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Part 2 of A Guest of the Fantastic Four
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2023-03-31
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Talk to Me

Summary:

While still in captivity with the Fantastic Four, Reed Richards has tried different ways of opening up communication with the alien symbiote retrieved from their ally, Spider-Man. But after other methods fail, up to and including a thought transmitter, Reed realizes that maybe one of the simplest forms of communication may be what they need: Morse code.

But mostly, Reed just wants to know if the symbiote has a name.

Notes:

A spiritual successor of sorts to A Day at the Park, I got this idea more or less out of nowhere and decided to write a one-shot after a headcanon post of mine got some really positive feedback. I have a lot of feelings about the Venom Symbiote's sense of identity and the influence its first host had on it, so there are some vague references to the developments in Venom: Space Knight in here as well.

I took some... creative liberties with the symbiote's communication skills but... eh... I don't think it's too far-fetched.

Historian's Note: The following takes place just prior to Fantastic Four #274.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Baxter Building, New York
Extra-Terrestrial Contamination Containment Facility

It was nighttime, and their missions completed, but even though the leader of the Fantastic Four was down to a t-shirt and some lounge pants Ben had gotten him (“ya gotta learn t’ relax, Reed!”) he wasn’t quite done with his work for the day.

He’d be lying, though, if he said this wasn’t a little bit self-indulgent. A pet project — not that he’d ever refer to the creature before him as a pet.

"Start recording." A chime indicated the computer was working. "This is Reed Richards observing for session twelve. It is 2100 hours on the twenty-second day since the Fantastic Four acquired the unknown organism from the so-called 'Beyonder's' world." He grabbed a stool from a nearby table and sat down in front of the massive tube the symbiotic alien resided in. Right now, it looked like a gently sloshing puddle in the bottom. For a few moments, Reed sat with his chin in his hand, watching, before he remembered the recording was still going.

"Internal temperature of the organism's largest container is set at 5 degrees Celsius, as it seems to be more receptive to my efforts at communicating the colder it is. Given its strong aversion to fire, I have not tested its reactions at anything warmer than room temperature." He chuckled to himself. "Set a reminder for June first to not bring our guest outdoors until autumn."

As he spoke, the symbiote rose up in great globs of biomaterial, rather like one of those lava lamps Franklin liked so much (but always had to be kept out of his reach). For a while, Reed had tried different habitats — a terrarium, sand, saltwater, freshwater, even snow — but it seemed quite comfortable in this sort of nutrient bath. It had liked the outdoors one week before (at least, he hoped it did) but for a myriad of reasons, he couldn't allow it to roam freely in a city of eight million. Even if it had demonstrated its ability to "catch and release" a host, they couldn't very well have it gallivanting around, jumping from body to body, not understanding how alarming that might be to even a compatible human.

Still, it was Reed's good fortune it had picked up knowledge of both spoken and written English from their ally, Spider-Man.

He held up a notebook with the word "TALK?" written on it in big, bold letters to the glass. The symbiote regarded it, as if indecisive, before rising to the top of its water. Reed drained the water about halfway and continued for his notes:

"Water level is being reduced to fifty percent so the speaker system can transmit. Organism is showing no visible signs of distress, so I am optimistic about today's session."

He pushed a button to activate audio communication.

"Good evening," he said, flipping to another page in his notebook. Normally, he would prefer to utilize his various computers and portable devices, but knew that sometimes others were more at ease with a simpler approach. "You'll notice a new addition to our communication device; a button that looks like… this." 

He held up a diagram of what the speaker system looked like from the inside of the tank. The symbiote gazed at it with large, white eyespots, seeming to match up the drawing with the arrow pointing to a big red button. It snaked out a tendril and pressed it, producing a red light. It at once shivered, a fast ripple going through its biomass as it fled to the other side of the container.

Reed laughed a little. "Don't be frightened; I promise it won't hurt you. It's just a light. You can hold it down, and it will stay on." He pushed the button on his own side to demonstrate.

The symbiote poked it a few more times, less skittish now. It caught on quickly, he noted. Whatever it had learned from Spider-Man, it seemed to have retained.

He then stretched an arm over to a nearby table to retrieve a chart he'd printed up. "Since you already know our written language, this is what we call 'Morse code'. I'd give you the details about its history; it's fascinating, really, but I daresay my wife will be expecting me around ten." (It tilted its formed head curiously at the word "wife", and he filed that observation away for future use.) Reed grabbed a roll of adhesive tape and pinned the chart up so the organism could view it. "You see how each letter corresponds with a series of dots and dashes. For our purposes, we'll use this red light — a long press for a dash, and a short press for a dot.

"I know it's not the most efficient form of communication, but I hope you'll give it a try." He smiled encouragingly. "Here, I'll show you how to say 'hi'." He gave his button four short taps, a brief pause, and then two more short taps. 

After a minute came the symbiote’s reply: “HELLO”.

