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Black Sustenance	By : FamiraDamaris Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Spiderman Views: 15551 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Spiderman, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Black Substenance

by Famira Damaris

Disclaimer: I don't own Spider-man.

Author Notes: Mostly Ultimate Spider-man universe
except Venom's origins are the symbiote and the shuttle crash from the
90's cartoon. Again,
plot first, pairings next. :o If there are spelling mistakes,
I'll fix them if and when I finish this story. :) Some slash
implications, I suppose.

Also,
here's hoping Venom's in Spider-man 3!

Italics for thoughts/emphasis/symbiote

Archive: Sure, just ask.
---------------------

Black Sustenance

--------------------

(My
Personal Watch Dog)
The bus ride wasn’t too bad; Peter felt a
lot better once they got off at their stop, and he couldn’t help but
wonder if
maybe the whole superhero gig was making him a bit too jumpy. He
wouldn’t be
surprised if it was, but still…there wasn’t any reason for him to be
looking
over his shoulder all the time. There hadn’t been anything really big
for the
last couple of months and the worst he had faced since then was a
couple of
carjackers who fled the second they caught a glimpse of blue and red.
Aside
from that, there hadn’t been much need for him to suit up and he spent
more and
more time as Peter Parker hanging out with his friends then swinging
around on
patrols as Spider-man. I’m getting way
too paranoid, Peter sighed as he glanced yet again behind them, the
bus
pulling away into traffic.
The three of them headed
into the large Loews theater.
Surrounded by the smell of buttered popcorn and the bright lights
lining the
main hall, Peter found himself relaxing, checking over his shoulder
less and
less as he focused his attention on the here and now.
Gwen pocketed her ticket stub from the
usher and joined them in the main area of the lobby.
“So!
Who’s up for popcorn?”

Mary Jane winced, “Not too much – I’m
not that hungry.”
“What about you, Pete?”
Peter shook his head.
“I guess I could just share a Coke or something
with MJ.”
“Awww…that’s so cute of you two,” Gwen
grinned. “That’s fine, just don’t make out too loudly, okay? Some of us
are
here to see the movie.”
Peter rolled his eyes
at this. “We’ll
try to keep it down for your sake.”
Gwen
led the way into the theatre – the
tickets said it would be the fifth, found on the right down the hall.
Peter
hung back until he was walking side by side with Mary Jane down the
hall. The
red-head smiled at him, keeping her voice down;
“Y’know, I’m glad we’re
doing this, just
hanging out and stuff.”
Peter nodded. He held
open one of the
double doors into the dark auditorium for Mary Jane. “Me too. I can
just have
fun for once, like a normal person.”
They entered the
amphitheatre, going up
the narrow aisle and pausing at the stadium seating. It was fairly
full, and
with the way everyone was seated, there wasn’t any room of them to sit
together
as a group. Gwen stopped, looking put-out as she chewed thoughtfully at
her lip
for a moment.
“Well, this sucks,” she
said. “Now what?”

