(With Venom at the same time)
Venom swung through the city, the museum job already behind him. He'd slipped the platinum crown back into its case without tripping a single alarm—tedious, but he wasn't in the mood for sirens and security guards tonight. His focus was elsewhere. Firing a tendril, he aimed for Manhattan, heading straight for MJ's apartment. He landed on the roof with a soft thud, claws gripping the edge as he wall-crawled down to her window. Noticing it was slightly ajar, he slid it open, slipped inside, and closed it quietly behind him.
The living room was empty, lit faintly by a lamp in the corner, but muffled sounds drifted from the kitchen—clinking dishes, a rhythmic chop. "She's probably making something for herself," Venom muttered, his deep voice low as he padded toward the door. He paused, hand on the knob, and sent a mental nudge to the symbiote. Just remember, behave yourself.
The suit shimmered, melting away to reveal Peter in a black shirt and blue jeans, his enhanced frame still broader than it used to be but human enough to pass. He stepped through the doorway, moving quietly until he reached the kitchen. There, Mary Jane stood at the counter, her red hair catching the light as she chopped vegetables with practiced ease.
Peter rapped lightly on the doorframe, and MJ glanced over her shoulder, her green eyes lighting up. "Peter? Is that you?"
"Hey, MJ," Peter said, flashing a sheepish grin. "Sorry I couldn't visit sooner."
"That's alright," she replied, her smile warm and forgiving as she set down the knife. "I was just prepping dinner. Wanna help me out?"
"Sure!" Peter said, stepping over to the counter, rolling up his sleeves to join her. As they worked side by side, slicing veggies and stirring pots, the ease of their rhythm settled some of the tension he'd been carrying.
As MJ stirred the pot, her eyes flicked toward Peter, lingering on his frame. His black shirt clung to a physique noticeably bulkier than before, each muscle defined in a way that made her cheeks warm. She quickly turned back to the counter, chopping with renewed focus to hide her blush before he could catch it.
Once the ingredients were simmering, MJ sighed and glanced at him. "So… how's it going?"
"Well…" Peter started, then let out a sigh of his own, rubbing the back of his neck. "How about we move to the living room? I'll explain everything there, alright?"
"Okay," MJ agreed, wiping her hands on a towel. She followed him out of the kitchen, and they settled on the couch, Peter to her left, the soft hum of the city filtering through the window.
He shifted, leaning forward slightly. "Have you seen the news lately?" he asked, his tone cautious.
MJ shook her head, a flicker of concern crossing her face. "Not really. Why? Did something happen? Does this have to do with your… new look?" Her eyes traced his broader shoulders, worry creeping into her voice.
"Partially, yeah…" Peter admitted, nodding. He took a breath, choosing his words carefully. "Here's the thing… I got a new suit a few days ago."
"A new one?" MJ frowned, confused. "Did something happen to the old one?"
"No, nothing happened to it," Peter said, then hesitated, a small smile tugging at his lips. "How about I show you?"
"Alright," MJ said, curiosity mixing with her unease as she watched him stand and step a few feet away. Her eyes widened, a gasp catching in her throat, as his clothes shimmered and melted away, replaced by a glossy black suit that hugged his enhanced frame like a second skin. The symbiote rippled over him, but his face remained uncovered, his familiar brown eyes meeting hers.
"So, what do you think?" Peter asked, standing still as MJ rose from the couch and approached, her green eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and apprehension as they roamed over the glossy black suit clinging to his enhanced frame.
"Peter… what is that?" MJ asked, her voice soft but tinged with unease. She reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing his abdomen, feeling the suit's strange, almost living texture—smooth yet pulsing faintly under her touch.
Peter took a breath, steadying himself. "A few days ago, a meteorite crashed near the city. Something came out of it—a symbiote, from a race called Klyntar. They're… aliens that bond with hosts to survive. This one found me and became my new suit," he explained, watching her closely for her reaction.
MJ's eyes widened, her hand pausing. "Wait… you're saying this thing… is an alien?" she asked, disbelief creeping into her tone, though her fingers lingered on the suit, as if testing its reality.
