After the officer finished speaking, Leon remained propped against the hospital bed without saying a word.
He simply stared ahead.
His eyes were unfocused.
Empty.
The officer waited a moment before clearing his throat.
“Our investigation indicates that the collision was caused by the truck driver running a red light.” Leon didn’t react.
“The driver fled the scene immediately after the crash.
We haven’t located him yet, but we’re actively searching.” The officer paused.
“If we find him, you’ll be notified right away.
He’ll be held responsible for what happened.” Silence filled the room.
No one seemed to know what else to say.
The doctor glanced at Leon.
The police officers exchanged uncomfortable looks.
After several seconds, one of them opened his mouth again.
Leon spoke first.
“I understand.” His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Flat enough that it barely sounded alive.
“Could you leave?” The officer stopped.
Leon continued.
“I think I need to rest.” The officers looked at one another.
The middle-aged doctor stepped in before anyone could say something unnecessary.
“All right.” He gestured toward the door.
“Let’s give him some space.” One by one, they left.
The door closed.
The room became quiet.
Leon stayed upright for several seconds longer.
Then the strength left his body.
He sank back against the bed.
His eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Nothing moved.
Nothing changed.
Then his vision blurred.
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
Another followed.
Then another.
Within seconds, the tears came faster than Leon could control.
They ran down his temples, soaked into his hair, and dampened the pillow beneath his head.
His lips trembled.
Leon bit down hard, trying to stop the sound building in his throat.
It didn’t work.
A broken sob escaped.
Then another.
He covered his face.
Ben was dead.
The thought refused to become real.
Only yesterday, the old man had been sitting across from him at breakfast, complaining about newspapers and criticizing the Daily Bugle.
He’d been yelling at employees.
Arguing with Leon.
Talking about supplies.
Planning tomorrow.
And now there was no tomorrow for him.
Leon turned onto his side.
He pulled the blanket over his head.
The restraint finally shattered.
He cried.
Not quietly.
Not gracefully.
He sobbed until his chest hurt.
Until breathing became difficult.
Until his entire body shook.
The sound carried beyond the hospital room.
Outside, the officers who had just spoken with him were still standing in the hallway.
Conversation stopped.
One of them lowered his eyes.
Another sighed.
There was nothing they could do.
No procedure.
No statement.
No investigation result that could make this easier.
Eventually, exhaustion overwhelmed Leon.
He cried until he lost consciousness.
It was the middle of the night when he woke again.
His eyes were swollen.
His throat hurt.
A weak hitch escaped his breathing as the grief returned almost immediately.
Then— “Crying isn’t going to accomplish much.” Leon froze.
The voice was familiar.
Rough.
Hoarse.
The same voice he’d heard inside his mind during the crash.
But this time— It hadn’t come from inside his head.
It had come from beside him.
Leon slowly turned.
Something black began seeping from behind his shoulder.
Thick.
Glossy.
Alive.
The substance crawled upward from his back and gathered into a growing mass beside his head.
A neck formed.
Then a face.
Or something resembling one.
Large, narrow white eyes opened across a pitch-black head.
A huge mouth split beneath them.
Rows of sharp teeth filled the grin.
The creature stretched around Leon until its horrifying face hovered directly in front of him.
For several seconds, Leon simply stared.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t surprised.
If anything, his expression seemed to say that this confirmed what he’d already suspected.
“So it really was a deal with the devil.” The creature blinked.
Leon looked into its enormous white eyes.
“What do you want?” His voice remained weak.
“My soul?” The black head’s expression shifted.
Somehow, despite having a face designed almost entirely around nightmare fuel, it managed to look offended.
“Devil?” The creature pulled back slightly.
“What devil?” Its voice rumbled through the room.
“I’m a symbiote.” Leon frowned.
The creature grinned.
“My name is Venom.” It seemed almost proud of that.
“I’m a highly advanced and very special life-form.” Leon stared at it.
Venom continued.
“And I don’t want your soul.” A tendril emerged from its neck and gestured between them.
“I want to live with you.” Leon raised an eyebrow.
“Live with me?” “Symbiosis.” Venom nodded.
“We coexist.” Leon remained silent.
There were several obvious questions.
Probably several hundred.
“Symbiote…” He repeated the word slowly.
Venom tilted its head.
“Okay.” Its tongue briefly slid across its teeth.
“Where do I even start?” Leon said nothing.
Venom thought for a moment.
Then its expression brightened.
“Oh.” It leaned closer.
“Actually, there’s an easier way.” Leon watched it cautiously.
“Try focusing your mind.” “What?” “My memories.” Venom tapped the side of its head with a tendril.
“You can look at them directly.” Leon frowned.
“That’s something I can do?” “Yep.” Venom sounded completely confident.
Leon wasn’t.
He knew his mind had always been unusually sharp since his rebirth.
He could learn quickly.
Remember things easily.
Process information faster than most people.
But directly accessing someone else’s memories?
That was new.
Venom seemed to understand his hesitation.
“We’re connected now.” It moved closer.
“And I’ve never met anyone with mental strength like yours.” Leon narrowed his eyes.
Venom continued.
“Just focus.” “Find my memories inside your mind.” It lifted one clawed tendril.
