A Rotten Story (Part 2)

Every coincidence in this world contained inevitability behind it. Something capable of precisely stimulating an alien race no one had ever understood could naturally only be the result of countless experiments conducted by another host of that alien race.

The injection that drove Venom mad was, of course, no coincidence. Only criminals could defeat criminals, and only Symbiotes could defeat Symbiotes.

After observing Gray Mist’s experience using it, Schiller determined that highly concentrated Fear Toxin could provide immense stimulation to the Symbiote race, which fed on emotions. According to Gray Mist himself, his constitution was rather special, making him an unusual breed among Symbiotes, so he had relatively high resistance to Fear Gas. But other Symbiotes absolutely could not withstand such stimulation.

Symbiotes fed on emotions. It was a hunting instinct carved into their genes, something that could never be changed. Fear Gas could instantly drive that instinct to its peak. Even Gray Mist, under the system’s control, showed signs of becoming addicted to this high-proof liquor.

But for other Symbiotes, it was far more than just liquor. It was more like an addict on the verge of going mad from withdrawal stumbling across a pill he could swallow. No Symbiote could resist that kind of stimulation.

Although Symbiotes were not an entirely evil race, that did not erase the savage habits ingrained in them as a first-generation primordial species. Or rather, when Knull created them, he had imbued them with a will toward chaos.

Schiller knew that Venom had probably already taken a turn on Deadpool by now. With Deadpool’s temperament, what did he know about rules?

So once Venom was stimulated into a frenzy, none of the officers who had invited Stark over would survive.

That was why Schiller was somewhat surprised when he learned from Coulson’s call that only Robert had died. It seemed Stark’s will was stronger than he had imagined. He had actually controlled Venom in an instant and prevented him from going on a killing spree. What a pity.

Before long, Coulson himself rushed over. He said, "That black monster went into the streets of Brooklyn. The Captain has already gone to stop him. What exactly is going on? Why did Stark suddenly go berserk? Why is he eating people’s heads? What is that black thing? Some new armor he developed?"

"I don’t know." Schiller spread his hands.

At that moment, Nick Fury’s voice came through the radio on Coulson’s waist. He asked, "Why did Stark suddenly go berserk?"

"I don’t know."

"Aren’t you a psychologist?"

"I’m a doctor, not God."

"Didn’t he show any signs beforehand?"

Schiller pretended to think for a moment, then said, "Now that you mention it, there actually were some. The last time I gave him psychological treatment, he claimed he had developed a second personality. That personality said it was an alien Symbiote. I thought he was under too much pressure, so I gave him relaxation therapy, but it didn’t seem to do much."

"Symbiote? What’s that? What else did he tell you?"

"He said it seemed to be some alien race, shaped like black sludge. He said the race learned very quickly and might even be able to read its host’s memories. Stark said he had only taught that Symbiote a little about armor, and it immediately mastered it…"

"You’re saying this Symbiote has Stark’s memories and abilities??? It can build armor like Stark too??"

Then Schiller heard complete chaos on Nick’s end of the line, followed by Nick roaring, "Stop all plans involving heavy weapons!!! Do not provoke Stark under any circumstances!! What? The military is preparing to launch missiles?? Damn it! That’s S.H.I.E.L.D. property! Go tell those idiots!! The alien Symbiote on Stark came from S.H.I.E.L.D.!!!"

"I don’t care whether he has a file! Create one immediately! Every unidentified creature in New York came from S.H.I.E.L.D.! Any questions?"

"What does one dead lieutenant general matter? This is an alien invasion operation! Only one lieutenant general died, so count it as dying for his country! I’ll pay the compensation! Get them to stop immediately! If they harm a single hair on Stark’s head, I’ll swallow their entire military budget!!"

After hanging up, Coulson left. Peter asked, "So General Robert is already dead? How did he die? What exactly happened? And what happened to Mr. Stark?"

"Nothing much, but I think you’ve got a job to do now."

After saying that, Schiller picked up the phone again and called Steve. Things were just as chaotic on Steve’s end. Captain America shouted at the top of his lungs, "What the hell is going on? Why did little Stark go berserk? He’s jumping around Brooklyn, and what is that pitch-black armor he’s wearing? Good Lord, that father and son have never given anyone a moment’s peace…"

"Captain, I remember you said you always wanted to punch little Stark, but never had the chance. Now’s your chance."

