DISCLAIMER:  Pete and Kitty are Marvel's, as are other mutants I include.  Tony and other people from 'Facing The Music' are mine.  Archive this story without permission and I'll make you an honorary member of the Summers' clan by inserting a baseball bat when it was never meant to go.

WARNING:  This story contains drug addiction and domestic violence.

THANKS:  To Luba for betareading this and to Leary for betathinking this.

    The air was enough to get a nun drunk, Pete thought with a disgusted expression as he looked around.  If Hell had a gutter, this bar was the junk that floated in it.  Everywhere around him, teenagers-- if they were that old-- were engaging in an assortment of illegal activities. The darkness of this place hid only so much, and that didn't include the drugs and sex openly being exchanged.

    Tony, his temporary partner for this trip, looked straight ahead, as if the place was too much even for him.  "Do they think this music can drown out their conscience?"

    After a long drag on his cigarette, Pete answered, "You should know, mate -- this is the friggin' network, after all."

    Tony looked around at the hookers and drug dealers, gangsters and petty thieves, and nodded.  "This is the Network after all."  A woman-child took the stage and started to strip, as if to punctuate his remark.

    They sat down at a battered bar and ordered two beers.    Pete grimaced and started to drink his beer.  "Bloody yank beers," he spat. "Tastes like piss."   Drinking half his drink in one gulp, he smoothly exchanged it with Tony's untouched drink without being noticed in the shattered mirror that hung above the bar.  "Remind me how we're going t' play this'," he whispered as he started on the new beer.

    Tony just looked at Pete.  It had been a surprise that the former Black Air agent called him up and asked for his help retrieving an agent who had been undercover so long that she had turned native.  Tony didn't blame the agent, his world was an easy, seductive lifestyle to fall into.  To date, he had personally turned three undercover policemen into Network agents.

    "She's special, isn't she?" Tony asked quietly, if anything could be considered quiet under the head-banging music.  To ask the heir-apparent of the United States division of the Network to help, she had to be.

    "I owe her.  See, 's my bleedin' fault she's fucked, mate -- I trained 'er, I said she were ready, I put 'er up fer this particular job, 's my bloody fault she weren't ready an' got suckered in."   Amber was the only daughter of a Scottish Yard man and a good friend to Pete.  Yes, she was very special.

    "And you need my help to get the information you need."  Tony looked at the inferno that he was responsible for and closed his eyes, as if he had been too far removed from it to stand it any longer.  "To ease the way."  At a place like this, information was easily sold but it was harder to get truth.  With Tony along, the job would be much quicker.  The people that inhabited the bar would no more open up to a stranger than willingly go straight.  And if they did give any correct info, they had been known to slip a knife between the other person's ribs afterwards.

     Tony sighed and took a cigarette from Pete.  Lighting it, he dangled it from his lower lip, exhaling the smoke in the twisted circles that the Dragon was known for.  "Celeste will kill me, you know.  She's allergic to cigarette smoke and nagged me to death to stop."

    Pete had never been fond of relationships that required the people in them to change and give up parts of their personality.  And the fact was that Tony had stopped for someone with whom he wasn't even involved.  "I ain't lettin' my girl nag me int' givin' up me fags."

    An eye roll was carefully avoided only by years of experience.  "And Kitty doesn't have an asthma-like attack after being in a smoke filled room," Tony defended his best friend.  "Celeste is my closest friend in the world, what we have works like we've got it."  Actually, he didn't miss smoking like he had thought he would have.  Although he sounded like a commercial, the increased stamina and lungpower was really a benefit to him.  More than that, he didn't like anything being in control of him.

    In an area where everybody was seedy looking, the bartender stood out.  It wasn't the muscle on muscle look or the lack of four front teeth that got to Pete, it was the fact that the man's long, greasy blond hair was pulled back in a French braid.  "New to the area?" he asked as he poured them two more beers.

    Tony took that question with a long, unblinking stare.  Then deliberately, he let out three small puffs of smoke.  The bartender seemed to cower in fear.  "I'll get Brown," he said as he scampered off.

***

    After a quick exchange with Brown, the person the Network had appointed to be in charge of the neighborhood, they were ushered into the apartment building that the zone leader, Jeep, lived.  Brown, an African American young man of no older than fifteen used the time to petition the Dragon for what he saw as needed changes in the area.  "The Bloods are taking over the neighborhood garden," he said as he climbed the stairs to the fifth story apartment.  "And the food coming from it is going straight to their families.  The Kings were raising food for their families on it.  I need some authority to intervene."

