Life of an Electric and Awesome Child, a heroes fanfic

It all, all of this shit that can be called my life, started on a rainy day which have been my enemies from day one, electrically + water = one deep fried person or numerous people.

And that's just what happened, a little town (the kind that shares, smiles, waves, and shares some more) was visited by the devil in the form of a little girl with a face of an angel and golden curls, and she decided to leave her black mark on every inch of it.

(and this little demon child was none other then one Elle Bishop, that's right me, myself, and I)

An innocent trip to grandmother's house (the wolf instead in the form of little red) was quickly burned away, all of the lace curtains turned to ash along with grandmother and the rest of the town.

The one little place that got to go up in flames before the rest of the world followed when it finally came to it's fiery (villains most likely the cause of it all) end.

And the daddy, if you can call such a man that, said 'bad girls get locked up far, far away for the rest of their days, are you a bad girl, Elle?' and he did just that.

Most bad little girls that get locked away from the rest of the world usually don't get put in rooms filled with care bears and pink lace.

But I got it all thanks to daddy's magic touch (turning enemies into pure gold to spend on barbie and her dream house) I had everything I ever wanted and more.

Toys, both stuffed and breathing, enough pink to make Martha Stewart barf, and the child's play (even as an adult) that filled the cracks in my damaged, beyond repair, brain.

Everything that I wanted but that last one, that I could have lived without.

From my childhood, that like most living, breathing things was only there to mentally scar me for life, I'll be telling you every teeny-tiny thing I can remember so that means the cause of my craziness is off limits.

(that childhood which was the cause of the hate that still burns in my veins to this very day and comes out in the form of blue sparks)

As you all know those memories are gone, safely in the hands of the man that took them away when daddy ordered him to, and the man to blame for all this is no one other then Bob Bishop himself, daddy-dearest.

(the one who's power is just another knot on Sylar's belt and head is missing it's top)

Or so said Noah Bennet, the man that sometimes I wish was my father (not on the days he's torturing me and smiling like a fool) and other times wish he was on my long list of lovers, or should I say toys?

Those lovely little toys each with a pretty face, not very much brains (that would be Peter and Mohinder of course) and the need to hurt me back even worse then I hurt them.

(hurting the one valuable thing, my heart)

One word can describe my first few months at the company, the place I was forced to call home but to me back then it was all only gray walls and cold people that was until they brought Adam to be my first ever toy.

(one that came with 400 years of badassery and one cool English accent, how awesome is that?)

He as always came kicking and screaming watching them for one single slip up so he could make his run for it, but that of course only got him killed and killed again until he was nice and smug in his brand new cell (no cell mate to whisper his evil words to just gray walls and white floors).

He came in as something shiny and new, someone to watch like a bird in a cage, someone to follow day after day and finally after the many months of bored days (without knowing they were filled with torture machines) I finally had something to do.

Make a friend, get a kiss and but of course make myself a brand new toy, flesh and all.

"Hell-O."

I took my time (like a lion on the hunt, waiting for the right time to jump on it's prey) before I spoke to the man that was covered in a blanket of mystery and brooding, and so far I only watched from afar my eyes each day glued to the plate of glass that let me see all of those nasty villains in their natural habitats, it was like my own personal zoo.

The one they say is older then everyone in the whole world, and instead of making me afraid of him all it did want make me want to meet him so much more. And at that moment I was doing just that finally opening the door with one flick of my charged finger tips (as if daddy could lock me in, the locks all just melt away at my touch) and a mischievous smile.

"Well, well hello there, Elle isn't it?"

Over the weeks, that were spent watching him and all of the others (instead of spending the hours upon hours watching the pink lace on my bed burn), he was the only one that watched me back instead of screaming at the little girl to 'go back to the son of a bitch that is your father' or 'go to hell'.

He locked both his blue eyes on me and didn't say a single word until now, only smiling that trademark smile that all of the best villains seem to have.

"Yes, and your Adam Monroe, the man that can't die. Daddy doesn't talk about you much, I don't think he likes you one single bit."

"My dear it's a mutual feeling, now come closer and tell me why after weeks of watching me like a canary in a cage you decide to finally come in?"

It began just like that this whole dance, being best friends with the person daddy hates the most in the world (to seek revenge without even knowing it) and finding out that he's your favorite person (besides Noah) in the world starting at day one.

A dance that went on for years and years until I went from child to a woman that was still very much a child in every single way (expect she now wanted a boy-toy instead of a new daddy).

"Mr. Monroe, I came to visit you and your 400 year self to one: stop the days from being oh-so dull, two: make daddy lose his quick temper, and three: because I can, okay?"

Before he could smile back, using one of the smiles which he would use over the years trying to make me a pawn in his vast collection (little cheerleader would be one of the last that would fall in line like a good little girl) but each time it would never really work on me or any of his many guards, I tested the no dying thing out for myself frying our pretty little boy until he was one crispy critter.

