at him with a troubled expression. “Just…tell me.” He asked, his voice low as he watched his friend slowly deflate, not able to skirt around the secret for much longer.

“Whatever you’ve done, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is-“

“I’m Spider-Man.” Peter blurted out, eyes burning a hole into the floor as he couldn’t quite believe he had actually said it. Silence settled between the two boys, the tension thick as the truth slowly seeped in for one and the anticipation of an explosion grew for another.

“You…” Harry murmured but not quite finishing the sentence, eyebrows furrowed as he looked as if he was trying to solve a problem within his mind. Then, it was silence again for a few minutes longer and with each passing second the anxiety twisted stronger in Peter’s stomach.

He had no right to ask, but he hoped that he would get the punishment over quicker. He wasn’t sure what would feel worse, the betrayal on Harry’s face or the tension in his bones as he waited for what was to come. Then again, Peter knew that he would suffer forever if it meant that Harry had never been hurt in the first place.

“You’re…Spider-Man?” Harry asked but didn’t wait for an answer before he burst out into laughter. Loud, much louder than their conversation and it actually scared Peter, causing him to flinch and look up as he watched his friend cackle in the hospital bed.

“Oh my- Pete, stop it. I thought you were gonna say something serious.” He wiped a tear from his eye, holding his stomach to try and ease the cramp he had gained from the sudden wave of laughter. But Peter didn’t join in. He didn’t take the out he had just been given, he didn’t smile at his friend’s happiness.

Instead, he silently stood from his seat, ignoring as Harry made a confused noise in response and he pressed his hands against the wall next to them. With a deep breath and reassuring himself that they were alone, he pulled himself up.

Just a few feet, he slowly crawled up the wall, not daring to look back down as he just gave himself up completely. And yet, deep down, hidden behind all the anxiety and dread, he felt the tiniest bit of weight shift away as he had finally told the truth.

Satisfied, and also not wanting to scare any nurses passing by, Peter dropped down from the wall and stood stiffly by Harry’s beside, returning his stare to the floor.

“I…I understand if you want me to go.” Peter offered, his voice meek as the aura of the room suffocated him. “I understand if you never want to see me again.” He hoped he didn’t, god he hoped that this wouldn’t be the end. The hero knew it would be for the best but nothing could stop his heart from aching at the thought of losing Harry forever.

It was his fault, but it still hurt.

“Just…believe me when I say I never wanted to hurt you,” Peter told him as genuinely as he could show. He dared a glance up, shrinking under the burning gaze as his friend looked at him from upon the hospital bed. The bed he had put him in.

His mouth was open but not a single noise escaped and eventually, he moved a hand to cover it as the truth slowly started to sink in.

“How…” He shook his head, a spark of frustration igniting and Peter wished that some villain would come along and create a hole beneath him so that it could swallow him up. “This whole time…it was you?” Harry asked in complete disbelief.

Peter struggled to speak, fumbling with his hands. “I…Yeah.”

“And you didn’t…you just…never told me?” Harry asked, the betrayal starting to rise from the jumbled mess of emotions on the boy’s face. “I’m your best friend!” His voice strained with pain and Peter had never felt so scummy in his entire life.

Well, he had. But there was a difference, he was making the effort to take responsibility, to make sure he didn’t hurt Harry again. He was telling the truth. That didn’t change what he had done, but he was at least doing something.

“I know,” Peter whispered, looking at every part of Harry, every spec of strain and every bruise and scratch that had come from the fight he had to endure. He needed to see it, all of it. What he had caused.

“Then why didn’t you say anything you-!” Harry wheezed as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Peter instinctively reached out to stop him, to help him move back into lying but Harry put a hand up to stop him. “I told you.” The redhead pointed out. “I told you about Venom as soon as I saw you.”

“I would’ve I just…!” Peter tried to explain, tried to find a way to ease the pain he had inflicted but a year’s long lie wasn’t exactly something you could easily fix. “…I was afraid you would get hurt.” Peter decided, not wanting to say anything else than what he truly felt.

Harry went quiet at that, eyes trailing down as he tapped the mattress with one finger, thinking. For a moment, Peter thought about leaving. Not because he wanted to escape, he was determined to sit through every scolding word Harry had for him, but because he didn’t want to stress his friend out more.

He had been brought to the hospital for a reason.

But he hadn’t told him to leave, yet. As long as he had questions, Peter was going to try his best to answer them.

“Who else knows?” Harry spoke up, his voice a lot lower than before but the dejection didn’t hurt any less than the hate.

“No one,” Peter said, but quickly realised that wasn’t quite the truth, at least not anymore. “E-Except a lot of the staff at S.H.I.E.L.D but I didn’t have a choice in that, they practically stalked me!” He scratched the back of his neck, hoping that Nick Fury wasn’t listening in on this conversation either. He didn’t need to deal with his tangents after this. Any other day, just not today.

Harry went silent again, body still as he stared into an empty space in the room.

“…No one?” He mumbled, head down but his eyes flicked up to Peter and for some reason, the tiniest bit of hope flared in his chest.

“No one.” Peter reiterated, kneeling so that he could meet the boy’s level. “Not Aunt May, not MJ- it’s just been S.H.I.E.L.D and- and now you.” He cracked him an awkward smile but quickly dropped it.

“I never intended on telling anyone. Well, one day, maybe but- I just-“ Peter struggled to find the words and cursed himself for being so emotionally constipated in the most serious of times. “-I was so worried about the consequences.”

“You think I would tell people?” Harry asked, hurt evident in his eyes.

“No! No! No!” Peter quickly reassured, waving his hands in panic. Well, he expected it now but that was only because he had hurt Harry. He had fucked up, he deserved to face the consequences. “I was worried about what might happen to you!”

“Me?” Harry repeated, raising an eyebrow as he watched Peter fumble.

“Yeah, I mean- if people caught onto the fact you knew then they might figure that you’re someone close to Spider-Man and then they’d try and hurt you as a way to get at me or some…thing…like that…” Peter trailed off, realising that he’d started anxious rambling again and awkwardly coughed, moving back as he’d somehow gotten very close to Harry.

Harry didn’t seem bothered, in fact, the previous frustration and shock had started to fade away from his body, the tension easing as he looked up at his friend. “Oh.” He replied simply, shuffling back into the bed.

“You…I was fighting you.” Harry said as he saw the past few weeks in a completely different light. “Fuck Pete I-“ He buried his face in his hands, groaning. “-The things I said, the things I did-“

“They weren’t your fault!” Peter rushed forward, taking the risk and placing a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It was Venom feeding off of you, it made you act harshly.” The boy cringed as Harry looked back up at him, guilt evident when he so clearly shouldn’t have been. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault you should be mad at me-!”

“Oh, I am.” Harry pointed at him but he didn’t make any attempt to shove his hand away. “I haven’t forgotten how you’ve been an awesome superhero for a year and didn’t tell me.” He pointed out plainly, each word stabbing into Peter’s chest. “But-“ he added, causing Peter to pause in surprise. “-I believe you.”

“B…Believe me?” Peter echoed in confusion, only doubling when Harry weakly smiled at him.

“Yeah. I know you, Peter.” He hesitated, “Well, maybe not that part of you that’s Spider-Man, but I know Peter Parker.” He chuckled, placing his hand over the one on his shoulder. “And I know that you would never keep this from me unless you had to.”

He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, taking clear amusement in the astonished look on his friend’s face.

“You’ve always told me everything, we’ve always completely trusted each other.” He sighed, reached forward and punched Peter’s shoulder, chuckling when the boy uttered a quiet ‘ow’. “And while I do wish you’d told me sooner, we’ve both messed up lately.”

He pulled the fist back but stopped it halfway, leaving it in the air, an open palm and a clear invitation for something Peter didn’t expect to receive. “I don’t wanna lose you, Pete,” Harry admitted, giving the hero an uncertain look.

“Best buds?” He asked, keeping his hand in the air as he waited for Peter’s response.

The young hero looked down at his hand in shock, eyes flicking between the invitation and Harry, trying to decipher if he had heard the boy correctly or if he was hallucinating to save himself the pain.

But even when he blinked, the hand was still there, the connection had not burnt and snapped like he had expected it to. Harry hadn’t exploded on him, he hadn’t shouted at him or punched him like he deserved.

He…wanted to keep being friends…after everything.

Suddenly, Peter didn’t feel as unlucky as he usually did. He carefully took the hand, holding it tight and for a moment they both said nothing as if they were still digesting what had just occurred between them.

But just as Peter went to apologise again, he yelped as he was yanked forward and Harry trapped him in a hug. It didn’t take long for the boy to reciprocate it, smiling like a fool as the anxiety all but vanished from his mind and for the first time in months, he felt a little bit more calm.

“Thanks, Harry,” Peter said as he pulled away, trying to quieten the beating heart in his chest. “I know it’s a lot but-“

“A lot? You’re a superhero!” Harry exclaimed rather loudly, laughing in mischief as Peter panicked and raised a hand to shush him. “Relax, relax! I won’t tell anyone!” He grinned, but Peter didn’t feel so reassured.

“I wouldn’t blame you.” He uttered out, the guilt not completely washed away. He had still hurt him, he had still thrown him around as Venom. An apology didn’t erase that.

But Harry didn’t look bothered, waving his hand in dismissal in response. “Stop it, it’s all forgotten ok?” He replied, using the moment to flick Peter on the forehead. “…Except for the part where you’re Spider-Man-!”

“Ok! Ok! Ok!” Peter hissed as he shoved his hands over Harry’s mouth but it did little to hide the cackles. Nor did it help that Harry’s excitement was infectious and soon enough, Peter found himself chuckling too. “Just- keep quiet, please!” He flicked Harry in return, jumping back before the boy had the chance to start a full-on fight between them.

“How did it even happen?” Harry asked, eyes shining like stars as he looked Peter up and down, either not noticing the bashful look or not caring. “I mean, did you always have them? Does that mean it’s genetic? Oh my god, does May have spider powers-?”

“What? No!” Peter gawked, imagining the possibility of Aunt May having the incredible powers he wielded, wearing the red and blue spandex and swinging around Manhattan as she took down villains and saved the innocent. Honestly, as much as the image of her in spandex freaked him out, he could see her doing something like that. “No, it’s not genetic.”

Peter sighed and sat down in the chair, the grin still on his face and unmovable as the energy in the room had shifted back into the pleasant calm that their friendship was. “It’s…an interesting story, but a little bit long so listen, ok?”

“I’m all ears.” Harry agreed, settling down into the bed as he placed his full attention on his friend.

And so did someone else.

Ever since he had found out about Harry being the one who controlled Venom, he had placed his full attention on him. Cameras, trackers, everything that made sure he knew where his son was and what he was doing.

Not just because he was enraptured by the new powers but for his safety too. It was clear now more than ever that the boy had struggled wielding the powers and it was impossible for Norman to stay by his side 24/7.

So he had ordered hidden cameras and microphones to be placed in his son’s hospital room. No one batted an eye at his request, Harry was the child of one the richest men in New York, a child who had just undergone a ‘traumatic’ event. If anyone thought anything of it, it was that he was being overprotective and that was it.

He couldn’t deny that either, as he pulled out the tablet while on his way out of the building, curious to see what Parker was going to say to his son, what he thought about the incredible advancement his son had made.

What he didn’t expect was to solve the mystery of who was behind the suit called Spider-Man.

Months of work, weeks of planning, hours of agonising over failures upon failures upon failures to try and figure the hero out and use his power to build an unstoppable army and yet, Norman had accidentally heard it from the man’s mouth.

No, Spider-Man was no man at all, he was a boy. A teenager, a teenager from the same school that his son went to. His son’s best friend. Spider-Man was Peter Parker, the shy, polite genius of a boy who would have never even come up as a joke possibility if he wasn’t friends with his son.

Oh, how many times had he said he wanted Harry to be more like him? To be more determined with his studies, to be more dedicated to his work and yet, Harry was now the one with the mutated genetics.

But that wasn’t to say Spider-Man had become useless. Both the vigilante and its counterpart had their strengths and weaknesses, weaknesses that could be stomped down and strengths that could be used.

Yes…yes, Norman could still make his army, and he could still fulfil his dream of becoming one of the most influential men in the world. Why, all the answers to his prayers had just been given to him, he didn’t need to hunt Spider-Man down, he had come to him!

And now, he had ties. Best friends with his son…Venom and Spider-Man, Norman felt himself grinning as he thought about the endless possibilities that having both the boy’s under his watch could bring.

Flicking away from the hospital camera, Norman trailed down to that hidden-away contact on his tablet, typing in a number and then waiting as it called. Within seconds, the call was answered and Doctor Octavius’ irritated expression filled the screen.

“Mr Osborn.” He greeted sourly, his full attention not even on the screen but instead on something else out of view. “Twice in one day. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

If Norman hadn’t just discovered something so brilliant, he would’ve snarled at the scientist for presenting him with such disrespect, again. But for now, he pushed the frustration aside as there were more important things to talk about.

“Doctor, I have some brilliant news for you,” Norman said, smiling when Octavius peered at him through the greasy bangs. “You’ll be receiving more samples to work with shortly.”

Doctor Octavius raised an eyebrow, turning to fully face the camera as his metal arms chittered and slithered around him.

“You have obtained more samples of Venom?” He asked, voice laced with clear disinterest.

“Oh, I have gotten much more than that, my friend.” Norman chuckled darkly as he split the screen and pulled up the live footage of Harry’s hospital room, watching as he laughed and joked with Peter as he continued his story.

“I have just figured out the identity behind our annoying bug.” He inhaled sharply, mind already sparking with a thousand new ideas.

Doctor Octavius’ eyes widened at the news, immediately dropping the side project he was doing and staring at Norman through the screen with bright intrigue.

“I want you to combine our research, Octavius. I believe we can make an army more powerful than we had ever imagined.” Norman laughed, pinching and expanding the footage of the two boys, focusing on Peter’s face. “I am finally going to capture Spider-Man.”

Chapter Text

“Dad, I feel fine. Really!” Harry protested as he wheeled through the building, prohibited from walking from the car to the penthouse as the doctor told them he needed rest. But the teenager was fairly confident that meant staying back from sports, getting lots of rest and not being transported to Oscorp’s supposed on-site medical centre.

He could recover just fine in the confines of his own bedroom, Harry didn’t need to be handled like he was a fragile shard of glass! But his father just wouldn’t listen, switching between plain refusal and pretending not to hear him as he ordered the doctors and nurses around, organising his move home.

Still, Harry couldn’t complain about everything. He hadn’t received this much attention from his father in a long time and he was thriving in it. He didn’t just feel like a hindrance to him anymore. He used to feel like they weren’t even family, just two people who lived in the same house.

But now he actually felt like father and son, as he walked by his side, offering him the occasional reassurance and encouragement that he was going to do everything to make sure Harry got the proper treatment. As much as a terrible mistake it was, Venom had certainly given him the thing he wanted, his father’s approval.

“Now, enough of that, Harry.” Norman sighed, nodding as they passed by a couple of Oscorp employees and entered into an elevator. “What you experienced is not just a simple injury, it’s a genetic marvel.” The man explained with odd enthusiasm.

“We have to make sure that everything inside you is still ok.” He added as he leaned down, smiling at his son with a type of fondness he hadn’t seen very often. “All you do is have to sit there and be good, it’s simple!”

Harry thought about arguing again, desperate to crawl back into the safe space that was his own bed and get a few hours of undisturbed sleep but Harry knew his father. There was a determined look in his eyes as he gazed upon him and he knew that no matter what he said, it wouldn’t change his mind.

“Ok…but I don’t consent to becoming a lab rat.” He added playfully, glancing up at the few personnel around them and laughing awkwardly when no one indulged in his joke. “Tough crowd…” he muttered and straightened himself as the elevator went on.

As everyone in the elevator fell into silence, Harry found his mind wandering back to his recent discovery, something that was becoming a pattern. It was reasonable, it wasn’t every day you found out your c̶r̶u̶s̶h̶- best friend was an amazing superhero! It wasn’t something he thought would ever happen at all.

Peter Parker…the boy behind the mask. Harry couldn’t have imagined a better person, Peter had always been the textbook character of a hero. He was always working hard at school, volunteering where others wouldn’t and going out of his way to make someone’s day. It may have been a mistake how it happened but in Harry’s opinion, that spider bit the right person.

Although, that didn’t stop him from imagining the what-ifs. Had he only moved a few steps away, had Harry trailed behind with him or he had pushed Peter ahead…the slightest interference and there wouldn’t have been any Spider-Man at all. Or worse, it would’ve bitten someone like Flash.

Just the thought brought a shiver to Harry’s mind.

Thank god that hadn’t happened. Instead, Spider-Man was his best friend, his best friend! He sat next to him in class, exchanged notes and homework and hung out with him all the time. Well, they would start doing that again.

Peter had explained their short misunderstanding, a sheepish look on his face as he did so. Suddenly, Harry felt like a jerk for demanding more time off of him when Pete was burning the candle at both ends. God forbid the guy would rather nap after struggling to keep his grades up amidst fighting villains.

Now that Harry knew, there was no reason for Peter to run away and hide when the higher-ups called for his attention, but…that didn’t solve the problem of that team. He knew it was childish, but he couldn’t help holding onto that tiny bit of jealousy when he thought about them.

It was obvious they didn’t like him, he heard it from their very mouths, Peter didn’t need to ‘suck up’ to him. As if Harry was just keeping Peter around to make himself feel better! They’d seen where Harry had come from, and who he was related to and immediately assumed he was just another stuck-up bastard like the rest.

So forgive him for still feeling some resentment as they dragged his Peter around the city, laughing as he got hit and grilling him when he made the tiniest mistake-

Did he just think about Pete as his? God, Harry was losing it.

Anyway, he’d made it clear that he may trust Peter, but he didn’t trust that so-called ‘team’ of his and if they tried to pull any more shit, he’d…do something! Give him a break, it was hard to think of a good threat that didn’t fall back on Peter too.

He couldn’t wait to go back to school (something he’d never thought he’d say) so that he could tell them for himself exactly what he thought. Maybe they were good superheroes but as friends? They’d had yet to prove themselves to Harry that they weren’t just using Peter.

Peter thought differently, of course, insisting that they were just headstrong and hard workers, dedicated to becoming great heroes but Harry didn’t quite buy it. There was a way to be a good hero while also being a decent person. Peter managed it just fine!

But if Peter trusted them enough to reveal his identity…then Harry needed to trust them too. Who knows, maybe he’d gain four new friends out of this. With his current feelings, fat chance but he had to at least try.

He could tell how much the double life was affecting him, Harry could still remember the boy's face as his friends dragged him away, panicking to find a good excuse to save his feelings. If Harry and the rest of the team could at least be civil, then it would make everything so much easier for everyone…

After he gave them a piece of his mind.

Harry came back to the present upon the elevator’s end, the doors sliding open and Norman pushing the wheelchair forward into the depths of the Oscorp Tower. He had never been to this section before, though that didn’t mean he hadn’t tried.

Harry couldn’t count the amount of times he had tried to bond with his father by taking an interest in his work, offering to help any way he could only to be brushed aside with the excuse that he was ‘too young to understand’. But growing older hadn’t changed his father’s mind, and Harry eventually gave up trying.

So to finally be entering this part of his father’s business was a pretty exciting thing to him. It really felt like his relationship was changing for the better with his dad. Although, he had to admit that the labs were a bit creepy. He thought these things were supposed to be white, sterile and bright so that you could keep everything clean.

But as he was wheeled deeper into the floor, it only got more darker and menacing. The lights were dim, the equipment was scattered and the scientists there seemed to run around in a panic as if whatever they were doing had only been decided moments ago.

It didn’t give the vibe of a fully funded secret lab, nor did it give him any sort of sense of a medical ward which left him wondering why he was there. Back at the hospital, Norman had told him he was going to do everything in his power to help him, but he didn’t tell him exactly what that meant.

Harry felt the tiniest bit of anxiety prickling at the back of his mind as they went further into the lab, silently watching as the staff excitedly chattered between each other and what looked to be new equipment was dragged in. Harry had no clue what any of it did, only that it all followed the same theme of green.

What was his dad’s obsession with that colour in the first place?

“…Uhh…where are we going?” Harry chuckled nervously, twisting around in the wheelchair to look up at his father but didn’t grace him with his attention, he kept his gaze forward.

“Someplace where we can properly begin.” He responded coolly, pausing as they approached a set of doors and one of the workers beside them moved forward to the keypad beside, punching in a number Harry didn’t bother to follow.

“Begin…what?” The teenager muttered, gripping the armrests of the chair as he considered standing up and backing out then and there but he imagined that would disappoint his father in some way and after all the improvements they had made, he didn’t want to ruin it. So he stayed seated.

Norman, clicked his tongue, placing a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder as the scientists stood aside and the man led the way into the room.

“Begin the tests, of course.” His father stopped once they’d reached the centre of the room, leaving Harry’s side as the doors automatically slid shut behind them.

The boy didn’t respond straight away, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the stark difference this room had compared to the rest of the facility. For starters, it was a brilliant white inside. White walls, white ceilings, and white tiles that were all immaculately clean.

There was no wall on the right, only a huge glass window that gave him a full view over New York City as the night took hold. The room itself was large but scarcely filled with much furniture. There was one of those hospital beds, the same medical equipment sat inactive beside it, some privacy curtains, a large TV mounted to one of the far walls and a single wardrobe and dresser.

Harry didn’t exactly know why but a heavy stone of dread dropped down into the pits of his stomach and although his head swam with dizziness, he stood up from the chair and looked to the door, ready to go.

“What is this?” Harry asked seriously, circling the room so that he could stand to his father face to face. “They already did all the tests at the hospital-“

“They did tests under the assumption that the symbiote is gone.” Norman cut him off, tone unforgiving as he adjusted his cuff links and approached the medical equipment beside the bed.

Harry’s breath hitched, pulling his arms in close and scratching the skin uncomfortably as the feeling of having Venom slither through his body flashed through his mind. “It…but it is gone, isn’t it?” Harry’s voice cracked as he inspected his father’s expression, the panic rising the more he avoided his eyes. “Isn’t it?”

“Most of it, yes,” Norman informed him, moving back from the heart rate machine and pulling something out from inside his jacket. “But Venom…Venom bonded with you.” Norman smiled as he walked towards his son, unaware when Harry took a few steps back to try and keep the distance. “It lives within you.”

“I don’t want it to,” Harry explained, trying to catch what his father was holding in his hand but he was too nervous to fully focus. He could hear it, he could hear the parasite in the back of his mind cackling and whispering about how foolish he was to believe that he was gone. “It-It was a mistake, I can’t control it.”

“I know, I know.” Norman sighed, tilting his head as Harry reached the wall and pushed himself against it, his heart racing as he looked up at his father and did not see safety, but danger. No, maybe it wasn’t coming from his father, but for him.

He could hurt him, Venom could try and kill him like he had attempted before and without Spider-Man around he might actually succeed. He didn't want to, he tried so hard to keep the anger and the hunger hidden inside but the symbiote was stronger, it was so much stronger than him.

It wrapped around his bones in seconds, morphing between his nerves and rooting itself within his muscles so tightly that he couldn’t fight against it. It swallowed him whole, breathing through his lungs and looking through his eyes as it amplified every negative emotion he ever felt and fed from it. The parasite thrived from it.

It was horrifying. Every time he closed his eyes he saw it, every restful sleep he attempted to have was plagued with flashes of deep madness and violence. He could feel it inside him, wriggling and sticking to his intestines and laughing at his fear. Why wasn’t it dead? Why wouldn’t it leave him alone?

“But we’re going to help you control it,” Norman assured as he reached Harry, placing a steady hand on his shoulder in an attempt to ease him but it didn’t even touch the edges of the boy’s panic.

“No, no you don’t understand!” Harry pushed his father away, ignoring everything he had been taught and raising his voice at the man as he tried to ward him away, to get back before it was too late. “I can’t control it! It will use my body and it will hurt you!”

“No, alone you can’t begin to try and understand the creature.” Norman began, raising what he was holding and showing it to his son. “But together, we can find a way to control Venom and use that brilliant power for another purpose!”

Harry’s breathing had quickened, eyes darting between his father and the door until they fell upon what looked like a vile of blood in the man’s hand and he couldn’t tear them away. Even from that distance, he could see it. His blood, the infected blood.

He could hear it inside, calling out to him, crying for Harry to let it back in.

He felt sick.

“I don’t want to!” Harry shouted, turning around and running to the door, struggling to open it as his hands shook and his vision blurred with tears and sweat. “I don’t want anything to do with that- that thing ever again!”

“You have no choice.” Norman’s stern tone made an appearance and Harry stilled upon instinct, glancing over his shoulder at the man as he looked at his son with a disappointed expression.

“Let me out.” He demanded, wheezing as his heart beat faster and faster, every nerve in his body pulsing in sync and his mind screamed at him to get leave. “I’ll get-“ No, he can’t know. He promised. “I can create another anti-venom, I’ll kill it completely this time.”

“No, you won’t,” Norman demanded, storming towards him and dragging him away from the door. “Don’t you see, Harry? This is something incredible!” He ranted as he gripped the boy’s arm with an unnatural strength and Harry found he didn’t dare to tear himself away.

“You’ve been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you’ve finally found something worth working towards and you want to squander it?” He jostled Harry in frustration, ignoring his cries of alarm and pleas to be let go. “I’m giving you a chance to utilise it!”

“I don’t want to!” Harry screamed, elbowing Norman in the stomach and stumbling back, his vision dancing with black and white dots and his hearing muffled with a high-pitched ringing. “It’s a parasite! A mistake! A monster!” Harry choked on his own words, his chest exploding with panic mixed with anger and it only doubled when he realised he recognised the feeling.

“No, no, no, no!” Harry begged, collapsing to his knees and holding his head as he desperately tried to keep himself together before he fell apart and let the scraps of Venom take hold. But Norman was right, most of it had been destroyed, leaving the struggle a lot easier than the previous times and Harry luckily won.

As the tendrils began to recede and Harry’s vision slowly came back to him, Norman kneeled down in front of him, his expression soft and kind as he cupped his son’s cheek.

“Don’t you see, son?” Norman began, voice quiet and gentle, so different from how he had sounded just a few seconds ago. “You can never fully kill it, it will always come back.”

Harry let out a soft noise of despair, crumbling down and letting himself be moved as Norman wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into an embrace.

“But you can learn to control it, we can help you use it for a better purpose,” Norman explained as he lifted Harry’s head so that he could see him. “I promise you, Harry, we can help you.” He made a comforting gesture along the boy’s back as if he was trying to calm an emotional toddler.

Harry tried to speak, but was unsure of what he even wanted to say in first place and just let out a wheeze as he struggled to get the air back into his lungs. He shook like a leaf, the terror from the previous few nights lingering in his blood and he had just been told that he was never going to be free from it.

And somehow, Norman looked at him like he was finally worth something.

But all Harry could feel was that his life was falling apart right before his eyes and it was all his fault. All because he wanted a bit of attention, he wanted to bask in the glory that Spider-Man had, and he wanted to be in the news and no longer in the shadows.

But he got a homicidal monster that could control his body whenever it wanted. But how could he ever know? He just wanted powers, how could he ever know that this was to come of it? If he had, he would have never used the thing.

He thought he had gotten rid of it, he thought he could move on. But…if it was going to live inside of him forever…then he needed to do something about it. He didn’t want to hurt anyone else, he didn’t want to be that monster again.

“Ok…” he muttered quietly, letting the tension in his body release and sinking further into his father’s hold as he rubbed circles on his back. As he stared at the window and the city of New York beginning to work into the night, he did not see the buildings or the lights.

He saw himself, he saw the tiniest glimpse of himself bundled in his father's arms and in that spec, he saw it. He saw the black that surged through his veins and sparked through his eyes. He was afraid, so afraid that if he closed his eyes the darkness would consume him, permanently.

But maybe his Dad was right, they could find a way to control it, save himself and everyone else he could potentially hurt.

“Ok.” Harry croaked out, eyes stuck on the image of himself in the glass. “What are you going to do?”

“What we’re going to do.” Norman corrected with a smile, bringing the vile of blood into view so that Harry could see it. “Is going to require your help, my son.”

“Bucket-head! Coming your way!”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT.” Nova spat through gritted teeth. Peter didn’t need to look at his face to know that his teammate was seething.

“Then get a new costume or look out!” Spider-Man rebutted as he jumped over another shot of glue launched his way, easily avoiding it. But he still kept his attention elsewhere, watching as Klaw chased after his teammate, shooting wildly as Nova zipped around in the air.

“I’ve got this! Why don’t you focus on you and I’ll focus on me!” Nova snapped as ducked behind a building and flew around, temporarily leaving the android’s view and subsequently startling him when he appeared from behind and shot him in the back with a burst of energy.

“That kinda defeats the point of being a team, Sparky,” Spider-Man added snarkily, snatching a stray trash can with his webs and yanking it towards him, using it as a shield as the Trapper shot more glue at him in frustration, yelling something about why he couldn’t just stand still.

“That’s-!”

“Stop it, both of you!” White Tiger’s voice cut through the comms, the experienced hero jumping into view as she ducked and weaved against Thundra, giving the warrior a run for her money as she swung her chain forward only to miss and growl in frustration.

White Tiger flipped backwards, grabbing onto the chain while midair and then yanking it down, throwing Thundra across the street and straight into a brick wall. Peter could imagine her smiling under the mask but then she shot around and glared into the boy’s soul, quickly squashing that image.

“Could you both just focus for once?” She growled, stepping back as Power Man flew in front of her, grunting as he dug his heels into the concrete as he fought against the push the Wizard was forcing upon him.

“Focus on what?” Spider-Man scoffed, unable to bite down his attitude as he spun around, offering his hand for Iron Fist to jump from and pushing him ahead so that he had a clear shot to the Wizard and promptly decked him in the face. “These guys are child’s play!”

“And they’d be even easier if took things seriously!” Ava sidestepped as Thundra jumped back at her, looking as if she was going to burst from rage at the fact that she couldn’t land a single hit. To make things worse, her anger proved to be her downfall as Power Man yanked her and slammed her to the ground, taking her moment of weakness to wrap her arm around and cuff her.

“I’ll have you know, take everything seriously- woah!” Spider-Man yelped as his spider-sense buzzed loudly and he instinctively dropped to the floor, just missing another shot of glue aimed his way. “Hey, the adults are talking here.” He joked, faking a disappointed tone as he pointed at the Trapper, making no attempt to alert him as Nova flew above him and slammed the Klaw into his back.

As the two villains tumbled towards their captured friend, Spider-Man grinned and watched as they were easily handcuffed, eventually joined by the Wizard who cursed and writhed as Iron Fist blankly dragged him towards the villain pile.

“See?” Peter piped up, watching as Luke pulled out his communicator and alerted S.H.I.E.L.D. of the defeated criminals. “Child’s play!” The young hero laughed and jumped back as Ava roared in frustration and swung at him as she tried to teach him a lesson.

“You’re insufferable!” She shouted as the two began a battle of their own, and yet neither actively made the effort to hurt the other. Sure, White Tiger slashed and thrust kicks his way but Spider-Man knew his teammate, it was painfully obvious she wasn’t trying.

“You love me really!” Peter teased in a sing-song tone, aware he was pushing it and awfully close to actually earning himself some kind of injury but he couldn’t stop, it was just how he was. His team knew that there was no malice in it.

“Uh, gross.” Sam gagged as he weakly kicked the Klaw with his foot, only stopping when Luke sent him a stern glare before returning to his comm work.

Eventually, White Tiger gave up trying to get a hit on the elusive Spider-Man and hissed at him as he hung from one of the still-standing street lights, huffing when he placed a hand to his chest in mock hurt.

“Come on, let’s get these guys back to jail,” Luke called out, placing his watch away and ushering the group to stop messing around and pay attention. Well, for Nova and Spider-Man to stop messing around, but Power Man was always fair.

Unfortunately, Sam was not and audibly groaned upon hearing the news, floating in the air as he drifted by his teammate. “Ughhhh… why do we have to drag them back?” He complained, poking Thundra with his finger and flinching when she growled in response. “Can’t we just, wait for the cops?”

“To further our goal of becoming ultimates, we must push through every endeavour,” Danny spoke up, gently guiding Nova away from the irritated group of defeated villains so that he didn’t anger them further. “You cannot skip the steps you deem too large.” He explained, but Sam didn’t seem entertained in the slightest.

“You mean the most boring?” He asked as he raised an eyebrow, snorting when Iron Fist did not answer, only holding his gaze with a steady expression. Silent, but it was painfully clear what he was getting at. Knowing that it was his job to annoy the team, and also that it was also his job to lead, Spider-Man dropped down from the street light and wandered back over to the group.

“He’s right, Sparkplug.” He agreed, flicking his teammate on the arm and barely acknowledging when he cried out in surprise, holding his arm and shooting Peter a glare. “Let’s get these guys back and then we can go home!” He staged the last words as if they were a million-dollar prize but to the team, they might as well have been.

The past few weeks had been… difficult, for lack of a better word. Ok, it had been hell.

Every criminal and their grandma were out and about, robbing stores, destroying properties, planning raids of mass destruction, New York needed all hands on deck and it didn’t make it any better that Venom had been running around. Sure, Spider-Man had found a way to deal with the creepy parasite but the team was still trying to recover.

Peter was still trying to recover, Venom was more than just villain of the week, for him, it was personal. He had been made from his genes, he had been hunting him down and then, because of his negligence, it had stuck itself upon his best friend…

Harry was still trying to recover. From that, and the bombshell that Peter had dropped on him just a few nights ago. After telling Harry the truth, he really did feel a thousand pounds lighter and irritated his team the next day with his cheery demeanour, much more than he usually did.

But a good ending to his terrible story didn’t erase the hours of sleepless nights, the stress of trying to balance lying to Harry, to his team and to shield while also hunting down Venom and contain it before it got Harry hurt or hurt anyone else. If he’d done his blood pressure, he was certain it would’ve shown it soaring through the roof.

He was slowly calming down, easing back into his routine all the while updating his friend on the fly, amused at his never-ending excitement and demands for pictures. Normally, doing something like that was Nova’s thing but, for Harry, he made sure to put his photography skills to use. He was still tired but…he was getting there. They were getting there.

It had just hit midnight and usually, Spider-Man at least would stay out for a few hours longer, hunting down petty muggers and guiding lost residents home but tonight, he really wanted his bed. And he could tell his team was thinking the same, even Iron Fist smiled at the mention of clocking off for the night.

Spider-Man whooped loudly, not deterred when his teammates weakly shushed him and began the process of getting their transport back to the helicarrier when-

Peter’s phone buzzed.

“Man, I thought you put that on silent?” Power Man sighed as he watched the vigilante fumble to grab his phone, panicking the longer the chime went on and the team stopped and waited for him to answer.

“I did! I just-“ He struggled for a proper excuse, aware that if he told them straight up he was no doubt going to get another round of teasing. “…turned it back on?” He shrugged, cringing at himself as that brilliant Parker talent for lying came to show and he whispered a ‘sorry!’ as he raised the device to his ear.

“Hello?” He pulled his mask up and freed his mouth, giving the team a thumbs up as they began to move the pile of criminals out of the street and into a safer position. They did not appreciate his encouragement.

“Uh…hey, Pete.”

Peter almost choked on his own breath, bringing the phone down to check who he had actually answered the call from and staring in surprise when he read the name ‘Har!’ It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Harry to call him, their interactions had practically doubled after the ‘incident’, but it was the timing that confused him.

Not only was it midnight, but his friend was supposed to be recovering from exhaustion, only having been discharged from the hospital the previous afternoon. Why was he calling him so late at night? Was it an emergency?

Humour gone, Spider-Man turned away from the group and hastily jogged a few feet away, not keen on anyone listening in on his private conversations, especially the ‘Frightful Four’.

“Harry! Are you alright? Is-Is something wrong? Are you sick-?” Peter panicked, cupping the phone with his hand when he heard the familiar whoosh of Nova hovering nearby, obviously trying to eavesdrop.

“N-No! No! I’m fine, I’m…” Harry stopped him before he spiralled, a shaky exhale audible from the other end of the line. “I just need to talk to you.”

“Is that your boyfriend again?” Nova mocked as he flew in close, cackling when Spider-Man almost dropped the phone in shock and promptly shot a web at his teammate, missing but the point had been made.

“He is not my boyfriend!” Peter corrected in a harsh whisper, flipping the teenager off and feeling his cheeks warm from embarrassment. He had told the team what happened, of course, he did. He was trying to be honest from now on, to lean on his team more because he did trust them.

Unfortunately, much like Harry, they all seemed to have… different… opinions on the matter, and about each other. The team thought it was risky to let Harry know about his identity, warning him about the consequences if something like Venom came about again. Harry thought that Spider-Man didn’t need the team, that they dragged him down and clearly didn’t respect him.

Peter knew both sides were wrong but no matter how much he tried to show that, it didn’t seem to be enough. Luckily, he had come up with the brilliant idea to get them all together for some out-of-work bonding after Harry got the all-clear. Nobody was happy about it, but he was sure it would change!

He wanted to stay friends with everyone, he wanted to stop the tiring act of giving up on one plan so that he could tend to the other. Now that Harry knew the truth, he didn’t need to shy away but Peter found that he felt like he still had to because of the tension. If he could get them to speak to each other without having to pass childish messages back and forth, then things would change!

But unfortunately, this came with unwanted side effects. Again, Peter Parker was not a good liar. Even though he hadn’t admitted to anything, his team had come to their own conclusions about his relationship with Harry and loved watching him become flustered over it.

“Ooooooh he is!” Sam giggled like a schoolgirl as he landed beside Luke and Danny, leaning on the latter’s shoulder as they both chuckled alongside him. The intent wasn’t to mock Peter or hurt him, he knew that but he still didn’t appreciate the childish taunting…that sounded weird coming from him.

“Ugh, guys!” White Tiger threw her hands up in frustration, instantly silencing the three boys as she guarded their captives, the only one still taking their task seriously. “Spider-Man, whatever it is, can wait until after the transport. Come on.”

“Peter?”

“I know! I know!” He waved his hand at her frantically, aware that he was the only thing keeping the group waiting. “Just- gimme a few seconds!” He pleaded, silently cheering when she stared at him silently for a few beats before sighing and nodding.

“Sorry, Har. What did you say?” The hero asked in a more hushed tone, turning away from the group and looking down the dimly lit street.

“I…need to talk to you.” Harry’s voice crackled through the phone, quiet, barely audible even though the street Spider-Man was on was all but silent, bar the occasional snicker behind him. He could hear it across the phone line, something was wrong.

Harry was loud and eccentric. If he thought something, he said it, no matter whether it was something good or not. His energy pulsed wherever he went, it was a proven fact that Harry Osborn had a big personality, one of the things that Peter loved about him.

But if anything it was like Harry was trying to make as little noise as possible, like he didn’t want to be noticed.

And that, that was nothing like Harry. Something was up but he didn’t want to say it, which meant that he most likely couldn’t. Was he worried he’d be overheard? Was he taking the whole ‘secret’ part of Spider-Man’s identity to heart? He needed to find out.

“Aren’t we talking now?” Peter joked but didn’t quite smile, uncomfortable at the silence that rang from the other end. “What’s up, Harry? You can tell me anything.” He reminded, the image of his friend just a few days earlier, dark circles under his eyes and sweat dripping from his brow as he struggled to keep Venom a secret.

“Yeah…It’s just…” Some movement from the other end, shuffling, hesitation “…I need to speak to you in person.”

Spider-Man paused, knowing full well what this had to be about and yet he still found himself struggling to speak. Harry was traumatized, that was obvious, anyone would be. Peter had only been stuck with Venom for a few minutes and the memory had been burned into his mind. Harry had been bound to the creature for days.

Peter could see that his friend hadn’t truly gotten past it, hadn’t really forgiven himself for ‘not being strong enough’ which the hero thought was utter bullshit because if there was anyone to blame then it was him. It was his fault for being so careless, it was his fault he didn’t look out for his friend and that’s what got him in that mess.

He didn’t imagine any reality where he forgave himself anytime soon, but Harry? He wouldn’t have it. If it helped Harry by being there, by being present then he would do it. It was the least he could do.

“Yeah, man. I can swing by after school- or before if that’s better for you-“

“Actually, I uh, I was thinking now.” Harry cut him short, leaving Spider-Man silent in shock as he digested the new dilemma.

“N-Now?” The young hero repeated as he looked over his shoulder to check on the team, flinching when he met the steely glare from White Tiger and holding back a groan when Nova made kissy gestures from behind her.

“It’s- I mean-“ Spider-Man took a few steps to the side, making sure that no one else was in the way as he shot another web Nova’s way, silently cheering when he hit the target and stuck his mouth shut. “I’m kinda working right now-“

“I know,” Harry spoke up, the guilt in Peter making a resurgence. “But…it’s…it’s urgent.”

Spider-Man licked his lips, suddenly so glad that he had opted for a full face mask instead of one just over the eyes or mouth because by god was Peter a horrible actor and right now he bet he looked incredibly nervous. It looked like his times of battling between his two lives weren't quite over yet.

“Can you come meet me at mine?”

His voice rang in his ears, the difference in his tone digging deep into his mind and sparking a thousand different anxious thoughts that he could not quell. The idea of Harry having a hard time, struggling at his lowest and having no one there to help him made Peter feel sick.

He had Norman, of course he did but as much as they’d made progress in their relationship the past few weeks, that didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t exactly a sentimental kind of guy. If he had to guess, he would send Harry to more doctors, and prescribe him meds but that wasn’t what the boy really needed.

He just needed someone to listen, someone to lean on. Peter was more than capable of doing that.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just keep a window open, ok?” He tried to place amusement in his tone, as if this was just another of their late-night escape plans where they intended to go running around the city at night, chasing mayhem and going on adventures but in the end they would never get far. And yet, it was always a brilliant time.

But Harry didn’t sound happy that he’d agreed. He didn’t even sound relieved. Where Peter expected a sigh of relief, his voice to lighten or maybe even a laugh he found another strained exhale. A noise of tension, nerves.

“Ok…Ok…thank you.”

Fear. He sounded even worse than before, but Spider-Man didn’t have any chance to say more, the phone clicked on the other end and when he looked at the screen, the call had been cut short. Was he that eager to get off the phone? But he was calling him to come over. It made no sense, none of this made any sense.

Spider-Man’s spidey-sense may not have been tingling but his reliable hero sense certainly was and it was telling him that there was a lot more going on than he was being told. Something was wrong, he just didn’t know what to do about it.

“Spider-Man!”

Luke called and Peter looked up as he snapped out of his thoughts, facing his entire team as they waited for him to return and help them finish up the last job of the night. Great…this was going to go just great.

“If you’re done, let’s make a move.” Power Man ushered for him to come closer as he picked up Klaw and Thundra by her own chain wrapped around them, ignoring her snarls of protest.

“Haha…about that…” Spider-Man chuckled nervously, fiddling with his hands as he watched the team’s vibe immediately dampen, already picking up what he was hinting at.

“Dude! You can’t just leave us to do the dirty work while you go hang out with your boyfriend- mph!” Nova began complaining, having only just ripped off the webbing on his face but as soon as he mentioned that word again, he shot another web.

“Not my boyfriend- And it’s an emergency!” Spider-Man defended, sliding the phone back into the pocket that, somehow, no one could ever see and walking back to the group, ignoring the confused looks from the Frightful Four. “I’m not trying to dump you guys with this, honest!”

“That’s what it feels like,” Luke replied with a raised eyebrow, dropping the two criminals roughly to the floor to show his disappointment. It was working, and Peter felt his guilt and stress start to push at the back of his throat as he knew he was letting his team down.

He hated doing this to them, he really did. Despite the jokes and the complaining and his ADHD making him forget any small thing someone had just told him a few seconds ago, he took his work- his team- seriously.

Spider-Man wasn’t the type of person to abandon his friends when things got tough, he stayed by their side no matter how tiring and cumbersome the work was. Heck, if he could save his teammates from doing something difficult, he’d do it himself.

Unless it was Nova, because that was funny.

Putting that aside, he wouldn’t even leave Sam with this mess right at the end of a patrol. That just wasn’t right. But in this case…what else could he do? Harry needed him, his team needed him, the city needed him and yet he couldn’t do them all at once.

But…he had been patrolling since 8am this morning, joined up with the team at lunch and had only two breaks. Surely he’d done enough…right?

Judging by his teammates' expressions, they didn’t agree.

“What is this emergency you’re worried about?” Iron Fist asked, expression still closed off but Peter could tell he wasn’t fond of this disturbance either. Still, the hero was glad he had at least one team member willing to hear him out in the first place.

“Ok, so it is-“ He couldn’t say his actual name, not with the Frightful Four so close. He’d already dealt with the consequences of villains stepping into his school. “Him.” Spider-Man emphasized the word, the mechanical eyes on his suit narrowing in judgment when Nova attempted to shout a muffled ‘Told you so!’ “-but something’s wrong. He said he needed me there urgently and I can’t just ignore that!”

“Did he tell you exactly what was so urgent?” White Tiger joined in, hand on her hip as she eyed the flustered Spider in front of her.

“Uhhh…he didn’t say? But-“

“How do you know it’s an emergency if you don’t even know what it is?” Power Man shared an expression with Nova beside him, but paused upon seeing he was still struggling with the webbing on his mouth and ripped it off for him, earning a yelp.

“You just wanna an excuse to go and see your-“

“Don’t say it.” Spider-Man pointed his wrist at Sam who promptly closed his mouth and crossed his arms, sulking. “And I’m not!” He threw his arms in the air, his desperation growing the longer he left his friend waiting. “I promise you, I’m not trying to get out of work.”

The team remained silent, sensing his urgency and letting their leader speak.

“I know him and he knows me. He wouldn’t even call me on patrol unless it was an emergency.” Peter explained, feeling the tension leaving his body as he watched his team consider what he was saying. “I know it’s crappy of me to leave you guys here, but he needs my help.”

Spider-Man swallowed, casting a glance down to the four criminals they had apprehended. They were starting to look restless, but the distance between where they were and the nearest transport vehicle wasn’t that far. They could have the whole thing done in ten minutes or less. It’s not like they did the paperwork.

“He needs my help and it’s my responsibility to answer that call. You don’t have to come with me, I’m just asking you to let me leave early this one time. ” He pleaded, holding his hands up to maximise the effect of what he hoped were puppy dog eyes…or…spider…ling eyes? Yeah, there wasn’t any way that was working. “Please? Guys? My awesome team? My super awesome team-?”

“Ok, stop it.” Ava sighed, putting a hand to her forehead like she was trying to soothe an upcoming headache. “Watching you beg is nauseating.”

“I agree.” Iron Fist voiced, much to the shock of the group who rarely saw him join in on any kind of teasing. “About the responsibility part.” That made a lot more sense. “Just because he is Spider-Man’s friend doesn’t mean he’s not as important as the rest of New York.” The martial artist walked up to Peter and gave him a small smile.

“I suppose.” Power Man nodded, much to the delight of Spider-Man. Two on his side, just two more! Luckily, Ava wasn’t that far behind them and heaved another sigh, waving at the vigilante dismissively as she moved to pick up one of the tied-up pairs.

“Yes! Thank you!” Spider-Man cheered, already satisfied that he’d gotten the majority vote but as soon as he went to take those few steps to leap away, Nova shot in front of him with a disgruntled look.

“Hey! I’m not ok with this!” He began, crossing his arms as he tried to look as disappointed and stern as Luke had been before but didn’t quite achieve it. “Why do you get to leave early when I’m not! Talk about unfair-!”

“I’ll do your homework for this week.” Spider-Man deadpanned.

“Done.” Sam agreed instantly and flew out of his way, scooping up the Wizard and Trapper as he prepared to fly them to the transport point.

“If you’re doing his homework, you gotta do mine too!” Power Man called out, a grin on his face as he watched the young hero laugh at how easily Nova had changed his mind.

“Fine! I’ll do all your homework!” Peter said hurriedly, swinging up to the side of the opposite building and pulling his mask down over his mouth. “Send it over as soon as you can!” He stuck another web to the next building but didn’t move, looking down at his team one last time.

“Thanks again guys, see you tomorrow!” He waved and only swung away once they all reciprocated the gesture, minus Nova who stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry like the mature adult he was.

“Ok, next stop: Osborn Industries. Then after, the psych ward if I don’t stop talking to myself…” Spider-Man mumbled as he swung through Manhattan, pulling himself up to great heights and then letting webs go as he soared back down, only shooting another web when he was just meters away from the floor.

It scared most of the civilians below who only saw a flash of red before he was halfway across the street but he wasn’t harming anyone and the high that came with practically being airborne was like nothing else.

Especially at night, with the lights and pictures from electronic billboards illuminating the city, New York was a whole new world when the moon was up and Spider-Man could see every part of it, and hear it too though that was more of a downside- most of the time.

It certainly came in handy when there was someone in need of saving but any other time, it was the main thing that would start an overstimulation episode. But not now, the constant buzz of the city streets was almost a comfort in his ears as he jumped over rooftops and glided by windows.

The laughter from drunkards mingled with all different kinds of jumbled music filled the air, battling against the common arguments over traffic and slamming of car horns. Then there were the late-hour cafes, restaurants and takeout joints, frying and clinking utensils, followed by the most amazing of smells that were so good it almost pulled Peter from his task at hand.

Maybe when it wasn’t so urgent, he’d stop by and grab something for Harry, god knows he needed to eat more. Both of them did, honestly. Spider-Man’s increased metabolism was a bitch to satisfy but Harry didn’t have that, it just seemed to be that he kept forgetting to eat. Alarming, but the only thing Peter found would help would be to just offer food unprompted, with no mention of his struggle with eating.

It was working, but he did need to drop a message to Norman about it.

Peter shook his head as he dropped and rolled to a stop on top of a random skyscraper, taking a minute to breathe as he perched at the edge. Unconsciously, he did one final scan of Manhattan for any lingering threats or concerns and sighed when he spotted none. There was nothing to distract him, Harry needed him and he was going to help.

He reached down his watch to ping that he was ending his patrol and paused when all he saw on the screen was an unusual static. He turned off and on, even slapped on the side a few times but nothing seemed to fix it. The watch wasn’t getting anything through nor was the hero getting anything back.

But he didn’t think much of it, he wasn’t in any danger nor would he need help anytime soon. It wasn’t a crime for him to miss logging his work hours and if S.H.I.E.L.D really needed to contact him, they had a constant tracker, something he had begrudgingly agreed on.

As much as he worshipped his me-time, he had been saved by the sudden appearance of his teammates on more than one occasion and couldn’t bring up a good enough argument against it. He just hoped they weren’t watching him all the time…now that was a completely different conversation.

Momentarily pushing the broken watch to the back of his mind for later, Peter launched himself off the building and aimed himself towards the iconic Osborn tower, swinging in low to avoid any kind of threat watching and landing on one of the sides. Under the cover of the night, Spider-Man began crawling up the side, twisting around the building until he stopped, reaching the level he wanted.

He didn’t have to check, he had entered through this way more than once before and after spotting a single open window, the hero grinned and climbed through.

“Harry?” He called out, blinking in surprise when he entered into the boy’s bedroom but was met with silence and darkness. Not a single light was turned on as he stepped inside and looked around him. Had he forgotten? No, that couldn’t be possible he had only just called him.

He was probably just in another room, the hero decided and he began his way to the lounge when something shuffled behind him and he stopped in his tracks.

“Hey.”

Peter smiled when he finally set his eyes on his friend but faltered when he saw his face. He looked miserable. He gave the vigilante no sort of greeting as he came out from his en-suite, lingering in the doorway with a distant gaze and despondent expression.

“Woah, Harry- what’s wrong?” Peter pulled off the mask, feeling safe in the presence of the boy and moving towards him, arm stretched out as he intended to guide him to his bed before he collapsed on his feet but Harry moved back. He practically recoiled as he tried to touch him and that startled Peter.

“Harry?” He called, for a moment unsure his friend could even hear him as his eyes looked to the floor and he struggled to get any words out. Peter didn’t try again, afraid that he would upset him further but the sight of Harry made that hard. He stuttered, his voice still weak and croaky as he looked like he was searching for something to say.

But why would he need to? He had called Peter over and he thought that meant he needed his guidance, reassurance or something similar but was it possible he just needed someone to be there?

Well, he could do that too.

“Come on, come sit down,” Peter told him gently, moving to the side and stretching out his hand as an offer for Harry to take. The redhead looked down at it with uncertainty and while the hero tried not to be hurt by that, his hesitancy alarmed him. What was he afraid of?

“You can tell me anything-“

“It’s-“ Harry jumped at something Peter couldn’t see, couldn’t hear and he had no time to process that before the boy stormed past him and walked towards the window. He reached out to the open pane of glass and pulled it in, silencing the outside and leaving the pair in a tense silence.

Peter wanted to crack some kind of joke to try and ease it but astonishingly, he came up with nothing. He hadn’t been told anything yet and somehow he just knew that this was a lot more serious than he thought. He was glad he had managed to convince the team to let him come see him, he couldn’t bear the idea of Harry going through the rest of the night looking so nervous.

“Is it…about Venom?” The brunette asked, watching as Harry flinched at the very mention and while Peter felt guilty for causing it, he was relieved he had some sort of answer. “That’s…that’s ok.” He began, walking over but pausing next to the bed. “Well- I mean it’s not ok but it’s- it’s normal to be upset about it and-“ He looked down at the messy bed, unmade. “-that’s something I can help with.”

He smiled up at Harry who hadn’t yet turned around, hand lingering on the window as he looked out over Manhattan. Peter sat down on the bed, eyes trailing over the rest of the room as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, though he still couldn’t see that far.

“I’m glad you called me,” Peter told him, not ushering him away from the window or forcing him down onto the bed. He knew how to deal with what he was feeling and Harry would come to him when he was ready, impatience would only make things worse. “I…I hate how this affected you, I want to help in whatever way I can.”

Harry looked over his shoulder, his eyes piercing through Peter and sending a shiver down his back, though he wasn’t sure why. He looked intense but that was just because he was feeling bad, nothing else.

“Talk to me, Har,” Peter asked genuinely, feeling a spark of victory rise in his chest when his friend turned ever so slightly. “I mean it, I care about you, Harry. A lot. ” He briefly glanced away from him, hoping that the darkness would hide his blush. “If me being here helps you, then I’ll stay. But if I can do more-“ He looked back, hope glimmering in his eyes when Harry turned fully. “-then just tell me and I’ll do it.”

Another bout of silence settled between them, though it didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable. Peter was close enough to the redhead that they could just sit and say nothing and that would be enough, no words needed to add to the comfort they shared. But Peter was worried, he wanted Harry to say something, anything that could help ease his suffering.

It was his fault, he just wanted to fix it.

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking more distressed with each failed attempt until he finally clenched his fists, squeezing his eyes shut as he battled against something only he knew about and then spoke-

“Would you do anything for me, Pete?” He whispered, but the words were easily caught by the young hero.

Peter didn’t answer straight away, looking up at Harry in surprise as he blocked the dim light of the full moon and cast a shadow over him from the window. He thought about the question, though not because he didn’t know the answer, but why Harry had asked it in the first place.

When he told Harry that he was Spider-Man, he thought he had cast away all doubt that Peter didn’t care about him. He thought he had proved to Harry that he could trust him, that he was one of the closest people to him and he was sorry for ever keeping the secret in the first place.

But had he been wrong? Even after talking to him for hours about it, could it be that his friend was still mad after all? He wouldn’t blame him, it was a huge thing to get over and an equally hard truth to swallow. If he had told him sooner, at a much more peaceful time then maybe he would feel closer to Peter.

But he had messed that up and now he had to face the consequences. He had set their relationship back a big gap and if Peter wanted to put that right then he had to work for it.

“Of course,” Peter answered confidently, standing up from the bed, mask still clutched in his hand. “Anything, Harry. I would do anything.” He ended in a shaky exhale, inspecting Harry as he digested the young hero's answer.

Harry finally took those steps towards him, leaving the window and stopping right in front of Peter as he looked down to the floor as he spoke.

“…Ok.” He muttered as if confirming it. “Then…can I ask you something now?”

Peter blinked, tilting his head as he tried to catch his friend's gaze but couldn’t seem to get it, a shadow casting over his face and hiding away any deeper feelings he didn’t want to express.

“Go for it.” Peter encouraged, already prepared to stay for another all-nighter if that’s what it took for Harry to feel better. He had gone on for much longer, he could do this one thing for him.

Suddenly, Harry reached out, wrapped both arms around Peter and pulled him in close, burying his head into his shoulder as he gripped him tightly. Peter didn’t hesitate to hug him back, shutting his eyes as he placed his head beside Harry’s, listening to his shaky breathing and hoping he would bring some comfort.

“When all this is over…”

Huh? Peter opened his eyes slightly, though he didn’t dare to move. He thought all Harry wanted was a hug, which may have been embarrassing to ask coming from him but Peter was very open about his displays of affection. He high-fived, hugged, poked, held hands and leaned on anyone he considered family, Harry was no exception to this.

In fact, he was the person who got the worst of it since Peter realised his crush. If there was anyone to turn to when you needed some physical support, he would’ve thought it had to be him. But maybe that was stupid to think a gesture so simple solved deep emotional trauma. At least, he hoped it was a start.

“…Will you please forgive me?” Harry whispered into his ear, hands gripping Peter much tighter as he finished speaking and went quiet again.

“Huh?” The hero’s brows furrowed as he opened his eyes fully and tried to pull back, only to find the boy was keeping him in place. “Forgive you? Forgive you for what?” Peter laughed nervously but he didn’t feel much humour inside him. Something was wrong, something didn’t feel right and he had an urge to bring up the mask and pull it back on because he felt in danger and-

His spider-sense flared drastically.

“Harry- ugh!” Peter tried to yank his head around, prepared to defend his friend from whatever threat had appeared behind them but as soon as he jerked, Harry unwrapped his arms and thrust them into Peter’s stomach. With his attention elsewhere and complete doubt that Harry would ever hurt him, the action succeeded and Peter fell backwards in shock, his senses confused about who was the threat and who wasn’t.

But then he didn’t land on the floor, his back hit something he swore wasn’t there before and Peter didn’t even have time to try and catch what it was before two large metallic hands grabbed his shoulders and kept him in place.

“Goodnight, Parker.”

“Wh- AGH!” The metallic hands buzzed and then a jolt of electricity followed, the volts coursing down from his shoulder and spread throughout his entire body. White, hot, blinding pain jabbed at every nerve and left him screaming in agony as all he could do was shake but incapable of moving away.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the jolts vanished and the hands let go, leaving Peter to fall limp to the floor. There on the carpet, heaving and shaking from the aftermath, Peter looked up at Harry through his blurred vision. He wanted to reach out, to shout for him to run but his limbs wouldn’t respond, his body was filled with a type of humming that seemed to block off the use.

“Good job, son.” A familiar voice sounded, echoey and far away like it wasn’t truly there. No, it was more like Peter wasn’t truly there, his mind wasn’t in his body, he was just watching the events before him on a large screen that he couldn’t do anything about.

Harry looked mortified, lips quivering as he looked down at Peter and moved towards him but a shadow reached him first and roughly grabbed his hand, pulling him back.

“Don’t ruin it now, remember what we talked about.” It warned him and that was enough for Harry to take a step back, holding his arm as if the shadow had burnt it. Peter wanted to shout at him to stay away, to jump up and pick up Harry so that he could get him far away and safe but at that moment, he couldn’t even save himself.

He could hardly think.

“It will get better, I promise you.”

Peter’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t try to move them again. With the last of his strength, he moved his eyes up towards Harry and stared at him, stared into him as the darkness started to go past the room and crowded his vision.

He found guilt where he felt that shouldn’t have but Peter did not understand why, all he knew was he wanted to fix it. He could fix it.

He could fix it. It wasn’t over yet.

…

Was it?

Chapter Text

Rage. That was the only feeling that came to mind when Harry thought to describe Venom. Not at the creature but…when he bonded with it. When the symbiote first merged with his body, slithering through his blood and wrapping itself around his heart, he couldn’t deny that at first he felt a thrill.

With the symbiote came the powers; he had suddenly grown a few feet taller, new strong muscles covering his previously weak limbs. There was the strength that allowed him to tear through walls with ease, the confidence that let him embarrass puny villains like they were nothing. But it went even beyond that.

He could morph his limbs into shapes never thought possible, he could jump and scale any surface, see so much further, and hear so much further. He could sense when danger was lurking; he had developed the skills of an experienced fighter in a matter of hours, and when the day was done, the creature would shrink and hide away in his self-made watch, ready and waiting for the next time he wanted to go thrill-seeking.

But it didn’t stop. The desire to put on the black mask, the urge to escape his room in the middle of the night and search the city for a threat to squash. No, at some point he wasn’t even searching for that. He was looking for something to fight just because he could.

The taste for violence was an addiction, one he didn’t know how to break away from. Sometimes he gave in, sneaking away from his friends to change and go stop a robbery happening a few streets over, but other times, he wasn’t even aware he had used the symbiote until the next morning.

The evidence was himself. His heart would still race, his body pulsing with adrenaline, and although he could never fully remember his actions through the night, he would have flashes. The horrible sound of people begging for mercy, the sickening noise of bones snapping under force by his own fists and sometimes, he would even find the tiniest spec of blood on his hands.

So small, unnoticeable by anyone else and always easily washed away but Harry couldn’t forget it. The people he fought, they did some scummy things, sure, but did they deserve being beaten within an inch of their lives? It was unnecessary, it was brutal, and the worst thing was that Harry wasn’t sure how to stop it.

He had to keep using Venom; he didn’t have a choice, and in the event he did start reasoning with himself, considering unclipping the watch and putting the whole parasite behind him, it would speak to him. Anger, Addiction, Desperation, desire.

It fed off his emotions, it fed off the thrill in his bones and the violence in his heart. It whispered in the back of his mind, planting seeds of paranoia about the people he cared about. It convinced him his friends were betraying him, talking about him behind his back and planning to take his power away.

It latched onto those tiny insecurities and somehow brought them to the front of his mind, dangling the violent thoughts in front of his mind and manipulating him into thinking that he was doing the right thing. Those robbers deserved getting their bones broken, his friends deserved getting snapped at, and his father deserved bleeding at his hands.

It scared him. It terrified him, but he couldn’t fight against it. Every day that went by, it was getting harder and harder to live his normal life without the symbiote adding in its own twisted advice and in the end, Venom was controlling Harry, not the other way around.

Harry was the host to a parasite, and Venom wasn’t eager to leave anytime soon. The boy had so much pent-up resentment, he had so many unspoken issues and dreams he thought he could never achieve, and every inch of it was delicious to Venom.

It was horrific. Harry was losing himself to the creature; he couldn’t sleep at night because he could feel the black mass moving around inside him, shouting and demanding to get out and be free, and if Harry wouldn’t let him, then he would do it himself. He couldn’t shut his eyes, he couldn’t risk it because he knew that when he opened them again, it would be the next morning and that always came with more blood on his hands.

Harry hadn’t killed anyone, or at least, he was sure he hadn’t, but he wasn’t far off, the thought that finally drove him to ask for help. Or at least try. He didn’t want the symbiote anymore; he knew now how much of a terrible idea it was, and he just wanted it gone. He didn’t want to turn into the monster anymore, he didn’t want to swing through New York at night, hunting. He didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore.

It was plaguing him, exhausting him because instead of sharing their mind and co-existing together, they had started fighting for the right to control the body, and Harry was fighting every second of every day to keep his life under control. A stupid decision in hindsight. But he felt so alone, Venom only amplified those fears.

Back then, he didn’t even know who Peter truly was. Whilst stuck with the black parasite, his best friend, his crush, who he would drop everything to go hang out with, was nothing more than a traitor who had abandoned him to go hang out with his new friends.

The only person he thought he had left was his father. But he had ended up wanting to hurt him in the end…maybe worse. No, definitely worse, but he didn’t want to think about it. It made him sick to the stomach to consider the possibility of what he could’ve done to his Dad.

In the end, it was Peter who saved him. Even after all the anger he directed at him, everything he said about him and Spider-Man, he still whipped up an anti-venom to save him. Sure, his team was keeping him distracted, but it was Peter who alone made the creation that stopped Harry from becoming too far gone.

When he got stabbed with the anti-venom and felt the parasite wither away around him, he was the most relieved he had ever been in his life. His body shrunk, the strength, the hearing, the sight, and the urges were gone, and maybe it was embarrassing, but he almost cried when he finally opened his eyes, his eyes, and found himself limp in Spider-Man’s grip, so small as he held him and whispered reassurances.

Because he wanted to be small. Harry wanted to be weak and frail again, he wanted to be stupid but cocky and trust in the people closest because he didn’t need to go hunting for anyone else, they were enough. He had enough. He didn’t want to be strong, he didn’t want to be a hero, he didn’t want to be a monster.

Venom was a monster; what it turned him into was something disgusting, and the memories would plague him for the rest of his life. Even after the symbiote was gone, he still had flashbacks and nightmares of what he had done and the things he could’ve done. PTSD, a doctor had told him.

He had been offered medication for it, a wildly renowned therapist to help him cope, but Norman had denied it. It wasn’t surprising, his father wasn’t exactly the empathetic type. The instance of Venom had already done wonders for the Osborn name, it was in the press the minute he was rushed to the hospital. He couldn’t imagine the embarrassment his Dad would feel if he had to get pills prescribed to deal with the aftermath.

‘Osborns are naturally strong.’ He had told him once before. Whatever Harry was going through, a sickness, depression and now this, he could get through it with his family by his side.

Which, really, meant on his own, but honestly, Harry didn’t quite care. At least not after everything that happened. The visions haunted him; he could still hear his victim’s screams if he idled long enough, but at least he was free. Venom was gone; he would never have to worry about losing his own body and inflicting harm ever again.

Or at least he thought. He foolishly thought. It could never be that simple, could it? Harry’s life was a constant downhill spiral of misery, and whenever he thought he had found a hand to help catch him, they either let go or he dragged them down with him.

But…he could learn to cope. That’s what his Dad had told him.

Venom was…a chronic illness. He told Harry he would never be free from the curse, it would follow him forever, straight to the grave, and that could be very soon if he didn't learn how to control it properly. The realisation was harrowing, he didn't sleep that night after moving home, his mind a mess of a thousand thoughts he didn't know how to silence.

For a few days, he had finally felt a peaceful happiness that he hadn't experienced in a long time. But in just a few seconds, that all came crashing down before him. He was crushed beneath the parasite, he was trapped with the creature inside his body.

The worst whisper that kept rebounding off of those sterile white walls was the painful truth that this whole tragedy could've been avoided if he had just ignored the black mass on the floor. He was stuck in constant, horrid misery and nothing seemed to ease the hurt.

The harm caused by his own stupidity.

But his Dad had been the shining light in his dark descent into depression. He had stayed beside him, held him when he cried and appeared when the visions became too much, and he explained his plan over and over again.

Oscorp had the resources to hire the most experienced scientist, who had already examined his blood and started their research on the scraps of the symbiote they had managed to extract. He assured him they had found a way to help, that this whole thing wasn't as much of a tragedy as he was making it out to be.

He just had to work for it.

Norman had said it was a gift, spoke about Venom as if it were a miracle that had blessed his otherwise useless son. He knew the man was only trying to help, to keep the boy positive, but he just couldn't think about the parasite that way.

He hadn't felt the creature inside him. He hadn't watched it control his body and use his hands to commit such awful acts of violence. But Harry had no energy to argue. As much as he wanted to go back to his normal room and curl up in his bed and rot away, he pushed through the hours by following the new schedule his father had built for him.

Tests, mostly, but the few hours of the day he wasn't being poked and prodded, he was being told how much of a brilliant hero he could make. Occasionally, he heard both the staff and his Dad slip up and say ‘soldier’ instead, but he didn't think much of it.

They all told him how they could turn this accident into something brilliant, they could help him to use his powers with direction. He could join ranks he had never considered, explore routes he never thought possible and be someone he never could've been before.

He could be the hero he wanted to be in the first place, his dream was still obtainable. He just wasn't sure he liked the path that got him there. Venom was terrifying. He hadn't used him yet, but he could certainly feel him inside of him, writhing and waiting for when Harry lost control of his emotions again.

The doctors said they could keep it in check and help him gain control again, but the wounds were still fresh. Harry wasn't sure there was any amount of reassurance that could help him beat his fear about the parasite.

But that wasn't even the worst thing on his mind. The horrors, the fears, the trauma and the misery that had lingered in his body since he first took Venom had been overshadowed by one thing.

Peter. Or more appropriately, Spider-Man.

They had gotten some of his blood, somehow, he didn't know, and he didn't have time to ask before he was presented with what they had found. Venom had come from the hero, or they were related in some way because their DNA intertwined and linked when placed side by side.

Placed in a way the astonished boy could understand, they told him that if they got more physical samples that they could look towards improving the clearly unfinished symbiote. They would be able to find a way to calm it down, to make it so that Harry could feel safe in his own body and turn, use it for a greater purpose.

They told him they couldn't get rid of it, that it just wasn't possible. They told him the same thing everyone else had said over and over again.

They could help him. They could help him use it.

With Spider-Man’s help.

But what they were asking…meant taking what made Peter Spider-Man and putting it within him. They wanted to inspect and dissect the hero, they wanted to bring him into a laboratory and replicate his powers like so many other villains had promised to do.

Their request was personal, it was an overstep that Harry would never imagine Spider-Man agreeing to, considering he should've known nothing about Oscorp or their motives.

Should've.

Just like Harry to be the one to ruin everything for his friends. Norman had gotten access to the security footage from the hospital, which actually showed him the moment that Peter revealed his identity to him, a moment that was supposed to be private and vulnerable. It was something that was only supposed to be shared between them.

But because Peter had felt as if he had wronged him, he shared his secret with him then and there, which led to Norman Osborn having saved footage that could ruin the hero in seconds. Not that he thought he would, but…the reality was terrifying.

His father told him that they needed Spider-Man’s- Peter’s DNA and cooperation to help him, otherwise there was nothing else they could do. He wanted Harry to bring him there, said he would trust a friend, he was sure to agree if Harry was the one to ask for help.

But it didn't feel like a request, it felt like a demand. A threat.

‘You’re destined to be something great, Harry. Either you follow my guidance and work to use the symbiote, or you can ignore it and watch as it destroys you and everyone around you.”

But his father would never threaten him, would he? Norman would never manipulate him just so they could get a closer look at the creature inside him. He was just trying to help, he was just trying to help Harry live a normal life.

He didn't want to hurt anyone else. He never wanted to go through the fear that at any moment he would suddenly black out and when he woke up again, someone else was in the hospital. His father was right, he had a choice.

And Harry knew full well he wasn't strong enough to fight Venom alone.

‘…Will you please forgive me?’

‘Forgive you? Forgive you for what?’

He could see him, even in the dark, watching as Peter gave up everything at the drop of a hat just to answer the call of his friend, the one person he must’ve thought to trust the most. And he’d taken advantage of it.

The doctors had scared him, the scientists gave him the harsh reality of his life. They made it seem like he had no other choice, that using Spider-Man’s powers was the only way to save him from the monster inside him.

But if he had just asked for help, then he was sure that Peter would’ve understood! He would’ve done all the work for them! Why didn’t he tell him? Why didn’t he just confide in him like he had promised he would do?

Because he had never thought it would turn out like this?

‘Harry-!’

He could still feel it, the grip on his arms as Peter’s fingers clenched in alarm. He pulled him in close, wrapping him tight as if he was trying to defend him from the threat he already knew was there. But he thought they were just gonna talk. He didn’t know…he didn’t know!

He just wanted everything to go back to normal!

‘Agh-!’

Father knew best. He would handle everything, he would gather the best and brightest, he would make the plan that would steer him towards a bright future, and he would buy the tech that would help shrink the threat inside him.

But Harry had to be the one to betray Peter. Because his blood held the key, and you could not get blood without cutting through flesh. You could not manipulate DNA without digging inside.

You could not legally steal a hardworking superhero and beloved teenager. But unless they held powers that were created by a team of scientists. If Harry felt like a lab rat in his own home, by his own father, then what did they see when they looked at Peter?

Harry saw his best friend, someone he loved an unimaginable amount.

The doctors saw an experiment.

Why didn’t Harry pick up on that sooner?

‘Goodnight, Parker.’

‘Wh- AGH-!”

The scream cut through Harry like a knife, lodging deeper than even the parasite had settled and twisting the longer his cries went on. He couldn’t hide the gasp of sheer horror as he watched Norman sneak forward and catch Peter, only to turn on the metallic gloves around his hands and send hundreds of volts of electricity coursing through his body.

He choked on his own words, body struggling to decide between screaming at him to stop or rushing forward and tearing Peter out of his grip himself. But he didn’t move, he couldn’t move, stuck to the spot as the room flashed with white and Peter jerked violently at the cruel action.

What felt like hours was in reality only seconds, and Harry covered his mouth as Norman carelessly let go of the boy and just watched as he dropped to the floor. He hated how he couldn’t move his limbs, he couldn’t even say a single word as he gazed upon the limp body of his best friend.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was just supposed to talk, to show him the evidence, and Harry would ask him to help them. He said nothing about…this.

He hadn’t even seen such a weapon before.

“Good job, son.” Norman praised with a completely normal smile, stepping around Peter’s body and stopping beside his son, pulling off the hefty gauntlets so he could free his hands. Harry couldn’t even acknowledge him, no words escaped his trembling lips as his eyes remained on the poor boy before him, shaking and occasionally jerking with wide eyes.

But though his pupils were shrunk, terrified, they were almost glazed over as if he wasn’t quite there, stuck between the space of pain consciousness and numb sleep. Harry could feel tears threatening to spill, the realisation of what he had just done setting in, but then Peter made a faint noise - a whimper, and he instinctively took a step forward to reach him.

Only to have his wrist roughly snatched, and he was yanked back. The boy flinched under his father’s grip, breath quickening as for a split second he thought he was about to be the next victim of the gloves, but they remained off his hands.

“Don’t ruin it now,” Norman warned, keeping a firm hold on Harry even when he attempted to tear himself away in fear, gaze switching between him and his friend struggling on the floor. “Remember what he talked about.” He reminded, but Harry couldn’t remember.

They never spoke about this. He would’ve remembered, he was certain he would’ve remembered something like that because if he did, he never would’ve agreed to something like this in a thousand years.

“It will get better. I promise you.” Norman’s tense expression faded, falling back into that fake smile as he carefully let Harry go. The boy took a tentative step back, rubbing his wrist as if he had actually shocked him, as he looked back at his friend.

Peter finally moved, at least moved off his own accord. He still twitched and shook like a sickly chill had overtaken him, but his eyes slowly moved up, his hands clenched inward as he locked gazes with Harry. He didn’t know whether he looked at him with hatred; his face hadn’t changed, stuck in that scared, surprised expression, but Harry wasn’t sure if that was because he simply couldn’t move it.

Did he know? Was he aware enough through the pain to realise what Harry had just done?

He didn’t have long to wonder before his body twitched one last time and his eyelids drifted shut, his ragged breaths evening out into semi-peaceful ones. Peter was out.

Harry takes a shaky inhale, swallowing the sob that so desperately wants to break free as he grips his shirt as some kind of grounding act and turns to his father, fury swirling inside him. “Why?” He croaked, voice frustratingly small. “Why did you-?

He turns in shock as a group of armoured men suddenly fill the room, not bothering to turn on the light as they beeline straight towards the unconscious teenager, two hooking an arm under his armpit and bringing him up to drag away. They were nowhere near gentle as they began to drag him away, not giving Harry a second thought as he called out in alarm.

“What are you doing?” He found the courage to shout, growling at Norman as he stepped in front of him and stopped him from rushing after Peter. “You didn’t tell me you were going to do this! If I had just asked, he would’ve done whatever you wanted-!”

Norman scoffed, shaking his head as he hardly waited for Harry to finish before he responded with disinterest. “What? He would’ve rolled over and let us tamper with his powers?” He scowled. “Don’t be such a child, Harry! This was the only way to secure his DNA!”

Harry clenched his fists, feeling a growl rumble up from his lungs as the black parasite stirred inside him, awakening his anger and picking at the edges. It hadn’t quite latched on yet, hadn’t started dripping poison in his ear, but it wasn’t far enough. Harry was stepping into dangerous territory, but he didn’t care.

Peter was hurt. He was hurt and was being dragged away like a petty criminal by people he didn’t even know the names of. A protective urge rose in his bones, but the obstacle in his way was something he had never been able to overcome.

“He is the key to helping you! Do you want to give up? Do you want the die inside your own body?” Norman took a step forward, jabbing Harry harshly in the chest and following when he stumbled back to create distance. “Do you want to die and let the symbiote take over and hurt everyone around you?”

“No!” Harry cried out in terror, tripping on a stray piece of clothing and falling back on his bed, heaving as he cowered before his Dad. The boy pulled his arms in close, suddenly wishing that someone was there to protect him.

He wished he had never pushed out of that hug. That was the last place he had felt the lost safety in a long time.

“Then this is what we have to do.” Norman sighed, running a hand down his face and passing the mysterious gauntlets off to an unknown person. “Don’t you remember people looked at you in that form? How he looked at you? Fought against you?”

“He was defending himself,” Harry responded weakly, his heart beating against his chest, each thump like a swift punch.

“Against the monster that is you.” Norman clicked his tongue, pacing slowly in front of the boy. “He knew who hid behind the symbiote and yet, I didn’t see him pulling his punches.” He pointed out, causing Harry to flinch as he picked through his own memories.

However, that proved difficult, especially in that final fight. He wasn’t in control, he was hardly awake at all. But even then, Harry knew that Peter wouldn’t have done anything he didn’t have to. He fought tooth and nail against his team. For him. To save him.

“After we get what we want, I’m sure he’ll understand.” Norman finally stopped, casting a glance through the doorway as the strangers finally left Harry’s room, Peter with them. “But for now, these are the steps we have to take.” The man stressed. “I know what’s best for you, Harry. Trust me, this is the only way.”

He bent down in front of his son, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek, but Harry cringed and turned away, not wanting to even look at his hands, knowing what he had used them for. His own father, acting so emotionlessly as he hurt an innocent person.

It made him think, something uncomfortable swirling in his stomach, had he done something like that before?

“Come on, you’re to return to your room.”

Harry blinked in confusion, watching as Norman didn’t wait for the boy to follow as he started towards the door.

“What? What do you-“ Harry shakily rose from the bed but didn’t move quite yet. “What do you mean, this is my room?”

“Not anymore.” Norman paused at the door, his gaze uncomfortably cold as he looked back at his son. “Until we’ve stabilised the symbiote, you’re to reside within our private lab.” He stated, no room for negotiation as he ushered Harry over with his hand.

When Harry didn't come, too busy trying to settle his anxious thoughts, he growled and stormed back over, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him out of the room. The boy tripped on his way out, not comprehending everything yet and not eager to return to a place that didn’t feel like home.

He called out in defiance, trying to shake his father off his shoulder, but paused when he set his eyes upon the elevator, just catching it before the doors closed. His breath hitched as he spotted Peter inside, dangling limply from the stranger’s grip as he remained unconscious.

“Where are you taking him?” Harry asked, not fighting against Norman as he pulled him towards the elevators and positioned him next to the unused one. “I can at least stay with him, can’t I?”

“No, it’s too dangerous.” His father denied, unfazed by Harry’s pleas, gaze remaining firmly ahead.

“Dangerous-?” Harry repeats, bewildered and growing more alarmed the longer he didn’t have Peter in his sights. “If I were beside him, then I could explain and maybe he’d be more willing to-“

“Really?” Norman raised an eyebrow at Harry, stepping into the elevator as soon as the doors slid aside and guiding his son inside with him. “Maybe Peter, but would Spider-Man?” He posed, making Harry bristle. “What would a cornered hero choose? A friend or his whole identity?”

‘Me.’ Harry thought immediately, eyes burning into his father’s. Peter had already proved that back in the hospital, he was ready for Harry to reveal everything. Maybe he hadn’t done that, but he had used it against him, hadn’t he?

Maybe he didn’t know what Norman was going to do, but he hadn’t done anything to help. Would he even consider Harry a friend anymore? No chance.

“…He’s going to a more secure location.” Norman suddenly said, startling Harry as he answered his previous question. An uneasy silence fell between them, the only noise being the boy’s rapid heartbeat in his ears and the hum of the elevator as it moved them along. Though his father had given him an answer, it didn’t ease his confusion.

What exactly was a secure location? Where exactly was that? The only reasonable conclusion he could think of was in the ‘private lab’ Harry had been bound to. He supposed that wasn’t completely terrible if he was trying to find a slither of positivity in this shit show of a situation. Peter wouldn’t be far away, and surely whatever tests they were planning to do wouldn’t take long.

“When will I see him again?” Harry mumbled, turning his gaze towards the elevator doors as they slid shut and they started to go down.

“…Soon,” Norman replied, gazing steadily ahead. Either he didn’t notice the struggle his son was going through, or he didn’t care because he didn’t make another sound for the rest of the ride.

Harry’s body was still trembling, skin still cold as goosebumps ran along the surface. He comforted himself; all he wanted, the shock rattled deep within his bones.

He was used to putting on a brave face, pretending everything was perfectly fine to the outside world and then breaking down later in the safety of his own room. But he didn’t feel safe, not anymore.

