Challenge the Third: In Which West Dominates

If these past few challenges have taught me anything, it’s this: the competition sure is tough. I knew that if I wanted to continue on this show, I needed professional help. So I turned to fellow contestant Agent Audrey Hansen, FBI, for assistance.

“I’ve seen the file on you, kid,” she said. “Why should I help out a creep like you?”

In exchange for her help, I offered her three things:
1) I wouldn’t vote against her in the contest.
2) I will testify against Sylar after she takes him down.

And, most importantly,
3) I will never, ever again bug her about how hot it would be if she and Elle made out while wearing the matching purple dresses.

The mission was simple: attack the Disney Channel studios and kidnap the three male leads of High School Musical

Lucas Grabeel

and Corbin Bleu.

Agent Hanson and I burst onto the lot where they were filming High School Musical 3, guns drawn. A sound technician ran at her with a boom mike, but she unloaded a clip into his chest before he could reach us.

“Agent Hanson! We’re supposed to be using tranquilizer darts!”

She swore. “Where’s the fun in that, geek boy?” she said before unholstering the correct gun.

We sedated the teen idols and dragged them into the backseat of a Nissan Rogue, but the mission was only half over. We needed to get the boys to the Sylar’s Bachelor mansion, and getting out of Disneyland would be difficult.

You see, there’s a reason I wanted to attack Disney, and it’s not just that Efron, Grabeel, and Bleu’s charms are irresistable. I wanted to attack Disney because they were part of the vast robot conspiracy. Walt Disney and his Imagineers weren’t just creating creepy and cute robots for the Disneyland rides; they created a legion of robot soldiers, headquartered under Tomorrowland. With High School Musical’s popularity, these boys were funding the robotic madness I vowed to stop.

Those robot soldiers were headed right for us.

“Agent Hanson! You drive the Nissan Rogue back to the mansion. I’ll fly overhead and provide cover fire.”

I borrowed Agent Hanson’s pistol and soared, firing at Disney’s robot minions. Although I couldn’t destroy them all, enough fell to allow us safe passage back to the mansion. I thanked Agent Hanson for her assistance, and dragged the boys up to my room. I owed Agent Hanson big time, but I would have to pay her back some other day. I had a challenge to complete.

The stars awoke to find themselves tied up. I introduced myself to them. “My name is West Rosen and you are the new members of my boy band. Obey me if you want to live long enough to return to your precious robot families.”

Within a few hours I taught them the song and choreography, and then I paraded them downstairs to perform for Sylar. We dressed in tight white t-shirts and white boxer briefs. I strutted my stuff for Sylar, winked, and said, “You may remember this little number from the MTV Music Awards back in 2003.”

We launched into our rendition of TaTu’s “Not Gonna Get Us,” jumping up and down and shaking our thing. At the end, just like in the MTV performance, we made out with each other. I ended up in a lip-lock with Zac Efron, then whispered to Sylar, “I’ve got a treat for you later.”

That night, I got out the black silk scarves to tie and blindfold the teen idols.

“When are you going to let us go?” Lucas Grabeel whined.

“When I’m good and ready, robot.” I replied.

I locked the door to the room behind me, then sat in the living room to write two notes.

The first one read:

Dear Disney:
Disband your Imagineering robot program and hand the money over to the SETI Program searching for alien life, or else I kill your cash cows.

The second read:

Dearest Sylar,
If you thought my boy band was tasty before, I offer their brains up to you as a decadent midnight snack.
Love, West

Yeah, Disney probably won’t end their robotic madness, and the leads of High School Musical probably will have their brains devoured, but I just want everyone to remember one thing.

Whether it comes to fighting robots or winning reality shows, West Rosen means business.