Consciousness returned like being forcefully held underwater and then suddenly yanked to the surface. Victor woke instantly after a brief blankness.
Severe tinnitus and dull head pain made him dizzy, but his first thought wasn't about himself. He looked down sharply at the lifeless figure he was firmly protecting beneath him.
"Wed..." He tried to call out, his heart nearly bursting from his chest, but froze the moment he opened his mouth—he couldn't hear his own voice.
His fingertips subconsciously touched his buzzing ear, feeling something wet, sticky, and warm.
Lifting his hand, he saw a shocking smear of bright red on his fingertips.
"Eardrum ruptured..." He frowned, not too worried. "Minor issue, easy fix with Venom around."
He propped himself up and quickly checked Wednesday. Her eyes were closed tight, face pale, but her chest rose and fell steadily.
Victor let out a long sigh of relief and carefully settled her beside a fallen tree trunk.
Then, his anxious gaze began scanning the messy surroundings, searching for that familiar black symbiote.
Soon, he spotted Venom hanging between the forked branches of a broken tree nearby. He looked like a lifeless puddle of black tar, his volume greatly reduced, barely able to maintain a basic form.
"Found you..." Victor muttered to himself. He rushed over and gently "picked" the limp, seemingly lifeless black mass from the branch.
Venom squirmed extremely weakly in his palm before melting back into his body slowly, as if with great effort.
(Victor!!! You total bastard who puts hoes before bros!!!)
Venom's furious roar exploded directly in his mind, making his already buzzing head hurt more, but also bringing a strange sense of relief—still able to curse meant the problem wasn't too big.
"Me? Bros before hoes? Since when?" Victor looked confused, responding subconsciously in his mind.
(Since when?! That damn explosion just now! You pounced and only cared about covering your goth chick tight! You didn't even spare me a glance! I was thrown out like a rag doll! Blasted away! Do you know how terrible it feels to be torn apart by sound waves and fly out like a popped balloon?! Huh?!)
Venom's voice was full of grievance and accusation.
"Did... did I?" Victor felt a bit guilty. His entire mind had indeed been on Wednesday at that moment; he hadn't had time to think about anything else.
(I fucking flew away and you didn't care!)
(Also! Where's that lightsaber?! That super cool plasma sword we almost got sliced into sashimi just to touch?! Is it still there?!) Venom suddenly remembered the important part and asked urgently.
Victor shook his head dejectedly, pointing to the large scorched crater from the explosion: "Glanced at it just now, not even crumbs left. That T-800 self-destructed thoroughly, didn't leave a single hair."
Venom fell silent.
After several seconds, an emotion of extreme resentment, as if betrayed by the whole world, slowly permeated Victor's consciousness.
(So... after the explosion...) Venom's voice became unusually calm, but carried the oppression before a storm.
(You, Victor Black, first nervously checked if your Wednesday Addams was okay...)
(Then, you even remembered to care about whether that potentially existing, cold, but super cool weapon was still there...)
(Finally! Finally! You remembered to look for your poor, blast-dazed, barely-maintaining-form, loyal partner—ME!!!)
(You don't just put hoes before bros... you put loot before loyalty!!! I'm hurt! On a spiritual level! Very seriously!)
(I'm going to sleep! Doing a deep self-repair! Don't disturb me for a while! Unless there's a super-sized chocolate cake as an apology!)
After finishing his complaints, Venom's voice and presence faded rapidly, as if he really fell into deep sleep, leaving Victor's mind in silence.
"Hey! Wait! Don't sleep yet!" Victor cried out internally, caught between laughter and tears. "Do me a small favor first, fix my ruptured eardrum! It's troublesome not hearing anything!"
However, there was no response in his mind. Only the constant buzzing reminded him that he was temporarily abandoned by his "other half."
Victor sighed helplessly, rubbed his throbbing forehead, turned to look at the still unconscious Wednesday, and resignedly began to think about what to do next.
---
Twilight, like congealed blood plasma, slowly dyed the sky.
Wednesday regained consciousness amidst bumps. The first thing she sensed was body temperature—not her usual coldness, but an uncomfortable warmth from another person.
She found herself confined in a very old-school "bridal carry" by Victor, who was trudging along a remote path.
Her pale fingertips curled subconsciously, touching the edge of a cardboard box. The rich, sweet scent of chocolate wafted from it, clashing with the aura of death and dust lingering around her.
"Don't move." Victor's voice came from above, steady but unusually loud, as if shouting in an empty church.
"You took the full brunt of that sonic blast. Your nervous system needs at least a night of rest to recover basic functions." He obviously couldn't hear his own volume.
Wednesday frowned, her sharp tongue awakening instinctively: "So, 'carrying the wounded on a difficult trek' is the only medical evacuation plan in your database?"
She habitually waited for his exasperated or playful retort.
But there was no response.
Only the sound of Victor's regular heartbeat transmitted through his chest, and the sound of his footsteps crushing dry branches.
She looked up sharply, focusing on his profile—dried, dark red bloodstains clearly remained on his ear and the side of his neck, shocking to the eye.
The last scene before her coma hit her instantly: blood pouring from his ears, yet he still covered hers deathly tight.
"Are you... okay?" The moment she asked, she pursed her lips tight, realizing her stupidity—he couldn't hear.
Victor seemed to sense her gaze. He looked down, forced a smile that was overly bright, and continued speaking at that unnatural volume:
"Don't worry! Temporarily no different from being deaf! Once my sleepy old partner wakes up, it'll be fixed in minutes. By the way, I can't read lips. How about putting the 'Universal Translator' to work?"
Before he finished speaking, Thing had already drilled nimbly out of Wednesday's small black bag. It patted its way along her arm onto the lid of the cake box she was holding, tapping the surface triumphantly with its nails, as if declaring its importance.
Wednesday took a deep breath, suppressing the complex emotions surging inside, and recovered her cold tone: "That Plague Doctor. Confirmed dead?"
Thing immediately got busy on the cake box. First, it spread its five fingers in an "explosion" gesture. Then, hesitating, its index and middle fingers "stood up" like a little person and sneaked away furtively.
Victor glanced at Thing's performance and explained: "Blown to smithereens. But might not be fully dead. He said 'see you next time.' That mechanical body might just be a remote-controlled puppet. The real body... God knows which dark sewer or server cluster it's hiding in."
"That monster, the Hyde?" Wednesday continued asking.
Thing immediately acted out the Hyde: four fingers bent to simulate running, then thumb and index finger exaggeratedly pinched a nose while the other hand waved madly, acting out "stinks to high heaven, run fast."
Victor sighed, his expression heartbroken: "Ran away in the chaos. Huge loss, total loss this time! Didn't farm the BOSS, didn't loot the legendary 'Plasma Lightsaber,' even the dessert in my mouth flew away! My heart is bleeding!"
His complaint seemed particularly tragic due to the uncontrolled volume.
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