Marvel Preferences and Imagines (Taking Requests)

Mirages (Peter Parker)

There was a loud clap like thunder and then a bright light. It burned your eyes and made your skin feel like it was on fire. The fire raced through your veins, as you crumple to the floor. The lights shut off and the burning stopped.
"Welcome to your home, Mirage. This is your family." A man says. You open your eyes and see a man with a black coat pointing to five people in lab jackets.
"My name is Mirage, how can I be of assistance?" You say as if you had rehearsed that line a thousand times.
"Good. Mirage, this is your first target. Find out his secrets or kill him, preferably in that order." You walked through the metal doors with a job. You didn't have a choice though, you only knew that this was your mission.

*          *        *
After eighty victims, you stopped keeping track of who you killed. Usually, the people you killed, you never remembered. Yet there was this couple, they had stuck with you over the years. You tried to erase your mind completely, but it never worked. They would always come back to you when you were asleep, reminding you that you weren't a mindless beast. You had a conscience deep inside your mind, waiting for the right person to bring it back.
Every day, there would be a new assignment. An assignment to be assigned. An assignment to complete. That's how you got through it. You never once questioned your 'family'. You thought they knew best, and that was it. If you argued you would be punished. You never did argue though. You just thought of killing people as a test. Complete is a one hundred percent, anything else was a zero.
You had at first tried to fight your powers, as they were the power that drove you to kill. You needed to always be doing something with your hands, or else you would get hurt. Your powers were making mirages, hence the name. You tricked people into believing that the object they most wanted was right in front of them. Each step closer to the object meant a step closer to their death. It would mostly be an image of greed. Most people saw money and wealth, others saw true love. Sometimes you could see the person's life before they died. Never once, however, was it an image of a selfless act. People never worked that way, they sustained themselves by wanted what they can never have. They would tune others out until they were driven mad with insanity or lust.
It was a hard life you lived, but you would never trade it for anything. You got food, water, and one other free choice. Most of the time it would be to erase your memory to the point of no return. It helped with the grief and nightmares. After you would be able to sleep for about an hour, but then the couple faces would enter your dreams. It was if they were holding every chance of winning your freedom, but never once did you reach the point of escape. You had clung on to that one piece of memory like a lifeline, making sure that it never went away, until it did.

*                    *              *
You were walking on the streets of New York taking in the sights and sounds. Though it was busy, you thought of it like an open desert. It burned with a sense of discovery, of being who you want without turning back. You weaved your way through the crowd, not once bumping into anyone. You looked up for a slip second, only to see the buildings almost be able to touch the stars.
The stars, however, had vanished like your memories. You knew that somewhere like the stars they were there, you only needed to find an opportunity. You wanted to believe that you could, but you never did. You only found murder and death everywhere you looked. The people walking around you turned into walking corpses, and in a way they were. They only worked for money, which was thought to be the source of happiness. They lumbered around, doing boring jobs like mindless beasts. Their dreams withered farther down with every passing second. The once hopeful minds had turned into minds or despair and pain.
You were lost in thought when a man with the looks of a new suit bumped into you. He glared at you and stood their expectantly as if demanding an apology. He looked like he was on his way to his house, a penthouse by the looks of it. He continued to glare at you up until you mumbled an apology.  He then turned and you continued on your spread ways. You mindlessly making sure that you never hit another person.
Finally, you've reached a building you knew your target was in. You never learned their names. It would have provided you with a connection, something that you had never gotten from your family. You walked up to the front desk, approaching a lady in a blue pencil skirt, white blouse, and black heels. You checked your surroundings, even though you knew that no one was in the massive hall.
"Hi, my name is Grace/Jamie  (pick whoever). How can I help you today?" She said enthusiastically.
"Please direct me to your nearest bathroom." You said in a monotone voice. You had been taught to never show your emotions. Emotions were a sign of weakness, something you never had.
"Ok it's over there," she says pointing to a sign. You shot your wrist over and grabbed her.
"Scream and I'll kill everyone in your building." You say in a hushed building. You led her to a bathroom and knocked her out. You changed her clothes with yours and left her lying on the cold tiles in the bathroom.
You walked to the Elevator and punched in the floor number seventy-five. You leaned your head against the wall, trying to get rid of every thought, anything that might have ruined your chances of not succeeding.
You reached your destination and walked out into a living room. Glass window covered every spot, leaving no room for imagination. You walked to the panels and pressed and hand to the cold glass. The New York skyline was what they called pretty. The millions of lights shimmered and glowed like fireflies in the woods. Suddenly a voice came from behind you.
"Pretty right" you spun and there stood a teenager not much older than you.
"Yes...yeah," you said trying for a normal voice. You had never talked before on a mission except for the usual 'tell me everything or die'.
"I've never seen you here before" He continues.
"I'm new," you say trying to shut down the conversation as soon as possible.
"Name's Peter," He says not receiving the hint.
"Hello Peter, my name is..." You hesitated. You had never been given a name except for Mirage, which you could use for obvious reasoning. "My name is Mira" you decide upon.  He smiled and waved someone to come over to you.
"Mr. Stark, I didn't know you had hired," He says. You try to cover his mouth, but it was too late. The 'Stark' man had walked over and eyed you suspiciously.
"Hello," he says. You met his eyes with a firm gaze as if to say, 'whatever you think is wrong'
"Hello, My name is Mira," you say firmly.
"That's funny, Mira," He says firmly matching your tone. "Really, but your name tag says something different"
You back away fast, knowing that you had messed up. You watched as Mr. Stark summoned his armor. The lights dimmed and started flashing red. You covered your ears and fell to the floor. That noise and light sounded exactly like it had when you had first turned into Mirage. You wailed in agony before blacking out.