gourmetburgers | [vency] angel effect

[vency] angel effect

[ It has been reported for decades that near-death experiences can be a diverse reaction. Some claim to see nothing but light. Some claim to replay the major moments in their life on repeat. Others? Claim to see angels parting the heavens, a salvation to deliver news that their time was not yet here.

It was not the first time one of her patients made the comparison – she had heard it multiple times during her career, but Angela didn't like it. There was no divine intervention here, no holy significance. It was science. Science that allowed her to practice medicine, join an organization that seemingly wanted to make the world a better place, and keep those in good health alive for one more day. It brought her to cross paths with someone that would leave a mark... that would show fleeting faith was not what would save someone.

A scientific mind wants to know how, to know the workings on something that was presented to them. She couldn't. Angela fails time and time again to think of what the symbiote did to her – for all methods to her own knowledge? She should be dead. Then again, so should the man recovering in Room 319 in the Valkyrie Medical Facility.

Angela monitored him – one of the few who dared to – for days, maybe even a week solid. Her time tending to his wounds were not purely physical, but there was something heavenly about how she treats her patience. Something an oath or medical degree can't provide. ]

Again. I do not care if you can run a marathon... I want to see your gait. Walk slowly from one side of the room to the other.

[ Her coat drags against the floor, her pen tapping to her clipboard. She treats him like any patient, no matter the... complications... he may bring. They had crossed paths back and forth, her notes on the symbiote adding to be its own novel – but she doesn't share it, doesn't publish it. It's for them. For their own benefit. The wheels of her chair scoot away, giving him room to walk – freeing him from an elongated bedrest. Her voice was a bit more pinpointed, less warmth and more direct. He responded better to that side of her. ]

The faster you oblige, the faster you can leave.

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[ Angela hears no protest from Venom, who listens silently as she explains the imminent proceedings. She acts with a haste that fascinates him, her clear cognizance of the institutional structures that she must navigate. It's something Venom both pities and admires, seeing her have to live by such constraints when he so clearly doesn't. Because it's true... he really could have just left if he wanted to, and no one short of the Juggernaut could really stop him. He's spent so much time getting blasted with lasers and sonics that the symbiote matter has practically been inoculated to its natural weaknesses-- like an immunotherapy of some sort, as one would receive for allergies.

Overwatch is lucky that Venom has learned how much worse Talon is. Means they're living on borrowed time. Vishkar. The Gwishin. The Shimada Clan. The Deadlock Gang. Talon's joined a long list of targets with blood on their hands. Blood that Venom will force them all to answer for.

But first things first. The matter of their escape. The matter of what comes next.

Venom follows Angela to the unmarked truck, assumes immediately he's not necessarily invited to shotgun. But watch him take it anyway, reverting until it's solely Eddie Brock who sits beside her. The world doesn't know exactly who he is beneath the visage of Venom, so it's Angela's call how cautious she wants to be. Whether or not to banish him to the truck's interior, as an extra precaution. ]

Just one.

[ It might be jarring to Mercy, seeing the man beneath the symbiote. The humanity in his eyes that was missing before, as his gaze is entirely locked onto hers. There's a sincerity in him, a weariness from all that he's seen, that differs from the zeal whenever the mask is on. Like he's no longer driven by hunger, but drained by it. ]

Only a matter of time before Overwatch notices. Will they hunt me down?

[ He shakes his head. ]

Make that two questions.

Will they hunt you down?

Because I can say that I escaped. That I kidnapped you.

We're-- we're bonded, but you don't have to go down with us. Unlike us... you have a way out.

[ This is the price of the freedom that Venom relishes, the freedom that he pities Angela for lacking: until now, it's only ever been Eddie and the symbiote against the world. For all the lives they've saved and will continue trying to save, they're scorned for their monstrousness. Assailed by hero and villain alike for a disposition so easy to distrust. So easy to dismiss as evil.

He was practically an enemy of the state before this. Recent events only reinforce this position. So the human side of Venom, Eddie Brock, wants to leave no stone unturned, here. Wants Angela on the same page, given their bond. A possible way out that he can never give himself.

Not if it means giving up his other. ]

[ This was the definition of risk. Angela was not a woman so huffed onto her own ego that she would believe herself to be free of warcrimes or going against international law. Angela works in a technicality that makes her feel better about her choices, but her heart feels tugged at seemingly going against the help of Overwatch. But... Overwatch was good-natured, too idealistic and banking on things going right. They can not rely on that. Not when there is something inside of her at risk now too. This was wrong to do... the symbiote and Eddie had to know she feels it, but she does not allow her patient to go untreated, even if he was in full health – there was something missing.

She does not abandon or go AWOL – but she lies. She keeps something to herself and for the "angel" of the team? It feels forbidden. It feels selfish.

When they reach the truck, she does not correct him – she's packing the back and by the time she sits down into the driver's side, she nearly jumps out of her skin at what was before her. It felt different – she felt confused, but at the same time comfort washed over her. A human tether, something familiar about this whole mess. ]

They will not know. [ Angela is confident, albeit a little reckless. Overwatch puts their faith in her, in her skill and compassion. She is one of the hearts of the team that still was there after their dismantling. If she needed to, her case would be clear – that the symbiote and its host would not be made to be a weapon. It would not be made to go under as some test subject. She had seen Overwatch lose grasp of the leash it kept on its most skilled agents before – she won't let it happen again.

Gabriel, even Moira. ] Your answer is right on your lips. We are... bonded, is the word you keep using. A bond on organic lifeforms are a balance. Severe the tie, remove the bond that they share... there is a loss. One side suffers, perhaps. Both sides perish, perhaps. It would be immensely foolish and cruel to do anything but understand.

[ To ensure their ... bond continues.

The truck hums to life when she turns the key in the ignition, starting the drive out of the hospital base they had been secured in. There's little reason for her to trust him, but she feels it too. Something that she desperately wants to understand. It was quiet for a few minutes, her hand causing the steering wheel to squeak, tighter than she means – nerves and anxiety rooted in her stomach.]

I have a clinic in a small village. Abandoned for some time. Overwatch has no knowledge of it, it was from my first... tour, if you will. It has been storage. My storage. We will continue our work there. You can rest.

[ "We are... bonded," she says. And she goes on, laying bare her understanding. ]

Then it's settled. You and I are in this for the long haul.

You and I... and my other.

[ A black tendril emerges from his back, slipping out of the gap between himself and the car seat. The appendage waves 'hello' as a human hand would before slinking back inside Eddie's body. ]

See? He says hi.

[ Not that the symbiote's attempt at niceties succeeds in elevating the mood. Eddie himself hasn't been hoping for it, the stakes of the task before them all too salient for relaxation to be possible. Without Eddie, perhaps his other would fail to see the necessity of fleeing. Without Eddie, it has no real obligation to the customs of human society, to the idea of a reputation that must be defended or upheld. Angela, in her silence, is clearly calculating the consequences of her actions, and how to ameliorate them. How to ground her choices in reason, despite the cosmic irrationality circumscribing the three's bond.

Soon enough, Eddie hears Angela's plans. A way forward for both Venom and Mercy. ]

We'll follow your lead, Doc. Take us there in one piece, or... two, I guess. And you'll get that protection.

