With the new semester just around the corner, Ethan stepped back onto the Midtown High campus, feeling a strange sense of calm—like the eye of a storm. Too much had happened over the summer break, more than any seventeen-year-old could ever be prepared for.
He had never imagined that Old York would pass away so suddenly. He had never imagined that he'd bond with an alien organism capable of tearing through steel like paper. He'd gone from a normal high school senior to a host for a Klyntar symbiote—Venom—whose appetite and power were both immense. He had killed… not just once, but with brutal efficiency. And even more surreal? The straight-A student who used to compete with him in science class—Peter Parker—was Spider-Man.
Ethan's thoughts were interrupted by a playful voice calling out from behind.
"Hey~ Leon!"
It was Felicia Hardy. She had just finished her last class and jogged toward him, clutching a few books under her arm. Her long platinum hair was tied up today, bouncing with each step.
She wore a cream-colored knitted long-sleeve top and a coffee-brown skirt paired with ankle-high leather boots. The soft, modest colors did little to dull the effortless magnetism she exuded. On anyone else, the outfit would've seemed conservative—on Felicia, it somehow looked like it belonged on a magazine cover.
"The postcards and photos you sent me were gorgeous," she said with a wide smile. "Seriously, after seeing them, I'm thinking of doing a whole trip to Huaxia next. You'll have to be my local tour guide and translator."
Ethan chuckled. He had sent her several shots of places like Chengdu's food stalls, Guilin's limestone cliffs, and the old hutongs of Beijing. Apparently, they had sparked something in her.
"Of course," he replied as they started walking toward the parking lot. "Though if you're going, you better practice chopsticks. They'll hand you one pair and expect miracles."
"Oh please," Felicia smirked. "I have excellent dexterity. You forget I was the best in fencing class."
She wasn't wrong. She'd once disarmed two seniors at the same time in a school duel—while texting.
As they walked, Ethan shared a few stories about his visit—excluding anything involving brain-roasting or Venom's bottomless pit of a stomach. He kept things simple: the culture, the food, the sights. Felicia seemed genuinely curious, peppering him with questions and occasionally tugging his arm when something amused her.
When they finally reached the lot, Ethan turned and asked, "Are you driving today? If not, I can give you a lift."
He knew the Hardys were wealthy. Her father, Walter Hardy, had been a well-known figure in the shipping industry—and underworld circles, if you dug deep enough into the Marvel comics. But still, etiquette was etiquette.
Felicia tilted her head and grinned. "Then I'll take you up on that. I've got way more to ask you about China, and traffic's always lighter when I'm not behind the wheel."
Ethan smiled back and opened the passenger door for her. "My honor."
"Thank you," she replied softly, slipping into the seat with practiced grace.
Not far away, a sleek red Ferrari 488 Pista idled quietly. Its owner—Harry Osborn—watched from behind tinted glass, lips pursed as he observed the friendly exchange. Ethan didn't notice, but Felicia's eyes flicked toward the Ferrari as she buckled her seatbelt. Her expression remained unreadable.
The drive was relaxed. Venom, surprisingly, remained silent the entire ride, as though respecting Ethan's space—or perhaps watching with his usual, sharp curiosity. Ethan and Felicia laughed and chatted the whole way, the awkward tension from their earlier meetings gone.
Eventually, the car rolled to a stop in front of her upscale apartment building on the Upper East Side. The kind of place with security cameras on every floor, concierge service, and a private elevator.
"Thanks for the ride," Felicia said, stepping out with her bag slung over her shoulder.
"No problem," Ethan replied, hand still on the steering wheel.
She had barely taken two steps toward the lobby before pausing and turning back. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she bent slightly and leaned her arms on the rolled-down window of Ethan's car.
Ethan blinked. "What's wrong? Forget something?" He glanced toward the passenger seat, half-expecting her phone or lipstick.
Felicia shook her head. "Nope. Just remembered—there's a jewelry exhibit at the Manhattan Museum of Art in a few days. Fancy tagging along?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Jewelry exhibition?"
