"Good morning, my loyal viewers… well, listeners, but not today… That is, you're listening, but… you know …yeah…" The doctor blinked sharply and plucked his goggles from the tabletop, only to set them back down.

"Good morning, my minions! …" Two blinks this time. "Minions? Who says minions? Come on, Billy, the word ends like onions. You're not going to command respect with onions!"

He stared blankly into the webcam, then to his image on the softly glowing screen (Billy noted that he should step outside later; he was getting pasty). His eyes finally fell to the words 'video' and 'audio' displayed off to the side of his digital image. Both words were red.

Billy spun in the computer chair, waiting for confidence to strike him.

Confidence avoided him.

With ten minutes until showtime, Billy left the new surveillance/blogging room and began pacing through rooms of his home: through a door, down a flight of stairs, into a twisty-turny maze of hallways, until he reached a cardboard box labeled 'Junk'. He peered gingerly inside.

An empty picture frame and a spork, still warm with the ghost of a memory.

That was it. That was all. But those objects haunted the far corners of his mind. He stared for what felt like a very long time.

"Good morning," he tried, keeping his gaze within the box. "Everyone… keep your heads up, because today's… a…." An urgent beeping noise sounded from his wrist and Billy jumped back in alarm, clawing his sleeve up his arm.

A watch, he had a watch, set to go off five minutes before airtime. There had been no need for the bug-eyes, or the jumping, or any of that pathetically… pathetic nonsense.

With a casual sniff and the rolling down of his sleeve, Billy returned to the surveillance room.

Other than the computer, chair and table, the room was empty… well, that was if one were to exclude the silent screens which covered the walls, blinking through scenes of streets, buildings, parks, so on and so forth.

His was an ambitious plan, but the timing was perfect. Once every ten years, the League provided its full backing for each member to prove his or herself. While the results had no "official" affect on one's standing within the League, a rating of Maniacal was rare; the last "person" to achieve this honor had been Bad Horse himself, when he invented high fructose corn syrup and implemented it into common foodstuffs.

Billy realized the gravity, and had spent the better part of his year and three fourths of membership planning for this moment. Hell, he had even dreamt up a few ideas beforehand. In only a matter of minutes, his year would begin.

Two minutes.

Billy slipped his hoody off, and the red lab coat on. He found his goggles and lowered them over his eyes. After all, a certain image needed to be projected.

One minute.

Sure, it was only Los Angeles, and only a small step in the grand scheme of things… But Dr. Horrible would take this step with a smile and a skip. An evil skip. Because… you know, skipping can be evil and stuff.

Dr. Horrible took his seat and clicked on the audio icon. It turned green.

"Good morning, one and all. I would like you to find a safe seat. Stop driving, stop walking, just sit still for a moment." His message sounded in the surgically implanted audio receiving devices across the city.

The evil paperwork alone took a year, even with the help of the League. The whole plan would be allowed to last for exactly one year following December 21, 2011 at 11:11 A.M.

Getting the implants "legalized" before D-Day had been tricky. More paperwork. Of course, his original plan had involved blatant mind control. It would have taken less time; it could have been implemented that very day and been effective. But the funny thing is that the human mind and body tend to rebel against that sort of thing. The people don't want it, and somewhere behind the delicate machinery, they know they don't want it. So, every day for almost a year, he had spoken to the people, told them of the needed change, wished them a good morning and a good night. Some left, and got the implants removed. But many stayed, and those who did wanted the social reform. They weren't brain-dead nothings; they were alive, and they knew that change was only a step away. Well… that excluded a few rogue heroes, but no plan is ever perfect.

Los Angeles had soon been declared a "threat to good" and special passes were needed to enter or leave. Said passes were impossible to obtain. Within a month, the city had been dropped from the state of California. But that was only the beginning.

Thirty seconds.

He checked the monitors, seeing cars parked, people in benches, people on the grass, people not moving. With a click of the video icon, Dr. Horrible smiled into the webcam, knowing that every resident of Los Angeles would be seeing his image, sent directly to their intricately wired brains.

"We don't get enough face-to-face with our leaders these days, whether the leaders themselves hide away behind a desk of lies, or the public just…avoids them." He gave a little smirk. "So, today, we all get to have a little visual time before the big moment."

Ten seconds. How slowly time moved when every millimoment was counted down.

"You've listened to me each day, but it's almost time to get to work. Change takes action, the moving of feet and minds, you can't just sit around, whining at a screen." He waved his hands emphatically on the last word.

The frantic beeping started again. There was no visual difference, but he didn't need to see just how different everything was, because he knew that at that very moment, the nation, and, of course, let us not forget, the world turned a blind eye to the goings on of the city of Los Angeles, No-Longer-Officially-In-California (or America, or the World, for that matter).

"Now, let's get busy. You have all been designated positions, and you know where to go. Those of you requiring… special equipment can come by Horrible Labs to pick it up." He paused. "And anyone in sector Z, henceforth to be referred to as The Weenies, those superheroes stupid enough to stay, you are required to report to Horrible Labs for further, shall we say… instruction…" That smirk found him again and his hands folded together importantly.

Yes, he had only a year, but if the year was a success, then maybe the world would see the truth.

"Today…" Dr. Horrible pulled his goggles up to his forehead as his smile softened. "...is the start of a new life for this city. A better life. We'll all learn to cope together. It's a brand new day."

Dr. Horrible clicked off the visuals.

And he hadn't blinked. Not once.

………………………

So… What did ya think? ((grins)) This was my first non-Hey Arnold fic! xD And I'm pretty fond of it… though there's probably some problems with it somewhere… It's late and all. But all in all, I'm pretty okay with it, especially since this is a story that doesn't need to be especially likely at all ((laughs not-so-evilly))