CHAPTER 155: THE TRAP

The matter with Kaecilius had come to a temporary close. His original plan to steal the machine invented by Doom—one capable of bypassing the Sanctum and the Sorcerer Supreme to bring Dormammu into this dimension—had failed.

With the help of the private investigator from Hell’s Kitchen, Jessica Jones, Gene finally located the missing device that had disappeared from Mason Industries’ warehouse. To prevent Kaecilius from making another move on it, Gene personally transferred the dimensional traverser to the S.W.O.R.D. mothership, locking it away in the most secure arsenal the agency had.

That vault was filled with all sorts of dangerous artifacts and weapons seized from major and minor incidents over the years—including some truly bizarre and terrifying contraptions.

Naturally, under Gene’s invitation, Jessica Jones joined S.W.O.R.D. without much hesitation. Based on Gene’s knowledge of the original universe and his personal understanding of her character, Jessica still harbored dreams of being a true superhero. She had once tried using her powers to help people. Unfortunately, after a traumatic entanglement with a powerful supervillain, she had developed serious PTSD, becoming irritable and guarded.

But deep down, that desire to protect people never died. She just needed someone to give her a nudge in the right direction.

And Gene was more than happy to be that person.

What was more unexpected, however, was the arrival of that dark, slimy creature who called itself Venom. After being beaten back to its original form by Wanda, Venom was revealed to have bonded with none other than the long-missing journalist—Eddie Brock. He too joined S.W.O.R.D.

According to Eddie, his life had gone straight to hell. First, he lost his job at the newspaper. Then, he was diagnosed with cancer. And finally, by some cosmic twist of fate, he ended up bonded with an alien symbiote named Venom, who claimed it needed a host to survive in Earth’s atmosphere—and Eddie Brock had been chosen.

Host. The word left a bitter taste.

In that moment, Eddie wondered if he’d been cursed by the Entity of Misfortune himself. What else could explain all the insane things that kept happening to him?

But surprisingly, he and Venom actually got along quite well. The two had fallen into a bizarre but functional routine: wandering the streets, taking down criminals, and occasionally feeding Venom with the worst of the scum to keep him satisfied.

It was weird... but it worked.

At least, it did—until they ran into Kaecilius.

The dark sorcerers had quickly overwhelmed Venom. Kaecilius, having never seen such a bizarre lifeform before, had used dark magic to control Venom and force him into service as one of his enforcers.

By the time Wanda found them, Eddie hadn’t been in control of his own body for two whole weeks.

Things were better now... but life aboard the S.W.O.R.D. mothership was getting complicated.

__

"What!?" Jessica shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at Eddie like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. "That slimy alien freak is joining us too? No way. I’m out!"

"Miss, that’s a bit harsh," Eddie said, raising both hands in surrender. "I think you’re referring to Venom, not me. I’m just the guy stuck with him. And, uh... while my buddy can be a little scary at times, he’s not all that bad once you get to know him."

"Not that bad?!" Jessica exploded, her voice echoing down the hallway. "He tried to bite my head off! Twice!"

She waved her hands for emphasis, her rage barely contained.

Inside Eddie’s head, a familiar growl rumbled.

"This woman is incredibly annoying. Let’s eat her head."

"What?! No, no, no!" Eddie flailed. "We talked about this. We only eat the really bad guys. Remember the rules!"

Jessica narrowed her eyes. "Your alien friend just volunteered, didn’t he?"

"Absolutely not," Eddie insisted, sweating bullets. "Once you get to know him, you’ll see—he’s got a killer sense of humor."

"I have no sense of humor. Give me control—I’m eating her head!" Venom bellowed in Eddie’s mind.

Just as things were about to go completely sideways, Wanda

stepped in.

"Hey, you two," she said, appearing between them. "Your rooms are ready..."

She glanced between them, raising a curious brow. "Is there something going on here?"

"Let’s listen to her." Venom cut in before Eddie could speak, forcibly pulling him into a fast little sidestep retreat.

"As long as my room’s not next to that guy," Jessica muttered, arms crossed and face ice cold.

Having been thoroughly humbled by his last encounter with Wanda, Venom knew better than to antagonize the soft-spoken young woman again. She was not someone to mess with.

__

Kaecilius had escaped. Gene had tried various methods to track him, but with little success. If locating a rogue dark mage were that easy, the Ancient One would have dealt with him long ago.

Still, the matter wasn’t over.

.....

Night. Onboard the S.W.O.R.D. Mothership.

A shadowy figure crept silently down a dimly lit metal corridor, a security badge clutched in one hand. Every door and defense system ahead of him opened obediently as he passed, triggered by the badge’s clearance level.

At last, he reached the entrance to the high-security armory.

Beep.

With a soft chime, a small digital lock emerged from the doorframe. The intruder quickly typed in a string of numbers. The heavy vault door hissed open.

He stepped inside.

All around him were powerful and dangerous items, artifacts collected from Earth’s many supernatural and extraterrestrial conflicts. But the intruder ignored them all. His eyes were fixed on a single item labeled:

TARS-386048 —

A dimensional traversal device invented by Victor Von Doom.

He swiftly punched in a second password and opened the secure container.

It was empty.

Or rather—it had been full. But now, the device had been moved.

It was a trap.

"So," said a cold voice behind him, "what exactly are you looking for at this hour?"

Gene emerged from the shadows, arms folded, his voice laced with steel. "Victor."

The figure turned around slowly.

It was Victor Von Doom himself.

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