A/N: Here's chapter ten!
Disclaimer: Don't own it, sadly.
Ten
"Agent Parker!"
Peter looked up from the mission report from a few weeks ago to see Billy Koenig running up to him, out of breath.
"Yes, Billy?" he asked patiently, waiting for the man to catch his breath.
"Director… Director Fury would... like to speak with you… Sir," Billy gasped out, and Peter smiled.
"Thanks, Billy," he thanked the older man. "And how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Peter."
He started off towards Fury's office, and Billy called behind him,
"That's against protocol, Sir!"
Peter chuckled as he walked, and went back to reading the mission report from a few weeks ago.
Last week, the culprit attacked a home near Staten Island. All that were in the home were killed. The suspect, a young woman police say looks no older than seventeen, escaped. Police identified the deceased: 34-year-old John Lipton, his wife, 32-year-old Sarah Casey-Lipton, Mrs. Casey-Lipton's brother, 22-year-old Henry Casey, and his wife, 22-year-old Maggie Casey. After a thorough search of the home, police discovered three of the four, John, Sarah, and Henry, were all Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. The victims were all killed in very strange, gruesome, and complicated ways. Pictures shown below.
Peter released a shaky breath as he looked at the photos. He's never seen anything like it before, and that was saying something. The first picture, which was labeled with John Lipton's name, showed a man lying on the ground, his eyes still open in shock- and what Peter assumed was pain. His hand was outstretched, and a few feet from his body lay an empty glass of water. Around the rim of the glass was a strange green substance, and Peter recognized it immediately- poison. Now, death by poison was more common than most would think, but what was so horrifying about this specific death was the effects of it. Crawling up the left side of the man's neck and cheek, all the way up his temple and his eye, were black and blue lines, crisscrossing over his pale skin. It looked like someone had taken a knife and carved them into his skin.
The second photo was worse. The two women, who were shown slumped down in their seats, had knives sticking from their necks and stomachs. There was blood everywhere- on the table, on the floor, on the seats, on the women- it made Peter sick just looking at it. It was a murderer's version of acupuncture, he thought, and it was horrible.
The final picture was so sickening to look at that Peter couldn't even bring himself to do more than glance at it, let alone describe it.
These poor people, he thought as he entered Fury's office, a frown on his face and a horrified look in his eyes.
"You read it, then," Fury stated solemnly when he entered the office.
Peter nodded, and saw that Fury wasn't alone.
Coulson was there, along with Maria Hill.
"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you don't just want to discuss with me the details of this case," Peter said, holding up the file. "There's more, isn't there?"
Fury took a deep breath and stood, his fists resting against his desk.
"Whoever this girl is," he said, his remaining eye flashing in anger, "has murdered twenty-five of our agents."
Peter massaged the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He could already feel the anger, and the headache.
"Yeah," Maria told the astonished teenager. "It's bad."
"No," Peter disagreed. "This isn't 'bad,' ma'am." Everyone looked at him, confused. "'Bad' is when one of your teammates is injured and you're worried for them but you know they'll be okay. 'Bad' is when there's still hope that you can succeed with little to no casualties. 'Bad' is when you know things aren't looking so good but you also know it's not over. This is not 'bad.' This is 'how in the name of all things good and sacred in this world could someone be so disgustingly cruel?'"
The three leaders looked at each other with pained, knowing eyes. They then looked once more at Peter, who stared back with grim determination on his face.
"I've said this before, sir, and you told me no because you thought I was too young. I'll go after this person," he said to Fury, walking up to the desk. "I know I'm young, but- I'm not bragging when I say this- I'm one of your best agents, and I think I have a pretty darn good chance of taking them down, because you know how I get when I'm determined. At least give me a chance, sir."
Fury glanced at Coulson, who gave almost an unintelligible nod, and then looked back at Peter with a small smile on his face.
"Well, Parker," Fury began, sitting back down and clasping his hands together, "I was hoping you'd say that."
