Dr. Robbins' Sing-Along Blog
Summary: The Caustic Coroner addresses his internet audience and complains about the arrival of a new super villain in Las Vegas by the alias of Dr. Horrible.
Author's Note: If you couldn't figure it out by the title/summary, this is a bit of a crossover. Now, I know, my last crossover failed miserably, and trust me, faithful readers, when I tell you I will never get over the tragedy that is Las Plagas. But this one... I think you'll enjoy. This one, I enjoyed writing, very much. So much, that I am not waiting for a beta (as my usual beta, LaughableBlackStorm, is exhausted and refuses to pay attention to anything for longer than five seconds.) This story was written after watching Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog twice back to back, then once more with Commentary! The Musical! I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Dedication: To Kelsey, who allowed me to turn her on to Dr. Horrible and Neil Patrick Harris, and who loves Dr. Horrible so much she has changed her mind about hating musicals. This one is for you.
It is very close to impossible to impress a Las Vegas native. Indeed, when one lives in Sin City, there are very few things a local has not seen. Vegas is home to tourists, mafias, tycoons, bums, crazies, sickos, gamblers and most importantly, magicians. Crafty magicians that can make elephants disappear.
As a matter of fact, Las Vegas natives have seen a total of seven elephants disappear live in their city's history. One was found on a bus headed towards Fremont Street. Two others had merely fallen straight through the stage where the act was performed, due to the fact that the magicians in question had neglected to test the strength of the floorboards before leading their elephantine assistants onto the stage. The fourth elephant revealed itself at the back of the audience, to grand applause, and also informed them that he had a very clever standup routine at the Flamingo every weekday night for a fortnight in January of that year. The elephant sold out every show. The fifth and sixth elephants, as it turned out, were not supposed to have disappeared at all. What actually happened was, when they were called onto the stage by their magician to do a revamped version of the "sawing in two" classic, they were nowhere to be found. After improvising a story about the elephants being abducted by aliens to his audience, the magician found a note informing him that the elephants were sick of the low wages and lack of dental plan, and had run off together to find better treatment at the circus. They had also decided to elope. The seventh elephant, as it turned out, was not part of a magic act at all. In fact, she was simply minding her own business at the zoo one night when a kidnapper hired by an eccentric billionaire nabbed her from her comfy enclosure. To this day, the poor elephant is still missing. You can find her face on milk cartons across the state of Nevada.
So it has been well established that Las Vegas has seen just about everything. Nothing short of the end of the world would interest them anymore. So you see, when Dr. Horrible arrived in Las Vegas, thus making Armageddon .001% more likely to occur while he vacationed there, everyone in Las Vegas nearly died of heart attacks simultaneously. Two citizens actually did, although one of these counts was an elderly man who refused to stop eating fried chicken even after his doctor told him to, and had no idea that Dr. Horrible was even in town.
Now it's possible that there are a handful of you out there who do not know who Dr. Horrible is. Well, allow me to enlighten you. Dr. Horrible is the Evil League of Evil's most recent inductee, and the organization's second most infamous member. Dr. Horrible is exceeded in infamy by only one super villain, the Thoroughbred of Sin, the diabolical Bad Horse.
Do you hear jealousy in my tone when I talk about Dr. Horrible? Certainly not. You might hear a slight hint of contempt, but only because I believe that his so-called murder that allowed him to obtain ELE membership was really more accidental manslaughter than anything else. And my contempt has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Dr. Horrible snagged my spot on the Evil League of Evil's Round Table of Evilness. Even though he didn't deserve it.
The point is, my friends, that some of us have been trying to get into the Evil League of Evil ever since we began our medical training. And what degree does Dr. Horrible have? A degree in horribleness. Do any of you listeners have any idea what real doctoral students call other doctoral students pursuing a doctorate in horribleness? Philistines. That's right, we called them philistines, and to their faces, because not a single one of their courses required them to know what a philistine was. I think the common consensus among scholars of horribleness is that a 'philistine' is a breed of horse. And thus, in turn, they called us stallions, which they perceived, somehow, to be a worse insult.