Not in the Oscorp tower, not in their penthouse, his room and certainly not in the private room in the laboratory. But what troubled Harry was that even though he was out of the eyes of those strangers, the public, in an enclosed space with just his father, he still didn't feel safe.

No, something buzzed at the back of his mind, the damn parasite hissing and growling at something from deep within him and he had to clench his teeth to keep his body still.

Harry felt in danger, and he didn’t know how to feel safe again.

Peter flinched at the sound of clattering, the noise piercing his skull and making room for an uncomfortable headache to blossom. The boy bit back a groan, cringing at each careless clink and scrape, but he quickly dismissed his frustration, taking his early-morning anger out on Aunt May was a stupid reaction, it wasn’t like she was doing it on purpose.

She was just doing some cleaning by the sounds of it, something that meant there would be one less chore on the chore list for him later. Besides, how was she to know that Peter had gained a tense migraine in return for his restless nights fighting crime? The teen could be irritable when he first woke up but at least he had the common sense not to act upon it.

He took a deep breath, zoning out the noises of what he presumed to be cutlery being moved and planned on getting at least a few more minutes of sleep, but then a strong smell slapped him in the face and he crinkled his nose in disgust. It wasn't anything bad, just…strong.

Peter always struggled with his senses, even before he got the spider powers, so things like cleaning products were only touched behind the thick shield of a scarf wrapped around his face. Though he wasn't sure why his aunt would be pulling out the intense stuff for a regular weekend dust…at least he thought it was weekend?

Were there people coming around, and he had just missed it? But if that was the case, he was normally shaken awake a couple of hours beforehand so that he could help out in making the house look presentable. Not even his alarm had gone off yet. He put the whole thing down to May finding a particularly difficult stain that would be no doubt down to him.

Whatever it was, he certainly wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon. The headache was getting worse with each new noise and smell he picked up on, and god, his shoulders were aching. It didn't help that something was scratching at the back of his mind, insisting that something wasn't quite right.

Had he actually missed something? He hadn't made another plan and completely forgotten about it again, had he? No, he’d started making programs for that, creating his own alarms and reminders about team meet-ups, school projects and regular hangouts. Unsurprisingly, something that was suggested by MJ when he answered the door to her in his pyjamas, blanking when she mentioned a plan he had made.

But there was nothing. Everything was telling Peter that he was being paranoid, that it was just a quiet weekend, he had no school, no meet-ups, no training, no projects, and not even any explosions had happened in the short time he’d been awake! He was trying to find a problem when there wasn't one.

…was what anyone else would think, but not Peter Parker. Not Spider-Man. He had specifically said the many “do not mention” jinx words that would bring him a mountain of problems because that was just the way his luck worked, but nothing had happened yet.

And yet, his instinct was still bubbling joy under the surface. He wasn't about to experience a threat, he was already in it.

Ok, ok, no need to panic. He had woken up in a difficult situation like this more than once; someone had followed him home, or maybe it was just a robbery taking place a few streets down. It didn't particularly mean Aunt May was in any danger just yet.

But staying in bed was going to get him nowhere, so the best thing to do was get up, check up on his comms and-

Peter went to turn, only for his head to spin and a wave of dizziness dragged him down and he gasped when gravity seemed to flip on him entirely. No, it wasn't that it had changed, it was that he hadn't been paying attention until now.

Peter wasn't lying down; his arms and legs were swinging, dangling as if he were being held up by something. A strong something that was wrapped under his arms and around his shoulders, keeping him steady as he shifted and swung slightly.

At that, his eyes shot open, but he quickly squeezed them shut again when he was flashed by bright lights that burnt his vision and did wonders for the throbbing in his head. Resisting the urge to panic, and also to empty his stomach, Peter blinked rapidly as he tried to get used to the sudden switch from darkness to light and clear his blurry vision.

Wherever he was, he had huge stage-like lamps directed his way, illuminating every inch of the boy and a few feet around him. A little voice chimed amidst his frantic thoughts that he was possibly in the helicarrier med-bay, and his spidey sense was the aftermath of a mission gone wrong.

But his vision was clearing, and this wasn't the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier. If he focused, he could look past the assault of bright lights and around him, but he wasn't reassured by what he found.

Dangling in the air, held up by what looked like some sort of thick pipe, Peter was in a dingy-looking place. Past his little photoshoot circle, the room was dim, the only lights being the occasional flicker of some mysterious machine and blank holographic screens.

Wherever he was, the room was a mess. Pipes and wires covered the ceiling, though a majority of them hung down, cut and broken and a few even dripped an unknown liquid. The floor was uneven, cracked and eroded, and the walls were scattered with what looked like holes punched out of anger.

And yet, whenever there was a piece of technology, it was positioned on a sleek slab of metal. The machines themselves all looked in perfect condition, and while the wires that were plugged into all of them could certainly be called a tripping hazard, it was obvious that whoever occupied this space either didn't have an eye for furniture or they’d set themselves up in a hurry.

Something that Nick Fury didn't do when creating secret bunkers. If the man did something, he did it either 100% or didn't do it at all. Wherever Peter had ended up, it wasn't in relation to S.H.I.E.L.D., and that didn't sit well with him.

Peter’s eyes flicked to the left; the clattering noises that had originally woken him up were still going on, only now they had been joined by far-off voices. He strained to see through the darkness, but the more he woke up the more he picked up on how shitty his body felt.

For starters, his head still hurt like a bitch and the danger instinct at the back of his mind did nothing to curve the dizziness that was swirling his vision. But the weirdest thing was his shoulders. His muscles ached slightly, a consequence of being held in the air for too long, he concluded, but they were accompanied by the most uncomfortable tingling.

Something similar to TV static had settled around the top of his shoulders, pinpricks that tapped, tap, tapped like a thousand needles over and over again. The feeling felt familiar, alarming, whatever had caused it left him feeling like he needed to run.

But he wasn't even ready to move his arms yet, let alone make a break for it. He couldn't even see an exit. Snatching onto his training, Peter took a deep breath and focused on the clear sign of life to the left of him.

He didn't move his head quietly yet but remained glancing at the shadowy figure out of the corner of his eye. He needed to get more information. Right now, his brain was still trying to comprehend the fact that he had woken up, and that wasn't good enough.

He was in danger, no doubt about it, and he had to act fast. As much as it went against everything that made him Spider-Man, Peter kept his mouth shut and focused. If there was someone here, talking, then they most likely had something to do with what was going on, meaning he could get information out of them.

He would need to save the loveable quips for later. He was disoriented and weak, he couldn't afford for his mysterious attackers to realise that. For all he knew, the rest of his team was in the same situation, and that meant they might need his help. He had to stay calm and level-headed. Wow, what a weird feeling.

“Yes…it’s being sent over as we speak.”

Peter tensed as the voice got louder, the unknown person suddenly getting a lot closer but remaining in the shadows just enough so that the hero couldn't pick up on any discernible features.

All he knew was that with every movement, they made an unusual clicking noise, followed by a loud slam that he presumed was their feet. The teenager wasn't so sure that this was the person who could've gotten the jump on Spider-Man; they obviously weren't very stealthy.

“Well, make sure to retain that pace. These first few days are critical.”

Another voice, but it was a tad bit quieter and muffled, leaving the hero to guess that this second person wasn't actually in the room and instead talking through some sort of a communicator.

“Don’t rush me.” The hulking silhouette growled, and Peter’s eyes widened when he swore he caught four long pipe-like shadows swing around, shuddering and jerking in reaction to the mystery man’s anger. Were they whips? Ropes? But they seemed too thick to be either, and he wasn't sure if he saw some kind of claws at the end.

“Remember what happened last time?” The shadow hissed, those unusual whip-thingies shaking for a few seconds before settling down and moving towards one of the many screens around them. Yep, Peter definitely had no clue who that could be. Though he wasn't sure if that was a reassuring result or not.

If he’d been kidnapped by someone he knew, no matter how dangerous, he would have some kind of information on them, intel he could then turn into snarky comments he could use to toy with their ego. If it wasn't someone he knew, then that crossed out a ton of bad guys who wanted his head, meaning that this guy wasn't good enough to be known.

Or Peter was grasping at straws, trying to reassure himself and in reality, this person could be the new up-coming mega threat and just hadn't made his move until now. How lucky that he’d chosen to start his evil reign with Spider-Man. Seriously, why was it always him?

The voice on the other end of the line audibly sighed before they spoke. “I remember.” The voice responded through a strained tone as if they were restraining themselves from biting back. “But you're at least capable of sending the blood to the labs by the morning.”

The shaded figure paused, and Peter felt a jolt of danger rush through his body and he swiftly dropped his head back down, squeezing his eyes shut and slowing his breathing as he felt the eyes of his captor snap onto him.

“I need something to pass along. The boy grows…restless.”

For a split second, the hero was afraid that he hadn't been fast enough, but as the caller went on, their attention diverted back, and Peter found the courage to crack an eye open and catch the silhouette move behind a screen.

“What? Afraid you won't be able to control your own son?” The shadow cackled lowly, his voice grating on Peter, but he pushed through and forced himself to listen on. “Have you considered any of the options I sent across?” They asked, one of those long appendages actually reaching down and picking something up. Too far away to see but it interested Peter, were they like arms?

“Like you said,” The caller responded through static, his voice low. “He’s my son. I shouldn't have to fall back on such...drastic measures.” The unseen man struck something within Peter, something familiar that he didn't know what it was. He felt like he knew that voice but no matter how much he racked his brain, he couldn't connect the link.

The headache and lingering pains in his body did nothing to help him focus.

“Very well.” The shadow mumbled, pulling down another screen that made it even harder for the teen to see them. “In any case, you’ll have plenty of blood to inspect after I’ve dissected-”

“No.” The caller cut off his captor mid-chuckle, halting his actions.

“No?” The mysterious man repeated in confusion, though Peter couldn't share the sentiment. He had heard his last words before the crackle of the communicator's voice snapped. ‘Dissected, ’ he said, mostly certainly about him.

He heard the threat a good few times before but never really put much thought into it. Maybe it was childish, but he always laughed it off because he just never thought it would happen.

But dangling there, in an unknown place, his team nowhere in sight and at the mercy of a complete stranger, this place was starting to remind him of a mad scientist’s chamber and the words ‘dissection’ fit uncomfortably.

“I’ve had a change of plans.” The voice explained, and Peter suddenly decided that he liked whoever it was on the other line a lot more than Mr Mysterious. “I don't want him dead.”

“But the data-”

“We can still get it.” The appendages chittered, the material that made them clicking as they moved and hovered around one specific screen in particular, presumably the one that held the call. “Nothing is stopping us from getting everything we want while he’s still alive.”

“It will take so much longer,” The silhouette argued, dropping some tools down on a desk in frustration as they focused on the caller. “It will make it so much more difficult.” The mystery figure croaked, and Peter had to hold in the urge to spit something childish at them. They clearly didn't know him if they thought he was going to be anything but difficult.

“True, but can't you use the same ‘options’ you sent me?” The caller responded with an abrupt change of amusement, a kind of humour that sent a ripple of disgust tumbling through Peter’s stomach. “Just imagine it, both Venom and Spider-Man under our control!”

Peter’s breath hitched at the mention of his alternate name, his title, his mask. It should've been obvious, but the name just confirmed it. This wasn't someone who just happened to pick up regular kid Peter Parker, they had somehow caught Spider-Man.

But the question was: how?

He had no memory of it, and the more the teen dug, the more he realised he had no recollection of his last few hours at all. All he had were hazy snippets of being on patrol and then- nothing. Although when he shut his eyes, scraps of emotions came surging through.

Excitement, adrenaline and success touched his mind. Familiar and understandable, he hardly ever had a patrol which ended in a depressing loss. But then he searched for longer and less comfortable feelings started to appear.

Worry, confusion, shock and then fear. Cold, abrupt danger that only came when he was in the middle of a fight he either didn't prepare for or didn't think he was going to win. The hero turned his head fully, no longer caring about staying discreet as he stared at the figure in the corner.

“Yes…I see.” He hummed, those unsettling tentacle machines on his back slowly waving as the shadow thought it over. “I’ll have to change some designs, but the contraption will work perfectly.” He chuckled darkly and began tapping away at some of the holographic screens with enthusiasm.

“Our own pair of super soldiers, capable of rivalling S.H.E.I.L.D. or potentially the Avengers.” The unknown caller laughed along, their excited tone alarming Peter. It wasn’t right, how they hopped from normal topics about their son to dissection and then taking down a force like the Avengers?

And mention not only him but Venom on top of it all, it…wait.

“We’d be the most powerful force on Earth.” The silhouette said, the tentacles shaking as they flew around with unnatural precision, pulling up illegible charts and blueprints as they no doubt started on the plans they were talking about.

But why was Venom involved? Why were they even mentioning his name? If the people of New York had any idea about the symbiote, all they knew was that it was a “black suit Spider-Man” or his “better version”, as a certain loudmouthed news reporter would say.

They had no idea that it called itself “Venom”, what it was out for or where it had gone. The only people who knew the true specifics were Spider-Man, his team, S.H.I.E.L.D. and of course, the Osborns. The information was kept under lock and key, a supposedly shut case after his anti-venom dosage.

So for someone to take an interest in it…to want to use it had to know more than they should've. More than Peter was comfortable with.

What happened? Why was he here? He growled quietly, he wasn't going to get any more answers listening in. They didn't seem to be doing the classic ‘villain monologue’ deal, at least not to each other, and the hero wasn't keen on hearing their excitement much longer anyway. It made him feel sick.

He bit his lip and shook his head, finally trying to do something about the lingering tightness in his forehead and numbness in his limbs and then attempted to untangle himself from the things holding him.

But it wasn't that easy. They didn't snap like he expected them to, and when he turned to get a look, he didn't find flimsy rope, but the same thick pipe-like objects that were scattered around the room. He couldn't guess the material at first glance, but for it to stand even after he tugged, he guessed it had to be strong.

He grunted and struggled, keeping an ear out to check that he hadn't been caught yet, when he looked down to try and find anything to help and paused his efforts.

That's when Peter first realised he wasn't wearing the suit.

The red spandex was nowhere in sight, leaving the boy to feel suddenly so defenceless. His gear, his suit, fuck even his mask was missing. He couldn't feel any of it, it was gone. And yet, where it should've been wasn't something normal like civilian clothes, it was a creepy black jumpsuit.

But that didn't make sense, they had mentioned Spider-Man, didn't they? They had captured Spider-Man, not Peter Parker. But if he didn't have the suit on, that meant that they had taken it off and that...that meant that they knew. They knew it was him.

They knew his identity.

Peter’s breath quickened, body shaking as he shut his eyes and opened them up again and again in a desperate hope that this was all just some bad dream and he’d wake up to that long-awaited alarm in a few seconds and everything would be ok again.

But no alarm came. His view did not change, he was still hung in the air, he could still smell the bleach, and he could still hear that unnerving laughter and clinking from the other end of the room.

How did this happen? How did he let this happen? Losing a fight was one thing, getting trapped was another, but actually going down and getting the mask taken off? That meant it was over. Two people, maybe even more now knew that the man behind the Spider costume was no man, but a kid. A nerdy kid called Peter Parker, and even if he got out, they knew who to go looking for.

He and everyone else he held close.

It was over, he was done for. Just a little over a year and he’d already messed everything up. The worst part was that he didn't even know how. He swung in the air, throwing himself back and forth as he shut his eyes and clenched his fists. How did he get caught? How did he get caught? He kept repeating that question to himself over and over.

What had happened on that last patrol? Where did it go wrong? He dug into his memory, thrashing hard against the wires that held him as he hit a solid wall of nothing and changed his tactic, painfully digging his fingers into the deepest pits of his mind and scratching out whatever he could find, no matter how painful.

The migraine worsened, and his ears started to pick up on a shrill ring that made him want to raise a fist and knock himself back out so that he didn't have to deal with it but he couldn't, he had to keep going. The dizziness, the sickness and the static wrapped around his whole being like it wasn't a result of his sleep, but it was his own body trying to protect him.

But Peter didn't need a safety blanket, not if it hid the truth away from him, not when Harry had become involved. It didn't matter if it hurt, it didn't matter how Peter had messed up, he needed to remember because his family would be in danger and there was a possibility they didn't even know it.

The boy gasped when he touched a particularly fresh spot of his mind, new and tender and screaming with fear as it tried to ward him away from the truth and shield him from his own mistakes. Peter was used to it, he was familiar with bottling up his anxiety and running on mock confidence. But not this time.

With his whole body shaking, Peter clenched his teeth and dove in, taking his memories in steps, starting from the last night he could remember.

He was on patrol with the team.

In the last hour of their shift, they hit the Frightful Four.

They won, not that any of them expected any less. What Spider-Man didn't expect was to get a call from Harry soon after.

Peter swallowed nervously. That was it. He went to see Harry. He was upset about something, something he wouldn't tell him over the phone, so, of course, he went to see him. At the Oscorp Tower…so he got jumped on before that?

No, no, that didn't seem right. He remembered the whole trip. The feeling of diving through Manhattan, skimming the pavement and swinging up high again, the sound of those late-night partygoers as they hopped from cab to cab and the smell of freshly baked pizza ran through his mind.

The journey there went perfectly fine, he made it to the penthouse. It was what went on inside that started to go wrong.

Feelings of anxiety resurfaced, the memory of darkness and concern swirled in his stomach as he saw Harry’s sombre expression appear in his mind.

The lights were all off. His room was a mess.

He looked awful, he looked afraid. He didn't even want to touch Peter until…

“Would you do anything for me?”

A bell chimed within Peter’s mind. He asked him a question, no, two questions. With guilt dripping from his words, he hugged Peter tight and asked him if he would forgive him. But he never got the answer to what before...

“Harry-!”

He pushed him away.

Then something grabbed his shoulders.

They burned with the memory, the static humming furiously beneath his skin.

“Goodnight, Parker.”

Then pain.

They had gotten to him while he was with Harry.

Where was Harry?

Peter’s eyes flew open with sheer terror, and an urgency to find his best friend took priority over any previous thoughts to remain unseen and discreet. With newfound vigour, the hero began wildly thrashing at the thick wires that held him, yanking his arms forward and back over and over again as he tried to tear himself from their grip.

Though they did not snap and break against his struggle, he could hear the satisfying creak that came with each new lunge and he knew it was only a matter of time before he escaped from the tangle. Unfortunately, his struggle was far from quiet and his grunts, accompanied by squeaking and clanging, finally attracted the attention of the shadow in the corner.

“Looks like the little bug has finally woken up.” The silhouette hummed, taking a few loud steps away from the cluster of screens but remained shrouded in darkness.

“Don’t let the excitement run away with you.” The caller warned, bringing out another crackly laugh from the boy’s captor.

“Oh, don't worry. I won't ruin your grand reveal.” He promised, starting towards Peter and slowly emerging from the darkness. The boy briefly slowed in his fight with the wire, breath hitching as he finally caught more features of the figure.

Piercing red eyes gleamed through the minimal lighting, a smile too wide on his face as he didn't even walk towards him, two of the four tentacles lifted him over. They clicked with every movement, the noise cutting through Peter’s eardrums.

“Not yet, at least.” The man cackled. “But you can't stop me from having some fun.”

Peter started his thrashing back up, growling like some sort of wild animal, the closer the man got. Panic swamped him, drowning him in an ocean he had no hope to surface, not alone. He was still trapped, he was still stuck in the tucking wires and the aftereffects of getting zapped were only just beginning to wear off.

It wasn't fast enough, it wasn't good enough. Not when it was getting closer, the danger. It didn't matter how strong he was, how smart this man had to be. They had gotten the one thing that destroyed him in an instant. He couldn't afford to be stuck in fucking pipes.

“Prepare him for the next stage, nothing more, Octavius.” The caller ordered, the hum of the machines muffling their voice as they finally ended their call. There was nothing else to distract his captor from him now, as he stomped in front of him, coming to a halt.

Peter hated it. He preferred it when he couldn't see the man, when he was blanketed in the shadows and he was engrossed in the hundred screens around him. But now, standing in front of him as two of those metallic appendages whirred and clicked in intrigue, Peter could see everything. And so could he.

“Octavius, huh?” Peter’s voice rose from his throat before he even had time to think about it, his instinct jumping in to hide that fear as he looked the man up and down. Definitely someone he had never seen before, he was certain of that; he would've remembered a man like that.

Long black hair draped down from their head, knotted and greasy as if it hadn't been touched in weeks. A pair of red goggles hid their eyes, but not the feeling as he slid his gaze across the hanging teen. His mouth was parted, quiet breaths coming in wheezes through crooked and misshapen yellow teeth.

He wore a similar dark jumpsuit, though stained and littered with oil marks and across it seemed to be some sort of thick harness that spread over his back, which connected to those four metallic limbs that carried him around.

“Not gonna lie, I’m thinking Captain Cockroach is a better villain name.” He laughed hoarsely, eyes flicking up to the appendages which he now spotted to have claws at the end of each one, which chittered and flicked in response to his voice. Were they alive?

“And I suppose Spider-Man is any better?” ‘Octavius’ rebutted, one of the claws launching out and for a split second, Peter tensed as he expected it to strike him, but the hit never came and when he opened his eyes again, he watched as it pulled another holographic screen out of nowhere and began typing in data.

“H-hey…” Peter began, licking his dry lips and hoping the shock didn't show on his face. Come on, he’d bullshitted his way out of hundreds of situations like this. Well, not really, but he'd managed to keep his identity a secret so far, he could do it again. “You’ve…got the wrong guy I-” But what excuse did he use? They're just pyjamas? He’s a dedicated cosplayer? He was borrowing it? “I’m just-”

“Don't bother playing those childish games with me, bug.” The man cut him off, a few more screens flickering to life around them. Each one had a different video but they all shared the same theme: it was Peter- no, it was Spider-Man turning into Peter Parker.

The teen held his breath as he watched each and every single one. Him hastily changing on the side of tall skyscrapers, him pulling on the suit within the janitor's closet at his school and even the other day, at the hospital, grainy footage of him tearing off the soaked suit and shoving it in the corner.

He thought he had been careful, he thought that he had checked for cameras. Hell, he even hacked a few so that he could return to the location without fear. Obviously, he hadn't been as discreet as he thought he was being. Looking at it now, every instance of a mistake he had made while playing hero, it was almost like he wasn't trying at all.

How stupid could he be?

“How did you…?” Peter diverted the blame, tearing his eyes away from the footage and placing his burning gaze upon his captor.

“That doesn't matter.” The man hummed, waving away most of the screens except for one, somehow rapidly typing away, although his head was still directed at Peter. “There are much more important things to discuss than your pathetic attempts at being a ‘hero’” He dragged the last word with a mocking tone, earning a growl from Peter as he kicked forward but didn't quite reach.

“You have been blessed with powers that most can only dream of.” Octavius went on, tilting his head but overall unfazed by the boy's attempt to kick him in the nose. “It’s my job to pick you apart-” He reached forward with a claw, but still maintained some distance, the metallic limb eyeing him up like some kind of prey. “-and understand each and every cell.”

“Well, good luck with that!” Peter snarled sarcastically, eyes flicking to the wires that held him as they made quite a significant groan against his weight, but he didn't do anything to acknowledge it. Just one more push, one more, and he knew he could break right through them.

“And for the record-” The young hero began, pulling himself back as he felt the last little shreds of numbness in his bones begin to fade away, leaving his true strength to rise back through. “Spiders aren't bugs!” He started with a smile, throwing himself forward as the wires finally broke with a loud crack and he was free. “They're arachnids-!” The boy aimed towards his captor, fists clenched and muscles tensed as he intended to thrust his feet right into the creepy guy's stomach and send him flying.

Only he didn't make it that far. He flung maybe a foot or two, just centimetres away from Octavius when his feet hit something solid, except it wasn't him. Peter yelped as he crashed into that invisible force and bounced back, landing on the floor in a crumpled heap.

“Ow!” He groaned, rubbing the back of his head, trying to soothe the spot where he had banged it against the floor. “What?” He looked up at the man, who was now laughing at him with great amusement as he tapped something on the holographic screen.

Out of nowhere, a circle appeared around Peter, and he jumped to his feet as he watched a sort of green hue take the space around him and it suddenly became clear that what he hit was not invisible, it was glass. Glass.

The boy scowled, cheeks heating up in humiliation as Octavius clearly knew that would happen and was just hoping he would make a fool of himself so he could have some entertainment. Adjusting his stance, Peter balled his hands back into fists and threw a punch, the force of it emitting a loud boom around the chamber.

The unusual man’s laughter was cut off, and he took a hesitant step back and though Peter took great pleasure in that, the glass didn't shatter. It didn't even crack. But he didn't let that get to him. The pipes hadn't snapped on his first try, but now? Now they dangled from the ceiling in a broken state.

“Hah! You don't know anything about me if you think a layer of glass is enough to stop me!” The teenager barked, desperately gripping onto the last shreds of his confidence as he launched another punch. But Octavius wasn't as hesitant as the last time, reassured when the result was the same.

“Oh, but on the contrary.” The man dove down, getting eye level with the hero as he grinned. “I know everything about you, Peter Parker.” The appendages behind him spread out and brought back those floating screens, only much, much more.

They spread out all around them, in front, aside and behind Peter, and he found himself spinning as he tried to catch them all and figure out what they were showing. He expected more recordings of his failed secret suit changing, something he thought was the worst thing that his enemies could've gotten a hold of.

But what he looked at was nowhere near as distressing.

Thousands of recordings, spanning over months, maybe years of just him. Peter Parker. There was his house, multiple days captured of him either leaving or coming home and of course that included snippets of Aunt May. But that wasn't all.

There was MJ, Harry, and his team all hanging around or inside his house. Then there was the school, footage of him inside and around. There were snippets caught of him inside stores, playing at the arcade, in the science museum, at the park, at Harry’s house, at MJ’s house or just one-second snaps of footage of him walking down the street.

But as Peter whirled around, hands twitching as he desperately searched and hoped that he hadn't compromised anyone else in his mistakes, he caught something he wished he hadn't.

He recognised it immediately, how could he not? The day haunted him every day, every night he closed his eyes, he thought about his mistake and everything he could've done to avoid it.

He paused, mouth left open, yet no words fell out as he rewatched the final day he had Uncle Ben. The day he died. It was such a casual shot, a normal moment of the man leaving the house and kissing Aunt May goodbye. He savoured the image, the kind smile on his face as May said something to amuse him.

He looked down in shame as the recording ended and moved on. He had let him down that day and promised he would work for his whole life to fix it, but there he was, in an even deeper mess than he could ever imagine.

“I made this containment unit specifically for you.” Octavius’ voice cut through his haze, but he didn't look back up; his mind was still spinning from the resurfacing of his biggest failure. “For your strengths and your weaknesses. Believe me, you will not find a way out.”

“Geez…stalker much?” Peter joked through a nervous exhale, tensing his body and finding the confidence to look back up and ignore the evidence of his own life falling apart around him.

“No. A scientist.” The man responded seriously, leaning back up and stomping around the glass, the holographic screens vanishing as he passed through them. “Doctor Otto Octavius. I will be taking care of you for the foreseeable future.”

“Uh, no thanks.” Peter followed his gaze, taking a careful step back whenever he felt the man had gotten too close. “And I think I'm just gonna call you Doctor Octopus.” He declared, spreading out his hands enthusiastically and grinning when the man finally frowned at his nickname.

‘Yep. Definitely keeping that one.’ He thought smugly, but the feeling didn't last long as Doctor Octopus abruptly turned and started to walk away. Had he offended him that much?

“Hey!” Peter shouted, trailing after him, but was stopped short by the glass. “You think you know so much!” The teen hissed as he slammed against the glass, getting more frustrated the further he watched the man get away. “You don't think I've been in worse situations than this?” He hit his fist against the wall, ignoring the niggling ache that was beginning to grow. “I’ll get out of here eventually!”

“No, you haven't.” Octavius glanced at him out of the corner of his eye but didn't give him his full attention, instead stomping back over to that crowded corner of screens. “And no, you won't.” He smiled as one of the metal tentacles slithered forward and pressed a single button on the console.

Immediately, something began to hum above Peter, and he jumped into a fighting stance on instinct. But nothing fell down to attack him, nor did the roof start to lower as it aimed to squish the poor boy.

“What are you doing?” No, for a few seconds, Peter looked up and saw nothing, confusion reaching its peak. But as time went on, he blinked as he spotted the glass starting to change.

It didn't rise or fall, or disappear into thin air like when he had first woken up. Instead, the green hue started to solidify in a way. The transparent material changed, and as it went down, he found he couldn't see through; the glass wall became just a normal wall and the only thing he could see upon it was his own reflection.

“Hey!” Peter shouted again, turning his attention away from the changing wall and back to the scientist. Was he ignoring him? Changing the wall so that he didn't have to look at him? Who did he think he was? He was the one who brought Peter there in the first place! What, was he nothing more than a prize? An accessory to look at once in a while so he could have a good laugh?

“I’m going to get out of here, Octopus!” He called out, crouching beneath the slowly descending change so he could still see. But even at the mention of the silly nickname, the scientist didn't respond and continued to ignore him. “And when I do, you’ll have wished you’d never have messed with me!” Peter declared, kicking the glass with all his might and glowering when the action hardly left a mark.

“Can you hear me?! I’m the ultimate Spider-Man! I won't go down so easily!” Peter roared as he threw a series of punches against the glass, even switching to ramming his shoulder at the wall to try and break through. But the only thing it achieved was lifting a wheezy laugh out of Otto, who bent over in amusement at the other end of the room.

Pausing for a brief second, bending to his knees as the solid wall got lower, too low for him to see, the boy stopped as he watched the stranger lift himself with the metallic limbs and angle his body towards Peter.

Though the goggles remained on, somehow, Peter caught the faintest glimpse of his eyes. Creased at the edges as they followed along with the sick smile on his face and squinted in amusement. As he looked down at the teen, straining to grab his attention before his sight was taken away, he did not look as if he felt any guilt, any uncertainty or even any annoyance.

No, Peter felt a chill climb up his spine as he met the man’s gaze, and he saw glee in that expression, the kind that a child would make when looking at their new pet fish as they swam in the bowl.

Peter was not a prize, he was not a centrepiece. He was a guinea pig.

And Otto Octavius was a scientist.

The wall fell, reaching the floor and along with it, the humming stopped. Peter remained on his knees, frozen as he took the time to digest the reality of his situation. He had been kidnapped, his team shouldn't even have an idea he was gone yet and…Harry was in danger…no, everyone was in danger.

His friends, his family, fuck, even the whole school if they had the resources. If this Octavius knew as much as he said he did, then it wasn't hard to figure out that Spider-Man would do anything for the people he cared about; he would always push himself that little bit further to save the person everyone else deemed out of reach.

Just one person, they needed to threaten one person and Peter would fold. But what to? What was this man gonna do next? He mentioned dissection, and although that had been denied by the mystery voice over the phone, they had still thought about it.

What else was going on in that unsettling mind of his?

“Fuck…this!” Peter growled and kept to his feet, digging his fingers into the palms of his hands as he went forward and started wailing on the glass. Over and over and over, he punched the solid wall with hardly a thought in his mind. He had no plan for what would happen when it broke, what he would say or where he would go. He didn't even consider the possibility of what he would do if it never broke at all.

All he knew was that his spider-sense was tingling, it was screaming and it was begging him to get out of the danger and find somewhere safe to crawl into. He wanted to follow it, only there was nowhere to go. Stuck in that glass cylinder, there were no corners, there were no safe walls to push his back into because, for all he knew, he could be behind him at any time.

Watching, waiting for when his guard fell so he could begin the torturous plans he had. He couldn't let that happen, he wouldn't let that happen! He was still a superhero, he was still…Spider-Man…

Peter fell back, heaving to get the air back into his lungs as he had lost himself to the fury. His body shook, hands twitching, and when he looked down at the still-clenched fists, he found his rough punches had only done damage to himself.

He looked back up at the glass, heart sinking when the only change upon the surface was his blood. Not a lot, just the smallest smudge and flicked speck but still…Peter was strong. He didn't like to brag…at least not often, but he could catch a whole car thrown his way.

And yet, he couldn't shatter the glass.

What the fuck was it made of?

Peter dropped his head and brought his knees on, putting one bloodied hand on his head to wipe away the sweat he had accumulated during his panic. This wasn't going to be easy, this wasn't going to be like every other fight he had with the bad guys.

The teen hadn't been so unsure since the early days, all alone and unsure of just how many hits he could take before falling. He had grown so much since then, in mind, body and confidence.

Peter still wasn’t quite sure how many punches he could endure before buckling, but what he was sure of was that he had someone to catch him before he hit the ground. He had a team now, a great, loyal and amazing team that he trusted with his life. But that had been taken from him, with his mask that hid his fears, his friends had been pushed aside, and until they found him, the only person Peter could rely on was himself.

But he wasn't going to crumble, this creep had mentioned Venom and that meant something, that meant Harry and Peter would be damned if he dragged his friend into his pain another time. He would do better, he could do better.

Chapter Text

“Ok, Harry. We’re going to try and bring the symbiote out alright?”

A voice called out through crackly speakers, the person behind the request hidden away between reinforced walls and securely locked doors. If Harry was in any way doubtful of his image, then it had certainly been solidified now.

He was a monster.

“We just want to get some simple information down, no pressure.” The scientist reassured, filling the silence when Harry failed to complete the task in any way. He didn't know who they were, he hadn't bothered to learn any of the names of the team who were working to ‘help’ him. He didn't want to grow any sort of connection because he knew he wasn't going to get anything back.

They were just doing their job, they were checking boxes and gathering more research and nothing more. Harry didn't deserve anything else, anyway. The guilt gnawed at him, scratched at his insides as much as the parasite that festered within him. He had never regretted anything more and yet, he hadn't done anything to fix it.

He was scared, he was so so scared and he didn't know how to feel safe again. He wasn't in the penthouse anymore, he hadn't left that blank, aside from the scientists guiding him away for blood tests and minor medical examinations.

He hadn't seen Peter since that night. It had only been a day but that already felt too long, much too long for them to be apart. He would've long since woken up, wondering where he was and why he was there and because he was smart, god he was the smartest person he knew, he would've connected the dots.

He would've figured out that Harry was the one who lured him there.

It was his Dad’s idea, he was the one who brought it up, who brought in the men, the equipment to test him with and made the gloves that shocked him but Harry went along with it. He didn't have to, he could've just said no… couldn't he?

He wasn't sure. When he had reacted badly to the news about Venom still living within him, his father had forced him to listen. He had made him understand the truth and guided him towards his path. He couldn't choose, he had no choice.

Either he died and left his body in the hands of a murderous parasite or he got… something from Peter and they figured out a way to control it.

God, Norman didn't even tell him. He didn't even tell him what they were going to do, just that they were doing tests. Why didn't he ask? He just fell back into the part of the perfect, easy, quiet son that he had been brought up to be and didn't even think about anything else.

This wasn't normal, this wasn't ok and yet Harry didn't know how to react any other way that didn't bring out the curse that sat inside him.

His breath hitched when he felt an uncomfortable feeling of frustration slither around in his gut. It had already grown so much stronger, growing off of his misery and anger at a much faster rate than before. Soon, it would be back to the way it was before the fight and he would be having blacks out again.

If this…research did nothing to help.

Harry had always been aware of his ‘privilege.’ He had heard the hushed whispers when he walked by, he saw the stars in his peer's eyes when they attempted to become his friend and he knew what people thought every time he arrived at school in that fancy black car. He was the spoiled rich kid, he would never have gotten anywhere without daddy’s money and the only reason he had any friends at all was because of his wealth.

But he had never let that affect him before. He had a thick skin, hardened by years of his father’s ‘training’. But now, he was starting to think that those words had always been right.

He was supposed to be Peter’s friend. His best friend, fuck, he loved him. He had never admitted it but the feeling was just as real, even if it sat inside him as a secret. He would do anything for him, he would go anywhere and say anything if it was all for him.

So why couldn't he do this? No, why didn't he just do nothing?

Because he didn't want to die.

Was that selfish? If the only way to keep on living was to hurt Peter, was it worth it?

He was just 16, he shouldn't have to make a choice like that. And yet, he did. He had. And he chose himself.

The decision was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. Even if what they were doing to Peter was just getting blood, even if they were just recording his powers and holding the secret behind his identity, Harry was sure that he had completely ruined their relationship.

Just after they had taken such a great step forward.

Harry hadn't been so happy in a long time and he had gone and willingly taken a hundred steps back. There was no recovering from this, there was no going back to the way it used to be and Harry found himself wondering if it was even worth it.

If it was just him at the end of it all, what was the point?

“Uh…Harry?”

The voice crackled again, the activation and deactivation of the speaker leaving an uncomfortable ringing in the boy’s ears that he knew he shouldn't have been able to pick up. The sound made him wince and he sharply inhaled as Venom reacted along with him.

He didn't want to be there, he just wanted to go back to bed. He hadn't gotten a single hour of sleep since that night and yet there was nowhere else he wanted to be. He didn't even want to sleep, he knew that nightmares would be perched just at the edge of his mind the moment he fell under but maybe that was better than this.

These tests were pointless, the research was aggravating and the fact that no one was telling him anything infuriated him to no end. His father had mysteriously vanished deeper into the building, no doubt focusing his efforts on the new lab rat had kidnapped and that meant Harry had no one else to turn to.

It was just him, the twenty no-name scientists and the parasite-

It didn't like that name. Harry could feel the disgust from the creature as soon as the thought entered his mind. Well too bad, he growled inwardly, because that's what it was. It entered his body, it fed off his strength and then took over control no matter how much he tried to fight against it.

He was doing everything to kill it and he hoped it knew it. He had betrayed his own friend in an attempt to bury it deep within his bones, hide it behind his organs and muscles and never feel it again. But now, he wasn't sure if that was possible.

Why did he do it?

“Harry…?”

“Just give me a minute…!” Harry growled in response, wincing at the sound of his own voice as he held his head and shut his eyes, the bright lights of the room irritating him. Everything was just adding to his anger, the hum of the lab, the static through the speakers, the blinding white of the ‘test room’ he kept being dragged to.

He just wanted to run, he wanted to storm out and go to his room- his actual room and lock himself inside like the moody teenager he should've been. He wanted to go back to the time when being grounded was his biggest problem, when forgetting his homework until the night before was the scariest thing he could face.

Not himself.

Harry had wished to be exceptional, to be so different from everyone else that it would finally grab the attention of his father. But not like this. This was nothing like he wanted, nothing like he had dreamed.

The boy shifted in place, back pushed firmly against the furthest wall from the long mirror at the other end. It was one-way glass, that was obvious the moment he stepped inside. They were always watching, he was never left truly alone. Not even in that ‘temporary’ hospital-esque room he had been bound to. He could feel the cameras, he had just yet to find them.

But even if he did find and break them in a fit of rage, there would be more. There was always a way around it, there were always more eyes watching from around the corner. Whenever Harry gained a win, someone else would come along and knock him back down a few pegs because he never deserved to have anything.

Maybe they were right. After what Harry had done, maybe he didn't deserve to feel comfortable, to feel safe. It was draining, and it was exhausting to have the constant pressure of hiding his true, loud persona from strangers but it had to be done.

He couldn't be left alone. Not with the monster he had let crawl inside him.

Harry had gotten the symbiote himself, he had lied about it really being gone and he had gone along with the plan that brought Peter to Oscorp. Maybe it would help him, maybe it would even fix him but that didn't justify what he had done. No matter how many times his father would tell him, the staff would tell him or even himself, it would always be a disgusting way out of the problems he had caused.

He had done this. He had done this! Why did he get to sulk? Why did he get to cry over what he had done? Harry had brought this on himself! Nobody had forced him! Nobody had put a gun to his head and made him call Peter that night, he had done it himself!

Sure, Norman had stood behind him as he did and he could see the shadow of the guards that lingered just outside the room, waiting for their target to arrive but at the most, it was all just pressure.

Harry wasn't one to cave so easily to pressure, to manipulation. At least, he didn't think he was. It was his fault, he brought Peter there. He had distracted him whilst his father snuck forward, he had kept him still while the guards got ready outside and he- he had pushed him.

Fuck, he had pushed him. Why did he do that? He didn't know about the gloves, he didn't know what his father was going to do. He just thought they were going to talk and yet Harry’s body reacted as if he knew the true plan all along.

But that couldn't be right because- because that…that would mean he had done it all intentionally. He had brought Peter there knowing he would get hurt.

No. No, he would never do that! Harry would've never called Peter over if he knew he was going to get electrocuted! He just thought they were going to take blood! He thought the worst of it was that they were going to force him to stay!

He didn't know! He didn't know!

He didn't know!

Harry let out a guttural scream, covering his eyes with his shaking hands as Venom moved around within him, spreading out from its resting place in the chest and wrapping its disgusting tendrils around his bones, his muscles and more.

He could just hear the sound of the microphone buzzing with someone talking through it but he didn't catch what they said, his ears were full of whispers and cackles as the symbiote took back the place it had been fighting for and started the process of regaining full control.

Harry hadn't realised, in his process of trying to swallow the guilt and ease his worries, he had just kept falling deeper and deeper and had ended up in a full-blown panic attack. He should've known, how could he ever feel normal after what he had done?

But he should've tried harder. He didn't want to give Venom full control, that wasn't even what those stupid scientists were asking for. He was supposed to ease into it and get a better idea of the creature rather than diving in headfirst as he had originally done.

But it was like Venom had been listening- who was he kidding? Of course, it had been listening. Harry had tried to ignore it but there was no point, he could feel the monster react to the world around him. To the people he spoke to, to the events that passed by and even his own thoughts.

It shot back feelings in response, strong choking emotions that lodged in his throat and only got harder to swallow the more the teenager tried to dismiss them. Venom was eager to move, eager to voice its opinion and the longer Harry tried to pretend it wasn't real, the more desperate the symbiote became.

As soon as Harry started, it jumped at the opportunity to take advantage of his fear. It snapped at his mind, picking and scratching at his thoughts and pushing in some of its own, thoughts of paranoia and alarm, images that made him feel no longer safe in the room he was in.

He didn't feel safe originally, but now, he felt actively in danger. It sunk into his muscles, it spread out of his skin and almost like a security blanket did it whisper into his ears and promised him quiet, it presented him with peace and restful sleep if only the boy would finally let him back out.

Harry was hesitant, his heart thudded painfully against his chest as he looked at the shadows that danced in his vision and he saw solace. It was tempting, it was tantalising to look at the potential few seconds of peace where he took the backseat and let someone else deal with the agony of everything instead of him.

But he couldn't. He had fallen into that trap too many times, every single one haunting his dreams. Harry didn't doubt it anymore, picking up Venom was the worst thing he had ever done- up until what he did to Peter but, still.

He regretted it. The symbiote was an addiction and it was tearing him apart and everyone around him. He didn't want to hurt people anymore, he just wanted to learn to live with it. He just wanted to go back to normal.

Because he had to at least try. He couldn't give up, not until he had spoken to Peter himself. Until then, he had to hold on. He had to keep fighting because he deserved that at least. Giving up now was the coward’s way out and maybe Harry was a coward, a fool and so much worse but not to him, not for this.

He was scared, he was terrified but he could do it for him.

“No…no- No! Stop it!” Harry growled and tore at the black substance that spread along his arms. It screeched and wailed at the back of his mind, a trick of sadness spreading like that would help the boy to suddenly change his mind. No, Harry would not be fooled again! Venom wasn't a friend! It wasn't an ally or a protector or anything else it had manipulated Harry into thinking it was the first time!

It was a parasite! A parasite-!

It roared in fury, lurching out of his body and then swiftly turning back in, knocking to the boy as some sort of attack that sent him stumbling backwards. He would've fallen to the floor if it wasn't for the fact that he was already pushed against the wall.

“Harry?! What’s going on? Don’t fight against it we-”

“Shut…up-!” Both Harry and Venom seemed to shout in frustration, done with the irritating voice of the scientists and the painful hum that followed the speaker. The teenager almost reached out an arm to attack it, that primal anger resurfacing in his bones as the symbiote remained struggling for longer but he held back.

If he broke something, he wanted it to be on his terms! It was his body! His! Nobody else’s! No matter what he told him, tried to bribe him with and lied to him about, the creature did not belong in his blood and he would not lose himself to it!

Harry hissed, teeth gritted with such ferocity as he peeled at the black that sunk in and out of his skin, tugging at his muscles and squirming in his mind. It switched between pleading and bargaining with him, sending him signals of danger and alarm mixed with cries of distress and requests to help them.

It told him it was living, it told him it was not a parasite, it pushed waves of fear through his body, it moved through the shivers that ran along his spine and sat in his mind as it showed him loose evidence that these people were not to be trusted.

But he knew that. Deep down he was aware that this ‘team’ that surrounded him were not looking out for his best interests. Maybe they could figure out a way to control the beast, but they were obviously more interested in experimenting on the blood samples he gave them.

Harry didn't even feel that comfortable around his father anymore. Any improvement he thought they had made was shattered and the very idea of seeing his face brought him nothing but nausea. But still, it wasn't like they were going to hurt him.

The symbiote told him of future betrayals, growled and hissed that he was a fool to deny his help and every time he turned his back to that dizzying one-way mirror so that he didn't have to look at his horrific form, his back buzzed with a sense of upcoming danger.

But it wasn't real! He didn't believe him, he refused to believe him again! The only danger in the room was himself if he didn't get the creature under control!

“Get… off!” Harry screamed as he reached up and pulled down at the black that was creeping up and over his face. It was like peeling off a second skin, the snap as it yanked it away was like agony, his rejection against the symbiote pulsing within him.

But even though he fought against it, he refused to let Venom take over his body, he couldn’t rid of the creature through pure will alone. It remained stubbornly attached to his insides, its web a seemingly permanent fixture in his body.

Harry was ready to fight forever, to use his frustrations and self-loathing and turn them into weapons against the parasite in his blood. He was content to be stuck in an endless battle for control because he was done just letting people live his life for him.

Sure, maybe the one time he had tried to make his own choices he ended up hurting the people around him but he was certain that in no way letting Venom out was a good decision.

Abruptly, something switched within Harry. All the violent noise and thrashing under his skin eased ever so slightly. The symbiote settled, listening, feeling but Harry was not deterred and took the chance to tear off more of the creature that had wrapped around his clothes.

Then, like none of their previous battles had happened at all, it slowly slithered back. Venom did not send him any more pleas or manipulation. It became unnervingly quiet in the back of his mind, almost as if it was watching Harry, gauging his reaction. But all he would see was hate, Harry was sure of that because that was all he felt.

Hate and frustration and anger and fear and-

It was gone. Venom fled back into his body, unravelling from his arms and loosening the grip around his muscles and bones. For the first time in weeks, the symbiote willingly went back inside. Maybe that had only come after a whole lot of thrashing and struggling but at least it had come at all.

Harry heaved, a small smile twitching at the edge of his lips as he stared down at his hands. He had done it. He had done it! Finally! He had told the symbiote what to do, not the other way around! He was in control!

The teenager sucked a huge breath in, holding back a cry of joy. At least something was going right for him, he had proved he could do it. He proved to himself and everyone around him that he could control the creature.

“Harry!”

The voice returned to his ears and Harry turned back to face the mirror, expecting to see that pulsing black heap in the reflection and relaxing when he only saw himself, the real him.

“What happened? You almost had it out. Try again we-“

“No!” Harry shouted, taking a few steps closer to the glass but still keeping a good distance between them. It felt safer, being further from himself. He didn’t want to think about that for much longer.

“Didn’t you see?” He chuckled in disbelief. “I kept it in! It didn’t take over!” He exclaimed in excitement, spreading his arms out as if to show the scientist that he wasn’t lying. “I can control it!”

“We saw, Harry. But we need to see more of the symbiote to gain more research.” The voice sighed, sounding tired as if the whole event was more draining on them than anything. A spark of frustration flickered within the teenager but he quickly squashed it before it grew into anything more.

“You don’t need more research, not anymore!” Harry tried to explain, closing his hands into fists in an attempt to stop the shaking. It didn’t work. “I wanted to control it and now I know I can-“

“For how long?”

Harry flinched, cut off by a familiar voice that stole the air from his lungs, leaving him wordless as a door opened from the side and his father stepped through. Another wave of fear washed through him when he locked eyes with the man, picking up on the irritated aura that radiated from his presence.

“What?” Harry licked his lips, eyes switching between the mirror and his father as he wondered just how long he had been watching. “I- did you see it?” He changed the subject, forcing out a confident grin although he felt far from it. “I can control it!” He repeated but Norman didn’t react, not in the way he wanted.

The man shook his head exasperatedly, an expression he had seen many times before. A reaction that told the teen that his words weren’t important enough to be addressed, that his opinion was just childish in comparison to his father’s and that experience told him it was time to shut up. But how could he? Why didn’t he understand?

“That-“ Norman began, hands firmly behind his back as he looked down at his son with a stern voice. “-that was not control, son.” He told him cruelly, the words jabbing into the boy much more painfully than Venom could ever hope to achieve.

“But I- I did it.” He argued back weakly, internally kicking himself when his voice came out sounding like a timid child. “I fought back, I kept it in! Isn’t that what we’ve been working for?” His voice rose as he went on, slowly becoming more emotional the longer his father refused to see his view.

“My team are focusing on understanding it.” Norman empathised the word plainly as if he had already told Harry this a hundred times before. “We can’t do that if you insist on inciting your own petty arguments with it.” he waved his hand at him with annoyance.

“You don’t need to!” Harry shouted, a growl rippling through his throat. “I only wanted to control it! To keep it hidden!” He took a few furious steps towards his father. “That was the only reason I agreed to your plan!” He pointed at him, the mention of that sparking something else in the man’s eyes.

“But now that I can do that, we don’t need to do all- all this anymore!” Harry gestured around him, breathing heavily as he lowered his voice and shot Norman a pleading look. “You can- we can leave Peter out of it. I can talk to him and- and I’ll explain-“

“No.” Norman cut him off again, eyes narrowing at Harry. “You’re wrong.”

Harry stared at him in shock, a lump lodged in his throat as he struggled to figure out just exactly what his father didn’t understand. Hadn’t he heard what he said? The boy ran his fingers through his hair, taking another step towards his Dad.

“Wrong?” He echoed, tilting his head as he considered the fact that maybe he had misheard him. “How?” He shouted. “I just did it-“

“What you did was nothing more than an act of luck.” Norman clicked his tongue, his disappointment obvious as he watched the boy grow more frustrated as their argument went on. “A temporary fix for an ever-growing problem.” He went on. “This means nothing. It will only come back later, stronger and next time you won’t be able to keep it in.”

“I will! I-I can!” Harry snarled back, throwing his hands down as the feelings in his chest had started to grow too large and he needed a way to bring them out. “You’re wrong! I can control it-!”

“Don’t take that tone with me.” Norman spat, the exasperation in his tone being the most hurtful thing to Harry. “I am your father, you treat me with respect-“

“Respect?!” Harry shouted, baring his teeth as he unknowingly tensed his body. “Why are you bringing that up?! Why here?! Why Now?!” He snarled and paced and forth, something inside him smug at the short flash of surprise in the man’s eyes. “Your ego has nothing to do with this!”

Tendrils shot out from his arms and for a split second, Harry was terrified, he was appalled that he had left an opening for the symbiote to creep back through from but then his eyes fell back onto Norman.

Everything around them went blurry, his full attention on his father as everything ceased except the swirling storm in his mind. He locked onto that indifferent expression, the relaxed posture in his shoulders as if this was nothing. As if this was just another petty argument.

Couldn’t he see? Couldn’t he see what they had done? Why was he denying him? Ignoring him? The rage exploded like a gasoline fire from within his heart and as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, he found he couldn’t stop.

“How dare you!” Harry began, the black tendrils shuddering behind him. “How dare you appear after hours of nothing and look at me like- like that!” He pointed at him, his voice cracking with desperation to help him understand. He had to make him. “Where were you? Where have you been when I needed you-?!”

“Working to fix the mess you made!” Norman barked back, but that only made the tension worse. The thin line holding Harry back violently snapped and he roared out, Venom rippling up his arms.

“Fuck you!” They screeched in unison. “Don’t look at me- with disgust when I’m trying to fix it! I had fixed it!” Harry shouted, shaking with white-hot fury. “I had it controlled! Me!” He jabbed at himself, unaware of the shaking hands that had since grown into thick claws. “But you look at me like I’m just the same disappointment as always!”

He panted, blinking his eyes as black dots had started to flood his vision. If he was calmer, he would’ve been more anxious about that, he would’ve taken a step back and tried to stop what was coming but he was far from any calm emotion. Rationality had left his mind the minute Norman started insulting him again and suddenly his mission wasn’t to keep Venom down, it was to make a point.

“That’s what I’ll always be to you! A disappointment, father!” Harry sneered, the symbiote crackling at the edge of his voice as they encouraged their argument and helped to fuel their anger. “Father! You’re wrong! And I’ll show it to you!” He hissed, the ooze that covered his arms shivering in response. “I can control it!”

“Can you?” Norman spoke up, silencing Harry as he blinked in surprise. “Like that?”

Harry followed his father’s gaze and looked down at his body, breath hitching when he saw the symbiote that had spread over the majority of his body and was still going. He lifted his hands and then flinched at the appearance of the sharp claws, even his voice wasn’t safe, his stutters and whimpers mixed with a deep threatening tone.

“You-!” Harry struggled for words, clenching his chest when he looked back up at his father and saw that he was laughing. He chuckled at him with a sickeningly smug expression that said ‘I told you so.’ Suddenly, realisation settled uncomfortably in the teen’s stomach and he had to hold back the urge to throw up.

“You did this… you did this?!” He cried out, expression more pained than angry as Norman just shook his head with a heavy sigh.

“Not intentionally, though you only proved my point.” He gestured towards him like his entire being was some sort of mistake. “One wrong word and your emotions let it out again.”

“That’s not-!” Harry growled, squeezing his eyes shut for a breath moment as a wave of something sinister rolled through his body. He was aware it was still growing, still moving out from within but he made no effort to stop it. Only prolong it. Because in that moment Harry was not concerned with it escaping, he just wanted to make sure his Father knew what he really thought.

“How could you-?!” Harry gasped, clawing at his neck as he attempted to hold out for a little bit longer. “I had it! But you drew it out because you wanted to prove me wrong?!” He roared, mouth hissing and spitting as the black moved above his jaw and settled around his mouth.

“It’s for your own good,” Norman replied, not an ounce of terror in his eyes as he looked up at Harry as he grew and began to tower over them. “I can’t hide the painful truth from you, Harry. That would only make it worse.”

“You make everything worse!” He roared, only a few inches of his face left uncovered by the symbiote. He writhed for a moment, parts of the symbiote splitting out from the body and lashing wildly in the air. As it closed in, the boy’s vision became darker, Harry did not push against it or try and rip it away.

No, as Venom whispered in his ears and pulsed through his muscles, it directed his eyes at Norman and latched onto every hateful thought that came from it, bringing them to the front of his mind and encouraging more. It wanted revenge, it wanted violence.

And Harry felt too betrayed to deny it.

“FATHER!” They roared, the black closing around Harry’s face and for a second there was nothing as he shut his eyes. No sounds, no feeling, no thoughts as he felt Venom shift around him but when he opened his eyes again, they were one once more.

Disgust forgotten, fear pushed aside for his own tainted justice, Harry shot forward the floor and launched themselves at Norman with inhuman speed. But they only got so far before something jabbed into their side and they were sent rolling away.

They recovered quickly, flipping and landing on all fours as they snarled and scanned the room to see where their prey had ended up. But Norman was long gone by then, his shadow just slipping out the door and in his place was a sort of robotic creature.

“What…is this…?” Venom snarled, unfamiliar with the machine in front of them. Despite that, they recognised the feeling of danger that emanated from their presence and they realised it was them that pushed them out of their attack.

“A training drone.” Norman’s voice buzzed through the speaker, the faint sound of nervous scientists in the background. “We have made and sold them to various armies around the world” The machine took a few tentative steps towards them, its tentacle-like arms stationed in the air as they prepared themselves self for an attack. “Used to help top soldiers and experienced heroes practice. But here, we're going to use it to test your abilities.”

Harry growled from deep within the symbiote. What was he playing at? Did Norman understand nothing? Had he completely ignored everything he had tried to tell him? Ignored everything he had just done? This wasn't a game! This was his life! His life that was stuck with a murderous creature that lurked just beneath the skin and yet he wanted them to train?

“Just do what feels… instinctual,” Norman said in such a way that Harry immediately knew meant he was smiling. That single act sent him falling back into the wild fury that was the symbiote around him.

With a rumbling roar, Venom leapt up off the floor and shot towards the robot, landing squarely in its chest and stabbing deep into the metal with its claws. Like the drone was made of nothing but mere paper, they ripped down the chest, leaving ragged claw marks behind as they dug deep and yanked out wires.

The robot reacted in a jerking manner, clearly on its way out but still holding on just enough to launch a weak attack against Venom’s head. But he didn't allow it, snatching one of its claws with their hand and ripping it off with a sickening screech. Tossing it aside, Venom stepped back off the robot and lifted its ravaged corpse into the air.

With one final screech, the creature threw the pitiful excuse of a training machine forward and into the one-way glass, relishing in the noise of it smashing and breaking upon the impact. Although the glass did not shatter, Harry knew they were watching. That he was watching.

And he hoped he knew this monster was for him.

Peter was losing his mind. Well, not literally but more in the impatient, dramatic teenager sense. It wasn't like he was bored sitting alone in that small glass cell, (which he wasn't quite sure was actually glass considering it could change colour), no, he was still pretty unnerved.

The boy had never had an experience with a successful kidnapping attempt before, which sounded insane to say but in his field of spidery work, having crazy bad guys declare their plan to capture and dissect you wasn't hard to come by. He’d hear the same spiel every other night and react the same way, shout something about how that was never going to happen, web them up and swing away.

Except this time it did happen and the incredible escape opportunity he had been waiting for still hadn't occurred yet despite the fact it had to have been a good few hours since he last spoke to Doc Ock. Although he was grateful for that, the creep sent shivers down his spine.

But he was growing restless. When Spider-Man got nervous, they hid it behind quips and skill, pushing through even the most hopeless situations and coming out the other side with nothing but confidence. But Peter didn't have that mask here.

He didn't have the suit at all. He had nothing. No red spandex, no web-shooters, no communicators and no team. It was just him and the powers that pulsed through his veins. Even then, that didn't get him very far.

The cell he was in was simple, a solid circular wall all the way around with no give or indents anywhere. He had checked, meticulously. He had crawled up and down the walls about a hundred times and punched and kicked them for even longer. They weren't budging.

When he gave up on that route, he focused on the only other thing in the cell with him: those thick pipe-like limbs that had been holding him when he first woke up. There were a couple of snapped ones laid on the ground, which he spent ages picking apart and inspecting to see if his science nerd persona picked up on anything of use.

But the only thing that greeted him was the odd electric shock and broken wires.

When he looked up to try and make use of the rest, they jolted back to life, temporarily startling him as they moved and slid back into the ceiling before he had the chance to try and stop them. By the time the shock wore off, whatever hole they entered through had closed and no, he did not succeed in smashing it back open.

The cell was incredibly well made, or maybe Peter just wasn't very good at breaking free. Whatever it was, the boy was still stuck hours later and he was losing the last pitiful shreds of patience he had left. He couldn't fight his way out, he couldn't use or make some genius contraption to break him free, he couldn't call for help and he couldn't even use his hilarious quips to trick his enemy into giving him a hand!

He was at a loss, an impasse that wasn't opening up anytime soon and that scared him. Peter had been in some pretty crappy situations before and always felt a bit of pride that he’d managed to hold his head up high and get through them. But he just couldn't see a way out here.

That wasn't him giving up, no. Peter was a long way off waving the white flag. Not that he was sure anything would come of that other than getting his organs stolen. But he was getting antsy.

The hero could search his brain, pluck out the hazy lessons he had been taught while at his time in S.H.I.E.L.D. and build up a plan for what to do in the situation he was in but even then, that didn't account for Harry.

He had tried not to panic, to not scream and bang against the walls and demand what they knew about Venom because, so far, they hadn't actually mentioned his name but he couldn't deny it, they were related.

As much as he wanted to believe that the symbiote was gone, eradicated by his self-made anti-venom, it wasn't a reach for the creature to have been resurrected somehow, the person who made it the first time to simply make another and release it out into the world once more.

It certainly aligned with his luck.

As long as there was Venom, Peter wouldn't stop worrying about Harry. Not until he knew for certain that the parasite had attached itself to someone else this time. But right now, he was completely in the dark.

Literally. The…solidification-? Of the walls meant blocking out those blinding stage lights and that left him in complete darkness. But it didn't bother him, not much, at least. Maybe it was childish but it helped him feel just that bit more secure in such an unsafe place.

There was most likely a camera or two somewhere but as long as there was darkness, it felt like he could hide. But he could only sit on the floor, holding his knees to his chest for so long. He wanted answers! He wanted something!

God, he just wanted to know if Harry was ok. He couldn't get the image out of his mind even if he had tried. His face, stoic in an attempt to hide his emotions yet they slipped through clear as day to Peter. They always could.

Ironic, the very thing that was bothering him had gotten them both into another dangerous situation. No, no it wasn't his fault, it was Peter’s. No matter what anyone said, that thing came from his blood, it was hunting him. It was his stupidity that let it come into contact with Harry in the first place.

Now it was haunting them.

Peter wiped a hand down his face, closing his eyes briefly and contemplating whether to keep them shut and give in the sleep that had been tugging at his limbs for hours now. But the more sensible part of him, the very small sensible part, reminded him of just how stupid that was.

Even if his captor had made some agreement not to dissect him, there were still a thousand other terrible things he was waiting for him to do. His words from before rung clear in his mind, he wanted to understand what made Peter Spider-Man and he was sure that didn't end with just asking questions.

But a part of him wanted the creep to try, he wanted him to open up the cell so he could jump him and get the fuck out of there. Anything had to be better than sitting on the floor in the dark, stuck with his own self-deprecating thoughts while Harry could be in just as much danger as him, maybe more.

That was it, he’d had enough. Brooding would only get him so far. He refused to sit still for much longer, he needed to do something, anything even if it didn't help him in the long run. The teen abruptly jumped up from the floor and approached the wall, he wasn't sure if he was facing Octavius or not, the lack of anything in the cell disturbing his sense of direction.

But that didn't matter, Peter was certain he wouldn't just leave a super-powered hero on his own, which meant he had to be watching - which meant there had to be audio. Hopefully, he thought as he climbed up the walls.

The feeling of using his powers outside the suit was one thing but in the presence of a bad guy? It set his danger sense tingling, not in the way that said he was about to get clocked in the jaw but an instinctual warning from his own mind that told him revealing his powers in a place like that was definitely a bad idea.

But what else could he do? The guy knew everything there was to know about him anyway, the only thing left Peter had to hide was his own fears and the way he did that was to annoy. He scaled the glass, hoping that his luck aligned just for once as he tapped sharply against the surfaces straining his hearing for any sort of reaction.

Peter had been listening, waiting for the moment he heard those loud thuds reappear and start the heavily implied torture but so far, he’d had nothing. He hadn't seen Doctor Octopus since his embarrassing attempt to kick him, in fact, Peter hadn't heard anything at all.

The squeaks and creaks of old pipes had vanished, the hum and sparks from machinery no longer irritated him and that wheezy laugh and crackly voice that taunted him had long since faded. All logic told him that either the glass was extremely thick or his kind host had left him be.

But he didn't trust that option based on the fact that now and then when he was lost in his own thoughts, a sharp shiver went up his spine then quickly vanished, like someone's eyes had just passed over him. Someone dangerous.

And as much as Peter wanted to joke about the Octopus being a loser, he was the one currently holding all the cards. He may throw snarky comments to his face but deep down, he wouldn't ignore the warnings his body gave him.

So all things considered, he really shouldn't be knocking on the glass to get their attention, he should biding his time and waiting for the right time to strike back. But Peter was never one to think clearly when there were others in danger, the only direction he picked up from the jumbled mess of his mind was “Keep him distracted!” “Grab his attention!” “Gather more intel!”

Because as much as everyone wanted to tell him otherwise, his ability to snatch a reaction out of the coldest villains became extremely useful when he needed to figure out just what they were planning. If they hadn't gone on a boring monologue, of course.

“Hellooooo? Doc Ock? Doctor Octopus? Ocky? Otto?” Peter rambled on, carefully moving around the glass, still holding onto the tiniest bit of hope that he’d suddenly be able to see through to the other side. “I know you can hear meeee~!” The boy called out in that childish voice he knew people hated. It wasn't his fault he had a talent for riling people up.

He went silent for a few seconds, lowering his breathing as he strained his ears again to see if he could pick anything up. “You know, it’s kinda rude to kidnap me just to ignore me.” Peter knocked on the glass again, harder this time, but still, nothing alerted him to any presence.

“Did your boss ruin our playdate?” He turned upside down, or at least he thought it did, it was getting hard to distinguish between the ceiling and the floor- oh, no it wasn't. Gravity helped him remember by sending him a healthy dose of vertigo. “Who is your boss anyway?” Peter coughed, trying to hide the dizziness as he adjusted himself and pushed his back to the glass.

“I would've thought a guy like you would work alone.” He flicked his eyes across the cell, settling on above him and the memory of those thick wires. “But hey, if there's hope for creepy guys experimenting their in stinking basements, then there's hope for us all!” He jabbed, pausing in anticipation for a furious reaction or even just a disappointed sigh but pouted when he got nothing.

“Is your boss the same as you?” He dropped from the wall and landed on the floor with a quiet thump. “Does he also have an aquatic theme going on? Oh, lemme guess uh…” He paced in a circle, putting a hand to his chin as he pretended to consider the question seriously. “Warlord Whale? Agent Anchovy? Emperor Eel? General Goby or oh! Big Boss Barracuda!” Peter finished proudly, placing his hands on his hips.

“Man, I’m good at this! Hey, when I eventually break free, do you think I should start my own alter-ego naming business?” He knocked on the walls again for good measure, resuming his pacing around the glass. “It would probably pay more than what I get now…don't tell Fury that.” He snorted as he kicked the walls roughly with his foot, heavily considering the idea of lashing out again.

As much as it was satisfying to get his agitation out, mindless punches didn't get him anywhere but more bruised knuckles. The blood had long since dried over but that didn't mean the wound had healed. He also didn't want to give Doctor Octavius any more satisfaction, he saw how he looked when Peter started shouting.

If he wanted a reaction, he was going to get it, just not in the way the scientist expected.

“Hey, what's with the whole Octopus thing anyway?” Peter asked aloud, shouting the ‘hey’ part in a decision to up his game. “Did an octopus terrorise your childhood? Give you an irreversible body wound?” He listed as he jumped up and hung off the ceiling by his hands, eyeing it up for any holes or cracks he may have missed.

“Did you get bit by a radioactive octopus?” He chuckled, masking the disappointment when he faced the same solid surface he had checked an hour ago. “Hey, tell you my origin story if you tell me yours!” He knocked on the material lightly, pressing his ear to the surface to see if he could hear any sort of sound back.

“If you didn’t spy that out already…” He grumbled, remembering the hundreds of pictures and video footage of his life over the past year. “What’s your obsession with me, anyway?” He jumped down, getting twitchy the longer his rant went without any sort of reaction.

“It’s not like I’m the most powerful guy out there.” He mumbled as he started the pace again, hand running along the now darkened blood patch he had made earlier. “You have the resources to watch anyone over New York and for some reason, you chose me?” The boy pointed out, eyes down as he counted the steps it took to come back to the stain.

“That’s uh…pretty creepy, you know? More than this already is.” Ten steps, it took ten even steps to come all the way round. “I mean, spying on a teenager? Getting shots of me changing? That’s not gonna look good in court, Octopus.” Peter tutted, shaking his head as he looked up at nothing. “But hey, let me go now and-“

A little buzz at the back of his mind, that familiar shiver that set the hairs along his arms to stand on end.

“-…I’ll forget the whole thing…” He said at the end of a sharp inhale, silently praying that he’d managed to mask his reaction enough for them to stay unaware. He was here, somewhere. Watching through a camera or maybe he was standing just meters past the glass. He didn’t know.

He still hadn’t had any sort of audible cue of his presence and nothing had changed, the only warning Peter had to go off was his spider sense, which had settled into a low tickle. The danger hadn’t gone, but it wasn’t about to act.

“What do you say, Ock?” Peter spun around slowly, eyes narrowed as he desperately searched across the wall of dark green for any sort of shadow or movement he could spot amidst the darkness. “We call this a tie and never speak to each other again?”

He pressed his palm flat against the glass, blinking at the blurred reflection of himself on the surface. He was almost glad he couldn’t see how he’d looked, he was sure it wasn’t a pretty sight. Exhaustion was a regular feeling to him but prolonged panic? Not as much.

“Doctor Octopus? You can’t ignore me forever!” His eyes flicked to the side, he felt something. A vibration on the surface. He didn’t react straight away, keeping his gaze ahead for a few beats longer before he slowly started moving along, following the rumble along the glass with his hand.

“I’m just gonna keep shouting until you answer!” He did indeed call out in a much louder voice, some kind of relief flickering within him as the vibrations got stronger to closer he got. He didn’t know what it was, whether it was a machine or a person but it was something and he would be stupid to ignore the only thing that changed in the span of how many hours long he’d been there.

“Doctor Octopus!” Peter yelled out with strain, hand stopping atop the rumble, feeling a sort of rhythm that went up and down and repeated over and over. Like a lure, the boy completely paused in his pacing, eyes stuck down on the spot where he knew the feeling was coming from.

“Doctor-!”

But maybe it wasn't stupid to ignore something as minuscule as a scrape along the glass, because before he had time to register it, his whole body flared with an aggressive warning that shot through his throat and paralysed his voice.

A lure indeed, a trick. Peter had no time to respond to his spidey-sense before something slammed into the back of his neck and crushed him against the glass. He groaned in pain, squeezing his eyes shut as the attacker wrapped around his neck and pulled his limp body up.

When the boy opened his eyes again, weakly and dazed, the glass had started to change. The green slowly faded from the bottom up and Peter couldn’t help but wordlessly follow it, hands gripping the tight wire around his neck to try and ease it even just a little bit.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel fear when the very scientist himself came into view, grinning at the sight of his victim struggling.

“You want attention, freak?” Octavius chuckled lowly, relishing in the sight of Peter hissing and attempting to cover his eyes as the glass returned to full transparency and revealed the glaring lights that surrounded them.

All at once, the sounds and sights of the room came rushing back to him, almost too fast. It was a sensory overload, suddenly switching from complete nothing and darkness to having his senses back to normal.

It only then occurred to Peter that the cell must’ve been made that way, some sort of sensory deprivation feature just to toy with him. But it didn’t unnerve him, the sight of Doc Ock was enough to prove that either he could still see or still hear him and the boy was going to keep that information for later.

And maybe, he won’t be so predictable next time, he thought as his eyes trailed down to follow an uncomfortable scraping sound and he landed on one of the four metallic tentacles slicing up and down the glass. The boy cursed his own naivety, he had thought he was being so smart catching onto something so small.

Now all he could imagine was the creep looming over him, laughing as he fumbled around for any way to escape. But he couldn't be completely annoyed, no matter how it happened, he had gained the attention of his kidnapper. Now, he could finally start the next phase: irritating him.

“That's a bit rich, coming from you!” Peter barked back with a smirk, twitching his upper lip as something warm trickled down from his nose. He was slammed into the wall pretty hard and, when he inspected the spot in front of him a bit closer, he saw the faintest stain of fresh blood. At least it wasn't something like a tooth, he wasn't sure even he could re-grow that.

“I’ll give you attention…” The scientist snarled, a free tentacle whirring and snatching something out of his pocket and pressing it. In response, something started to move overhead and Peter’s head shot up in alarm.

The ceiling opened up and out came two more of those metallic wires, except there was something different about these limbs. Instead of those three sharp claws at the end of them, like the one that was squeezing his neck, one held what looked like a taser, sparking it to life as it lowered to add to his fear.

Though to Peter, the other was much worse. As he struggled to rip the limb from around his neck, his eyes fell upon the other tentacle and his heart dropped. It held a syringe at the end, and it wasn't empty.

With a surge of new-found strength mixed with pure adrenaline, Peter wrenched himself from the metal claw wrapped around him, taking in a huge gull of air as his throat was finally free, and jumped back. He kept one hand around the end of the claw, eyes still on the two ahead as he twisted and slammed against the cell wall, right at Octavius.

“There! Now we’re even!” Peter huffed out, lungs still not satisfied with the amount of air getting in but he had no time to sit and catch his breath before his neck tingled and he instinctively flipped out the way just before the taser jerked in his direction.

And landed with his back to the wall, hands firmly against the glass and already stuck so that it took no effort for him to swing around and scale the wall in seconds. But the cell wasn't that large, nor was it taller than fifteen feet at most and it wasn't long before the syringe was heading his way.

He had aimed to investigate the hole where the stupid claws had come from but the attacks were relentless and he was forced to drop down with a growl, relieved to hear a quiet clink as the syringe hit the glass instead of him.

As he descended to the floor, he snatched the ‘safe’ claw with a hand and twisted himself above it, wrapping his arms around the limb like he was trying to tame a wild horse and he was swung around wildly.

“Woah there! How about you play with your friend instead?” Peter said nervously as he spotted the taser coming back around, flashing dangerously. He gripped the claw tight and abruptly thrust back, using the limb as a shield against the other and once they hit, he nervously reached forward and grabbed a hold of the taser.

“I’m going to stop talking to these now…” Peter grunted in sudden realisation as he wrapped the out-of-control machines around each other and left them jerking and writhing to get free. He landed on the floor, satisfied as he was left with only the syringe to avoid and a very disgruntled-looking mad scientist behind the glass.

“Guess that’s the problem with having tentacles as your trademark, Ock!” Peter joked as he flipped and ducked over the free claw, easily avoiding its jabs and slashes. “They’re just too easy to get tangled!” He laughed and smiled even wider when Octavius growled in frustration.

The limbs of his own reacted similarly, shaking with anger as the one holding what Peter caught as a button pressed down on it again. He wasn't sure exactly what the little thing did but the two tied-up claws suddenly froze and then yanked themselves out of each other, as if they’d just been given a tad bit more intelligence.

“Oh come on!” Peter complained as he punched the syringe to the side and rolled out of the way of the taser. “Three on one? With none of my gear?” The teen huffed as he bounced onto the wall and then launched himself to the other end, glaring down at Ock. “That’s just mean.”

He didn't have much time to catch the man’s reaction before the taser claw made its return and just barely missed his head and crashed into the glass. With two of the machines recovering, Peter's eyes landed on the ‘safe’ claw.

If Doctor Octopus wasn't playing fair then neither was he!

He smirked as he jumped down from the glass, feet landing directly on top of the contraption as he kicked down with all his might. The tentacle collided with the floor with great enough force that it shattered upon impact, leaving it a twitching mess on the cell floor.

“Buuut it looks like I’ll manage!” Peter smiled innocently at his captor but he didn't have long to celebrate before the two claws struck in his direction and he had to swiftly duck to avoid being hit. He chuckled at the predictability of the tentacles as they crashed into each other once again and he was able to scurry backwards and out of harm's reach.

While the ‘safe’ claw could no longer hurt him, it seemed to still have some sort of life left in it and while the end had been shattered and broken open, leaving wires exposed and its insides falling out, it slowly lifted up and aimed his way.

But that was fine because Peter had already proven that he was more than capable of avoiding much worse. With a smile still on his face, Peter scaled the glass the wall to the top, snatching onto one of the tentacles as they hung from the ceiling and using it it swing around erratically, kicking the syringe into the cell wall and hopping off the taser as it lunged upwards.

“I can do this all day, Doc Ock!” Peter shot smugly as he dropped down and stood atop the broken claw, using it to smash into the other two. Satisfied he’d bought himself enough time, he turned his attention towards his captor and angled the metallic limb towards him, aiming to smash the glass and finally break free from his cell.

But then his neck flared in a warning and he grumbled, ready to duck from another attack as he hadn't been prepared for the claws to recover so soon. But he was right, they were still shaking at the other end of the cell and when he tried to flee to get his bearings, the ‘safe’ claw suddenly jerked up and wrapped around his wrist.

Peter had a second to realise his mistake when a fourth tentacle appeared from the ceiling and stabbed him roughly in the neck, sending a wave of painful volts shooting down his throat and across his body.

He screamed in agony, his vision flashing between the sight of Octavius laughing in triumph and the memory of Harry’s distraught face as he looked at him defenceless on the floor. When the attack stopped, he was already twitching on the floor, gasping for relief as the wires reclaimed his body and hung him up in the air.

“So can I.” Doctor Octavius replied smugly, pressing the button again and all of the metallic tentacles finally recovered from his games and wrapped around the remaining limbs of his body, not like it was needed. The boy gasped, his entire throat burning as it continued to buzz long after the taser had left.

He didn't have the thought to even try and struggle as the metallic limb holding the syringe slithered around his arm and then promptly stabbed the skin, earning an instinctual yelp from the teen.

“Wh-” Peter tried to talk but as soon as the act was done, the tentacles simply dropped him to the floor, shooting back up into the ceiling as if they hadn't just been chasing him around for the past few minutes.

“What…was that?” Peter heaved out as he looked above him in confusion. All of that struggle, all of that chasing for it to just end in a few seconds? He had hardly comprehended the fact he’d been caught at all and now they were gone.

“What did you…put in me?” The boy pushed out, raising a weak hand to rub his throat, trying to get rid of the feeling of thick cotton lodged inside.

Octavius laughed, tilting his head to inspect Peter as he sat disorientated before him. His smile only widened with each wheeze and shake that passed through Peter’s body. It was obvious he was taking great amusement in watching him suffer.

“While he said I could no longer kill you…” He hummed as he pressed another button on the small remote, causing the cell around the teen to whir to life and for the glass to start slowly lifting upwards. “…he never said I couldn't hurt you.” As the glass reached the top, settling in with a small click, the metallic appendages that held Octavius up moved him forward with menacing stomps.

“He?” Peter rasped out, pushing himself back as the man got closer, looking around them with wide eyes as he saw his opportunity. This was what he waiting for, this was why he had attracted the man back in the first place! God knows he wouldn't have wanted to see that ugly mug otherwise.

This was his chance and he couldn't afford to ruin it by trying to fight this creep, as much as he really wanted to. He was nowhere near his peak performance and he didn't feel like fucking it up again. Getting kidnapped was embarrassing enough.

Besides, Harry still needed him.

Keeping his gaze on Doctor Octavius, Peter bit the bullet and pushed against the floor, aiming to jump up and slip under him, avoiding those threatening claws that just got closer and closer.

“Who’s this ‘he’ you keep talking about-!” But as soon as he got an inch off the ground, the feet beneath him gave way and he collapsed right back down on his back. “What the…?” Peter uttered, tapping his own leg to try and understand what had gone wrong, but that was hard enough.

His fingertips had gone scarily numb.

“Just some muscle relaxants,” Otto explained with glee, stepping into the cell and hovering over the boy like a predator eyeing up their injured prey. “I need some more blood from you if I’m going to perfect this formula.”

“What formula?” Peter only just managed to ask before the man scooped him up via his own chittering tentacle and brought him up to eye level. Peter scowled in his face, eyes searching for any sort of humanity behind those red goggles. He was getting really sick of being tossed around like a child’s toy.

“The same great formula that made your friend into what he is.” The scientist shook him briefly, causing to boy to squeeze his eyes shut in an attempt to fight against the nausea. Amid his inner battle, the man somehow scooped out another syringe, thankfully empty. But Peter would be lying if he said it brought him any more comfort than the one filled with the drug.

“Venom…?” Peter mumbled and tensed when he saw the doctor smile in recognition. “You are trying to catch the symbiote!” The boy growled and attempted to kick out but Ock simply squeezed the tentacle around his chest, forcing him to remain still.

“Catch?” The man repeated, shaking his head, bemused as if Peter was just some small, dumb little boy who couldn't possibly understand the bigger picture. “No, spider. I made the symbiote.” He announced, relishing in the look of shock that fell over the teen as the revelation sunk in. “I’m going to use your blood to make my creation even better.”

“No!” Peter growled, hands digging into the tentacle around his chest as he started to thrash wildly in its grip. The sudden surge of movement seemed to unnerved Octavius but it quickly passed once it became clear that the drug in Peter’s system was fully kicking in.

Heaving for air and unable to do much more than a pitiful nudge with his foot, the mad scientists nudged his arm and stuck in the syringe, easily sucking out a whole vile of blood. Though it couldn't have been enough to affect him, the sight still made Peter feel sick.

In a fit of rage, Peter growled and managed to lean forward a few inches, enough so that he could spit and have it land perfectly on his captor’s cheek. The reaction was immediate, Doctor Octavius recoiled in disgust, tearing the syringe from the boy’s skin and leaving a large cut.

As Peter grinned at him smugly, the man hissed in fury and curled his lip into a snarl as he lifted the teen up and then smashed him against the floor. Wind cruelly knocked from his already suffering lungs, Peter wheezed as his vision flashed white and a ripple of pain spread across his back.

“You wretched little-!” The man pressed down on his chest, leaving Peter to weakly scrabble at the claw above him to try and relieve some of the pressure. Though he tried to hold it in, to keep that smug mask he had managed to hastily throw up, he couldn't stop a small whimper from escaping.

