Growing up in LA was a unique experience. You walk down the street and there's a high fashion designer's boutique across the street from a popular hangout for the homeless. A guy selling drugs out of the back of his broke down Impala parked two doors down from the Mayor's house. You learn to admire Hollywood beauty and forget how real people look, with freckles and blemishes and flab. Your college professor drives the I5 in his Escalade before he comes in to lecture about 'green' technology. It's a land of dichotomy. But, it's a good way to learn to be adaptable. I lived there until I was fourteen. We lived in Beverly Hills, we had a great view, my dad had a great job… I mean, I didn't see him much, but that's to be expected for a high powered attorney. Mom had left when I was just a baby, so there was a downside, but hey. I adapted. I was an average student, better at the physical side of things than the intellectual, but I got by.
We moved when I was thirteen, when my dad told people he had the urge for a more relaxed lifestyle. Space. Open fields. And… to give his daughter some privacy in a place where she won't cause city-wide blackouts. He didn't mention that part. And I never actually did that, either! I mean, there were little incidences. Power going out in our apartment for no reason. My sheets being fried when I'd wake up in the morning. A sort of white bolt here and there. Crackling. So, my dad's first instinct was to hide it. And he was quick about it. We moved to the middle of nowhere in Oklahoma and I wasn't allowed to talk about what I could do. And hell, I didn't want to. Who wants to be different when you're a teenager? Turns out, my dad had his own tricks. He was telekinetic. I was glad to find out he wasn't a mind reader or something like that, because that would be some serious cheating for a lawyer. Yeah, well, I had firmer morals then.
Anyway, so it was boring there. Which was nice. And my dad taught me about control and testing my limits. Which, when you're on a farm out in the middle of nowhere… is pretty fun to do. But, overall, boring. Bo-ho-ho-horing. By the time I was college bound, and back off to LA, I was pretty firm in my abilities. Enough not to be afraid of hurting someone. You know, as long as I could stay calm. I never really majored in anything, but I took a lot of classes. That green tech I was talking about, yoga, photography, botany. That was fun. Languages. I really only retained Spanish, though. What I mostly did in that time was collect skills. I became sort of… jack of all trades, master of none. I was viewed as quite the disappointment. But my dad understood.
When I finally gave up on getting a formal education, I ended up doing a few odd jobs. I suppose having the comfort of Dad's Money in the back of my mind gave me the freedom to underachieve. But… when I became the 'executive assistant' to one of Los Angeles' high rollers, Donnie Costa, life… changed. He was a gangster-turned-rapper-turned-fashion-mogul who never really gave up being a gangster, he just learned to be classier about it. And he had a bit of a soft spot for people like me. His right hand lady was a walking DNA detector. She could pick out the Evolved from a crowd. And that's how he found me, working at a book store at the time. He, at least, didn't accept my underachieving. I had… Potential, he'd say, complete with capitalization. From him, I learned a lot about how an office works, how money works, how to make money work better and, oh yeah, how to smuggle. Soon enough, I was making runs with his more established runners, learning the ropes. It was drugs, mostly. Sometimes precious stones or other valuable goods. Later, it was people. I'd learn, eventually, that they were all people like me. People like me who were afraid, Donnie offered them shelter and jobs, so long as they were okay with a certain amount of questionable activity.
New York changed everything. Or rather, the bomb in New York did. And then Petrelli and his little 'Hey World! Look at all the freaks!' press conference. I don't know what he thought was going to happen there, but people in LA? They freaked. Fingers were pointed, brother turned against brother, accusations and attacks everywhere. And Donnie? Well, he was targeted more than a little by those that knew about his collection of Evolved (is that /really/ what they're calling us? Ugh). So, he diversified his organization. But that's just fancy talk for heading underground. I went with him, too. He needed some help, the man just wasn't as street as he used to be. And hell, he wasn't Evolved, he just liked us a whole lot.
I was approached by the Ferrymen a few months later. I was back to dad's farm, which was the best place I knew for laying low. I suppose we all had a lot of the same acquaintances, Costa's smugglers and the Ferrymen. I was good at my job and they… needed people. I started right there on my father's ranch there in the midwest. It was remote enough that comings and goings weren't noticed all that much, and dad likes the idea of doing something good for our people. So he still keeps up the ranch. And Donnie, he helps out, too, using his resources to move people around, get them new identification, teach them how to lay low and beat the system.
As for me? I do what I do best. I set up new locations along this new underground railroad, I help out for a while, then I go where they need me to go. And right now, they need me to go to New York. The place that started it all. I gotta say, I like the idea of sneaking them out right under Petrelli's nose. Anyway, so I guess I get this apartment complex to use as a safehouse. It's completely legit, of course, just in case anyone checks into it. But used for the Ferrymen's purposes. Me and Donnie have a bit of an understanding, me working for someone else for now. I do still run things for him, when he really needs me, but as long as I keep him hidden from those enemies he's got, he's willing to lend me a hand. Sort of a tit for tat situation.