Felicia gave a dazzling smile. "What? A girl can't like shiny things? And don't worry, it's not just diamonds and tiaras. Some of it's ancient Wakandan designs—vibranium inlays, mythological context, even rumored K'un-Lun gems. It's part art, part history."
That caught Ethan's attention. Wakanda. K'un-Lun. These weren't just names in a brochure—they were linked to serious power in the Marvel universe.
"Well…" he said, thinking it over. "If there's vibranium involved, I guess it counts as an educational trip."
Felicia winked. "Exactly what I thought."
Felicia nodded and continued, "Because my mom was one of the private investors behind this exhibit, the museum originally invited her to attend the opening gala. But she's got her hands full managing the Hardy Foundation, so she asked me to show up in her place."
She sighed dramatically. "But let's be honest—these high-society events are usually painfully boring. Just a bunch of old rich people pretending to care about ancient artifacts while judging each other's outfits. So, I was wondering… do you have time to come with me? If you're there, I won't die of boredom. We could even make it fun."
Ethan considered her offer as he mentally flipped through his plans for the next few days. Outside of continuing his private research into symbiote biology and upgrading some microprocessor prototypes for his startup, Zero Industry, his schedule was open.
He smiled and nodded. "Sure. I'll go with you."
Felicia's expression lit up instantly, her smile turning warm and genuine. "Perfect! It's a date, then—well, not a date date, unless you want it to be," she added playfully before turning on her heel and heading inside with a wave.
Ethan lingered a moment, watching her disappear into the building before starting up his car again. The engine purred to life, and he eased into the street. The evening wind streamed in through the half-open window, rustling his hair and cooling his face.
It was one of those rare New York summer evenings—warm but not humid, the skies painted gold and purple as the sun dipped past the skyline. The kind of night that made it easy to pretend life was normal.
It would've been even more peaceful if there wasn't noise coming from the passenger seat.
Venom was writhing playfully in the air like a wobbly blob of tar, belting out his own version of the current pop song playing on the radio. His raspy alien voice—completely off-key—was a tragic match for the upbeat tune.
"Ohhh~! Ohhh~! Ohhhhhh!!!" he wailed, stretching the final note like an old speaker on its last leg.
Ethan winced. He'd seen Venom bite through steel before, but nothing compared to the horror of his singing.
"A piece of chocolate if you shut your mouth," Ethan muttered, eyes on the road, bargaining with the symbiote the only way he knew worked.
Venom paused mid-wail and gave him a sidelong glance with those wild white eyes. "I'm expressing my emotions, thank you. Art must not be silenced."
"Two yuan."
"Emotionally oppressed artists don't accept bribes."
"Two pieces of dark chocolate. The imported kind. From Russia."
Venom gasped—at least, as much as a blob of alien goo could. But instead of immediately caving, he turned his head defiantly. "Hmph. I am not doing this for chocolate. I am ceasing out of respect for our bond."
"Oh, please," Ethan rolled his eyes. "You're one power chord away from being sued by every noise ordinance in the city."
"It's not noise! It's soul," Venom shot back, sounding personally insulted. "You just can't comprehend my musical genius. Apologize!"
Ethan didn't dignify that with a response. The two of them kept bickering like old roommates stuck in a car during a road trip, each trying to out-snark the other.
But the playful arguing came to a sudden halt when a faint cry for help cut through the ambient noise.
Ethan immediately slowed the car and pulled over near a dim alley between two older apartment buildings. The area lacked streetlights, and there were no surveillance cameras nearby—a known blind spot in this part of Queens.
He stepped out of the car cautiously, narrowing his eyes as he listened.
Venom, already alert, slithered up onto his shoulder in a coiled form, eyes glowing faintly. "Someone's in trouble. I hear multiple heartbeats… One of them is panicking."
Ethan nodded grimly.
Even though he was trying to return to normalcy—going back to school, building up his company, smiling for Felicia—he couldn't just ignore something like this. Not anymore. Not after what he'd done. Not after what he'd become.
He was no longer just a bystander. Not just a student. Not just a researcher.
He was the host of Venom.
And someone needed help.
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