Chapter 57: Birthday Song - Part 4

Two days had passed since my first meeting with Cletus Kasady.

I was back in front of that man again.

"Hey, you came back... Eddie Brock."

"Hah... I’d hoped I’d never see you again."

Right in front of me—Cletus Kasady, locked inside a glass cell, was laughing.

What the hell is so funny?

I’ll never understand what goes on in a serial killer’s mind.

I never wanted to see this lunatic again.

But... he kept requesting me as his visitor.

Because of that, the police, desperate for leads on unsolved cases, keep pushing me to meet him.

Seriously... what a pain in the ass.

"So... did you bring the book?"

"Yeah, of course. The guard said it was a special exception... but what the hell is this, The Divine Comedy? Looks like some poetry collection or something."

A poetry book with a spiral etched into the leather cover.

Definitely not the kind of book I’d buy at a bookstore.

"Eddie Brock... seems you’re not very well-read."

"That’s not true. I was one of the top students back in school, you know."

"That’s not the kind of ‘learning’ I meant. You’re not a fool, are you? Eddie Brock."

Cletus Kasady kept repeating my name, over and over, and it pissed me off. I frowned.

"So... what are you gonna talk about today? Maybe tell me about a dream you had this morning or something, huh?"

"I’ve got a better story... Eddie Brock. Let’s make a deal."

"A deal? Forget it. We’re warned not to cut deals with convicted criminals. Besides, I don’t make deals with people in cages... I learned that from a monkey at the zoo when I was a kid."

"I’m no monkey... I’m a human being, Eddie Brock. Are you shackled by society’s rules? That’s pitiful."

"And you’re shackled in an actual cage. Should I pity you? Oops—my bad. I don’t give charity to inmates."

I couldn’t help myself—I spit the words out.

"...Fair enough. Let’s get back on topic."

"Nope, not interested in hearing it."

"Are you sure? Could be your shot at a big scoop."

A scoop?

The scent of money hit my nose, and I found myself listening in despite myself.

"You and me. We take turns asking questions... and we each have to answer honestly. That’s the deal. I tell you something you want to know. You tell me something I want to know. Simple, right?"

"Any question goes?"

"Yeah. Any question at all."

"Alright then, here’s mine. You’ve killed people—there are still bodies the cops haven’t found, right? Where are they?"

I asked cautiously... but it was the exact question the cops wanted answered.

But to him, that information’s leverage.

He knows spilling it all would land him the death penalty.

Cletus Kasady is insane—but he’s not stupid.

If he were, he would’ve been caught a long time ago.

"Isn’t that a bit unfair? I’ll tell you the location of a body... and the motive. But only one per question. One question, one answer."

Cletus Kasady raised a single finger.

...His surprisingly willing response caught me off guard.

"Alright then... let’s start with this. Two years ago, you killed someone named Anna. Where’s her body?"

"Anna... ah, now I remember. Sweet Anna. I slit her throat... it was beautiful. Her neck, I mean. I tucked her away in a grave at a church on the West Coast."

...I fought off the nausea and wrote it down in my notebook.

Whether it’s true or not—we can verify it later.

"Alright, now it’s my turn. What’s your name?"

"Are you messing with me? It’s Eddie. Eddie Brock."

"That’s right, you’re Eddie Brock. Now, let me give you another answer."

Cletus Kasady began speaking again, full of pride.

"Otto? Oh, he was a real piece of work. When we bumped shoulders, he flinched and apologized. Even though he was bigger than me. I gutted him, let his intestines spill out. His shop—a butcher’s—should have a basement. Didn’t you know that?"

"Angela... yeah, I remember her. She tried to break up a fight at the supermarket—some customer was yelling at the cashier. She stepped in. Like a damn hero. Someone people should praise. Ugh, so disgusting. I cut off her legs and left her in an alley behind Hell’s Kitchen. She looked nice... I think she was dead after I played with her."

"Lucas—I skinned him and threw him into the sea. He was a fisherman. Probably fish food by now... isn’t that hilarious?"

"John, well──"

One after another, he confessed to horrifying crimes.

Each story drained me more than the last.

And each time, he’d throw in some meaningless question.

Favorite food.

Hobbies.

Whether I was married or not.

And then.

"Now, it’s my turn, Eddie Brock. You harbor violence within you. Far more powerful, far more vicious than mine... I’d bet you’re even more violent than I am. Am I wrong?"