Before Peter could respond, a slick tendril slithered from his shoulder, forming a small, grinning face at its tip—jagged white eyes and a toothy maw. "Is it really that surprising to you?" the symbiote asked, its voice a playful rumble.
MJ let out a startled squeak, stepping back, her hand flying to her chest. Peter shot the symbiote a glare. "Really? Was that necessary?"
The symbiote's grin widened, unrepentant. Peter rolled his eyes, turning to MJ with an apologetic look. "Sorry about that. They can… act out sometimes."
MJ's shock melted into a nervous chuckle, her hand dropping as she steadied herself. "It's fine, Tiger. Don't worry. I have to admit, that was kind of funny," she said, a spark of her usual warmth returning as she smiled.
"Tiger? Mrrawwwww," the symbiote purred, its tone dripping with amusement, mimicking a cat's growl.
Peter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd really bonded with one mischievously alien symbiote.
"How does this thing exactly work?" MJ asked, her curiosity overriding her initial shock as she studied Peter's suit, her fingers still hovering near his arm.
Peter grinned faintly, glad she was taking it in stride. "The symbiote boosts the host's strength, speed—pretty much everything—in exchange for feeding on adrenaline and phenethylamine from my brain. Keeps them fueled. They can also do this—" He gestured, and the suit shimmered, morphing seamlessly into a fitted black short-sleeve shirt that clung to his biceps and a pair of blue jeans, the change instantaneous.
"Whoa," MJ breathed, her eyes widening in fascination as the outfit hugged Peter's enhanced frame, every muscle accentuated. She crossed her arms, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Well, at least I won't have to sew your costume anymore."
"True," Peter chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.
MJ stepped closer, her hands gently tracing the contours of his arms, feeling the newfound bulk beneath the fabric. "That said, I like this new you," she said, her voice warm with affection, though her eyes held a curious glint. "But… why the whole change in look?"
Peter paused, choosing his words carefully. "Let me ask you this… If you were a criminal—not that you are, just hypothetically—would you rather stay in a cell to serve your time, or break out and risk coming back with a few bruises and broken bones?"
MJ tilted her head, catching his drift. "I see… so it's like a jack-o'-lantern thing? To scare the bad guys?"
"Pretty much," Peter nodded. "And when they meet me—" The symbiote surged over his face, forming the mask with jagged white eyes and a maw brimming with razor-sharp fangs. "They see this, making them think twice before continuing their activities," he growled, his voice deeper, resonant with menace.
MJ's eyes widened, a mix of astonishment and amusement flashing across her face. "Oh, wow. You really look the part. That'd make one hell of a Halloween costume!" she said, then smirked. "Not to mention, you look good in black."
Venom's maw curled into a grin. "You think so?"
"Absolutely!" MJ laughed, her ease returning. Then her expression shifted, curiosity resurfacing. "Say, does Jameson know about the suit?"
The mask retracted, the symbiote pooling around Peter's collar like liquid ink. "Oh yeah, he does," Peter said, rolling his eyes with a sigh. "And he's thrilled about it. I knew he'd catch wind of Venom sooner or later. He's already got me chasing photos of 'Venom' for the Bugle—which, well, I handled."
"You mentioned the symbiote needs phenethylamine? Isn't that found in chocolate?" MJ asked, her curiosity piqued as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Sounds like you'll need to stock up on candy bars to keep it happy. That could hit your wallet hard, and I know money's been tight for you."
Peter nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I know. But don't worry, I've already got that covered."
MJ's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Well…" Peter hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "A while back, this guy named Sokar offered me a case full of cash—a generous amount, mind you. I'll admit, I wasn't sure about taking it at first."
"Wait, what!?" MJ's eyes widened, her voice spiking with shock as she sat up straighter. Peter had braced for this reaction. "You took money from a stranger!?"
"Not a complete stranger, per se," Peter said quickly, raising his hands defensively. "He beat up a group of thugs before we talked, so… there's that."