Peter glanced quickly at the available seats. He saw a few
paired seats
scattered here and there, but that left the problem of who would be
sitting
with who. He could sit with Gwen or sit with Mary Jane, leaving one or
the
other to sit alone, neither of which were probably good ideas. He had
to admit
that he liked Gwen a lot – maybe more
than he should, for a friend - and Mary
Jane seemed to give him weird looks whenever he hung out with Gwen too
much.
Peter didn’t know what the deal was with that. He didn’t want to have
to make
this decision right now, not when they were supposed to be having fun
and
hanging out.
“I’ll,
uh, go get popcorn,” Peter said
quickly. He started trotting back to the lobby outside, giving a wave.
“I’ll be
right back.”
“Wait,
Peter – ”
The auditorium suddenly
darkened,
casting Mary Jane and Gwen in flickering darkness. Gwen grabbed Mary
Jane’s
hand in hers.
“The trailers are
starting, let’s get a
seat.”
Mary
Jane paused indecisively for a moment before she followed. “But…”
“Peter hates trailers,”
Gwen said with a
shrug. “It’s not like he’ll miss anything.”
The red-headed girl
frowned. She hadn’t known that Peter didn’t like
movie trailers and for some reason, this seemed like very vital
information, as
if it was something she as his best friend should have known. It
rankled
somehow that Gwen knew this but she hadn’t. I’m
not jealous. Mary Jane had to
repeat this before she could offer a tentative smile in the darkness,
glancing
up as Gwen led her up the steps to some seats in the aisle.
“You’re
right. Besides, how long could it
take for him to get popcorn?”
-------------------------
Eddie
found this part of town tiresome.
Too many bright lights – in the middle of the day, no less! – too many
people,
too many offensive smells that the normal humans seemed oblivious to.
The
symbiote had to agree, murmuring it was a wonder how humans could
comfortably
wallow in their own filth and not be sickened
by it. Unhygienic little beasts. The only solace Eddie could take was
that at
least he wasn’t in the middle of all that garbage, walking with the
others on
the sidewalks like sheep, like pigs; instead he was suspended
comfortably
several stories up, perched up against the wall under deep shadows cast
by an
overhang. He sat back on his heels, gazing down at the movie theater
below.

The Spider had gone inside a while ago with his little friends.
Chances
were the boy could be in there for a few hours, unless he happened to
sense
something wrong outside – so far, it was quiet and Eddie wished that
one of
those idiots would hurry up and rob a bank or steal a purse or whatever
it took
to get his prey’s attention. Eddie debated with himself whether or not
he
should just follow Peter inside. There was a good chance Peter would
recognize
his human face if he sauntered right in, and the Spider knew that Eddie
Brock
had no love for him. Besides, he knew Eddie was Venom. A face to face
confrontation in public could be problematic. Enjoyable, yes. But while
Venom
was powerful, Venom was also still maturing. Eddie still didn’t have
access to
all the gifts the symbiote could offer him. A direct confrontation in
such a
crowded area might not be the way to go, at least not yet.
Waiting for Peter
proved to be rather
boring. Eddie tried amusing himself by carving out some of the wall
behind him,
but tearing up ribbons of concrete and brick lost its amusement factor
quickly.
The symbiote was surprisingly dormant, deciding that all this waiting
simply wasn’t
worthy of its attention, leaving its host to his own devices.
    Eddie’s face was calm and composed, but
inside he was starting to beat his head into a wall, frustrated and
impatient. Anger
curled in his head and stomach like a snake, hissing and heavy and
getting increasingly
irritated. Where were the damn criminals? He knew that Spider-man had
made
plenty of enemies by now – the Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, among
others
equally insignificant and unworthy – and he wished that one of them
would get
it into his head to go into a rampage and draw his Spider out.
Eddie
heaved a growling sigh.

He waited an hour and started into the next when he suddenly
picked up
the scent of something burning. A few experimental sniffs. He tuned his
heightened senses forward, perking up. Something on fire. The symbiote
recoiled
a little at this with loathing. Fire. Electricity. They hated them both
with
equal passion. Still, if he could smell it this far away, it meant that
Spider-man would probably come sallying forth from that movie theater
like the
little hero he pretended he was once he sensed it as well. Eddie leaned
forward
expectantly, eyes on the Loews’ entrance.
It
took a bit longer than he expected – he
could spot the column of smoke rising in the distance and growing, and
sirens
had begun to wail before he spotted Peter. The sixteen year-old glanced
left
and right before slipping into a side alley, forced to hide behind a
dumpster
as he hurriedly changed into his quaint little costume. Eddie
personally
thought that the boy was asking for it when he donned that teasing
thing. It
clung tightly to his body, as if begging
for Peter to get jumped. It was a wonder that none of the others
declaring
themselves his enemy hadn’t taken advantage of that.
Foolish, all of them.
Indeed.
The symbiote agreed. But less
competition. Convenient for us if we don’t have to fend off challengers
for our
rightful claim to him.
      The symbiote was
right, as always.
But of course, Host Mine.
   Eddie had always
liked it when the symbiote called him that – the symbiote desperately
wanted
the Spider like he did, but there was a strange kind of affection for
its current
host as well. It had been a long time since it had a host that it
considered
intelligent and somewhat civilized, and while Eddie knew that the
ancient Other
probably thought he was crude at times, it was an odd comfort to know
that he
could always count on the “voice” to always be there.

