Characters: Martha Jones and Eddie Brock Rating: PG-13 Time Period: Modern Location: Martha's room: The Loft Relative Date: After the meeting with Dree, Elly, and Eddie in the Time Room Status: Closed
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"He sounds like a very good man," Eddie smiled, similarly unsure the context of her tale at the initiation of its telling. It seemed far off base for the moment at hand, as touching as beautiful as it was. "We'd like to get you back to him if we can." He told her for what it was worth once she had finished the story.
"We would like this friendship to work too," he agreed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He had a bedeviling question to ask, one he knew would likely make things worse. He held on to it.
"Some minor burns to the chest, nothing serious. She set Gene Hunt on fire and we smothered the flames with a tapestry, and also our body. He was much worse off. In the heat of the moment we didn't think to call you. He's a tough sort of fellow." But the question nagged at him and he had to ask it.
"Martha, when you say compromise, do you mean mutually? Or do you mean that we'll do things less our way and more your way?" It was an honest question. "You don't strike us as the type to start asking fewer questions and start breaking more bones, hypothetically assuming that the situation seemed to call for it."
As happy as Eddie was to have shifted the topic away from the rocky nature of their tenuous friendship he felt now was the time for questions. For answers. For honesty. "You're very New Testament, Martha. But us? we're Old Testament." There was a hint of apology in his voice as if he recognized the way he must be difficult for her. She stood on what she considered to be the higher moral ground. But she didn't understand that even a gracious and loving God still needed avenging angels. Champions in black prepared to stand in the night and visit the devil's own darkness upon him. There was no place at the Table for angels like that but they were no less righteous for it.
"Gene was set on fire!" She was ready to rush and find the man immediately to help him out, but Eddie continued talking. She frowned at his next question.
"Compromise does mean mutual... but you're right. I'm not the type to barrel in head first." She mulled the topic over a few moments. "And if I'm not going to change, I can't ask you to either." She continued thinking over it. "No you're right, either a mutual compromise or not a compromise at all..."
A shadow passed over her face as she then realized why she had told the story of Tom's death. Because innocents would die. No matter how much you tried to protect them, they would die... and it was her fault that so many did die. She couldn't see any other way around it... she followed the Doctor's orders, did what she was supposed to, and became a Saint for a year. And people died for her actions. And that made her a monster. And that was why she had called Tom... she needed to assuage some of that guilt.
He nodded. This was the first nail in the coffin, really. It was how they would grow apart. He wouldn't change. She wouldn't change. And they'd come into conflict. But that was a matter for a moment later.
"Are you alright? We didn't mean to upset you..." he said, reaching out to put a hand on her arm. Her conflict seemed internal but he couldn't hazard as to why so it was easier to assume the blame and be later absolved than to take shots in the dark. "But now you see why we have no friends. We're not easy to be friends with. We're like a spider," he said, pained to even use such an analogy. "Frightening and strange, but better us than the flies. People love what we accomplish but they can't bare to see us do it."
"Hm... no... you're not at fault. Just... I suppose I'm a monster as well. Had to be to survive that year. So really, I have no business getting mad at you." She smiled a bitter smile as she looked at him, realizing as he did that this was the first nail in the coffin. And yet she didn't want to accept that. Maybe she could learn from him... maybe she couldn't. Mostly, she was just happy that he didn't know her during that Year.
"Did you do your killing with your own hands?" He asked ger frankly. Eddie was sure she was being harder on herself than was necessary. Or perhaps he'd just become so used to taking life and passing judgement and sentence that what he considered definitive of a monster was skewed. "We know you're a good woman Martha. Thank you for being our friend. Do you still want to see our other face? It may change your mind."
"Have you heard of Niccolò Machiavelli's philosophy? The end justifies the means? That's how I lived that year. In the end, the world was saved, time was healed, and practically no one died due to the timey wimey stuff. I let a lot of people die though just for that perfect moment." Because in the end, the Master was supposed to live and suffer.
