"...Am I still alive? That indeed is good news..."
"No, there's even better news. You are alive, but General Robert is dead."
Connors: "...?"
Elsewhere, Stark was led by Peter to the rooftop of the Stark Building. He was still sowhat disoriented, since Venom was expelled from him in an instant, leaving Stark uncertain about what had just happened.
A soft noise was heard behind, and Stark saw Shiller appear, holding a glass jar with a black substance inside.
"So, this is how it looks."
"Indeed, a pile of mud, not much different from you when you're drunk."
Stark lit a cigarette and asked, "What exactly was in that injection? Why has it driven him mad imdiately?"
"You figured it out?"
"Of course, nothing in this world happens rely by coincidence. A formula developed by the military just happens to stimulate an alien organism from who knows which galaxy..."
"The General wasn't lying to you, this substance indeed can stimulate the human brain."
"What if..."
Before he could finish, Shiller shook his head, "Unlikely. Obadiah's condition is complicated, besides, this thing has severe side effects. Your uncle is too old to withstand such a stimulation."
Stark looked sowhat disappointed.
"But it's not entirely impossible." Another voice joined in. Looking up, Stark saw Doctor Connors stepping out from the rooftop door, "I can extract the beneficial components from this peculiar drug. Perhaps it can be transford into a treatnt for neurological disorders..."
"What on earth has happened?" Stark asked.
Doctor Connors stood opposite Stark, "I have to admit, the dia's portrayal of you is sowhat inaccurate. You might be a degenerate, but you still maintain a sense of justice. I apologize for the destruction I caused at the Stark Industries Building."
Stark was taken aback. Before he could ask anything, Shiller said, "Don't stand around here. Co with . You will find this story fascinating."
As the sun gradually set, the lights went out on Hell's Kitchen Street. Inside the clinic, Doctor Connors and Peter retired for the night, leaving Stark, who was drowsy after hearing the whole story.
"So you see, the murderer was the symbiote. The ones who died were not exactly innocent."
"You're worried that I will feel guilt and remorse about this? No, I won't. I only regret not letting that pile of sli chew on him a few more tis."
"How does it feel to rid yourself of that sli?"
Stark fell silent, his eyes slowly closing.
Maybe geniuses are destined to be loneso. But he was not ready to admit it. Even knowing that an alien creature was hardly trustworthy, he was longing for the feeling of being understood and having companionship again.
"Fascinating story?" Stark murmured in a low voice, "No... no, a crap story. Crappiest of all."
He thought to himself, there wasn't even a perfect hero in this usual narrative, just a pile of sli causing troubles, involving a group of degenerates.
But, this crappy story granted him a good night's sleep, sothing he hasn't had for many days, or perhaps, many years.
A few days later, one morning, the early light just creeping in, Shiller, just awakened, opened the jar and threw a chocolate ball into it.
The pile of black sludge imdiately enveloped the chocolate and then paused. Soon after, the black sludge wriggled its body, sending out a series of joyful brain waves.
On the bedside table, a piece of red and golden candy wrapper, shimring under the morning light.
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