As Ethan began piecing together the fragmented memories of what had happened, Venom let out an exaggerated sigh, its voice laced with both complaint and concern.
"You have no idea how insane your psychic state was during that outburst," Venom grumbled. "You were so volatile, I couldn't even sync with your neural pathways. I was completely locked out, just like when we first bonded and you resisted me."
"I waited until the wave stabilized—barely. Even now, it keeps flaring up and messing with my connection."
Venom continued, his tone still full of frustration. "I had to take manual control of your body once you blacked out. First, I made sure there were no traces left at the scene. No surveillance, no bio-trails. Then I flew in circles across the city for nearly an hour before bringing you home."
He paused, baring his jagged teeth. "Do you know how hard it was to keep that… flesh mist from dripping off during flight? I had to keep reforming it to stop pieces of that lunatic from falling and leaving DNA trails. The smell alone was nauseating."
Ethan cringed internally. That was more detail than he wanted.
Venom shook his head and grunted. "And the worst part? Your mental surges kept spiking. Every time your mind jolted back into subconscious distress, I'd lose control again. I had to stop mid-air more than once to stop us from crashing. You're lucky I reacted fast enough—you were on the edge of brain failure. And with your mind in riot mode, I couldn't even trigger your regeneration."
Hearing all this, Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, face slightly red with embarrassment. "Damn… I didn't realize it was that bad. Sorry, Venom. That outburst caught me off guard—I wasn't expecting anything like that. I'll… I'll buy you a box of chocolate later to make up for it."
The alien's eyes gleamed with sudden enthusiasm. "Really? I knew you wouldn't make me suffer for nothing! Let me think… what was that one I liked last time? Oh! The dark truffle ones imported from the Russian Federation. Get those."
"No problem," Ethan chuckled, shaking his head.
He had to admit it—even if Venom was terrifying in combat, the symbiote could be surprisingly loyal, even endearing… in its own monstrous way.
But a second later, something clicked in his mind. He blinked, confused.
"Wait a second. You said… 'flesh mist'? What do you mean, flesh mist?"
That part hadn't registered until now. But when it did, it landed in his gut like a cold stone.
Venom shrugged and clapped Ethan's shoulder with a meaty hand. "You really don't remember? After Harmon pushed you over the edge, your consciousness short-circuited. You launched a full-scale psychic discharge. Your mind boiled over and… well, you exploded him. Literally. He was reduced to pulp before your body shut down."
Ethan's face paled. He'd seen a lot—he'd done a lot—but this was something else.
Still, this wasn't the first time he'd been pushed into that kind of violence. He took a slow breath. He was getting used to it… perhaps too used to it.
"Cheap bastard," he muttered darkly. "He deserved worse. His death was too quick. Paul Mark died slower."
There was a long silence. Then Ethan looked up again, his brow furrowed. "But what I don't understand is… I wasn't trying to kill him. I only wanted him to shut up. Just—make him stop talking. His voice… it wouldn't stop."
"I still needed him. He hadn't told me everything. His value wasn't spent yet."
Venom waved a clawed hand dismissively. "That's exactly it. You didn't want to kill him—but your mind did."
"What?"
Venom leaned in slightly. "Your mental power isn't something you control consciously—not yet. Your subconscious drives the output. And your subconscious? It didn't want him to talk anymore. So it made sure he couldn't."
"The method… may not have matched your intent. But the result was the same."
Ethan stiffened at that, disturbed.
Venom's eyes narrowed as it studied his host, then added cautiously, "You're not thinking that this is my fault, are you?"
Ethan blinked and turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"
Venom tilted its monstrous head. "The way your psychic power flared. The violent outburst. Are you wondering if you turned into that because of me?"
Ethan frowned, processing the question.
Venom was no stranger to being blamed. It had been cast out by its own kind, declared a defective symbiote for favoring compatibility over consumption. In Marvel history, other hosts—like Eddie Brock—had struggled with rage and blurred identity because of the symbiote's influence.
But this… this wasn't just aggression. This was psychic trauma, deep-rooted and unstable.
Ethan had always been emotionally self-controlled. Until now.
"What do you mean, turned into what, exactly?" he asked slowly.
Venom didn't answer right away. Because the truth was far more complicated than either of them understood.
Venom fell silent for a moment after hearing Ethan's words, his massive, angular form hunched in contemplation. Then, more bluntly than before, he muttered, "It just seems like… you're becoming more vicious. Darker. The way you dealt with those people recently—it was brutal, even by my standards."
He paused, his tone dropping. "I was wondering if you might start blaming me for that. Thinking that bonding with me is what made you this… cruel."
Ethan blinked in surprise, finally understanding what Venom was getting at. He hadn't realized until now just how sensitive the symbiote really was. For a creature that looked like walking nightmare fuel, Venom's tone reminded him more of a sulking teenager—or maybe even a paranoid little sister.
"I don't think like that," Ethan replied, shaking his head. "Everything I've done… every decision I made—it came from me. Not you."
He stared down at his open palm, the veins along his wrist still pulsing faintly with dark energy. "If I had more time, I wouldn't just kill them. I'd make them suffer. I've been seriously thinking of resurrecting ancient Chinese tortures—the slow ones. Only then would it feel like justice for what they've done."
Hearing that, Venom visibly perked up. A tendril reached over and split open a wrapped chocolate bar, breaking it cleanly in half and handing one piece to Ethan.
"You see?" Venom said, satisfied. "That's what I'm talking about. You're in touch with your feelings. If this were Peter Parker—ugh—he'd be crying in a corner somewhere, thinking he was a monster who needed therapy."
"Or worse, he'd blame me. Saying I corrupted him. I admit I amplified some things—especially when we first bonded—but the core emotions were his."
Ethan couldn't help chuckling at that. Every time the subject of Spider-Man came up, Venom transformed into a walking rant machine. Decades of bitter rivalry with Peter Parker clearly left deep scars. Whether it was their incompatible moral philosophies or Venom's complex history with Peter's rejection, there was no love lost between them.
Still grumbling, Venom watched Ethan lie back down on the bed, his thoughts drifting. This whole incident had derailed his plans again.
"Damn… what do I do about Jon Harmon?" Ethan muttered, staring at the ceiling with narrowed eyes. "I thought taking Harvey out would wrap things up. But once again, something went wrong. There's always something."
Venom finally stopped his Spider-Man ranting and looked at him with rare seriousness. "Before worrying about Jon Harmon, you need to solve something far more urgent."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "More urgent than that psycho's final revenge?"
"Yes," Venom said firmly. "The same thing I warned you about last time. You already know—your mental power. Something's very wrong with it."
Ethan sighed and sat up again, rubbing his temples. "Yeah… I've been thinking about that too."
Venom stepped closer, his tone more clinical now. "Your mental strength is overwhelming. Think of it like an ocean—massive, deep, and constantly in motion."
"But those two recent psychic outbursts? They weren't isolated. They fractured your control. You were already at the limit before, but now… it's like cracks forming in a dam."
"If that dam bursts—if your mind loses control completely—your own mental power will turn your brain into pulp. No one, not even I, could fix that."
The gravity in his voice made Ethan's skin crawl.
For all of Venom's sarcasm and bravado, he wasn't prone to exaggeration when it came to danger. He meant what he said.
And Ethan, for the first time, felt something unexpected flicker in his chest.
Fear.