Immunity: Let's Get It On!

OMG! This is the last time I'll get to issue immunity! My tears are flowing like the Giza Desert! And that's like, super dry! Wait, tears aren't dry, are they? Oh well! You, like, get the point!

So, I had some dates with you guys 'n they were all fun! But who was like, the most romantic?

Audrey, the manliest of the contestants remaining, you took me to some weird French place that didn't even serve French Fries! Luckily, they had muffins. Must be some new French Muffin or somethin', deep fried, egg-battered muffins. Except that's not what they were, lol. Anyways, I loved the smell of your manliness. It was pungeant, like sniffing the sweaty jockstrap of the star football player. Mmmmmmm.

Mr. Glasses, you took me on a whacky cruise adventure! Not only did it include lightsabering-wielding Sam Jacksons, but I also got to eat shark brains at the end, one of the finest delicacies in all of brainhood!

Cyclops, we had some real brainey fun! And here I thought when Molly was eliminated I'd gotten away from the pediatry...or is it pedigree...you know, the kid lovin' thing, anyways, I thought I'd gotten away from it, but then, we got to the Scouts! Mmmm, their brains were so succulent! And the terror on their faces as I tore their skulls off, lol, it was just too funny! I almost peed my panties laughing at their silly expressions as they lay dying at my feet! Thanks for a great time!

And now, my final sex-robe token of immunity goes too...Mr. Glasses!

Our date was romantic, action-packed, and sensual, all rolled into one evening! Our celebrity guests were amazing! Sam Jacksons? Insane Chefs? Dancing Carltons? How'd you do it?! It seems that when you stop putting all your efforts into foiling me, and instead put it into wooing me, you're actually successful! Maybe you should have tried this from the beginning, silly billy!

Anyways, our Jury of former and current contestants, now it's time to vote between Cyclops and Audrey! Who will be gone? Who will make it to the finals for their chance to win my heart? It's up to you now! Don't let lil ol' me down!

Cyclops gets lucky

Oh man, tonight is my big date with Sylar! I am so nervous I feel like I'm going to disolve into a pool of goo. Normally when I have some big challenge facing me, I go to Professor Xavier for advice. Not with girls though. He only seems to get lucky with freaky space alien chicks. Sylar is like the hottest girl I've ever seen. I need a guy that has experience making it with total 10s. I called Wolverine.

"What's up, Chuck?" he answered in that cool Canadian gutteral snarl of his.

"Uh, this Cyclops," I told him.

"Then why does the caller ID say you're Charles Xavier?"

"Well, it seems like no one ever answered the phone when I used my own name."

"Good point. So why are you bothering me?"

"I have like this big date tonight with this totally hot chick and, well, I'm really nervous. I was hoping you could give me some advice."

"Sure, sure. I got just the thing for you, bub. The most important thing is that you've got to be relaxed when you're with the dame. Makes you seem confident and aloof. Chicks dig that. Now to make sure you're going to be relaxed on your date, you have to, uh, relief your tension before you meet her."

"Relief my tension? How do I do that?"

"Come on, Cyke. Jennie said you were an expert. You know . . polish your knob. Wax your pole. Jerk your chain. Choke your chicken. Spank your monkey."

"What are you talking about?"

"Jeez! Hang 10 with your big ben! Play your skin flute! Sharpen your pork sword!"

"You lost me, Wolverine."

"Masturbate, you idiot!"

And then the line went dead. I thought about it for a moment and realized it sounded like pretty good advice. Doing that always relaxes me. Before every big battle with Magneto I always did that once or twice. It really helped me get into my zone.

As soon as I had finished up, there was a knock on my door. Confused, I opened the door to find Sylar standing there, smiling.





"I, uh, thought I was suppose to come get you in half an hour?" I said awkwardly.




Sylar had this weird look on her face, like I had just ripped a wicked fart or something. She was staring at my ear.

"I, like, couldn't wait to get started studly, but it looks like you might need a minute. And maybe a dust buster or something."

"Uh, no I'm good, thanks. Let's go. You look really hot, by the way." I couldn't believe how relaxed I felt around such a totally bitchin', half naked knock out like Sylar. Wolverine really came through for me.

I led Sylar out to the nearby field where I was keeping the X-Jet in stealth mode. I could see she was impressed with my plane. We got into the cockpit and I flew her to Washington, DC.


I figured the city at night would make a cool back drop to our date. As we hovered over the White House, I microwaved the Chicken McNuggets I had brought.

"Isn't this romantic?" I asked as I slide an arm over Sylar's broad, muscular shoulders.

"Say, does thing have weapons?" she asked excitdely.

"Uh, sure. Surface to air missiles, air to air missiles, forward mounted guns, lazers . ."

"Ooh, how do the missiles work??"

"You, uh, just aim with that stick and press the red button there."

Before I could stop her, Sylar reached out and pressed the red button. A missile shot out from under the wing and slammed into the White House, vaporizing it. Sylar had the broadest grin on her face.




"Totally awesome!" she shouted, moving the aiming control and firing on the Lincoln Memorial. In moments, it was just a pile of ashes.







"Uh, maybe you should stop doing that," I suggested. "This stuff is improtant."

"I am so totally hot right now!" Sylar exclaimed. Her whole body just kind of shuddered. There was a mad gleam in her eye as she turned to look at me. For some reason, her gaze was focused on my face, just above my eyes. "I'm sorry Cyclops, but I have to eat your brain."

"If that means what I think it does, no problem!" I said as I unzipped my superhero pants. "Believe you me, no reason to apologize!"

As I pulled down my pants, Sylar reached out and pressed the end of her long index finger against my forehead. I realized that my head was getting very warm where she was touching me. My skin was getting hotter and hotter, like I was catching on fire.

A piercing wail suddenly filled the cockpit.

"Agghh!! What the hell is that??" Sylar sqweeked. "It worse than whole squad of cheerleaders on the rag!"

I checked the scanner. "We have two F-18s closing in.," I toled her. "They have radar lock."

"Crap! Can't you, like, blast them or something?"

I rammed down on the stick, the plane's control stick that is, and floored it. Then I flipped on the stealth mode. After a few moments, the F-18s had lost us.

"Oh Cyclops, that was, like, even more scrumptious than the time I almost blew up New York. I want you right now! Well, your brains at least."

Again with the brains. That is code for my pork sausage, right? I figured it was time to play it safe. I set the X-Jet down in a nearby park and we got out. There was a pack of Boy Scouts camping out there. Sylar's eyes started to get misty.

"Cyclops, this is the best date ever!"

And then she ran over to the Scouts and started to eat their brains. Weird. Hopefully we'll be getting busy when she's done with the kids.

Mission Eight: Seafood?

After I helped Cyclops sabotage Audrey's date with Sylar, I realized how pointless our efforts were. She was clearly not making any progress with Sylar. Even without our special food, she wouldn't have made it to first base.

