Venom: Black, White & Blood #1 – Vessels of Darkness

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Force Majeure

Our first tale comes from Venom co-creator David Michelinie, working alongside artist Jonas Scharf, and together they craft a neat yet straightforward vignette of Venom’s merciful vengeance. Peppered with literary references that reinforce Eddie Brock’s journalistic roots, the story carries a certain weight despite its simplicity. It doesn’t try to redefine or overanalyze the character, nor does it reach for larger revelations about Venom’s place in the Marvel mythos. Instead, it distills him down to his core essence—a figure of brutal justice tempered by a strange, almost paradoxical compassion. As an opener, it’s a flavorful reminder of why the character endures: not because he is endlessly complex, but because, at his most primal level, he represents the thrilling collision of monstrosity and morality.

Scharf’s artwork widens the scope of this vignette, making brilliant use of the black-and-white palette to suggest Venom’s omnipresence. The shadows become his hunting ground, a place where he is not confined to a single shape but constantly shifting and multiplying. Scharf leans into this visual motif with a sense of eerie playfulness—Venom sprouts from trees, flows through rivers, and melts into alleyways, blurring the line between environment and entity. It’s a delicious representation of his early “movie monster” roots, where the horror lies not only in what Venom does, but in the unsettling realization that he could be anywhere, lurking just beyond the reach of the light

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Sweet Will Be the Flower

The issue’s second tale takes aim at the theme of Catholic hypocrisy, digging into the religious undertones that once permeated Venom stories from a bygone era. Written by Ryan North and illustrated by Creees Lee, the story cleverly inverts the familiar “superhero comforts the sick” trope by framing it through the fractured, unreliable narration of mid-90s Eddie Brock. What emerges is a sharp and affecting piece—equal parts unsettling and poignant—that highlights the contradictions at the core of Eddie Brock. By weaving together questions of faith, morality, and self-deception, North and Lee craft a narrative that underscores why Venom works best not as a cosmic, death-metal space god, but as a vessel for darker, more intimate explorations of flawed human morality. It’s a reminder that Venom’s greatest power lies not in grand science fiction spectacle, but in the raw humanity beneath the symbiote’s skin.

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Fathers & Sons

Our final story reflects as much on the modern continuity of Eddie Brock as it does on his origins, focusing on the fractured relationship between him and his father in the wake of Maximum Carnage. Though heavy-handed at times, J.M. DeMatteis continues to cement his place on the Mount Rushmore of Spider-verse writers, crafting a script that skillfully navigates the delicate balance between portraying and simplifying familial abuse and trauma.

Dave Watcher’s artwork is nothing short of spectacular, standing out as the clear highlight of the anthology. His watercolor techniques, combined with nightmarish imagery and dreamlike inking, create a visual style that is simultaneously haunting and beautiful. Each panel feels meticulously composed, blending horror and surrealism into a seamless narrative that hits with the precision of a delicate boy placed upon a perfect box. Together, the two craft something reminiscent of DeMatteis’ Vertigo work of the 90’s.