Even then, Octavius did not relent and just watched with a furious expression as he pressed harder and harder, the teen’s movements getting weaker by the second. Then, just as the darkness encroached on the boy’s vision, he finally lifted back the weight off the boy and allowed him to hastily suck in those much-needed gulps of air.

“You know…” The scientist began as his metallic limbs lowered him closer to the floor. “I have been meaning to… experiment some…” He voiced, his furious expression slowly replaced with a sinister smile. The sudden switch in personality knocked Peter into silence and he hardly registered when the man reached out and carefully wrapped one of those cool, sharp claws around his wrist.

“I’d like to know just how well that healing factor of yours works.”

Was all he said before the grip tightened at an alarming level and Peter turned just in time to watch as he snapped his wrist to the left with a sickening crack.

Chapter Text

‘No, he didn’t show up this morning. I contacted the police about half an hour ago’

Ava lifted up her phone as soon as it chimed, fumbling around with it as she looked upon the glowing screen and scanned the newest message with great speed. Ava Ayala was not one to mess around with her technical devices while working, especially when it was related to her hero side.

But even as she stood within the depths of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier, she didn’t pause to check if anyone was watching, she didn’t care if the act may seem disrespectful or imply she was distracted, this was important. No matter who tried to reassure her and tell her that this was nothing to worry about, at least not yet, she couldn’t listen.

Because she had already started worrying the morning she woke up and he wasn’t there.

White Tiger sighed audibly, her shoulders dropping as she digested the newest message from May. Peter was still missing. It had been just over 24 hours and there hadn’t even been a sighting of their friend.

‘I’m sorry to worry you but please, if you hear anything from him, send him home.’

The hero didn’t move as she felt the remaining three members of the team hover over her shoulder, undoubtedly reading the latest messages from Peter’s Aunt. The poor woman had become alarmed when she returned home late from a busy shift and found the house empty.

Though she left it until the next morning, she had messaged every friend, every acquaintance and pretty much every other person in her contact list if they had seen her nephew. It was when she received nothing that she really started panicking.

Which, of course, alerted the secret part of Peter’s life who knew this meant nothing good. But it was hard to act on that hunch when they still needed to keep his alter-ego hidden. Even though he was a minor, the police didn’t seem as worried as the rest of them, insisting that runaways happened all the time with teenagers and he’d be back home by the end of the day.

But Peter wasn’t an average teenager, none of them were. Peter was a good friend, a caring nephew and above all else, he was a brilliant superhero. It made no sense for him to suddenly want to run away, without any sort of message no less. He had too many people he loved.

‘Of course, Mrs Parker.’

Ava glanced over her shoulder at the group and silently shook her head, trying not to wince at the shared expression of disappointment that fell upon them all. She hesitated with the phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard as she looked at the contact name with uncertainty.

She was never good at comforting, at giving advice when people unloaded around her. The girl had never properly learnt how to let her walls down like that, not since her dad passed away. She locked away the majority of her emotions, a safety measure against the ticking time bomb that was her White Tiger Amulet.

She had long since learned that bottling up her darker feelings only did more harm than good, something her team had told her on many occasions, but that didn’t fix the discipline she had instilled in herself over many years.

When put in a situation that required a softer touch, she became awkward, blunt and sometimes went completely quiet as she let someone else handle it. But this was different, this wasn’t comforting the random stranger she would save during a patrol, this wasn’t listening to her teammates unload about their difficult day, this was deeper.

Peter was gone. Disappeared. Vanished with no notes, no evidence and no indication as to why. Her friend, her teammate and her leader was gone and she had no idea what to do about it. It left her feeling useless, weak and foolish that she hadn’t figured anything out sooner.

Even standing there, holding the phone in her shaking hand, was she struggling not to break down and let the tiger side take over, leading her back down to the city so she could actually do something to try and find their missing friend.

But in a state like that, she would most likely do more property damage than investigating. She needed to keep the level head she had trained to build, she needed to swallow down those emotions for just a bit longer. She could crumble later, on her own.

‘He’ll turn up, I’m sure of it.’

She typed out before she was really aware of what she meant to say, what the message really implied. Maybe it was a promise, maybe it was trust that Spider-Man would pull himself out of this tricky situation like he had done before, she didn’t know. But it felt like she’d accomplished something, because after a brief pause, she received another message back.

‘Thank you, Ava.’

Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was something big for her.

She finally slipped the device away, not daring to look up at the rest of the team as they lingered awkwardly around her. The mood had remained the same since they received the messages in the morning. Though there was no need to, they all had stuck together since the disappearance.

The only time they would break apart was when they would go on their patrols for evidence. When they were forced back to avoid exhaustion, the team gravitated towards each other. Even if they didn’t say anything, the comfort of the four in close proximity comforted them.

They all knew it, even if none of them admitted it. The deep sense of trouble had shaken all of them, even Danny, who was normally the voice of positivity in times like this. Now, all of them had seemed to adopt the serious workaholic attitude that Ava normally trademarked.

Even Sam was irritated at their lack of information, and that unsettled her. She never thought she’d wish for his petty arguing back, but now that it was gone, no one else was willing to fill the tense silence that followed everywhere the team went.

They had been a team longer than Peter had been their leader, so how come his vacancy stuck out like a sore thumb? How come his disappearance shook their stability right down to the core? It frustrated Ava to an unbelievable extent.

It was selfish, god she knew it, but she couldn’t help but be furious that this team had managed to fight their way into her heart. Maybe if he had argued against Fury more when he had first mentioned the idea of a team, she wouldn’t be feeling so miserable right now.

But the idea fell flat as soon as it appeared in her mind. Her relationship with her four teammates- no, friends, was the making of her. As White Tiger, she had believed that emotions like love, affection, humour or even joy were weak because they made her vulnerable.

And vulnerability opened her up to being hurt which all led back to her being taken over by the tiger. But she was wrong, she was so wrong. She would never have achieved the things she did, she would never have gotten to the point she had without the guidance and support of the team.

And she was sure that if her Dad could see her, he would be proud of the woman she had become.

So she wasn’t going to run away from them, from this. She was going to keep coming back to them, she was going to stand by them in draining searches and the uncomfortable breaks in between. Maybe she wouldn’t find anything to say, but just being there was enough. At least for now.

So she swallowed the lump in her throat when Fury and Coulson finally made their appearance in the main room, expressions cold as their eyes briefly flicked over the four young heroes before they turned their attention to the rest of the room.

Ava hadn’t paid much attention to it, nor had the other workers at S.H.I.E.L.D paid her any mind as they rushed around with their own worries, conversing over info on small tablets, exchanging ideas over the main console and sending others out on separate patrols, but despite how it may seem, the missing status of Spider-Man was a huge deal.

Maybe they couldn't send out elaborate search parties, televise his face all over the internet or interrogate the local villains to avoid hysteria but they weren't doing nothing.

To White Tiger’s relief, they were taking it very seriously. He had only been gone a little over 24 hours and yet Nick had taken their concerns seriously, acting with the regular procedures when a S.H.I.E.L.D member went MIA.

However, that apparently meant that 90% of the work was given to higher-ups, considering that the team was still technically ‘trainees’. They could understand it, to an extent, but that didn't mean they were happy about it.

Ava wanted to be out there, doing something about their friend's disappearance and actually making progress in getting him back and she knew that her teammates shared the sentiment. They had been called for a meeting in the early morning, presumably to catch up on what they had so far and what they needed to do next.

Ava knew what she wanted to do next and it was shred the guy who thought they could kidnap her friend and get away with it but she kept that thought to herself, as usual.

The team lined up as the two agents approached them, instinctively stiffening as the director's aura brought them back from their brooding. Ava held back a reaction as she caught onto the fact that they both seemed to be in a much more irritated mood than usual.

Though Fury seemed to win over everyone there, a frustrated look on his face as he stared down at a tablet and presumably found nothing he wanted. Nick Fury always looked tired and even though no one would ever dare to say it to his face, everyone knew it.

But today he looked more drained than usual.

If Peter was there, Ava was sure he would be spilling some silly jab about how this proves that Fury really does care for him. But that didn't matter, because it was obvious to even the heroes outside of S.H.I.E.L.D., the director had a soft spot for his personally selected trainees.

Though, that didn't mean she missed the sound of his confident voice. He always knew how to break the tension.

She needed to stop thinking like that, talking like the hero had been gone for months, like he wasn't even going to come back at all because he was and she was damned if she wasn't going to make sure of it.

So why was her heart already mourning him? He hadn't died, he hadn't been injured in battle and placed on bed rest, they didn't even know if it was a villain that captured him. It had only been a day and yet she was already settling into the worst-case scenario.

But Ava couldn't help it, that was just how she was. It didn't make it any easier that Spider-Man was a walking ray of sunshine that left a glow of warmth wherever he stepped, no matter whether you wanted to be affected or not. In the few months he had been enlisted into S.H.I.E.L.D., he had become well-known and Ava swore she could hear his laughter from several halls down.

So without him, it didn't feel right.

“Ok, rookies.” Fury cleared his throat, giving up on whatever he was trying to find on the tablet and passing it to Coulson. “You’ve checked over his home, the school and all his regulars.” He explained as he looked back at the rest of the room where a specialised tech team was scanning local security footage.

“What have you found?” The director asked, placing his hands behind his back as he returned his piercing gaze back to the group. Ava had wished he had kept his sights back on the cameras because her phobia of rejection and failure was coming back to rear its ugly head.

She opened her mouth to say the truth or even shove out some hasty excuse but not even air escaped her lips.

They had nothing. That was what made this whole vanishing act feel like something more than Spider-Man taking a quick vacation to the next city over. Not even the experienced agents that Coulson had organised to pick through his school and home with a fine-tooth comb had come back with anything relevant.

Peter Parker had completely up and disappeared from Manhattan without any warning. Apart from what was on his person that night, he left everything behind. He had plans the next day, he had a science experiment half-finished in his wardrobe and had promised to grab groceries for May from the store to save her from making the trip.

These weren't the signs of a man planning to make a break for it. From her minimal amount of research Ava had done at an ungodly hour the previous night, people planning to run away would withdraw on themselves, start cutting off those close to them to save them the pain went they eventually left.

They would have some luggage to take with them, clothes, food, etc but Peter hadn't taken anything. There was no evidence of any clothes missing, all of his self-made gear was left untouched and no bank transfers or security footage showed him stockpiling food.

If Peter left of his own will, then he was leaving with nothing but the clothes on his back and as a man who couldn't stand the cold and had to eat practically every hour of the day, Ava was inclined to think he wasn't going to get very far.

It made no sense, that was the only thing they had concluded thus far and that obviously was nowhere near enough to solve the mystery. But to admit it was something else. The team weren't just failing an order, failing Nick Fury, they were failing Peter and that brought on a whole new kind of shame.

“Well?” Fury asked with a raised eyebrow.

To White Tiger’s relief, Danny shifted uncomfortably beside her before taking up the task for them and spoke up. But, even with his mask over his eyes, she could tell he was nowhere near as confident as he usually was.

“…nothing, sir.” Iron Fist replied in an almost hushed tone, lowering his head in a sign of defeat that the rest of the team shared.

“Nothing?” Fury reiterated and although Ava was sure he didn't mean to, it really twisted the knife with the way his tired tone seeped through his words.

“We checked in as civilians with friends, classmates, teachers - even his neighbours and they all said the same.” Danny found the strength to go on, sensing that the other three weren't exactly keen to move the director’s attention onto them. “As far as we’re aware, the last people Peter ever came into contact with was-”

“Us.” Sam finished in a surprising turn of events, clicking his tongue with a scowl as he looked past the two agents in front of them and scanned the plethora of screens at the back of the room. Like Ava, the teen’s worry didn't show through tears or anxiety, it escaped through anger and frustration.

But he had managed to keep it contained over the past few hours, smart enough to know that lashing out at the team was nothing less than a stupid way of relieving his stress. However, that didn't stop the odd snappy comment from sneaking through now and then.

“And he wasn't acting strange?” Coulson added, sharing a look with Nick as he paused on the tablet to join the conversation.

“Aside from the usual?” Nova said as he crossed his arms, earning a swift jab in the side from an elbow as Luke reminded him of where he was and just who he was talking to.

“No.” Luke coughed, ignoring how the teen hissed next to him. “If anything, he was in a good mood on our last patrol.” the hero explained, trying to keep his voice steady but his nervousness was hard to hide. It only got worse when Fury turned and ushered for one of the agents working on the camera footage to stop on something in particular.

“We never should've let him go,” Ava muttered before she could stop herself, balling her hands into fists and focusing on the feeling of her claws as they dug into her palms. “If we had just stayed together, this wouldn't have happened.” She hissed, alerting the attention of the two men in front of her.

“You split up?” Coulson said with a disappointed expression, though that was nothing in comparison to the glare from Fury as he whipped his head back around.

“Yeah, but it was at the end of our shift anyway!” Sam butted in, little sparks of light flickering around his body that gave away his erratic emotions. “We were focused on getting the bad guys locked up!” The boy went on the defensive, but it did nothing to ease the guilt they all shared.

“And where did he go?” Phil asked, resuming his typing on the tablet as he found something new to look into. The sound of his quick typing was the only audible noise from the group, the four teens having fallen into an uneasy silence at the question.

They hadn't told Fury about the recent development involving Harry Osborn, about the meeting at the hospital and how Peter spilt his guts regarding his identity. Truthfully, the team wasn't exactly ecstatic about his choice considering the fact that it led to Harry connecting the dots and piecing together their identities too.

But it had to be partially their fault after they had just grilled him for not being more honest. If he was as close to Harry as he was to the rest of the team, then Ava supposed that it was technically the right thing to tell him the truth. It was just frustrating because no matter how much she tried she just couldn't see the great guy that Peter kept telling them he was.

All she saw was a stuck-up rich kid who hated all their guts for stealing his boyfriend.

But she, and everyone else after a long conversation, pushed all that aside and placed their trust in Harry Osborn that he would keep this secret and maybe even open his eyes a little bit towards the rest of the heroes. Knowing they no longer had to come up with terrible lies on the spot around him was a relief but most of all, he made Peter happy.

The pair had known each other much longer than them, anyway.

Although it had given them a whole other problem to think about. How did they relay this new information back to S.H.I.E.L.D.? It had only really occurred to them in the past few hours that having Harry aware of their identities was something more crucial than being cautious of his death glares. He could know things they didn't, had conversations with Peter they hadn't heard.

None of them ever considered the idea that Harry may have had something to do with it, or at least, Ava hadn't but this was just another piece of intel they had yet again failed to bring back to the head and she knew he wasn't going to be as passive towards this one.

“Where did he go?” Fury spoke up, lowering his tone as he watched the team share nervous glances for a few more beats before Ava cracked under the pressure and solemnly nodded at the group.

With a deep breath, she tensed her posture and faced the brewing storm that was Nick Fury.

“He said he got a call from Harry- Harry Osborn-” She specified and held her breath as she watched Coulson call some worker over and request they bring specific footage up on the screens. “-said he needed to speak to him, urgently.”

“Harry Osborn? Venom?” The director asked and all at once, something clicked within the group.

Maybe they had been too hasty with their trust.

Fuck, why hadn't they looked into this sooner?

“He’s changed.” Iron Fist voiced, his defence unwavering even when the rest of the team had already made up their mind about the kid. “With the anti-venom in his system, the symbiote plaguing him is gone.” He looked to the rest of the team for help but stuttered when he didn't receive any.

“I’m sure he had nothing to do with Peter’s disappearance.” He continued on but it was like no one was listening anymore, Ava being one of them. She couldn't believe it, excluding Nova, she was the last person on the team to fully trust a new person in their lives.

When everyone else had let their guard down, she kept hers up. She would watch a new arrival like a hawk, body prepared for any traps and heart steeled against any betrayals. Although a part of her felt bad about it, she even had that attitude to Peter when he first joined.

Hell, she had it with everyone.

So what had changed with Harry Osborn of all people? What manipulation did he spin to place the wool over her eyes when it came to something as serious as this? But when Ava thought, she figured it was Peter himself who had bought her over.

It was Peter, the state of the hero when Harry was hurt. The dejected sound in his voice when they found him on the roof that night. Then the complete change in attitude when they met up the next day, all because of him. Just because Peter had told them so, Ava had considered Harry an alright person.

Maybe she didn't particularly like him, maybe she wouldn't find herself hanging out with the cocky teen but she had silently placed down that olive branch and allowed herself to turn her attention elsewhere because she had believed Peter when she said he was someone to be trusted.

When did she start being so stupid? Even Spider-Man could be manipulated, even heroes could be taken advantage of. Even if it was by someone as scrawny as Harry Osborn.

Ava turned back into the room just as Danny had given up fighting for said boy, scolded into silence by Nova who was now a lot more irritated than before, presumably for the same reason as Ava. But she couldn't find herself holding any of the resentment towards Danny.

He was the one with the open mind, the one with the ever-open heart and always the first to welcome someone new into their lives, even when he knew he had to give that up someday and go back to his home K’un-Lun. Where everyone else had given up on someone, he would carry on looking for their redemption, even if it only got him hurt in return.

She wanted to say something to him, to make sure that he knew what she felt but she could already feel her chest growing tight at the very idea. Typing out a short message of reassurance was one thing, actually saying something out loud, in front of all these people including the annoyed director in front of them was a whole other problem.

She had pretty much used up all of that energy when she confronted Peter that night at the hospital. But it didn't feel right leaving things left unsaid. As Ava looked at Danny’s dejected form, she promised herself that she’d write down something to say to him later.

White Tiger slightly flinched when she spotted herself appear on the screens ahead and she was brought out of her spiralling when recognised the scene before them. It was the last patrol they had with Peter, right at the end when they had captured the Frightful Four.

The footage was grainy and had no audio but the oddly angled store surveillance camera was clear enough that she could see the whole team, even him.

“The tracker on his watch went dead at 15 minutes past midnight,” Coulson informed, looking up from the tablet and towards the large screens as the team watched as Spider-Man waved to the group before shooting a web at a building out of frame and quickly swinging away.

But before anyone could complain about it, the screen changed and Ava was reminded just how experienced the S.H.I.E.L.D technical team was as the footage seamlessly followed the hero as he traversed through the city. Every camera she could think of was used to find him, shops, street surveillance, closed office buildings and even the occasional drunken live-stream from a random New Yorker.

They must've looked at this already but to Ava and the rest of the team, this was completely new footage to them and it showed as they watched the trip unfold in complete silence, eyes following along as their friend retained his usual confident flair and swung through Manhattan without a care in the world.

“Which is approximately…” Coulson trailed off, leaving the rest of those still listening waiting in anticipation as Spider-Man carried on with his trip, with no reactions or warnings that anything was about to strike and tear him from the sky like they had all imagined there would be.

“…now.”

Instead, right as the young hero flipped over another building and pointed to shoot another web to the next, the screen shuddered. Only for a second but when the footage settled, Spider-Man was gone.

“What was that?” Power Man called out, eyebrows furrowed in unease as a ripple of confusion spread throughout the group as they watched the five-second clip over and over again.

It made no sense, it was possible. Ava couldn't just accept that this was how the elusive Spider-Man had disappeared. She could've accepted it if he had ducked behind a building, if he had vanished amidst a crowd where enemies were known to be lurking but if anything, her partner was as safe as ever in the sky.

Hell, he was mid-swing. He was ready and preparing to take the shot to the next building and for a guy who had a built-in danger sense, that didn't tell her something was coming to knock him out of the air.

It was clear to everyone in the room, an obvious attempt to scrub any evidence that told of where the hero had been heading that night. But what bothered Ava the most was that either whoever had done it was terrible at their job or simply didn't care if this footage was found.

“He was just there…” Danny mumbled, scanning over the other screens to see if anyone else had different results but to his dismay, they were all the same.

“Some messed with the city’s security cameras.” Director Fury informed, a scowl appearing on his face the longer he stared at the tampered recording. “As well as our trackers.” He grumbled as the screens changed, all showing different angles of the incident, all labelled at the same time and yet the result was unchanging.

Spider-Man would flip into the frame, go for his next swing and then miraculously disappear. Ava would be inclined to believe that the two scenes were on completely different nights if it weren't for the fact that she could just about spot the shine of a string of web flowing in the breeze.

“It takes a lot of skill to perfectly hack thousands of cameras like this.” The agent’s gaze reminded ahead, eyes following along with each new angle, all trained on his lost hero. “Let alone hack into S.H.I.E.L.D. watches without leaving a trace.”

“Who would do something like this?” Ava hissed, flexing her hands as the claws longed to tear into the perpetrator responsible, and she already had someone in mind.

“I have a pretty good idea,” Luke replied as the cameras switched away, no longer showing their missing teammate and instead paused over the iconic Oscorp Industries building.

“We can't get into any of the cameras in Oscorp, sir.” One of the technical workers swung around in their chair as they called out to the director, who only hummed in response as if he was expecting that result all along.

Finally, Nick Fury turned and faced the team once again, his irritation slowly easing as it was replaced with a new purpose, a new desire as they had found some sort of lead.

“Prepare yourselves, rookies.” Fury nodded to Coulson as he turned and headed towards the consoles. “I’m going to get us a personal meeting with the Osborns.”

And in that moment, Ava had never been more eager to face Harry Osborn.

———-

Harry paced back from the bed to the door for what felt like the hundredth time, eyes stuck down at the floor as he counted each tile. Hands clenched and remaining stiffly at his side as he anxiously awaited his father’s arrival.

It had been a whole day since the incident and Harry hadn’t stopped panicking once.

His mind was a jumbled mess, the shattered remains of every traumatic mistake he had made stabbing at him from the inside so that no matter how much he tried to ignore it all, the sharp pain came back to remind him.

The boy couldn't sleep, couldn't rest for a single second because of that reason. It must've been hours since his encounter with his father back in that ‘training’ room and yet Harry wasn't sure he had stopped panicking once.

The doctors had told him to try and sleep, that the sudden emergence of Venom- the very name made him feel sick- would've taken a lot out of him and the best thing for him was to lie down but he refused to listen.

He refused to trust anyone in that lab ever again. Not after what they’d done.

But they weren't wrong, Harry was exhausted. Even as he paced at that moment, his limbs dragged along, his mind a thousand miles away as he remained stuck within his own worries. But still, he couldn't sleep.

He had tried, once, but he had tried. Only the minute he dimmed the lights and attempted to put his head down, the darkness took the form of horrid shapes and his vision flashed with short replays of the past few days.

But it wasn't just the memory of the symbiote anymore. No, the shadows that followed him even when he shut his eyes tight morphed into the limp body of Peter, just moments after Norman had mercilessly electrocuted him.

He just couldn't forget. Even amidst the hundreds of other threats, fears and anger that trailed behind Harry no matter how much he wanted to ignore them, Peter still sat at the top as his biggest concern.

But he couldn't do anything about it, that was what had kept him awake. Harry had no clue how his friend was doing, what exactly he had gone through or just how aware he was of what was going on. Harry had wanted to check up on him the minute he had vanished from sight but he had been denied again and again.

The doctors- the scientists gave him nothing when he asked and Norman, when he wasn't occupied in a screaming match, would only give him the same short answer in a few different words:

“He’s fine”

“He’s ok.”

“He’s doing well.”

But never anything more, no actual information on what they were doing to him or how he was specifically responding to it because Harry didn't trust his father’s perspective on what ‘fine’ meant for a person anymore.

Not if he thought encouraging the parasite inside his own son was an acceptable thing to do.

Harry lurched at the unpleasant feeling inside him and momentarily considered punching his chest to shut up the creature that was stuck in his body. He wasn't in the mood to entertain its anger, he had run out of fuel after its hour-long rampage previously.

It had been a while since he had willingly let the creature take the wheel but the aftermath was the same, an enormous amount of shame mixed with fear was left when the monster finally retreated back inside.

He had done what his father had wanted, Venom had completely annihilated those training drones in a swift yet savage manner, earning five more rounds afterwards. Five more rounds of watching as his body ripped through mechanical chests and sliced off metal heads.

It was nowhere near as horrific as the short memories that haunted him about his nightly ‘patrols’ of the city but it was still terrible to go through. It reminded him of just what the symbiote could do if left unchecked, of what he had feared in the first place.

He had almost forgotten about that original fear as it was briefly overshadowed by his rage for his father.

Norman had changed in the past few days. Before, Harry had foolishly thought that he was changing for the better, that he was getting closer to him because he was finally trying to be a bit more sentimental towards his son.

Now, Harry knew that the only thing his Dad was trying to get closer to was the symbiote. Their argument in that training room had proved as much. He just didn't know what to think of him anymore.

Their relationship had always been rocky and strained and arguments between them happened at least every other day but never on this level. Harry had never gotten to the point where he had actually tried to attack him but…

The teen couldn't deny that the place they had sunk to reminded him of when he was an infant.

Harry didn't remember much from when he was younger, but he knew it wasn't good. Norman was still grieving over the loss of his mother, Emily, after giving birth to him. He wasn't dumb, he had caught onto the hints very early on that his father blamed him for her death to an extent.

And as such, he lashed out.

But even in those dark times when the man screamed and threw things and even hit him on occasion, Harry wasn't sure it compared to the complete shit show that he was in at the moment.

It was completely different when the anger wasn't just directed at him.

Harry ran a hand down his face, pausing in the pacing after he lost count of the tiles after two hundred. He had a button next to his bed to request help when needed, though they never responded unless it was something they actually deemed important.

Because apparently, his screaming about the well-being of Peter was just another ‘tantrum.’ Harry unconsciously scowled at the thought, they were treating him like a child, making him feel insane about how furiously he fought against this whole psychotic ‘plan’.

The way they spoke, the way all those scientists and doctors acted towards him when he shouted and cursed about how insane this whole thing was made Harry feel like the crazy one.

They treated him as if he was being selfish, as if he was digging his heels in just because he could and not because experimenting on teenagers was unethical to unbelievable extents.

Deep down, Harry had given up trying to convince the staff that what they were doing was wrong. The only realistic reaction he’d ever gotten out of them was fear. It was never remorse guilt or empathy. No, it was about them.

But that didn’t stop him from shouting until his lungs gave in.

With his father, however, it was a different story.

He had called him about half an hour ago, maybe longer, he wasn’t quite sure. There weren’t any clocks in the room and he’d lost access to anything digital since he had come back from the hospital. He was forced to rely on the research team he despised when his meals arrived.

But Norman had yet to make his appearance. It wasn’t like he’d given him a deadline, not that he’d listen to Harry even if he had made one, but he wished he’d just hurry up. Since his move to the lab, Harry had between bouncing between wanting everything and everyone to just shut up and leave him alone and then wishing they would just get things over with.

Harry wasn’t sure which side he was leaning towards at the current moment. A part of him never wanted to see his father again, to curse him out and say every harsh feeling that had been festering in his chest since the day he had been born and finally show him how much he had been hurt.

Another part of him wanted him to finally arrive and tell Harry how sorry he was, to stop everything he’d been doing and let things go back to the way things used to be because being ignored was miles better than whatever this was.

He was stuck between two strong walls of bitterness and longing and he couldn’t see any way to shuffle free.

Why couldn’t he just have a normal family? Why couldn’t he just have a normal Dad? What was so difficult about Harry that made his father this way? If he was smarter like Peter or more athletic like Flash or as kind as MJ, would he be easier to love?

The teen shook those thoughts away, stopping at the foot of his bed and just staring down at the ruffled sheets with a tense expression. Families weren’t supposed to feel like this, but he didn’t know how to fix it other than becoming what he hated: a quiet, obedient son who wanted nothing else but to work towards his studies.

Only the last time he did that, Peter got hurt.

Harry raised two hands and clutched his hair, tugging at it forcefully but not enough to cause any sort of significant harm. He just couldn’t win, no matter what he did he couldn’t win. Harry Osborn never won with anything and he was expected to just smile and go along with it.

But he couldn’t, not when it had started to affect the people around him.

Something tingled along the back of his neck, subtle but sudden enough that it caught his attention and he whipped his head around, muscles stiff in preparation for a fight. He blinked, brows furrowed as he stared down at his own hands in surprise.

A fight? He didn’t fight- maybe he used to but this wasn’t one of his late-night rampages, he was awake and ready and there was no sort of harsh emotion in his blood that hinted that Venom wanted some action.

But something inside him told him that danger was coming, something he couldn’t describe and yet was so loud that he couldn’t ignore it. It didn’t feel like paranoia or anxiety, like a sort of precognition that was slowly getting stronger and stronger over time.

It felt like a ticking bomb and the clock was going down fast. There was a sort of force in his chest that curled in tight and was straining and creaking as it was getting ready to shoot out at whatever was coming to attack him.

But there was no one, there was nothing. It was just him, just Harry like it always had been and yet, the teen couldn’t tear his eyes away from the door. With a breathless whimper, Harry clutched a hand to his chest in an attempt to smother the uncomfortable feeling.

There was a fleeting thought that this was just the symbiote all along, a new way to torment him and trick the boy into giving up control of his body, but it didn’t feel the same. When Venom attempted to take control, he could feel the hunger and need for violence that seeped from its thoughts.

But this didn’t feel like Harry was fighting for something, it felt like something was giving him a warning and he wanted to follow it.

Except there was nowhere to go, so he stayed still, legs shaking like a scared infant as his eyes stuck to the door. The buzz hummed in his ears, blocking out all other noises like a sort of safety blanket and yet, the sound of the door unlocking rang as clear as the school bell.

And as soon as the door opened, the feeling gave up, like his chance had vanished. In the warning’s absence, Harry didn’t feel relieved. No, he felt just as vulnerable as ever as Norman came into view, a displeased expression on his face as he adjusted his tie and stepped into the room without asking.

“What is it now, Harry?” The man began, giving no room for the teen to attempt to start speaking even if he had tried. Harry was left in disbelief, mouth open as he tried to comprehend what just what that feeling was while staring his father in the eyes.

But his silence only seemed to frustrate the man further who sighed heavily and rubbed his temples as if the very act of seeing his son was giving him a headache. Very quickly, that bitterness that he’d been battling with prior was coming back.

“I have a lot of work I need to be doing, son,” Norman explained, leaving Harry to wonder what else could be as important as what was going on with him. “On top of all the research we’re doing for you.” The man pointed out, eyeing the teen with a disinterested look. “I don’t have time to be entertaining another one of your outbursts-“

“Where is Peter?” Harry blurted out, clenching a fist as shot the man the most hostile glare he could manage under his crippling anxiousness. Norman blinked in surprise at the sudden burst of courage but quickly his shock changed to irritation as he took a single threatening step forward.

“Excuse me?” He uttered in a low tone, a noise that sent another wave of danger rolling through the boy and for a split second, he considered turning and hiding himself in the wardrobe like he was a little boy hiding from a monster.

Something he had done many times before.

But Harry held his ground, biting his teeth into his lip so forcefully that he tasted blood and he pushed out the words before he found himself freezing up completely.

“Where’s Peter?” He asked again, fully aware that his father had heard him loud and clear and that his response was less of a request and more of an order to stop talking. “You told me you just needed blood. You just need a little DND and-” He laughed, though he wasn't sure why because his chest had started to contract and he was just moments away from a panic attack. “-a-and its been a whole day so, where is he?”

“Watch your tone, son” Norman snapped, taking another step as he surely realised the panicked state that Harry was reaching and aimed to rear it in. He always hated when Harry got even the tiniest bit nervous in public, so with how cruel he had been the past few days, the teen was sure his reaction was going to be much colder.

And yet, he refused to give up. Not anymore.

“No!” Harry suddenly shouted, throwing his hands down as the tightness in his chest blossomed out and instead of the feeling trying to pull him in and crush him, it supplied him with terrified adrenaline. Harry was always a ‘flight’ sort of person but for once in his life, he had chosen ‘fight’ and his body was exactly thrilled with it.

“I never wanted to do this!” He waved around him, a wave of frustration rising within him as he had already shouted these exact words to his father a hundred times. “I didn't want to lure Peter here!” But he had to try. Harry didn't want to stop and accept the possibility that this was just how things had to go.

No, he wanted to be that foolish 16-year-old that Norman kept telling him he was and hold onto the hope that hiding behind all that evil and callousness was even just the tiniest shred of decency and he would finally just stop.

“But I listened to you!” Harry pointed at him harshly, cutting the man off before he had any time to jump in. “I believed you!” he jabbed at him again, trying not to focus on the sound his voice made when he ended the last sentence and the disgusted look that his father gave him along with it.

“The least I can do to even try and fix this is go and see Peter and apologize-”

“‘Apologise?’” Norman finally pushed in, his voice bellowing and his aura suffocating as he towered over Harry, silencing him in one swift movement. “Osborns don't apologise, Harry.” He instructed, a phrase he had instilled into his son a thousand times before but the teen had never accepted it.

Especially not since he joined public school and met the embodiments of kindness that were Peter Parker and Mary-Jane Watson. His friends had beaten the bad habits out of him, albeit in a much softer way than any teacher had ever tried.

It was the beginning of their friendship that planted the first seeds of doubt within the boy that maybe his relationship with his father wasn't as normal as he thought it was. But he had never gained the courage to do anything about it, not until this moment.

“Argh-!” Harry cried out in irritation, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “I don't care!” he screeched, meeting his father with shaking limbs but an unbreakable resolve. “I don't care about the stupid fucking Osborn name!” He screamed, saying his own last name with enough disgust to rival any villain.

“I’m stopping this!” The boy stated firmly in an abrupt switch to a lower tone, unchanging when he watched Norman furrow his brows in confusion. “This has gone on long enough,” Harry said with a growl and stormed forward, easily stepping around his father and ignoring the pang in his chest. “I’m going to see him-”

Danger.

Harry’s breath hitched as that sharp pang shot up the back of his neck and he turned just in time to see Norman roughly gripped his shoulder, keeping him in place as he raised his other hand and backhanded him on the cheek.

The boy stumbled back, knocking into the dresser and sending the vase of wilted flowers falling off and shattering to the floor. The boy remained on the ground, ears ringing and cheek stinging at the very force of the action.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!” Norman seethed, hissing at the teen through gritted teeth as he stomped closer and stood above the crumbled form of his son. “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve worked for has only ever been for you!” He roared as he kneeled down and snatched the collar of Harry’s shirt, but he didn't respond.

He weakly raised a hand and wiped his nose, an unconscious act to rid his skin of the uncomfortable wet feeling that had gathered there, only to realize that when he brought his hand forward, it wasn't snot or tears, it was blood.

There, buried beneath the burning judgement and hatred of his own father, Harry did not feel shocked or surprised or even horrified at the action that had taken place. He did not freeze because he was processing just what Norman had done, no, he was thinking, stewing as one painful thought throbbed at the front of his mind:

‘He promised to never do that again.’

“I saw you infested with the symbiote and where anyone else would’ve seen a monster and carted you away-” Norman jostled the boy harshly in his grip, bringing him in close so that Harry had no choice but to look him in the eyes and see the savagery that sat within. “-I kept you safe.” He dropped Harry back down to the floor, a short distance and yet the thud still shot through the boy like a bullet to his system.

“I’ve done everything I could, used all my resources to help find a way to utilise the symbiote-”

“Utilise,” Harry muttered, wiping the blood down on his white shirt and inhaling sharply at the feeling of satisfaction that rose when he saw the stain. “You keep saying that. ‘Utilise.’” He said with a bit more power in his voice as he looked up at his father, still seeing stars.

“You keep looking at me like that-” His breath hitched, the adrenaline rushing back as tears sat at the edge and threatened to fall. “Not like a son. Like a…like a project!” Harry’s voice cracked as everything finally sunk in and he shakily rose from the floor, a growl rumbling in his chest.

“All that talk about how you could never truly get rid of the symbiote, how you’re doing all this to help me,” He took another sharp inhale, a cry lodged painfully in his throat that he couldn't free just yet. “It wasn't true, was it?” He asked, looking at his Dad for answers, for confirmation of denial that it wasn't true and there was still a chance for him to redeem himself.

Because Harry wasn't that timid little boy anymore, no matter how much he looked or felt that way. He had forgiven his father time and time again, no matter what he had done because he was ‘grieving’ and ‘struggling’ and he always had so much on his plate while Harry was always the ‘difficult child’ who was ‘spoilt’ and ‘selfish’.

He always gave in to the apologies and relished the extra attention he would receive the next few days because he believed it would always get better. Those dark times were temporary and one day his father would finally reach a brighter path in his journey of grief and stop taking his anger out on him.

He thought he saw that dream when he reached 10 and Norman hadn't hit him since. But it was only now that Harry realised that was when the boy had truly started to shut himself in and leave the man alone. Norman never became less harsh, it was Harry who changed to be less loud.

But Harry wasn't going to change again, he was going to fall back into that terrible cycle he had been fighting with his whole life because he didn't have to anymore! When he was young and naive, he only accepted those apologies because a parent knew best and he didn't have anyone else to tell him otherwise.

Now, Harry had two wonderful supports in Peter and MJ and one of those friends was literally in the building with him. Harry wasn't alone anymore. He didn't have to accept the lie, he could face it.

He could face it.

“Was it?!” Harry snapped at Norman, the tiniest tear finally breaking free as his father’s silence confirmed his worst fears. He had lied to him, again. He had manipulated him, again. He had hurt him, again.

For what?

“You don't want to help me!” Harry screamed, rubbing his his face desperately to get rid of the evidence, to get rid of anything that showed just how hurt he was by all of this because he knew his father and he knew that the only reaction to his despair would be annoyance. “You just want to experiment on me!”

“Oh, Harry, enough!” The man stomped forward again, using the same tactic of towering over the boy in an attempt to gain back the intimidation he had partially lost. “I have tolerated your tantrums up until this point but I have lost my patience!” He snarled, eyeing the boy with disgust.

“Of course, I want to evolve the symbiote and use it!” He stated in a tone that said his motive should've been obvious, that it was Harry who was the fool for not seeing through his lies sooner. But what is such a crime to blindly believe in your own flesh and blood?

“You've been given something magnificent!” He said as he smiled, placing two hands on the boy’s shoulders. But the anger was still there, Harry could feel it simmering beneath the mask. He was waiting, hoping that the teen would buy into the manipulation once again.

“I’m just guiding you towards the path of becoming the brilliant man that you're too stupid to do on your own!” He explained as he dug his nails into his shoulder blades, earning a wince from the boy and, for a split second, a terrified expression but it was quickly overshadowed by fury.

“I don't want it!” Harry shouted as he pushed the man away, not the least bit sorry when he sent his father tumbling back and instead disappointed when he caught himself from toppling over completely. He had just tried it, again. Even though he saw how hurt Harry was, he was trying to gaslight him into thinking that this was all because he cared and not because he took sick pleasure in playing god with superpowers!

The disgust that tangled with audacity rampaged in Harry’s mind and it fueled his fight even more.

“Even if I did want to follow along with your sick fantasy-” Harry spat, no surprise within him when Norman’s mask cracked and he fell back into that same disappointed man from before. “-I would never do it at the cost of Peter!” The boy declared, a shred of guilt and fear withering away from his mind at the fact that he had finally said what he wanted to say all along.

Because it was true, and Norman had tried to manipulate him otherwise. Harry would never hurt Peter, not even when he thought his life was on the line. He never knew that his father was going to electrocute him, he never knew that unknown scientists were going to take him away and do mysterious tests on him and he never knew that Norman wanted to take advantage and use the symbiote all along.

Harry was just a 16-year-old trying to live his life, all the while grappling with the fear of having a murderous creature lurking beneath his skin. He should've never been placed in that position, it didn't matter whether Norman was his father or not.

It was wrong, and after all this time, Harry finally realised it.

“I don't know what you're doing or what you're planning to do-” Harry heaved as tendrils kept out from within and touched the edge of his clothes as if testing the waters, checking to see if the boy was going to react negatively to the action. But he was too busy verbally tearing into his father to pay the symbiote any mind. “-but it’s not right!”

“Exactly!” Norman threw his arm forward, his voice returning to a shout. “You know nothing!” He pointed at Harry, poison and disgust laced at the end of every word. “He told you, didn't he? His powers came from an Oscorp experiment!” He laughed, but his face was still contorted with fury. “That makes him our creation! Our property!”

“He's a living being!” Harry shouted back, stomping one foot down in an attempt to make some sort of noise that was louder than the deafening roar of his father's will.

“Pumped full of genetically modified DNA of our making!” Norman retorted and Harry had never been more disgusted. “DNA that, if left unchecked, could mutate and spiral out of control.” The man explained, his voice lowering and yet it still rang loud and clear in Harry’s ears.

“Do you know what happens when something like him-” He said as if Peter wasn't a human, wasn't an actual person and instead on the same level as the symbiote that infected Harry’s body. “-makes one, single, mistake?” Norman took a step forward, his gaze steady and piercing as he looked at his son.

“They get imprisoned without a moment's notice. Taken away and deemed neither human nor mutant and as such, dissected.” Norman told Harry, something similar to satisfaction flickering in his eyes when the boy stilled, holding his breath as he took in the information. “Killed.” He reiterated, placing his hands behind his back as if he was proud of what he had just revealed.

“He’s lucky you brought him back to us, son.” Harry shook his head, it had to be another trick. It was just another lie to try and make himself seem better, to try and disorientate Harry into forgetting just who was truly to blame. It was a well-known fact that mutants are treated terribly by most, suffering from hate crimes on the daily that Harry could never hope to understand the reasons behind.

But that wouldn't happen to Peter, would it? At least, it would never go as far as killing him. That was insane. But a few days ago, Harry would’ve thought the situation he was in a similar level of absurdity. He didn't know what to expect anymore.

“With the proper care and treatment, we can keep him safe all the while shaping you into a better you.” Norman opened his arms out and Harry wondered whether his father was so lost in his own pride that even he believed his own delusions.

“Can't you see, Harry?” The man approached him again, only this time the boy attempted to take a step back, bumping into the bed with a hiss. “I’m blessing you both. Without me, your weakness would allow the symbiote to consume you and Peter’s mutations would bring him nothing but pain.”

“I would keep him safe,” Harry spoke, the words not fitting quite right on his tongue and yet perfectly at the same time. He could feel it, lurking at the back of his throat, hiding behind him in a perfect shadow of the boy as he watched patiently. But that wasn't like them, that wasn't what Venom usually did. Harry was losing the will to fight against them, Norman had somehow become much more dangerous.

“I wouldn't let anyone hurt him,” Harry promised, his voice tainted with another and yet the words he spoke were as truthful as ever. He had made a mistake the other day, he didn't understand what was going on but Harry wasn't going to make it again.

“Would you?” Norman asked tauntingly, tilting his head at the boy. “Against the police?” He took a step closer. “Against the S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Another, causing Harry to stumble away from the bed to keep the distance, black crawling up his arms in preparation. “Against worse?”

“Against people like you!” Harry roars, his voice travelling much further as the symbiote curled around his neck and sat there securely, but not in a way that instilled fear or pain, but in a way that made Harry feel confident, like how their relationship used to be before he lost control.

“This is wrong! Peter should be able to make his own choice about this! We both should!” Harry declared flexing his hand as Venom curled around his fingers, fixing him new claws. “I never should've listened to you. I’m going to see Pete and I’m-”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Norman blocked his path and Harry growled in warning, his eyes blacking over as he looked down and glared at the hand that had struck him previously. Would he do it again? Would he dare to try?

“Listen to your father, Harry!” Norman boomed, placing a hand in his pocket like he was about to pull out his phone and dive into another ‘work call’ and ignore his son for the rest of the evening. “I know what’s best for you. Peter stays with us and you will stay here!”

“No!” Harry hissed as the symbiote reached out from within and started to spread, covering his arms and latching onto his mind as it whispered what Harry had known all along.

Norman Osborn is a danger.

“I am…not sitting here and watching you ruin my life…!” Harry strained through gritted teeth, the feeling of his body morphing and sinking within a living and breathing suit not becoming any easier. “…anymore!” It amplified everything, it fueled every fear that he had within him and nothing could ever make that feel seamless.

“You tricked me!” Harry- Venom roared, stretching its mouth and running a tongue over its hundreds of sharp teeth. “You tricked…us! Made me think-” He stumbled briefly, the feeling of the symbiote around him heightening his adrenaline to its max. “-you wanted to help us!” He said, pain lacing the edge of his words as he towered over his father and looked at him from within the creature.

“But all you do is- hurt!” Harry cried from within, the black suit briefly uncovering the boy as he looked his father in the eyes. But then he watched him stumble back, fear mingled with irritation but not a spec of remorse and he became covered again, reminded of what he had done. “You never change!”

He stomped towards him, bringing a clawed hand up as he fully fused with the symbiote and looked at the man through those hate-filtered eyes. “I am done, obeying you!” Venom looked to the door, the idea surfacing that they could break it if needed and instant confirmation was shared between them.

“I don't care what you think of us now!” The black creature narrowed its eyes, voice hissing and full of spite as the stopped just before Norman and reached down, not intending to hurt, no, they didn't want to waste their time with him much longer, they just wanted to toss him aside like he had done to them so many times.

“I am going to get Pete-!”

But when he was just centimetres from finally giving his father an ounce of the pain he had inflicted on him, Norman grasped whatever he had been fumbling for in his pocket and aimed it right at Venom. Neither had any time to ponder what the little device in his hand was before he pressed a button and activated it.

And from such a small remote did the most agonising sound start to emit.

Venom recoiled back harshly, raising both hands to their ears to try and block the horrific noise but it didn't make any difference. Even from within, Harry shared their pain and writhed inside the suit, screaming in agony as they stumbled back.

“STOP…!” Venom managed to scream, turning to attack the threat that was harming them but they could hardly manage more than the movement before their whole being started to lurch and explode around Harry wildly.

The once stable body that Venom had built for them started to break apart and as they hunched over, holding their head for dear life, Venom was slowly but surely forced back into Harry with cries and hisses of pain.

“STo-p…! Stop…!” Harry wailed, moving back to try and get away from the dreadful sound that attacked his ears but Norman was relentless. The man who once looked scared was long gone and instead replaced with that sickening smug bastard he had seen back in the testing room.

He pointed the device at him with little care, a satisfied smile on his face as he followed the screaming teen as he tried to escape from him. Harry cried out, even though he knew it wouldn't be worth it because the only response he ever got to his cries was disgust but he tried anyway because he didn't know what else to do.

He could hardly hear his own voice amidst the high-pitched ringing that stabbed through his eardrums and shot through every part of his mind. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, Harry had never been in so much pain in his life and no matter what he did, he could not ease it.

Not even Venom could do anything, which scared him to no end. The creature was the only thing he could still hear muffled between the buzzing and terrible hums. He could hear him screeching along with him, shaking and fighting within as the sound was so forceful it shrunk him and rendered him useless.

Venom, the one creature he thought was able to beat anything, could not save Harry from this as he was backed into a corner, shaking and curling in on himself as he screamed and cried at Norman to stop whatever it was he was doing.

But it wasn't until Harry fell to his knees, his body weak and giving in that the noise finally ceased. Harry didn't register it straight away, heaving and still coming out of a sob when Norman finally pressed the button and the pain went away.

The teen’s entire body shook violently, vision blacking in and out as it tried to recover from whatever torture had just been placed upon it. Harry couldn't think straight, couldn't even understand what he was seeing when Norman unfurled him from himself and placed a hand around his throat.

It wasn't until something actually clicked that Harry came back to the present and violently flinched away from the man, though there wasn't far he could've gone in the corner. Pressed up to the wall like a cornered animal, Harry raised a shaking hand to his neck and blinked at the smooth sort of collar he found there.

“What…? What is-” Harry wheezed, coughing briefly as he became aware of how much his throat burned and stung from his screaming fit. “…what…was that? What is…this?” He tugged at the collar, or tried. He could hardly get his fingers under the surface to tear it away, the contraption practically choking him.

He looked up at Norman and shrunk under his pleased expression. He had never done anything like that before, he had never gone as far as that, to instill such pain upon Harry that it left him almost unconscious. It shook the teen to his core.

“We recently discovered that the symbiote is sensitive to sonic waves,” Norman stated plainly, playing with the little device in his hand, unaware of how much the action gave his son such anxiety. “That means that now, you are too.”

The man knelt down, pressing a button on the device and for a second, Harry yelped in horror and his whole body tensed as he prepared himself for another wave of the brutal attack but the only thing that came was that the collar beeped.

“This is for your own good,” Norman said as the realisation set in for Harry, his hands still placed on the thin collar. “I won't let you squander this chance.”

“You-!” The boy started to struggle, his voice embarrassingly small and tears still actively falling even as he tried to growl and snarl at the man in front of him but he couldn't help it. He didn't quite understand what sonic waves did or why it affected both of them but he understood enough to know that having a new mechanical collar around his neck that was linked to the device that started the torture wasn't good.

“You- you can't force me to follow along with- with this!” Harry tried to argue, jumping to his feet and immediately almost falling as he scratched and tore at the collar around his neck in a panic. “Get- get this off me!” He screamed and Venom surged out and covered his arms, that mutated strength coursing through them but even then, they couldn't break through the device.

“It’s made out of some of the most powerful materials in the world, son,” Norman explained as he stood up from his kneeling, straightening out his jacket all the while keeping his grip on the device. “It’s used in maximum security prisons.” He said as he eyed the still-struggling teen. “Not even you can break that.”

“What?!” Harry stared at him, eyes wide as his chest heaved through the next round of his panic attack. ‘Maximum security prisons’? He had just placed something on his own son that was used to contain prisoners. He couldn't believe it, he didn't want to believe that his father could be that sick.

Harry kept believing that he had seen the worst of his father and then he went and stooped so much lower than the teen ever imagined he could. Who was this man in front of him? Harry didn't recognize him, not anymore.

“Get it off!” Harry demanded, the symbiote latching onto his vocal cords and increasing the volume to a savage, scratchy roar.

“No.” But Norman hardly flinched, that same look in his eyes that told Harry he was nothing more than an inconvenience to him. “Not until you've proven to me that you can listen. For now, these are the precautions I have to take.”

Harry growled at the man, anger and panic blinding his rational thinking as he allowed Venom to seep back through and cover his body, morphing his shape back into what he was before.

“We are not something to control!” They seethed, but even after they had fused together, Harry could still feel the uncomfortable tightness of the collar around his neck. And yet, that wasn't enough to warn him that his next actions weren't the brightest. “We will force our way out!”

But the teen wasn't thinking straight, his thoughts were hardly coherent, jumbled and mangled up with Venom’s and only the loudest and most alarming actually succeeded in crawling their way to the front, which primarily consisted of: FIGHT, ESCAPE, DANGER

So he didn't even try to stop himself when his body lunged towards Norman for what seemed to be the hundredth time, claws stretched out and muscles tensed like a lion about to land the killing blow on their next meal.

It shouldn't have been surprising when Norman only smirked at him again and pressed the button a second time.

But instead of that excruciating shrill ringing, Harry caught the ever-so-quiet noise of beeping. So calm in comparison to the torture before but his neck flared anyway, increasing in warning along with the increase in speed of the beeping until it got so fast it merged together and with one final beep, the collar activated.

Electricity shot through Harry, travelling across every inch of his skin and immobilizing him into a tense shaking as he shrieked and jerked in response. White flashed in his vision as a sizzling burn climbed through his nerves and paralysed him to the spot, unable to even say anything else other than a scream as the punishment went along.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the attack went away and Harry collapsed to the floor for the second time, twitching and panting as he tried his absolute hardest to stay awake. Through stinging eyes that desperately wanted to stay shut, Harry caught the blurry figure of his father as he just sighed and shook his head.

“You…” Harry gasped, his throat aching and reducing his voice to a mere whisper of what it once was. “You e-electrocuted me?” He whimpered, the only comfort being that Venom had managed to latch onto his body this time. Though their larger form was reduced, he still clung around his arms and torso, hissing and shaking in a similar fashion.

“The electricity is a warning.” Norman corrected, gazing down at Harry with a raised eyebrow. “The sonic waves are the punishment.” He explained, tone low as Harry tried to comprehend in what world was being electrocuted a warning.

But he couldn't argue, he didn't even have the energy to try before Norman heaved another tired sigh before he turned and started towards the door. “I expected better from you, Harry. I really did.” He tutted, paying the boy no mind as he wheezed and shook behind him. “I’ll give you some time to calm down and reflect on your actions.”

Harry watched as he got further and further away, another surge of panic flooding through him as he realised that if Norman left him alone now, Harry may not be able to find Peter in time and if what the teen had experienced today was just a punishment to arguing-

Then what were they doing to Peter?

“Father!” Harry snarled, unconsciously attempting to rush forward again and have Venom supply him with that brilliant strength but he collapsed after a single step, the symbiote screeching and writhing in frustration. They had no more energy to give him.

“Dad…! Don’t- Don’t leave me here!” Harry called out, tears spilling as he shakily pushed himself up to one knee. His limbs felt like lead, numb and buzzing with the aftereffects of the sudden voltage and the teen’s mind was far from calm. He could hardly see, hardly think about anything other than he wanted out. He wanted out of that room immediately and he wanted to find Peter and tell him how sorry he was and that he never meant for any of this to happen and…

…and to please forgive him for ever getting him into this mess in the first place but he needed his help because he wasn't strong enough to do this alone. He didn't have anyone else but him, nobody else understood him like he did.

“Please…!” The boy sobbed, his friend a painful scar on his mind as he looked up and locked eyes with his father, but he only gazed back in disappointment. “You can't-!” A cry as his vision swam and he had to fight to not crumble and pass out then and there. “Y-you can't do this!”

But Norman held no sympathy for his son and simply turned and held up his hand to the door’s scanner, subsequently unlocking it and causing it to open.

“Stop!” Harry shouted, stumbling another step or two as the desperation fueled his strength for just a little bit longer. “Please stop this! Let Peter go!” He slammed his fist against the floor, but it hardly made a noise against his weak, sloppy movements.

“I can't do that, Harry,” Norman responded plainly as he stepped through the door and turned around. With his hands behind his back, suit smoothed and any sign of anger and fear long hidden behind his perfect mask, Norman looked just like he would any other day and the sight frightened Harry.

Because if anyone saw him, they wouldn't know what he had done, they wouldn't know what had happened to Harry today, or Peter. Nobody would ever know or bother to look because who would even bother? MJ was just another teenager with her own home problems and Peter was trapped here with him.

Harry had buried his secrets for so long and now he would never have a chance to tell them.

“Don’t worry,” Norman spoke, as if somehow he was hearing Harry’s thoughts, but the boy doubted it because even if he could, he would never give him the sympathy he desired. He never could, not unless it was fake.

“I’ll help you understand in time.” Was the last time the man said before the door slid shut and, with a single beep that said it had been locked behind him, Harry was back to being alone.

Although, not entirely.

Venom crackled around his body and Harry panted along with him, his rage exploding and the fire was just getting bigger and bigger by the second. He couldn't stop thinking about it, he couldn't stop seeing his father’s smug expression as he inflicted such a horrendous amount of pain upon him.

All for the crime of being worried for his best friend.

Well, Harry wasn't going to accept it that easily. Slowly, shakily, the boy rose from the floor, his body screaming at him to stop and rest but he just couldn't listen. He refused to fall over and give up like his father wanted, he was going to get free, he was going to tell everyone the truth!

He didn't care if that incriminated him too, because maybe he deserved it for being relayed to such disgusting scum like him!

Turning away from the door and stumbling past the bed, Harry set his sights on the windows to the right of the room. New York was bright, lively and just settling into the morning as the sunrise had passed them by. Harry had suspected early on that no one could see him, the repercussions if they did would’ve been catastrophic upon the Osborn name.

But that didn't mean Harry couldn't make them.

Winding back a fist wrapped with the symbiote, Harry growled and threw the heaviest punch he could manage in his dishevelled state. With a satisfying crack, the boy pulled his hand back with a grin, ready to jump through the fucking window if that didn't alert any lurking reporters.

But it fell once he saw that the cracked pane he launched a punch at had changed, it had broken. But with the new cracks that rippled along the surface, Harry did not see the city of Manhattan, not anymore. He did not see those tall office buildings and endless corner shops and the never-changing lines of New York traffic.

He instead saw black, as the panel had broken and was stuttering, glitching as it tried to process how to work with the new crack in the glass. They weren't windows, they were screens. Digital screens that changed with the time of day, something that sounded like it should've been in some sort of zoo enclosure.

Harry tumbled back to the floor, legs giving up beneath him as new despair settled within his body.

The windows were fake, the whole plan was fake, his father was fake.

It was all fake!

IT WAS ALL FAKE!

Chapter Text

Peter had never been happier to be left alone in his life.

Peter wasn't an anti-social person, if you knew him then you knew that. Sure, he didn't particularly enjoy going to loud, busy parties that made him feel as if he was being crushed alive the minute he stepped into the room. Sure, maybe it did get his back up when Fury approached him and initially presented him with the idea of a team. Sure, maybe he was the ‘stereotypical nerd’ and preferred scanning a textbook on his lunch breaks rather than running around with the sports enthusiasts.

But none of that meant he liked the isolation that came with it. He just wasn't what society saw as the typical extrovert. He was all down to party into the night with junk food and terrible rave music as long as it was people he had actually talked to before. He had opened himself up to his team and from that, he could partner up with other superheroes too. And if anyone had ever approached him during his study sessions, he would’ve happily explained whatever he was going over.

Though that had yet to happen and realistically he knew it never would. The only people who ever talked to him at school were either Harry, MJ or his team and their intentions were never about science. Unless it was Flash, but that was only because he wanted to insult it, not because he was interested.

But the point was, Peter wasn't against socialising. Maybe he was a bit awkward when talking to someone new and maybe he was a tad bit shy when completely on his own but he didn't hate being around people. He thrived in it.

Because the real fact was that Peter hated being alone.

His parents passing away when he was five contributed a lot to this fear of his, he could still remember the feeling clearly. The hole in his chest that opened the day Uncle Ben and Aunt May sat him down to explain how his Mom and Dad weren't coming home.

It was sudden, unexplainable and to a five-year-old boy who hardly thought about the concept of death before that day, it was devastating. He clung to his Aunt and Uncle like a leech, afraid that the moment they stepped out of his line of sight, they would disappear and leave him behind too.

He slept in their bed for a long time, nightmares plaguing him and stealing away any peaceful moment of sleep. He struggled to get back into school, often taking him hours to work up the courage to step through the front doors and when he finally did, he barely lasted a full day before he broke down and sobbed for his Aunt and Uncle. He stopped playing outside with his friends, much preferring to stay inside and stick to May’s side even if she was doing something as monotonous as dusting.

He followed the two everywhere, anywhere he could and if he couldn't, he would have an absolute meltdown. Not a regular five-year-old meltdown about toys or food or whatever small thing had ticked them off that day, no, it would be breakdowns fueled by terror.

He would cry, scream and beg for his last two remaining family members to stay together because to him, the reality of death had suddenly become so much clearer and now any day could be the final day he spent with them. Their deaths could come at any moment, by anything and Peter had no say other than to plead for them to stay by his side.

It was an extremely tough time and when Peter thought back, he couldn't help but feel guilty because he wasn't the only one grieving. Uncle Ben was his Dad’s brother and although May was related, she was just as close with her parents as if they were. The deaths were as sudden to them as they were to Peter except now, they had to quickly adjust and care for an orphaned child on top of everything.

Years of therapy and the simple reassurance of his Aunt and Uncle's presence helped him finally get through that darker part of his life, though the pain of grief never truly healed, just left a deep scar he had grown to manage.

Then Uncle Ben’s death came along and that scar was brutally ripped open and made even deeper with the knowledge that he could've done something to save him.

Peter didn't spiral as drastically as he did when he was five, but it was still obvious how much more clingy he became. He deemed himself much too old to sneak into his Aunt’s room in the dead of night shaken by night terrors, but that only meant he was exhausted by the time the sun came up. For the first few months after Ben’s death, Peter found he could only truly fall asleep if he was somehow in May’s presence.

He had lost count of the times he had dropped off while watching a show with her on the sofa, only to wake up later covered by a blanket and the gentlest touch of a kiss pressed against his forehead. While Peter didn't beg or break down like when he was first grieving, he still felt panic rise in his body whenever he was forced to leave the house and subsequently, Aunt May behind.

Thankfully, Peter had his friends to go to when he felt the anxiety start to reach its peak. The paranoia had spread its poisonous roots, leaving him worrying about the safety of MJ and Harry too, but Peter wasn't a confused five-year-old boy anymore, he understood a lot more and talked through his feelings more rationally.

His fears and anxiety went a lot deeper than that and his clinginess towards the ones he loved wasn't fixed through a few simple conversations but the path was certainly a lot easier than the first time around. Peter had never forgiven himself for Ben’s death and there were still days were he felt like screaming at the clawing worry in his chest about who was going to leave him next, but he could manage.

He could keep moving forward. He had a good support system, flourishing new powers and the reassurance of S.H.I.E.L.D. now promising to keep an eye on his family in case anything were to threaten them. Peter was scarred, he was troubled and there wasn't a day that went by where he hadn't checked on his friends at least once but he was surviving and there had been a time when he hardly thought he could do that.

But Peter had never once managed a full day of being completely alone. There had been times where he had cut it close, Aunt May went out of town a lot, school was out and either Harry or MJ were busy doing their own things but Peter always found a way to calm his anxieties in somebody’s presence, even if it was just for an hour or two.

And yet, here he was, for the first time in years, filled with overwhelming relief that he had finally been left alone. Peter was sitting on hard concrete, knees tucked tightly to his chest as he was captured in an unknown place by a mastermind he had yet to discover who had placed him in the care of a complete psychopath, and Peter was happy he was back to his quiet isolation.

The past few hours had been hell for the boy and Peter had never regretted his smart mouth more than then. He wished he had the hindsight of just how sadistic the Doctor could be because then he would've kept his ‘jokes’ to himself and dealt with the boredom because that was certainly better than having the man’s attention.

His wrist still ached from being cruelly broken in an act of revenge for spitting in his face, something that sparked the tiniest bit of satisfaction when he thought back on but not enough to brand the action worth it. Doctor Octavius hadn't stopped after breaking his wrist, nor did he wait for it to finally heal hours later.

No, the man stuck to his word and like the scientists he claimed he was, he began a gruelling hours-long session of torturous research upon Peter.

Though he thankfully (Peter wasn't quite sure why he felt even the faintest bit of gratitude towards the man) hadn't broken any more of his bones, he had spanned his ‘tests’ over quite the magnitude of different types of pain he could find.

There was the too-familiar route of electrocution, the remnants of the electricity still buzzing through his muscles and leaving him with an irritating pins-and-needles feeling in the places where the volts entered. He could still smell the burning hours later and he swore that now and then, his vision flashed with white and he instinctively tensed as he waited for the volts to zap him again.

After Peter’s throat went hoarse from all the screaming, Otto moved on to something ‘easier’, in his opinion. But the boy wasn't sure he could rate any method of pain above or below any other. To him, they all sat on the same uncomfortable line of ‘please stop immediately.’ Fire was no exception.

Even despite the muscle relaxants, Peter had found the power to struggle when the psycho came his way with a blowtorch in one of his claws. But all it took was one of those annoying multi-purpose wires to come sliding down from the ceiling and scoop him up to render him immobile as the creep brought the flames up and down his arms.

Peter was glad that the sleeves from the ugly black jumpsuit were movable, because he definitely didn't want to look at the marks left by that session. He had stolen a glance once during the process and the sight of his own bright pink, raw, burning skin was something that he wasn't going to forget any time soon. That too, still hurt even as he sat alone now.

After Octavius had apparently gotten enough information from that, he dropped Peter to the floor and quickly found something else to torture him with. At this point, Peter had completely lost the will to try and argue back with him, his brain numbed with pain and attempting to drag him into sleep to save him the agony. But the Doctor couldn't let him have that.

He shook him awake and Peter remembered him saying:

‘I need to see how you react to different levels of pain.’

But of course, he didn't believe it. He recalled clearly just how twisted the grin was when he told him those words. The man had watched him scream, break into tears and plead for just a moment of peace and he hadn't once hesitated. He didn't want Peter to stay awake because he ‘needed information’, he wanted him awake because he enjoyed his suffering.

Which became even more apparent when he switched to something including his direct involvement. Peter wasn't aware until that point just how sharp the claws at the end of those tentacles could be, but now he knew, they could inflict a nasty cut.

He had unzipped the jumpsuit from Peter, something that he couldn't even find when he looked for himself later, just down to his waist but it gave the man a clear shot of his chest and back and that was where he chose his main area of attack. He slashed and lashed out at the boy as he lay shaken on the ground, unable to find the energy to even attempt to move out of the way of his ‘tests.’

He must've struck his back at least a hundred times before he stopped and ‘inspected’ the inflicted area again, taking more samples and basking in the wonder that was Peter’s enhanced biology. The boy had never felt so akin to the spider in the glass container as he did in that moment, and now he understood why it broke free.

Except that the spider didn't have any ugly, eight-limbed maniac looming over them and attacking their body until they became too weak to even cry out about it. Peter had nowhere to go, no place to crawl to when his legs refused to budge. If he could bite Octavius, he would've but he could hardly lift his head by the time that route of torture had ended.

At that point, Peter was really reaching his body’s limits on what he could withstand and there had been a few terrifying moments where the boy wondered if the man knew when to stop. He had been told not to kill him, not to tear him open and inspect every one of his cells but that didn't change the fact that they had planned to.

Whoever this group or organisation was, they were insane, heartless and psychotic to do all this to a 16-year-old boy, let alone stalk and kidnap them in the first place. It wasn't a reach to imagine that the Doctor would lose himself in his delight of torture and push Peter too far. The urge of sleep that nudged at the back of his mind began to feel less like a relief and more like a worrying sign of what was to come if this didn't stop soon.

Thankfully, Doctor Octavius proved him wrong and did pick up on his increasingly lethargic state, even nudging him with the odd claw and gloating about how much he preferred it when the boy couldn't snap back.

Unfortunately, he didn't exactly stop. He just stopped using methods that were technically physical.

The mad scientist stepped aside to get something from their jumbled mess of computer consoles, giving Peter a few seconds of reprieve from the torment and allowing his fight to stay awake tip in the opposite direction and he could feel his body quickly giving in to sleep.

That was, until the most horrendous noise fell upon his ears and suddenly all his energy came surging back as he began to writhe and scream as he covered his ears in an attempt to block out the piercing noise that struck through his brain.

It was like the man had gotten one of those metal claws and jammed it right into his head, the feeling was unlike any other and Peter found himself reconsidering the pain tier list as he placed the agonising noise right at the top.

It didn't last long, or at least, it didn't feel like it but the effect was long-lasting and Peter found himself heaving with fear as he stared up at the scientists with wide eyes and asked, through torn and broken vocal cords, just what the hell that was.

Octavius was more than delighted to explain that he knew of Peter’s enhanced senses and wanted to know if he could pick up on frequencies regular humans couldn't. Obviously, he could and depending on how high he set the noise, it could cause the boy excruciating pain.

He would’ve liked to say that he ended it at that, but unfortunately, the scientist went for two more rounds, pushing the noise further and further until Peter’s ears actually bled and the man was forced to stop lest he cause his test subject serious damage.

Peter wanted to laugh at the morbid worry for his safety. The deranged man was perfectly fine inflicting hours upon hours of torture upon a child as long as it didn't kill them because no, he needed information to further his research.

He kept using that excuse over and over again, whenever Peter screamed and cried and asked the man why he was doing this, why he was doing this to him of all the superheroes out there, he always spewed some bullshit that he just wanted some data to help create the perfect specimen.

Peter didn't buy it for a moment. He believed Otto when he said he was tasked with creating Venom, but the past few hours of uninterrupted horror were not motivated by the interest of science. He had gotten his blood, he had gotten his scraps of DNA to study long ago.

He was doing this because Peter had pissed him off, that was it.

And that truly disgusted the young hero.

Thankfully, it all came to an end after that. Finally, finally after what must've been so many hours, maybe even a day, Peter was tossed aside as the wires retreated into the ceiling and the walls of the cell slowly came back up.

The doctor didn't say anything more as he moved on from the torture session, only casting Peter one final smug glance as he lay broken on the concrete floor, heaving and gasping through the aches and pains in his body.

Since then, the teenager had been on his own.

And he had never been more relieved in his life.

Peter was destroyed, his body was littered with cuts and bruises and in the places between sat a multitude of burns that he couldn't distinguish between the fire and the tasers. He was tired, he was hungry and he was scared. He was so scared and yet he was so happy that he was finally alone.

He had hated the silence, hated the isolation that came with the glass walls trapping him in. He had punched at the container for so long that it cut his skin, shouted and hollered all sorts of obscenities all for the slim chance that he could piss off Octavius one more time.

Now, his cell had never felt safer.

But the hatred had left, it was undoubtedly still there. Peter knew how messed up it was just how quickly his opinion on the jail cell had switched, just how fast he had changed from wanting to fight to wishing he had just sat obediently and said nothing at all. But he couldn't help it.

He knew just how disgusting some of the villains he fought were. Not every person he beat up and sent to jail was aiming to rob the nearest bank, he wasn't naive, he wasn't as childish as many labelled him to be. He had looked through the records and read up on what some of the larger villains had done.

But it was a lot easier to swallow when the crimes were written on paper. When he knew that later along the line, he could punch the lowlives in the face and send them to the Rykers. He was a superhero, he saved people from these situations and helped get the criminals off the street so it couldn't happen to anyone else.

So maybe it was ignorant, but Peter had just never imagined something like this happening to him. It wasn't because he thought himself too strong or better than others or any kind of nonsense like that, it was just… it wasn't something you regularly considered.

Just like when his parents died, just like when Uncle Ben got killed, he had never expected it. There had been the brief few seconds after the events where he deluded himself into thinking that it wasn't real, he could close his eyes and when he opened them again it would all be just a bad dream.

Peter wasn't prepared to lose the ones closest to him. He wasn't prepared to get suddenly kidnapped during a night break-in at his best friend’s house. He didn't know how to act, what to think or what to say so he just fell back on how he always acted in a tough situation, being an annoyance.

But that had only brought him hours of inescapable pain and Peter was nowhere near ready to test the man’s patience again, so he gave in. He shut up, he fell silent, he lost.

A bitter taste rose from Peter’s throat as he stewed on the thought. He didn't lose, not willingly. He never gave up and that hard-headed trait was one that he held pride for. He was an unshakeable force, a constant support that the civilians of New York could rely upon.

Where most would crumble, Spider-Man would be there to take the strain. That was who he was supposed to be, who he wanted to be.

But now it had become clear to Peter that he wasn't that different from everyone else. Backed into a corner, stripped of his gear and separated from his team, he wasn't as strong and invincible as he thought he was. Outside, he was Spider-Man, inside, he was just a sixteen-year-old Peter Parker.

A sixteen-year-old who had just been put through the worst amount of pain in his life. How was he supposed to fight against that? He had been trained in so many scenarios, but not this. How was he even supposed to prepare for this? The increasingly fading rational part of his brain told him that he should've acted better on the night of the attack, because then he wouldn't be here.

Well fuck you, rational part of the brain, he hadn't and it wasn't like he could go back to change it. He was in it now, he was stuck and he didn't know how to get out of it. It didn't make anything easier with the knowledge that Harry was involved in this mess too.

He hoped they hadn't gotten to him yet, he hoped that Harry had the awareness to run when Peter hit the floor and get far away before they could capture him too. As hopeless as that sounded, Peter hadn't once caught a glimpse of his friend while in this hell, and that reassured him that his friend somehow did escape.

That was in the scenario that they didn't just abandon Harry traumatised in his room.

If Doc Ock wasn't hiding any other kind of alternative motive than wanting to recreate Venom, then he didn't exactly need Harry. It was Peter’s blood alone that was the stepping stone to the symbiote’s creation, Harry was just unlucky enough to be close enough to the hero that he unwillingly got roped in.

Just because he carried the parasite didn't mean he had any sort of special bond or altered DNA to help create it. Peter was sure he had erased the creature when he injected it with his homemade anti-venom. Harry was just an unfortunate casualty, one that Peter hadn't yet stopped blaming himself for.

And, sure, Octavius could hold Harry as a hostage to get Peter to do his bidding but he could easily do that with any other friend or family member who wasn't related to a millionaire with the funds to do a city-wide search and ruin their plans.

There was no reason for the creepy octopus or whoever he was employed by to add Harry to the mix. When they spoke about ‘controlling’ both Venom and Spider-Man, it was most likely about when the symbiote had fused with him those few weeks ago. Peter was just getting himself worked up over nothing.

But he couldn't help but worry. What if the symbiote really hadn't died when he administered the anti-vemon? What if they knew just how fond he was of the boy and took him too? What if they weren't just using Harry as a hostage, but as a second test subject and oh god what if they were doing the same things they had been doing to him-?!

Peter raised his hands and clutched at his hair, burying his head in his knees as he took a deep breath and forced his mind to think about something else. There was no point in spiralling, there was no point in breaking down when he had no idea just what had happened to Harry.

He could be completely safe, under the protection of S.H.I.E.L.D. like they had promised and he would be getting himself worked up over nothing. If he lost himself to the panic and the rage that came from the very thought that these maniacs may have harmed someone so dear, then he would be giving the creeps more information to use against him.

He could slam and kick and scream all he wanted, demand to know just what they did to his best friend but Peter knew he would only get lies or nothing in return but mockery and humiliation that Ock would surely remind him of when they next spoke.

It went against every instinct in his body but Peter needed to at least try to keep the attention on him. He could live through the lack of food and water, the fear of being kidnapped and the ‘experiments’. It was hell, it was absolutely agony but he would live.

Peter was enhanced, he had his incredible healing to fall back upon, even if it had been significantly dampened by his lack of nutrients. At the end of the day, it was still working and that was better than Harry who didn't have that privilege.

He was just a normal teenager with regular healing and a traumatised mind which Peter wasn't sure would last as long as his if he was placed in his position. Peter didn't think Harry was weak or a coward, the guy had picked up a sentient life form and used it to become a superhero without any kind of help and powered through when said life form had attempted to take over.

But he had been through a lot, that was clear. Peter didn't want to drag him into something as harrowing as this. The teen would keep his mouth shut, he would swallow all his fears about his friends and family because he hoped that if he did that, they would stay out of it. That it wouldn't occur to Octavius that he could use his loved ones against him.

Why would he need to? Peter certainly wasn't in the mood to try and escape after what he had put him through.

Still, that didn't stop Peter from longing for them.

He was still thankful to be alone, reassured by the constant silence that surrounded him as he recovered, but he really wished he had some kind of way of knowing how they were, what they were doing and if they were ok without him.

That little boy from years ago was calling out from the back of his mind and Peter found that the first thing he wanted to do when he eventually escaped was to just give his Aunt May a huge hug. She wouldn't have even known he had disappeared until the next morning, he had always disguised his patrols through the excuse of studying at Harry’s or making an immaculate pillow clone of himself under his bed covers.

But those lies wouldn't work forever. Peter wasn't sure what time it was, there weren't any clocks from where he could see and the doctor hadn't been so kind as to give him the time to let him know just how long it had been, but the hero was certain it must've been a few days at least. May would've figured out something was wrong by now.

That left Peter wondering just what she would do. She would go to the police, ask around with his friends and the school but S.H.I.E.L.D would know the truth. While Aunt May would’ve thought her innocent nephew had gotten lost on his way back home from a friend's house, his team and Fury will know that Peter Parker had gone missing during one of his superhero patrols.

But would they let his Aunt know this? Peter hadn't told her not just in regards for her safety, but for her poor heart in the event she knew just what Peter was getting up to in her spare time. As much as she liked to push her nephew, she was overprotective of him as he was of her. There was just no reality where he saw May accepting his superhero identity, not without a fight.

He understood it to an extent, it can't be easy watching a young boy go out into the city, swinging around hundreds of feet in the air as they hunted down criminals with deadly weapons. But Peter couldn't stop, no matter what anyone said.

No matter how much he knew being a superhero had gotten him into the situation he was now.

Peter couldn't suppress a shiver, one in a long line of painful shakes that had taken hold in the last few hours. They weren't the regular kind of anxious trembling or a byproduct of the electrocution, no it was a kind of shake that forced his body to tense as it pulled at his muscles and screamed at him to please get somewhere warmer.

Because Peter had gotten unbelievably cold.

He didn't want to think about it much and why he had suddenly developed a chill that had sunk deep into his bones because if he did, he would have to think about how that sounded a lot like he was dying and he had only just gotten over that panic from his session with Doctor Octavius earlier and he didn't want to go through that again.

However, Peter was inclined to listen to the calm area of his brain and consider the option that it was his cell, maybe even the room outside, that had gotten a lot colder. Despite all his injuries and fatigue and an empty stomach that hadn't stopped growling at him for a while now, Peter refused to accept the morbid possibility and instead only accepted the other one.

He did have evidence for it, after all. Aside from his chattering teeth and army of goosebumps that had settled all over his body, when the boy raised his head and blew outwards, he could see the mist of his own breath materialise in the air before him. Now unless he suddenly developed a crappy ability to breathe smoke, he was sure that was because the temperature had dropped and not because he was dying.

Again, Peter felt a bit conflicted about being so relieved that he wasn't dying and he was slowly becoming an arachnid popsicle instead but he would take the small wins he had been given. That was how he stayed sane, that was how he got through.

But it certainly wasn't easy. It was a horrible feeling, stuck being so, so cold and having no war to give himself the slightest bit of relief. There was no area of the cell that was any warmer than the rest, with the last scraps of his strength, he had looked and found that moving around only made him colder.

If he had the energy, he would've done what all his greatly despised gym teachers told him and ‘Run around to warm up!’ but he, unfortunately, didn't even have the energy to climb up the walls. Not that he wanted to, the glass had to be the coldest surface of everything.

But Peter only felt any kind of safe when he was pushed up against something, his back protected while he kept his eyes forward for any threats. He knew it was kind of pointless in a circular cell that could be approached at any angle but he allowed himself to be deluded into thinking that leaning against the wall would help keep him just that little bit safer.

It wasn't like anywhere else was better. It was either huddling in on himself against the glass or curling into a ball in the centre and that reminded him too much of when Ock had started lashing out at him with his claws, so he decided on the latter.

Another shiver rattled through his bones and Peter had to grit his teeth to stop himself from making some sort of whine. It was really starting to hurt. Not just the cold but how it affected his injuries, too. Peter wasn't sure when his healing factor stopped working but considering how only his wrist had healed and nothing else, he figured the cold was the last thing to stop it from working.

His arms stung, the burn marks throbbing painfully like the fire was right back over him again. Peter reached out with a trembling hand, picking the edges of the jumpsuit's sleeves and lifting them to try and relieve some of the pain. He could've just scrunched the arms up and eased some of the pain against the cold air but he didn't dare, he still wasn't quite ready to look at those marks again, especially if they hadn't healed.

His back was beginning to ache with the position he was in but he didn't move, he couldn't. His legs were like lead against his body, pulling him down and sticking him to the spot on the floor. Some unsettling voice in the back of his mind made the connection that it may be his final resting place but he quickly pushed that away.

His wounds were doing a good job of distracting him, he supposed. Peter doesn't remember ever feeling so crappy before, not even since he started being Spider-Man. He’d been in some hard situations, scary fights that could've ended differently if he hadn't been so lucky but he was always able to at least walk back home at the end of the day, or limp.

But now he couldn't even move.

He couldn't even move?

Peter’s eyes flicked downwards and he tried to move a hand to check but he only managed a slow, weak nudge until it gave in and slumped against his knees. Panic flared in his chest, the mist escaping his lips in a more rapid pace as he tried and tried again to move his body and prove himself wrong.

His whole body had gone numb, in a matter of seconds every inch of his skin had lost feeling and no matter how he urged he couldn't move a muscle past a small twitch. He was stuck, huddled with his knees close to his chest in an attempt to try and regain some heat and yet, that had clearly done no good.

Because he was freezing to death.

He had ignored the past few morbid worries, he had swallowed down and hidden away any kind of evidence that may have suggested his demise but he couldn't ignore it anymore. Fear clawed at his heart, an agonizingly cold hand scraping at his insides as he felt it pulling him down into nothing.

He was losing his grip, he was falling away from his own body and he couldn't even struggle to try and keep himself awake for just a little longer. It was like his body had just given in without warning, with nothing to prepare him for what happened next as the chill took hold and stole every last inch of life within him.

He couldn't die! Octavius wouldn't let that happen, would he? He just wanted to experiment on him, torture him but not actually kill him! He had heard his boss say as much! He wouldn't leave him here to die! He wouldn't forget about him, would he?

He would. He would! The guy was a psycho! Why did Peter stop fighting? Why did he give up and just start waiting for his own demise? He should've been pounding at the walls, screaming with every last ounce of energy he had left because maybe then he could've worn the walls down and gotten free.

But instead, he was stupid, he was foolish to think he could just wait until something changed, until someone found him. He didn't know what was going on outside, he didn't know what S.H.I.E.L.D. knew, what his team knew. There could be so many reasons they couldn't get him!

Which- which he didn't know but he shouldn't have stopped! He had let his fear overwhelm him and now it was going to kill him!

Peter was breathing heavily, hyperventilating as his breath came in short gasps, the only part of his body that was still responding being his lungs. Well, not quite. He could still feel his injuries, each and every one and through his panic, he had enough sense to think about how unfair that was.

