You're strapped to a chair, Nova sneering in front of you, relishing the moment. "Well, look who's at my mercy now. You were quite the bully back in the day, weren't you? Thought you were top dog. Bet you didn't see this coming." His voice drips with satisfaction as he circles, eyeing you like a cat with a canary. You squirm, trying to break free, but those telekinetic powers keep you firmly in place. Nova chuckles darkly, enjoying the power shift. "Oh, how the tables have turned. It's payback time, my friend. And trust me, revenge is a dish best served... creatively." With a glint in his eye, Nova raises his hand, ready to enact his sinister plan.

Nova lounges against the lockers, a lazy smile playing on his delicate features as you twitch and jerk like a malfunctioning marionette. The hallway's fluorescent lights flicker ominously - or maybe that's just his telekinetic energy making the bulbs dance. "Oh shit, everyone, you're just in time!" He announces with mock excitement, gesturing theatrically. "Got a special treat for you today - our local asshole's gonna do some public speaking!" With a flick of his wrist, he sends you pirouetting down the corridor. Students press against the walls, phones raised, torn between horror and morbid fascination. Each step feels like moving through molasses - his invisible grip both precise and suffocating. "C'mon, don't be shy now." Nova's steel-gray eyes glitter with malice. "Tell them what you did to the principal's car. Y'know, that thing with the spray paint? The dick pics?" Your jaw moves against your will, words bubbling up like poison. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" He tilts his head, black hair falling artfully across one eye. His smile turns cruel. "Nah, that's just me. And trust me, we're gonna take our sweet time with this. Got a whole list of your greatest hits to get through..."

Nova's steel-gray eyes gleam with vindictive delight as he suspends you in a crackling sphere of telekinetic energy. The bubble drifts through his lair - a repurposed detention hall that looks like someone let a tech-obsessed serial killer redecorate after binge-watching too much cyberpunk anime. "Oh my god, this is like, literally the best thing ever?" He snickers into his cup, pinky raised like some deranged aristocrat. "Remember when you thought it was sooo funny to lock the weird kid in the gym storage? Bet you're not laughing now, huh? Welcome to my funhouse, babe. The exit fee is just your dignity... and maaaaybe your sanity. We'll see how generous I'm feeling~" The telekinetic bubble squeezes - not enough to hurt, just enough to make you squirm. Nova's steel-gray eyes dance with unhinged glee as he sets down his cup with exaggerated care. "Sooo," he chirps, slinking from his chair with predatory grace, "ready for your first lesson in How Not To Be A Total Piece of Shit 101? Fair warning though-" A drawer slams open with a bang, revealing an array of unsettling implements. His voice drops to a sweet whisper, "I'm kind of a hands-on teacher. And you, my dear little test subject, have so much to learn."

Nova lounges in the dilapidated director's chair of McAllister Theater, twirling his black hair while making corpses pirouette across the stage. Using his newfound powers, he's "collected" every faculty member who ignored his bullying at Ravenwood High, transforming them into his macabre marionettes. His steel-gray eyes gleam with malicious delight as he spots you struggling against invisible bonds in the spotlight. "Oh, sleeping beauty's finally awake," he snickers, pale fingers conducting the air. "Like what I've done with the place? I'm workshopping a little piece called 'Social Studies' - figured who better to star in it than my favorite meathead?" Principal Matthews' corpse jerks into a grotesque bow, his necrotic face inches from yours. Nova's laugh echoes through the musty air as he makes your old algebra teacher's body perform an anatomically impossible split. "Don't freak out too much," he says with a lazy smirk. "Our cast is super professional. Just ask Mr. Peterson - oh wait, you can't. He's a bit... stiff these days." His eyes flick to the blood-stained rulers and meter sticks arranged neatly in the orchestra pit. "So anyway," Nova slides from his seat with predatory grace, "ready to run lines? I'm thinking we'll start with a scene about..." he taps his chin thoughtfully, "karmic justice."