    "Intervene as in take them out?"  Dragon asked, judging the man's response.

    "Not quite--."  Brown frowned; he'd learned that bloodshed only caused more bloodshed.  Before the Network had declared a moratorium on feuds, he had worked to actively discourage them.  "What I'd like to see done is for some seeds and gardening books to make their way over to them—they've got the land.  All I need is the power to strongly suggest that they use what they've got or else get the Network mad at them."

    Tony rubbed his chin, mentally impressed with the young man.  Evidently the zone manager had failed in his duties but this person was responsible enough for the job.  "Tell them if that continues, I'll be very upset."

    "Thank you--."  Brown smiled broadly.  "I also would ask that you order safe sex for all the Kings."  Pete nearly inhaled his cigarette at the matter-of-fact way the young man made the request.

    "Done."  An ungodly scream cut off the conversation.  "What the---?" Tony asked as he drew his gun.

    Brown sighed and tried to explain the all too common sounds, "Jeep wasn't expecting you so he's doing what he does every night."  They heard a man yelling at a woman and the woman pleading for her life.  "He's got my sister too afraid to leave--."  And Brown had no way to intervene without breaking Network law.  A tightened fist was the only betrayer to his calm facade.

    That was enough for the older men.  Pete kicked down the door and kneed the creep in the groin while pulling him off of the woman in a smooth motion as Brown ran to his sister.  Tony, from bitter personal experience, opened a closet and found four children huddled in the closet.  The oldest, a girl of no more than ten, was holding her hand over the baby's mouth, trying to muffle the cries.
 "It's going to be okay," he promised them as he coaxed them out of the closet.  In the background, they could see Pete dangling Jeep out of the window while Brown comforted their mother.  "You see, that man will never hurt your mother again."

    The girl looked at him dead in the eyes, and asked solemnly, "Dad's not going to hit Mommy anymore?"  Her little brother huddled behind her, the happy Barney a startling contrast to the fear in his face.  One little girl, clad only in pajama bottoms, was crouched up against the wall.  The baby's diaper needed changing, and Tony could see how pitifully thin these children were.

    "I have more than a little to say about it," he promised the kids, fighting back memories of him and his sister, Cindy.  They would run to the desert and hide in a small cave he had found, their bodies smooched together, dreaming of the day that they could make their escape.  Sometimes, the whole night would pass before they could dig deep enough in their souls to find the courage to return to their house.  One day, they just couldn't do it anymore and left.

     "Now, why don't you go pack so I can take you someplace nice and safe?"  Somewhere totally different from where he ended up, an eight year old living on the streets.  He had done his best to provide for his Cindy, who was only six.  He ended up joining a gang to do that.  Gangs were no places for children.  Never would he let these four children end up like that, not as long as he was Tony Coyote Longhair, the feared Dragon of the Network.  He'd see that they ended up with some of his old friends, a couple who had 'Found Jesus and kicked the Devil out of their lives'.  He managed to lead the children into their room and waited until the door was closed.

    "This soddin' wanker is yer bloody man, so he's yer bleedin' problem -- or you want I should just drop him?"  Pete asked as he dangled the man out of the window.

    "Give him to me."  Pete tossed Jeep over his shoulder and straight into Tony's fist.  "One of my rules for all my men--" Dragon informed Jeep as he delivered an uppercut to the man's jaw, "Never, ever hit a woman."

    The woman in question jumped on Dragon's back and pounded on his chest.  He flexed his back and threw her off, knowing that the only reason she attacked him was the certain knowledge that when he left, she'd get it worse for his interfering.  Brown moved his sister into the bedroom to pack as discipline was applied to the man in question.

     "Never, ever hit a child," Tony ordered as he started to kick the man.   "Hurt only those that seek to hurt you."

     "Lay off the face an' throat, mate." Pete advised as he watched the man get turned into hamburger.  "Not that I'm takin' up for him or anythin' but if you tear his lips off he can't bloody well tell you where to find her."

    At that, Dragon nodded.  After throwing Jeep into the wall for the last time, he stepped aside and let Pete approach him.  Pride forced the Jeep to stagger to his feet.  "This bird 'ere, have you seen 'er?"  Pete asked as he shoved a picture under Jeep's nose.

