Chapter Eight

Peter tried to move. He really did, but the shackles or whatever Stark had used to pin him to the wall were harder to break through than anticipated. He let out a grunt of frustration as he tried to pull away and failed every time.

"I wouldn't waste your breath," Tony gave him a brilliant smile. "Strongest titanium in the world. I doubt Thor could even break through it. You do know who Thor is, right? Tall, airhead, built like a Viking." Peter didn't respond and Tony leaned in closer, getting into his personal space which he hated. "Of course, you knew that. You seem to know a lot about the Avengers, young Parker and not in an annoying fanboy kind of way."

Peter spit on him, catching Tony by surprise. Tony removed the spit from his cheek as he glared at him. "You little brat-"

Before he could finish his sentence Peter used all of his strength, he could muster to kick Tony in the stomach. Tony let out a groan of pain since he wasn't wearing his suit and Peter secretly hoped he had ruptured his stomach.

"Let me out," he hissed. "It's the smartest thing you can do, Stark."

Tony let out a laugh as he rubbed his stomach. "No can do, Parker, not when I finally have you where I want you. Is Parker even your real name?"

Peter swallowed as he thought about the question. He guessed it was, he'd been called Peter Parker by everyone in the base since he was a baby. Peter had been too busy getting melancholy that he hardly noticed when Tony pricked him with a needle.

Almost instantly his muscles became loose and wobbly as if he had no control over them. His eyes suddenly felt tired which made him realize he hadn't slept in days.

Tony was staring at him, a wide smirk on his face. "Nighty night, brat."

"Wanda, can't you see anything in that devilish brain of his?"

"Tones, give her time. She needs to be able to concentrate."

"Yes, she can't do that if you and your big mouth continue to yammer."

"She's been at this for an hour. How hard can it be to read the mind of a psychotic fourteen-year-old boy?"

Wanda lowered her hands from where they had been hovering over an unconscious Peter's head for the past twenty minutes. The red coloring left her hands and eyes as she turned back to the team. "Enough. All of you are irritating me."

Natasha shoved her elbow against Tony's stomach. "Did you see something?"

Wanda sighed. "He's very good at keeping his mind hidden. Way too good for a fourteen-year-old. Peter has gone through much psychological torture from what I've seen which allows him to keep his thoughts hidden from everyone else."

"You're a witch," Tony spat. "Might I remind you that this boy killed two of my guards with no hesitation? This is not the time to go soft on him."

Wanda ignored Tony and turned to Bucky. "Well, you were right. He's associated with HYDRA. He's been their pet project for years. He's enhanced like you, and I are. Definitely not human."

Bucky swallowed. "Did they send him after me?"

Wanda shook her head. "No." She lowered her eyes. "They send him after me."

Steve, ever the hero, jumped in. "Don't worry, Wanda, we'll make sure you're safe. HYDRA won't even get close to you."

Wanda gave him a bitter smile. "Captain, you and I both know HYDRA is craftier than they look. We didn't know Peter was a double agent for weeks."

"Because we weren't expecting a fourteen-year-old!" Bruce fiddled with his glasses.

"A fourteen-year-old serial killer." Wanda looked at Tony again. "He has a lot of blood on his hands, Tony."

Tony's jaw clenched as he looked at Peter again. He looked so young. Practically still a child and so thin his ribs practically poked out. When had he last had a proper meal? How had he ended up in HYDRA's claws? How many people had met their untimely demise because of a child?

He thought back to the few, brief encounters he had with Peter. He had always been smiling. Huge doe eyes. Fluttering his eyelashes in complete innocence. Oh yes, the kid had been good, but Tony was even better.

"Tony," Steve interrupted his thoughts. "What should we do? Call General Ross?"

"No!" the rest of the team said in unison.

"They will torture him," Wanda argued as she rubbed her neck. "You know how malicious that son of a bitch can be."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "You do realize he's trying to kidnap you, right?"

Bruce ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Peter is a kid, he didn't sign up for HYDRA willingly. Since he knows Bucky, he must have been there for a while."

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. "There are still so many things we don't know. If we hand him over to General Ross then it could blow up in our faces. Peter is strong, he's crafty, he's young so he makes a good soldier. HYDRA is not going to let him walk away like he's damaged goods. Not to mention all the brainwashing they probably inflicted on him." Bucky looked sick to his stomach.

Steve gave a frustrated sigh. "Then what do we do?"

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "What else? We get the information out of him."

Peter's head felt heavy, no doubt the result of whatever Stark had injected into him. He had to hand it to him, Stark had done his homework and wasn't as stupid as Peter originally thought. Thanks to his metabolism and healing abilities he needed enough tranquilizers to kill a baby elephant and he felt like he had slept for at least two hours.

"Wake up."

Peter frowned when he heard the voice. It was that of a woman.

He looked up and saw a redheaded woman with a no-nonsense smirk on her face. Natasha Romanoff. He knew enough about the redheaded agent to have her run screaming through the hills and while he knew the agent was strong, she was still human.

"Have a nice nap?" she asked cheerfully as she sat across from him.

Peter pursed his lips as he looked down and saw he was tied down to a chair using rope. Amateurs. Apparently, Stark had felt guilty about using his weapons on him or he thought Peter was drowsy enough from the medicine not to cause any problem. Lucky for him, the tranquilizer was almost out of his system, he could feel it.

"You could say that." Peter played along as he looked around the small all white room. "What is this an interrogation?"

"Yes." Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. "We don't want to hurt you, Peter, but we need to know what game you're playing."

"No can do, Miss Romanoff. You see, I like playing games." Peter's voice was cheerful. "You do too. As I recall, didn't you orchestrate the burning of a cathedral in St. Petersburg in 1999? Killed all 400 worshippers inside. Including 3 important diplomats. That did take some skill, killing innocent people. I applaud you. Well, we both know how this type of job is, don't we?"

Natasha paled, no doubt her friends outside were overhearing everything.

"Try me, Miss Romanoff," Peter smirked. "You won't be able to break me."

-End of Chapter Eight-