"What now, Bennet?" Cyclops asked as we left the restaurant. Agent Hansen had been in the restroom for about three hours. "Should I zap her with my eye lasers maybe?"

"Sure, have at it. I'm going to run back to the mansion and devise phase 2 of our sabotage."

"Ooh, phase 2!" he replied.

The truth was, it was getting late. I needed my beauty sleep. The next day was my date with Sylar and there was much preparation to be done. Fairy tale romances don't just happen, after all. Somebody has to write them. And this script was killer.

I got to the mansion and called up the players for my plot. We went over the details, they understood completely and I got some sleep. I rested knowing that the date would go smoothly.

After giving my glasses a good cleaning, I found Sylar and walked him outside the mansion to a waiting limo.

"Allow me," I said getting the door.

Soon we arrived at the beach.

"Close your eyes," I said to my psychopathic date.

"Ooh, I love surprises!" he giggled.

I helped Sylar out of the limo.

"Open up," I said staring at the beautiful sight. "There she is."



"Not bad," said Sylar.

"Well, it's no little dingy. I'm not Cyclops, you know."

The two of us got on board the yacht. The captain, Samuel L. Jackson, greeted us.

"WELCOME TO MY BOAT! THIS IS MY BOAT AND YOU'RE ON IT," he intoned.

"Ooh, it's like my very own Love Boat!" Sylar seemed absolutely giddy. "And it doesn't even stink like fish and stuff!"

"THAT'S BECAUSE I USE FEBREEZE, MAN. FEBREEZE REALLY WORKS. IT JUST DOES, MAN!"

I showed Sylar to the dining quarters.

Samuel L. Jackson was an easy get. He's always looking for work, never stops. But the true surprise was about to be revealed.

I managed to get the best chef in the world, Gordon Ramsey, to cook for us. After I helped him avoid Primatech, he owed me. The Company has been interested in his culinary ability for years. (And on a side note, he's the reason I'm such a great chef myself.)

"Good evening," Chef Ramsey said. "I've prepared a delightful meal for you two, yes?"

"Umm...I don't know," Sylar answered. "Did you?"

"It'll just be a few more minutes, yes?"

"Umm...I guess," Sylar replied.

"Enjoy the appetizer in the meantime, yes?" Ramsey made his way back into the kitchen.

"Like why does he always ask a question?" Sylar whispered to me.

"Oh, it's something to do with being English," I replied. "You like kids, yes?"

"Wait...is that really a question then or are you being English?"

"It's a question."

"Oh, well, uh...yeah, they're okay. Why?" Sylar looked uneasy with the subject.

I said to him, "Our waiter this evening is Gordon's little boy. He's an aspiring little chef and came to help his dad."

"Oh, my God! Such a relief," Sylar responded with a sigh. "I so thought you were gonna tell me you were, like, pregnant or something. I'm like so not ready to be somebody's mommy."

This was my chance to drop some smooth moves on Sylar. I looked him in his maniacal eyes, reached out and put my hand on his and said, "We can take our time, go slow. Good things are worth waiting for, right?"

Sylar blushed as he took back his hand. "Mr. Glasses, you are quite the flirt!"

"Well, you bring out my inner-romantic."

Then Gordon approached with the meals. "Chilean Sea Bass, yes?" He placed a plate in front of Sylar.

Sylar replied, "How should I know? You cooked it!"

Gordon's son carried my plate and set it on the table.

"Well, everything looks good, yes?" Gordon clasped his hands together as he looked over the meals. "I'll be in the kitchen, yes? If you need anything, just let little Jack here know, yes?" He patted his son on the head and then went back to the kitchen.

"I'm this many!" Jack said holding out his fingers.

"Inches???" Sylar was stunned. "But you're just a little boy!"

I quickly spoke up to get past the awkwardness. "Um, say how about you bring us some pepper, Jack." The little guy ran off.

"Ewww!" Sylar winced. "Cheese is like so fattening."

"Cheese?" I asked, puzzled.

Jack returned with the pepper and gave it to Sylar.

Then, just as I had planned, some mood lighting kicked in. A blue haze filled the room.

"Ooh! What's going on?" Sylar asked.

"You'll see."

He giggled.

"There's a calm surrender to the rush of day" a voice sang out. Sylar excitedly glanced around as the voice continued, "When the heat of the rolling world can be turned away."

The singing continued as we started into our meals. "You know, for a minute there, I thought you had like totally gotten Elton John here! I would have screamed like a little girl!"

"Heh," I laughed. I never came across Elton John in all my years working in paper. I consider myself lucky for it. Unfortunately, that meant I had to settle for a somewhat lesser vocalist.

Alfonso Ribeiro stepped out into view.. He made his way to our table as he belted out, "Can you feel the love tonight." Sylar was visibly confused.



"Um...Elton John's black?"

"It's Alfonso Ribeiro," I said.

"Who?" Sylar asked while Alfonso continued singing.

"Carlton from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air."

"Oh!" Sylar exclaimed. "Do the dance! Do the dance!"

Alfonso stopped singing and looked at me. I just nodded. He broke out into his Carlton dance and Sylar began clapping cheerfully.

But the gay merriment was soon ended by a jolting shake of the boat. The table fell over onto Alfonso. I quickly jumped up and went over to Sylar, making sure he was okay.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Um, no! The boat is like shaking! Do something!"

I ran up to the deck and looked over the side. The sight was terrifying!



No doubt Cyclops was canoodling with his boy-toy Aquaman to disrupt my evening with Sylar. It was a nice try, but no shark could beat me.

"Shark!" I screamed running back to Sylar. The carnivorous fish began tearing up the boat with its massive jaws.

Below deck I found the ships captain, Samuel L. Jackson. He was standing up on chairs screaming. "GET THESE [EXPLETIVE} SNAKES OFF THIS {EXPLETIVE} PLANE!"

"It's a shark, and this is a boat!" I corrected him.

"DON'T CORRECT ME, BOY! WE HAVE TO WORK TOGETHER IF WE'RE GOING TO GET OUT OF THIS! I WAS ONCE TRAPPED IN THE ALPS WITH SIX OTHER MEN. THE ONLY REASON WE SURVIVED WAS BECAUSE WE WORKED TOGETHER AND STAYED COOL. STAY COOL, NOW! STAY COOL! WE CAN DO THIS! WE WILL DO THIS!"

The shark burst through the side of the ship and ate Samuel L. Jackson in one bite. I quickly darted past it and made my way back above deck.

The yacht was badly damaged, sinking slowly. The shark was still ferociously attacking. It was clear I'd have to save the day. Or let Gordon Ramsey handle it.

I looked at the chef as he came up. "How about it," I asked, "you want to kill the shark and save the day? Maybe make some fancy dish out of the monster?"

