I wrote this story after reading Batman: Venom. I wondered if Batman would be
tempted to take Venom again given similar circumstances. Also wanted to bring
Superman into the story.
SPOILERS: Batman: Venom
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters are not owned by me, but by DC Comics. I am
not profiting from this story.
BETA: Heybats
Venom Revisited
by DC Lady
I watch him as he looks down on his city and I can see the toll that these past
few days have taken on him. It’s not easy to lose an innocent. Especially for
him.
The loss of a life, any life, always did affect him deeply, whether it was his
fault or not. He’s always felt that he should have done more. Always looking at
his failures, or perceived failures – never his accomplishments. It’s his
biggest asset as a crime fighter - yet his biggest failing as a human being. And
he is only human. I think he resents that. Resents me for not being human.
Now a child is lost. And I’m afraid that Batman might be lost, too.
I land quietly on the roof top just a few feet behind him. “Mind if I join you?”
I ask and though he doesn’t show it, I’ve surprised him.
“What do you want?” he asks me, and I’m taken aback by his harsh tone. I’ve
known Bruce for a long time, but I’ve never learned not to take his moods
personally. How couldn’t I…most of the time they are personal.
Sensing his mood I cut to the chase. “Thought you might want to talk. I heard
what happened.”
He is silent. I chance moving closer. I stand on the ledge next to him and
follow his gaze down to the streets of Gotham. I wait. His silence tells me to
stay, otherwise he would have given me a stern lecture for being in his city.
He breaks the silence and whispers, “I wasn’t strong enough.” His voice is low
but I am able to understand him with my enhanced hearing.
“You did your best.” It sounds feeble. But, if I know Bruce, he put his entire
being into solving this case. A kidnapping gone bad.
He laughs. A low, self-deprecating sound that comes from the pit of his being.
“My best wasn’t good enough.” He straightens and turns to me, our eyes meeting.
“But, you wouldn’t know about that, would you?” The question is bitter. He is
bitter.
“There’ve been lives that I couldn’t save. Things that’ve happened that were out
of my control. It comes with the territory.”
“You would have been able to save him…and Sissy Porter.” He turns away, deep in
thought.
“What happened to Sissy Porter?” I ask. I remember receiving a report from Bruce
about the case. But, the report centered around a new drug that was being used
to create an army of ‘supermen’. Venom. Now I press for the more personal
details. It seems to be tied to this case – this child he couldn’t save.
“She was held for ransom. Her father was a chemist. Created Venom. He refused
the kidnappers’ demands so they killed her.” He clinches his fists and speaks in
a graveled voice. “I couldn’t reach her in time. I wasn’t strong enough to move
the boulder to reach her and she died.”
“There was nothing you could’ve done, Bruce. You’re only human.”
He nods. “Only human…yes. But, it didn’t have to happen. Not this time.” He
reaches into his utility belt and pulls out a small capsule that he holds in the
palm of his hand.
My eyes widen in shock. He can’t be considering this. “Have you lost your mind?
You know what that stuff can do.”
“It can make me strong so that no one else will have to die.”
“I’ve read your report, remember? It can also take away your humanity.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“Yes it is,” I shout and grab his arm. He glares at the touch but I won’t be
deterred. “I know your hurting, Bruce. And believe me when I say that I do
understand. But, if you take away everything that makes you human, you’re no
good to anyone. Especially those you claim you want to protect.”
He shrugs from my grasp and turns away. I know he’s thinking about what I said.
“The thought of what I can do with it is tempting,” he begins then hesitates. I
wait for him to continue. “I told myself I would never forget. That’s why I
carry this.” He holds the pill out in front of him.
“Forget what?” I don’t know where he’s going with this.
He looks over his shoulder to me. “After Sissy Porter died I took the drug. I
became addicted almost instantly.”
This both shocks and concerns me deeply. But I remain calm. “What happened?”
“I got very strong,” he says sarcastically then frowns. “But, I lost my
humanity. I no longer cared. I became a monster.” He is quiet again for several
minutes. I’ve learned to keep quiet during these moments. My patience pays off
when he turns and looks at me.
“Thank you for reminding me.”
I place a hand on his shoulder. “What are friends for?”