"What do you mean?"

"Simply put, Stark isn’t Stark right now. An alien creature that escaped from S.H.I.E.L.D. has parasitized him. This alien creature constantly amplifies human negative emotions. You know, Stark was nearly driven into a corner by the military a few days ago. This alien creature bit off an Admiral’s head. Stark must be feeling fantastic right now, considering he had long been sick of those people…"

"The Symbiote has exploited those emotions, so Stark is extremely full of himself right now…"

"All right, don’t make it so complicated. Just tell me, if I go beat him up now, I’d actually be helping him break free of that alien creature’s control, right?"

"Right. It’s a very good thing. You can’t just stand by and watch your nephew get controlled by that evil creature, can you? He should be thanking you!"

The moment Schiller finished speaking, a dull impact from a shield came through the phone. Steve shouted, "Look over here! I’m your uncle! No! Not yours, that kid named Tony’s!"

Schiller put down the phone and looked at Peter. "Now you have two choices…"

"I choose to help the Captain." Peter answered decisively.

"You won’t think it over? Stark has treated you pretty well, hasn’t he?"

"But I think I also have an obligation to help Mr. Stark escape the control of that evil alien creature." Peter spoke with perfect obedience.

"All right. They’re on the easternmost avenue in Brooklyn. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, get ready to go."

It did not take long for both S.H.I.E.L.D. and the military to realize just how much destruction three superheroes fighting in a brawl could cause.

Although Peter talked a good game, he did not dare hit too hard. He mostly used webs to interfere with the Venom suit’s movements. Steve, however, showed no such restraint. Shield strike after shield strike left Stark, clad in the Venom suit, dazed and disoriented.

Stark had not lost control for no reason. After Venom seized the box, he swallowed the Fear Gas inside in a single gulp.

Once Venom got high, Stark could not control him at all. Put simply, an alien creature was throwing a drunken tantrum. Its host was trying very hard to restrain it, but even stopping a crazed drunk from the outside was difficult, let alone from within.

Stark could only do his best to drag Venom toward less populated streets. If he truly went wild in Brooklyn, the most densely populated district, no one knew how many people would be injured.

But barely controlling Venom’s direction was already impressive. Expecting Stark to make Venom withdraw back into his body was impossible.

Although Captain America was beating Stark senseless, like Spider-Man, he lacked especially powerful lethal means. The military directly dispatched several armed helicopters. Their large-caliber machine guns continuously fired at Stark, clearly intending to kill him. Whenever grenade rounds came flying over, Steve had to shield Stark from them. The group struggled for a long while without either side gaining the upper hand.

At that point, Schiller arrived atop the nearest building. Then, from somewhere, he produced a strangely shaped speaker. He said over the phone, "Jarvis, are you sure your emergency wake-up device can reach the decibel level you mentioned?"

"It can actually go even higher, sir."

"No, that won’t be necessary. Didn’t you drive the Symbiote out of Stark’s body with this kind of sound wave before?"

"Indeed. Based on the Symbiote’s reaction at the time, I am certain this will be effective."

"All right, I’ll leave first. Once I signal you, activate the emergency wake-up procedure immediately."

Schiller vanished in an instant. He had to stay farther away, since Gray Mist was afraid of that thing too.

A while later, Stark, wearing the enormous black suit, landed heavily in the middle of the street. Several armed helicopters behind him took turns firing, blasting stone fragments from the ground. Captain America and Spider-Man followed close behind, trying every possible way to subdue the giant.

Before Stark could leap away from the street again, an enormous burst of music came from the rooftop. It would not have been an exaggeration to say it no longer counted as music. It was a sonic weapon.

The entire ground shook. The black monster in the middle of the road began trembling frantically. Then, in an instant, Stark let out a terrible scream, collapsed to the ground, and reverted to his ordinary human form. A black shadow flashed and vanished.

The armed troops around them immediately rushed forward, but Peter was faster. He scooped Stark up and fled. By the time S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived, both the man and the alien creature were gone.

When the military personnel saw S.H.I.E.L.D. agents appear there, they finally realized that this might all have been a S.H.I.E.L.D. conspiracy.

Everyone knew that the conflict between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the military had reached its peak. Robert had repeatedly criticized Nick in public. Could this have been an assassination operation against Admiral Robert planned by that crafty S.H.I.E.L.D. Director?