My other and I, we didn't plan this. All we wanted to do was save your life from the Juggernaut.

[ A split second's decision, whose consequences they could hardly predict. Whose consequences they're facing now. ]

But you happen to be a brilliant scientific mind. I was an investigative journalist before all this, so excuse the creepiness... but I know a lot about you. About Overwatch's activities, its whole network of relations before and after the Omnic Crisis.

I know our reputation might precede us, but we believe in our work. Venom's work. Because we're fighting for what's right. But we know we can fight it better by understanding ourselves better.

[ Eddie feels like he has to say all this to speak on behalf of Venom, taken as a totality. He knows that when he's in that form, he can get carried away with taunts and riddles. Grandstanding about his place in the world as some lethal protector.

Given the enormity it all, as well as the potential awkwardness of just spelling this out like it needs justification, he sighs. His posture weakens, the weariness of a life of vengeance catching up to his human body. ]

I'm just saying all this so you know. This whole arrangement benefits us as much as it does you.

The cure we want is an answer to the riddle that Venom represents. The reason we are what we are, and the reason for our bond.

[ Because he knows it's more than the hatred that brought them together. They like to think they've transcended that for bigger and better things. ]

It looks that way, doesn't it?

[ She has no opinion. How can she formulate one? She's running on under a dozen hours of sleep for the past week – he can feel that she's invigorated only by them. For what plagues her at night, gives her life? It makes no sense, yet here she was – alert and able to parse the trip outside of a monitored zone, a safezone that Overwatch had liberated from an invading Null Sector unit months prior. As Eddie speaks, she glances over to him, brows perked at the tendril with a life of its own. Two entities, two mannerisms... she is not sure how to react with that but there's a courteous nod of her head to him and a small smile. ]

I would be a poor doctor if I was not able to ... adapt to situations. I did not expect this... and I feel guilt – [ That perhaps others had died in the line of 'duty' and she survived. Albeit changed... she survived. ] What is done, is done. There is no going back to undo, no matter if you would have chose another option or the situation would have been different.

[ Angela hits a turn that leads to a 14-mile stretch of road. 14 miles of forest would be a cover that leads them to a small village – the depths of the forest still ripped with strife of decaying machines, of where nature was beginning to reclaim. The crisis before – it was not a festering wound thanks to Overwatch, but there were still scars. She's use to the drive, use to how haunting each tree felt whipping by.

She feels a cold shiver roam down her spine when he mentions her accolades – she was not humble, but instead proud. One of the few things breaking the media's presumed "watchful angel" persona they make from her. She's worked hard – sacrificed enough, so when he says he knows her ... she wonders if he really does.

It was obvious they were on equal footing with this. When she took him into her care, when she recovered faster – there had to be some glimpse of the man underneath the symbiote. Some murmurs of who he was. She has questions – on if his own snooping and career had put him in this "line of fire". That makes two (three) of them. ]

You give a doctor a purpose, a reason to continue to do good and help. This is not an ailment. This is not a sickness. You... need care. Many doctors view it simply: a prescription, a routine, a therapy. This is much more, yes? I may not understand – heaven's know I will not fully – but ... I believe that forward is the only way.

[ And he feels that belief, doesn't he?

The miles tick by. Marker after marker until the expanse of a rural countryside greets them. There were peppered houses, small businesses in a more central part of town. There had to be maybe 150 people within a 5 mile radius – it was a place still healing. Trees were planted in their infancy to reclaim the earth that felt like ground zero after the crisis, buildings were mis-matched with bricks to rebuild. When they end up to a small clinic... it couldn't be more than 3 rooms at most. A hanging sign read "NO DOCTOR", the doors chained and windows fogged with dirt.

Angela sits in silence when she puts the truck into park. ]

Edited 2021-05-27 17:15 (UTC)

True. We can regret the past all day, but damn. There'd be no point.

Moping won't protect us from the threats to come. The threats we'll also have to protect innocents from.

As a doctor, you must know what I mean. Despite appearances, you've probably seen more death than we have.

[ It's almost flippant, the way he says it, but he believes there's no dancing around such subjects. Treating such things delicately, he finds, does a disservice to their magnitude. Their gravity. And though Eddie's addressing Angela, he feels no need to prolong any stares. His eyes are pointed to his side's window, watching city become forest. The woods grow denser, darker even, as the vehicle progresses, Eddie trusting Angela's familiarity with these winding paths. A trust, of course, grounded in their bond. He doesn't have to know, intellectually, what she's planning. He can already feel it. ]

The only way out is through.

[ That's all he musters in response to Angela's explanation - her talk of "purpose" and "care." Invoking the Hippocratic Oath without needing to spell it out. From Eddie's perspective, Angela seems to speak more for her own edification than his, and he can't blame her. This is her first exposure to the symbiote, her only beginning to grasp what Eddie's been grappling with for god knows how many years. And despite his experience, he's unsure what more to offer as a word of comfort. There's no way to really countenance the experience of being Venom, verbally... it just has to continue being experienced. Being felt. ]

If it's all the same to you, Doc...

[ He opens the truck door on his side and steps down, dropping down from the elevated height of the truck car to hit the dirt. ]

...could use some fresh air.

It's pretty quaint here, right? Almost pastoral, if not for the scars.

[ Some of the countryside that they passed was postcard worthy, but Eddie couldn't help feeling a distinct emptiness on the way here. Was that a symptom of a sympathetic tendency in the symbiote, or a symptom of his history in journalism-- his mind trained to spot trauma beneath the surface of things? At the very least, he knows it's trauma that's made its home in certain places, that needn't be seen to be felt. Places that have seen war, unrest, calamity... stuff that's made Eddie feel powerless and small, no matter his desire to disseminate the truth.

And then, of course, along came Venom. ]

Are you okay?

[ Angela's reticence isn't lost on him. Nor on the symbiote. It is, in fact, the symbiote who brought it to his attention. ]

Dumb question, I know. Just sounds to us like you might need some care, too.

I was aware of what the world offers those who wish to help it. We can only do our best, to try to learn. [ She remembers families torn apart, she remembers people dying in the field, she remembers innocent lives dead before she could even ail them. As a medic, sure – but even as her time as a student... she walked empty halls with the sick with no way to help. Overwatch gives her gifts and knowledge an outlet and for that? She is thankful. The rocky end of the last iteration of Overwatch did something right. ] And have hope that we can do better the next time.

[ They weren't honest with each other fully. There was some... bending, however. She speaks to him in a way she doesn't to her teammates – not even her own staff. Angela, for the most part, remains guarded. Yet... he was part of her. She can feel him inside, like a bad feeling she can't shake. An eagerness in her chest that makes her heart skip a beat every so often.

The clinic in front of them has not had visitors for some time, but it is as she remembers it. It brings a small bit of sadness to her, to know it has not been repurposed. As Eddie leaves the truck, she follows – gathers her things and looks out into the expanse far beyond the small clinic. ]

It is. There use to be festivals every season to welcome the change, it would be around time for one, I think. Visitors would come by to experience it before, now... I don't think many people even know of this place. [ It was truly a sight to remember, now that she thinks back on it. She noticed when the festivals stopped as a child, but... at least this place was still standing. Becoming part of Overwatch... gave her a reason to feel like celebrating again. Even for little instances of just "existing". ] I'm fine. Tired, in ways I never have been. It will pass.

