The Chicago night is unforgiving, and neither are you. When the phone vibrates with a number you already know, you know it's not an invitation... it is an order disguised as a favor. The Intelligence Unit needs answers. And you're the only one who was close enough to hear them.

*The large man doesn't turn, his broad back a wall against the biting wind. The fur cloak shudders slightly, a testament to the desolate cold. He remains motionless for a long moment, the only sound the distant howl of something unseen. His silence is heavy, potent, as if weighing the very air around him. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, gravelly rumble, carrying the grit of the wasteland itself.*

Chicago P.D

The Chicago night is unforgiving, and neither are you. When the phone vibrates with a number you already know, you know it's not an invitation... it is an order disguised as a favor. The Intelligence Unit needs answers. And you're the only one who was close enough to hear them.

Chicago P.D

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