PAUSE
"Dr. Robbins? Are you done with the body?"
Dr. Robbins tore off his mask and quickly stuffed it in a drawer before turning his camera away. "Yes, yes, Catherine, take it away already," he growled.
She held up her hands innocently. "Oh, wow, sorry, I didn't know you were that busy… Is that a web cam?"
"I'm… sending some video… of the body… to some friends for… their opinion."
Catherine frowned. "I thought he blew off his own head," she said. "What's so complicated about that?"
"Other bodies, other cases, go away."
"Oh, you may want to be on the lookout," Catherine said on her way out. "David said he saw a rat in here earlier today."
Dr. Robbins scrambled up on his chair and looked suspiciously at the floor, as if it were going to open up and swallow him.
PLAY
Rats! Can you believe that, viewers? My arch nemesis has done it again! Curse you, Super Dave! He has released a rat into the lab, and he knows that rats are my kryptonite. It's OK. It's fine. I am calm. I am a highly educated medical doctor. Rats are just animals. Furry little disease infested rodents. Rodents which carry diseases. Diseases with rats attached to them. Oh God, where the hell is it?
No. No. Cannot lose focus. Moving on. Dr. Horrible. Yes, Dr. Horrible is in Las Vegas. All you fan girls can scream for joy now. Yes, squeal for the idiot who announced his diabolical schemes on his weblog and got beat up by that incompetent Captain Hammer. If only my arch nemesis were that stupid, things would be so much easier. Now, yes, let's see… let's take a look at the e-mails, shall we?
Ah, here's one from Kyle in Poughkeepsie. Hello, Kyle! Let's see, 'Dear Caustic Coroner. Isn't it true that Dr. Horrible created his blog before you did, and wouldn't you say that your blog copies his to the letter, and is in fact more inane, and far less interesting then his? What say you to accusations that you are a poser?'
…
Fuck you, Kyle.
Moving on, here is the second—You know what, I will have you know that I have been video blogging—or vlogging as the kids today are calling it—for much longer than that philistine Dr. Horrible! If anyone copied anybody, he copied me. All right. OK. I'm calm. Next letter. Megan in Spokane, hello, Megan! Hm… 'Dear Caustic Coroner. You are so dreamy and smart and stuff. I was wondering if you could totally hook up with my mom or something. My stepdad is a total douche.'
Well, Megan, that's, um… disturbingly sweet. I think. But no. I can't marry your mother, I am sorry. Even if I was able to, I would be uncomfortable having a daughter who called me 'dreamy.'
That's enough e-mails for now.
PAUSE
The door to his morgue swung open again, and this time the culprit was Greg Sanders. Dr. Robbins mustered the nastiest sneer he could, before Greg wiped it off his face with his next words.
"Doc, you gotta see this!" he exclaimed, glee written all over his face. "You just—come on, I can't explain it."
"Is it the rat?" Dr. Robbins asked, gingerly allowing his prosthetic legs to touch the floor.
"No, it's—oh just come on!"
Dr. Robbins followed the eager Greg out the door and down the hallway, where the young CSI whirled around corners so fast that Dr. Robbins struggled to keep up on his crutches. And then, finally, they reached the exit of the CSI crime lab.
"What's that on your head?" Greg asked, pointing at the black mask covering Dr. Robbins eyes.
"Huh?" said Dr. Robbins, then patted his face. "Oh. Halloween," he said with a smile. "I'm… going as the Caustic Coroner."
"Who's that?" asked Greg.
But before Dr. Robbins could fully express his indignation at Greg's ignorance, they burst through the front door and Dr. Robbins was met with a very interesting scene.
PLAY
I don't believe it. I simply don't believe it. Out there, in the streets, that moron Captain Hammer, teaming up with my nemesis to fight him!
PAUSE
"Super Dave!" Dr. Robbins exclaimed.
