STANDARD DISCLAIMER APPLIED.

we are not always heroes
by: pixie paramount (7/25/2008, 9:15 PM)
Spider-Man (1994), Eddie Brock/Venom & everbody things

Perhaps it was because he wasn't as strong, as bold, as he liked to think he was. Perhaps it was because the symbiote gave him power and motive like no other drug ever could. Perhaps it was, deep down, that his hate and anger in blaming him was what lead to it.

Accepting the symbiote as his own, like a second skin a second halve of himself, with a hate as gnarled and twisted as his own, stinging with the last remnants of betrayal. emYou betrayed me/em, it thought. Because, for the shortest amount of time, they where still two halves of a whole—separated only by a small, narrow gap, like that of those girly friendship necklaces.

But he crumbles, caves in to its will, its might, the exhilarating thrill that the power, the might, gives him. The adrenalin rush is intoxicating, breathes life into an existence consumer in blame and bitterness. It made that fantasy—the one in which he ruins Spider-Man, bends and breaks and feels, tastes, the most bitter type of joy.

His revenge would bring him closure and bring Spider-Man, Peter Parker, ruin and nothing more would bring happiness back into his warped, cackled, venom heart than to see that.

So they wait, gather up their time, and plot in the darkness.

He starts to think in "we" rather than "I" as Venom sinks in and becomes him, a part of him, and just another ravage beast that threatens for full control of its host. It's a give and take, an age old tale that only grows with time.

It's stronger than any addiction, stronger than any bond that he could make or break with his human existence—than and now, for they think in when "he was" to "as we are".

It's so strong, so dependent, that he thinks it might just be the death, if he ever chose to break free.

(But he grows more tethered in need, and refuses to let go, refuses to be as he was before, weak, and feeds on the power and the thrill and the promise and the dream.

We will destroy Peter Parker; we will obliterate Spider-Man. We will be whole again. We will have our revenge.)

For a time, this illusion ensnares him in false hope.

It's something that is written over and over: the good guy always wins.

And in his cell, with laughter bubbling from maddened lips, he sneers bitterly at the thought.

Sometimes he slips, thinks in "we are" and "we will" only until the doctor, with her words and her hope and her strong belief in him, it's like a fire that just can't be snuffed out.

He wonders if this is addiction, if this is need, despite how his body aches and his mind reels and his moods swing back and forth "we" and "I" and a dream.

For a short time, he heals. His veins throbbing like that of a junkie hollowed out and empty. He chews on his bottom lip and taps his fingers against marble, delves into his mind and remembers the feeling, the power and how close they where, and inches closer and closer toward relapse.

For he, Eddie Brock, is only human.

note:
1. Based on the episode "Carnage", mostly, since there was a marathon on not too long ago.
2. This suuuucks but it's the only thin I've written since, well, July 1supst/sup.