Dcotor Who [A Dr. Horrible Fanfiction]

Discussion in 'Creative Writing, Graphics, Movies, etc.' started by Secksy, Feb 7, 2009.

  1. Secksy

    Jun 22, 2008
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    Note: Because the XoO forums do not allow HTML all the the formatting (bold, italics, underlining) was lost and I don't feel like going through the story to replace them with vB Code.

    Chapter 1
    by Tyloric (Secksy)

    Dr. Horrible is not a murderer; never has been. He holds no interest in ending a life. Controlling someone against their will, sure. As long as it serves him some sort of purpose. But killing for the sake of killing? Not his thing.

    So maybe that’s why, he rationalizes, he shot Bad Horse with his Stun Ray when he moved to kill the man that just happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. He never had worked well under pressure.

    In retrospect, though, it probably hadn’t been one of his brightest ideas. They killed him anyway, and he was to be punished for betraying and attacking their ‘leader’. Traitors aren’t highly regarded in the Evil League of Evil. Ironic, isn’t it?

    Two years, that’s how long they tortured him. Day and night for two years. Bringing him within an inch of death, only to let him recuperate and repeat the process. He could feel his mind begin to unravel. With every stab wound, every electrocution wave, each injection and prod, he felt his sanity begin to fray, the thoughts in his mind stretching taut until, one by one, they began to snap.

    He stopped feeling after a while. It became routine. He had it down to the exact second. In the mornings (he thought they were mornings, anyway) they would force-feed him. He had stopped eating by his own will quite some time ago. After all, the body requires a good deal of fuel to regenerate skin and organ tissue, and even more to do it over long periods of time.

    Next, they would strap him to a chair where all sorts of medical devices were attached to him. Of course, the idea was to make him suffer, not to kill him. You can’t play with a broken toy. From there, one of two things would happen.

    The first was that he would be injected with a drug, the name of which he did not know, that made him feel like he was on fire. Everything would just be burning, quite literally from head to toe, and everything in between.

    The second option--and he really did prefer this--was that they would electrocute him. With electrocution, at least there were brief moments of reprieve.

    These two things seemed to alternate with knife treatment. Some days there were no injections or electricity, just various pointy and sharp objects they would run along the surfaces of his skin. After a while, the blood loss would make him light-headed, and he would pass out.

    He had just lost concept of time. He didn’t know how long any of these events took place, anymore.

    The entire time, however, all he could think was, ‘Wow, these guys really aren’t that great at torture. I mean, I still have all my limbs, fingers, toes. Even my crotch is still where it’s supposed to be.’

    He pondered if he was going insane.
    Maybe he already was insane.
    Do insane people know they’re insane?
    How does one determine if they’re insane or not?
    Maybe they get lost in their own inner monologues.

    Anyway, he’s in pain. Constantly. But not as much pain as he could be in.

    He hasn’t spoken in over a year, excluding his screams. There isn’t any point anymore. No one to hold a conversation with. No real reason to live.

    Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice when the door to his room explodes outwards and unfamiliar voices start yelling incoherently.

    He remembers someone moving him, but only until a sweet blissful darkness encases him, causing everything else to melt away.


    Bright light blinds his eyes when he opens them next. Annoyingly bright.

    His head is swirling and he can hear the drumming of his heart in his ears. Quick, but steady. Did that mean he was alive?

    Do dead people have beating hearts?
    No, of course not. What a stupid thing to think.

    He tries opening his eyes again, this time having a bit more success. He was correct in his assumption that the light was bright, however. It shone directly above where he lay. Not the most excellent of places to lay someone down when they’re sleeping.

    He doesn’t make an effort to move for quite some time, however. He ends up counting the tiles on the ceiling. Forty-eight. Then he starts counting the beeps the heart monitor next to him is making. He gets to one hundred ninety-three before he gets bored and moves to try and sit up.