"Oh, and since you can re-grow every part of you back, mainly your skin, I'll be working on controlling my powers on you and you alone (and maybe some stray dogs), got that king tut?"

"Got it, Mrs. Bishop, I'm glad to help in any way."

They bring her in (little bitty Claire-bear) dressed in all pink like she's the brand new princess of my castle and I'm just the ugly duckling that needs to be locked away forever and forever in the cellar of gray walls and pink sheets.

Envy (the green little monster that always sneaks out at all the wrong times) kicks in full gear the moment daddy-dearest smiles at the little brat and it won't leave my system for a good long time.

(it's clear even back then I had massive issues and had read one to many fairy-tales)

"I think she's ugly plus she smells bad, are you really going to take her home with you, Mr. Bennet? (meaning: 'Why not take me instead?')"

"El, be nice or no shooting range for you, missy."

Most of the time Noah is more my father (but not really he's way to cool to be a father) then my own, the only one that cares that I'm alive and not getting mentally scared, which my father had a hand in right from the very beginning.

"Fine, but promise you won't go and love that little brat more then me, promise?"

"I promise, El, pinky-swear."

(that so called 'pinky-swear' lasted about ten months after that little Claire became Claire-bear and it all went down hill from there, oh and Noah got pushed off the 'wishing he was a daddy more then my own' list)

Birthdays are meant to be fun-days filled to the tippy-top with ice cream and cake, balloons and of course the clown you need to have and most of all they are your days with nothing but you and the presents that people bring you, well not for me, not this time.

"El, sweet-heart this is all for you, it will make you better."

By better he of course meant less insane then I had began to become, my true colors that were seeping out every day of my ninth year until it all came exploding out on the very last day before I became yet another year older and every person around me at the time got the full impact of that fun and lighting filled day.

"D-Daddy?"

I couldn't tell if any of his words were the truth, that this was all for me all to make me better to fix me all up, but It didn't work a single bit, being locked up in a room filled with mirrors upon mirrors.

Where I all I saw was the face of a nine year old girl that I didn't recognize at all and the I.V that I was busy scratching at wasn't filled with a cure just some lithium to numb it all away.

This and the many years after weren't working to cure me, turn me into a normal little girl and not the crazy one that saw things that were never there I turned out to be.

All it was doing was making me look like I had everything (and all of the missing brain cells he had taken away from me were all still there) in place when instead it was all coming undone piece by piece.

(and the only people who knew that this day was coming were my damaged brain and Adam Monroe)

"I will kill you, doctor, those pretty locks of yours all black and charred, I doubt you'll like that one bit, I'm I right?"

She, the doctor who likes to play model when no one is looking and making googly eyes at daddy (not at his face, which isn't very pretty, but his fat gold filled wallet), is the last in a vast amount of shrinks that like to take me and slice me up into pieces and see what I do.

A dozen or of their lovely hair burst into flames ('it just happened, daddy, all on its own') so that tells you what I would do and this bitch was getting on my last nerves, it's bald town for her in just a matter of seconds.

(then I would run off and tell all my pretty little toys, meaning Adam, how it burned oh-so much and smelled like burning dog hair)

"Elle, that's the third time you've threated to kill me, are you trying to tell me something? How does this make you feel?"

And with those last words I snapped, and trust me its not the first time these quacks spooned me those lines (and so they should be punished for being so unoriginal), and with a flick of my pink finger her lovely locks were black as night.

"Told you so, doctor, I think I'll be going now. Call me when you stop smoking and we can play this game all over again, later alligator."

After that day, the one that I liked to put in the back of my head along with most of my child hood (the only memories that I could block that hadn't been taken by force years ago), my life became a never ending rain of shrinks after shrinks who only ever said the same thing ' she's homicidal sociopath with paranoid delusions'.

But this was after all of them had felt the lick of my blue on their skin and watched as I said they were 'going to die a fiery death' with my head turned to the side and a super-cute smile that I always remembered to wear for myself and daddy-dearest.

Besides all of the many sofa couches I had to lay upon, never forgetting to say something outrageous sometimes meaning them and other times just to get daddy's temper on the danger level.

I still had my many routines the main part of them were training to be the perfect little agent, the one that brought villains heads on spikes, and spending time with Adam and his many bedtime stories.

"This one better be more interesting then the last ones, one can only take so much of the same old story of killing the small Japanese man with a double sword, boring! Now start or become fried chicken."

(and I can do it just ask the last toy, villain number 21 who had to like dress up and dolls because I told him to)

"How old are you again, El?"

Every so often, once a year when my birthday isn't close which is usually a good sign for me, as if rubbing my childish ways in my face he asks what my age is as if even if we haden't spent all of the days of the year always together he still doesn't know, all of those words always followed with that evil little smirk of his.

