Audrey Hanson, FBI

My name is Hanson, I carry a badge.

My heroes have always been federal agents. Elliot Ness, Melvin Purvis, J. Edgar Hoover, Bill Maxwell, those cats are all aces in my book. That’s why I’m an FBI agent today, to maintain law, order, and justice in the United States of America.

Working for the FBI has taken me a lot of places, who’d guess that it would bring me to a greasy spoon like this. But this is where all of my leads lead me (so to speak).

I’m looking for a killer. A stone cold crazy super sicko psycho killer named Sylar and I won’t rest until I catch him.

You wouldn’t believe the files on this guy. He’s crazy and he eats brains. There doesn’t seem to be rhyme or reason to him, either. His victims have been men, women, and children. He eats them all with relish. And by relish, I mean he enjoys it, not that he uses condiments.

Additionally, and this is the thing that I can’t figure out, there seems to be another killer on the loose who has a similar MO (that’s Modus operandi to you civilians). He differs only in the fact that he doesn’t eat his victims’ brains, he just shoots them instead.

They’ve both left a trail of blood in their wake a mile wide and a nightmare deep. That’s where I come in; I will not stop until I find Sylar. I don’t care if I have to fight through a warehouse full of paperwork or fly from one end of the country to the other endlessly or team up with some stupid local cop who couldn’t detect his butt out of a wet paper bag. I’m going to stop them.

Imagine my surprise when the lieutenant calls me into his office with what could be a case breaking lead.

“Hanson, we got word that Sylar’s on the move,” the Lieutenant says. “In fact, what we’ve got is so crazy, so out there that we have to check it out.”

“What is it, chief?” I asked.

“He’s having a bachelor contest,” he answered. “I can’t believe he’d do something so out in the open like this, but if this is true–”

“Then this is my chance to bust him for sure.” I smacked my fist into my palm for emphasis. “Send me in, LT. I’m just the woman for the job.”

“Now look, this could be the most dangerous assignment you’ve ever taken.”

“I can handle it,” I answer.

“He may try to crack your skull open and eat your brain.”

“I can handle it,” I repeat.

“He may make you dress up in some kind of evening gown competition.”

“I… ugh… I can handle it.”

“Fine you’re in,” he said. He then threw a packet across his desk to me. “Here’s another thing. We got a sketch artist to make a drawing from a witness’s description. Take a look.”

I opened up the manila envelope and took a look at its contents. “Tall, dark hair, and glasses. I’ll remember this face.”

One more thing,” the lieutenant added. “When you get your hands on this guy, I want you to call for backup. Don’t be a hero.”

“I told you, I can handle myself,” I answered gruffly.

“We don’t need a repeat of what happened in Central Park last summer,” he warned. “I’m telling you to call for backup. That’s bureau policy.”

“Well when an adult male is slicing another male up into meat pies, I shoot the bastard. That’s my policy.”

“That was a summer theater production of Sweeny Todd!” the LT howled.

“Well how am I supposed to know that?” I ask.

“Get out of my office,” he growled. “Just take you assignment and go.”

So that’s the deal. First I’m going to find this sick bastard before he can eat any more brains, then I’m going to bring him in and then I’m going to see him fry.

Then I’m gonna get some ice cream.

Hanson out.