She smiled a grateful smile at his comments. Her gaze sharpened when he asked if she wanted to see his other. The prospect was frightening, but her curiosity was peaked. "If you would be willing. I'd prefer to meet him in a not life or death situation..." she replied.
"Letting people die is not the same as killing them. Not everyone can be saved," he said gently. He knew first hand that not ever innocent recieved a protector. Not every villain was caught and stopped. And that was why they had to be killed. Becuase if they were dead, they couldn't get out of prison and they certainly couldn't hurt anyone else. It was absolute. It was pure. It was final. Dead crooks taught nothing to the next generation.
"The other is not a he. We are Venom. The Symbiotes are gender-neutral. But we'll show you our killing face because you want to see it." And the transformation was both immediate and slow. His clothes shifted, teeshirt blending into jeans, jeans blending into socks and boots, spreading, bending, melting, merging into something altogether different. Something oily and dark and viscous. It crept down from the sleeves across his arms coating his skin in its thick glistening darkness white squares appearing across his hands, the jagged white spider emerging on the back and chest.
But that wasn't the horror. The horror was his face. The symbiote snuck up across his neck swallowing his chaw and head and hair in its warm touch and leaving instead the face of a mosnter. Jagged teeth, a snarling maw, a serpentine tongue pink and long and tendrulous all dripping grueling green saliva. And the eyes. Jagged swatches of white without pupils, bottomless and bright white. And the sound, the subliminal snarl. "We are Venom. You see?" They seemed bigger someone, broader, the skin-tight liquid defining every powerful muscle, the fingers ending in suggestively sharp black points.
Venom. A thing of nightmares. This was their killing face.
She heard his words, but visions of Tom falling beside her kept filling her mind. Something to meditate on later. Then Eddie transformed...
Martha's eyes widened and she stood up and leapt back in a gesture that would have been comical in a cartoon, but in real life just showed fear. Because the creature in front of her was just that. She just stared... it was all she could do. Her faculties were not completely working.
Once the initial shock left, the fear stayed, but her curiosity was back to. She started walking slowly, timidly forward with an arm outstretched. "Eddie... er... Venom?" she asked. "May I...?" Her voice implied she wanted to touch his skin, but she was also not quite comfortable even bringing the words up.
Her reaction was nothing no. No new surprise or shocking development. But it was no less disappointing. The hope was to be let down however. To have thought perhaps she was different, that knowing he wasn't evil she would know he was nothing to be afraid of.
With a hissing noise they drew their tongue back into their mouth, sinking into something of a crouch and leaning forward. The symbiote made them larger, taller, if only by a small margin and Eddie was a big guy to begin with. This put them eye level. Which was by no means a good thing because Venom's eyes were just as awful. They didn't even look like eyes. They looked like the same glistening material as the rest of him, except for his horrible mouth. Almost like a killer whale. They were like swaths of ivory flames cutting back and up where eyes ought to be.
Venom nodded. "We're the same as we were before, Martha. And different. The way you're the same person in your scrubs as you are in your street clothes. These are our scrubs. This is our uniform. You can touch us. We won't hurt you." He reminded her again. Their voice was in stereo, two voices, Eddie's and another more monstrous sound warbled together, refracted, reverberated, and reissued.
The symbiote was soft, wet, like a thick tough sludge without the cloying residue or slime despite the way it glistened and rippled and shifted when it wanted to. If she pressed hard enough she could reach through its surface and into it. Though it defied reason, she could bury her arm to the elbow and not find Eddie. "The Other, its alive. As alive and as sentient as you or I am," he explained in that horrible double-voice. Beastly, snarling even without anger, slavering its green slobber and grinning its horrible, menacing grin.
