Roy Jones disappeared from the world in two bites.
Venom had finally gotten the brain it had been craving for so long.
The symbiote was delighted.
Leon was not.
He sat on the closed toilet lid in the bathroom, face noticeably pale, staring at nothing in particular.
Venom looked over at him.
“Are you feeling sick?” Leon immediately raised one hand.
“Don’t talk to me.” Venom stopped.
“Just give me a minute.” Even though Venom had done exactly what it promised and dulled Leon’s senses during the meal, the experience was still deeply uncomfortable.
A human being had just been eaten.
Twice.
And because Leon and Venom shared a body, there was no way for Leon to completely separate himself from what had happened.
He sat there for a long while.
Eventually, his breathing steadied.
The color slowly returned to his face.
Venom watched him cautiously.
It had sworn Leon wouldn’t feel anything unpleasant.
More importantly— It had sworn on chocolate.
That made the promise serious.
When Leon finally stood, Venom’s posture relaxed slightly.
They returned to the living room.
Leon sat on the couch and picked up his tea.
Venom lingered nearby with the expression of someone waiting for a verdict.
Leon took a sip.
Then another.
Finally— “Relax.” Venom looked at him.
“I’m not cutting your chocolate supply.” The symbiote visibly brightened.
Leon continued.
“It still felt weird.” Venom’s enthusiasm dipped.
“But not unbearable.” That was enough.
Venom grinned.
“I knew you’d be fine.” Leon gave it a look.
Venom immediately produced a piece of chocolate.
“Here.” It held it out.
“Chocolate makes everything better.” Leon took it.
He bit down.
The rich flavor immediately spread across his tongue.
Leon had to admit— Venom had excellent taste in chocolate.
The symbiote had spent enough time sampling brands and varieties that anything it personally chose was usually among the best available.
Leon had barely finished the piece when— Beep.
A signal came from upstairs.
Leon and Venom looked at each other.
Then both moved at once.
They raced upstairs.
Leon dropped into the chair in front of the computer and opened the new alert.
A grainy image appeared on-screen.
A man with closely cropped hair stood inside a convenience store.
Leon leaned closer.
The location instantly caught his attention.
It was the same convenience store where the system had identified Rick Frey.
Venom noticed too.
Leon pointed at the screen.
“This guy is looking for Rick.” The coincidence was too strong.
Rick had been spotted at that exact store shortly before Leon found him.
Now another man connected to the search system had appeared in the same place.
Venom grinned.
“Maybe they can keep each other company after they die.” Leon glanced sideways.
“Charming.” “Thank you.” They didn’t waste time.
If the man was heading toward Rick’s basement, then he could discover the body at any moment.
Once that happened, whoever he was would immediately know something had gone very wrong.
Leon moved toward the window.
Black symbiote matter covered him.
“Venom.” “I’ve got it.” Leon jumped.
Venom took control.
They shot into the city at maximum speed.
Buildings blurred past.
Webbing snapped from rooftop to rooftop.
They alternated between swinging and sprinting whenever one route was faster than the other.
There was no time to practice now.
Rick was dead.
If Paul Marks discovered the state of that basement and realized someone had hunted Rick down, he might disappear completely.
Finding him after that would become much harder.
“Goddamn, this place is far.” Paul Marks climbed out of his car and stretched.
He had driven all the way out to check Rick’s hideout personally.
In his rush to leave, he hadn’t brought much with him.
Now he was thirsty.
He’d also smoked his last cigarette during the drive.
The convenience store nearby solved both problems.
Paul walked inside.
The place was larger than he expected, but nearly empty.
Behind the counter sat a greasy-looking, heavyset middle-aged man with messy hair.
The owner glanced at Paul.
Paul glanced back.
Neither greeted the other.
Paul walked to the refrigerators.
He took out a bottle of water.
Twisted the cap open.
Then drank half of it in one go.
“Ah.” That helped.
He grabbed two more bottles and headed to the counter.
“Pack of Camels.” Paul nodded toward the cigarettes behind the register.
The owner stood.
Without even turning fully around, he reached beneath the counter and pulled out the correct pack.
“Seven-fifty.” His eyes never left Paul.
Paul opened his wallet.
He placed a ten-dollar bill on the counter.
“Keep the change.” Then he took his purchases and walked out.
The owner watched him leave.
Only after Paul’s car pulled away did the man’s hidden hand emerge from beneath the counter.
It had been wrapped around the grip of a shotgun.
The owner had run this store for years.
He knew trouble when it walked through the door.
Paul hadn’t looked like some random customer.
The man’s posture.
His eyes.
The way he carried himself.
Gangster.
And not a low-level idiot either.
That was why the owner had kept the shotgun ready the entire time.
Fortunately, nothing happened.
Paul paid.
Even tipped.
The owner relaxed.
“Huh.” He settled back into his chair.
“At least that one had manners.” The younger employee he’d hired had quit two days earlier.
Apparently, he’d had a run-in with some gang-affiliated thug and decided the slightly better hourly wage wasn’t worth getting shot over.
The owner had laughed when he heard the story.
Now, after Paul’s visit, he reconsidered.
Maybe the kid had a point.
Still— “Young people.” The owner shook his head.
“Can’t handle anything.” He picked up another magazine.
This one was considerably less respectable than the previous one.
Within seconds, Paul Marks had vanished from his thoughts.
Paul continued driving.
Rick’s basement wasn’t far now.
Soon, he pulled over near a cluster of worn-down buildings.
He climbed out and frowned.
The area was even more desolate than he remembered.
Almost nobody came out here.
That was precisely why he’d chosen it as a temporary hideout for Rick.
Paul searched his memory.
Then headed toward the basement entrance.
The stairwell leading down was almost completely dark.
Cool air drifted upward.
There was something else in it too.
A faint odor.
Paul wrinkled his nose.
“What the hell?” The smell grew stronger as he descended.
“Did that idiot fill the place with garbage?” Something moved near his foot.
Paul jerked back.
Several rats scattered across the steps.
“Jesus Christ!” He kicked one away.
“Where the hell did all these rats come from?” Paul reached the battered door.
He pulled it open.
A cloud of flies burst outward.
Paul recoiled.
The smell hit him like a physical blow.
Rot.
Blood.
Waste.
Decay.
His stomach immediately turned.
“Oh, fuck—” He covered his mouth and forced himself to look inside.
Then he saw Rick.
Or what was left of him.
The headless body lay on the basement floor.
Rats and flies had already been feeding on it.
Maggots crawled through decomposing flesh.
Dried blood had soaked into the floor around the corpse, leaving a dark red-black stain.
Paul’s vision swam.
For a moment, he nearly passed out from the combination of shock and smell.
“What the hell…” His instincts screamed at him.
Leave.
Now.
Paul turned toward the stairs.
He had taken only one step when he stopped.
Someone was standing there.
A black figure.
Silent.
Blocking the only way out.
Paul hadn’t heard him arrive.
Hadn’t seen him enter.
The figure simply stood between him and freedom.
Waiting.
Add it to your Collection so you never miss a new chapter.
Add to Collection.
Send your Power Stones.
Keep reading.