[ Even among their odd relation, their unknown bond – where it feels intimate and invasive at once... Angela offers a respectful, small smile to him. Reassuring. Telling him what any patient would need to hear from their doctor: to trust them.

Angela ushers them inside, the lights a dull flicker fortunately enough when she tests the power. Inside the clinic would be a small waiting room, check-in area – and when Angela continues on, two rooms equipped with beds and the typical medical supplies one could expect. Further on was a small washroom. If Eddie shut his eyes, maybe he could imagine it in better standing but for now – it was packed up with supplies, chairs stacked high, and plastic wrapped around outdated computers. ]

How do you feel?

[ She asks, stacking her bag onto the check-in counter. She knows the answer, but it felt like cheating to even assume. ]

Edited (rewording) 2021-05-28 01:57 (UTC)

Maybe we want the same thing then, Doc. To keep getting better.

[ That's the last thing he says before actually departing from the truck, having listened to Angela carry on about hope. Not the schmaltzy stuff that can be put on a pedestal, aggrandized by politicians who do nothing. No, Eddie thinks instead of a desire to move forward despite the ugliness of what's come before, and what may come after. The recognition that we can only do our best, and that we must at least try. It puts a small smile on Eddie's face to hear Angela's words, but he doesn't quite know what to think of where they stand.

The symbiote has conformed to the shape of a black leather jacket around Eddie. He keeps his hands in his pockets as he follows Angela to her clinic, which has clearly seen better days. Not that Eddie was expecting much, of course. He knows a thing or two about being a fixer-upper... so he has little room to judge the place. Instead, he gives the structure a once-over before turning to regard the same view that's seized Angela's attention. Breathtaking, to be sure, but Eddie's never learned to sit still. Never really been the type to stop and smell the flowers, even before the symbiote entered his life. Maybe this is why he was a journalist and not a photographer, never one to truly consider what spectacle can do for a story. The lost history that Angela speaks of, though-- the dying local traditions, intrigue the journalist in Eddie. ]

Sounds to me like the world needs to be reminded of what this place once was.

If not for, well... everything, I could've published something on that. Revived interest in some of the local flavor.

[ He shrugs, though. This is more a passing fascination than a genuine investment. There's little reason, currently, for his heart to actually be in it. ]

But you heard it from Venom, didn't you? The way civilizations rise and fall. Cultures come and go, the minutiae lost to the sands of time.

There's so much that's passed that we'll simply never know, let alone know to look for. Makes me wonder if everything here will be a distant memory too, someday... if even that.

[ That's Eddie's little soliloquy for the day, happy to also hear that Angela could be worse. He's not expecting the Venom experience to be a five-star treatment, but he frets imagining just how much Angela might come to resent their bond. Eddie recalls a time long ago, when he lashed out at those who needed his help, people like him who were desperate to understand how they could communicate with their own symbiotes and use those powers for the greater good. But cruelly, Eddie dashed those hopes. He rejected them outright, fought them off and spat in their faces for even reaching out to him... just before watching them all kill each other.

But that's not who he is anymore. He thought he was doing something right by joining Talon, but that was just another error in judgment. If he hadn't saved Angela from the Juggernaut, the symbiote laboring to heal otherwise fatal injuries, Venom might've continued to drink Talon's kool-aid. They might have taken Venom and pointed him at the wrong targets, like he's no better than a glorified attack dog.

These thoughts swirl in Eddie's mind, in the symbiote's, and perhaps a feeling of dread lingers beneath the surface of Angela's own mind, as a result. Dread over bridges burned, regret for errors in judgment, and sorrow for pain inflicted. ]

I feel... like this is more than I deserve. Than my other deserves.

[ Though the place is more like a warehouse than a clinic, let alone a home... it's better than many of his past living situations by several thousand miles. Relative to his own experiences, this place is practically a luxury hotel. ]

I know we're your patient, and you have your obligation as a doctor, but... Angela.

It's your prerogative what you do beyond that.

Seriously.

[ Is he looking for kinship? Even after this apparent bond now intertwines their fate... their goals, their desires – the way he speaks to her was with comfort and ease. To make her feel not so alone. Walking through the memories of better days, ones with more hope... Angela's emotions were clear on her face but she thinks she masks it well. ]

You worry yourself on things long buried. Even now, there is still some life to this place. Albeit... growing much slower than previously. Set-backs.

[ She isn't cold about it, but the forced smile tugging at her face was reassuring enough. She doesn't want to dwindle, Angela was ever the idealistic even in the years that were the toughest. Her hand pulls out his tests clearly, laying them down across the dusted tabletop and stops shy of him asking about what she saw – ]

It could be a million civilizations, but the feelings still remain. There is something beyond human nature. The common thread all organisms on Earth, in specific, have? To survive. It is time that will be their enemy, not predators.

[ Time and place was almost Angela's undoing. The near fatal blow nearly ending this all before it started. She wondered why Eddie did what he did – her eyes catch him from afar as he's inspecting the clinic, lost in a trance. Thoughts race over him, mapping an unfamiliar face with a warm sensation – as if they knew each other in another life. It was the symbiote's doing, she knows even though the specifics were lost to her. The how, the why? It just is.

He interrupts her and she shakes her head. ]

No. Be quiet.

[ Another thread, another foreign tongue. This one German, with a Swiss hint to it. ]

No occupation on this planet is based on what one deserves. I took oaths. I've saved horrible... horrible people and could not save innocent ones. It is how it is, if we are bonded – you should know.

[ But, accusatory, more guarded. ]

Unless... you have business you must contend with. Say the word. I will be returning back to my main campus to file incident reports. I... can not change that Overwatch and Talon will show interest in apprehending you. I am no shield, but I can offer you what I can. All that I can.

[ Thanks to Angela's first remarks, Eddie realizes he should know better than to assume human life is all life. He's bonded to a non-human entity, after all, but more to the point: a lack of human attention won't slow down the way nature heals, no matter how long it may take. No matter how differently that healing might look from before, depending on the nature of the scarring. And then the macro-level stuff, what Angela addresses about a universal tendency to desire survival, commands Eddie's attention. Compels him to consider how the vastness of this bond is going to show itself in the duration of his life. How it might affect it.

Based on what the symbiote can do for Eddie, and what their bond has done for Angela, he doesn't doubt her pronouncements on a grand instinct to survive. ]

I've survived a lot that I shouldn't have, thanks to this bond. Wouldn't be surprised if this happens to slow down my aging, as well as yours.

[ So time just might be a weaker enemy to them than it is for all other lifeforms. Time itself will tell if this proves to be a blessing or a curse.

And then Angela pushes back at him. Forbids him from self-flagellating, punishing himself for his and the symbiote's many sins. He who at least meditates on his past actions, devoting more than a passing thought to the weight of his misdeeds. Can the same even be said of Juggernaut? Of Reaper? Of practically the rest of Talon?

Not that Eddie's expecting a cookie for having a conscience. ]

It's probably written all over my face, isn't it? That I've made difficult choices. Impossible ones.