"Um, I need to be going, yes?" He said and flew out with a jetpack.

Unfortunately, I had no jetpack.

Sylar ran up top screaming. "Oh, no! Shark! Shark! We're like so going to die! I'm too young to die! Save me!"

"What happened to your shirt?" I asked the half-naked girly man.

"Umm...the shark like totally ate it. Yeah, that's what happened!"

The shark jumped up on the deck, landing with a huge thud. He flopped up and down as he made his way toward us.

"Save me!" Sylar said getting behind me.

"Don't worry," I said pulling out my gun, "I'm always packing."



I emptied my clip into the aquatic beast. Its flopping stopped as it died only a few feet away from me.

While the shark may not have been in the plan, it turned out to be a great opportunity for me. I turned to shirtless Sylar, grasped him in my arms and said, "Don't worry. You're safe with me."

Our romantic embrace was cut short by Samuel L. Jackson cutting his way out of the shark with a purple lightsaber. "THIS IS MY BOAT, FISHY!"

Agent Audrey Hanson, Challenge #8

Obviously, I’m in this to win and I’m not surprised that I’ve made it to the final three. This is going to get tougher, though. I’ve got to take Sylar on a date and I know I’ve got to do something that will set me apart.

I could take him out to some wild nightclub and dance the night away with him. I could, but somehow I think he’ll know that’s just not me. My best bet is to go with something a little quieter and a lot more intimate. That’s why I made reservations at the Vichyssoise, one of the finest French restaurants in the tri-county area. Located conveniently on Exit 109 near the airport long-term parking lot.

I slipped into something a little more comfortable, and by that I mean my finest poly-cotton pantsuit (it breathes yet it’s durable). Sylar’s got on his finest, uh, something I guess, and we’re soon at the bistro.

“Here’s your table madam and, er, company,” the maître d’ said as he showed us our seats.

“Thank you, Jeeves,” I said as I handed him a cool fiver.

“Wonderful,” he answered dryly as he held the bill between his fingers in mock distain and slid away.

“Wow, he was like, all authentic and stuff,” Sylar said. “He even sounds French.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Normally, I’m not a big fan of the frogs, you know with them being snooty towards us Americans and all, but really kind of I like it here. I think there’s just something special in the air tonight.”

“Oh yes, I can feel it too, lol,” Sylar answered. Does he really say “lol” out loud like that? Weird. “Say, have you ever had the circumference of your brain measured?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I shrugged.

“Oh,” he looked down at his menu disappointed.

“Uh, you know, I think you and I’ve got a lot in common,” I said quickly. Ooh, I hope one of his powers isn’t smelling desperation.

“Really.”

“Yeah, well, you know uh, you’re a serial killer and I’m on the FBI’s serial killer task force,” I answered.

“I guess we’re two sides of the coin then, huh?” Sylar stated. I can’t tell if he’s just looking at me or if he’s leering or what.

“So, how many people have you killed?” I politely asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I dunno,” he said noncommittally. “It’s so easy to lose count.”

“Yeah, I know,” I laughed. “I bet you remember your first one, though, don’t you?”

“I sure do, lol,” he looked off wistfully.

“Yeah, my first kill was a drug mule.” I then added “Boy you should have heard his brains splatter.”

Sylar was quiet for a moment.

“Such a waste,” he shook his head.

“You know what else we have in common?” I replied quickly. “You stabbed your mother with a pair of scissors and I stabbed my father once with a corn holder.”

“I miss mommy. I remember once when she gave me a little sailor suit for my birthday. I was the happiest thirteen-year-old evah!”

“Yeah, my relationship with my father wasn’t that great,” I stated. Let’s see if I can get him to understand me a little bit here. “He could never see how special I was. We’re happier now that he’s dead. We’ve really mended our relationship.”

Sylar looked away. Aw geez, am I boring him with talk about my father?

“Uh, I really love your eyes,” I said.

“Oh?” he perked up with the compliment.

“Yeah, they’re dark and piercing, but so full of intelligence and life,” I replied. “Sometimes, when I look deep in your eyes I swear I can see your soul.”

“Compliments of the chef.” A waiter placed a tray of cupcakes on our table.

“Oooh cupcakes,” we both squealed.

“They look delish.” I said as I grabbed the nearest one and took a bite. Sylar did the same.

“Mmmm, almost as good as mom used to make,” Sylar gushed.

“Wow, this is one special night. The moon is so bright out there, romance is in the air, and we’re served the finest cupcakes that France has to offer. I think…” Oh oh, something just made my stomach turn a little.

“What is it? Are you OK?” asked Sylar. “Too much sugar, lol.”

“No, I’m fine.” I fought back a wince as my stomach turned over again. I only react to one thing this way and that’s Yellow Dye #12b, but DuPont quit producing that years ago. How could it be in this cupcake? “I guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”

“Maybe your blood sugar’s low,” Sylar replied and shoved some cupcake into my mouth before I could stop him. “Here, have some more.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled wanly with the treat spilling out of my mouth. I could feel the blood rush out of my face. I hope he doesn’t see.

“Think they have French onion soup here?” he asked. “Or maybe I’ll get some French fries.”

“Yeah, or French toast,” I added. I then felt a pocket of gas escape from me. Ohmygod, Sylar just crinkled his nose! He can smell it.

“I hope that’s not the soup I’m smelling.”

“Uh, I think it’s the brie.” I looked around. I think someone sabotaged my dinner. Then I saw them. Over in the corner, dressed like busboys and laughing like a couple of drunken hyenas. Bennet and Cyclops.

“Mmmmmmm,” my dinner date mauled another cupcake. “Oh am I being selfish? Here, have another.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” I waved it off as I felt more gas roll through. This time, it came out with a noise. “Is there a duck in here?”

“Maybe they kill them fresh for their turduckens,” he laughed.

“Yeah,” I laughed along with him. Oh for the love of Dillinger, the biggest wind broke yet. I could swear that I saw people at the other tables wince at it. I felt something else ready to bubble out too. I have to get out of here.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Oh fine,” I managed to answer. “I uh, just have to powder my nose.”

“Well hurry back,” he replied. “And don’t pretty yourself up too much, I might get jealous.”

I couldn’t tell if that was a joke or not, but then he laughed. I laughed right along with, then threw my napkin on the table and walked briskly away from the table.

“I don’t know how you knew, but I know you know,” I growled at Cyclops and Bennet as I clutched my stomach. “You’ll pay for this.”

“Whoo, you’re stinking up the joint,” Cyclops laughed as he brushed his hand back and forth in front of his nose.

I glared at him, but I was also about to lose control. I turned and dashed for the ladies room.

“Do you want me to order anything for you while you’re in there?” Bennet laughed. “Maybe another round of cupcakes?”

I threw myself into the lavatory and dove into a stall right in the nick of time.

“Ahh,” I said in relief. “Much better.”