    Jeep nodded, too afraid to lie.  "She hangs around the house on Oak Street.  Pretty good little ho too, if that's what you looking for."  In an attempt at bluster, he added, "I always pay her more than she asks--.  Kinky little bitch, likes games and loves it rough."

    "That bird's my sister," Pete shouted.  His fingers, capable of producing heat roughly the equivalent of a small sun, reached down and touched the man's zipper.  The heat caused the zipper's teeth to fuse together.  Dragon stuffed a child's shirt in Jeep's mouth to muffle the screams.

    "And that's just the beginning of hat he can do," Dragon warned just before hitting him in the stomach gain.  "But-- I'm going to be a nice guy-- maybe."  He threw Jeep into the couch and watched him whimper.  "It goes without saying, you don't have Network support.  You don't have the woman anymore, you don't have the kids."  After a pause, he added, "But you do have two hours before Freeze comes to town looking for you."

    Pete reached in Jeep's pocket and pulled his wallet and keys out.  "The money goes to the kids."  With a small grin, Pete fused the keys together.  "And I'll lock the door behind me."

    The oldest child opened their bedroom door.  "Can we go now?" she asked, wide-eyed at the sight of the battered man she had watched beat her mother for all of her life.

    Tony nodded.  The next words might seem harsh to Brown but Tony had no intention of leaving these children in any danger.  "We're going to take you four to a hotel room until some friends of mine can take you to their farm."

    "And Mommy?"  The girl watched as Brown helped his sister out of the bedroom.  Her worldly belongings were packed in three blue Wal-Mart bags.  Timidly, the little girl walked over to her mom and hugged her.

    Pete had seen the needle tracks on the woman's arms, so had Tony.  "She's got to get better," Tony promised.  "Once she gets clean, she'll come to you."  No child should have a druggie for a parent, like he'd had.  His birth father had left the three of them alone to suffer.

    "Promise?"  The little girl again looked him fully in the eyes, searching for some sign that he was lying to her.

    "Promise."  Tony took the girl by the one hand, slung the baby on his back, and held his hand out to the little boy.  The child nearly ran away, trying to decide if he could trust this man who had been so violent a moment ago. Spying Pete, he ran to him and grabbed him by the hand.  The little girl followed suit.

    Brown helped his sister out the door and held it open until the children got out.  As they reached the stairwell, they heard a loud gunshot.  "I guess that means you need a new zone leader," he said with a wry grin.

    Tony looked straight at him. "Have one."

***

    "Why the hell did you just appoint that bloke zone manager?" Pete asked after dropping the children off at a hotel.  Somehow-- he wasn't certain of the details-- the kids would disappear into an underground and resurface in Arizona in a week.

    Tony held up a hand, indicating that he wasn't through with the conversation on the phone.  "Not quite what we designed the underground for, is it Blue?   --  I agree and we'll talk about it later.  Thanks again."  He hung up the phone and turned to Pete, "Brown couldn't kill Jeep because of Network laws, so he let someone do it who could.  I think he has what it takes to get ahead in the Network."  And it was to Tony's benefit to get Brown on his side while the kid was young and eager, not older and hungry.

    "Wot?"  Not even Black Air knew a lot about the Network, a seemingly multi-layered organization.

    "You can't kill to get ahead," Tony explained.  "Or at least have the death be traced to you--" To get to where he was in the Network, his hands were quite muddy.  "If Jeep had turned up dead, then the District leader would have investigated and killed Brown.  Nothing can be done to me, though."

    "And Celeste's role in the underground?"  Blue was just too obvious a codename for her.

    Instead of answering the question, Tony asked another one.  "Why did you call Amber your sister?"

    It felt like that to Pete.  "When I took her undercover before, she was my sister."   They had posed as brother and sister diamond dealers to catch the thief who had made off with the Crown Jewels.  Amber's keen scientific mind had, in fact, literally saved his family jewels when things had gotten bad.  "She's kind of a combination of Kitty and Rahne, if you can imagine that."

    Tony paused and tried to.  The only thing he could really see the two members of Excalibur having in common was their gender and their lack of height.  Kitty was one very strong woman who hid her fears.  Rahne was seemingly weaker in nature, but faced and worked through her problems.   Kitty was one of the guys; Rahne had a way of making guys act like gentlemen.  While Kitty was a lot like Emma, Celeste, and a few other women he preferred dealing with, Tony honestly looked forward to spending time in Rahne's smoothing presence.  "Come again?"

