It took some tinkering and manipulation on my part, but by the time I had finished, Vincent was now the spitting image of his Photo Identification.
’Wasted a lot more PC than I am comfortable with today, sigh,’ heaving a soft sigh, I pulled out a fresh bottle of particle water and took some small sips while leaning back on my free hand beside Vincent.
’Well, at least the first and second parts of the plan are complete. Let’s dig into his memory and find out where he plans on settling.’ I thought while setting the half-empty bottle down on the ground and placing two fingers against Vincent’s temple.
Closing my eyes and activating my Telepathy, I dove into the confines of the man’s mind, sifting through all the non-important information, and at some point, I got distracted by Vincent’s kill list.
’Oh, holy shit, we were WAY wrong; 250 kills my ass, if his memory can be trusted, there were over 400 bodies on his hands, and it didn’t start once he became a doctor either.’ I mused while watching replays of several of the early kills Harlow executed.
The first was him shoving a neighbor kid onto some train tracks where the kid was run through by a Train; another was him poisoning a few local druggies that used to bother him on the way home from school as a child.
Basically, from what I could tell, Harlow had been killing people his entire life, and it was only well into his adulthood that he finally perfected his killing method, as he had the tools to do so at his disposal.
From the memories, I delved deeper to see how the man understood emotions. As predicted, although he had the knowledge of how he was supposed to feel and how to react given certain situations, there was a definitive disconnect at that point, proving my thoughts about him being a sociopath.
He understood them but didn’t feel emotions, and I could see it in his memories, primarily the ones when he was holding his children for the first time.
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Unlike most parents who would gush, even if only in their heads, all he did was think, ’Oh, great, another money leech,’ there was no love, no affection, just the knowledge that he now had a child.
In a couple of words, it was a textbook representation of Emotional Detachment.
Going through his memories like a fish swimming upstream, I made sure to document everything in tomes, which were then stored in my Imagination Libray for studying at a later time.
For some time, I swam around in the man’s head until I finally located the memories pertaining to where Vincent wanted to restart his life, and surprisingly enough, it was in Munich, Germany.
’Oh Boy, a crazy serial killer doctor on the loose in Germany, hah, how ironic.’ I had a good laugh, and I did something I hadn’t done in a while. Frankly, it was an underused sub-ability of my Telepathy skill.
Thought Implantation. The sub-ability of my skill was, as you’d think, it allowed me to imprint my own knowledge into the head of someone else, and while it was generally useless, it still had its moment to shine, like now.
Imagining myself holding a book, I transferred all the knowledge I had about the German Language into this new blank tome and pushed it into Vincent’s imaginary head.
With this, although he would have to work on his accent a bit, once he heard someone speaking German aloud for the first time, the book would unravel and flood his head with the Language, instantly turning him fluent.
One of the perks of having perfect memory and utilizing my Imagination library is, apart from certain dead languages, I knew most of the ones spoken on earth, including the majority of the Myriad Race languages, and it was all because I had memorized their dictionaries to some extent.
While there would, of course, be gaps in my knowledge, I could say that, TECHNICALLY, I was fluent in just about any language you could think of.
Mind you, apart from four English, Japanese, Norwegian, and Serbian. I’d have to hear it first like Vincent would, but otherwise, I was good to go no matter where in the world I was.
I had even gotten pretty good at mimicking accents, so unless you knew otherwise, you’d think I was a native of every country with how proficient I was in different languages.
It was kind of like a switch I could flip, but at the end of the day, even that had its restrictions; for example, right now, I couldn’t just randomly start speaking German and understanding it without a reference, so in a sense, you could say I was both native fluent, and a complete novice apart from the four languages I mentioned earlier.
With that task complete, there was now only a single thing left to do: get Vincent to Munich and set him up with a medical practice; then he was on his own.
Pulling my hand away from the man’s temple, I opened my eyes and stood up before walking several feet away to a collection of large storage containers. And with a short hop, I perched myself atop the boxes, crossed my legs, and began meditating.
The hours ticked by, with me keeping my mind occupied with meditation until, after several hours, a loud, pained cry forced my eyes to snap open and look in the direction of the sound.
Thrashing about wildly was Vincent, with blood leaking from his ears and nose, as he fought back screams of agony.
I knew the reason, but seeing as he was still breathing, I didn’t bother acting or even moving from my perch; instead, I propped my elbow on my knee and rested my chin in my cupped palm while watching the show.
’Time to act mysterious and all-powerful, heh, I love this part.’
"You are being baptized by my power; stay awake and fight for your life because once you make it out of the tunnel of anguish, we may begin our journey."
’Fucking, nailed it, hehe,’ I thought with a grin.