Price fell back against the couch, hyperventilating as his knees gave out. His nerves had almost gotten to him. The first two rounds had missed completely. If it hadn't been point blank, all his hard work would have been for nothing. He'd never have made it out of that room, let alone the country. The freak would have torn him apart before he could say "non-extradition." He cursed his shaking hands. If he'd been more steady, he would have had bullets to spare and he could finish Brock off quickly. As it was, he didn't dare approach the dying man.

He wasn't an idiot. The symbiote was dangerous while it still had a body to command, so he kept his distance and waited. His plan was makeshift at best, but he'd done the math. All of his research indicated that if a body was damaged to the extent that the energy to repair it was no longer efficient, the alien would abandon it. The compound he used was designed to act like liquid fire, so the symbiote should instinctively flee. It would be weakened by the bullet and disoriented once it abandoned the host, giving him the opportunity to capture it. With his jury-rigged containment vessel, he would be able to get the thing to the buyers before it recovered enough to unleash hell.

And it would unleash hell. He pitied the poor bastards who thought they had any control over a creature they barely understood. But that wasn't his problem.

No, his problem was Brock. He was wheezing on the floor and he looked like he was trying to say something. Maybe he was begging for his life or pleading with the symbiote. "Help me please I'm so scared I'm gonna shit myself!" Price chuckled a bit. The situation called for a little lightening up. He almost would have laughed at Brock's choking, if it wasn't getting annoying. Call him self-absorbed, but the other man's dying breaths were giving him a headache. Maybe he was in shock.

The last couple weeks had been rough, alright?! He was entitled to his Bond villain origin story. He'd been forced to live on the streets with the kind of people his institute had been using as lab rats. Becoming one of the expendables had been the final insult. The night a crusty old man had offered him half of some disgusting garbage he called food was the night Price had decided that Eddie Brock had to die.

All he wanted was peace and comfort and maybe recognition. And that bastard reporter had ruined it all. But he could build again. Once this horrible night was over, he'd be free of his past and he'd get to settle down in comfort. If Brock would just stop moaning and die already, he could get on with it.

Price frowned. Checking the clock on Brock's microwave, he thought the symbiote really should have left its host body by now. Surely it must know that the damage was irreparable. In terms of the flesh bags symbiotes used for their rides, Eddie Brock had been totaled.

He circled the twitching man and stared. His poor excuse for an airtight container, which was little more than a souped-up beaker with a lid, drooped as he let some of the tension out of his muscles.

Logically, he knew he should be cautious, but he really couldn't feel all that threatened by this scrawny, sweaty man covered in blood. He settled in a crouch. It was pitiful really. If the symbiote was anything like the shape of its container, it was quite a sad thing to deliver to mobsters. Maybe they wouldn't be slaughtered after all.

It really was strange though. Even the weakest of symbiotes should have had the strength or at least the brains to have left the host by now…

—

Venom could not feel. It knew it was still connected to Eddie's nervous system and that it was still functional, but still it could not feel. It felt numb. Distant. Confused.

It had been aware of pain, but it couldn't remember how it had gotten there, or where it had gone. Everything felt sluggish and hazy. It knew something was wrong. The awful tearing burning screaming sort of wrong it had only felt once before, when Drake's rocket had exploded. It could not feel the burn now though. It could not really feel Eddie either.

Its mind snapped back to reality.

"Eddie."

It could not feel Eddie. It was still with Eddie, but not connected as they should be. They were not we. It had detached within him somehow. But why—?

As Venom reached out to reconnect with Eddie, it felt a searing pain and drew back with a cry. It burned! Oh, Thirteen Hells of Klyntarea it burned! It was worse than the fire, because it was inside and eating and picking away. It was destroying them.

It's first reaction was panic, because 'Frankenstein's creature is correct. Fire bad, Eddie!' But then it remembered the last time it panicked. It remembered how the burning got in. How it had let it in, because it was afraid.

It had let the man who smelled like Life and death hurt Eddie. And Eddie was still hurting. And Venom wasn't there. Again.

It pushed past its fear and instinct and reconnected with its host. This time it was prepared, but the pain was still intense.

"Eddie?" it tried to keep the fear out of its voice.

"…V?" Even in their shared mind, Eddie sounded weak and pained. He was in so much pain and he was so afraid. Venom forced itself to think.

"C…can you…fix us?"

"I will try."

Venom tried not to think of the consequences and surged towards the wound, so small a thing for so much pain, but it could barely access the damage before it was forced back. The fire was blinding and hot and it hurt so so much.