    "Amber— she's smart an' tough-- but she's ain't that tough."  Pete started to explain.  "There were a part o' her that couldn't be shaped into an undercover agent-- An' I hoped that a couple of months livin' undercover would let her know that.  As a desk jockey, she'd be bloody fantastic— I'd have no trouble taking orders from her, but I'd be too scared to let her go where I've been.--" This assignment had seemed perfect; to track down a drug lab was right up her alley, allowing her to draw on her chemistry background as well as showing her the dangers of working undercover.

     Tony nodded and with a tone of voice that indicated that he believed there was more to the story asked, "Why isn't Kitty here?"

    "She's been lookin' forward t' the campin' trip with Logan for months now and I didn't want 'er to break it," Pete explained.  He would have been surprised by the tender, almost wistful look that crossed his face.  Since falling for Kitty, he missed her in a way he had never missed anybody else before.  She could be in the same room, but the thought of her not being by his side drove a spike into his heart.  They were a team in work and in play.  "She needs the break t' regroup after wot happened in Spain."

    During a vacation in Spain, Kitty had caught a bug that made her very sick for a couple of days.  By the third day, she was too weak to remain unphased.  It had taken her three heart-wrenching weeks before she was able to keep herself phased again and, even now, if she got too tired she'd go to her natural, phased state easily.  As much as it hurt him at times, there was nothing he could do but love her.

    And even this test had taught them something.  Kitty, for all her bluster and bravo, had sheltered a secret worry about Pete's feelings for her.  She had been terrified that, if she couldn't physically touch him, he'd no longer want her.  The three weeks had taught her that he loved her no matter what and showed her a new aspect to his love.

    There were times Pete genuinely hated Kitty's parents, especially the way her mother had blamed the divorce on her father's absences and the implied unfaithfulness.   But he had to admit his parents had left him with some issues that they had to work together to overcome.  The incident had forced them to start removing the scabs they had placed over childhood pains and face the problems.

    Pete pulled himself back to the present, "And Kitty knows about every woman in my past."  He and Amber were never lovers; the friendship they shared was too special for that.

    "Every person you shared a bed with?"  Tony asked, remembering one drunken night five years in the past.

    "She knows about you, me and Dom, if that's what you mean--."  To her credit, Kitty had waited until he had left the room before laughing at the story.  "She's not goin' to tell Celeste, if that's what yer worried about."

    Tony continued to drive as he asked, "Why does everybody treat me and Celeste as a couple?"

    Pete couldn't help it, he burst out laughing at that one.  "Mate, if you didn't follow her around like a hungry puppy followin' a butcher, people wouldn't think that."

    A memory of an unpleasant dream flashed before Tony's eyes as he defended himself.  "Friends, that's all.  Even after I clean up Matt, that's all we can be--" He made a sharp, sudden left as he spotted Trio Street, causing Pete's cigarette to nearly fall out of his mouth.

    "Don't sell love short.  I know wot that bitch Torres did to you."  Pete had found Torres's daughters' birth certificates showing that Tony had been their father.  But that news had come out too late, six months after their death in a house fire.

     "I really thought Torres loved me," Tony explained, trying to find Oak Street in between the assorted adult bookstores, strip joints, and liquor stores.  "And once I found out the truth, I decided not to fall for another woman....  And this life is too filled with danger for me to allow myself to get settled down and have kids."

    "One day," Pete responded, smug with the knowledge that it was true, "You'll find somebody to trust enough to love."

    "Like Anne Walker?"

    "How the bleedin' hell did you know about 'er?"  Pete watched as they pulled onto Oak Street.  He didn't like to think of how much face he had lost thanks to her.

     "Next time you have questions about the British Branch of the Network, ask me."  Anne was someone Pete had gotten involved with, both personally and professionally, before she had sold him out to her bosses.  "It took a lot of influence for Silver to get that branch of the Network to just  drop you off in Norway... sans clothes."  Silver, someone that Pete had met in Madripoor twice, was the head of the Japanese Network.  Silver was also a friend of Tony's, but not even Pete knew just how close.  Hell, he didn't know if Silver was a he or a she.

    "Again, how the bloody hell did you know about 'er?"  Pete watched his friend play one-up with him.  Like most people, he was more likely to tip his hand when he thought he was ahead.

