THE CHASE - Connor x OC (I Am Sequel)

Chapter 6

"Yeah yeah don't do an author's note every chapter," Andrea said to herself, still doing them. 

Okay, but this is kind of important though! So if you're someone who read "I am" and then decided to go through my back catalog of other stories, I'm letting you know that I unpublished two books. Those were "Iron Man's Daughter" and "Anytime (The Sherlock fanfic)." Both of those were just waaaaay too difficult to keep up with...and frankly I very much so dislike them now. However! They are only unpublished! If you still want to read them or finish them (they are unfinished, but maybe you're just desperate for that last chapter), feel free to get in contact with me, and we'll figure something out!

Thanks again!

Andrea

~

"Tell me, how do I look?" I asked spinning around while trying to stay stable in my heels.

"Like you need a drink," Nick said, throwing a hand on my shoulder.

"I do. I won't lie," I said, connecting my head to Nick's earphone.

"Can you hear me?" I asked, without even moving my mouth.

"Cool!" Nick shouted, then proceeded to silently stare at my intensely. "Did you hear that?"

"Cool?"

"No after that I asked if you were ready to start."

"Nick, you have to talk. You're not an Android," I laughed. Nick looked very disappointed, as though he were learning something new, but smiled nevertheless.

"Joking, Bolts. God, is Connor killing your sense of humor?" He smiled.

"I think you're just getting better at acting?" I responded. I walked around the corner of the club, entering into the line. We avoided the club where the Tracis has been. We can't even risk being compromised. Nick had tried to look like the killer's victims - young, druggie, and like a twink. But he looked more like a 30-year-old man wearing makeup with a bad toupee. Nick is nowhere near a twink either. On the bright side, clubs are dark, so maybe he might be able to pull something.

I, on the other hand, had to watch for anyone who was a little too flirty, and a little too manipulative. 

I headed in behind a group of men who looked more like they were from Chippendale's than any 9-5 job. None of them matched our profile, but our profile wasn't exactly meticulous. It was more of a ridiculous guess, but here we were. Searching for someone based on the profile. It's gotten more refined over time, but it's still not perfect.

A young man, likely under 30, named Asher Kam. He drugs people using red ice but doesn't use it himself. If anything, he pretends to use red ice to manipulate his victims into coming with him. He has his own poorly drawn tattoos, which he might use alike templates to give them to his victims. We've never really had a witness that was credible, but he's likely white. We've never found a single hair on any of the victims, so we have no idea what he looks like. 

But we can guess.

I sat down at the bar, hoping to overhear a conversation or two. 

"Charlotte, I've got a guy who seems like he might be our guy. Terrible tattoos. They're not like our victim's tattoos, but he's got them."

"Keep an eye on him," I responded.

I ordered a simple glass of whiskey and sipped on it. I moved throughout the bar looking for anyone who might be our guy. If I saw someone with tattoos, I scanned them intensely looking for anything that might be similar to our victim's tattoos. All the while, I sipped on whiskey.