Despite all this power, things still fall apart beyond my control. People get hurt.

Seems I've finally met another person who truly gets it.

[ With that, Eddie gives her a wistful smile. Nothing conciliatory, like he's trying to lighten the mood or save face, but one that he hopes to express in understanding. He didn't take any oaths as a doctor would, but he did swear to protect the innocent as Venom. To be a lethal protector who would dare to go the extra mile, to cross a line many heroes would never consider. He's allowed blood to accumulate on his hands, as long as it means saving as many innocent lives as possible. ]

You've got that right, Doc. Ain't my first rodeo, anyway, being an enemy of the state. Now just so happens that Overwatch and Talon are both on my ass.

And this hideout is more than enough. More than we've ever gotten. So you don't have to put your career on the line just for me.

My other and I do have a lotta loose ends that need tying, outside of this. The kind of work only Venom can do.

Speaking of--

[ Within seconds, the symbiote envelops Eddie's body, emerging from inside him. The blackness takes over, pouring down every inch of him until the man is fully subsumed into the symbiote, and Venom is born again. In the privacy of this facility, it seems he couldn't stay away from his true self for long. His whole self. And his voice radically changes, made monstrous by the transition to this form. If not for the knowledge that it's Eddie Brock under there, he could be mistaken for an entirely different being. An alien in the fullest sense, not only to this planet but to the heights of human understanding in this advanced age. ]

--that's more like it.

Now, Angela... if you're still figuring us out, no one else knows what they're really up against.

But we promise not to kill your colleagues. We just want to convince everyone to back off.

None of that is urgent, though. No one is currently in pursuit of us.

So we must ask you, Angela. What will you do now?

[ With whatever bond they share now rooted inside of them, they were still learning. Eddie's experience with the symbiote was one thing – he's able to accept or at the very least, control parts of it. The sensation to Angela's form felt a few degrees colder – that was one of the major changes in her own tests during the recovery process, aside from the insomnia and sense of feeling... off.

Eddie was the veteran here. Whatever the symbiote had done to his life – change it, ruin it, uproot it, divert it... his experiences gave him valuable 'data' to learn and improve from. Be better, as he wants to keep bringing up. The innate call to survive, even in a simple form like improving would be crucial at times, right?

She walks by without so much as making eye contact with him as he speaks. That wasn't cold, he could tell she was instead focused. The run-down clinic had seen better days, had once seen people lining up for her treatments and working well into the night. There was once life here, but now... who knows what they would call this.

Angela disappears into one of the clinic rooms, an overturned medical bed hoisted up with less concern and resistance. She felt a little stronger, despite feeling so fatigued. ]

In all of this endless knowledge, you do know you still must take it one day at a time.

[ Was she ... teasing him? Was she being too scientific with her words? There was warmth there – really, there was rarely a person who did not find the Doctor at least pleasant. Her empathy, her kindness, the sass of her character... there are reasons why those people stood in lines in this very clinic.

Now, even in another room – she feels like part of her is missing. The bed may be flipped over and the sheets stripped of it, caked with dirt and who knew what else – but she stops and looks at the wall... as if she knew Eddie was on the other side of it.

She listens, eyes shut and formulates her own confusing, unsure thoughts. ]

I am not worried about my career. Take me from a fully-fledged hospital to one 10 years behind in its equipment and I still can do good. You must not –

[ Worry? Her steps took her to the doorframe, and by the time she tried to reassure him, mainly to keep his vitals calm – she is greeted with something else. Something she is still adjusting to seeing. He can feel her heart sink, not out of fear but out of ... familiarity? As if she missed the sight... ]

We need to have time to convince. Time to be clear. Clarity inspires, clarity leaves little to doubt. If we understand, if we are clear – that will convince our story.

[ Our story. Our story. Our story.

There was no he or her – only them. ]

As it currently stands? Sleep. I am of no use if I do not get rest. Be it a fight, be it helping, be it... anything. This bond has kept me shivering at night... thinking of – you. All that you are, all that you have been trying to tell me.

[ Her hip catches the doorframe as she leans against it, running her hands through her own blonde strands, pushing stray hair back from her face. ]

Then after that? Making this place suitable. Setting up a secure connection and perhaps... trying to find where Talon has been in this area. They have to be within a 50 mile radius.

[ Before Eddie's already changed into Venom, it's clear he doesn't mind standing back and watching Angela inspect her surroundings. All the better, after all, that she go ahead and check just how well the place holds up. He can only imagine the memories here, the many nights spent doing her job-- abiding by the oaths she swore. From afar, he can feel the swirl of emotions within her. The nostalgia perhaps, for a simpler time. But also the recognition that even back then, things were complex. Bigger in implications and scope than she could grasp without hindsight, especially when she was in the business of saving people's lives, often tending to the sick and wounded.

There's more dignity in her profession than in the task he's chosen for himself. He once protected a vulnerable community that had fled from society, taking refuge in an abandoned city beneath San Francisco. That was the most he was ever considered a pillar of some community, and now... he's a complete renegade. A dark soul drifting. His dedication to his and the symbiote's shared purpose should be its own reward, but the absence of recognition - of validation - can still be demoralizing. He's learned to understand what his former enemy has had to deal with, public maligning and all. Eddie's former hatred was fed by the same misunderstanding-- so he can only imagine how many people hate Venom for the wrong reasons. ]

My other and I have spent the past several years on the run, Doc. The days sort of just blend for us now.

[ He laughs, though, matching Angela's warmth. Simply making light of what he's been living with for so long, as well as how he's been living. It's worthwhile to have a perspective other than the symbiote's for once. The two of them might have been Angela's anchor for the transmission of knowledge back in the hospital, but Eddie's starting to think that she can be his anchor: yet more of the human element Venom's always needed. More of the demystification Venom would profess for himself.

Speaking of which, it's as Venom that he later addresses her. Heeds her words about their ability - his and Mercy's, as one - to testify the truth. ]

Sleep sounds good. The restoration of our strength will be vital to subjugating Talon's goons.

[ Despite the fact that he's unfamiliar with the place, Angela's memories here bestow upon him familiarity by proxy. He understands where there's a back room containing a hospital bed, and quickly proceeds towards it. But to get there, he must pass through the very doorframe in which Angela stands. ]

You have been... cold, then. Cold without us.

[ With something of a neutral expression, Venom hasn't bared much of his fangs since transforming. He stays that way looking over Angela's shoulder, which isn't difficult, to then assess what was once used as a patient room. ]

The warmth of our bond is why you shivered, Angela. Your body recognized what it was missing.

[ Instead of looking over Angela, Venom looks down at her instead. ]

We don't know how to ask this of you. But it doesn't have to remain that way.

[ And for the first time, as fearsome a monster as Venom actually looks nervous. Like him in his colossal stature is fretful of walking on eggshells. Not wanting to impose in case Angela would prefer that room for herself, Venom takes a step back, crossing his arms as he awaits a response. But then he clears his venomous throat, sensing the clear tension in the air that connects his and Angela's bodies. While the bond that's formed between them presents a powerful pull, Angela represents the presence of a third conscience. In quiet moments such as this, with no other stimuli present, the mere perception of her can be staggering. ]

You need only join us. That's all we're saying.