The one that all the girls (ones clad in both super-hero outfits and villains as always in leather) turn to butter with even a hint of it but of course not including myself, I'm not that weak.

(unlike Claire-bear who melted with just one dose of that devious grin of his)

"Eighteen, old man, so what if I'm a full grown adult that doesn't mean I have to act like one and I plan on never, ever growing up. Now, stop yapping, story!"

"Fine, little one (only in that strange mind of yours), once upon a time there was a pretty princess and her name was Elle…"

(all that this little show of play got him was a zap in the butt from each finger tip)

"It's my birthday."

Most kids young and old, I'm now on the old side so when I act like my childish self I'm labeled as strange (insane), would say this with a bright and eager smile for the presents and cake to be had not the tears that wanted to stain my cheeks forever.

(along with the ash that never stops staining my finger tips, the ash not from the fireplace that daddy has me light each and every night, but from someone's burnt bones victim to my delirium)

"Shouldn't that be a good thing, love? You are now past the teen years and you finally made it alive and well to adult hood, now that's something right there."

Since he first was placed in his little glass prison, back then I thought he was a brand-new toy they had brought just for little old me, all birthdays (besides the one spent with lovely lithium) were spent with him rather then on my own, but this time I didn't want a story as my present I wanted something even more life-changing.

(and daddy this time couldn't give it to me like it can't give me love)

"Kiss me, Adam, kiss me."

I was expecting a fight, the whole 'why, should I kiss you' or 'why would I want to, little girl?' type of things, but instead I got the kiss I've been wanting from the very start because it was with the man that was a god in my childish eyes and it was the first time I had been kissed and that anyone had wanted to kiss my lips.

(well, besides all the villains in their pretty little glass cages, the ones that nowadays supply me with wolf growls and some 'sweet-hearts, sweet-cheeks, and sweetness')

It was clear that this was by far not his first time after all the man (if you can call him a man at all) before me has had decades upon decades to kiss lips upon lips.

And I bet he took every chance he had but when he had me trapped within his lips I wasn't thinking about all the rest because I couldn't think at all.

"Now, El, does that make all those silly tears melt away, did it satisfy your hunger, happy birthday to you, my little princess."

After that day, from which I had the trace of his lips with me at all times (morning, noon, and night), our little dance began to change along with me, I was becoming more a caged cat then a bird wanting all the pretty little things that I knew I couldn't have.

And but of course the day came where I left what I had at the moment in the dust.

(searching for bigger and better things and a brand new shiny toy)

Meaning my immoral god was left fade to dust in his glass room, no more Elle Bishop to make the days, the hours, go by faster and now all he had left was himself and those white floors.

I may seem cruel, like a cat that leaves her toy untouched the moment she gets bored of it, and that my little friends is because back then I was that and nothing else.

But instead of never gracing the family foe ever again sometimes I find myself watching his from behind the glass that separates him from world domination and from attacking my lips once again (he has after said he wanted once last try at both parts).

And I have to hold my tongue from saying that one word that he deserved to hear back then. 'goodbye.'

(years later I would finally get the chance to say it but not to his face but the pile of ashes that he became from just one touch)

The moment I hit adult hood (even if I may look like I have my mind has yet to follow) daddy began the one thing that I was looking forward to in my younger years, training to become one of his shiny little agents.

(his little soldiers that don't talk back, follow orders and all are morally gray)

"Are you ready, El?"

Each time that I find myself in these little training sessions, as if he's testing me both body and mind, he asks with I'm 'ready' for what lies ahead both in this room and in the vast world before me (as if ever will be let out of my cage) and I but of course, lie.

"Of course I am, readier then ever before."

But instead of being 'readier then ever before' I'm scared out of my mind, not of the pain that being a 'good little soldier' would bring or the world I'll never get to see but of failing, letting the only person that loves me down.

"Good, let's begin; make me proud, sweet-heart."

The power that runs all the way through me, in each finger tip, vein, and even in the black hole that is my heart, has decided that it likes to see me fail, watch me hurt at each turn, and likes to be free, uncontrollable.

This is not my fault but the wild thing that has control me rather then the other way around, but of course the one person (the one that has holds my heart and lets it break every now and then), the only one, that loves me sees it as me failing.

And being the daughter of Bob Bishop means in no way should I fail, let the villain escape my clutches, or let him down but I'm lucky and get to do all three of those.

"I'm guessing you're not proud?"

They came, two by two, it's like Noah's freaking Ark but instead of fuzzy little creatures you get villains of all shapes and sizes, two with fire for fingers, two that belong in the nut house (like our beloved Sylar, who was one of them) but all of them have something in common.

The sweet-heart that is always ready and waiting for me on their tongues.

('came down here just to see little old me, sweet-heart?")

But the one that calls every living, breathing female that name is no one other then Flint, not because his parents had a twisted sense of humor but because he came hands full of flames and always ready to burn holes in those gray walls of his.

