Alessa smirked slightly in pride at the sight of those fingers missing still, but her hand wasn't what she was aiming for. Her keen ears picked up the sound emanating from Scarab's throat, and if she had been nine years younger, her hands would have flown to cover her ears to protect them from the awful sound. But age and experience had hardened her (as much as it had weakened her as well) and only made her suspicions grow.

What could possibly be going on...?

Taking a quick breath, Alessa gave a mental push - or shove, depending on how you looked at it - into Scarab's mind, not giving a damn about this sudden intrusion on her privacy. Alessa knew she was definitely pushing it, that the Butterfly would be pissed as all hell once she was finished, but she had to know.

Memories of a past, of a life, good and bad times, flashed through Alessa's mind as she dug deeper and deeper into the assassin's head. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. A trace of what she was missing perhaps? Or was it something else, something she couldn't identify?

There. Alessa had found it. A darkness, the darkness that resided in everyone and everything, a darkness that had once consumed Alessa completely. It was in the Butterfly, oh, yes it was. The young woman frowned, her brow knitting as she slowly realized just how familiar that shadowed darkness that moved and thrived, always living, always bleeding, always breathing and consuming, was.

No. It can't be, Alessa thought. She held on for a few seconds longer, pushing a bit harder against the walls of Scarab's mental guards, until the full truth hit her like a slap in the face. She released Scarab's wrist with an audible hiss, almost as if she had been burnt again, and stared at Scarab with something acute to horror, jealousy, and rage.

'He wouldn't...no, not you!' She whispered, her delicate frame beginning to tremble.