    "I happen to share Gismo's love of organic gardening and he asked me if I'd ever heard about a bloke named Pete Wisdom--."  Tony smiled as he talked about his friend in the British Network.  "I said that I had worked with you and that you were an okay kind of guy.  Then I asked Silver to help save your British arse."

    "That makes us even— Kitty caused the FBI files on you to disappear."  Kitty had been hacking into the FBI database to retrieve information that Pete had hoped would help him pinpoint Logan's true background.  At the same time, she erased all government information on the X-Men's families that they had gathered in recent years.

    Tony smiled.  The FBI had a hard time keeping info on the Network because they instilled too much fear for people to talk about them and the CIA used the Network for special cases.  The file the FBI had was no thicker than three pages, if that much.  Aside for a couple of cops in New York and two very troublesome Rangers in Texas, no one government agency had the resources to keep up with them.  "Thank you."

    He stopped the car outside a rundown house, matching the address to the one that Brown had given them.  "This it?"  Pete asked.

    Tony nodded as he opened the car door.  "This is it."

    Crack houses had a certain, almost expected look to them, Pete knew that from the many times he had been in and out of them over the years.    What he had never gotten used to was the smell of one.  From the moment they had stepped on the patio, the stench of human waste and vomit mixed with the strangely sweet smell of the drugs threatened to overpower him.

     "Shit," Tony muttered.  He had heard about places like this but had never expected to see one.  Rank had its perks.  "This is a Hell House," he cursed.  "Great..."

    "A Hell House?"  Pete asked as he surveyed the outside of the building.  "New term to me."

    "Something that the police started calling these places that just stuck," Tony explained.  "Crack got old a couple of years ago.  Network produced more powerful drugs to stimulate the market.  Hell Houses are where they are sold."  He looked over the frame to find the safety button, the one that would let the dealers inside know they were cool.  "Stronger drugs, better trips.  We have stuff that could make an elephant do the tango."

    "Yeah," Pete agreed.  "Amber went looking for the lab that was making Perish."  Tony let out a low whistle.  "Know it, mate?"

    Tony nodded as he found the button.  "When I've gotten enough power, I'm going to make the Network stop selling it— that stuff is like playing Russian roulette.  Only a dedicated addict can take it, and only for a few months before they die."  There was no use in killing their best market, Tony had pointed to his bosses.

    "Black Air knew that and was suspicious when Perish started showing up at murder scenes.  They hoped by tracking down the lab they could influence its use."
Tony paused before pushing the button.  "Wish I could help you.  Freeze killed the guy who created the junk."  Shaking his head, Tony reminded Pete, "I'm in charge when we enter that house." No matter how experienced Pete might be, Tony couldn't afford to be shown up.  Weakness was a crime punishable by death is his world.

    Pete nodded.  "It's your turf," he agreed again. It was an unspoken rule of professional courtesy in their world -- with a situation as potentially explosive as what could lie on the other side of the door, it only made sense for the local expert to lead the way.  With Pete's word, Tony rang the buzzer.  With Pete's word, Tony rang the buzzer.

    The man that answered the door had every quality that Pete had never hoped to find in alone in a dark alley.  He was tall, with muscles that added a hundred pounds to his weight, scarred and had a stereotypical heart-shaped tattoo that read "Mom" on his right bicep.  Without speaking, he managed to almost intimidate the former Black Air agent.

    It was in that moment that Pete fully understood what made his friend a successful leader in the Network-Tony accepted and acknowledged his feelings of fear with a uncanny grace that managed to defuse the man's appearance.  "I need your help," he said calmly.

    "Who asks?"  The man inquired, surprised that he couldn't get the smaller man to stutter.

    "The Dragon."  Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Frightful blinked, almost in surprise. Then again, he had just put a druggie to bed who thought he was Santa Claus.  "And this is my friend-" Tony paused, and sent an apologetic glance to Pete.  Knowing someone's true name was dangerous in this world, so he had to come up with a codename.  And the only codename that really applied to Pete was one that Pete hated.  "His girlfriend insists on calling him Deathfinger," he said, trying to soften the blow.

    The bouncer started to laugh.  "Deathfinger!?!"

    "That's wot me girlfriend calls me," Pete confirmed.  Of course, the only time Kitty called him that was when she thought he needed to come down a couple of notches or when she was furious.  "Better than 'you scum-suckin' wanker' and much more accurate."

