Disclaimer: I don't own Dr Horrible or any of the characters in his delightful universe!
Yeah! I'm really excited about this fic! It's going to be multi-chaptered (no idea how many), though it is not a sequel to Best Laid Plans.
Warnings: Eventual slash, because Dr Horrible and Captain Hammer need a happy ending! Language, probably violence, who knows what my twisted brain will come up with (nothing graphic though, yuck)
Please please please please review and enjoy!
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Eventually, the money runs out.
Eventually, the psychiatrist tells him that if he won't pay for his sessions, she can't see him anymore.
Eventually, the bills pile up and the repo man sneaks onto his property at night and takes back Captain Hammer's hummer, which, by the way, Captain Hammer doesn't even think is legal (the man also steals the ex-hero's futon, which Hammer knows is illegal, but the people at the law firm don't believe him when he calls).
Eventually, he has to shop at a dollar store (a dollar store with, like, gross poor people and stuff) to buy food and at a good will for clothes.
Eventually, or rather, presently, however, Hammer drags himself out of the rat-hole apartment he's leased and begins looking for a job.
Unfortunately for him, dedicating his life to fighting crime has left him with a rather lacking resume.
Since Captain Hammer does not think he can seriously record his previous employers as "pe-pole in dangers" (his spelling mistakes, as Captain Hammer had never been partial to English, or any other subject in school, for that matter), he decides the best course of action is to make things up.
Except, Hammer is a bit too stupid for even this, so when the woman at the employment agency sees his file (paperwork filled out in crayon, mind you), she naturally balks at his assertion that he was the bearded woman in a traveling circus 40 years ago.
He'd thought it had seemed like such a good idea at the time, too.
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Basically, that's how Captain Hammer comes to be lounging outside a coffee shop at 3 in the afternoon.
(He doesn't actually have enough money to buy anything, but he quite enjoys the smells wafting through the open door and the hum of activity. He's been rather lonely of late.)
Not long ago, Hammer thinks bitterly, he would marched right into the shop, sneered down his nose at all the simpletons drinking tea, winked at a few adoring fans, and proceed to order his usual Venti Iced Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha espresso with extra cream and sprinkles.
Not anymore, because now he's stuck, illegally loitering and smelling not-great because his shower is on the fritz. It isn't fair, he pouts.
Captain Hammer rests his head in his gloved (he had to sell his leather pair, so now he wears bright blue rubber gloves, the kind housewives used when scrubbing the kitchen sink) hands and sighs dramatically.
The root of his problems lie with poopyheaded Horrible, he thinks.
He'd been at the tippy top of the popular and awesome pyramid (like one of those creepy wrapped up people in the place with all the sand) until the doctor had finally grown a pair and up and killed Hammer's lady. That was majorly not cool, bro.
Besides, what had he ever done to the villain anyway?
A bell rings as a customer exits the shop, dropping his half-empty cup of coffee in the waste bin next to Hammer's head as he heads down the sidewalk.
Hammer smells the rich tasty tastefulness of the drink and his stomach rumbles, disgruntled and quite starving (the last thing he'd eaten was a large past-expiration-date bag of candy corn the night before, and Hammer is used to enjoying eight decent meals a day).
He wraps his fingers around the edge of the trash bin and pokes his head up over the rim to peer inside.
He can spot a used condom and a banana right off the bat, but it takes him a moment of searching to spy the coffee. It's wedged deep and Hammer realizes he's going to have to reach all the way down into the bin to retrieve it, thus destroying any dignity he might have been able to salvage.
(Of course, he needn't have worried; there simply was no dignified way to eat out of the garbage, period.)
He's in the process of snaking his muscled arm into the waste basket when a flash of blue catches his eye.
It's, of course (knowing his luck), Killer Wave, the Evil League of Evil's resident stone-cold-fox, standing mere feet away. She's tacking up a sign from the stack under her arm to a telephone pole with a staple gun and looking radiant, as always, auburn hair glinting like…glinty things in the sunlight.
Captain Hammer attempts, at this point, to hide behind the trash can, but in his panic to avoid being seen, he forgets to remove his arm from inside the bin before crouching down.
(This results in said metal bin ripping itself out of the concrete and clattering on top of Hammer's broad back, making the most noise as it possibly can.)
Captain Hammer holds his breath for approximately 20 seconds before he runs out of patience and peeks through his fingers at where Killer Wave had previously been standing. She's gone, nothing but a slightly fluttering paper stuck to the pole to suggest she had ever been there at all.
Curiously piqued, Hammer rises to his feet as nonchalantly as he can muster. He flicks some of the dust sprayed by the breaking concrete off of his chest.
Two teenage girls make their way past him, silently eyeing the large hole-in-the-ground at his feet.
He nods at them. "Hey ladies" Captain Hammer says suavely. They shoot him acidic glares.
As soon as they pass, he sidles up to the wooden telephone pole and narrows his eyes at the paper.
"Hello, puny citizens and troglodytes!
Are you a down on your luck, pathetic, and all-around loser? Are you another mindless cog craving toil in a well-oiled machine? Are you a smelly homeless person?
If you answered 'yes' to any of those questions, we want YOU to come work for us! The Evil League of Evil is experiencing a real shortage of secretaries right now, and we want employees we don't have to pay very much!
If you're stupid or desperate enough to offer your services, please come to our headquarters on the edge of town. There will be an extensive interviewing process and if you live, we'll offer you a job!
Have a super fantastic day, you worthless freaks!"
Captain Hammer was not completely illiterate; he can at least brag that much, but it still takes him a few agonizing moments to sound out several of the words on the paper.
When he finishes, the first thing Captain Hammer thinks is that maybe, probably, most likely, the well wishing at the end of the flyer isn't sincere.
The second thing he thinks is that he answered yes to one of the questions.
The third thing he thinks as he's exiting the bus parked in front of The Evil League of Evil's headquarters, it that this is probably another one of his actually bad-ideas-that-seem-good-at-the-time.
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Oooh la la! What's going to happen next? I know, you don't mwahahaha!
Review so I'll feel good about myself!