Ashton continued down the road, picking up speed as he began to notice how the sun was setting. He could see main street, and the club that he was supposed to be investigating. The young boy began to jog, until he reached the building, huffing and walking into the alley around the corner. He dug through his black bag, looking for his camera. As he grasped it, he pulled it out, turning it on.
Ashton was well aware that he was in no way getting into this club through the front door, so he choose the only other way he knew.
Ashton flung he slight body weight onto the fire escape, barely pulling it down at all. So, Ashton pulled himself up and onto the first landing. The metal made a dull ring when he hit it, before he brushed off his jeans and looked in the window.
From this point of view Ashton couldn't even make out the different people, so he tested the window, happy to find it unlocked, before he crawled in and hid behind one of the many packed boxes on the second level. He could hear the dull beat of he music from downstairs, but he ignored it, choosing instead to sneak from his hiding spot, into the range of the group of men talking.
There voices were muffled by the door they were behind, and Ashton couldn't make out the words. Creeping closer, he watched as the shadows under the door moved. Ashton pulled out his camera, taking a video of what he heard. He figured that he could analyze it more later, and for now he just needed to focus on hearing them mention anything illegal.
Ashton shifted more behind the box as the door opened, revealing a group of large men, all dressed in suits. It was obvious that the man in the front was the one in charge. He was a heavily built man with clean cut hair, and a perfectly trimmed beard. In his hand was a cigar, coloured a light orange when he puffed in.
"Sir, you should know that people are beginning to notice something is up..." one of the man's goons said. He stood the left and back of him. Ashton pointed the microphone in their direction the best he could while still not making any noise or moving the box.
"There is no way that they'll find out, this place is as secure as the metropolitan museum. And even if they did, no one is going to believe them without proof."
"Sir, we need to be more careful..." The man pressed more. Ashton bit his lip, this still wasn't enough to find them guilty. He needed them to admit they were doing something shady.
"The next shipment comes in in less than an hour, we'll get the drugs and the girls, and we'll be done." Ashton held in his cheer, that was everything he needed, he had enough now, he just needed to wait for the coast to be clear to leave, and bring the info back to Henry.
The door on the other end of the room opened, and Ashton moved quickly, trying to avoid being seen. Another man walked in, this one dressed in a windbreaker labeled security. He was a muscular bouncer type. He approached quickly, whispering something to one of the goons.
"Kick him out." The mad said, the bouncer nodded and exited again.
Ashton felt his heart drop as the men moved forward, he tried to back up, only to bump into a stack of boxes labeled 'winter clothes'. The upper boxes swayed before they fell right on top of Ashton.
The young boy knew that he had to move quick if he was going to get himself out of this one, he crawled out from under the boxes before leaping to his feet and rushing the window he crawled in. He felt his ankle grabbed just as he made it outside.
He yelped, kicking back and tumbling out the window. One of the men launched himself after him, but it was too late, Ashton had already jumped from the balcony and onto the ground, ignoring the stinging in his feet as he hit the ground. Ashton took off deeper into the alley way, which he would have preferred not to, but in his position the other option was off limits, blocked by two bouncers.
Ashton had a head start on his presuers, and he probably would have made it out alright if it hadn't been for one of the doors opening, and an older boy being thrown out. Ashton barely managed to dodge the boy, hoping around him, and continuing in his way, but not without getting slowed down.
Now it was a gamble whether he got away or not.
Michael had gotten into the club easily enough, thanks to his fake I.D. and charming attitude, but things went south he began asking too many questions.
He was on his third drink when the bartender told him that he should stop snooping into other people's business. But, Michael never was one to take others advice.
From what he could tell, either no one in the club realized it was a front for something else, or they were really good at hiding it. He figured it was the latter, seeing how his uncle had never been wrong before.
Michael must have asked the wrong question to one of the employees, because the next thing he knew, he was being "escorted" out of the club.
This was a particularly violent escort, Michael realized, as he was thrown, literally, out of the club. He collided hard with the ground, and he heard fast paced footsteps approaching.
He groaned and sat up, looking in the direction they had run past him. They were quickly followed by a group of men running after them. Michael decided to stand, brushing off his pre-torn jeans, cracking his back.
Then, he turned toward the light of the street lamps, and began the short trek to his truck.