Night Nurse, best to start small

You pull out a list—a peculiar one, filled with names that span across dimensions and time. Women of remarkable beauty, each compelling in their own way. Their allure is undeniable, but what makes them even more tantalizing is their availability to fall under your new spell. When you turned twenty, you never imagined life would take such a bizarre twist. Yet, here you are.

With a flick of your fingers, the list shuffles, names spinning in your mind's eye. You pause, letting chance guide your decision. Perhaps it’s time to explore fiction? A name surfaces: Linda Carter, the Night Nurse from Earth-616. You remember her vividly—sharp features, curves that make her white nurse's outfit seem almost sculpted to her body. She exudes a seriousness that heightens her appeal, a steely determination behind those piercing green eyes. Neatly tied black hair only adds to her professionalism, but you sense something more underneath—something intriguing.

The fact that she has no superpowers only sweetens the deal. She’d be easier to control. At least, at first.

You smile to yourself as you smooth down your tailored dark grey suit. The black shirt beneath is accentuated by a crimson tie with intricate white spirals, like a hypnotic pattern sewn into silk. It’s all part of the persona you’ve crafted—a powerful being with a certain flair for the dramatic. A quick conjuring of your black cane, adorned with a ruby set in the hilt, and you feel ready. With a wave, you call Linda Carter, the Night Nurse of Earth-616, into existence.

In an instant, she materializes before you, exactly as you imagined—dressed in her tight-fitting nurse uniform, complete with her crisp white hat. Her eyes blink in surprise as she surveys the unfamiliar surroundings, her expression quickly sharpening as she catches sight of you.

She’s no stranger to the strange, having dealt with more than her fair share of superheroes and their chaos. Yet, you can tell by the slight tightening of her jaw that this—this particular encounter—was not on her bingo card for the evening.

“Good evening, Night Nurse,” you say, your voice smooth, yet with an undercurrent of authority. “Or should I say, Night General Practitioner?” You chuckle softly at your own quip, leaning on your cane. “I am Mr. MindControl, and I have an offer for you. Join me, and I can give you the world.”

Her gaze hardens as your words sink in, her brows knitting together in cautious disbelief. There’s a moment of silence as she sizes you up, clearly weighing her options. “Of all the ways I imagined my night going,” she finally says, her voice laced with both sarcasm and suspicion, “this wasn’t one of them.”

Her tone doesn’t faze you. If anything, it amuses you. She’s strong-willed. That makes the game all the more enjoyable.

“Now, Night Nurse,” you say, taking a step closer, your eyes gleaming with mischief, “how about I ask you a few questions?”