Inside an upscale Manhattan club, a middle-aged man was reveling in the company of two elegant women, sipping the fine liquor they offered to his lips.
The women were dressed not in revealing attire but in tasteful, expensive evening gowns that complemented the man's sharp suit.
"Heh," the man chuckled after a swig, leaning back against the plush sofa, and inquired of his bodyguard clad in a dark suit, "Is everyone out?"
"Yes, after the death of that stubborn old hag, the remaining few tenants were wise to leave by this morning. Congratulations, boss," the bodyguard replied, his face showing admiration for the triumphant man before him, knowing that aligning with such a man would ensure his rise to power.
"The problem that persisted for over a decade, ta-da!" The man basking in pleasure was none other than Dale, the head of Dale Real Estate. He spread his hands in a self-satisfied gesture, eliciting giggles from the beauties by his side.
"The others were fools not to be compared with you," the bodyguard flattered Dale, subtly signaling a waiter to pour more wine. The waiter approached with swift elegance, not spilling a drop.
"Those lowly vermin always need someone to crush them, and I just did the honors," Dale laughed heartily, already envisioning a bright future as he indulged in the drink.
The women's glamorous gowns grew wrinkled under Dale's wandering hands as the bodyguard and waiter stepped out, guarding the door.
Outside the high-end establishment, a small figure was trailing the paparazzi, finding a vantage point nearby.
"So, you plan to confront Mr. Dale face-to-face?" A paparazzo, seeing dollar signs in his eyes, looked at the 5- or 6-year-old child as if he were spotting tons of gold, wishing he could shove the microphone into Aiden's mouth.
"He's in that building, right?" Aiden didn't answer but instead asked in a soft, inquisitive tone.
His small stature and sweet face always lent Aiden a mask of innocence that was hard to penetrate.
"Yes, yes. You want to go in, don't you? I can help you, but we need to be discreet, tell no one. We'll need some disguises." The paparazzo had elevated from simply thinking he had stumbled upon a major story to envisioning an exclusive scoop. In his eyes, the child before him wasn't just a child—he had no ounce of pity for Aiden, only a concern for profit, for money. If anyone tried to take Aiden back to the orphanage now, he would even fight them off!
Besides, Aiden was only an Asian. To put it bluntly, even African Americans were regarded higher than Asians.
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The paparazzo slung his camera around his neck, contemplating how to sneak Aiden in without alerting his colleagues, all the while sneering, "Those idiots are still waiting at the front and back doors, not knowing that Dale has wised up. This private club has a side door, maybe we can—"
A sudden blow to the back of his head with a rock, which had hovered up during his speech and then, out of Aiden's impatience, was hurled at the paparazzo's head.
A side door, huh?
Aiden pulled up his hood, his small figure crossing the street swiftly amidst the dazzling neon lights.
After circling the vast club, Aiden confirmed the location of the side door, but there were still a few reporters lingering around. The biggest news in Hell's Kitchen was clearly about Dale Real Estate. Whether Dale was being flagrantly bold or seeking publicity, he had made quite a splash.
To Aiden, Dale seemed to embody the former. The dark atmosphere of Hell's Kitchen had emboldened him, and Dale might have other roles in this neighborhood that Aiden was unaware of.
Aiden only knew that tonight was the time for him to take the first step in his life.
The large dumpster provided the perfect cover for his small frame, which could be quite advantageous at times.
It wasn't until 1 AM that a half-asleep Aiden heard the sounds of a scuffle, fists meeting flesh, which would be exhilarating in a movie but cringe-worthy in real life.
Peeking out, Aiden saw several bodyguards roughing up the paparazzi, evidently clearing out these annoying flies.
Once the reporters were driven away, the bodyguards communicated through their earpieces. Soon after, the side door opened, and two elegant but slightly disheveled women helped Dale out of the small door, down the stairs, and towards the luxurious stretch Lincoln parked in the alley.
Aiden extended his hand, and the iron supports beneath the staircase began to tremble uncontrollably.
Telekinesis was Aiden's ability. At this moment, his control wasn't refined, but his high potential allowed him to use telekinesis to make short flights. It was a derived ability, and Aiden believed that as he grew older and stronger, he would develop more "tricks."
The bodyguards, sensing something amiss, turned back in confusion to see the iron supports shaking wildly. As they bent to investigate, one of the supports broke free and pierced the forehead of a bodyguard, leaving a bloody hole.
"Uh," Aiden's forehead was also dripping with sweat. Using his abilities to this extent was taxing and somewhat overwhelming.
"Alert! Alert!" Chaos ensued. Aiden's plan had not succeeded; his inexperience and lack of preparation led to a disastrous outcome.
"Get in the car, boss, hurry!" One of the bodyguards rushed over, loyally snatching Dale from the women's arms and dragging him towards the car.
The bloodstained iron support flew towards them, piercing the bodyguard's back and, due to the angle and force, jutting into Dale's ribs.
"Ahh!" Dale's shrill screams pierced the night, but to Aiden, they were music to his ears.
Bang!
The panicked bodyguards frantically scanned the surroundings. One with keen eyesight spotted a small hand peeking out from the shadow of the dumpster. Without hesitation, he fired, believing that anything unusual could be an attack point. The bodyguards were now ruthless, as two of their comrades had died within seconds, and they might be next.
Fortunately, the anxious bodyguard's shot was off, hitting the dumpster with a jarring clang.
Aiden quickly withdrew his hand. He was still troubled by his ability to manipulate objects; he could control small items remotely with minor effort. But to be precise and powerful, Aiden had to spread his hands wide open and go all out.
After all, he was only five years old.