A few days later, in Ethan's modest Queens apartment, he and Venom were enjoying dinner in high spirits.
His latest experiment an enhancement to their cognitive synchronization had finally made a major breakthrough. With it, he and Venom could now share short bursts of instinctual data with almost no latency, increasing reaction time during combat. It was a leap forward, and Ethan felt the pride of progress. His good mood showed at the dinner table: steak, roasted vegetables, a bowl of jollof rice (one of his comfort foods), and of course chocolate for Venom.
After the meal, Ethan collapsed onto the worn living room sofa, cradling a steaming cup of green tea. Venom, energized by sugar and satisfaction, extended several sleek tendrils and cleared the dishes in record time.
"Oh~! I will wipe away the tears I accidentally dropped! I'll pretend it doesn't matter… love… oh, my love…!"
Venom sang if the eerie, otherworldly wailing could be called that while scrubbing plates with enthusiastic violence. It cherished these quiet kitchen performances. In moments like this, the pressure Ethan often placed on it didn't seem so bad. After all, Ethan gave it food, shelter, and the sacred right to sing while washing dishes.
Inspired by that rare freedom and a stomach full of Hershey's, Venom's dishwashing became downright operatic.
When it was finished, the symbiote slithered back into the living room and merged once more with Ethan's reclining body. The two of them lounged together, watching the latest NY1 crime report on the TV.
Ethan's smile gradually faded.
New York City was a monument to human ambition, wealth, and chaos but beneath the glossy skyline lurked rot: organized crime, human trafficking, murder-for-hire networks, and superpowered thugs unchecked by the law. Spider-Man could swing from rooftop to rooftop all day, but even he couldn't stop everything.
Ethan didn't consider himself a hero. But he had power and the will to use it when necessary. So when the screen shifted to a new report about a warehouse fire tied to the Bloodhead Gang, a flicker of intensity returned to his eyes.
"These bastards are getting bolder," Ethan muttered, placing the teacup aside. "I think it's time we went for a walk."
Venom perked up like a dog hearing the leash jingle. "Hunting~?"
"Yes. And since you sang your lungs out while doing the dishes… I'll even let you chew tonight."
Venom's giddy joy was palpable. If it had feet, it would've danced. "Best host ever."
With a thought, Ethan summoned Venom fully into his body. The black alien mass surged over him like a tidal wave, forming the signature armor. The white spider emblem stretched across his chest. The lenses over his eyes narrowed as he leapt off the balcony and vanished into the night.
The neighborhood around Ethan's apartment was relatively quiet good police presence, decent community but as they moved south, the atmosphere changed. Buildings were older, alleys darker, and crime more desperate.
They swung from rooftop to rooftop, using Venom's organic webs far superior to Peter Parker's synthetic ones. Ethan could program them to dissolve at precise intervals. The default was 60 seconds. Eco-friendly, stealthy, and untraceable.
They intercepted two muggings, broke up a back-alley drug trade in the Bronx, and left one gang member dangling upside down from a billboard with "I ROB GRANDMAS" scribbled on his chest.
But neither Ethan nor Venom noticed that someone was already watching them. Kingpin's trap had been laid, and tonight was the baited path.
Not long after, deep in a decrepit alley, a scream tore through the cold air.
"Please! Don't kill me! I'll turn myself in! Just let the police take me!"
A scruffy brown-haired man dragged himself across the grimy ground, leaving a trail of blood from a bullet wound through his thigh. He gasped and clawed at the brick wall, trying to pull himself away from the shadow that stalked behind him.
Ethan's silhouette loomed over him, glowing white eyes fixed on the crawling figure.
"You begged for mercy?" Ethan asked, his voice cold and hollow, distorted by Venom's reverberation. "That old man you robbed he begged too. You broke his ribs. Took his cash. Left him in a trash can."
The man whimpered. "I didn't mean !"
"You didn't care," Ethan interrupted, his tone flat. "Now you want mercy because it's your blood on the pavement instead?"
Venom's face peeled open in a grotesque grin, revealing double rows of needle-thin teeth. The symbiote hissed low, eager.
"People like you don't fear prison. But you'll learn to fear us."