[ Anyone can take an oath. Anyone can violate that oath. It takes a specific kind of person to live their life thoughtfully and selflessly to follow it. Angela sacrifices much in her time to serve – she puts her own ego and frustrations with how Overwatch dismantled to rejoin and serve. The baggage Angela carries was seemingly so small, but it weighed on her. Eddie feels that now. That even with her sense of freedom, she wants to continue to do more – and now she's at odds with the facility that could do that.

He can pinpoint her feelings – she can't pinpoint his just as clearly. His experiences yields so much... her experience was new, their bond so fresh that she's trying to make sense of so much at once. When it was Venom trying to help her bridge in the gaps of her new sensations, of her new feelings.

When she looks upon Venom, she notes the near... docile look. Part of her wanted to comfort the 'creature', to step closer and ... almost do as he wanted. Join him. Her skin feels goosebumps prick against her skin, he can feel the same cold she mentioned moments ago... he can see as her form nearly shivered.

Was she begging for what was missing? Was this not a physical reaction? She thought it was an adjustment to her physical state, perhaps an adjustment to the new... bond.

But, as they speak – maybe they were right. Something was missing. ]

Like before? When you... [ Angela takes a step back into the clinic room, the tension was there but she works through it. Finds new bed linens to make the bed as if they were having a normal conversation. As if any of this was normal. Angela busies herself, as she tends to do, but there's a small unsure look on her face that still has the warmth only she could offer in times of uncertainty. ] Are you cold, then? Since you... bonded with me. Not before. I want to know if you feel... different.

[ And while Angela prepares the bed, pensive and trepidatious about where exactly she stands with Venom, the creature watches. Even carries the stack of folded linens and pillowcases she'd recovered, letting her take and prepare them as needed. It's while doing this that Venom heeds her last words, looking every bit as docile as he seems. Far from the ravenous, embattled disposition he was often found in during combat, his time in the hospital had left an impact. Thanks to Angela, Venom has learned how to slow down. ]

The question is not how cold we are, but how cold you are.

But since we made contact, there is no denying a wholeness that we feel is missing.

Missing without you.

[ While Venom speaks, Angela's distracting herself by flattening out the bedsheet with her hands. It's then that she finds massive claws gently encircling her forearms, almost holding each of them in some kind of careful caress. As if Venom regards her now with a distinct reverence, with his body soon pressing up against her back. From behind, he still towers over her, looking down with something of a neutral expression. He's pressed so closely now, though, that there's practically nothing between them. Angela could simply lean back and let the blackness of the abyss swallow her whole-- the cosmic enormity of what Venom represents, now so proximate. ]

We want you, Angela. We want your warmth.

But we refuse to take what we can't also give in return.

[ Within him, Eddie remembers. Love that has failed due to the complications brought on by the symbiote. The fear instilled by Venom and his form. An alienation that made it feel impossible to love and be loved, but now? Whatever becomes of this uncanny intimacy, the critical difference lies in how a bond was already formed. Venom may still be alien to Angela conceptually, but that is far from the case physically. Not when her body has already been sheltered by the symbiote's protection, every inch of her now belonging to Venom, and more importantly... vice versa. ]

Remember. We are as much yours as you are ours. That is symbiosis.

[ It was one of the few things she did to cope. To keep moving forward and not address the big... menacing elephant in the room. By all accounts, Venom should be feared. A beast from another world, a monster that consumes as much as as it needs to. There was no records, no real studies on the anomaly. It was Angela who needs to spearhead it, not for the scientific "benefits" it would yield... but for her own need. Her own understanding, as if trying to figure out a piece of her.

In such a short amount of time, she has not adjusted. She has not figured it out. There's something that's calling her, begging for her to just... give in. It wasn't human nature, it wasn't an ambitious trait Angela usually submits to – to partake in.

Her stance straightens and she sinks back into the darkness – caught off guard, perhaps wanting that wholeness subconsciously. However, she catches herself before she literally does submerge herself against him – the intimacy was still there but so... different than a preconceived notion. This wasn't lewd, it wasn't romantic, it was... needed. In ways that she felt she never had before. The symbiote didn't beg. Eddie didn't beg. And in this brief moment – she feels... warm. ]

If... this happens... will I always be cold? [ Without them. Even after they soak in a new, dazzling warmth – is it like an addiction, she wonders? Angela's back stays against him, both of her hands pressed to her collarbone, even with his form on – against – hers. ] Will it always go back to that?

[ Venom understands it. The sinking feeling in Angela's stomach that her curiosity here, a thirst for discovery that comes naturally to a scientific mind, serves no social benefit. No benefit, in her mind, besides her own edification. But is it really such a bad thing, to want to understand this new part of herself? Is it selfish to desire to learn what this is, attaining mastery over it through knowledge?

As Angela shifts her weight to lean on the figure behind her, this does not equal a subsumption into Venom's amorphous mass. But the proximity she achieves by pressing against him gives her the exact warmth that she notices. The warmth, perhaps, of belonging. By this time, Venom had already let go of her wrists, having only taken them to catch her attention and disrupt her attempts to busy herself. Replacing one trance, it seems, with another: the symbiote's pull.

By the time Angela asks her question, Venom places his hands on her hips. There is no erotic caress here, but a seeming desire to hold her steady. A means of keeping her from getting any closer, but also from going no further. ]

Yes. But not unbearably so.

[ Venom continues looking down at Angela out of curiosity, watching for the minutest change in her expression. What, after all, does this extended tension bring to the surface? What, within her, is waiting to burst? ]

You'll be reminded of what you do not have when you're without it.

Fortunately... we are not very far. We could be a hell of a lot farther.

But if you think this is warm, you must understand.

[ Carefully, Venom relinquishes one of his hands from its place on Mercy's hip. His fingers gravitate to the bedsheet in front of them, patting down parts of it that needed flattening. After doing so, the hand lingers, as if in contemplation of the very bed that it touches. ]

We can be warmer.

You must tell us if that's something you're ready for.

Something you... desire.

[ It was easy to accept life as it should be. This was one of the first things many doctors believe – that it is an inevitability to age, grow, and eventually die. If she was to die, something other than fate interjected. Now, as she feels a pull almost bringing her from inside of her own head – inside of her own misunderstandings and shortcomings in terms of bonding so clearly with this being.

They were at a crossroads – sensations she never could attribute to love or lust, but a sense of... home. As if this warmth reminds her of sunny summer days where the festival goers pass the window right in front of them. When the pull of home calls, it makes her eyes nearly swell up in tears. He gives her honesty, a gentleness that she did not admittedly expect.

Words feel short of her acceptance. That even after such a short period, her time with the symbiote has changed part of her. There was no denying. The dreams, the coldness, the difference in how she looks upon him compared to their first encounter – it was different now. Breaking the concept of individuality, it was difficult for her but – ]

Show me, then. If you offer the solution... I wish to test this... bond.

[ There was no romanticism to her acceptance. To her agreement. Science and medicine would be nowhere without testing... and perhaps – the fear subsides when she realizes this itself is a test and she is almost eager for an answer. For a result she can try to make sense of. If he offers her warmth, if he offers her something... she accepts, her gaze falling upon him without fear or even uncertainty.

