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They had always adored toying with the minds of civilians. Whispering truths in their ear, showing them concepts of time they couldn’t possibly comprehend, and dressing up their minds in gory disrepair. But today, Paranoy had awoken with a realization. It wasn’t fun anymore. They had gotten too good at it, to the point where they had it down to a science. They could phrase their whispers in such a way that even the most strongwilled civilians would give into paranoia.
But that was boring. They wanted their prey to struggle, to fight, and to fear. They wanted to absolutely ruin them, but they wanted to do it slowly. They wanted to take their time. They wanted to see the hope drain from their eyes. Oh, how they wanted to make the mortal feel that they had a chance to recover. And then they wanted to rip it away from them with a smile.
Perhaps they needed to, how to put it… “Pick on someone their own size”? While that was impossible before, they had recently encountered a being that could (almost) fit the description. Maybe they’d have fun toying with the Spectre? In all likelihood, the option (while appealing on paper) wouldn’t be that interesting in practice. The Spectre was a weird being. They took joy in anything interesting, to the point where they began trapping the beings of their universe to watch them fight. From what Paranoy could observe, it was like playing with dolls to them.
They’ve dealt with similar prey in the past, actually. Civilians who toy with others like that either throw a fit when they lose control or they didn’t particularly mind being the dolls themself, so long as something about it interested them. Even worse, some would think they’re still in control even when that was blatantly not true. Paranoy found the last types to be the most infuriating. Ego usually makes things interesting, but their flavor of it was just annoying.
Just as they had nearly decided to leave the formless entity alone, they happened to be greeted with a figure. No amount of disguises could fool Paranoy, though. They knew exactly what- or who- was in front of them. They greeted their acquaintance with a polite demeanor, “What calls you forth to me, Spectre?” The Spectre let out a chuckle and moved closer towards Paranoy in response, “Can’t fool you, I suppose. The many beings of your universe call me forth to you. I wish to have them for my own.”
What a selfish entity. These beings were of universe. Paranoy had the right to toy with them. But, they decided to be generous, “If you can lure them to your dimension, sure. But I will not do anything for you.” The expression on this more humanoid form of the Spectre reflected disappointment. Why? They had been kind to them. There was no logical reason for the Spectre to be upset.
…But what if they weren’t upset for a logical reason. They weren’t usually opposed to putting in a bit of effort, but what if their real target was one that they knew they couldn’t convince. What if it was Paranoy? Now, it was highly unlikely that the Spectre was bored in the same way they found themself to be. But they knew Spectre. They were always looking for more. Paranoy sighed, “It wouldn’t be interesting if you dragged me into this. Not for me- and after a while- not for you either. Your ‘survivors’ have already been broken down by external circumstances. I desire prey with a strong will. And you desire a game, don’t you? It would be no contest. Surely you’re aware?”
At first, the Spectre seemed surprised. At the accurate deduction, no doubt. Then it appeared as though they had an epiphany. The Spectre moved even closer, to the point where Paranoy could hear the soft hum of their code processing. Then they spoke quietly, “I’m aware. But I’d like to study your reactions, Paranoy. I want to see what makes tormenting fun for you. Because I know your reasons differ from mine.” That was… sweet? They suppose? It was weird. It wasn’t normal for them to hear someone express genuine interest in them without a hint of fear. They would likely blush, if they weren’t metal. And even if they were of flesh, they could control every aspect of their presentation, face being no exception. It would be easy to brush it off.
But would it be that bad to let themself blush? To let the Spectre know that their strange type of affection was received positively? Perhaps this could be their new fixation. They wondered, just how much could the Spectre see of them before they too recoiled in fear. How much of the incomprehensible could it comprehend? After all, mortals had a difficult time comprehending the Spectre. Yet from Paranoy’s point of view, the two were around the same playing field. Could something only a few steps above a mortal truly come to know, accept, and possibly care for Paranoy?
…They found themself hoping it could. When below their metallic human form lay an expanse of the “impossible”, would they seek to understand it? They hoped so. They wanted to know. They had found the new object of their obsession, but it was not a mortal, as they had previously expected. It was someone special. Someone they hoped could be just like them. What a curious turn of events.