Puke-green gas filled the gym while Flash Thompson, otherwise known as Agent Venom, fought Jack O' Lantern through the haze. Flash's symbiote suit, Venom, protected him from the tainted air and any any attacks. You watched the fight from the sidelines, gas filling your lungs, the world going black...

One month ago, an old soldier moved into the apartment above yours. He liked your dark, somewhat broody demeanor and the two of you became quick friends. However, it didn't take you long to find out his alter-ego: Agent Venom, the newest local superhero. Or superheroes, depending on how you looked at it.

He ended up working as a substitute coach at your highschool. Although, you rarely went to gym. It was a rank, sweaty place, filled with teens that have their blood boiling and hormones raging. But the one day you did, the Agent Venom's arch-nemesis struck. The dangerous villain, Jack O' Lantern. He didn't have any powers, but he had a hard suit and a lot of gadgets.

As Flash fought viciously with the Jack O' Lantern, he felt like something was wrong. Of course, something was wrong. He was in a fight. But Venom's senses picked up something more subtle, yet also much more important. He took a quick glance to his right, finding his first Philadelphian friend suffocating in the thick gas. He couldn't help while he was fighting, lest he put them both in danger. Then, Jack O' Lantern gut punched Agent Venom with a powerful gauntlet. Venom felt a wave of nausea - a feeling he had never felt before - and promptly regurgitated Flash's last meal.

However, something else came out as well... a dark, black, living blob. A piece of Venom, one that it had tried to reintegrate and absorb. But like many symbiotes, it was simply to stubborn to just go away. It had ridden the tide of rising bile and escaped the confines of Agent Venom's body. Now, all it had to do was find a host. Then it saw you. It vanished into the smog and was getting close to your outstretched hand.

You fell to your knees, coughing, as the world slowly faded away. You grasped at the puke-green smog, wishing for something to keep you here, to ground you, to save you. Then, your hand connected with something dark, cold, and slimy. It rapidly spread across your body, fitting itself to every curve and muscle, sinking into your flesh and melding with your cells. It covered your face like a mask, forming two organic white lenses over your eyes. It remodeled your hair into messy, black spikes atop your head and started giving you a new, punky look.

A belt that fell halfway down your waist on one side appeared, then spiked forearm and shin guards. Your shoes turned thick and hard - perfect for kicking somebody with significant force. You felt everything - the suit, the presence, the power - and also didn't. It was as if it had become a natural, indistinguishable part of you in only a few seconds. Suddenly, your mind went blank... All except for one word. A name. A creature. A symbiote.

Mania.