Chapter One: Followed

It was the end of a long, hard, and painful day. He honestly hadn't counted on being caught. The plan seemed easy enough. Or it did when he was rehearsing it in his bedroom, anyway. It went all wrong when he took it outside and tried it in the real world, though.

For starters, he hadn't even made it to the front door of the bank. There were several police cars parked outside already. Apparently some common thug had tried to break in and had alerted the authorities to the valuable gems within one of the bank's largest vaults. Of course they had no idea what the gems were a wonderful source of cheap energy. He doubted that many people knew about that.

What really got to him was that he hadn't even done anything when he was spotted crouching behind a car across the street. The cops didn't bother him that much (he had a getaway car waiting for him around the block, just in case something went screwy. Which it did, of course), but, most annoyingly, a certain someone had chosen that moment to come out of the building behind him and set to punching his face inside out.

He was aching all over by the time he escaped the insanity that had ensued mere seconds after being discovered. It was a slow drive back home because he didn't trust his throbbing arm to have much control over the wheel, but he finally made it. He parked the borrowed car a block away from the building, in case someone recognized it, and walked the rest of the way.

Once inside, he flopped down on the couch, burying his face between two of the cushions and allowing wave after wave of throbbing pain to wash over his body. He slowly became aware of a new pain on his forehead and realized that his goggles were pinching his skin. He lazily pushed them aside with a gloved hand, wincing at the effort. He knew that the pain he felt now as nothing compared to what he'd be feeling the next morning.

What he really needed was a long, warm bath before bed. With this thought in mind, he forced himself off the couch and stood up, a bit shaky on his feet. He leaned against the couch, keeping his balance with one hand as he took his goggles off with the other and dropped them on the carpet.

He slowly made his way across the floor, but had to rest in the dining room before continuing. He sat at the table, his face resting in his hands. He couldn't remember any beating that came close to this. Hopefully it was just a shock on his body because he'd been pretty inactive during the last week and a half.

He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up, groaning when he saw that he had left the front door open to the world. He stood up again and shuffled back to the couch, sinking down into the cushions to rest his throbbing legs for a few seconds. He knew it was a mistake as soon as he sat down. Now he just wanted to lie there and sleep.

But he really should shut the door . . .

But he was so tired . . .

But someone might come in and--

"Dr. Horrible!"

His eyes popped open and stared at the figure in the doorway. For a second he couldn't believe what he was seeing, but one of his worst fears was confirmed as the bulky man strode across the floor to stand by the couch and glance around the room.

"I never would have suspected this! A little farm house in the country perhaps, but not this run down place in the middle of town!" Captain hammer exclaimed, his joy at his nemesis' bad luck apparent on his beaming face. "I knew you were something of a loser, but you live in this tiny little place? Aren't villains supposed to live in fancy manors with secret rooms and hidden weapons?"

"Where did you come from?" Dr. Horrible finally managed to choke out once he had found his voice. His throat was incredibly dry and felt like it was caked in dust. He didn't notice it, though. He was too preoccupied with the fact that his number one enemy was standing in his living room.

Captain Hammer grinned and knelt beside Dr. Horrible, resting a hand on the doctor's shoulder and grinning in a superior way. "You see, doctor, the vast majority of cars have things called license plates these days. You know, a series of letters and num--"

"I know what a license plate is," Dr. Horrible spat, his voice little more than a weak whisper. "How did you get in he--?"

His question was cut short when Captain Hammer ensnared his neck in a vice-like grip with one of his hands. The victim could barely get enough air and had to struggle to keep from slipping away. He didn't know why he fought it, though. Surely release into oblivion would be better than the pain that was sure to come. He was finished, anyway. His arch-nemesis had discovered where he lived. What was to stop him from murdering him in his sleep?

Given, of course, the fact that he didn't snap his neck that instant.

"You are in a very . . . delicate position, doctor," Captain Hammer said quietly with a haughty smile. "If I were you--which I'm not, thank God--I'd watch my tongue.

"But, back to your question," He glanced around the room again and a short laugh escaped his throat. "I'm sorry, but you actually live here? That's sad . . . that's very sad . . ."

Horrible couldn't speak, so instead he glared at the "hero" with as much disgust as he could muster. The effort shot too much pain through his face, though, and he had to give it up after a second or two and may have just come across as looking incredibly sick to his stomach.

"I followed you, to sum it all up. Lost you in the traffic a few minutes after you ran off, but soon saw the car and then you. Just barely caught a glimpse of you going around the corner. I'm lucky to have seen you at all, actually," he said with a pondering look that suggested that the idea had just occurred to him. "Oh well. I'm here now. That's all that matters, right?"

He threw the villain back against the couch with such force that he heard his neck pop. Smiling in self satisfied way, Captain Hammer stood up and paced back and forth, smirking at his captive.

"I know what you're worried about, doc," he said with that arrogant tone, which was just one of many things that made Dr. Horrible despise him so. "But you don't need to be. I'm not going to go running to the police and tell them where you . . . live. Where's the fun in that? I don't want to destroy you behind closed doors. No one would know about it. Oh, no. I want a public audience when I finish you.

"But, in the meantime, I think I'll make your life A.S.A.P," He leaned in close to Horrible, so close that the doctor could smell his minty-fresh breath. He grinned and slowly said, "As . . . Shitty . . . As . . . Possible . . ."

Before Dr. Horrible could try to think of what this meant, Hammer had reared back and thrown a coffee mug into the television. The owner of the damaged items tried to shout in rage, but it came out as a cracked whisper. He did manage to stand up, but only to have Captain Hammer grab the back of his neck and fling him, head first, through the computer screen.

He heard his nose crack as glass and bits of wire tore at his face. Through the pain he found what little of his sanity that remained mentioning what a good idea it had been to turn off the computer that morning, or his face would be fried by now.

He tasted the blood as it welled up in his mouth and rushed through his clenched teeth, dribbling over his lip and dripping down to his lab coat as he pulled himself up off the desk. Judging by the sounds echoing all around him, Captain Hammer was enjoying himself as he tore apart the kitchen.

Dr. Horrible tried to turn around and face his attacker, but his hands slipped on the swivel chair he was using to keep himself up and he found himself falling.

Fortunately, someone caught him from behind.

Unfortunately, that same someone spun him around and landed a punch that sent him sprawling to the floor and into the dark world of unconsciousness.