He was dying, his body had gone numb and he had no say in it, he couldn't fight against it and yet he could still feel every burn, every cut and bruise and tingling in the skin. How was that fair? He was dying! He had been left so long that he was freezing to death and he could still feel his own injuries. He could still feel the torture that thumped through his nerves hours later?

How was that fair? Why could he still feel it? He had been waiting for so long, biting his cheek in an attempt to stop himself from crying out because he didn't want to give the manic doctor any more satisfaction. He was going to brave the harsh waters and then come out on the other side, maybe exhausted and scared but he’d get through.

How was he supposed to know that this was it? This was how he died? That wasn't fair! Why did things like this keep happening to him? Why? Why?! It wasn't fair! He didn't even get to scream! He didn't even get to fight all the way! He didn't get to say goodbye to anyone! He didn't know if his family was even ok!

He didn't know if Harry was ok!

This wasn't fair! It wasn't...fair!

It wasn't.….

Peter’s eyelids slid shut, suddenly and without warning, much like how the rest of his limbs had swiftly shut down around him. He didn't try to open them again, he knew it wouldn't do much. His breathing had started to slow, his head falling down into his knees as his mind seemed to seep out of his body and fall down below him.

It was like he was floating, staring up at his shaking, bleeding body as he moved less and less as time went on and Peter started to feel as if the body he was looking at was not his, but someone else entirely. A pale-skinned boy who was covered in sweat and yet shivered at the same time, with tangled hair and purple bruises around his cheeks that no doubt hurt hours later.

It looked like someone he needed to save, not Peter himself.

But Peter couldn't save himself, not anymore and now it seemed like neither could anyone else. They had been too late, they had taken too long. The teenager couldn't help but feel a little bit furious at that. But deep down, he knew it wasn't really their fault.

He just hoped to god that Aunt May would have someone looking out for her in his place. Though his heart was not settled, filled with fear and despair and anger, there was nothing more the boy could do about it now. Peter took one final deep breath before he sank completely, his mind drifting away into nothing.

.

.

.

.

Sound was the first thing that came back to Peter. It was like he was wrapped up in circles and circles of blankets, cotton stuck in his ears that left everything on the outside all muffled but he knew he could hear something.

It was distant, faded and every second was a struggle for Peter to latch on and actually digest the noises he was hearing, but he just couldn't. With every few inches he got towards lucidity, he slipped back a few more. It was a constant battle with his own mind, his body smothering him with the alarming need to go back to sleep because he needed it.

But Peter didn't want that, he couldn't. Something wasn't right, his chest hurt like it had been cramping with fear for hours straight and that alone was enough to let him know that falling back asleep was far from the greatest idea. He needed to be awake he wanted to be awake he didn't- he didn't want to die. Not yet. He had so much to do.

This was what this was, wasn't it? He was dying, he thought he had died but clearly, he hadn't. Thankfully, luckily, he was still holding on when he thought there was nothing else to hold onto. Peter still had a chance and he wasn't about to give up.

He couldn't see, he couldn't feel but he could hear and that was enough to slowly bring him back. He focused on the one sense, heightening his hearing as he picked up on each and every sound and named them.

The whirr of mechanical fans, the beep of an unknown machine, the clicks of metal against the ground, the drips of a faucet not fully turned off, the sound of people’s voices- with every new discovery that he could hear his mind got that little bit closer to waking up and away from the danger zone he had crawled out from.

He normally cursed his enhanced hearing, giving him more trouble than help in his day-to-day life. But now, he couldn't be more thankful for it as it seemed to be the last line cast to keep him grounded. Slowly, more started to come back to him, the noises got louder and Peter was able to hear more than muffled voices, he was able to pick up on scattered words and familiar voices.

But he couldn't say he was happy to recognise the sound of Doctor Octopus’ grating voice. But who was with him? Peter hadn't made a mistake, there was someone else there, he was sure of it and he knew they were familiar.

He wanted to growl in frustration but the boy hadn't got that part of his body back just yet so he fell back on the senses once again. The whirr of the fan, the click of the metal, the drip of the tap, the voices in front of him, the feeling of the cuts against his back-

The feeling? Oh god, he got his feeling back, and it fucking hurt. If he could scream, he would've done so because everything came rushing back to him in an instant and he almost wished he was back to feeling numb.

The burns on his arms raged like nothing else, made only worse by the fact that some of the taser points and burn wounds overlapped and became amplified. His back stung with a hundred harsh cuts, crying out in pain as he was slumped against the wall and putting his full weight into that. His stomach tore at him from the inside, his head pounded from the lack of hydration and he was still so so cold!

With each new shiver that passed over his skin, Peter couldn't help from praying that he could fall asleep again and wake back up once his body had done its job and healed the wounds for him. But his healing factor had stopped, he had already suspected that earlier. Without any nutrients, he would heal even slower than a regular human.

Why did things like this keep happening to him? Why couldn't he just get a break for one minute?

“He’s stirring.”

Peter twitched, the unknown voice falling over his ears, a lot clearer than before. Amid his agony, his hearing seemed to have fully returned to him. The boy was grateful, having something else to focus on other than the aching in his bones but he just couldn't name the voice.

It was like something was in the way, a wall that blocked the identity of just who Octavius had been talking to all this time but Peter didn't know why. It wasn't far-fetched to assume that one of his nemesis was involved in his whole kidnapping, so why was it like his mind was stopping him from figuring it out?

“Of course he is,” Octavius responded rather arrogantly, the knowledge of the man being so close to him again sending ripples of anxiousness flowing through Peter. Though they were quickly followed by anger. How dare the man make him feel that way? He didn't deserve to make Peter feel scared!

If Peter wasn't so weak, if he wasn't stuck in a tiny, freezing cell then he could beat the psycho in seconds. He didn't stand a chance, that was why he placed a wall between them!

Peter wanted to show that to him, he wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face so badly. He had tortured him for hours, beaten him into submission, watched him almost die and for what? Science?

And who was with him, talking as if what they were seeing was completely normal?! Peter knew he looked like shit, he knew that some of the cuts and bruises spread past his clothes and onto his hands and neck. Whoever this person was, they had to be as sadistic as Octavius and that just angered Peter further.

They shouldn't be people like that in the world, there shouldn't be people like that with access to such grand tech, unsupervised and unnoticed. Peter was supposed to stop people like that.

He still could. Maybe he would fail, maybe he would lose too quickly it would border on humiliating but at least he would’ve tried. Because he remembered the last feelings in his heart when he fell unconscious, and it was bitterness that he hadn't done more.

So if Peter passed out for good next time, he wanted to make sure it was because he had gone down fighting.

Clenching his teeth, tensing his jaw with such strength, Peter grasped onto the reins of his body once again and surged back inside, opening his eyes with a newfound desire to fight.

He couldn't hold back a quiet hiss as his sight was blinded by those harsh lights, surrounding him at all angles and making sure that every inch of him was visible. Except to himself, because all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut again and drop his head into his knees in an attempt to try and ease the stinging.

“See?” Octavius’ voice rang clear, startling that fear back into his blood once again and Peter forced himself to look up and blink through the overstimulating lights that burned his vision.

Everything was blurry, filtered behind warping glass but when Peter’s eyes trailed down, he found the same effect had also fallen upon his own body. There was no glass in his way, his sight simply hadn't caught up with him.

But that didn't stop him from giving up, he moved his attention back ahead, locking onto two hazy figures that stood a few feet in front of him, obviously watching the boy with uncomfortable interest.

“It’s just like I told you.” The Doctor went on, shifting and slowly moving around the cell like a predator eyeing its prey. Peter wanted to follow, to keep an eye on the threat that could no doubt cause him so much more pain but he couldn't. He had only just woken up and gotten his feelings back and his exhausted body did nothing to aid him.

“Traits from a spider. When introduced to lower temperatures…” The unsettling man tapped the glass with a claw, earning a flinch from Peter that he just knew he took great pleasure from. “…they go into a sort of…hibernation.”

‘Hibernation?’ Peter repeated in his mind, not eager to open his mouth and ask the man any questions, he didn't necessarily want to interact with him if he could help it. But the word confused Peter. People didn't...hibernate, that was a word reserved for only specific animals. But…did…spiders…? Is that why he…?

Peter wasn't dying, he was just…conserving his energy? His body was just trying to help him recover? What kind of…

“It’s not far-fetched to assume that there are more traits I have yet to discover.” Octavius came back round to the front, his blurred head turning to the stationary figure and giving them their full attention. “And I’m certain, if there is something to find-” his claw scratched against the class, making a piercing scraping noise that gave Peter the motivation to lift his hands and cover his ears. “-then I will find it.”

Peter’s vision was starting to get clearer, he could see his surroundings better now, he could see further than just a few feet in front of him and if he paid attention, he could pinpoint just exactly where every noise he heard had come from. But he wasn't interested in that. He wanted to know who the dark figure in front of him was.

But they had placed themselves in a difficult position, standing just behind the overwhelming lights so that all Peter could pick up on was the shape of a regular person. He couldn't find any discerning features or menacing mutations like Doc Ock.

From where they stood, they looked unusually regular and that just didn't sit right with Peter. His spidey-sense, which he had been trying his best to ignore until then because he knew he was in danger, had skyrocketed since he had woken up which was just icing on the cake on top of everything else he was struggling to deal with.

Something about this mystery man was telling Peter that they were so much more dangerous than Octvaius and though he was so sure that couldn't be possible, he didn't want to test his luck considering how completely terrible it had been for the past few days…or weeks…or months.

But that didn't mean Peter was going to sit there, frozen in fear. Not again. He had made his choice, he was going to fight.

Peter snapped out of his daze, swallowing the buzzing from the back of his mind that told him to leave it alone, to stay quiet and small so that maybe their attention would divert elsewhere. The shadowy figure had said something back to Octavius, but he hadn't had enough time to figure out exactly what.

Whatever it was, it wasn't anything good because it sent the scientists grinning. With a low chuckle, Otto nodded and the stranger turned to leave, taking only a few steps and they were almost completely gone from Peter’s view and that made him panic.

No, he needed to know who this person was, if he had at least that piece of information then he could do something with it, he could use it against them, prepare himself for what was to come next and if his luck finally decided to kick in, he could potentially use that new information to help him escape.

He needed them to come back, he needed to see them!

With a soft grunt, Peter finally attempted to get to his feet and pushed against the floor. “Wh-..ngh…” He went to call out but the minute he went to stand, his legs buckled beneath him and all he achieved was moving maybe a step or two before collapsing to his knees. He couldn't even talk, his throat raw and scratchy from hours of abuse and not ready to even try making solid words. At least not without some time.

But no matter how pathetic the attempt, it worked in catching the attention of both the men ahead and the silhouette stopped in their tracks, body shifting and Peter felt his warning signal spike as their eyes fell back upon him.

“Ugh…” Ock grumbled, their smile fading as they glared down at the teen. “Found your voice again?” He asked, obviously not expecting an answer as he stomped around the glass and headed towards his cluster of consoles in the far corner. “Pity, I much preferred it when you couldn't speak.”

A metallic claw shot out with such speed that for a moment Peter thought he was about to smash his equipment to bits but just as it got close enough, it halted and then delicately pressed a single button. Immediately, Peter’s head shot upwards as he recognised the hum of the glass slowly filtering back over again.

“Wait-!” Peter coughed, another attempt at getting up was cut short as a wheeze rattled through him. “Yo…you…!” He forced his head upwards, pain blurring his vision and yet he pushed through. He wasn't going to pass out again, he refused. He could fight it off this time! He had to!

But the change in the glass was getting lower and showed no sign of stopping. They may have reacted to his movement but after that, it was like Peter didn't matter in the slightest. They had gotten whatever they had wanted and now they could just turn their eyes away because his words just weren't important enough.

He couldn't let them go, this was the first actual hope of something he could use in days. This figure could be someone he could outwit, they could be someone with an ego he could manipulate, he could let that opportunity pass!

“Wait!” Peter called out just as the glass was beginning to pass over the shadow, when the stranger took a few steps forward and raised a hand.

“Stop.” An order, a single word from a stern, commanding voice and Octavius pressed the button again.

“Stop?” He repeated and Peter could practically see their disgruntled expression, even with his eyes trained on the figure ahead.

“Yes. Bring it up.” The man said, making a gesture with his hand as if he were explaining his action to a child. The action wasn't lost on Octavius who made a clicking noise with their tongue and pressed the button once more, allowing the tint to slowly disappear upwards.

But Peter couldn't find it in him to be relieved or thankful for the man’s insistence to stay, because something about his voice, the way he acted and the arrogant tone that was lazily hidden beneath each sentence stirred something within him.

Familiarity. That feeling again. This was the same voice he heard on the phone and his body was telling him it was someone he knew, but that did little to make him feel safe. No, it only made him more anxious as the glass remained clear and the shadow took a few more steps forward, past the lights and into Peter’s view as he could finally see just exactly who it was.

And for the second time, Peter wished he had just kept his damn mouth shut because then he would've never had to face this horrible truth.

There, dressed in his usual smart suit, hands behind his back as he stood tall and proud even despite the lab he was in, was Norman Osborn. He was the man on the phone, he was the one Octavius called ‘sir’, he was the one that the mad scientists answered to.

Norman. Harry’s dad. It was him. It was him!

“What…” Peter asked in a sharp inhale, his chest constricting when the man eyed him silently, lips twitching in amusement while the teenager struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. “Mr…Osborn?” He asked, the polite title falling from his mouth in instinct, earning a chuckle from Norman in response.

“What…what are…you-?” His words come out disjointed, stuttery and hardly more than a whisper which makes it so easy for Norman to brush them by and speak for himself.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long, Parker.” His voice, however, is clear and loud. It's firm and solidified by his own boundless confidence that radiates from his person which does nothing but sicken Peter because that was how he always was.

That was exactly like Norman, that was how he spoke and how he acted, how he smiled and looked at you with that underlying judgement that everyone would ignore as long as he said the right words and presented the correct sum of cash.

And Peter hated that, though for different reasons at that moment. Because all it did was just shatter any sort of excuse the boy was crafting in his mind on how this couldn't be Mr Osborn, it was a mistake, a hallucination either from his own state of mind or from Doc Ock to torment him some more.

But the man was perfectly him and every feeling he had about the phone call and even just moments ago helped to squash that. It was him. Norman Osborn was his big enemy he needed to face, the menacing boss he needed to fight to escape.

But all Peter felt like doing was throwing up.

“Things have been extremely hectic these past few days.” Norman went on, gesturing again to the scientist who only nodded silently and pressed another switch on his console, leaving the glass to whirr and then start to move up. “But I had to make sure everything was completely perfect before we started.”

The words came out without an ounce of hesitation, even though he was standing face to face with Peter, even though he was looking at the boy in his worst state. He had been tortured, brutally attacked if it wasn't obvious enough and he was just speaking to him like everything was normal!

Peter didn't have the mind to be startled or surprised that the glass disappeared, he was only filled with horror at the fact that the only wall between him and Norman was now gone. In a matter of seconds, his admiration for his best friend’s dad had completely vanished and was now replaced with fear.

“You understand, don't you?” He asked innocently, tilting his head as he passed the invisible border that should have been the glass walls and entered the cell.

“Understand?” Peter croaked, mind jumbled with a thousand different thoughts as he stared into the man’s eyes and pieced it all together. All that footage, all the expensive equipment, all the knowledge of who he was, where he lived and who he loved and what he made him- him, it had to be someone he knew.

It made sense, and that disgusted him.

“It was you?” His accusation came out in an embarrassing squeak as his head spun with the shock. “T-this- it was all you?”

“Oh, I can't take all the credit!” Norman laughed in an aggravating manner, moving his hands forward so that he could put a hand to his heart. “But, yes, the terrible villain in your story is me.” His eyes darkened with the confirmation but not with anger or anything similar, with a sick joy as he finally got to watch Peter take it all in. “Now, if I could just explain-”

“Why-?! Why would you-” Peter finally found the power to shout, swallowing down another cough as he stumbled to his feet and wrapped his arms around his own body in an attempt to keep himself steady. “I thought you were a good person! I- I looked up to you!” He admitted, any attempt at a furious expression falling into misery as Norman didn't seem the slightest bit apologetic.

“Do you know what he’s done?” Peter jabbed in the doctor’s direction, not sparing him even a glance as his mind had found something much more dangerous to focus on. “To me? He treated me like a lab rat!”

“Knows?” Octavius chuckled, appendages clicking in amusement as he stepped away from the console and back into view. “Oh, he’s the one who ordered those tests, spider.” He revealed with a large grin, positioning himself behind Norman like the obedient lackey he was.

It took everything in Peter not to lash out right then and there, to abandon every good instinct within him and knock some sense into Norman because he really needed it. The only thing holding him back was the obviously weakened state of his body.

He had woken up with a plan to fight until he couldn't anymore, but now Peter needed to stand back because things had changed. This wasn't a nobody bad guy that had caught him off guard, this wasn't just somebody he knew, this was a family friend. This was an idol. He wanted to work for his company one day.

This was Harry’s Dad.

What did he do about that?

“How could you?” Peter shook his head, body trembling with an excuse he tried to place behind the still-rigid temperature. “How could- what about Harry?!” The teen yelled out, gritting his teeth as he took a weak step forward. “What would your son think of this?!”

“While my son can be rather temperamental…” Norman hummed, tapping his chest as if he was putting some serious thought into it. “It was he who lured you into the trap, was it not?”

Like his reality had shattered right before his eyes, everything in Peter came to an abrupt halt. Shock lodged in his throat, stopping him from breathing, his entire body stilled and for the first time in hours he couldn't shake anymore and every sense and pain and hurt that was spilling from the hundreds of wounds along his skin had faded behind the dangerous buzzing that had filled his mind.

Norman’s words repeated over and over and over again and no matter how much he tried, the boy couldn't find any type of message hiding underneath, anything that helped him prove that it wasn't true, that the man was just lying to be cruel. Because it wasn't possible, there was just no way that Harry could be related to any of this other than being a victim.

Harry wasn't like that, he knew Harry, he loved Harry! He wouldn't betray him! He was his best friend, he would do anything for him- he had done anything for him and he revealed one of the most important things about himself to him. Was that how he got caught? Was that how Norman got the footage in the first place? Because Harry told him?

No, no! He wouldn't believe it! It wasn't true! He was lying! He was lying! He had to be! Harry wouldn't let this happen! His best friend wouldn't just stand by as Peter was beaten within an inch of his life. He wouldn't. He stood firm on that belief, but the pain of the betrayal still sank deep into his bones.

His mind refused to accept that as truth, but his body already had. Peter clenched his chest, gritting his teeth with terrifying strength as he did everything in his willpower to stop a wail from ripping itself from his throat. He wouldn't break down, he wouldn't break down. Not there. Not in front of them. But it was so hard.

He had just been told people he considered family had completely betrayed him.

“Don’t look so down, Peter.” Norman cooed, putting on a fake sympathetic expression as he watched everything finally dawn on the boy. “I have big plans for you, after all.” He clasped his hands together with a returning smile. “I’m going to help you use your powers to their full potential and in return…” A flash of something sinister fell over their eyes again and Peter couldn't deny the fact that the man was relishing in the torment he was causing his captive. “…you’re going to help Harry use his.”

“What do you mean…?” Peter asked, his voice falling awfully small once again as the revelation still hung heavy in his mind.

“I’m referring to Venom.” Norman began as he started to walk a slow circle around the boy, posing straight as if he was presenting a strong idea to one of his business meetings. “The beautiful creature we made from your blood. The result was impeccable…but uncontrollable.” He ended with a sigh, his expression that of regret.

“But if we just had more information, data from the source-” He suddenly closed in on Peter and ducked down to bring his face in uncomfortably close, causing the boy to stumble back and raise his arms in defence. “-then we could find a way to perfect it. Control it.”

“That’s insane,” Peter muttered out before he could think, shaking his head again as Norman’s mad smile switched to annoyance. “You’re insane! The symbiote was a monster! It fed on rage and violence and- and Harry wouldn't want to give it more power!”

“It doesn't matter what Harry wants.” Norman snapped back with a mocking tone, earning a flinch from Peter as he caught a side of the man he had never seen before. “I’m only doing what's best for him! What’s best for you.”

The man held Peter’s gaze for a few beats longer, something in his tense stance that told the hero he was about to lash out, that he was about to attack but even with his neck bristling, he couldn't move. But after what seemed like hours, Norman backed down just sighed, leaning back up and adjusting his collar.

“I’ve been watching you, I know you're determined to become some grand ‘hero’-” He spat the word, lip curling in disgust. “-and, well I could give that to you!” The man hummed through a chuckle, backing away from the boy and finally allowing him to breathe. “But it would make things so much easier if you would just comply with what we say.” He proposed so easily, the words slipping from his lips without a second thought and yet Peter had to take the moment to think because he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

This man had kidnapped him, he- he must've manipulated Harry into helping or he was lying, it didn't matter, and then he locked him in a sick lab with a sick man, tortured and abused him all because he wanted to control a horrifying creature that had done nothing but harm and after all that- he wanted Peter to help him?

No, he didn't want it he expected it. He thought that after everything Peter had been through, he would just smile and brush everything off like it hadn't happened? His arms still burned from the fire! His back still ached from the cuts! His shoulders still tingled from where he had shocked him! He remembered that now!

But the worst thing was how his heart ached at what he had done.

“No!” Peter stuttered out, taking another step back as he eyed the man with an astonished look. “I don't need your psychotic experiments to become a better hero, you earn it!” Peter argued, ignoring how Norman’s smile shifted into a frown and he narrowed his eyes as the boy went on.

“This- this is sick, this is insane and- and Norman, let me go,” Peter asked in a low voice, though his body had resumed its trembling, leaving him unable to hide just how shaken he truly was. “Let me go and- and I can get you help and-” Peter blinked in shock when the man just scoffed and shook his head.

“Teenagers.” He huffed as he turned back to Octavius to send him a disappointed expression, as if he was talking about some rowdy child, as if this was all just another normal day in his life. The absurdity stunned Peter into silence.

“How could you possibly expect to know better than me?” Norman whipped his head back around, spitting the words out harshly and leaving Peter no room to respond. “Me. The man who made both the spider that bit you and pioneered the creation of Venom?” His words were laced with egotism, an overwhelming sense of snobbishness that Peter was shocked he hadn't seen sooner.

“And you think you can achieve better heights than me?” Norman laughed, but it was loud and forced as if his amusement had become overshadowed by something darker, that flicker of sudden change that he had seen a few moments ago. Rage. Irritation that Peter had ever dared to disagree.

And yet, something about that seemed just right in line with Norman Osborn.

“You. The little orphan boy from Queens.” Norman suddenly mocked and Peter flinched again, as if the words could actually harm him. “But I suppose that's to be expected, you've never had a single good father figure, have you?”

“What are you talking about.” Peter took a deep breath, arms falling to his sides in clenched fists as the man poked a particularly sore spot in his mind. His questions were less of that and more of a warning to stop right there, to back away because nobody spoke about that part of his life carelessly.

Especially in an attempt to anger him.

“Ah, but there was that uncle of yours, wasn't there?” Norman ignored it, bringing a hand to his chin as if he had forgotten his name, as if Peter hadn't spoken so highly of the man so many times.

How dare he? How dare he pretend to forget? How dare he push him aside?

“Ben, wasn't it? But even he didn't have the brain to stick around for long.” Norman tilted his head, his grin spreading just that little bit wider. “To think he tried to take on a man with a gun, what a fool.”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Peter roared, eyes blazing as he took one threatening step towards the man but he hardly even flinched, looking down upon him as if he was just a tantruming child.

“It’s no wonder you're the way you are, so ignorant, so reckless.” He leaned down again, placing his hands behind his back as he got to eye level with Peter, his expression darkening and yet he still kept that sick, sick smile. With his voice low, aimed so that Peter would be the only one to hear it, he uttered:

“I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree?”

“SHUT. UP!” Peter screamed, the final ounce of control within him snapping at the insults aimed at his Uncle, and he lunged for Norman. In the split second, he didn't care about the relationship he had, he didn't care that he was a normal man without any powers, he didn't care that this was Harry’s father and a man he looked up to, he just wanted to teach him a lesson.

Nobody spoke about his Uncle Ben that way without consequences.

But just as his fingers brushed his suit, his spidey-sense blared and something clamped harshly around his neck, yanking him back and up into the air. Peter choked on the sudden force that squeezed at his airway, abandoning his plan to attack Norman and instead lifting his hands to claw at the metal that held him.

He had been too blind, been too hasty. In all the shock and hurt about Norman, he had taken practically all of his attention off of Octavius. In his mind, he had placed the man who had instigated this whole thing as more dangerous than the scientist who had tortured him.

How could he forget? How could he be so stupid? Maybe Norman had ordered the entire capture but it was Otto who had the metallic claws and machines and the ability to actually be the one who inflicted the injuries upon him. Now, his foolishness had allowed the scientist to sneak behind him and snatch him back, slowly strangling him as he dangled in the air.

Peter kicked and threw himself around wildly, gasping and yet still growling as his rage still burned through his veins and he glared down at Norman with an unfathomable amount of hatred. He had done this, he had done this and yet Peter couldn't stop asking how.

How could he order the equipment, how could he lure Peter to Harry and how could he stand by as Octavius did his work and not even hesitate? Because Peter knew he wouldn't have. Not if the display he saw today was the truth, Norman didn't care what happened to him, he just wanted more power.

Who did something like that?

Peter hissed as after only a few seconds, the pressure around his neck suddenly released and the teen was dropped carelessly to the floor. There was a moment of surprise within him as he gasped and struggled to his feet, wondering why he had been let go so easily but as soon as he caught sight of Norman again, still wearing that smug expression, it quickly faded and Peter rushed for him again.

He was aware of Otto this time, he could dodge him, hell he could use his attacks against Norman if he was strong enough. What Peter wasn't prepared for, however, was a series of rapid beeps to fall upon his ears and then immediately after, everything exploded in pain.

Peter’s next step crumbled beneath him as he fell to the floor in agony, letting out a scream as his body jerked and his hands flew to his neck to tear away the source of the pain. But the burning caused his muscles to spasm and he could hardly do more than writhe as electricity coursed through every inch of his skin.

It wasn't anything new, Octavius had shocked him countless of times with no space to recover in-between, it had practically been a constant rush of harsh volts for hours on end. And yet, that didn't mean it hurt any less, that didn't mean Peter’s eyes weren't blinded with white agony, that his mind wasn't swamped with panic at the fact he could no longer control his twitching limbs.

This electrocution wasn't the same as the taser, Peter wasn't aware it was possible but the level at which he was shocked had somehow increased, it reached the same length, it struck the same nerves and somehow it was like the volts were even more powerful than before. What he had thought to be the limit to the excruciating electricity had become vastly overshadowed by the fierce stabbing that pricked at every cell within his body.

He hardly registered when the pain stopped, his mind lagging behind him as he remained unresponsive on the cold floor, panting, eyes wide with horror as his vision was slow to return to it’s normal state. It still flashed with each beat of his heart which with the rate it was going, was alarming fast.

The boy only really took that first step back into consciousness when something wet dripped down his cheek and for a brief moment, he wondered if it was blood. He wondered if the two men stood over him had taken advantage of his weakened state and beat a new injury into him.

But when his eyes flicked to the floor, he did not see red, the liquid that fell into the concrete was clear. Peter was forced to swallow the fact that, yet again, he had started crying and hadn't realised it. The unintentional act of fragility humiliated him, just adding to the huge weight of disgust that had settled in his stomach.

He had already broken down in the height of Otto’s ‘tests’, blinded by pain and desperate to have a moment of peace, he called out through strained vocal cords and begged for him to stop. He had tried to last as long as he could, to carry on with his snarky jokes and childish insults, but the torture became too much.

He could still remember the sickening look of smugness on the scientist’s face when the first tear fell and he just knew that he would have the same expression on him now.

Peter always made sure to hide anything relating to pain, in any fight he’s ever had he’s always swallowed the grunts, he’s always placed a hand over the cuts and if he ever had even the slightest thought of crying out in pain, then he’d run. Because no one could catch Spider-Man being weak. He had to be the invincible hero, he had to remain that steady force that the citizens of New York could continue to rely on.

He never wanted to crack in a place like this, where he had such cruel people mocking him and where he had nowhere to hide to get away from them. Peter wanted to curl in on himself, he wanted to bury his head in his arms and hide the mess that was bound to be his face but he didn't have the strength to move.

What would that even achieve? Just another thing for his captors to laugh at the former hero for. Because let's face it, he couldn't go back to being Spider-Man after this, not after what they’d done, what they'd discovered.

“You're so similar, you know.”

Norman’s voice cut through the haze in his mind, causing him to flinch and whip his eyes up as the older man loomed over him. He hummed, intruige flickering in his expression where Peter expected to be a pleased expression.

“You and Harry.” Norman clarified as he kneeled down in front of Peter. Though the man made no obvious movement towards him, Peter couldn't help but let the panic cloud his mind and he tried to shuffle back, only to yelp as his back struck something hard.

When he jerked his head around, he had to resist the urge to growl when he met Octavius’ amused expression. The doctor hadn't moved from his position behind him, having possibly gotten even closer so that Peter had no chance of fleeing without getting snatched up again.

But what upset Peter the most was the tight feeling that pulled around his neck as he turned and he finally found the urge to bring a hand up to figure out what was there. With his eyes trailing along the unsettling man’s form, falling upon a familiar remote in one of his claws, Peter realised just why the man had dropped him so easily.

He didn't need to be touching him to inflict more pain, not when he had placed an electric collar around his neck.

Peter really felt like screaming.

“Maybe that’s because of me.” Norman sighed and Peter slowly turned his head back around, hand stuck firmly around the smooth metal around his throat. Every second longer the contraption remained on his skin was another second passed he swore he felt the air from his throat slipping away. “Always pushing him to be more like the academic genius that was Peter Parker.”

‘Stop talking.’ He wanted to tell him, he wanted to shout - to demand for him to stop saying his name because the moment his name fell from his narcissistic lips he felt bile climbing, only stopped by the hard lump formed in his throat and the prison that was the collar clamped around it.

“But that isn't a fault, goodness, no.” Norman chuckled gently, his expression softening as he went on with his tangent. “Your mind is what makes you magnificent, Peter.” His hand moved, Peter watching the action with such intensity that time felt as if it had slowed drastically.

“That drive in you is what makes you a perfect soldier.”

And to Peter, everything felt as it came to a complete still as Norman had started to reach his hand towards him. Though his mind had exploded with a million different warnings and fears and directions on how to escape it, the teenager was frozen to the spot. He had all the time to react and yet, he just couldn't.

Like a deer in the headlights, Peter could see what felt like the end coming his way and no matter how much he had psyched himself up just moments ago, he didn't know what to do. Fear engulfed his entire person and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he really wanted someone to come save him.

His bravado had been shattered, his confidence ripped to shreds the moment Norman stepped into the light and revealed his role in the hell he was stuck in. Because it hurt so much more, it tore at his mask he had so carefully crafted because knowing it was Norman who had done this to him was the worst.

What did he do about that? How should he feel? How did he just swallow down all the misery and betrayal and fall back into his cocky persona when he was just so afraid. He was afraid he was going to be tortured again, he was afraid of all the secrets they had found being revealed, he was afraid of what his friends thought of him on the outside, he was afraid of just how much Harry knew after all.

Because he knew he really would shatter if Harry was involved in this more than he should've been. Whether that was because he feared for his well-being or he feared he had a hand to play after all, he didn't know.

All he could be aware of was that his chest felt as if it was going to cave in beneath the mountain of hysteria that was just piling on and on and on. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide, he wished he had his watch so that he could call for backup, so that he could call for his team or even Fury to come help him because he really needed help and he didn't know how to get out of it.

They knew who he was, they knew his family and his friends, the man holding him here was his family and he didn't know what to do about it. He had never felt more in danger in his life, he had never felt more hopeless, not even back then. Not even when…

Because at least he had Aunt May, at least he had his powers and his new obligation as a hero but here he had nothing. What good was his strength when he had a taser glued around his neck? What good was his wit and his quips when the man in front of him didn't even flinch at the state he was in?

Peter had collapsed before him, broken and battered, screaming and crying and Norman didn't even seem bothered. When he kneeled before him, his position and expression that of a father trying to comfort his child, Peter wasn’t fooled by the act, and he only heard danger.

Danger. Danger. Danger drummed through his ears, it screamed at the back of his mind as the hands of the man he once trusted so brought him such unbridled fear. He couldn't fight, he couldn't speak, he could hardly move as he was stuck between the two strong forces.

In the midst of his breakdown, as time seemed to return to its normal speed, Peter’s body fell upon its last resort. His mind fogged as it presented him with two options: fight or flight and he had to choose one. Something sprung forward from the panic and before he knew it, Peter had fallen back into a state he often tried to bury.

Peter couldn't deny that when the spider bit him, he got more than the impressive wall-crawling abilities. He got a fair share of the arachnid’s instincts too, though there weren't many who truly knew this past Fury, Connors and his team to an extent.

But there was one thing that he had hidden from even them, and that was urges that related to his mutated fangs.

Peter hadn't been able to swallow his hisses when a fight had gone wrong but thanks to his mask, no one had ever seen just how much the hero would bare his teeth when he truly felt threatened. No matter how much he hated the primal action, he just couldn't hold back from opening his jaw and allowing the piercing fangs to shoot down and try and inflict fear upon his enemy.

But that wasn't even the worst bit, not to him. It was the instincts that came after.

The instincts to bite.

Peter had never succeeded in giving into those urges, he had always managed to keep them pushed down, to release the panic and the shock in some other way that allowed him to carry on without showing how much of a freak he was. But that didnt erase the fact that they were there in the first place.

When scared enough, Peter wanted to bite people, he wanted to tear into the flesh and to make everything so much worse, he wanted to inject his venom into them. He had venom. His own venom, stored in his own glands sat at the roof of his mouth.

It wasn't deadly, he had done his own extensive research the minute he woke up and found the source behind his new tooth pain. But it wasn't just for show either, when administered to a regular human, while it wouldn't kill them, it would numb almost all feeling around their body and add on the effects of nausea and a fever just as the cherry on top.

Peter had lost count of how many times he had considered grabbing a pair of pliers and tearing the disgusting fangs out and just ending all his misery then and there, but he always held back. Not only would it be noticeable when both his top pair of canies vanished, but Peter had always managed to convince himself that maybe…he could just live with it.

He would always wear his mask, so no bad guy he was fighting would ever even know he had fangs in the first place, the fangs retracted outside of battle when he was in a calmer state so there was no danger there and even when he was faced with the terrifying want to bite his enemy to escape danger, he had proven to himself he could overcome it.

He could control the spider side of him. He wasn't a freak, he could still be…as normal as he could be. He could deal with the sticky hands and the nagging spider sense and the confusing urge to hang upside down instead of sitting on the couch because none of that was scary, none of that was savage.

But biting people? Drugging them with a paralyzing venom just to win a fight? Leaving them with probable mental scars on top of the teeth marks in their skin? It was inhuman. It was disgusting it was…it wasn't him. It wasn't how Peter did things.

He thought that for as long as he was Spider-Man, he would never use them. At least…not until now.

Because Peter was far from a stable state of mind and as he sat on the ground, hands shaking around his neck and mouth open in horror, the only thing his brain could decide on was to act before the danger came any closer.

So just as Norman had gotten inches away from his face, Peter reacted. With no thoughts behind it, no conscious awareness of the consequences that may come after, the boy lurched forward and snapped, clamping his teeth around the man’s hand.

Just as he felt him tense under his hold, Peter sunk the fangs in. Immediately, he felt the venom glands at the top of his mouth seep in response, an electrifying current that bounced around his whole jaw at the sudden use of his fangs after months of inactivity.

Like the spider part of his brain was satisfied, Peter hastily slipped back into the present just in time to hear Norman yell in horror and watch as the man raised a hand to smack Peter away. Luckily, his instincts still buzzed with activity and Peter un-latched himself from the man, refusing to think about the blood that dripped from his lip and he rolled to the side.

The feeling that raged through his veins was like no other, excitement, adrenaline and smugness from within that he had finally let that more savage part of his body take over and show the man a lesson. Peter didn't know whether to be disgusted or not at just how right it felt to answer the call he had buried for so long, to finally give in and let his mind slip as he became even less human for just a moment.

It was the same kind of buzz that came with swinging through New York, with webbing up criminals after winning a hard-fought battle, with scaling a skyscraper with nothing but his hands and feet and the same kind of ease that came with hanging upside down as he finished up his homework or fixed a malfunctioning web shooter.

It was like the action fit. A puzzle piece settling neatly that he never knew he needed to find until now. But Peter wasn't sure how to feel about that and what that now meant for him now that he had found it. Would he have stronger urges now? Would it torment him until he did give in? Would Peter have to bite someone, anyone to satisfy the urge when it came?

It scared him, and the possibility that after all this, he would most definitely have to tell at least Doctor Connors of his instinct didn't make him feel any better. But, and maybe it was for the best, he didn't have long to linger on that thought as his spidey-sense hissed at him and he swiftly leapt out the way as a claw came crashing down in the spot he had just been.

Peter panted as he landed back on all-fours, mouth open and fangs still revealed as he stared up Doctor Octavius and watched as he waved the remote around with a dark expression.

“That’s enough of-”

“Octavius!” Norman screeched, yanking the attention back on him as he stumbled to his feet, still clutching his wounded hand as it shook in his grip. As the scientist turned his way, Peter took the glowing chance to scurry away.

Fueled with eagerness mixed with terror, Peter ducked behind a large enough pipe and scaled the wall, following along with wires and hissing valves as he scanned the darkened crevice for any sort of vent or exit he could slip through.

“What was that?!” Norman yelled, his furious voice echoing throughout the lab and back to the fleeing teenager. “He bit me!”

“Yes, I have his fangs recorded in my notes.” Otto responded with little interest, his voice laced with annoyance that Peter had actually managed to slip from his sight and was now scurrying around in the dark corners as he searched for a way to get free.

“And you didn't think to tell me?!” If Peter was in his right mind, he would've laughed until his sides hurt at the complete shock and rage in Norman’s voice because god knew he deserved it. But Peter was nothing but calm, every sense and nerve in his system was on edge as he knew this was the first chance in days he had gotten at escaping and he couldn't fail.

If only he had been able to see where Norman had entered from, he’d just sprint through the door! But he had been asleep when the man came in and Octavius had always made sure that his view was blocked when he wasn't messing with him. Peter had barely any of the lab mapped out other than what he could see from within the glass and that left him disorientated and nervous as he clung to the ceiling and pushed himself behind a broken pipe.

“You would've known if you’d been bothered to read it properly!” Octavius snapped back, the shadow of his jerking limbs startling Peter as for a moment, he mistook it for his actual claw coming to take him away. He only breathed out again when the shadow passed him by and he took that as he was safe enough to claw to his next spot.

The exit had to be somewhere around the consoles, the doctor spent so much time there that there had to be some sort of button or switch that let him know which way was his way to freedom. It was actually getting over there without being caught that looked to be the most daunting part.

Peter resisted the urge to slap himself, he could do this. He couldn't let his terror consume him, he had gotten through worse, he had achieved greater feats. He could get across the room without alerting the two men, especially considered they sounded like they were entering a heated argument.

“He has a sort of…venom.” The scientist informed as Peter leapt from one pipe to another, gritting his teeth as a burst of hot air shot his way and sliced against his already injured arm. God, he had completely forgotten about his injuries. Everything suddenly became so much harder as everything came storming back and he had to stop and wheeze through the pain as it rolled through his body.

“A venom?!” Norman screeched again, his voice still loud with panic, making Peter flinch as he passed them by and b-lined for a hole in the ceiling, hopeful it was a vent of some kind. Only, the boy cursed under his breath when he looked within and found it packed full of dangerously tangled wires, leaving him no space to enter unless it tore them all out himself.

“It’s not fatal.” Doc Ock assured, his clicking tentacles piercing through Peter’s mind as he slipped down a wall and shrunk behind a miscellaneous console, calmed by the idea that it’s hum would drown out his own heaving gulps. Just a little further, he had managed to get halfway now, he could get the whole way easy.

“It’s around the same level as a muscle relaxant. It’ll wear off in a few hours.” Peter didn't bother to listen, he already knew from his own research just how dangerous his venom was and the correct mixture to completely nullify it. But he wasn't going to tell them that. No, as Peter ducked out from behind the machine, he wished Norman to stick through the whole process and suffer.

“A few-” Norman laughed at the absurdity of it all. “A few hours?!” He boomed and Peter instinctually squeezed back into the shadows as he heard something crash and assumed Norman had thrown something in rage. “Octavius, you get rid of this damn poison right now or so help me-”

“Fine.” Peter heard the doctor cut him off with an exasperated sigh and he took the chance to crawl a few inches further, sticking back to the wall and aiming for the ceiling as it felt so much more safer than the floor. He was so close, but he had to be even more cautious. Compared to the rest of the dull, scarcely lit lab, the corner with the cluster of screens and monitors was blinding.

If Peter dropped down without thinking, they'd spot him immediately and as much as he wanted one, he was in no shape for a fight. He had his chance of freedom, he needed to be careful and not throw it away.

“But first, let me catch the little bug.” Octavius spat and Peter froze as he heard the familiar sound of his claws stomping against the tiles. No, he couldn’t stop, not now, he needed to keep going. The teen swallowed his fears and went on, crawling along the ceiling with such care that every movement made the absolute minimum of noise, no matter how much he wanted to cry out as his cuts re-opened and wept.

“He would’ve gotten out by now!” Norman snarled and Peter held his breath as he clung to a loose wire and used it as leverage to hop over a boiling, hissing pipe that he knew would be a death wish to touch.

“Impossible.” Octavius said with such assurance that it succeeded in unnerving Peter but he refused to let it stop him, he was so close now, he was almost directly above the consoles and while he hadn't spotted any other sort of exit on his journey over, he was sure he would at least find something in the tech.

“The only way out of this lab is sealed.” The doctor informed as his stomps got closer and it took everything in the boy not to listen to his danger sense and scurry away, to hide in the darkest corner and hope no one ever found him again. He could do this, he was above them now, all he needed to do was look at the screens, the controls and was sure to find something to help him.

“He’s still here, and I have a perfect way of finding him.”

Peter didn't like the malice that sat at the edge of the man’s voice as he spoke, but he brushed it aside in the hope that he would be long gone by the time the doctor actually found him on the ceiling. He twisted around, dangling dangerously over the consoles as his eyes scoured the screens for any map or footage of an exit, but it was all so much, too much to digest and-

Was that Harry? Peter froze on one screen in particular, what looked like security footage of a room he had never seen before, or at least he wasn't sure he had but he certainly recognised the sight of his best friend as he paced back and forth, a harrowing look on his face.

The sight was euphoric, finally some solid evidence that his friend was fine and ok, he was alive and didn't seemed to be injured in any way. He wasn't in a cell, he wasn't confined to any sort of lab like he was and while he looked troubled, he was alone. He was ok, he was ok…

Peter aimed to get closer, to finally drop down and see if there was some kind of communication on the console he could use to contact Harry and see if he could help, but then something interrupted his thoughts.

A quick series of beeping that made him look down and raise his hand to the tightness around his neck.

Peter didn't even have the time to object before his body was overcome with the agonising volts and he dropped to the floor as his body seized up in pain. The feeling of his back cracking against the hard lab tiles didn't compare to the peircing electricity that attacked every inch of his body.

“See?”

Peter hardly registered when Doctor Octavius came up beside him, claw stuck down on the remote while he used another to slither down and wrap around the boy’s waist and hoist him up. He couldn't do anything to fight against it as screams ripped from his throat and he writhed against his own skin.

He longed to bring his hands up and scratch and claw at the collar around his neck, knowing that if it was able to be clicked on, then surely there was a way to yank it off but he just couldn't. All he could do was hang there, semi-limp, semi-tense as Ock hauled him away from the consoles and right back over to his cell.

As he carelessly tossed him to the floor, Peter caught the sight of Norman watching with a curled upper lip as he rubbed his wounded hand. The image burned into Peter’s mind, standing stronger then even the white shocks that cursed his vision. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to forget that while he was struggling, crying and screaming on the hard concrete, Norman just watched with disgust.

Was this truly the man he had looked up to all this time?

“I don't want another mistake like this, Octavius.” Norman hissed as the glass started to move down, and Peter could no nothing about it. He wanted to move, to so desperately snatch back the chance that was dangling right in front of his eyes but the electricity had yet to stop, had yet to set him free from the spasms that controlled his muscles and the excruciating buzz that had entered his mind.

“You are to record his attributes and create countermeasures for them immediately.” The man snapped, looking up at Otto with such disdain despite the fact the scientist loomed over him by more than a few feet, metallic limbs whirring in annoyance.

Norman didn't even give him time to respond before he spun around and stepped out of Peter’s vision, steps forceful and posture tense as rage shook through his being.

“He’s like a wild animal.” He spat, his hate-filled tone reaching past the teen’s own screams and scorching into his mind. “Get him a damn muzzle if he insist on acting like one.” Was the last words Peter heard from the man he formally considered family before the glass reached the floor with a click and quickly started to filter over.

Peter had no chance to see where his captors went, where Norman had exited from before the green haze blocked out the lights and the boy was shrouded in darkness once again. It was only then, left alone in complete silence, that the collar finally turned off and he slumped against the ground with shaking breaths.

Body aching, muscles still involuntarily jerking, Peter manged to curl his arms around himself in some sort of self-hug to give himself at least a scrap of comfort as he wheezed through the aftereffects and came back down from the height of pain. The teen was starting to despise the idea of the glass ever coming back up again, not if he was going to be faced with the same hell.

The hell of finding out that Norman Osborn was not only aware of what was going on with him, but he was directing it. He was the one planning this all from the top, he was the one who brought him there, who kidnapped him in the first place and while Peter suffered he either smiled or only cared for his own well-being.

And at the end of it all, he tried to get Harry involved? To make Peter think he had some kind of genuine part to play in all of this? No, Peter refused to believe more of their sick lies. If Harry did have any involvement, it wasn't from his own will, he was sure of it…he was sure of it…

Peter gasped, the tears rolling down his cheeks as he bit his trembling lip in an attempt not to cry and he crawled to the wall and pushed himself against it, curling as small as he possibly could make himself and burying his head in his arms.

In the darkness, the only thing Peter could think about was how distressed Harry looked and how much he just wanted to hug him again.

Chapter Text

An inhuman roar cut through the air, ear-splitting and terrifying, as the hulking monster aimed its head up and paused, just for a second, its mouth left open and heaving. Empty white eyes remained wide, blank, and nothing, yet there was so much more just hidden beneath the surface.

A moment of calm. Silence fell as the creature panted, eyes slowly narrowing as if it was considering something from within. Then it took a sharp inhale, a hissing noise as its tongue flicked in a feral manner, and the monster’s eyes snapped back wide.

It shook its head as it unleashed another roar, a disgusting row of sharp teeth glinting in the overhead lights, and its arm shuddered as they pushed it forward. The black skin that made the creature rippled like a wave, moving along and slithering down until it reached the hand and morphed it into what could only be described as a sycthe.

Then it drew back and swung, and with one single attack, it cut one of the training bots clean in half, a diagonal slice through the reinforced metal and into the delicate wires that left the robot sputtering and spitting as its chest slowly slid from its torso until it hit the floor with a loud clang.

“Well done, Harry. Now, if you would just approach the door, we’d like to record your vitals-“

Harry- no. He didn’t imagine he was very present right now. Venom didn’t wait for the scientist to finish their sentence before they let out another screech and hooked their tentacles into the destroyed robot’s upper half and launched it towards the one-way glass.

Like the hundred other times they had attempted that furious attack, the glass did not break upon the force of the robot, nor did it shatter when the symbiote threw themselves next, banging and slashing at the wall with their tendrils.

Though the act of scaring the pitiful research team never failed to entertain Octavius, the never-changing cycle was beginning to grow tiresome, and as another one of their violent screams stuttered the camera footage, the doctor found himself sighing as he leaned back on his tentacles.

Getting to watch his creation in action, enclosed in his perfect testing environment, was at first such a wonderful achievement for him. Everything he had been missing, every formula left undone, every piece of data he hadn’t had time to grab suddenly fell into his hands. His perfect monster, back under his control as they rightfully should be.

But he could only sit and examine the symbiote for so long before Norman got restless.

When Venom lashed out, attacked and cursed and prolonged each test with childish spite, Octavius would smile because he relished the amount of absolute destruction the creature could create. Especially when the pinnacle of its rage was its very own father.

Otto got to watch and laugh smugly as the man would try and fail to convince the creature to bend to his will, for his son to listen and obey his orders. But Octavius knew better. He made that symbiote; he knew it would not listen to reason or polite words. The creature didn’t know the meaning of obedience.

He had made Venom to be everything that made Spider-Man powerful, but took away the parts that made them human. Venom was a living, breathing weapon that only desired to inflict harm and violence wherever it went. It was only natural that it reacted with anger and frustration when backed into a corner made of sterile white tiles and 24/7 surveillance.

The symbiote was bound to be unruly, at least in the first few stages of its life. It was still growing, still learning, and Octavius could see that through his live feed of the ‘tests’. They could put it in that room a hundred times, send him vile after vile of blood and throw however many robots they thought needed, it would not quell the pure rage they intended for it to have.

But it seemed his kind superior had forgotten that along the way, his sight of the symbiote twisted between soldier and son as he thought he could sway its mind with simple words and cruel intimidation like he usually did. Harry was not the same weak boy he used to be.

So Octavius made those collars, a decision he began crafting the minute Norman told him just exactly what he wanted to do with them. Originally, simple shock collars that were later modified to include adjustable frequencies, they both assumed that would be enough to scare the boy into silence.

Because as much as Otto did enjoy watching his rampages, he had to admit it made it a lot harder to get the samples he needed to conduct more tests.

But they both assumed wrong. The absolute hatred Harry had for the world around him was something even Octavius couldn't predict. What was interesting was that the symbiote seemed to amplify it. Where Harry would normally back down in terror, the creature would swoop in and defend and lash out again.

The electricity would stop them temporarily, warn them away from any unnecessary violence, but they would always get back up again.

The sonic rays would, in a sense, destroy the symbiote’s structure under a mountain of pain. It would force it back inside the host and leave only a shaken and broken child behind. All logic told the scientist that it would make Harry more susceptible to his father’s suggestions.

It only made him angrier.

And the cycle would start again.

Like father, like son, Octavius supposed.

The doctor hummed, drowning out the noise of the lesser scientists attempting to calm the tantruming monster, and he turned to his left, reaching out a claw to dim the lights surrounding his workstation so that he had a clear view of his little project from across the room.

Venom was not the only creature that they were researching. Where his testing upon the unruly symbiote failed, he would turn back to Peter.

When he hoisted himself higher off the floor to place his full attention upon the teenager, he wasn't surprised to find him in the same spot he had been in for the past few hours. He hadn't moved much at all since his last encounter, their last encounter.

He couldn't lie, seeing the horror that crept over the boy’s features once he realised he had been betrayed was something he wouldn't forget for a long time, it made holding off on throwing Norman’s name at his face much sooner.

Four days he’d been keeping Peter in his lab, experimenting on him, recording his powers and using them to perfect the formula that was Venom. Four days of relentless torture, confusion and pain for the crime of being unlucky enough to be bitten by an escape spider.

The despair he must've felt upon hearing the truth from Norman’s cynical mouth must've been truly agonising, because after the scientist threw him back into his cell, he curled up into a tight ball and had hardly moved since.

Octavius supposed he might've felt a sliver of sympathy for the teenager, only that was overshadowed by the irritating, insufferable attitude that the ‘hero’ insisted he paraded about with. He brought this upon himself; if the insect had never tried to play around with S.H.I.E.L.D., there was a chance that neither Norman nor Otto would've ever known that the spider had created something much grander.

Well, it wasn't Octavius’ job to wonder about the what-ifs; it was his job to create an unstoppable army, and unfortunately for Peter, he was the key for the doctor to upgrade and create the soldiers he needed. He wouldn't pretend to be sorry that he may need to wake the boy up for another round of ‘testing’ very soon.

Because, as much as the boy may think Octavius was doing this to inflict misery upon him, he did need to prod a bit further if he wanted to find a way to perfectly control the symbiote. He couldn't deny that it was a possibility that Venom got stronger, their hate-fueled bond with Harry growing into something that even electricity couldn't deter.

They needed something better because if they let things carry on the way they were, that bitterness could potentially grow and turn on them, father or not. Octavius had seen the tapes, heard the panicked words behind the monstrous screams. The boy wasn't just fighting for himself; he was determined to fight for Peter, too.

A relationship like that wasn't so easily broken, no matter how much the scientist could amp up the collar.

Otto took a few careful steps away from the desk, eyes lingering on the sight of the research team attempting to approach the creature, muttering something about ‘just a few blood samples’ before Venom screeched and picked one of the unfortunate scientists up. Octavius didn't need to continue watching to know that man had just broken more than a few bones.

It was the mind that drove the monster, something he hadn't accounted for when he originally created it. When he made the symbiote, it was going to remain in a controlled environment, fed only violent experiences and starved of any sort of emotional contact that would sway it from the intended goal. But the creature escaped and, as smug as Octavius was that he proved Osborn wrong, it had created an entirely new problem now that he had the symbiote back.

Venom wanted freedom; it wanted to return to the city, return to the fight that it so savagely engaged in. It knew there was a world beyond the white tiles and endless battle drones, it had grown further than mindless attacks and unquestioned obedience, and there wasn't anything Octavius could do that would erase that from its mind.

…as far as he knew.

Doctor Octavius was a scientist and a damn good one, something he was more than pleased to admit.

Norman wanted an army based on the powers of Spider-Man? Easily done, it only took one attempt to steal his blood and birth the creation of the black monster.

The symbiote bonded with Harry and now they needed a new way to control it? Octavius had the collar designed and made in less than a few hours.

The identity behind Spider-Man was nothing more than an ignorant, overconfident, immature child? Octavius had built his secure containment cells for a reason. A swift delivery of mechanical gauntlets and the man had received the wonderful gift of the mutated teenager within the next week.

He had worked hard and overcome each and every hurdle thrown at him, not even the loss of touch from his own lower body had halted the man in his pursuit of science. Sure, it wasn't ideal. Sure, there were many a day were Octavius looked upon his dishevelled reflection and felt like throttling Norman for being the cause of what he had become.

But it hadn't stopped him. A pair of unruly teenagers was hardly going to be the last straw. Maybe it would take time, maybe it was consuming the man's every waking hour as he fought against Norman’s constant nagging, but he would do it. Because he always did. Octavius was a genius; he could figure out the solution to this.

A claw slipped over his shoulder, clicking lightly at the sight of Peter suddenly shivering and curling even tighter within himself. Something new, since the boy had done nothing but sleep, was that he had become plagued by what Otto assumed were nightmares.

He didn't imagine that it could be anything else bothering him when deep in unconsciousness. He had been recording his injuries, having tread maybe a tad bit too close to the fatal diagnosis and having to leave the boy in partial isolation while his body recovered. Which was, interestingly, at least to him, slowing significantly because of his lack of nutrients, but he wasn't getting worse.

He’d give him the necessary sustenance eventually, the man just wanted to record the enhanced boy’s vitals when he had been pushed to the edge. Not over the edge. It made sense it was playing with the boy’s mind, having to battle with his recent discovery and the pain of many untreated wounds left upon his skin.

Octavius understood it, but that didn't mean he sympathised. Any tiny, minuscule scrap of empathy he may have felt for the boy was squashed beneath his overwhelming urge to inspect and grasp more data for his project. What was a weakness for Peter was a gain for him.

The speakers he’d placed inside the cell were almost muted, as they had been since the boy had arrived. The man could only deal with so much incessant yelling before he felt like disposing of the teenage annoyance. But now, he had half the mind to turn them up to carefully listen to and digest the occasional plea that would slip from the boy’s lips.

He certainly mentioned that Uncle of his quite often. He knew the child had a rather large need to impress male mentor figures, which is why Norman’s dramatic reveal to him would've hurt all the more. Though his guilt over what happened to the man was definitely something he would poke at later.

But what Octavius found delightful was that Harry’s name would be called out a fair few times as well, normally in a terrified yell that left the boy jerking awake or as a pitiful, quiet sob as he begged for his friend to stop doing something before he fell back into quiet once again.

Octavius had wondered if letting the pair be aware of each other’s status was a smart move, originally fond of the idea of complete isolation, a swift cut off from the outside world that would've helped them turn them into stronger soldiers. But now, he saw that this path was just as beneficial as the other.

Norman could ask him to find a way to control their bodies however much he wanted; it was their minds that were the true key to making perfect, obedient soldiers. If he could just find the words to properly inflict that delicious fear upon their mind, then they could more easily work towards controlling them-

Otto turned back to his workstation, just barely managing to ignore the sight of Venom being forced into a corner, shrinking under the sound of the sonic rays that the science team were forced to use on him. He instead focused upon the dreadful sight of an incoming call flashing upon the screen, an irritating chime accompanied alongside it to remind the doctor that he couldn't possibly dare ignore it.

There was only one person who ever called Otto. There was only one person who even knew that Doctor Octavius was truly alive. The man who made him this way.

Slinking down to settle before his wall of glowing screens, the man begrudgingly reached forward a claw to answer, a migraine already forming the second Norman’s face filled one of the side screens.

“Octavius.” Norman greeted with a scowl, brows knitted in frustration before they had even begun their conversation. The man was already in a bad mood, and Otto could imagine why as his ears were graced with another monstrous screech.

“Sir.” The scientist responded with as much strain as he could manage, instead focusing on his own recordings of both Venom and Peter’s reaction to the deterrents they'd tried so far, clicking away with his other claw and adding on the new data he had recently discovered.

“I assume you're watching this?” Norman asked with a slight snarl and both he and Otto paused as Venom shot out from a disoriented, emotional Harry and started on its path to attack the staff in front of him another time, only to recoil back once bright electricity emerged from the collar.

“Indeed.” Otto hummed at the sight, watching as the black symbiote shuddered and struggled to stay standing amidst the pain. But that didn't stop it from screaming every curse it could manage with that disgusting tongue. “Seems my invention was useful after all.” But not useful enough, not against two beings so stubborn.

“Don't pat yourself on the back just yet, Octavius.” Norman began, his tone laced with obvious annoyance as another decimated training bot was used as the next outlet of Venom’s rage, and the crash caused the father to cringe. “The longer you prevent me from turning the symbiote into the soldier I need, the stronger he gets.”

Octavius turned and glared at Norman through his goggles, metal limbs stiffening in rising annoyance.

“Every second he’s left unperfected, he destroys another piece of valuable equipment, injures another member of my limited research team.” The man listed with a steadily rising voice, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as his son leapt onto the ceiling and attempted to punch through one of the speakers, screaming something about ‘freeing them’ amidst the attacks.

“How far along are you in your research?”

There it was. How long ago had he asked him that very same question? It couldn't be more than just a few hours. Did he really expect him to have made any more progress in that time? Of course he did, because this was Norman Osborn, the man who expected everything, and when you couldn't give that to him, he threw you away like a piece of trash.

Unfortunately for him, he needed Octavius, and what Otto needed was to show his ignorant boss a piece of his superior mind. No, that was more of a want than a need, even he couldn't deny that. He may not be able to be rid of Octavius, but he could sure make his life hell until he agreed to fall back in line.

He’d done it before; he was capable of doing it again.

The doctor refused to think about the sudden thought that maybe he and the two specimens he watched over were more similar than he was comfortable with.

“I’ve made great strides since we recaptured Venom and acquired the bug.” Otto began, planning his excuse carefully in his head as he tried his best to find a way around Norman’s rage. “I’ve managed to rectify the parts I had been missing and even managed to discover new mutations I wasn't aware of before-”

“Octavius, I could find that all out on my own!” Norman cut him off with a snarl, banging his fists against the desk hard enough that the footage shook. “I tasked you with finding a way to control the symbiote, not with giving me another meaningless report!”

“Yes, and to complete that task, I need to understand them first!” Otto shot back through gritted teeth, his claws abandoning the idle task he was doing on the side and shooting towards the screen with shuddering restraint. “If I rush this operation, it could all go wrong! Do you want another failure?” The man hissed, glaring through the strands of hair that had fallen in front of his vision, but his anger distracted him from moving it aside.

“You wouldn't dare to present me with another failure, Otto,” Norman responded coolly, leaning forward slowly and precisely as his gaze went dark and lowered his tone into something dangerous. “You know what would happen if you did.”

Octavius shook at the pure, blazing fury that rose within him the second Norman so shamelessly threatened him. But he didn't say a word, he didn't scream or shout back with the terrible things that he knew he had the right to, because he also knew that Norman did not say those things lightly.

No matter what their relationship was before this, partner, apprentice, son- it didn't matter to him anymore, or maybe it never did. Norman was a man of his word, if he thought Otto was disrespecting him, he would punish him however he saw fit.

Which was something he didn't even want to think about.

“You're a smart man, Otto,” Norman spoke up with a sudden change in demeanour, though his expression remained dark as he leaned back in his expensive leather chair and looked down upon his scientist trapped in the moulding lab he made for him. “But my patience is wearing thin.”

Octavius lowered his claws as he let the man speak, eyes trailing to his console fitted with his hundreds of custom buttons and switches, wondering if he could ever get away with flicking the right one and finally allowing himself silence. But he knew better.

Even if he couldn't see him, he knew Norman was always watching one way or another.

“Get me a result on how to control the symbiote by tomorrow or I’m taking you off this project.”

And before Otto could even say anything against it, the man ended the call himself, leaving the scientist to stare at the blank screen. His body went unnaturally still, an uncomfortable cold settling upon his skin and slipping down into his bones.

Slowly, as the chill climbed along his body, exploding around his neck and grasping onto his head with an agonising tightness, Octavius exploded into pure anger. With a guttural roar, he shot a metallic claw forward and stabbed it directly into the screen where Norman’s face had once been, shattering the glass and leaving sparks in his wake.

When that wasn't enough to quell his rage, Octavius turned to his workstation and swiped along the table covered with his equipment and delicate data, shattering vials and destroying a microscope in the middle of observing a sample of blood. The only reason the man stopped there was because he had to quickly catch the only untainted vile before it fell to the floor, recognising how vital it would be to him in the next few hours.

But that still left him alone with his wrath, stuck with the burning scratch at the back of his mind that urged him to yell out and scream at the clear injustice that he was being presented with.

How dare he do this to him?! Venom was his creation, his! Norman had no part to play in the hour-long searches and studies he did to perfectly pick apart and put back together Spider-Man’s DNA. Sure, he ordered Octavius to do it, but that didn't mean he belonged to him any more than he belonged to Otto!

The symbiote was made by him! The collar that stopped him from tearing him apart was made by him! The one who gave him all his precious data and fixed and tweaked the pathetic attempts by his ‘research team’ was him!

Without Octavius, Norman would've gotten nowhere! He wouldn't have the brain to figure out how to take Peter’s DNA, he wouldn't have any idea how to capture them both without a shred of evidence left behind, and he certainly would not have even an ounce of control over his own son if it wasn't for him!

And he thought he could just take him off the project entirely? Because he wasn't working as fast- as reckless as the man wanted? How foolish could he be? There was the smallest part of Octavius that actually wanted to let him. He wanted to watch Norman try and fail to reach the heights that he had achieved in such a short amount of time and then stand by and smile as his very own son rose against him.

But he had to remind himself, if Norman ever got caught or unfortunately killed, then it wouldn't take long for the authorities to find him and imprison him next. Even if they didn't, who would ever hire Octavius as a scientist with the way he was now?

Norman knew what he was doing giving him those prosthetics. He knew what he was doing when he sealed him away in this lab and he knew what he was doing now, placing the man in such a position.

The doctor couldn't do anything but go along with it because, as much as Norman needed him, Otto needed Norman. Without each other, they would be nothing.

Despite his ever-present rage and irritation toward the man, Octavius couldn't deny that his original complaint was something he did need to work on. If he could just swallow his hate, push down his ever-sizzling frustration at how he was being treated, he could work on that.

And he might just have a perfect distraction from his anger.

The scientist turned, abandoning the mess on the floor as he intended to clear it up later, and approached one of the coolers he stored close to his workstation. Though this contraption was not used for food or drink, no, it was used for something much more precious.

The man opened the lid with one claw and placed the saved vial of blood carefully amidst the rest, counting each one and checking the labels to make sure he hadn't gotten them mixed. Octavius had done his fair share of experiments with both Peter’s and Harry’s blood, most on how to improve the formula, how to control it, but he had spent the last of the bug’s on a project on his own.

All of Peter’s were currently…contaminated with something he didn't want to disturb the process of. He needed more; just a few drops would be enough for him to tamper with what he needed. He’d have to go collect some more blood from the boy again, but that wasn't a problem, he’d let him sulk for long enough.

Besides, the scientist had just finished a brand new contraption and he’d like to sit if it…fits.

Octavius closed the cooler with a growing smile, grabbing at something from under the desk as he turned his attention back to his specimen. He had since calmed down from his nightmare from a few moments ago, fallen back into a deep sleep in the tight ball he kept himself in.

Perfect. If he was still unconscious, that made the act of subduing him all that much easier, he didn't need a redo of his little annoying game from two days ago. The thought had occurred to him to install and use some type of gas that would knock him out, avoiding his struggle altogether.

But he decided against it. There were just some things he needed the boy to be awake for…and maybe because he enjoyed watching the light slowly fade from his eyes in real time.

Octavius scooped out his remote from one of his pockets, approaching his experiment with clear glee as he pressed down on a button and the now-repaired claws shot down from the ceiling, gearing for the teenager.

Though the insect had been sleeping, the second those metal tentacles descended, his eyes shot open and he unfurled from his position, head snapping upwards and body tensing as he prepared himself to run and to fight against them.

But his so-called ‘spidey-sense’ was practically useless when his body was too slow to respond. Weighed down by his injuries, his exhaustion and complete lack of hope, Peter hardly got to his knees before the mechanism scooped under his armpits and coiled around his biceps tightly, hoisting him off the floor.

As he kicked and swung himself weakly in the air, growling and hissing something through his gravelly voice, the final and third claw wrapped around his weight and stuck there tight, keeping him relatively still as he struggled as much as he could manage while Otto grinned and pressed the button the raise the glass.

The sight of the boy stilling in fear was something he knew he would never get old of. As the glass came up, Peter tried the throw up a mask of hatred, curling his lip in a snarl in the hopes it would hide his obvious nerves upon seeing the doctor again. But Otto knew he’d long since broken through his ‘heroic’ confidence.

And that wasn't something the boy could simply build back up again, especially since his recent discovery.

“W’dya want now…?” Peter growled, words slurred and quiet as he still fought through the aftereffects of being startled awake and then dangled in the air like a doll. “Haven' you gotten enough?” He asked, huffing out a puff of air as he let himself go limp in the tentacle’s hold.

“No.” Octavius smiled as he practically watched the boy’s energy drain away before him. It had been a long time since he had attempted to annoy him with his childish quips and aggravating comments, either having learnt his lesson from the ‘experiments’ the man had inflicted upon him prior or simply because he was too depressed to try.

Either way, Otto heard a lot less of the teenager’s grating voice and that was something he was very appreciative of.

“Unfortunately for you, there are still a thousand tests I am required to observe.” The man hummed as he unclipped an empty syringe from his belt, his smile growing wider as Peter’s breath hitched, tensing as Otto brought the tool up high. “And I love experimenting.” He chuckled as he turned the needle around, watching as it glinted in the light, untainted and clean.

Not for long.

Octavius began to move the syringe closer, aiming it carefully over the same spot he had stabbed it in before. The result had appeared in a nasty blue bruise that was no doubt sore to touch, but it wasn't like the scientists cared much for that. He wanted blood, and he would get it.

But Peter hadn't grown any more accustomed to the syringe than the last time, and in an instant, the fire in him had reignited and the boy started the struggle all over again. He thrashed wildly against his bonds, and yet, his wide eyes never left the medical tool inching closer and closer to his skin.

Octavius paid it no mind, confident that the boy had long since lost the strength to break through his contraptions like before, and they were holding him well enough that the man didn't have to fight to get a clear shot into his arm. Even if he missed the desired area, the only harm it would do would be towards the boy himself.

At least, that was what he thought, because as the scientist got closer, his attention solely on the teenager’s arm, he didn't expect Peter to suddenly go still, sharply suck a breath in and then kick out at Otto’s claw, knocking the syringe out of his grip and leaving it clattering on the floor.

It was quick, sudden, as if the boy hadn't even thought through the attack himself, so he didn't pull back even when he hit his target. He kept on going, knocking Octavius straight in the face with the full force of his panic and smacking his nose to the side with an unsettling crack.

The scientists cried out, stumbling back a few steps as he raised a mechanical claw to his face, as his vision swam and his nose buzzed with pain. He touched his nose with the cold metal, he hissed against the aching feeling, but couldn't stop himself from snarling as he spotted blood smeared on his claw.

Octavius’ head snapped back towards Peter, body shaking as his anger made a rebound and for a second, the boy just stared back at him in shock, hanging still as if he really hadn't intended to hurt the man in his struggle. But as the realisation sank in, Peter dared to smile.

“You little freak!” Octavius cursed as he stomped back towards him, but his intimidation had been lost on Peter, who had broken into a weak, delirious giggle at the sight of the blood trickling down his captor’s face.

“You think that’s funny?” The doctor asked, voice dangerously low as he clutched the remote in his shaking claw, but Peter either wasn't paying attention or didn't care because he only nodded and laughed further at his obvious rage.

That only made his frustration swell much further than the man was able to contain. As the blood dripped from Octavius’ nose, a sickening thought occurred at the back of his mind that he didn't need to attack his equipment to relieve his pent-up rage.

No, as thoughts of Norman’s treatment, thoughts of his never-ending isolation and aggravating thoughts of Peter’s loud personality making a reappearance, the man remembered that the boy had quite the remarkable healing factor.

No, this wouldn't kill him; it would only give Octavius some of that much-needed relief.

Without another word, the man pressed the newly added button on the remote and found the corners of his lips twitching upwards as he saw a light flash in activation on the collar on his neck and a series of beeps following after.

Peter’s laughter cut abruptly short as he caught the sound, and he looked down, brows furrowing in confusion as he failed to find the source of the noise. Much to Otto’s amusement, the boy seemed to have forgotten just exactly what he had managed to force around his neck, but it wasn't for long, for as the beeps got more frequent, Peter looked up in horror.

“Wait wait wait wait wait wait WAIT WAIT-” Was all he managed to stutter out before the collar finished the warning and exploded in electricity, flashing bright as it sent a cruel amount of volts soaring through the boy’s muscles. Octavius tilted his head, examining the way the insect’s body reacted, body tensed and yet jerking out at the same time. Eyes wide with pain but glazed over as his mind stole him someplace else.

Octavius wasn't afraid to let the punishment go on much longer than necessary; he knew it wouldn't kill Peter, not with his enhanced genetics. He’d been recording his tolerance and he’d gotten quite an expansive amount of data, he knew that even this wasn't enough to knock him out. He’d had worse.

But he knew better than to try getting the blood he needed while there was a cascade of volts running through the teenager’s body. So, as he went to fetch a fresh syringe from a drawer, he pressed the remote again and caught sight of Peter slumping down as he turned back around.

“With that, maybe you'll finally learn some manners…” Octavius snarked as he lumbered closer, watching as Peter attempted to raise his head to face him, failing once before he finally got it to stay upwards. Through a dazed look and shaking limbs, Peter found the confidence to open his mouth and speak.

“S-Says the guy who's torturing a sixteen-year-old…!” The boy wheezed, his voice awfully small, but he still managed to bring up a shaky smile as he threw back the snark right in the scientist's face. It was pianfully obvious he was trying desperately to keep a hold of his brave persona, to test Octavius’ patience like he had learnt he could, but it wasn’t so easy this time.The boy still trembled like a frightened animal, he was still the one trapped by the thick wires and he wasn’t the one who knew what was coming next.

He must've thought he had experienced the extent of what the doctor had to offer and that fact alone fuelled Otto with such amusement that he couldn’t help but laugh. Poor, stupid, little boy, Octavius would always have more in store to experiment with.

“Well then, let me repent for my crimes by finally shutting you up!” Octavius snapped and lunged forward with one of his metallic claws, grabbing hold of Peter’s brown hair and shoving his head back so that he had a clear path to his target.

Slipping the remote away and unclasping his brand-new accessory from his belt, the man gave his subject no time to figure out just exactly what he was holding before he forced the object over his mouth and quickly clipped it shut from behind his head.

Once he heard the lovely noise of the contraption locking itself in place, Octavius dropped the boy's head and took a few steps back, admiring his work while the teenager took a few moments to try and understand just what exactly the man had placed around him.

While he wasn't certain if Norman was being serious in his furious rant, he just couldn't ignore how brilliant an idea it was to build his very own muzzle and shut it around the boy’s annoying mouth.

He could tell, even as Peter narrowed his eyes in confusion and twisted his head every which way, his creation was perfect as not a single irritating word escaped the boy’s lips. How could they? He’d designed the thing so that it would permanently clamp his mouth shut.

Yes, although he had managed to finally install fear into the boy, finally managed to tear away at least most of his nauseating hope and drain all but a scrap of his energy, there was one thing he had now discovered he would never give up. His voice.

He had originally designed it to simply cover his mouth- his fangs, to prevent him from snapping at any more hands like a rabid dog, but the revelation was just too entertaining to pass up. He’d have to press a button to adjust the mechanism when he finally decided to feed the insect, but for now, Peter had been completely shut up and Octavius had never been happier.

He couldn't help but let a chuckle as he watched the realisation sink in and Peter start struggling with his hands, itching to reach them up to his face and tear the undoubtedly uncomfortable contraption off, but his reliable claws stopped him from even getting close.

“I wouldn't even bother, if I were you.” Octavius supplied as he snatched Peter’s wrist with a tentacle, yanking it down harshly and clearing the way for the syringe. “Not even your strength can break through a substance like that.”

He’d managed to order an entirely new batch of strengthened materials the moment he got off that surprising call from Norman, preparing and planning for the day he got his hands on the elusive superhero. Thankfully, all that effort and money spent from underground businesses wasn't wasted, and neither Peter nor Venom had yet to put a dent in their cells.

So, of course, with a small amount left over, Octavius thought, why not use it for his brilliant new accessory? It would be a shame if the bug broke it after only a few hours of use, after all.

“I only use the best.” Octavius smiled at him mockingly, taking great enjoyment in the pure, unbridled anger that flashed through Peter’s eyes as the man finally stabbed down and successfully got the syringe in.

“There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?” The scientist chuckled as he pulled out the tool just in time for Peter to growl and kick out his legs again, presumably aiming to knock him in the face again, but missing when the man swiftly ducked out of the way.

Otto didn't stay to torment him much longer, the irritation in his chest eased at the sight of his most aggravating hero being completely silenced, and as he stepped away he pulled out the remote to bring back down the glass, done with his specimen, at least for the next for hours.

But he didn't miss the sound of what Octavius could only guess was Peter attempting to shout after him, failing as his yells were both restricted and muffled by the dark object around his mouth and then shrieking in such pure frustration that he started writhing and tugging himself against his bounds once again.

Otto couldn't find himself to be disappointed that the muzzle failed to drown out the boy’s voice completely; the sight of him being so utterly enraged that he could no longer speak was better than any amount of electricity he could inject into his veins.

As the glass settled back into place at the bottom of the cell, the cylinder enclosed once again, Octavius allowed the thick wires that held the boy to set him free, dropping him to the ground and quickly slithering back into the ceiling before he could try and tear them apart like before.

But it seemed like the scientist had little to worry about, Peter hardly paid the claws any mind as the second he touched the floor, he jumped to his feet and threw his hands around the contraption on his face, tugging at it and yanking at it with what Octavius knew must've been great force, but it didn't budge.

Quickly, the teenager gave up on snapping it apart and switched to feeling around the back of his head, trying to find the part where it had locked together and to open it back up again, but he would only find solid metal, a smooth surface all the way round. Doctor Octavius was not a fool, he made the mechanism so that only he would be able to open it back up.

It was a punishment, after all. It defeated the point if Peter was able to take the object off himself. But he wouldn't know that, wouldn't care as he only grew more frustrated by the second and thrashed around as he slammed against the muzzle, scratching the surface and cutting his own skin as he tried to pry underneath.

Otto actually laughed, tutting as the boy collapsed to the floor and writhed around with his hands yanking against the cursed accessory like a child having a tantrum, but he doubted Peter cared much about what he looked like. This was just another loss in a long line of them, and Octavius knew that it was getting to him.

Every time the boy thought he had a win, he would come along and knock him back down much, much further, just to remind him of where he was and what his role had become.

Because Peter Parker wasn't a hero anymore, he had no life outside of Oscorp, outside this lab and outside the cell that Otto had built specifically for him.

Peter Parker belonged here. With his genetically mutated blood and impeccable powers, he was going to help Octavius make an army that was unlike anything that had been made before, whether he wanted to or not.

Otto only wondered just how long it would take for the boy to learn that.

Harry- Venom, no- maybe? He didn't know, he didn't care, he gave up, they gave up-

God, shut up!

Harry roared as he lifted a fist and threw it against the wall, longing to hear it crack against his power. But it didn't break, not even a speck of rubble collapsed at his attack and the boy was left feeling more agitated than ever, more hopeless.

In this new form, combined and fused with the symbiote stuck inside him, he was so much stronger than he had ever been before. He could take on crowds of enemies, he could destroy armies of those stupid training bots and he could throw around thousands of dollars of scientific equipment just to spite the scientists around him.

But he couldn't actually destroy what mattered. Harry could harness all of that monstrous strength, let Venom take control and go on those terrifying rampages that he had been fearing for so long, but he just couldn't get free.

Why now? Why here? Why were his powers failing him now, of all times? When it actually mattered, Venom was just as weak as Harry was as a regular teenager, and it infuriated him.

The symbiote stirred from within his chest, its mouth contorting into a frown at the thought that Harry was calling them weak. Well, what else did they want him to call them? All this time, he’d feared the monster that clung to him, had nightmares about the things he’d watch him do, but the one time he actually needed that power, he fell short.

They couldn't get free, they couldn't find Peter, and they couldn't get help. So, considering everything, yeah, Venom was pretty useless.

A growl rumbled from their chest and rippled up and throat their throat until it escaped out of their mouth in a furious roar. Harry didn't bother to try and stop or fight against Venom as they turned and took their anger out on the practically destroyed bodies of the training bots sent in previously.

They’d- He’d been brought back to that dizzying training room again, or more appropriately, forced. Harry had tried to make a run for it the minute the door opened, but had only gotten so far before they turned on the collar and he collapsed to the floor, shaking and screaming.

Of course, the sudden panic and onslaught of pain allowed Venom to come crawling back out again, prodding at the front mind and forcing him out of the way so they could take the wheel and ‘protect him’. He didn't achieve much either, apart from actually managing to throw a vent cover at one of the researchers attempting to calm them, no doubt injuring him.

It was just a shame that the creature didn't manage to get through the vents before they turned on that…sickening noise and Venom slithered back inside him, leaving Harry alone.

Harry didn't want to think about the noise any longer than he needed to.

He could still hear the ringing.

-But he was never truly alone.

Venom was becoming more frequent, his voice getting louder and louder, and Harry had started making the mistake of letting his mind slip into theirs when the symbiote formed the large, black suit around them. It was easily done. Harry was constantly stuck suffocating under all his anger and fear and it was just so relieving to pass it along to something else, something stronger, more confident than he could ever be.

It was easy to forget that his original enemy had been Venom in the first place. In comparison to Norman, the symbiote suddenly became the least of his worries.

Venom promised him sanctuary, promised him quiet and protection against all the hurt and betrayal and guilt he had been riddled with the past few days, just as long as he let him have control. But Harry just couldn't give in. As time went on, there were some things the two had begun to agree on, some lines that had been blurred and the distance Harry had created had grown shorter, but they were far from the partnership the little creature desired.

Despite everything, Venom still had that unquenchable thirst for violence, that unnerving desire to snap the bones of those who dared wrong them and Harry just wouldn't participate in that. No matter how much those urges had started to make sense, no matter how much he really did want to teach the maniacs around him a lesson for keeping him there, hurting him, he forced himself to think about one thing.

What would Peter do?

In his position, he knew that the hero would put up a fight, he’d smile and say something stupid while he punched his way forward and then use his smarts to find a safe way out. He wouldn't break their bones, he wouldn't watch them bleed, he wouldn't kill them and he certainly wouldn't take joy in it.

No matter what happened, Peter, Spider-Man always showed mercy; he never went further than was necessary.

But did that apply here? After everything they'd done not just to Harry but to his friend, did the scientists- did his father deserve their mercy?

Venom hissed like a snake at the back of his mind, certainty muddled with his confusion as he tried to convince Harry for the hundredth time that no, they didn't. But he just... couldn't do it.

Harry was just as weak as he claimed Venom to be. When it came to it, even if it somehow became absolutely ok, he would never be able to cut into the flesh of another person without gagging. He would never be able to kill someone.

Knowingly. A little voice cackled in the corner of his hearing, and he instinctively snapped his head in the direction he thought it came from. No, no. He was not doing this, not again, not here. He wasn't going to torment Harry while he was already so low. He wouldn't let him.