    The room is very dull. And white. White and dull. Dull and white. In a strange way, this makes him feel at home, though he can’t place why. The walls aren’t decorated at all. The tiles on the floor look new and stain-free. The interior decorator must have run out of ideas… or maybe there hadn’t been one at all.

    The only thing in the room that has any is the generic brown door off to the right side, which is, speak of the devil, opening. Through it steps a petite girl, about five and a half feet tall with short brunette hair. She’s wearing hospital scrubs and is writing something down on a clipboard as she approaches his bed. When she looks up, she stops dead in her tracks. “Oh, you’re awake.”

    He just tilts his head to the side, curiously.

    “Um…” she stammers, walking backwards as if he was some sort of animal that might pounce on her if she turned around. “Let me just get the doctor.” And with that she left the room, closing the door quickly behind her.

    He doesn’t have time to feel confused, however, as not ten seconds later a man, who he notes is completely bald, walks in wearing a white doctor’s coat. He stands tall and confident, seemingly well-seasoned, at about six feet. He’d be intimidating if it weren’t for the fact he is extraordinarily skinny for a man his age.

    “So he is,” the doctor says simply, walking up to him and shining a bright flashlight in his eyes. “Can you tell me your name, son?”

    He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, unsure of what to say. He mulls over the question a while, wondering what answer would be the most appropriate.

    “Billy,” he says after a few moments.

    But the doctor eyes him disbelievingly, and Billy wonders if that hadn’t been the right answer, until the man shakes his head and sighs. “I’m Dr. Badeau. Tell me, Billy, what is the last thing you remember?”

    Once again, he doesn’t answer right away. He searches for the correct response, still not sure what it is.

    “Screaming,” he says finally.

    “And before that?”

    This time his answer is immediate, “Fire and lightning.”

    Dr. Badeau eyes him curiously, “What do you—” But he is interrupted by another nurse, this one male, coming in and taping on his shoulder. Whatever the nurse whispers into his ear, it annoys Badeau, as his faces scrunches a bit, and his eyes narrow.

    “Now?” he whispers a bit too loudly.

    The male nurse nods. “We can’t get him to leave.”

    He sighs again. “Fine.”

    Dr. Badeau stalks outside of the hospital room, halting Captain Hammer. “You shouldn't be here, Hammer.”

    The Captain scoffs. “And why not? There is a super villain in that room.”

    “I don’t care if he’s Bad Horse,” Dr. Badeau snaps. “He is a patient in this hospital and he is going to be treated accordingly. I’m tired of you always coming in when you like, thinking rules don’t apply to you.”

    Captain Hammer either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care. “Step aside, citizen. There is hero work to be done.” As he steps past Badeau he adds, “I was the one who brought him here, after all.”

    Billy eyes the man in surprise and bewilderment as he steps into his room.

    “Hello, Dr. Horrible!”he bellows heroically. “Remember me?”

    Billy thinks about it for a long moment, brows pulling together in concentration.

    “No,” he says. Then he frowns, concerned. “Should I?”

  2. Secksy

    Jun 22, 2008
    Likes Received:
    Chapter 2

    Captain Hammer was staring at Dr. Badeau, a look of deep concentration on his features. His mind was processing this new information, attempting to comprehend it. After a few minutes, he opened his mouth to speak. “What?”

    Dr. Badeau groaned, rubbing his temples to try and combat an oncoming headache. “It’s just like I explained it, Captain Hammer.”

    “Well, you’re not explaining it very well. He’s forgotten everything. How does someone just forget everything?”

    Badeau sat back in his chair, looking at the Captain tiredly. “It’s not that he’s forgetting, it’s that his mind won’t let him remember.”

    Hammer’s eyes narrowed, confused.

    Leaning forward, the doctor attempted to explain it one more time, speaking as simply as he knew how. “It’s like this: the events over the past few years have damaged not only his body, but his mind.”

    Captain Hammer nodded, following so far.