It tried again.

And again.

But it could not bear it long enough to heal.

"We…I cannot. It burns too much." It sounded nearly as exhausted as Eddie.

"It…burned you?" Even now, Eddie sounded worried. "What kind of firepower is this guy packing?"

"He is packing fire."

Eddie made a sound in the back of his throat that may have been laughter. Venom could not see what was so funny. It tasted blood in their mouth.

It was starting to panic again.

"Don't worry Eddie. I got us."

It meant to sound reassuring, in no small part to itself. It hadn't the slightest clue as to how it would save its Eddie, but thought it had succeeded in being comforting, when it felt their muscles seize up. It was the same panic it had been trying to shield Eddie from, pulsing through their veins.

"….no." Eddie's voice was still weak, but firm. "Don't."

And Venom forgot the intruder circling at their feet and laughing. It forgot the fire and the blood. It forgot all the danger to itself and all the threats that were still there. Because for the first time, it couldn't understand Eddie at all.

"What?"

"Don't…try to fix it again. You said it burned. Please, you can't…not again. If it burns, it'll kill you"

"Not as fast as the hole in your chest is killing you." Venom tried to keep the harshness from its tone, but Eddie was being difficult, and now was not the time. It couldn't just lay down and let them die. It had to do something to save them. What did Eddie expect it to do?

"Go."

Venom froze as the tired word echoed in their head.

"What?"

"Run. Please, just run."

There had been many times in Venom's relatively long life that it had been angry. It had mostly been over petty things like who got which host, who had the bigger kill, particular nicknames which will go unmentioned. There had been very few times that it had gotten well and truly angry.

When it did get angry though, it was not like most of its kind. Their anger revolved around destruction and bloodshed, which Venom had always associated with happier times. Venom had a different kind of anger. It was the quiet sort of anger that hotshots like Riot never understood. It was cold and ruthless and deadlier than any fury that burned.

Venom was angry now.

"What did you say?"

"That guy's here for you, V. You've gotta—"

"You expect me to abandon us?"

"You said it yourself…you can't fix us…"

"We…I can fix us!"

"Not without getting hurt! We don't know what that stuff was, but if it can hurt us, it can kill you!"

"If I leave, it will kill you!"

"Which is why you have to go—"

"No!"

"—before you die with me!"

"Enough! I am not leaving you again!"

That silenced Eddie.

"The hell are you talking about?" Eddie was wheezing; with the effort to breath or with mounting irritation, Venom couldn't be sure. Between the scorching pain of the injury itself and Venom's concentrated effort on not running away screaming, their mental link was suffering. It's own mind was starting to get blurry. It wasn't even sure if they were still we, or if they were them now.

It tried very hard not to think it was because Eddie was fading.

"We will not fail us again. Riot has made you afraid. You were hurt because we were not there. You are still afraid because you think we will abandon us. You do not think we can protect you from those who come for us, but we can. We promise. We are not you and I. We are we. We will not run." Venom knew it was rambling, but it couldn't help it. It could barely sense Eddie's presence anymore and it felt like it was about to lose its goddamned mind. It was happening again. Eddie was dying and it was all its fault. Desperation clawed at it. Venom prepared itself to go back to the wound and fix it, no matter how much it burned. It began to concentrate itself back at Eddie's ribs—

Eddie choked, his back rising off the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, and Venom's consciousness was assaulted with a barrage of emotions. Anger, frustration, pain, and above-all an overwhelming sense of fear; not for himself, but for Venom. Fire falling screaming loss pain gone alone alone alone. All the words Eddie was too exhausted to say, or even think, hit it like a bus made of raw emotions. If Venom had a respiratory system of its own, it would have knocked its breath away.

Venom now knew the cause of its Eddie's fear. He had been afraid, not of Venom abandoning him, but of losing Venom. He was less afraid of his own death than the symbiote's. Venom had said it before and it would say it again: its Eddie was an idiot.

Just because it knew the reason for the fear dreams now, didn't mean it could ever possibly understand them. What kind of thick-headed, pea-brained moron put the survival of an alien over himself?! And no, it was not being a hypocrite! Eddie was far more breakable and fragile and precious than it was. He was the best host, on this world or any world, and he was more worried about it than himself! Eddie thought that he had failed it. He thought that he should've been more careful and not let Venom get anywhere near fire. He actually blamed himself for Venom getting burned. Dumbass! If what happened with Riot was anyone's fault, it was Venom's. It thought that was obvious! What part of taking over his body, making him sick, and using him to stop an alien invasion of its own kind, was possibly its Eddie's fault?!

