A Pack Of Vigilante Nightclubbers

Scott Harkin knew there was something going on in his club. There had been far too many cases of people claiming their credit cards and cash went missing while they were there.

If he had to guess, a conwoman was staking out his place. The problem was that all of the witness accounts were different. Some said she was 5'6" with dark hair and eyes. Others said she was 5'2" with light hair and eyes. She was curvy, she was petite, she had a mole, she didn't have a mole.

Not one account matched up. He went over the CCTV footage with his security guards on the nights in question and saw that they were right. These were clearly all different women. What on earth was going on?

He had no idea why a group of conwomen had chosen his club as their hunting grounds but he wasn't about to stand for that. It wasn't good for business.

Scott had worked hard to get where he was. No one would hire him after he got out of jail for gang-related activities except Richie Costello, the previous owner of The Wolves' Den. He gave Scott a chance as a bouncer and he worked his way up from there, eventually leaving the club to him after retiring to Florida.

He couldn't let the club fail now. Not when Richie had believed in him.

Determined to figure this out, Scott began canvassing the floor personally at night to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. It was hard to see what was going on a lot of the time because of how many people were squished in there together but he had sharp senses from his time in the gangs.

The women in question usually spent at least some time at the bar so he was sure to keep an eye on that area in particular. They often found their marks after being offered a drink.

That didn't narrow things down much though. Men were constantly buying women drinks in here! It was the main way they hit on them.

Scott was so fixated on the bar that he didn't notice someone had tripped into him until he had to act quickly to catch her. She was about 5'4", had a pear-shaped figure, and was wearing a red spaghetti strap bodycon mini dress that showed off her hips. Her blonde hair was up, she wore chunky gold hoop earrings and a matching necklace, and had a tattoo in cursive on one of her forearms.

"I'm so sorry! I think I slipped on someone's spilled drink," the woman said sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it," Scott reassured her.

"Thanks for catching me!"

She shot him a dazzling smile and sashayed off into the crowd. He didn't think much of it when he later spotted her at the bar stirring a drink with her finger while sitting with some guy until he got a complaint two days later about his credit cards going missing.

Sure enough, it was the guy who had been sitting with the blonde woman at the bar. She had been one of them?!

Scott cursed himself for being so stupid. He should have realized. How had he not noticed when he had been looking right at her? She was even following the group of women's frequent pattern of stirring drinks with their fingers.

That was a strange habit to have. Not the most sanitary either.

He felt like he was missing something here. Some reason they were doing that. He needed to zoom in on the footage he had caught of all of those women when acted on that strange little quirk.

It took him hours of going through footage but he noticed there was occasionally a pattern. Sometimes the finger-stirrers pulled out their previously clear nail and it turned blue. Other times they pulled it out and there was nothing.

Sometimes the finger-stirrers dumped their drinks into a thermos in their purse, sometimes they left them unattended, but they never drank. And when the nails turned blue, the wallets were always stolen but they only were sometimes when they didn't. What was that about?

Scott had never heard of color-changing nail polish before so he looked it up online. Most of the time, it was because of heat or water but this was hit and miss in drinks that were all cold. There had to be something else to it.

That was when he stumbled across the existence of nail polish that changed colors when it detected the presence of date r*pe drugs in liquids. That had to be it!

So the women struck when there were date r*pe drugs but that didn't explain the other times. What was going on here? Was a pack of vigilante nightclubbers descending on The Wolves' Den or what?

It wasn't long before the police got involved because of all of the complaints. Scott was uneasy around cops even after so much time passing but he had to cooperate because he wanted those thieves caught. They were bad for business.

Apparently, his club wasn't the only one this was happening at. There were incidents at clubs all over Manhattan.

Scott didn't understand what the women were trying to accomplish exactly. He shared his security footage and the detectives gave him a card so he could call if he thought of anything else. That was the end of that.

It didn't stop bothering him though. Whoever these women were…they were smart. How long had they been doing this? It had to have been a while for them to perfect their craft enough not to get caught across multiple clubs, though he hadn't noticed a pattern until a few months ago.

Was it possible that some of these jokers didn't realize their credit cards went missing at the clubs? Were there more cases of theft than they were aware of?

He didn't know and he didn't like not knowing things. Especially when said things were happening on his turf.