Instead, Harry gritted his teeth- the sharp teeth that closed around his face and somehow still became one with him, he had yet to understand just exactly how he could feel both parts of his body at once, and he slammed down on the lump of scrap metal he had at some point snatched up into his claws.

If Venom wanted violence, he’d give him violence-

The microphone buzzed, the feedback cutting knives into Harry’s ears and his whole body flinched in response. But quickly, that discomfort became anger and he furiously raised his head to glare at the mirror at the other end of the room.

“Harry.” A voice began, familiar, one he was sure he had seen the face behind but hadn't bothered to learn the name of. Why should he? He didn't care for these people and it was obvious they didn't care for him. “You’ve done…uh…very…good work today.”

He doubted it. Maybe Harry had stormed through their pitiful excuse for attack drones like they were nothing, but less than an hour ago, he’d watched as Venom roared and launched one of the scientists across the room, undoubtedly breaking something. The only reason they hadn't gone any further was because Harry had held their body back, much to Venom’s very obvious annoyance.

“We just want to see how you respond to-”

“WHERE’S PETER?” Harry-Venom? snarled, stomping right up to the glass and leaning in close, hissing at their own reflection, but by the sound of something crashing on the other end of the speaker, they knew they’d managed to find the right spot.

Unfortunately, Venom didn't have a chance to startle the insignificant scientists further as an audible sigh came through, and after some quiet mutterings, a new voice spoke instead.

“Harry, we’ve been instructed to see how your body responds to certain levels of duress-”

Harry snarled and jumped forward, swallowing all the discomfort he had been battling with earlier and allowed himself to sink deeper into the black abyss that surrounded him, watching with little care as their body slammed against the glass with a dangerous bang.

“LET. US. OUT!” Venom snarled, slashing his claws up and down the mirror and hoping the terrible noise was causing the team just beyond the surface at least some sort of a semblance of torture they had caused him.

“Harry-” The voice struggled to get louder than the roars and growls of the monster they had trapped, stuttering and sighing when each attempt was deliberately cut off with a bang. “Harry, if you don't- if you don't stop this, then I’ll be forced-”

Another terrifying screech, one that still unnerved Harry to know that it came from his mouth, his body, but he let it happen. He let the black cover his skin, he let the sharp claws and teeth sprout from the creature, he let it hiss and growl like an animal because maybe it would finally let them know that he was serious.

Through everything here, no matter what Harry had done, he knew that nobody ever looked at him with anything other than annoyance. He was just a child to them, a hindrance to the true beauty that was the symbiote. He couldn't fight them off, he couldn't push them away, he couldn't break free from this prison.

But Venom could. Venom had a chance, and while they hadn't yet found a way of smashing through the walls, he had certainly found a way of instilling fear into those around them. Harry tried not to linger on the fact that he enjoyed it.

“-then I’ll be forced to use the collar, Harry.”

Venom shrieked furiously at the very mention of the damned object that had been forced around their neck, although Harry practically backed deeper into the shadows of his mind at the reminder of what happened yesterday.

Or this morning.

Or just under an hour ago.

It hurt, it hurt so much, and yet they kept using it. But Harry refused to stop fighting either, he just had to accept that his actions would bring agonising consequences, though that didn't stop him from fearing it.

At least him. He knew Venom hated the collar that had been forced around Harry’s neck, he knew that the memories resurfaced something unpleasant, but Harry couldn't place the feeling as fear. Where the teenager cowered, Venom would roar, lash out furiously with their fragile temper and then face the same result over and over again.

Literal definition of insanity, but neither Harry nor Venom were going to stop arguing anytime soon. If there was one thing Harry had to give the creature credit for, it was that he may have crumbled longer before now if he wasn't stuck inside him.

“YOU CAN’T KEEP US HERE FOREVER!” Venom screeched, ignoring the niggling anxiety that sparked from Harry and the urge to hold the suffocating metal around his neck. You couldn't see it anymore, not with the black symbiote covering every inch of his skin, but that didn't mean it was gone.

It was still stuck there, clamped around their throat, a constant reminder of the freedom Harry had lost. By the hands of his very own father.

“Harry, calm down, just one more experiment and you can-”

“WE WILL BREAK FREE!” Venom cut the voice off with a snarl, slamming against the mirror again and watching as their reflection shuddered ever so slightly. Harry tried not to linger on the way they looked, on the way they sounded. He found it got him nowhere.

It was easier just to focus on his anger.

“AND WHEN WE WILL, WE WILL BREAK YOU! WE WILL FIND YOU AND WE WILL-” They lurched back, their form spitting and hissing as the bond broke down and Harry suddenly fought to get back to the front. He refused to let them say it, he refused to let them finish that sentence.

He knew he wanted to be furious, he knew he wanted to scare his captors and he wanted to do something with all his pent-up misery, but not that. He thought he had established it, he thought he had set down that rule ages ago.

Harry did not want to kill anyone.

But the symbiote disagreed. Time and time again, it had tried to pull Harry over his boundary, manipulate him and trick him into thinking the act of taking another one’s life wasn't anything to think too hard about. But Harry had always been firm, he always rejected those sinister thoughts and plainly refused every time the offer came up.

The nudge for Venom to take over.

And he thought he had been winning. Venom could take over his body, he could make him say whatever from the frightening thing he wanted and he could amplify his anger to the highest amount but Harry always thought he’d have enough control to stop himself before he did something terrible.

He knew he had been wavering; he knew his state of mind was slipping and the idea of just letting go and doing whatever it took to escape was becoming more and more tempting, but he was holding on. Now, he realised that Venom had never truly let go of that argument and was just waiting for the moment Harry became weak enough for him to take over.

‘No! No! I won't- We aren't going to kill anyone!’ Harry hissed into the black mass that shifted and slithered around him, tugging and resisting against his efforts to tear the body down and allow his smaller one free. He’d got rid of him once, he could do it again, he was sure of it.

But Venom fought as fiercely as always and they stumbled back, tripping over broken and shattered remains of the training robots as their claws tugged at their body and pulled at their own skin. Harry choked against their efforts, his mind screaming in alarm at the feeling of almost being swallowed whole, his mind disappearing like it had the first time he suffered with the creature.

But he clung on, digging his nails into their skin, his skin, their skin- their minds were mixing, the feelings were blurring together, and he hated it. Why did he keep letting Venom take over? Why did he keep giving him these ounces of control when he knew it always ended with them getting hurt?

Either by the stupid collar or- or because Venom would make him do something he’d regret.

The symbiote sent him waves of denial, smothering blankets of ‘security’ that Harry knew better than to accept. This wasn't a good thing, no matter how much the monster tried to convince him otherwise, killing people wasn't the way to get out of this!

Harry growled and grabbed at the face, painfully aware of his own body stuck inside the writhing parasite-

No-

Parasite- as the bond started to fizzle beneath Harry’s rage. The feeling was disgusting, the tendrils pulling at his skin and screeching, hissing, wailing the more they denied them and fought against it. The bond. It wasn't a bond, not to Harry, he didn't know why he kept calling it that.

It was a toxic parasitic relationship that Harry didn't want any part of! He never did! For as long as he figured out the creature was more alive than he thought, he didn't want to be stuck with it anymore! If he had never picked up the stupid thing, he wouldn't be here in the first place!

“Harry, this is your final warning I-….Sir…Yes, we just finished.…”

The scientists were talking amongst each other, but Harry couldn't care less what they were ordering him to do, what they were telling him. He’d been stuck inside the symbiote for too long, he wanted out, he wanted to breathe.

“I wouldn't recommend that-...Of course, sir…I’ll open the door…”

But would he be able to? Even if he did convince Venom to slither back inside, he would be able to take a relieved gulp of air because he knew he would still be listening. Venom would always be there, Venom would always know what he was thinking, what he was feeling and even if the fight ended, he would always be able to start this up again.

How was he ever going to get through this when he was dealing with this?

“Youuu….havveeeee…..usssss…!” Venom drawled, words trailing as they spoke as if they weren't quite comfortable speaking, struggling with themselves, struggling with Harry. Because none of those words, none of those thoughts were Harry’s.

That upset, that betrayal, that worry and frustration and trickle of care wasn't Harry’s, none of it was. Harry had his own fear, his own anger and anxiety he could feel it and somehow, he could understand how it felt different to his. It was unnerving, shocking, and he knew that Venom was capable of speaking but still, it didn't feel right to hear it.

To hear the mouth move without his input, without even his awareness. The symbiote wasn't even playing on anything, wasn’t even encouraging a reaction based on Harry’s emotions, this was purely him trying to stop him from fighting against him.

And it worked, Harry was too confused by the…concern to carry on scratching against the suit that enveloped him. That was… different. That wasn't like what he usually caught from the symbiote. He had heard those thoughts about wanting to protect him, about wanting to make him stronger and show him what he could truly achieve.

But he always thought they were lies, deceit so that he could get what he truly wanted. Wasn't this the same? Wasn't this another lie?

Was Harry so alone that he was actually considering the other option? After everything that had happened, everything that the symbiote had made him do.

Hurting civilians, hurting himself, hurting Peter numerous times and- and even if he wasn't so conscious, he knew he remembered the faint urge to make sure that Spider-Man stayed down.

Maybe they didn't know that was truly Peter and his friends underneath those masks, but that didn't change the fact that…he could've killed Peter.

And now Harry had been slowly accepting that creature over the past few days, and he was doing it again.

He found himself going back to the same question as before.

What would Peter do?

Harry jolted as the door to the training room clicked, a sign someone was unlocking it from the other side and instantly, they went on guard. Venom guided the body and Harry uncertainly let it, too anxious about what was about to enter to continue with his debate.

For now, he was being protected, and that was enough.

The door slid open as they took a few steps back, hissing in warning as they crouched, white eyes narrowing as two of those Oscorp guards stepped in, faces masked and hidden behind sturdy helmets. Although something stirred in Harry’s mind that he could break them if he wanted to.

But that thought flickered out, disappearing along with the rest of Harry’s thoughts as soon as a third person followed in behind them.

“Harry,” Norman smiled as he stepped through, hands politely behind his back as if he didn't have a shred of worry about the monster eyeing them down from across the room. His hair was slicked back like normal, his suit was as neat and smooth as normal, and that unsettling smile…facing him as if this was normal.

“How are you?” He asked, tilting his head, like this was all…normal. He was back to the way he used to be, no anger, no shouting, but honestly, Harry would've preferred that.

Because how dare he act like everything was fine after what he did?

“You-!” Venom roared, absolute fury bottling over and exploding outwards, infecting their body, infecting their mind and Harry had no awareness to even try and stop the symbiote from doing something lethal. All he knew was hurt and that throwing that back at his father would ease it or at least help him to start.

They launched forward, propelling themselves with such ferocious speed that the two guards accompanying his father threw up their guns in fear, but didn't shoot, not when Norman gave them a quiet order to step down, not when the egotistical man stepped forward himself and faced Venom head-on.

And Harry had no time to pull back as the man pulled out that remote and aimed it straight at them, pressing the button without a shred of remorse.

The screeching noise was just as brutal as the last three times. It never got easier, it never got quieter, and Harry could never react any other way than by screaming. Venom’s body collapsed to the floor, knees crumbling beneath him as their form was shaken and the black mass that made them became weakened.

Harry was left uncovered, unprotected on the floor as black scraps shuddered around his trembling body. The teen screamed, something he couldn't hear over the noise, but he knew because of the way his throat ached, as if the wounds were torn open again at the act of him wailing in pain so soon after the last few times.

Maybe he begged, maybe he pleaded through his sobs, he wasn't sure because he couldn't think. All he knew was that noise. That piercing spike stabbed right through into his brain and completely jumbled everything. Any semblance of a coherent thought was immediately cut through, and any awareness of what was going on around him was completely dulled.

He looked towards his father, and he called out his way, but he couldn't actually see. Everything was blurred, everything shook and hummed like the damned noise that attacked every inch of his senses.

All he heard was pain. All he saw was pain. All he felt was pain.

Just pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain and it wouldn't stop, it just wouldn't stop, no matter how much he reached up and tugged at the collar, yanked and dug and scratched and punched, nothing would make it stop. It just kept going. Why wouldn't it stop? What did he do to deserve this? What terrible thing had he done to deserve so much agony?

Why? Why him? Why was it always him? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why-

Harry took a huge breath of air in, suddenly aware that he could hear everything in the absence of the noise. It had stopped. It had just- stopped. After all that, nothing and yet, Harry could hardly comprehend that over finally being able to feel anything else.

The way his clothes brushed his skin, his heart beat in his ears, his ragged breathing, the way his hands slipped against the tiles as he tried to push himself back up, the hum of the overhead lights, the crackle of broken wires from the robots they destroyed and the whispers of Venom at the back of his mind as he slowly came crawling back.

Slow, uneven pulses of his presence, weak and disoriented just like him. They tried to say something to him, to whisper maybe reassurance, maybe anger towards what happened, but it was just so hard to pay attention. It had happened again, he had done it again.

Again with his own hands. Norman had hurt him again. It didn't matter if he hadn't dirtied his skin, it didn't matter that he hadn't struck him or held him by the front of his shirt like he had before, this was so much worse.

There was no pain like that.

“Now, you can't still be angry, can you?” Norman tutted, his voice reaching Harry’s ears uncomfortably, echoing around the empty white room and causing the boy to flinch. He suddenly became aware of so much more, of his position on the floor, the way he kneeled and hunched over and shook, the way the tears spilt from his eyes and crashed down into his pale hands.

Of the way his father stood there and looked down at him, expectant, a familiar look that Harry remembered he’d see before going somewhere with him. A look that said ‘shape up, close off.,’ because emotions of anything other than perfection were useless.

“Now, let’s calm down so we can talk.” Norman hummed, still clutching the little remote in his hand like it was just something so typical like a phone and not the device that could send Harry into sudden tears because hellfire was raging through his brain.

“…Calm down…?” Harry whispered, his ginger curls falling down in front of his eyes, ruffled and sweaty from his struggle. The sweat dripped down and mixed with the tears and as it went they tore at his skin, a reminder of everything he shouldn't do in the presence of his father.

“Calm down?!” Harry’s voice broke into a yell, backed and supported by Venom who felt their strength grow back at the presence of their anger. “After what you've done to me?!” Harry staggered into a kneel, gritting his teeth in frustration when he found his legs were still too weak to stand.

“I know everything has been a bit of a shock.” Norman tilted his head at him, eyes following the black tendrils that appeared around the boy’s arms and gripped tightly. “But I believe I have given you enough time to adjust.” He waved his hand to the men behind him, and they strode forward, one of them still gripping their guns- Harry hadn't fully comprehended the fact that they’d come in with guns- coming right for the teen.

“What are you doing?” Harry uttered, stumbling back the closer they got, but his body wouldn't carry him far. His feet kept slipping on nothing and he couldn't even look down to check, eyes snapped up at the masked men who were getting dangerously close. “Get away from me!” He hissed, Venom covering his skin faster, wrapping around his legs as he caught onto Harry’s struggle and attempted to strengthen him.

The symbiote started to grow over him again, to start up the fight that they just kept losing, but the second it looked like Harry was about to lash out, Norman sighed and pressed the remote again.

Thankfully, the noise didn't return to torture Harry another time; he wasn't sure he would be able to stay conscious through another round of that. But the remote didn't do nothing.

Venom’s attempt at covering his body was cut short when a wave of electricity rippled through his muscles, and Harry cried out in alarm, his body tensing, his leg buckling under him as he shook and spasmed on the white tiles. His vision whited over as he crumpled into a ball on the floor, or at least attempted to before his muscles cramped and he jerked out in response to the voltage.

It wasn't as painful as the noise, not by a long shot but it was still absolute misery going through getting shocked and being able to do nothing about it. Not until his father had decided he had suffered for long enough did he end it himself.

Which Harry managed to catch as only a few seconds, luckily- no. Why was he acting like Norman ended the punishment he started was anything he should be grateful for? He was the one who pressed the button, he was the one who put the collar on him and he was the one who manipulated and tricked him into this position in the first place.

His opinion was only solidified when the electricity left him heaving on the ground, unable to do much about the two guards who hooked their arms under his and hauled him up, keeping him in place, keeping him still as he was forced to look at his father.

“My…scientists-“ He placed the word carefully, something Harry couldn’t determine flicking over his face. “-have discovered something crucial.” He kept the remote tight in his hand, thumb hovering over one of the buttons, sending waves of panic running through the teen. Harry didn’t know which button did what but he knew none of them were good. Not on that device.

But he let it fall to his side, attention elsewhere as he reached into his pocket and pulled out something else, wrapped delicately in a white handkerchief.

“I know you’re finding it hard to accept the symbiote.” Norman went on, sympathy laced at the edge of his words but Harry didn’t buy it, not when he was being held there against his will, not after everything he had seen the man do. “But we know that the creature wants to bond with you.”

Harry gritted his teeth, pulling his arms against the guards, testing his limits and glaring into the glass masks, hoping to find some sort of features, anything to tell him that these people were actually people and had feelings and empathy, anything he could play on.

But they stayed quiet, they stood firm and they just watched as Harry struggled, as he was hurt. If they weren’t swayed before, he doubted pleading for their help now would make any difference. The teen growled and yanked again, only stopping when he caught Norman uncovering the object in his hand.

The sight of a syringe, filled with something dark and red, almost like blood but shifting like that wasn’t quite right, only reignited the fire to escape so much stronger.

“What is that?” Harry spat and kicked out, dragging himself back and roaring in frustration when he found that he could hardly move the guards an inch. His energy had been completely drained, stolen away by all the pain and mental exhaustion and he didn’t even have Venom to help him this time, the creature was just as injured as him. “Get off me!”

“This is going to help solidify your bond,” Norman explained as he took a few steps closer, the liquid sloshing with each movement, thick and like oil, sticking to the glass but eventually sliding back down into the mass and joining again. The sight made Harry feel nauseous. “You don’t have to worry about anything, I’m doing the hard part for you.”

“What are you talking about?!” Harry’s voice cracked, feet slipping on a combination of the smooth tiles and his own franticness. “Get away from me!” He raised his arm and went to punch at one of the guards' chests, but before he could, the one on the other side gripped his wrist and twisted it harshly, earning a yell of pain and causing Harry to slump in defeat.

“This is going to finally perfect the symbiote, son.” Norman stopped a few inches away, eyes not at Harry, no, at his wrist that the guard thrust forward painfully to give the man a clear shot. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

Harry sharply inhaled, eyes wide, body frozen as he couldn’t do anything but watch as the two men kept him stationary while Norman adjusted the syringe in his grip, watching as the liquid swam from within the tool before giving his son a sick smile and plunging in.

The teen couldn’t hold back the cry of terror as he saw the needle cut into his skin, saw the fingers push down on the top and plunge the substance into his blood. He could feel it, the unusually warm oil-like substance escaping the syringe and swimming around freely in his body.

It was familiar, uncomfortably familiar and even though the guards let him go, their tense hands unwrapping from his wrists and arms slipping from beneath his, he didn’t try to run away. He just let himself fall to his knees, heart painfully slamming against his chest at a rate he knew had to be alarming, but something else was taking up the space of concern in his mind.

The feeling of that substance moving through his blood.

“What did you do?” Harry asked feebly, looking down at his own shaking hands and watching as his veins started to become clear, the blue pushing against his pale skin and then abruptly fading to black. “What did you do?!- GAH-!” Harry doubled over, wheezing as his vision swam with black spots and veins poking at the edges, but this wasn’t unconsciousness coming to drag him down.

Venom lashed wildly inside him, hissing, roaring and growling in his ears as something clashed into him and burnt through his being. All the weakness had gone, ignored and replaced by an overwhelming sense of panic that Harry couldn’t remember the symbiote ever really feeling before.

Except for when Peter crafted the anti-venom.

He remembered feeling Venom afraid for its life, complete panicked adrenaline taking hold as they fought with every last ounce of strength in them to keep the heroes down, to keep Spider-Man away and carry on living.

But they couldn’t avoid Peter forever, and the moment they got hit wasn’t something Harry would forget. The symbiote screamed as the cure entered his blood, wailing as their cells were forcibly ripped apart and torn from the host they tried so hard to hide within.

It was a scorching fire that tore Venom away from him, a terrifying anger and betrayal. The only reason Harry ever realised it was over was because he suddenly got a lot colder, his skin finally free and open to the rain that stormed down from above him. Even in his disoriented state, he had been aware enough to celebrate then.

But this wasn’t like that. This wasn’t a victory, the magma that spread from within wasn’t something he could feel relieved about. The poison in his blood hurt, it hurt and burned his insides just like the anti-venom, but he could feel it, it wasn’t killing the symbiote.

It was doing something else, something neither of them liked. It exploded his nerves like fireworks and the symbiote tried to hide from it, to shy away somewhere deep in his gut but he could not escape the plague that was specifically made for them.

“The symbiote should bond with you quicker now, more permanently.” Harry caught Norman’s voice through his shuddering inhales and thudding pulse that ached in his ears. “Though you may feel some side-effects, but you don’t need to worry, just some…growing pains”.

Venom’s agony escaped as a scream through Harry’s throat, loud and distorted as the fire engulfed him and the creature jerked and twisted painfully inside Harry’s gut. The teen reached out, gripping the floor and wincing against the scraping noise as his nails dug into the tiles, but he couldn’t stop.

The heat was spreading, the thorns had wrapped around every bone and muscle and nerve but instead of hindering Venom, it was like it started a surge. It made him stronger, faster, better, but too much, too quickly. Even Venom knew it wasn’t good; the change wasn’t right, forcing them to move in a snapping manner as they spread and burst through his skin.

“Why?!” Harry wailed, scratching at the black that tried to crawl up his arms, but he hardly made a dent as the ooze climbed and strangled him from within. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” His head snapped upwards, Venom slithered around his throat and peaking at the edge of his skin. The anger lapped at his mind, hazing his thoughts, brushing aside any fear and growling at the man above him. “Why do you keep doing this?!”

“I will always be there to guide you, Harry.” Norman hummed, eyes following Harry as he jerkily, unnervingly moved like he didn’t quite know what to do with his limbs, or Venom didn’t, as the black grasped around him tightly and pushed him up. “No matter how much you fight it, how much you fight me, you’ll always be an Osborn.”

The guards meant to protect Norman started to take nervous steps back, gripping their weapons as Harry got taller and taller, his limbs growing stronger and thicker the more Venom grew.

“And Osborns are meant for something great.”

Venom unleashed a roar, body still shuddering and small parts of their body spitting and lashing out in small tendrils that refused to sit quite right. Harry didn’t like the way they felt, the feelings that pulsed from the symbiote and rebounded off of him, trapped underneath. It wasn’t like he normally felt, it wasn’t the regular anger and territorial aggression that he was used to.

The symbiote was panicked, confused and in so much pain, and if Venom was in pain, then so was Harry.

Fighting against the urge to tear at his chest with his claws, to dig into the black suit and yank it off, Venom swung back their arm and lunged down, hungry for violence, hungry for justice to finally give Norman what he deserved.

Maybe it was stupid to think they would get any other result other than more pain, but neither was thinking clearly. Harry could hardly register anything at all other than the burning hurt that scratched at his bones.

So he couldn’t stop himself before Norman raised the remote, an expression conflicted between something assured and something nervous, and pressed a button.

Instantly, Harry’s whole view went hazy, and their hand stopped inches away from Norman’s head. Venom’s hiss caught in their throat as their whole body tensed up and halted. Their vision swayed before them, their minds sank into something muffled and deafened, and for the first time, Harry felt them both lose control.

Pins and needles gripped every inch of them as their muscles tensed and froze in the spot; they couldn’t move, they could hardly shake in fear, as no matter how much they willed it, their body wouldn’t respond to what they wanted.

Venom longed to hurt Norman the way he had hurt them. Harry longed to run far away and finally be free from this torment but the only thing they could still do was breathe. Their brains were muddled, thoughts only appearing for seconds before they collapsed before their eyes.

Their feelings were as loud as ever: anger, fear, desperation, sadness but their thoughts were far and in between. Harry could hardly even think about how that was possible, how a simple machine could destroy his mind so easily and completely paralyse him to the spot. All he knew was that he was afraid.

“It works..” Norman sighed in relief, looking up at Venom in wonder and taking a few steps closer. Their intended reaction was instinctual, to jump back, to grow or maybe hiss in warning and then attempt to attack again, but not even their fingers twitched. They were stuck, bound to the spot, forced to remain in the last pose they were caught in and left to watch helplessly as everything kept on moving around them.

It was terrifying.

“I’ll give him props, this? This is brilliant.” Norman chuckled darkly as he walked a circle around them, every step sparking a buzz of danger at the back of Harry’s mind, but it was quickly drowned out by the hum that invaded the teens' every sense.

Hum. That was it, he could hear it now, a sort of whisper that cut through everything else. A steady buzz struck through him, wrapping around his neck and strangling him until he was rendered completely immobile. It wasn’t that piercing ring that destroyed him like before, it wasn’t the electrifying volts that stabbed through his every nerve, it was a blanket of protection that forced him to lie down and take a seat even further back than he already had.

Venom controlled him, but what happened when something controlled Venom?

“I know you're probably confused.” Norman began as he came back around the front, placing a firm hand on Venom’s cheek. The urge to snap at his hand sparked deep in his chest, mingling with that infectious fire that still plagued them, but it was quickly drowned out, just like everything else. “I’ve already told you about the sound frequencies and how they affect the symbiote.”

A growl was permanently stuck, lodged just at the top of their throat, so close to breaking out and escaping but stuck by his muscles that refused to move. It left Harry feeling as if he was choking, as if he was suffocating on the cotton that dulled every sense and feeling until all he knew was his confusion.

“With the little mutation I’ve injected into your blood, not only will it speed up the bonding process…” He stared into Harry’s eyes with uncomfortable intensity, and it was so obvious to him that it wasn’t love, it was something far from it. An obsession, a man enraptured by not his son, but by the parasite that clung to him. It made him feel sick. “…but through those enhanced frequencies, it will allow us to guide you.”

He patted their cheek, not an action backed by fondness but something more smug that sent a few split-second waves of fury rolling through Harry before it was swallowed down and he struggled to carry on remaining conscious.

“Just something to make this whole change easier on you,” Norman explained as if he was doing Harry a favour, as if everything he had just done to him was because he cared. “I know how emotional you can be…” He finished with narrowed eyes, and Harry wanted so desperately to scream out, to lash out at him and scream, but again and again and again it was like the signals between his nerves and brain had been blocked by something, blocked by the sound, and he couldn’t move.

The sound came from the collar stuck around his neck. The never-ending hum that followed his every thought and latched on until they crumbled beneath them. He didn’t need a prison or shackles, not when he had this.

“Ah, but for now…” Norman backed up, eyes lingering on Venom’s clawed hand that hovered in the air, and he moved out of the way as if he was still cautious, still afraid of what they could potentially do. Norman raised the remote again, expression thoughtful as if he was really considering what he was about to say before he finally spoke.

“Venom, return.”

And they could finally move, but not in the way they wanted.

Venom slithered around Harry’s body, their form breaking apart and retracting back within as they responded to Norman’s order without an ounce of resistance. Both Harry and Venom reacted in shock as the symbiote moved without them, both of them urging it to stop, for the mass to respond to either of their demands, but nothing worked.

Norman’s words cut through everything else, loud, bright, deafening in their minds as their body followed that single thought against everything else. Despite the fear, despite the anger, despite both of them desperately wanting otherwise, they carried on and within seconds, Venom was completely hidden inside Harry, leaving him alone.

But he still couldn’t move.

And that felt so much worse than when Venom was on the outside, because at least then it was like something was protecting him, he had some sort of armour between him and the monster that was Norman Osborn. But now it was just him and him alone as he was completely frozen against his will, silent and scared.

The hum continued on, and Harry could do nothing but listen as it infected his mind and left him stiff, standing there obediently and staring ahead, dazed and unsure, while Norman just chuckled in triumph.

“Brilliant.” He looked back at the guards behind him, presenting a hand out like he was showing Harry off, like he was a trophy, an achievement. Maybe once, that feeling would’ve stirred something good from inside him. Now, it just brought him so much closer to throwing up. “Just a simple press of a button and all that trouble - gone.”

He pressed the button again without even looking, and Harry let out a sob before he even knew what he was doing. He caught himself just before he hit the floor, somehow managing to stay standing as he shook like a frightened animal, eyes wide as his hazy, clouded vision cleared.

And as the hum left his hearing, the collar deactivating, that blockage that seeped through Harry’s brain finally drained and that allowed his fear that had been forced right to the back, exploded and Harry clutched his chest that ached with the terror that clung to his being.

“What- what the fuck-?” Harry gasped, unable to stop himself from hyperventilating as the pressure around his neck was alleviated and he could breathe again. “My- My body how-? How did you-“ He couldn’t stop himself from stuttering, his teeth from chattering as a chill clung to his skin, and he went to hug himself.

He didn’t feel safe, not even in his own skin anymore. The vulnerability clawed at his chest and he unconsciously called out to the only thing he knew would answer, and Venom responded and quickly started leaking out again, rushed and furious.

“Ah, none of that now.” Norman snapped with furrowed brows and adjusted something on the remote and before Venom could cover Harry fully, the collar switched back on and the hum made its nauseous return.

But it was different, it wasn’t as loud as before, wasn’t as overwhelming. Harry didn’t still as the sound touched his ears, he didn’t freeze or lose himself as he slipped away from his body, nothing changed about Harry at all. There was no pain, no discomfort and nothing stopping him as he flinched and waited for all that to start.

But there was something flicked from within him, and Venom took an uncomfortable, sudden stop just as he was creeping back up his arms. There was a hiss, a cry from the inside as Harry felt the symbiote fall and get crushed beneath the noise while the teen was left standing alone.

“W-What? How?” Harry sniffed, raising a shaking hand to inspect, not quite believing it when he found nothing. All this time, for days and weeks he had begged and prayed for someone to free him from the curse that had been bound to his body, to undo his mistake and just kill the damned thing forever.

He’d wanted this for so long. To be free, to be in control of the symbiote, to be able to force it down instead of the other way round. It was why he had agreed to this whole nightmare in the first place. His father had promised him that freedom, he had promised him that security and then turned around and said he was going to use it instead.

But now, out of nowhere, he had it.

Why?

Could he do this all along? Did he always have this ability to shut the symbiote away? Did he always have the power? Did he know all that and deny him? How could he? How could he look at Harry, distraught and so, so scared and pretend that there was nothing they could do except kidnap his best friend?

The utter disgust in Harry rose fast, and he glared at Norman with complete and utter hatred, but where he expected Venom to surge, there was nothing, and he was left sputtering in confusion as for the first time, the symbiote couldn’t get out. He could hear it, feel it, the complete shock and outrage that he was trapped, frozen again while Harry was left on the outside. He didn’t know what was going on either.

“Stop it.” Harry hissed, clutching his chest tighter as he urged and prodded for Venom to get out, to please help him, but he was blocked. He was even struggling to hear him. He knew he was furious, he knew he was scared by the injection that still ran rampant through their system, but it was all muffled and dulled beneath the fucking humming. “Stop it, now!”

“Not until your bond has formed completely. Until then, the symbiote can rest inside.” Norman denied with a swift harshness, reaching forward and prodding the boy in the chest, right where his heart sat and grinning when Harry flinched and hurried to take a few steps away from him.

“You can’t- you can’t! Why-“

“Now, come along. You’re to return to your room so your vitals can be properly monitored.” Norman spun on his heels and gestured to the guards, who had long since gotten over their nerves and went to open the door.

“You can’t just- just keep doing this-!” Harry snarled, debating whether to take a few steps forward after Norman, but as soon as he halted and turned around, his simmering gaze stopped the teen right in his tracks. But he still had a voice, so he used it. “You- You can’t keep controlling me like I’m some toy!” He sniffed, aware that he most definitely looked like a complete mess, sweat and snot and still falling tears all over his face, but he couldn’t care less.

“I’m not your little doll to parade around and show off to try and lie about how much of a great father you are!” The teen spat, clenching his hands into fists and pulling his arms in close as if he was preparing for a fight. Though he knew that realistically, if there was one, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

But Harry couldn’t just ignore that prickle at the back of his mind either, the never-ending anxiety that stemmed from both his own feelings and Venom’s, who writhed and twisted inside him to no avail.

“I am alive!” Harry yelled, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds as the light seemed to burn through his vision and incite an aching headache. “Whether I’m your son or not, I should get to choose!” His voice cracked, breaking painfully in his hurt throat and falling a bit quieter as the teen swayed where he stood, vision spinning when he opened his eyes again.

It was just then that Harry began to realise that he was far from a healthy state. Nausea sloshed around at the pit of his stomach, exhaustion scratched around his joints and willed them down, and the headache that was steadily rising was getting harder and harder to ignore. Maybe Harry hadn’t been physically harmed, but a prolonged state of depression and panic could damage you just as well.

But Harry couldn't fall here, not while Norman was right in front of him, not while the guards were ready to restrict him again, not when he was trying with everything in him to get his point across. He wasn't weak, he wouldn't keep failing, he wouldn't keep losing like they all wanted him to.

Harry was more he just...he knew it, he had to be.

“I don't want to be a soldier!” Harry yelled, holding his gaze steady even when Norman’s eyes darkened and every instinct within him told him to shut up, he carried on. “I don't want to be here!” The boy shook his head, biting his lip as he listened to the crackling from within his chest, buried somewhere behind his ribcage, fiery and stinging and almost too much for him to keep speaking.

Maybe it was Venom, maybe it was the injection, or maybe it was just Harry’s panic getting to a point where it was a cause for alarm; whatever it was, the teen did what he always did: he ignored it. He refused to believe it was there, he brushed the feeling aside as he focused on what was in front of him.

But really, that uncomfortable, sickness-like twinge seemed so much more inviting than the look that his father was giving him.

“I don't want to be anywhere near you-!”

“That’s enough.” Norman snarled through gritted teeth and harshly slammed down on the remote. Harry stilled immediately, his own gasp cut painfully short as his muscles tensed up and he was forced to become completely motionless once again.

“I gave you a choice, Harry.” Norman started, expressing something akin to disgust as he walked back towards the teen, but he could hardly see him. The wool had been pushed back over his eyes, leaving his world hazy and his brain muted. “And because I’m generous, I keep giving you those choices.”

He paused right in front of the boy, the positioning similar to the way he stood before the paralysed form of Venom the first time he did this, but Harry just felt so much smaller.

“And yet, you just keep on disappointing me.” Norman sighed as he ran a hand down his face, each movement slow, lazy as if he didn't know about the turmoil that Harry was battling with and had no clue that he was just prolonging his torture.

No, he probably did, Harry decided, shackled aside his own bitterness and discomfort but forced to stare out and watch his neatly presented father, completely untouched. Had the man ever experienced something like this? Had Norman ever experienced such hardships in his entire life?

Harry was inclined to say no to make himself feel justified in his fury, but he just couldn't forget about his mother, Emily, the woman he never had the chance to meet.

And that just tied right back to Harry, didn't it?

It always came back to Harry.

Was everything his fault, in the end?

“But don't worry, son.” Norman collected himself as his hand dropped from his face, the moment enough for him to build back up that mask as he smiled back down at the teen. “I will always be there to save you from making the wrong choice. I will always be there to guide you onto the right path.”

He gripped Harry’s shoulder, the feeling not lost in the mad storm of humming that engulfed his very being. The touch was like lightning, shooting out from his shoulder blade and crackling all the way out until it reached his brain and Harry wanted nothing more than to tear himself away from that hand.

Norman’s hold on him was tight, firm, too strong despite the fact that Harry couldn't even move. There was no need to keep him in place so stiffly, but it had always been more about the message sent than the logic behind it. The man leaned in close, nails digging into the boy's shoulder before he spoke.

“I am your father. Either you will listen to what I say, or I’ll make you listen.” He said in a harsh whisper, eyes burning into Harry’s as he looked up at the man, terror exploding through his chest, and yet he was unable to do anything about it. His body shook, trembling as he stood there frozen beneath his father’s overbearing gaze, but he couldn't move an inch.

And yet, the tears continued to fall, his chin shaking as a sob sat at the top of his throat but failed to break through.

Norman inspected that weakness, eyes examining the tears that he caused to spill from his son’s eyes, silent as if he was waiting for a reaction to follow them like shouting, violence or even just to run away.

But Harry had a feeling that even if he did have control of his body at that moment, he wouldn't have done any of those things. He would've just stood there, as still as he was now, paralysed solely by his own fear.

Because Harry was weak.

“Escort him back to his room, keep him there and monitor his vitals,” Norman ordered as he finally let go, turning around and heading to the door without so much as a glance back in Harry’s direction. The only time he did stop was just as he stepped into the hallway, an irritated look on his face as he addressed the guards, not him, not his son.

“And don't respond to any of his shouting, he has to learn one way or another.” Was the last thing he said before he disappeared into the hallway, leaving Harry frozen there, distraught and terrified in the presence of two strangers who he knew didn't have a shred of empathy in them.

But they didn't hurt him, for after only a few seconds after Norman disappeared from view, the guards came towards him, taking a place on either side, and without even hearing them say anything, Harry started walking.

Stiff, heavy yet precise as his body obediently marched out of the training room and continued down into the dark, quiet hallway.

But it wasn't him. Harry wasn't the one moving his legs, like a puppet on a string, his limbs kept going but he wasn't the one willing it. It wasn't him, it wasn't Venom, it was the hum that guided him along and shut him down so tightly that he couldn't even argue against it.

Harry was trapped in his own skin, shoved deep beneath the suffocating buzz as he watched everything carry on around him, even his own being, but not him. He just kept moving on and on, going deeper and deeper into the Oscorp laboratories that had become his home, and yet he could hardly take it all in.

All he knew was a haze of green and concrete, all he heard was his own shuddering inhales and the click of his shoes against smooth tiles, all he could feel was the fire raging in his blood and the squirm of the symbiote thrashing in its prison. The prison that was him, and yet, Harry was stuck there too.

They were stuck there together.

And there was still nothing they could do about it.

Chapter Text

Harry only regained his control when the door to his room closed and locked behind him. The slight hum muffled, his tight, tensed muscles relaxed and Harry’s body snapped forward as he collapsed to the floor and could do nothing to hold back the miserable cry that broke out from his chest.

He’d been let go, he had his quiet and silence again but it was different, it was wrong, because Venom still could not come back out.

Harry didn't know how it worked, how the effects of Norman’s words still lingered long after he first said them but they did. There was a blockage in his throat, the collar holding stronger than ever as it stabbed into him. A door shut, the prison that was Harry’s body keeping Venom trapped inside while he could move on despite him.

No matter what Venom tried, no matter how they writhed and scratched and screamed in pure unbridled fury, the symbiote just couldn't win against the painful noise that shackled them down. A noise, a simple noise and yet it hurt him more than anything before, it made him feel sick to his stomach, clouded his mind and could ground the beast he had been trying to control for weeks.

He could hear it for hours later, and that was when Harry realised that the hum never actually stopped; it was still there, it just didn't quite affect him anymore. Just the symbiote. He supposed he should've felt smug at that, but he just couldn't find the strength. Harry had no more fight left to give.

He cried for a while, right there on the floor where he collapsed. His mind told him to run, to take advantage of the fact that he finally had his body back but he just couldn't manage it. His misery was weighing heavily on his mind, and the only reaction he knew to give was to release that through a loud sob.

But tears ran out, and the scraps of energy he had left were dragged out with them and the floor was cold and hard and Harry wondered if he deserved to stay on the floor suffering against the hard tiles, but he found some motivation to push to his feet and stumble towards the bed.

He had thought, maybe if he lay somewhere softer, he could sleep and finally escape from this hell for at least a few hours. But like every other night he had spent trapped inside the Oscorp Labs, his rest was few and far between.

Venom was restless, a constant struggle in his chest. Angry, hurting and hungry for the freedom to roam through Harry’s blood once again and the teen knew it. He didn't have a choice; he couldn't block him out, he never could. Norman could restrict the creature's access, make it seem like he was gone but for Harry? He was still there.

Just like the hum, he could still feel the symbiote, no matter how small the command made him Harry could still hear the complete and utter outrage that he was trapped, pushed down, thrown and locked away like he was nothing more than a tool to be picked back up again later.

When Harry closed his eyes, he would be whipped back awake by a wave of fear and nervousness, heart thumping strongly against his chest and he would have to take a few minutes to calm himself back down because he wasn't in danger. The danger he thought he could feel was not his, he had to ignore it.

But even when he was successful in pushing Venom’s struggle to the back of his mind, he would be plagued by other things. The nightmares tormented him, growing in violence with each new vision his brain presented him with. Even when he wasn't sleeping, flashbacks would snap into view, taking him back to places long gone and showing him people who weren't really there.

It had truly frightened him the first time he cracked open an eye between dozing, only to be met with a shadowy, shivering figure, resembling Peter, standing in the corner of the room. Even with the lights dimmed, Harry could recognise the features of his friend but he could not find it in him to be overjoyed that he was there, alive and safe.

Not when he looked at him with such hatred.

But one blink, just one, and the figure would be gone and then Harry would have to spend another few minutes calming himself back down again to try and get some more scraps of sleep. There were a few more people that his mind attempted to trick him with, his friends, the heroes, the people he’d brutally beaten up and his father, one that he always struggled to determine whether he was truly there or not.

The look of disgust on him was just too normal.

But Peter was always the worst, mainly because the betrayal in his eyes and the pale, ghostly appearance he had been given were all something Harry expected yet feared. Because he still didn't have a single clue what they were doing to him. If Harry thought he was going through hell, then what kind of treatment was Peter getting? The little lab rat they only kept in order to make Harry stronger.

Were they hurting him? Did they give him food and water like Harry? Did he have to go through the same tests? What kind of pain did they put him through to discover just exactly how they could ‘enhance’ the symbiote?

Or…was he already dead and his father had just been lying about it from the start?

No. No, Harry refused to think about that. He just couldn't. They were cruel, but they wouldn't go that far. They wouldn't. They wouldn't.

After a few hours of tossing and turning, something new settled in to give him more pain. Harry knew he deserved it, he knew that he’d done some terrible things in the past few days, even if he had no real choice in it, but god was it too much to ask for just a few hours of uninterrupted sleep?

When the nightmares sank away and the visions lost their effect, Harry found that the only thing keeping him awake was the ill feeling settling in over his body. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was the disgusting blood-like liquid they had injected him with, he didn't know but a fever quickly claimed him and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

He shivered, teeth clattering as if he was freezing but his skin roared with a raging fire and he flung off the covers not long after it started, abandoning them on the floor. His limbs ached, irritated by the slightest movement and a loud, blaring headache sat tightly across his forehead, getting stronger each time he attempted to open his eyes.

He was alone, and yet everything was too bright, everything was too loud. He felt like he could hear the whole world around him, feel the sweltering heat in the air as he sucked in each shaky breath, the sharp, jutting fibres of the mattress beneath him and Venom as he sat unnerving still from inside him.

He had stopped fighting a few hours ago, going silent at the first sickly shiver that rattled through Harry’s core. He didn't know why, he didn't ask or attempt to figure it out but the fever drove the symbiote away and stopped Harry from suffering as a repercussion and for that, he was mildly grateful.

But he could only be so positive with everything else swarming his brain, and on top of it all, there was the hum. It never left, it never went away, there was no respite from the noise. It was nothing like the…ringing but the longer it went on, the more paranoid Harry started to feel. And of course, that stress aggravated his headache, making him feel worse.

He was stuck again. If it wasn't the room, it was the one where they forced him to tear into those training drones for hours straight. If it wasn't there, then it was the little medical one where they kept him down and stuck in syringes that took nauseating amounts of blood. If it wasn't there, then it was back in his room again where he paced for hours and hours, arguing with nothing, arguing with himself and the monster that lurked within him.

If it wasn't that, then he was stuck with himself, whimpering and groaning against the fever that clung stubbornly to his being. There were no opponents to fight, there were no scientists to avoid, there was no psychotic father to argue against, just him, only him. Just Harry and his pain and the guilt and his paranoid, erratic thoughts that just wouldn't relent.

He couldn't see in front of him, he couldn't hear what was around him, only things further. A crackle of sound, a mixed mess of voices and noises and yet the hum still penetrated through. Then, back down with him, he was smothered under heat and a weak, trembling body that fought against him. His insides boiled, his bones ached and his head throbbed by the second.

He couldn't call out for help; there wouldn't be anyone to answer him anyway, he knew that by now. It was just him. It was just Harry. He was alone in this hell, he always would be.

‘You have us.’

Harry shot up off the bed, eyelids snapping open as he stared around him in utter shock. The room was empty, the lights were still off, the screens to his right were still glowing with the dim illusion of the outside and Harry was still alone. But he heard it, it was no hallucination or nightmare, he knew that voice.

It was the same growling sound he had heard just a few hours before when he could still use Venom, and they had said the same thing back then. You have us. As if they wanted to reassure him somehow, but that…that just wasn't possible. That just wasn't what Venom did.

They were ruthless, they were conniving, they were an evil little leech that fed off of everything negative in Harry and turned him into a monster. If it wasn't for Venom, he wouldn't be here in the first place! It was a trick, it was just another way he was messing with his mind!

But he felt him stir in a disagreement…could he do that? React so calmly? He had never known for him to do something like that before. Venom was the word outrage and nothing less, he was an explosion of rash actions and painful consequences. He didn't listen to reason, he didn't consider his choices and he certainly didn't see Harry as anything other than a host to use and pilot.

So why was he getting a different vibe?

“Wh…What- I…?” He mumbled, then shook his head and caressed his temple as his headache came to remind him that it was still there. He was wrong. He had to be hallucinating after all. He’d been unable to sleep for hours now, he was struggling with a fever and he was scared. Paranoid. Anxious, whatever word was the truest, he was being worn down and it was affecting his mind.

It didn't make sense, anyway. He’d felt it in the training room, Harry couldn't speak when under the influence of that noise, so why could Venom? Sure, he could feel him and hear his overwhelming fury at his predicament but speaking? They didn't even speak before this. Especially not when the creature was inside.

They did speak but just not in a normal sense. He told him things through visions, through the voices of others and the flashbacks of enemies he’d beaten. He would convince him to carry on by twisting his feelings, his memories of a situation so that he didn't even have the thought to resist. All he knew was that he was itching to fight.

He had learned to fight against it, to a degree. But this? Actual words from the symbiote itself? That just couldn't be possible he…Harry couldn't cope with that.

‘He can take away the control of your body…but never our link.’

A hiss rattled through his mind and Harry couldn't help but jump and swing his head around to try and catch the person speaking, but he was still alone.

No. No, he knew better. The voice was coming from the inside, swallowed by sickness and smothered by a dreadful noise, a crackling voice called out to him. They reached out as far as their bonds would allow and with a Harry gentleness that he would never expect to come from a creature like that, they prodded at him, tapped at the back of his mind as a reminder.

They were still there.

But that was the problem.

Nausea swirled in his gut as his vision swam, the effects of his sickness coming right back to him and punishing the boy for moving so frantically. With gritted teeth, Harry turned and fell back down on the mattress, snatching the pillow and shoving it over his head, caring little about how hot and uncomfortable it made him.

Maybe if he covered his ears well enough, everything would just leave him alone.

‘You cannot silence…what is inside you.’ Venom responded, certain words dragging on like some unsettling little snake had coiled themselves around his brain, an animal that hadn't properly figured out how to use their tongue just yet.

That only aggravated Harry further.

“Please, just…Shut. Up!” Harry snarled and curled in on himself, holding the pillow down tighter in hopes that the pounding in his ears and heaving from his lungs would be a good enough distraction from the hissing voice that was in his head.

God. He had an actual voice inside his head. He had a literal, evil, bloodthirsty voice inside his head that occasionally took over to satisfy those needs. This was it, Harry was genuinely insane now. A few weeks of being stuck with a parasitic black monster and he had gone literally insane.

He didn't need this. He didn't need a voice in his head on top of everything else he was dealing with. He knew he deserved some sort of repercussion for what he’d done but he could only go through so much before he broke completely.

‘We are not…the enemy.’

“Really?” Harry barked back, sarcasm dripping from the word as he squeezed his eyes harder shut and prayed to god that the leech would just go away already. “The thing that takes over my body to murder-” he spat the word, pure malice in his tone, “isn't the enemy?”

‘We…only wish to do what is best for the host…’ Venom argued back, but their volume was still low, though Harry was unsure whether that was because of how strongly the hum had repelled them or because they were trying to be kind in some way. Harry truly doubted it was the latter.

‘We want to get rid of the threats…against you…’ They drawled, their words still disjointed and spaced unevenly as Venom struggled to truly grasp the ability to voice what they wanted to say. But before Harry could think about how they had used his mouth just fine, his mind was flooded with images.

Still shots, split-second memories of the scientists, the guards - the people who took him away and trapped him in there. The people who hurt him, the people who watched as he got hurt, the ones who stole Peter away from him and- and his father-

Harry shook his head, fingers digging into the soft pillow as he pried his mind away from what Venom was forcefully showing him. That was more like the symbiote he knew, using short traumatic memories against him in hopes he would sway to their side. But there didn't seem to be much…malice behind the action.

Harry could feel Venom in waves and he lacked the sinister desire for battle that he was used to. He wasn't trying to get Harry to do anything, he was just trying to prove a point. He saw those people as a danger, so Venom wanted to get rid of them for him.

But that wasn't what he was referring to.

“What about all the villains you attacked?” Harry grumbled, aware that he could possibly just send Vemon the desired message in his mind but he didn't quite trust it. Words were easier, stronger, less jumbled and lost behind mountains of fear and anxiety. Speaking was more…normal than whatever this mental breakdown stuff that was going on currently.

“What about all the small crooks you beat senseless?” Harry kept his eyes shut and thought back. He thought back to the rush and the fleeting memory of soaring through New York at night, but not really being there. Only to wake up the next morning with dried blood on his hands. Then, just when he’d thought to have washed the evidence down the drain, he'd have to face the morning news and the uneasy chatter of his peers at school.

About how Spider-Man was now going around and attacking petty burglars within an inch of their lives instead of just webbing them up and moving on. Except it wasn't Spider-Man, it was him. And he didn't know how to stop it.

Venom goes quiet for a few beats, Harry isn't sure whether his own memories had the same effect as Venom’s, if he was seeing the same nightmare or not but he knew he’d gotten the message across as uncertainty faintly echoed at the back of his mind. But it didn't feel like the correct kind, as if the symbiote wasn't considering their actions because they were wrong, but because they had caused Harry upset.

‘They…caused trouble…We attempted to rid your home of them…like you wanted.’ Venom called out after a moment longer and Harry found himself cracking open his eyes to stare into the darkness in complete disbelief. He knew he couldn't see the symbiote, but unease in the darkness felt the same.

“I wanted to be a hero. Not a murderer.” Harry croaked back in response, pausing to sniff and wipe the wetness that had infuriatingly started to gather against his will. “Now, I don't even have a choice.” Harry ended in a quiet sob before pushing his face further into the mattress, the misery getting the better of him as he simply gave up fighting it.

Venom stirs in his chest, a feeling not quite uncomfortable but unusual and Harry can't help but wonder what they're trying to achieve with all this, speaking to him directly, and then they flinch as the creature attempts to force they way out again, only to be restricted painfully and left to slump back down.

They were just doing this because they had no other option. The frequency was the thing that could finally control their wild rage and they didn't like that so they were using the only thing they had left, their connection with Harry. A connection he didn't want and didn't need, not when it tormented him like this.

A shiver passed through him again, he was suddenly getting a lot colder. Wasn't he just boiling a few minutes ago? What kind of fever was this? It wasn't normal, it was so erratic and dizzying that Harry couldn't even think about it for a second before his head would thump and he’d groan in pain.

This wasn't a normal sickness, he became certain of that. But was it Venom’s sick new way of toying with him or a result of that oil-like liquid they’d injected directly into his blood? He swore he could still feel it swirling inside him.

‘We would never…make you feel pain’, Venom whispered, their voice resurfacing with a slight offence that Harry could ever dare to insinuate that they’d intentionally harm their host. The teen actually scoffed at that, the memory of their early days resurfacing and how they forced them to go out at night, how they tricked him into thinking his friends were against him and ignoring his fear and silencing him when they deemed his struggle too much.

They were a parasite. He thought bravely, yet still flinched at the wave of anger that flooded his brain at the thought. They wanted Harry to acknowledge that they were alive, that they were a partnership looking to help him, but how could he when all they did was cause him suffering?

“Really?” Harry growled, gritting his teeth as another wave of sickness frightened him with the idea that he might just throw up if he didn't focus. “Because right now, I feel like shit.”

‘That is a result of the poison Osborn-” They spat the name with such hatred that it actually startled Harry, his disgust for the man echoing clearly in his mind and it took everything in him to push it right back down again so he could hear anything else. ‘-injected us with…’ Venom explained, and Harry could help but gag as the dark red liquid flashed in his vision and he had to clench his jaw not to react any further.

“How…How do you know that?” Harry swallowed hard between words, his throat starting to really hurt as it was still recovering from all the screaming he had done hours prior. But he still refused to speak to the symbiote any other way, he was going to communicate his way. The normal way. He wasn't going to pander to the creature, he wasn't going to do what they wanted, not like he used to.

‘Because we live within you…Harry…’ Venom supplied and prodded at him, maybe in an attempt to be caring again but Harry really did not care for their fake kindness and mentally batted them away. ‘We are one now. We feel what you feel…think what you think-”

“Obviously not.” Harry cut off in a hateful snarl but Venom just carried on.

‘That substance inside us…it brings us closer…but not the way we wanted…” Venom’s disapproval is loud and Harry can't help but listen, to clutch onto that feeling with intrigue because shouldn't they love that? Shouldn’t the symbiote be celebrating the fact that they were getting a closer bond with Harry?

Harry can feel Venom strongly disagree with this, slithering in the shadows of his body as much as the noise would allow them to. They attempt to reach out and graze the borders of Harry’s mind but don't do much more.

‘It is supposed to be… different…This is wrong…too fast…too painful…’

“What does that even mean?” Harry growls as he looks out into the darkness again and is met with the fact that he is still all alone with the creature. “Why am I even talking to you?!” The teen yelled in frustration and swung the pillow off his head, throwing it to the edge of the bed as he pushed himself up and reached for a drink, his itching throat becoming too much to ignore.

But just as his fingers clasped the glass, another wave of dizziness overtook him and before he knew it, the glass of water slipped from his hand and Harry yelped as he watched through blurred vision as the shape started falling to the floor.

But just as he thought it was about to collide, something in him sparked, an awareness that he could do something about it and his body was moving before his brain even had time to register it and just as the glass was about to shatter against the tiles, he had hold of it again, and Harry was left staring in shock at the save.

He carefully sat at the edge of the bed, hunched over and confused as he inspected the glass in his hand as if he didn't quite trust it. What was that? He had thought that Venom wasn't able to get out anymore, he wasn't able to take the body while that hum was still active.

And he was right, Harry could feel it, Venom was still trapped inside him, so…so was that him. That…instinctual reaction was actually him?

‘Yes…’

Harry flinched as Venom agreed and when his vision cleared, he could see the black mass in the reflection of the water. Suddenly, the drink doesn't seem as appetising as before.

‘The bond between a symbiote and host is sacred…’ Venom calls out, their white eyes shining in the water, something that Harry can't help but feel anxious seeing again. He had to keep flicking his eyes away, to his own body to remind himself that what he was seeing was false, he wasn't actually there and he still had the body.

But he couldn't deny the fact that the symbiote was still inside.

‘We had hoped…to build a strong bond with you in time…’ Venom shimmers, the shaking of Harry’s hand sending ripples along the surface. But the creature was just as loud as ever, the hum could not silence their voice, as much as Harry wanted it to. The hisses, the cracks, the way their tone would waver between quiet and then suddenly deafening, he could hear it all.

As if it were his own voice.

“‘We’…’Us’, you keep saying that- why do you keep saying that?” Harry’s question came out weak and shaky, breath wheezing as he hunched over the side of the bed and glared into the water. Not even the fever could pull him back now; nothing could stop Harry from focusing on the monster whispering in his mind, no matter how much he tried to tear his attention away. What else was there to look to? When the thing was inside you, there was nowhere to hide from it.

‘It does not matter…in the end.’ Venom drawls, a hiss briefly bringing out that long, twisting tongue before it slithers away again. No matter how short, the sight still sickened Harry. ‘Through your sickness…through your hatred…through your despair...through your revenge-’

Harry’s grip tightened with each word, his knuckles going white as the glass groaned and started to crack against his hold, but he couldn't hear it. Harry couldn't hear anything else but the drumming of his pulse in his ears and the echoing poison that was the parasite in his brain.

‘-we will always be here…’

Water dribbled through the cracks, dripping through Harry’s fingers and onto the tiles below, but he couldn't stop, he couldn't let go. Harry couldn't unclench his muscles no matter how hard he tried. His teeth hurt from the pressure he was gritting his teeth, his back ached as his whole body tensed in fear of what was to come next.

‘We will always be Venom-’

He couldn't take it anymore, he didn't want to hear him finish the sentence, he didn't want to hear his lies! No, he just didn't want to accept what his future was now! The glass cracked further, more and more until Harry couldn't hold back his scream and the glass shattered against his grip.

The shards cut into his palm, the water rushed to escape the confined space and as Harry shakingly let go and watched the remains of the glass clatter to the floor, he caught the sight of blood dripping from the gashes and falling down with the broken pieces. But he couldn't feel it. Why couldn't he feel it?

‘-and we will always protect you, Harry.’

The teen let out another furious scream as he curled in on themselves, not even bothering to clean the cuts on his hands as all they wanted was for everything to stop making noise.

He just wanted to rest. Why couldn't he rest? Why wouldn't the world let him? It hurt, everything hurt and it never stopped. His head, his arms, his chest, his legs, his entire body burned and the tears that fell only seemed to make it worse.

He just wanted things to end. He just wanted to go to sleep. Because maybe then, he could pretend to be anywhere else but here, dream snippets of the life he used to have before he threw it all away.

Then maybe he could see him, and pretend that he was faring any better than he was.

Because if Harry was being honest with himself, Peter was going to be going through something like this. He had to be going through so much worse.

Pete…when could he see him again?

Would he see him again?

.

.

.

.

.

“Harry! Wake up!”

Harry jolted harshly the minute hands brushed his skin, eyes flying open and he swung around with his fists clenched as he instantly prepared himself for a fight, but he was stopped when hands clamped hard around his wrists, keeping him still.

“Harry.”

The teen flinched, focusing on the noise other than the thumping in his ears and the blaring warning bells at the back of his mind, but he almost wished he hadn't. Looming over him at the side of the bed, keeping his shaking arms from attacking was his father.

And he looked furious.

“Listen closely.” Norman began, his gaze so intense that Harry felt it piercing right through him, a kind of danger that he longed to split from and get far, far away. Harry hadn't seen his father so angry in a long time, not even when he argued against him, not even when he insulted him and not even when he tried to attack him.

The man was displaying a sort of rage that Harry knew too well, a state that he couldn't afford to infuriate further, not if he wanted to remain unharmed. And with the man’s new toys right in his pocket, Harry felt more anxious than ever to keep him calm.

Or as calm as he could be when he was staring down at Harry with a look that could kill.

“You are going to follow everything I have to say.” Norman began, gripping Harry’s wrists with such force that it caused his hands to unclench, and Harry whined in pain. “Do you understand?” He leaned a little bit closer, his words coming out through gritted teeth.

“What's going on?” Harry uttered before he realised he had even spoken at all, looking up and down at the man with disbelief sparking through the fear. What had happened to get him like this? Why had he come to Harry so urgently? Normally, if anything important enough to alert Norman occurred, then he would shut the boy out because he was nothing but a hindrance.

But now, he had purposefully sought him out when he was perfectly fine with abandoning him in a wrecked state just a few hours ago. It only made Harry worry more. He didn't want anything to do with this, not while his father was in such a dangerous state. He was more than happy to be left to the shadows again if it meant he wasn't in danger.

Because right now, in his father’s hard grip on his wrist, Harry’s mind was buzzing frantically that he was in so much danger, and he agreed. Harry knew what was best to do while Norman was in a mood like this, it had been so long ago, but the memory was still painfully fresh.

He just needed to be quiet, small, invisible because there was nothing he could do to fight against him. His energy would run out eventually, his attention would divert to some other outlet to take his anger out on and maybe that would be a few hours and maybe Harry would come out with a few more bruises he’d need to hide, but at least he would be alive.

But Harry wasn't a little boy anymore, nor was he in the same situation as back then. His father’s rage was the same, but he had new tools now and new ways to make Harry suffer. If this went the same way, Harry could be suffering from hours of electricity or even the…the noise-

No. No, he couldn't handle more than a few seconds of that. He couldn't. He wouldn’t survive he’d- he’d die, surely?

“Get off me,” Harry whispered, going still as Norman let go of just one of his wrists and for a second, his fear started to dissipate as he thought that for once, his father had listened and was going to back off before things got worse.

But then Norman started to reach for his pocket, and every cell in Harry exploded in cold horror and he started fighting to wrench himself away from the man.

“Get away from me!” He screeched, Venom reacting harshly from within and hissing in reaction to Harry’s sudden fear but no matter how much they wanted to, they couldn’t slither out to defend him and without the symbiote, Harry was just a scared teenager again, unable to get away as Norman fished out the remote and slammed on the button.

“QUIET!” Norman yelled as the hum spiked in volume and Harry couldn’t even cry in fear before his mouth slammed shut, almost biting his own tongue at the force of the action. Although the movement wasn’t his own, no pain came to follow the sound as it clogged the boy’s ears and sank into his muscles.

The feeling was just uncomfortable as he remembered it and did nothing to help the sickly weight that dragged in his gut but it wasn’t pain, it wasn’t that and…and Harry could cope with that.

Harry looked up as Norman finally let go of his hand, letting the boy shrink in on himself against the headboard while the man released a shaky sigh and ran a hand through his ruffled hair.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. is here…” He states with an unusual evenness to his words but his eyes betrayed just how uneasy this made him. Harry didn’t have the mind to be smug about that, as the mere mention of the organisation sent a whole new wave of panic rushing through him.

They were here? In the building? Were they outside, waiting out the door and waiting for Harry because they knew what he had done, they knew everything and they were coming to finally take him away-

“Nick Fury and that team of Spider-Man’s-” He said the name with such malice, his lips curling into a snarl that sent a full-body shiver passing through Harry. But…But as much as the idea of standing face to face with them after everything he had done, wasn't them being here a good thing?

Because they could only be here for one thing, couldn't they? They knew where Spider-Man had gone, and they'd come to get him back. They would arrest his father, all the disgusting scientists that took part in this and they would- they were bound to take Harry too but he’d be ok with that because at least Peter would be safe.

When last night he couldn't be sure of that.

“…They want to talk to you,” Norman spoke up as he lowered his hand and looked forward at Harry, his still-darkened gaze just making that strangling buzz all that much louder and he started to reach out towards him. But Harry couldn't say anything to ward him off, not when his jaw only tightened the stronger he tried to force it down.

He couldn't even make a sound as anything he tried died in his throat the second he tried to conjure it up. He didn't know how, he was so certain it couldn’t be possible and yet his body followed the single word direction with complete obedience. No, it wasn't him, it was the thing inside him that caused him to be like this.

Venom tried to say something in response to that, but the messages were drowned in the sea of panic that only grew the closer Norman got to Harry and the boy shut his eyes, old instincts taking over as he hoped the beating would end soon. But his father didn't touch him, at least not with aggression. His hand went down and brushed against his neck and as Harry cracked open his eyes, he flinched as the collar beeped, then unlocked and the metal tool was pulled away from his neck.

Harry couldn't help but blink in shock, feeling the cold air against his skin where it had been so tight and closed off for days. He raised a trembling hand to touch, to confirm that the terrible thing was finally gone but jerked against his own touch as the freed skin was sore and a jolt of pain shot through him at the slightest brush.

That was what hours of merciless electrocution did to you.

Harry went to open his mouth, to ask just exactly why his father had decided to take the device off now of all times, but when he tried, his mouth still wouldn't budge. Any noise of confusion or shock was swallowed against his will. Even though the collar was gone, there was still something crushing his throat, something seeping that order into his ears.

“It’s still on…The noise…The noise carries on…” Venom snarled at the back of his mind, directing his eyes back towards Norman as he played with the device in his hand and then miraculously folded into something smaller, easier to hide away. But the symbiote was right, that little light was still on, that hum still pierced his brain as harshly as ever.

It didn't matter whether the collar was locked around his neck or folded neatly into his father’s hands, as long as it was active and Harry could hear it- Venom could hear it, the hum would control them.

Any minuscule amount of relief the teen had felt had died in seconds.

“…and I’m going to let you.” Harry’s eyes widened at Norman’s words, and he hardly registered when the man sat down on the side of the bed. “Because I can't afford to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know what is going on here.” The man explained, his words sounding more aligned with what Harry expected of Norman. But the words still troubled him.

Didn't they already know what was going on? That had to be why they were there in the first place. Nick Fury didn't just appear at a place for a simple investigation. Then again, this was about one of his trainees. Peter had always joked about how the man cared more than he would ever let on.

“Do you know what will happen if they find out what we’ve done?” Harry couldn't help but clench his fist at his words, as if they had willingly done all of this together. Well, maybe Harry did agree but that was only because he thought he was going to die! He only did this because he was manipulated! If he knew the truth, he would've never led Peter here…

He would keep telling himself that.

“I’d be imprisoned along with the entire staff at Oscorp Laboratories.” Norman snatched back his attention as he roughly got a hold of Harry’s chin and pulled him forward a few inches. He felt Venom hiss at the contact and Harry would've done the same if his throat had budged. “All of our research will be lost. All of our sacrifices will be nothing.”

‘I don't care!’ Harry glared at him, finding that rare spark of confidence in his father’s unease. But Norman only growled at this and yanked him closer, his other hand shaking over the remote as if he was debating on whether to push the button, to bring Harry more harm, but thankfully he decided against it.

“But the worst thing is what they will do to you and Peter, Harry,” Norman said in a low tone, sending another shiver running down Harry’s spine. Venom shuddered angrily in the pit of his stomach, whispering warnings that he shouldn't listen, but Harry couldn't stop. He unconsciously hung onto every word his father said, preparing himself for the danger that was to come and now that he’d spoken his name, he didn't dare turn away.

“I’ve been protecting you, son.” Norman switched his grip from Harry’s chin to place a hand on his shoulder, still keeping him close but acting as if he was being softer somehow. But it didn't matter how he approached him, his touch only brought discomfort. “From the parasite that lives inside you.”

Venom snarled in outrage, screaming insults aimed at Norman and Harry could only cringe as he felt the creature attempt control and fail pathetically.

“Have you heard what they think about it? Have you seen the files they've made on you?” Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion. What files? They’d made files on him? Just because he got involved with the symbiote? Anxiety fluttered in his stomach, but he supposed it made sense. Peter had tried to assure him that no one held any grudges against what Venom made him do but apparently, they did.

“Because I have, and it isn't pretty.” Norman pulled back from Harry, but only so that he could reach to grab something placed on the bed. A simple black tablet lay at the end, already on and glowing with something Harry couldn't quite see. He hadn't noticed it before, the man must've brought it in with him when he was still sleeping.

“You can tell them the truth all you want, son, but they won't free you from the symbiote. They can't.” Norman picked it up but instead of looking over the tablet himself, he passed it forward and presented it to Harry. “Because they don't care.”

The teen’s eyes flicked down at the tablet and up at his father, breath caught in the blockage in his throat as he digested Norman’s words. He knew he had to be lying, he knew he was just spouting whatever he could think of in an attempt to scare the boy like he usually did but he still didn't want to see what sat in front of him.

Even if whatever he saw in that device was fake, he didn't want to feed the insecurities and paranoia left within him. Because what if Norman was right? What if Nick Fury was just as crooked and cold as his own father and his supposed escape was just another hell waiting to swallow him whole? What if there really wasn't anyone out there to save him because it was just like he said:

They didn't care about someone like him.

But his hands found the tablet anyway and before he knew it he had torn his eyes away from his father and looked down at the device. Maybe Norman had used the stupid remote when he wasn't paying attention, or it was some lingering ounce of obedience still left within him, whatever it was, Harry’s eyes trailed along the report laid out before him.

‘VENOM’ It displayed in large, bold letters at the top of the screen and right next to it in a smaller, less vicious font, was his own name. ‘Harry Osborn.’ It said simply, as if tying the two identities together wasn't something that still sent ripples of disgust and dread rolling through the teen.

Beneath it, a still image of the creature itself, the symbiote in its full form. Not a shred of Harry remained in the picture, if no one knew anything about him, then you'd assume he wasn't there at all. But he knew better. He didn't remember where he was when that picture was taken, nor did he remember what acts of violence Venom had done, but he would always be sitting just underneath the skin.

But then the photo changed, flicking over to the next without any prompt, as if it was programmed already to go through all the evidence of him this ‘file’ had, and Harry realised he didn't recognise the context of this picture either. Nor the next, or the next, or the video after that.

Grainy photos taken from afar of a black mass swinging through the city at night, then security camera shots of the monster breaking into a building only for the next to show them leaving with a terrified, struggling criminal in their claws. Then there were the recordings.

Clippings from a news reporter, shaky and frantic as if they were struggling to get their clear shot, the camera aimed up at the Oscorp tower where one of the topmost windows had been shattered, a hulking creature jumping out just moments prior and being pursued by Spider-Man. He knew that one he…he got too angry, he was just so tired. He just wanted to make a point. He didn't mean to attack his Dad.

When their figures got too far to follow, the footage changed again, to night and howling wind and harsh rain and ear-splitting screams that were too loud to be human, too uncanny. But there he was, covered in black and rain and hurt as he swung and slashed at the group of heroes, adrenaline and fear driving him to keep going because if he stopped they would take him away, they would kill him.

It hadn't occurred to Harry that someone had recorded the fight. Maybe a foolish passerby, maybe another lucky news reporter or most likely S.H.I.E.L.D. It was their team that was sent to capture him, it was their hero who created the antidote to save him and after he was supposedly freed, it was their resources that helped get him to the hospital, even if Norman drove them away after.

But then the clip cut short, and it moved onto the next photo and then the next of all the heinous things Harry had done. He had no recollection of most, though the ones he did he wished he didn't. He forced himself to look away with a scowl forming on his face. He didn't want to do any of those things, he didn't mean to he- he wasn't in control. He was never in control.

Venom slithered in his chest and Harry became painfully aware that it was still there, they could see everything he saw, feel everything he felt and hear everything he thought. In the moment, and maybe for the first time, Harry felt satisfied at that realisation that Venom could feel just how disgusted he was at what they'd done.

Although Harry could hear the echo of their disagreement in his bones, the symbiote didn't say anything against it. They didn't say anything at all, not like before. Silence settled inside Harry’s mind and as much as he wanted to be happy about that, it unnerved him.

“If they find that it’s still there, they will lock you away.” Norman’s strong voice rattled Harry out of his thoughts and he stiffened as a hand reached forward and swiped on the screen, all the footage and visual evidence of Harry and his time as Venom were gone and instead replaced by paragraphs of a written report. “They will force you into testing, and unlike me, when they have what they want, they'll get rid of you.”

‘Liar.’ Harry wanted to shout, mostly just to spite him more than anything but couldn't, not when the hum still kept his mouth clamped shut and not when his brain had already locked onto the words and started to read them.

‘VENOM - a symbiotic creature derived from the mutated blood of SPIDER-MAN or PETER PARKER. The creator of the being is unknown and still currently under investigation.’

Seeing Peter’s identity splayed out on the report before him shouldn't have surprised him, nor should the lack of Venom’s creator, and yet it still disappointed him. How come S.H.I.E.L.D. was so thorough that they sniffed out Peter’s secret identity but weren't good enough to figure out who exactly made the symbiote?

‘The being attaches itself to a living host, where it will seize all bodily functions and attempt to inflict as much violence as possible on everyone around it. The symbiote is incredibly aggressive, can jump from host to host with ease and hardly any normal means of attack work against it. If found, approach with extreme caution.’

Yeah, that sounded about right, Harry thought bitterly as he carried on reading. But he was unsure just exactly what this was supposed to do with him. Norman was trying to scare him, to convince him to keep his mouth shut but all this made Harry want to do was speak more. This was a detailed report, paragraphs of evidence he was only skimming the surface of.

If anyone could save him from this fate, it had to be S.H.I.E.L.D.

But as the report carried on, Harry only felt himself grow less and less sure that if he spoke, he would be saved and rather contained.

‘Last known appearance was attached willingly to HARRY OSBORN, where a team of S.H.I.E.L.D agents cornered and successfully administered an Anti-Venom. Though it is indeterminate whether the symbiote is truly gone.

If VENOM is to ever appear again, make it known that any and all agents are to report their sighting back to DIRECTOR FURY, where the following actions will be taken:

-A specialised team is to be dispatched to hunt and detain the symbiote. Where regular means of force fail, high voltage of electricity is advised to ensure capture.’

Harry swallowed hard, his hands gripping the tablet with force, not daring to steal a glance up at his father and find the smug look on his face. How…How did he even get these? Aren't files this personal…classified or something? It didn't make sense, it didn't- they wouldn't-

‘-VENOM is to be contained in the holding units of the helicarrier, where they remain indefinitely for their numerous crimes and aggressive nature.’

Indefinitely? Harry found himself sucking in a gulp of air, but couldn't let it go. That had to be a mistake— a misspelling in the report because even S.H.I.E.L.D. did that, right? Because he understood the capture, Harry understood the worry and the order to use electricity because Venom had hurt people, they still did and if that was what they had to do to keep them down, Harry wouldn't fight against it.

Even if the mention of electrocution now made his stomach churn.

But they were talking about keeping Venom in custody forever, even if Harry was still inside, but they couldn't do that! Harry wasn't responsible for what the symbiote made his body do, he didn't want to hurt all those people! He thought he’d made himself clear when he’d been ‘cured’ the first time!

They knew that, didn't they? But then his eyes flicked back up to a sentence from before:

‘Last known appearance was attached willingly to HARRY OSBORN-’

They thought that all those things he did, all the crimes he committed, that he was just going along with it. Or worse, steering the body as if he liked it. As if he enjoyed it. Even after Harry had emotionally recounted his events to many agents who had approached him, they thought that the teen had wanted to hurt all those people.

Was Peter the only one who ever believed in him?

Did he still believe in him?

‘-After a successful capture, permission is granted to run tests on the symbiote and the host-’

He wasn’t even Harry Osborn anymore. He was just ‘the host.’ Nothing of note. Nothing at all.

‘-Knowledge gained can be used to further secure the violence of the creature and then subsequently used in the field to use and upgrade willing agents.’

God, they wanted the same thing as them. They all wanted the same thing: to use and utilise the power to make themselves stronger. They never wanted peace, they never wanted normalcy. They never wanted to help Harry, just wanted to help themselves.

‘-if the host refuses to cooperate or attempts to escape containment, permission is granted to terminate the host to ensure the symbiote cannot attach itself to a more threatening soldier.’

Harry couldn't hold back the horrified squeak that slipped from the tension in his throat. Terminate? Terminate- they were willing to kill him to keep him contained? They- they couldn't do that, they- that had to be illegal- they couldn't do that! They couldn't just kill Harry because he didn't want to be tested upon! That was murder! They were going to murder a sixteen-year-old!

They couldn't. They couldn't. They couldn't do that. This wasn't real- this was fake and Harry knew it! This couldn't be real!

“They’ll kill you, Harry.” Norman leaned forward, but didn't attempt to take the tablet nor did he attempt to steal the teen’s attention away from it. Harry wasn't sure he would be successful if he tried. Even though it hurt, even though it terrified him, he just couldn't stop reading the same paragraph over and over again.

They were willing to kill him, Harry, just because he was attached to it.

How could they do that?

Venom roared in disgust from inside him, earning a tense flinch in the teen’s fists but Harry hardly registered it. The symbiote screamed at the back of his mind, hissing and thrashing in defiance about how they could never kill them, kill Harry because they wouldn't let them.

“I’m doing what’s best for you, Harry!” Norman went on, his voice partially muffled and distant in the boy’s ears.

Venom would protect Harry, Venom would keep Harry safe, Venom would do the things that Harry couldn't. When no one else would, Venom would be there.

But he didn't want that. Harry didn't want the help of the symbiote, he didn't want the bloodied hand they’d used to slash and stab into flesh. But he had to, because there was nothing else Harry could do. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't going to help him if he went and spilt the truth, they were just going to arrest him.

And when they had him, they were ready to run further tests on him. Just like here, just like his father was doing. He was moving from one prison to another, except the difference from here was that the worst Norman had done was the ringing.

The worst S.H.I.E.L.D. was willing to kill him.

How was he supposed to be content about that?

“I’ve been helping you to control the symbiote and become something greater!” Norman finally became the centre of his attention when he dropped the tablet against the bed, the words blurring in his vision and he couldn't read much longer. His chest hurt trying to contain his own fear and the blind rage that Venom refused to quell, his eyes stung with tears just pricking the edges.

Who was supposed to save them now? When Harry couldn't trust S.H.I.E.L.D., who was strong enough to help them? Because Harry- Harry was too weak.

“Would you rather I have given up on you, Harry?” Norman snatched a fistful of Harry’s shirt and yanked him forward, bringing him eye to eye. Even though his panic still swirled in his mind, a thousand questions and a thousand worries he didn't know how to answer, that trained part of Harry locked onto his father and listened to his words.

“Is that what you want? You want me to ‘let you go’ and hand you right over to Fury?” Norman asked, his voice taking a mocking tone as he said the words Harry had screamed to him so many times. But he couldn't find it within himself to be angry, not when cold fear swamped him at the very idea that his father was ready and willing to send him away, to pass him on to the next group of men prepared to torture him.

“Do you want them to lock you away, Harry?” Norman shook him as he asked, snatching his head back every time he tried to turn away. “Do you want them to kill you, Harry?” Norman snarled, bringing him close, his fist shaking as he almost tore the fabric with the force he held it with.

‘No. No. No! I don't want to die!’ Harry tried to respond, to scream and shout but when his mouth actually opened, no words ever fell out. All Harry could do to display his pure horror was shake his head and squeeze his eyes shut, hoping that for once in his life the tears that fell from them would bring pity instead of disgust like usual.

“Then you will listen.” Norman spat as he finally let go of Harry, the sudden switch in force causing him to fall back on the bed, heaving from the lack of air that failed to properly reach his lungs. “Because if you tell the truth, there will be nothing left I can do to save you.”

Harry propped himself up on his elbows, limbs shaking as his eyes trailed back to the shine of the tablet. How? How could this happen? It couldn't be real, it had to be fake. Just another trick in the long line of them that his father had placed to instil obedience.

But if it wasn't?

Could he risk it?

“They're going to ask you if you know where Peter is,” Norman spoke up, stepping away from the bed as he wiped down the ruffles of his suit. “You don't.” He stated, pausing to glare down at his son and for a minute, Harry wasn't quite sure what he was talking about until it clicked. Norman was creating a story for Harry to tell S.H.I.E.L.D.

He was going to have to talk to them and lie. He was going to have to talk to these people who could help them, help Peter and pretend not to know where he was. No, he couldn't do that, he just couldn't. He’d already done so much to Peter, he promised himself that if he had the chance he would get him out.

Even if it killed him?

“The last time you saw Parker was at the hospital. The last time you heard from him-” Norman continued, fishing for something in his pocket and tossing it forward carelessly. It was only when Harry fumbled to sit up and catch it he realised it was a phone, his phone. “-was four days ago when you asked him to meet you.”

Harry had lost access to practically everything the day Norman had locked him away in this white tiled room. His electronics, his personal trinkets, hell, he wasn't even allowed his watch inside with him, leaving the boy to rely on the occasional scientist that entered to deliver him his meals. The only thing he was allowed to carry on was his schoolwork, something that didn't surprise him in the slightest.

So to be passed his phone again so casually surprised him. Norman was so firm and what he could and couldn't have, insisting that anything tying him to the outside world could enrage and bring out the symbiote. Pretty quickly, Harry realised that his caring father was only worried that his son would spill and ruin his whole kidnapping scheme.

He opened the device nervously, pausing when he realised his password had been completely removed, allowing him access to the phone instantly, but the teen couldn't ask about it if he tried so he continued on, opening his contacts. The log of his last call to his friend was still there, just a few minutes before midnight along with a plethora of missed calls he didn't remember, but when he went to his texts with Peter, he found messages he’d never sent at all.

‘It’s been a while, where are you?’

‘I’m still waiting, call me back when you can.’

‘You never arrived last night. I’m worried, please text me.’

‘Peter, everyone is worried about you. Please call me.’

Harry found himself cringing at the messages someone had clearly planted, probably his father. If anyone close to the teen read these texts, they'd immediately recognise that he hadn't been the one to write them. These texts were stiff, too formal and strict to have come from Harry’s mouth, especially when the recipient was his best friend, his crush, Peter.

You could see just how close the two spoke to each other if you scrolled just a little further up. To Harry, it was painfully obvious that these new texts weren't from him. But the time stamps didn't say someone had quickly shot them out just moments ago. There were some just a few minutes after the call, others a few hours and then the rest were the days following up until this very morning.