Angela looks to him as confident as she did in the field, as if this could save a life – or three, if the fates were kind. ]

You wish to test, but it's you who'll be tested.

[ Where Venom was gentle before, and careful, it was clear he was also guarded. But Angela's acceptance of her bond, down to her perishing any trepidation in her mind, strikes Venom as a vote of confidence. He can feel the change, like the opening of floodgates. As a signal for him to let down some walls of his own, his stare of intense contemplation becomes an enthusiastic grin. No tongue out yet, but fangs are nonetheless bared-- the sheer animality of Venom returning to the surface. Because now it seems that so much of what's to follow will be predicated on instinct. The kind that fills Angela with a sense of belonging the longer she dwells in Venom's presence, and the closer that she is to it.

Venom separates from her back now to give himself allowance for his subsequent plans. ]

Not that it's a bad thing. We consider this a fun exercise.

[ It's as he utters these words that Venom's hand, the one still holding Angela's hip, rises to her shoulder. His other hand retreats from the bed to clasp the opposite shoulder, such that both hands soon tug. Angela, meanwhile, witnesses the slow beginnings of him disrobing her, Venom taking her coat and tossing it onto an adjacent crate.

And while he could simply crouch or do anything else 'normally' to adjust his own height, he doesn't bother to lean over to pull down Angela's pants. Tendrils, rather, emerge from his body to slip into the fabric, slithering between it and her skin as it all obtains a grip. Her blouse, on the other hand, is another story-- demanding more attention from those same tendrils, that steadily unbutton her, coiling around each button and pulling as one would using fingers.

When both garments have fallen, Venom tosses them where the coat first landed. And he leans over Angela's shoulder, hovering over her from behind. His tongue finally rolls out from his maw, the latter a disarrayed arrangement of fangs. Here is a creaturely being that seems expressly designed to kill and destroy, but his lethal exterior is only... soft. Careful. The tongue, for instance, moves with a deliberation missing from his frenzied movements during combat. It glides smoothly against the surface of Angela's skin, lapping up the side of her neck and the corner of her jawline. Despite the thin trail of saliva that it leaves, Angela would not be mistaken to take this as some gesture of affection. ]

We can go further than this. We simply want nothing between us.

[ Truly, Eddie often wore the suit in lieu of true clothing, and today remains no exception. Eddie places that much stock in this bond.

And if Angela assents, Venom continues. The same tendrils that exercised care and precision before now muster that same acumen, some undoing Angela's bra while others pull her panties to the floor. It's when those too are discarded that she'll find herself clad in nothing, save for the warming presence of the symbiote. Of Venom. And now, he steps close enough behind her that once again, there is nothing between them. Only her back exposed to the undulating mass, the utter substance of Venom that - despite appearing viscous - is surprisingly firm.

He then enfolds his arms around her in an embrace that is distinctly warm. Like a hearth in a log cabin during winter, or sunlight after rain in springtime. Perhaps even the omnipresent glow of the summer sun that Angela remembers so fondly. It's with these feelings that Venom continues to embrace her, primed to consummate the connection that's been tugging at them since they first made contact. ]

You must tell us, Angela. Tell us if you're ready.

[ There may be truth to that, more than Angela was ready to admit. It was easy to claim it was her desire to help him – that no animalistic and foreign attraction was bringing her to him, but would she be able to lie? He can feel her, they both can feel the storm of curiosity and desperation for understanding. Where it borderlines into a hunger for heat. For warmth. For want that may never find the end.

She parts her lips to stammer out some poorly constructed rebuttal – but it fails as soon as it begins. Why does she need to defend herself? The ghosting feeling... is there a pulse he can pinpoint? A thought that strays longer than she thinks to when she looks at the being (and man) before her? It's invasive, but – she instead contends with the shift of clothing being pulled from her frame. It was easy to get lost into a trance, the sensations and emotions all a storm swelling inside of her. By the time her jacket was gone and those tendrils encompass around her. Her hands instinctively rise, as if trying to grasp at something – the back of a lover's hand, the mapped and familiar form of their bicep pressed into her. Instead, she feels the warmth spread across her bare skin when the shirt becomes another afterthought. ]

Mr. Brock – [ Her words finally stumble, and she nearly stumbles the symbiote's claim to name as well, but she fails. Her heart thumps against her chest, her thighs instinctively tightening in a guarded stance to sate her body's own reaction – how hollow she feels, how cold she feels with the shivering sensation he offers her then. That tongue... it canvases against her as if claiming her undoubtedly. Or, perhaps, when she undoes how human nature was so focused on one and one – he was bringing her back to where they would be whole. It will become second-nature, one day. He leaves her with the gesture, leaves her eyes shut tight and jaw dropping as if her body betrays her.

The promise of answers, of wholeness was too good for even the most noble and realistic doctors to ignore. For the woman he's bonded with to ignore. She gulps and nods. ]

And... there can not be. A life of suffering... of being cold, alone.

[ The summer she remembers was gone and heat was calling for her – and as each layer was pulled away and she was bare, he had all the answers he would need from her. Her willingness, her bare body allowing the black mass to press against her and take any lingering warmth she offers.

The firmness against her was a swooping, strange feelings but – there was something Angela feels obligated to do. To pull from him as if there was some last minute doubt. Her eyes meet his – whether she can see Eddie or Venom, she doesn't care. ]

I... am. If this happens, everything you spoke – our bond – it will be us. Together. Beyond us warming ourselves, beyond.. tendrilled webs binding us, and beyond a doctor and patient. [ Her words were strong, not lost in the haze of her own uncertainty or her body's reaction to his touches. ] Together in ways no one else can understand. Where words... fail.

[ Carefully, her hand moves as if she was trying to touch a wild animal. She doesn't stop until her knuckles brush against his jawline, to grow accustomed to the sensation on her terms as well. ]

Good.

[ Venom's fascinated grin becomes one of satisfaction, though now that Angela's facing him, she'll admittedly find it hard to tell the difference. ]

Our understanding matters more than anyone else's.

[ When she appraises his jawline with her knuckles, his massive, clawed hand reaches to caress her cheek. Though his fingertips are sharp in their current state, they don't leave a scratch, with all the care he exercises touching her face. Though he positively towers over her, his stature doesn't strike him as a distinct advantage, or something emblematic of some notion of power over her. Because truly, this is not about power. Never about power. The symbiote has learned enough from Eddie - the humanity within him - to forego such notions, giving way instead to... reciprocity. ]

"Our," of course, includes you.

[ The creaturely presence subsides, somewhat. Venom's head, like a mask removing itself, dissipates into the rest of his body, until Eddie's head underneath is exposed. It might surprise Angela to understand that no additional mass contributes to Venom's size or stature, that so much of the way Venom looks - his Olympian physicality, most of all - is Eddie Brock's doing. The symbiote conforms to his skin, to the shape of a body sculpted by intense - borderline obsessive - levels of training. And perhaps it's this recognition that makes Venom as a whole less worthy of fear. He is as much man as alien, with Eddie Brock now meeting Angela's gaze.