Venom's mind was still reeling when Eddie took his chance.

Using whatever strength he had left, he pushed Venom away. It was caught off guard, and felt itself being shoved out, its connection with Eddie snapping like a wire pulled too tight. In a way, it hurt so much more than being ripped away from its host, because this was Eddie forcing it away. It caught one last strained thought before their minds parted.

"Don't let that fucker get you."

Venom barely registered Eddie's final words over the sheer terror building inside it. Eddie was forcing it out. Eddie was alone. Eddie was dying. Eddie would not let it save him!

Venom was ejected from Eddie's body with enough force to send it hurtling across the room, past a very startled nerd, and into the kitchen, skidding across the countertop. It's momentum carried it through several dirty dishes, a discarded pizza box, and the toaster oven, scattering bits of kitchenware all over the floor. When it finally stopped, its impact was enough to crack the kitchen backsplash. Eddie was gonna be pissed. They'd just replaced that toaster oven.

Venom slopped to the floor, slightly dazed. If the sudden separation from its host hadn't been jarring enough, the concussive force involved in its impression of a pancake certainly was. It was lucky it didn't have a head right now to suffer blunt force trauma. If it had, Venom was sure they would have one hell of a migraine, and Eddie would call it a parasite for the rest of the day just to get even.

Eddie.

Just as it had the first time, Venom's dazed state gave way to anger and panic. From where it was crouched under the fallen pizza box, it could see Eddie. He looked too small and too still to be its host. Sure, Eddie had always been short and pasty, but he usually so full of highly-caffeinated energy. Even sitting down, Eddie was never still. He would tap his foot or bounce his knee, sometimes chewing on his lip when he was trying to think, or playing with that awkward patch of hair behind his ear that stuck out funny. This Eddie was like stone. His arms and legs sat like they were weighed with chains. His skin was grey and his eyes were glassy. The only color left in him was the slowly growing pool of deep red spreading from his left side. If it couldn't see the staccato rise and fall of his chest, Venom would think it had lost him already.

Movement to the right of Eddie caught its attention. The lanky dumpster nerd's eyes were blown wide. His fingers tightened on a glass cylinder, reminding Venom uncomfortably of the Life Foundation's sample containers. His bloodshot eyes darted around the apartment, searching. He hadn't seen where it had landed. He thoughtlessly stepped closer to Eddie, nearly crushing his fingers under his dirty heel. Venom saw red.

That man had hurt its Eddie. He had tried to kill its partner and take it away from them. Venom would not run from him. He had its host's blood on his hands, and by any gods there were, he would pay.

Venom slunk around the edge of the counter, keeping to its shadow in the dim light. It was starting to feel the effects of the incompatible atmosphere, but it didn't care. All that mattered now was how slow Eddie's breaths were getting and how close that man was standing over him. Venom coiled itself in the darkness, tense with anticipation. The man was turning in paranoid circles, the glass prison held in front of him like a shield. As if that could protect him.

Venom waited until the man was facing it. It wanted to see the fear in his eyes. It struck with blinding speed, swatting the container aside. The glass shattered against the wall. The man choked on a scream as Venom slammed into his chest, wrapping sinewy tendrils around his throat. Its strength wasn't what it usually was, so it didn't immediately crush his windpipe. Between the Packed Fire and the exposure to the oxygen-rich atmosphere, it felt drained. What strength its grip had was ebbing. Soon the man would recover from his shock and Venom would be too weak to resist him. He would capture Venom and leave Eddie to die. That was unacceptable. There was only one, rather unappealing, option.

With no small amount of reluctance, Venom sank into the man's skin. Every fiber of its being rejected symbiosis and it shuddered with revulsion. How Riot could stand to cohabitate with one of the rats of the Life Foundation, Venom would never know; for that's what this man, Jeffrey Price, was. A former scientist down on his luck. Lost his career. Lost his girlfriend. Wanted for first degree murder. The kinds of things that can happen to anyone.

But then he thought selling a symbiote would fix all his problems. What an idiot.

Venom burned through the man's life and memories as it established a rudimentary bond. Nothing that would stick, just enough to keep it from suffocating while it did what it came to do. After all, it wasn't looking for a new host in this man. It was going for the kill.

In the back of their new, shared consciousness, Price was begging and screaming as Venom ripped through all those vital, juicy bits inside him. The body (not their, never their) contorted and convulsed as Venom exacted its people's revenge. In terms of justice, the laws of its kind were simple: an eye for an eye, and whatever more you can take.