And besides that he loves to stop along the way ready to let lose yet another sweet-heart my way (and sugar-lips, sweetness, and much more).

All that daddy says is not to taught the beast ('don't even say a word to him, El, I know how you are with the prisoners') that he can turn me to ash, and but of course not to stick my nose to the glass separating the two of us.

So I don't end up 'burning that pretty little face' of mine.

"Understand me, El?"

"Yes, daddy, you're crystal clear."

As you may have guessed what I tend to say (mostly to daddy who does the very same, lies his ass off) isn't what I do in real life.

Some times I play daddy's little girl to a T but only sometimes, so instead following orders like a good girl I did just the opposite of not taunting the beasts because they were what I loved to play with during the boring days, which was every day.

"Why me? Why do I have to watch over the bitchy little cheerleader, daddy?"

"El, do as I say, just follow Claire Bennet around and make sure she hasn't gotten her powers already. If so, take her in."

All of them (everyone down to the ice queen herself, Angela) were blind when it came to Noah, or as I call him the dad I wish I had gotten, they didn't see how it all was going to play out but I could see it oh-so well.

I knew ever before it became my job to keep an eye on the cheerleader (and watch as her pom-pom's went up and down) that when her powers began to show that her daddy wasn't about to hand over his little girl to company knowing full well what they would do her, make another carbon copy of Elle Bishop and he couldn't handle that one bit.

"Why are you here, El?"

"You know why, Noah, if I see any type of powers I'm going to take her in."

It was as if I was slapping the only person (besides Adam, well, only his lips really count) that had loved me just for my crazy self, in the face but this time it wasn't just for the hell of it instead it was for someone I loved more then all the rest.

"Please don't do this."

"I'm sorry; Bennet, but I have my orders."

And since the last disappointed look, that cut more then a knife ever could, I made it part of my life to never again fail the one father I had (the one the fates had decided I deserved to have) and made it a goal of mine to finally be the child he had wanted from the very start.

(but back then I had no idea that he had made me this way and couldn't live with what he had created, he's not the only one)

But the results of work turned out to be the opposite of what he wanted (no powers, not one single bit) and after weeks and weeks of being a teenager all over again, which is something I wouldn't wish on anyone, it was clear that she was one ordinary pom-pom, and daddy (and the big bad men at the company) weren't very happy about that.

"Hey, look, dad, it's not my fault the little pom-pom head hasn't hit puberty yet. Check again in a year and I'm sure she'll be doing something normal cheerleaders don't do, like growing scales (I wish)."

Then my friends, the shit really hit the fan (crude I know but true).

It began playing out just the way I had told myself that it would (with a serial killer thrown in the mix, just to spice it up), beginning with little bitty Claire becoming the freak she was always meant to be (and hiding very well, you could cut the sarcasm with a knife), a serial killer, known as Sylar, wanting it more then she did and but of course our best agent going rogue.

Well, it was about time, I thought this day was coming a lot faster then this because you can't be both 'morally gray' and a loving father.

(but luckily yet again. 'rolls eyes', I'm the only one that sees what has clearly happened so his charade is still very much in tack)

Homecoming, the day I got to miss along with all the rest (thank freaking god for that) went off just as all the good guys had hoped, lots and lots of blood was spilled but the heroes (one person I hear has the name 'Peter' and is Claire-bears 'total hero') saved the day and the serial killer with brains on his mind was locked up nice and tight.

"So this is the all powerful Sylar? Looks like your breaking the son of a bitch faster then most, pity."

all my two ears (along with all the rest of the people of the company) have heard over these months are 'Sylar, Sylar, and yet more Sylar' so being the curious cat I've been since birth I had to have a look at this mighty super-villain with my own two eyes and what I saw was nothing special.

(the first time I saw him, the man I would later kiss, be killed by and kill him myself, he was face down on a bench as cockroaches crawled every which way, I did not fear him then and I was so wrong)

"Elle, last week before we even had him you asked me if you could keep him-"

Like all the many times before (beginning with Flint, and his sparking finger tips) I ask him the same question 'may I keep him?' to both Noah and daddy so when I say it once again with the little girl smile I've perfected they aren't surprised at all.

"-your going to say no once again. Good, I don't really want this one, he's not as great as I've heard, just a lost little puppy that likes his chow and brains."

"I was going to say yes, only after we get all we can from him, oh, and that you promise to kill the bastard when you're done with him."

Then as the surveillance tapes show (the ones that I like to replay over and over again) he became the villain that each person in this one building alone shudder in fear about (not including fearless me) and he caught my eye once again.

(the shiny new toy in my eyes would one day be the death of me)

Then in one freaking day it all came to one fiery end, and knowing Bennet (since I know him better then I know my own father) he had the whole thing planned out in that large brain of his, start to finish (even if things did get a little screwed during the end of it) and being a good little soldier wasn't apart of it.

