Page 54 of Agony

Music pumped through the house and the sound escaped the walls, but not too loud to alert the neighbors. Not that it would matter because the neighbors were just as sketchy as Kit.

Everyone who knew Kit came in through the back door. Those stopping by for drugs usually called ahead and Kit would send a runner out to meet the cars. It was a sign of drug trafficking to the cops if they had bothered to look, but law enforcement steered clear of this neighborhood.

A couple of guys were sitting on the back porch beneath a yellow bulb and gave him an up-nod when he came around the side.

“Fisher, my man.” A guy he’d met a few times and knew only as Scotty held out his fist. Fisher gave Scotty a fist bump and let himself in through the back door.

The laundry room was piled high with clothes that carried the smell of grime and body odor and he walked through the small path someone had carved.

“Hey, Fish,” another guy he’d met a few times but didn’t recall his name called out, drawing the attention of most of the people in the dingy living room.

Kit, who was sitting on the couch along with four other people, smiled and waved him over. In front of the couch was a low coffee table filled with beer bottles and cans along with two broken pieces of a mirror. A rolled-up dollar bill sat resting on white residue.

Fisher’s foot hit an empty beer can, sending it rolling across the dirty carpet. Reaching the broken-down couch, Kit shoved and pushed people until there was a small spot for him.

“Boston! Get Fisher a beer,” Kit yelled and a beautiful young man unfolded from the carpet in front of the television and disappeared into the kitchen.

Fisher dropped down and took the joint Kit handed to him. He sucked in a lungful to hold and held the bud back out. Kit took the joint to his lips and pulled on it.

Boston came back into the room and handed him a can of beer before shooting him a shy smile and going back to the television.

“One of Solomon’s?” Fisher asked Kit, jerking his chin at Boston.

“No.”

Fisher’s gut tightened with a sick feeling. Something niggled at the back of his mind.

What brings you here?” Kit asked with a release of white smoke.

“I’m looking for some of the guys. Beck specifically.”

Kit’s hand froze for a split second before his eyes landed on Boston and then back to him.

Their conversation was pretty much swallowed up by the music, television, and conversations going on.

“Thought you gave up rescuing everyone,” Kit whispered and passed the joint to the person on his right.

“Nope.” Fisher leaned his head against the back of the couch and stared up at the yellow stained ceiling.

He wasn’t sure when he’d taken on the task of locating young assassins after Solomon’s death, but the idea had taken root and he couldn’t shake it. He wanted to find as many of them as possible. They needed to have a fucking chance, a choice about life, and he aimed to give them that. Starting with Beck.

“A few of the guys have come around. Mouse was asking for you,” Kit whispered, rubbing at his mouth and then picking at a red mark on his cheek.

Fisher nodded, but didn’t tell Kit about Mouse. He didn’t want Beck to find out about what had happened from anyone other than him.

Kit’s face was worn and he worried about the guy. He wondered if Kit would ever get clean.

This had been his own life for years after the service. Fisher was sure he would have ended up becoming a drug dealer like Kit if he hadn’t gone into the Navy.

It had been his military years that had kept him from a life of crime.

After the Navy, the nightmares had returned. And he’d tried to escape them by using any drug out there along with alcohol. It had worked for a while, but then…it didn’t.

Instead of going down the substance abuse rabbit hole to a quick death, Fisher had decided to come back to Erebus and report to Solomon. It sure the hell didn’t surprise him that Solomon had been into the same fucking shit as before, but being with Rogue and Echo kept him somewhat sober.

“Drink up, my man,” Kit said, tapping his beer can against his. “I know you’re broke.”

Fisher gulped hastily at his beer.

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