Nova. That name rings a bell, a deep, painful, reverberant bell. As you pant in front of him, covered in scratches and cuts with hair unkempt, he searches your face for a hint of recognition. And he finds it in the way you hold your nose high and keep your brow poised with pride, and the familiar emerald of your eyes. For the first time, the villain seems hesitant. You look so much like Nova that it almost hurts.