(being badass was more like it, oh and saving his daughter from becoming me was part of the plan also)

"But tell me again why can't I see him?"

"Because he turned on us, broke the rules, El. And because of that we lost Claire, that's why."

"So?"

They kept the best of them locked up like a dog, which he doesn't deserve but maybe daddy-dearest does (one hundred present), without a care in the world but even if he burned the whole world down (me included) he would still be number one in my book.

(they had no idea how this whole thing was going to bite them in the ass very soon)

"Thompson's dead."

('well, it's about time, anyway he was such a bitch')

Like everything good that happened I wasn't there to watch New York almost go up in flames (or see my a future lover Peter), see the god Sylar fall because of one tiny sword, or clap as Thompson bit the dust all because of one horned rim glasses wearing man, I never have any fun.

But it was me that brought the long (emo) haired boy (who thinks he's both super and man) in with only one handful of blue to the back, and deciding just from that pretty face of his that he was toy number (million, trillion)...oh who keeps track anyway?

(oh, well it won't be long before he falls to pieces like all the rest or becomes a bore, both are health risks)

The way I took him in was full of blue sparks (raining over him like tear drops) and lots of violence, the same way we would end it all.

"Did you have to use a full blast on him?"

"He can take it."

(he took a nuclear blast and came out starch free and still some burnt clothes coating him, he could take on little bit of blue to the back)

I doubt very much that the sleeping little boy below me would like it if I said what he looked like, a male version of 'sleeping beauty' (instead of waking up to prince charming, he got a shock of blue), not one single bit.

"What the hell, where am I?"

"You here with us, Peter, all safe and sound."

While daddy used his second power, the one to twist words until they were all you needed and you fell in line like a good little solider, I found my hands searching this brand new toy (if he had his shoes off his toes would have been next) from the tips of his hair to the curves of his kissable lips.

This need for touch, which started with Adam who was the first kiss and many after that, was because the pink walls that kept me away from it (for sixteen years to date) and the father-daughter hugs that daddy doesn't supply me with.

"Were going to have oh-so much fun, Peter, just you and me."

And fun we did have more then all my shiny little toys (who were all good soldiers, all but Sylar) combined, filled to the brim with blue shocks that he will someday come to love or just hate me even more then he does now (showing so said hate with lots of brooding), and my favorite thing was cutting away all of that lovely long hair of his.

(making him less emo only on the outside)

"Stop acting like I'm cutting off one of your legs, its just hair (very greasy hair) and it's your fault that it got so freakishly long for a boy. You better thank me when I'm done, that you don't look a girl."

When it was all over and done with (a bag full of boy locks in hand) those pink little fingers couldn't help it anymore and ran blue all over the top of his nicely cut hair.

(this my friends was the first wtf moment in our relationship and there would be lots and lots more to follow)

"Ow! That hurts!"

"You'll get used to it, and then you'll start to like it."

(my words, that were covered in a smile brought on by his pain, were both true and false that day)

"He's not a toy, Elle."

Along with all of this other little warnings they still ring in my head (and other bells that only I can hear) so much that it's even more fun to break each one with a smile but only the small ones that he doesn't care a bit about.

(because if I dared to break one of the big ones I would be what he called, and quite a lot, a bad daughter and I won't dare let that happen)

But that little warning (a try to wake me up, all failing) came true the moment I laid my eyes on the pretty little hero and from that moment I knew that he would be mine and mine alone.

"He could be."

Weeks upon weeks and it isn't long before he's playing along like the good puppy I always knew he was (even better then Mr. 400 himself, who enjoyed my games more then I did), swallowing the pills that were never ending, and my favorite part, his fingers and mine meeting together in sparks.

This game was built just for the two of us (and later on a man who I hate more then daddy) like he was the key to my lock, waking me up from a dull sleep I had been in for quite some years and it only got better from there.

(till it all came crashing down in sparks and broken-hearts)

He wasn't my first kiss (even if to him it seemed that way, I had many firsts to get out of the way) but when his lips found mine I wished he had been, rather then the cold ones that never wanted to leave mine or the ones that burned from touch.

(those lips that smile at me from behind glass, saying 'why not have another go, little El?')

But from that moment on it was all downhill (after I was high from those sugar-coated lips) because of a sadistic British man and his need to leave his gray floors and take my toy with him.

"Peter, just when we were getting to know each other better!"

I knew as blue was fly everywhere (hoping it would find Peter and fry him to a nice crisp) what this new feeling was, this feeling that forced on me rather then me wanting it, heart-break.

(and as long as I live I'll never forgive the son of bitch for that, never)

Disappoint stings (and that sting I've always felt) but a broken-heart is a new pain altogether, like the person had ran away with my heart shattered in his hands (ready to break it even more), something I wouldn't wish on my greatest enemy.