Your destiny is my destiny,
little human,
the symbiote had said when Eddie came upon it wandering around that
fateful
night, when it had been wallowing around, trapped and dying in that
bottle.
Eddie had been seriously debating how to end his life at that time, too
fed up
with all the bullshit the world kept throwing at him. I
will give you life if you will give me mine. I will
give you purpose and much more if only you would accept the
gifts I offer.

It hadn’t been that hard of a choice. Despite
the discomforts and changes due to their bonding, Eddie wasn’t at all
sorry.

Eddie watched as Peter finally finished changing, pulling the mask over
his young face with a tug. He remained in the shadows as the Spider
came
swinging by on a line of webbing, completely intent on the tower of
smoke
several miles away and following the sirens and flashing lights of the
emergency units buzzing the streets down below. Eddie waited a few more
minutes
before creeping out under the overhang, the symbiote’s black material
morphing
around his body and face in thickening tendrils, forming claws and
fangs and a
roiling, slimy serpentine tongue that flicked and tasted the air.
Lazily
extending one clawed wrist forward,
Venom shot loose a string of web, and set off in pursuit of his prey.
He was
careful to keep a safe distance, keeping the red and blue of Spider-man
just in
sight, taking his time and web-slinging leisurely from building to
building. No
need to hurry. They had plenty of time.

Fire engines were already attacking the
burning building with powerful jets of water by the time Spider-man
arrived. He
paused for only a few minutes, listening in on a couple of cops talking
amongst
themselves. From the way he took off in another direction, it seemed
like this
fire wasn’t just some accident, Venom decided. Not with the kind of
purpose his
Spider was moving with.
He still wasn’t sure
what he
hoped to accomplish by stalking his prey. The symbiote reminded him
that by
keeping an eye on the boy – their boy
– they were simply keeping track of property, but he couldn’t
understand just
what the point was following him all over as he played at Cops and
Robbers. Well, think of this as exercise, then,
purred the symbiote. Putting you through
your paces. Even we need to get out and move to keep us strong and fit
to hunt.
Good
point as any, Venom supposed.

They trailed Spider-man as he glided around a corner, swinging
between
the canyons of concrete with his typical grace and closing in on a
swerving
black van. Silently, he let go of his web-line and flipped through the
air in a
neat arc, long arms and legs tucked in like a professional and landing
on the
top of the van, causing it to careen off to the left. Venom hung back,
keeping
several hundred feet up just for safety’s sake, and watched with
interest.
Their Spider had indeed improved; less gawky, more in control, and by
default
now more desirable.
A few gunshots rang
out. Spider-man
somersaulted neatly out of the way, seeming to fall off the side of the
van only to
come back with a kick through the driver’s window, his lithe body
sliding right
through shattering glass and disappearing into the vehicle. The black
van
swerved uncontrollably and careened to the right, sliding until it
began
to tip
over and flip onto its side. It slammed into a lamp post, sending
civilians
scurrying for cover as masked men spilled out, coughing as smoke
billowed out.
Venom was prepared to sit back and watch until the last criminal popped
out.
Correction:
more like oozed out.
   First a nondescript head popped up,
followed by a torso in a stripped shirt. Venom wouldn’t have been able
to pick
him out of the other humans. The muscled man hauled himself out, the
van still
rocking underneath him as Spider-man dealt with the men upfront and
suddenly he
was slithering out in a mass of what appeared to be sand.
The sand mass arced out and curled around, slamming into the
broken driver side window like a bullet. Venom caught a glimpse of
Spider-man
getting propelled out the other side, glass shards sparkling out like
snow, as
the man of sand came barreling out after him.
You
most certainly have an interesting world, Host Mine, the symbiote
commented.
“Hey,
people turning into sand isn’t
natural. The guy’s a freak,” Eddie hissed in Venom’s voice. “You’d be
surprised
how many we’ve got in New York.”
The
symbiote only gave a bubbling hiss that
was the closest thing to laughter. Venom moved in closer, claws sinking
into
the walls as he made his way down. Their Spider seemed to be having
some
trouble with this new foe: currently he was trapped in a thick tendril
of sand
and struggling to get his way out as the other criminals began pulling
themselves together and reaching for their guns. The Sandman (Venom
wasn’t
feeling particularly creative today) had reformed his legs and waist,
but his
top half was gone, twisted into a huge mass of shifting orange sand
that
ballooned out into the air. A twist of the portion around Spider-man’s
stomach and
the boy was slammed first into the wall and then into the sidewalk with
bone-cracking force, cracks rippling out.
And
that was before he
suddenly disappeared into a ball of sand.

