Chapter Text
“Gather round,” Lieutenant Welsh called, striding out of his office and waving a sheaf of papers. “We have a bulletin from the ATF.”
Most of the squad stopped what they were doing and paid attention, with Constable Fraser upright and serious, but Kowalski still doctoring his coffee.
Welsh decided that was a good as it was going to get. “Seems there’s a new street drug flooding the major cities in the northern hemisphere.” He peered at the pages in his hand. “Goes by the street name of ‘ice’ or ‘troll glass.’ They haven’t been able to get a sample to do a full chemical analysis and give it an official scientific name.”
“Never heard of it,” Dewey snorted.
Huey smacked him on the arm. “Man just said it was brand new. Pay attention.”
Welsh continued, “It’s delivered through the eyes – either through drops or a spray.”
“The eyes?” The whole room seemed unnerved by the idea.
“Since the optic nerve is so close to the brain, the effects are immediate.”
“We haven’t seen an uptick in overdoses,” Elaine commented. “Not that’s been reported, anyway.”
Shaking his head, Welsh said, “This drug is a weird one. It works by suppressing emotions – all emotions, good or bad. Once a person takes a hit, they don’t feel anything at all.”
“Why would anyone want to stop feeling things? Seems like a stupid drug.”
“Many people struggle with unbearable emotions,” Fraser responded. “Depression. Anxiety.” He paused. “Loneliness. Some would pay almost any price not to feel that way anymore.”
The room was silent after Ben’s little lecture. Ray wanted to reach over and grip Ben’s hand, but he didn’t know if Ben would welcome the touch at the moment.
Welsh cleared his throat. While he respected the Mountie’s perspective on the issue, he had a squad that needed to do their jobs. “The whys don’t matter here, people. Our job is to figure out the how and cut it off.”
“Is there an antidote?” Elaine asked.
Flipping through the pages from the AFT, Welsh shook his head. “They haven’t found one. The other thing, the worse thing – is this drug seems to be permanent. The effects, I mean. They don’t wear off.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Dewey chimed in. “What dealer doesn’t want his buyers on the hook, coming back for more? They’d be out of business if it was a one and done.”
“Which brings up the next point,” Welsh continued. “ATF doesn’t have an ID on the person or persons responsible for it. All they can find out is it’s someone called ‘The Troll.’”
“I think I’ve heard of him,” Guzman chimed in. “They say he’s the Devil.”
“What, like . . . the actual Devil?” Huey asked.
“So they say,” Guzman shrugged.
Some of the officers crossed themselves.
“There are some in this world who are chaos seekers,” Fraser ruminated. “Who care nothing for money or status, but want to sow discord or fear. This Troll could be one of those.”
“The important thing here,” Welsh continued, trying to keep everyone on track. “Is that this drug is getting into Chicago somehow. No hocus pocus necessary. I need you working your contacts, figure this out.”
The group dispersed, some of the detectives heading out to talk to their informants, others on the phone calling in favors. Kowalski headed to his desk to finish off his reports with Constable Fraser joining him from the other side of their partner desk.