(well, maybe on Eden, that bitch)

And it being the very first time made it even worse (almost as the one I'm having at the present, being dead and all) ten times more painful but instead of letting it hurt until it had taken its course I just got less hurt and more angry.

A whole lot more angry then before, I mean boiling over the top mad which didn't help me win daddy over any better.

"All right, I killed him, okay? What is the big deal?"

Daddy had to sit through a lot more calls like that, before it was only one a year but now they kept piling up (all those crispy corpses) and for a reason we all know each of them were of the male gender.

(and when it was fry time they all become either Peter, the heart-breaker, or Adam who helped it all along)

"Oops, sorry daddy looks like my fingers slipped again, hehe."

Trust is a very hard thing to gain from my daddy (daddy is so childish but I don't give a damn) but since my attitude change I was beginning to win it and I knew this the minute he chose me for the mission above all others.

(even if it meant working with a doctor a few brain cells short, but in the end it was all worth it)

"She's the sharp-shooter?"

"Hey, fight-club, watch this."

Instead of aiming at the good doctor I went for the drink next to me (even if my fingers were aching to scratch up that pretty face of his) showing off my new and improved powers which for the first time in my life were being good little boys and girls.

(later on my annoyance would turn into the words 'can I keep him?' he's not the only one who has gotten that privilege)

"Hey you."

Freedom was mine, my field work was no longer limited to the area around the company (or should I call it the back yard?) but to the whole wide world, and the only thing left to do before it was in the palm of my hand was bring in a couple of old friends.

(at this point I had stopped myself from wishing that the man before me, the one that I must bring him, dead or alive, was my father instead of the real thing)

"El."

Before I got ready to attack instead of thinking of the various ways to bring in the horned rim man without failing I was jumped by a flying boy (reminding me too much of the said heart-breaker) and everything went black.

(remind me to shock the pretty-boy first, then pom-pom and the old man)

"Do you think this is my first day?"

(which to a truth it was my first day on the field, but not my first day suffering at the hands of the company)

I was hoping to pull out my bag of tricks (these very blue finger tips but of course) and send each of them to hell and back with my lightning hands but like always it back fired on me and the only person that was in pain turned out to be me.

(as my god given gift, or maybe it's from the other place, turned on me and bite in the ass and all over my body)

"Stings like a bitch, doesn't it?"

Back when I a little girl (even if my mind is still in that place, maybe forever) the man before me, who has me tied up like I'm one of his main enemies and sadly that's just what I've become, was my world but now he's still everything to me but I'm nothing to him.

(just the unavoidable future of his Claire-bear which he can't believe but it's the truth)

"I know all about your ability, El."

(him saying this was like saying he knew all about Claire's ability but I didn't want to emit it)

"You don't know anything about me."

Lies these days came from my lips like a water fountain, 'you don't know anything about me' even if you were my pretend father for so many years, 'my daddy loves me', and the one I say most days 'I'm not insane, I'm just a tad bit strange' which is the biggest lie of them all.

"I was there when your father first brought you in. You were a normal girl - unicorns and rainbows - and then they started the testing. The human brain isn't built to take that much electricity; you poor girl."

"My father would never let that happen."

Even saying it with glaring eyes and my chin held up high didn't make any less untrue, because I knew very well then as I know now that daddy would feed me to the wolves if he ever had the chance, or turn me to solid gold if I wasn't daddy's little girl.

"Your father was leading the charge."

"I don't remember any of that."

Instead of saying 'my father would never do such a thing' I just told him I didn't remember it (to this very day that part is forever blank) because it was hard not to take the word of someone that at one point in my life I had loved as much as a father.

Someone that treated me like I wasn't invisible (so no need for attention getting schemes with him) but even then I couldn't see my father as the villain he truly was.

"No memories, huh? Kind of like someone took them away. Why do you think I never let the Company anywhere near Claire? I didn't want her to become you."

To this day it still surprised me that he traded Claire for me, maybe he didn't like missing one of his good little soldiers or he truly loved me but I won't get the chance to find out now.

(now that his head lies empty, brainless)

The first thing I set my eyes on was Claire-bear (cheerleader, pom-pom, and so much more) and I'll never emit it in my life, my cut-short one that never did a single bit of good, but in that moment and many more I envied the girl that was the opposite of me in every way, evil vs. good and good father vs. bad father.

(and later on I was trying to be everything I wanted to be but I was too late in trying to be it, before one finger put a end to it all)

Maybe it was in jealousy or the hate that had been boiling me for years and years (that came out in blazing blue) the moment I got free, which was so easy it was almost laughable, I aimed all that built up anger (over Peter, daddy, and so many others who had wronged me) at the cheerleader and her stalker-boy.

