Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > To Save A Life
The Barbie Doll Bandit
2 reviewsThe robbery continues as she takes Bob hostage and the band sees something disturbing on the news.
1Exciting
As the elderly couple knelt to get on the floor they looked at each other and whispered, “It’s the Barbie Doll Bandit.”
Barbie went to the nearest teller, “I want one hundred thousand dollars, no ink pack and no tracer. And don’t hit the alarm or…” Barbie looked around “or he’ll get it.”
Next thing Bob knew is he was staring down the barrel of the gun, not much different from the swirl of guns that used to grace his bass drum during the Revenge days.
Bob wanted to grab it out of her hands but he was afraid it would go off and hit either the kids or the old couple. The smart thing to do was to let it ride out until the police got there and she’ll get what’s coming to her.
Barbie looked at her watch, and then yelled to the teller, “Just give me what you got.”
Bob lay on the floor thinking that it was almost over thankfully. Next he felt the coldness of metal on the back of his neck.
“You’re coming with me,” said Barbie.
Bob turned around and went to grab the gun, but she stepped on his throat and pointed the gun between his eyes, “I said you’re coming with me.”
Bob got up and raised his arms above his head.
“Act naturally,” said Barbie exasperated.
They got outside to a waiting grey Ford Taurus, “Get in,” Bob slid over to the passenger side. She threw it in drive and drove it to the parking garage across the street. She parked on the fourth level, got out and opened the passenger door for him. She checked for security cameras earlier and there was none to be found in this spot. She went to the trunk and took out a bag. They now heard the sirens going to the bank. She stared at Bob as she took off her wig, took off the nose and scar, took out the green contacts and threw on some jeans, then took off her skirt. Next she unbuttoned her shirt exposing a black Metallica tank top. She threw the stuff in the bag and grabbed the money. She felt it, the tracer. “Damn it,” she started to hear the police cars come through the garage. She left the money in the car and pushed Bob to the stairwell. “Down,” was all she said. They got to the second level and there was a deep green Toyota Corolla waiting by the door. “In the trunk,” she said.
“What?”
“I’ll kill you I swear.”
Bob quickly did as she said.
“I don’t want to hear a noise from back there.”
She went down to the teller, who was about to lock down the garage.
“Sorry miss the garage is in lock down.”
“Please I just got a phone call my father had a heart attack,” Barbie was in tears now. The man looked at the composite that was given
and decided to have sympathy. Besides she looked nothing like her. She had short black hair and deep blue eyes. The woman in the composite had long blonde hair, green eyes a funny looking nose and a scar. This woman hand none of those. Plus the police said she would’ve had a passenger but there was none with her. He stopped the garage door from closing and let her through, then lowered the door the rest of the way. The police searched the garage and came to the conclusion she escaped by foot but wondered about the hostage she took, was he safe?
Back at the bank the detectives were questioning the other witnesses. They went through the wallet left on the desk. There wasn’t much there.
“This was the gentleman’s license,” said the employee that was helping Bob. “He was looking to rent a safety deposit box.”
The picture was taken two years ago after he lost all the weight, his hair was short and he was just starting to grow it out a bit. Bob had a serious face as he hated having his picture taken.
The officer looked at the application and saw occupation was Musician. He looked at the license again and recognized the face staring back at him. It was hanging in his daughter’s bedroom. He was a member of her favorite band.
The other officers from the garage came back.
“Anything on the hostage?”
“Well hopefully this will make it easy and hard to disguise. He’s a celebrity,” said the officer still holding the license.
He showed it to his collegue who had a rookie partner, “That’s Bob Bryar from My Chemical Romance.”
The detective shook his head thinking that the press was going to have a field day with this. He called his superior and got the go ahead to move this into the press. The sooner people knew the better.
The officer went outside and all the major local news stations were there.
“We have the name of the hostage. His name is Robert Bryar and is the drummer of the band My Chemical Romance. At this time we do not know where he and the perpetrator are, but all efforts are being made to find Mr. Bryar. If you have any information please contact the Chicago Police at 312-746-6000. We appeal to the public’s help in this matter.”
As this was going on the rest of the band was making their way through the streets of Chicago.
“What’s all the traffic about?” asked Gerard.
When they were on tour here it was never like this.
“Bank robbery, rumor is they took a hostage.”
“Wow, hope the person is okay,” said Frank.
They finally made it to Bob apartment building. They went to the lobby and rang his apartment. There was no answer.
Then Mikey talked through the intercom, “Bob come on it’s us”. Again there was still no answer.
Gerard pulled out his keys and took the key labeled BFD shook his head and smiled. It meant Bob’s Front Door, Bob said it meant Big Fucking Deal. He opened the door and they made their way to the elevator to the twentieth floor.
Ray knocked on the door, “Bob come on, we flew all the way from Jersey to see you.”
There was still no answer.
