There was a small buzzing noise on the sidewalk one Saturday evening in Manhattan. A few freaked out civilians gasped and jumped as a small remote control car drove over their feet. One woman accidentally spilled her coffee on the little thing, but it kept on driving by. It was made to handle such conditions. No matter what it kept on driving until it reached the lower, more grungey parts of the city. In the camera’s vision that was built under the windshield there was a long line of adults and older teens alike, waiting to enter a metal club where the sounds of drums and wailing guitars would pass through the outside world whenever the doors would open to let people in or out. A man with many piercings on his face picked up the small car and showed it to his friends. “Hey look.. Some kid left their toy outside! Dudes we should totally bring this in”, he said. Little did his friends know that he was working for me. His mission was to get this little car into club to spy on Mr. Anderson. He was the head of the new Mafia and was a frequent visitor to this club. The man with the piercing’s real name was Marcus, but his friends called him Sid V. See Mr. Anderson wasn’t there for the music or any of that crap. He was a sick man who flashed around his guns to draw the ladies in. There were plenty of clubs and bars around New York to grab ladies at, but no one could roll better than the girls at The Cafe. Sid V took the car over to the room that Mr. Anderson was in. Before he brought it inside, he said to the camera “Look, i’ve got the car inside.” he pointed the car in the direction of Mr. Anderson. He was sitting on a couch with a girl in each arm. He had a martini in one hand and a cigar in the other. Typical. He was laughing about some joke and the girls, like the good little golddiggers they were, giggles with him with their hands on his chest, waiting for something to fall out of his pocket and into their cleavages. He was dressed like a stereotypical Italian Mafia man. the black suit, the tie, his hair slicked back, and even his cologne stinking of money. Sid V rested the rcc on the ground. He knew what to do. If something were to go wrong with the car, he would be there to investigate so I could finally find out what his plans are so I could finally stop him and put his crime to an end. For now all we need to do is sit here and wait. Sid V stood near by with a beer in his hand, nodding his head to the music. He was into this metal stuff but he was a good kid. It was handy to have him around for undercover work. Mr. Anderson played with a girl’s hair and caressed another girl’s shoulder.

“You know i work for a weapon company..”, he said to them, clearly intoxicated. They gasped and wowed him just to please him. It was clear that they weren’t interested in what he did. They were only interested in what he had to give. “Yeah… It’s friggen huge. I’ve buildings and franchises all around the country… But where I really make my money..” he chuckled, waving his cigar “Is by eliminating my competition…”. He laughed again. He looked up at someone who could easily be his henchman. “Ey, You remember old Frank from that gun store?”

“Yeah boss, we took him out a few weeks ago”, he said stupidly eating an olive from his own martini. It was funny how the news paper said that “Old Frank” went missing only a few weeks ago. So he had the government wrapped around his finger eh? Sid, who was standing outside the door heard this and stood a little closer to the room to get a better hear.

“Hey, sir.”, he said over his bluetooth. “Did you hear that?”

I nodded and responded “Yes I did. Just stand your ground and wait. I’m recording the conversation as we speak”.

“You got it, Sir.” he said. I heard shifting over his end and assumed that he was getting back to his position. I told you he’s a good kid. There was more laughter on the criminals’ end. The camera in the rcc saw an olive fall on the floor. The stupid henchman poked his head under the table to reach for the olive and saw the car.

“Hey… What’s this?”, he asked, picking up the car. “Hey boss, There’s a toy car under the table!” he said.

Mr. Anderson laughed again and said to one of his girlfriends, “Would you hear this schmuck? A toy car, gimme a break!”.

The other girlfriend cleared her throat and said “Sir… Look at what Phil’s holding” and pointed at him. The girls stifled their giggles as he saw the car and stood up.

“Well…. What do we have here?”, he said smiling goofily at it. “It’s a little toy! Would ya look at that!… Wait a second…”, His face looked as if it were concentrating on something. “Ey, Phil! There’s a camera in this crap!”, he yelled. “Someone’s listening to our conversations!”, he looked at the camera. “Well Isn’t that rude?”, he said, snickering. “Oh don’t worry, Mr. Evans, you’ll get your evidence someday. Not today though!” he laughed at this, dropped the car to the floor and proceeded to stomp on it with his foot. The screen on my end went fuzzy and went out. I sat back in my chair and smiled. I still had Marcus. His bluetooth had an automatic voice recorder built into it. That was evidence enough for now. The chase wasn’t over though and it won’t be over any time soon…

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