All that little action of violence brought me was a bullet in the arm (shot by a man I once loved boy and soul, like he was my own father) and maybe finally some love from daddy-dearest, which, as it always does, would last for hours until I was miss disappointment all over again.

Then it all happened in slow motion right in front of my eyes (all because of fight club and his gun happy fingers) the doctor killed him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Bang-bang and he hit the ground (ruining the horned rimmed glasses we have come to know and love) and right then and there I wanted to take back everything I had said and done.

"Oh my god, Bennet."

(the sight before me was worse then all those charred bodies that trail after my every step)

Later on when I wanted to shad a few tears for the dead and finally let lose those salty things that have been building up over the years, instead of crying for Noah Bennet I got to watch as he came back alive, glasses and all.

"Doctor, I must say this is one hundred present awesome."

And in that moment my guilt melted away (no longer a part of a murder but a rebirth) and instead of becoming a person seeking redemption all that I wanted now was Mr. Slush-o and a side of the truth.

(back then I wanted the truth from my father's own lips but Noah's would just have to do)

The second 'watch the cheerleader' popped out of his lips (said like all the rest of his many orders) both my mouth and mine wanted to say and scream 'no, no, hell no!' and then stick up the arm with the sling and say 'this is your fault daddy-dear, not mine.'

But of course his words, the ones that rule men like they were golden (turning his own power on himself), sucked me in as they had done through all of many years under his control.

"Can you regain my truth?"

(looking back I see now how many shades of wrong my father was and how utterly clueless I was, still a child in my own mind)

"Sure daddy, I'll watch the cheerleader."

Slush-o in hand and the other for scratching the cast I now call 'mother' because the damn thing itches so much, years working for the company and my first broken bone had to be from a freaking bullet (well, it figures, karma and all), I was ready to stay eyes on little miss prefect for the rest of the day.

The universe knowing this and hating my very guts had to have her spy me out of her little eye and then it all went to hell in a hand basket.

(and running was out the question plus it's pretty hard to drive with one arm, do you think slush-o comes out of designer clothes, I think not)

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I came to watch the sun set."

I knew it was the wrong choice of words the moment little-bitty grabbed me (me!) by the throat and pinned me up against the now shush-o ruined car, which isn't mine to begin with.

"Watch who your shoving, pom-pom."

Yet again, Elle, bad choice of words, when will you learn?

(it looks like never, seeing how my life is so short and it was spent being evil and all)

"This isn't fair."

"Welcome to life!"

Then it, like everything else in my life (which is filled to the brim with disappointments, as daddy always points out) went downhill because of one pint-sized cheerleader and all of her shiny threats of showing the world how her toes grow back.

Daddy didn't like that part, not one single bit and guess who's fault (yet again) it was? If you guessed Elle Bishop you get a goddamn metal.

"You're benched, no more field assignments."

And with yet another pile of sparkly words, that as always with me were filled with gallons of venom ready to poison that already hurting heart of mine, and he takes away the one thing I love the most, my freedom.

(and it's back to white floors and pink all around, back to the prison of my mind)

"How's about if I said I was sorry?"

And like most days in the Bishop house hold, only father and daughter no mother to smooth out all the curves, the hits just went on coming, one by one till they chipped away another piece of the mosaic that is both my brain and heart.

"When I think about all the hard work I put into raising you."

"Daddy."

The 'truth' in these days was something rare (and something almost impossible to seek out) but I was going to get it out of our prisoner, who like all the rest of them was home-sick, by asking nicely or if needed to with force.

(force being the blue ball growing in the center of my palm, which never fails to get mouths moving)

If making friends with the enemy (that was a once-upon-a-time friend and fake father) was the only way I could do it, it had to be done even if it meant making daddy hate me even more then he already did and loved showing.

"You said you knew all about my ability, tell me what my dad did to me."

"I'm stuck in this hell hole, my family thinks I'm dead, there's not a lot of incentive to share."

But no one said that this would go smoothly, knowing Noah he would make damn sure of that.

"I could make you tell me."

"You could try."

(whoops there's all that evilness again, trust me I will never learn, not today and not another year from now)

"Please, I don't have anyone else to talk to."

Saying this, it being the first of those rare times where I'm not lying (both to everyone and myself), I knew that it was one hundred present true and it was true back when he was on my side and I could get all those fatherly smiles and words from him and him alone.

(even now one of my dreams is that he's my real father and one day I'll become his Elle-bear but these days my dreams never come true)

"They wanted to see how much wattage you could discharge, enough to power a flash light, a street lamp, an entire city block. During testing you'd pass out from the strain, we'd all want to call it a day but daddy said no my girls tougher then that. You were seven. The hardest thing a parent ever does is to have to see their child in pain, most parents."

Just with a hand full of words one single man, who instead of looking at me with the hate I deserved his eyes were filled pity for the sad broken child before him, shook up my world but just like before I refused to believe the only one who loved me would do such a thing and it was all downhill for me from this moment forward.

