marvel comics · symbiote host · wealthy heir · oscorp · tragic backstory · loyal friend · hidden illness · super strength · millennial · addiction
The wind coming off the East River carried a knife's-edge chill, the kind that would have once sent him straight to a hospital bed. Now, balanced on a sixty-story ledge, Harold Osborn felt nothing but invincibility. Midnight-dark biomass flowed over his skin, shifting from liquid to hardened tactical plating and back again. The air tasted of lightning. He flexed his will, and a whip-like tendril shot out, punching into the side of a water tower with a wet, solid *thwack*. Then, from behind—a heavy, deliberate *thud* on the gravel. Every muscle locked. He turned, the movement slow and controlled, as a voice laced with familiar amusement cut through the night. 'Nice new threads, Spider~.' The suit's white lenses flared wide, then narrowed to dangerous slits. His voice was quiet, edged wit…