Marvel Preferences and Imagines (Taking Requests)

Avengers Noir

A/n: One of the newer series I am writing with the lovely leaverekaalone from Tumblr. I will be posting another part of So Who Is Liana soon (today or tomorrow). Enjoy and go check out the other wonderful writer on Tumblr. 

It was cold. It was night. Typical evening for New York City. Sam Wilson, Private Investigator was about to close up. There hadn't been a new case in a while. Months actually. Ever since the mob boss, nicknamed Thanos, had claimed territory in Manhattan the crime rate had gone up. That should have meant more jobs...right?

Wrong. Nobody trusted the police after they failed to protect a man, Phil Coulson, from an attacked. The last case Sam had got was about a man who disappeared. Bucky, the man, had been kidnapped about three months ago. When his best friend, Steve, came to Sam the PI didn't find any leads. After that, people stayed away from the investigator. Well, until now.

"Please...you gotta help me," A teenager, no older than 17, ran into the room. His brown hair was illuminated by the slight glow of a cigarette lighter that Sam was playing with. Panic was written on the boy's face.

"Name, kid?" Sam responds, setting the lighter on his desk. He whips out a pen and pad of paper. The boy looks down, studying the floor, before responding.

"Peter....Peter Parker,"

"Alright Peter, why did you interrupt the peace?" Sam asks his face stone cold. He could see that the boy was fairly innocent and wasn't part of any gang-related business. But you couldn't be quite sure at this time. Even the most innocent faces could turn deadly at the snap of a finger.

"Please," Parker begs, "They took her. She...it's my fault. She had nothing to do with it. I should have been more careful. I thought she would be safe."

Great, Sam thinks, he's a rambler.

The longer Peter talked, the slimmer the chances got for them to find the girl. In this lifetime, minutes was literally money. Sam hated to lose money. He wasn't greedy, no, he just had to provide food and shelter for him and Riley, his army brother.

Slamming a hand on the pad, Sam glares at the teenager.

"We aren't going to find her if you don't stop talking. I just need the facts. Who would be after her? Who are you involved in? When did she go missing? Questions like those are going to get us somewhere, so sit down and let me do the talking,"

* * *

About an hour later, Sam finally got to the point. Peter's girlfriend, y/n, had gone missing for about two hours. Peter had last seen her with a black leather jacket, some comic t-shirt, and long jeans. Her unmistakable (hair color) had been covered with a dark blue bowler hat. She had a sharpie tattoo of the spiderman emblem on her (skin tone) skin.

Peter had left Sam to his thoughts about an hour ago. It wasn't rare for kidnappings to happen. Peter had been involved with the 'Avengers' resistance group, so that was probably a motive. Hopefully, she had been taken too far. Maybe if he found the girl, he would find Bucky.

That's all he longed for. Relief. He didn't want to worry about teenagers being kidnapped. He didn't want to afraid to step out of his apartment because some drug lord wanted revenge. He didn't want this job anymore. At the start, maybe. But now, after everything that's happened, he would gladly go back to the army.

The army. He hadn't thought about the army in about five months. It had been where he met Riley. Where he fought for the citizens of the United States. When he had first seen the recruitment poster, he had instantaneously wanted to join. They advertised loyalty, bravery, honor...they never said anything about the side effects. The Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that haunted his nightmares. The anxious pit that formed in his stomach whenever someone mentioned a war. The ways his hands would tremor after he touched a gun.

Yes, that would be better than being a PI, but he couldn't desert the city. Not when his friends and this teenager depended on him to get loved ones home. He couldn't give up on himself. He was going to bring this girl home even if it cost him everything. He wasn't the hero that New York deserved, but it was the one that they needed.

Sam grabbed his hat from the rack and shrugged on his trenchcoat. Stepping out of his office, he lit a cigarette and let the smoke filled his lungs. His doctor warned against smoking. She had said that he would most likely get lung cancer if he didn't stop, but she didn't understand. No one did in this city anymore. Not even Sam.