TASM Peter Parker Imagines

Clarity

You've been waiting for about half an hour before you're finally allowed in the holding cell. You're supposed to be the last resort in cases like this, as the Avengers should be able to conduct interrogations by themselves, yet you find yourself here time and time again, preparing yourself for that one moment when you're called to take over.

It's no surprise that you're here, really, or that the Avengers would hesitate on using you. You have a unique gift, one that allows you to compel the truth from anyone. You can coax secrets out of somebody with a wave of your hands, and even the most hardened undercover agent can only last so long before you force them to spill their guts, all without touching a hair upon their heads.

The door to the cell opens, and Steve Rogers steps out. The flickering glow from the rows of fluorescent lights casts a dim, almost dirty halo upon him, making him look as if he's back in one of those old photos from the '40s. That, and the tired look in his eyes, like he's well aware of every year he's been alive, and they press down upon his shoulders to keep him still.

"Hey, kid. You sure you're up for this?"

Steve asks you if you're willing to use your gifts in every interview, no matter how pressing the need to get information. Even if the world depended on getting a set of codes out of a captured agent, Steve would still be willing to let you walk away if you didn't want to do this anymore. In a place like this, you've come to appreciate his kindness.

You stand, brushing off invisible dust from your pants. "Always am."

Steve smiles faintly, starting to lead you back to the holding cell. "This guy's been a brick wall, even to Nat. We caught him trying to infiltrate a top secret S.H.I.E.L.D. facility near Washington. We need names- there's no way he'd be able to come that close to getting in by himself."

You nod, mentally preparing yourself. Usually, they ask you for one of three things: names, for exposing moles, places, for when they need to go stomping down some doors, and information, for when they want every scrap of knowledge you can yank out of the guy's head. You're grateful it's just names for now.

The door to the holding cell unlocks with a clock and a hiss, and then you're inside. You wear no mask, you don't have to- the man bound to the chair inside wears a black blindfold across his eyes, and couldn't recognize you if he tried. They always do.

The other Avengers are gathered in a loose semicircle around the man, and look up when you approach. Clint speaks once you've taken your place amongst their ranks.

"Alright, let's try this again. How did you know which building was S.H.I.E.L.D.? Who got you the clearance codes?"

The bound man snarls but stays silent. Clint sighs, and extends a hand to you.

"Your turn."

You nod, stepping forward and extending a hand towards the man. It's like being in a hall filled with countless doors, all of them locked. Unfortunately for this agent, though, you happen to have all of the keys.

You knock down the closest door in his head, and the man gasps. "Former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents- they defected three years ago- wiretapped some of the tech guys before they left to get some of the passwords."

Nat inclines her head, thinking. "Which passwords do you have?"

There's nothing left in this room, so you try the next. The enemy agent shakes as if he's been electrocuted. Sweat breaks out across his brow, but he still tries to fight. His best attempts don't last long, though. No man's effort can hold back your gift.

"Door codes for the Washington and Manhattan complexes. Passwords to Level Five information." He breaks off, gasping for breath. "Stop this!"

You shake your head slightly, and keep going. There's something he's trying to hide, and he thrashed about as he senses you drawing near it. "No. No!"