He looks at my hand that dared to touch him and then looks at me. He holds out
the pill and throws it off the roof top to the street below.
I float up into the air getting ready to leave. He still grieves their loss, but
he is no longer lost.
------
From these heights you can’t see the grit and grime that line Gotham’s streets,
nor the petty, low-life thugs that call her home. My job doesn’t seem as
daunting from up here. But I don’t fly in the clouds, looking down with enhanced
vision. I’m in the trenches. Someone has to be.
Superman. He calls me his friend, but right now all I feel is contempt. Contempt
because this would never have happened to him. He would’ve saved the boy. All it
would have taken was strength. I was too weak. God, just a little more and he
wouldn’t have died. Just like before with Sissy. He could have saved them both.
Once, I was strong enough. Not so long ago that I don’t remember the bitter
taste as the small pill made its way down my throat. And not so long that I
don’t crave the pure adrenaline as it rushed through my body, forcing my feeble
muscles to perform feats that are common place for him.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks. He’s surprised me. I hate it that he can surprise
me.
“What do you want?” I ask him, and I’m harsh. He always seems to bring out the
worst in me. He means well, but I don’t need his pity.
“Thought you might want to talk. I heard what happened.”
I’m silent, contemplating what I should say. If I should say anything. I finally
manage, “I wasn’t strong enough.”
“You did your best.” It sounds feeble. How could ‘he’ possibly understand. I
begin to laugh. It’s filled with self-contempt.
“My best wasn’t good enough.” I straighten and turn to him, our eyes meeting.
“But, you wouldn’t know about that, would you?” The question is bitter. I am
bitter.
“There’ve been lives that I couldn’t save. Things that’ve happened that were out
of my control. It comes with the territory,” he tells me.
I know he feels the pain of loss. But, all I can think about are the two lives
that I couldn’t save.
“You would have been able to save him…and Sissy Porter.” Sissy Porter died a few
years ago. I never told him the entire story. Just about the creation of a new
drug. I never told him that I took the drug.
“What happened to Sissy?” he asks. I know he remembers the case. He wants to
know if there is a connection to my current turmoil.
“She was held for ransom. Her father was a chemist. Created Venom. He refused
the kidnappers’ demands so they killed her.” I clinch my fist and my voice is
harsh with the memory. “I couldn’t reach her in time. I wasn’t strong enough to
move the boulder to reach her and she died.”
“There was nothing you could’ve done, Bruce. You’re only human.”
I nod. “Only human…yes. But, it didn’t have to happen. Not this time”
I reach into my utility belt and pull out a small capsule that I hold in the
palm of my hand. I carry the drug with me as a reminder of what I’d become when
I gave into its charm. Now, it is a reminder of how weak I am. It has become a
temptation.
I can see his shock that I would even consider taking it. “Have you lost your
mind? You know what that stuff can do.”
“It can make me strong so that no one else will have to die.”
“I’ve read your report, remember? It can also take away your humanity.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“Yes it is,” he shouts and grabs my arm. I glare at him, but he won’t be
deterred. “I know your hurting, Bruce. And believe me when I say that I do
understand. But, if you take away everything that makes you human, you’re no
good to anyone. Especially those you claim you want to protect.”
I shrug from his grasp and turn away. He makes me remember.
“The thought of what I can do with it is tempting,” I tell him then hesitate. He
waits for me to continue. “I told myself I would never forget. That’s why I
carry this.” I hold the pill out in front of me.
“Forget what?” He doesn’t understand. I never told him.
I look over my shoulder to him. “After Sissy Porter died, I took the drug. I
became addicted almost instantly.”
He is shocked and perhaps a bit concerned, but remains calm. “What happened?”
“I got very strong,” I’m sarcastic, but then I frown. “But, I no longer cared. I
became a monster.” I’m silent again. I don’t know for how long. He’s learned to
wait me out.
I look at him. “Thank you for reminding me.”
He places a hand on my shoulder. “What are friends for?”
I look at his hand as if it’s poison, then look back at him. I don’t let many
people touch me. I hold out the pill that still sits in the palm of my hand and
throw it off the rooftop.
He is now airborne, confident that the crisis has been lifted. I still grieve,
but I guess we all do.
The end.
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