Defeated...again.

The deafening silence ended with the creaking sound of the second level door leading to the rest of the building. These were surely the people that Ryan truly wanted, but he would need them to be incapacitated so that he could torture them thoroughly. He instantly threw down a gas bomb that would hide his location and put them all to sleep. He put on his gas mask and patiently waited for the haze he had induced to clear. Unfortunately his previous antics with the chopped up man had alerted them to his existence and had helped them prepare for his arrival; as the haze dissipated a second set of guards, knocked out cold, was revealed. He removed his mask and cast it aside angrily. He knew that they had left this place and would never return. Where were they now? He would have to spend even more time and effort locating them again, and he was hungrier than ever for his revenge. What if he never found them? Ryan found a sledge hammer and beat the remaining living bodies to separate bloody and unrecognizable pulps. Tired and soaked with blood, Ryan began to walk back to his car. Suddenly it exploded in a ball of flame, knocking Ryan back to watch it burn. This was unexpected, but not surprising, though he had thought that they would have rigged the entire building to explode instead. The car had obviously left too much opportunity for him to stay alive. Were they really that stupid? He pulled out his cellphone and tried to call his sister, knowing that she wouldn't pick up. Voicemail. Never picks up the damn phone. In his current bloodied state Ryan was certain that he would be unable to hitch a ride back to Washington Heights. He suddenly remembered the girl from the strip club; the red girl. He had her number. Did she even have a car? Hell, why not? He gave her a call, and she told him that she would "see what she could arrange." Whatever that meant. Almost as soon as he hung up she called him back and said she would be on her way if he gave her some directions. He informed her that she would have to go the wrong way on the exit ramp. "No problem!" She said gleefully. He wondered what her reaction would be to his soaked-with-blood appearance. She finally arrived. It was a nice car, a candy apple Mercedes Benz convertible. He was impressed; either she had a really nice car or she was damn good at stealing them since Mercedes cars are near impossible to hotwire. He got in. "Nice clothes," she said cooly. He decided not to reply. They didn't talk much in that car ride home, and he couldn't help but notice her poor driving abilities. Maybe she was impaired. In fact, after passing a mysterious ice cream truck they almost ran into _. "Get out, I need to ditch this car," she said in her calm voice. So this wasn't her car. He was liking her more and more. He exited the car and went back to apartment 420.