It is eleven in the morning in Boston. The sun is shining brightly, and the mist dissipated behind you as you left Haven behind, giving you a lovely view of a beautiful morning. Reggie, an old acquaintance from the Boston PD, has asked you to meet him there for a quiet meeting. At this hour, most of the copse are no longer frequenting the shop-- they've moved on to lunch, which makes this a more or less safe place to talk shop. The man is black, in his late thirties, and has worked for the Boston PD since he came out of police academy. You know that he came out of one of the worst parts of the town, and has stayed on the beat there during his career by choice. He hasn't risen high in the ranks because of that, preferring to work the streets, but he does have a working relationship with the gang leaders in his area, which works in his favor-- at least until the feds come to town.
He's taken up his preferred booth at the end of the row, and is currently polishing off a powdered sugar donut in between swigs of coffee.
T.J. heads to the counter and orders himself a coffee and a jelly donut with white icing. He heads over and slides into the booth. "They keep the air conditioner in here on too high," he grumps to Reggie instead of a real, actual greeting. "It's like a meat lockah." He takes a swig of the coffee and cracks his neck.
"It's good for the icing," Reggie replies vaguely. "Karen! Leave the pot here for me and T.J., huh?" The elderly, heavyset lady wearing floral patterned scrubs nods and smiles, bringing the whole pot of black, freshly brewed coffee over to the booth, leaving a couple of extra donuts on the table for the two of you. "Just for you, Reggie," she says with a wink, waddling back off. Reggie returns the wink and pours a heart attack inducing amount of cream into his coffee, saying more seriously and quietly once he's out of earshot, "Thanks for coming, man. This stuff is serious. You heard much about it yet?"
T.J. shakes his head. "Stuff trickles into Haven. Busted a guy, small timah, who let somethin' drop," he says. "Anyway, I'm tired of chasin' small timers and domestic disputes and guys who don't pay child support. I wanna do some real good." He takes a gulp from his coffee and then a bite from his donut, licking the jelly that tries to escape down his chin.
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"He had some on him? Quicksilver?" Reggie asks, wiping some powdered sugar from his mouth. "They're calling it glitter and sparkle on the streets. Selling it by the eighth. Club drug."
T.J. shakes his head. "Nah, he had nothin' but cheap piece on him," he replies. "Just said he knew a guy who knew a guy an' that the stuff was gonna trickle into Haven soonah or latah."
"He's probably right. It's been out here maybe a week now," Reggie says, slurping back some coffee seriously. "Thing is, King's guys swear up and down the stuff isn't theirs. They're pissed about it, too. This is on the down low, yeah? It hasn't made it out of Boston yet. Must be manufactured locally. Three ODs so far, but it's being kept away from the press so far."
T.J. sets his coffee aside and has a few bites of donut, nodding as he listens to Reggie talk. After swallowing, he says "There's a trailah park noath of Haven, think they might set up there if they get it outta Boston." He wipes his hands on a napkin taken from the dispenser at the booth. "What are the brass in the depahtment sayin'? Seems like they'd wanna knock this stuff out before it can get into widah distribution."
"That's the weird thing," Reggie mutters, shaking his head. "Seems like they're gonna let King's guys hunt it down for them. Upstairs is hands off, put that idiot Ross on the case. You and me both know Ross isn't gonna find shit. King's guys are on the move, but there's another group tearing the place apart, too. Keepers. You know 'em?"
T.J. nods. "Yeah, heard the name, know the basics," he says. "If they're involved, then it's the weird stuff. That means we got weird stuff goin' on, you know?"
Stat Report:T.J. he has basic supernatural knowledge.(1)
"Could've told you that already," Reggie snorts, but he shakes his head. "King's guys, they keep that shit quiet. Keepers knocked one of their warehouses down looking for something, though, so everyone's tense. It's a bad situation and our guys are sitting on their asses. Well, you know how it is when it comes to this stuff. Thing about Quicksilver? Makes people hallucinate. That stuff you got going down in Haven, you know, the other side? They see it up here is what my friends are telling me. Last thing we need is all that crap moving in around here, you know?"
T.J. nods, swilling lukewarm donut stop coffee. "Rockfield won't like me workin' with King's guys, I can tell ya that much. But what's that old saying? Me against my brutha, my brutha an' me against my uncle, my uncle n' me against the neighba, something like that."
