"You died. Eddie died. And when I finally went looking for Parker… he was dead too."
Venom's voice carried an unmistakable sadness. Beneath those ghastly white eyes, the corners curved downward even more. If it had tear glands, it would have been crying by now.
It wasn't just grief. What welled up inside was guilt and inferiority—emotions it had learned long ago but hadn't felt in decades. For forty years, Venom hadn't found a single host it could truly call its own.
The wastelanders and mutated beasts it had bonded with were nothing but vessels—creatures driven solely by violence and slaughter. Their quality was… abysmal.
Flash gently reached out and stroked Venom's head.
Venom shivered slightly, seemingly content with the touch. A faint glimmer of joy flickered in its eyes—like a dog being petted by its master—no longer the monstrous terror it once was.
"Ahem."
White Night cleared his throat softly. At some point, he had appeared right in front of Flash and Venom.
The gold-and-red Anti-Hulk Armor loomed before the now-shrunken pair like a steel giant—majestic and imposing.
"So, what do you think? Consider this a little advance payment," White Night said with a wink toward Venom, which was still enjoying Flash's touch.
The thing he had thrown earlier was a sample of the symbiote—left behind from the Pegasus Project—taken from Venom's former host, Flash Thompson.
That mass of black liquid raised its head. When it looked at White Night, it seemed to want to speak, but eventually lowered its head in silence.
"Venom says you brought it back," Flash said, his pure-black eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion and caution.
White Night nodded, understanding Flash's emotions. "Yes, I brought Venom here," he said calmly, tapping the chest of the Anti-Hulk Armor with a clang-clang.
"But not as an enemy or a threat. Eddie, and you, are friends of my friends—so that makes you my friends too."
"Remember the Avengers? Quite a few of them are close to me. Venom met them once—on the plane."
As White Night spoke, Flash's brows eased slightly, though his wariness remained. "You really plan to trust a symbiote? They're wild creatures—few can control them."
The man in front of him, encased in that hulking armor, didn't seem like a bad person. Venom had said as much. But Flash still needed to be sure this man knew what he was dealing with—that he wouldn't fuse with such a creature just for power.
White Night smiled faintly. "Symbiotes may be very different from humans, but they aren't purely evil."
"Once, it fused with you, with Eddie, and with Peter. Through that, it learned what love and kindness meant. Even now, I believe somewhere in that black liquid, a piece of that heart remains."
Listening to White Night's words, Flash slowly let down his guard, but frowned again. "But… it still eats people."
"Yes, it still eats people," White Night admitted with a nod. "But I can control it. I can teach it to distinguish right from wrong—just like you and Eddie once did."
He didn't mention Peter.
Venom seemed to sense the two men's conversation. It floated quietly beside them, its liquid face rippling with a complex expression.
Everything White Night said was true—it had once felt sympathy and affection for humans. But after they killed the hosts it loved most, those emotions vanished with them.
"That bit of sample won't last much longer. I'll be gone soon."
Flash rose to his feet, looking White Night in the eye. There was resignation in his voice.
He truly wanted to stay—to help Venom become better—but he couldn't.
In truth, he was already dead. Being able to return to the living world for a brief moment—to see his old partner one last time—was enough.
Now, with White Night's promise, Flash Thompson could rest easy.
"No! Flash, don't go! Please!"
Hearing that, Venom screamed. It wrapped itself tightly around Flash's neck, pressing its black liquid against his skin as if to fuse even closer.
"Don't leave me, Flash. I'll stay with you—we'll fight together!"
It squirmed along his neck, its movements full of protest and refusal.
Flash gently caressed the creature that had once been one with him. He said nothing.
Venom seemed to understand his decision. It brushed against his neck softly, as if to say goodbye. "We… friends forever?"
Flash smiled and nodded. "Yes. Forever."
His hand slid across Venom's surface—his final farewell.
As the words left his mouth, the spikes on Agent Venom's shoulders slowly withdrew. His body's muscular lines reappeared, and the pure-white eyes turned black, fading away like tears dissolving in rain.
The tight mask-like face split open once more, swallowing the detached Venom head. The sharp teeth and long tongue were still there—but this time, there was no roar, no hiss.
Venom just stood there silently—motionless.
"He's gone," White Night said softly.
"Then what are you waiting for? Kill him! We're strong now—women, power, the whole wasteland—it can all be ours!"
A voice echoed from Venom's half-open mouth, but it wasn't its own. The remnants of its host's mind—violent, gang-bred—still lingered, urging it toward bloodlust.
The echoes of that savage consciousness raged within Venom, trying to drown it in chaos.
"I believe you can control yourself, Venom," White Night said, placing a hand on the black creature's shoulder. "Don't let rage and hatred rule you. Don't let Flash and Eddie down again."
"N-no… never… disappoint… them!"
Triggered by those names, Venom roared and tore open its own chest with a clawed hand. The white spider emblem split in two, revealing the writhing thug inside.
Its massive hand plunged into its own chest, grabbed the man's arm, and flung him aside like garbage. The thug flew dozens of meters through the air, crashing hard into the ground with a scream.
He struggled to rise, but after a few feeble movements, collapsed and lay there gasping.
White Night looked down at the black liquid pooling on the ground and smiled faintly. "Looks like you are worth saving after all."
Venom stirred at his words, the liquid gathering into a vague face. It hissed softly, "He's fine… can help you… but don't want that kind of host again."
After reuniting with Flash, it had regained a fragment of its old self. But it would never bond with someone dark and filthy again.
"Of course," White Night said with a nod. He waved his hand, and Herbie, who had been hovering quietly nearby, flew over. A pixelated question mark bounced on its display.
"Call Quicksilver. Tell him to bring the White Queen."
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