After the events of No Way Home, Peter Parker had the chance to restart his life and start fresh. But without his family, friends, mentors or fellow Avengers, his life began to spiral into darkness.
His new neighbour however, seems to make that dark...
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PETER PARKER
Entering the lobby of my apartment building at the crack of dawn was something I was pretty familiar with in these later years. As the sun peaked over the horizon and alerted me to the fact I had been out all night, I drearily walked up the four flights of stairs to my apartment, Venom's voice being in my head more than my own internal thoughts.
I'll be up front, I didn't mind the feeling of having Venom with me. As much as I still fucking hated who I was and hated living day by day in such a mundane routine, I felt different with Venom. I felt like I wasn't constantly alone anymore because I now had someone with me. Or some thing I should say.
You live in a dangerous area, Peter.
"Yeah, welcome to East Harlem buddy. I'm sorry if it's not to your standards," I scoffed back, not being able to see Venom's black ooze on my body like before but still being able to hear him inside of my head.
At first I thought he was telekinetic, that perhaps I could respond to him just by thinking the words instead of speaking them - but that wasn't the case. I had to answer him out loud as if I was a delusional nut job talking to myself down the street. I mean, it's nothing new to see some crazy guy having a one sided conversation with a figment of their imagination around here, it is New York after all.
Aunt May and I lived in Queens together, in the same Forest Hills apartment she had originally bought with Uncle Ben shortly after their marriage. It was my home, it was my safe place and it was where I had built my entire life. After she died and Dr. Strange cast the memory wipe spell, I managed to buy this place with the inheritance money.
I'm lucky to have the security of owning a home at this age, don't get me wrong but it's one of the cheapest places you could find in Manhattan so you get what you pay for. Although it took some adjusting, I'm getting used to the true city life rather than the cushy suburban life Forest Hills gave me.
To be fair, I do live closer towards the Upper East Side near 96th Street rather than bordering the water near The Bronx or in the crime center of Lexington and 125th. I guess you could call it the safer side of East Harlem. This area is one of the last areas to be gentrified in New York so it's just... Well, it's a place where the violent crime rate is double the national average - that's all I need to say.
I'm hungry, can we eat?
"So are you like a baby and just eat what I eat through like, um... An umbilical cord or something?" I asked semi quietly as I got to my door. I didn't want my neighbours hearing me talk to myself and start thinking I was even more of a weird recluse than they probably thought already.
No Peter, I can consume food myself.
My apartment building wasn't particularly large, especially since it didn't have an elevator. It was a narrow structure with only one apartment per floor; only 5 apartments in the building. A quiet block with a 24/7 laundromat and a bodega on street level, the front door to our lobby was positioned in between them. The lobby was as bland as the dreary residents who lived here, it had a wall of resident mail boxes on the left, an old couch nobody sat on and a fake plant in the opposite corner of the room just collecting dust. Other than that, it was just a staircase directly ahead.