    “Now, when he entered the facility, he most likely was Dr. Horrible. He knew everything about himself, had all of his memories, and was virtually undamaged.” He waited for another nod before continuing.

    “As far as we can tell, Captain Hammer, for however long he was there, he was constantly tortured.”

    Captain Hammer shifted in his seat, trying not to give off the fact that this piece of information was bothering him, mainly because he couldn’t figure out why it bothered him. “What did they do?”

    Dr. Badeau frowned. “The X-Rays we took showed that at one point or another, all of his bones have been broken multiple times; some are actually stilled fractured. There is scar tissue all over his body; many of the lacerations had to have been life-threatening at the time of their occurrence. Various other images show that several of his internal organs have been equally abused, including his heart. His liver and kidneys in particular have taken a good brunt of the damage. They’re healing nicely, but a few more weeks, days even, and I’m sure he would be dead.”

    Happy that the doc was is speaking in… “normal” talk… Hammer leaned forward a bit. “You still haven’t told me why he’s forgotten everything.”

    The doctor sighed. “All of that is exactly why he’s forgotten, or maybe even still forgetting.”

    Captain Hammer frowned again, his confusion back. “What?”

    “The things that he has endured over the past few years, or however long he’s been there, have been so traumatizing that to save itself, his mind has begun to block out anything it might deem harmful to his sanity. It’s a defense mechanism, Captain Hammer. A way for his mind to save itself.”

    The Captain mulled over this information for a few moments. “So he’ll never remember?”

    “There is no way to be certain. He seems to be able to remember basic things: his name, how to speak, and his motor skills look more or less intact. He has no trouble comprehending what people are saying. He just doesn’t remember anything specific, only bits and pieces…” The doctor hesitated, something Hammer noticed.

    “What is it?”

    “It’s just that… we don’t know if his condition is continuing to degrade, or even how long the process has taken. He could have been forgetting things for years of months, or it may have been in just one moment. We won’t have any way of knowing unless we monitor him for a while.”

    Captain Hammer let out a loud, annoyed, growl. “Perfect!” he spat, standing up to pace around the room.

    Badeau raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

    “So you’re telling me that I’ve finally managed to find my arch nemesis, and he’s too sick to remember it? We can’t even throw him in prison?”

    The doctor thread his fingers together slowly, bringing them to rest on the desk in front of him. “You would rescue him… only to have him committed?”

    Captain Hammer scoffed, an action that Badeau was quickly realizing was a trademark. “The entire Guild assaulted that League stronghold. None of us knew what the facility was for, nor do we care. It’s not like I went in there expecting to find him.”

    Badeau suppressed a grin, and he regarded Captain Hammer as calmly as he could. “So you would take him from the lion’s den only to throw him into a bear’s?”

    “I would bring him to justice.”

    “It seems someone has already done that, Hammer. Or have you not been paying attention?”

    Then the captain did something that Badeau wouldn’t have expected: he looked hurt. He glared down at his feet, refusing to meet the doctor’s gaze.

    So, Dr. Badeau decides to tread through the rest of the conversation carefully, “I understand how he has wronged you, Captain Hammer.” He meant to continue, but the hero cut him off.

    “Do you?” Captain Hammer looked at him angrily, almost accusingly.

    “I do.” He leaned back into the chair once more, smiling weakly. “Or have you forgotten that I too was once in the Guild?” Hammer looked away again. “I understand what it’s like to lose someone you care about, Captain. Especially to the hands of someone you can’t stand. But understand me when I say this,” he paused, waiting for the super hero to meet his gaze evenly, “I don’t believe this boy is that person.”

    Captain Hammer, on the other hand, looked outraged. “He killed her! He’s the reason she’s dead!”

    The much older man’s eyes narrowed. “Do you truly believe that, Captain Hammer? Or do you just want to believe it?”