Even Price's mental cries were breaking off into a thick gurgling as Venom tore him apart from the inside out. In a last, desperate attempt at life, a memory was brought to the surface of their shared mind.

A supply cabinet with a false back. A box filled with carefully labelled vials. Experiments. Failsafes. Poisons and antidotes. Scientists were nothing if not thorough. For every step forward, they made sure they could still step back.

"Where?" Venom growled.

"L-Life. The whole supply's there. You can dump it all. I'm sorry. We never should have thought we could control you. P-please. Let me go."

"Which of them fixes this?" The Venom's voice was loud and sharp, but it had stopped its attack for the time being.

"Wha—"

"Eddie. How do I save Eddie?"

"The host body?" Price sounded genuinely confused.

"My host! My Eddie! You will tell me how to fix him, before I crush your spine!"

Price shuddered. "The antidote is labeled Vr40. It's clear, a tall tube, bottom of the box. Needs to be administered by injection. Now please—"

"Your life was forfeit the moment you tried to take what is mine."

"But—" Price broke off as a sickening crack echoed around the apartment. His limp body fell to the floor.

Venom had not killed him. Not yet. His body could still be of some use. It had snapped his spine, effectively disconnecting the man's primary motor functions from his brain. Ordinarily, Venom would simply use the brain's linkage to the nervous system to control a body, but if it had to listen to Eddie's attacker beg for his life for a moment longer, it really might have killed him then and there. So while it was rather unorthodox, Venom seeped into Price's nerve endings directly, and though the control was shakier and less precise than what it was used to, it was worlds better than hearing the murderer's whining. It would leave Price to think about what he'd done while it used his body to undo it all. Rather a fitting end for a mad scientist, in Venom's opinion.

With its anger satisfied and having put Price on mute, so to speak, Venom returned to the matter at hand.

Eddie was still breathing, but it was labored. Sticky blood had begun to clot on the floor beside him, but fresh blood still oozed from the wound. Venom grabbed a nearby dishtowel, the cleanest it could find, and pressed it against the wound, hard. Eddie sucked in a breath through his teeth and tears formed in the corners of his eyes. Venom hissed as blood soaked through the rag and stained its borrowed hand. The effects of the Packed Fire were no less outside of its Eddie's body. It could not hope to help him like this.

Their only hope now was in the ruins of the Life Foundation. There was some kind of irony Venom didn't bother looking for in that.

"We will return, Eddie," Venom hated how its voice sounded like Price's. It was high and low in all the wrong places, and did not suit it at all.

"We will be back to fix this. We will be fine."

Venom wasn't sure if Eddie could hear it. He was, blessedly, unconscious, far from the pain of the Fire, but also so far from Venom. It hoped he had not gone too far. So far that it could not follow.

Venom pushed those thoughts from its head. It would save Eddie, they would have a long talk about which of them was in need of protecting, and they could go back to their life of poor hygiene, well-meaning lectures from Anne, and eating street thugs. All it had to do was get a bottle and come back. Simple.

Venom secured the rag against Eddie's side and looked into his pale face.

"I'll be back." Venom squeezed Eddie's hadn't reassuringly, (as it had seen Dr. Morrison comfort Aline during her mother's heart transplant last week on The Sands of Mortality. It was an avid fan of soap operas, and found them rather educational.)

Venom stood and hurried to the parking lot as fast as it could on wobbly stick legs. While a full transformation may have been faster, it did not relish that particular kind of…intimacy with a host it despised. Besides, it would have been difficult to keep that form without access to higher brain functions. The bike would have to do.

As Venom peeled out of the parking lot, its subconscious plotted out the fastest route to the Life Foundation and possible means of entry. It's conscious mind, which really should not have been the part in charge of any kind of intelligence, was screaming what any musician would recognize as a steady D flat. Despite the outward appearance of having a plan, which was in all fairness rather simple, it didn't change the fact that it had left Eddie behind, hurt and unprotected. Even though it knew it had to be done, the feeling of wrongness and betrayal did not leave it.

It fought the cold feeling spreading from the heart that was not theirs and squeezed the accelerator. It sped through three red lights and ignored the car horns of whoever was out at that time of the night. As the bay came into view, Venom began to recognize landmarks from its own memories. The Life Foundation Institute overlooked the water on the opposite shore, around the cape. Even from that distance, Venom could make out the outline of the once-renowned laboratory in the dim street light.

It punched the gas.