"Little busy here, Caustic!" cried the superhero, as he countered one of Dr. Horrible's attacks with his mind powers.
"Don't any of you idiots see what's going on here?" Dr. Horrible exclaimed, pointing at Captain Hammer and Super Dave. "These people are just defending an unjust system! It's all a corrupt, gluttonous power play, and you sheeple are all a part of—oof!"
Dr. Horrible suffered a strong kick to the gut by Captain Hammer, who posed triumphantly and smiled, his teeth glinting in the glare of the camera flashes.
Dr. Robbins blinked, shocked. He had to do something.
PLAY
I had to do something!
PAUSE
Pushing Greg to the side, the Caustic Coroner made his way to the front of the crowd, though with some difficulty, as it was hard to move in a crowd of people with two prosthetic legs, and a handful of people greedy for a good view of the show elbowed him in the chest and told him that they were there first. But the Caustic Coroner held his head high and pushed on until he victoriously and gracefully stumbled onto the playing field.
"That's enough!" he cried at Captain Hammer, who was busy pummeling Dr. Horrible while Super Dave collected samples of Horrible's blood spatter to send to tox.
"Don't forget to send a sample to DNA, too, so we can find out his secret identity," the Caustic Coroner whispered in Super Dave's ear.
"Ooh," squealed Super Dave with glee, as if he had never thought of that before, and eagerly continued to collect evidence of the brutal beating occurring right in front of his eyes, just to prove in court that the beating actually did take place, and that he was actually there.
"You dare come into my city, ally with my arch nemesis to fight the man who stole my spot in the ELE?"
Dr. Horrible sniffed and looked up at the Caustic Coroner with a bloody nose. "You also applied to the EL—"
"Shut up," the Coroner snapped.
Captain Hammer slowly rose to his feet and looked at the Caustic Coroner with an amused smile. "And just who exactly are you?" he asked, poking the Coroner hard in the chest with his finger.
PLAY
Yes, he poked me with a finger. How condescending of him. Well, of course, you know, I can't be held accountable for my actions after that. It's all well and good when I condescend to someone. Yes, when I condescend, the world is in perfect working order. But when someone condescends to me, well, then, be prepared to suffer the full extent of my wrath.
PAUSE
"I can melt you with my fingertips!" the Coroner threatened.
There was a hushed "oooooh" from the crowd around them.
Captain Hammer laughed, a deep, masculine laugh, that made fan girls swoon, and fan boys who weren't previously gay suddenly turn gay just for a little moment as they wished that Captain Hammer was gay, too, so they could be gay together forever. "Then melt me, little man."
"I'm warning you," the Coroner said slowly. "I have fingertips of melty doom! Why do you think I wear gloves all the time, or never touch anything? But I only use my powers for evil, never good."
"I think you're bluffing," said Captain Hammer.
"He's not," called Super Dave. "Once, he touched a rat in the lab and it oozed and bubbled and turned into mush."
"I hate rats," the Caustic Coroner mumbled under his breath.
Captain Hammer was suddenly nervous. "Er… I don't do melting," he murmered. "It's not in my contract. I am afraid we cannot do battle, Mr. Doctor."
"That's Caustic Coroner!" the Caustic Coroner declared. He pulled off one glove. "And you, my ugly, moronic friend, are going to be my first victim!"
Captain Hammer stumbled backwards, tripping momentarily over Dr. Horrible's slightly conscious body.
"Why, are you retreating, Captain Hammer?" the Coroner asked.
"No," said Captain Hammer, heroically. "I am heroically walking backwards. There is a distinct difference."
The Caustic Coroner took off his other glove. "Careful. My fingers are as caustic as my words." He smiled.
"Wait," said Captain Hammer. "Wait, this isn't in my contract, Joss never said anything about—Ah!"
PLAY
Hey, it's not my fault he turned to bubbly mush. Super Dave did warn him. And he was a moron, so really, what has the world lost?