"That's not the point, you dolt!" MJ snapped, crossing her arms under her chest, her expression a mix of exasperation and worry. "How do you even know he didn't steal it?"
"He didn't steal it, I swear," Peter insisted, his tone earnest. "He said he made it through stocks and cryptocurrency investments. And… I didn't get the sense he was lying. My instincts are pretty good about that stuff."
MJ sighed, rubbing her temples as she processed this. "Alright, fine," she said reluctantly, though her eyes still held concern. "But… be careful, okay? Who knows what this guy wants from you?"
Peter nodded, his expression sobering. "I know. When I first met him, I got the impression he's not someone you want to cross."
"What do you mean?" MJ asked, her confusion deepening as she tilted her head.
"When I saw him, my Spider-sense was buzzing—not like 'run for your life' danger, but more like… a warning to stay sharp and keep my eyes open around him," Peter explained, his voice measured. "The way he carried himself, the things he said… I'm inclined to believe my gut on this one."
MJ held Peter's gaze for a long moment, her eyes searching his, before she let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping. "Alright, then. I'm just worried about you," she admitted, her voice softer now, laced with care.
Peter reached out, gently taking her hand in his. "I know," he said, his tone reassuring. "But don't worry. Everything's gonna be alright." He pulled her close, and MJ melted into his embrace, her arms wrapping around his waist as his larger, enhanced frame enveloped her, offering warmth and a sense of safety.
Her hands coiled tightly around him, and she pressed her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes as they stood there, savoring the quiet moment of affection. Peter's hand moved to her head, brushing through her red hair in slow, soothing strokes. He could feel her steady breaths against him, warm and calm.
"Better?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Mhm," MJ hummed, her lips curving into a faint smile against his shirt.
"Good. How about we eat some dinner, then?" Peter suggested, a playful lilt in his tone.
MJ's eyes snapped open, her head jerking up. "The dinner! I forgot about the pots on the stove!" she exclaimed, untangling herself from his arms and bolting toward the kitchen. Peter chuckled, hot on her heels as they rushed to salvage their meal.
MJ flicked off the stove and cautiously lifted the pot lids, peeking inside. A wave of relief washed over her as she saw the food steaming but unscorched. "Nothing burned, thankfully," she said, exhaling with a smile.
Peter grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I remember when I nearly burned down your kitchen trying to make dumplings. That place was never the same…"
MJ laughed, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "Yeah, I remember. You were so determined to follow that recipe you found."
"Don't remind me," Peter groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've always been a disaster in the kitchen, as far back as I can recall."
MJ chuckled, shaking her head as they moved to plate the food. Peter grabbed utensils from a drawer while MJ pulled plates from the cabinet, piling them with the fragrant meal. Together, they carried everything to the living room, settling on the couch to eat, the city's hum a soft backdrop to their quiet dinner.
After finishing their dinner, Peter and MJ stood, gathering the plates and heading to the kitchen. They loaded them into the dishwasher, the clink of ceramic punctuating their easy rhythm. "Man, that filled me up. Great dinner, MJ!" Peter said, flashing her a grin.
"Glad you enjoyed it!" MJ replied, her smile teasing. "I bet with that body of yours, you'll need to eat a lot more now." She poked at his broader frame, her tone playful.
"Yeah, true," Peter chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "The money Sokar gave me went toward training equipment. Gotta fuel this growing body somehow."
MJ leaned against the counter, curious. "Speaking of spending, what else did you use it for?"
"I got new materials for my gadgets and some upgrades for my lab," Peter explained. "Still got a chunk of Sokar's cash stashed at my place. Honestly, I've never had that much money before. Gotta be smart with it, though."
MJ hummed thoughtfully, her eyes lighting up with an idea. "I know! How about we use some of it to spend time together? It's been forever since we had fun out in the city."
Peter's face brightened, nodding. "Sounds like a plan to me."
MJ's smile widened as she stepped closer to Peter. "And we could have our movie night together. Tonight."
