{Chapter: 180 - Predator Meets Predator}
Aiden wasn't as impressed with the new ability as James was. To the outside observer, freezing seemed flashy and lethal. But Aiden could feel its limitations already—it required moisture in the air or nearby surfaces, and lacked the versatility of higher-tier frost abilities. Still, it served a purpose. A stepping stone. A key part of the quest.
What interested him more was what came next.
"You can bring your daughter up now," Aiden said, stepping away from the bed.
James looked up sharply, alarm flickering across his face. "Molly?"
"She's next."
James hesitated. His paternal instinct screamed at him to shield her, to protect her from whatever this man was. But another voice, the voice of a desperate father who had just seen how easily his power was stripped away, told him there was no use in resisting. Aiden hadn't hurt him, and more importantly… he had warned them about Sylar.
Without a word, James left the room. The creak of the stairs sounded like the ticking of a countdown.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open again, and Molly stepped in. She was small, maybe ten or eleven, with wide brown eyes and hair tied into a loose ponytail. There was a shyness to her that clung like a shadow, but she walked in confidently, even if she held her stuffed rabbit tightly in one hand.
"This is the man who wants to help us?" she asked her father, unsure.
James nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yes. Just do what he says."
Molly tilted her head, studying Aiden. "You don't look like a bad guy."
"I'm not." Aiden crouched down to her level. "And I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to… borrow something. That's all. It won't hurt. I promise."
She narrowed her eyes, skeptical. "You talk like Mr. Bennet."
Aiden chuckled. "Do I? I'll take that as a compliment."
He reached out and gently rested a hand on her head. As soon as he touched her, he felt it—her mind was different. A vast map, like a star chart, began to unfurl in his thoughts. Her power was delicate, but powerful, the kind of gift that would be priceless to someone like Sylar.
She didn't scream or struggle, but her eyes fluttered shut, and her breathing grew shallow. Aiden frowned, sensing more resistance than with James. Her gift fought him, like a maze constantly shifting. It wasn't raw strength—it was elusive, layered in mystery. Perhaps it was her young age, or perhaps it was that her full potential hadn't awakened yet.
Still, he persisted.
Minutes passed. Ten. Maybe more. The room remained silent aside from the occasional creak of wood or distant clatter of a pot in the kitchen below. Then, Aiden finally opened his eyes. He felt the power merge into him—quiet and invisible but very much present. With it came a strange certainty: as long as he knew the full name of the person.
"Alright," he exhaled, smiling down at the now-drowsy girl. "I'm done."
Molly blinked, confused. "That's it?"
"That's it." Aiden ruffled her hair gently. "You're very brave, you know. A lot braver than most adults I've met."
She beamed at the praise.
Aiden rose to his feet. "My business here is done. Thank you for your time. I'll let you finish your dinner in peace."
James frowned. "That's… it? You don't want anything else?"
Aiden shook his head, offering him a calm smile. "No. And don't worry—I've given you a chance. That's more than Sylar ever gives."
James stood uncertainly, glancing at his daughter. "You're not going to… erase our memories or anything?"
"I'm not the Company," Aiden said. "And I'm not your enemy. Live your life. Quietly. Off the radar."
He paused at the door. "Because if Sylar does find out about Molly… he won't do anything now."
With that, he walked out of the house into the cool evening air.
---
Later that night, after checking out of a small local inn, Aiden strolled toward the edge of town. He had accomplished his mission: three abilities acquired, the main objective of this segment complete. His mind was already turning toward the next stage. There was still so much more power to obtain… and dangerous players to watch.
He ducked into a convenience store and purchased a paper map. He preferred analog for moments like these—something about unfolding it in the wind made him feel grounded. As he walked outside, the scent of hot dogs and roasted peanuts wafted down the street.
To his right, at a small vendor stand, a man in a dark hoodie and baseball cap was ordering a hot dog. At a glance, he looked like any tourist. But Aiden's senses tingled.
He didn't look up, just murmured to himself with a smirk, "Are you eyeing me, friend?"
His hand brushed the edge of the map, tracing the path to New York.