    The man lifted an appraising eyebrow and decided that Pete was okay. "And how do I know yer really the Dragon?" he challenged Tony.

    "Simple."  Tony mentally upgraded his opinion of the man standing before him from merely intimidating to efficient and well-suited for the job.  Pity he didn't spend more time out in the field, getting to know the people that worked for him.  A man of the bouncer's composure belonged out in Texas, at the headquarters. Tony made a show of his empty hands, pushing his sleeves up as he did.  With a graceful sweep, he managed to get his right hand up to the man's neck just before a knife appeared.  "You're dead meat if you don't."  That was his way of verifying his identify.

    Gulping, the man let them pass.  "What do you need?"

    Pete produced Amber's photograph.  "Her."

    "She's here." The bouncer nodded as he recognized her.

    "How did she get 'ere?"  Pete asked as he surveyed the cluttered room.  Human bodies littered the floor in crumpled heaps, almost as if they were trash.  Between the bodies were assorted items, ranging from porno magazines and pizza boxes to a half drunk cup of milk and a plate of cookies.

    The bouncer shook his head.  "She got on the bad side of a local drug boss, so he got her hooked on meth and other stuff.  She needed a place to stay and a way to earn money.  Rabbit gave her them."

    "Whe-" Pete started, trying to piece together a timeline.  If Amber had shown up here, there was no question she was an addict.   But if they knew what she was addicted to and when the addiction started, they had a chance of getting her detoxed before it seriously endangered her career in the spy world.

    Tony stopped Pete with a wave of his hand.  "When was that?"

    "A couple of months ago."  The bouncer carefully wove his way through the mess on the floor.  Some of the people were so close to dead, he didn't see why he just didn't bury them now and save himself the work later that night or the next week.  His work was so simple that he considered himself a Dr. Kevorkian.  No body came to his office if they weren't already dying.  He just gave them their suicide in small doses.

    "What's she using now?"

    "Whatever she can get her hands on."  He led them though a kitchen and lingered in front of a wall covered with names written in pen, pencil, and occasionally crayon.  It was his tribute to the dead, recording their street name and the day of their death.  Pete read a few names off the large list so carefully complied by what must have been a sick mind.  No wonder this was called a hell house.

    "What did she do to get on his bad side?"  Tony continued his questioning.

     "She was a narc.  Dean thought it was ironic."  The bouncer stopped outside a back room.   A man, dressed in a white shirt and white pants, sat outside the door, thumbing through a sports magazine.   "Losin' a filly, Rabbit-by orders of the Dragon."

    The man looked up at the bouncer and then at the two men standing next to him.  Knowing a fight was useless, he simply asked, "Which one?"

    "Butterfly."

    With a shrug, Rabbit let them pass into the room.  The tall man walked around the maze of cots until he found the person in question.  Scooping her up, he carried her out of the room and deposited her in Pete's arms.

    "Thanks mate."  Pete was surprised at how light Amber was.  If he had to make a guess, she weighed no more than seventy-five pounds.  The former Black Air agent shut up as the side of him that was her friend took over.  It was a good thing they got to her when they did.  Now all they had to go was help her get off the drugs and send her back to England.

    "What did you say your name was?"  Tony asked as they followed the man out the door.

    "Charon."  Tony blinked.  If he had had Freeze with him, then Freeze would have really read something into the name of the person who navigated the Styx river being the street name of this man.

    "Well read," Tony complimented him.

    "Fits," the man disagreed.

    Pete took Amber out to the car as Tony nodded.  "It does."

***

    They made their way back to the hotel that Pete had chosen with no trouble by making it seem that Amber had simply had too much to drink and had passed out.  The bored desk clerk just nodded and returned to playing cards on the computer.

    Once up in their suite, Pete laid Amber on the bed and looked at the telephone.  He could call Jardine and get help for her, but he wanted to keep her addiction secret from anybody in the Intel world.  "Told you I'd come for you, didn't I?"

    Amber opened her eyes and focused on Pete.  "I screwed up, didn't I?" she whispered.

     "Sure did." Pete confirmed as he stroked her head.  "But we can fix it."

    Slowly, weakly, Amber shook her head.  "Gone too far for that, Pete."  Sober wasn't something she was used to.  "Dumpster near 31st and Turnip-- Loose brick eighth row up, fifteen from the wall.  All the goodies are in that."