Elimination: You're A Wimp!

Well it's time to say goodbye to another of you! These are like, the saddest moments of this totally awesome competition. It's like not making the cheerleading team all over again! And then getting my pigtails pulled! And then being called Gabriel GAY! And then it feeling good when I burned the school down with the teasers inside. And then feeling sad again because they had teased me!

Anyways, I think it's like, obvious who's gone this time! It's the wimpy one, the one who couldn't defend my sexy honor if needed! West, you're eliminated from the competition!

OMG, he went down in flames! I'm not gonna lie, West is like, totally hot. I could like, melt cardboard on his hot body lol. But I like manly men! Men who can lift a car over their heads! Men like Nikki Sanders!

So, I'm totally sorry to say goodbye, West. But let's face it. You would have totally being with you would have been just one more law that I'd be breaking, and I think I prolly break enough as it is lol. So goodbye, hot flyboy! Goodbye, and come look me up in another two years after training with Richard Simmons!

Anyways, now that the sadness is over, we can get back to the fun! Read below, final three, for the second to last challenge!

Challenge 8: Date Night!

OMG, only three remain! This is getting exciting! I can't contain myself! I just have to...uh, brb.

Oh poodles, I'm getting blood on the keyboard lol! Well, these things happen. Anyways, now that there's only three of you, I think it's time for you guys to finally spend some intimate time with Sylarz! I'll have to try to contain myself, because intimate time with Sylarz usually results in only one of us coming out alive (and I'll give you a hint, it's me, lol).

So, your challenge is this! It's date night! Each of you needs to take me out for like, a romantic evening! Make me feel pretty! I mean, I know already that I like, so totally am, but I need to know that you think so too (though I know you already do too lol). Make me have a good time! But just one thing: I know you guyz prolly thing that a murdering spree would be my idea of the perfect date, and you'd be right, but I need a break from that! As to why, you'll find out later!

But there's still plenty we can do without murder and brain eating! Like....watch making or some junk! Or a roll in the sheets! I promise I'll wash the blood and brain chunks out of it (I had lunch in bed lol). So get to planning guys! I expect greatness! I'll be wearing my finest, princessy outfit!

Immunity: The Darkness of a Battle Metaphorical of the Iraq War

Guest Judge, Peter Petrelli

Well, when my spirits lifted to the apex of the heavens when I receieved Sylar's letter about my brother, they were only to shoot down to the depths of a plumber's butt crack. Yes, there was indeed no cure to my brother's gunshot wound in the desert. Only deranged, homicidal Heroes...and an X-Man...and two powerless Heroes. They would be no match for me, except for the fact that my emotions and trust always get the better of me. Like when I trusted Adam and didn't read his mind even after multiple people had told me of his evil.

So let me explain how the battle went for you four contestants.

West, you did so little. I mean, you have the power to fly. Think of the possibilities. You could, uh, fly circles around them or something, like vultures around a dying marmoset. But my ally, Richard Simmons is fearful, and to fall to him is nothing to be ashamed of.

Noah, our battle was short, for I had a life and death struggle with Sylar. But from what I saw and heard, you were masterful. The cheesecake attack was genius. As genius as lyrics about girlfriends leaving me. And that's pretty genius. I mean, just think how deep that stuff is. Mind boggling.

Agent Audrey Hanson, you know my kryptonite. Confusing my fragile mind = exploding Peter's. And it doesn't take much. Just the other day I was having a conversation with my unconscious brother and it confused me so much that I nearly exploded. So I punched myself in the face and that fixed that. Oh, and your battle with Dark Audrey, AKA Jack Baeur was epic. How did you stop those mirrored movements?!

Finally, we come to Cyclops, who also happens to be...the winner of immunity this week! I didn't get to fight you, save for a blast in the face, which I might add, was quite hurtful to my fragile emotional being. But the unconsciousness did provide me a refuge from my constant pain from having my brother being shot. It's like the weight of 1000 caribou, pressing down on my fragile chest, and breaking my heart because, well, 1000 caribous are heavy and would crush my chest cavity.

But, apart from that, your battle with Richard Simmons was grand. Tricking him by intentionally losing strip poker in order to take your visor off, how clever! You're earned your immunity from this round. Now, contestants, send in your votes to Sylar before Monday at midnight, with your choice for elimination!

Cyclops heads into the desert for dessert

When I got out to the desert locale where the Brotherhood of Sylar Haters was gathered, I was a little surprised at what I found. There were bunches of shlubby guys in generic grey costumes cowering by some caucuses. They had henchmen written all over them.

I came up to Simon, ready to disintegrate him with my eye beams. I couldn't believe the horrible things he had said to Danny Noriega. That young girl had the most awesome singing talent, sassy attitude and cutest little butt I have seen on broadcast television. Yes, she was a little flat, but no one's perfect. Except Obama, of course. That dude is great.

Anyway, I was about to vaporize Simon when I noticed him whining in pain, grasping his arm. Suddenly he let go and his hands dived into half-filled cheese cake tins lying next to him. He shoveled the gooey mess into his mouth, whimpering with pleasure. Then he winced and grabbed his wounded arm again. I gave him a quick blast in the face. You know, just to be sure.

Just past Simon lay the prone body of Peter Petrelli. There was a big red bruise on his chin. I checked to make sure he was still breathing and then blasted him in the face too.

As I was closing my visor, a homeless guy wandered over and asked if I had any spare change.

"Sorry, man. My form fitting latex battle suit doesn't have any pockets," I told him. "They would create odd bulges that would interfere with me showing off how hot my body is. Do you know how many crunches I have to do to get abs like these?"

I pulled up my shirt and showed the homeless guy my six-pack. He nodded, duly impressed. Then the empty bottle of Southern Comfort he was holding slipped from his hand. I realized it was Jack Bauer so I blasted him in the face.

A clapping sound from behind me made me whirl around. Standing there was a pudgy little man with an orange afro wig on. Richard Simmons. He had the coolest outfit I had ever seen on. Really short gym shorts and a tank top. I've got to ask that guy where he shops. After I blast him in the face.

"Now you just wait a minute, Mister," he said in a high-pitched yet smoky voice. "I am challenging you to a duel. A battle of the whits."

"Of the what?" I asked.

"Of the whits!"

"Uh . . what's a whit?"

The pudgy guy let out a long sigh. "Okay, how about we play strip poker? The first one to get naked wins. Unless it's you in which case we both win."

"I don't have any cards or anything."

"It's okay," he assured me. "I have a totally amazing mind and can keep track of all the cards in my head."

"Well . . okay."

"Scrumptious!"

Simmons started to move his hands like he was shuffling cards, though his hands were actually empty. Though a snappy dresser, this guy is a real weirdo. "Okay, here." He made like he was handing me something. Shrugging, I pretended to take it.