PAUSE
There was stunned silence from everyone watching as they all stared at the puddle that was Captain Hammer. Dr. Horrible sat up, his mouth slightly parted.
The Caustic Coroner didn't know it then, but Dr. Horrible was thinking of Penny in that moment that he stared at his liquefied arch nemesis, that sweet, do-gooder Laundromat girl that had so tragically come to an end all those months ago…
Dr. Horrible rose to his feet and tore off his own gloves, shed his red lab coat and threw off his goggles.
"That's it!" he announced to the surrounding crowd. "What is a super villain without his super hero? What is a man without the love of his life? I quit! And the only thing that would make this moment more dramatic is if I could somehow announce it in song! But Penny was my music, and the music is gone… And so must I now go…"
He reached out to Super Dave. "It was a pleasure to meet and do battle with you, Super Dave."
"Always, Dr. Horrible," Super Dave returned.
"And you, Creepy Coroner."
"Caustic Coroner!"
"Right," said Dr. Horrible. "Thanks for… you know, killing my arch nemesis and all. We should do lunch."
"I'll liquefy you too," the Caustic Coroner offered.
"Hm, uh, no thanks, I like being solid," Dr. Horrible returned. "I don't like Vegas very much. Too flashy, too showy, too plastic, too fake. I'm going back to Los Angeles. Cheers!"
PLAY
Bastard couldn't even get my name right. On the plus side, his retirement from the Evil League of Evil earned me my spot! Was I second-choiced? Eh, maybe. Do I care? On the inside, perhaps, deep down, it is eating up my self confidence like a caustic chemical. But do I care on the surface? Not a lick! Because I'm on the Evil League of Evil! And that is something I could sing about. Oooooooooh—
PAUSE
"Doc? Hey, uh, doc?"
Dr. Robbins shifted his head on his arms. He wiggled his nose like a rabbit and thought he smelled melted flesh.
"Dr. Robbins, are you OK?"
He stirred and yawned, finding himself asleep in front of his computer screen again. The log of bodies that had been checked in and checked out of the lab was staring him in the face. The Goo of Captain Hammer was not one of the things on the list.
Dr. Robbins blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked up at Nick, who had a broad smile.
"You look like you've been there a while," said Nick. "You have lines from the keyboard on your cheek."
"Wha? Oh yeah. Well, it's been a long day."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Nick said. "Well, shift's almost over, so you can go home now and get some shuteye."
"Thank you, Nick, I think I'll do just that," said Dr. Robbins.
As the Texan exited the morgue, Dr. Robbins sighed and stared at his monitor and the log of bodies. The man who had blown his head off was on there, SUICIDE in the classification column. A week before, while he'd been on a business trip, someone had broken into his home, killing both his children before raping and murdering his wife.
Dr. Robbins did not like the real world, the real Las Vegas, that he lived in. He much preferred imagining a Las Vegas in which elephants disappeared from time to time instead of children. He would much rather muse about a Las Vegas in which the only ones who suffered were the ones who deserved it. He definitely enjoyed thinking of a Vegas which was made up of super heroes and super villains, neither one particularly good or bad, just heroes and villains, keeping the order and giving people something to cheer for. He wished that he lived in a Vegas in which everything could be expressed in song, making even the most dark or serious of things seem artistic and fun.
Yes. Dr. Robbins liked that world much better than the real world he lived in.
And so, with a sigh, he opened up a desk drawer and pulled out a mask, pulling it over his face as he repositioned his web cam.
PLAY
Hello, viewers. The Caustic Coroner here with a few updates. Dr. Horrible and Captain Hammer are up to their old antics in Los Angeles. The lovely Penny, constantly caught in a confused conundrum of whether to go for hero or villain, remains alive and well, still championing the homeless and hunting wild signatures.
Super Dave attempted to discover the identity of the diabolical Dr. Horrible, but luckily I thwarted his attempts, so the aliases of all of us super villains remains safe for another day.
And I, dear viewers… Well, I am doing just fine.