5 | a loss for words

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PETER PARKER

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PETER PARKER

Patrolling with Venom is like nothing I had ever experienced. The adrenaline, the power, the strength... It's more than I have ever felt before.

And I like it.

I was in The Bronx with Venom when he insisted on ravaging a 7/11 of all of its chocolate. It was a strange request that I'd have to make at the check out and I was embarrassed to begin to imagine what the clerk would think when I carried an entire basket of chocolate bars to the counter. So I didn't. I let Venom eat all of them, or absorb them I guess, and then left cash on the empty stand. On my way out I alerted the cash register attendant that there was some lost money in the aisle so that nobody could take it before he got there.

I managed to stop three break and enters tonight. The first incident was a group of men trying to steal a bunch of cars in a bowling rink carpark after hours. I simply shot webs towards each of their foreheads and smacked each of their faces down into the cars they were trying to steal. I think all of their noses are broken given the amount of blood gushing from their faces and the wailing and whining they did.

The second incident was stopping a woman from being assaulted in Central Park and I tied the cocksuckers wrists and ankles together before throwing him in the pond. He would definitely be lying somewhere at the bottom of that pond after drowning to death but hey, the webs would dissolve in a few hours and nobody would track it back to me.

I don't know what it is but I don't feel any remorse about leaving someone like that to die. It's like, I know he's a bad guy and he's probably done bad shit before so what's the difference if the world is rid of one less bad person? Nobody would miss him anyway. The Avengers and I would kill heaps of bad guys back in the day, there's no issue with it now right?

And the last one was simply a drunk woman groping this poor man's ass at a bus stop and I broke her wrist for doing so. The little fucker didn't give up without a fight though, she pulled a butterfly knife from her purse and slashed it quickly across my chest. What a fucking crazy bitch, trying to attack me of all people? Think again sweetheart, I'm not some common New York thug. Venom kindly started to heal the slash before I calmly broke her elbow on the other arm.

Again, I felt no remorse.

Fumbling around in my jumper pouch, I pull out my keys to flick over the tiny mailbox key, something I rarely did considering I never got mail. Who gets mail nowadays? But seeing an envelope sticking out of the #5 slot surprised me. Opening the chute I saw a collection of pamphlets and junk mail. Hair salon business card, bin. Accountant advertising tax return periods, bin. Army recruitment, bin. Pizza delivery coupon, bin. Local neighbourhood walking club, bin.

Wait, a pizza coupon? Fuck, no, shit, I want to keep that one.

I took the coupon and put it to the side as I took the remainder of my junk mail to the bin outside the lobby. I ripped open the envelope addressed to 'Mr. Parker Peters' and glanced at the sheet of paper inside:

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