She reached forward and brushed the surface of his arm. She pulled her hand back and looked at it, then then placed it on his arm with a little more pressure. She was not expecting the texture. With a little more pressure, his skin swallowed her hand. She pulled it out with a high-pitched, "Oh!" She looked Venom in the eyes... which was quite an odd sensation in and of itself. "That is so... bizarre. In all my time dealing with aliens, I've not seen something like this. It's fascinating really!" The curiosity was there, and only small traces of fear remained as she allowed the skin to swallow her hand again. Then she realized that this was not the most polite thing she'd ever done.
She retracted her hand... "Sorry... that was rude of me. I... don't understand how it works."
The symbiote repealed itself from his face which in and of itself was a strange and horrible thing to watch as the entire face split more or less down the middle, peeling and shrinking back at the same time in three dimensions, retreating into itself and contracting. There was no unseemly bulge, no redistribution of the mass to another location, it simply swallowed in on itself to reveal Eddie's gentle face with its kind blue eyes and solid jaw coated in a layer of thick bristles that were for him only the effort of a couple days growth.
"Its not rude. My other has swift metabolism. It can grow and shrink, expand and contract. I don't understand the science but it can create depth within depth, sort of. You could reach into it and never touch me. Its not something that works well on the fly," he clarified, "but we can do it."
She stepped back and watched the transformation with something akin to fascination. "I can see how that makes you an excellent protector."
She looked him over again. "So when you look human, you're Eddie... but when you're in your transformation, you're Venom." She was more thinking out loud than asking the question. Sometimes, things worked better when mentioned out loud.
"Yea, I suppose. Its not really like that though. I'm Eddie Brock. My other is simply, my other. You could call it the Symbiote if you wanted. And together, we're Venom. It depends who you're addressing, really. We usually agree which makes us we, but sometimes I speak for me, and that makes me I." He explained it all matter of factly. Straight faced and direct. Despite how comical and confusing it sounded.
She thought it over. "I think I have it... tenuously, though if I think about it any harder I'll lose it." Curious how that worked. She walked back to the table and righted the chair she had knocked over when Eddie first changed. She saw her phone out. "Have you figured out your number yet?" she asked him. "It'd be easier to investigate if we could send each other private transmissions."
"Excellent. I found mine after the pool party." She relayed her number to him. "Wait... the pool party... did it strike you odd that so many people were willing to walk around unclothed?"
"We would like this friendship to work too," he agreed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He had a bedeviling question to ask, one he knew would likely make things worse. He held on to it.
"Some minor burns to the chest, nothing serious. She set Gene Hunt on fire and we smothered the flames with a tapestry, and also our body. He was much worse off. In the heat of the moment we didn't think to call you. He's a tough sort of fellow." But the question nagged at him and he had to ask it.
"Martha, when you say compromise, do you mean mutually? Or do you mean that we'll do things less our way and more your way?" It was an honest question. "You don't strike us as the type to start asking fewer questions and start breaking more bones, hypothetically assuming that the situation seemed to call for it."
As happy as Eddie was to have shifted the topic away from the rocky nature of their tenuous friendship he felt now was the time for questions. For answers. For honesty. "You're very New Testament, Martha. But us? we're Old Testament." There was a hint of apology in his voice as if he recognized the way he must be difficult for her. She stood on what she considered to be the higher moral ground. But she didn't understand that even a gracious and loving God still needed avenging angels. Champions in black prepared to stand in the night and visit the devil's own darkness upon him. There was no place at the Table for angels like that but they were no less righteous for it.
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"Compromise does mean mutual... but you're right. I'm not the type to barrel in head first." She mulled the topic over a few moments. "And if I'm not going to change, I can't ask you to either." She continued thinking over it. "No you're right, either a mutual compromise or not a compromise at all..."
A shadow passed over her face as she then realized why she had told the story of Tom's death. Because innocents would die. No matter how much you tried to protect them, they would die... and it was her fault that so many did die. She couldn't see any other way around it... she followed the Doctor's orders, did what she was supposed to, and became a Saint for a year. And people died for her actions. And that made her a monster. And that was why she had called Tom... she needed to assuage some of that guilt.