    Scowling, Captain Hammer made for the door. “Enough of this. I was there, Heartwrench.” He spat Dr. Badeau’s former hero name like it was the name of the devil, causing the doctor to flinch instinctively. “He is the reason she died, doctor, and should he not remember that fact, I will only be too happy to remind him.” And with that he flung the door to the office open and stormed out, slamming it behind him with such force that it shook on its hinges.

    Badeau sighed yet again, feeling the migraine hit him full force. He had a feeling that the next few months were going to go by very slowly.

  3. Secksy

    Jun 22, 2008
    Likes Received:
    Chapter 3

    “So I’m sick?” Billy asked curiously.

    Dr. Badeau nodded. “In a sense, yes.”

    Billy leaned back against the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling, letting the thoughts run through his head. “So I really did go insane,” he muttered, but not loud enough for Badeau to hear.

    “What’s that?”

    He sat back up, ignoring the doctor’s question. “How long before I’m better?”

    There was a look that crossed over Badeau’s face, a look he didn’t like at all. Billy quickly recognized it as sympathy, and he, for some reason, had to fight not to scowl. “We don’t know. Days. Months. Years. If you do at all.”

    Billy frowned. “So I might not remember everything?”

    “That is a possibility, yes.”

    “Hmm.” He sat back again. He was having trouble forming thoughts. It was like having something to say, but the moment you tried to say it, you forget what it is. He was missing something, something obvious. He just couldn’t place it.

    “That man that came in earlier, with the hammer on his shirt,” Billy started.

    Dr. Badeau shifted uncomfortably. “Yes?”

    “He called me… Dr. Horrible. Why? That’s not my name… is it?”

    The older man looked taken back, and he hesitated before responding. “Why don’t… Why don’t you just focus on getting well for now?” He turned to leave.

    Billy watched as he departed, confused.

    “There are nurses just outside if you should need anything,” Badeau called over his shoulder.


    The following weeks were filled with tedious task after tedious task. Billy was monitored around the clock, though the doctors and nurses wouldn’t admit it. Mornings were filled with the same questions of “did he remember anything new?”, “any strange dreams or sensations (what does that even mean?)?”, and all other sorts of meaningless inquiries.

    A therapist would come in everyday just before lunch and they would… talk. About nothing. Billy usually just stared at her until she left, and to be honest, the lady didn’t seem to mind that one bit.

    After the first week, Dr. Badeau cleared him to be able to move around the hospital, a freedom Billy was grateful for… if it had been freedom. He was always escorted, or followed, or monitored in some way, and every so often he would find someone throwing him an ugly glance. Or looking at him strangely.

    ‘They’re scared of me,’ he realized. But why? No one seemed to be willing to answer his questions. Anytime he would ask about who he was, be it a doctor or that stupid therapist, they would quickly find a way to change the topic or just outright ignore him altogether, and it was quickly escalating past the point of irritation.

    He started returning peoples’ looks with one of his own. He rationalized that it was only fair. He stopped asking questions entirely, and became very secluded. He started watching the news, and only the news, when he was in his hospital room alone.

    He would watch how people seemed to be suffering today. He took no pleasure in it, but nor did it disgust him. Rather, he found himself studying the stories and the images before him. It also struck him as odd that there were never any happy stories, but he really didn’t mind. But he also didn’t understand why he had such a morbid fascination with the unfortunate, either.

    Every so often Captain Hammer, as Billy learned was his name (and it was a stupid name at that), would appear on the news. His stories always seemed to be the ones that held any sort of inspirational ‘goodness.’ However, Billy quickly found himself becoming annoyed with the man.

    The stories were always about how he had ‘thwarted’ some villain’s plans. Or ‘halted’ some disaster. How he had saved someone’s life from imminent danger. It was always the same thing, really, just remixed countless times. More than once Billy found himself thinking, ‘What a tool.’ Especially when the mayor of the city personally congratulated him. Billy was half expecting for the man to eventually award the ‘good’ captain with a key to the city, only to discover later that he had done that quite some time ago.

