Mission Five: Befriending a Billan

I had the perfect friend for Sylar. However, Pee Wee Herman died in a bank robbery accident before he could have won me this challenge. I would have to find another.

This challenge put me at a significant disadvantage. Most of my friends were bagged and tagged long ago. Working as a paper salesman doesn’t leave much time or energy for having a social life. That’s why I blog.

It was time to dig into my limited resources. I flipped open my Rolodex.

The names brought back fond memories. Mostly memories of a time when I had perfect vision. All the people from my recent memories look a bit amorphous.

Well, let’s see who we have here….

“Dead.”

Next entry.

“Dead.”

Next.

“Dead.”
“Dead.”
“Jewish.”
“Dead.”
“Missing, presumed dead.”
‘Dead.”
“Missing, presumed Jewish.”

How did I meet so many Jews living in Texas? Then, the name came to me. “Hiro Nakamura.”

In his youth, I often used the boy to fill my own void of not having a son. He’s always thought of me as an uncle. I’m sure he’d help with this challenge.

“Waffles!” he screamed enthusiastically.

The bribe had worked. After he stopped crying about how this was where he met Charlie, I slipped him some waffles and explained the challenge.

With Hiro’s power, the three of us were able to travel space and time. And so, I decided to take Sylar on the adventure of a lifetime, to the happiest place on Earth!

“New England?” Sylar asked.

“No, even better. Disneyland!”

Hiro squinted hard and the three of us arrived at the physical representation of the inner-workings of Walt Disney’s mind.

“Ooh, ooh!” Sylar was happier than a Catholic priest on the It’s a Small World ride.

The three of us stopped off at the Hall of Presidents where I fascinated my company with my superb knowledge of US History. “Did you know Truman was the first Terminator?”

The two were amazed.

I decided to toss another shocker at ’em. “And Lincoln was gay!”

“Ando too,” Hiro added. “He very happy man.”

Later, we found some Japanese tourists. Hiro talked them into taking our picture.

“Speak cheese!” the camera operator said.

“Yatta!”

All in all it was a great time. As we poofed back to Sylar’s love mansion, I said, “So, fun stuff, eh, Hiro? A great way to get your mind of Chuck.”

“The lame show on NBC about the hot secret agent and his CIA protector?” Sylar asked.

“No, his ex-girlfriend.”

“Charlie!” Hiro shouted. He added some Japanese, which I can’t translate on this PG-13 blog. Then, he stabbed Sylar in the belly.

“Ouchie!” he cried, then Force Pushed Hiro into the air.

With a poof, the little Japanese man disappeared into thin air.

“Uh, look,” I said nervously, “that sort of thing happens. I can get you some Claire Blood, fix that right up and pretend it never happened.”

He just stared at me.

“Oh, and I can get you a new dress.”

“Ooh,” he smiled. “A new dress and Claire blood!”

I actually used Adam blood on him, and the dress came from Sears, but I don’t think he’ll notice.