Gerard took out the his keys again and found the one labeled BAD. Gerard was hoping that Bob was just out and not passed out somewhere. Gerard knew his friend was severely depressed lately and more than once called him while drinking. He just hoped his friend did not follow the same path he did for depression. They walked through the apartment door, the kitchen was to the left and then there was the dining area and the massive living room they saw nothing unusual. There was a large screen tv and under it against the wall was a couple of guitars for game Guitar Hero, There was a large book case filled with a massive cd and dvd collection. He had a desk that held his computer and the black leather furniture set.
Gerard went to the bedroom and there was his unmade bed and clothes strewn about, but no Bob.
Ray went into a spare room that housed a drum kit that Bob practiced on when not on tour. It hadn’t been touched in months since his injury wouldn’t allow it. Ray noticed a note on the snare.
‘Glad to see you made it back to us. I love you and miss the real you, the new number is 312-555-3473. Let’s work it all out. Love always, Katlyn.’
“I think I found Bob,” shouted Ray.
“Where is he?” said Frank as they all came to the room.
Ray showed them the note. “Let’s call.”
Kat had just got out of the shower when her cell phone ran. Her heart beat faster as she saw the number. Her eyes started to well up. This past month had been hell on their relationship. She told him the night of his birthday she never wanted to see him again. It was all a lie. The problem was him being so frustrated and depressed and felt like everyone was out to hurt him even her. His injury prevented him from doing what he loved the most playing with the band. Even though he now had permission to practice a little he was afraid. He was afraid of reinjuring it and doing permanent damage. She never saw him like that. New Year’s Eve started out innocent enough and then somehow the conversation turned. She had seen an anger in his eyes she never saw before, and it scared her. He realized what he was doing and started apologizing profusely. When Kat mentioned that he might seek professional help he went off the deep end. Kat knew that Bob only paid attention to himself when things were at the extreme worst. So she forced the extreme worse, hoping he would come to his senses and realize what was really going on. So she left a note for him and now she looked at the phone and he was calling. She took a deep breath and answered, “Bobby?”
“No Kat it’s Ray, I take it Bob’s not with you.”
“No. He’s no…” Katlyn looked at the tv and there was a close up of her love from the Black Parade album.
“It appears the Barbie Doll Bandit took a hostage this time and it appears to be none other then the drummer for My Chemical Romance and Chicago native Robert Bryar. Bob joined the band in August 2004 replacing…”
“Kat are you there? Katlyn what’s going on?”
“Turn on the local news.”
Gerard got Bob calendar to pop up on his computer, just as Ray turned the local station on for late breaking news.
“then drummer Matt Pelissier. Currently the location of Bryar and the Barbie Doll Bandit is still unknown. If you have any information then contact police at 312-746-6000.”
The four band mates stared at the tv for a second then Gerard turned to the computer and saw two items for that day, therapy and bank. As if this was confirming what was being said on the television.
Barbie went to the nearest teller, “I want one hundred thousand dollars, no ink pack and no tracer. And don’t hit the alarm or…” Barbie looked around “or he’ll get it.”
Next thing Bob knew is he was staring down the barrel of the gun, not much different from the swirl of guns that used to grace his bass drum during the Revenge days.
Bob wanted to grab it out of her hands but he was afraid it would go off and hit either the kids or the old couple. The smart thing to do was to let it ride out until the police got there and she’ll get what’s coming to her.
Barbie looked at her watch, and then yelled to the teller, “Just give me what you got.”
Bob lay on the floor thinking that it was almost over thankfully. Next he felt the coldness of metal on the back of his neck.
“You’re coming with me,” said Barbie.
Bob turned around and went to grab the gun, but she stepped on his throat and pointed the gun between his eyes, “I said you’re coming with me.”
Bob got up and raised his arms above his head.
“Act naturally,” said Barbie exasperated.
They got outside to a waiting grey Ford Taurus, “Get in,” Bob slid over to the passenger side. She threw it in drive and drove it to the parking garage across the street. She parked on the fourth level, got out and opened the passenger door for him. She checked for security cameras earlier and there was none to be found in this spot. She went to the trunk and took out a bag. They now heard the sirens going to the bank. She stared at Bob as she took off her wig, took off the nose and scar, took out the green contacts and threw on some jeans, then took off her skirt. Next she unbuttoned her shirt exposing a black Metallica tank top. She threw the stuff in the bag and grabbed the money. She felt it, the tracer. “Damn it,” she started to hear the police cars come through the garage. She left the money in the car and pushed Bob to the stairwell. “Down,” was all she said. They got to the second level and there was a deep green Toyota Corolla waiting by the door. “In the trunk,” she said.
“What?”
“I’ll kill you I swear.”
Bob quickly did as she said.
“I don’t want to hear a noise from back there.”
She went down to the teller, who was about to lock down the garage.
“Sorry miss the garage is in lock down.”
“Please I just got a phone call my father had a heart attack,” Barbie was in tears now. The man looked at the composite that was given
and decided to have sympathy. Besides she looked nothing like her. She had short black hair and deep blue eyes. The woman in the composite had long blonde hair, green eyes a funny looking nose and a scar. This woman hand none of those. Plus the police said she would’ve had a passenger but there was none with her. He stopped the garage door from closing and let her through, then lowered the door the rest of the way. The police searched the garage and came to the conclusion she escaped by foot but wondered about the hostage she took, was he safe?