The man scrambled back, sobbing. "Please… Please…"
Ethan didn't strike yet. He stood still, watching the man, judging him. Somewhere deep in his mind, the memory of Gwen and MJ flashed two women caught in the crossfire of people like this. Felicia's warnings echoed faintly. But his grip didn't loosen.
"Criminals like you made me this way," Ethan muttered. "And tonight, I'm returning the favor."
"Scum like you don't deserve to waste oxygen or consume another bite of food," Ethan growled, hoisting the injured thug into the air by the neck with one arm. "Your best destination… is an express ticket straight to hell."
The man's feet kicked weakly, hands clawing at Ethan's iron grip. Blood poured down his leg from the bullet wound Ethan had inflicted earlier. Panic filled his eyes.
"You weren't fearless before so why fake it now?"
"N-no! Please! Don't kill m "
The rest of his plea was severed mid-sentence as a grotesque maw split open beneath Ethan's eyes. Venom's jagged teeth gleamed beneath the streetlamp and with one lunge, the symbiote bit clean through the man's skull.
Chomp.
Plop.
The headless body hit the cracked pavement like discarded meat. Blood sprayed and then oozed, pooling beneath him. The warmth of it painted the sidewalk, forming what looked disturbingly like a crimson blossom under the flickering alley light.
Ethan stared at the corpse for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he crouched beside it.
Dipping two fingers into the still-warm blood, he began to smear a symbol on the graffiti-tagged brick wall.
Two narrow, v-shaped eyes.
A grin, filled with pointed, uneven teeth.
The mark of Venom.
Beneath it, he scrawled in firm strokes:
"Criminals… the next lucky one is you. – Venom."
He stood and examined his work, nodding in approval. It was crude but it carried the right message.
Venom emerged slightly from his shoulder, like a second head sharing his space. The symbiote grinned with approval. "I like it. It suits us. Bold. Unapologetic. Frightening."
Ethan smirked. "Good. That's the point."
He knew what he was doing. Until now, they had worked from the shadows cleansing the rot from New York in silence. But anonymity allowed the fear to die with each corpse. Tonight marked a shift in philosophy.
Let the city know we're out here.
He wanted this symbol to be burned into the minds of criminals. He wanted them to second-guess every alleyway, every whispered plan. To feel a cold breeze crawl down their necks at the thought of the dark.
There would be backlash he knew that.
Tomorrow, the Daily Bugle would run a headline like: "Serial Killer on the Loose: Vigilante Carnage in Hell's Kitchen!" J. Jonah Jameson would scream that Spider-Man had finally snapped or worse, that a copycat was loose.
But Ethan didn't care.
Spider-Man could play the hero. He could swing in with his red-and-blue spandex, deliver quips, and wrap crooks in webs for the police to mishandle.
Ethan was something else. Something darker. Something permanent.
If that made him a monster? Fine. Sometimes a monster was exactly what the city needed.
Without another thought, he fired a webline upward and vaulted onto the rooftop, blending into the shadows once more.
He hadn't gone far before he spotted another scene below another so-called "random" act of violence. A convenience store, its neon sign blinking red, was under siege.
Three men. All masked. One had a gun trained on a terrified, overweight cashier crouched behind the counter. Another was emptying the register. The third wandered the aisles shoving candy bars and energy drinks into a duffel bag.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "What is this, criminal rush hour?"
Venom chuckled darkly. "So many treats tonight…"
Before making his move, Ethan heard a familiar thwup-thwup-thwup overhead. A chopper flew low, its searchlight casting sweeping arcs across the block.
He looked up.
A second helicopter. Then a third.
His brow furrowed.
"What's with the aerial circus tonight?" he muttered. "NYPD? No markings. Private security?"
They weren't typical news choppers either too quiet, too coordinated. He made a mental note. Someone was watching the city carefully tonight. Maybe watching him.
He shook his head. "Focus."
Whatever it was, it could wait. The robbers below were mid-job and completely unaware of the predator perched above.
Ethan dropped low, crawling down the wall like a shadow. Quiet. Calculated. Letting the tension build.
"Let's introduce ourselves," he whispered, baring Venom's teeth.
And with that, the next chapter of fear began.