Audrey Hanson, FBI. Challenge #3

“Hello? Oh it’s you.”

Carla Gallo didn’t seem happy at all to see me. It appeared that she was resisting the urge to slam the door on my face. Maybe she still likes me, or maybe it’s because my shoulder holster was sticking out just enough so she could see the handgrip of my gun.

“Carla, let me explain,” I pleaded.

“You don’t have to explain anything,” she frowned. “You had your assignment. What happened after that shouldn’t have. It was just a one night thing.”

“See, that’s just it,” I tried to explain. “It’s more than that…”

She frowned at me silently on her soft, pouty lips. Her supple hips shifted slightly.

“I am in the FBI,” I insisted. “But my assignment is to take down a serial killer named Sylar. He’s running this crazy game show and I’m a contestant. Each challenge I get through, the closer I am to nabbing this sicko. That’s why what happened, happened. I didn’t count on one thing though.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” she replied.

“Me liking you so gosh darn much.” A grin crossed her face. Looks like the FBI Manual of Winning People Over is successful once again. “Will you help me with my next challenge?”

“Sure,” she answered. “What is it?”

“I need to make a boy band.”

“Uh, but we’re not boys,” she pointed out.

“I know. This is going to be the first all girl boy band ever. Oh, and we’re going to rock.”

“Cool,” she nodded. “I can get into that. So who else are we going to get for the band?”

“Michelle Rodriguez.”

“Isn’t she serving five consecutive life sentences for driving under the influence, running guns, and beating up a circus clown?”

“She is,” I replied as I pulled out my badge. “But this will get her out.”

“Cool.”

A quick trip to the state pen later and we soon had tough guy actress Rodriguez in our band.

“I’m ready for some action,” she growled as she punched her fist into her hand. “What next, boss?”

“Our next member is Keshia Knight Pulliam,” I said determinedly.

“The Keshia Knight Pulliam from the Cosby Show?” Carla asked.

“Little Rudy?” Michelle’s dark, determined brows furled. “Why little Rudy.”

“We are all filling out a component of this all girls boys band,” I explained. “This is all well documented in the FBI Boy Band Manual, I’m the leader, Carla’s the sexy one.”

“Oh, thank you,” she blushed.

“Michelle’s the dark, brooding, tough-as-nails and troubled Hispanic that just needs to be understood.”

“Yeah.” Michelle punched her fist into her hand again while bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I can see that.”

“And Keshia’s the good looking, slightly edgy, but not dangerous African American.”

“That makes sense,” Carla nodded.

We quickly flew to Keshia’s home and I explained that we needed her for a band.

“I can do that,” she agreed. “All of the roles for black women are going to Halle Berry and Angelina Jolie. My only choices left are going into porn like that one girl from Family Matters, or do a Steve Tyler movie. I find both options distasteful.”

“So then it’s settled!” I squealed (I admit I’m not much of a squealer, but the manual uses that word liberally, so I think that I should throw a few squeals out there once in a while. “I used my FBI contacts to secure us our first gig. Are you ready to perform?”

“You got it!” Carla threw her hand in.

“Yeah!” Michelle threw her hand on top of Carla’s.

“All right!” Keshia threw her hand on top of Michelle’s.

“Let’s do it!” I put my hand on top of Keshia’s. We all cheered and threw her arms up in the air then fell on each other in a fit of giggles (the manual suggested this as well) before we ran off to our concert.

The arena was filled with anxious spectators. The crowd began to cheer as we made our way to our positions on the stage. The manual, of course, says to get the crowd into it by addressing them before beginning the first song.

“Hello, we’re Agent Audrey Hanson, FBI and the Holograms,” I said into the mic. “Are you ready to rock?”

The crowd cheered louder.

“I can’t hear you,” I challenged them. “I said are you ready to rock?”

The crowd cheered more, but still not to my liking.

“Listen here,” I pulled out my pistol and jacked the slider back. “If you freaking egg suckers don’t start cheering, I’ll execute every mother flipping last one of ya!”

The crowd grew dead silent and stared at us, then cheered like they never cheered before.

“Alright, that’s better,” I said. “Here’s a little song that goes out to our main guy Sylar!

“Sylar…
Sylar is excitement!
Oouu Sylar…
Sylar is adventure!
Ooouu…
Glamour and glitter,
Fashion and fame!

Sylar…
Sylar is truly outrageous
Truly, truly, truly outrageous
Woo ooo Sylar…
Sylar
the music’s contagious (outrageous)

Sylar is his name
No one else is the same
Sylar is his name

Sylar (Sylar)
The music’s contagious (outrageous)
Sylar is his name
No one else is the same
Sylar is his name
SYLAR!”

The crowd roared their approval. This is the best all girl boy band ever!

“I’m going to bring it down for a minute,” I said.

“Just a special boy, the son of a watchmaker
He took the midnight train going anywhere
Just a city boy, born and raised in Queens, New York
He took the midnight train going anywhere

A Sylar in a smoky room, smelling fear and cheap perfume
For a smile he will clean your clock

It goes on and on and on and on

Sylar, waiting… waitin’ to eat your brain
His shadows searching in the night
Street lights… people
Living just to find emotion
Hiding somewhere in the night

Working hard to get my fill, everybody wants a thrill
Betting anything to roll the dice just one more time
Some will win, some will lose
Some are born to sing the blues
oh the movie never ends

It goes on and on and on and on

Sylar, waiting… waitin’ to eat your brain
His shadows searching in the night
Street lights… people
Living just to find emotion
Hiding somewhere in the night

Don’t stop… believin’
hold on to that brain you’re eatin’
Street lights… people

Don’t stop… believin’
hold Ooooon
Street lights… people

Don’t stop… believin’
hold on to that brain you’re eatin’
Street lights… people
don’t stop!”

The crowd cheered even more. Far more than any of us expected or even what was charted on page 12-5 of the FBI Boy Band Manual. My band and I huddled together to conference.

“What do we do?” Carla asked.

“We finish this set,” I said. “We finish this and then we go backstage to have a pillow fight in our white cotton panties.”

“What?” Keshia asked.

“That’s what the book says,” I answered, pointing to it. “Come to think of it, who wrote this thing anyways?”

“Well there’s only one thing to do.” Michelle threw her hand in.

“Yeah!” Keshia threw her hand in.

“All right!” Carla threw her hand in.

“Right on!” I threw my hand in and we all squealed and threw our hands in the air.