Venom's Story: Fire At Will

Venom was absolutely certain that life had never been worse.

Not even when he was a kid, living mostly on the streets of Driolo, before he figured out nothing could hurt him and he lived in fear of police, thugs, gangs, other kids, his mother, cars, accidents, whatever. Not even when his most dangerous mission to date failed spectacularly and he'd been certain his reputation would be ruined. Not even when stuck on a giant space ship with nothing but a lot of dull movies and a terrifying perversion of reality to keep him occupied.

And he could hear the reason his life had never been worse bellowing insensibly out behind the house. ::Would you fucking shut up!:: he mentally bellowed back.

All he received in return was a gout of fire searing at the nearest window-- he didn't even bother ducking, by now, because it couldn't get in-- and the mental sense of a snarl that he was inside so he couldn't really see. Worst, of course, was knowing that the beast had actually projected that sense into his mind, because he'd long since realized he could never just "pick up" or "sense" anything from his bond, despite the fact that they were bonded. It was like he wasn't even there, mentally; like he was a big, black hole of telepathy. Venom didn't like it.

He'd spent nearly all his savings buying a huge, dragon-friendly, isolated house on Atu so he could attempt to keep Atnynvus under control. He'd had it spell-proofed and psi-proofed and teleport-proofed and, because Atnynvus's "sparking" turned into full-on "flaming", fire-proofed, which had cost the rest of his savings. Now he was barely scraping by, paying for maintenance of the big place, his equipment, and his single robotic servant-- he needed one, to his disgust, just to keep the house in order-- and his food on what little pittance he earned from his stock portfolio and what little jobs he managed to secure. Since he never seemed to manage to leave Atnynvus behind, no matter how many locks or spells he kept on the beast to keep him at home, most of those wound up botched and with only partial payment-- or no payment, at all.

The beast ruined everything he got his three bloody muzzles into, from jobs to houses to what brief relationships Venom attempted to cultivate to Venom's whole damn life. He was vicious, unpredictable, taciturn, sarcastic when he did deign to speak, destructive, and disruptive. If ever Venom had to worry about his reputation being ruined-- another thing to blame the beast for destroying-- now was it. He hadn't even had a job offer in a week and a half. If he didn't get one in the next couple days, he was going to have to go hunting for one, begging "door to door" among his usual employers, or find some other way to make money.

The problem was, he didn't really know any other ways to make money. Not that didn't bore him to tears, anyway. Even after his repeated promises to himself that he'd get out of this damn career and find something to do that didn't require people to bleed, he couldn't think of a single thing to do. If someone would pay him to sample bad alcohol or interesting-tasting poisons, or to jump off tall buildings on a jetbike, that would have been perfect. But in most places, stunt-men were obsolete, what with how easily replicated that kind of thing was digitally, and testing poisons or bad food was only useful if he could actually show employers what said poisons or food did for longer than a few seconds at a time, before he'd gotten over the effects.

So begging, it was. But he could wait another day or two before sacrificing his pride.

The rotten beast was even ruining that.

Venom pushed himself away from his desk and to his feet, growling unhappily to himself, and strode to the big window nearest to where he'd most recently seen Atnynvus. He stared out into the bright, desert landscape, squinting against the light, and caught sight of the red beast out at the edge of his property. He was a ways off, but he could see for miles, anyway, and the big, red blotch on the landscape was impossible to miss.

After his first birthday, Atnynvus had started growing rapidly from a big, ungainly hydra-foal-hatchling to an even bigger, more ungainly hydra-horse-dragon. For that first year, it had been relatively easy to at least keep him quiet and at home, since he was still small, relatively weak, and at least possible to subdue. He was still a little demon, still attacked things and people without warning, still was a little shit in conversation-- when he bothered to converse-- but he was a smaller little shit, who a good kick and a threat or two kept relatively in line. It at least kept him out of Venom's way while he was on a job.

Then the growth spurts started coming, and Atnynvus had gone from grumbling, growling, and angry but controllable to wild, powerful, roaring, and uncontrollable. After two months of having a ten-foot-tall monster barging in on all of his attempts at working, he finally broke down and spent everything he had on this place, in the hopes that it and the rugged land surrounding it would keep Atnynvus occupied. The creature was insane, he would never be able to hold down a job, so it was imperative that Venom actually get some work done or neither of them would eat.

It worked for long enough to get one job accomplished to Venom's employer's satisfaction-- and get one paycheck, which went directly to savings minus only equipment maintenance and a few groceries-- and then Atnynvus was back, throwing himself into things. In that case, he made what was supposed to be a quiet assassination, with every appearance that the target had died in his sleep, into a very public scandal when his whole house burned down. Fire magic was, of course, found to be involved-- because Atnynvus was a damn factory for the stuff-- and, so, foul play. The client had been so furious-- he wound up being investigated, himself-- that he'd refused to pay him the rest of his money and had demanded his deposit back. Venom had been forced to flee without refunding, just to cover his damages costs, and now no one would hire him with any money up front.

Not that he blamed them. Not with Atnynvus ruining his life.

But nevertheless, it had been a very, very long year and a half since then. A year and a half of living well below the means he was used to, of staying home doing some of the chores himself rather than going out at night. A year and a half with only two girls in the span, briefly and far-between. A year and a half with the most of his company being a destructive, angry dragon, a low-grade robot, and a very empty desert.

Yes, Venom was absolutely certain that life had never been worse.

He squinted further, trying to make out what Atnynvus was doing. It looked like he was digging. Well, that was a futile effort in a desert. At least he was being quiet, now.

::Not like there's anyone around to hear me, anyway.::

Venom snorted at Atnynvus's sudden, intrusive comment. He could have sworn that the beast listened in on his thoughts at all times, given the way he randomly spoke up with something snide now and then. But that was ridiculous, since a lot of times Atnynvus was busy, or out of range, or... well, maybe it wasn't ridiculous, but it seemed stupid of the beast to bother.

::There's me,:: he reminded him irritably.

::You don't count,:: Atnynvus sneered back at him.

::Feeling chatty today, are we?::

All he got in return was a wordless growl, which could have meant anything. Venom didn't even pretend to understand that monster anymore. He never did pretend to like him.

::Liking has nothing to do with either of us,:: Atnynvus agreed in a growl. Venom just snorted at him and turned away from the window and the distant, futilely paddling dragon-beast, turning the sand around him to glass with the heat rolling off him.

Stupid beast. Ruining both their lives with his horrible anger.

Then the phone rang-- one of the lines reserved specifically for work, which disguised his voice.

Venom dove for it, answered, listened, and agreed, all in the span of a minute. It didn't matter what the job was. He'd take anything, no matter how little it paid, no matter how dangerous it was, no matter how tedious. As long as he was making money-- or repairing his reputation-- he'd take it.

And he promised to himself that this time, this time, Atnynvus would not mess anything up.