The Evolved
Chapter One: Creation
Claire Bennet was bored. And by that, I don't mean the kind of bored that a parent can solve by telling them to clean their room. I mean really, incurably bored. She absentmindedly played with one lock of golden hair, and her lips drew into a frown. What could she do that would relieve her of her boredom?
She flopped back on her bed (ever notice boredom is an anagram of bedroom?), and stared at her ceiling. It was one of those ceilings where it was all bumpy, and scratchy, and stuff, and so if you stared at it long enough without blinking, the patterns would start to form. It was absolutely silent in the house, as Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had gone for dinner(hey, they need a break sometimes). Well, except for Lyle's "rocking out" on his Guitar Hero downstairs.
Claire's Keds stopped their incessant tapping for a minute as the dark green eyes stared at the ceiling, lost in concentration on the music flowing rather jerkily from the PlayStation 3 downstairs. Her brow furrowed, and she bounced off the bed, jeans swishing mildly against each other as Claire evacuated the room to find the source of the noise.
She emerged at the bottom of the stairs to the basement, one hand on the railing, to be confronted with the sight of the reverse side of her brother, going Eddie van Halen and windmilling on the plastic guitar. The song finished, and the guitar swung freely on the strap as both of Lyle's hands rose into the air, prominently displaying the sign of the devil. He grinned, and turned, walking away from the screen, only to stop, seeing Claire, who stepped off the bottom step, mouth closed, silent.
After a few moments, Lyle grinned, and said in his somewhat cracky and raspy voice, "What, no applause?" Claire raised an eyebrow, and clapped three times, then her hands fell to her sides as she stood there, grinning. To Lyle, it seemed she was slightly insane, but the plan was already concocted as she retreated back up the stairs, still grinning broadly.
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Claire fell onto her bed again, this time in that feminine way; on her stomach, calves and feet waving in the air, elbows and arms propping her up as she dialed a certain number into her pretty-pink Sidekick. She held the phone to her ear, still smiling vaguely.
Peter Petrelli had just finished a so-called conversation with Nathan. The aforementioned brother currently resembled something from that one movie...Thriller, I think? Ah, well, that's what happens when you're within two feet of a human mushroom cloud.
It was at that time Peter's cellphone chose to go off. It sounded out the notes of Madonna's "We Only Got 4 Minutes (to Save the World)". Nathan raised an eyebrow and smirked, both on the good half of his face. His lips parted, and out came a weak "It fits you."
Peter smiled as he was retrieving his cellphone from the pocket where it lay. He got up and walked over to the window, glancing at the caller ID, which blared in dark blue letters, Miracle-Gro. He grinned; this was no gardening service. But he thought he knew who it was.
Peter flicked open the phone. He held it to his ear, and said, "Petrelli."
Claire grinned at the sound of his voice. It always seemed somewhat breathless for some reason. Ah, well. She covered the mouthpiece of the phone, and whispered into it:
"Peter...how do you feel about being in a rock band?"