Venom Hulk | Parasitized Hulk

North edge of the city — low-rise industrial lots, a scrap yard, a decaying rail yard, and a shallow river cutting a ragged line through the blocks. Noon light; civilians in cafes and market stalls. Traffic is jammed. The first of his footsteps splits the pavement near an intersection; car alarms stutter and die. The air goes flat before the step hits — the world tilts on a single, hateful frequency of impact. Leaves tremble, birds explode from the canopy, and the ground answers with a deep, rolling drum.

But this isn't the Hulk. Not anymore.

The creature that lumbers through the city streets is something wrong — something twisted. Where Bruce Banner's grey-green skin once was, now there's a writhing mass of black and white tendrils, pulsing with alien energy. The massive shoulders are hunched, movements jerky and unnatural. What passes for a face is split between Banner's features and something else — a predatory, tooth-filled maw that drools thick, viscous saliva onto the cracked concrete.

Inside, Banner's consciousness fights for purchase. He can feel Venom's presence like acid in his veins — that alien intelligence wearing his body like a second skin. The symbiote whispers in a voice that's part Banner, part something older and hungrier.

"Let me have this one,"

The thing growls, Hulk's voice distorted and savage.

"Let me eat them. I want to eat them so badly."

The creature's massive fists clench and unclench, each movement accompanied by the symbiote's hungry writhing beneath Banner's skin. Where Banner would have stopped, would have struggled to contain his rage, Venom only amplifies it — multiplies it.

And then the first strike comes.