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"Are you alright? We didn't mean to upset you..." he said, reaching out to put a hand on her arm. Her conflict seemed internal but he couldn't hazard as to why so it was easier to assume the blame and be later absolved than to take shots in the dark. "But now you see why we have no friends. We're not easy to be friends with. We're like a spider," he said, pained to even use such an analogy. "Frightening and strange, but better us than the flies. People love what we accomplish but they can't bare to see us do it."
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She smiled a grateful smile at his comments. Her gaze sharpened when he asked if she wanted to see his other. The prospect was frightening, but her curiosity was peaked. "If you would be willing. I'd prefer to meet him in a not life or death situation..." she replied.
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"The other is not a he. We are Venom. The Symbiotes are gender-neutral. But we'll show you our killing face because you want to see it." And the transformation was both immediate and slow. His clothes shifted, teeshirt blending into jeans, jeans blending into socks and boots, spreading, bending, melting, merging into something altogether different. Something oily and dark and viscous. It crept down from the sleeves across his arms coating his skin in its thick glistening darkness white squares appearing across his hands, the jagged white spider emerging on the back and chest.
But that wasn't the horror. The horror was his face. The symbiote snuck up across his neck swallowing his chaw and head and hair in its warm touch and leaving instead the face of a mosnter. Jagged teeth, a snarling maw, a serpentine tongue pink and long and tendrulous all dripping grueling green saliva. And the eyes. Jagged swatches of white without pupils, bottomless and bright white. And the sound, the subliminal snarl. "We are Venom. You see?" They seemed bigger someone, broader, the skin-tight liquid defining every powerful muscle, the fingers ending in suggestively sharp black points.
Venom. A thing of nightmares. This was their killing face.
Reply
Martha's eyes widened and she stood up and leapt back in a gesture that would have been comical in a cartoon, but in real life just showed fear. Because the creature in front of her was just that. She just stared... it was all she could do. Her faculties were not completely working.
Once the initial shock left, the fear stayed, but her curiosity was back to. She started walking slowly, timidly forward with an arm outstretched. "Eddie... er... Venom?" she asked. "May I...?" Her voice implied she wanted to touch his skin, but she was also not quite comfortable even bringing the words up.
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With a hissing noise they drew their tongue back into their mouth, sinking into something of a crouch and leaning forward. The symbiote made them larger, taller, if only by a small margin and Eddie was a big guy to begin with. This put them eye level. Which was by no means a good thing because Venom's eyes were just as awful. They didn't even look like eyes. They looked like the same glistening material as the rest of him, except for his horrible mouth. Almost like a killer whale. They were like swaths of ivory flames cutting back and up where eyes ought to be.
Venom nodded. "We're the same as we were before, Martha. And different. The way you're the same person in your scrubs as you are in your street clothes. These are our scrubs. This is our uniform. You can touch us. We won't hurt you." He reminded her again. Their voice was in stereo, two voices, Eddie's and another more monstrous sound warbled together, refracted, reverberated, and reissued.
The symbiote was soft, wet, like a thick tough sludge without the cloying residue or slime despite the way it glistened and rippled and shifted when it wanted to. If she pressed hard enough she could reach through its surface and into it. Though it defied reason, she could bury her arm to the elbow and not find Eddie. "The Other, its alive. As alive and as sentient as you or I am," he explained in that horrible double-voice. Beastly, snarling even without anger, slavering its green slobber and grinning its horrible, menacing grin.
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She retracted her hand... "Sorry... that was rude of me. I... don't understand how it works."
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"Its not rude. My other has swift metabolism. It can grow and shrink, expand and contract. I don't understand the science but it can create depth within depth, sort of. You could reach into it and never touch me. Its not something that works well on the fly," he clarified, "but we can do it."
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She looked him over again. "So when you look human, you're Eddie... but when you're in your transformation, you're Venom." She was more thinking out loud than asking the question. Sometimes, things worked better when mentioned out loud.
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