Nick did not respond to that at all, but he thought it was highly possible that the military had taken the alien creature. He had to force them to hand it over. They absolutely could not discover that the alien creature possessed Stark’s memories and abilities, or the military’s expansion would become completely impossible to contain.

Once they heard that the thing had escaped from S.H.I.E.L.D. and killed one of their Admirals, the military naturally refused to let it go. They demanded an explanation from S.H.I.E.L.D., but Nick said nothing in order to protect the alien creature’s secret. The two sides immediately locked horns, neither willing to take a step back.

Meanwhile, Schiller stood in a hospital room at Presbyterian Hospital. Beside him was Strange, exhausted and sporting two enormous dark circles under his eyes. Schiller said to the newly awakened Dr. Connors, "Doctor, good news."

"…I’m not dead? That is good news…"

"No, there’s even better news. You aren’t dead, but General Robert is."

Connors: "…?"

Elsewhere, Peter brought Stark to the roof of Stark Tower. Stark was still somewhat confused. Venom had been blasted out of him so suddenly that Stark still had no idea what had happened.

A soft sound came from behind him. Stark turned and saw Schiller appear at his back, holding a glass jar containing a mass of black Slime.

"So that’s what he looks like."

"Indeed. A pile of sludge, much like you when you’re drunk."

Stark lit a cigarette and said, "What exactly was in that injection? Why did it make him go mad immediately?"

"You figured it out?"

"Of course. Anyone who uses their brain can see there aren’t that many coincidences in this world. Some drug randomly developed by the military just happened to stimulate an alien creature from some unknown galaxy…"

"That General didn’t lie to you. This stuff can indeed stimulate the human brain."

"Then…"

Before he could finish, Schiller shook his head. "Not likely. Obadiah’s situation is too complicated, and this stuff has severe side effects. Your uncle is too old to endure that kind of stimulation."

Stark looked disappointed.

"But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s impossible." Another voice sounded. Stark looked up and saw Dr. Connors walking out through the rooftop door. He said, "I can extract the beneficial components of this unusual drug. Perhaps I can turn it into a medicine for treating neurological illnesses…"

"What exactly is going on?" Stark asked.

Dr. Connors stepped in front of him. He said, "I have to say, the media reports about you were indeed wrong. You may be a rotten person, but at least you possess some sense of justice. I apologize for the damage I caused at Stark Industries Tower."

Stark froze for a moment. Just as he was about to ask something, Schiller said, "Don’t stand out here in the wind. Let’s go talk at my place. You’ll learn just how wonderful this story is."

As the sun gradually set, the lights along the streets of Hell’s Kitchen gradually went out as well. At the psychiatric clinic, Dr. Connors and Peter had gone upstairs to rest, while Stark, having listened to the story, was growing drowsy.

"So now you know. The one who killed was that Symbiote, and the people who died deserved it."

"You’re worried I’ll feel guilty or conflicted about it? No, I won’t. I only regret not letting that pile of sludge chew a few more times."

"How did it feel to get rid of the sludge?"

Stark fell silent. He slowly closed his eyes.

Perhaps geniuses were always lonely, but he did not want to admit that he had become so pathetic that, even knowing an alien creature could not be trusted, he still craved the feeling of someone understanding him and keeping him company.

"Wonderful story?" Stark murmured softly. "No… no. A rotten story. Rotten to the core."

He thought that there was not even a flawless hero from a traditional story here. Trouble caused by a pile of sludge had entangled a group of rotten people.

Yet this rotten story gave him something he had not had in many days—or perhaps many years: a good night’s Dream.

One morning several days later, just as the morning light streamed in, Schiller, having just gotten out of bed, opened the stopper on the glass jar and tossed a chocolate ball inside.

That mass of black sludge immediately wrapped around the chocolate ball, then abruptly froze. Afterward, the black sludge wriggled its liquid body and emitted a series of delighted brainwaves.

On the bedside table, a piece of red-and-gold candy wrapper gleamed brightly in the morning light.

Today’s ten-thousand-word update is here!

Managing two storylines is making my head spin. I originally wanted to tell both sides at the same time, but then I realized this writing style could not handle such rapid scene changes. Writing along one timeline while constantly cutting between the two sides would inevitably turn everything into a fragmented mess, so I separated the two storylines after all.

Thinking about storyboarding gave me a headache.