Wolverine and Venom

This is a small alley that can't even be called a branch road. Calling it a road is a bit inappropriate. It's just an alley, or a dead end. The spacing is only slightly wider than the alley where Captain America often gets beaten up. It's wide enough for residents' used cars to be parked in a single row.

On both sides of the alley are old-fashioned residential apartment buildings with visible bricks and stones, clotheslines hanging overhead, several iron fire escape ladders bending and extending to the ground, streetlights that have been neglected for years, garbage cans piled with large black bags, and a few cat aliens gathered together, silently discussing how to conquer the earth.

At the end of the dead end, Russell found his front door. The cold, thick Ironhide was so striking that it made him wonder if the identity assigned to him by the system was not that of a good person.

Russell patted his pockets but couldn't find the key. However, it wasn't a big problem. Based on his years of experience, the cactus sitting by the wall was highly suspicious.

Sure enough, after moving the flowerpot, he found a key.

This is a two-story building with all the windows facing away from the alley entrance. The interior layout resembles an office building, but it's unclear how it ended up in his hands.

Outside the window is a spacious and bright park, but it's a pity that no other gate has been opened; otherwise, it would have been nice to take a nap under the shade of the trees.

Russell felt that the two-story house must be something special. He frowned and searched it, finding two M1911 pistols and a box of yellow stirrup bullets in a drawer in the master bedroom.

He removed the magazine and found it full of bullets, but the safety was off. There were also four spare magazines, also full of bullets.

"He's someone with a story, and I like that kind of persona!"

Russell raised an eyebrow, suddenly becoming interested in his own identity. He rummaged through the bookshelf several times and finally found a diary in the desk.

'I'm anxious and uneasy. I dream about being shot to death every night. I don't know if I'll make it...'

'Although some unexpected things happened, the ending seems to be good; we became brothers...'

'They got arrested, but I was powerless to do anything about it, and I was even a little excited...'

'...'

Russell skimmed through the diary, initially not noticing anything, but his expression changed drastically after a moment.

'It's been three years. We agreed it would only be three years. She's already married, and I...'

Three years after three years, when will it ever end...?

'Insomnia, irritability, anger, I'm fed up...'

"That person called me today, and somehow, I told them they were doing legitimate business..."

'I may not be able to turn back, but who has ever understood my loneliness...'

'...'

Russell picked up the diary, turned and went to the bathroom, expressionlessly burned it to ashes, and then flushed the toilet.

It's true that he likes characters with a story, but this is too exciting. Speaking of which, what's that person's phone number? Is it too late to call now?

Russell went to the telephone, flipped through the messy phone book, and quickly gave up, because even if he found the person's number, he wouldn't know what to say.

God knows who 'they' are!

"This identity is a bit of a trap. I was just called a hero by Spider-Man, and then I was proven wrong..." Russell continued searching for clues in the house. Five minutes later, he found the entrance to the basement in a cubicle on the first floor.

Turn on the lights! Open the door!

A strong smell of disinfectant hit me, making me feel like I was in a hospital. And indeed, it was a surgical operating room, fully equipped with operating lights, an operating table, an emergency trolley, and other equipment.

While it may not have the complete equipment of a proper clinic, it's perfectly capable of removing bullets and stitching up wounds.

"So, I'm an unsung hero who has infiltrated the underworld, and my identity is that of a surgeon... Great, saving lives doesn't discriminate between good and bad patients, and I can continue to be a hero."

Russell turned off the lights and left, returning to the second floor. His identity was now clear; it wasn't as bad as he'd imagined. The most crucial question now was: where was his money?

Behind the headboard in the master bedroom, Russell found a safe embedded in the wall. After forcibly prying it open, he found stacks of US dollars.

"Brother, you're doing something wrong! But it's okay, I'll help you see the error of your ways and return to the ranks of the Sin Buster!"

At midnight, Russell had nothing to do and decided to go for a walk. He had just put on his coat when there was a loud banging on the iron gate.

Russell frowned, opened the observation window on the iron gate, and before he could see who it was, several Franklin were shoved in.

(一`一)

Thinking about his current status, Russell curled his lip and cursed, then opened the iron gate wide.

Three thugs, one black and two white, who clearly weren't good people, walked in. One of the white men was being helped up; he was pale, his lips were blue, and one of his arms hung limply.

"Doctor, we have a customer!"

"Okay, come with me!"

Russell tilted his head towards the basement. Removing the bullet was simple, just three steps: cut open the wound with a knife, remove the bullet with tweezers, and suture it with needle and thread. Afterward, he'd prescribe some anti-inflammatory medication and have the patient eat more pork liver to replenish his blood.

Russell was a little excited about his first surgery.

Bang!

A strange noise came from a room on the second floor. The sound was so loud that not only Russell, but also three gangsters heard it.

"Doctor?"

Russell replied irresponsibly, "Don't look at me, I'm all alone at home, maybe a thief broke in."

The three men's expressions changed, and out of caution, they turned and left. Russell didn't stop them. He locked the door and went upstairs, wanting to see which fool dared to steal and cheat on his territory, the Sin Buster.

With two M1911s in hand, Russell strode up to the second floor, kicked open the study door at the end of the corridor, turned on the desk lamp, and saw a burly man sitting in an executive chair, smoking with his back to him.

The burly man lurked in the shadows, puffing out cigarettes he'd pulled from under the desk—a brazen act for a thief.

"Who are you?" Russell frowned slightly. Could he be 'that person'?

"Buddy, who I am isn't important, the key is who you are?" The burly man stood up from the boss's chair. He was dressed in a black robe with a hood, his bulging muscles making the robe very wide. He was about two meters tall, and he had a mask on his face.

The sharp look seemed very familiar to Russell, who thought the other person was imitating him. But three seconds later, he decisively denied it, because the other person's face was not a mask at all, but a head cut out from a poster.

Wolverine from X-Men!

Where did this Wolverine from in this godforsaken world?

Russell stared, speechless. The world was not as simple as he had imagined; it was definitely not just about Spider-Man.

"Now, outsider, answer my questions: Who are you, where do you come from, and what is your purpose in approaching Peter Parker?"

Russell seemed thoughtful upon hearing this, then raised two M1911s: "Fine, but you must first tell me who you are and why you have a Wolverine poster?"

"Hahaha, you knew all along!"

The big man burst into laughter, then pointed to the poster image on his face and said smugly, "To tell you the truth, I am Wolverine."

"Impossible. Wolverine is indeed a muscular man, but he's short, definitely not two meters tall." Russell shook his head decisively. No normal person would stick a poster on their face. This is a fake, and a very perfunctory one at that.

"That makes sense, Wolverine is indeed very short, not even as tall as the chassis..." The burly man muttered to himself, then casually ripped the poster off his face.

"Hiss!!"

Russell gasped. Below the poster was a dark, grotesque face with white eyes covered by a ring of red eyeshadow, followed by a gaping maw full of fangs and a long tongue sticking out, dripping with nauseating slime.

It's definitely not Wolverine, this is Venom!

"Venom!?"

Russell gasped in disbelief. He remembered Venom in this version of Spider-Man, but not now, after the villain Doctor Octopus. It came to Earth from space, possessed Spider-Man Peter Parker, and after being abandoned, attached itself to a reporter, forming a villainous duo with Sandman.

"Hehehe, you even know about Venom. I'm getting more and more curious about your identity."