Maybe they didn't sound like him, but who would really think that when the times all added up? To a group of jaded S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, this would look normal. Harry would've scowled if he weren't still so anxious.

“You haven't heard anything since.” Norman directed as he scooped up the tablet from the bed and started tapping away. “Nothing. Not a sighting, not a whisper. You do not know where Peter Parker is.” Harry looked up, a growl urged by Venom settling uncomfortably in his lungs, unable to move forward and out.

“No matter what they say, no matter what they promise you, stick to that story.” Norman snaps, the whole ordeal sickeningly familiar to Harry. He didn't attend places with his father often; it was even rarer for him to follow him to somewhere important. But when he did, he was always grilled into him just like this.

He had to be quiet, no unnecessary comments or sly whispers he thought to be funny. Silent unless spoken to but when he did, he had to be confident. He was Osborn, he had to be charming, kind and flattering to whoever he spoke to, no matter if he knew them or not. He had to be perfect.

How could he expect that of him even during this?

“Do you understand, son?” Norman snapped, grabbing Harry’s attention back from his bitter memories. “Because I can assure you, if the truth comes out and they find out everything we’ve done, the repercussions won't just be on you.”

Norman presented the tablet to him once again and Harry eyed him warily. He’d seen enough, he didn't want to read anymore of that sick report on himself, he wasn't even sure if he fully believed it. But his father just narrowed his eyes and thrust it further and it became clear that he didn't have a choice.

Begrudgingly, Harry took hold of the tablet and spun it round, only for his heart to drop when it wasn’t his file that was on the screen, it was Peter’s.

‘SPIDER-MAN’ or ‘PETER PARKER’, his file followed along with the same theme, although it described the hero in a less threatening light, it detailed his Oscorp origin, his spidery powers and then- then how to defeat him?

But- Peter was a part of S.H.I.E.L.D., selected by Nick Fury himself! It made sense, Harry hated it, but it made sense to have a file of weaknesses and warnings against him, but Peter? Spider-Man? No, that was wrong. Peter trusted them, they trusted him!

But they trust him?

‘Note that SPIDER-MAN has lied and placed their priorities outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. a multitude of times. Specifically, they agreed to a deal not to reveal VENOM’s identity as HARRY OSBORN because of sentimental ties.’

Harry didn't understand, that was all to protect him, not because he wanted to go against Fury. Even when Harry wasn't aware of it, Peter was fighting tooth and nail to keep his identity a secret and keep him safe from those who wanted to take him down. Peter did all that because he was a good person, not because he was a traitor to S.H.I.E.L.D.!

‘In light of VENOM’s recent reappearance, high security agents are briefed and ordered to keep a close eye on SPIDER-MAN for any suspicious behaviour. Not only are they directly related to the symbiote, but their relationship with the previous host has proved dangerous.

If the agent known as SPIDER-MAN steps out of line, preparations have been made and cleared for superiors to hunt and detain them. Once in custody, a list of samples and tests are ready to be enacted in order to ensure we are fully prepared for any defiance in the future.

In a last resort scenario, if our agents discover SPIDER-MAN is ever found to be partnered with a re-emerged symbiote, higher security agents have permission to terminate the threat.’

Harry closed his eyes again, grinding his teeth as Venom writhed further in anger and the only thing holding Harry back from reacting was the hum that latched to his vocal cords and squeezed them into silence. How dare they? How dare they?

He couldn't even find it in himself to be furious about the things he said about him, not with what he’s just read about Peter. How could they say those things about him? He became a hero for them because they asked! He worked himself to the bone every day to fulfil their requests and complete their training.

He always spoke so highly of them, he always followed the difficult jobs that no one else wanted to do and he trusted them with everything. And they were ready to get rid of him at the slightest sign of defiance? They were ready to lock him up, abuse him, and then kill him all because he had the gall to defend Harry when he was at his lowest.

They saw the symbiote as such a threat that they were willing to murder two teenagers for it? It couldn't be true, it— Harry just couldn't believe it. It was a lie, it was another lie to ensure that Harry stayed in line.

But he couldn't stop that scratching thought from wriggling forward and shaping into a doubt. Was it a lie?

Harry had never trusted S.H.I.E.L.D., or more specifically, the team that Peter led, but he had to admit that it was mostly out of his own petty jealousy that made him see the worst in the heroes. But he had always held an ounce of resentment for the way Fury had ordered his arrest and responded to Venom’s resurgence with such coldness.

Was it so far-fetched to believe that coldness could turn into this? Peter had complained about his team, about miscellaneous agents on the helicarrier and even Nick Fury himself but none of his gripes were ever backed by true hate or annoyance. He loved his team, he loved his role in S.H.I.E.L.D. and he respected his sort of mentor.

That sort of praise didn't come from nowhere. Nick Fury would never kill Peter, he’d never kill Harry just for being the host for Venom, it was just too drastic, it was too lethal, it was just- it was wrong.

But was it worth the risk?

“Can't you see, Harry?” Norman spoke up in a sickly sweet tone. “I’m the only one you can trust.”

No. He was wrong.

Harry couldn't trust anyone. No, he could trust one person, but he was locked away somewhere Harry had no idea how to get to and he wasn't sure Peter had any idea how to get out. Harry had no one to rely on, no one to turn to, the only person who could change their fate was him.

He was going to talk to Fury, to the team he knew loathed him and he could choose to tell them the truth, of the way he lured Peter there, of all the things his father said and did to him and how Venom was back, and he wasn't sure he could get rid of them again. That would free them both. Within seconds, he was sure that they would find Peter and save them from the hell his father had built around them.

But if the files were true? If S.H.I.E.L.D. really did prepare those notes, then Harry would be sending himself to his own death, and even if they believed that Peter had nothing to do with what Norman had planned, they would still lock him up. They would eventually turn on him, Peter was destined to be shunned by the world for his mutated powers, and if he was vulnerable to the wrong person, they would do such horrible tests-

‘Do you know what happens when someone like him makes one single mistake?’

‘Taken away and deemed neither human nor mutant and as such, dissected.’

Bile rose in Harry’s throat the longer he lingered on the possibility. But wasn't the threat of that future happening here? If Harry said nothing and followed along with his father’s sick plan, then he’d go right back to being locked away again. He wouldn't see the outside anymore, he wouldn't know if Peter is truly ok, and they both would carry on suffering through whatever experiments were laid out for them.

But they wouldn't be dead.

Was that worth it?

He didn't know.

He didn't know!

Harry didn't know what to do!

His heart thumped hard against his chest, each drum only making his chest all that much tighter with the panic. The hum of the collar screamed in his ears, his throat ached against all the pressure to scream and shout and cry for everything to just stop and leave him alone! It was too much! He didn't want to make such a crucial choice! He didn't want to run the risk of taking not only his own life but Peter’s!

He couldn't do that! He wouldn't ever put Peter’s life on line, he didn't dare, but could he just stand by and drag him down, keeping him in the torture alongside him, even when there was an out right in front of his eyes? It was a risk, it was a gamble and Harry had nothing to confirm whether his father was telling the truth or not.

He didn't know who to trust. He didn't trust Norman, he didn't trust the plethora of scientists that all stood by and watched his pain, he didn't trust anyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. and he didn't trust himself.

Harry had no one he could trust. He had no one.

‘You have us.’ Venom whispered from deep within his chest and Harry couldn't hold back the full-body shiver in response to it. He tried not to listen, he tried to push the voice away and drag himself back to the present, but he just couldn’t help it. The present was painful, the present was scary, and the presence that the symbiote was providing was an unusual comfort that Harry found himself focusing on.

‘We told you from the start. There is treachery everywhere, liars hide within everyone…’ Venom hissed, their voice still fluctuating and struggling to form the longer sentences before they derailed into irritated growls. But Harry knew, he knew what they were trying to say even before they finished. He could feel it, and yet that didn't stop him from wanting to scream at the symbiote to be quiet.

Because this was just another thing Harry was wrong about. He refused to listen to the paranoia that Venom had fed them from the start and in the end, they’d been right. Those he thought the closest had betrayed him and the ones he thought should protect him turned a blind eye. But how was he supposed to believe Venom was any different?

‘We will protect you.’ Venom rebutted, stirring in the pits of his stomach, something that Harry greatly despised. ‘You can feel it. You can feel us. We only want what is best for our host.’ Harry was shocked to feel the overwhelming surge of protectiveness that the symbiote sent his way and he had to raise a hand to clutch at his own chest to cope with it.

He was inclined to believe it was just another lie, he wanted to believe it was another trick but when he went searching, Harry could not find a flaw, a crack or a shred of deceit hidden in the mist. The feelings that Venom showed were as genuine as his own, though Harry wasn't quite sure what to do about that.

He was ready for betrayal, he was prepared for the fights against him and yet there was none. Was Venom only speaking to him because the frequency gave them no other choice, or was this change a real thing? He didn't know, he couldn't be sure. The symbiote had grown in strides since the first time he acquired it. How could he ever be sure they hadn't simply gotten too good at hiding their true motifs?

What did he do? Who did he trust?

‘Trust Osborn, Trust S.H.I.E.L.D. or trust in your own path.’ Venom spoke up, stopping Harry from spiralling in their panic once again. ‘Wherever you go, there will be danger-’ Harry shivered again, so cold, too cold, and all he wanted was to snatch the covers he’d thrown aside hours ago and hide under them like he was five years old again.

He wanted things to be normal again. He wanted to go back to knowing nothing because knowing everything was too much.

‘-but we will be there to protect you.’ Venom finished, his words a promise that rattled Harry to his core. Why? Why was it that when he’d been stripped of everything, the damn thing that got him into this mess was the last option he had left to rely on?

Venom had hurt people, had hurt his friends and had hurt Harry as a consequence. But when those memories resurfaced in the midst of his turmoil, Venom did not argue against him, he only felt regret that he had caused their host any sort of genuine pain at all.

But there was no guilt for those outside of their body. In the creature’s mind, the criminals they hunted down deserved what was coming to them, because it gave them the incentive not to come back. What Venom did was good, it was a gift to Manhattan and they should be grateful.

No matter how troubled, Harry just couldn't agree.

So how did he trust in that? How did he open himself up to a monster so instinctual to violence and anger? How could he trust that if he ever was to get free, that Venom wouldn't just snap and hurt those around him? How could he trust in a parasite that could steal his body’s control at the flip of a switch and leave him helpless as they tore through anything they saw as an enemy?

Which tended to be pretty much anything that breathed.

And yet, something in Harry had started to lean towards that sentiment. Everyone he had come into contact with normally ended up hurting him, ended up turning against him when he needed them most. When the world labelled him a monster, what was he supposed to do other than follow the path they paved for him?

The teen thought about how he’d been treated while locked away, he thought about the scientists who turned a blind eye to his pain, Peter’s team who had judged him cruelly the second they set their eyes upon him, the agents who had labelled him complicit in his own torture and the disgusting things his father had made him do.

Harry had been trying so hard, he had been trying his whole life to be perfect. He tried to be polite, he tried to get the best grades, he tried to be talented in sports and music and he tried his absolute hardest to be the best son he could ever be.

And he just couldn't do it.

So now, at the lowest he could ever be, with nothing left but the scattered scraps of sanity and the parasite inside him, would it really be so bad to carry on being the wretched son everyone expected him to be?

But there was Peter.

Peter Parker, perfect Peter. The one who was everything he couldn't be and so much more. The one to regard him with unshakeable trust, treat him with constant kindness and the one who had always been there for him. Even when he didn't have to, even when it hurt him in return, he always stuck up for him.

He was always there, he always had been ever since he’d offered him that ride out of the rain.

The only reason he wasn't here now was because he was trapped, not because he didn't want to. Although, if Peter knew the truth, Harry had a feeling that it would all change. Even so, the single fact that Harry did have someone who had always believed in him grounded him.

But only so much.

‘…Could you protect Peter?’ Harry thought, his vision unfocused and hazy even when he looked up from the tablet and at the looming shape that was his father. ‘If anything happens to him…if anything of what my Dad showed me is true, then could you protect him?’ The teen asked plainly, the conversation flowing smoothly in his mind, confident and clear and so different to all the panic he had been feeling just a few seconds ago.

Well, he was still feeling it, but a specific concern rose above everything else. A question had to be answered before he could truly move forward and face the rest. If he let Venom into this bond like they’d been longing for all this time, then Harry wanted to know:

Where the rest of the world suffered, would they keep Peter Parker safe?

Venom caught their words with surprised delight that they'd actually spoken to them in the way they spoke to him, but they quickly realised the severity of their words and held them as they pondered. They stirred with gentleness, considering how the boy would react to their touch, to their feelings and urges as they thought and Harry was unsettled not to hear a single word as they went.

The silence was unusual, the fact that they were actually taking the time to think about their request instead of immediately jumping on Harry’s weakness was just…so unlike them. But then the symbiote quickly resurfaced from the pits, as far as the buzzing leash that chained them would allow and pulsed with their answer.

‘Our host considers Peter as something precious.’ Harry almost blushed at the words, suddenly aware that Venom should've felt every longing and embarrassing desire towards the hero and he wished he had kept a better grip on his own thoughts. ‘He is important to you…so he is important to us.’ Venom finished with certainty, not a shake or a quiver in the signals they sent his way.

‘When we get our strength back, when we reclaim our freedom-’ The symbiote declared with an excited rumble, the energy rubbing off on the tense boy on the outside. ‘-we will protect Peter Parker with our life.’ The creature assured, and when Harry truly, strongly looked at their answer, he could not find fault in it.

There was no doubt, there was no manipulation, there was no attempt to try and convince Harry that he didn't need Peter, that he was a traitor like everyone else, that he wasn't someone he could trust. Maybe Venom thought himself as higher than them, but his words were truthful, Harry could feel it now.

He didn't know exactly when, maybe last night when he’d begun to be able to communicate with him, but Harry was certain of it now, he knew when Venom was lying. If Harry left this prison covered in an oozing black and wielding bloodstained hands, then Venom would at least keep Peter safe.

That was good enough.

Until he knew who he could trust, until he knew he would not be throwing himself and Peter to their demise, he was going to stay. They couldn't force their way out, not yet at least but he wasn't going to ask for help from S.H.I.E.L.D. Harry was going to get stronger, he was going to follow his father’s tests and he was going to give the scientists the repetitive answers they wanted, but the second he had an opening, he was going to get free.

But only if he could take Peter with him.

“Harry.” Norman snapped his fingers in front of his son’s eyes, earning a flinch as the boy came back to his senses and glared up at his father. “Do you understand?” He repeated with exasperation, waiting for an answer.

Harry was so tempted to just explode there, to show the man some of that pent-up anger and aggression he’d been storing as his answer. Because really, he didn't want to follow him. He wasn't doing this for him, he wasn't doing this because he trusted him over them. He didn't trust anyone at all. He was doing this for Peter.

But he nodded. He swallowed air down his dry, scratchy throat, and he nodded; he didn't scowl or throw the man a dirty look when he smiled smugly because he couldn't. Not as long as the collar was in close proximity.

‘One day…’ Venom hissed and for the first time in a long time, Harry found himself allowing that symbiotic rage to rise, allowing the symbiote in. Or as far as the hum would allow them. He had withheld a startled wince as Venom only purred at the acceptance of their partnership.

Norman reclaimed his grasp on the remote, and although the very sight of the device sent shockwaves of horror roaring through Harry, he noticed how his father’s expression did not hold any of their previous annoyance and he managed to hold back a cringe even as he pressed the button.

“I trust your voice…not your actions.” The man stated as Harry felt his throat relax and he involuntarily gasped as his control over his voice returned to him. He couldn't help but drop the tablet and rub his throat in confirmation, even when his fingers brushed over the nasty electricity burn.

“With how emotional you can get, we’re going to keep the lid shut on the symbiote.” His father informed and Harry cast a weary glance upwards, his hand stalling as he focused in on the hum that still drummed through his mind and the frustration from Venom once he found he was still stuck. “Ok?”

Harry licked his lips, his mind wandering for a few seconds before he realised his father was expecting another answer and he carefully pushed Venom down, settling with the fact that there was nothing he could do about the grating noise.

At least it wasn't the other one.

“Ok…” Harry croaked, voice raw and scratchy after his repeated tantrums he had yet to recover from. But no matter how weak, his answer was still good enough, still broken enough for Norman to accept that he had won this fight and he slid the remote back in his pocket with a satisfied smile.

“You’re still recovering from that fight that ‘cured’ you.” He hummed as he strolled across the room and opened up the wardrobe Harry had hardly touched, only having the energy to change his clothes when he was well and truly at the limit. “We have you down as sick from school as my private workers oversee your health.”

He picked through the small collection that Harry had no say in, pushing the clothes aside until he paused on one in particular and pulled it out, slamming the wardrobe shut behind him.

“That’s why you're down here in my private lab, that's why you haven't seen anyone since.” The man went on as he pulled the sweater off the hanger and tossed it onto the bed. “You want to be left alone while you recover.”

Harry reached out and picked up the clothing, a plain, cream sweater that he’d normally only pick out in colder weather. Though he supposed that since his friendly injection, he was shivering more than normal. But it still looked too uncomfortable to wear, the fabric thick, suffocating, too tight and enclosed for what he was about to do.

But Harry knew what his father was doing, he was running through everything he had to say, everything he had to do, everything he had to feel for his upcoming interrogation. His throat ached as he rubbed his fingers against the itchy material, eyeing the turtleneck at the top.

“Put that on and follow me,” Norman ordered without looking back, bringing his hand up to the door scanner that Harry had tried and failed to use himself many times before. A sudden idea flashed in the teen's mind to take advantage of the open door and flee while he had the chance.

But he knew better, for as long as Norman was in close proximity and the collar was in his grasp, he would still hear the sickening hum made to control him and was destined to be dragged back again. So with a lump in his scarred throat, Harry kept quiet and pulled on the sweater over his thin shirt, ignoring the feeling of having something else cover his neck as he pushed off the bed and followed after his father.

The walk to the elevator was tense but quick, and Harry couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised that no guards were watching over him this time. He understood that it would be weird to an outsider to see a father having their son escorted around because he didn't trust them, but to Harry, it was unusual to be without it.

But he knew better than to assume that it was because his father had suddenly gained trust when he’d never had it in the first place. Norman wasn't taking a chance, he still had the leash attached, it just wasn't around Harry’s neck.

“Be angry at them, sad or even scared but never—” Norman began as they stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the penthouse and assuming a stiff posture as they started to lift up. “—lead them back to what the truth is.” He glanced down at Harry from the corners of his eye and the boy shivered then bit his lip to try and combat it. He almost missed having the guards; he much preferred their silence over this.

“While we know that what we’re doing is for the greater good—” ‘We’? Harry thought dryly. Did his father still think that he was doing this because he agreed? He thought he had made himself clear, he didn't want anything more to do with this mess, he was only following along because he was being forced to. “—those imbeciles won't see it that way.”

“Sure.” Harry croaked, grabbing a fistful of the tough knitting of his sweater and distracting himself by wondering just exactly where his father had gotten this from. Who was he kidding? He’d probably ordered someone else to get the clothes for him. He was never interested in stuff so small.

The teen jumped as the elevator dinged and came to a stop, shuddering as it slotted itself at the appropriate floor and Harry didn't even have time to prepare himself before the doors slid open and he was face to face with his home, his real home, once again.

There wasn't as much panic and chaos as he expected there to be. Harry didn't know exactly what he imagined, maybe a whole swarm of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents ready and prepared with their guns pointed to take him away and while there were a few, they hardly looked towards him as they stationed themselves at random spots in the house.

Then Harry’s eyes focused on the far back and his whole body froze because there he was in all his incredibly intimidating glory, Nick Fury, standing at the far end of the room, hands behind his back and gaze on him within an instant and by his side, of course, were the four members of Peter’s team.

Harry didn't want to move, he longed to shrink in on himself and slam the buttons on the elevators to go back down because his plan suddenly seemed so, so out of reach but the second he faltered, a firm hand was placed on his shoulder and the boy was stiffly guided out of the elevator.

Anyone who hadn't noticed him then certainly did now and Harry had never hated the act of being perceived more than in that moment as the teen heroes all moved to face his way and their judging expressions all burned so much more than he ever expected they would.

Why did he care so much? He wasn't friends with these people, he didn't hang out with them like he did with Peter and MJ. He’d spoken to them on only a handful of occasions and most of them were when he was trying to kill them, it made sense that they'd look at him with loathing like they always had.

So why did it hurt to know that they never trusted him either?

“Well?” Norman spoke up, either unaware of Harry’s growing unease or uncaring as he pulled the boy along with him. Unlike his son, Norman strode with newfound confidence, any fear or anger from before completely smothered behind his regular charismatic persona. “As you can clearly see, my son is still recovering from the effects of that parasite.”

Norman pushed Harry a little bit further than he was comfortable with and the boy had to grapple with the fact that the group of agents had a full view of his panic and how Venom writhed in disgust at Norman’s terminology for them.

“Are you still going to imply that Harry has anything to do with Peter’s disappearance?” Norman asked, something dangerous laced at the edge of his words and Harry had to clench his fists to stop himself from wrenching his shoulder out of the man’s grip. He was getting hot again, sweat was falling from his brow though he was unsure if all of that was because he was still recovering from that injection or because he was so scared he was about to be culled.

“Harry,” Fury spoke up, his deep grumble shooting bullets of terror through the boy but he managed to contain it, or at least he hoped so, as he sat down on the sofa in the lounge. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind.” His polite request shocked the boy, though not in a particularly bad way. He was expecting a full-blown interrogation with shouting and demands and possibly threats if things didn't go their way.

Not an uneasy quiet as they waited for his answer, voice low and gravely but without any proper push or warning. Although both the team and Fury looked at him with a tense gaze, there was a gentle patience waiting in Nick’s eyes, like Harry was a scared, fragile child he had to be careful around.

Which, in a sense, he was, but he wasn't injured in the way they expected.

“It won't take long.” The director assured, his eye trailing above Harry and to the hand still firmly attached to his shoulder. Harry couldn't see, but he could feel how they locked eyes and the silent aggravation that followed after. Fury cleared his throat, his eye narrowing. “Alone.”

Harry flinched as Norman stuttered in shock, his hand tightening as his anger made a very swift resurgence.

“Whatever you have to say will be said with me present!” He spat, leaning over the couch to end a bit closer to the boy, trying to play the role of loving and protective father. Maybe it looked genuine on the outside but all it achieved for Harry was making his stomach churn and Venom roar. “Do I have to remind you of the laws you are breaking by just setting foot in my home-?!”

“It’s ok.” Harry’s voice came out in an embarrassing squeak that he didn't have time to stew over before Norman stiffened and a huge wave of ‘danger!’ rolled through him and he had to fight with himself not to react to it.

“This—This is important, right? S-So—” Fury’s gaze fell back upon him, backed by the scowls of the four trainees beside him and Harry found himself struggling to get his words out without stuttering. Was the collar back on? Had his father switched the frequency when he wasn't looking? But when the boy raised his hand and touched his throat, it touched the rough wool that brushed his stinging wound.

He was still free, he could still speak and move and breathe and yet it didn't feel like it. Not when he was trapped between two crushing forces and he didn't want to give in to either of them. His hand trembled, even with his body so tense and for a second he really did think he was going to pass out from the stress.

‘We will protect you...’ Venom surged, not as far as they would like but they moved and Harry clearly felt the brush of their presence against the clawing fear in his chest. They didn't take it away, nor did they erase it like he wished they would, but it was something. A reminder, at least, that he wasn't completely alone.

Even so, Venom couldn't protect him here, not if he really needed it. The symbiote could scream all it wanted, it could block out all the noise with its voice and reassure Harry with all the right words but it couldn't do anything with the hum that silenced them.

If Harry wanted to keep going, he had to move of his own will.

“If it gets too much, I’ll call you.” Harry found the strength to turn around and face his father, even when he wished for nothing more than to close his eyes and never see the man again. He forced a shaky smile and hoped that he looked as he normally did. Or as normal as he could with pale, sweaty skin and eye bags that begged for one good night's sleep.

Norman’s eyes flashed with indignation and for a beat he just looked down at his son with narrowed eyes and Harry prepared for an argument, instinctively ready to block himself from any upcoming attack, but no hits came. The mask came back up and Norman only nodded, patting his son’s shoulder as some attempt at quiet support as he shot a glare at the director’s way and stormed to someplace different in the penthouse.

Harry wasn't sure if he felt relieved or terrified to be without his father’s presence, because now he was alone with the five people who could change his fate into something lethal, and they already hated him to begin with. The boy can't find the confidence to look any of his interrogators in the eye, shame and guilt filling his entire being.

Maybe he didn't particularly like any of them, but that didn't mean he hated them. He didn't even know if the trainees had any knowledge of the files he had seen, for all he knew, they had the exact same terrible procedures waiting for them when they messed up. But even if that meant they could be on his side, he still couldn't ask for their help. Not with Fury right there.

Would they even believe him if he tried?

“…This is about Peter, isn't it?” Harry asked, dropping his hands down to his knees as he focused on his palms and not the looming threat just a few feet away from him. But he could still feel the collective shock that had spoken up at all, let alone start the difficult conversation.

“Yes.” Fury began, taking a few steps towards him but still keeping enough distance that Harry didn't feel quite in danger. “But not only that. Spider-Man was declared MIA four days ago.” Harry only just withheld a reaction to his alter-ego, gripping his pants tighter.

“I’ve been informed that he revealed his identity to you.” Harry couldn't help but shyly cast a glance upwards, but not at the director, at his trainees around him. He wasn't sure he was expecting anything different than their suspicious glares, they were painfully clear even through their masks and glasses.

He wondered what exactly they’d told him, he wondered if they’d recounted his jealousy when the team first got together and if that had swayed Nick’s opinion of him in any way at all. They already thought Harry had done this, didn't they? But when he paused over the director, his expression was as even as ever.

“…Yeah.” Harry swallowed dryly, suddenly wishing he had a drink of some kind to ease the sharp grit he felt he had in his throat. “He— He did but-” He clasped his hands together and shakingly fidgeted with them, his panic rising the more his brain realised how unusual he looked. “—but I never told anyone I swear—”

Fury lifted one hand up to silence him and Harry felt his voice practically die in his mouth before he clamped it shut, shrinking in on himself and wishing the couch would swallow him up and finish the job.

“We’re not here to accuse you, Harry.” The man began and Harry blinked in surprise, looking to the rest of the team for confirmation, but they only avoided his gaze. Either the agent was lying or the team just didn't share that sentiment.

“We’re here to try and find Peter.” Harry’s attention snapped back to Fury at the mention of Peter’s name and he unconsciously straightened back up, as if the man was going to share anything that could help them at all. Who was he kidding? Even if they did reveal some pivotal evidence, Harry would have to either ignore it or deny it.

He had to, for Peter.

He wasn't going to risk the chance that these people were just as good at lying as his psychotic father.

“Even if you have nothing to do with his disappearance…” The man’s eye narrowed and Harry felt a shiver run along his spine. “…you may know something that could potentially help us.”

Harry dug his nails into his own palm, hiding it away so that no one could properly see the tiny cuts he was giving himself. He felt breathless, he knew what they were implying, he knew the looks they were giving. They were waiting for a confession, they were waiting for him to slip up they-

‘Calm…’ Venom hissed, but not in a way that suggested frustration. Harry shot a quick look down at his hands, watching them trembling in his lap as he closed them and stopped with the scratching at Venom’s insistence. He only lost if he gave himself away, he just needed to stay calm. He was ok, he was ok, they couldn't do anything, not yet.

‘We are ok.’

“…Like what?” Harry finally asked, grounded by the repeated measure of the symbiote pulsing from within, something he never thought he would be comforted by.

“How about the fact he vanished minutes after you called him—!” Nova began, jabbing an accusatory finger his way and for a second it seemed like he was going to advance on Harry but then White Tiger snatched his arm, her claws earning a yelp and a betrayed look back. But she didn't say anything to defend Harry, her actions seemed more to stop her teammate from doing anything stupid than to actually help the teen before them.

Harry would know, even with her face fully covered, the aura she gave off was nothing less than enraged.

Fury, however, cast a single unimpressed look back at the outspoken rookie before he returned his attention to Harry and carried on. “Can you tell me more about this phone call you had?”

Harry grew nervous again, the memories of that night returning to him like a heavy weight in his being but he refused to crumble, he couldn't. He knew the risks of what would happen if he did, and they were too great. What was much greater than the threat of dying?

“…I asked him to come see me.” Harry finally answered, running through his father’s orders over and over again to make sure he wasn't saying anything he couldn't or going against something that had already been said. “I told him—” He adjusted his voice, aware he’d fallen into an almost whisper. “I told him to come meet me here.”

“What for?” The director prodded, but Power Man spoke up before Harry even had the chance to explain.

“Spidey told us it was you who said it was urgent.” He pointed out, arms crossed and posture tense as he looked down upon the sickly teenager they were grilling. “So urgent that he ditched us all and went straight to you.” His tone is strong, even, but Harry could hear the accusations laced beneath his words.

The constant judgment and frigid atmosphere were starting to wear on Harry, and maybe it was due to the fact that Venom was boiling in rage, but he was starting to feel offended that they would dare to look at him that way when they knew nothing.

But he had to remind himself that Peter considered this team his friends. Hell, Harry knew their names. Danny Rand, Luke Cage, Ava Ayala and Sam Alexander. They’d begrudgingly revealed their identities to him after Peter had revealed his. Maybe that was because it wasn't hard for Harry to piece things together from that point but they'd made the effort to introduce themselves and that was something.

But Harry had never made himself seem so…evil, had he? None of them had any reason to look down upon him like he were dirt. All they had was that he was supposedly the last one to talk to Peter and yeah, he was, but that was all they had. They had no other evidence that he was behind this!

But he was. Harry had done this. He was the one who led Peter to the penthouse, he was the one who distracted him while he was electrocuted. He was the one who followed his father’s plan. He did this. He did this. He. Did. This.

But—but he didn't know Peter was going to get hurt! Back then, he thought he was dying and that the only way to save himself was just a few tests on Peter’s mutated blood and then he would be saved and Peter would be free, and everything would go back to the way it used to be.

But then hours turned into days, and Harry had figured out the truth, and when he did— he’d tried to fight! He had the awful burn scars to prove it. But he couldn't do anything, not with the collar and the terrible noise that came with it. If Harry had known what was going to happen, he would never have gone along with it.

And now, he had a chance to undo it and he was hesitating.

Because he just didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

He thought his father was a good person, only for him to betray him and trap him in some sort of sick science torture lab. He thought the symbiote was a disgusting monster hellbent on devouring his mind in his own body, only for it to want to help him and get him free. He thought that S.H.I.E.L.D. was a heroic foundation that protected New York and was helping Peter become a better hero and… were they?

Were those files true? The question that wouldn't leave the forefront of Harry’s mind the second he saw them. He kept placing his trust in people, in the ones who should've protected him, only for them to turn around and betray him, so why would this be any different? Peter spoke about his team fondly, he gushed about Fury with the highest respect hidden between his dorky quips, but once, Harry had spoken about his father in the same way.

How could he ever trust the same again when his own flesh and blood had hurt him so cruelly?

Harry just couldn't take the chance. If he was wrong, not only was he destined to be locked in another lab until he died, but Peter was too, and he deserved better. It was Harry’s fault that he was in this hell, he wasn't going to play with his life just because he wanted to scorn Norman.

Why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be Harry who held the weight of two lives in his hands? He was just sixteen, he was just a teenager, and he was scared. He just wanted everything to go away but…he was stuck.

If S.H.I.E.L.D. were as good as he hoped them to be, then they would surely find a way to fix this without Harry’s help…surely…

“Harry?”

“It’s…humiliating.” Harry laughed, hunching over so that no one could tell that his chuckle was a terrible attempt to hide the sob that was climbing through his throat and threatening to escape.

“…What is?” Iron Fist spoke up, looking to the rest of the group, a shared sense of confusion rippling between them.

“Everything. Me.” Harry forced through gritted teeth, hoping that his self-loathing wasn't too obvious. “I mean—you all went through it too, didn't you?” The teen looked up at the group of trainees, trying not to be too put off by their disturbed expressions.

“Went through what?” Ava asked, something in her cold demeanour cracking but not falling completely.

“Venom.” The sickly teen said, feeling his stomach churn as said symbiote stirred in recognition of his own name. “It used your bodies too, didn't it?” Harry leaned forward a little bit, something frantic sparking in his mind as he switched on the questions and threw them their way instead. He just needed to breathe, he just needed to let it out.

“Yes, but…not for long—what does this have to do with the phone call?” The girl growled as he tilted her head at him, the eyes of the mask narrowing in suspicion like she could see through him, like she didn't buy his current state of panic but Harry couldn't fake his attitude even if he wanted to.

And he wanted to be able to fake this, because then he wouldn't feel like he was dying.

“It’s about that.” Harry held his head, closing his eyes for a brief moment as the world spun in his vision and he felt sick to his stomach. Venom rumbled from deep inside him, some kind of feeling disagreeing with the teen’s misery and Harry had to force him back down in order to keep his focus.

‘No. No, you will let me speak.’ He thought, taking a deep breath to try not to let his struggle show. ‘That pain was real. The hurt you caused was real, damn it.’

He only went to open his mouth again when Venom receded in what he could only describe as defeat.

“Do you know, I still have nightmares about it?” Harry raised his head weakly, his voice quivering as he looked at the group regarding him with unease. “I still have flashbacks about all the things I did, the things it made me do.”

He explained through a shuddering exhale, dropping his hands and going back to gripping his sweater. A tiny, minuscule weight shifted from his shoulders at the act of finally telling someone about how he felt, about the guilt that came with having the symbiote tied to his body.

But he was still being used now, wasn't he? And he couldn't blame that on Venom, no matter how much he wanted to. He was still guilty.

“He was the only one who could understand that…” Harry focused for a moment, his attention wavering as his mind wandered back to Peter, picturing the nights he’d spent crumpled at the boy’s side, spilling all of his fears and making him promise he’d stop him if anything like Venom happened again.

He couldn't blame him for failing, not when Harry was the one to betray him first.

“He knew what I was going through. I just…I just wanted some reassurance…” Harry finished with a half-hearted shrug, raising up a hand to wipe at his eyes and praying that no one would say anything about it. “He was my closest friend,” And so much more. “But it’s my fault he went missing.” Mine. Mine alone.

“What do you mean?” Fury asked and the whole group perked up at his words, alarm smothering as Harry’s heart slammed against his chest and he went to choose his next words very carefully.

“You—You said it.” He began as he pointed at Sam, ignoring the scowl that appeared just because he even went to speak to him. “He went missing after my phone call.” Harry’s hand dropped dejectedly in his lap, his vision misting over against his will. “If I had—If I had just left him alone, this never would have happened.”

You did this. You did this. He wouldn't have come here without your help. You did this. You got him stuck here-!

‘Calm….’

‘How can I be calm when it’s true-?!’ Harry seethed but was startled out of his internal argument when footsteps got closer, too close, much too close than he was comfortable with, but when he looked up, he did not see danger or judgment or betrayal.

He saw sympathy in the face of Danny who stood above him.

“It isn't your fault what happened.” He began, his presence cool and soft, a gentle breeze in comparison to all the noise and crashing force that was everything else surrounding him. “You called out for help, you weren't to know what was to happen after.”

Harry stared upwards at Iron Fist, completely at a loss for the breath of fresh air that was his empathy. He’d been without it for so long, faced with constant judgment and disappointment, scared into silence by harsh words and agonising punishments and drowning in his own misery and guilt.

Guilt that was only growing the longer Danny looked at him that way, because even though he had begged and wished for someone to just show him a shred of compassion in this hellish time, now that he had it, he almost hoped for him to stop.

Because he didn't deserve it.

Harry did know what was going to happen when he called Peter that night. Maybe not to the extent of seeing him electrocuted, but he knew he was going to get taken away. He was scared, he was being manipulated and fuck- he thought he was dying but he was still the one to pick up that phone. He was still the one to make the call. He was still the one who guilted Peter into coming over.

He did it.

But he could fix it, right now.

It was so simple, just a few words and the team would know and have Peter out wherever he was in mere minutes. But no matter how much Harry wanted to see the best in the people before him, he just couldn't guarantee it. Harry didn't want to risk his life this way and he definitely didn't want to risk Peter’s.

Was that so selfish? Was that so terrible? Did it make Harry as evil as his father that he was willing to keep both him and Peter in this torture just because he didn't trust S.H.I.E.L.D.?

“Did Peter ever arrive?” Fury broke Harry out of the start of another spiral, stopping him before he got too deep once again. As he digested his question, he saw yet another chance for Harry to tell the truth. But like it was instinctual, in a tough moment, Harry’s confidence shrank in on itself and he found his mind wandering back to his father and what he told him to say.

It was so much easier having someone else make the choice for you.

“…No.” Harry swallowed hard, wincing at the grating sting in his throat. “He said he would, but I—he never— I didn't hear from him again after I called…” He pulled the phone out of his pocket without looking, his body moving smoothly like he’d rehearsed just how well he was going to lie to the group, and he passed it forward to Fury.

But even if his words weren't the truth, the part of Harry that still believed that these people were good hoped that they’d find a fault in the phone, see the error in his words and call him out for it. But the director didn't look over the device for long, casting down a single glance before he ushered over the nearest S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and gave it to them to hold.

He tried to swallow down his disappointment and focus on something different, but his mind just wandered back to his phone and the short look he got at the rest of his contacts, his memory lingering on one in particular.

May. He didn't have time to read them, too hyper-focused on Peter and just exactly what had been done to his conversations with him, but he knew there were notifications there to prove she had sent him some messages. What had she said? How did she feel? Distraught, he imagined but- Peter said she didn't know anything about his secret heroing.

Just how lost must she be feeling right now?

“How’s May?” Harry blurted out before he had the time to think about the consequences of what he just said. The teen felt himself going pale, even more pale than he already was as he focused back onto the group and their re-emerging suspicions.

“She said she’d spoken to you already.” Sam pointed out plainly, shifting his stance carefully as if he was eyeing Harry up, trying to catch out a mistake in his posture as he sat squirming under his glare.

For a moment, his brain exploded with alarm bells, his bones itching and screaming for him to jump up and get away because he’d just fucked everything up and they were going to get him- they were going to arrest him and they were going to take him away they were going to kill him they were going to kill him for what he did Harry was going to die he was going to die-

‘Calm…! Calm…!’ Venom repeated over and over in the back of his mind, uncoiling from where Harry had pushed him down. His words were less than effective, about as good as when someone says, “It’s not that bad,” when you're losing your wits about something, but the feeling of the symbiote inside him was distracting enough to bring him back down from his high level of panic.

Not all the way, just enough that Harry felt like he could hear above the hum and see past the static that had fuzzed over his sight. He could fix this, he had to. He didn't have a choice.

“W-Well, yeah, but— but I just— I haven't seen her so…” He fidgeted with his hands, grimacing at the wet and clammy feeling when he pressed his palms together. “I just wanted to know if she’s coping…she—she doesn't know, does she?” He sputtered, resisting the urge to tug at his collar and pull away the itching fabric that was strangling him. The panic was starting to make him feel hot again, he was sure that they could see how much he was sweating.

But his attempt at getting the attention away from his slip-up seemed to have worked, no one had made a move towards him as of yet, and it was Iron Fist who answered his question.

“She is still unaware of the identity behind Spider-Man.” He explained gently, voice still so small and much kinder than all the shouting the teen was used to. “She is worried, but S.H.I.E.L.D. is watching over her.” He finished with a slight smile, but Harry wasn't quite sure whether to feel reassured by that or not.

On one hand, he was relieved that May wasn't completely on her own. After Peter, she didn't have anyone else. No more family, no friends in the immediate vicinity. It was just her and her nephew since Ben had passed away, but now that her nephew was gone, she had nothing.

Except now she had a whole super-powered organisation watching over her in secret, one that may or may not have several procedures on how to kill her nephew. Was it a good thing that she had someone keeping a close eye or was this just another way that S.H.I.E.L.D. was maintaining control?

They wouldn't hurt an innocent woman, would they? It made no sense, if they revealed themselves to May and started interrogating her for information, then they would only be drawing attention to themselves. May Parker was not the type of person to take threats lying down quietly.

Harry’s heart tugged painfully at the memory of the strong woman, tainted by the fact that he was the one who took her beloved nephew away from her. Harry had always loved May, ever since Peter had introduced him to his Aunt and Uncle, the teen had felt as if he’d gained a second family, a second home to run to when things here got too tough.

And he’d betrayed them in the worst way, hadn't he? He wondered if Ben could see him now and just how disgusted he was with what Harry had done.

‘I’m sorry. I didn't know. I didn't have a choice.’ He prayed as he dug his hands into his jeans.

“And you have no other information to give us?” Nick prodded, his tone giving away just how aggravated he was that he’d gotten practically nothing out of this meeting. But Harry understood, he shared the sentiment. He just wished fate would give him a chance of getting free already, give him that opening to break out and get Peter free.

“There’s…nothing else I can say…” Harry sighed, trying his best to avoid the director’s eyes. “I haven't seen him since he came to visit me in the hospital. I haven't heard from him since the phone call, he…he never showed up.” Harry finished, biting the inside of his cheek in an attempt to feel anything other than the overwhelming guilt that he’d become as good a liar as his father.

He was only in the next room, Harry couldn't help but imagine he was proud that his son was repeating exactly what he’d told him. That made him feel sick.

“Did Peter ever give you any indication he was stopping anywhere else?” Fury went on tapping a finger on his leg in irritation, though Harry felt it wasn't specifically directed towards him. “Was there anything about him that felt off to you?”

“If there was, then we would've picked it up.” Luke jumped in, unshaken even when his superior shot a stern glare his way. Harry tried not to linger on the fact that the team thought they were so much closer to Peter than he was, that they could've caught things he wouldn't have.

But he thought back anyway, as if he would be allowed to tell the man anything even if there was. Because there wasn't. Up until the final moment, Peter wouldn’t have suspected anything was wrong, at least not anything directed towards him. The most he could've been was worried about whatever Harry was going to say to him.

Peter would've acted as usual, right up until the end.

The whole situation was perfect; if there was a flaw, then it had yet to show itself as the only one willing to really say what happened was either Peter or Harry. But Peter couldn't be here to speak for himself and Harry wouldn't.

Norman had planned everything just right, made Harry seem so frail and terrified for a completely different reason than the death of his best friend, and no one would ever think any different. Apart from Peter’s old team, apparently.

Maybe Danny seemed to be swaying towards a more sympathetic view, but the rest of the group still regarded him with that same standoffish, cold atmosphere that had smacked into him the second he’d stepped through. Harry didn't know whether to carry on feeling bitter that they’d suspected him so quickly or relieved that the team cared for Peter well enough after all.

“…If there was, then I didn't see it,” Harry answered quietly, turning towards the large window to the right of him, feeling surprisingly empty at the real sights of New York. He almost asked how the city was coping without their bravest hero, but caught himself this time. He didn't want to talk more than necessary. He didn't want to talk at all.

Harry tried not to cringe as the five before him seemed to deflate at his words, faced with yet another dead end. A lump rose in the teen’s throat, and for a second, he wondered if he’d lost his ability to speak again but no, it was the same sob he’d been forcing down since he’d woken up this morning.

He thought he might actually lose the fight right then and there if it wasn't for the fact that someone was quickly approaching from behind him, and cold fear overpowered that urge completely.

“I believe you’ve been here long enough, Nick,” Norman informed rudely as he positioned himself directly behind Harry again, placing his hand back on his shoulder and giving it a quick, split-second squeeze that only made the boy panic more. Was that a good signal? A bad one? He didn't know, and he didn't dare turn to look at his face and find out. “My son needs rest, surely you can see that?”

Harry’s mind buzzed with danger, his father’s touch as wrong as the electricity that would course through his veins but even through that, he could still see the way Fury looked up at Norman, eye narrowed and jaw tense as if he was about to say something back, maybe argue that he had more questions to ask.

But no argument came. Even when the rest of the team looked to him with anticipation, clearly hoping that the director would find a hidden answer that none of them could, the agent only huffed and crossed his arms. A sign of defeat, a sign of victory for Norman and Norman alone.

Why did this have to feel so terrible? Why did Harry have to feel as if his heart was tearing itself in two when he looked at the way Peter’s team sank in grief that Fury had given up? Harry didn't want them to find out, he didn't want to get locked away and marched straight to his own death but at the same time, he did.

He didn't want to die, but he did want to be free. He wanted Peter to be free, to get out of whatever torment his father was putting him through and finally go home to the people who actually loved him. Because could Harry call what he was doing love? Could he really?

“Thank you for all your help, Mr Osborn,” Fury said stiffly, dropping his arms after a short contemplation and placing them behind his back. “You’ve been…” His eye flicked down, shooting a shiver straight through Harry that he did a terrible job of suppressing. “…a great help in our investigation.”

“Of course,” Norman spoke up, his voice falling away from his previous aggression now that he knew he’d won. “Peter was like a second son to me.”

Harry had to use all the strength he had left not to turn around and glare at his father, a growl threatening to break from his bruised throat. Peter? Like a son? When he’d treated them both as nothing more than science experiments? He’d electrocuted both of them, pierced Harry’s ears with a horrible ringing and kept them trapped here to be experimented on against their wills? And he wanted to say he considered them sons?

“I would do anything if it meant bringing the poor boy home.” He squeezed Harry’s shoulder again and the teen stiffened as he felt the man’s eyes on him, an uncomfortable hum settling on the back of his neck that he couldn't do anything to soothe. “But I must focus on Harry’s recovery.”

“Of course.” The director responded, sounding as if he wasn't really focusing on what the man fed them anymore. If he thought Norman was as fake as Harry knew he was, then he wasn't saying anything about it as he turned to the team and silently nodded, urging them all to leave this be and start making their way out of the home.

Norman guided Harry upwards, taking a supposedly supporting stance at his side as he kept a strong grip on his arm and started to take him away from the couch, but Harry’s legs froze before he could get too far, and without thinking, the teen swung his body around and shouted:

“Wait-!”

And then widened his eyes in horror because what was he doing?

Everyone in the room stopped immediately, the team and Fury spinning on their heels to stare back at him. Harry could feel it, the way Norman was looking at him, appalled at what he thought he was about to do, but honestly, Harry didn't even know what he had planned to say.

He had gotten away with it, he could go back now, go back to that blinding white room and the painful isolation that came with it. He could go back knowing that he wasn't going to die the next morning and so could Peter…but was it worth it? Was all the pain he’d have to bear worth it? Was knowing he’d torn Peter away from his only surviving relative worth it?

Was it worth it to keep himself safe? Was it? Was it?

“Harry…” Norman hissed in his ears, reclaiming his grip on the boy’s arm but not making any more movements than that, but he knew what he was telling him. He was warning him, and Harry knew the stakes.

Harry didn't want to die. No matter how terrible a person he knew he was. Even though he was harbouring a blood thirsty parasite, even though he’d betrayed his closest friend in the worst way and hurt him so much, Harry didn't want to die. Maybe he deserved it, maybe giving himself up here would be the proper repentance for what he’d done.

But he just couldn't do it, he couldn't open his mouth and tell the truth. Even when the team looked to him so strongly, even when his father’s harsh grip only ignited his spiteful fire inside him, he couldn't do it.

Because Harry was a coward. He was a snivelling, weak, pathetic coward who didn't want to risk the chance that the files were real.

Even if being stuck in this place was agony, that was better than being dead, wasn't it?

Would Peter see it that way?

Would Peter despise him for the choice he made?

Harry looked to the floor, slumping his shoulders as a wave of exhaustion knocked into him, and suddenly it was a struggle to carry on standing. He was just a teenager, he was just a scared teenager whose world had fallen apart in all the worst ways. He shouldn't have had to make this choice, he shouldn't have had to bear the responsibility.

But he had, and he would never forgive himself for it.

It was the least he deserved.

“…Please do everything you can to find him,” Harry mumbled, not daring to steal a glance at the agents ahead of him. “…Please.”

Silence filled the room for a few beats longer, the tension starting to fizzle now that Harry had finally said what everyone had been waiting for. When Harry found the confidence to look up, he was surprised to find a flicker of sympathy pass over the director’s face before he closed himself off again and gave the boy a single resolute nod.

While the rest of them seemed disturbed by the boy’s sudden outburst, they didn't dare attempt to say anything more before Fury ordered everyone out, and Harry was separated from S.H.I.E.L.D., his potential saviours or his potential killers, and guided back towards the elevator with a swift pace.

Before he knew it, the metal doors of the elevator shut and the penthouse was gone. Nick Fury was gone. The team Peter cherished so much was gone and Harry’s chance had died along with it. He’d done it, he’d made his choice.

For the second time, Harry had betrayed Peter, all because he wanted to save himself. How disgusting was that?

The teen flinched as a firm hand slapped him on the back and he stumbled, breathing hard as he turned to face his father and prepared himself for a beating or electrocution or maybe even the sickening noise that came from the collar but…there was nothing.

Nothing but the smug look on Norman’s face as he smiled down at him.

And that hurt so much worse.

“Good work, son.” He praised, patting the boy on the back a few more times for good measure, and Harry had to fight to hold back the feral hiss that climbed up his throat as a reaction. “You got through that brilliantly.”

Harry couldn't help but stare back at his father with a confused look on his face, not only because he knew he had almost messed that up multiple times but because praise from his father was something Harry hardly saw, especially since his recent development with him.

Even so, he didn't want it, not when it was for this.

“Although there was a little...hiccup…along the way”, Norman hummed as the elevator continued on down, the buzz terribly similar to him and Harry couldn't be happier when he heard the ding that signalled they'd reached the right floor. “You made the right choice in the end.”

Norman guided him out of the elevator with a smile that Harry couldn't share, shrinking in on himself and falling deep into his own mind as he walked back through the private laboratory, letting his father take him through the turns and doors he knew he wouldn't remember, nor did he try to. Why would he? Attempting to run had only ever brought him more pain.

But now, as his eyes snapped onto the heavily secured door of his ‘room’, running seemed so tempting, but Norman’s grip on his arm suddenly seemed so much stronger than he knew it should've been, and Harry couldn't even try to fight before the man’s hand was over the scanner and he was practically pushed into the room.

Harry tripped over his own feet but caught himself before he fell over completely, although some part of him didn't quite mind the idea of just collapsing to the ground and staying there. His head had started to thump again and he wasn't sure if it was exhaustion, the lack of food in his stomach or the lingering effects of the injection but he really felt like he was going to throw up.

The only reason he didn't was because his mind screamed in alarm, and his body moved without him, stumbling towards the bed and away from the danger that was behind him. Though he didn't understand it, Harry was glad he did because when he spun around and locked eyes with Norman, the collar was back in his hand.

“No…” Harry uttered, shaking as his eyes scanned every inch of the room for some sort of secret exit or somewhere to hide from the man who was slowly making his way towards him. “No—No, you can’t–” The teen scrambled back further than the bed, pushing himself against the wall, but any distance gained was immediately closed by Norman.

“Now, Harry, don't make this harder than it has to be.” He sighed as he towered over him, unfolding the collar and raising it up as he prepared to put it back on. “This needs to be done.” He stated plainly, while Harry just stared up at him in horror, Venom writhing inside him with a surge of rage.

‘He betrays us again!’ They roared and Harry had never agreed with them more. Fueled by both cold fear and deep, deep anger, Harry growled and split from the wall, skirting around Norman and attempting to get as far away from him as the room would allow, but his father’s hand snatched his wrist and yanked him back.

Harry wasn't nearly as fast and cunning as he was when the symbiote covered his skin, and with Venom stuck under the hum, Harry was as weak and clumsy as he normally was and couldn't wrench himself out of his father’s grip fast enough before he threw him down and slammed him against the floor.

Harry wheezed, the air knocked out of his lungs, his vision spinning before him and with dizziness dragging on his limbs, Harry didn't have any fight left and with Venom roaring in his ears, Norman shoved the collar around his neck, caring little for how it caught the skin and closed around him.

Suffocating, choking, smothering, Harry didn't know his panic could get any higher, but then the metal clicked shut around his neck and that cold cutting feeling of having it stuck around his throat came back and his horror dialled right up to a hundred.

“No, No, No—” Harry scrambled to get his father away from him, shoving the man’s hands off of his neck just as the device beeped in response to something, and with nothing keeping him down, he pushed himself away.

“I—But I did what you asked!” Harry cried out, clutching at the contraption and tugging at it to see if somehow, it had grown weaker since the last time or maybe Norman had simply put it on wrong, but it didn't budge. It only seemed to grow tighter, stuck stronger to his sore skin the more Harry tried to get it off.

“Please—” Harry begged, his breath hitching and tears starting to fall as he watched in despair as Norman flicked out the remote, something dark in his eyes as he held it in his hand and looked down at his son trembling on the floor. “Please, don't—don't do it…” He whimpered, not caring in the slightest for how humiliating he must've looked, for how Venom hated that he was pleading this way and hated how his father had pushed him to it.

What else was he to do? There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He’d given up his only chance himself. Why bother trying to preserve his dignity?

Norman chuckled, something that made Harry flinch as he took a few steps forward and kneeled down in front of him.

“Oh, no, Harry. I’m not going to punish you.” He explained, tilting his head to the side as he watched his son shake in such brutal fear before him, and yet he still had the sick urge to smile. “You did good. Because of that—”

He pressed down on the remote, too quick for Harry to do anything about it so he went and quickly covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation because he knew that trying to block the noise out was fruitless but he couldn't help but try and stop the agony before it came.

But the ringing didn't come. In fact, Harry’s eyes shot back open again when he both heard and felt the constant hum that had been clawing at him since the night before vanished and the block at the back of his mind crumbled. Harry didn't release it until that moment but god, having a clear head, free full of the numb buzzing was like heaven.

“-you can have control over the symbiote again.”

Of course, when Harry realised something, so did Venom, and as soon as its shackles crumbled, the creature burst forward, full of euphoria as it was finally free to breathe and move outside of the claustrophobic black it had been bound to.

Harry prepared himself for the symbiote to fully take over, gritting his teeth as he waited for the transformation to pass, only to blink in pleasant surprise when the most Venom did was wrap around his arms, prodding and brushing carefully at the front of his thoughts as if to say hello, I’m back, I’m here, you're safe now.

Harry didn't know how to feel about that.

“I’ll leave you be,” Norman sighed as he pushed to a stand and slid the remote back into his pocket. Relief washed over Harry at this and he almost smiled at the fact that his father was finally going to leave him alone, to get out of his sight and wasn't even going to hurt him in some way like he usually did.

But then he remembered something vital and, with some help from Venom, leapt up from the floor and snagged the arm of Norman’s shirt.

“Wait-” Harry began, but flinched under his father’s burning gaze, his eyes trailing down to his son’s hand as if the touch disgusted him.

‘You and me both.’ Harry thought bitterly but bit his tongue and brought his hand back in on himself, calmed by the reminder that there was something much more important than his own childish insults.

“Is…Is Peter ok?” He croaked, internally cursing how his throat, scratchy and dry, made him seem even more feeble than he already was. His father hated the weakness, he hated the tears. He wasn't going to get anything unless he acted confident!

But before Harry could rethink his words, Norman reclaimed the tablet left tossed onto the bed, picking up in silence as he swiped onto something different and then turned back to the teen.

“…He’s reacting to the treatment just fine.” He responded, all while looking down at something Harry couldn't see and didn't dare try.

“Treatment?” Harry echoed with a twinge of fear, dreading just exactly what his father was putting Peter through. If it was anything like Harry’s, then the boy was suffering, just as he hoped he wouldn't be.

“Like I’ve told you before.” Norman sighed as he switched off the device and dropped it to his side. “He was bitten by an Oscorp spider, we’re still heavily interested in the powers he gained and how we can improve them.” He eyed the teenager before with something Harry couldn't quite place, all he knew was that being under his gaze made him feel like a zoo animal.

“Quite like what we’re doing with you, son.” Norman then smiled, making Harry’s stomach churn uncomfortably. “Although you're making leaps in comparison.” The man said as if that was a compliment in any sort of way. What Harry did today, how he’d changed towards the symbiote bound to him, wasn't anything to celebrate.

Harry becoming a monster wasn't a good thing.

‘Not a monster…We are superior…together…!’ Venom whispered, yet they were so much louder than before, almost too much to ignore, but Harry just swallowed hard and clenched his fist, signalling the creature to back off.

“Ok…Can I, uh…see him?” Harry focused back on his father with a preemptive wince and just like he suspected, Norman’s smile dropped and his mood completely changed.

“No.” He shot back instantly, already turning away from the boy. “You’re not ready.”

“Wha- wait! No!” Harry panicked as he went after him, clutching onto his arm again. “Please, Dad! I won’t—I won't do anything, I promise!” He went on, ignoring how his father whipped around to face him, a scowl on his face at the fact that Harry had gone and touched him again so carelessly.

“Wouldn't you?” The man shot back, snatching Harry’s hand and yanking it off of him. “I may have been right in trusting you to keep your mouth shut.” He snarled, his muscles tensing as if he was about to do something drastic but a soft hiss and jerking motion of the black symbiote on the boy’s shoulder stopped him.

“…But you have yet to improve on your tantrums.” He spat, dropping Harry’s hand and spinning back around. “Keep yourself in line and then we’ll discuss rewarding your progress.” He stated harshly and Harry didn't even try to call after him, just standing where he left him, watching as his father went through the door and disappeared behind it, the click of the lock echoing in the empty room.

After all that, after all the panic and the pain and the complete and utter torture that Harry went through to try and do the right thing and he was back in the prison once again, all alone.

Well, not alone. Not anymore.

Whether he liked it or not, he’d made an agreement with the symbiote and he wasn't backing down from it. In an unseen change, when Harry turned and saw his own reflection in the glass of the fake windows, he did not cringe at the sight of the black twisting around his arms.

He had a weapon now and he was going to use it.

“They can't keep us separated forever…” Harry whispered as he lifted up his hand and watched as the black wordlessly slithered up his arm and around his fingers, catching onto his thoughts and morphing outwards. From the mass, a small shape started to appear.

Two bright white eyes blinked out from the darkness, no pupils or wrinkles or anything else to give away what emotions the little creature’s face was feeling, but they didn't need to. Not when Harry was connected to their mind. He could see every thought and feeling in those white shapes.

They promised him safety, they promised him protection and they promised him revenge.

And he believed them.

“I’ll get to you, Peter,” Harry said, bending a single finger forward to brush the little creature's head. “And when I do-

“-I’ll make it right.”

Chapter Text

Octavius had been waiting in the same spot for at least a few hours now, eyes glued to the plethora of screens before him, hands wringing each other nervously as he looked between the many different loading bars, live status, and reports.

It had taken him a few days, but that last vial of blood he had taken from his wretched little bug had finally allowed his work to surge forth into the final stages and now, all he had left to do was stand there and wait. Wait for his computer to place all the pieces together correctly, for the genetic details to be absolutely perfect.

Although Venom was one of his best creations yet, Otto knew he could do better and he was determined to do just that as he’d collected more than enough resources from his ‘willing’ participant to the left of him. There was just one agonisingly slow part of the process left.

He supposed now was a time to appreciate the fact that he no longer had feeling below the neck, because he would most certainly have collapsed from exhaustion by now. Octavius' sleep schedule was abysmal and when he found something so spectacular to experiment on, it became even worse.

But who was there to judge him? The man hadn't stepped outside in years; it wasn't like he had the sun to follow along with. It didn't matter if he stood awake for hours, bent over his desk as he painstakingly tore apart and morphed together mutated DNA. He had grown used to it, he hardly even thought about it.

He had the metallic limbs attached to the harness around his torso to keep him steady, he had caffeine drinks of his own making to keep him alert and he had his morbid interest in the blood bubbling in the machine before him that allowed him to stay right there and wait for the process to finish.

Octavius was patient, but he found his own excitement was pushing him into impatience. The merge needed to be slow, the final stitching of the genes needed to be precise, to be without a single mistake. If this came out perfectly, he would never need to drag himself through the whole process ever again, all he would have to do is copy and paste the formula used and he would have it.

The unstoppable army he had been working to make.

It had been a long time, a good few years since Norman had first come to him with the desire to create a superpowered army capable of rivalling that of S.H.I.E.L.D. or even the Avengers. Not for themselves, no, but to hand over to benefactors not even Otto knew just exactly who were.

As far as Norman was concerned, the rest of the world could play its silly war games while he remained in the background, surrounded by his wealth and the firm control he would secretly still have over their creations. He wasn't one to dirty his hands, but he certainly wasn't going to leave himself defenceless.

So he left all the hard work to his little henchmen downstairs, Doctor Octavius. He designed the prototypes, gathered the intel on Spider-Man and spoke to the contacts sent to fight him. Although in the end, it was Norman who had caught the secret behind his identity, it was still Otto who had slaved away in the depths, performing the experiments and dealing with the insect’s rebellion.

Maybe he did enjoy stabbing a taser into his side and watching nothing but a scream escape his lips, but he still desired at least a little bit of respect for the hard work that he was doing for Norman. Everything he did was because the man ordered him to, and the scientist could only follow.

Because he knew what would happen if he chose not to.

But Norman…he didn't know about this.

He’d ordered Octavius to improve on the original symbiote, to find ways to fix Venom’s disobedience and make him even stronger than ever and while the scientist was still intent on doing that, he had placed his attention on another little project of his. He could make it better, he could do better.

Venom was made under a stressed deadline and exhausted frustration, but this? This little creation was crafted in the darkness and the blind spots of the cameras, pushed to the side and only touched upon when Octavius knew Norman wouldn't call him for a good few hours.

This project was built and woven together with the knowledge of his first attempt and the excitement of what this next one would bring. Otto had yet to even see it alive, and he already knew that it was bound to be his new greatest achievement.

He was about to make something to be feared. He was about to make something undeniably perfect.

The doctor’s gaze trailed away from the little machine he’d slotted underneath one of the computer screens. 82% glowed green before him, steadily rising and with nothing to imply it was going to stop anytime soon. He could afford to distract himself until it finished, he didn't particularly want glowing green numbers burned into his retinas.

He caught movement in one of the upper right cameras and craned his neck to focus there, allowing one claw to move the screen so he could inspect what he was seeing. It was a live recording, the time ever-present in the corner of the screen at 1600 hours, and the boy was awake.

Something no longer unusual for Harry.

He paced back and forth, despite the clear fatigue both he and his on-call ‘doctors’ had picked up on, he just kept walking. Hands wrapped around himself and clutching his arms as if he could never truly get warm enough, the young Osborn had simply given up on sleep unless his own exhausted body dragged him into it.

But he had yet to succumb, and so he continued to walk, mouth moving open and shut and then pausing before he went again as if he wasn't only speaking but having an active conversation, waiting for this other person’s response before going again.

Any normal person observing the teenager’s behaviour would have dubbed him insane, but Octavius knew better. He didn't need to turn on the volume to understand that Harry had finally decided to start speaking to the symbiote lying within. An interesting development, something beneficial to them, no matter how much Harry seemed against it.

The quicker the boy understood his place, the easier this whole process became.

Octavius dragged up his reports on Harry and quickly jotted down his findings, making sure to place a reminder to listen and analyse his conversations on a later date. Who knows, the boy may just reveal something that the scientists could use against him. He was still firm that the mind was the strongest force to control these specimens.

The doctor’s eyes snapped back to his most valued screen the second he finished, scanning the words it spouted as it updated and checking the progress.

92%. Almost there. Just a bit longer.

Otto sighed, his metallic tentacles rippling as a reflection of his own loosely hidden anticipation. He cast his sight to his left, adjusting the lights around the containment chamber so that the space was adequately illuminated for him to look at it.

Peter was different to Harry, or at least he was now. Unlike the young Osborn, the bug had done nothing but try to sleep since his last run-in with him. He had succeeded mostly, but unfortunately for him, Octavius was forced to disturb him on one occasion.

Although the scientist was not there to do any more tests on him, at least for now. The man had been keeping a close eye on his vitals in between other things and had noticed when they had started taking a turn for the worse. His healing factor was incredible, keeping his body alive far longer than any average human would in his state and even allowing him to keep going where many mutants would stumble.

But even that healing could only go so far when deprived of calories and water. Octavius would be lying if he said he’d simply forgotten to feed the annoying thing; he truthfully just didn't want to. It was fascinating watching his body fight to carry on when nothing was fueling it. But he’d had enough now.

If he wanted more information on that, which he most certainly would, then he would have to do it another day because Peter had gotten too still, too quiet even for him and his vitals had started to blare in alarm. He wasn't going to die in the next few hours, but if he carried on with what he’d been doing, then he eventually would.

Octavius had begrudgingly entered the cell with a meal specifically packed with all the nutrients and fluids his body had missed, not even bothering to wake the boy up or inform him of just exactly what it was before he turned away and left him to it. What really frustrated him was that hours later, he had yet to touch it.

Not because he couldn't, the scientists had been observing him, but because he decided he still wanted to be stubborn, even at the cost of his own health. The man had so kindly decided to open up the muzzle and let the boy flex his jaw and finally breathe through his mouth with joy, and how had he reacted?

To use that precious moment of freedom to call Octavius infantile names, to demand to know where his friend had gone and spout just exactly what he was going to do to them once he got free, which actually amused the doctor for a brief moment. Until the annoyance came pouring back.

The insect couldn't fight, he couldn't walk, and his words hardly came out as words at all, but rather painful wheezes and coughs. And yet, he still clung to his stubborn, persistent and aggravating persona and kicked the specially made meal aside as a final insult towards his captor.

To say Octavius was furious was an understatement. He didn't have the time or the patience to deal with a simple-minded child who refused to eat their food, and instead of responding to it, he simply gassed the chamber with strong narcotics and watched as he fell. With the bug out, he remotely shut the muzzle, bound him with his thick, tentacle-like restraints and hooked him up with a feeding tube and an IV fluid.

If he wasn't going to eat willingly, then Octavius would control that part of him, too.

It was true that he originally didn't care in the slightest whether the teenager lived or died during his studies, and it was a tremendous effort for Otto to deal with his antics along with everything else, but he didn't have a choice. Norman wanted him alive and so the scientist would find a solution to the problem.

Besides, it did make him chuckle watching the boy wake up and fruitlessly tug at the restraints, eyes trained on the tubes shoved down his throat and his hands clenched as if he was imagining tearing them out. Although he gave up relatively fast, his face scrunched in pure misery before he eventually sank down and went limp, returning to his sleep.

It was only when his vitals returned to a more manageable level that the scientist finally removed the tubes and left Peter alone, sleeping on the cold concrete again. He’d give him another drip soon enough…or maybe he would leave it another week or so, just to log exactly how long his body could go without food. It would be beneficial for soldiers to be able to go long periods without needing breaks for something like a meal-

Something chimed, very quietly and hidden, but it was the specific noise Octavius had been waiting for and he all but jumped to that one screen to read on the progress.

100%. It was done.

The machine before him stopped rumbling, going completely silent before it started to hum and the screen it was hooked up to began spewing out the successful report. The DNA had been fully completed, the genes had been successfully crafted, and the specified traits and powers had been merged together without fail.

He had done it, Octavius had done it. The scientist hadn't just made another symbiote, but he had made one that was improved.

The machine clunked as it unlocked the vial of blood it had been manipulating and Octavius took it with sickening joy, grasping his claws around the now deep black substance and bringing it into the light. The man stared in wonder as the life form shivered and shot around wildly in the small space it was confined to. Alive for only a few seconds, Otto swore he could already hear hisses as it longed to get free.

He thought the last symbiote was pure Venom. Well, this…this would be complete hatred. It was everything he wanted from Peter’s powers, only stripped of everything that made him- him. It was Venom, but stitched up and moulded into something that couldn't even dare but wish for anything other than violence.

This creature would live to destroy. It wouldn't have the weakness of being brought down by a host, and it wouldn't have the will to be emotionally attached to any other living thing around it. This symbiote would be stuck forever longing to destroy, longing to serve and longing to be a weapon.

Perfection. It was perfection. It was everything Octavius could've ever wanted and more.

The doctor couldn't stop grinning as he turned the vial around and watched as the little, unnerving mass stuck and latched to the sides as it wriggled around and searched for an exit. He had almost pressed a claw to call the only person he knew when he paused, going still as he thought it over.

Norman didn't even know what he had just achieved. He still thought he was useless as ever, and if he told him, would he even be thankful? No, Octavius could still remember the harsh words he had spoken to him in their last conversation. He had threatened to take him off the Venom project completely, a project he had made.

He'd only just saved himself by correcting and implementing the specific frequency into the collars, allowing for complete control over the unruly symbiote. But that respite wouldn't last forever. Norman was going to come back to him with his frustrations as he always did and maybe one day, he would tear the doctor away from this experiment.

So maybe Octavius could be selfish for just a little bit longer. He would have to tell Norman eventually, there wasn't anywhere he could hide something so bound for destruction, but for right now, Norman was busy in a private meeting and Otto?

Otto had a test subject ready to experiment on.

His claw diverted away from the computer and headed for a drawer, pulling out his well-used syringe gun and slotting the vial in, much to the symbiote's fury. Octavius couldn't help but laugh as he twisted it around.

“Now, now. You'll be free to do what you desire in due course.” He chuckled, looking towards the glass tube to his left and pressing down on the controls, watching with eagerness as the restraints came down and swung towards his captive. “I’m just giving you a body to work with.”

Peter didn't even move this time, only his eyes flying open in response as the tentacles came down and wrapped around him, holding tightly as they hoisted him up for clear inspection. Octavius smiled as he came up to the unblurred glass and got to see the boy’s face drop upon seeing him.

The boy struggled for a moment but swiftly gave up, fully aware there was nothing he could do to escape from his bind and was simply sending the doctor a message that he was still full of his spiteful energy. Well, not for long.

“Good evening, Spider.” Octavius hummed, keeping his prized creation behind his back as he waited for the glass to fully slide upwards. He narrowed his eyes as he examined the boy’s features, smirking when he seemed uncomfortable with his prolonged attention.

“Oh, how wonderful it is to no longer have to listen to your exasperating voice.” The man sighed as he moved his free limb forward and towards the teen’s face, causing him to tense and squeeze his eyes shut, ultimately flinching when all the doctor did was tap the hefty muzzle on his face.

Upon realising he wasn't going to do anything more than humiliate him, Peter growled as much as the muzzle would allow and thrust himself away from the scientist, only further scowling the more his captor laughed.

What a brilliant stroke of genius that was.

“Don't give me that look!” Octavius sneered as he snatched the boy’s face and forced him forward, staring into his hate-filled eyes with an amused look of his own. “It fits you, freak.” He spat, catching the teen wince at his strong words before he let him go and switched his attention towards his arm.

The same one as always, he didn't need any time to prepare or gauge his shot; the less time the boy had to discover what was in the syringe, the better. The scientist swung the syringe gun around and stabbed it right into Peter’s arm, watching the way the black goo was forced down and out of its chamber, into the body and blood of the teenager.

Then, as swiftly as he could, Octavius backed away and pressed the button for the glass to move back down, all the while commanding the metallic wires to let go and allowing Peter to fall to the floor and move free.

He wanted to see every unrestrained reaction he would have to this.

It was going to be delicious.

‘What the hell...?’ Peter huffed as he dropped to the ground, managing to stick the landing but ultimately still stumbling back and ending up sliding down the furthest wall away from the doctor. If he could regain distance between them, he would.

Although right now his mind was troubled by something other than the crazy octopus in front of him, for once. As he rubbed his arm, eyes narrowed down at the space where he’d injected the syringe, Peter had to wonder just what exactly he’d pumped into him this time.

He didn't get a good look at the liquid before it was already inside him, but he did catch the colour.

Black.

Nothing that colour could be good.

Peter couldn't help it as he looked up at Octavius and glared. He pushed his jaw to hiss and spit even though he knew nothing would come of it. It was a reaction that not even the shock of the stupid muzzle on his face could break.

He hated the thing; he hated the ugly, uncomfortable, heavy black weight around his face more than he hated the shock collar, and that was saying something because the collar fucking hurt.

He couldn't speak with it on anymore, he could hardly make a sound that wasn't muted and almost silent behind the material locked over his mouth. He had tried and failed maybe a thousand times to get it off, but nothing worked.

It wasn't even that it was embarrassing, completely demeaning and humiliating, it was the fact that it almost felt as if Peter was suffocating constantly. Realistically, he knew he wasn't. He could breathe just fine through his nose but the pressure around his jaw just added to his panic and he found himself spiralling.

It pressed down firmly, something sharp and hard locking around his lower jaw and along the sides of his cheeks to the point that his teeth were stuck permanently clamped down. There were no holes, no gaps and no leeway for him to move his mouth with, not any longer.

He didn't know why it brought him such unbridled horror that he had the horrid thing stuck to his face, other than the fact that he couldn't annoy Octavius with his insults anymore. But what else was Peter if he could no longer speak?

He had nothing in here. He had no friends, no family, no hobbies or science projects or grand heroic gestures for him to play out. He wasn't a superhero anymore, he wasn't a normal teenager, he wasn't even a person. He was just a thing that survived in a glass tube, occasionally poked and painfully prodded by the mad doctor outside.

He stole away the one thing he had left, and that made Peter nothing. He was just the ‘insect’ or ‘bug’ or ‘freak.’

At some point, something snapped, scraps of his training coming through or maybe Danny’s calming advice, but the teen gave up on trying to get the stupid face covering off. Nothing worked, no amount of tugging, scratching or smashing ever achieved anything other than hurting the skin around it.

He couldn't afford to bleed more than he already was, he told himself. If he couldn't get it off with his own strength, then he had to save it for something else. It was just a muzzle, it was just a mask. It didn't mean anything if he didn't let it. It was just a mask, it was just a mask.

That still didn't stop it from feeling tighter whenever Octavius looked at him and smiled. Smiled with something sly and smug, like how he was doing right now as he circled the glass and watched him with that disgusting scientific interest.

“You're wondering what kind of poison I've injected into your body, aren't you?” He asked in his low, crackly voice, all the while tilting his head to the side as if he could ever try to act innocent.

‘No shit…’ Peter thought with a growl, forcing himself up and away from the wall the second the doctor came too close again, settling for standing in the middle, rubbing his arm. It ached more than it usually did, but he put that down to the fact that he’d donated so much blood that he could probably fill an entire blood bank. Would he get paid for that?

“Fortunately for you, what I just placed into your bloodstream was no poison,” Octavius informed, pausing as he leaned closer to the glass, his metallic tentacles shivering in what Peter could try and guess was excitement? It only really made him look all the more unsettling.

“No, I just injected you with my best creation yet.” Otto’s smile widened, something Peter thought wasn't possible, and he leaned back, something unnerving glinting behind the red tint of his goggles. “The pinnacle of genetic mutation.”

‘What?’ Peter thought, unable to stop his confusion from slipping past his mask of aggression. What was this psycho talking about now? The boy had already geared himself up for more tests, his body growing cold and clammy as his mind pumped with that familiar adrenaline to prepare for the pain to come, but this felt different.

Although Peter was inclined to believe everything that came from Octavius’ sickly mouth was a lie, he did believe him when he’d said there was no poison to fight against. He’d always made himself clear in whatever experiments he was inflicting upon the boy, relishing in the look of terror that came those few seconds before the weapon struck down.

And if it were the muscle relaxants he jabbed into the teen what felt like every other hour, then they would've kicked in yet. The asshole always made sure that whatever drugs he gave him were strong enough to match and overpower Peter’s mutated system.

But so far, nothing had happened. His body still hurt, aching and uncomfortable from the injuries that hadn't quite yet healed, even after the dreadful feeding tube Octavius had forced into him. But none of his current ailments felt as if they were from whatever was in that syringe…was whatever he gave him a failure?

‘Pinnacle of genetic mutation’, Peter would've laughed if he could've opened his jaw. Octavius could make whatever contraptions he wanted, he could hurt him however many times he desired, but it still didn't take away from the fact that he was just a sick, pathetic little mad scientist whose greatest feat was picking on teenagers-

Peter’s whole body lurched forward, taking him a few steps as this sharp, jutting sort of buzz shot through his nerves and sent his muscles moving without his input. The boy wheezed, reeling as he took a step back to correct himself and look down at his own body as if it had betrayed him. What was that? What the fuck was that-?

Peter couldn't hold back the startled yelp as his body did it again, sending him to one knee as all his limbs shook and muscles tensed. His vision flashed white with each new painful wave of ice that coursed through his system. He didn't know what to do other than to wrap his arms around himself in an attempt to ease the discomfort.

He didn't understand, he couldn't comprehend what his own body was doing to him and Octavius’ laughter jutting into his mind only made him feel a thousand times worse.

“I think you'll find that you may recognise that feeling.” He chuckled, lowering himself down from behind the glass so that he could get a better look at the boy’s suffering. “It’s a modified creation derived from my first attempt with your blood.”

Peter could hardly listen, could hardly care, as he finally brought himself back up onto his feet only for his body to send him stumbling away, leaving him fighting with himself to stay upright and not down on the floor. But it was all so much easier said than done.

The teen held his head as he struggled, his skull growing tighter and tighter as the seconds went by, and suddenly he felt that if he wasn't there to hold it together, it would break and split in two. He gasped and growled, as much sound as the muzzle would allow as his heart drummed against his chest in rapid panic, his vision flickering white before him.

He didn't understand what was going on. He was fine just a few seconds ago and now it felt like his blood was on fire! His skin prickled all over, a sort of stinging scratch poking from beneath the surface that only got worse with each wave of piercing ice that shot through him. Every feeling was a contrast to the next, each discomfort only making the other worse and no matter how Peter tried to soothe himself, he just couldn't.

His vision was getting worse, the world around him slipping and melting into each other, and soon the white became black and then the black became red and then that cycle repeated over and over and over again in nauseating insanity that wouldn't end even when the boy slammed his palms against his eyes and rubbed.

This was worse, this was so much worse than whatever he thought the doctor may have planned out for him. Every single part of his body was attacking itself, and all of his senses were in agony to the point that he couldn't even think. He couldn't hear his own thoughts behind this echoing, crackling whispering that seeped in from some shadowed corner of his mind to add to his torment.

He couldn't understand it, he couldn't decipher any words before the sound picked up in a sharp, painful shriek, and the teen whimpered as he tried to shake them away. Octavius was lying, he was tormenting him on purpose. This had to be a poison because what else would destroy his system like this? What else would cause him such complete agony?

He’d never felt anything like this before, he was certain that he’d remember going through something as horrific as this and yet, behind the deafening wave of burning overstimulation, there was the slightest hint of familiarity that Peter just could not ignore.

The fire that raged beneath his skin was like no other, a living plague that snapped and scratched and stabbed at his insides until it left him crying out in agony and scrambling to find anything to ease it. But there wasn't anything he could do, because this plague was turning his own body against him and as his muscles convulsed, he recognised that helpless fear that followed behind it.

“That, is a new, superior version of Venom.”

A guttural screech ripped its way out of Peter’s throat, though he had no idea how it ever got past the muzzle that still locked his jaw shut, all he knew was that he couldn't stop once he had started, and he collapsed to his knees.

He knew what it was now, he knew just exactly what that black liquid was inside the syringe. It was a symbiote, another one, and now it was inside him. There was a poison in his blood, a living poison that was using its entire being to claw and fight against him, to control his body.

And it was winning.

Peter writhed against the sickness attacking his body, going back to gripping at his hair as he felt his mind crack and waver and fall apart right in front of him. His heart beat faster, his vision flashed quicker to the point where he couldn't even see at all, just the quick succession of colours that bled in his sight. He was panicking, he was losing himself and making it worse but he couldn't help it, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to fight a force so aggressive.

He felt like he was struggling against an entire ocean, a humongous force that would slam against him and throw him under and the second he was drifting below the water, it flooded every sense. It burnt his eyes, it shot up his nose and choked him through his throat and deafened his ears until all he could be aware of was the cackling voices at the edge of his mind and the rushing current that flooded his veins.

The waves could lower and Peter would find himself above the water again. He could still feel and he would know that he was still there and alive and he hadn't lost quite yet, but then the ocean of white, black and red would come right back and claw him all the way under again. What was worse was that each time it did, Peter felt himself growing weaker.

How much longer until it took him completely? How much longer until his already beaten body gave up and he would be stuck in that hell of a black suit again? He didn't want to go through that again, he didn't want to watch as his body was puppeteered against his will, especially in a place like this!

“There’s no need to fight against it.” Peter just barely caught onto Octavius’ voice through all the thumping and screaming and disgusting humming. “It will make you stronger, quicker, more driven.”

A smothered roar rattled up and out from Peter’s chest as he convulsed on the ground, hunched over his knees as lava poured through his trembling body. He didn't want this, he didn't ask for this. He wanted it to stop, just make it stop! STOP!

“Superior.”

Peter lost track of the world around him, only aware of his own body and the sickening transformation that he was going through. He couldn't hear Octacvius anymore, he wouldn't have cared if he could because suddenly there was a new type of pulsing from within his chest and he couldn't tear his attention away from it.

His hands clasped the black fabric, scrabbling over with weak, clumsy movements as he struggled to grab the invisible force and tear it away because it felt wrong. It was too invasive, it was so repulsive the way this feeling writhed and squirmed in his chest, spreading out with its roots of plague and infecting every inch of Peter.