Reed scribbled down an excited note — shows creativity in responses! — and looked back up. “Yes, that’s perfect! I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner, rather than using the thought transmitter, especially when you already have a decent grasp of our language.” He rubbed his hands together. It felt a little bit like when Franklin had first started learning his ABC’s. “If you’re so inclined, I’d like to keep chatting for a bit.”

“YES,” it agreed. The symbiote swam a little circle around the circumference of its tank before returning to the button. It usually took a minute to formulate its response, but never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined even this fast of a development.

“Then let’s start with what I’m sure even Spider-Man was wondering: do you have a name?”

It paused. Then it sent back two short flashes, two long ones, and two more short ones. A simple question mark. 

Reed tilted his head, mirroring its earlier mannerism. “A name. A designation. Something you were called. Something unique to you. For example, my name is ‘Reed Richards’. It’s not completely unique, but it’s an easy way to pick me out of a crowd.” He tapped in “R-E-E-D” to spell it out for the symbiote. 

It contemplated the question. Then, “SPIDER?”

“No, no. Before him. Did you have an identity before Spider-Man? Even any prior hosts? What did they call you?”

Another uncomfortable-looking ripple went through it. The symbiote then retreated to the bottom of the tank, curling up on the opposite side. It kept its small, white eyespots trained on Reed, but he wondered if he might have upset it. (Wouldn’t have been the first time, unfortunately.)

He craned his neck down. “If you don’t have one, that’s quite all right. It would just be nice to refer to you as something other than ‘the entity’ in my reports.”

At last, it trailed a tendril over to the button again. He watched with growing confusion as it started to spell out a word. D… E… A…

No, that couldn’t be right.

“That is what they called you?”

It floated closer again; bobbed its head up and down in an approximation of a nod.

“In our language?”

Death, it had said.

Reed at once set down his paper and pen. He covered his mouth with his hand and gazed at the symbiote. All at once, he felt a profound sadness. What an awful existence, he thought, to go through life referred to as the reaper itself. He hadn’t even noticed much active hostility from it on the Beyonder’s planet, though he wondered now what it was capable of. 

But weren’t they all capable of deeds both heroic and villainous?

He cleared his throat and settled his hands in front of him again. “It doesn’t seem to be a name you’re very happy with. In fact, it’s hardly a name at all, just a… descriptor.”

It didn’t respond, but also kept itself only partially submerged. Willing to hear him out, perhaps.

“That doesn’t seem to be an accurate name for you anymore, though, is it? Otherwise, why would you have joined with someone like Spider-Man? Still, you should have some name of your own.” Reed crossed his legs and turned his eyes to the high ceiling of the lab. How to put this… “Most of the aliases of the costumed fellows in this city are on a theme. Often it matches up with whatever outfit or disguise they have deemed appropriate for themselves. You already know my family — both my wife and her brother have names that describe their abilities. And Johnny is himself a legacy.

“But me…” He smiled to himself. “My wife — before she was my wife, mind you — once said, mostly in jest, after I set up a music player for her, that I was ‘Mister Fantastic’. It was silly, really, since all I did was a few upgrades to make it more enjoyable to use, but Sue was so delighted by it, and the way her face lit up as she said that…” Reed sighed deeply; happily. “It stuck with me. It sounds self-serving, but it makes me think of her every time. I want to be her ‘Mister Fantastic’.”

“WIFE?” it asked.

“Yes, my wife. My partner, for life, hopefully. She’s one of the most important people to me. Our relationship isn’t perfect, no human relationship is, but we trust each other. And that’s what you need, isn’t it? Someone who trusts you, and who you can trust.”

“HOST.”

“Well, hopefully more than just a host, my amorphous friend. I'm not sure how to help you find that person, but I hope you'll at least let me try.”

It lapsed back into silence, so Reed took down the rest of his notes from his observations, keeping an eye on the light in case it decided to communicate further. He dutifully noted down what it had told him, but for now, it would still be known as “the entity”. More saddening, than disappointing, but the universe was a vast place and everyone had darkness in their past. Most just needed someone to show them the light.

“I’m sure tonight was exhausting, but I’d like to thank you again for your willingness to try this with me. I’ll schedule another session with you later this week, so long as nothing unexpected comes up.” He placed his hand on the glass, and his lips quirked into a smile when the symbiote reached out with a tentacle to mimic it from the other side. “We’ll get you sorted, friend. One way or another… you’ll find someone. And they’ll help you find a name you can be proud of, hm?

“Good night, for now. And, computer: end recording.” 

As he refilled its tank and shut off the communication apparatus, though, it sent one last message: “BYE.”

Reed never expected that would be its final farewell to him.

 

(Bonus: thanks to neufel on Tumblr for this delightfully meme-y addition!)

The Harrison Ford meme where he says in one panel "evil" and another "baby boy, baby" but it looks like it's Venom and Reed talking to each other.

Notes:

Fun fact! The story about Reed's "Mr. Fantastic" alias comes from "Fantastic Four in ¡Ataque del M.O.D.O.K.!" It's a favorite moment of mine.

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