Queens, New York
In an old, forgotten church, the massive bells chimed. Dong. Dong. Dong. "AHHH!!!"
A scream of pure agony echoed through the bell tower, slicing through the rhythmic tolling.
Beneath the massive bronze bell, a figure thrashed and tumbled on the wooden floorboards. The hysterical cries tore from his throat as if an endless, psychological torture was ripping his spirit apart.
Peter Parker regretted it. He deeply, truly regretted it.
When he first found the black suit, he thought it was incredible. It was sleek, alien, and cool. It enhanced his strength, his speed, his reflexes. It made him feel powerful in a way he had never experienced. It was simply wonderful.
But the side effects hadn't been far behind. The suit amplified his darker impulses. All the suppressed anger, the frustration of being bullied, the grief of losing Uncle Ben—it all boiled to the surface. He became arrogant, aggressive, and violent. He became a Spider-Man of the dark.
He had almost beaten a petty thief to death. That wasn't justice. That wasn't the "Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man" he had sworn to be.
Realizing the corruption, Peter had fled to the church tower, desperate to tear the suit off before the symbiote completely consumed his mind.
The loud, resonant ringing of the church bells was his only weapon. He could feel the symbiote weakening, its grip loosening with every reverberating dong.
His body was completely enveloped in the black mass. He threw himself against the stone walls and the metal scaffolding, madly hitting the clock structure. His hands tore at his chest, ripping the living fabric apart. The symbiote shrieked—a high-pitched, alien sound—as it was torn from his flesh.
With a final, desperate heave, Peter ripped the last of the black mass from his body. The writhing clump of dark matter fell through the gaps in the floorboards, dropping toward the lower levels of the church.
Sweating profusely, exhausted and bruised, Peter slumped back against a wooden pillar. He panted heavily, his chest heaving.
It's over, he thought, relief washing over him. It's finally over. I'm just Peter Parker again.
Just as Peter was gathering the strength to go home, a muffled sound echoed from downstairs.
"Uh... hum."
Peter's eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet and looked down through the grating.
Below, the virus-like black symbiote was pooling on the floor. And standing right in its path was a person. The black liquid surged forward, enveloping the figure like flowing water. In the dim light, Peter only had a moment to see the person's face before it was covered.
Flash Thompson? Peter thought, his heart sinking. The star of the Midtown High football team? What is he doing in a church at this hour?
"Peter! Help me!!" Thompson's muffled, terrified voice echoed up the tower as the black mass climbed his legs.
The irony was not lost on Peter. Flash Thompson had bullied him relentlessly at school. But Peter wasn't the kind of person to let a bully die, especially not when he was the one who had inadvertently dropped an alien parasite on him. Flash had likely come to the church to pray for passing grades so he could secure his college football scholarship. Instead, he found a nightmare.
"Hold on, Flash!" Peter shouted.
He hurriedly jumped from the tower platform, trying to reach the lower level to pull the symbiote off. But his body was completely drained. As his feet hit the stone floor, his knees buckled, and he staggered, collapsing from exhaustion.
He could only watch as the wriggling black liquid swallowed Flash completely. It encased him in an instant, eroding his body like a virus, shifting and expanding.
"Oh, no," Peter blamed himself, his fists clenching on the cold stone. If I hadn't come here, if I had just been more careful... Flash wouldn't be in this.
"Oh... I met Peter again."
The voice that spoke was not Flash's. It was hoarse, sharp, and layered with a demonic resonance.
The figure standing before Peter was massive. It looked like a dark, twisted replica of Spider-Man, but bulkier, more muscular, with a slick, black carapace.
"Flash! Wake up!" Peter shouted, hoping the human host could fight back from the inside.
As soon as the words left his mouth, the symbiote—now fully bonded with Flash—lashed out. A thick, black tendril whipped through the air, striking Peter squarely in the chest.
Peter was launched backward, slamming heavily into the stone wall of the church.
"Hahaha! You are strong, Peter, but I am stronger!!!" the creature roared.
Venom.
The symbiote had found a host whose anger and aggression perfectly matched its own. Flash, who usually relied on his physical size to bully others, now possessed a power beyond his wildest dreams.
And the symbiote fed on that arrogance. No one could refuse this kind of power.
With this strength, he could bully anyone. He could crush anyone.
Awesome!
"Peter, why don't you just let me bully you honestly?" Venom sneered, advancing slowly. "You're weak and incompetent. You belong permanently under my fist."
A fierce, sadistic light gleamed in Venom's monstrous, white, spider-like eyes. He lunged, slamming a massive fist into Peter's gut.
BOOM!
The heavy blow cracked the stone wall behind Peter. Peter slid down the wall, unable to catch his breath, coughing up blood.
"Flash... listen to me," Peter gasped, a thin line of blood overflowing from the corner of his mouth. "It... it will only hurt you..."
He didn't have his web-shooters. He was exhausted from fighting the suit. He had absolutely no strength left to fight back.
"Hurt me? You're just jealous of my power!!" Venom bellowed, jumping into a rage.
The black shell covering his body seemed to solidify and grow even larger, transforming his sturdy frame into a hulking, hill-like monstrosity.
"Let's see if you can survive this! SPIDER-MAN!!!"
Venom leaned forward violently. He raised his massive, casserole-sized fists and began to rain blows down on Peter like a violent storm.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
At first, Peter managed to raise his arms to protect his head, but after a few punches, his guard dropped weakly. He felt numb. He could only hear the sickening sound of his own bones cracking in his ears.
Venom grabbed the bloody, broken Peter by the neck and lifted him effortlessly into the air. With his free hand, he continued to pummel the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.
