Scars And Stories

Chapter 10

Ryan
A few days later...

After driving for about two days, Ryan finally arrived in the state of New York. It was close to midnight and he was in the middle of nowhere. He passed a sign on the side of the road, advertising a motel a few miles from where he was. He struggled to keep his eyes open during the rest of the drive and finally arrived at the destination thirty minutes later.

He parked his car in front of the Room 111, next to a red Chevrolet Impala. He made his way to the office to get a room for the night, where he received the key for the Room 110.

Meanwhile, having heard the roar of Ryan's car engine, the man occupying the room 111 got up from the bed he was sitting on the edge of, watching the static image of the tv a few inches in front of him, and walked to the window.

He watched silently, hiding behind the curtain and opening it just a little bit so he could see clearly. A couple minutes passed and he was still standing there, waiting for Ryan to get out of the lounge.

Ryan then made his way to his room and the eyes of the man narrowed. He'd seen Ryan from somewhere else. A devious smirk spread across his face when he remembered who he was.

The man stayed up all night, giving calls and pacing back and forth in his motel room, anxiety building up inside of him as time passed.

He went into the bathroom when the hands on his watch indicated two fifty in the morning. He was supposed to receive a phone call at any minute now. He stared at his reflection, fixing his dark brown hair and adjusting his silver colored suit jacket.

His phone began to vibrate from where it was sitting on the edge of the sink, making the man look down nervously. His eyebrows furrowed together as he bit the tip of his tongue in anticipation of what the person on the other line was going to say.

He took the phone in his sweaty hand and looked at the name of the contact for a second before pressing the answer button.

"I have word of what's going on," The man on the other line started.

"What should I do?" The man with the silver jacket inquired.

"Don't let him go to New York City," The other replied with an angry tone.

"So what? You want me to kill him?" He requested.

"No!" The man on the other line almost shouted, "We need him alive. Do what you have to do, remember?"

"Yeah," He sighed, nodding his head.

"Talk to you later, Urie." The man replied before ending the call.

Brendon took the phone away from his ear, the name Wentz still written on the screen of the device in his hand. He looked at it for a moment, thinking of what he was going to do, and put the phone back in his pocket.

He left the bathroom, turning the lights off on his way out, and headed for the front door, picking up his car keys that were sitting on the bedside table.

He stepped out of the motel room and closed the door behind him, stopping in front of Ryan's car, a dark grey Cadillac Sedan. He rested his hands on his hips, wondering what he was going to do with it.

He walked over to the driver side and glanced at the room next to his quickly, making sure the lights weren't on or that Ryan wasn't up, looking out the window. But when Ryan entered the room, he fell down on the bed and went to sleep almost immediately. He was out like a light.

Brendon returned his attention to the car and sighed, contemplating what he was going to do. He couldn't just break the car's window and drive it somewhere else, the alarm would go off.

He glanced over at his Impala, remembering he had cables in the trunk, and walked up to it. He got in, starting the car, and moved it just in front of Ryan's car. He got out, leaving the engine still on, and retrieved the cables from the trunk. He attached them to the back of the Cadillac Sedan and then to his, driving away with the car.

He drove for a few minutes until he reached a deserted place. He took a petroleum can from out of his car's trunk and walked up to Ryan's car. He opened the can, smelling in the gasoline, and smirked as he emptied the contents on the dark grey Cadillac. He reached into the inside pocket of his silver jacket and grabbed the lighter he kept there. He ignited it, watching the light flame glow in the dark, and threw it on top of the car in front of him, immediately lighting the car on fire.

He walked back to his car, the devious smirk still on his face, as if he was stuck like that, and drove away.

A few minutes into the car drive, Brendon heard the loud noise of the explosion of the car from the distance. He laughed to himself as he drove back to the motel.

He parked his car at the exact same spot and went back to his room. He called Pete to prevent him that one part of the plan was done and he'll do the other one in the morning. He got into bed, finally ready to sleep at four in the morning.