"You got a three of hearts, five of clubs, six of spades, nine of diamonds and a jack of hearts. I got three sevens so I win.You have to take off your boots."

Just great. I have the worst luck at poker. Wolverine is always cleaning me out. And not in the good way. I pulled off my cool super-hero boots and tossed them aside.

He dealt again. "Hey! You got two eights!" he told me excitedly. Finally, a little something. "Oops, I got five spades. Sorry. I win again. Take off your shirt."

Sighing, I pulled it off. All I had left was my pants, my mask and my X-Men speedo underwear.

After he dealt the next hand, he told me what the cards were. "Let's see . . you got a king high and I have a pair of tens. I win. Take off your pants."

"Uh, you have some drool coming out of your mouth, Rich," I said as I pulled off my pants.

Simmons let out a deep groan. "Call me Dick," he whispered. After a few moments, he shook his head and dealt some more pretend cards. "You got a six, eight, ten, jack and a two," He told me. "I got four sixes. Take off your underwear!"

Crap, this wasn't looking good. I glanced around to make sure no one was looking. I saw Simon starting to stir so I blasted him again. Then I pulled down my shorts. Simmons eyes lit up and a huge smile crossed his face. He looked kind of delirious. He just stood staring my crotch for like ten minutes.

"Uh, Dick?" I said.

"I can see that," he answered. "Oh, I mean . . right." He quickly handed me some invisible cards. "You got four kings!" he shouted. Awesome! Finally. "Oh, I got four Aces. Sorry."

Damn. I pulled off my mask. The visor shielding my eyes was attached to it. As soon as my visor was lifted, the force beams constantly streaming from my eyes shot out and blasted Simmons in the face.


I pulled my mask back on and looked around. All four of the Brotherhood were lying motionless, breathing softly. At least I think they were still breathing. I started back to the transport rather pleased with myself. Professor X is going to be so proud. When I climbed into the transport, the pilot looked back at me.

"Where are your clothes?" he asked.

Whoops.

Agent Audrey Hanson, Challenge 7

“I don’t have time for this,” Jack Bauer growled at me. “I have to stop the nuclear bomb, the biological weapon, and the presidential assassination and I’ve got less than 24 hours to do it.”

“I know,” I growled back. “I told you that you were duped. There’s no nuclear bomb, biological weapon, or assassination plot going on here.”

“You must be the mole planted in CTU to take me down,” Jack Bauer growled again. “That’s the only reason I can think of why a fellow agent would have her weapon drawn on me.”

“You drew on me first,” I growled to him. “Give me a moment to explain…”

“I told you, I. Don’t. Have. Time,” Jack growled, carefully stressing each word through his teeth. “Get out of my way or I’ll have to shoot you. I still have to stop the terrorist cell in LA, intercept a delivery of heroin, and bake my daughter a birthday cake.”

“I’m. On. Your. Side,” I growled back. This stalemate isn’t getting anywhere. “And I completely understand the pressure you’re under. I have to stop a serial killer who eats brains, stop another killer who shoots people in the head, baby sit some stupid local cop, and guard a presidential candidate.”

“Yeah, well I have to…” Bauer stopped growling for a moment. “Wait, which presidential candidate?”

“Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator,” I growled back. “That idiot is nothing but a pain in my—”

“I knew this bit seemed familiar,” Bauer interrupted with his patented growl. “Fine. Just get out of my way so I can stop the gunship from taking out the presidential motorcade, then change the tire on my girlfriend’s car, then stop that airliner from taking off.”

“I told you you’ve been duped,” I growled back. “Just lower your weapon. Now.”

“No. Not this time,” the CTU agent growled. “You need to drop your weapon.”

“I make you a deal,” I growled. “I need to take out those other three over there. Help me out and I’ll let you go.”

Keeping his pistol pointed at me, he stole a glance over at Peter, Simon, and Richard.

“OK,” he growled in agreement after a moment.”

“Wait,” I growled back. “You can’t kill them though, can you just wound them?”

“Well, I’m not used to it, but I suppose I could,” Jack growled. Then he turned and shot the each of the trio in the arm. Richard Simmons and Simon Cowell crumpled to the ground clutching their wounds but Peter Petrelli strode towards us. Electricity crackled off his hand and an ozone smell filled the air.

“Wait wait!” I yelled to Peter. “Don’t electrocute me. Please just burn me instead.”

“OK.” The electricity snuffed out on his hand, then he shifted that giant floppy tentacle of hair hanging over his face. He raised his hands again and radioactive flame crackled from his fingertips.

“No no!” I yelled. “Don’t burn me, just fly up in the sky and drop a rock on me.”

Peter looked confused for a moment, then he started cycling through his powers.

“What? No, not again!” he howled emotionally. He shifted between fiery red and electric blue, hot and cold, visible and invisible.

I stalked up to him and punch him hard right in the jaw. He crumpled to the ground unconscious.

“Wow, that was… unbelievable,” Bauer growled in astonishment.

“Yeah, shooting him wasn’t going to work,” I growled back. “I had to make him go critical then knock him out.”

“Well I have to get going,” Bauer growled. “I have to go stop the Serbian mob, delouse the pandas that just arrived at the San Diego Zoo, and defuse the time bomb at the dam.”

“One thing though,” I said. “I can’t let you go, either.”

I quickly jammed a Taser into the CTU agent’s abdomen and triggered the device. Voltage jumped between the two contacts and through his body. He convulsed and then dropped to the ground like a wet sack of wet flour.

“Non lethal,” I growled in amusement. “Interesting change of pace.”

Mission Seven: Just Deserts

It was all about to go down in the desert. I had 24 hours to stop it.



"Oh, Audrey can handle it," I said scooping up bean dip with an ideally-shaped Frito. Crunch!

I was having a fine, relaxing time at the mansion, soaking in the hot tub, being rude to the help (sorry Maya), searching for Sylar's secret lair. Things were swell, until I was overloaded with text messages from Claire.

omg Dad! West is dying!!!!

save him Dad!!!

nvm i so am over him, let the dork die

plz Dad help him!

hes suffering! like totally!!

can u pick up some ice cream on ur way home?

o no! West!!!

WEST!!!!

There was no time to spare. I had to leave now.



Actually, there was still plenty of time. I decided to catch a movie first, have a barbecue with some of my top clients and harass n00bs on computer help chatrooms.



Now, time was running short. It was time to do what I do best. "Kill people!" I said out loud.

"Bye, Mr. Glasses!" Sylar hollered as I ran out of the mansion. "Remember not to kill anyone important!"

Crap!

It didn't matter. There were worse fates than death. I know. I've been a paper salesman for 15 years. Ever try collating construction paper based on a color pattern?

On the ride over, I prepared my tranquilizer gun. One vial of Claire blood remained. Just enough to save West.

I arrived and leaped out of my Nissan Whatever It Is. Rolling across the desert ground, I could see the fight ahead of me.

