[Ellie Brock's POV]
Rage pulses through me like a second heartbeat as I watch them from the rooftop. The symbiote writhes against my skin, reflecting my fury in waves of black undulation that ripple across my shoulders and chest. My teeth clench so hard my jaw aches.
"Why are we just watching?" my other hisses inside my mind, its voice a venomous whisper that slides between my thoughts. "We should tear her apart. Rip her limbs from her body. Consume her heart."
"Shut up," I snarl, digging my claws into the concrete ledge. Chunks crumble beneath my fingers as I struggle to contain the murderous impulse surging through us both.
Parker's pathetic moans echo across the rooftop as Shane takes her from behind, her stupid spandex suit pulled down just enough to expose what he needs. The sight of his hands gripping her hips makes something primal and possessive rear up inside me. He should be touching me like that. Those hands belong on my body.
"Why weren't we the ones who saved him?" my other demands, tendrils forming near my ear. "That assassin with the skull face was touching what belongs to us. You just made us watch while the spider swooped in and took him away."
I whip around, the symbiote rippling across my skin as I struggle to contain my fury. "Because he can't fall in love with us!" I snap, my voice barely a whisper but filled with venom.
My other half coils and twists, forming a face of writhing tendrils directly in front of mine. Its teeth gleam in the moonlight, dripping with disappointment.
"You are weak," it hisses, the accusation cutting deeper than it should. "You reject his advances when we both want him so badly."
My claws dig deeper into the concrete, pulverizing it to dust. "If we give him what he wants, we'll get him killed and we won't be able to take our revenge on Spider-Woman."
The symbiote's face contorts, tendrils lashing out in frustration before pulling back to form an even more defined visage of rage. "Fuck the spider," it growls, voice echoing through my skull. "WE WANT SHANE."
I close my eyes, trying to block out the sounds of their panting and moaning, but it's no use. My enhanced senses pick up every gasp, every slap of skin against spandex.
"He's not worth the distraction," I mutter, but the words sound hollow even to me.
"Liar," my other purrs, sliding across my consciousness like oil. "We've been watching him for weeks. Following him. Protecting him. We saved him from those women who tried to rob him."
"That was different," I argue, but my resolve is weakening. The sight of Shane's face contorted in pleasure, pleasure that should be ours, is breaking something inside me.
"We've tasted him," the symbiote reminds me, flashing memories through my mind of Shane beneath me, his skin against mine, the way he surrendered so completely. "He is ours."
I watch as Spider-Woman adjusts her costume, speaking to Shane in hushed tones I could easily hear if I wanted to, but I block them out. I can't bear to hear whatever sweet nothings she's feeding him.
"We should kill her now," my other suggests, tendrils forming claws that flex with anticipation. "While she's weak. Distracted."
A roar tears from my throat, echoing across the rooftops of Manhattan. The symbiote surges across my skin, responding to my rage, amplifying it until I can barely think through the red haze clouding my vision.
"Not killing Spider-Woman was the only fucking thing he ever asked of me!" I scream into the night sky, my voice distorted by the symbiote's influence. "The ONE thing!"
My other half bounces beneath my skin, tendrils caressing my consciousness with dangerous suggestions.
"Then let's kill someone else," it whispers, voice silky with bloodlust. "We need release. We need to tear flesh, crush bone, taste fear."
I pace the rooftop like a caged predator, each step cracking the concrete beneath my feet.
"Can you still smell that Hammer Head bitch?" I ask, focusing on something, anything other than the image of Shane's hands on Parker's hips.
The symbiote stretches outward, tendrils extending into the night air like sensory organs, tasting the city's chemical signature. It pauses, then ripples with excitement against my skin.
"Yesss," it hisses, retracting the tendrils back into our shared form. "About three blocks south."
Without another word, I let the symbiote engulf me completely. We become one, fully bonded in our shared rage and purpose. The transformation feels like slipping into a warm bath of liquid hatred, comforting and familiar.
We launch ourselves off the rooftop, our massive form arcing through the night air with predatory grace. The wind whips past us as we swing between buildings, each movement perfectly synchronized between host and symbiote. The hunt calms us slightly, gives us purpose beyond the searing jealousy still burning in our chest.
The police convoy comes into view, three cruisers, lights flashing but sirens silent, escorting an armored transport van. We can smell Hammer Head's distinctive scent even from here.
Perfect.
We land on the roof of the transport van with enough force to dent the metal beneath our feet.
The metal beneath our feet shrieks as we dig our claws in. With a savage growl, we tear through the roof of the transport van, ripping away the heavy steel like it's nothing but aluminum foil. We hurl the twisted metal behind us, barely registering the screech of tires as vehicles swerve to avoid the deadly projectile.
Inside the van, Hammer Head sits shackled, her eyes widening as she looks up at us. For a heartbeat, confusion replaces her usual arrogance.
"This is because of YOU," we roar, our voice a distorted chorus of rage and pain. "YOU CAUSED THIS!"
"Huh?" is all she manages before we reach for her.
Our arms extend, the symbiote stretching like living tar as we grasp her shoulders. The chains binding her snap like thread as we yank her upward, lifting her high above our head. Her legs kick uselessly as we hold her aloft, her flat-topped skull gleaming under the streetlights.
"WAIT WAIT…" she begins, but her plea cuts off as we pull in opposite directions.
The sound is wet and terrible, ripping fabric and snapping bones and tearing sinew. Hot blood rains down on us as her body separates, the symbiote eagerly absorbing the crimson spray. The transport van screeches to a halt, metal groaning as the driver slams on the brakes.
Police officers pour from their vehicles, weapons drawn, faces contorted in horror at the carnage before them. Blood drips from our massive jaws as we toss aside the remains, roaring with primal fury that echoes between buildings.
"FREEZE!" someone shouts, voice trembling with fear.
Gunfire erupts, a hailstorm of bullets that bounce harmlessly off our undulating form. Each impact only fuels our rage, the symbiote rippling with sadistic pleasure as it absorbs the kinetic energy.
"I hate this feeling," my other whispers in our shared consciousness, surprising me with its sudden reluctance.
"I do too," I admit, even as we continue to absorb the barrage of useless ammunition.
The truth burns in our chest, this kill has done nothing to ease the pain of seeing Shane with her. The jealousy still courses through us like acid, corrosive and all-consuming. Hammer Head's death is meaningless, an empty gesture that leaves us feeling even more hollow than before.
With a final roar of frustration, we crouch and launch ourselves skyward, powerful legs propelling us up and away from the bloodbath below. We sail through the night air, a dark silhouette against the city lights, leaving behind the sounds of sirens and screams.