"I don't think it'll be so easy to take what's mine," he added, voice low, almost playful.
The wind carried his words down the block, as if daring the man beneath the cap to follow.
---
The late afternoon sun cast golden streaks across the sidewalks of the city, glinting off car hoods and glass windows. Aiden strolled calmly down the bustling street, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his long coat, blending in perfectly with the rhythm of pedestrian life. Yet, beneath his composed exterior, his senses were sharply attuned to every nuance in the environment.
A subtle shift in footfalls behind him. The faintest waver in the air pressure. The gaze—cold, precise, hungry.
He was being followed.
And he knew exactly by whom.
Sylar.
Aiden's eyes narrowed slightly as he turned a corner. The name alone conjured a trail of blood, bodies, and abilities stolen through brutal, surgical precision. Gabriel Gray, better known as Sylar, had started his life as a humble watchmaker—a man obsessed with understanding how things worked. But that obsession had evolved into something monstrous. Gifted—or cursed—with the ability to intuitively understand the mechanics behind anything, he had turned to murder to dissect and steal powers from other evolved humans. He didn't just kill. He opened skulls. He took what made people special and added it to his growing arsenal.
To the world, Sylar was a nightmare. A phantom that appeared just before death.
But to Aiden, he was a curiosity.
"Persistent bastard," Aiden muttered under his breath, pretending to examine a street vendor's fruit cart while subtly watching a reflection in a glass door nearby. He could see the figure—tall, wearing a dark cap pulled low, with eyes sharp and focused, feigning casual disinterest while never letting Aiden out of his sight.
Sylar.
His presence was unmistakable, a weight that pressed against the world around him, distorting the air with restrained violence.
Aiden allowed a small smile to curl his lips. So, you took the bait after all… He had expected as much. Ever since leaving Molly's house, he had sensed the disturbance in the plot—Sylar's path had been altered. The predator had found a new interest.
Him.
He began walking faster, subtly weaving through people, cutting across the street and into a narrow side alley between two apartment buildings. Cracked bricks and graffiti-covered walls surrounded him, with trash cans lining the dead-end ahead. The alley was tight, closed off—exactly what he wanted.
Behind him, Sylar followed.
Silent.
Methodical.
He stepped into the alley and paused.
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No target.
Just a dead end.
Sylar's brow furrowed. His instincts screamed something was wrong. He scanned the alley—dumpsters, shadows, fire escape ladders—but Aiden had vanished.
"Where is he?" he muttered, his voice low, clipped with confusion.
"Looking for me?" came a voice behind him—smooth, amused.
Sylar spun around quickly.
Aiden stood there, leaning against the brick wall with a relaxed smile, as if they'd merely bumped into each other at a café instead of in a predator's trap.
Sylar blinked once, then recovered quickly. His expression smoothed into a false friendliness, his posture casual.
"Well… Hello there," Sylar said smoothly, folding his hands behind his back. "My name is Mohinder Suresh. I'm a professor of genetics at—"
Aiden tilted his head slightly, bemused. "Stop. Just stop. First of all, Mohinder Suresh is Indian. You, my friend, are definitely not. Second, you're terrible at lying. Third—and most importantly—you've been trailing me ever since I left Molly's house. If you're going to pretend, at least make the story believable."
Sylar's smile faltered.
"You really came prepared," he said, dropping the act. "So… you knew. You even led me here, didn't you?"
Aiden didn't answer. He simply pushed off the wall and took a step forward.
"Cutting open people's skulls to steal their abilities… How charming. You know, Sylar, I was curious about you. I wanted to see what made you tick. Pun intended."
Sylar chuckled, low and menacing. "You're funny. That's good. Most people scream."
"Most people aren't me."
Sylar's eyes glinted with hunger. "No… You're different. I saw what you did back there. You took his ability. Drained it like a leech. We're not so different, you and I."
Aiden's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Don't lump me in with you. You tear people apart for power. I… assimilate. There's a difference."
"A philosophical one. Not a practical one," Sylar said, his voice dropping. "Either way, your ability… I want it. And I'm going to take it."