A canister fell from the table and shattered. Jeffrey Price cursed as he stepped around the broken glass. He blinked in the darkness, careful not to touch anything. Couldn't leave fingerprints. Not that it mattered much at this point, but if you watch enough Magnum P.I. reruns, it's just common knowledge; if you're gonna do something wrong, you shouldn't make it too easy for them to find ya.

God this was stupid. So fucking stupid!

Two weeks ago, everything had been fine. He had a job. He was making money. They had really been on the verge of something big. They were so close. He was so close. So close to Mr. Drake finally appreciating his research. Getting funding. Moving out of that shitty apartment. And Jen…

And then Eddie Fucking Brock managed to singlehandedly ruin it all! One asshole with a death wish and it all came crashing down. The authorities had shut down the Life Foundation, all of their research had been confiscated, and now every scientist involved in the symbiote project was on the lam.

Dr. Price scowled at his shaking hands. He wasn't built for a life of running. He really wouldn't last long at this rate. He turned his mind back to the matter at hand. All of the important equipment and research notes had been removed and stored somewhere else, but the cops had still rigged the place with alarms. Maybe they thought some stupid scientist would come back hoping to find something. Guess they were right.

Price made his way back, past the main labs, to a little side door on the left. The space was small and discreet, then again it really wasn't supposed to be noticed at all. That's how Mr. Drake had wanted it. Inconspicuous to everyone, even him.

He pushed the door in with his elbow, wincing at the loud squeak, but again, it didn't really matter. He'd already tripped the silent alarm on the way in. He had two minutes tops before cops swarmed the place. He could still turn back. Go back to hiding in the shadows…sleeping on the street…alone.

He stepped inside.

Despite knowing what he would find, he couldn't help but feel dismayed when he saw his old workspace. No longer crowded with papers, sticky notes, or that dumb plastic plant Jen had given him, it just felt empty. Price shook himself. No time to reminisce. He made his way over to the old supply cabinet in the corner. Turning the handle with his sleeve, the door popped open with a metallic bang. There was nothing inside. In all the months of his research, there never had been.

Squatting down, Price reached into the third shelf from the bottom and punched out the false back. He heard the soft tinkling of test tubes bumping against one another and grinned. Carefully, he withdrew a small box filled with smaller vials. Pride bloomed in his chest despite himself. When Mr. Drake had assigned him this little "side project," he had been thrilled. Naturally only a gifted and respected scientist would be trusted with something life this. Something so top secret, the CEO had wiped his own memory, just to be sure it would never be discovered. Or traced to him.

But that had been a different time. Back then, it had only been a precaution. A last resort that the symbiotes would not, and could not ever, find out about. Now, it seemed, it was Price's only means of survival.

After all, the price of a symbiote on the black market could get him out of the country and settled far away from this disaster of a life. He could start over. Get a new job. A new house. Maybe start a family.

Killing Eddie Brock would just be a bonus.

Price picked the smallest vial out of the case and squinted into its contents. It was thin and clear and as innocuous as his research had been. Barely three milliliters were left after testing. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Whispered voices sounded down the hall through the still-open door. Price cursed silently. The cops were early. Stuffing his prize deep in his pocket, he haphazardly replaced the box and the false back of the cabinet before making his way to the back of the room. Thank God the vents had latches instead of screws. Standing on a swivel chair, careful not to let it squeak, he wiggled his way into the air vent. Behind him, he heard footsteps and caught the glare of a flashlight in the corner of his eye. He barely breathed until the footsteps faded and the light dimmed. Slowly he began elbowing his way through the shaft, to where he knew an exit would be.

—

Price ran until he reached the main road. From there he hitchhiked into the city with a college-age kid he was pretty sure was drunk. He got out once the guy screeched to a stop, nearly ramming into a parking meter, and stumbled behind the nearest McDonalds to puke. Keeping his head down, he walked down one alley, then another before his nerves finally hit his knees. He collapsed on a bus bench with some politician's smiling face peeling from the back. It was raining, but not much. He spared a glance at his surroundings and noted that it had gotten dark. There weren't any stars. Belatedly, he looked around for anyone who might see him and call the police. For a wanted man trying to keep a low profile, he wasn't exactly the picture of innocence right now; but the only other people on this stretch of road were two homeless women huddled next to a sputtering fire. When one of them caught his eye, he quickly turned his head and pretended not to notice.

Ignoring them, he returned to the matter at hand and withdrew a revolver from his coat along with the stolen phial. Price had never thought of himself as a gun-toting kind of guy, but living in that seedy neighborhood had meant taking certain precautions. It was cheap and old and the trigger was sticky, but it would serve his purposes. Flicking open the chamber, he tipped the three bullets into his hand. He selected one and dropped it into the tube. In the dim light, it looked black. It would not take long to set. A few hours would do, but a full day would be best.

Price leaned back against the bench to rest. He noted absently that the homeless women had vanished. He stood unsteadily to claim their abandoned fire. He slumped against the wall, glad for the warmth, and brought his knees to his chest. Sighing, he closed his eyes and began to doze lightly.

Only a matter of time now.