Chaos-the-Questionable-lucky12
"Roses and Poetry"
Chapter 1: The Initial Shock
I'm not exactly the brightest little cookie in the world. I sort of "blew up" an abandoned warehouse, I left some bastard for dead, resisted authorities…and… I got caught. All while having a dad who works for the FBI and being chased by those who work with or for him. And driving in a frosty pink Audi TT Quattro. Nice. How very intelligent of me.
And some stupid asshole was following me. Hmph. He sure as hell had it coming. I mean what dumbass would mess with a blonde haired, hazel eyed, 15-yr-old chick? This guy thought he could.
He was dead wrong. I can see him now - That guy writhing in agony, squirming on the ground. His ice cold stare turned into a look of fear…His bushy eyebrows, his glossy, combed back hair, all on fire; his chilling creepy smile, turned into a scream of pain and anger… I hope that's what's happening to him right now.
The image in my mind was so perfect, but I had no idea why I was explaining my little "crimes" to myself when I already knew what the hell had happened. Smirking to myself with that mental image in my mind, my smirk quickly turned into a frown when Federal Agent Stuart Frank walked through the door.
The room I was in was a dull room. Adorned with only a table, two chairs, and one of those one way mirrors that those "authority figures" watch you through, this room was definitely NOT a happy place.
"Rosie, Rosie, Rosie…" he started in a surprisingly disappointed tone, instead of the pissed off tone I was expecting.
"What, Father?" I only used "father" instead of "dad" when I did not want to talk to him. And that usually happened - unless if I wanted something very badly.
"Rosie. Can you explain to me why you are here?"
"I don't know. Why don't you ask your boys in blue?"
"Dammit Rosie! I just want you to explain yourself!"
"Why should I when you already know what I did! And it wasn't even that bad…"
"You blew up government property, while driving a car that is clearly not yours, not even with a driver's permit, all while cruising along at 150 miles per hour!"
"First of all, I did not blow up that warehouse! Some asshole stalker did while trying to get me - that's why I was driving really fast - and that car was lent to me. So the owner wants it back, Father. And it was a really nice car, and well…"
"Everything you did, you will be punished for. Do you - "
"Can I ask you a question, Stuart?" I almost never called my parents by their first names, but apparently my cousin Izzy does. She hates it when I call her Izzy. Anyways…
"Why would the government need a so-called abandoned warehouse full of totally random cars? You know, what would you guys need with a Pontiac Solstice? Why a sports car?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. But - "
"Bullshit. And why are we talking about this with all your little feds watching?"
"They are good people, Rosie." - Yeah, right. - "But I sent them away. So it's just you and me, Rosie."
"What the fuck do you plan to do? Rape me?" I just had to say that. I couldn't resist.
"Do not speak to a federal agent like that! Especially me, Rosie! I'm your father and you will listen to me right now!" Oh dear sweet Jesus; he was really starting to get pissed now!
*overly dramatic yawn*
"Since you are only a child - "
"What the fuck? I am SO not a child!"
"Stop interrupting me! And stop cursing!"
"Whatever."
"As I was saying, since you are only a child -" He was starting to get really impatient "- you will be left off with a warning."
Yes! I basked in my silent victory. I seriously thought he was going to ground me…
"However," - Oh shit! - "you are not completely off the hook."
Fuck! I shoulda known that was gonna happen!
"You know that uh, what was it, dance on Friday? Well you're not going. And that money we spent with that dress, you have to pay back. And you have to stay in your room for the rest of the week, with a few exceptions."
I could tell my dad was not used to grounding me. It was usually my Mom's job to do that. I guess you could say I was Daddy's little girl. Most people looked at me like some spoiled sweet sixteener but I had two things to say to that: I was not sixteen, and I wasn't totally spoiled. My father didn't usually spoil me. Not that much. He was definitely the more merciful of the two parents, though. But that was quickly changing.
"WHAT?! But that's not - "
"Oh it is certainly fair."
"But - "
"End of discussion."
Damn! I was seriously fucked.
As we were walking out of the room, I could see my dad's colleagues, that he supposedly sent away, looking at us with a confused expression. Oh great. More humiliation. My irritated and irritating father walked me towards one of those benches reserved specifically for criminals (how fitting) and sat me down. It's presence was cold, yet it matched the very mood I was in.
