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“Somehow, I don’t think he’s gonna open it,” I mumble, watching Roland bang on the door loud and incessantly. I’m not entirely sure what kind of things I expected towards the end of our trip, but sitting on a bench facing a closed door of a crappy, cheap motel was not among them.
“How are you even so sure he’s in there anyway?”

“Cause he’s got nowhere else to go!” Roland snaps angrily.

“Give it up, man. If he has been here at all, he probably already left. And if he still is here, he clearly doesn’t want company,” I try to reason. During the last half hour or so, I got the feeling Roland has been balancing on the edge of sanity more and more. I try not to let it show, but it scares the hell out of me.

“Well, there are other ways to find out,” Roland mutters, slowly pulling out a Swiss army knife of his back-pocket.

With surprising expertise, he begins to fumble into the lock with it. I watch him with an uninterested expression, my hand supporting my chin. I should feel bad for breaking and entering in the middle of the night, but considering I don’t have much to do with it other than being dragged along, I can’t really feel guilty about it.

“Gotcha!” Roland quips as he swings open the old, crappy door. I stand up with a sigh, suddenly nervous. We carefully step inside the room. The chamber is one big mess, as if a nuke of clothes went off in there recently.

My stomach drops as I faintly recognize some of the clothes. Just one more thing to add to the list of strange, as Brian usually strikes me on the verge of OCD neat. Deciding there’s no such thing as ‘usually’ with Brian anymore, I wince as the sharp scent of alcohol hits my face.

“Told you he’s been here,” Roland whispers, slowly sneaking into the room, careful not to make any noise.

I follow behind him, amazed. The room is dark, yet it looks too bright for the dark practices that are seemingly going on in here. I swallow the bile that has reached my throat back down as I glance at the filthy bed sheets, covered in red stains.

“Ah, my life used to be so simple,” I groan, watching Roland inspecting the room for signs of life. “I’d just sing some sappy love songs, make millions of bucks, and never worry about a thing.”

“Sh!” Roland hisses, “Check the bathroom.”

I roll my eyes, “Whatever you say, boss.”

I approach the door to the bathroom cautiously, my heart suddenly hammering in my throat. I instantly get a strong feeling I am not going to like whatever I’m going to see.

I knock for good measure. “Nobody here, let’s go!” I quip, quickly turning around to leave the sickening motel room.

“I know you’re in there! Might as well show us your face!” Roland roars as he turns the doorknob to the bathroom and steps in.

I stand frozen on my spot, my mouth wide-open as I hear various objects clatter to the ground and a few muffled grunts escaping from the bathroom. A few seconds later Roland reappears with a struggling Brian in his grasp, not much unlike Miguel held me when we made our little trip to the warehouse. That ordeal seems ages ago as I notice Brian’s eyes flying all around the room, clearly searching for a way out. He looks different, his hair longer than I remember it ever being, as his curls nearly touch his shoulders. His face looks like he hasn’t shaved in several days and he has obviously lost a great amount of weight since the last time I’ve seen him. The pale complexion of his features tells me he hasn’t been in the healthiest of environments and I watch him with concern, almost forgetting all the shit he’s pulled on the group.

“Brian?” I whisper in shock.

Brian ignores me completely as he lunges for the door with a wild snarl, making Roland almost loose his grip.

“Woah, nope,” Roland comments calmly, “You’re not going anywhere, we need to talk, young man,” he sighs in disappointment as he fishes out a now familiar looking needle.

“No!” I yell, trying to stop him from using it. It’s already too late though as I watch the point sink into the skin of Brian’s neck in an extremely sickening version of a déjà vu.

“Grab his legs,” Roland states quietly when my former bandmate finally stops struggling and relaxes, watching me with a dull look in his eyes.

“What did you give him?” I snort angrily.

“I really wish I didn’t have to,” Roland sighs. He’s figured out I am not going to make a move to help him and drags Brian towards a chair, planting him there after he swiped the dirty clothes off. “I actually need him sharp and alert for this.”

“What did you give him?” I question again, trying to make my voice sound as demanding as I can.

“Tranquilizer,” Roland mumbles, “It won’t make him pass out, but it won’t make him very active either. I guess we’ll just have to wait.” With a discouraged grunt he sits down opposite of Brian, giving him a disapproving stare.

“So, now what?” I snap.

