I soon reach Manhattan and look for the address. When I do find it, the building itself screams FBI.
The logo was enough to see from a mile away.
I shrug my shoulders as I head inside.
The woman at the front desk was a tall women who appeared to be in her mid 30s. Her stockings were ruffled and her pleaded skirt in perfect alinement.
She smiled at me, "do you have an appointment?" She asks.
I pull the gun out of my holster, "I wish to speak with Zayn Malik." I say, the gun aimed at the women's heart.
She pressed a few buttons and soon a 21 year old boy appeared in front of me. The same boy that was in the picture that Chad showed me.
He smiled, a sweet, yet wicked smile, "It's nice to finally meet you in person... Blaire."
I clenched my fists, "I wish I could say the same thing about you... Zayn."
He stayed expressionless even though the gun was aimed at his heart, "why ever not?" He asked.
I grit my teeth, "because we travel in similar circles... Too similar for my liking. I have reason to believe that you are the one spreading rumors about me and even if you aren't you still believe that I work for the communists," I spat in disgust, "that is an offensive and absurd actuation!"
He thought for a moment, "while I am not the one spreading the rumors I do have to admit that my informers have told me you work for the communists," paused chuckling, "is that untrue?"
"Very much so."
He frowns, "I see, why don't you and I have a little chat in my office?"