"Wait here," he told me with an eerie and sudden calm demeanor that was freaking me out. He then walked to one of his colleagues. This guy looked like some seriously twisted dude. He had really short, brown hair, charcoal eyes that could injure your soul, a crooked nose and a crooked scowl. They then walked toward some room with a pitch black door, entered the room, and then closed the door.
All I could here were muffled yells, numerous curse words, and accusations. I could tell my father was protecting me, and for that, I was extremely grateful. So what if I can't go to the dance? It looks like a stupid dance anyway. However, the whole money issue is a totally different story…
The door suddenly opened and out came two angry men. Their glares were little coals burning the very people they came upon. My father immediately took me by my skinny arm and led me out of the precinct. And to my dad's less than ideal pearl blue Toyota Prius.
On the drive home, I was seriously pissed off. Hell, I knew I'd be pissed off for a while. I was glaring at the back of my father's head, trying to make my presence known to him, trying to make him know my true feelings of disdain and utter annoyance, when a glint, a shimmer of silver caught the corner of my right eye.
What the… Is that…?
It took me a few seconds to contemplate it, but I knew there was something familiar about that sleek pink shape. And then it hit me.
It was a Pontiac Solstice. It was not just any Pontiac Solstice - it was the Pontiac Solstice. The one from that particular warehouse. The one that…survived the explosion?
As it passed by, I saw something missing from it, but I couldn't explain what was missing. It took me the whole drive home to realize it had no driver.
When we were pulling up on to the driveway, I noticed another vehicle that replaced my Mom's brand new Chevrolet Malibu. This one was a little difficult to make out, but it appeared to be an obsidian Acura RDX; in other words, a big, beautiful, SUV. And it wasn't supposed to be there.
I was kind of hesitant to enter through the grand front door of my modest sized home. Suck it up, you big baby. And so I entered at my own risk.
When you first enter the house, you come upon an arched hallway with one of those crystal chandeliers. There was a window that was level with the chandelier. Whenever the light shown through this window, it would flood through the crystals and explode into a rainbow of colors. However, it was night when we came home, and the chandelier seemed colder than usual. In front of this "entrance of grandeur" (as my mother called it) was a spiral staircase with glass steps and metal railings. Beside it was the entrance to the living room.
Usually, this living room had a homey feel to it. Usually, when I came home, the plush leather couches were untouched. Usually, the glass table wasn't leaned on. Usually the big screen tv was immediately turned on by me when I came home. And usually, strangers weren't there.
But there was a stranger. He was waiting for me, Rose Annabelle Grey-Frank, and my father, Stuart Brian Frank. This stranger was a man with sort of spiky, brown hair, a plain suit and tie, a strange smile that seemed to ward me off instead of calm me down. He also had horn-rimmed glasses that made him seem sort of like some weird, intelligent, bad guy.
"Hello," the man with horn-rimmed glasses calmly stated.
I was starting to freak out. But I did well to hide my anxiety. "Who the hell are you?" What? I had to be blunt.
"You can just call me Noah, Rosie."
"How the hell do you know my name?"
"I have - "
"Wait," my father cut in.
"Yes, Mr. Frank?"
"Mr. Bennet." - I should've known that my dad knew him - "I'll be right back. I have to call someone."
"Okay. You go do that."
My father quickly scuffled away, leaving me and this strange guy, Noah Bennet, together. The thought really creeped me out. So we just stood there in silence for a little while. And then he flashed that creepy smile of his, and broke the silence.
"I have a few questions for you, Rosie."
"Really? Like what?"
"Like -"
But he would never get to ask those questions, at least, not now, for my father walked in just as Mr. Bennet was about to ask them. I took the opportunity to get out of there as quickly as possible.
"Hey, Dad, can I go to my room, cause I'm, like, really tired." I pleaded.
"Why sure Rosie. Noah, I need to speak with you for a moment."
So that's why my Dad's allowing me to go to my room. He wants me gone! And that can only mean one thing… I thought I almost shattered the glass steps when I stomped on them, because I was still angry with the circumstances of this whole day. But I was a little excited, yet a little scared, of the conversation between my father and this mysterious man that was about to happen.
