Hero? [A Dr. Horrible Fanfiction]

Discussion in 'Creative Writing, Graphics, Movies, etc.' started by Secksy, Jan 25, 2009.

  1. Secksy
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    Act I

    Numb. He couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. His head was in a fog, unable to form coherent thoughts. Lost in the dark without a light. Trapped. Suffocating. There was a tightness in his chest he couldn’t seem to get rid of; a lump in his throat he just couldn’t swallow.

    He kept going through the events in his head. Dr. Horrible showing up to crash things shouldn’t have been a surprise. In fact, it wasn’t. He had been half expecting it like always. Always aware. Everyone should have been fine with him there, they always were. So where did he go wrong? How could it all have ended with her dying?

    Hammer flexed his hands (that were now gloveless), looking down at them intently. He could punch through walls. No, he could punch through anything. His strength went completely unmatched. He taken bullets to the chest (though it was extraordinarily painful) before. He’d been run over by cars, trucks, and motorcycles. As well as, more recently, survived an explosion point-blank from a death ray.

    An explosion he’d helped cause. The realization was grim and unsettling. He kept trying to convince himself that this was all Horrible’s doing. Had he not shown up to try and kill him yet again none of this would have happened. He would still be the hero, the one people loved and adored and all Horrible would be is another washed up, pathetic excuse for a villain.

    And while quite a bit of that reasoning may be true, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Not entirely, anyway. After all, he had been the one to pull the trigger after Horrible warned him not too. He was the one that caused the explosion that killed Penny. He was the one who had just been thinking about the fame and glory; catering to fans.

    Captain Hammer. From hero to zero in a matter of minutes.

    Hero. Who was a hero? What was a hero? He wasn’t sure he understood the meaning of the word anymore. There had been a time when he thought he knew. A hero was someone who helped others, put their lives on the line to protect the people. The normal people.

    The people who now worshipped the Worst Villian Ever: Dr. Horrible. Not The (Ex)Hero Who’s Girlfriend Was “Murdered” By Said Villian.

    He wanted to hate Dr. Horrible. It should have been easy, right? After all if it weren’t for him he would still be the hero. He would still be the one people loved and adored. There should have been nothing easier in this world that hating Dr. Horrible.

    But he couldn’t. As hard as he tried he could not find it in his being to hate the man. As much as he wanted too. He hated not being able to hate; it was an odd and wildly unpleasant sensation.

    More than anything else, he found it much easier to hate himself. To loathe himself, really. The plucky washed up hero. Had he ever been a hero? He wanted to think so, but now he wasn’t so sure.

    He had saved peoples lives before. He had stopped the villains from their dastardly deeds. He had helped a few souls less fortunate than he. But now that he looked back on it, he had begun to ask himself why. Why had he done all of those things?

    Had it been for the public? To protect and serve? To keep people safe? Or had it been for himself? To ensure his fame? For the ridiculous stacks of money?

    Did it matter anymore?

    He rubbed his hand against his temples, fighting the headache he could feel coming on, struggling against the tears that come so easily now. He hated it when he cried. Made him feel less… manly, less powerful. Actually showing his weakness, even if he was in the privacy of his dwelling.

    They were flowing freely now, even though he wasn’t sure why. He cried often as of late, and it usually didn’t stop until he either fell asleep or punched something as hard as he could. He was a mess, no point denying it. Broken, a shell, parts of him missing, other parts flaking away. It hurt. It was killing him.

    The idea struck him as morbidly appealing. Perhaps he should die. That is what would make everyone happy, right? For him to disappear once and for all? The Guild wouldn’t mind; he had resigned from it. The Legion would be ecstatic to hear of his death. Captain Hammer was no longer a threat.

    He brushed it aside, aware he was fooling himself. He already was no threat. He was no one. He was no hero. He couldn’t even consider himself a person anymore.

    So, he leaned back against the wall and cried. It was all he could do, all he knew how to do anymore. Tears streaming down his cheeks and neck because he was unwilling to wipe them away. There was no sobbing, he didn’t sob. The tears just seemed to come freely of their own power.

    He forced all the emotions that swirled in his head and chest into his gut, gathering them up into a tight, compact ball. Then, breathing in a deeply as he could, Captain Hammer yelled. He didn’t stop until his lungs were empty until his face was a fiery red.

    Slowly his slid down the wall he was leaning own, coming to sit on the floor, his knees pressed tightly against his chest. Resting his head on his knees, the tears continued to come, but less intense than before.

    He was so unaware as to his surroundings that he never noticed when Dr. Horrible came to stand in front of him, a death ray, not quite unlike the one that had failed him previously, aimed pointedly at Captain Hammer’s head.
     
    Last edited: Jan 25, 2009
  2. Secksy
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    Act II

    It had been more difficult to find this place than Dr. Horrible had originally anticipated. A cabin out in the far reaches of the forest; he wouldn’t have guessed. Captain Hammer seemed like the type who would have chosen a much more… on display homestead. Something on a hill with lots of windows and a gated entry way.

    The door had been unlocked: he hadn’t been expecting that either. The moment he touched the knob he had expected alarms to start blaring into his ears (as unrealistic as that seemed). Horrible noted how bare the wooden walls were. No pictures, no tables, not even a coat rack. The plainness was unsettling.

