Ann Weying - Succession

Author's note: This is a collaboration between Mercutio19, kiekan88 and me. They can be found with these usernames on DeviantArt.


Night had fallen over the isle of Manhattan and it was far from a quiet one. Lightning split the sky, rain poured down in droves and the wind was howling over the rooftops and lashing through the alleys. For once, even the seedy underbelly of the city seemed to shy away from the streets.

Who would've guessed that in these conditions atop the bell-tower of a nondescript church in Harlem two men were locked in a deadly struggle? One filled with glee and self-satisfaction, the other with desperation and guilt and both were hidden from view by storm and darkness. The hulking, black figure moved with savage ease, as if unperturbed by the raging elements surrounding them, while the smaller, athletic man, clad in red and blue, was obviously fighting his larger adversary and his own fatigue.

With speed belaying his stature, the dark giant's fist, easily the size of his adversaries head, surged forward. His opponent jerked to the side and the punch missed his mark. The responding kick didn't. He leaped back to the edge of the tower to avoid additional blows, holding his ribs. Within a moment he had collected himself again.

Both fighters took a moment to examine themselves and each other. The smaller man was wearing a skin-tight body glove including boots, colored red and blue and overlaid with a black, web like pattern. A stylized spider graced his chest, fitting as he had taken the name 'Spider-Man'. His costume was soaking wet and he was panting and shivering lightly.

The other one looked like a monstrous parody of Spider-Man. His upper body was disproportionately wide and muscled, fingers ended in sharp claws and he stood more than a foot taller than his opponent, while his legs ended in boots nearly the same size as Spider-Man's. Even someone distracted would realize that it wasn't a costume that was colored in black, with a large white spider emblem on its chest. Everything about it, from the way it repelled the rain to the twitching muscles, made it clear that it was a leathery kind of skin as only a mutant could have.

But the man was not a mutant. His black skin was due to another organism entirely, something only noticeable when it seemed to move independently of the body. It used to belong to another 'Spider-Man' who met it in quite literally another realm, the enigmatic Beyonder's otherworldly Battleworld. After being told that he was housing an alien, symbiotic organism, the first Spider-Man violently separated himself from it. Hurt, confused and angry it looked for another host and found him in the then-suicidal Eddie Brock. It bonded to him and provided him with the same kind of super powers both Spider-Men had, with a side dish of shapeshifting, for as long as they remained bonded. They called themselves 'Venom'.

"Give it up, Parker! You are a fly before us. Face your punishment for destroying our lives!" The large brute growled, revealing a wide, fang-filled maw.

"For the last time, I'm not Peter Parker! His funeral was a year ago." There was pain in his voice, strained as it was from this ordeal.

"A likely story. You won't fool us as you have fooled everyone else." His inhuman face distorting into an ugly grin.

Malicious beady eyes were fixed on the opaque cover of Spider-Man's eyes. Muscles tensed and Venom leaped with a ferocious roar back at his opponent. Again, Spider-Man tried to jerk aside, but there was only so much room around the bell and Venom managed to grab his arm. The behemoth swung Spider-Man right into the corner stone next to him and lifted his other humongous arm to finish him off.

"Say 'Good-bye' now, Parker," Venom taunted, unable to resist one final barb.

But that was all the time the hurt hero needed. His legs shot up and directly into Venom's saliva drenched jaw. The monster stumbled back and couldn't defend itself from two follow-up punches to his kidneys, before being shoved backwards and away from his would-be victim. Spider-Man tried his best to get ready for another attack, because Venom recovered all too quickly. To the surprise of the costumed vigilante, Venom paused and gingerly rubbed his lower jaw. Black tendrils were waving back and forth around it and exposed muscle fibers and tendons along with small patches of human skin. Before long the tendrils covered the patch again and reformed the fearsome maw of Venom.

"So there is still fire in you, Parker. This will make our revenge only sweeter," His smug proclamation ended with a rasping chuckle.

Spider-Man went rigid and barely managed to ground through his clenched teeth, "I have no idea what I or Peter ever did to you, Brock, but I'll get you out of that thing."