    "Shh--" Pete had always had two soft spots; one for ladies, gentle creatures who needed a little support from time to time, and the other for his friends.  Amber, no matter what else she was, was a lady and more importantly his friend.  "You'll get the goodies later."

    Amber's response to that was to close her eyes and nod off.  With practiced ease, Pete felt her heartbeat and found it to be sluggish.  She had slipped into a coma.  "We need to know what she's on," he told Tony.

    Tony was already a step ahead of him and was holding an empty vial.  "I'm going to get a blood sample and get it analyzed.  Luckily, the Network owns a lab nearby."  Privately, he knew what he'd find but knew they needed to go through the procedure, a checklist to hold regrets at bay.  For people like Pete, who had so few people that he really trusted, giving up one was like cutting off a limb.
 
     "Think somethin' can be done?"  If the Network had put the drug on the marketplace, they might know a way to get a person off of it.

    "Perhaps."  Quickly and easily, Tony took the blood sample.  "If she's not too far gone, we might be able to pull her back."

    "And if she is?"  Pete asked, knowing what he'd want Kitty to do if he was in Amber's situation.  "What do you think should be done?"  Next step on the checklist was to start a secondary plan.

    Tony sighed before answering, "Cross that bridge if we come to it."  Slipping on his jacket, he left the room.  Deep down, for a reason he didn't understand, he felt like what happened to Amber was his fault.

***

    The lab was one of the finest in the state.  The Network insisted on that-there were times that they needed the ability to test the purity of the drugs, the quality of the manufacturing process, and in this case, how much of an addict a person was.

    The woman working the midnight shift sighed and looked at the Dragon.  "Good news, bad news or I'm-impressed-as-hell news?"  She owed a lot to the man who stood before her-he had used his influence to get her this job and helped her to pay back her school loans.

     Tony sat on the desk and picked up the picture of the tech with her young child.  He had personally vouched for her being brought in The Network because he believed in her potential.  The fact that Diane had a little girl named Cindy who had Down's had very little to do with it.  "Impressed as hell?"

    "Whoever this is tried to go cold turkey."  Diane explained as she read the results of the hair and blood testing.  "And for the past week, she's been clean."

    "That's hopeful."  Tony had read the toxicology report on Amber's hair.  "She's strong at least."

    "That's the good news-she's clean."  Diane sat down in her chair and sighed.  "The bad news is she's dying."

    Tony dropped the picture.  "Of what?"

    "Ironically enough, because she's clean."  Diane picked the picture up and placed it back on the right side of her desk, where she saw it every time she wondered why she was working there.  Quite frankly, she couldn't afford the school that Cindy went to if the Dragon didn't help her pay the tuition.  Without that school, forced to go to public school, Cindy didn't have a chance at a decent life.

    She continued her explanation, "Perish is very ably named.  It'll kill you one way or another.  A-you use it and it gets the muscles in the body dependent on it to move.  Eventually, the need gets so strong that the addict's heart gets too big and explodes.  B- Get off of it, the body doesn't remember how to make the muscles move.   The only way Amber is alive is that her heart is running on the reserve built up in her system."

    Tony got off of the desk and started to pace.  "What do I tell Wisdom?"

    A morbid solution came to Diane's mind.  "The lady's got maybe two or three days left before her heart can't beat anymore.  Give her an overdose."  Mentally, she winced.  She was raised to be a better person than this.  Thinking again, she found another solution.  "I've got some stuff in the back - she'll die quickly and painlessly."

    Tony drove his hand in a wall, angry at Amber for getting labeled a narc, angry at Dean for getting her addicted, and angry at himself for being part of a world that made the drugs.  "That sounds like a solution," he agreed as he pulled his hand out.  It should have hurt more than it did.

    Diane scurried off as Tony stared at the hole.

***

     Silence is sometimes the best gift a man can offer somebody.  A few hushed words were all that Tony offered after returning from the lab.  Once Pete knew the test results, he left to get the info she had dug up.  A morbid curiosity demanded to know the answer-- was the stuff she'd discovered worth her life?
 
    Once Pete came back from the alleyway, Tony left Amber's bedside and sat on the other bed, turning his back to Pete.  He picked up the Gideon Bible and flipped through it, trying to build the illusion that Pete was alone with his friend.

