A few men, most of them dressed in suits or blue uniforms, were gathered around a computer monitor. A graying, rather inconspicuous looking man in a white lab coat pushed his glasses up on his nose and tried to get everyone’s attention. He cleared his throat and multiple eyes suddenly focussed on him. Most of the men seemed absolutely befuddled and it was apparent that they didn’t really had an idea about what was going on.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” said the man in the white lab coat, slightly nervous because everyone was listening to him for once. “The chemical composition is completely unknown to me. It isn’t even similar to any drug we know.”

“But you’re absolutely positive it’s a drug?” one of the suits asked him.

“Absolutely, yes,” the scientist confirmed with a fast and serious nod, sure of this conclusion.

He leaned toward the screen, whereupon the other five men made room for him. He pointed to numbers on the screen while telling important facts about chemical compounds and their effects. The majority of this company seemed unable to follow it. Maybe because it was not their job to understand, only to solve the problems it was causing.

“Hm…” one of the suits mumbled.

The man dragged his hand slowly over his chin, the stubble making a scratchy sound. He stared off in the distance, as if he were thinking about something especially troublesome. He furrowed his brows, creating a deep frown in between. You could tell from his expensive looking suit that he was certainly one of the most important people in the room. He was in charge of the others, which also meant that he had to take the difficult decisions.

He swiftly decided to hold a briefing and put as many officers as he could spare on this case. Yet he didn't think it was a matter that would resolve itself quickly. Normal cut and dry drug cases would drag on forever and you could never say it would be solved completely; let alone drugs of unknown origin with no indication of where it came from. They had found this particular batch on a dead man a few nights ago. He, of course, couldn't tell them anything about it and it didn't help that he wasn't ID'd yet. They had no clue who he was.

***

With a glum looking expression on his face, officer Hall drove through the streets of New York City in his police car. The streets here were straight and orderly and it was just what he liked. Chaos was something he didn't like, but bringing order to chaos was one of his favorite things. Maybe that's why he became a cop, so he had the power to sort things out according to certain rules. He could always stick to laws, which was very different from the made up values ​​that were different for everyone. He could be a real stickler for rules.

The gloomy mood of the young cop was not due to the orderly streets, perhaps slightly due to the traffic that often drifted carelessly across the lanes without worrying about traffic rules, but that wasn't a thing he had to worry about too much when he was driving in a police car. People suddenly behaved a lot better as soon as they saw the white and blue car. No, it was because of the assignment he had just received, which he saw as a chaotic black hole where order did not exist and would likely never occur.

Shane wasn't usually put on drug-related cases, but the highest bosses had decided that this case required a lot more manpower than was usual. This new drug was something of a mystery, and apparently the boss didn't like those; he always tried to solve them as quickly as possible. He just saw this as a huge challenge. So now he had to drive in his car, all by himself, to an informant to ask if he had heard of it. His partner was off because of some last minute family emergency.

Of course it wasn't close to the precinct. No, it had to be in a completely different neighborhood. Where Shane Hall had to go through a traffic jam while it was already nearing the end of his shift and it was getting dark outside. The precinct nearest to the informant apparently had no one to spare. Frustrated him to no end, the moody expression didn't leave his face while he watched the road.

The radio creaked just when he got off the interstate and he peered through the windshield, looking for street signs to find the right one. Hall was no longer listening to how the crackling voice of someone in the call center asked for assistance with an arrest, he had his own task to perform. The further he drove on, the less safe he felt. He was a cop, one with a shiny baton adjoining a pair of handcuffs on one hip and a polished, but unused, Glock 19 on his other. The only place where he actually used his gun had been at the shooting range.

It was the neighborhood that made him feel very uneasy when on his own. They didn't like the police here and he was very aware of that fact. Everything here seemed surrounded by an unpleasant atmosphere, the poorly maintained houses, the flickering street lights, the people who hung around here and looked menacingly at you as you drove past.

It inconveniently started to drizzle again. He turned on his windshield wipers and finally arrived at his destination a few long minutes later. Scoffing at the rain he parked his car somewhere out of view, there was some walking to do. Of course he couldn't just park in front of someone's house with his police car, in his uniform. That wouldn't do his informant any good, so he just had to walk a bit to the agreed place. He hadn't even had time to change into street clothes, and leave his uniform behind. Fortunately he had his cap on, which kept the rain out of his face at the very least.

He locked the car, but was still not entirely sure that he would find it just as he left it when he returned. Who's idea was this again? Sighing, he started to walk away.