assassins [ON HIATUS]

four

"you all must have a workload of questions. shall we?"

-

fury and the avengers gathered around a large table in the conference room, assistants hurrying around to place coffee and teas on the table in front of the heroes. once they were all gone, steve turned towards the director.

"you have a whole lot of explaining to do, fury," he stated, leaning back. fury sighed as the rest of the avengers turned towards him expectantly.

"well, as i mentioned earlier during the simulation, agent x and agent jones were each kidnapped at age eleven by HYDRA. they tortured my agents in the cruelest ways, beating them, overworking them, mentally damaging them."

"they gave agent jones enhanced agility, enhanced senses and enhanced speeds. yes, these powers might be helpful in battle, but they've done more damage than good. then there's agent x. he has the same enhanced abilities as agent jones, but they did more to him than any other person we've rescued."

"they injected radioactive spider venom into his bloodstream, miraculously giving him the powers of a spider. but he couldn't make his own organic webbing, so they implanted metal web shooters into each of his wrists. adding to his abilities, he's developed a sixth sense, which basically alerts him of danger coming his way, allowing him to dodge or strike the opponent first."

the avengers all soaked in this information, brains running through the director's words. none of them knew how to respond to such a tale, and to put it simply, they were overall shocked. these high-trained assassins were victims of constant abuse? it was too much to comprehend.

"how old are they?" natasha asked as she sharpened her nails with her pocket knife. fury cleared his throat.

"i'm not sure i should tell you all. it might be hard to grasp," he replied. natasha raised an eyebrow.

"we aren't children, fury. we can handle the information of two agents' ages," she said, rolling her eyes, fury sighed.

"fifteen."

"excuse me?" steve asked, leaning forward in his chair. fury closed his eyes.

"they're fifteen," he repeated. "but they are more skilled than even my eldest agents here at SHIELD. i treat them no different."

steve nearly choked on his coffee. "you're kidding me, right fury? you cannot be saying you have teenage agents. you're creating child soldiers!" he argued, slamming his hand down on the table.

"i did no such thing!" fury yelled, making everyone fall silent. "i saved them from constant torture. if i would've just thrown them out into the streets or an orphanage, do you know the risk of them getting caught again?" fury waiting for a moment. "no, i didn't think so. you think this is a game, rogers? a sick, insane game where i'm always playing bad cop and you are the good?"

steve was dumbfounded, not knowing what to say. "i...i..." he stuttered, hesitantly leaning back in his chair. fury scoffed.

"that's what i thought. you're all dismissed."

-

peter sat on his bed, hair still wet from his shower. dark, purple bags gathered under his eyes, showing his true exhaustion. he clutched the small, silver cross that was held in his fingertips, unshed tears balancing in his long eyelashes.

"don't cry.... assassins don't cry..." he scolded himself, looking up at the ceiling. he took multiple deep breaths, the feeling of his chest moving and his lungs filling with fresh air calming him. he willed himself to not let a single teardrop fall down his sickly pale cheeks, somehow achieving the goal.

biting his lip so hard he drew blood, peter fell back onto his bed, his bare back being engulfed by the soft black sheets. he sighed quietly, his bloodied lip quivering. suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door, followed by a voice.

"peter? it's michelle. can I come in?" they asked. peter sat up, rubbing a hand over his face.

"um, yeah. come in," he replied. the door opened and michelle came in, dressed in her pajamas. (a silk bath robe and some slippers) she sat down on the bed, motioning for the other teen to rest his head on her chest, something they did to comfort each other. automatically, peter laid down, head on michelle's body, arm slung over her waist.

they sat in silence for a few minutes before michelle spoke up. "you know, peter. you can tell me anything..." she said softly, raking her fingers through the boy's chesnut curls. peter let out a muffled sigh as he smashed his face into her robe.

"i know... it's just, everything's so hard..." he whispered.

"tell me, peter. tell me what you're feeling." michelle spoke. peter took in a muffled breath.

"i miss mom and dad, i miss aunt may and harley. but their dead, and i can't ever go see 'em anymore. cause venom won't let me die, he does his own thing, comes out whenever he wants to. but when he takes over everything's just so... calm. my mind doesn't race my heart doesn't beat... it's bliss."