    And then, one day, Captain Hammer actually appeared at his door when the therapist was supposed to. For some reason, Billy wasn’t surprised. Merely intrigued. The man in question, however, didn’t look very happy. In fact, his eyes were narrowed dangerously.

    He lifted up a plastic bag he was carrying, and tossed it at Billy. “Put these on,” he said simply.

    Billy looked inside the bag, pulling out blue jeans, a grey t-shirt, a blue hoody, and some worn white sneakers and socks.

    He met Captain Hammer’s gaze, confused. “Why?”

    “You’re coming with me.”

    “With you?”


    Billy hesitated. “Alone?”

    “Yes,” he sighed.

    He looked at the captain for a long moment before saying, very carefully, “I don’t want to.”

    The hero looked taken aback, “What? Why not?”

    “You’re weird.”

    “Weird? Me?”

    Billy nodded. “Yes. You.”

    His eyes narrowed again. “I’m not weird.”

    “Yeah you are. And you talk kinda funny.”


    “Yeah, like you can’t not shout.”

    Irritation played Hammer’s features. “I do not talk funny!”

    Billy nodded in a mater-of-fact way. “Yeah you do. And you’re always walking like you have something shoved up your—”

    “Put on the clothes!” Captain Hammer growled, causing Billy to frown.

    “Do I have to?”

    “Yes, you have to.”

    Now, a wiser man would have listened. A wiser man would have listened to the two-hundred and fifty pound wall of solid muscle capable punching through a ton of bricks. Billy didn’t seem to be that man. He looked at the hero, then back to the clothes on his bed, and back to Hammer before asking, “Or what?”

    Anger flashed on his face now, and just as Captain Hammer was going to yell at him, a voice from behind the hero spoke, “Yes, Captain Hammer. Or what?” The captain halted, turning around sharply. Dr. Badeau was standing at his full height, back straight, arms crossed, glaring at Captain Hammer challengingly.

    The captain stared menacingly at Badeau for a long moment, mulling over whether or not he should respond to the challenge.

    Then Captain Hammer did something Billy didn’t expect: he relented. He turned back to Billy with a strained look on his face, and an emotion he couldn’t identify. “Please.”

    Billy regarded Hammer for a good minute, wondering where this was coming from. He wanted to know why the hero would want anything to do with him, what made him so important.

    Eventually, he let out an over-exaggerated sigh. “Fine.” Grabbing the bag of clothes, he sauntered off to the bathroom in the back of the room. Before he closed the door, he added, “You have to buy me a hamburger, though.”

    Hammer sighed again. “Fine.”

    Billy grinned triumphantly, closing the door and locking it behind him.

    “What are you doing?” Dr. Badeau hissed.

    Hammer grinned at him sarcastically. “Helping.”

    “You’re coming in here and taking a patient out of this hospital without even consulting me first. He has an advanced case of amnesia, and you call this helping?”

    “Trust me, doc.”

    Badeau groaned, “This is exactly what I meant when I said you never think rules apply to you. You could be causing even more damage by taking him outside.”

    “Well, to my knowledge, keeping him here isn’t doing too much, either. So what harm could possibly come from letting him get some fresh air?” The hero was wearing a cocky smile, sticking out his chest.

    “What are you really doing here, Hammer? What is it you truly hope to accomplish?”

    Hammer’s eyes darkened slightly, his posture drooping, “Just need to make sure of something.”

    “Make sure of what?” the doctor queried.

    He gave Badeau a pained smile. “Trust me.”

    Pinching the skin between his eyes, the former hero regarded Hammer for a long while. “Just… try not to hurt him anymore than he already is. Can you promise me that much?”

    “I can.”

    “I truly hope you know what you’re doing,” Badeau muttered as he reluctantly left the room, leaving Billy to his fate. He only hoped that this wasn’t a mistake.

