A/N: I watched this recently and instantly loved it, and began wondering how Dr. Horrible would be now that he hasn't got Billy holding him back, but through the eyes of someone who didn't know the full story first. And so Quinn was born. Sorry if Dr. Horrible slips into being Billy too early on, if I decide he'll ever slip back. Please read, review and enjoy.

I was surprised with my sudden change in superior. I'd originally been just a general skivy for the higher members of the Evil League of Evil. But then Tasha was demoted from a henchwoman, and Bad Horse decided it was best if she was given my more general area of work and I worked specifically on one persons demands.

Which is how I came to be doing all the work Dr. Horrible didn't want to do. He was quite a recent addition to the League, and I didn't know much about him. All I knew was the coverage in the newspapers and on TV. According to those sources, he had killed the kindest woman in the entire city, who was helping the homeless and was the girlfriend of Captain Hammer, who'd suffered from a breakdown after their fight.

Whether this was true or not, I wasn't sure, since I was aware of the tradition the media had for warping events, but it was the basis on which he'd been admitted to the League, and as such I decided it better to believe this for a while. I could always find a witness who saw things properly later to inform me of the truth.

Dr. Horrible didn't tend to demand a lot. He'd occasionally ask for a few materials that, to be honest, didn't seem much more than him wanting me out of his way, but he seemed to prefer doing the work himself. He seemed to revel in his work, and he always seemed happiest that way.

It was about a month before I plucked up the courage to ask him a few questions. I'd brought back the Fantastum he'd asked for (I did often wonder who'd named all these weird but powerful substances), and after handing it over, cleared my throat to get him to actually look up from the blueprints he was going over meticulously.

"Yes?" He said, coldly, although taking the courtesy to look me in the eye. He didn't display any sort of friendship towards anyone, just respect for Dark Horse and the others high in the League, most likely to keep them sweet enough to stay on their good side.

"Well, we've been working together for a month," I said, keeping my composure as he scowled at me intently, "And I've found myself wondering how you came to love villainy."

"I've always found it more enjoyable to torment others." He replied curtly as he looked back to his plans, but I knew instantly he was using this to put a stop to any further questions, "Villainy seemed the natural course."

I paused for a moment, making a rapid decision to continue my questions as if I believed his lie, "So when did you decide to take this path?"

The expression on his features was one of shock and- could it be?- panic. But this was short-lived as he stood, fists clenched and eyes burning holes in his desk. He kept his gaze fixed to his desk for a while, before looking up and staring straight through to my core, his rage a terrifying force to deal with. He strode towards me, causing me to falter and end up stumbling in a shamefully clumsy manner backwards into the wall as he stared.

I'd been convinced he was about to explode with rage, but at the last moment seemed to compose himself, smirking, "You ask an awful lot of questions for someone without the status to get away with it." He let this sentence have its effect, then continued, "Fine, if you must know, as a child I was fond of tormenting my peers, but as I grew older, I found that menial annoyance of the people immediate surrounding me grew tiresome, and so I decided to move onto bigger things." His smirk widened a fraction, "You should know the rest."

I absorbed this no doubt elaborately conceived and yet unconvincing story for a minute or so. I didn't blame him for trying. In fact, it made perfect sense. But his delivery was slightly off, his tone was too smug in what I assume was him assuming I'd be fooled. "As much as I admire your quick-thinking in that wonderful concoction of fantasy, I'm afraid I'm finding it rather difficult to believe your tale."

"And what gives you the impression it's not the truth?" He growled, but it was clear in the gleam in his eyes that I'd called him out correctly on his false origin story.

"The subtle touches are what makes a good liar. You lack those." It was my turn to smirk, "Your disguise is slipping. I think you're slipping."

I'd cut him deeply with this remark, and this time his rage did explode. "And what would you know?!" He slammed his fist against the wall, inches from my face, "What possible reason do you need to know?!"

I faltered, "I-I was just curious. I didn't mean any offe-"

He turned away, returning to his plans. He seemed satisfied he'd released his anger and suitably unnerved me. Fear generated respect, or so it seemed. "You're beginning to test my patience, Quinn." He muttered bitterly, "I suggest you leave now. I have no need of your service today."

I nodded, turning to go, but deciding to have one last comment before I left his presence, just to keep him in better spirits, "If you want me to, I'll stop talking all together. I aim to please you, Dr. Horrible." I smiled sweetly, keeping my body language relaxed, but still professional and my eyes bright. If he wouldn't tell me, I'd find out through other means.