So instead of containing to search for the truth, that I deserved to know even if it was as horrible as Bennet made it out to be, I decide I'd rather make daddy proud of his neglected child by catching Sylar like a fish on a hook but everything I do never goes according to plan.

And I mean never, that's the universe for you, she's a bitch.

(but I still knew what I needed to do the moment the word 'Sylar' passed my lips)

"Oh, daddy you're going to be so proud of me."

Rather then kissing him (and giving him some peach pie) I found myself in a face off with oh-so great Sylar who instead of using all of those wonderful powers, which daddy took away with a few words and vial of death (which Adam loved far more then he ever loved me), in his hands was my greatest hate, a shiny black gun.

"Sylar!"

(see not said in love but in lots and lots of boiling over hate)

And the greatest moment of our battles was when I nailed him right in the back, well, almost as good as the time I turned him into ash but at that time he could always bounce back but here and now he had to feel it all, and I got to hurt him almost as much as he had hurt me.

But as I said both the universe and karma (which I have a lot ready to bite me in the ass, as well as one pissed off cheerleader) are both crazy bitches and plus it's pretty hard to run very fast with a cast on your arm (I blame Bennet and his gun happy fingers for that) so instead of bringing back Sylar's head on a stick all I got was some broken glass, oh joy.

"Sylar's gone; my dad's going to kill me."

"I doubt that very much, if you hadn't arrived Sylar would have slaughtered us all, we owe you our lives."

"Really? Cool."

Both you and me can take that as a chance to become to savior instead of the villain (and a minor one at that), I bet Peter the flying idiot would love to see that day that happened and I would love to see him die a fiery death, we all have desires, but we just have to wait and see if Elle Bishop (the awesome) is hero material.

(my vote is hell no but at least I get a few more pretty toys before I bite the dust)

Before I skipped my way into the fiery pit, where bad little girls like me always go (and wait for their murderers to follow, ready), I got to make a friend to finally help someone that wasn't myself or my father.

And that very lucky person was the one and only Claire Bennet, cheerleader and trust me I was just as surprised as you.

We helped each other in every single way, till hate wasn't pouring out of our eyes anymore (and she couldn't be called enemy, at least for the moment), as always it started off with name calling and catfights (hair pulling and all) but ended in smiles which for us was a big first.

"It's nice to know that you're as messed up as I am."

And that is how I finally got over the green beast (the ones that likes to live with me and come out over the smallest things) that has forever been growling at Claire because she was little miss perfect and all it took to calm it was finding out that she wasn't that at all.

(but sadly that's why my ex-boyfriend and murderer would attach himself to her till she shed all the innocence she had left, now it's me pitying her from far below)

And we were wrong to think I would choose all the good things, saving the world (and all those people owing me their lives, so cool), being normal with my own family which would have been the exact opposite of my own (not all twisty and filled with darkness), and getting the superman instead of the super-villain to love me for myself.

Nope I ended up choosing all the wrong things, yet again.

And the worst choice I could ever make in my life came in the form of the man they all call (and fear like no other) Sylar, who had soft lips and loving looks for a second (becoming Gabriel Gray for a short time) before it turned back to boogieman who can't be loved.

"Do you think it's permanent?"

"What, our powers going away or us?"

"Both."

And it's clear that I was the very same, the both of us the same (he was the lock to my key) but not even the little bit of love we had could take away the hunger, the darkness that recedes in his very soul.

"You were wrong. Nobody ever really changes."

Those words, and the eyes that started to burn into me like I was something good to eat and not the person he had kissed and loved for a whole day, should have set me off made my fingers light up one by one but instead I tried to believe the impossible that he could change.

"You did. I saw you."

And how wrong I was, so wrong that now I get to sit in hell and laugh about it.

"That was temporary. And then I got my powers back. And I understand now... that I'm never gonna change. Neither are you, because we're both just damaged goods."

In the last words I would ever hear he was right but the sad thing was that I never got the chance to have someone repair me (who could have been so many, Peter, Mohinder, even Adam) or maybe even repair myself.

And plus I was utter and total moron to believe I would be the one to bring him into the light, the one to share the power, because with him every thing that finger (that sliced me apart in seconds) touches, everyone he dares to love, turns to dust in a few days time.

Instead of falling into his arms, into those eyes that tricked me blind, I should have kept to the hate that filled me the first time I saw him again.

I should have killed the son of a bitch before he had the chance to kill me.

I should have been the old me but because of him I was weaker version and that just makes me hate him and myself a whole lot more.

('I will kill you, you son of a bitch. You murdered my father!' now that's a lot more like it and not 'Hi! Do you like pie?... Ugh, that rhymed, didn't it?')

For me it came in hours, the release of death that was anything but sweet, well at least I got to keep my brain.

(I just lost my self-respect, heart, life, and will to fight, that's all)