It occurred to Venom that perhaps this Man
of Sand was actually higher on the food chain than their Spider, at
least for
the time being.
At the
rate he was going, either
he or his flunkies would actually injure – or kill – Spider-man.
That
was simply unacceptable.
------------------------

Some people had luck and all the perks
that came with it. Harry Osbourne was one of those people. Peter Parker
was
not. He had two kinds of days: okay and crappy. Today was shaping up to
be of
the crappy variety.
     As usual.
When
he’d encountered the van fleeing the
scene of the fire, he’d assumed it was going to be easy. Swing in as
your
friendly neighborhood Spider-man, knock out the driver, web up the
criminals,
book it back to Loews and actually finish
a movie for once. The hardest part would be trying to explain the new
bruises to Gwen and MJ. He certainly hadn’t expected to run into
a man made of sand. As he was flung back and
forth like he weighed nothing, Spider-man vaguely tried to figure out
the
science behind this and found he couldn’t explain it. It just wasn’t
scientifically possible. Maybe in comics, but hello, this was real life!
     He hated to say it, but this Sand
Dude was
kicking his ass across New York.
No
matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to
lose the guy. The guy was everywhere – his head and arms would melt
into sand
at will and whenever Spider-man tried to go for the legs, he’d find
himself get
punched backward like he’d been hit by a train. Out of the corner of
his eyes,
he thought he spotted the rest of the cronies pulling out some guns and
making
eyes in his direction. This could get ugly quick. He could do all a
spider
could, sure, but that didn’t make him bullet-proof.
He
bounced from another throw and rolled
onto his hands and knees, gazing up as Sand Dude and trying to figure
out how
to tackle this new freak-show. What was it with these people and having
all
these weird superpowers? Says the guy who
runs around in spider tights.
…Okay, shut
up Peter, you’re not helping right now.
“So what do you call
yourself?” Spider-man got to his feet, brushing
himself off and trying to pretend that he didn’t have a raging headache
from
getting smacked around. “Beach Bunny Sandy?
‘Cause, y’know, I think Twinkle Toes Joe works too.”
“Cute,”
his opponent growled, solidifying
just enough to spit back a reply. “Is this the extent of the famous
Spider-man
wit?”
“Hey,
I try. Doesn’t help when
I’ve got a tough crowd like you and your buddies,” Spider-man retorted,
nettled. “Seriously, I’ve been calling you Sand Dude in my head this
whole time; it’s
really distracting when I’m trying to fight you, I’ll have you know.”
The man in the green
and black stripped shirt glowered. “It’s Sandman to
you, punk.”
“Original.”
“Like
yours is any better,” Sandman grunted and began shifting again,
features starting to melt away.
A nice heavy dose of
webbing hit
him in the face and he reeled backward, for a second disoriented as he
clawed
it from his eyes with a curse.

