He was thinking about going straight for the demon when he looked down and saw the woman and her plants, deadly and feeding from the people who had once stood full of life, with their umbrellas and their cell phones practically glued to their ears. At that moment, when the bodies deteriorated and turned to the boney carcasses they he knew they could become, Venom inwardly cursed himself for not paying as much attention to the people below as he should have. He should have been watching them, should have been listening, should have been on guard.
Her voice, sweet and oozing her own form of poison, tore its way into his range of hearing, resulting in him moving his position. His head and his arms were faced toward the ground, and with a destination in mind Venom began crawling down, down and into the light offered by the streetlamps and the lit up windows. His slither was deliberate and he knew what he was doing, knew what he wanted and what he was going to do once he got it.
As he crawled into sight, his form was made clearer, more detectible in the moonlight. The disguise’s huge, bug-like eyes took the woman in from his upside down arrangement and when he spoke, his voice was raspier than usual, deeper.
“Are you sure you want to promise that? Because I for one, can’t say the same.”