Avengers Noir Chapter 10

By Cadet Deming

Rated T for violence and adult content. I don't own the rights to the Avengers, Marvel and Disney do, so please don't sue. Natasha/Loki. Please read and review!

I remembered Clint saying we were being watched at Odin's funeral by two men in black. What if it was Bullseye and Gargan, and they already knew our identities?

Clint asked, "What makes you think we know who you are?"

Bullseye put his hands behind his head and leaned back. It was a move that should have made him look less threatening, but I was reminded of a predator backing in on itself before it attacked its prey.

He said, "You come into my territory bragging about being the best shot ever when anyone who matters knows that's me. It looks like a play to get my attention. You've got it. Now don't try to bulls#$t me again. What the f #k do you want?"

Clint and I exchanged a look. I tried the wary but direct approach and said, "We just want to ask you some questions."

Bullseye asked too loudly, "Are you cops?"

A few patrons turned and gave us looks that could kill. Bullseye grinned.

Clint said, "No, I'm just a private eye."

Gargan broke out in laughter. The seat I was forced to share with him shook from it.

He said, "I used to be a private eye."

I asked, 'What happened?"

Gargan said, "Let's just say I found a career that pays a lot better."

Clint said, "Like murder for hire."

Gargan's body tensed. I noticed his arms had needle tracks on them. They could be from anything from opium to steroids. For all of his imposing mass, he looked to Bullseye for how to respond.

Bullseye took his hands from behind his head and leaned forward. "Are you wearing a wire?"

Clint said, "No."

Bullseye beckoned with his hand. "Show me."

Clint looked nervous, which was a rare occurrence for him. I wondered if he actually was wearing a wire and didn't tell me. If that was true, we were both doomed.

Bullseye's delivery was oddly flat. "Show me if you don't wanna face the mob here, or worse, me."

Clint said, "Well if you're dying to see me take my shirt off so badly…"

Gargan slammed his fist on the table, rattling the beers, "Do it, now!"

Clint unbuttoned his shirt. The skin on his torso was 5 shades lighter than his face and arms. He wasn't wearing a wire, but he had a strap over his chest filled with trick arrowheads.

Bullseye raised his eyebrow. "Interesting. What the hell are those?"

"I make my own weapon modifications."

Bullseye shrugged. "Anything can be a weapon, if I throw it hard enough. Button up."

I wondered why he didn't confiscate Clint's arsenal. Maybe he didn't consider him to be a threat.

Gargan said, "Now it's her turn."

I vowed to myself never dress up as a prostitute ever again.

Clint exclaimed, "What!?"

This was the last place on Earth I wanted to strip in, and these were the worst men possible to be pressured to do it in front of. I was feeling genuinely scared, in a way I hadn't been when I stepped in front of Laufey's guns at the funeral.

I asked, "Does it look like I could fit a wire under this shirt? You've already proved you're the top dog here. There's no need to ask me to do this. And it's a hell of a lot worse to ask a lady than a man to go shirtless in a place like this."

Bullseye said, "I don't see any 'ladies' in front of me, and a wire can fit almost anywhere on the human body. Or in it."

I didn't want to know how he knew the latter. I said. "We're not working for the cops. Neither one of us is wearing a wire. It would be entrapment if we lied about either of those. I swear to God."

Gargan said, "There ain't no God around here."

Bullseye gulped down his beer and poured himself another. "You have a point. What do you wanna know?"

I looked to Clint to start our questions.

Clint asked, "Did you see Odin Odinson on the evening of September 12th?"

Bullseye chuckled. "Yeah, you could say I saw him."

I asked, "Did you kill him?"

He grinned, showing the black gap in his teeth. "Maybe."

I asked, "Either you did or you didn't. If you didn't, then someone else is a better shot than you and we're wasting our time here."

I stood up to leave, but Bullseye signaled to Gargan, who grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back down. Clint shot him a glare.

Bullseye stood up and leaned into my space, "Officially, I didn't do it. Unofficially, off the record, no one is better than me. I did it. I finished the almighty Odin, god of the financial world."

I asked, "Why?"

"Why? It's my job. It's what I do."

Clint asked, "Who paid you?"

Bullseye sat back in his seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest. It was body language for, "I'm not giving out anything."

"I'm not gonna say. If word gets out I ratted on my employer, I'll never get work in this town again. And believe me, I love my job."

He spoke about murder for hire as if he was discussing a love of teaching.

I asked, "Is it someone you worked for before?"

Bullseye said, "Your questions are over. Thanks for the drinks and don't let me see you here again. And if I get word that you're asking around about who hired me, I might just have to do my job for free."

Clint and I left and went back to the car.

Clint said, "I didn't like those guys. And I don't like putting you in danger like that."

"I'll just dress like a nun next time and we'll avoid walking into hostile territory."

Clint stared out of the window and then at me. "What if there is no next time? I'm having doubts about this case."

"Doubts? We had a murder confession. Granted Bullseye threatened to kill us and getting him to go on record is another story, but we're doing really well."

"I don't know if Loki is worth dying for."

I thought about everything. Clint had no idea about my growing emotional involvement with Loki. I wondered if he knew, if his protectiveness of me would make him want to drop the case even more.

"I thought you liked excitement." I said. "We'll both be more careful and ask for more money."

"There's a difference between excitement and being humiliated and put in jeopardy. You ask Loki. You spend more time with him than I do."

I tried to keep the guilt off of my face.

To be continued.