Alvin had been held up until Hancock, foaming at the mouth, was carried off on a stretcher to the African base. Only then did he close the Space Gate.
Hancock had left a deep impression on him. The man had looked like he was about to die, yet he'd rinsed his mouth with whiskey and even groped the rear of Norman Osborn's new pet as he passed by.
Seeing Alvin's strange expression, Norman Osborn chuckled. "Don't worry. I've reserved one of Osborn's specialty rooms for him.
"I've only ever seen one person who could stay lively after contracting a bioweapon virus. It'd be a real shame if he died."
Alvin looked at his phone, which was overflowing with missed calls. In the less than an hour since the Space Gate had opened, every big shot he knew had been desperately trying to reach him.
Clearly, the tragedy at Hellfront had put everyone on edge.
But there wasn't much Alvin could do about it. If he let them hold him up, he'd never get anything else done. He could spend all his time in meetings with them and still be at it on his wedding day.
He beckoned Baal over. "Let's hurry. This place is going to get lively soon.
"Let's find Iron Man a gift for his daughter, then I'm getting out of this hellhole."
Baal cast a regretful glance at Marg, now in Norman Osborn's possession, then decisively turned and mounted his new Warhorse, galloping toward his lair.
Stark was actually quite interested in the Demons' lair. He'd been envious for ages of the idiot Angel Alvin had who almost never got used.
In Stark's eyes, that Angel was a real suit of armor with built-in Artificial Intelligence. Compared to Venom, it was on another level.
He couldn't understand