Spider -Man:Peter Venom

Sorry Pete, now you're not at school we should probably stop the tutoring, it's been great though, thanks. Harry

Peter crushed the egg in his hand, letting the others fall onto the counter. Fucking ingrate, he tutored him, helped him with math, sciences and any fucking problem he had and he gets on the bad side of a stockholder and even Harry fucking bends over and kisses his ass. He threw the remains of the mess at the eggshell filled trash can, he'd make them pay, he'd make them all pay.

Checking the empty carton out Peter decided he needed some more eggs, fresh air would help clear his head, he needed to think, to decide his future once and for all, screw the rest of them, screw them all.

His phone dinged and while it was Gwen, he was in a bad mood, "Sorry, Aunt May will be here soon, talk to you later," he quickly typed.

At home in their lavish Brownstone house, staring at her phone Gwen shrugged and thought, oh well, to herself. She was in front of a mirror, phone camera ready to click but with Aunt May almost there she thought better of it. Running her hands down her body she stared at the silky black underwear she'd bought for Peter's 18th Birthday but had chickened out. He was going to freak out when he got to unwrap her now that they were dating.

Downstairs in his office, George Stacy stared at the report once more. Three, three costumed weirdos were terrorising his city and there was nothing he could do about it. The first report was about a local hood, Flint Marko, who'd been beaten so badly his ribs were sticking out his chest, local EMT's reported he'd be dead within an hour and if he hadn't disappeared this would be a murder rather than just a mugging gone wrong. The report included a witness, who described a huge latex suit-wearing man, completely black with a white spider design on his chest, who'd made a lame joke after driving Marko into a wall.

Then, some fetish nightmare with whip and razor claws strung up Dillon Murphy, a local drug dealer, all they got from the high as a kite dealer was big ass titties, over and over. George rubbed his forehead and then, last but not least another spider freak. Blue and Red costume, webs all over it but this guy, he knew police procedure, videoed the mugging, stopped it, all on camera and then restrained the guy before calling the cops. He hated vigilantes for these three reasons, one a brutalist, one an adrenaline junkie and the last, an actual do-gooder who'd get someone, or himself, killed. He felt a headache coming on and Gwen dating this Parker kid didn't make it any better.

The same reports had made their way via a series of bribes and connections to the offices of J. Jonah Jameson. He was staring at a nervous young man, holding another manilla envelope.

"So, you got the photos?" The grey-haired moustached man asked, drawing on his thick cigar.

"I do Mr Jameson, I do." The man standing in front of Jameson had at least made an effort, his short light brown hair neatly trimmed and his square but handsome face with piercingblue eyes was at least cleanly shaven.

"Spider-Man huh?" Jameson flicked through the photo's, each one capturing the vigilante in precise clarity. "A menace, that's what he is, taking jobs away from our honest to god police."

"Uh Mr Jameson sir", The photographer handed over a file he'd gotten from a 'source', "Spider-Man is the third vigilante to appear this week, and uh, he's the nicest."

"What? He's a menace. What's your name again?"

"It's uh Brock Sir, Eddie Brock and yes, he still tied up that mugger sir but look." Eddie Brock showed J.Jonah Jameson the three police reports. "He filmed everything, to show he's not so bad but these two. "Mugger was found with his chest caved in," and as he flicked to the other report, "the dealer was found with a month's supply of LSD stuffed into his mouth."

"Wow, three menaces. Brock, get me photos of all of them, Spider-man, this Night Stalkerwoman and uh, uh, hmm, I'll think of something for the black one later, racial sensitivity and all that." J.J waved him away, "See HR for your pay son, these are good, these are really good, Brock is it? bring me more like this and I'll give you a full-time position."

Eddie left the envelope on the desk and taking a backwards glance he could see J.J reading his work. He inwardly sighed as he left the office, as he already had a full-time position, just right at the bottom. He hoped his big break wouldcome from the editorial piece he had publishedin yesterday's edition about the three. He'd already named them. Spider-man was a given but Black Cat was more appropriate as she slashed the dealer with claws and was wearing a black catsuit but the last one, the spider outfit was a giveaway, was he the victim of one of Oscorps spider creations or something else entirely? Whatever his story, Eddie was sure their paths would cross, sooner rather thanlater. Spider-Man and Tarantula were fated to be on different sides of the law.

Aunt May was stunned, which went pastshocked, right into what the hell, and straight out the other side of sweet Jesus. Peter hadn't been joking when he said he'd been busytidying up and upgrading the once meth lab. White floors, clean windows with a nice cool breeze filtering through the whole place. This was nicer than where they currently lived and May couldn't find anything to pick over, well almost.

"You live here?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at Peter's sparse living conditions. He had a cot bed with a few blankets thrown over it, a kettle with discarded instant noodle pots surrounding it and an overflowing trash bag. Clothes were piled into two categories she could see, one clean, she hoped, and one that was definitely dirty going by the smell.

Peter just shrugged, of course he didn't, this was just a pit stop for when he got tired and Aunt May knew it. He was home most nights by 11 and while he might be gone at 7 in the morning he wasn't ready to live here full time just yet, too much painting and welding needed to be done and airing out the whole place took days just because of its size. He'd even had to waste several days simply because spraying foam insulation and painting filled the warehouse with so many toxic fumes he had started to get dizzy and choke when working.

Aunt May came in and hugged him. "Peter, never forget that I'm proud of you and that your Uncle Ben would be too." She felt the tears coming and held Peter tight until they passed. Her fears he was lost and directionless were unfounded, right now, she couldn't be prouder.

Peter left her to explore the warehouse and she took the chance to do so while he went out to get some food for them. She wasn't a fan of burgers but Peter told her there was a Mexican taco truck that should be open and he could get them both wraps.

The outside of the homes was spotless, whitewashed floors, painted white cladding over the corrugated iron walls meant the warehouse was warm even if the spring had refused to shift into summer, and the windows had been coated in privacy film. While it muted the sunlight each window must have been 5 feet by 5 feet and the lower amount of sunlight was negligible.