Twirling spaghetti around my fork in this dimly lit Italian restaurant feels like performing brain surgery while blindfolded. The noodles keep slipping off, sauce splashing everywhere except my mouth. Meanwhile, Ellie sits across from me, somehow making pasta consumption look like an Olympic sport she's medaled in multiple times.
"So," she says, cutting through our awkward silence, "who was it that stood you up tonight?"
My fork freezes mid-twirl. "Piper Parker," I admit, watching her face carefully for any reaction.
"Hmm." Ellie's expression barely changes. "The Bugle girl?"
"Yeah," I say, finally getting a proper forkful of pasta to my mouth. I chew slowly, buying time to think. "The photographer."
Ellie takes a sip of her wine, her movements graceful and controlled. Everything about her screams predator, from the way she holds herself to how her eyes never seem to blink when she's watching me.
"I heard Parker has a habit of being late," she says casually. "Always rushing off with some excuse or another."
My heart skips a beat. She must already know Piper is Spider-Woman.
"Now I know, I guess," I reply with a shrug, pretending this is brand new information to me. In reality, I'm also aware of Peter Parker's chronic lateness in the comics, always disappearing to fight crime as Spider-Man. Apparently some things transcend gender and dimensions.
Ellie tilts her head slightly, those piercing blue eyes studying me with unsettling intensity. "Do you know Parker well?" she asks, her tone casual but her gaze anything but.
"Not really," I say, setting my fork down. "I bumped into her walking out of self-defense class earlier today. We just kind of hit it off, I guess."
Her brow furrows, creating a small crease between her eyebrows. "You only just met her today?" There's a hint of surprise in her voice.
"Yeah," I nod, reaching for my water. "Totally random meeting. Why, do you know her?"
Ellie's mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. "We've crossed paths professionally," she says, her voice cooling several degrees. "The journalism world is small."
She takes another sip of wine, then sets her glass down with deliberate precision. "Have you had any other... unusual encounters lately?" The way she emphasizes 'unusual' makes the hair on my arms stand up.
"Hmm..." I pretend to consider the question, knowing full well this is dangerous territory. I decide I want to keep her interested in me. "Actually, yeah. Something pretty crazy happened yesterday. Some woman calling herself Scourge tried to kill me."
Ellie's eyebrows shoot up, genuine surprise breaking through her controlled facade. "Scourge? The vigilante?"
"Yeah," I say, leaning forward slightly. "She shot a homeless woman who was..." I hesitate, not wanting to get into the assault details. "Bothering me. Then she chased me into a museum and tried to kill me too. I would've been dead if Spider-Woman hadn't shown up."
I watch Ellie's reaction carefully, looking for any sign that she knows more than she's letting on. Her expression remains impressively neutral, but I notice her grip tightening on her wine glass.
"Spider-Woman saved you?" she asks, her voice so controlled it almost sounds mechanical.
"Swooped in like something out of a movie," I confirm, trying to sound appropriately impressed but not overly familiar. "Webbed up Scourge and then gave me a lift back to campus."
Ellie leans forward, her elbows on the table, creating a moment of unexpected intimacy. The restaurant's candlelight catches in her blue eyes, making them glitter with something that might be mischief or might be malice.
"Speaking of Spider-Woman," she says in a conspiratorial tone, "I've heard there's a new wall-crawler in town. Stronger, faster, more... aggressive."
My pulse quickens. "Oh?" I manage, fighting to keep my expression neutral while internally screaming at how surreal this is. She's literally talking about herself.
"My journalism connections keep me informed," she continues, idly tracing the rim of her wine glass with one finger. "Apparently, she calls herself Venom."
"Venom," I repeat, pretending the name is new to me. "Wouldn't it be nice to have two Spider-Women in New York protecting everyone? The city could always use more heroes."
Ellie's laugh is sharp and genuine, a sound that sends an electric current down my spine. It's beautiful and terrifying all at once.
"I seriously doubt this Venom wants to protect New York," she says, her smile revealing perfect teeth that I can't help imagining elongating into something more monstrous. "From what I've heard, she has... different priorities."
I take a sip of my water, using the moment to choose my words carefully. "Well, I hope she's not just wasting time trying to get revenge on someone who isn't even thinking about her. That would be a waste of those powers, wouldn't it?"
Ellie freezes, her wine glass halfway to her lips. The restaurant noise fades to background static as her piercing blue eyes lock onto mine with laser-like intensity. The playful energy from moments ago evaporates, replaced by something much more dangerous. She sets her glass down with deliberate precision, never breaking eye contact.
I meet her gaze steadily, refusing to look away despite the primal part of my brain screaming to avoid eye contact with the apex predator across from me. Her scrutiny feels like being X-rayed, like she's peeling back my skin to examine what lies beneath. The silence stretches between us, taut as a tripwire.
I can't help but think how much better it would be if she skipped her villain phase entirely. In the comics, Venom eventually becomes an anti-hero, but only after so much senseless violence and destruction. Maybe I can nudge her in that direction now, save a lot of people a lot of pain. Including her.
"Do you know something about Venom that the world doesn't?" Ellie finally asks, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that somehow carries perfectly across the table.
I swallow hard, my mind racing for a plausible response. "Me? No, of course not." I force a laugh that sounds unconvincing even to my own ears. "I'm just speculating. Maybe someone's copying Spider-Woman's abilities? Could be revenge, jealousy... who knows what motivates people with powers."
Ellie's eyes narrow, and she spits out the word "Jealousy?" like it's something rotten she found in her meal. A harsh laugh follows, echoing off our wine glasses. "Yeah, right."
I take a deep breath, realizing I need to be more careful with my words. "What I really mean is that I think someone with those kinds of abilities would be better off creating their own identity rather than living in Spider-Woman's shadow. Even if they have similar powers."
The temperature between us drops about twenty degrees. Ellie's jaw tightens, and she shifts in her seat, suddenly looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. Her fingers drum against the tablecloth with a rhythm that feels like a countdown to detonation.
"An interesting perspective," she says flatly, reaching for her wine and taking a long, deliberate sip.
The conversation sputters and dies like an engine running out of gas. We sit in uncomfortable silence as our waiter refills our water glasses, his cheerful "Everything tasting good?" met with stiff nods from both of us.
“Of course.” I say awkwardly.
I try to revive the conversation with comments about the food, the restaurant, even the weather, but Ellie's responses are clipped and distant. Her eyes keep studying me when she thinks I'm not looking, analytical and suspicious, like I'm a puzzle with missing pieces.