“Now, we wait,” he states, not taking his eyes of the dishevelled man in front of him, “Though it might be wise to tie him to the chair, before he makes another move to escape.”

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” I snarl in anger, “I should call the police.”

“Oh, you certainly should,” Roland replies, not impressed, “Tell them he’s here, they’d surely like to know. At this rate, he’ll probably end up in jail.”

I sigh in frustration, flopping down in a chair near the door, furthest away from Roland and his captive. Roland makes quick work of tying Brian’s hands to the back of the chair while I sit there, wondering how on earth my life has taken such a strange turn. I try to remember when my life was still normal, if it ever was, as I stare back at Brian, who’s mainly responsible for the giant mess all around us. He gives me an empty expression, blinking slowly, clearly not able to think straight. I shrug at him, indicating we are in fact both Roland’s captives.

“He’ll come around in a few minutes, I suggest you man up before that happens.”

I snort in disgust. I would give a thousand, maybe a million bucks to just be at home and help my mother with the dishes or something normal like that. I used to think it was strange that my brother cleans stray cats for no apparent reason, but as it turns out, there’s a whole new world of weird I had never even dreamt of. Maybe I should try to run, get away. Maybe it will be possible to snatch my car keys before Roland notices, and just… run out, away from this madness. Find someone to help me stop this two stupid idiots from doing stupid things, call Howie to-

“What the fuck’s this?” Brian’s head snaps up so fast I’m afraid he’s gonna have whiplash, and I jump a mile up in the air in shock at his sudden yell.

I can’t see Roland’s face as his back is facing me, but he calmly states, “You and me are going to have a nice long talk.”

“Screw you!” Brian spits, struggling weakly against his bound wrists. “Who the hell are you?”

“I think you know who I am, Thom,” Roland speaks the name with a bit of triumph.

“You’re crazy, old man,” Brian snarls, “let me go!”

Roland sighs, cocking his head to the side as he watches Brian tug at his restraints to no avail for a few seconds, “I thought we could settle this as adults, Thom, but you’ve clearly gone to mess it all up.”

I watch, too shocked to do or say anything, seeing Brian shooting Roland a look of pure venom, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he hisses, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“See, Thommy, that’s the difference between you and me,” Roland continues in a calm, soft voice, “You’ve always been a sucker at hiding your emotions.”

Brian clenches his jaw, his eyes shifting from Roland to me, as if he’s seeing me for the first time, “Nick, what is happening here?”

My eyes widen as I look into his angry face. His eyes have always been the most expressive I’ve ever known. Even when he doesn’t wanna talk, you can easily tell something is wrong. Until now. There seems to be a big shield of superficial anger before anything and I shake my head uneasily.

“I- I don’t-”

“Nick,” Roland starts warningly, “Remember what we talked about?”

“What’s he calling me Thom for, Nick?” Brian hisses, leaning towards me.

Although he’s about ten feet away from me, I shrink back into my seat. Brian has never seemed intimidating to me, no matter what he does. But now… “I- I’m not sure I-” I stammer pathetically, looking from Brian to Roland and back.

“Cut the crap, Thom, we all know it’s you,” Roland states, clenching his fists in anger.

“He’s crazy, Nick! Can’t you tell?” Brian looks at me in frustration, “We should go!”

“So you can just dump his body in a trench somewhere and take off? I don’t think so!” Roland explodes and if I could, I would have made a hole in the ground to bury myself in it.

“Listen, old man. I don’t know who you are or how you found us, but you’re clearly having a mental breakdown or something,” Brian stammers, the panic now creeping into his voice. It is kinda funny to hear him accusing someone else of a mental breakdown and I can’t stop the nervous, choked laugh from escaping my throat.

“Or something,” Roland grumbles. “Listen, I need you to confess before we can go any further, so why don’t we just hurry it up, or we’re gonna sit here all night?”

Brian gives him a devious stare, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Roland gets up with an incredulous smile, “You are not Brian Littrell, you haven’t been him in six months. Your name is Thomas Burker, you’re from 2037, you ignored direct orders, and you’re in clear violation of the 67th code. How am I doing so far, Thom?”

“I told you, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re delusional! You should see a shrink or something!”

I watch in amazement as Roland leans towards his captive, their faces mere inches from each other, “It’s over, Thomas, you may stop lying now,” he whispers with a smile.
Chapter End Notes:
Well, try to see it in Nick's perspective and ask yourself, who would you believe?