Peter's grin matched hers, warmth spreading through him at the idea. "Alright. I'll grab the snacks while you pick the movie. Deal?"
"Deal," MJ said with a nod, brushing past him as she headed out of the kitchen. Peter turned to the cabinets, pulling out a large bowl and setting it on the counter. He grabbed a bag of chips from another cabinet, tore it open with ease, and dumped the contents into the bowl, tossing the empty bag into the trash with a flick of his wrist.
Opening the fridge, he snagged a few cans of soda and a couple of bottled waters, balancing them carefully for their movie marathon. With snacks and drinks in hand, he left the kitchen and stepped into the living room, where MJ stood holding a Blu-ray case, her eyes bright with excitement.
"I'm back with snacks!" Peter announced, setting the bowl and drinks on the coffee table in front of the couch.
"Perfect timing! I just found the perfect movie for us!" MJ said, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.
"What kind is it?" Peter asked, curiosity piqued as he plopped onto the couch, arranging the snacks within reach.
"Action-packed," MJ replied, flashing the case for Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation with a grin. "You're gonna love it." She popped the disc into the Blu-ray player, then settled beside him, tucking herself under his arm as he draped it around her shoulders.
The movie kicked off, and they dug into the chips, sipping their drinks as explosions and chase scenes lit up the screen. MJ leaned closer, her head resting against Peter's chest, and he smiled down at her, the comfort of the moment easing the weight of his double life. They laughed and commented through the film, lost in their shared bubble of normalcy.
(Somewhere else)
Sokar lounged in a high-backed chair, a manila folder open in his hands, his amethyst eyes scanning the densely packed text with a focused intensity. The dim light of the room glinted off his spiked armor as he tilted his head. "Are you sure this is accurate?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying a weight that demanded certainty.
The man seated across the desk, clad in a nondescript suit, nodded firmly. "Yes, sir. Our agents confirmed the details independently when we pressed them."
Sokar's lips pursed as he flipped a page. "I see. Looks like Maggia struck a deal with Fisk. They're requesting a massive haul of resources—raw materials, tech, you name it—in exchange for weapons, drugs, and other goods to funnel his way." His tone was measured, but a faint edge of intrigue crept in as he pieced it together.
The man leaned forward slightly. "The volume they're asking for is… concerning, sir. Alarming, even. Do you think they're planning something big?"
Sokar nodded, his eyes narrowing. "Most likely. The data shows they're moving materials through multiple channels, primarily by sea. We could disrupt their supply lines with this." He snapped the folder shut and set it on the desk, the motion deliberate. "Hit them where it hurts."
"Should we contact our men and deploy teams to handle it?" the man asked, his voice steady but eager for direction.
Sokar shook his head, his expression hardening. "No. Too risky. Sending a full squad of operatives would tip off Maggia and Fisk. This calls for a scalpel, not a sledgehammer—professionals who can move unseen."
The man nodded, understanding dawning. "Understood, sir. Shall I contact them?"
"I'll handle that," Sokar said, raising a hand to cut him off. "You've got another job that needs your attention." He pointed a clawed finger at the man, who straightened in his seat, attentive.
"What must be done?" the man asked, his tone all business.
Sokar leaned forward, his brows furrowing as his voice dropped. "Our spies in Oscorp picked up something troubling. Norman Osborn's taken a keen interest in Venom. I want your men to dig into what he's planning—why he's so curious about our friend. If you find anything significant, report back to me immediately."
"It shall be done, sir," the man said, bowing his head respectfully.
"Good. You're dismissed," Sokar replied, waving a hand. The man vanished in a flicker of teleportation, leaving the room silent.
Sokar leaned back, clasping his hands under his chin, his eyes closing as his mind churned. The board was shifting—Maggia, Fisk, Osborn, each moving their pieces with ruthless intent. But Sokar had no intention of letting them outmaneuver him. He'd dismantle their plans, shred their resources, ruin their reputations, and grind their empires to dust. They'd ruled the shadows of this city for too long, and as long as he drew breath, he'd make sure their reigns ended.