<b>"What do you care?"</b><br/><br/>The words from hours ago shocked Spectre awake from her half slumber yet again, an agonised groan rolling from the villainess lips. Her pale hands clutched at her face and eyes impotently as unwelcome memories once more flooded in to haunt her thoughts. Guilt churned in what little remained of her humanity, only to be mocked by Scythe Spectre's darker side. Well done, feeling a little sorry for yourself after you raped and scarred a girl for life. Real noble. Festering self-loathing and bitter hatred curled around her guilt to suffocate what little regret she had.<br/><br/><span style="color: #8000ff">"I don't, but I remember caring once..."</span>The pale woman whispered into the quiet night while pushing herself up into a sitting position in the uncomfortable couch.<span style="color: #8000ff"> "...and I miss that."</span>She admitted to herself, the pain of her cursed existence stabbing her heart while the chains spread around the small room rattled with her shaken feelings. Metal links shuddered and shivered in tune to their mistress's turmoil. Someone in the next room over hit the wall, swearing at her to be quieter. Scythe Spectre suppressed the urge to kill him, even as it glowed hot in her gut. Murdering your fellow squatters wasn't conductive to a peaceful resting place, and it was three AM.<br/><br/>Too restless for a sleep haunted by nightmares anyway, the villainess procured her laptop from her duffel bag. After setting up a proxy, Scythe Specter contacted her contacts. The most successful supervillains, not including those otherwordly S-class horrors, never fought a superhero at all. Instead, these people had created a network much like the worldwide hero database, only for villains. Considering you could get almost any piece of information if you could afford it, the supervillains might've been the ones to make the hero database in the first place. It was part of why Scythe Spectre hated the supereconomy. It was corrupted and twisted to the bone, designed to squeeze the blood out of idealistic heroes such as the Scarlet Sentinel and turn it into profit.<br/><br/>Tonight, that deep corruption played in the Villains hands more than usual, more than an easy fence and intel about those that would hunt her. There were resources Superheroes could use to get therapy, anonymous and surprisingly humane. The Scythe Spectre still had a decent supply of cash left, she could afford to spend it on some supergenius to put her where the Scarlet Sentinel would run. She told herself it was lingering guilt that drove her to this, ignoring the desire suddenly flaring inside her as her mine conjured an image of that Scarlet beauty running from her right into her arms, blind to being drowned in darkness.<br/><br/>Around the Scythe Spectre, metal chains quivered with desire.<br/><br/><br/><br/>-------------<br/><br/><br/>Long ago, in more blissful and ignorant times, she had been chasing a psychology degree in university. Though those once happy memories were now forever drenched in blood and pain, the knowledge gained back was proving useful now. Playing the therapist had been easy. Part of her did want to genuinely help the Scarlet Sentinel after all. Not enough to convince her to quit the superhero economy completely, but still. She had long stopped chastizing herself about obsession, wasn't it natural for a villain to desire a Nemesis? The Scythe Specter smirked to herself, fixing the opera mask to better cover her features while making sure the make-up designed to make her look normal hadn't rubbed off.<br/><br/>After putting in coloured contact lenses, Scythe Specter admired herself in the mirror. She almost looked human again. While it had been tempting to borrow an entire BDSM outfit for this, Specter had kept her choice of attire simple in order to look comforting and empathic to the Scarlet Sentinel, she didn't want to intimidate the superhero and scare her away after all. She did rent some equipment, adding a few chains of her own to the gear bag in case of trouble.<br/><br/>Taking a deep breath to gather her courage, Specter threw a coat around herself and set out for the hotel room she had booked for her and the Scarlet Sentinel's 'therapy' session. She ignored her discomfort in the crowds and the disconnect she felt to the general populace around her. A sigh of relief fell from the villainess's lips as she finally escaped the common populace and stepped inside the hotel room she had booked.<br/><br/>At the sight of the Scarlet Sentinel sitting there, that sigh turned into a sharp gasp.<span style="color: #a64dff">"Ah, I apologize, miss. You're a lot more impressive in person than I had expected. I also apologize for the mutual anonimity. Us supertherapists occasionally get targeted by villains eager to try and learn some weakness they can abuse."</span>Easy half-true lies. The Scythe Spectre spoke in slight up-pitched tone of voice, combined with the mask there wasn't much danger of being accidentally recognized.<br/><br/><span style="color: #a64dff">"We can spend some time talking. About anything. Or, if you're comfortable and ready we can try and recreate what happened right away."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>