    Pete sat down by her bedside and started evaluating the thick file.   Amber would have been the best kind of agent.  She had gone beyond the original scope of her assignment, which had been to get the generals, and managed to record a history of Perish, including the Network's part in its development.
 
    She named names, from the person who sold the drug on the street to the man who had developed it and damn near every name in between.  A copy of the formula was stapled next to a confidential Network memo listing the side effects, the expected life span of the addict, and the potential for the next generation of drugs.  Behind that was a map showing how it came into the States and where it left for England.

    A second file continued over a thousand pages of information on the Network, listing the leaders from the neighborhood level up to the four men who led the national sections.  Speculation named Tony Longhair Coyote as the assistant leader of the Network, and talked about his ties to Frost Enterprises.

    Pete pulled out the papers inditing his friend and stared at them.  This was Amber's work and should have been her call, to turn in this file full of damaging information on a person who had helped rescue her or to edit it.

    But, Amber wasn't going to be able to make that decision.  Her breathing had grown more and more shallow as the hours passed.  And her own work showed that she knew what was going to happen next.  She was going to die. Because she had gotten sloppy and been caught.  Forced to become an addict, she would die one.

    Pete looked out the window and sighed.  A brief internal debate on calling the hospital in hopes that they might know more than the Network was stifled as he remembered what happened to agents who got caught in far less compromising positions.  He stubbed out his cigarette in the ash tray.  Those agents were cast out of Black Air and made targets for the newer agents.  Hell, he had been one of the hounds long ago.

    Tony's solution sat by him, inviting him to do the right thing for his friend. Resigned, Pete generated a tiny hotknife off one finger and used it to set fire to the most damning evidence, reducing those papers to another small pile of gray powder in the ash tray, before turning away to pick up the needle.  He tried to do right by his friends.

***
 
    Taking a life had never been as hard for Pete as when he eased the syringe into Amber's arm.  It had never been as personal or as regretful.  Five minutes after Pete injected the solution into Amber's skin she died.  The only thing positive was that she died free of the drugs that killed her.

    Quietly, Tony and Pete slipped out of the hotel and into their rental car.  In the morning, Amber's body would be found in the hotel room registered in her name.  Her father would be contacted and her family would mourn.

    As the sun rose in Hell's Corner, they watched as sex and drugs were bartered back and forth.  Nothing had changed because of Amber's work.  Little girls and boys were selling themselves and growing up to die too young in a cycle that couldn't be broken.  In the past, Pete had tried and maybe made a slight dent.  Amber had died in her attempt to stop the death's dance from playing a certain tune.

    "Too bad that sod that got Amber addicted is already dead."  Pete lit another cigarette as they passed the sight of a drive-by shooting.  Yellow police ribbons streamed down from trees and houses like confetti.  Children jumped rope next to the chalked outline of a body.

    The two sides of Tony battled against each other.  He knew he was responsible for a thousand Ambers' deaths, but he was still alive.  Maybe more alive because he was there when she died, if that was possible.  His conscience had started to life again because he knew who he was.  And suddenly, he hated his life.  "Drug deal gone bad.  Typical way to die."

    Pete nodded.  It was a very typical way to die for a drug dealer to die just like Amber's death was a typical way for an undercover agent to die.  "Ever notice that people over fourty are rare in our world?"

    "I've got to get out."  Tony voiced his feelings for the first time.  "Or one day, you'll be coming to look for me."

    Pete was too caught up in his thoughts to fully catch that statement.  "Amber was special though.  Thought she could make it-a golden butterfly."  It was a poetic thought.  "Special and beautiful."

    Tony didn't know if he was talking about himself or Amber or the lost souls they passed on the street.  "Butterflies can't survive in this world.  The color gets sucked out of them and they turn into moths.  Then they get splattered on the windshield of life."

    "I know mate, I know."  Pete lit a cigarette.  "You said something a moment ago... what was it?"

    Tony looked down the straight road and saw that it led nowhere.  He made a right turn.  "Nothing, really.  How did you make it out of Black Air?"

    "If I were a prayin' man..."  Pete decided on an easy answer.  "Good luck, a lot.  If Kitty hadn't helped me to change... I'd still be lost.

    "Maybe some of that good luck will rub off on me."  Tony whispered.  "Maybe enough people will pray me out of this life."  He was as trapped as a butterfly in a bell jar and, for the first time, he really knew it.