(A.N.: This chapter is from 's POV- hope you like it!)

On an ordinary Wednesday morning in L.A… or was it?

Doctor Horrible lurked in the alleyway. Leaning against a brick wall, he watched the bus stop. A bus screeched to a halt, and he smiled an evil smile. Said smile had taken him several days to perfect, but it was coming along quite nicely, especially after…

No. Don't think about it. He couldn't think about it.

He pulled the goggles down over his eyes, darkening the sunny day to a dimmer, grayscale landscape that matched his mood. A bus screeched to a halt in front of the bus stop. As the sheeple who'd waited for it lined up in a neat, orderly line, he tossed the remote-control device in the bus's direction. It flew in a high arc before its magnetic fields kicked in, clamping it onto the top of the bus.

Perfect.

This time, his plan ran no risk of being ruined. Captain Hammer was on the East Coast with his family, recovering from the loss of (no no no don't think about it,) and even if someone tried to stop him, he'd reinforced the controller unit with extra-strength platinum steel, making it nigh-unbreakable, even with the benefit of superstrength.

It would be like that movie about the terrorists and exploding bus, only with less special effects and more real-life eviltastic awesomeness. He'd take control of the bus, then threaten to drive it into a wall- or a kindergarten, but probably a wall- unless the mayor agreed to pay him an enormous sum of money from the city treasury.

(He didn't know what he planned to do with the money, but that was okay. It was getting the money that mattered, scaring the populace. Screams shot into his veins like electricity, making him feel okay, in control, alive.)

And as soon as the last idiot commuter plodded onto the bus, he could start his plan. Doctor Horrible (not Billy, at least not anymore) drummed gloved fingers on a windowsill, watching impatiently as the line dwindled. Come on, come on, hurry up… Just get on the bus already!

The sun peeked out from behind a cloud. A beam of light shone down from the clouds, illuminating bright red hair.

Holy fucking shit.

Quickly, Doctor Horrible took off his goggles, rubbed his eyes, and put them back on. Another idiotic person dragged themselves onto the bus, and everyone else moved forward. But the girl at the line's end remained the same.

Red hair, pale skin. Those freckles on her cheeks, like wildflowers springing up all over a field. She wore a light pink dress with a lavender sweater and lace-up espadrilles. And when the person ahead of her said something, she laughed in an unmistakable way, allowing a grin to burst over her face before covering her mouth with her hand.

It couldn't be her. It was just someone who looked like her. Like the redheaded prostitutes that Moist constantly dragged back to the Horrible Lab, hoping to cheer him up. He always sent them away with a substantial tip (the money meant nothing to him) and a warning to never bother him again if they wanted to live.

"I'm not capable of love," he'd told Moist once, obliterating cornflakes with the back of a Mickey Mouse-decorated plastic spoon.

"Why not? You're capable of appreciating Doritos, right? And Dorito love is a kind of love. I mean, it's not love love, but come on, man, Doritos!"

"I'm just not." After the steely-eyed glare that accompanied his statement, there had been no more prostitutes.

Now there were only a few more people waiting to get on the bus. And it wasn't her. It couldn't be. He'd seen her (no no no don't think.)

Come to think of it, this bus wasn't crowded enough to attract sufficient media attention. The next bus would have more people on it. It wouldn't hurt to go look at the girl, just to satisfy his curiosity. And holy shit on a stick- what if it was her?

Four more people. He yanked off the goggles; the elastic strap snapped the back of his head. The gloves seemed impossible to unfasten- their soft, smooth fabric made grasping the buttons ridiculously difficult.

Three more people- and, fuck, the labcoat. Why wouldn't the stupid labcoat come off? It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, reinforcing the fastenings. But, no, he had to go reinforcing the fricking fastenings, like the sort of idiot person who reinforced fastenings- and now the fastenings were reinforced and they wouldn't cooperate!

Two more people, and his arm got stuck in the sleeve. He had to hop around the alleyway with one arm over his head, yanking at the fabric.

One more person. Billy gave the coat one last desperate tug, unbalancing himself, and hopped sideways before crashing into the wall. Not caring, he tossed the coat aside and ran out. "Penny!" he yelled, waving his arms frantically. Desperate hope flung itself against his chest like a caged bird attempting to escape.

The last person before her ascended the bus's steps.

It had to be her.

The bus's doors shut with a pneumatic hiss. It pulled away from the curb.

Please, if there was a god, or even a Flying Spaghetti Monster, let it be her.

She turned to look at him, and a familiar smile lit her face. "Billy? Oh, hi!"

Yeah.

Holy fucking shit.