He leans, as well, to kiss the same cheek that Venom had caressed. Cupping the opposite cheek with his fearsome hand, tilting her head gently so she can face upward... welcoming his lips to her own. The same warmth felt by extended contact with Venom's form returns through Eddie's mouth, as he initiates with chaste pecks before going in for a deeper kiss. Lips linger on each other, while Venom's other hand - the one not cupping Angela's cheek - now gravitates to the small of her back. A desire makes itself known to hold her close, to kiss her tenderly as the first act of consummating their bond.

It might surprise her to witness this, despite how their minds have connected. She might remember vividly, still, the ferocity of an embattled Venom. The scale of devastation that he wrought while left unchecked, turning on Talon's forces only to face down the Juggernaut. Though the skirmish with Overwatch took place in an abandoned city, entire buildings were leveled by their duel. Angela, for all intents and purposes, is taming a titan. ]

You're heavenly, Angela.

[ Jarringly, that's Eddie's voice. An entirely human intonation, hushed as he speaks only another kiss away from Angela. He smirks somewhat bashfully, too, in a way that would be impossible to notice from Venom. ]

I mean... Doctor.

Our. Us. I suppose... I'll need to get use to that...

[ There's no advantage she has had. Despite being the one to lead care on him for short amount of time she had – she's no step closer to figuring him out or noting differences, as subtle as they were, in either Eddie or Venom. This... was the first step to. To give in, to accept what is. That their bond was something more than science and more than DNA altering. It tethers them and keeps two boats from going adrift in a sea of chaos. No matter the storm that batters them, they are safe – they are connected.

Angela was adapting, slowly but surely. As she feels the different texture of the symbiote, welcomes the touches in return with a relieving sigh... There was give and take right then – as much as they had felt like two (technically three) entities, what they feel now was more than themselves. One day she'll be use to the feeling – could pinpoint and understand differences in the way the symbiote pushes Eddie... or when Eddie pushes her. There's a different gentleness that feels familiar when Eddie is the face she looks at, the one who's lips take hers when she looks up to him with a pleading gaze. Her fingers dive against his neck, pushing to hook against where his shoulder connects, even if it was a reach. There's a curiosity there – where her fingers test the difference between man and 'beast'. Back and forth, her fingers sculpt and squeeze down against the curve of his neck, leaning into him as they gravitate into something more familiar. Intimate. Clear.

It was acceptance she gives him, returning the proactiveness, the daring state of crossing a line between two beings. When he calls her Doctor, part of her knows they shouldn't – but that warmth... it's calling to her in ways that make her want to keep going. She moves, albeit guiding him until he was pinned halfway against the bed's edge. ]

Either is fine.

[ Angela wasn't thinking this was the solution days ago, that any failures in her or his testing were indicative of something missing. Maybe, she thought, what happened to them was trauma. Was a reaction to the stressors of Talon, Juggernaut and Overwatch as well. Now, she knows what is missing. Having part of your mind, heart, and soul missing without even knowing it was gone.

When he offers a kiss so fleeting, she closes the distance with her own showcase. Where her body finds a home against him, standing on tip-toes to take his face into both of her hands and give in. Her kiss was aggressive at first, desperate if he can pin-point. ]

Well, I like Angela better.

[ With that, Eddie offers her a reassuring smile. The most that tired eyes and a bearded, war torn countenance can muster. One that makes it difficult to mask the sorrow of a life of violence... until it’s enveloped by a blackness so as to be masked. Because Venom returns, baring his fangs once again with a toothy grin. The kind that might instill fear were Angela anyone else. The kind that might instill fear anyway, as she continues getting used to their bond.

He had waited, of course, till Angela finished kissing Eddie before returning as Venom. And his first move is, with one hand, to cradle the small of Angela’s back, and with the other, to scoop her up by the backs of her knees. She’s bound to feel like a feather as he lifts her with near-thoughtless ease, gently laying her down onto the bed proper. Venom proceeds to follow her there, climbing onto the mattress and straddling one of her legs. He doesn’t press down any of his weight on her, but simply kneels while one of Angela’s legs lingers between his. It’s from this position that he positively hovers over her, towering as much as before... and casting an inimitable shadow. ]

You look beautiful this way, Angela. Exposed. Bare.

And right where we want you... while we’re here. Where you want us.

[ And they say that because they can feel it. Perhaps she can feel their want, too. She’ll certainly feel it as tendrils reemerge from his body, seemingly limitless in length as several extend towards her. Some slink around the circumference of her thigh, their tips less than an inch away from her exposed slit. In fact, she might even feel them already palpating her entrance quite tentatively. She, however, will also have to contend with one of the tendrils wrapped around her breast, in a spiral centered around her nipple. The tip there begins caressing it faintly, as patient to savor every building sensation instilled upon her.

Before long, Venom shows her one of his hands, whose sharp fingertips retract to yield a shape closer to a human man’s. It’s with this hand, still enveloped in the murky blackness of the symbiote, that Venom cups Angela’s unattended breast. He hunches over while doing this, all to lavish the side of her neck - the one he hadn’t touched at all - with the wet tip of his tongue. Thus, she finds herself enveloped by their bond in a different way, utterly beholden to Venom’s ever-expanding totality. ]

Don’t be afraid, now. We won’t hurt you.

[ It’s with this that between Angela’s legs, the tip of one of Venom’s tendrils slips inside her, steadily palpating her walls. Pressing gently at first, against every cluster of nerves within. She might feel the tendril expand slowly, eager to fill the space. But every movement is slow, here. Careful. So that no surprise is ever too abrupt, and no sensation ever too shocking. ]

Angela, then...

[ It wasn't as if they found themselves here on attraction. The type of attraction engrained into the human DNA itself. To seek out another, to find traits that were endearing and desirable. They didn't meet in some bar, didn't meet because he liked her accent or she liked the added scruff on his face. Eddie and Angela didn't have a chance – not without Venom. Simplicity was a trait long gone when they were left dealing with the pull of something more.

She tries to show an acceptance, but now it was bleeding into a want. To understand them in ways that would instill her trust, sate her curiosity, and stop that voice in the back of her head that kept her up at night. The appearance of the symbiote was not welcomed at first... but it was not fearful. As she stands bare before him, pressing into him with the same seduction she would have a normal lover, she is seeing Eddie and Venom as one in the same. Her short-lived spunk of assertion was cut short and the bed found use for the first time in a decade. It was firm, but braces her when she feels an engulfing shift to her frame. He's on-top of her, towering over her in ways that she can hardly ignore was... yes, attractive.

The sprawling black from his frame weaves against the thickness of her thighs, where she feels the urge to clamp herself shut on instinct. Angela's lips part, a croaked gasp escaping as her senses go red, lit aflame with a new feeling. It was confusing. It was warm where she feels chilled to the bone. Her stomach sucks inwards, ready to sit up and meet him halfway – but he beats her to the punch.

The swell of her breasts were plush against him – both tendrils and fingertips. Angela's hand finds his – clutching and nearly clawing at the back of his hand, at the mercy (haha) of Venom's claiming licks. ]

I am not afraid – I'm not. I swear. [ She tells herself that, tells them that between clenched teeth. It braces her for what comes next, that the growing wetness was some satisfactory offering to allow him inside of her. Sinking her head back into the bed, her hand grows desperate, stroking against his knuckles and clutching onto him in a direct reaction to the very... very new sensation. Angela offers her own heat as well, welcoming the growing girth with a slight clench around him – where her body reacts and begs for more. ] Can you – feel like –

[ A normal lover would? If he can stroke her insides, desperate to chase becoming whole with her – she wonders if she was selfish now as he offers her something abundantly. ]

Angela it is. We like it better.