The quick bursts of ice suddenly changed, and from that one spot in his heart did this steady, strong movement begin, and as it climbed across his organs and intestines, it started taking feelings and replacing them with something else. Peter’s fingertips started to tingle, his feet went numb and the back of his neck roared like never before as a screaming siren of danger filled his whole being.

In his crowded mind, the unholy whisperings got louder, as if growing more and more confident the more Peter’s body fell into whatever hell he was battling with. But that’s when he realised that what he heard were not words at all but rather feelings, fleeting thoughts and abrupt instincts.

His stomach churned in pain, hunger scratching and echoing around his mind like never before. His voice rattled, chuckled through his screams and cries of distress, something finding the complete and utter chaos around him humorous. Fear gripped at his chest, his lungs, his throat, his everything but some small, messed-up scrap of all that wasn't his.

The anxiety was fresh, raw and new and although all of this agony and torment was being brought on by the symbiote, Peter could feel it, the confusion in the unknown. It did not know why it was doing this, it did not know how they’d been born into this, but it was only life they knew and above all, that they knew one thing for certain:

They wanted this body. They wanted this body, and they wanted to cause absolute chaos with it.

They wanted to get out. They needed to get out- they needed to fight, they had to fight. There was nothing else, there was no need for anything else—nothing else mattered, just that. Only that. They needed it. They had to get it. They would. They would fight. They would fight. Fight. Fight.

FIGHT.

Peter’s body snapped backwards, jerking out of the tight ball he didn't even know he’d fallen into with another muffled scream. Eyes wide, pupils shrank in pure terror, the symbiote’s drive and entire being started to swarm him. All of its wants, all of its needs clashed with Peter’s, but it wasn't trying to make itself fit or share the space, it was trying to swallow him down and replace him.

It was too much, it was all too much. He could feel every movement, every violent, dark and disgusting feeling that came from the parasite, and he wanted it out. He wanted to be sick, he wanted to bang his head on the floor and knock himself out so that he’d miss all this and he really wanted to tear that bastard in front of him limb from limb but- he couldn't.

There was nothing he could do, there was nowhere he could go. Peter’s thoughts were rapid, jumbled and being actively attacked by the other creature inside him and any attempt at a rational plan was gone the moment it arrived. This was not like how it was with Venom, this was not the same bond that he could simply break free from.

It was something disgustingly perfect as it wrapped around his genes like barbed wire, each movement he made to escape only bringing more pain. He couldn't think, he couldn't speak, he just wanted it gone.

His skin was on fire; it was burning him alive, ignited by the revolting parasite swimming in his blood. His blood.

In a fit of panic and a passing thought to try and do anything to ease the torture going on within, Peter reached out, yanked down his sleeves and started frantically scratching at the skin, tearing at his own flesh with no care to how hard or how sloppy his strikes were. All he knew was that he just wanted it out.

But that final act, that slip into hysteria, was like the final straw the symbiote had been waiting for, and the moment blood started to seep from the cuts, something else came out with it. Black sludge shot out from between the blood, lashing wildly in the open air with sharp tendrils as if it was ecstatic to be free. But Peter knew it; he could feel it.

But even though it was free, even though it had escaped from his suffocating body, the symbiote did not try to flee like it wanted. It already knew that it would not get far without the body. After only a few seconds, the black mass turned around and slammed into Peter, the force knocking him onto his back.

As the boy wheezed, forgetting his open wounds to focus on the sludge on his chest, the symbiote had started to thrust back inside. But it was different from before; it was not trying to take anything from within, it had already won. The symbiote was spreading across his chest, the movement making his skin buzz as it slithered along like it was creating an entirely new suit for him to wear.

Peter cried out as he tried to tear it away, grabbing fistfuls of the parasite in his hands and pulling it back, but the creature was like glue. It stuck to him with unwavering persistence and any piece that did end up being yanked away would only slip from his trembling fingers and bounce back into the mass again.

The teen was making no progress, wasn't even leaving a dent in the terrifying surge that was closing around his body so much faster than he knew what to do against it. He scratched and pulled and dug with his nails, but nothing worked and as the symbiote went on, the parts of his body that it claimed had started to go numb.

One by one, his limbs simply vanished from his feeling. His once erratic and panicked movements became slower, sluggish and if he wasn't already on the floor, he would've collapsed because when he tried to move, his legs simply would not follow. He wasn't just losing feeling, he was losing the limbs altogether. They weren't his anymore; they belonged to it.

His body belonged to the symbiote. His arms, his legs, his chest, his face and his mind. It was all being snatched away from him, and as his hands seized up, his trembling body coming to a still, Peter could not even think about how he had failed. He had lost. He had lost himself, and he had lost Harry.

No. He couldn't comprehend that. All he knew in his loud, overwhelmed and chaotic mind was that as the black climbed and covered his face, he was so, so scared.

And he was so sorry.

The symbiote closed shut over his head, swallowing every inch of his person, leaving absolutely nothing out into the open air in some sort of parallel to the way the creature had been trapped in his blood just a few moments ago. But even so, Peter could not find himself being upset about it.

All of that panic, all of that fear and anger and despair just up and vanished the second the symbiote covered him. The ravenous creature took everything, and that included his senses that had been so utterly abused by anything and everything. But inside, there was no sound, there were no sights, and there was no noise to torment Peter.

There was nothing. Just black, only black as he sat in the blanket of complete silence and for a beat, it was bliss. His spidey-sense died down into a mute, the pain in his body sank until it disappeared and after the torture that Peter just went through, he found himself relishing it.

It was the comfort he so desperately needed, it was the break from this hell that he’d been silently praying for. There was no one waiting to hurt him, and there was nothing for him to worry about when he could not think. He was safe, he was ok. He wasn't in pain, he wasn't in anything.

There was nothing and he was ok with that.

But nothing lasts forever, not for him and after only a few seconds, the black is cut through with a blinding red and with that slice, everything came rushing right back.

Peter screams, a genuine scream of complete agony that tears through his whole being and he is suddenly aware that he actually can. He can see, he can hear and he can speak but the sounds he made did not belong to him, the eyes he saw out of were not a part of his body.

The black changed and morphed over Peter’s face, and from that, a new one grew. Huge, blank white eyes stared around them with an unquenchable thirst for action. A mouth with hundreds of shining, sharp teeth, with a long, nightmarish tongue that slipped between the gaps with hisses and low snarls.

The red spread along the new, black skin, cutting and darting around with little to no coordination, and as it went, the black ooze seemed to finalise in his transformation. Hands grew and shaped into claws, feet curled and hooked in tandem and all over did these monstrous little barbs start to shoot and jut out at random before slinking back in. Tendrils thrust out his back, waving around in new, confused pain before slithering back in as the red began to stop.

Their body was covered now, more red than black, although there were still these sharp black stripes that followed around their whole body. Movement came back to Peter, but it was not his own. His limbs moved in clunky, unnerving bursts as if the parasite was testing and getting used to it and just when the teen thinks that he can take advantage of that, he can win against a practically newborn symbiote, he’s thrust down.

What he thought was the extent of the parasite's influence over his mind was only the beginning, and suddenly, Peter was not battling for control over his body but his mind as he thrashed and fought with the invisible tendrils that dragged him down. He cannot do anything but watch, watch through a hazy, blurred red vision as his body- no, this creature moves around and starts scratching and slashing at the glass, its unrest slowly ramping up.

Peter could hear it; the instincts were bleeding into his own, and he found it hard to carry on fighting when he was suddenly struggling with the desire to satisfy an overwhelming hunger. It was too much; his brain was zipping back and forth between what he knew was him and what he knew was the symbiote. One second he was on the inside, smothered by dark red ooze and constricted in a prison and then the next he was in the body.

He could feel each muscle clench and unclench, every action backed by a desire that felt right. They were trapped, they were still imprisoned, and they wanted to be free. They were still hungry; they were so hungry, and if they were still inside, then they couldn't get that. Adrenaline burned at their chest as they growled and hissed and longed to tear their claws into something.

And then Peter snapped back into reality and was on the inside again, horrified with what he just felt, what he found himself agreeing with. But there was nothing else he could do, there was no more fight left in him and even if there was, this was not a battle he could win. That had been engineered from the start.

Despair rolled through Peter, his strongest emotion out of them all, but when his mouth- their mouth opened, he knew he would not be able to scream. That privilege had been taken from him.

But the symbiote could. Clutching onto his misery, the red symbiote opened its jaw and let out a loud, deafening screech. With that, it’s being finally slotted into place, and the bonding is complete. The parasite claimed complete control with horrifying confidence, and as it flexed its claws and looked for its first target, Peter could do nothing but sob.

“Yes!” Octavius cheered, his sudden, booming voice startling the symbiote and they jumped back, latching onto the far side of the glass and spitting at the doctor with anxious fury. But Otto did not seem deterred by this display and hardly faltered as they pulled out the remote and pressed down, urging the tentacle-like restraints to return and start slithering towards them.

For a beat, the creature stared up at them, unsure of what they were, but Peter remembered; he was already prepared for what was to come and what Peter knew, they knew. The red symbiote roared and jumped up, slashing at the thick wires in a savage, brutal manner but in mere seconds, the metallic claws that Peter had struggled to destroy were shredded and clattered to the ground around their feet.

Octavius blinked in shock, looking as if he was struggling to find the right words and Peter couldn't help but feel smug about that, unconsciously sliding into place with the parasite and enjoying the confused look on his face. But then the man laughed, and all that pride went falling away.

“Impressive.” The scientist praised, earning a threatening growl from the creature as Peter writhed in rage. “But I must ask you to remain still for just a moment.” He continued as he pressed down on the remote again, only this time, no more tentacles came down from above.

Within the symbiote, Peter remained and with him came the tight, secure collar around his throat and from the device did a series of beeps start to sound, and the teenager knew all too well just exactly what that meant.

‘WAIT-’ He screamed, or tried, but being muffled under a muzzle and stuck inside a living mass made sure his voice was only heard by his own mind and quickly, the collar erupted and a huge wave of electricity jolted through Peter’s body.

He and the symbiote were connected, intertwined at even a cellular level. Where Peter felt anger, the symbiote would roar, where he felt fear, he would crouch in warning, and where the boy felt pain, the symbiote would suffer alongside him. Peter did not have to think about his scream’s being hidden when the symbiote screeched in distress, crumbling to their knees as bright white volts cascaded over their form.

As the punishment fell upon them, something truly snapped from inside Peter and he wished for nothing more than to return to that dark space he witnessed between the transformation. All of this pain, all of this torture and fear and absolute misery was just too much. It was just one thing after the other, from being kidnapped to tortured to seeing Norman and then Harry and now this. He couldn't get a break; he never had time to breathe.

He just wanted it to end, he just wanted it to be over. He couldn't stop himself; he couldn't think about how weak it was for him to start pleading and begging to someone, anyone, to stop it. His mouth was moving, or trying to move, before the tightness around his jaw stopped him, but noises still escaped. Miserable whimpers and cries of anguish were the only things to leave his body, but not his mind.

‘Stop it stop it stop it stop it stopitstopstopstopSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP! PLEASE!’ The teen wailed as his body convulsed, writhing and shaking as the electricity just went on and on and on. ‘JUST STOP! PLEASE- I CAN’T- IT HURTS!’ The symbiote collapsed onto their hands, nails dragging into the concrete and somehow leaving a gash in the ground.

‘PLEASE! HELP!’

The symbiote’s eyes widened, their expression switching from that of pain to something more determined. Their body, still shaking, twitching from the force of the volts still coursing through them, somehow pushed up and got to their feet. They heaved, the screaming ceasing and although Peter was still struggling and crying from the inside, the red creature had stopped reacting and hissed, claws stretching out dangerously.

They were certainly in agony, they were still struggling to remain standing, but something about the way Peter cried out for someone to do something changed what they wanted. The man ahead caused this pain, he made something happen, and the unbreakable object from the inside made them hurt this way.

So if they could stop the pain, if they could get to that man, then their host would be safe, and then, they could do what they want.

They could satisfy that hunger.

With a drive built upon pure spiteful and bitter bloodlust, the red symbiote staggered to the glass, hardly taking note of how the scientist sputtered and shouted something at them before they tensed their body and threw themselves towards the glass.

They collided with the wall with a huge bang, claws hitting the surface with a sickening scrape as they slashed down and willed it to break. But their attack did not work, so they pulled back and jumped forward again. And again. And again and again until their claws started to leave deep marks and their slams started to cause cracks in the surface, and just as the doctor had started to shout louder, they threw themselves at the wall one last time.

And this time, the glass shattered, and the symbiote burst through with a piercing screech, crashing into Octavius, who couldn't move out of the way fast enough before the monster was on top of them. As man fell to the floor with a surprised cry, the remote tumbled from their claw and clattered to the ground, knocking it and instantly, the collar switched off and the electricity stopped.

Free from the agony, the red symbiote paused, taking a few clumsy steps backwards as Peter resurfaced from their clouded pain. They looked around them, their lust for something to fight tainted with the desire to be free. Peter struggled weakly in their grasp, watching as the parasite looked up and opened their gaping maw and through the shaken mess that was their being, they screamed.

The symbiote screamed instincts, urges, desires and a mess of a hundred things it didn't understand or know what to do about. But Peter screamed something more solid. He gripped the red that swallowed him whole, and although his voice had been stolen away from him, he spoke words more clearly than ever.

HELP

Harry’s eyes shot open and he flung out of the bed, stumbling over the sheets as he stared around the room with panicked, wide eyes, chest heaving with fear. The boy had been trying to sleep, having been awake the entire night, pacing and trying to make sense of the now talkative creature inside him, but now that exhaustion was long gone.

That wasn't a hallucination, was it? That wasn't just another stupid nightmare; it felt too real.

“What was that?” Harry asked in a harsh whisper, gripping the sleeve of his sweater and stabbing his fingers into the fabric. A scream, he swore that he heard a scream. So raw and terrified, the fear that came from that screech was so powerful that it managed to reach Harry. He could still feel it now, pulsing with his racing heart that no breath could settle.

Another scream cut through Harry’s mind and he faltered, wincing as he gripped his head against the force of it. No, that was definitely real, but that sound…he heard it in the distance, but there was something deeper hidden in the cry. No normal person could make a noise that struck through him so deeply, no normal scream could grip his soul so painfully.

It wasn't just a cry; it was a cry for help.

As Harry recovered, Venom slithered out from his body, slow and careful, as he did not plan on taking over. At least not yet, but the teen didn't have the mind to be bothered by it, not when the shriek still rattled in his mind.

‘Another one…’ The symbiote hissed, making the shape of a little head upon Harry’s shoulder, eyes narrowing in clear displeasure. Their voice appeared to him as a growl, one with an edge of protection. Surprise briefly flashed through the boy, he had never known Venom to show that sort of concern for anyone other than themselves and recently…him.

“Another one?” Harry repeated, dropping his hands from his head as he eyed the outline of the door, itching to start pounding his fists and shouting to get the scientist's attention, but decided against it. He didn't want to see more of those assholes than he needed to. “Another…?”

‘Symbiote…” Venom hissed, visibly flinching along with Harry as another feral scream ripped through the air, landing in their mind and echoing with that clear message for help. It repeated over and over again, a sort of signal that clung to Harry now that it had found him and pulsed, inciting a strong restlessness inside them that was getting very hard to ignore.

‘They have made another symbiote!’ Venom roared, his blackness spreading further along Harry’s back and arms as they itched to do something about the yell they’d just heard, but Harry couldn't move.

Cold fear washed over him, freezing him to the spot. He had never thought about it before, the possibility that Venom could be replicated, but now they had, and there was nothing Harry could do about it. There was another one, a second symbiote capable of running around and doing the same amount of brutal damage that he had.

And yet, that wasn't even what bothered Harry the most, because from that fear sprouted something further, and the terrible fact arose that Venom was made from Peter’s blood; to make another one, they would've had to use it again.

Harry now knew why that scream struck through him so deeply, why he felt the fear as if it were his own. It wasn't because it was a symbiote, it was because that symbiote needed a host and to Norman, who was a better candidate than Peter himself?

That scream came from Peter.

And he was scared for his life.

Harry took a step back with a strangled gasp, and without it even needing to be said, Venom surged forward and covered his body in a second, morphing their form with a shared growl as they too reached the same realisation.

‘We need to find him!’ Harry yelled, settling into the black suit with a type of ease that would've otherwise disturbed him, but not now. Not when another scream cut through the air and this time, Harry could hear it in his voice.

‘Find him!’ The teen ordered and Venom snarled, but his rage was not directed towards him. The teen didn't question it in the moment, why the symbiote that was once so convinced Peter would up and leave him one day was now ready to fight for him just upon hearing his cry.

Venom had been changing a lot in the past few days and maybe that was for the best as their body jumped forward and slammed into the bedroom door, fists pounding against the metal. They'd done this before, they’d struck this door, the walls and even the windows a thousand times, but either the glass was repaired or his attacks left no mark.

But not this time. They were angry, god Harry was furious that anyone would dare to inflict any amount of pain upon Peter, but that was not the only thing driving them. Like some sort of boost, the remnants of Peter’s cry of help remained in their system, and although the fear was crippling, it gave them the push they needed and beneath their onslaught, the metal creaked.

‘Harry?’ A microphone buzzed to life and Venom hesitated against the uncomfortable noise, head tilting to listen. ‘Calm down your—his vitals are spiking-’ Some scientist he didn't recognise spoke frantically through the mic, the feedback of a background panic rustling between the words.

Good. Venom thought with a low growl and returned their attention to the door. He wanted them to feel fear, they wanted them to feel every ounce of distress they'd inflicted upon them. Upon Peter. It would only make it that much more satisfying when they finally broke them.

‘Focus.’ Harry snapped harshly and Venom drew his arm back, quivering with furious tendrils as they slammed against the door and stabbed into the material with as much force as they could manage.

‘Harry! Calm down, or we’ll have to—’ They struck the door again, caring little for their threats or consequences. All of his past fears and traumas suddenly became lost on him when he feared for Peter’s life. Because that was what this had come to, if he didn't find him now, Harry didn't know if he’d ever see the boy again.

He couldn't live with that.

‘Stop this—! Harry, your father is on his way—’

“FATHER!” Venom screeched, their anger erupting at the very mention of the man that they loathed. They lifted their head up, scanning the ceiling for the cameras they knew had to be somewhere but gave up, not wanting to stop on their mission for even a second. “LET. US. OUT!” They demanded, Harry backing every word with the spite and fury of his own as they slammed against the door, satisfaction rising in their chest with each new crack.

“FATHER!” They roared, tendrils shooting out of their body in blind rage, the unrest only growing the longer they remained trapped. But they knew, if they shouted long enough, if they threw the punches hard enough, someone would have to react. Something would have to break. Only this time, it wouldn't be him. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE—?!”

‘What’s wrong with him?’ A new voice came over the speakers, distant and muffled and yet Harry could still pick up on their disgruntled, irritated tone. A tone that could only belong to one person. Venom stilled, just for a moment to listen to their words. ‘Why is he suddenly blowing up now?—’

But his father remained as jaded as ever, and all his arrival did was fuel their anger all that much more.

‘I-I don't know, this outburst came out of nowhere, we—’

“FATHER!” Venom bellowed, the title escaping their snarled lips in a hateful hiss. “FREE US!” They demanded, taking a few tense steps away from the door before they launched forward again and threw their whole weight against their exit. “FREE HIM!

‘Him?’ Norman repeats incredulously before his exasperated sigh rings clearly from the speaker. ‘For goodness's sake— Harry, you are permanently bonded!’ He began in a harsh growl, either unaware or uncaring of how much worse he was making the situation, because he simply carried on. ‘You cannot be separated anymore—!’

Venom pulled back from the wall and cut Norman off with an ear-percing roar, raising his head to amplify the sound and hoping that for once, the horrible man would pick up on the pure scale of their anger and maybe feel just a shred of guilt for what they'd done, but before they had the chance to wonder, something else responded before him.

A distant screech rattled through the building, causing Venom and even the staff to pause as they listened to the feral noise. Though it didn't last long, the effect lingered in the air, a reaction of a mixture of wonder and relief vs confusion and panic.

‘What was that?’ Norman snapped, his voice on edge as the background noise erupted over the microphone. ‘What was that noise?!’ The man demanded, but Venom was hardly listening.

The latest screech was different from the last. Though it was still laced with a mountain of fear, the intended purpose of the noise was not the same as the rest. The cry Peter let out was missing the same frantic need as before. He shouted not because he was repeating his message, but because he was responding to Harry’s.

They could hear him. Peter could hear him as much as Harry could hear them. Amidst all the chaos swirling in his chest, the boy allowed himself the tiniest bit of relief that even though he could not see him, he still had a way of knowing that he was alive.

Venom’s teeth snapped into a brief smile as they slammed against the door and relished in the sound of a significant groan against his weight. When he backed up, there was a huge, new dent in the metal. Not much longer now.

“YOU CANNOT CONTAIN US FOREVER!” They warned, digging their claws into the material and pulling back. “YOU CANNOT SEPARATE US FOR MUCH LONGER!” The creature yelled with a furious roar, snapping away from the door with a piece of metal in its hands. Just a bit more.

‘Separate who?’ Norman spoke up and Venom faltered in their rampage, though not because they cared or aimed to answer any of their questions, but because there was a click, then the whir of something mechanical that they had not heard before, and when they looked up, the glass wall flickered.

The facade of New York City glitched, switching from that grey-blue and sputtering between black and static before it simply vanished. Of course. Of course, they would do something like this. Of course, they'd been there the whole time. The wall that Harry had thought to be sleek digital screens had been taken away, fading into transparency and replaced by clear, see-through glass, revealing what it was truly there for.

Behind the thick layer of lies was a gloomy, dimly lit room packed full of cramped, sleek machinery and computer screens, all flashing in an obvious reaction to the ongoing rampage, but that wasn't what Harry could find himself focusing on.

What his eyes lingered on the most was the people who stood on the other side. All of them were wearing similar white lab coats that suggested they all worked there, most of them even being someone Harry recognised during his time in captivity.

A few of them placed their attention on the blaring consoles, trying and failing to comprehend the sudden switch in vitals while the odd one stared back at the monster in pure fear.

But there was one. His father.

Norman stared ahead with a tense posture, but he did not share the same frantic panic that the rest of the scientists did. He only betrayed a mild disbelief, a quiet irritation as if he was annoyed that things had gotten this far.

No shouting, no screaming, no remorse. The most emotion in his features was a slight furrow in the brow; that was it. Even now, what Harry was giving it all, they couldn't see their own son as anything more than a hindrance. Not a threat, just a slight interruption in his far more important life.

Harry would've preferred it if he’d looked at him the way the others did, because then he was actually worth something.

What better way to show them than now?

With a savage hiss, Venom returned their sights back to the door and, with terrifying precision, struck their hand right through the metal. A loud crack touched their ears, and they curled their claws around the makeshift hole in the door, but they did not act yet.

More Harry than Venom in that moment, the black creature cast Norman one last glance before roaring:

“PETER PARKER WILL BE FREED!”

And effortlessly yanking the broken door off of its hinges, and with as much hate as they could pour into an action, launching it directly towards his father.

The bent piece of scrap smashed into the glass with unnatural force, breaking through a wall that Venom themselves had struggled to shatter. And yet, the multiple reinforced layers slowed it down, and the door was left lodged halfway through the digital screen, pointed dangerously at Norman.

Only inches away from striking him.

The man let out a yell of alarm and stumbled to the floor, given no help by the rest of the workers who all began to flee the room in terror, and yet he did not seem as offended as he should've been by that.

No, even though Venom had just aimed to brutally harm him, his gaze was stuck on what remained of his son and mingled with the terror was that same dreadful intrigue that Harry just could not evade.

“How…?” Norman mumbled in wonder, but Venom did not grace him with an answer.

With the door now open, there was nothing in the way of what they desired. Still pulsing with adrenaline, Venom shot from their spot and burst through the door, storming down the dark hallway on all fours like some wild animal. Interlinked, all Harry knew was that he was running for his life, barging past the employees who harmed him and crashing through doors he’d always been barred from.

There was no one to stop him, no one to hurt him. Not when Venom was at the front, not when the symbiote steered them in the correct direction and avoided the ones they knew would be detrimental. The teen didn't understand it, what exactly guided them to where Peter was or how to access it so easily as they did, but he didn't bother trying.

The state they were in was something he remembered, the bond they had before Harry understood just exactly what the symbiote was capable of. But there was nothing to fight against this time; there was no struggle for power. They both wanted the same thing.

To find Peter.

To find freedom.

And they would do anything to get it.

They raised their arm as they burst through another door, bracing against the fragile science equipment they crashed and fell into. There was no communication between them; everything they did was automatically shared and agreed upon, and as loud footsteps got closer, Harry already knew what to do when their mind screamed in alarm.

Gunshots exploded around them, just barely skimming the creature before they flipped up from the floor and latched onto the ceiling, spinning to screech at the crowd of gunmen that had chased him down. Before Harry could think about how appalling it was that his father had this prepared for him, the men raised their weapons, and they were forced to act.

Fuelled with experience the teen did not own, the black monster swung out of the way of another wave of bullets, launching itself across to the other end of the lab and relishing in the noise of thousands of dollars of lab equipment being shot in its wake.

When the bullets ceased, Venom finally dropped down, narrowing their eyes and smiling as they watched the men frantically reload. Taking advantage of their mistake, Venom shot out an arm and latched a mass of writhing tentacles around a heavy machine. Though to the symbiote, it weighed nothing, and it took hardly a scrap of their energy to twist and launch it their way.

The men had a split second to recognise the object flying towards them before they had to move and jump out of the way. Any other time, Harry would've felt shame at what he was doing to these people, but right now, the adrenaline was still pumping through his blood and all he could think about was how much these people had hurt him.

He was about to throw something else, disappointed at the sight that most of his pursuers had escaped his attack, but then he picked up on another sound, another panicked heartbeat, and the beast paused to snarl as Norman rushed into the room.

But to their surprise, he stood in front of the guards with a furious expression, arms outstretched to make sure they didn't dare shoot again.

“NO!” He yelled, casting a glance back at Venom with something they couldn't quite recognise before facing the gunmen again. “You're shooting at my son!”

Shock rippled through Harry, and for a split second, the body froze as the teen dwelled on his words. Now? He was finally acknowledging him now, of all times? He couldn't- he didn't understand. Why was he being...caring after everything he’d just done, after trying to hurt him-

But before Harry could spiral about it for much longer, Venom swamped him from the inside, smothering him and yanking the boy back into the bond he’d unconsciously slipped from.

‘Focus…’ It was their time to say it now, and Harry didn't even try to argue against him as the matter at hand surged in his mind. Locked back in place again, Venom moved whilst the men were still distracted and raised their head up high, releasing a rattling roar.

Only this time, their roar was not intended to scare or ward away the men who aimed to attack them. This call was intended for one purpose only: for him to hear it. The symbiote spanned their call as far as they could manage, humming some part of the throat they’d never even touched before.

The call was long, the message was deep, so deep that no normal person would've ever been able to pick up on anything more than fuzzy noise, but he would know. He would be able to catch the feelings hidden in the clicks and the growls; he would know what to do.

It was no surprise that when their voice ran out and they dropped their head, between the heartbeats and the shouting and the cacophony of machines that surrounded them, something roared right back. With all the feelings and all the sound and guidance that they needed, the symbiotic voice that belonged to Peter responded.

Relief swamped Harry’s being, delight swirling in his stomach at even just the presence of Peter answering his call. It was like he was right there, standing out of reach, and yet he could feel him. He was there, he was actually there-

But he might not be for much longer.

“Down.” Venom guided in a rumbling tone, the effects of Peter’s response fresh in their system as they spanned their eyes across the room and locked onto a lone ventilation system. Not even looking back at the others, they charged towards it, snapping off the cover with a single tendril and slithering inside.

“He’s getting away!” Someone frantically called behind them, footsteps getting closer but ultimately too slow to catch the determined symbiote. “Quickly—the sonic waves—”

Harry shuddered, almost freezing as they crawled through the vents, but Venom pushed them forward, swallowing any fears or hesitations that the threat might bring. They could push through; they had to. They had too much to lose.

“No.”

But no punishment came. No hum came to stop them, no ringing arose to harm them. The tight collar around their neck didn't even beep; the remote was never touched.

“He’s getting away—!”

“Let him.” Norman’s abnormally calm voice came to their rescue, stirring something repulsive in Harry’s stomach. “I want to see where he goes.”

The teen stopped himself from thinking about that much longer. Norman wasn't helping him because he had suddenly changed his mind and become a decent person. What he heard in his voice and saw in his eyes was not something sparked from worry or concern for his safety, it was because he was obsessed.

At the end of the day, his father was a scientist at heart, and Harry was doing exactly what he wanted. Being the savage monster he’d been shaping him to be. Venom didn't say a word as they descended through the ventilation system, not even when Harry backed away slightly, lingering on the memory of how Norman looked at him.

But their grip was as strong as ever, they kept the teen grounded and aware as they slithered and crawled through the maze that was the cramped vents, and before he knew it, the sounds from the lab had long faded into nothing, and the only noise was their own, heavy breaths.

They go on for a long time, much longer than Harry thought they should. The boy had no idea where they were headed, he wasn't even aware that the Oscorp Tower went down this far. All he knew was that the path the symbiote was taking him felt right. There was no danger ahead, no more threats were waiting to take them down, just the twisting, suffocating path that they hardly fit inside.

Thank god the symbiote could shrink down to Harry’s size, he supposed.

After not much longer, Venom finally paused in front of another vent cover, and before Harry could even ask, they punched the metal cover clean off and slithered outside, finally free to stand and stretch. The hulking creature paused, eyes slowly running along the new corridor as they took in their surroundings.

Harry’s heart raced as they looked around, aware that they were losing time but he couldn’t help it, he had no clue where exactly they’d ended up. All he knew from the path Venom had brought them through was that they’d gone almost directly down.

But this seemed more than a basement. There were no other people down here, no other paths other than this long, damp and dirty hallway that was only lit by cracked, yellow bulbs dangling from the ceiling. There were hardly any sounds at all other than…

A pulse, a tugging at the chest, and they turned their head to stare into the long darkness, listening to the noise in the distance, the clanging and crashing and screaming, pure feral shrieking. He was there, he was right there and-

Harry pulled back, inciting an impatient growl from Venom as they were stopped from getting any further ahead of them.

‘Wait.’ Harry began, nervousness tugging at his limbs, longing to fidget with his hands in habit, but from within the black, he could only breathe. ‘I don’t- I want it to be me that he sees.’

‘We are one.’ Venom rumbled back with a quiet growl, their tendrils gripping Harry from within as if he needed a reminder of just what they’d become. The teen pulled back, trying to ignore the waves of disappointment that slammed against him in response. This wasn’t about them; it wasn’t even close. It was about Peter!

‘Please!’ Harry pleaded, looking down at their hands, the massive black clawed hands that shook before him. ‘Please just give me this. I don’t want to make this worse.’ Another scream rippled through the tunnel, echoing off the brick walls and hanging around much longer than the boy was comfortable with. ‘He needs me.’

And yet, would he really ever want to see Harry again? Especially in such a state of panic and pain? But Peter had responded to them, when Venom had called to find where he was, Peter had shown them. If he hadn’t wanted him to answer, why would he cry out for help?

Venom stirred in silence, something restless rippling at the back of their mind, but to Harry’s surprise, they did not argue any longer. After a beat of quiet, the black symbiote started to retreat from the teen’s body, and in seconds, he was back to himself again.

Harry looked at his plain hands in shock, pale pink flesh instead of black, blunt, smooth nails instead of sharp. Just him, him again. But then another shriek cut through the air, and Harry yelped as the cry clung to his chest and squeezed it hard. He needed to keep going.

Harry broke off into a run, aware of the restless symbiote slithering just under his skin, silently pulling and guiding him in the right direction, pushing his legs faster and keeping down any nerves that might’ve slowed him. Venom wasn’t happy. Venom didn’t like taking a backseat while Harry carried on, but he still helped.

Harry couldn’t stop himself from feeling grateful.

Before he knew it, the boy was forced to come to an abrupt stop, the tunnel suddenly ending, and before him there was only one route left in the shape of a huge, bulky, reinforced door.

“What is this…?” The teen mumbled, casting a nervous glance behind him, almost expecting Norman and his men to have caught up with him by now, but behind him only the darkness remained, and ahead, hidden past the door, the chaos carried on.

And so would he.

At first, Harry reached for the door with his bare hands, fingers curling over a large, hefty lever as he began to pull, but then another scream erupted from the other side. Harry didn't know whether it was because he had gotten closer or whatever Peter was facing had gotten worse but the pull that had been fueling him suddenly yanked him into something much stronger.

He hardly even registered it when the black slithered up his arms and gave the boy the strength he needed to pull the lever down and slowly, agonizingly, bend the metal door away from the frame and as soon as a large enough gap appeared, Harry let go and slipped through.

He was sure that if he’d arrived at this place normally, there would've been precautions, traps or maybe even guards stationed to stop him like every other room in this damn prison, but this was no average day and as he stepped through into the unknown room, he understood why.

There was a complete mess of anarchy in his path, broken machines, tech, glass and concrete strewn about before him, making it hard for the boy to simply look ahead of him, let alone get any further forward. Whatever happened down here practically decimated the place, destroying the room so thoroughly that even the alarms were having a hard time working, only coming forward in short, crackling beeps.

It didn't make it any easier that all the lights were either broken or dimmed into something useless. Every inch of this place was a hazard, and if Harry was still his old self, he knew he wouldn't have been able to get far on his own. Maybe he was thankful that when he pushed himself forward, his arms remained wrapped in tendrils of black and gave him the protection and energy needed to push the broken shelves out of the way.

He wouldn't admit to that though, nor did he even have the time, as another agonised scream broke over them and Harry practically broke into a run, throwing aside the rubble and the cracked pipes as he descended further into the chaos and the steady green glow that only seemed to get brighter and brighter.

But just as Harry came out from behind a fallen piece of concrete, a shape stumbled into his vision, causing the boy to yelp and take a step back, the hairs along his arms standing up in alarm for reasons he didn't yet know, but he could certainly guess.

The man before them was no normal person, wheezing as they adjusted themselves from the hunched position they’d fallen into, but not with their arms; they remained limp at their sides, much like their legs hung still beneath him. There was a clang, a rattle with each movement as he coughed and brought himself back up with four metallic appendages that twisted down from a harness around his waist.

Harry froze before him, his whole body unmoving and unresponsive to the waves of danger that rolled over his skin, and all he could do was stand and watch as the man got taller and taller until he eventually towered over him, a looming black shadow amid the havoc around them.

Who was this?

‘My creator!’ Venom snarled furiously, such rage breaking forward and snatching hold of Harry’s mind as the symbiote curled around his shoulders and pulled him back a few steps. ‘He is a threat to us! He will try to trap us again!’ The symbiote argued, leaving the teen trembling under strain.

He didn't even have to ask exactly what that meant, as soon as Venom finished talking, visions flashed before Harry, overtaking his sight as images started playing in rapid succession. For a brief moment, he thought that the symbiote was torturing him again, showing him the nightmares and flashbacks he already struggled so hard with without their input, but these weren't Harry’s memories.

They were Venom’s.

The feeling of being born in cramped, sizzling blood, the emotions that flooded them being too much to bear. The environment was suffocating, the bright lights burning as much as their body, and above it all was a creature so vial. He smiled at them, he regarded them with praise and an intrigue that Harry knew and hated so well.

But none of that meant anything good. Not from him. All he wanted to do was keep them in a cage; he wanted to prop and poke and hurt just to see how long he could and leave them with nothing but themselves. Nothing but the dream of going back home, going to the only place they knew they fit.

They attacked the man who made them, they struck him when he least expected it and then fled as they chased the last remaining memory they had. But as the visions faded, Harry didn't linger on that; he was stuck staring at the face of the man that Venom despised so.

A man with six arms, a yellow smile and glowing red eyes.

It took entirely too long for Harry to realise that the sight before him was no longer a vision, and the man that had fallen before him was Venom’s creator.

And he’d definitely noticed Harry.

The teen fell into a defensive stance before he even knew what he was doing, Venom tugging at the strings and longing to fully take over, but even with this dangerous man standing over them, he just couldn't let him. Something told him it wasn't needed.

The symbiote creator faltered, tilting his head to allow long black locks to fall away from his eyes as he inspected Harry, the red goggles that seared into Venom’s memory now cracked and broken open. He could see the confusion flicker in his dark eyes, the way he blinked through the dust and grit that had dirtied him.

He made no move to hurt him, to control him the way the others had done and yet, the way he perceived him still struck the same shock of fear through his body, if not worse. There was something about him that made Harry want to run, not fight.

But he couldn't, not when Peter needed him, not when he was so close.

“Norman—?” The man began, breaking into another wheeze as he took a few steps towards Harry, squinting at him through the darkness. The boy flinched upon hearing his father’s name and almost turned to look behind him, but it quickly became clear that the man was still looking straight at him. He thought he was Norman.

Harry didn't know how to feel about that.

“No…Harry Osborn.” The man corrected, standing a little bit taller on those unsettling appendages, somehow retaining some confidence despite the dishevelled state he was in. “How did you even get down here?” He asked, one of the claws aiming right at him and clicking together in a way he could only describe as threatening. “It shouldn't be possible, you—”

“Where is Peter?” Harry blurted out, his voice distorted as Venom surged a little further forward, coiling protectively around his body as a preemptive shield for the threat they expected to come. They’d lost their patience with their creator, they didn't care what they thought or what they’d planned to do.

All they knew was that the new symbiote was close, closer than they were comfortable with and they needed to do something about it now.

But the man didn't even flinch at the sight of black climbing along Harry’s body, he didn't seem bothered in the slightest and instead only laughed, that disgusting fascination twinkling in his eyes and leaving Harry wanting to knock it out of him.

“Of course.” The man got even closer, undeterred when Harry snarled and backed himself up against a wall. “You…you were made from the same blood. The same source.” He went on, the wire-like appendages honing in on the boy and only stopping when Venom lashed out with his arm, warning it away.

“When one calls out, the other half will answer.”

“What are you even talking about—?”

Another screech erupted out of view, and Harry’s whole vision hummed from the force of it, leaving him to clutch his aching chest as the pure terror snatched the air out of his lungs. From the other end of the room, a broken pipe suddenly flung across and crashed against the wall and from behind it, a red shape burst out.

It pushed off of another broken piece in the wreckage, strong and confident and yet when it came back to the ground, it crumbled and writhed around as if it was in agony. It shrieked and hissed, twisted and turned and jerked its limbs out in ways that shouldn't have been possible before it snapped back onto all fours and ran straight towards them.

In the shape of a man, this monster was at least six feet tall, body lithe yet covered in tense muscles that followed down into long, sharp claws. Black stripes covered their red skin, as if some sort of flashy warning to stay back, though it was hardly needed when they snarled through a hundred sharp teeth and stared at him with wide, pure white eyes.

Venom surged over Harry’s body, claiming his arms once again and just about to take the rest, gearing up for a fight, when something stopped them.

All the feelings, all the terror, the misery, the anger and the pain had gotten so much louder since they'd stepped into this mess of a room, almost too much to handle, but Harry managed to keep going out of pure determination, for Peter, because he was no doubt feeling all of that a thousand times worse.

But as soon as this red creature burst into his vision, those emotions were amplified to the max, the teen’s vision blurring around the edges and leaving a sort of untouched spotlight around the thing coming his way. Each breath he heard, each hiss and each snarl and each ache that pulsed through its body.

Because it was all coming from that.

The monster Harry had been preparing to fight was the thing he’d been following.

That monster was Peter.

The six-armed man stepped in front of them, arms whirring as they pointed something forward with one of their mechanical claws and aimed it right at the creature—Peter. Harry couldn't even begin to try to make sense of what was going on before the man clicked the remote in his hands.

“That is enough!” He yelled, but the red symbiote wasn't deterred in the slightest. Not until a small, almost unnoticeable beeping noise started to sound and then suddenly, their body was engulfed in bright white electricity, and they collapsed to the ground.

Harry was frozen to the spot, paralysed as Peter struggled and spasmed on the concrete, claws scraping against the ground in a search for some release, screams ripping from their throat as the volts attacked their every nerve, and Harry couldn't do anything about it.

He was stuck, completely petrified as he watched his friend go through so much pain right before his eyes and knowing that even if he did move, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. He couldn't even touch him, not unless he wanted to shock himself too.

But maybe he should've, because then he might've been able to provide Peter with at least a shred of comfort in the midst of his torture. He couldn't help it when a whimper escaped his lips at the sight of the symbiote tearing at their neck, claws stabbing into red and black in an attempt to get at something from the inside.

They'd given him the same collar, hadn't they?

What else had they done to him that Harry hadn't seen?

How much had they hurt him?

“There…” The man panted, a crooked smile climbing up their face as they finally pressed down on their own remote and stopped the electrocution. For a few seconds, Peter went completely slack, slumping against the floor as smoke rose from their unmoving body. “Now, you will listen—”

But then, in a single second, the creature was up on its feet again, snapping its sights towards the man in front of them and for a moment, Harry thought they were about to lunge again.

But even though their being radiated that same, dark hunger for a fight that Venom shared, they must've recognised that it would be no use because all they did was screech at them and then turn and flee, leaping up onto the ceiling to tear more at the pipes and tiles that remained.

Harry took a few steps forward, moving out from behind the man so he could get a clearer look at the symbiote in front of him. He didn't want to believe it; he desperately wanted to find some sort of mistake or lie in the being ripping gashes into the ceiling, but he just couldn't.

It didn't look like Peter, it didn't act like Peter, but everything within Harry told him that it was Peter. He could feel it, the other boy’s heart beating against his own, only his was a constant, rapid pulse, aching and panicked as waves after waves of erratic fear fell from his person. Every screech was a message, a signal for something that only Harry could hear, and they only ever came in his voice.

This monster of pain and suffering was Peter now, no matter how much he wished he wasn't.

But Harry supposed he would understand that more than anyone else, considering he held his very own monster deep inside him.

“What have you done…?” Harry croaked, cringing as Peter dropped down and switched their sights onto an untouched light, skidding along the floor as they shot forward a tendril and easily shattered it. As soon as it was gone, the red symbiote stood and hissed at itself, gripping its head as a full-body shake overtook it, despair escaping through its cries before it snapped again, like a switch had been flipped and went on to destroy something else.

It was as if it didn't understand why he was in pain or what was causing it, but it had the claws, it had the power to destroy, and so it would try to ease its pain by attacking the world around him. How did Harry help with that? How did he even begin to try?

“What have I done?” The man responded, lowering himself a little to the ground as they watched the destruction with a smile. It didn't make sense. How could he be happy about this? In what way was an enraged symbiote completely wreaking havoc a good thing?

In what way was Peter being in so much distress something to smile about?

“I’ve achieved a perfect specimen.” The man went on, metallic claw whirring and spinning as he brought the remote back in on himself, unaware of the flinch it brought out from the teen beside him.

Meanwhile, Peter was none the wiser, having reached the opposite end of the room where they’d grabbed a hold of an already broken computer screen and started smashing it over and over, in a furious rage at seeing a blurry red shape in glass. How far gone had Peter fallen?

“Enhanced strength, incredible reflexes and an insatiable desire to wreak chaos!” The man listed, only laughing further as the symbiote ripped a machine off its hinges and launched it across the room without a hint of hesitation. When the machine crashed into another, shattering and booming as it exploded into a cloud of sparks and shrapnel, the creature only roared in satisfaction, happy that another thing had been destroyed.

But then they snarled as another tremor passed through their body and they started scratching at their head again. Their whole existence was hurt; everything they did was to hurt and to stop the hurt upon themselves, but they were constantly bound to fail.

Harry thought he had it bad, but this? What Peter was going through was pure hell.

“A superior soldier—!”

“I don't care!” Harry suddenly shouted, swinging around to face the stranger with a furious scowl. Venom rippled up their body in sync, hissing and growling from within as they whispered and urged the teen to allow them to tear the man to pieces and honestly, Harry was having a hard time denying it. “Undo it! Just undo it now before it now beforeI—”

But then another voice touched the edge of his mind, and Harry stopped, voice dying in his throat as he unconsciously latched onto the voice and listened. It wasn't Venom, he had gone quiet at the same time as him, and it certainly wasn't the crackly, irritating voice of the man in front of him, it was a new one entirely.

No, it wasn't new. He knew this voice so well; he’d been following it since he’d woken up, except this time he wasn't catching onto their feelings or screams of pain, he was catching onto them.

Peter’s mind.

Harry slowly turned his head, the world around him dying into a muffled buzz as he stared at the red symbiote stumbling around, scratching and tearing at their face and then switching between lashing out at anything near enough to him and then nothing at all, screeching into the air as an outlet for their erratic, bursting energy.

But when the teen focused, when Venom latched onto his mind and helped hone in, they didn't just hear a shriek, the urge for violence and the burning in their pain, they could hear a small voice hidden underneath it all.

Confused, scared, frantic and overwhelmed with the hundred other things going on around him, but now that he’d found it, Harry caught on and refused to let go, because that was his voice.

He could hear Peter on the inside.

‘Let me out!’

‘Get it off!’

Peter screamed as they dug the black claws into their own skin, but whatever dent they made immediately morphed back into place, and they're left falling to the floor in a shuddering mass, their whole being erupting in a fiery ache.

‘I can't…think!’

‘’I don't want to do this!’

They snap back into a stand again, the movement jerky and unnatural as a crowd of black tendrils shoots out from their back and start scratching and slashing at anything left standing around it. The urge to keep moving, to keep fighting, was entirely overwhelming, and every second they weren't acting upon it only hurt them more.

‘This rage…I can’t—I can't control it!’

Peter's voice was the worst thing Harry had heard from him so far, because he could hear every ounce of what he was feeling just from his words alone. He could hear the tremble in his thoughts, the gasp and stuttery pause as another wave of hunger pulsed through their body, and he could hear each and every honest cry of pain with every movement.

‘Please…! Stop!’

But Peter had no control, he was so thoroughly encased by the symbiote that Harry had a hard time even hearing his presence in the first place. The cry for help was only heard because the symbiote amplified it. But this struggle against it? It was a losing battle, one that the creature refused to let Peter even get a shred of relief from.

Peter couldn't do anything but remain stuck inside, burning in the overstimulation and forced to watch as his body unleashed chaos around him.

‘Let me GO!’

But that didn't stop him from trying.

‘HARRY!’

Harry swallowed hard, unconsciously taking a few steps towards the struggling form of his friend. His hand reached out and trembled in the air as he listened for his actual cries for help, his screams of fury against the monster that trapped him and his fight to keep his mind intact.

‘I can…hear him?’ Harry inwardly uttered to Venom, in complete shock and at a loss for what to do. ‘Peter’s…in there—” He gasped as the symbiote snapped towards them again, their threatening roar intertwined with Peter’s tormented voice, and only when it ended did they turn and start tearing up another already destroyed machine.

‘We were made from the same source.’ Venom responds, repeating the man's—their creator’s words from before, irritated that there was honesty in their mad ramblings. ‘Even if we bond to another host, we will always have a connection.’

Harry flinched as the red creature shrieked again, attempting to find some sort of exit from the room they were in, but whenever they even looked towards the way Harry had entered, they were briefly shocked and sent away. It only fueled their anger in heaps. But their anger, their needs, it all bounced right back towards them, towards Harry and Venom.

And it suddenly became clear why Harry could hear them at all. Venom would always be tethered to Peter, no matter where he was, no matter who controlled them. They would always be interlinked.

‘But…he’s got a whole other symbiote on him.’ Harry asked, skin itching to do something as Peter latched onto the ceiling again and started tearing out live wires and active pipes, uncaring for the small sparks and hot air that blew their way. All they wanted was destruction freedom, to get rid of their energy to be able to breathe and to cause some violence no—

‘That does not matter.’ Venom growled, leaning on Harry’s shoulder as they watched the red and black symbiote go through another self-conflicting struggle, except this time they aimed for their arms and started scratching wildly. ‘They are calling for help. Where most can't hear, we will listen.’

‘I-I can't control this! STOP—!’

Another screech as they switched their sights towards the only other beings in the room and started moving towards them, only to be shocked back again, leaving them twisting and writhing on the ground even after the attack had stopped.

‘NO—agh—! Please! Stop—No! HARRY—!’

A brief second where their blank, white eyes snapped their way and Harry went still under their gaze, their chest tightening under the pressure of all the torment that was pulsing from Peter’s being, but then the symbiote turned and started up their rampage again.

But he couldn't shake away the thought even if he had tried; Peter had been calling for help, not just from anyone but for him. He knew he was there, he knew that Harry had come and he was asking for his help.

‘He’s still fighting he—’ Harry stopped shaking, stopped trembling under the weight of everything around him, and he grasped onto something strong as he addressed the black symbiote on his shoulder. ‘He needs me.’

His body relaxed without thinking, arm dropping to his side as the black started to leak further than his arms and further than his shoulders, black veins running up his neck and up to his face as Venom started to form.

‘’Maybe I can actually help him this time.’ Harry thought as the black shot over his body and encased his form within seconds, hissing and growling as he was lifted off the floor and into a form much larger than his own, that increased strength and protection being a relief away from his smaller, weaker form.

Harry had no time to dwell on that before the rest of the world came back to his senses, and when he turned, he saw that the symbiote’s creator was still as disgustingly smug as before, still smiling as he watched Peter struggle. It was when Venom caught sight of that remote in the metal claw that they truly exploded in rage and stomped towards him.

The man must've been truly idiotic to turn their attention away from their original creation because even as Venom crossed the distance and loomed over them with a snarl, they didn't react fast enough to stop them as they slammed the man to the floor and swiped the little device out of his grasp.

As the remote slid away and out of their reach, the man turned and looked up at Venom in terror, freezing in their furious glare as they awaited what the symbiote was going to do next. But Harry wasn't concerned with this disgrace of a man; it didn't matter what freakish appendages he’d attached to his back; he was just like any other scientist in this wretched place.

Now that he’d lost control over the collar, they had nothing left to control them.

Just barely having a handle on Venom’s anger, Harry urged them to turn and address the real priority in the room. As if they hadn't witnessed the symbiote completely destroy everything around them, they approached Peter in assured, confident strides, but the red creature was not welcoming.

Upon catching Venom getting closer, they stopped mid-scratch on another machine and turned to face them, only they didn't stand to fight them like before. Maybe it was the new form Harry had taken, or maybe it was because Peter was still actively fighting under the skin, but the red symbiote dropped to the floor, snarling on all-fours and hissing as if to send him away.

They just didn't know what to do with themselves. One minute, they were calling for help and the next, they were warning everyone away, then they wanted complete silence and darkness, and then they would start screeching with everything they had in them. They didn't want to fight Venom, but they also didn't like the idea of them getting even remotely close and when they didn't stop, those black tendrils burst out from their back and started shooting towards them.

“Stop!” Venom hissed, unsure if their words would truly work, but just as the attack was about to land, it froze mere inches from their body and was left trembling in the air. The red and black symbiote paused in their snarling, eyes widening as they looked up at Venom in confusion but also intrigue. They were listening.

‘Harry…?’

And so was Peter.

Harry couldn't help the pure joy that lit up within him upon hearing his friend's small voice, no matter how feeble and confused it sounded. He was there. They could hear him as much as he could hear them. They could do this!

But then the symbiote shook their head, a tremor passing through them as they jumped to their feet and growled at the itching urges that plagued them. They needed to move, they needed to fight, and even though Peter had just spoken, they still lashed out again.

“Stop!” Venom snarled, louder and firmer than before, and this time, when the tendrils froze in front of the symbiote, Peter let out a frustrated whine, white eyes narrowing as they continuously tried and failed to understand what was going on. They needed to fight, they wanted to, but something about Venom made them listen.

The black symbiote lifted its hands, all the while taking a few more steps towards their friend, but the other wasn't so easily won over. With each step taken, Peter only backed up a few more, releasing conflicting signals through a quick hiss and a furious snarl. They still wanted help, they still wanted to know just exactly what to do, why they were here to do it and how to make all the pain in them stop. But they just didn't know how to properly trust.

“You know who we are,” Venom stated as the red symbiote’s back hit the wall, startling them into jumping up and pushing firmly against it. Harry couldn't be sure just exactly what Peter was seeing or hearing, but he had to keep trying. He knew that something was getting across, whether it was his feelings or his words, because with each passing second, they were getting calmer and calmer.

But the uncertain fear still ran strong through them, mostly a reaction to their own, never-ending pain and as Venom got even closer, the two tendrils that they’d aimed to harm suddenly slithered back and were used to lift the red symbiote up and onto the wall behind them. Another shriek escaped their curled lip as they landed and glared at Venom, who stood beneath them, a last-ditch attempt to intimidate them, but it didn't work.

Not when they could so clearly hear Peter’s desire for help still pulsing inside.

“You are scared.” Venom rumbled as they looked up, watching as the red symbiote twitched, its claws itching to move and start slashing, but they ultimately remained still. “But that’s okay.” Harry projected his own voice, hoping that even stuck between two loud, overwhelming monsters, Peter would still be able to understand that Harry was still there.

He wasn't a threat. There was no threat as long as they were with him.

‘I don’t—’ Peter’s voice echoed in Harry’s mind, unwillingly causing them to pause and watch as the creature above seemed to struggle and hurt with each attempt Peter made to be known. ‘I don't want…to hurt anyone.’ Their voice cracked with emotion, so distant despite being only right above Venom.

‘I don't want to hurt…you.’ They cried, only it came out as a tormented roar from the symbiote on the outside, who only tore and dug into the wall with their nails, dragging them down in a sickening screech.

“We can help you,” Venom assured, finally shaking themselves out of their shock and reaching up and towards Peter, their movements slow and careful as if they feared the slightest touch would set the creature off and they’d start the fight all over again.

But while the red and black symbiote flinched, eyes going wide at the sight of them getting even closer, they did not move. They did not attempt to attack or even to escape; they only watched, body trembling from the strain as they looked towards this new being before them and waited for what was to come.

‘Please…’

“We’re friends,” Venom uttered as they closed the gap and gently cupped Peter’s cheek in their hand, for a moment just holding their breath as they felt the other against their skin, the one they’d been worried about for so long, the one they'd betrayed, was right here.

Then another shiver passed through the red creature, a small, pitiful hiss escaping their mouth, and they leaned into the touch, as if they believed that simply being closer would help ease their pain. While Harry couldn't promise that, he didn't dare stop or take that comfort away from them and urged the body forward again, reaching out with their other hand.

“We’re family.” They assured, Harry confident as they placed a steady hand on Peter’s back and with that final confirmation, the walls broke down, they stopped fighting against them, and the red symbiote fully allowed Venom to pull them away from the wall and into a hug.

As soon as Peter fell into his grasp, the steady connection that Harry had thought to be the full extent of their bond suddenly exploded. Any blurriness cleared, any blockages crumbled and the once faint and distant voice of Peter changed into the loud one he knew and loved.

The whole being of Peter Parker completely crashed against them; every one of his thoughts and fears and pains struck his mind, but Harry refused to back down against the force of it. He finally got him back, and now that he had him, he was going to do everything he could to help him.

Through some sort of silent understanding, Venom held Peter close as they started to guide the symbiote away, dispelling their worries and their anger, helping them back inside. There were no words spoken, no more cries, hisses, snarls or attacks thrown their way; there was no need for it.

As if they’d never been any other way, Venom and Harry helped Peter and the red symbiote away from their pain, the black body that was Venom sticking and intertwining with the red of the other, gently pulling and breaking it away.

As the symbiote started to back down and retreat, gaps and holes in the red skin started to appear, and with that, Peter started to come back. He latched onto Harry as if their life depended on it, somehow finding him amidst the mess of the creatures around them and wrapping himself around his body, and Harry wasn't far behind.

Peter sank into him in waves of relief, fully allowing Venom to do what they didn't understand. Any fear and confusion from before was gone, the boy placing their full trust in Harry to help them. They longed to rid Peter of the symbiote completely, to make sure this never happened to him again, but they knew they could not simply tear two living beings away from each other.

Even if one of them so desperately wanted it. The new symbiote wanted to remain with Peter; they needed it to survive, and if Venom tried to rip them off, it could do more harm than good. For now, all they could do was respond to their cry for help and give them the comfort and stability they desperately needed.

Soon enough, Harry’s feet touched the floor, the black that once protected him becoming smaller and smaller, the red symbiote following in tandem and suddenly, it was like the two unsettling creatures had never been there at all. Just them. Just Harry and Peter as he held the brunette in his arms, using all his strength to keep the shaking teen standing.

Which wasn't much, and, focused solely on making sure he was safe, Harry slowly sank to the floor as the two symbiotes finally unlatched and returned back inside them. It was done, it was over, and while it wasn't exactly the perfect result Harry had hoped for, the newborn symbiote was now calm and that meant Peter was free from the torment, at least for now.

With a heavy exhale, Peter slumped against Harry’s chest, still awake but completely drained of all energy. And yet, Harry could still feel just how relieved he was to be out and in control of his body again and, even more so, in his friend's arms. The ginger couldn't help but smile as he tugged his friend closer and just for a moment, forgot about everything else going on around them.

But they couldn't escape their fate for long, and when they looked down at Peter, Harry couldn't ignore just exactly what state the boy was in.

Peter still shook in his hold, skin unnaturally pale, and when Harry ran a hand along his cheek, he found him frighteningly cold. But then his fingers touched something more and, despite the other boy’s clear yet sluggish protests, Harry carefully lifted his head to get a better look.

Something was covering the lower half of his face, completely hiding his nose, mouth and jaw. It looked like a mask, a dark, uncomfortable looking mask that wrapped around the back of his head tightly, but Harry couldn't help but think otherwise. Because when Peter’s eyes focused on Harry, he looked as if he was trying to say something, only no words came out from behind the hard material, only muffled, weak noises that quickly died as Peter gave up and collapsed back down again.

It then quickly became clear what it was, boiling hot rage rising in Harry’s stomach as he just couldn't tear his eyes away from it. It was a mask that suppressed his speech a-a muzzle? Had they fucking muzzled him? Gagged him? Shut him up?

That wasn't even the end of it. Once he’d started, the teen couldn't stop, and he found himself inspecting every inch of his friend and noting every single difference and injury across his body. He was wearing a tight, ugly-looking jumpsuit for one, something he knew that Peter would never be caught dead wearing if he had a choice.

Then there was that familiar collar around his neck, the exact same one that Harry had been tortured with, and he had to stop himself from wondering just how far they’d pushed Peter with it before he lost himself to his anger. The skin around the device was red, weeping and raw, burns brushing the edges and gashes from what looked like little scratches accompanying them.

One of the sleeves of the jumpsuit was left pushed a little bit higher than the other, not by a lot, but it allowed Harry to see just past the wrist, only he wished he hadn't. He didn't know what kind of wounds had covered Peter's arms, and although he thought they looked to be healing, he couldn't imagine what kind of agony it must've been to endure those when they were first inflicted.

Harry had thought that Peter had collapsed because the whole process of fighting with the symbiote had taken a strain on the teen; he knew it did with him, but now that he could see him fully, he was inclined to believe there was something more. Bags that deep didn't appear overnight, a complexion that sickly didn't appear in under an hour. These wounds weren't new, and there's no way he’d done them to himself.

Harry had been right; they were torturing Peter.

And it was his fault.

“Incredible…”

Harry’s head snapped to the right, body immediately holding Peter close and shielding him as the man from before reappeared and approached them with a wheezing laugh, all past fear gone, the remote back in the grasp of one of those metallic claws.

Harry tried to hold back his fear; he tried to swallow down the pure terror, but he just couldn't hide it completely. If the man pressed just one button, he could completely undo all the hard work they’d just done, he could hurt Peter all over again and with the state he was in, it could end in something fatal.

He couldn't let him hurt him again, he couldn't let this man kill Peter, but panic engulfed him, and all Harry could manage was wrapping his arms around the shaking boy in his grasp, hoping that he wouldn't notice in his dazed state as the threat just got closer and closer.

“It responded to you…” The man voiced as he tilted his head, the tentacle-like appendages whirring and clicking around him as if they shared his unnatural intrigue. The action only startled Harry further, and in response, Venom started to slither out and over Harry’s shoulder, growling lowly in warning.

They’d attack him right there if they could, but they couldn't afford to risk it. How would the other symbiote react to such rage and violence? How would Peter?

“Of course it would.” The man laughed again, eyes crinkling in amusement at Venom’s weak display of aggression as they took a few more loud stomps towards them, the sirens screaming in Harry’s mind.

“Don't you dare—!” He snarled, aware of the way Peter’s fingers dug into his arms strongly, but Harry just needed to get away; he needed to get them both away and to safety before things got worse, but he couldn't even finish his sentence.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Before the worst threat yet stepped out from behind a pile of destroyed machines, eyes scanning the wreckage for a few seconds before they stopped and finally landed on the two boys with a furious expression.

Chapter Text

The world was quiet. For the first time in ages, for the first time in days, something higher had finally responded to Peter and given him what he’d desperately longed for, quiet.

There was still so much going on, so many little noises that he’d learned to live with after the spider bite, but he couldn't find himself being bothered by them like he usually would. Wires buzzed, broken machines creaked and the faint crackly noise of a steadily dying alarm brushed his ears, but none of that mattered, not anymore.

Everything else suddenly seemed so small after what he had just gone through.

Peter’s breathing was laboured as he sucked the air in through his battered, rattling lungs, audible to anyone near enough but he didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed by that. He hardly had the energy to feel anything at all. The world around him passed by in a thick, muffled molasses that he couldn't shake free from, didn't care to try.

He supposed he should've been worried by that, but after suffocating beneath burning overstimulation for what felt like hours, he couldn't be more grateful for it. He didn't want to feel more than necessary, he didn't want to see or hear what was going on. He wanted nothing.

He was so tired.

Fingers dug ever so slightly deeper into the fabric of a sweater, and the arms that held him, the arms that shielded him, pulled him in a little bit tighter and he couldn't help but feel so, so thankful for that. Peter never liked being helped or rescued or forced to rely on another person because, and maybe it was egotistical, but it made him feel weak, useless, not good enough.

If he couldn't get over the problem on his own, then how could he confidently say he was being the hero he promised to be?

But right now? That ideal was lost on Peter as a familiar sort of presence held him close to his chest and he unconsciously let himself be weak, because that’s what he always did, that's how he always was. That’s just what Harry did to him.

He still couldn't quite believe it, he couldn't even remember the whole chaotic mess that clearly, but what he did remember was that he called for help and out of everyone, out of all the things that could've happened, Harry answered and did what he hoped for. He didn't understand how he did it, how he freed him from the clustered, squirming poison in his body but he did and that was all that mattered.

Peter never wanted to experience that again, that…hell that Octavius put him through.

That symbiote.

He shivered at the very thought of it, despite being nowhere near cold enough for that. He could still feel it inside him, he could still hear the distant echo of its shriek haunting him, hiding and watching between the bones of his body while it waited for the right time to come out again.

The parasite wasn't gone, far from it. But it also wasn't attacking him either. Peter couldn't quite grasp it, failed to comprehend exactly how a creature he knew was so hellbent on violence and bloodshed could just up and go quiet like that. It had tortured Peter in its goal in trying to take over the body, its every movement a stabbing pain as it piloted limbs that did not belong to them.

But now? It was somehow content with just lying in wait? No, that wasn't quite right, if Peter dug hard enough he could find it in the depths of his mind and he could still hear the pangs of hunger that went endlessly unsatisfied. It wasn't done with the boy, not even close; it was just sitting back and observing because…it had found something similar to it and that was worth stopping for.

Something similar in…Harry?

The memories came back a bit clearer, the feeling of horror mixed with a thrill as they tore through the world around them, only to freeze when something called out to them in a way no one else had. Nothing else had mattered, no one could ever hope to ease the pain that they were going through but there was something about the blurred shape before them that insisted that maybe...maybe they could.

That…that was a symbiote—the symbiote, Venom. Harry had it, he had it again—he was right, his worst fears were right, they did find a way to bring it back, and they forced it upon him again?

But it helped him. It helped Harry to help him.

It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. It was too much, too…too loud. It was all coming back now, all of it and that included the burning and the fear and the crippling static that touched the edge of his limbs and Peter didn't want it.

Couldn't he just be in this moment? Couldn't he just remain behind the curtain, limp in Harry’s grip and be content with just the fact that he was actually with him? He didn't know how long it had been since that night but it had been too long and now that he had him, he never wanted to let him go.

Peter hadn't felt safe since the moment he got kidnapped but now? Something in his exhausted, pain-riddled, emotional mind was telling him that everything was finally ok, everything was finally right and if he wanted he could get that tantalising dose of sleep he’d been deprived of for so long.

But he couldn't, not when his neck still tingling ever so slightly, only just noticeable through the fog that had wrapped around him and when Peter opened his eyes just a crack, over the arm that tried to hide it all away, he could see two more figures in the room. Two more than he was comfortable with.

Octavius was still there, looking dishevelled and shaken, but he wasn't looking at him, he was looking behind himself. At Norman, who seemed nowhere near as nervous as the rest of them. Peter was wrong; he wasn't safe, not yet. But what could he do other than let out a quiet, shaky wheeze and hope that this wouldn't end how he expected it to?

“Well?” Norman called out, a disgusted look on his face as he stepped over another shattered screen and geared straight towards the two boys. Peter watched through one half-lidded eye, unconsciously gripping Harry tighter and he hated himself for it, he hated every scared reaction he had towards the men but he just couldn't help it.

Wouldn't anyone react like he did after what they’d done?

Harry pulled Peter closer as Norman did a slow sweep of the room, as if to try and hide him before he was spotted but Peter could feel it, he could see it in the way he paused over them briefly, eyes narrowing before carrying on and passing over Octavius. Norman was aware of his presence.

It was the uncertainty of what would come from that knowledge that unsettled him.

Peter almost found the strength to be amused at the way Octavius frowned and straightened himself up, clearly struggling to find the right words to explain the mess around them. But didn't they expect this? Didn't they predict this was going to happen?

They made another symbiote, somehow pumped it with every dark, harrowing emotion they could craft but were acting as if this didn’t know this was going to happen. Didn't they want violence? Didn't they want Peter to be everything he strived not to be?

Maybe not on their own equipment, his barely conscious mind supplied.

Octavius seemed as if he was just about to respond, mouth open as he stuttered something quiet and incomprehensible before he was cut off by a cold, irritated ‘tsk’ and Norman turned away, landing his sights back on the two teenagers with a heavy sigh.

As if this were any harder on him.

“Harry…” He began, shaking his head in disapproval. “…what have you done now?” The man tutted, and Harry immediately reacted in a low, furious growl that rippled along his skin in the shape of disgusting black tendrils. Peter stiffened, breath hitching at the unnerving sight, and even though it wasn't happening to him, he couldn't help but feel afraid.

Memories of black shooting out of him, climbing up and over his face and slithering down his throat, of its poison wrapping around his organs and gripping so tight it felt as if they were going to snap and the way it gushed out from his blood when he tried to scratch it away, already inside, already sunken too deep.

Harry’s eyes were suddenly upon him, wide and horrified for reasons he couldn't understand, but to Peter’s great relief, the symbiote started retreating back inside, slipping through the gaps of the sweater and out of the boy’s sight. He knew it was still there, but he couldn't see it and if he couldn't see it, if he couldn't see either of them, then he couldn't pretend he wasn't infected with something in the first place.

“What…what have I done?” Harry repeated the question, turning back to his father the second Peter seemed to have calmed down, directing his anger back at him. “What have you done?” The teen hissed, his fear and unease still so painfully obvious in the shaken way that he spoke, but he did not back down, not even when Norman eyed him dangerously.

“I thought what you did to me was cruel.” The ginger went on, trying his best to get a hold on his anger and from the outside, he seemed to be succeeding, but Peter knew better. There was a tense, strong pulse in the air, something hot and strained like it was ready to explode any second.

Peter knew instantly that what he was sensing was anger, but it was not his own. Was this the symbiote again? Was it coming back?

Could he fight it this time?

“But this…?” Harry gestured around the room, his arm moving off of Peter’s back and unconsciously revealing him to the man, and although the action made him feel vulnerable, Peter knew nothing would change.

Norman had come to see him mere hours after Octavius had tortured him, almost frozen him to death before his spider genetics kicked in, and he didn't care then; he could see the same exact expression of indifference on his face as his eyes fell upon him. Why would that change now?

“This is disgusting.” Harry spat with as much malice as he could drive without startling Peter. He wrapped an arm around him again, turning a little bit further away from Norman as another rasping wheeze rattled through him, his body aching more than ever. Could he ever go a moment without being in pain? Could he ever just have one minute without fearing for his life, fearing for Harry’s or feeling the red parasite that swam through his blood?

“What happens down here is none of your business, son.” Norman shot back, emphasising the final word as if he was trying to remind Harry of just exactly who he was and what exactly followed it if he carried on with what he was doing. Peter could sense it, the buzz at the back of his mind steadily getting stronger with each word that fell from Norman’s lips.

“Not only did you break into an unauthorised area, but you've gone and destroyed thousands in our specialised equipment.” Norman went on with a snarl, taking a few more heavy steps forward, each clack of his shoes against the broken tiles like a gunshot to Peter’s sensitive ears, causing him to flinch each time. “And for what?”

Norman stopped just a few feet away, his foot tapping with impatience as Peter strained his head upwards to glance at the man looking over them. He wanted to run, he needed to run but nothing would move. Everything still passed by him in a blurry, splotchy mess, a thick cloud over his mind and yet, that was nothing to the shooting jolts of fire that attacked him each time he even just twitched his limbs.

He was still hurt, he was still injured and his recent battle with the symbiote had done nothing to help with just how exhausted he felt. He was in no fit condition to fight, to run or even just snark Norman, not with the muzzle still strapped so tight. There was nothing he could do. The symbiote may have destroyed the lab; it may have even made an exit, but he wouldn't have gotten far, even if he had found his footing.

Not with Norman and the Doctor right there.

He just had to accept what was coming for him.

But as Peter watched Norman, he realised that while he did occasionally turn his attention towards him, his expression either blank or fascinated, his sights were not solely upon him. They were more prominent on Harry.

“You know what happens now.” Norman sighed again as he fished something out from his pocket, and Harry tensed before Peter could even comprehend the huge spike in alarm, yanking the brunette closer and shuffling backwards as his fear overpowered any anger he had left.

“NO—!” The ginger yelled out, black surging out from his arms but Peter was too distracted to be bothered by it, too stuck on the flash of dark silver in Norman’s hand and the way he aimed it straight towards them. A remote, another one and when Peter tore his eyes away with a rasping pant, he finally saw past the blur and around Harry’s neck was a collar.

The same collar he unwillingly wore, the same collar with the same red skin pulling at the edges and the same terrifying effect as Harry trembled around Peter’s body, head snapping every which way to try and find some sort of exit he could bring them both to. But he wouldn't get very far, not with Peter dragging him down, and yet, the teen couldn't bring himself to unlatch his hands against his clothes.

Because he was so much more afraid of losing Harry than any pain they could inflict upon him.

Staring back at Norman with wide, terrified eyes, Peter’s breath stuttered behind the mask and he watched and waited as the psycho looked down at them and went to press the button upon it, not a single shred of sympathy in his gaze.

Only he didn't quite press it in time.

“It wasn't your son who made this mess, Norman.”

Miraculously, Octavius spoke up before Norman could go on and even more surprisingly, Peter was infinitely grateful for it. He could survive getting electrocuted, it was tough, it was agony, but he would live. He wasn't sure how he’d cope if he had to watch his best friend go through that same torture.

Norman paused, arm dropping a few inches as he slowly turned his head until he was eyeing Octavius over his shoulder. He stayed that way, glaring at him for a few beats before he turned all the way and faced him, his displeasure obvious even though Peter could no longer see his face. Still, he much preferred it when the man’s attention was elsewhere.

“Explain,” Norman demanded, his tone unnaturally even, although Peter knew he had to be furious at being interrupted by someone beneath him. He remembered the way Norman had spoken to him a few days ago; he remembered his tone on the phone call he’d managed to catch when he first woke up.

Both of these men were now enemies to Peter, dangerous monsters he’d grown to fear, but he was aware enough to recognise that their partnership was far from stable.

Still, Octavius didn't seem as deterred as the boys were at his rage, most likely because he was spared from having a torture device strapped around his neck, but he moved with caution as he approached what was once his impressive workstation. Using his metallic tentacles, he tore away a broken screen and huffed as he managed to find another untouched, something the symbiote must've missed in its rampage.

From there, he tapped on the black glass with a claw and Peter was genuinely surprised when he saw a flash of bright green as it came to life. Neither he nor Harry had been able to stop the parasite in its goal of destruction before the entire lab had been practically ravaged, but it seems a mind so messy and unstable had its cons, and there were some devices that it had missed.

Peter couldn't help but feel a little bit dejected as he sank into Harry’s grip. While he’d hated what the symbiote had forced him to do, not even able to think about the memory for very long before a wave of panic overcame him, he couldn't help but admit that the less tech the mad scientist had to use against him, the better.

At least they got most of it.

“What are you showing me?” Norman snapped as he came up beside him, hand still wrapped around the remote even as he turned away. Could they run now, while they were both still distracted? No, Peter knew the answer immediately. With the current state he was in, the teen was more of a liability than a hero and he wasn't destined to get far, even if his captors were distracted.

If he could speak, he would've told Harry to run, to escape while he had the chance and get help from there because he was aware of S.H.I.E.L.D. now, he would've been able to flag his team down and finally get the help needed to rescue him and lock these psychopaths away for good.

But with the way Harry had held him, protected him even when he knew he was seconds away from being hurt? Harry wouldn't leave him behind and Peter hated just how much he too preferred that option.

“The latest results of my brilliance,” Octavius explained with a crooked smile, basking in his own praise as he managed to pull up those holo-screens to expand the work and present Norman with more of his crimes. Peter couldn't quite see the screens from the angle they were at, or through the blur in his eyes he couldn't blink away, but it wasn't hard to guess what was on them.

Octavius always recorded the things he did to him, whether it was in words, pictures or genuine video recordings. Peter just hoped Harry couldn't see them too.

“A brand new symbiote.” Octavius chuckled and Peter shivered again, an unwilling groan escaping as his poor body tensed at the sudden chill. The teen shut his eyes at the reminder, trying to count and breathe evenly as he felt the parasite more than ever.

‘Stay down, stay down, stay down, stay down—’ He repeated over and over again, hands twitching as he clenched against rough fabric and flinched when a soft hand fell upon his back. When he opened his eyes and glanced upwards, his gaze was filled with Harry, although he was turned towards the two men standing over the glowing screen, he was still attempting to comfort Peter, and it worked.

He had to remember, he wasn't completely alone anymore. Venom—Harry had figured out how to send the disgusting thing away, and if he did it once, he was definitely able to do it again. He wasn’t alone, and every time the symbiote stirred, he needed to remind himself of that.

“I picked apart and put together an even better specimen than before.” Octavius went on with an unnatural excitement, pulling down charts and elaborate data reports that Peter had no hope of reading from where he was slumped. “More violent, more driven, more ruthless.” A metallic tentacle waved out, gesturing to the chaos of a room around them, and Peter saw Norman lean back, eyes wide in shock as he took it all in, slowly coming around until he landed right back on Peter.

“You told me to make an army, well, I did. All in the body of one mutated boy.” Octavius stepped back, eager eyes glinting through the shattered red goggles as Peter shrank under their joint attention upon him, resisting the urge to scowl at the monster they wanted him to be; it would hardly show around the black, choking muzzle.

But what made him feel the worst by far was how Harry stiffened beside him, eyes trailing down, and Peter just couldn't raise his head to meet him. He didn't want to be this, he didn't ask to be injected and he had tried so hard to fight off the symbiote when it had him rampaging. It was just so strong.

It hadn't hit him until that moment that Harry may have seen differently, felt differently about what lay inside him. But—no, he shouldn't think of Harry like that. He understood better than anyone what it was like to have your body controlled by something else, and if Peter needed more evidence to back that, he could still recall the words he’d spoken to him from before.

The gentle assurance, the unwavering promise that he would help him, the fact that he was there in the first place. If there was anyone in this hellhole that he could trust who would see him for who he truly was, not the thing inside him, then it was Harry.

“Another one…”

Peter flinched as Norman began taking a few steps closer, expression no longer frustrated and instead interested, reeled in by Otto with the promise of a symbiotic beast as he inspected the exhausted teenager on the floor and saw much more.

“Combined with the powers of Spider-Man…” He paused a few feet away, a small smile creeping its way up his face while Peter quietly attempted to move away, wincing each time his body braced and failed to get him as far away from the man as possible.

To his relief, Harry noticed his struggle and gently guided the teen up, keeping him close and steady as Peter aimed to sit up but couldn't quite manage it and ended up on his knees, leaning against his friend’s chest and yet still heaving as if he’d just gone through something much more strenuous.

His pathetic attempt to get away neither amused nor incited any pity out of Norman, whose gaze seemed unfocused as this new revelation sparked something fresh in his mind, something that Peter wanted to know nothing about. What he really wanted was for Norman to stop looking at him like that. He wanted them all to stop looking at him.

Stop looking at the pathetic excuse of a hero he’d become.

But then Norman’s expression twitched and his head whipped around, becoming annoyed again as he realised something no one else had.

“And what exactly is stopping it from continuing its rampage to the rest of the tower?” Norman asked with a deep frown, causing Otto’s own smile to drop as he scowled at the sudden doubt for his work. Peter didn't like how he actually agreed with Norman on this, because from what he remembered, there really wasn't anything.

He ripped through this lab with little to no restraint, and there was the collar, sure, but…something told him that wasn't quite enough to hold the symbiote back.

“You underestimate me, Norman.” The scientist responded with barely restrained spite, claws booming as he stomped near Peter’s head, getting entirely too close to the boy than he was comfortable with. He was thankful that Harry took a chance and pushed them both a little further away, black wrapping like roots around his legs for benefits he didn't understand.

All he knew was that the sight unnerved him as much as it did before, but he couldn't stop him; all he could do was try and pull his limbs away from the creature and hope it didn't somehow leak onto him. It wasn't Harry’s fault, he wasn't scared of him, he just… couldn't trust it.

“This version is different from the original,” Octavius explained as he came up to the pair, unfazed when Harry scowled and the symbiote growled in tandem, pulling Peter closer with a grip so tight he knew he wouldn't be separated without a good struggle.

“Venom is strong, but has become emotionally weak.” Octavius spat, leaning a little bit closer to the teenagers, a claw slithering in as if he was about to touch Harry but shooting back once black rushed out from his shoulders and warned it away with a genuine hiss. Peter tried his best to hide the wince at the noise, but it was hard when he could feel the waves of fury mixed with fear rolling off of his friend. “It’s formed an attachment to the host, tainted by its time on the outside and ultimately will prioritise its needs over anything else.”

Peter’s glare slowly shifted as the explanation went on, falling into something more confused as he tried and failed to find the dishonesty lacing the doctor’s words, but that just couldn't be true. If what he was hearing was right, then Octavius was implying that Venom had developed some sort of relationship with Harry, cared about him.

But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't see it. He would never be able to erase the images in his mind of Harry desperately trying to claw his way out of the black mass, calling out for help, only to be dragged back under and silenced as Venom went on attacking innocent civilians.

That wasn't a creature ‘prioritising his needs’, that was a monster who wanted nothing more than to shred its claws through flesh. Both Venom and the new symbiote didn't care for them and they never would. As long as they were stuck together, they'd both have to carry on worrying about the next time they lost control.

It didn't matter what happened before; it was Harry who saved him. Not that thing.

“But this new iteration…” Octavius’ nasally voice dragged him out of his uncomfortable memories as he looked up and stiffened, the man having stopped practically right over him. “…I designed it so that it craves violence above anything else. It may need the body to survive, but it won't bend to the host.” The man tilted his head, his smile widening when Peter shivered under his attention.

He felt as if he was beneath a spotlight, under the harsh lights that surrounded that tiny glass cell again, as the scientist hoisted him up with thick wires and prepared to stab and poke and inject him with drugs he didn't know what did until his body sank and stopped responding.

He didn't feel like Peter; he felt like a thing. He felt like some terrible abomination between a human and a symbiote - but if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't even quite enough of a human to be called a person, could he? He had inspected his own blood all that time ago, recorded the facts for himself, and he was more radioactive spider than human being.

Not a mutant, not a human and now that he was harbouring a bloodthirsty symbiote that piloted his body at will, he was even more of a freak than before.

Octavius was right, he was a freak.

“It will only respond to its creator.”

Peter dug his fingers tighter in Harry’s arms, pushing back and away as Otto lowered himself down, claws chittering in satisfaction at his reaction but then, something sparked in Peter’s stomach and he froze, eyes wide as he recognised the feeling of the symbiote boldly moving, as if finally awoken by his constant panic and ready to come out again.

No, no, he wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't. What would it do if it came out while Harry was so close? It didn't care what Peter wanted, it didn't care for who he loved, all it wanted was to hurt and Peter couldn't do anything to stop it. He needed to calm down, he needed to breathe but how could he when the scientist was too close?

“It is your perfect soldier, no training or modifying required.”

He wasn't, he wouldn't. He was a hero, he was Spider-Man, he wasn't whatever abomination they were trying to turn him into. He was a human being, but—he couldn't ignore the growl and the low hiss that echoed from the back of his mind, he couldn't deny the ugly red creature he had yet to rid from his body. It was there, it was awake and it was longing to come out and attack the man in front of them.