"Goodbye, Peter Parker," Venom growled.
He tossed Peter upward slightly, letting gravity pull him back down. Venom pulled his fist back for a lethal strike. His monstrous jaw opened wider and wider, revealing rows of razor-sharp, jagged teeth. A long, grotesque tongue slithered out, dripping with acidic mucus.
Then, a blur of motion.
A purple and black shadow flashed past.
OMM!!
A sudden, sharp impact knocked Venom's lethal punch off course, creating a small popping sound in the air. Venom stumbled, immediately looking back to see what had hit him.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of calm, measured footsteps echoed in the church.
A shadow stepped out of the dim light, catching the falling Peter before he hit the ground. The moonlight refracted through the stained glass, illuminating the newcomer.
It was a teenager. He had stark, pale white hair, wearing a striped short-sleeved jacket and black shorts.
But what horrified Venom was not the boy's clothes. It was the four crimson, tail-like appendages writhing and snapping the air on both sides of the boy's waist.
"Tell me... What's one thousand minus seven?"
They looked like sharp, alien limbs.
"Who are you?" Venom demanded blankly.
Venom's long tongue rolled in the air, his white eyes narrowing. He clearly saw the four strange whips. Was this boy a mutant? An enhanced human?
Forget it, Venom thought. As long as you stand in my way, you die too.
The white-haired boy gently set the bloodied Peter down against the wall. As he turned to face Venom, Peter weakly grabbed the corner of the boy's trousers.
"Run away... run away," Peter rasped, tasting fresh blood in his mouth. He couldn't watch this kid get slaughtered.
Venom's power was terrifying. Even if Peter were at full strength in his red and blue suit, he knew he would be at a disadvantage against this brute. He didn't know where this boy had come from, but despite the strange whips, the kid looked physically weak, almost frail.
And his pale face... it looked familiar.
Have I seen him before? Peter thought, his mind cloudy. Impossible.
But those whips... he had definitely seen them somewhere.
Peter's vision was blurred from the continuous blows, blood dripping into his eyes. His concussed brain struggled to make connections.
The boy standing before him was Ken Kaneki, the protagonist of Tokyo Ghoul. In the manga, at this stage of his development, Kaneki wore a distinctive leather mask. But right now, the boy was unmasked, his face fully visible.
If this were a 2D anime or a black-and-white manga panel, Peter might have recognized him instantly. But seeing a hyper-realistic, three-dimensional version of a fictional character in a dark church was confusing his super-powered, battered brain.
Kaneki turned his head slightly, glancing at Peter from the corner of his eye. His expression was utterly indifferent.
"It's okay. I won't lose."
"Peter, wait your turn! Let me kill him first, and then I'll finish you!" Venom roared, his tongue lashing wildly. The sheer physical power coursing through the symbiote gave him the confidence to challenge anything.
"Die!"
Venom slammed his feet into the stone floor, turning into a jet-black bullet as he launched himself at Kaneki. The force of his leap left cobweb-like cracks and a sunken crater in the solid stone.
"Keep talking," Kaneki said, his voice calm and cold.
Suddenly, Kaneki's left eye socket turned pitch black. The pupil flashed, turning a brilliant, predatory crimson red.
It looked like a black sun engulfing the world, radiating endless darkness. Small, red, vein-like threads extended from the eye socket, spiderwebbing across his pale skin.
The Kakugan.
"You are just weak."
As soon as the words fell, Kaneki raised his arms, crossing them in a defensive guard. Venom's massive fists slammed into Kaneki's arms like a freight train hitting a brick wall.
Clang!
A dull, metallic clashing sound echoed through the church. Kaneki didn't budge an inch.
At the exact same moment, the four scaly, crimson tentacles—his Rinkaku Kagune—thrust upward from his lower back.
Like four beams of solid red light piercing the dark night, they shot straight toward Venom's face. They moved quickly, accurately, and fiercely.
Before Venom could react, Kaneki leaped into the air, driving both feet hard into the symbiote's abdomen. The sheer kinetic force sent the hulking monster flying backward like a kite with a broken string.
But the combo wasn't over.
The air seemed to rush beneath Kaneki's feet. He moved with blinding speed, a technique resembling the Shunpo. He closed the distance before Venom could even hit the ground.
The four heavy, rock-like Kagune tentacles swept forward, smashing down on Venom with devastating force.
BANG!!
The massive symbiote was slammed fiercely into the church wall. A deafening crash rang out, and the stone masonry crumbled. Rubble rained down like a shower, completely burying the hulking black monster under a pile of debris.
"Awesome... so strong," Peter mumbled, stunned.
The little spider watched the scene with wide, dumbfounded eyes. It was completely different from what he expected. He thought the kid would be crushed.
As he lay there, Peter's mind began to clear. His superhuman metabolism was slowly healing his severe wounds.
The bleeding stopped, and his vision sharpened. He stared deeply at Kaneki's back, watching the four crimson tentacles dancing menacingly in the air.
"I've seen it... yes, I have seen it."
Peter frowned, memories flashing through his mind. Despite the realistic face, he recognized the fighting style. He recognized the weapons.
"Whips? No, that's not it. It should be... an organ. A Kagune?"
Kagune!
Ghoul!
With a sharp buzz in his head, Peter's confusion peaked. He muttered softly to himself in the quiet, dusty church.
"Isn't this a manga? Did I read it wrong? But this is definitely a Ghoul..."
Peter's eyes widened in sheer, bewildered horror.
"Light... you bastard," Peter whispered, his face pale as a ghost as he stared at the back of the white-haired boy. "What kind of comics are you drawing... that the characters literally run out of the pages?!"