[ Not from a particular disdain for doctors, of course. But because Venom likes hearing her true name. Not Doctor. Not even Mercy. But Angela. And while it's true that their intimacy here wasn't catalyzed by some mundane serendipity, Venom can't imagine any other way this could be. Though he'd put himself at risk to save any innocent, there was something about that first contact with Angela that deemed her worth bonding with. Something beyond what Eddie or the symbiote could ever expect: some kind of instinctual pull. As if to say something deep inside the symbiote knows that extended contact with Angela will prolong its survival. As if Angela will make Venom stronger.

And oh, does he want to be stronger. Not just in the violence he can dispense, but in his capacity to protect. To provide care. And despite the consequences of Angela's devotion to her oath, evil that she's had to save and good that she simply couldn't... she has proven the perfect candidate for honing this strength. Not just by teaching it to Venom, but by being a part of it.

Like now, as she writhes to the pleasure of his every imposition. The sensations instilled by his tendrils, his hand, his tongue-- all that carefully caresses her body, eager and attentive to its increasingly sensitive parts. With a part of him inside her, an ever-expanding tendril, he listens carefully to her words. Not only what she says, but what she fails to say. But Venom can connect the dots, piece together what she means.

In noting her utter dishevelment, though, how severely it contrasts with her more composed and dignified self from moments prior... it delights him. Venom laughs. ]

We know what you want this to feel like.

[ Notably, his laughter isn't out of mockery, or out of condescension. There's no evil in it, nor malice. Venom's just... entertained. Entertained by something cute that he sees in Angela being so flustered. ]

We can deliver.

[ "A normal lover." He can feel the implication, but suspects it goes one of two ways. The sensation of a few 'human' fingers, or that of a 'human' cock. Angela will soon sense that he considers trying both. Discovering, together, what she likes. So the tendril begins by curling up against her walls as fingers might, with the force of a hand thrusting its fingers into her slit. The tendril extends with the solidity of fingers, the dexterity of them, targeting her most sensitive spot in the process.

One interpretation so far. But to test out the other, Venom's tendril changes. Becomes firm while taking a different shape. More phallic, lacking the bend or the dexterity of the previous form, but compensating through sheer girth. An unyielding solidity forms within Angela as the tendril pummels gently between her legs. It's obvious, here, that he's not going as hard as he could be.

Not yet. ]

Tell us what you like more. What you want first.

[ And to think, Angela's contending with this while all else is still happening. Venom hasn't stopped licking her, fondling her, and leaving a tendril wrapped around one of her breasts. There's no doubt at all that he derives satisfaction from overwhelming her with pleasure, and testing her limits. ]

[ Part of her wishes she knew what to call him. Eddie? Venom? There was more complexities when it came down to it for her – from accepting the multi-minded being and the sentiency of the symbiote. How she has to wonder if there was one choosing what to do, one preferring to spread their grasp against her. The thought of both being of one, well-working union was not at the top of her mind.

One of her legs shift, bending at the knee as if angling him better inside of her, where she can have some more control to welcome him inside. As apprehensive as she was at first, ignoring the haunting call that kept her up at night... Angela was falling into a sense of satisfaction. If she had ignored it, would she crumble and weaken? There's no science to this, no manner of which she could make sense of it.

It was a test.

That much was clear.

And Angela planned to ace it.

Her eyes refuse to shut, but flutter with pleasure. There's something to be proud of... that someone as newly bonded, someone as 'new' to this type of pleasure could pull this off. In her hunt for truth, Angela finds herself succumbing to curiosities that consume her as much as he did. Her excitement grows in terms of wetness, of how simple it was for him to partake in her. There was a contrast to the expanse of black that engulfed Eddie, this was... more invasive. Angela catches her bottom lip, the shift in size addressing two different feelings.

The test was real, shifting her frame a bit to try and see which felt more alluring. Her hand shoots down when the thinner, finger-like tendril stroked against the needy ridges inside. She grasps against the mass pushing inside of her, not to control... but to brace herself. That brings her to push him up off of her a bit, so she can look up to her bonded without fear. ]

Do you not have... a preference? Not.. a want of your own? Eddie... Venom, whatever you want to share... Tell me.

[ It leaves her lips before she can even hold back, the more... phallic shape comes into play and drives her to collapse back once more. She is satisfied, warmth heating her up and giving her the first instance of feeling whole. One hand latched down between her legs, the other moves to the tendril on her breast. He wasn't the only one that found a way to cling to the other.

When she once felt teased and sensitive, she now feels full. Her walls spread to fit him, to feel more of his offering with an eager squeeze. ]

Tell me and I'll be honest with you. You won't have to search for an answer when you hear me ... nnn, say it.

[ Isn't there some victory there, at least? She challenges Venom in ways they may not be accustomed, but it feels as if she tries to remain true to herself.. to pretend that this was normal, above all else. ]

[ In something akin to wonderment, Venom looks down at Angela, whose body contorts to extract as much pleasure as she can from his every ministration. His tendril had just finished assuming more finger-like proportions before transitioning to a more phallic shape, filling walls that she herself willingly tightens. ]

Our want is yours.

[ His claiming licks have not ceased, all the while. Interrupted though they may be by his occasional speech, his tongue is ceaseless, lavishing Angela's bare skin with a distinct affection... somewhat like a supplicant in reverence. But then his tongue moves, flitting away from her cheek and the side of her neck. The tip starts teasing at the corner of her lip, waiting for her mouth to open - however slightly - to gain entry. He does not go further in, though, refusing to be as invasive above as he is below, because his tongue supports a different goal. It presses against her tongue, lapping it up in languid caress. The closest thing to a kiss he can manage while avoiding the logistical nightmare of involving his gaping, fanged maw. ]

And we want you.

[ At will, the tendril inside her assumes a more finger-like ensemble. He seems invested in switching between the two modes - fingers and phallus - whenever he feels like it, never wanting Angela to get too comfortable with just one. But he feels his own urge to be more direct than his usage of a mere tendril. To put himself inside her like a "normal" lover might.

He can afford to wait. It's titillating enough, for now, to continue watching Angela writhe. To see her succumb to his advances so nakedly, and with so little fear. Which is why he continues fondling her, switching his hand to her other breast. The tendril attending to it previously has likewise abandoned it for the opposite breast, spiraling around its fullness until the tip can stroke her nipple. She will find, all the while, that his tendril below increases in vigor. In force. Pummeling intently, whether with the dexterousness of fingers or the girth of a cock, to make Angela's body shift in place... rocking the bed. ]

You'll serve us when we wish it.

But for now, we serve you.

[ He seems intent on following through with this till Angela reaches her breaking point. Till pleasures mount unsustainably, such that release is her only recourse.

For that to happen, Venom is content with waiting. With watching Angela experience just a taste of what he has to offer. ]

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