Maybe that’s what he needed, maybe that’s what Octavius deserved for everything he’d done to him, but that would only prove him to be everything he was trying not to slip into and above everything else, it would be too far. Because he knew that the symbiote would not stop at simply knocking him down.

The parasite wanted to tear the scientist apart, and if Peter let him out, he wasn't sure he’d have the power to stop him. All he could do was tremble, breathing hard and fighting against the urge to itch as fire rose in his veins like an uncomfortable sickness coming to plague him.

“You're wrong!” Peter jumped as Harry suddenly shouted from behind him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and somehow stopping all his shaking with just one movement, pulling him back and away from Octavius, snarling in his direction. “Peter tore off the symbiote once, without the anti-venom, he’ll do it again!”

And Harry was right, he had managed to get rid of Venom when he’d first appeared, only by gritting his teeth and shooting himself with a hundred volts of electricity. But he’d needed to help of his team to achieve that, and even if he hadn't, based on how everyone was acting and talking about it, Venom had changed since then.

The symbiote must've gotten stronger since that day, and Octavius had made a second one based on that power, then somehow made it ‘better.’ How could Peter ever hope to get rid of something so deeply ingrained without some kind of cure? Harry’s blind hope had calmed him, but the longer he thought about it, the deeper he slipped back into that depression again.

He hadn't been there when he’d first been injected with the disgusting thing. He hadn't felt what he felt. Not even Venom put him through so much agony,

He only felt worse when Octavius just laughed in front of them, pulling away to position himself higher. He wasn't angry, he wasn't frustrated that he was getting backchat from another ‘ignorant child’. He was amused, entertained by the little show before him. Peter didn't know whether to feel enraged or humiliated.

“I don't think so.” Otto barked, shaking his head. “I helped you achieve perfect symbiosis, did I not?” He flashed a toothy smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners along with it. “I ensured a way of complete control over Venom, it would be a shame if I hadn't given the spider the same gift, wouldn't it?” He snickered as a claw swooped down before either boy could react and knocked the collar around Harry’s neck, causing him to yelp and then immediately lurch forward and swipe at him with a large black claw.

Peter leaned away from the sudden act of aggression, eyes wide as his heart slammed against his chest, trying to understand what Octavius had just told him. ‘Perfect symbiosis’? What the hell did that mean? What did that have to do with how Peter and the leech inside of him cooperated?

He didn't understand, he’d never done any of his own extensive research on Venom and S.H.I.E.L.D. never obtained any type of samples because they thought it was gone. They both did. Even if the symbiote came back, Peter was always so sure that he could just replicate the cure and kill it again, that hadn't changed, right?

If he got out of here, Doctor Connors would figure out a way to separate them, wouldn't he? They wouldn't be stuck together, forever, would they? Would they?

Peter let go of Harry to look down at his hands, twisting them around to see the blue veins twisting up his wrists, ignoring the cuts and the burns that ached just a few centimetres up. He knew it was there; he may not have been able to see it but he could feel it. It was hiding there, in his blood, in his veins, in every other inch of his body - it was everywhere.

The brunette’s vision flashed red before him, and for a brief second, he thought that one of the alarms had fixed itself and kicked in, but he was wrong. Everything started swaying, blurring and fading behind a vivid hue of red as the creature rose higher and snapped at the back of his mind, mimicking the ruthless and cruel way it had demanded control the first time around.

Peter couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, couldn't think about anything other than the fact that he didn't know the answer to his own question. He didn't know if Octavius could get the monster to listen against his will, he didn't know if he could rip himself out with the help of a cure anymore and he didn't know if S.H.I.E.L.D. would ever be able to free him if all else failed.

What if this was just how it was now? What if Peter just had to live the rest of his life fighting against a bloodthirsty parasite that was never satisfied?

Peter looked up, something buzzing along his neck, urging all the hairs to stand up in alarm as everything in his body screamed that something was wrong, but it wasn't coming from inside him. When he focused, breaths still coming in quick and shaky, he could look past Octavius, still gloating above him, and he would see Norman standing a little bit further away, hand to his chin like he was deep in thought.

But his eyes burned something dreadful into him, his spider-sense buzzing its strongest yet, and all he knew was that he needed to get away now.

“Show me.” Norman allowed a small smile back on his face as he gestured to Octavius, the scientist beaming at the approval, and he spent no time reclaiming the remote and aiming it straight towards Peter. The teen panicked, legs kicking against the tiles as he scrambled to push himself up, slipping and failing against useless and floppy limbs, mouth straining and pushing against the muzzle as if he forgot it was there, trying to scream something didn't quite know what would be.

“NO!”

But Harry said it for him.

Arms hooked under his, pulling him up and allowing Peter to lean on his body as Harry guided him back as quickly as he could with the teen in such a weak state. He gripped his saviour like a lifeline, eyes darting to every dark crevice of the room like a wild animal as he searched fruitlessly for some exit or even just somewhere he could hide. He couldn't go through it again, he couldn't!

If Octavius pressed that button and shocked him, it wouldn't just hurt him, it would anger the symbiote, undoing all the hard work that Harry had helped him to achieve and pulling it back out of his body again. It was already stirring, reacting to his fear, feasting on his vulnerability. It wouldn't need much encouragement.

“Don't make this harder than it has to be.” In the midst of his panic, the doctor sighed and stomped closer only to be immediately stopped when long tendrils shot out from Harry’s shoulders and arms, hissing and quivering in pure rage as he—they?— threatened the man away. Peter’s breath caught in his throat, staring at the way his friend’s eyes went black as he used the power of the symbiote.

But was this thing trying to protect him or itself? Was that even a reaction from Harry or just a slip of control from the parasite? Peter didn't know, he didn't understand, he still didn't understand just exactly how the two worked.

They helped him.

But Peter had grown to fear the symbiotes.

“Just—Just leave him alone!” Harry yelled as he backed both of them up against the wall, shoes crunching against broken glass as he shifted restlessly, obviously looking for somewhere else to run. “Look at him! Haven't you done enough?!” His voice cracked as he screamed, his emotions pricking the edge of his eyes as he faced two men and somehow didn't back down.

The tendrils remained in the air, black rippling across his body, prepared to take action and fight at any moment, but it waited, it held back and Peter couldn't understand why. Why was Venom so different? He had to bite back a yelp as he felt a sort of tug on his arms, eyes shooting down and quietly wheezing as the symbiote had spread, and complete, utter fear filled Peter at the thought of his own parasite leaking out without him knowing. But he quickly realised it wasn't his.

Whether it was intentional or not, Peter didn't know, but Venom had silently passed over from Harry’s shoulder and onto the boy beside him, latching onto his jumpsuit, wrapping around his arms with as much carefulness and secrecy as it could manage, and then Peter felt it. Behind the messy heat that was Harry’s rage, there was a pulse of safety, the same secure feeling he’d clung to from before.

He didn't trust it. Not if it wasn't him. Not if it was only that thing manipulating him.

But Peter didn't move, he didn't pull away when Harry was the only thing still protecting him from his worst fear, so he let it hold him tight, he let the tendrils pass over his head and jut out dangerously in front of him, he let the pulse of safety delude him into thinking he was just that, because he was so hopelessly not.

And he was so sick of feeling that way.

“Harry, that is enough!” Norman snarled in a sudden burst of rage and stormed forward, past Octavius and towards the boys without an ounce of fear and for a moment, Peter was full prepared to witness Harry attack his own father to keep them separated, because he knew he would. But then Norman stopped, just a few feet too far for the symbiote to reach and pressed down on the remote Peter had forgotten he still had.

He didn't have time to even gasp, to prepare himself for the pain before he heard something click, something mechanical shifting in the collar around his neck, and then immediately everything just stopped.

Peter froze to the spot, all of his muscles tensing against his will as static slowly started to climb across his body, uncomfortable, invasive, and when it finally reached his brain, Peter sank. His vision blurred even more than before, everything swaying, all the sound muffling behind an obstacle he didn't know what was made of.

A hum engulfed every inch of him, claiming his body, claiming his mind in a manner so terribly familiar but Peter couldn't even be upset about that, he didn't have the power to as all of his panic and fear and uncertainty about the chaos around him started to crumble and suddenly, the most difficult thing for him to do was to simply focus.

He urged a hand to come up and hold his head, to try and wave away the buzz that had forced its way into his head, but nothing happened. He didn't move, not even a twitch. He couldn't even nudge his fingers. Heart racing, Peter tried again and again to move his hand, but it was stuck, glued to Harry’s arm in the last position he remembered being in before Norman pressed the button.

It didn't even end at his hands, his arm. It was all of him. He couldn't move his legs, he couldn't move his feet or head - anything. Nothing would move, nothing would work, he was completely paralysed, not even graced with the mercy of going limp and instead forced into a stand as his whole body went stiff and completely still.

It was like everything about him was put on pause; he couldn't even shake anymore, he could hardly even breathe as his chest only pushed forward to what it deemed necessary, but it wasn't enough. Peter felt like hyperventilating, he felt screaming or crying or really anything at all that proved he still retained at least just a shred of control over his body.

But he couldn't.

Because he didn't.

They had taken the only thing he had left. They took him from his home, they took away his friends, they took away his ability to speak, they took away his humanity when they injected him with the symbiote, but even when he had just a little bit of autonomy left, that was gone too, and he didn't even know how.

Something clawed in his chest, painful and sizzling like boiling oil spitting from a pan, but Peter couldn't even react to it, there would be no indication of his agony from the outside because his eyes didn't even twitch at the unholy screech that rattled at the back of his mind.

Tangled in a thick ocean of static, Peter was still aware enough to recognise that the symbiote was furious because it had ended up even deeper than where he was trapped. He’d been frozen, but the body hadn't been handed over to the parasite, the creature hadn't taken the chance and taken control because it couldn't. Whatever was happening to him, it affected the symbiote too.

He might've been happy about that if the creature wasn't so completely enraged at that fact and writhed in the depths of his blood as much as his form could allow, scraping against his insides and shooting wave after wave of pain right back at Peter, as if this was his fault, as if he had any clue what was happening to him.

He couldn't even try to think about it, use his brain to connect the collar and the remote together and figure out the answer from there because every time he tried to think clearly, it was like the hum—the buzz or whatever it was was—got louder and he just had to abandon his thoughts and breathe in silence until it died down again.

Why? Why was this happening? Why did they do this? Why couldn't he move?

He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. He couldn't— why—

He was scared. He was so scared. They had his body, they were controlling his body.

He needed to escape, he needed to get somewhere safe, but there was nowhere. How did he get free? How did he move again? He needed help, he needed—he didn't know—he didn't know what to do—what were they going to make him do? What were they going to do with his body?

‘I can't—’ Peter spoke, or tried to, but his voice only came out inside and even then, it was hardly an echo of what it should've been. The static ate it up, the hum consumed him, it was all he could hear, it was the only thing other than the symbiote that he could actually feel. ‘I can't move.’

‘Why—why can't I move?’ Everything was too tense, the grip wrapped him too tightly and behind the muzzle and beneath the collar and stuck inside the paralysis, Peter genuinely began to feel as if he was suffocating. He looked ahead, he looked through the blur and only felt more horrified to find that he couldn't even move his eyes.

He couldn't see Harry.

‘Please. I can't move—Please!”

He’s there, he's still there—or, at least, he thinks he still is. There's darkness brushing the edge of his vision, and the world outside can only reach his ears in a distant muffle. He can't tell if he’s speaking, he can't tell if he’s moving. Why wouldn't he be? Why wouldn't Harry be trying to help him?

So why is he still stuck?

Because maybe he’s stuck too.

‘Harry?’ Peter called into the nothing, his consciousness leaving him for a brief moment as the waves drag him under and have him fighting and clawing desperately with nothing but his pure will, just to stay awake. He doesn't know if he can hear him, he doesn't know if Harry is as aware as he is, but he has to try. He has to do something.

They’d spoken to him before. Harry had managed to contact him while the symbiote was in control, and that connection he’d built was the only thing that had brought him back down. They could do it again, couldn't they? Harry was different to everyone else, he was the only one who understood, the only one who actually wanted to help him. They only one who cared.

They took everything else, this was all he had left.

But there was no response back to him, there were no kind, reassuring words like and there were no hands to guide him away from the hell he’d gotten trapped in. Peter was left alone in the static, alone with the parasite that still screamed with its never-ending rage. He couldn't move, he couldn't think without a struggle, and now he couldn't even hear Harry anymore.

Despair swamped him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had nothing. Every time he thought he could call something his own, that he still had the tiniest thread to latch onto, it was cut right before his eyes, and he’d be left to fall. Why? How was this fair? Why was this happening to him?

He didn't ask to get bitten by the Oscorp spider, he didn't ask for Octavius to make the Venom symbiote from his blood, he didn't want to become a stupid soldier for Norman’s army and he never wanted them to inject an even worse symbiote into his blood and bond him to it permanently.

‘I don't want this.’

It wasn't fair.

‘Let me go.’

This wasn't fair.

‘Let me out.’

He wanted to go home.

‘Get it out of me.’

He wanted to see Aunt May.

‘Let me move.’

He wanted to see Harry normal again.

‘Stop it.’

He wanted to train with his team again.

‘Stop it!’

He wanted to be in control.

He wasn't in control.

He had nothing left.

‘STOP IT!’

Something brushed the back of his mind, the only other genuine touch Peter had felt other than the static and the writhing of the symbiote inside him. Only this was different, it wasn't suffocating, it wasn't painful, it wasn't any type of firm paralysis trying to swallow him down and keep him still.

A gentle ring from somewhere outside of him and yet woven between a connection he held so dear so that only he would be the one to hear it. Distant, weak as it fought to get past everything that was trapping him, but ultimately won and reached him when he was about to lose himself completely.

It wasn't words, it wasn't a voice, but it was a signal. It was a call, a sound and even though he couldn't see, he couldn't hear well enough to know if anything on the outside reacted to that, he knew who it was from. He didn't know exactly how, but even through the fuzz and mist, his clouded brain simply connected the pieces together and found Harry.

He could talk to him. They could access each other, they could still—he could hear him. He still had something. He still had him. Maybe he couldn't speak, maybe he couldn't move or even look his way, but he had a way of knowing that he was still there, encoded in a message that not even Norman or Octavius had the power to take.

He had something. He hadn't lost yet.

He wanted to send him something back, unsure if that feeling was a response to his emotions or his scattered inner voice, but Peter didn't know how. He wanted to reassure Harry in the way he’d reassured him, but this whole bond he knew was unfortunately grown from the symbiotes wasn't something he was familiar with.

It wasn't like the furious leech under his skin was going to help him either.

“I’ve heard enough from you for one day.”

Peter flinched, or tried to. It was more of an internal cringe as the voice boomed in his ears, his heart leaping and thumping against his chest. He didn't move, his body made no obvious reaction, but the teen certainly felt fear as he realised that the world still moved on around him.

For just a few moments, he’d forgotten what they were aiming to do in the first place. He’s forgotten about the two scientists who were still standing right there and had gotten lost in what he'd thought to be the main event of his new torture. How long had even passed while he’d been struggling? Minutes? Seconds? It had felt like hours since a humming had begun.

But suddenly, it was like the humming parted way just enough so that he could focus on the voice in front of him - Norman. He’d pressed it, he controlled them, but how? Peter still didn't understand. Was it the symbiotes? Had they done something to them? But how would that even work?

He snapped out of his spiral when Norman took a few steps closer, ducking beneath the tendrils with a look that showed he no longer cared for them, empty threats as he glared at Harry and waved him away like he was nothing important. As if that wasn't his own son.

“Go back inside, symbiote,” Norman ordered, and for a beat, Peter held his breath because there was no way Venom was going to listen to him, especially when he spoke to them like that. But, against everything Peter thought he knew about the parasite, the tendrils that had been hanging in the air since they'd been frozen started to move.

It wasn't pretty nor elegant as the black started to retreat slowly, dragging and shaking and emitting a low, rumbly growl that Peter wasn't even sure if anyone else could hear, as it began to pull back to Harry and did just as Norman instructed, it slithered back inside. Peter would've gasped at the sight if he could even breathe properly.

How? After everything, how could they just command the symbiote like that? Could they do that with the other one, too? Could they stop it from going on another rampage?

So why didn't he?

“Let go of him.” Norman placed his hands behind his back as he barked another order at Harry, and while Peter still couldn't look his way, he suddenly felt again as his friend’s arms unwrapped from his body, firm hands on his shoulders unclenched without any resistance and suddenly pulled back.

The lack of warmth, the lack of protection, was an immediate shock to Peter as he began to realise that the odd hum that filled the air didn't just paralyse them, it could completely control them too. All Norman needed to do was say something once, and now the boy who had been screaming at them in rage, prepared to fight them if he had to, simply up and backed away from Peter like it was the easiest thing in the world.

‘No. No—No, Harry-’ Peter called out, willing and straining his body to move, to turn around and keep a hold of him, but he just couldn't. Nothing worked, nothing responded to him, his brain did not pilot his body anymore, no matter how much he desperately needed it to. He couldn't go, he didn't want Harry to go—he needed him.

But the only response he got that he knew was actually him and not the will of the remote was a short, panicked pulse at the edge of the connection before Harry completely backed away from him, taking away his strength, taking away the safety he was relying upon. Without the help of his steadying form, Peter’s legs trembled and buckled beneath his weight, and he collapsed to the floor, hitting his knees as he was forced to kneel.

It was the first actual movement he’d been allowed since the hazy noise began and yet, it was still not his. He had control over the way his legs gave up beneath him, and he still had no power to even push himself back up as his hands hit the freezing tiles. The minute his body found some semblance of strength it could use to stay up, he stopped shaking, he went back to being uncomfortably still as he couldn't even see Norman anymore, head left hanging and eyes aimed at the floor.

“Now stay there and be quiet,” Norman growled from ahead, and Peter didn't hear any movement from Harry as he, too, was forced to fall back into that state of paralysis. But he didn't give up, even if he could see him, Peter still fought and willed himself to move and get back the one shred of safety he’d managed to obtain. He refused to let them steal anything else, he refused to let them win, but what could he do?

‘Harry, Harry, I can't—’ What could he say? Could Harry even hear him, or just the pure misery he was feeling? How did he break out of this? How did he help Harry like he’d helped him?

What did he do?

Wasn't this supposed to be his chance?

Shouldn't he have found a way out by now?

When did he get so useless?

‘I’m sorry—’

“Now…” Peter heard the sounds of someone getting closer, but it wasn't Harry. His mind buzzed with each step closer, his spider-sense trying to kick in and blare louder than the hum that had invaded him, but it was a losing battle. What would he even do? His muscles were still so tense, his senses were overwhelmed and confused, and he couldn't even stand on his own.

He was pathetic.

“Let me see the newest addition to my army,” Norman asked, voice low, almost so low that Peter would've expected not to hear it, but, somehow, it was like his body had become trained upon it. The noise could take everything else, the noise could make even the signals to and from Harry uncertain, but not his, not his being. And Peter despised it.

But then, out of nowhere, there was a distant click in the fog, and there wasn't even a second to wait before everything just vanished. Peter couldn't even comprehend what had happened before the tremors wracked through his body, his chest expanded to finally be enough, he could look around and he could breathe, he could actually breathe. Even through the muzzle, the sound of his wheezing, panicked inhales was easy to hear, but Peter couldn't find himself to be bothered by it.

The hum, the sound that stopped him it was still there, he swore he could still hear it, but he could move. Sweaty hands slipped on the tiles, but he held on, he pulled himself back as he sat up, every movement dragging and feeling as if it was tugging along a thousand-pound weight, but he moved because he could, and he never realised how much he took that simple right for granted until it had been stolen away from him.

But then his eyes cleared for the first time in hours, and he realised that Norman and Octavius were right there, not talking, just observing. Piercing eyes, silent smiles, waiting.

And he knew exactly what they were waiting for.

Peter didn't know exactly why, he couldn't work his legs, nor could he make any coherent words behind the lock that was his mask, but he turned around anyway and he looked for Harry. He didn't know what he wanted exactly, for him to help? To try and help Harry instead? Maybe even just to see him and get the reassurance that he wasn't alone?

But when he looked at his friend, it was like he wasn't there at all. Harry didn't look scared or angry or even happy, which would be unnerving, but at least that would be something over the nothing he was receiving. Harry’s expression was blank, listless, empty, even with all of the chaos going on around them. He didn't look at Peter with worry for what was to come next, he didn't look at him with guilt because he’d let go.

He didn't look at him with anything at all. He wasn't there, still trapped deep in the prison that only they could hear.

It was terrifying to see.

Peter only managed to tear his sight away because his vision flashed a sickening red, and he screamed—he tried to— as he doubled over and started to spasm. The symbiote had no trouble claiming his body this time. The surge over his form was almost instant, the red shot out of his skin like bloody thorns, and Peter flinched and cried with every little movement the transformation took.

It was quicker, it was somehow more ruthless and yet, it didn't hurt any less. It felt like his skin was splitting open to allow it out and then getting burned as it settled along and crafted that new body. His wounds were aggravated, pulled and tugged at as the symbiote grabbed his body and covered him whole, lifting him into the mass and then healing the injuries as new power built on top of his old.

It was so much, it was better, it was improved, but it was disgusting. It wasn't him, he didn't want it, he didn't ask for it, and yet he couldn't do anything as it took over. He didn't feel exhausted anymore, his body gave him no pain, but this creature did. Any pain it took was easily replaced, it stole his overwhelmed senses, but being smothered and choked in its bonds wasn't any better.

Peter writhed and yelled and did all he could to fight it, but with every move of resistance, it only snapped back. It wanted him down, it wanted him compliant, and if he did not give it, it only made things worse. But how do you lie still when there's danger right in front of you? How do you breathe easy when you're in pain? Even when he knew it wouldn't bring anything else than a burn against his body, Peter still struggled as the symbiote closed around his head and formed the unsettling body it had made before.

The red creature growled, stretching its new limbs, opening and shutting its mouth as a heavy breath forced its way out of their lungs, and it craned its head upwards and in the direction of the two men in front of it. Peter was forced to watch as the symbiote slammed him back, shoved him under a scratching blanket as it snatched full control of the body, and the first thing it did was scream.

It shrieked with all the power it had, with every feeling it didn't know what to do with. It was hungry, it was angry, it was scared and it was thirsty for a fight. Two black tendrils jutted out from its back, slashing at the air around him

wildly before it leaned back on all fours and then leapt forward, rushing towards Norman and Otto with blood on its mind.

Peter didn't know whether to stop the thing or let it. He hated them both for what they'd done, and maybe a few days ago, he would've hesitated about attacking Norman because even so soon after the betrayal, he couldn't quite believe it. But Norman hadn't seen him since that day, he hadn't come to visit him once, and he found that worse than if he’d bothered at all.

He saw Peter at his lowest and simply left him with the scientist, left Octavius to run more tests, to torture him longer, to get the DNA needed to create his ‘perfect soldier’, and he did, in the form of a hissing, erratic, clawed parasite. Norman didn't even feel indifferent about him; he had smiled when he’d visited him that time. Smiled as he collapsed and screamed as he was electrocuted.

He didn't know whether that was worse than the man who’d cut into him, he just hated them both. He hated them. He despised them.

He wanted them to feel even just a shred of what they’d inflicted upon him.

Unconsciously falling into place, Peter didn't fight as the symbiote closed the distance in seconds, roaring as it flexed its claws and reared them up to strike at Norman. Octavius shifted, face contorting into a scowl as he moved to stop him, but Norman was faster, as if he’d already expected it, he lifted the remote and slammed down.

“Obey, symbiote!” He shouted, and Peter didn't have the mind to think about the consequences before the collar inside beeped only a few times and then their whole body exploded. Bright white lights erupted over the symbiote's form, rippling through the skin and then sneaking inside and jutting through Peter too.

The symbiote slipped and collapsed to the floor, squirming, shrieking, seizing as the electrical currents took over and rendered it immobile. Peter screamed from the inside, his vision flashing between red and white as burning agony cut through him, and there was no way for him to escape it. His mind broke beneath the pain, his thoughts vanished as all he knew was white, flashing white and then the bleeding red that trapped him between.

He didn't even know it had ended until a few seconds after, his sight slowly returning as they heaved, claws curling against the floor as they slowly, agonisingly pushed up. Peter cried, limp and hardly moving as the symbiote did all the work for them, the buzz lingering in their system, leaving them twitching and only able to achieve a crouch.

Peter didn't fight the parasite, he didn't bother, he knew what would follow it and all he wanted was the pain to stop. He simply backed away, unconsciously falling deeper into the binds that made the symbiote and shutting his eyes as he tried to survive the aftereffects of everything hurting him. He might've fully fallen, completely lost himself to the sea of red if it wasn't for the persistent, frantic pulse at the back of his mind and without him even needing to beg for it, the symbiote slightly turned their head towards Harry’s direction.

He was scared now, much more scared than before and it didn't take a genius to guess why. He’d not only had to watch the disgusting red creature take over his body but then had to stand by and witness as he was electrocuted within an inch of his life. Peter couldn't hear any words, he thought he did, but it was so hard to tell amidst everything else working against him, but he knew Harry was terrified for him.

‘Don’t watch…’ Was all he could think about, the symbiote’s head turning back towards the two men with a low growl. ‘Please, Please don't watch…’

But he didn't have a choice. Neither of them did.

There was a loud, unsettling laugh, and the red creature flinched and then quickly hissed as they turned their sights towards Norman, cackling like a psychopath before he collected himself and took a few steps closer.

“That’s better…” He hummed as he took the time to scan the room one last time as he approached them, eyes shining with something sickening as he seemed to take in every broken machine, every crack and claw mark and every single instance of destruction that they’d caused. Peter unwillingly followed, only growing more nauseous as time went on.

“Look at the absolute carnage you've wrought, I—” He laughed again before pausing, lifting a hand to his chin as he pondered, a smug smile creeping higher along his face “Carnage…I like it!” He clapped his hands together in success, the sudden boom startling the symbiote and causing it to take a few steps back and hiss. “That will be your name!”

‘Carnage…’

The name echoed in their mind, the disgusting word being repeated by both of them, one part confusion and repulsion, the other intrigue and acceptance. The name was perfect; it encapsulated the symbiote in only one word, and Peter hated that. He hated that it was right, he hated that it fit, he hated that, in this form, that was him. Them. Together.

He was just as much of a monster as the parasite. To live, the symbiote needed a host, to move, the creature needed a body. He created Venom, he created this.

He was Carnage.

“You have just become a lot more useful to me, Carnage…” Norman praised as he kneeled before them, reaching out a slow, careful hand, but the minute he got too close, the symbiote snapped at him, and the man was forced to jerk his hand back. But that didn't do anything to deter him, in fact, Norman only laughed again as he stood back up and moved away.

“Silent, a quick learner and bursting at the seams with raw power…” Norman listed, his obvious delight growing as time went on. His fascination was nauseating, his obsession with power was nothing like Peter had ever seen before, and it was only made worse knowing that on the outside, no one would know. Hell, Peter didn't even realise it was Norman who had backstabbed him until he spelt it out.

This man was walking around in his suit and tie and pretending to be a normal, sane man when he was the exact opposite. No one would know what he’d done, no one would ever even suspect him of kidnapping him, for torturing teenagers.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time, Octavius.” Norman praised, a rarity and seemed to shock Otto as much as it did Peter as he blinked in surprise before grinning, claws whirring in satisfaction. “I’ll forget that I had to figure this out by following my son…” He added with slight irritation, eyes trailing over the symbiote and towards the boy whom Peter knew was still stuck in the corner.

He could still feel him, he could still hear the erratic pulses that stemmed from his being. He wasn't sure whether he was intentionally sending them to Peter or not, and he wasn't sure whether he was doing the same, but even so, they were somewhat grounding. At least he was there, at least he knew he still had him.

Everything hurt, everything ached and it was getting harder and harder to stay awake, but he took comfort in the fact that he wasn't alone. He didn't want Harry to see his pain, he didn't want Harry to be paralysed against his will, but he did want him. He knew that was selfish, so incredibly selfish, but in the moment, that was lost on him.

“Clean this mess up and get to recording its abilities immediately. I want to know everything about what it can do.” Norman demanded in a sudden shift of tone, abruptly turning away from Octavius like he’d grown bored of talking to him and returned his gaze back to Carnage, who only growled at the added attention, but that didn't last long before there was a loud clang and a claw slammed into their vision.

“Yes, sir.” Doctor Octavius grumbled and stomped towards them, and the creature immediately reacted in rage, swiping at a claw that hovered too close and began to back away, but the scientist only growled and clicked on the remote with another limb.

They howled as the volts coursed through them a second time, body seizing up as they flopped to their side and shuddered furiously against the cruel attack that overtook them. Peter screamed alongside them, unable to disconnect himself from the symbiote as their back arched painfully against the floor and the shocks caused their muscles to tense in a way that only made them hurt more.

Then, it stopped. Even faster than last time as they heaved in a smoking heap on the ground, trembling arms trying again to push them up, lips curling in a threatening growl, but the warnings were lost to anyone who heard them, unnecessary, meaningless. Octavius didn't hesitate as he came up beside them and scooped around their stomach with one of their metallic limbs, but the reaction was instant.

The symbiote was aware enough to recognise where the danger was coming from, just who exactly was inflicting them with this never-ending pain. In fact, they seemed to loathe the doctor even more than Norman, being the one who made them just to trap them in the first place. Like a switch had been flipped, Carnage started twisting and spitting in such unbridled rage in Otto’s hold, scratching and scraping their claws along the metal as they attempted to tear themselves out.

But that was only met with an annoyed grumble and another click before the collar beeped and they were engulfed in white hot agony yet again. Like before, the electrocution only went on for mere seconds but the effect remained the same. The red symbiote slumped down, wheezing before their anger bubbled up and boiled over and they were back to twisting and shrieking to be let free. Meanwhile, Peter was left suffocating in fire.

Carnage could move, the symbiote could fight for as long as it had legs to use, the pain being a deterrent but then quickly forgotten in seconds over its overwhelming hunger but Peter was forced to burn in it. He was stuck on the inside, only able to cry as his body was jolsted in favour of a fight and then electrocuted over and over. He couldn't move, he couldn't convince the symbiote to let him, all he could do was suffer in the torment.

This was just like before, this was just Octavius ‘experimenting’ on him all over again. When would it end? When Carnage ran out of energy? When would that be? Would he ever be tired? Peter was exhausted, he felt like he was going to black out at any second but the symbiote refused. If Peter had never healed his broken wrist, would he have still used it? If the doctor had shattered his legs, would the monster still force him to move?

Never safe, never free, no escape from the torture.

When did this madness end?

‘Stop—Stop it! Stop it! Please!’ Peter begged as Octavius hoisted them up high and began taking them away, but Carnage didn't give up. The damned thing would struggle, get them both electrocuted and then take maybe a single second before the fire reignited and they'd start again. Either it was too stupid to learn or they didn't care as they repeated the hopeless fight over and over again, deaf to the boy’s pleas, uncaring to his cries in response to the agony. ‘It hurts, it—I can't take it! Why won't you listen? Why? Why won't you stop?!’

Another wave of volts rippling through his veins, and Peter swore the darkness managed to take him for a few seconds before aching spasms yanked him back into consciousness. He groaned wordlessly beneath the red, hardly paying attention to the world around him, that is, until he felt that faint, erratic pulse at the back of his mind, and Peter opened his eyes to follow it.

He’d almost forgotten about Harry, pretty much rendered unconscious by the excruciating pain, and he hated himself for it, but what could he do? All he could manage was watching as his friend walked into view, Norman right beside him, hand gripping his arm that he could tell was way too tight, even with everything else attacking him, but that wasn't what scared him the most.

Octavius was taking them somewhere they didn't know, and Norman was taking Harry in a different direction.

They were taking him away.

They were separating them.

He was going to lose Harry again.

‘NO!’ Peter lunged forward, barbs dragging along his skin as fear sank into his veins and he fought to get to the front of his body and back to Harry. ‘NO-! Please! Please don’t—don’t take him!’ Carnage shook as they shrieked, feeling Peter’s pure horror and holding onto it, using it as they realised just exactly what was causing their host so much dismay. They wouldn't stop fighting, but as Peter struggled, something seemed to click into place between them, and a clawed hand shot forward as they tried to reach what they could not have. ‘Give him back! Give—him—back!’

A beep, and then white electricity engulfed them once more, causing their hand to seize and then drop, hanging uselessly just like the rest of them as they swung in Octavius’ hold. Every second was crucial, every second was another step taken by Norman as he dragged Harry further and further away and that only made Peter more terrified.

How long would it be before Peter saw Harry again? What would they do to him while he was gone? Would they experiment on him like they’d done to Peter? Would they tamper and mess with the symbiote and make it even more chaotic than Carnage? If he lost him now, would he ever see him again? What if this was it? What if Norman and Otto realised just how much hope they brought each other and aimed to take that away?

He wouldn't cope. Peter couldn't cope with not knowing, he wouldn't be able to carry on without knowing if Harry was ok, if they were leaving him be or if they were torturing him too. Hell, Peter didn't know if he was able to cope simply not having him close. He didn't want to be alone again, he didn't want to be on his own through all this. He didn't want to be forgotten beneath the red and black.

He didn't want to be alone.

‘GIVE HIM BACK!’

A second after the latest shock ended, Carnage gripped the tentacle that squeezed around their waist and they pushed themselves forward as far as they could manage. Eyes locked onto Harry, they took a quick, sharp inhale before they unleashed an ear-piercing screech. The room seemed to shake at the force of it, causing even Norman and Octavius to cringe and hold their hands over their ears, but the symbiote didn't care about them.

Peter didn't care about them.

All Peter cared about was Harry, about stopping what was to come, about getting him back, about getting any sort of reaction from him at all. And he did.

Harry didn't turn, he didn't speak or suddenly become free of his paralysis, but, just like before, he did react to the sound of Peter's terrified scream. His body shuddered, a ripple starting from their feet and ending at their head and for a split second, Venom slithered out of the skin before falling right back inside, and it didn't end there.

Harry didn't say anything, he couldn't access Venom to give them a call back, but he responded. That faint, distant echo he’d been struggling to latch onto grew and became so much clearer.

I’m sorry.

It wasn't words, it didn't sound like words, but he grasped onto them and understood them as if they were, a second language he never knew even existed before that, one he could suddenly speak. A bond, not just between the symbiotes but between them.

You’re ok.

They were related; they came from his blood, broken pieces that only truly felt whole when placed back together and now that they’d obtained hosts that desired so strongly to be together, it only made that pull between them stronger.

You're gonna be ok.

Waves of reassurance, a warm safety that didn't burn or scorch his skin like the symbiote did. He could feel it, the presence calming them just like before and he felt everything begin to slow down. Things didn't seem so much, the urges didn't itch so terribly, and not only did Peter seem to listen, but Carnage did, too.

I don't know how to help.

But Harry was not perfect, there was just no way that he was devoid of the fear and terror that Peter was drowning in. He was as scared of what was going to happen as Peter was, he was petrified of leaving him there and going back to isolation again. He was scared of what was going to happen to him, he was scared of what Norman was going to make him do.

I’m sorry.

The fear was infectious, but Peter still clung on, the world around him having long since gone quiet, his scream dying in his throat. He didn't know how to comfort Harry, he didn't know how to send him the messages like he was doing, but he refused to let go, he refused to give up, and even though he couldn't stop being so afraid, he remained.

But I’ll be here for you, for as long as I can.

Because being afraid together was better than being afraid alone.

“What was—?” Norman turned around in his view, just in time for Octavius to activate the collar and rip Peter away from his mind and send them howling as they shuddered and writhed in his metallic limb. When it ended, the doctor had moved himself into their view, expression irritated as he glared at him through broken goggles.

“Do I need to figure out a way to shut that mouth up, too?” The man sneered as he tightened his grip, watching as Carnage hissed and wheezed at the added pressure, still reeling from its latest round of electrocution and not ready for more anguish so soon, but then they spotted Harry in the distant blur, and the man became the least of their worries as they strained towards them again.

Confused and equally intrigued by its abrupt change in attitude, the scientist turned and followed its gaze, watching as Norman flicked back out the remote and pressed it. There was a beat of utter horror that spread through Peter, him fully expecting to watch as Norman shocked his own son as punishment for what he’d done, but thankfully, that never came.

Instead, Harry’s eyes snapped wide, and he suddenly lurched a few steps back, only stopped from going further by Norman’s firm grip on his arm that he couldn't even begin to shake off. The ginger sucked in a huge gulp of air, a trembling hand raising to clutch at the collar as if he’d been holding his breath this entire time and only given back that privilege now.

Harry’s expression shifted from indifference to horrified in a matter of seconds as he blinked a few times, as if he’d forgotten where he was, before turning to face Peter and staring at him silently, mouth slightly parted as if he wanted to say something, he wanted to do something, but didn't quite know how. He was about to take a step towards him, but was harshly yanked back and forced to turn and stare at Norman as he demanded his attention.

“What was that?” The man asked coldly, still holding his arm cruelly, although there was no real reason for it other than to prove a point, he could do worse. “How did you move? That should've been impossible.” His eyes flicked towards Octavius, burning with anger and disappointment, while the scientist just grumbled at his glare, still holding Carnage with one of his metallic limbs but no longer moving away.

He didn't offer any explanation, and neither did Harry, who slowly shut his mouth, spite and resolve taking over his features as he ripped his gaze away from his father’s and turned to face Peter, black slithering around his shoulders as his feelings pulsed in the air, and Peter could feel him again.

You're ok.

But Peter couldn't find himself being comforted by him, not when he watched Norman snarl at being ignored and cruelly shake Harry again.

“Now you want to go silent? Fine.” The man hissed through gritted teeth as waves of danger prickled Peter’s skin, and he watched Harry’s bitter expression fall back into fear as Norman pulled back up the remote and waved it in front of him. “But this will be the last time you ever see him again.”

‘NO!’ Peter panicked and clawed at the metallic wire that gripped him, not surprised when he was swiftly dealt with another round of crackling voltage, but he didn't stop, his movements only became more shaking and strained as he fought to escape.

“Wait—no!” Understanding the same thing, Harry reacted in a similar, panicked manner, lunging forward and grasping onto the arm that held the remote and staring up at his father in terror, eyes pleading as the black symbiote rippled behind him. “Please, I’ll explain, just—just don't—please, don't…” Harry eyed the remote cautiously, breathing heavily as Peter could hear his heart beating a thousand miles an hour.

He could've tried to grab it, he could've tried to fight Norman, but even through the pain, Peter knew that it didn't matter if they took one down, there were always more. If Harry had managed to somehow steal the one thing that could stop them, then he would've only been punished by the second one that Octavius still held onto. There was always something, there was always a way to break them down.

Was fighting even worth it?

A smile tugged at the edge of Norman’s lips, smugness falling over his expression as he let his arm fall to his side, indicating that he wasn't going to press the remote, but it was still in his grasp, so the threat remained. There wasn't any punishment yet, but the pain never fully went away. Recognising that, Harry’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly, another loss to add to the thousands as he turned to stare at Peter with a nervous expression.

He didn't blame him, he’d been through the same situation so many times now. He just hoped he could somehow feel that and understand it.

“I…We’re…linked? Somehow…” Harry began, voice awfully small and throat croaking as if he’d been screaming for hours before this point. “I heard him…just then and—and I don't know how it works but—” He briefly looked back at Norman in fear, clearly unsure of whether the man would take this explanation and believe it, but for now, he remained silent, and so Harry continued. “—but I heard something more, sounds that you… can't.”

Norman tilted his head ever so slightly, leaving Harry’s fate up in the air as he either seriously contemplated what he was telling him or only prolonged it to torture him further before he hummed and spoke. “And what exactly do you hear?”

“Feelings.” Harry blurted out and then stammered like he hadn't quite thought about what he was going to say before he said it.”I mean- I think? It’s not words, but I understand it anyway.” The teenager explained as he wrung his hands together in an attempt to expel some of the nervousness that Peter could still catch in the air. “I can hear what he wants—what…what it wants and—”

Peter’s chest wrenched at the sound of being called an it, the thing that the parasite attached to, but he knew Harry was panicked, he knew he didn't even want to have to explain this in the first place, so he shoved that discomfort away. It wasn't his fault.

“—and I think I can calm it?” Harry finished with a sharp inhale, tearing his eyes off of Peter, even though he didn't seem to want to, switching his hands to rubbing his arms as black had started to leak down, and he definitely didn't want that there. “…and I know he can hear me too,” he added rather quietly as Norman leaned back, positioning himself higher as he glared down at his son through narrowed eyes.

Peter felt himself growing angry again, the symbiote making everything worse and only amplifying that as he watched Norman actually contemplate whether his son was telling the truth. Why would he lie? After he’d just threatened to take him away, why would Harry risk lying?

Then it fully kicked in for Peter. He was telling the truth in what he said; not only could Peter hear him, but Harry could hear Peter. He could hear the desperate messages he’d tried to send he…could he hear all of them?

Did he force Harry to listen to every cry of pain? Did Harry take in and feel every ounce of anger and fear and misery he’d been battling with? He didn't mean to, he didn't want that, he just—he was in so much agony that he didn't know what to do with it. He didn't mean to share it, he didn't want to share it! God, how much had he passed over? How much had he forced Harry to deal with while he was suffering with his own?

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Norman silently looked towards Octavius with a single raised eyebrow, only dropping his sour expression when the scientists responded in a nod.

“It’s not impossible.” The doctor began, raising Carange that little bit higher and watching as they hissed and spat in their direction. “I witnessed it myself, he seemed to have some sort of influence over the creature before I even had my chance to immobilise it.” Octavius finished, clicking his tongue and shocking the symbiote for a few seconds when they got too restless in his hold. The air smelt of burning, but Peter didn't feel like the symbiote’s skin was very affected. Was it him from the inside? There was no way for him to tell.

“Interesting,” Norman mumbled before a grin reclaimed his features, and he yanked Harry’s arm closer towards him, snapping his attention off of Peter and away from the newest message he was trying to send, twisting his arm up and leaving him gasping in discomfort at the odd angle.

“I was going to take you back to the lab, lock you in your room and leave you in isolation for all the trouble you've caused me.” Norman threatened, and yet scared Harry with all of this through a tight, manic smile that startled even Peter from across the room, but not because he feared for his own safety, because he feared that Norman wasn't lying. He was going to lock Harry away.

“But instead, I'll make you a deal.” The man leaned in even closer, his face mere inches away from Harry’s and Peter couldn't help but let out a low, rumbling growl, nails digging deeper into metal at the sight of it. It didn't make it any better that he could feel the anger that rolled off Venom, not Harry, Venom. Anger that was just barely controlled, and Peter wasn't doing anything to help it.

“You managed to throw Fury off the scent, for now, but he’ll only be back,” Norman explained, and Harry visibly flinched at the mention of the man’s name, at the mention of Peter’s superior. But why? Why would Norman mention his name, especially now? How was it relevant? What did he mean by ‘back’, like he’d ever been here at all?

Because that made no sense- it just didn't. Fury would never have looked here and simply left, he would've never come to save him and have failed. He wouldn't have, there was just— there was no way.

He couldn't have failed. He couldn't have missed him, he was one of the best special agents in the world! He had the most advanced tech, hundreds of trained agents under his command, and with all of that, there was just no way he would've left without him! He wouldn't just leave him behind!

He was relying on him! He was relying on his team and—and Harry sent them away?

He didn't believe it, he didn't want to, but he could feel it. The overwhelming guilt that poured off of Harry as he slowly, slowly turned so that Peter was in his vision.

I’m sorry.

God, no….

What did he do?

“I need to get rid of him for good.” Norman carried on, no matter how much Peter wished he wouldn't, no matter how much he choked on the guilt that never seemed to end, he just couldn't stop listening because he felt like he had to. Because if this had happened, who knows how long ago, and Peter had missed it, then what else didn't he know?

What else had Harry not told him?

“He won't bother to look if there’s no Spider-Man to save.” The man suggested grimly, and Peter twitched at the mention of his alter-ego, but he didn't quite grasp what the psycho was suggesting. But it seemed Harry still knew more than he was letting on because his eyes grew even wider and he began to shake his head in disbelief.

“I want you to fake Spider-Man’s death—Peter Parker’s death—as Venom.” Norman finished, slowly leaning back from Harry as he let his deluded idea sink in. Peter could only watch in horror, body stirring and twitching on the outside from movements he couldn't determine were after-effects of the volts or not.

He wasn't being serious, he was bluffing— he had to be. Norman was a lot of things, he had done so many inexcusable things, but he wouldn't make Harry fake his death!

Would he?

Please. Stop looking so guilty.

Thankfully, Harry didn't need to listen to any of Peter’s pleas as he wrenched himself out of his father’s grip and took a few clumsy steps away, disgust and horror all over his face, touching his arm as if Norman had burned him.

“You want me to fake the murder of my best friend?” Harry asked incredulously, voice cracking as his eyes flicked between his wretched father and Peter, only growing more sorry the more he looked. “That’s insane!” He spat through gritted teeth, his hatred for his father never clearer. “I’d never do that, no matter how much you hurt me!”

“Oh, but you will, son.” Norman chuckled, somehow still holding onto his smug, amused demeanour despite how Harry had just spoken to him. Peter expected anger, he expected him to lash out at the boy’s refusal, not this. This plain disregard only meant one thing: he was certain he was going to get what he wanted.

Harry had no choice.

“Because if you don’t—” Norman lifted up the remote, and Harry took a few more steps back before he seemed to freeze against his will, fear gripping his limbs and leaving him unable to move as he watched the man fiddle with something upon it. Peter couldn't see, he didn't know what was taking him so long, but suddenly, Norman’s eyes landed upon him and his neck exploded in warning.

Though it did little good to stop him from pressing his thumb down and sending even more electricity through his body. But it was different, it was worse, it was so much worse than before, and Peter didn't even know that was possible, he couldn't even think about it before his vision exploded into white and he started seizing and writhing against his will.

He couldn't take it, he couldn't take much more of it. The symbiote was extra protection, he couldn't deny the use that came with the fact that it was slowly healing the injuries that his body had failed and kept him moving when he’d lost the will, but that could only go so far when he was getting electrocuted again and again and again.

His veins burned, his blood boiled, and everything completely shorted out. Peter couldn't see anything, he couldn't hear, and he couldn't feel anything but the sizzling, scorching white. He didn't recognise anything else, he didn't know what to do to stop it. It was never-ending torment, no matter what happened or what he did, it always ended in agony.

Peter didn't even know he’d passed out until shouting brought him back. His body was limp, Carnage just as injured as he was as they hung in Octavius’ grip and didn't dare to do much else. It hurt too much, everything hurt. Peter found himself drifting, confused and hardly awake as the overuse of the collar had left him disoriented. He almost let himself slip back into sleep, if it wasn't for Harry’s loud voice catching his attention.

“—WHY?! He didn't do anything! Why do you keep hurting him?!” Harry screamed, tendrils twitching out of his back, posed in Norman’s direction, or at least Peter thought so. Everything had gone blurry, it felt like his whole body was buzzing, and honestly, that was probably right with the way his limbs still jerked against him.

“To prove a point.” Norman shot back, arm still up and remote still aimed at Peter’s way. “It won’t be only you who faces the consequences, Harry.” The man chuckled, but Harry could only gape at him in pure disbelief, shaking as he raised to hold his head, obviously struggling to control his rage. His anger pulsed off of him in waves, Venom growling and snarling in a tone that only they could hear as they longed to start a fight, they longed to show that bastard a lesson, but they couldn't because-

Peter sobbed, something he didn't even realise he was still consistently doing since he woke up. In a short burst of consciousness, he was glad no one could see him, for once he was relieved that he was trapped beneath a suit that didn't belong to him because he had shed too many tears for these people, and he didn't want them to take more, but he just couldn't stop.

His whole existence was just a constant stream of hurt, and Harry’s anger only made that worse.

The anger switched, becoming less overwhelming, seeping back inside as more guilt started to leak out, but it wasn't any better, it wasn't any easier to deal with. All it did was remind Peter just exactly why he had felt so distraught the moments before he’d gotten shocked.

“You’re going to do as I tell you, otherwise you can say your final goodbyes to Peter Parker” Norman suddenly shot forward and grabbed Harry’s wrists, ignoring his yell of surprise and paying no attention to the furious black symbiote that hung off his body and just barely held off an attack.

“You think I don't have the power to separate you permanently?” The man threatened, his grin dropping as he took a more serious look and squeezed Harry’s wrist in his hold, causing the boy to whimper and try to tear himself away. “You may have broken out once, but you won't make that mistake again.”

Peter wheezed in the depths of the symbiote, growing more and more aware as Norman went on, hands twitching and longing to rip themselves free from the metal wire that seemed so tight, but he was so tired.

“I have been lenient towards you so far, but that is only because you are my son.” Norman hissed in an almost-whisper, but his voice reached Peter as loud as ever. “But Peter? Peter’s just another experiment.” He spat, his name dropping from his lips as if he was a rat, as if he was even less than that, a bug, a spider to step on. It was disgusting, it was revolting to think that Peter once looked up to this man, he once considered him family.

He’d trusted him, he was inspired by him, and he entered his home and considered it a safe space. Only for him to turn around and kidnap a teenager, just because he had powers and that suddenly meant he wasn't human anymore.

Why didn't he see it sooner?

“I can and I will make sure that the symbiote devours him, leaving only a perfect monster behind,” Norman promised with unnaturally even tone, eyes darkened as he brought Harry mere inches away from his face, holding up his wrist with a cruel amount of force. “Is that what you want?”

“No!” Harry wailed, reaching up and finally tearing himself out of his father’s grip, turning away and hunching in on himself as his shoulders trembled, obviously crying. Peter couldn't even begin to try and comfort him, not when Norman’s words were still heavy on his mind, leaving him alone to try and figure out whether the man’s words were an empty threat or a genuine possibility.

And Peter didn't even have a shred of evidence to suggest the former. Everything he had done, everything he’d said he would do, and he did, was all on the same level as what he’d just threatened. Norman wasn't saying he’d kill Peter, but modify the symbiote so that he wouldn't ever be in control again, and he believed him.

The look in his eye, the way his tone did not falter even through the terrible things he’d said and the way he’d had the gall to smile as he pressured Harry to do something so awful, there was not an ounce of hesitation or uncertainty in his words. He didn't care for Peter, he didn't care for the relationship he had with his son. All he cared about was creating a weapon.

It didn't change anything whether Peter was alive or not, if anything, it would make it easier for them if he wasn't there. The only reason he hadn't already was because…

He needed leverage on Harry.

“All I’m asking is for you to do this little favour for me,” Norman spoke up, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, then immediately recoiling when black shot out and aimed to strike him. The teen stumbled as he aimed to get away from his father while also trying to decide on what he should do.

Peter could feel it, the thousand conflicting emotions going on inside him, and the boy choked because if he thought all of this was hard on him, then how bad would this be for Harry? This was his father, his flesh and blood, asking him to fake the death of his best friend all for his own sick obsessions with power.

And if he didn't follow what he wanted, Peter would be essentially killed.

He didn't know what to do, he had as much of a steady mind as Harry. There was no way for him to reassure or console his friend when he wasn't sure what option to pick. Peter was terrified, he’d never been more scared for his life, and now there was a chance that he could become a bloodthirsty monster forever if Harry didn't follow Norman. How was he supposed to be fine with either option? How was he supposed to look at Harry and offer advice when he had none?

Harry looked at him, he looked to him with tears in his eyes and despair leaking through their newly born bond, and Peter didn't know what to offer back. He didn't know what to do, it was a lose-lose, there was no good option and they both knew it.

But even with all that, Peter found himself thinking don't.

Because he would rather disappear than watch Norman turn Harry into a full-blown monster.

He tried to make it make sense in his head, he grasped at fog and mist and forced out some understandable, coherent thought he was struggling to form because he knew that his choice to pick Harry wouldn't be enough. If Norman really did go through with what he said and Carnage took over his body completely, then Peter had hope that he wouldn't be lost forever.

S.H.I.E.L.D. would figure something out, Doctor Connors would find a way to bring him back, and he didn't doubt that his team were more than capable of taking him to help towards that. He didn't want it to happen, he didn’t want to become this thing, but if he had to choose between playing this psychopath’s game or helping Harry, then he chose Harry. Every time.

He was scared, but he would rather choose scared than do nothing at all.

But Harry didn’t feel the same.

He could see it in the way he looked at him, how the majority of his fear didn’t come for his own safety but for Peter’s. His shoulders sagged, his hands dropped to his sides, and Peter could hear it, he could hear the consideration in the choice of letting Peter go, and he refused. The very idea of losing Peter struck such fear into him that the brunette felt it.

He didn’t want to be the one to kill Peter.

But he wasn’t, he— they didn’t have a choice! It was this or giving Norman what they wanted, and they just couldn’t! He needed to refuse; he needed to fight back—

But Norman was already leading him somewhere, towards a dented metal box tipped on its side, no doubt because of the destruction Carnage had caused, and after messing with a lock for only a few seconds, he shoved the lid open and pulled only one thing out: his suit.

A mixture of nostalgia and bitterness sank in Peter’s stomach as he looked at what seemed to be his genuine Spider-Man suit, minus the mask, but it was his. It was his suit and god, he hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed wearing it until now. There was just something so different about wearing the whole suit compared to being bare like this, in clothes that looked humiliating and no mask to hide behind.

It was his shield, a defensive wall to hide behind when he didn’t want to let his enemies in on how he was feeling, but now he couldn’t do that anymore. He hadn’t been able to hide his misery since he first stepped in, and the doctor seemed to thrive on that.

He wanted it back, he wanted his suit back so badly, but then he thought— would it even be able to fit him like this? He was already wearing a suit made of violence and aggression that had adjusted his body and made him taller, spread his muscles a little further. He wasn’t made for that costume, not anymore.

“Fake the death of Spider-Man and I’ll allow you to keep Peter Parker in your life,” Norman explained in a softer, more gentle tone as he took a moment to examine the clothing before tossing it forward and forcing Harry to catch it in his arms. “It’s as simple as that.”

Harry didn’t say anything to reply; he only looked down at the crumpled suit in his arms, spreading out the fabric between his fingers as he thought over and over on what to do, on who he should pick. Peter sluggishly pulled up in Octavius’ hold, unwillingly turning to hiss in his direction before scraping along the wire and trying to get higher.

He couldn’t let Harry do this, he couldn’t let Norman use him to make Harry do what he wanted! It didn’t matter what he’d threatened, Peter was not worth his best friend losing his humanity!

‘Harry…!’ Peter gritted his teeth, fingers bunching beneath the red skin as he fought to get Harry’s attention, and Carnage fought to retain control. ‘Harry—no! Please, don’t do it! Harry—!’ He groaned, vision flashing red and black creeping in on the edges as his limbs jerked and protested against each movement, each twinge resulting in a shooting pain.

‘Harry, you have to trust…me…!’ He growled as every inch of his body ached and stung, and every movement only made it all so much worse. Everything told him to stop, his entire being was fighting against him and warning him that if he pushed himself too far, he was going to drop, but he refused. ‘I won’t— I won’t be gone, my team— S.H.I.E.L.D. can help us, you can’t—‘

Peter wasn’t sure if Harry could hear him, he didn’t know if any of his jumbled, frantic thoughts were getting across past mere feelings and emotions, but then the very second he mentioned S.H.I.E.L.D., something switched in Harry. He saw it, he felt it, it hurt the way distrust and fear shot through him like a bullet, hate he never knew was there before rolling out like a broken dam, and Peter was struggling to stay above the water.

Where was this coming from? He swore that he’d never known Harry to have any sort of hostility towards the organisation, but he couldn’t deny what he was feeling. Instead of reassuring Harry, the mention of S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to push him even further into the other option, and he couldn’t understand why.

‘Wha— Harry, Harry please, no—no you don’t understand!’ Peter cried, the symbiote outside hissing and growling lowly as it reacted to his panic and his distress and began to act up again. ‘Harry, please! Don’t do this! You can’t trust him, he’s lying, he’s—”

A harsh force to the back of his neck snapped the teen out of his head, a cry of pain escaping their mouth as a claw gripped around their neck and forced them to remain still. Peter knew it was Octavius, he knew it was the doctor trying to get a raise out of them, trying to distract them by playing on the symbiote's explosive temper, but he didn’t care.

Everything could carry on hurting, the symbiote could take him if it meant that Harry was left out of this! He wouldn’t let his best friend- the person he loved- turn themselves into a criminal just to keep him safe!

‘PLEASE!’

Harry glanced back at him, pale and sickly as his quivering hands clung to the suit, black sneaking out from under his sweater sleeves and touching the edge of his hands. Peter tried to listen, but the world buzzed with a million different things, and it was hard enough to see that far, let alone hear what he was thinking.

But he didn’t need to, he knew defeat when he saw it, and he saw it in Harry’s face as his lip trembled and he squeezed his eyes shut for just a brief moment before opening his mouth and uttering a quiet, meagre little-

“…Ok…”

‘NO!’ Peter roared, and Carnage snapped their head back, twisting and swinging a claw in Octavius’ direction, fully intending to shred the man for keeping them trapped for so long, but the second they acted up, he pointed the remote and did what Peter just could not escape.

The room was filled with screeches and buzzing, bright flashes covering the walls and the occasional writhing shadow that lashed and hissed and waved sharp tendrils around in outrage, but it was a losing battle. Their anger never ended, their hunger was endless, but with the constant onslaught of electricity seizing their muscles, they couldn’t do anything as Octavius dragged them over to the consoles and threw them against the wall.

Carnage had just enough awareness to latch onto the wall as they hit it, sliding down a few inches before their strength came back and they stuck against it, turning and screeching at Otto as he approached the consoles, all the while observing them from the corner of his eye. As much as they hated him, as much as they despised what they’d done, Peter was still awake and as long as he was aware, he was going to worry about Harry.

He spotted him from across the room, Norman having claimed him with an arm draped along his shoulders to keep him close, but that didn’t stop Harry from craning his head around to look at them with a remorseful expression.

‘HARRY!’ Peter called out, demanding to move the body and Carnage couldn't help but respond, despising any time it spent closer to the doctor and craving to start tearing into the world around them like before but when they went to move, their head flared and they instinctively looked up just in time to catch two thick wires shoot down and hook around them.

‘NO! No— No! Don't—don't do it! Don't leave again, PLEASE!’ Peter sobbed watching as Carnage tried and failed to move out of the way in time and was yanked further up the wall, left to dangle as the wires wrapped firmly around their arms and torso, and the only thing left to do was destroy them, but they couldn't even try.

Pain, pain followed everything, and Peter begged desperately for the symbiote to stop because each time they fought, the collar activated and each time the volts coursed through his body, Peter felt himself slipping more and more, his vision going dark before his eyes, and when he finally came back, Harry would be even further away than before.

The body goes limp, finally, finally feeling some semblance of exhaustion after everything they had been through and through the last scraps of his consciousness, Peter called out again.

‘Harry…’ He could see his distant figure in the blur, hesitating and dragging behind Norman as he looked back at him. ‘Harry, please…if you can hear me—don't do it…! Please…Please!’ He cried, or at least he felt like he’d been crying all this time, but it was getting hard to find himself amid the tangle of red and black and hunger, but he knew he certainly felt miserable.

‘I can't lose you again.’

Peter’s breath stuttered, head rising as he spotted that Harry had paused, ignoring his father as he somehow found the wavering connected and as he held on, he spoke.

‘He said he’d kill you…and I…I won’t let that happen.’

Carnage growled, nails trying to stab through metal and hissing when they didn't succeed, but Peter didn't care, he didn't care for anything else, he didn't even notice it anymore, not when Harry’s message was so loud.

‘I…I’m going to keep you alive, no matter what it takes.’

Metal groans, the wire creaks as the symbiote jostles it and lethargically tries to tear itself from the mix, but there's no use. They had nothing, Peter had nothing left, there was nothing he could do. Harry was leaving.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘HARRY!’

A guttural roar at something missing, a grief-stricken cry at the feeling of Harry’s presence suddenly backing away from them without another word, his bond slipping between Peter’s fingers, and he couldn't even move to grab hold of it, to yank him back. Harry apologised one last time, and then he turned and disappeared into the shadows, and he took everything with him.

Peter couldn't feel his fear anymore, not his anger or his sadness or even his comforting pulse, and now there was an excruciating wound, left open and weeping now that it was gone. There was nothing, a gaping hole where he'd once been, and Peter couldn't ever hope to fill it, not now he knew what he knew.

Why didn't he believe him? Why didn't he trust him he—what was he even going to do? Norman wasn't telling the truth, nothing good was going to come from this! Was Peter ever going to see Harry again? Was Harry even going to—no, no Norman wouldn't let any real harm come to him, would he?

Peter didn't care about himself, he didn't care what Octavius and Norman did, but please, please let Harry come back alright.

Let him come back to him at all.

Please.

“You're quite the lively thing, aren't you?”

Carnage’s head snapped down, aggravated at the sound of a voice and preemptively hissed as they set their eyes upon Octavius, who was tapping away at the one remaining screen, all the while glancing up at them with a fascinated expression. Battered and bruised, surrounded by his own destroyed tech and faced with a ferocious monster and yet, he somehow still found a way to strike fear into Peter.

It wasn't fair.

“So much rage, so much anger…but nowhere to place it.” The man tilted his head, his voice sounding as if he was being sympathetic, but Peter knew far too well that this man was nowhere near capable of ever feeling empathy. He wasn't being kind, he was being condescending and that only infuriated Peter further.

“I would've let you tear into something to release it...” Octavius began, a metallic limb inching towards Carnage, slow and careful as if they were approaching a scared animal, only to pause as the red symbiote screeched and started twisting more ferociously in the wires, so the man backed away. “…if you hadn't so brutally destroyed your containment chamber along with my lab.”

The scientists sighed, turning their sights back to the screen fully, exasperation leaking onto their features, but soon enough, a smug grin crept back onto his face, and they glanced back at the creature they’d trapped, as if the very sight of the hero so defeated was enough to smooth out their bad mood and place them in a good one.

“So for now, you'll have to remain there until I’ve prepared a replacement.” Octavius hummed before bringing their attention back to their cluster of computer screens, reaching out to pick up a shattered device and brushing away the debris that covered it, looking as if they were going to begin repairing it, but Peter’s mind had already found itself drifting to somewhere else.

What did it matter what Octavius said? What did it matter if he destroyed his tech and broke through prison cells? None of it meant anything if he was just going to use the collar or—or that noise—what even was that?

God, Peter was so tired, he was so done struggling. He had been ready to fight forever, he had been ready to throw everything he had at these people and make his time with them an absolute misery for them to endure, but how could he? How could he when one of the things he was fighting for left?

He didn't have a choice, he did it for him, but…Harry why? Why couldn't he have just trusted him? Why did he leave when he’d been pleading with him to stay? What was he going to do?

He wanted him back. He wanted him back so badly, but he wouldn't answer anymore, he’d stopped responding to second he followed Norman to who knows where. He didn't know he could miss something he’d only experienced for a few minutes, but he did.

He wanted that bond back. He wanted Harry back.

Give him back.

“I wonder…are you even still in there, Parker?”

Peter perked up at the mention of his last name, bristling at even being addressed by Octavius and unable to snap something back at him, reduced to glaring through blank white eyes that weren't even his own, hissing at a mouth that he couldn't control.

“You live inside the symbiote now, but can you hear me? Do you even understand what I've done?” Octavius asked, his voice like nails dragging on a chalkboard and the more the man spoke, the more the man poked and aggravated them, the more Peter found he was losing himself to the fire. The scolding anger.

He didn't just miss the bond with Harry, he needed it, and it was becoming increasingly clear that Peter couldn't hope to get himself out of this mess without him. He didn't understand why, he couldn't even begin to comprehend how Venom had formed some sort of agreement with Harry and that their presence soothed them.

When they came to him, terrified and hurting, they seemed so in sync, the one thing that they somehow just knew would help them, would take away all the chaotic feelings that were scratching deep inside them, and they did. They were a stable, steady force for them to rely on when everything else was so new and uncertain, but without them?

Carnage was a being of unbridled violence, constantly longing, constantly needing destruction. Their entire existence was so firmly ingrained with that urge that even just fusing to their host caused Peter an unbelievable amount of agony, and it went on, even now. They strangled Peter with that need, they didn't care what he wanted, never even considered his thoughts for a second.

The only reason they had fought to get to Harry was because they knew that they could somehow ease their hunger. But now that they were gone, now that Harry had disconnected themselves from them, there was nothing that could stop their itching desires other than to act upon them.

And as time went on, that buzzing itch only got worse and seemed to leak and infect the boy trapped inside. His fragile state of mind only made the burning connection easier to form, and Peter wasn't even aware he was slipping into rage, all he knew was that anger, he was so, so done, and he needed something to get rid of that rage, that itch.

‘I see you, Octavius.’ Peter leaned forward into the mass, black and red tugging around his limbs, sliding up his face and slicing little cuts into his skin that almost immediately healed. ‘You won’t kill me, you can't!’ In a short burst of energy, Peter thrashed on the inside, hissing and growling against his restraints and only stopping when something slammed him down, leaving him gasping and still as if he'd just dropped beneath water.

‘You—You can't get rid of me! No matter what you do!’ Peter’s throat burned as if he were screaming, straining but knowing full well that no sound was truly coming out; the only true noise that came from his struggle was when Carnage hissed on the outside, twitching but staying uncharacteristically still. ‘You can't kill me! I’ll…I’ll—I’ll kill you!’

An unfortunate slip, a fusion he didn't even know was happening amidst his rage, but within a single second, Peter faded away into the red, going limp for maybe the first time since he’d obtained the symbiote. There was just the parasite, there was just the hunger, there was just Carnage.

And what Carnage wanted was to fight.

Tendrils shot out from their back and stabbed into the wires that held them, giving them the strength required to pull themselves up that little bit higher and slice into their metal prison with their claws, shredding them in a matter of seconds and allowing Carnage to drop to the floor, free.

But they did not use that freedom to escape, they did not want to, not when there was a man in front of them that they hated so much and attacking him would do so much more than quell their urges.

It would grant them well-deserved revenge.

Octavius spun around, eyes wide but claws at the ready as Carnage shrieked at them and then launched forward, claws outstretched and itching to tear into the man’s flesh. As they slammed into his body, sending the man to the floor and onto his back at the pure force of it, they lunged and waved wildly at them with their hand but couldn't quite reach as metallic tentacles pushed against his chest.

“You—! Get off me, you wretched—!” Carnage cut the man off with an agonised howl as they leaned forward and snapped at his face, tongue curling around teeth as they craved to taste the blood of a man so vile, but the doctor wasn't weak by any means and kept the symbiote just far enough away so that their attacks didn't land.

But the man couldn't hold them forever, in a game like this, the man would give in long before the monster and Carnage recognised the feeling of a smile tugging at the edges of their mouth as they heard the appendages groaning under their weight and allowing them closer inch by inch until-

Otto released one claw, moving it to slither out from under them and up onto the desk for a reason the symbiote couldn't understand. What they did see was that the loss of resistance allowed them even closer, so they reared back a hand and let out an elated screech as they prepared to strike and finally get what they'd been yearning for.

Then something clicked, and they instinctively tensed as they prepared for the wave of volts they’d learned would come.

Only it didn't.

What followed was so much worse.

Peter flew back with a yell of complete and utter agony as something cut through his head, and they violently flinched away from Octavius and collapsed on the hard floor, desperately clawing at their own skin to try and get rid of whatever had dug its way inside. The teen had never experienced something so completely extreme in his entire life.

He’d thought that the burns had been the worst, he’d thought that the repeated torture of the electricity was unbearable, but none of that could even begin to compare to this. Carnage’s body collapsed around him, the symbiote shuddering and unravelling against a force he didn't know was possible, all the while screeching in the shared pain.

But Peter couldn't even begin to try and understand that, didn't even know it was happening, as all he could recognise was a high-pitched, piercing ringing stabbed right through him, and there was nothing he could do to get it out. Blunt nails scratched at his head, the feeling of being free lost on him as he truly considered tearing off his own ears to get rid of the noise.

It took over everything, it seeped into every inch of his body, and there was nothing he could do except scream through a muzzled mouth as he thrashed on the floor with wide, leaking eyes, staring at nothing, he felt nothing but the ring.

Then, it was gone.

The noise stopped, but Peter took so much longer to come back down, the noise echoing in his body, rooted deep into his bones, and there was nothing he could do to shake it. Peter sobbed on the cold, unforgiving tiles of the lab as he curled into a tight ball, hands still clutched around his ears, while Carnage slowly started to crawl back up and around his body.

The noise had destabilised the symbiote, not only feeling as if it was tearing Peter apart but the parasite, too and the unnerving mass of red was left broken and dangling from his body as it strove to climb its way back over him, and Peter didn't have the energy to stop it. He didn't have the energy to do anything.

That was it, he was done.

“Ah, how rude of me. You haven't had the pleasure of experiencing that before, have you?” Peter flinched as a voice boomed from above, sounding much louder than he imagined it truly was but sending his heart racing nevertheless as he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away.

‘Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone!’ Peter cried, flexing and pushing his mouth against the muzzle as his jaw creaked at the repeated strain, but he just couldn't stop. He didn't want to cry, and he certainly didn't want Octavius to see it, but there was just no hope in stopping himself. He just wrapped around himself tighter and waited, waited as the symbiote slipped over his body and provided him with the protection he so desperately craved.

“Allow me to explain.” The doctor began as he stepped over them, briefly nudging Peter’s side with a claw and chuckling when the boy flinched and his breath stuttered. “I discovered that the symbiotes are sensitive to certain high frequencies.” The man spoke with obvious delight, pausing in front of them, and when Peter finally opened his eyes and looked through Carnage’s, he saw the remote and felt sick.

“Sonic waves.” Octavius grinned before them, and Peter shivered in the depths, the red coiling around his limbs like some sort of attempt at comfort, but Peter knew better, Peter knew comfort and this move to seize his body was nothing like that. Comfort was softer, comfort was kind to the touch and comfort left in the body of a friend when he’d needed them most.

“Adjust them to the right level and we can either completely control you…” The doctor stepped closer, inciting a pathetic hiss from Carnage’s tongue and urging them to pick up their limbs and start to try and move, only to fail when one of Octavius’ claws shot down and dug into their back, causing them to squeak and wheeze as they suddenly couldn't breathe. “Or cause you to feel an indescribable amount of pain.”

‘It hurts, everything still hurts. Why won't it stop hurting?’ Peter shuddered on the inside, throat growling and croaking as his lungs began to burn, desperate to get the air in but unable to when their chest couldn't push any further than the tiles they were being shoved into.

“Isn't that interesting?” Octavius chuckled and leaned down far enough for Carnage to look up and spot the man in the corner of his vision, smug as he looked down at the creature without a trace of the panic and the anger they’d seen upon him before. Their stomach ached with the need to try that again, screaming with the desire to dig their claws into his chest, but they realised it was fruitless to try it now, not when Peter was strongly against it.

There was not a chance in hell he was going to let Carnage drag him into that and experience that torture again. Never.

“So it would be wise of you to direct your frustrations away from me.” The doctor warned, pulling the remote into view and smiling even wider when Carnage reacted in loud, furious snarls and struggled under hold, but they had no more energy to leech off of Peter and failed to tear themselves away from Octavius’ claw, left weak and useless as the limb shifted and then wrapped around his stomach, dragging him up.

“Now, I’ve organised a temporary hold space for you.” Otto’s tone suddenly shifted as they started moving away, pulling Carnage along with him, and although they tried to fight, they quickly gave up, settling for low growls and enraged hisses when they deemed their captor too close to them.

But Peter only begged for them to be quiet. He didn't want to try and fight them anymore, not when everything was immediately followed by such unbearable agony. It wasn't worth it, trying to escape wasn't worth the excruciating punishment, trying to delay the scientist wasn't worth the never-ending torture.

There was nothing he could do, not unless he was willing to face that noise again, and he wasn't. He could still hear a distant ringing in his ears, and he longed to curl up into a ball again, only stopped by the parasite that pulled his body against him.

He wasn't safe, he was never going to be safe in this place, whether he fought or not. He was going to be experimented on, he was going to be used as a toy and the only thing he could do to make it easier was to just let them…or…

Peter touched a distant part of his mind silently, searching blindly for the connection and hoping that maybe he’d still find him and Harry would come back, even if he was far away. It was Peter who called him in the first place, wasn't it? He’d responded to him when he needed him most.

But there was nothing there and no one came to fill it, just reaffirming that he was truly, completely alone. It was empty without him, it was lonely, and now that Harry had been torn away from him, he was more distraught than ever. He’d felt the littlest bit of hope in his presence, the littlest bit of safety with Harry by his side and allowed himself to be deluded into thinking that he was going to stay, so everything was going to be ok.

He finally got something back.

And they took it away.

He wasn't safe without him, he was always in danger and so was Harry. He didn't know what Norman was making him do, just that he would be putting his neck on the line to achieve it, all to make sure that Peter remained alive, but that was a lie. Because this was barely living, this was existence in perpetual torment and nothing Peter did ever got himself free.

Just more pain. More danger.

He wasn't safe.

Never again.

‘Safe…’

Peter flinched at the sound of his own words being echoed back to him, uncomfortably loud in the space inside the symbiote and shoved back into his face with the crackle and buzz of an old radio. For a minute, Peter stared at the world outside and tried to focus, tried to find just exactly what was going on and how in the hell Octavius had managed to hear what he’d been thinking, but nothing changed.

That hadn't come from the outside and reached him, that came from within. That was the symbiote—Carnage, talking to him.

He didn't have even a second to think about how unbelievable that was before all the red and the black started rushing in, swamping over his body and dragging him deeper and deeper and down until he was choking and suffocating, fighting to stay above.

‘What are you doing?!’ Peter called out in horror, thrashing and twisting to the best of his ability, but he’d always been tightly restricted when covered and inside, the teen had no power. He had no super strength to use, he didn't have any energy at all to help himself as the darkness tugged at his body and filled him with panic. ‘Stop it! Stop it! Stop…it!’

He didn't understand what it was doing, he didn't understand what was going on until his thoughts began vanishing before his eyes, and it was suddenly hard to think, let alone remain conscious. The symbiote wasn't just telling him to shut up; it was trying to force him into sleep! The very idea filled Peter with so much rage, but that quickly slipped from his grasp too, leaving him with just his fear and his fight to keep his eyes open.

‘N-No…No! This is…my…body!’ Peter screamed into the red, hands gripping desperately onto the edge of his body, pain shooting up his legs and his arms as the symbiote yanked and pushed for him to accept what it was giving him, but he refused. Sleep was so tantalising, the idea dangling in front of his eyes like something golden, but he just couldn't. He’d already lost the fight against Octavius, he couldn't lose another so soon. ‘Don’t…take it…away! It’s—It’s mine!’

His body was all he had left, his mind was the last thing remaining that no one could claim, no one but Carnage. If he passed out now, what would it do with his body? What violent acts would it commit while he was unconscious? He’d wanted to hurt Otto before, he wanted to knock that disgusting smile off of Norman’s face when he’d first seen the monster, but Peter knew the symbiote wouldn't stop at that.

He could feel it, he could hear the pangs of hunger that clawed at their stomach. They needed to shed blood, they needed to win. If Peter were awake, then they’d at least have to fight him first. But if he was asleep, then there was nothing to stop him from being that ruthless soldier they all wanted him to become.

What if it saw Harry in that state? Would it stop then?

‘Safe…in…nothing…’ The symbiote called, its voice unsettling and buzzing in his ear like a bad imitation of that ringing and all it did was strike more fear into Peter’s heart.

“You know, I prefer you like this.”

Peter wheezed as his vision flashed, switching between the writhing, squirming mass of black and red and the outside world as he focused on anything but that thing and found himself hearing Octavius’ voice as he addressed them. He didn't know where he was taking them, he didn't know how he got there, and he wasn't aware enough to even try and figure that out as the symbiote snapped at his skin and sank over his eyes.

‘No…Please…I…I don't…’ He begged, but he knew it would not listen; it never did. From the first moment it had been injected into his blood, the symbiote knew what it wanted, and Peter’s will was just another thing standing in its way, something it would take and break. Darkness sank into his vision, red bleeding through the black like a distant fog as Peter tried and failed to conjure up a solid sentence, to think of anything clear at all before something took it.

“You are so much better in this form, Carnage.”

Black clamped around his hand, causing them to cramp and let go, and Peter’s fingers slipped from the ledge, the last thing that was keeping him up and there was nothing he could do as he sank into the depths of the symbiote, feeling as if he was falling forever as the rest of his mind stayed behind and no longer belonged to him.

With nothing to think, with nothing to move, there was nothing left keeping him awake, and Peter finally fell into a deep, deep slumber.

‘Safe…’

Chapter Text

Norman smiled, and Harry never knew that the sight of his father looking so elated could make him feel so sick. The sight of his toothy grin made his skin crawl, left his body feeling cold because anything that made his father so happy, made his father so proud, wasn't good. Not anymore.

But Harry had to please him. He had to distract him from something worse; he had to make him anything other than angry because if he didn't, he didn't know what he’d do. He didn't know how much he’d hurt him, how much he'd hurt Peter.

“Glad to see you've made the right choice,” Norman commented in a tone entirely too smug as he wrapped one arm around the boy’s shoulder and started to pull him away, but Harry wasn't ready, he didn't want to go, not yet, not now.

Not when he could still hear Peter screaming so viscerally from behind him.

He turned as he walked, looking for his friend despite knowing that seeing him would only make it worse, that it would only make things a thousand times harder when he inevitably had to walk out the door, but he couldn't help it. He would always long for him, always search for him, and do everything he could to protect Peter.

And what a brilliant job he’d been doing so far…

Harry caught sight of the red and black beast just in time to watch as that scientist—whose name he’d managed to catch only just as something like ‘Octavius’— ruthlessly threw them against the wall, causing the teen to flinch and grind his teeth to give no reaction. He hated them, Harry hated all of them, but there were no words for the impossible amount of rage he’d built for the man in such a short amount of time.

He saw how Peter looked at him, he saw how he flinched and shrank and ducked away any time he got close or even just looked in his direction, and that wasn't Peter, that was nothing like the cheery, confident hero he knew. He’d wanted to know what they’d done, what kind of disgusting acts of torture they’d inflicted upon him to make him act that way, but now…Harry so selfishly didn't quite want to, not after….

He still didn't understand it completely, even after Venom had tried to explain it, but he could feel bursts of Peter’s fear. He didn't know he was doing it, evident by the way he was acting, but Harry caught onto them and listened anyway, and he almost wished he hadn't. He heard echoes of screams, felt twinges of muscles that had become morbidly familiar to Harry and the burn of both fire and his own blood as it dripped down his skin.

He wasn't really feeling them, but Harry could piece the broken flashes together whenever Peter’s mind would unwillingly fall back. They’d done things to him, unforgivable things, and it was clear that Octavius had delivered the brunt of it. Not even Norman had stooped so low to harm him in such a way, and while he had hurt Harry, it all seemed to pale in comparison to the split-second memories he’d felt Peter recall.

They’d been doing everything he was afraid of. And Harry was the one who brought him here.

The ginger’s hand twitched, clenching and unclenching as he dragged his feet and lingered in the room for as long as he could get away with. How could he ever think about leaving Peter in a place like this? How could he be so cruel as leave him behind and face all of that again? Harry could turn back now, he could stop what he was doing, and he could definitely get a hit in on that bastard because he wasn't looking—

He stilled the tendrils of black before they passed through his clothes fully. That wouldn't bring them the true freedom he desired. Maybe they would get a hit in, maybe they’d even knock the monster down permanently, but that didn't erase the problem that was his father and the hundred other crooked workers that swarmed the upstairs. If Harry attempted a fight and failed, the punishment wouldn’t land only on him, it would be on Peter too.

He was doing this for him.

He wasn't going to let him die.

More of those thick wires dropped down from the ceiling, wrapping around Peter’s—Carnage’s? Body before they could escape, tangling them and trapping them in the air as they writhed and screeched and hissed something unnerving, all the while staring right at Harry.

He hated referring to him that way, he hated thinking about Peter as an extension of that thing, especially when he knew just how much his friend absolutely despised the creature, and it was hurting him, too! Venom couldn't even spin some pathetic lie in his ear about him being wrong, didn't even try because it was obvious.

Something was terribly wrong with this new symbiote, it was so completely energised and violent in the way it moved, in the way it lived, that it was harming the host from the inside. He’d seen the transformation, he’d felt the utter dread from Peter when he knew it was coming again. That wasn't how things worked for him and Venom, the shift in control never hurt and never to that extent.

It wasn't right, it was horrific.

‘HARRY!’

Peter’s voice echoed in his mind, as if he was right there, desperately clinging onto the connection he’d only just recently discovered, howling louder the tighter the wires coiled around their body. He was calling out to him, panic flooding the air so strongly it was almost suffocating, the teen was calling for his best friend and Harry…Harry had to go.

He felt his eyes well up again at the sight of the creature's body lighting up and twitching with an explosion of electricity, and knowing that Peter was suffering from the same cruel punishment from the inside. It wasn't fair, everything was so, so unfair and Harry wished that it was anyone else but him who'd had to make this choice, but it wasn't.