  4. Secksy

    Jun 22, 2008
    Likes Received:
    Chapter 4
    Note:Not beta read because I got impatient. This version will be replaced with the revisions when I receive them.[/b]

    Billy walked with a slight bounce in his step and a small grin on his face. He was trying not to show that he was enjoying himself, but it was hard. He couldn’t remember much these days and as such he couldn’t remember the last time he had been out in the Sun breathing in the fresh air. Everything about it felt new yet familiar, like a sense of déjà vu that wouldn’t go away.

    And they’d only just left the hospital.

    Captain Hammer, for his part, had yet to say a word and was just walking along side Billy. They were walking down the main highway that connected the business district with downtown. Hammer had a plan. Well, it wasn’t so much a plan as it was an idea.

    He intended to show Billy locations where they had done battle. He also intended to take him to the location where she had died. The hero felt confident that if these places didn’t help Billy remember Dr. Horrible, nothing would.

    A shriek interrupted this train of though, “Oh. My. God!” the voice squealed. Hammer looked over to the source of the wail with only mild interest. “It’s Captain Hammer!” A pack of girls, teenagers, it seemed, were rushing him. Normally he would have enjoyed the attention, but not right now.

    Still, one must keep up appearances so he forced that smile that seemed to make the population swoon as they all started talking to him at once, tugging at his clothes and hair irritatingly. Hadn’t anyone taught these girls manners?

    Billy watched the scene unfold, fascinated. He had moved far enough away to be considered just an interested passerby. Billy immediately took notice of the smile that didn’t quite reach Captain Hammer’s eyes. In fact, if one looked closely enough, he looked irritated.

    He was answering their questions as he heard them, but Billy wasn’t entirely certain that the girls (there were four of them) were even paying attention. They just seemed to be having a fan girl moment.

    Billy was trying not to laugh at the look on Captain Hammer’s face.

    After the lengthy processes of dismissing the women from their rabid attack (which took a good ten minutes), Captain Hammer turned back to Billy.

    “What?” He asked indignantly at the look on the younger man’s face.

    Billy took a deep breath to try and gather himself, “That happen a lot?”

    “Yes.” He said simply.

    “What leeches.”

    “They’re not leeches, just over enthusiastic.”

    Billy scoffed, “They’re leeches.”

    “How are they leeches?”

    “Did you see the way they were pulling at you?”

    “Just enthusiastic. I am Captain Hammer, after all.”

    Billy rolled his eyes, “Please. If you weren’t super human they would have sucked you dry.”

    Captain Hammer leered at him and it took Billy a moment to run over what he had just said in his head. “Oh, shut up.”

    Hammer just smiled smugly as they continued walking. A not quite uncomfortable silence spread over between them, mainly because they kept getting stopped by on lookers. Each time Billy would move far enough away to just be considered a bystander. It was curious how he seemed to do this on instinct, like he’s used to blending in with the crowd.

    Despite what the hero said, however, Billy kept seeing something flash through his eyes. With every fan he saw, every admirer he seemed to talk to, there was an emotion he just couldn’t quite seem to identify.

    “This looks like a good place.” Billy said, eyeing the Burger Town sign.

    “A good place?”

    “The condition was I got a burger.” He poked Captain Hammer in the chest. “Remember?”

    Hammer sighed theatrically, batting the hand away. “Very well.”

    As they stepped inside the establishment, it was almost comical how quiet the place became when they noticed Captain Hammer. All eyes were on him, which Billy found a little irritating. Didn’t people know it was rude to stare?

    “You’re quite the party killer.” He whispered over his shoulder.

    “You get used to it.” Hammer mumbled in response.

    Billy ended up ordering to go, figuring it would be easier to eat while all eyes weren’t on Hammer, and by extension him for being with Hammer. He did find it odd that when they were on the street people couldn’t wait to mob the hero, but inside a public establishment every felt reserved. You’d think it would be the other way around.

    “So,” Billy started, talking through a mouth full of burger, “You still haven’t told me why we’re out here. Just walking.”

    Hammer didn’t respond immediately, and when he did his voice was hesitant, “Just trying to jog your memory.”

