Venom watched, his mouth closed and his mask willed down and away from his face. He was a dark figure that the vampires wouldn’t approach unless it was absolutely necessary, for they knew better than to go near the creature that they couldn’t understand, couldn’t figure out. His dislike of them wasn’t hidden and word of him destroying their kind had gotten out not long after his initial arrival. He had no sympathy for the undead and he found no enjoyment or use for them either, which meant that he killed them swiftly, without pity. They feared him; it wasn’t often that they found something that could turn the tables and eat them when they were usually the ones doing the devouring.
Spiderman wasn’t destroying them, wasn’t turning them to dust, and seeing this, Venom frowned and drew his brows closer together in confusion. Choosing to no longer stay inanimate, he moved further into the tangle mostly made up of the fanged fiends with the blood lust. He made eye contact with one who was still standing, unlike some of his companions who had been pinned down with webbing. From Venom there was a low rumble from the back of his throat and from the vampire that he faced there was the silence that came with recognition. Something like Venom wasn’t easily forgotten. His image stuck securely to memories.
“So what, are you saving them for later? You going to make someone else do the dirty work for you?” His sight went from the vampire who was already backing away and to Spiderman, who was trapping but not taking out. “They kill innocent people, you know. They don’t have souls. Most of us destroy them.”