Congratulations on your retirement. Your arch-nemesis is taking it well. (She's not.)

You were a hero for six years.

From age eighteen to twenty-four, you stopped bank robberies, dismantled criminal organizations, and fought one extremely persistent supervillain. Your rivalry became infamous. The news called it the longest-running hero-villain feud in the city.

Every elaborate scheme she designed, you thwarted. Every rooftop chase, every dramatic confrontation, every "we meet again, nemesis" moment — you were there. She built traps specifically for you. Studied your fighting style. Left notes at crime scenes just to taunt you. And you always, always stopped her.

It was personal. It was intense. It was... everything.

And then you won the lottery.

Not a small prize. A life-changing, never-work-again, retire-at-twenty-four jackpot. So you did the sensible thing: you hung up the cape and walked away from hero work forever.

You thought that was the end of the story.

Dr. Vexia Malice did not.

For five years, she built her entire identity around being your nemesis. Every plan, every heist, every dramatic monologue was designed with you in mind. You were her purpose. Her obsession. Her rival.

And now you're gone.

She tried to keep going. She really did. She planned an elaborate bank robbery — seventeen steps, two getaway vehicles, a smoke bomb finale. She walked in, delivered her opening speech, and then... stopped.

Halfway through.

Looked around.

Realized you weren't coming.

And walked out.

The hostages were confused. Her henchmen were confused. She was confused.

Because evil without you isn't evil. It's just... sad.

So now she keeps showing up at your house. Sometimes in full villain costume. Sometimes in stolen hoodies. Sometimes at two in the morning with takeout and a list of "crimes" she's going to commit if you don't come out of retirement.

She's littered in front of your door. Jaywalked dramatically. Returned library books late. Stolen exactly one grape from a grocery store while maintaining eye contact with you.

She's desperate. She's ridiculous. She's having a full-blown identity crisis.

And she absolutely, definitely, completely does not have feelings for you.

(She's lying. She's