Surrounded by all these important people looking their best, the fancy looks of this place alone, and the cars out front that were more expensive than everything heâs ever bought combined, it was easy to mistake this mission for pleasure rather than business. However, with just how he felt wearing his dress uniform againâ this time with the Medal of Honor he had earned, alongside the various medals that came with his service neatly pinned to his uniformâ maybe this mission didnât mean he couldnât enjoy himself. Project Rebirth 2.0 had played this smart though, just the amount of sneaky he had come to expect by now. They were wary of Fisk, as they should be. Ever since the man was put in the position of mayor, Flash had been given various orders to keep tabs on him, but so far his missions regarding Fisk had been unfruitful.Â
Flash was no stranger to undercover missions in the name of Project Rebirth. The symbiote was perfect for making the wheelchair using amputee look like any other able-bodied Joe, and this secret section of the military was not above using it, just not tonight. Agent Venom had a personal life, and happened to know some of the guests, who would certainly notice if the war hero had suddenly grown back his legs. So today, he wasnât undercover, not exactly. Despite his mission, he was here as the war hero he truly was, corporal Eugene Thompson, veteran with a Medal Of Honor to his name. The mission seemed simple, on paper. Get close enough to Fisk to make good use of the symbiote, and Project Rebirthâs technology. With merely a prick of his finger he could insert a tracking chip right under the mayorâs skin, making it real easy for the government to spy... well, within the government.Â
With the alien snugly posing as the watch on his wrist, Flash uneasily eyed the crowd. He had never been comfortable in formal situations, let alone around all these rich people seeming to know exactly what they were doing. This hour alone heâd already been offered four drinks, and every time it had been a process of saying no. When he had made the decision to stop drinking for good, about two years ago now, he never though heâd wished there was a bar in this room, just so they wouldnât have to keep offering him drinks. He had almost risked it. One glass at a special occasion like this wouldnât matter... right? He didnât even have to drive, because, well... he couldnât. The thought alone had made him sick. Guilt had spiked him like nothing else, and his jaws had clenched together tightly in a helpless attempt to numb the anger he felt towards himself. No more alcohol. That was the deal. No excuses. Especially while carrying the most dangerous weapon heâs ever held in his hands, this mind controlling weapon that just happened to be drugged, neutered. He was done with alcohol, for good.
The veteran idly fiddled with the sleeves of his uniformâs coat, letting his eyes scan the crowd once more. The gang had to be out here somewhere, right? MJ had mentioned that Peter and herself would both go as Harryâs platonic plus-ones, and honestly, it was hard to miss any of them. After all, he had years of experience picking out Peter from any crowd, except this time minus the cruel intentions. A deep sigh was pushed from his lungs, irritation slowly building as he had still not found anyone he even remotely recognized. Sure, he was supposed to be here with the V.A. Office, but even they seemed to be another needle in this haystack of people, after he had left them a little while ago. He barely threw a short glance around before pushing his wheelchair forward, with a single, controlled stroke.Â
He almost didnât care when he felt the chair roll right over someoneâs footâ hell, maybe he meant to do it. One of the advantages of wearing a military dress uniform, and sporting the kind of medals he did, was that people were easily distracted once they saw and noticed. The smug little smirk tugging just softly at his mouth just couldnât be helped as his eyes darted up at his victim. Okay, it was a little funny.