No, that's bullshit! [He doesn't care about reeling himself in, he doesn't care about anything but heaping the blame on Peter. It's not an impossible choice, not in his eyes, and he'll never accept it.]

All he had to do was give me his blood, all he had to do was trust me! We were friends! And he didn't trust me!

[He lied, and lied, and refused to save him. Peter made him so desperate, so terrified, that he had to go to the source. He had to hope the venom would give him what it gave Spider-Man.

He's had a lot of time to think in Ravencroft. Not about anything good or useful of course, but he's been thinking nonetheless. If it had just been earlier - if Spider-Man had come to him sooner, agreed, trusted him--

He could have studied the DNA. He could have figured it out on a cellular level. He would be better by now. Not some freak. Not some hideous monster like his dad was turning into.

He grits his teeth and feels the ache of where they grew and shattered against each other. They've mostly been replaced in his prison stint, but that doesn't make the memory any less.

He's not Connors. He's not weak, no matter what his dad used to think. He'd have found the way.]

He ruined me. And you're the only way to ruin him.