Henchmen surrounded Richard Simons, Peter Petrelli, Simon Cowell and Jack Bauer. I'd have to fight my way through them.

There was no sign of West as I started shooting the Putty Patrol.

They had never seen such maneuvering, it was clear by their confused looks. "Hey," one shouted. "You can't use a gun. That's not fair!"

They all turned and ran away. I continued shooting at the fleeing hermaphrodites. As they crossed over the horizon, I began searching for West.

Aha! I spotted him. He was hunched into a Yucca plant. I pulled my tranq gun and fired.



"Yay!" West squealed. "I'm saved!"

But suddenly Richard Simmons shot through the air heading straight for me. He bulleted with a velocity that was a testament to his well-worked leg muscles.

He opened his mouth wide, preparing to take a bite. I quickly jumped out of the way. He crashed into various desert vegetation, creating a fruit salad.



Get it? Fruit salad! Hahaha!

"There's no time for laughing, Mr. Bennet," West said running up to me. "Look!"

It was as we feared. Simon had transmorgofied into Voltron Simon. Death was soon to follow.

I pulled out my cell phone as the robotic monster approached.

"Yo, B-Dawg, what it do, yo?" Randy answered.

"I need your help again, R-dawg."

"Sure thang, G. What the haps?"

"Can you tell me what Simon's weakness is?"

The mechanical maniac approached barking insults.

"Yeah, man," Randy replied. "He likes the cheesecake."

"Cheesecake?" I asked.

"Yeah, dawg. He loves that stuff."

"Thanks!" I hung up the phone as Randy started asking something about royalties from the boy band he helped me form. "West, fly to the nearest diner, bring back cheesecake. Lots of it!"

He shot off into the air.

"Oh, and West..." I called after him. He floated back. "Hurry," I said dramatically.

He shot off again.

I had to evade Voltron Simon until West returned. But how? I looked around and noticed Jack Bauer defusing a cactus. It was as though he didn't realize we had come to fight him. He was in a world of his own, a man on a mission.

I ran back to my vehicle, grabbed three bottles of Southern Comfort and ran toward him. Voltron Simon followed slowly behind.

"Hey, Jack. Bomb defusal works better after a drink of this bomb defusing booster liquid. It's like a protein shake for secret agents."

"Oh, really? Thanks!" he started downing the bottles.

Voltron Simon still followed. Fortunately his gigantic weight slowed his movement. Simple rules of physics, it's what allowed Tom Arnold to divorce Rosanne.

"Peter!" I called out running up the hill toward the Super Emo Dude.

"Hey, Mr. Bennet. How's Claire?"

"She's good," I replied. "So, uh..."

"Yeah..."

"I was just...ya know."

"So...we have to like fight?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Such pain comes from fighting," he lifted his hand, ready to Force Push me to my doom. But I had a plan.

I tossed my inflatable decoy behind him and yelled, "Look! Sylar, behind you!"

As he turned, it inflated to fullness, looming over him like a creepy step-dad.



That would keep him busy for hours.

I turned to check on the status of Voltron Simon. He was engaged with an argument with Jack Bauer, now shirtless and throwing cigarettes at the robot.

"Will you stop that?" Voltron Simon yelled down to the drunken agent man. "You're absolutely pissed. It is rather embarrassing. You are pathetic. My Chihuahua holds its liquor better than you."

Jack continued tossing cigarettes at the machine's foot and saying, "You don't know me! You don't know what it's like to save the world! I have to save the world! I have to! I just do it, man!"

West flew over to me, cheesecake in hand. "You're paying me back, right?"

"No!" I said and snatched the dessert from him.

It was perfect timing. Voltron Simon had finally left Jack Bauer and was heading for me once again. I placed the dessert on the desert floor and said, "Hey, look! Cheesecake!" Then, West and I ran to hide behind a piñon tree.

He approached the cheesecake and lifted it up to his head. The giant Voltron hands fed Simon piece by piece.

I looked around, the situation seemed contained. Peter was telekinetically pushing his punching bag back and forth. Richard Simmons was frolicking in the desert foliage. Jack Bauer was debating the Universe with the flower sticking out of his pants. And Simon Cowell was busy having his cake, insulting it and eating it too.

And just in time too. The clock in the corner of my imaginary screen rolled down to zero.

challeinge the seventh; in which west spills blood

i write this asking for your help. he got me, guys, he got me. i was flying tright above richard simmons, going to hit him with a rock, when he just jumped up and took a biote out of my stomach. i tumbled in to soimon cowell, and managed to knock him out. i don't want to be anywhere near him when he activateds the voltron simon powers. i stpole simon's iphone, and that's how i can reach you, my fellpw contestants, but the screen is slick with blood and i can't quite work it well. please help me. follow tge traiul of blopod and you can find where i'm hidden. i thingk it's a tree, but i'm not sure. everytyhiung's growning dim, and my hands are shaking from the loiss of bl;ood. they'll get me if you don't help, but if it's too late then just do me the honor of avenging my death. my vision blurrs; every curved line looks like a helisx. his teeth, oh the teeth of richard simmons, likje the gear teeth in a machinge. iwas cought up in it like some four year old in a nineteenth centurey factory. simon cowell may be vol;tron, but richard simmons is an angel from neon genesis evangelion. we're all ddoomed.

auderey, if you read this, i alwuays thought you were special, even if you don't have awesomely alien mutant powers. mr. bennet, i'll ,muiss you and your robot ruthlessness. and cyclops, you wern't all that bad. goodbye, ebveryone. goodbye.kdsfj a;fd

urgh...i passesd out for a bit there. i think i'll be okey, as long as someont gets to me soon.

beware of richard simmons.

Double Elimination Again!

OMG guys! This is so sad! I have to say goodbye to two of you again! I hate goodbyes! They make me cry! Almost as much as I cry when someone calls me manly! And that's a lot!

But I have to say my goodbyes! So first of all, one of you didn't party hardy! Hehe, I rhymed! I'm like that treacherous Peter! Wait a minute...is this foreshadowing? Maybe! I never knew I could do such things lol! Anyways, someone was out shagging ladies instead of sexy men like me! And that enrages me and makes me want to kill him! Luckily for him, for some reason, I haven't been killing peeps. Don't ask me why, either, I'll just call it great storytelling lol.


So, for not posting, Nathan is eliminated! So, I use my power to make-people-not-sexy-temporarily on you! It's the only way I can let you go! I can't see that sexy body leave otherwise! So go, ugly Nathan, go! Before your sexiness returns and I either jump you or kill you out of fairness to the other contestants!

Now, for the one voted off. This one saddens me, too, because he was like, the evilest person in the competition, and that's like a perfect match for me! But I guess the contestants couldn't handle the villainy. One insane mass-murderer is enough for them I guess lol. So, Adam Monroe, you are eliminated from the competition!