    A scream pierced the silence causing him to jump and almost yell out himself. It had sounded agonizing, almost bloody. It dragged on for a good thirty seconds before stopping. He recognized the scream as Captain Hammer, though. Had someone gotten here before him?

    He continued to step lightly, albeit stealthily, down the hall way. His blood red coat didn’t really help with the stealth part, but he wore it everywhere, what ever the task. It was a reminder. A reminder that he wasn’t Billy anymore. Billy was dead. He had died with Penny. Her blood had stained him. All that was left was Dr. Horrible.

    He stepped lightly into the den, gripping the death ray he had brought tightly in his hand. He had drastically modified the original schematics and quickly identified the problem with original. Using the original as a starting point, he had managed to make this version nearly half the size and double the intensity, and after extensively testing it he had labeled it a success.

    And he knew exactly who he wanted it’s first victim to be. The man who had taken the one thing he had ever truly wanted. Not once, but twice. Now she was dead. All because of Captain Hammer.

    The den was sparsely lit, save for a single lamp on an end table. He noted that this room was stark as well; the only furniture being a small couch in front of the fireplace on the far end of the room.

    And there, curled in a ball next to said fireplace, was Captain Hammer. His hands were tangled in his hair and Horrible immediately took notice that he wasn’t wearing his trade mark gloves. He had never seen Hammer without them.

    He quickened his step only slightly. He was there now, standing only a few feet away. He had him now, he would do what he should have done so long ago. Raising the death ray to aim at the man, he flicked a switch on the back of the device.

    The weapon made a small, whiny noise; an indicator that it was charging. This caused Hammer’s head to shoot up in surprise. The man blinked several times, then moved his hands to wipe at his eyes.

    His eyes. His normally piercingly blue eyes were dull, the whites red and irritated. His cheeks damp and shone slightly in the dim lighting. He’d been crying, Dr. Horrible realized.

    “Horrible?” Hammer choked.

    Horrible kept his face as neutral as he could, “Hello, Captain Hammer.”

    Hammer’s face was a mixture of shock and confusion, but not nearly as intense as Horrible would have expected. He placed a hand on the floor behind him and pushed up, coming to stand wobbly on his bare feet. That was when Dr. Horrible got his first good look at him. He had lost quite a bit of muscle since he had seen him last. His arms were still a good size, but not nearly as pronounced, and his chest had flattened quite a bit. Dark circles rested under his eyes, giving the illusion he had to black ones.

    His voice was also unsteady as he spoke, “What… what’re you doing here?” He braced an arm against the wall.

    “To kill you,” He said, trying to keep his voice cold and detached.

    An emotion Horrible didn’t recognize passed through Hammer’s features. His eyes narrowing slightly, jaw tightening, shoulders sagging down. He looked sad and defeated. It caused Horrible to hesitate.

    They stood there like that for a quite a while, seconds stretching on to minutes, eyes locked. Pull the trigger, he kept telling himself. Just pull the trigger. Kill him. It’s easy. He’s here. He’s weak. Kill him!

    His finger tightened around the trigger, but he didn’t pull it.

    “Well?” Hammer finally asked. His voice was grim, like he was expecting to die, wanting it almost.

    “Well what?” Horrible spat, surprising himself at how desperate he sounded.

    “Aren’t you going to kill me?” Despite how ragged Hammer’s voice sounded, he never looked away from his once nemesis. Never broke eye contact. This caused Dr. Horrible’s breathing to grow deeper, his face scrunching up in concentration.

    Kill him kill him kill him KILL HIM! He was commanding himself, Pull the damn trigger! His finger tightened a little bit more.

    “Is it everything you thought it would be?” Hammer asked suddenly, frowning.

    Horrible, a bit taken back, took a moment to respond, “What?”

    “The League. Being a super villain. Is it like you hoped?” His voice was slowly becoming more steady, more precise.

    He stared at Hammer, eyes narrowing dangerously, curiosity and anger creeping into his features. Why did he want to know? Was he trying to by time? Was this some sort of game?

    When Dr. Horrible didn’t answer he continued, “I remember when I was first accepted into the Guild. That was nearly ten years ago. I was happy, really happy. And proud of myself” Hammer was smiling weakly now, his eyes lighting up at the memory, “Finally, a chance to do some good. To really help people.”

    He sighed and his eyes darkened, “But then, somewhere along the way, I got caught up in the glory, the fame. After a while I forgot why I had joined in the first place. All I cared about was getting on the front page, not about actually helping people. I was famous. I got arrogant,” a tear slid down his cheek, “And other people paid the price.”

    Horrible inhaled sharply. This was not what he was expecting to happen. He was just supposed to come in all quiet like, kill him, and leave. It was supposed to be that simple.

    “You took her!” He yelled finally, “You took her from me!” Tears were in his eyes, but he refused to let them spill.

    Hammer’s eyes met his again, his frown deepening, “Yeah, I guess I did.”

    Dr. Horrible crumbled away into dust, leaving only Billy standing in his place, “I hate you!” he screamed, “I hate you!”

