Peter had his eyes closed, savoring every bite as though the stale snack in his hand were a five-star meal.
It wasn't hard to understand why. This was the first time in longer than he cared to remember that he'd tasted food made for humans, rather than food made of them.
"Hey, Peter." Veyric scooted closer. "Can you tell me what happened to the Avengers after the zombie virus broke out? Where did everyone go?"
Knowledge was survival. He needed the full picture before he could plan his next move.
"Ugh, that's a long story..." Peter propped his chin on one hand, dredging through memory. "You know about the Civil War, right? The Sokovia Accords? Stark and Captain Rogers were already on bad terms back then. That hasn't changed."
He waved his arms as he talked, painting the scene with exaggerated gestures.
"Earth's buffet was running out. Everyone was getting anxious. Stark figured if there was nothing left to eat here, they should go eat aliens. Captain Rogers insisted they needed to establish a food-distribution system first... Anyway, they fought about it. A lot."
"And the result was the same as last time. They split."
Peter pointed at the ceiling, his voice going distant.
"Stark took a bunch of people into space. Said he wanted to find out what blue-skinned aliens taste like. The Captain, the Winter Soldier, and their group hijacked another S.H.I.E.L.D. carrier and headed for the opposite end of the galaxy."
He shrugged and continued.
"Wanda and the sorcerers basically cheated. They opened portals straight into other dimensions. I don't really understand that side of things, but I guess they figured mythological demons have more bite to them. Literally."
"And then the X-Men finally stopped traveling in a pack. They split up to search other continents."
Veyric exhaled. The picture matched his expectations. This universe shared the broad strokes of the Marvel Zombies storyline, but the details diverged from both the animated series and the comics. In truth, this was a standalone zombie universe he'd never encountered before.
"So to sum it up, there aren't many superheroes left in New York, especially not the heavy hitters. That takes a lot of survival pressure off us."
He set down his food. His gaze sharpened.
"Which means right now is the perfect window to grow."
Venom's little head shot out from his shoulder, hollering at him.
"Hey! I just felt a surge of fierce determination! Are we about to do something big?!"
Veyric peeled the symbiote's face aside with a weary smile, then looked Peter dead in the eye.
"We need to build a base. And an army. A warm-blooded army."
"Yeah! I fully support dietary diversity! That way all the brains on Earth can be saved for me!" Venom chimed in, vibrating with excitement.
Veyric stood and surveyed the damp, mildew-choked lab, frowning.
"Right now, the one thing we're missing is a secure, hidden base of operations."
The sewer worked for hiding, but the filth, the outdated equipment, the zero defensive capability... none of it would hold up as a long-term headquarters for an army.
"Places like Avengers Tower or the X-Mansion have everything we'd need, but they're way too conspicuous..."
He paced, ransacking his memory for the right location.
After a long silence, Peter spoke up. His voice came out dry, almost brittle.
"Actually... I know the perfect place."
Veyric's eyes lit up. "Where?"
"Nick Fury. He was worried the Avengers' civil war would spiral out of control, so he secretly built a network of underground bunkers and distributed them to individual Avengers."
"Supposedly each one is fully equipped, stocked with supplies. You could run an entire military command center out of one."
"Stark vouched for me, and Director Fury reached out. Gave me access to one of the bunkers..."
"That's perfect!" Veyric snapped his fingers. "That's exactly what we need. Let's head out at first light tomorrow."
But Peter didn't move.
His body had begun to tremble. Both hands clamped down on his knees.
"What's wrong, Peter?" Veyric caught the shift instantly.
"It's just... the bunker requires a physical key to open. And my key is at... at Aunt May's house."
The images crashed through Peter's mind before he could stop them. Himself, bite by bite, devouring Mary Jane. Then Aunt May. Every frame vivid. Every frame a horror film starring him.
Looking at Peter, at the way he seemed on the verge of shattering, Veyric let out a quiet sigh.
"Let me handle it, Peter."
He stepped forward and laid a hand on Peter's shaking shoulder.
"Take me to the building. Tell me where the key is. I'll do the rest."
With Venom's help, getting upstairs and grabbing a key would take two minutes, tops. The risk was minimal.
"And whenever you're ready, you can come with me. No rush. We go at your pace, okay?"
[Ding...]
[Spider-Man senses your compassion]
[Spider-Man Affinity +10. Current Value: 90]
Peter lifted his head slowly. His eyes were rimmed red, bright with tears he refused to let fall.
---
The next morning.
Sunlight touched the streets for what felt like the first time in forever. If not for the dried blackish-brown bloodstains on the pavement and the abandoned cars scattered everywhere, the neighborhood could have passed for the quiet community it used to be.
On the roof of a two-story house, two figures lay flat against the shingles.
"My room. Left-side desk drawer, second one down. Buried under a stack of papers."
Peter had already explained this once. He explained it again anyway.
Veyric nodded. "Got it. Keep watch from up here."
He called Venom to his hands, spreading the symbiote thin across both palms. Not much coverage, but more than enough adhesion to support a climb.
He descended the wall like a gecko, silent and fluid, and slipped through the window.
Peter's room looked exactly as it had been left. Textbooks scattered across the desk, a half-assembled computer motherboard, and the famous LEGO Death Star model from Spider-Man: Homecoming.
A thin layer of dust had settled over the model. Something about it felt unbearably lonely.
So this is Spider-Man's room. It really does look just like the movie.
Veyric crossed straight to the left-side drawer, pulled open the second tier, and pushed aside a pile of papers.
There it was. A small black device, resting quietly at the bottom.
It looked like a pager from the 1990s, a single-color LCD screen inset in the center, the S.H.I.E.L.D. eagle logo engraved on the back. Nearly identical to the pager Director Fury had used to summon Captain Marvel in the films.
"Got it."
He clenched it tight in his right hand, a spark of triumph flaring in his chest.
He should have turned around. Should have gone straight back out the window.
But he was a lifelong Marvel fan standing inside Peter Parker's house, and curiosity was a force stronger than good sense.
The scene Peter couldn't face... what did it actually look like?
His gaze drifted to the closed bedroom door.
Veyric held his breath, crept to the door, and wrapped his fingers around the round handle. A slow, careful turn.
Click.
The door cracked open.
The living room beyond hit him all at once.
What had once been a warm, lived-in space looked like the aftermath of a hurricane. The couch lay overturned. Splattered arcs of black blood streaked the walls.
In the center of the floor, a few leg bones picked spotlessly clean. Beside them, a crumpled floral apron that had belonged to Aunt May.
The visceral reality of it dwarfed anything a movie screen could convey.
"God, Peter..."
Veyric breathed the words out.
Then a shadow dropped from the ceiling above the doorframe. A flash of silver arced through the air.
Shk.
The blade carved through his right wrist with surgical precision. No resistance. No sound. A hot knife through butter.
His right hand went weightless. He stumbled backward, staggering into the center of the bedroom.
He stared.
His severed hand lay on the floor by the doorway, fingers still locked in a death grip around the black key.