I send you back to your coffin, but this time, with a laptop with Wifi, so you can follow the rest of the competition lol! I know, I'm so merciful!

Well, now only four remain! It's time for me to test your real worth! Are you a sexy boy band member? Or a lame gay fitness guy with an unsexy afro (more foreshadowing, lol!)? Read below for your next epic challenge!

Challenge 7: Battle Royale!

OMG guys, the final four remain! Well, you've proved your sexiness, and your sexy dateability, but now we need to see how you'd make as a real significant other! Sometimes, between being sexy and telling me I'm not fat, my sig others will have to defend my honor! I know, I know, I'm an insane serial killer with powers to chop off skulls and eat brains, but still! Sometimes, I'm in emotional crisis and in no mood for murder! That's where you come in! You need to fight my battles for me when I'm on man PMS!

So, it's time to test how you all can do in a battle with my enemies! I've sent them all letters to get them to the desert. One says, "The cure for your brother's gunshot wound is found in the desert. Like, go get it!" A second says, "30 naked men wait for you in the desert. Like, go get them!" A third says, "There's a nuclear bomb, biological weapon, and a Presidential assassination attempt going on in the desert. Like, go get them!" And the last one says, "There are bad singers for you to make fun of. Like, go get them!"

And that brought together the Axis of Sylar-Haters.


Peter Petrelli, blower up of skies and politicians. He and his crazy Asian friend tried to kill me, when I was trying to stop the blowing up! Oh, and not to mention we've had two battles filled with plot holes and nonsense things!

Richard Simmons, trying to outdo me for the gayest person in the world! Well I won't have it! I won't let someone as unsexy as he have that title!

Jack Bauer, stopper of evil. Well, he's the ultimate good guy, and I don't like good guys! Especially not ultimate ones!

Simon Cowell, my arch-nemisis! If you've read my blog, you'd know that Simon is the murderer of my friend, Urkel, and we've had many battles trying to stop each other! Simon has the power to become Voltron Simon, and is very dangerous! Almost as dangerous as telekinesis using school girls, but not quite!

So, your challenge is this: the four of you are to go out to the desert and stop their villainy! But don't kill them! Leave them for me! They have unimportant henchman too, if you want to kill peeps, kill them! So, go fourth, and defend my honor! Good luck!

Immunity: Toga! Toga! Toga!

Gosh guys, we're skipping the individual judging this week. I'm like, way too hung over, and I don't even remember what happened all throughout the night! I can vaguely remember fights over my love, FBI Agents hitting on mutants, and some hot man-on-man dancing, but not much more!

I do have immunity to grant to the biggest party animal of the night (that I can remember)! This week it goes to...

Mr. Glasses! You're quite the party animal, I never knew you had it in you! You partied hard with everyone! I especially loved your sexy dance with Cyclops. Oh how I wish it had been me! I was so jealous! Oh, and your fruit throwing! So sexy!

But anyways, Mr. Glasses is safe! So it's time to send in those votes for elimination, by Monday night! But what's this? Someone didn't party so hard! They didn't post of their exploits! OMG I think I'm going to be sick! Someone hold back my hair! Don't vote for that person either! Looks like it's going to be a double elimination week!

Cyclops, er, parties well

Hello. My name is Charles Xavier. I am the headmaster of a school for gifted children near New York City. Cyclops is one of my students. I had encouraged him to participate in this show with the hopes that it would be a good growth experience for him. After what happened with this particular challenge, I'm not so sure. The producers were kind of enough to call me rather than the police. For those of you who don't know, I will try and explain what I've been able to piece together.

Apparently things started of well for Cyclops at this party. He was making the acquaintance of a charming young lady, Agent Hanson. From reading other party goers' minds, it appears that Cyclops may have made it to first base with her. Well done, Scott.

Cyclops also assisted another contestant with dance lessons. Rather gracious of him, I would think. The contestant however was Mr. Bennet. Obviously that was a mistake. After the dance lesson, Bennet got drinks for the both of them. After he handed Cyclops his drink, he pointed over his shoulder and told him that Adam Monroe was mooning the room. Poor Cyclops turned his head so quickly he almost spilled his drink. Would that he had, for Bennet slipped two Ecstasy pills into it. He then challenged Cyclops to see who could finish their glasses first. Cyclops won.

Before he knew it, he had run over to Adam and grabbed hold of the boy. Cyclops whispered in his ear that he would give him dance lessons and show him how to be a real man. Then he lifted the boy over his head and started spinning him around, all the while laughing manically. The boy slipped out of his hands but fortunately landed in a soft pool chair.

At that point, Cyclops thought it would be very funny to strip down to his shorts and run around shouting "No sleep 'til Brooklyn!" at the top of his lungs. He jumped on top of Sylar's table and started to do some sort of ghastly club dance, grinding his mid-section in front of Sylar's face. All in all, Sylar took it well. He offered up a rose in exchange for Cyclops' speedos.
























At that point the table flipped over and Cyclops went sailing through the air. He landed on top of Nathan Petrelli. This next part is a little fuzzy in people's minds, but it appears that Cyclops started to dry-hump the former Senator. Petrelli seemed to be into at first, but then he hit him in the head with an empty beer can. Cyclops' visor went flying.

His energy beams blasted a large gaping track through the patio and ripped through the pool sending water spraying everywhere. West Rosen tackled Cyclops from behind, knocking him to the ground. His beams were still firing however, right into the foundation of the building. As the left wing was collapsing, Agent Hanson smashed a chair into Cyclops' head, rendering him unconscious and successfully stopping his eye beams.

All's well that ends well, right?

Adam Monroe Accepts Challenge #6: Partying Like It's 1894

“I’m a party animal,” I said to myself as I entered the backyard. “I’m a party animal.”

Actually, my game plan was to outlast all the contestants who were sure to get drunk and fall over unconscious (helped along by me, of course), then move in for the kill. That is, spend some quality time with Sylar.

It was early in the party, and I didn’t see him right away, so I wandered over to the nearest keg for a drink. See, my plan’s foolproof because of the immunity to the effects of alcohol I’ve developed over the years. I could drink, like, 5 gallons of beer, which is exactly what I planned to do, and not get drunk.

“Hey, Adam!” Said West excitedly from under the table.

“Hey,” I said, “Aren’t you underage?”

“Yeah,” said West.

“See you,” I said, then stumbled over to the next keg.

“Dude, dig these smoke machines,” said Cyclops drunkenly. “Oh, hi, Adam. You’re so pretty. Let’s dance.”

He grabbed my hand and almost fell over, giggling madly.

“I have a better idea,” I said, whispering in his ear. “You know what I’d like to do to you right now?”

“What? What.” He repeated to himself, smiling as I dragged him up the stairs and locked him in the bedroom.

“Now be a good boy and wait for me there,” I called at him from the other side of the door.