"'No idea what you did?!' You destroyed our lives! My career is in shambles and my wife left me because of you!" Venom shouted, his viscous spit flying everywhere.

"You lost your job because you printed the ramblings of a serial-confessor and nearly killed the poor man with your article," Spider-Man retorted as he finally understood what this was about.

"NO! If you hadn't exposed the Sin-Eater that wouldn't have happened! It wasn't my fault that my source was lying!" The large brute stated unrepentantly.

"People lie every day for any number of reasons, Brock. Some lie out of embarrassment or desperation, other because of kindness or cruelty. It is a journalist's responsibility to give the last word on what is 'fact' and what is 'fiction'," Spider-Man explained. There was little pity in his heart for blowhards and pretenders.

That last comment made Venom contort his face into a grotesque scowl. He closed the gap between them and swung his fist, but Spider-Man ducked under it, no longer trying to evade. With practiced ease Spider-Man rammed his elbow into Venom's solar plexus. Expecting the behemoth to be short of breath, the young vigilante wasn't prepared for the swift backhand and was swept off his feet. Whirling around in the air he managed to stick to the corner pillar and looked up just in time to jump away from Venom's next swing. It took a chunk of stone with it and left the hulking man open to another counter attack.

Gripping the stone above, Spider-Man once again stomped both of his feet directly into Venom's face. Venom only took a single step back before grabbing the nimble fighter and smashing him into the ground. He tried to hold onto Spider-Man, but a kick from to his wrist made Venom let go. Instead he got angrily ready to smash both his fists into the prone Spider-Man. The smaller man reacted fast and webbed Venom's hands to the ceiling above his head. This gave him the time to get up, only to see that Venom had already ripped through the webbing and was advancing.

Another wide hook from Venom was met with another counter that seemed to have no effect whatsoever. Spider-Man's mind was reeling. He knew that his only advantages were his slightly greater speed and agility, courtesy of Venom's ridiculously oversized body, and Brock's complete lack of fighting skills. As far as Spider-Man understood, Brock should have most if not all of the late Peter Parker's abilities, but he only displayed the most basic skills. The experienced web-crawler couldn't help but think that Venom was moronically overextending nearly every swing and grinning like a madman, regardless of how often he got hit.

Spider-Man's exhaustion caught up to him and he couldn't evade a strike to his head. Blow after blow was raining down on him and with his swimming sight he could barely protect himself. It didn't seem to matter what he tried, Venom recovered faster and appeared inexhaustible. Spider-Man's mind was racing, as he tried to think of what he could do. Ideas of running and setting Venom a trap or of asking the Fantastic Four directly for help went through his head, when his enemy's voice cut through his thought.

"Face it, Parker, you can't beat us. And we grow bored of playing with you. There are others we need to punish. How about that pretty red-head? Her tears were pleasing to us last time," Venom mocked between his jabs and hooks.

It was as if all exhaustion had fallen away from Spider-Man. His strength and speed seemed to flood back into him and his bruises and the hostile weather were but a memory. With it came rage. Near endless rage. Steadying himself after yet another sloppy swing from Venom, he thrust his right foot sideways into the monsters left kneecap. The crunching sound was satisfying beyond belief to Spider-Man's anger-fueled mind, yet Spider-Man didn't hesitate and smashed his fist with all his might into Venom's temple.

As quickly as the strength came, it faded away, but that didn't help Venom in the slightest. Disoriented and unable to stand on his left leg he nearly tumbled down the tower, only barely managing to grab onto the bell, causing it to move lightly. With his arms he swung back onto the ledge the two had been fighting on. Just as Venom leaned onto a corner stone, the bell rang. It wasn't as loud as it could be, Venom only gave it a comparatively light shove, but the symbiote was taking care of the damage from Spider-Man's blows and wasn't at all prepared for the noise.

Instantly Venom's entire skin started to ripple and for a moment blots of pink, human skin could be seen. Spider-Man saw that as his chance and started to web Venom up. But the bell was stopping and Venom freed himself, though it took him some effort.