    He pulled the trigger.
     
    Last edited: Jan 26, 2009
  3. Secksy
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    Act III

    He had closed his eyes, waiting for it. Waiting for what exactly, he wasn’t sure. Pain? Death? He had been expecting something to happen when he heard the weapon make a deafening pop, but other than that nothing came. No pain. No sudden weakness. He didn’t feel like he was dying either. Though, he did contemplate; would he know it if he were dead?

    Curious, he flexed his hands. They still seemed to work just fine. Not satisfied with just that, however, he decided to open his eyes again and immediately knew he was still alive. He just wished he weren’t.

    Dr. Horrible stood in front of him, not having moved from the spot Hammer had first taken notice of him. He was looking down at his feet, however. His arms had dropped to his sides and the death ray lay discarded on the floor in front of him while he shook violently.

    A sizzling noise drew his attention to the wall behind him. There was a black scorch mark not even inches away from where his head had been. Horrible had missed.

    He should be relieved, shouldn’t he? He should be glad he was alive. So why wasn’t he?

    He looked back over to Horrible, confusion writing his features, “Why-?”

    “All my life I’ve wanted to hurt people,” he gasped, not looking up. “To get back at the people who had wronged me. Make them suffer. And the one chance I have to get back at the person I can’t stand, the one I can barely even look at, and I can’t do it. Why?” His head shot up, tears streaming down his face and neck, “Why can’t I kill you?! Why?!”

    Hammer just stared at him with wide eyes. He was unsure of how to react to this situation, this wild turn of events. What should he do? He didn’t know.

    So, he did the thing he does best. He started talking, “What do you mean? Who wronged you?”

    Some of the anger on Horrible’s face melted away and was replaced with shock, causing his back to straighten a bit. His gaze started to burn holes into Hammer, but the older man refused to look away.

    Finally, after much deliberation, Horrible started speaking, “My dad. He used to beat me and my mom. I was nine,” The tears had stopped, and his eyes glazed over. He’s had to tell this story before, Hammer realized. “Mom wouldn’t report him. No one would believe me.” He looked back down at his feet, his fists clenching angrily, “Came home from school one day. Mom was dead. Dad had disappeared.” When he finally shifted to look back at Captain Hammer he nearly reeled back from the expression on the man’s face.

    It was pity. Captain Hammer, his arch nemesis, was pitying him. He didn’t know what to do with this sort of reaction.

    So he kept talking, “Found him a few years back,” a grim smile spread across his lips. Hammer had seen that sort of smile before, on other super villains. He had never seen it on Horrible before, “Couldn’t kill him either. His new wife had already done that for me,” Morbid amusement flashed through his eyes and he chuckled.

    He was completely flabbergasted, however, with what Hammer did next. With out warning, the Captain started walking up to him, and walking up hard. A man on a mission. This is it, Billy thought, waiting for Hammer to finish him off, or at least hurt him quite a bit. So his closed his eyes, took a deep breath and flinched away, waiting for it to come.

    Hammer closed the distance between them in three steps. One, two, three. And, with only the briefest of moments of hesitation, closed his arms around Dr. Horrible, pulling their bodies together.

    Oh god, Billy thought, He’s going to crush me to death. He just stood there, waiting for his bones to start crunching and the pain to start making him cry out. But none of that ever came. Hammer didn’t start trying to squeeze the life out of him, didn’t try to knock his head through the wall, or even punch him in the gut. He just stood there with his arms wrapped around the younger man tightly.

    A HUG! Billy realized, horrified.

    “I’m sorry,” Hammer whispered in his ear, bringing him reason to pause.

    “For what?” The villain managed to choke out.

    To make things even more awkward, Hammer pulled him tighter, resting his chin on Billy’s shoulder, “Just… for everything.” He voice was low, but sincere.

    It caused something inside the younger man snapped like a twig. A wave of new, unfamiliar emotions washed over him like a tidal wave, flooding his senses.

    And just like that, he started crying. Again. But it was different this time. Because he didn’t mean to burry his face into Hammer’s chest, he didn’t mean to clench at his shirt desperately. He didn’t even mean to cry like a nine year old missing him mommy. But he did.

    And you know what? It felt good. Really good.

    Hammer just stood there patiently. He probably would have been crying too, if he hadn’t done so already. He had come to understand rather quickly that it didn’t make him—either of them, really– weak to do so. They were broken. Two broken men. And apparently broken men cried.

    They were still men, though.

    After while, Billy stopped, and he took notice at how relaxing Hammer’s body heat was.

    “Better?” The Captain asked.

    Billy sighed, defeated, his voice coming out oddly from the stuffy nose crying had caused him, “A little.”

    Hammer nodded comprehendingly, but didn’t let go.

    “So…” Billy started, “Are we like… having a moment here?”

    It was Hammer’s turn to sigh, “Afraid so.”

    “Great. That’s just great. Some super villain I am,” He sounded disappointed.

    “Well, I’m not much of a hero, so we’ll just call it even.”

    Strangely, Billy took some comfort in that.

    Fin.
     
  4. Molotof
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    /clapclap
     
  5. Secksy
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    /bow?
     

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