Back at the bank the detectives were questioning the other witnesses. They went through the wallet left on the desk. There wasn’t much there.
“This was the gentleman’s license,” said the employee that was helping Bob. “He was looking to rent a safety deposit box.”
The picture was taken two years ago after he lost all the weight, his hair was short and he was just starting to grow it out a bit. Bob had a serious face as he hated having his picture taken.
The officer looked at the application and saw occupation was Musician. He looked at the license again and recognized the face staring back at him. It was hanging in his daughter’s bedroom. He was a member of her favorite band.
The other officers from the garage came back.
“Anything on the hostage?”
“Well hopefully this will make it easy and hard to disguise. He’s a celebrity,” said the officer still holding the license.
He showed it to his collegue who had a rookie partner, “That’s Bob Bryar from My Chemical Romance.”
The detective shook his head thinking that the press was going to have a field day with this. He called his superior and got the go ahead to move this into the press. The sooner people knew the better.
The officer went outside and all the major local news stations were there.
“We have the name of the hostage. His name is Robert Bryar and is the drummer of the band My Chemical Romance. At this time we do not know where he and the perpetrator are, but all efforts are being made to find Mr. Bryar. If you have any information please contact the Chicago Police at 312-746-6000. We appeal to the public’s help in this matter.”
As this was going on the rest of the band was making their way through the streets of Chicago.
“What’s all the traffic about?” asked Gerard.
When they were on tour here it was never like this.
“Bank robbery, rumor is they took a hostage.”
“Wow, hope the person is okay,” said Frank.
They finally made it to Bob apartment building. They went to the lobby and rang his apartment. There was no answer.
Then Mikey talked through the intercom, “Bob come on it’s us”. Again there was still no answer.
Gerard pulled out his keys and took the key labeled BFD shook his head and smiled. It meant Bob’s Front Door, Bob said it meant Big Fucking Deal. He opened the door and they made their way to the elevator to the twentieth floor.
Ray knocked on the door, “Bob come on, we flew all the way from Jersey to see you.”
There was still no answer.
Gerard took out the his keys again and found the one labeled BAD. Gerard was hoping that Bob was just out and not passed out somewhere. Gerard knew his friend was severely depressed lately and more than once called him while drinking. He just hoped his friend did not follow the same path he did for depression. They walked through the apartment door, the kitchen was to the left and then there was the dining area and the massive living room they saw nothing unusual. There was a large screen tv and under it against the wall was a couple of guitars for game Guitar Hero, There was a large book case filled with a massive cd and dvd collection. He had a desk that held his computer and the black leather furniture set.
Gerard went to the bedroom and there was his unmade bed and clothes strewn about, but no Bob.
Ray went into a spare room that housed a drum kit that Bob practiced on when not on tour. It hadn’t been touched in months since his injury wouldn’t allow it. Ray noticed a note on the snare.
‘Glad to see you made it back to us. I love you and miss the real you, the new number is 312-555-3473. Let’s work it all out. Love always, Katlyn.’
“I think I found Bob,” shouted Ray.
“Where is he?” said Frank as they all came to the room.
Ray showed them the note. “Let’s call.”
Kat had just got out of the shower when her cell phone ran. Her heart beat faster as she saw the number. Her eyes started to well up. This past month had been hell on their relationship. She told him the night of his birthday she never wanted to see him again. It was all a lie. The problem was him being so frustrated and depressed and felt like everyone was out to hurt him even her. His injury prevented him from doing what he loved the most playing with the band. Even though he now had permission to practice a little he was afraid. He was afraid of reinjuring it and doing permanent damage. She never saw him like that. New Year’s Eve started out innocent enough and then somehow the conversation turned. She had seen an anger in his eyes she never saw before, and it scared her. He realized what he was doing and started apologizing profusely. When Kat mentioned that he might seek professional help he went off the deep end. Kat knew that Bob only paid attention to himself when things were at the extreme worst. So she forced the extreme worse, hoping he would come to his senses and realize what was really going on. So she left a note for him and now she looked at the phone and he was calling. She took a deep breath and answered, “Bobby?”
“No Kat it’s Ray, I take it Bob’s not with you.”
“No. He’s no…” Katlyn looked at the tv and there was a close up of her love from the Black Parade album.
“It appears the Barbie Doll Bandit took a hostage this time and it appears to be none other then the drummer for My Chemical Romance and Chicago native Robert Bryar. Bob joined the band in August 2004 replacing…”
“Kat are you there? Katlyn what’s going on?”
“Turn on the local news.”
Gerard got Bob calendar to pop up on his computer, just as Ray turned the local station on for late breaking news.
“then drummer Matt Pelissier. Currently the location of Bryar and the Barbie Doll Bandit is still unknown. If you have any information then contact police at 312-746-6000.”
The four band mates stared at the tv for a second then Gerard turned to the computer and saw two items for that day, therapy and bank. As if this was confirming what was being said on the television.
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