    Billy raised an eyebrow. “By walking?” Before Captain Hammer could respond he quickly added, “We didn’t used to be dating or anything, did we?”

    The much larger (though, not taller, Billy noted) man made a face that was a cross between shock, horror, and disgust. “No!” he yelled a little to loudly.

    The younger man raised his hands in surrender, “Just checking! I mean if all we’re doing is walking it gets a guy to thinking, and it’s not like I would know. So defensive.”

    “We’re not just walking!”

    “Then what are we doing, hero man?” he asked, annoyed.

    Hammer raised a hand to point to something behind Billy. “First stop.” He said.

    Turning around, Billy saw a large building with gold revolving doors and a sigh above that was engraved ‘Richman Bank of America’.

    “How appropriate.” Billy muttered.

    When they stepped inside the blonde gaped indignantly at the sheer massiveness of the interior. There was a staircase in the middle of the far wall, easily twenty feet across, that led up to the second floor. On either side of the staircase were rows of 5 bank teller windows, all of which were open, long lines extending out from each of them. In the middle of the room were benches which all looked to have been crafted of mahogany.

    “Okay, ya see,” Billy started, “someone is clearly compensating for something. A bank does not need to be this fancy, I don’t care who you are.”

    Captain Hammer just grunted, eyeing Billy curiously.

    “Why are we here, again?”

    The hero took a deep breath before responding, “This is where you and I first met.”

    Billy’s eyebrows shot up. “So you did know me before.”

    He nodded. “Yes.”

    The slimmer male tilted his head to the side. “I use this bank?”

    Hammer hesitated again, “You could say that.”

    Billy narrowed his eyes, piecing something together. “I did something bad, didn’t I?”

    The hero inhaled sharply, “You remembered something?”

    He shook his head, “No, but it’s written all over your face. Not just you, either. No one seems to want to tell me anything about myself, even when I ask. You’re the first person who’s even tried, to be honest.”

    Hammer didn’t respond, not looking away from Billy. His eyes were suddenly very sad.

    “Hammer,” Billy asked seriously, “Who am I?”

    The captain regarded him for a long moment causing Billy to think that he wasn’t going to answer him until he said suddenly, “I don’t know.” His voice was level and honest and it surprised the younger man. Hammer turned towards the revolving doors, “Let’s move on. There are few other stops to make." And Billy was met with a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  5. Secksy

    Jun 22, 2008
    Likes Received:
    Chapter 5

    One. Two. Three. Four.

    Another charge ripped through his body, assaulting every nerve ending they had yet to fry. He clenched his teeth, a few of which had cracked from doing so over and over again.

    Four seconds. The charges were coming in closer intervals now.

    “He still alive?” a voice asked from sounded like miles away.

    “Yes… but I can’t explain how…” another responded.

    He was on automatic now, going through each jolt without thinking about them. Programmed.

    He was, for intents and purposes, half dead. It was like walking the edge of asleep and awake. You’re able to tell your mind is working, that your eyes are closed, you don’t actually notice it. You’re there but you’re not. A push in either direction could send him over the edge: live or die.

    He had gone over it in his mind over and over countless times. Why? Why had he done it? That man hadn’t been any different than anyone else. No reason for doing what he did. No reason.

    Electricity flowed into his limbs and through his torso, though he’d lost the voice to scream with hours ago. The pain was dulled now, anyway. A minor annoyance.

    “Get him down.” A gruff voice commanded, not human. Bad Horse, Dr. Horrible recognized despite himself. “Next stage.” He said afterwards.

    He would have sighed had he had the energy, the will. He could feel himself slipping, going towards the darkness. He didn’t want to, though. He kept wanting to hang on. Which was odd, really. He had nothing to live for. He was alone. By himself. No friends. No family. No Penny.

    Perhaps he just didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, to finally kill him. Or maybe that was being counter productive? Maybe they would hate for him to die, to not be able to torture him anymore.

