Post by Venom on Dec 15, 2010 14:20:28 GMT -5
Ah New York.
The brisk cool air, the bustle of humanity, the scents of smog and hot coffee, of fetid unwashed masses, and the blood...God but we hate this city.
Really we do. The singer, Frank Sinatra once spoke of a " shove-you-down and push-you-'round town", and I can think of few cities that are more deserving of such a title than this place. It broke Eddie Brock down, crushed him beneath its heel, and fed him his entrails. All while exalting in its champion, the Spider...
We hate Parker most of all the things about this city. Gliding above the city with silken strands, looking down upon the common people, the innocents. He never comes down from his ivory town, but to strike his own brand of justice, bolting like a rocket from the sky, stopping some fool with a gun, and then being gone again. Supervillains are what concerns him. Deluded maniacs who bring nothing but death in their wake, sacrifices to the Spider's ego...
If only he had the decency to just die.
Sadly, our time now is short, and the murder of the Spider must take a lesser priority to other matters...Like the vial in our current possession.
In leaving the macabre lab of Dr Andreas with our spawn Scream, we had occaision to acquire one of his early experiments upon us, a symbiote, but of a very different source.
We know this in our skin, as easily as one might feel the breath of a lover upon ones neck. Even sepperated by the plastic of the tube, our other can sense its childe, and its very strangeness to it. Even among our unique breed it casts a very different scent...Almost pure.
Without question we should kill it. Pop the top, and drink its vital essence, consume it into ourself until nothing remains but the dregs. No good comes from our wayward children, rather it be the genocide of Carnage, or the fratricide of Donna.
And yet...In her escape Donna proved herself something more...she showed a humanity I did not see when first we met, a possibility for a more noble beginning. Strange...but we sense something like this in this new progeny. Perhaps Andreas, for all his evil, created something better for the world...Perhaps...
We are not certain at the moment, but will know soon. These matters tend to resolve themsevles. We will deal with them as they occur.
In the meantime, it is back to the old stomping grounds. We shall deal with the poor, the needy for the moment. Tending to our oldest flock. Keeping the wolves at bay.
Of course such a mission requires little enactment of fear so we choose a friendlier guise, reshaping the symbiote to our will, transforming it into a wardrobe appropiate of a common laborer. Gone is the midnight black suit of nightmares, replaced with the quaintness of well worn jeans and sneakers, with a red and black plaid shirt, and worn leather jacket. All that can be seen of our other now is a faint inprint upon the jacket, a mark of pride which we would not remove. Visible only to the sharp eyed in any case.
Clothing done we move through the alleyways of our home, reaquanting ourselves with the smell of garbage, unwashed flesh, and rat excrement, submerging ourselves into the world of those less fortunate, noting how the sheep about us still steer clear.
They recognize a predator when they see one.
The streets are mostly clear this early in the day, and we know why. Lunch time. At the soup kitchen no doubt. For a moment we wrestle with the thought of dwelling about here, but in the end we decide to join the common folk for their meal, doubtful that it is that they'll need us in such a place. Few animals are stupid enough to shit where they eat.
One never knows though...
The brisk cool air, the bustle of humanity, the scents of smog and hot coffee, of fetid unwashed masses, and the blood...God but we hate this city.
Really we do. The singer, Frank Sinatra once spoke of a " shove-you-down and push-you-'round town", and I can think of few cities that are more deserving of such a title than this place. It broke Eddie Brock down, crushed him beneath its heel, and fed him his entrails. All while exalting in its champion, the Spider...
We hate Parker most of all the things about this city. Gliding above the city with silken strands, looking down upon the common people, the innocents. He never comes down from his ivory town, but to strike his own brand of justice, bolting like a rocket from the sky, stopping some fool with a gun, and then being gone again. Supervillains are what concerns him. Deluded maniacs who bring nothing but death in their wake, sacrifices to the Spider's ego...
If only he had the decency to just die.
Sadly, our time now is short, and the murder of the Spider must take a lesser priority to other matters...Like the vial in our current possession.
In leaving the macabre lab of Dr Andreas with our spawn Scream, we had occaision to acquire one of his early experiments upon us, a symbiote, but of a very different source.
We know this in our skin, as easily as one might feel the breath of a lover upon ones neck. Even sepperated by the plastic of the tube, our other can sense its childe, and its very strangeness to it. Even among our unique breed it casts a very different scent...Almost pure.
Without question we should kill it. Pop the top, and drink its vital essence, consume it into ourself until nothing remains but the dregs. No good comes from our wayward children, rather it be the genocide of Carnage, or the fratricide of Donna.
And yet...In her escape Donna proved herself something more...she showed a humanity I did not see when first we met, a possibility for a more noble beginning. Strange...but we sense something like this in this new progeny. Perhaps Andreas, for all his evil, created something better for the world...Perhaps...
We are not certain at the moment, but will know soon. These matters tend to resolve themsevles. We will deal with them as they occur.
In the meantime, it is back to the old stomping grounds. We shall deal with the poor, the needy for the moment. Tending to our oldest flock. Keeping the wolves at bay.
Of course such a mission requires little enactment of fear so we choose a friendlier guise, reshaping the symbiote to our will, transforming it into a wardrobe appropiate of a common laborer. Gone is the midnight black suit of nightmares, replaced with the quaintness of well worn jeans and sneakers, with a red and black plaid shirt, and worn leather jacket. All that can be seen of our other now is a faint inprint upon the jacket, a mark of pride which we would not remove. Visible only to the sharp eyed in any case.
Clothing done we move through the alleyways of our home, reaquanting ourselves with the smell of garbage, unwashed flesh, and rat excrement, submerging ourselves into the world of those less fortunate, noting how the sheep about us still steer clear.
They recognize a predator when they see one.
The streets are mostly clear this early in the day, and we know why. Lunch time. At the soup kitchen no doubt. For a moment we wrestle with the thought of dwelling about here, but in the end we decide to join the common folk for their meal, doubtful that it is that they'll need us in such a place. Few animals are stupid enough to shit where they eat.
One never knows though...