I stopped writing.

...Does he know about Venom?

"No idea what you’re talking about."

"Eddie Brock... that’s a breach of contract. Just answer YES or NO."

"Fine then. No. I don’t resort to violence."

"...Huh."

Cletus Kasady gave me a cryptic smile that made my skin crawl, but I continued the exchange.

Then came the next question.

"Eddie Brock. Are you human? Is your blood red?"

"Of course it is."

"Is that so...? I’d love to see you rip your hand open and prove it."

Cletus Kasady laughed with a sinister chuckle... and I felt a chill of fear run down my spine.

"This conversation’s over. I’m done talking to you."

"Aww, already? ...Well, if you insist. Leave the book you brought in the tray, would you?"

I slowly approached the cell and placed the book I’d been holding into the slot in the glass.

At that moment, Cletus Kasady rushed forward—

And bit into my hand.

"...Damn it!!"

『YOU SON OF A—WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!』

Venom sprang out instantly, slamming him hard—right outside the camera’s blind spot.

Cletus was thrown backward, the chair flying out as he crashed into the glass wall.

Immediately, an impact alarm began blaring.

Blood streamed from my hand... but Venom sealed the wound instantly.

In a blink, my injury had vanished.

Cletus Kasady propped himself up with one hand against the wall.

On his face was… a twisted, maniacal grin.

Blood was dripping from his mouth.

But whose blood was it?

His own?

Or mine?

"Mmm, mmph, heh heh... the taste of blood’s different, huh... Eddie Brock. You’re not human, are you?"

"What the hell are you talking about—"

Just then, the prison guards rushed in and pulled me away from the cell.

One of them shouted at me.

"Step back! Get away now!"

I looked down at my hand.

...Thanks to Venom, the wound had sealed up completely.

Even though he bit me, there’d be no evidence.

I kept a calm face, trying not to betray what I was thinking, and followed the command.

As I backed away from the glass cell... Cletus Kasady followed me with his eyes.

Still smiling. Still staring at my hand.

My uninjured hand.

"I knew it, I knew it. Eddie, Eddie Brock... you really are something special. My instincts were right after all. Wonderful... absolutely perfect."

"Silence! Inmate #344!"

The prison guard barked at the excited Cletus Kasady.

"You're far more of a monster than I am, yet you’re bound by rules. By law, by regulation. Why is that, Eddie Brock? Tell me... give me the answer—"

BZZT!

A loud snap rang out.

He collapsed as if his strings had been cut.

The guards must’ve shocked the cell.

I was escorted by a prison officer and led back to the waiting room.

"Mr. Brock, please refrain from agitating the inmate."

"Huh? What? You’re blaming me?"

"Whether it was your fault or not doesn’t matter. Visitation is now prohibited. For both the inmate’s sake, and yours."

CLANG! A heavy sound echoed as the gate closed behind me.

I’d been kicked out of Rikers Prison… now standing outside, right in front of the entrance.

"Ugh, damn it… then again, wait. If this means I never have to see that guy again, maybe it’s actually a good thing."

I sighed and headed for my motorcycle.

...But a patrol car was parked beside it.

I groaned internally—things were about to get more annoying.

The door opened, and two men stepped out.

One of them... was Detective Patrick Mulligan. I’d met him before.

The other... I didn’t know, but from the way he was dressed and the situation, he had to be a cop too.

I walked toward my bike—

"Eddie Brock. Learn anything?"

That was Patrick, speaking to me.

"Yeah. I did."

Sighing with a tinge of reluctance, I relayed the details Cletus Kasady had told me.

The cop standing next to Patrick scribbled everything down diligently in his notebook.

...He looked to be around the same age as Patrick.

"Hey—Patrick?"

"Call me Detective Mulligan. We’re not close, and I don’t trust you."

"Oh, that so? Detective Mulligan... who’s that guy?"

I pointed at the other officer, and Patrick narrowed his eyes at me.

"That’s none of your business. And don’t point at people."

"Let it go, Patrick."

The other man calmed him down.

"I’m the lead inspector in charge of Cletus Kasady. In short... I’m the guy who arrested him."

"Wow, impressive. So? What’s your name?"

When I asked again, he pulled out a badge from his chest pocket.

"My name’s George. George Stacy."

He held out his hand.

Looks like this guy actually knows how to talk to people.

