In a life-or-death situation like Michael's, the human brain doesn't actually "speed up" its processing power, but it accelerates its perception of time. This is often called Tachypsychia.
When the amygdala, the brain's fear center takes over, it starts recording memories with much higher density.
The brain is capturing more "frames per second" than usual, it feels like the world has slowed down. Michael could see every gold hair on Aldrich's head moving in slow motion, giving him the illusion that he has time to save himself.
His foot had unconsciously pressed as hard as possible from stress, making the car blur. His wife's face flashed in the afterimages of the passing road. He refused to die. Michael wrenched the wheel right at a hundred miles per hour. The car tripped over its own momentum and began a violent barre role.
The tires screamed, the chassis buckled, and the roof collapsed into a rain of glass dust. Without a belt to hold him, Michael became a projectile. He was launched through the side window while the car continued its brutal rotation behind him.
He hit the asphalt and rolled.
Michael lay there, his face a red mess, gasping for air that felt like needles. He looked up, his vision blurry, and saw feet. People. They were stopping their cars. They were coming toward him.
"Help..." Michael wheezed, reaching out a bloody hand. "Please... my wife..."
A few yards back, the passenger door of the wrecked car was kicked off its hinges with a dull clunk.
Aldrich stepped out. He walked over to the crawling man and picked him up, making him groan in pain. "I take back what I said," Aldrich remarked. "You do have a brain and some brawn, but no luck. I usually don't do this, I would have just plucked your heart out instead of all of this but it's your bad luck. I've been feeling very confused and murderous these past days, I guess. I respect what you did, though. For that, I will take care of your wife."
"Why..." Michael's voice broke. "What did I ever do to you?"
"I need a phone and your currency. Now go to sleep," Aldrich said, looking down at him one last time. "You played your part well. Too well, if I may add. Let that be your final condolence."
CRACK.
Around him, the initial shock of the crowd curdled into pure terror. The onlookers scrambled, their screams echoing off the nearby buildings.
The streets were already being choked by the flash of blue and red lights. Police cars and ambulances speeded into the intersection, sirens wailing a frantic, high-pitched warning.
The officers stepped out, weapons drawn, but they froze the moment they saw him.
A kid who looked like he belonged in a orphanage, was effortlessly holding a grown man twice his weight by the throat. The atmosphere shifted instantly with the grim realization that they were dealing with a "Supe."
"Drop him! Hands in the air!" a sergeant yelled, his voice cracking with a fear he couldn't hide.
The local Supe stepped out of the sergeant's car. He looked at the wreckage and, finally, at the boy holding the corpse.
"Kid," Supersonic started "You've had a busy morning. Why don't you put the man down ? Come with us. I can see you've been living rough. Why don't you come with me? We'll get you the help you need. We'll take care of you."
Aldrich ignored the cops. "'Come with us. We will take care of you.' Do you know how many times I've heard that? Why do you think I need help?"
Supersonic and the cops thought he was an abused Supe who had finally turned violent. Supersonic had already called for backup. "Look, I don't know what you've been through or what bad people did to you, but we are here to help. You just have to trust me. Supe to Supe, okay?"
Thud.
Dropping the body to the ground, Aldrich turned to face them directly.
Sergeant Macusky looked at Supersonic. He had known the boy since he was a child, and he knew his own men; he knew their wives and their children.
He would much prefer this rogue Supe dying than a single hair of his men being harmed. While Alex was a genuinely good kid, he was still young, unlike Macusky, who knew that this thing in front of them had made a choice three minutes ago. But he hoped, he really hoped, he was wrong.
"As I said to this man before, survival isn't just about being smart or strong," Aldrich said. "Sometimes, more importantly, it's about luck. And Lady Luck is a cruel and fickle mistress for all of you today. I'm feeling more and more murderous for reasons I don't understand. I should get back to normal soon, but for now, I really, really need to break your necks."
"KID, DON'T DO ANYTHING RASH! LISTEN TO US, YOU ARE SURROUNDED!"
"Surrounded? All I'm surrounded by is fear... and dead men."