Venom's hateful eyes turned to Spider-Man, "We will make you suffer for this. You have no idea how we suffered because of you! My life is in shambles, because of you, Parker! And I'll make sure the same happens to you, dead or not..." Spit was flying everywhere from this declaration.

Venom began to advance slowly, entirely ignoring the blood still flowing from his left knee. Panic was mounting in Spider-Man alongside the rage. Soon Venom would be more or less back in fighting shape, but Spider-Man was only going to get more tired. His gaze turned to the bell. It seemed to have some sort of effect on the symbiote. Diverting Venom's first punch, Spider-Man jumped at the bell and kicked himself off it, hoping that the shove would be enough. And it was. Several times louder than before, the bell rung, loud enough in fact that even the exhausted hero had to cringe.

What was a ripple earlier could now only be described as a black maelstrom. Black tendrils were ripping themselves from Brock's body, leaving it barely reformed with bloody patches and red, irritated skin. Brock's face started to reappear from the jaw up, the only somewhat properly shaped parts. His eyes were bloodshot and blood was running down his nose, when his left claw turned back into a normal hand, muscles cramping from being suddenly reduced in size. The symbiote was whirling around from what seemed to be every inch of skin, trying to get away from the noise. Even then Spider-Man could see that it still did its best to keep Brock alive, struggling to recreate his normal body despite its obvious pain.

"No! You won't get away again, Parker! I won't let you win!" Brock shouted as the symbiote barely clung to his skin, oblivious to its need for rest.

With mad desperation Brock worked through the ringing of the bell and swiped at Spider-Man with his remaining clawed hand. It went wild and Spider-Man used what little strength he had left for a cross directly to Brock's nearly human jaw. The changing man stumbled backwards and had to put all his considerable weight on his damaged leg. It buckled instantly under him and he just managed to grab onto the corner pillar with his claw to stop him from falling.

Then the bell rang again and again and to both Spider-Man's and Eddie Brock's horror the symbiote dissolved from the hand and Brock lost his grip. To Spider-Man this all happened in slow-motion. He could see it coming nearly before it occurred. He was torn between his innate desire to help, to save those who couldn't help themselves and his rage. The fear in Brock's eyes was evident and a not so small part in Spider-Man felt satisfaction in that knowledge.

"You reap what you sow," He whispered absent-mindedly under his breath.

Brock fell.

It was like a spell broke. Spider-Man jerked ahead, unwilling to kill for self-satisfaction. He wasn't God, he had no right to decide who lived and who died. But he knew it was too late well before he heard Brock's body impact upon the ground. It was barely audible, the storm was still raging, but to Spider-Man it was louder than thunder. He made his way down, wincing from all his bruises and shivering because of the rain. His costume was nearly ripped apart and seemed to hold together only because the rain made it stick to Spider-Man's skin.

Eddie Brock's body didn't land on the pavement, but in the church's small back garden. The blood was barely visible; the rain was washing it away already. The impact seemed to have snapped his neck, so it was probably a quick end. Or at least Spider-Man hoped so.

He knelled down in front of Brock. He should've saved him. He should not have given in to his own anger. Now a man was dead and once again it was because he couldn't save him.

"Peter, what would you have done? You would have saved him, I know it. I'm not sure I'm fit to wear your uniform," Spider-Man mumbled between sobs and tore off his mask.

He had light blonde hair and hazel eyes and fairly common, if handsome feature. What was not so common was that said features were more than strikingly similar to Peter Parker. Everybody who had known Peter would think that it was either him back from the dead or an unknown look-a-like. It was neither. Ben Reilly was Peter Parker's clone and had taken up the mantle of Spider-Man, after Peter's death, posing as his estranged twin 'Benjamin Parker'.

Ben was crying, his tears mixing up with the rain. He wasn't sanctimonious enough to even pretend that he was grieving for Brock. Brock was someone he only knew of, thanks to the 'Sin-Eater Scandal' at the Daily Globe. No, Ben was crying because he failed to measure up and another person had to pay the price.

So caught up in his self-loathing, he didn't think for a moment about the symbiote, the source of the problem, as far as Ben was concerned. As it was, only the storm and Ben Reilly had witnessed Eddie Brock's death.

And the storm didn't care.