Spider-man leapt at him. He caught a glimpse of the other
criminals
raising their weapons in his direction – they held them like they knew
how to
use them, he realized nervously – before he was suddenly engulfed in
darkness.
He struggled, but the darkness clung to him, shifting in response to
his
movements and constricting. His mask was helping a little, but it was
hard to
breathe and he swore there was sand getting into some downright awkward
and
wrong places now.

Jokes aside, he was in trouble. Deep
trouble. He wasn’t sure exactly, but it looked like Sandman had somehow
encircled him completely. If he didn’t escape, he could probably
suffocate or
worse, and both were going to be very real possibilities at this rate.
He
struggled harder, but the sand kept absorbing his kicks and punches.
Some of it
was trying to force its way into the mask.
After
a few minutes, Spider-man’s
struggles started to slow down. Fighting suddenly seemed so tiring and
his arms
must’ve been injected with lead or something, because for some reason
he
couldn’t seem to lift them. His eyes fluttered behind the mask as he
sagged
into the coffin of sand. It shifted but he only took vague notice,
feeling
himself sinking.
“You
heard me!” Sandman’s voice drifted up
around him. He was talking to the others. “Get the equipment before the
cops
arrive!”
“What
about Spider-man?”
“What
about him? Get – what the fuck!”
A
deep, guttural hiss. “The Spider is mine
alone, Man of Sand!”
Spider-man heard a
muffled crash and a few
panicked shouts. Boom, rolling gunshots. Yelling and suddenly he was
shoved out of the sand coffin,
hitting a wall and falling heavily. Trying to collect his wits about
him, he
tried to raise his head, vision blurring. Something black and man-sized
was
darting around the criminals with brutal, inhuman speed: wherever the
black shadow went, the men were
suddenly down. Some of them were forming red puddles and not moving.
Sandman was
completely occupied with fighting off this creature.
He must have blacked
out at one point. The
next thing he knew, he was being lifted up by someone. He coughed,
feeling
something in his lungs – sand – and tried to push away, but the claws
around
his neck tightened in warning.
“Stop squirming,” a
voice growled. “We
could snap your neck right now if we wanted.”
Spider-man
went still. Something fumbled with his mask, drawing it
delicately so it rested just above his nose as something wet touched
his cheek
and dragged a slimy trail over it. Too-warm fingers were brushing
against his
jaw-line and lips. Unable to resist, Spider-man tensed, trying to
gather his
wits about it. It was surprisingly hard, what with this fog in his head
and he
found he couldn’t seem to do more than feel – thinking was too hard and
he was
almost certain he was going to pass out pretty soon. The fact it really
hurt to breathe probably had something to do with that.

“We sense you have sand
in your lungs,
Spider,” the voice said.
Something wet was
forcing his mouth open and he felt something downright
weird entering inside him. It wiggled around and settled in his chest
as he
struggled to keep breathing. It abruptly pulled itself out, leaving a
faint
gritty taste of sand, and suddenly he could breathe without it hurting.
“Foolish
boy. Always attacking predators stronger
than yourself.”
Spider-man felt himself getting slung non-too-gently over something
hardly – a black, silky shoulder, from what he could see – and the
street
suddenly looking very far away. Whoever had helped him was carting him
off to
who knew where and he didn’t have the strength to fight back or even
look up to
identify the man. He hung there weakly, eyes drifting closed with a
will of
their own as he passed out.
To be continued

----------------------
Yeah, I actually updated. xD;
Anyway, I
know this fanfic isn't uber-slashy...or even probably meriting the R
rating. But
when I write, I don't write mindless sex or anything; plot always comes
first for me. So yeah. Stuff.
If you want to contact me or ask questions, my my AIM SN is
Famira Damaris. Thanks for reading.
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Black Sustenance