I got to the extensive, upstairs hallway. I walked to the last door on the left, which was plastered with posters, opened it, and entered my room. Of course, I immediately closed the door after entering the room.
My room was, considering my rebellious nature, surprisingly neat and tidy. My bed was aligned with the wall it was next to. My bed was made with what I call "snobby bed covers". Those bed covers were girly and…so aristocratic. Ugh! Not my style. My desk was against the wall opposite of my bed. There was a table lamp with a light blue lamp shade, an iPod touch (16 GB, by the way) with a personalized message, a lava lamp (purple back drop, pink "lava"), and some other things arranged neatly in rows, with space to spare for homework, even though I usually did my homework on my bed. There was also a TV on it. All my clothes were stored in my closet. There were two chairs, a desk chair, and a plushy, comfortable, blue chair. But there was something else about my room that was what I considered the most special thing about my room. A vent. A vent that led directly to the living room. A vent perfect for listening in on conversations going on in the living room that NO ONE wanted you to hear. And my parents had no idea. I decided to listen in. I needed to know what was going on…
"So you want to do it when she comes home?" This was my annoying father speaking. And listening to that one sentence put sick thoughts that no fifteen year old should ever think. This due to the fact that I hang out with sick and twisted people… But whatever.
"She needs to know what happens when she protects dangerous people." This was glasses guy. Who's 'she'? I was really starting to get worried. I was worried that 'she' was my mom. But why would my mom be protecting someone dangerous when she worked for the government as well? And who would she be protecting? Glasses guy started talking again. "And when your wife, Helene gets home," - that answered my question - "we take her and Rosie to Building 27. Then we'll interrogate them."
Oh my God. Was my father, the one who was supposed to be protecting me and my mom, gonna stand by and let him? Was he gonna go along with it? No matter how anxious, jittery, pissed, or scared shitless I was, I had to listen to more of the conversation.
"But…"
"What?"
"I don't know if I should." At least ol' Stewie had some decency in him…
"But you have to! She's protecting Sylar!" Who the fuck is Sylar? I was getting really confused.
"Well she must be inclined to protect…" Stuart Frank hesitated.
"A serial killer? How can you justify that?"
"Well, what if she actually doesn't know where he is?"
"Of course she would! She knows where several dangerous people are, why not him?"
"Because he wouldn't want to endanger his own sister!"
Silence. Wait a sec, Mom knows dangerous people? And I got a serial killer for an uncle? I was really, really freaked out.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Noah Bennet spoke first. "Is that true? Is he really… her brother? And wouldn't that make Rosie his niece?" No shit Sherlock.
"I believe so."
"Well that means Helene might have...special abilities. And that means Rosie might have them too." Again, with the obvious statements. This guy really thought he was a genius. "I think they do." Asshole! Sell us out, why don't you? "Well, we have to get them right now. We'll pick your wife up at work after we get Rosie." Silence. I can't believe my father would put up with this. Would he?Then footsteps answered my question. I sunk lower into my plushy carpet. I wanted to be strong, but I couldn't. Tears were streaming down my face. I was trying to figure out why dad betrayed me and Mom. Then I realized I had to be strong. I had to act quickly. No more sitting and crying, waiting for them to magically change their minds. No more waiting for someone to save me. I quickly got up. I took my backpack from the furry chair, kept my cellphone in my pocket, took my iPod and put it in my other pocket. Luckily I had a water bottle and some snacks in my backpack. And a lighter (I usually liked to play with them - they're fun to play with). I walked towards the window and I opened it as much as I could. I pushed out the screen and I threw my backpack outside. I looked back once and realized how long they were taking. (Maybe they took a detour...) I thought, but it didn't matter. I was running out of time. I thanked my good luck and started to climb out of the window. I started hearing footsteps again and they were inching closer to my door. I took a deep breath. I was hanging off of my windowsill. (This is gonna hurt...) And then, just as the door was opening, I let go. "OW! Fuck!" I hit the ground really hard. My legs were throbbing and I struggled to get up. But I had no time to complain. My dad and Mr. Bennet started to shout my name and stupid bribes and stupid commands. I ignored them. Instead, I used all the strength I could conjure up.
And I ran.