Marvel:Host of Venom

Hearing Ethan's solemn question, Peter suddenly realized just how odd his behavior with the gargoyle must have seemed. He rubbed the back of his head in mild embarrassment, then forced a sheepish grin and explained with a shrug, "It's just a joke. You know… dark humor."

Not wanting to risk being thought unstableor worse, unfit for the missionPeter quickly changed the subject back to the real issue at hand.

He pointed to the giant screen across the skyline, where a replay of the "new hero" Mysterio aired on loopQuentin Beck, with his signature dome-shaped helmet glowing faintly under city lights.

"That fishbowl head's more dangerous than he looks," Peter said with a sigh. "He's a master illusionistuses advanced holographic projectors and Stark-level drones to create entire battlefields out of thin air. Half the time I don't even know what's real until I've already hit a wall."

Ethan narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, clearly intrigued. "Creating illusions so realistic they can't be distinguished from reality… now that's an ability with terrifying potential."

Peter nodded grimly but cracked a small smile to lighten the mood. "I mean, sure, in another life that tech could've been used for something funlike simulating Jurassic World. Imagine seeing dinosaurs running across Manhattan like it's nothing."

Ethan huffed softly, not amused.

Peter's tone shifted as a memory surfaced. "Back on the Brooklyn Bridge earlier, Beck said something strange. He claimed that was the place I 'destroyed him'so now, he's returning the favor."

He scratched his chin. "I've been to the Brooklyn Bridge at least a hundred times, but I seriously don't remember ever dealing with him there before. Either he's bluffing, or someone's been playing with my memories."

Ethan thought for a moment. "If Mysterio's illusions are layered deep enough to fool even your memory and instincts, then we need hard intelsomething not so easily manipulated. We need access to a large, clean database to trace Beck's movements and background. He's got a past, and somewhere in that past is a thread we can pull."

Peter frowned. "Okay… where do we find that kind of database?"

"The NYPD," Ethan answered plainly. "The police station has one of the most comprehensive criminal archives in the city. They log everythingarrest reports, sightings, CCTV feeds, incident reports. If Beck's ever been arrested, cited, or even watched, he'll show up there."

Peter blinked, a little surprised. "The police station? Really?"

"Yes," Ethan said simply. "I've been inside more than once. They're more organized than you'd think, and their backend system can be accessed without raising alarmsif you know how."

He turned and looked at Peter directly. "I'll go there tonight. In the meantime, think hard about any other leadssmall details, strange tech, keywords he used. Anything that stands out. The more context I have, the easier it'll be to cross-reference him."

Peter looked genuinely moved by the offer. He scratched his head, looking both grateful and slightly embarrassed. "You really don't have to do all this. It's my mess, and I should be handling it. Why don't I come with you?"

Ethan nodded. "That'd be the most efficient. You might recognize details I'll miss."

So they made an agreementto meet that night at midnight on the rooftop directly across from the police precinct.

After parting ways, Ethan returned home to prepare. Their conversation reminded him that the NYPD database could become a recurring tool in the future. It would be inefficient to infiltrate the police archives every time he needed intel. A better plan would be to build a real-time, encrypted backdoor into their serverallowing him to copy the data stream directly into his own system and access it remotely at any time.

Inspired by the idea, Ethan booted up his workstation and got to work, his fingers dancing across the keyboard with surgical precision.

As the night deepened, the city lights dimmed slightly under cloud cover. Just before midnight, Ethan removed the freshly coded access protocols from his computer, stored them on a custom USB drive, and leapt out the window in a blur of shadow.

"Thwip!" A black web-line snapped taut against the rooftop edge as he launched upward, landing silently in the moonlight.

"You're already here. Guess I'm running late," Ethan said as he approached the rooftop's ledge and found Peter waiting.

Peter, crouched with his arms wrapped around his knees, looked up with a tired smile behind the mask. "I was early. Nervous habit."

When Peter heard that, he waved his hand and quickly said, "No, you're right on time. I just got here a bit earlier."

In truth, Peter had arrived nearly an hour ago, his mind consumed by the mystery of Quentin Beck. He had been pacing the rooftop restlessly, staring blankly at the skyline, trying to piece together scattered clues and unsettling memories.

"Alright, now that everything's ready, let's move out," Ethan said as he turned and gestured for Peter to follow. Without hesitation, he leapt from the roof, his black figure vanishing into the night as he glided silently toward the precinct.

Peter followed close behind, swinging low through the alleys and staying in his shadow.

Minutes later, they reached the police headquarters. Clinging to the outer walls like twin shadows, they positioned themselves on opposite sides of a third-story window, flat against the surface like geckos. The darkness helped them blend in, unseen by passing patrol drones.

Ethan silently unlocked the window with practiced ease, then vaulted inside with feline precision. Peter landed behind him a second later, equally light on his feet. The two moved like smoke in the night, leaving no sound or trace.

Inside the records room, Ethan booted up the central database terminal. He plugged in a slim USB drivehis custom backdoor scriptand accessed the secure NYPD archives. Without looking up, he spoke calmly.

"Now tell me what you knowkeywords, dates, anything. I'll run it through the database and we'll narrow down potential identities."

Peter crossed his arms, brows furrowed in thought. "Brooklyn Bridge. Spider-Man. Helicopter. If he was after revenge, he must've had something personal to lose. Not your average street criminalmore like a guy who had a future and blamed me for wrecking it."

Ethan nodded and began typing.

Moments later, several case files appeared on the screenrobbery suspects, accident reports, aviation mishaps. He organized them quickly and turned the monitor toward Peter. "Car accident, robbery, helicopter crash… which one stands out?"

Peter squinted, then his eyes widened. "That's it. The helicopter crashQuentin Beck! That's the guy!"

He leaned forward and tapped the profile photo. "About a year ago, a film crew was shooting a high-budget action sequence on the Brooklyn Bridge. The scene involved a choreographed car chase and a series of explosions. One of the detonation points was overloadedblew way harder than plannedand damaged the rotor of a drone chopper filming overhead."

"I happened to be nearby," Peter continued, "and I managed to get the crew out before the chopper dropped, but stillit went down hard. I found unapproved explosive rigs hidden in the bridge structure. Turned out Beck, the effects supervisor, had modified them on his own to make the shot more 'cinematic.' He went completely off-script."

"He caused the crashand when I confronted him, he tried to run. I webbed him up and handed him over to the cops."

Peter sighed and shook his head. "When they cuffed him, he kept yelling that I ruined his life. That he'd get even. I thought he was just blowing smoke, but… I guess not."

Ethan scowled as he read the case details. "Quentin Beck. Former Hollywood special effects artist. Arrested for reckless endangerment, unauthorized detonation of explosives, and obstruction. Served twelve months. Released recently."

He clicked on the timeline and narrowed his eyes. "He must've spent that entire year planning thistwisting the narrative, building his illusions. First, he publicly discredits you… then he plays hero to take your place. He's not just targeting your lifehe's coming for your identity."

Peter clenched his fists. "He wants to turn me into the bad guy and take everything I've worked for. He wants to be the 'new face of hope'with a fishbowl helmet and scripted monologues."

Ethan nodded grimly. "He's malicious. A year in prison gave him time to perfect his delusions."

Peter's eyes drifted back to the screen. A small section listed Beck's known addresses and professional affiliations.

"There." He pointed. "Miracle Studio. That's where he's set up shop. It's listed as a visual effects company, but I bet he's using it as a base of operations."

Peter's voice dropped into something more serious. "I think it's time we paid Beck a visit. Face to face. If he wants a stage, then let's give him a finale."