Symbiotic Agent

After Holm and Daisy finished their meal, they parted ways and headed home as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon in the distance.

Watching the red hues of the sunset spread across the sky, Holm rolled down the window, letting the evening breeze sweep through the car, with Venom riding along.

When no one else was around, Venom would emerge from Holm's body, lounging on the passenger seat, munching on chocolate, and humming along to the music on the radio in a jarring, off-key voice.

Glancing at this peculiar but oddly comforting sight, Holm couldn't help but let a faint smile curl at the corners of his mouth. He felt fortunate to have Venom by his side; its presence gave him the confidence he needed to navigate this strange and perilous new world.

As the thought lingered, Holm reached out and gave Venom's head an affectionate rub. It felt cool, smooth, and soft, perfectly fitting the curve of his palm.

Though stroking Venom was nothing like petting a cat or dog, it still carried the same calming effect, making Holm feel strangely content.

"Oh, come on, I can't even enjoy my chocolate properly!" Venom grumbled, extending a tentacle to push Holm's hand away. Normally, it wouldn't mind, but right now, it was focused on savoring its treat.

Holm, unfazed, extended his hand again. "I'll give you a few more chocolates tomorrow," he said casually.

Venom, who had been ready to protest further, froze mid-motion. Its demeanor shifted instantly upon hearing the promise of more chocolate. Chuckling slyly, it changed from pushing Holm's hand away to pulling it closer.

"All right, fine. Pat me properly. Hehehe. I like being patted while eating chocolate. Keep the chocolate coming, and I'll let you pat me anytime you want."

Holm laughed softly, amused by how quickly Venom's attitude shifted. Still, part of him missed its rebellious streak—he found it far more entertaining than its current eagerness.

With Venom's raspy, off-tune singing filling the car, Holm drove on, heading home.

However, as they passed an abandoned industrial area, Holm suddenly felt a peculiar sensation. A scene of a deserted factory materialized in his mind.

"The quality of the goods. One million, no tricks. Happy cooperation."

Fragments of conversation carried on the breeze reached Holm's ears. Paired with the vivid imagery, it became clear what was happening.

A drug deal was underway. Five people—three on one side, two on the other—stood exchanging a case of drugs for a million dollars in cash.

"This counts as one of those 'special cases' you mentioned, doesn't it?" Venom asked, glancing at Holm, its eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Holm grinned as he turned the car around. The scene unfolding ahead conjured a mischievous thought in his mind: rob the rich to help the poor—or at least myself.

Ten minutes later, Holm reopened the car door, tossing a suitcase into the back seat.

Fastening his seatbelt, he noticed Venom sliding back into the passenger seat, looking utterly content.

"Ah, five in one go! So satisfying! Hehehe. What luck, running into such generous people on the way home. If only we could meet people like this every day!" Venom said, sprawling across the seat, a tentacle propping up its head.

Holm chuckled, shaking his head. "Today was just a stroke of luck. You don't come across chances like this every day."

Although New York was notorious for its high crime rate, stumbling across a low-risk situation like this—out of sight of surveillance cameras, with a small group involved—was rare.

Moments like these made Holm realize how tempting it was to make quick money. But as appealing as it was, he knew it wasn't something he could indulge in often.

Shrugging off the thought, Holm continued driving. By the time the sun had fully set, he was parked outside his apartment building.

Just as he prepared to grab the suitcase from the back seat, a strange sensation pricked his mind. Venom, having returned to Holm's body, spoke up, "There are a lot of people watching us, and someone's inside your apartment."

Holm's perception confirmed Venom's observation. Remaining calm, he reached into the glove compartment, feigning nonchalance before stepping out of the car.

One, two… seven, eight… plus the one inside. Nine in total, Holm counted silently. Judging by their coordinated positions, they were likely sent by Hydra.

SHIELD had just promoted Holm earlier that day. For this to happen upon his return home was no coincidence.

Hydra had likely spent the past month gathering intel, waiting for SHIELD's assessment of Holm to conclude. Despite Hydra's extensive network, SHIELD's records often provided more comprehensive insights into agents' abilities and performances.

Holm also suspected that Hydra had been preoccupied with Grant Ward's defection. For them, Ward's role was far more critical than Holm's.

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Holm walked up the stairs, careful not to betray any awareness of the situation.

Though he already knew he was being watched, he couldn't let on. However, by the time he reached his apartment door, any skilled undercover agent would instinctively sense something was off.

Reaching the door, Holm turned the key, his expression unreadable.

With a faint click, the door creaked open.

A small metal cylinder rolled through the gap, releasing a cloud of smoke laced with potent drugs.

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