"Yeah," Reggie says vaguely in reply, reaching for the second donut and taking a bite out of it. Talking around a full mouth, he says, "It's too early to say who's on whose side yet. Thing is, doesn't look like either of those guys are distributing. Drugs like that aren't Keeper game. I mean, nothing's Keeper game except the Keeper game, you know? Department being all hands off, all I can do is feed the info to guys like you. It's a rough deal. Your factions down in Haven don't seem to give a shit about it, either. Could be bad for us."
"They're too busy talkin' shit to each other in the local dinah to get anything done, as far as I've seen," says T.J.. He finishes his coffee in a long swig and refills it from the steaming pot at the table's edge. "There was one guy workin' for the Hand who wanted to look into it, but I don't trust those guys. Maybe I can get Rockfield to gimme some back up on this one."
"Be good if you could," Reggie says, nodding. "You know I'll help you out as I can, but I gotta play by the rules. Cap's already been watching me since I brought up talking to King's guys when this all first started." He gives his head a grim shake. "F'I didn't know any better... sometimes I wonder which of our guys are dirty, you know? Anyway, though. I can introduce you to the guy I talk to, wors for King. Funny thing, his name's the same as yours."
"Terrance?" T.J. asks incredulously.
Reggie would know that T.J. 's real name is Terrance James.
"Naah, TJ. Tyler Jerome," Reggie says, cracking a grin. "But it might be confusing anyway. Anyway, you want some advice from me? They've been peddling this crap at the local clubs. That's what's got King's guys all on edge, it's on their turf and cutting into the coke business bad. Stealing some meth business, too."
"Pulse is the big one. But all along the theater strip, plus it's been on the rave scenes. South Boston, too," Reggie tells you, shaking his head. "Which is weird, the club drugs don't show up a ton down there. But cutting into the meth business, like I said."
"It do anything besides make people hallucinate?" T.J. asks.
T.J. tells you 'I might have to cut it short or stop for a break. I just remembered something I need to do. ' You tell T.J. 'I'll wrap it up here, then.'
"Yeah," Reggie tells you. "It's like PCP, but taken up a notch. We haven't had any crazy stories yet because they OD first... but it makes you fearless."
"Great," T.J. says. "Feahless."
T.J. finishes off his donut and then downs the rest of his coffee. "Pulse," he says to himself. "Think I'll hit that one first."
Reggie nods toward T.J., saying, "Be careful when you go, don't have your cop face on or they won't let you in. Might need to grease a palm to get in, too."
T.J. nods. "Yeah, I know the drill," he says. "Hafta wear a game face a lot for Rockfield."
That gets an approving nod from Reggie. "Yeah. You hit the clubs much? Pulse is expensive. To get the quicksilver you'll probably head to the back. Whatever VIP shit they've got set up. Well, you know the drill. Heard major distribution is coming out there. Find out where they're getting it from. Might have to be a little rough with whoever you've got..."
"I don't club much unless I'm lookin' for someone," T.J. says. "Maybe I'll need ta find someone to take in with me." At the mention of roughness, he shrugs and cracks his knuckles lightly. "That's the beautiful thing about workin' for Rockfield," he says, "The regs are a little bit loosah."
"Wish we didn't have to play by the rules sometimes," Reggie mutters. "No one else is. Then you throw these... other guys in the mix and it's even messier. Wouldn't be a bad idea to have someone in there to watch your back."
T.J. nods again. "I think I can get one of the faction guys to go with me. I don' know what skin he's got in the game, 'cept maybe tryin' ta keep Quicksilva outta town. Still, I think he's, y'know, a little bit more than normal."
Reggie gives a nod at T.J.'s words, saying, "Just be careful, this is messier than it looks. It always is. Try not to do anything newsworthy, either, otherwise then the PD will be involved and trust me, you do not want red tape all over this."
"Say hi to the missus for me," T.J. says with a tip of his cap.
"Sure, sure. Hey, we're barbecuing for the fourth. You should come by," Reggie says to T.J. in a friendly sort of way. "Don't see you all that much anymore. May was asking about you."
"Sure, I'll bring dessert," T.J. says.
T.J. heads out of Bill's Donuts and makes for his car, which is parked outside.