I noticed I was losing control over my own basic locomotive functions. That was odd, so I practiced walking over to some very pretty maids standing around in the hallway for some assistance. They were quite happy to give it to me, at least that was my impression.

Just then, Bennet came over for no reason other than to start a fight.

“Your mom is so ugly she was arrested for indecent exposure,” he told me, stapling something onto my jacket.

“Hey,” I said, “That is an expensive jacket.” He pushed me. I couldn’t have that.

“You’ll be sorry for this,” I warned him, and as I ran toward him, not even attempting to kill him or rip out his lungs or anything, he grabbed me and pushed me off the railing to the first floor. It was very unfair. The Bennets, I tell you, are a very feisty clan.

Luckily for me, I never forget a face, so of course I'll get him in the end.

In any case, I was better off--if it wasn’t for hitting the ground, I wouldn’t have lifted my eyes to see the most beautiful sight of the evening.



It was time to enter the hot tub. I dressed down to my swimsuit and waded over to Sylar.

“Nice party you’ve got here,” I said.

“Lol, like thanks,” he giggled. “Want some brain?”

“I’m afraid not,” I replied. “I’ve got everything I want right here.” Then I leaned over and began whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Who could resist me?



Unfortunately, I was interrupted by a drunken partygoer who had the misfortune to throw up right there in the hot tub. I became uncharacteristically bellicose and killed him on the spot, which led to a full out brawl. When all this is over, I’ll have to apologize to Sylar for the body count.

What a night...I spent the rest of it either hitting on people or killing them, between the two I was very busy indeed. The next morning I awoke with the worst headache I’ve had in centuries, but I can only imagine how bad it would have been if I wasn’t immune to alcohol.

Challenge the Sixth: In Which West Is Hungover

I wanted to make this the best party ever, and when I looked out the window this morning I knew that the mansion's backyard was way too big for just us contestants, the help, assorted hangers-on, and the lovely Sylar himself. No, to make this party truly epic, we needed a sea of bodies we wouldn't mind seeing inebriated and brainless. I decided to pad out the guest list by inviting other reality show contestants.

I first landed next to a large, black RV and approached the girl standing outside. "NEXT!" she shouted.

"No, no. I'm not on this show; I want to win a date with Sylar. I'm just here to invite all of you to a party. I can guarantee free booze, and if you ask nicely maybe Sylar will let you borrow a few dresses." I gave her the address to the party and flew off.

Then I landed in the astroturf courtyard of the Big Brother house and walked inside. "Party at the Sylar's Bachelor mansion!" I called out.

"Dude," one of the contestants said, "how did you get here? Besides, don't you know that we lose if we leave the house?"

"Whatever," I said, "just come to the party. No one watches your show anyway."

I flew off to the Real World house and almost got my nose broke when I stepped into the middle of one of those fights that always seems to happen there. I think they were relieved to see me, because I gave them another excuse to get hammered and make out with each other. Then I visited the America's Next Top Model contestants, and they agreed to skip out on Tyra Banks's ego tripping to come to the party.

I was about to head back to the mansion to help set up for the party when I landed downtown for a refreshing Slusho. "Excuse me," a voice behind me said, "I'm GMing a superhero-themed GURPS RPG and I was wondering if you would help consult me on it." I turned around. It was that geek girl from Beauty and the Geek.

"Uh, yeah, sure." I said. I was never any good at tabletop RPGs. When playing Call of Cthulhu my character would always get killed because I would try and hug the shoggoths. What can I say? I love aliens. "Anyway, we're having a party at the Sylar's Bachelor mansion and you can invite all your beauty and geek friends."

"Squee!" she said.

Satisfied that we had enough guests for the party, I picked up a few items that would make this party rock. First I stole a trampoline from someone's backyard, because trampolines are the second-best places for hot, drunk girls (with hot tubs being the best, of course). Then I flew to Ibiza, where the club scene is the most raging in the world, and stole one of those foam cannons, because dancing in foam is also very sexy. Lastly, I called upon my beer-dispensing robot friend, PBR2-D2, to help serve beverages. We were finally ready to party.

Uh...It's all kinda blurry after that. I mean, I remember talking to Mr. Bennet, and I remember one of the Real World contestants trying to steal Cyclops's goggles then falling drunkenly on the edge of the trampoline and chipping his tooth. And I definitely remember drinking wine coolers in the hot tub with Sylar and drunkenly flirting with Adam, but after a few drinks things just started getting weird. It was like the foam cannon was spewing the shoggoths from Call of Cthulhu and I was transported to some weird dimension of sight and sound. Or something. Man, I'm thirsty. My head hurts, too.

Anyway, I woke up this morning in a pool of vomit, on a bearskin rug, in my swimsuit, along with the beauty guy, the geek girl, Traveler, and some blonde that I don't think was on the guest list. Can anyone try explaining to me what just happened?

Mission Six: Stayin' Alive

This would be my most difficult mission yet. A party, eh? According to my Claire Bear, getting my groove on isn't my strong point. But then, she doesn't know me too well, do she?

"Ha!" Nathan said, slapping me on the back, "A little stiff for a party man, eh Bennet?"

As he was walking off I saw Maya talking to her lamp (who I now realize was there as part of the wait staff). "No, la fiesta es muy divertida, pero el viejo con los horn-rimmed glasses, creo que el no puede bailar. Es muy....stiff, verdad?"

I began to think maybe Claire Bear was right about me. Perhaps adequate groove eludes me. But I was determined to Step Up, too.

So, I called the only semi-friend I have with a degree of groove.

"Look, I'm in a competition. There's going to be party, but I can't get my groove on, so I need you to teach me how to let loose and put the lime in the coconut!"

"Who is this?" Matt asked.

"Gah, Parkman! Let me talk to Mohinder."

A moment, then an foreignish voice, "Greetings, Bennet."

"Hey, I know you're still bad about the nose, but to be fair, you klled me. So we're even. I was hoping you could do me a favor."

"And precisely what reason could possibly exist to motivate one in my position to engage in an activity beneficial to you?"

"Because it could mean the end of Sylar."

"Sylar! Well, by golly, of course I will assist."

I jotted down his notes and advice into 8 Simple Rules for Partying Like My Teenage Daughter:

1. Avoid confrontation with similarly gendered individuals.
   
2. Under no circumstance should you regurgitate into a serving vessel.
   
3. Do not hold conversation on theoretical or abstract ideas such as the evolution of theropods into modern birds.
   
4. A finger-grip, or pinch, is not an appropriate way of entering into conversation with a female.
   
5. Be wary of unattended beverages as they may contain harmful narcotics.
   
6. Elevators should be reserved for copulation, not transportation among floors.
   
7. The hurling of food stuffs is restricted.
   
8. Distance yourself from uninteresting bores, lest you be categorized among them.