Aldrich was leaning against the brick wall. His mouth and face were bloody, his mind heavy with the high of the last meal, when a voice woke him up from his trance.
"A messy process, but I suppose efficiency is rarely aesthetic. You've just consumed roughly eighty million dollars of research and development, Aldrich. I assume the 'high' was worth the market price?"
Aldrich forced himself to his feet.
"The hunt was without merit."
"The 'hunt.' What an interesting choice of words," Stan Edgar said. "Tell me, is there a reason that compelled you to consume that child, or is it just your sick nature? From what I hear, you only need a drop of blood to copy the Deep or Homelander. Is there a benefit to eating the entire thing?"
Aldrich began moving towards him to break his neck, and the neck of anyone who might have seen him as well.
"Before you resort to unnecessary violence," Edgar said, adjusting his tie. "I brought you a gift."
"A gift?"
"Follow me."
Aldrich followed the man out of the slums to the curb, where a long black car waited. A driver stepped out and opened the trunk.
"This is Rufus McCurdy," Edgar said, his voice flat. "The man who supposedly 'killed your family.' Consider this a gesture of goodwill. I simply need you to listen to my proposal."
Aldrich gripped the unconscious man, hauling Rufus out of the trunk like a sack of grain. He looked at Edgar.
"Is it okay if I eat and listen? I'm still a bit hungry."
"Of course," Edgar said, his voice as smooth as the leather interior of the car. "That would be even better. I appreciate a man who can multitask."
"I like you already."
"I can only say the same," Edgar replied, checking his watch. "But you can enjoy your meal on the road. It's already an inconvenience explaining the disappearance of a Godolkin University student, not to mention the mess you made earlier. If we add public cannibalism to the ledger, I might start thinking you're taking advantage of my hospitality. Just... make sure not to stain the leather."
The driver stepped forward, taking Rufus from Aldrich's grip with the practiced ease of a bellhop handling luggage. He moved the body into the back of the limousine. Edgar stepped in first, settling into the plush seat, and signaled for Aldrich to follow.
The doors closed shut, sealing out the sounds of the slums.
The moment the car began to move, Aldrich wasted no time. He straddled the sedated Rufus. He placed his mouth on the nape of Rufus's neck and bit down.
Inside the cabin, the temperature began to rise. Aldrich's mouth grew hotter and hotter, the thermal energy of his metabolism working to break down the psychic's DNA.
Bit by bit, Rufus began to deflate, his muscles softening, his skin sagging, becoming thinner and thinner.
Edgar sat across from them, a glass of expensive scotch in his hand. He watched the psychic's body shrivel into a husk in the dim light of the cabin.
Instantly, a new world opened in Aldrich's eyes. To describe it accurately, it felt like he'd grown two new, imaginary hands. They could reach out to the driver's head, bypass the skull, and pry his mind open to see his thoughts or erase his memories. His mouth felt a tiny bit heavier.
"Go to sleep," Aldrich spoke.
This time the word felt quieter, but the effect was absolute. Instantly, the man in front of him went vacant. Stan Edgar's eyes went empty, and he went quiet.
Aldrich reached those imaginary hands into the man's head, practicing his newfound abilities. He bypassed the bone and began searching clumsily through what he wanted. There were too many random memories he didn't need to see.
But then, he thought about what he wanted. He looked for whatever gave this man the sense of security to approach and talk to him. It was like a beacon that lit up in his head. Reaching out to it, Aldrich instantly learned the truth.
This cabin was a kill-box. It was rigged with speakers designed to release high-frequency sounds to shatter his eardrums, and a gas called Halothane meant to knock him out cold.
Aldrich wanted to erase these memories from his head and from the driver's head as well.
The question is: how? He needs to find the memories of him consuming the child, the memory of Stan handing Rufus to him, and he needs to find out who else knows Stan gave him Rufus.
He looked at the dazed man. What a fool. A stupid fool high on his own arrogance. Edgar never expected I could deploy these abilities this quickly. He came here to put a leash on me, but I will go of my own accord.
I have progressed through my first cycle. Now, it is time to nest. And what better place is there to nest than Vought Tower?