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He hadn’t even called the police this time. Jarod would send his car back anyway - or at least parts of it. The lab-rat took a liking in destroying his cars.

Lyle eyed the three license plates on his desk. The photos next to them told the car’s tales.

Lyle-1 had been blown into pieces by a missile. Lyle-2 had been mangled on the scrap yard - merely the license plate had survived, without doubt being removed beforehand. Lyle-3 had been disembowelled by gangs. They hadn’t even left the tires.

A package with Lyle-4 had yet to arrive.

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