The birthday party was set for August 10th… three days from now, at Gwen’s house.

I sat down in a chair and buried my face in my hands.

The cost—well, things like the food for the party—was apparently going to be taken care of by Gwen, Ned… and Gwen’s father, George.

Why George…? I wondered, but according to Gwen, it’s because I’m always looking out for his daughter or something like that.

…It’s a huge help since I’m broke, but my relationship with Gwen isn’t about me looking after her or doing her a favor… We’re equals, or more like… Ugh, I don’t even know how to explain it.

Still, I’m not with her for money or gratitude.

I think George understands that, but… I can’t help but feel a little guilty about it.

I’ll make sure to thank him when I see him.

I made up my mind on that.

Now then.

At present, I’m facing a huge problem.

A battle with a vicious bank robber?

A high-speed chase with a wanted fugitive?

Searching for the parents of a lost little girl?

None of those are real problems.

They’d all be over in half a day.

If you’re Spider-Man, that is.

So what am I struggling with right now?

“What should I do about Michelle’s birthday present…”

That’s it.

I just gave her a gift a few weeks ago.

A blue rose necklace.

…She wears it every day.

I can assume she liked it, right?

But because of that, I’ve got no money now.

My phone’s broken, and I’ve already got my hands full as it is.

There’s no way I can scrounge up any money right now.

The only option left is to borrow from a consumer loan.

But a gift bought with debt…?

If she found out, Michelle would definitely look down on me.

Which means the only gift I can prepare is one that doesn’t cost any money.

…Everything Stark ever said about romance was tied to spending.

It’s probably fine for him since he’s rich, but for a broke student like me, it’s just too much.

Right now, in my current situation, nothing he said is useful.

I looked glumly over at the camera sitting by the wall.

It’s worth several tens of thousands of yen.

A bit—no, very—expensive for a broke student like me.

But it’s an older model than the current ones… almost like a small antique.

I’ve always liked taking photos, but more than that, it’s a tool I need for working at the Daily Bugle.

…This camera came from Aunt May’s house. It’s a keepsake.

Whose keepsake?

…Uncle Ben’s.

He raised me—and he’s one of the reasons I became Spider-Man.

Back when I had just gotten my spider powers… I let it get to my head.

I saw a robber run past right in front of me, and I let him go, thinking it had nothing to do with me.

…That night, Uncle Ben was killed by a robber.

It was my fault.

But Uncle Ben forgave me when I expressed my regret.

And he taught me that “with great power comes great responsibility.”

Those who have power… have a responsibility to help others.

I’ve lived by those words ever since. That’s why I’m still Spider-Man.

That’s the camera Uncle Ben left behind.

The photo album at Aunt May’s house that chronicles my childhood… the pictures in there were taken with this camera.

It’s a precious, irreplaceable camera.

I picked it up.

…I think back on everything that’s happened with Michelle.

It hasn’t even been a year since I met her.

But so much has happened.

I found myself drawn to her quickly.

Because she’s beautiful?

No, that’s not it.

It’s more than that.

I think the moment I first became aware of my feelings… was when the Lizard showed up at school.

She had no superpowers, and yet she risked her life to save Flash, someone she wasn’t even that close with.

That kindness and selflessness… it showed me that, deep down, she’s a genuinely good person… and I began to like her.

And then at the Sweets Festa.

I was fighting Rhino, and I ended up late—and not just late, I missed the entire event we’d planned.

Normally, she’d have every right to be angry—slap me, even.

She could’ve thought I was a terrible person and walked away.

But instead, she said she didn’t believe I was the kind of guy who’d just show up late without a reason… and she trusted that something must’ve happened, and chose not to ask about it… That was such a kind, considerate thing to do.

I felt then that she trusted me—not Spider-Man, but me.

She forgave me with a smile, comforted me… From that moment, she became special to me.

We’ve shared so many moments since.

And with each new memory, I’ve come to like her more.

I know that the more I get to know her… the more I’ll fall for her.

She’s important to me.

…I want to be with her.

If possible, even after high school ends…

I fiddled with the camera.

I’ve taken some pictures of her with it.

During trips, celebrations, events…

Then suddenly, a brilliant idea came to me.

Michelle once said she liked Spider-Man.

That she was a fan…

If that’s the case…

…With the camera in one hand, I picked up the watch on my desk that contained my suit, and left the room.