Whoever said revenge was a dish best served cold was a moron! Every day that he spent starving for a revenge that never came was more agonizing than the last! Weeks of frustration turned into months of torture, and still he waited – waited as the painful months turned into excruciating years, like an addict trapped in a state of detoxing that never ended, unable to enjoy a moment's peace as long as he knew his enemies hadn't paid for ruining his life!

Only one thing kept him going during those years of torment – one thing kept him sane, sustained him after each failed attempt, enabled to him to get out of bed each morning and briefly close his eyes at night. His one comfort was the knowledge that they were suffering just as much as he was. They hated him as much as he hated them. They couldn't stand the thought of him going on with his life any more than he could stand the thought of them going on with theirs. He was their arch enemy – he had caused them more trouble, more problems, more annoyance, more pain than anyone they had ever dealt with, destroyed their home and almost destroyed their business, come closer to defeating them than anyone ever had... no way would losing his job and reputation seem adequate punishment for him in their eyes, no matter how unjust he knew it was! No, they could never be satisfied until they completely destroyed him the way he dreamed of destroying them; he knew they wanted to make him suffer even more and that it drove them crazy that they couldn't touch him. No matter how often they eluded his grasp or wormed their way out of his traps, he still had that power over them.

When the unquenchable thirst for vengeance became too much to bear, he merely had to remember that they were enduring the same agony, and he could find the patience to wait a little longer. They once thought they could ignore him... well, let them try to ignore him now! Let them try to move on and forget about him like he had tried to forget about them! He knew it was impossible. No matter what good fortune or moments of happiness came their way, they would always be spoiled by the memory of him, by the knowledge of his existence, just as his were. They would never forget him now!

That was what he looked forward to seeing the most the first time he returned to their office – how much they hated him, how the memory of their enemy had tortured them since the day they'd last met. He wanted to laugh at the surprised, mildly annoyed way their secretary asked him what he was doing there – how could she not expect her bosses' arch enemy to return for a rematch? How could she not know that him coming there to finish what they'd started was the most natural thing in the world? That it was what her bosses had been looking forward to, watching and waiting for, preparing for, bracing themselves for all these years, just as he had? Stupid girl!

At first, he was impressed by the casual, nonchalant way Venkman asked her what the problem was, as if they either didn't recognize him or weren't instantly sent into a frenzy of rage by his presence there – that performance must have taken quite a feat of willpower to pull off! He wasn't going to let them keep that act up for long! "Remember me, Ghostbusters?"

They remembered him, all right, but with no more personal significance than one remembers that 2 plus 2 equals 4. They met him with no emotion – no outrage, no disgust, no pain, barely any animosity whatsoever. Their reaction didn't make any sense. The most he could see they felt was confusion about why he was there, as if they never expected him to return, as if he had no business with them, as if they had never once thought about facing him again! True, their faces plainly showed they disliked him, but it was no more than you might dislike someone who spilled coffee on you at the bus stop or stepped on your foot on an elevator. They clearly didn't want him there, but they were clearly also barely bothered by it, at first! It wasn't until he revealed his plan that they grew angry... over the potential loss of their friend, not over who was responsible. The sight of him in and of itself had no effect on them! How could that be?!

"Remember me, Ghostbusters?" How could they forget how much they hated him? How could they be so cool when confronting him? How could they care more about their slimy little friend than about him beating them again?! Why did he need to ask if they remembered him?

"Remember me, Ghostbusters?" They couldn't forget what he put them through so easily! How could they think of anything else all these years besides how much they hated their arch enemy?! They faced him with no more fear now than they did the first time he'd come. But he'd fixed that! He'd shown them their mistake! He'd made them sorry they'd underestimated his power! He had forced them to notice him! He had made sure they would always remember him!

"Remember me, Ghostbusters?" It was not a threat but a plea. Less like a rival gloating over a victory than a child begging for a treat. "Remember me, Ghostbusters?" That was the drug he'd been craving. "Remember me, Ghostbusters?" Tell me you've never been able to forget about me any more than I've been able to forget about you! "Remember me, Ghostbusters?" Show me how I've dominated your thoughts all these years just as you've dominated mine! "Remember me, Ghostbusters?" Admit how much anguish the mere memory of me has put you through! "Remember me, Ghostbusters?" Prove that everything I did wasn't in vain! Tell me it was worth what I lost!

"Remember me, Ghostbusters?" They remembered him as nothing more than an annoying obstacle, less threatening than the weakest ghost they had ever captured. They had never noticed him or his power, never given him a second thought...

"Remember me, Ghostbusters?" Well, if they didn't before, they would now! He would force them to remember him and tremble at the thought or die trying. If he couldn't accomplish that... if he didn't even have enough power to do that... if even their arch enemy couldn't cause the slightest disturbance in their lives...

"Remember me, Ghostbusters?" They had to remember him! Had to loathe him for how much pain he'd caused them! The only way they couldn't was if... he never had! If what he'd done to them hadn't mattered, hadn't caused them any great hardship, had been nothing they couldn't handle easily! Forcing his way in, shutting off their precious machines, destroying their home, releasing all the ghosts they'd worked so hard to catch... none of it had hurt them! Not in any way that mattered – not to them! They hadn't considered it worth dwelling on. He hadn't made them suffer – not really. He had left them no scars, no impact whatsoever!

He never had any power over them after all. He hadn't stolen their peace of mind. They hadn't been tortured by the memory of what he'd done to them, what he'd put them through, that he'd all but gotten away with it. They hadn't obsessed over him for years, looking forward to a chance for payback. They hadn't spent the days drowning in hatred, their lives draining away day after day as they plotted revenge. They couldn't care less what had happened to him; their surprise at the sight of him made it impossible not to see how little he and his fate had been on their minds. How long had it been since they'd last thought of him? They had forgotten about him! The shock was so severe, the contrast with his thoughts of the previous moment so vast, the discovery so horrifying, that, until that instant, he never knew what it was to suffer.

"Remember me, Ghostbusters?" They would never remember him, never fear him, never think of him, never notice him. You never were their arch enemy. You're no match for them, and you know it, which is why you went after a weaker target you knew you could beat. He heard that voice in his head a lot after it was over, after his latest failure. He had no way to resist it now. His last line of defense was gone.

Whoever said it was better to wait for revenge must have known how sick it made you when it was finally served...