“They should feel like a bubble.” “A bubble.” “Big bubble.” Venom nodded seriously.
“Poke it.” Leon stared at him.
“That’s your explanation?” “Yes.” A pause.
“Very scientific.” Leon almost laughed.
Almost.
The grief was still too heavy.
But for the first time since waking, something besides pain moved across his face.
He closed his eyes.
“Fine.” He followed Venom’s instructions.
Focus.
Turn inward.
Feel his own mind.
At first, nothing happened.
Then something changed.
Leon felt as if he’d suddenly fallen into an endless ocean.
His consciousness sank deeper.
But there was no fear.
No pressure.
No sensation of drowning.
Instead, it felt strangely natural.
Comfortable.
The vast mental space surrounding him seemed to stretch without limit.
Leon had no idea how to describe it.
If his consciousness was a person, then his mental power was the ocean surrounding it.
And apparently, that ocean was enormous.
“Only you can do this so easily.” Venom’s voice sounded distant now.
Leon could vaguely sense the symbiote moving around the hospital room.
“I couldn’t do anything like this with my old hosts.” A cabinet opened.
Venom was apparently searching for food while explaining psychic phenomena.
“Your situation is weird.” Leon ignored him.
He kept searching.
Then he found it.
A bubble.
Venom hadn’t been exaggerating.
Something enormous floated within the depths of his consciousness.
It felt foreign.
Distinct from Leon’s own memories.
But because Venom was now connected to him, the foreign presence didn’t feel entirely separate either.
Leon approached it.
He reached out mentally.
Touched it.
Pop.
The bubble burst.
And another life crashed into his mind.
Leon stopped being Leon.
For a moment— He became Venom.
Not physically.
But through memory.
He saw through Venom’s senses.
Felt its instincts.
Experienced pieces of its life from its perspective.
The earliest memories were unclear.
There wasn’t much conscious thought.
Only sensation.
Instinct.
Hunger.
Movement.
Survival.
The symbiote’s mind had once been far less developed than it was now.
Its first truly clear memories began with a host.
A mercenary.
His name was— Deadpool.
Leon watched fragments of the man’s life through Venom’s memories.
Deadpool was physically impressive.
Strong.
Skilled.
Dangerous.
From a biological standpoint, he should have been an excellent host.
There was only one problem.
His mind was insane.
Not eccentric.
Not merely unstable.
Utterly chaotic.
Even experiencing those memories secondhand made Leon uncomfortable.
Thoughts crashed into one another.
Jokes appeared in the middle of violence.
Violence appeared in the middle of jokes.
Emotion shifted without warning.
Logic frequently seemed optional.
Venom had been unable to tolerate the chaos.
After bonding with Deadpool for only a short time, it abandoned him.
Unfortunately, that short connection had already left traces.
A symbiote was influenced by its host.
Personality.
Emotion.
Instinct.
All of those things could bleed across the bond.
Even after leaving Deadpool, Venom carried some of that instability with it.
Not all of it.
But enough.
From there, Venom passed through host after host.
Most ordinary people couldn’t endure the strain of bonding with it for very long.
Their bodies simply weren’t strong enough.
Venom moved on repeatedly.
Human.
Another human.
An animal.
Someone else.
Again.
And again.
Until eventually— It found someone truly compatible.
Peter Parker.
Leon almost broke out of the memory.
Peter?
The awkward, slightly nerdy student he’d known since high school?
Peter Parker was Spider-Man?
For a moment, that revelation eclipsed everything else.
Leon had attended school with Spider-Man for years.
He’d even shared laboratory classes with him.
The same Peter Parker who sometimes looked like he hadn’t slept enough before class was the guy swinging across New York in red and blue spandex.
Leon suddenly understood why people said appearances could be deceiving.
The memories continued.
Venom’s bond with Peter had been extremely successful at first.
Peter was physically powerful.
Far stronger than a normal human.
When Venom bonded with him, Spider-Man’s abilities increased dramatically.
Strength.
Speed.
Durability.
Everything improved.
It should have been an ideal partnership.
It wasn’t.
Peter had been dealing with growing stress and increasingly negative emotions at the time.
Anger.
Frustration.
Resentment.
Normally, Peter could control those feelings.
But Venom amplified what was already there.
Peter’s anger influenced Venom.
Venom amplified that anger.
The intensified emotions flowed back into Peter.
A feedback loop formed.
The longer they remained bonded, the worse it became.
Peter grew increasingly aggressive.
Short-tempered.
Violent.
The Daily Bugle eagerly took advantage of every incident, relentlessly criticizing Spider-Man’s behavior.
And that only made Peter angrier.
At one point, merely seeing J.
Jonah Jameson was enough to make Peter seriously consider punching him.
That finally frightened him.
Peter realized something was wrong.
The suit wasn’t simply making him stronger.
It was changing him.
Or, more accurately, it was strengthening emotions he already possessed until controlling them became increasingly difficult.
Peter made a decision.
He had to get rid of it.
So he forcibly separated himself from the symbiote.
Leon watched the final pieces of Venom’s memories of Peter Parker.
Then the images began shifting again.
Venom had lost Spider-Man.
And once again— It needed a new host.
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