Chapter Ten: This World is Made of…
(Ten Months after the Lights Went Out)
Same game. New Player. No Side.
………………
An empty laundromat. A man in a red lab coat, locking the door. People bustling in and out.
Dr. Horrible watched the screen for hours. Swiveling around in his computer chair, he had to admit that the Laundro-screen was, by the fifth hour, coma-inducingly boring. His attention occasionally switched to the surveillance room's other screens… but all was quiet that night. People slept and woke almost in unison. It was a little scary.
Maybe not scary, since he had…programmed them? No, he suggested they keep similar hours. And similar schedules. People spent so long worrying about the order of the day, and when they'd buy this, and when they buy that, and whether or not there would be time to sleep at night. They spent more time worrying than doing. He had simply fixed the problem. So "scary" was definitely not the word for it.
Horrible paced up and down the hall for several minutes, pausing in the living room. His answering machine was blinking with unanswered messages, probably from Moist… since no one else knew his number. Well, the fan-club-stalker-people had called once, but they were the only exception.
Horrible rocked back on his heels. "Moist worries too much," he muttered to himself. But there was one thing Moist was right about: people had to be prepared for… anything. Only a couple sectors were trained in combatant skills, and with only four registered heroes remaining, their work was winding down.
With that thought, he turned back to the surveillance/blogging room, sat down at the computer, clicked on the implants' audio icon, and began describing, in detail, the workings and execution of ray guns. And when he could think of nothing else to say, he synced the video function with an old self-defense video… something which had never been much help for him all those years… those long years of being thrown into walls, punched in the face… and the wedgies.
It wasn't as if the general population would have access to the rays… but it was best to be prepared. He kept telling himself that.
…-…-…-...-…-…-…
Sally had been waking up early the past few weeks. It began with the dilemma of whether or not to continue with her sector… but that uncomfortable feeling from her last day persisted. After missing a full week of work, she had made the decision to move in with the Hammer Force. There were plenty of rooms and testing out rays wouldn't be an issue.
She watched the plant-camera constantly. Horrible had been staying inside lately and he was awake long past the hours the majority of L.A. kept. Even doctors of the medical variety could sleep regularly thanks to everything the Labs had come up with…
There were thoughts Sally could have thought, perhaps tainted by the reemergence of guilt, but a voice in her head prevented that.
"Morning, all. Feeling able to take on the world today?" A laugh. "Nah. We've got time for that. Oh! Good news! My most recent experiment is finally done. Well, not completely done, but the hard part is. Anyway, I'll be out today… gotta run as many fans in the lab as possible. Apparently messing with time creates a certain… patchouli-like odor. Yeah…"
When the message finished, Sally, already dressed in her costume, slipped on a matching red trench coat to hide any tell-tale signs of a superhero.
The ray-gun she finally chose was a dematerializer, something similar to what had been used on Johnny. It was fitting (and painless). She jammed the gun into her boot and headed for the ladder.
Her car was in a parking garage and the call device to alert her back-up was in the glove department of said car. Sure, she could have just woken everyone up, but that method lacked the grandiose… thing… of an alarm calling the heroes to action.
She didn't hit the button until parked outside Duly Park. Though Sally thought, briefly, about calling Hammer with her location, the alert had a signal. They could track her. Probably.
Sally took a seat on her regular bench and waited for a Horrible-less half hour. Just outside the gates, a crowd had gathered. People were chattering happily and the doctor was probably in the middle of that mini-mob, laughing along with them.
But they weren't actually laughing; Sally had to keep telling herself that. They were brain-washed. Their free-will had been sucked out through their ears and was replaced with shiny pieces of plastic and wires. They had very little to worry about, very little ever think to worry about. And even though all of the above was true, they were happy. Happy, healthy, and carefree. All of them.
She couldn't do it. He was every single awful thing warranting a death sentence, but she just couldn't do it. Maybe she was just as brain-washed as the rest of the city, maybe more so.
After all, how many other L.A. residents had watched Dr. Horrible's blog before his take-over? And how many spied on him afterwards? And paid for sciencey cupcakes? And was it really just coincidence that she happened to have a red trench coat?
Maybe her back-up was already hiding behind the trees. Maybe they weren't. Maybe whatever would happen, would happen… and maybe (maybe, maybe) it wouldn't be her fault.
What did she want to happen? What would she be able to live with? On whose side did she stand?
Sally wasn't sure.
When she looked up again, the crowd had dispersed and Dr. Horrible was standing in front of her, looking anything but horrible. There was no lab coat, no goggles—just a blue-gray hoody and ratty old jeans.
"…Where's your red coat?"
He blinked. "You see, when past and present are forced to coexist, there's this smell…" The girl on the bench was kind of smiling and tapping at her head. "Right, I already mentioned that and…" And then it hit him, just who he was talking to. His brow furrowed as he moved closer. "Hey, … umm, it's… you. What happened to your hair?"
"My…" Her hands flew to her head. No wig. She glanced from side to side. No contacts either. "…Oh. Yeah… that…" The nagging guilt then took hold of her vocal cords. "…I'm a hero…"
The doctor just stared. "Wha—?"
Sally got to her feet and unbuttoned her coat, pointing to the rose emblem on her chest. "One of 'The Weenies'… Rose Red… I…" Coherency faded away and the guilt was replaced with a very heavy sensation of whoops. There had been no reason to divulge that information. None. So why did it feel so necessary? "I was waiting for you. I just needed to tell you that I—"
"It's okay," the doctor blurted out. He pulled a list from the pocket of his hoody, reading the names hurriedly. "CaptainCorn-CaptainHammer-Elementia-DangerDude." He sighed shakily. "It's okay." Calmer this time. "You're not on here… Just take off the costume, but—no, I mean, not now. Later, err…" His eyes fell to her boots and locked onto something kind of… out-of-place. "What's that?" He nodded towards her shoes.
Rose Red was, for a moment, confused. "What's…" She followed his eyes. "Oh! That's—" The feeling that came along with fading confusion was fantastic, even if another feeling was underneath… a feeling that maybe she should stop to think. But her actions traveled faster than her thoughts and with an almost relieved smile, she reached down and pulled the ray gun free. "—nothing."
She didn't realize what had happened at first, but the doctor's face had changed. Subtle shock, not really fear. Her eyes shot down the length of her arm and squeezed shut as those thoughts finally caught up with her. Right. There had been a reason for coming to the park. In that instant, Rose Red became very aware of her heartbeat, and of the hot and cold rushing under her skin.
The doctor's shoulders fell and there was a look like flashbulbs in his eyes as gun-toting park-goers swarmed around Rose Red.
"So… you were waiting for me?"
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The chapter title is part of a quote from… something. Can anyone out there finish the quote? You'll win a fabulous prize (probably just the word "Congratulations!").
Also, this story can, and probably will be finished in 2 – 3 chapters, depending on what direction I decide to take something. Lots of stuff to go down in little time. xD