    He felt another piece of him chip away, literally felt his mind unravel a bit more.

    They strapped him into the chair, bound by leather. It wouldn’t have mattered though, he was too tired, too lost. He didn’t even flinch when the first injection went in, and fire erupted in his body.


    Orchid tapped a finger against her bicep, her arms crossed impatiently, waiting for the test results to print.

    She’d been working diligently for the past few days, operating on little sleep and less food. She was exhausted, but this was the last test. Though, if this last test shows positive the work was only beginning.

    She shook her head vigorously, shaking the exhaustion away, blinking her eyes hard.

    The raid on the League stronghold had gone well, though there had been causalities for the Guild. It was to be expected, but the losses still weighed heavily on her mind. One of them had been… no. No time for that. There was work to be done.

    A beep followed by a whirring noise signaled the results were being printed. She snatched the piece of paper the moment it finished, skimming over the results.

    She gaped, reading the page of data over and over. It wasn’t possible. I couldn’t be possible.

    This was bad. This was very bad.


    Billy pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting an oncoming headache. “Where are we going?” he asked again, knowing full well it was futile.

    “You’ll see.” Hammer responded with practiced ease. Billy would have punched him if he thought it would do any good. He half expected that Hammer only acted this way because he knew nothing would do any good.

    “Humor me?” Billy sighed.


    They’d been walking for thirty minutes now, Billy having gotten fairly bored after the first fifteen. His legs were tired, and he was doing his best not to complain, which wasn’t helping in the long run.

    A throbbing in his head halted his thoughts, a sharp stabbing pain between his eyes. He groaned in frustration.

    “Almost there.” The captain reassured offhandedly. The lack of sincerity made Billy squint angrily in his direction.


    Professor Normal observed with an almost child like glee as Horrible writhed in his restraints. This was without a doubt one of his finer achievements. If it survived, however. That was his main concern for the moment.

    “Normal,” the inhumane voice he had become so familiar with beckoned.

    “Bad Horse,” he responded.

    “How does he fair?”

    “As well as can be expected. This would be going smoother if the other half hadn’t escaped, however.” Bad Horse let out a sound that was a cross between a whiney and a growl.

    “We didn’t expect the facility to be so easily breached.” Bad Horse hissed.

    “Indeed.” Normal responded, playing over a thought in his head, running it through the appropriate filters before voicing it. “Could it be that they had help from inside the facility?”

    “It would appear so.” Bad Horse said simply, moving past the topic with authority. “Will the other half of this experiment cause us any grief?”

    Professor Normal let out a low, humored chuckle, but only to cover up his uncertainty. “It shouldn’t. In fact, it should have already begun to degrade at this point.”

    “And this half?”

    “The electro-therapy has stabilized it, as I thought it would, and the injections, courtesy of Dead Bowie’s necromancy, are reforming the damaged bits quite nicely. It’s the strain, that worries me. If we continue to do this its mind may be too far gone to be of any use to us.”

    Another whiney, the tone Normal recognized as contemplating. “What of the discards that were left in the facility?”

    Professor Normal tensed visibly before he could stop himself, and when he didn’t offer a reply Bad Horse pressed. “Answer me, if you know what’s good for you, Normal.”

    “I…” he hesitated for a moment. “I didn’t discard them.”

    Murder flashed through Bad Horses’ cold dark eyes, his voice dangerous. “What?”

    “I needed them. Without their tissue I wouldn’t have been able to progress as far as I have. It was vit-“ Normal’s words were halted as Bad Horse delivered a solid hit to his face, launching him backward a good five feet, landing on the concrete floor in a heap.

    “You’re lucky you’re needed, Normal, otherwise you would be dead by now.” The leader of the League growled. “Three days. If in three days it is still not ready, it will be you strapped to that chair.” He leaned in closely. “Understood?”

    Normal gulped, willing his fear to the back of his mind. “Understood.”

    Bad Horse stalked out of the room in quick powerful strides.


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