Personal Space
Coldhearted
"And who exactly are YOU?" Frank sassed at the newcomer of whom's hair he envied.
"Hahahaha!" The man let out a pathetic 'evil' laugh, "Who am I?" He replied.
"Yes, who are you?" Frank responded.
The man squinted his eyes, "Who...am...I?" He witted. Frank looked confused and then imitated the man's squint,
"Yes....Who...Are...You..." Just then, the man bolted back with a disturbed look on his face, as if Frank had just won some sort of question-game.
"Pah..." He looked disappointed, "I AM DR. HORRIBLE!" He grinned, obviously eager to tell someone his new title. It was an awkward pause where Dr. Horrible shot his eyes back and forth at the two mads. They just stared in silence for a few moments. Finally, the awkward silence was lost when they both bursted into hysterical laughter.
"D-Doc-Doctor H-Horrible!?" Forrester exclaimed through wheezy laughs, "What kind of booby-name is that?!" He laughed harder, landing his face in Frank's shoulder for cover.
"What, were all the GOOD mad scientist names taken?!" Frank added, wheezing as well.
All the while Dr. Horrible looked frustrated. He darted his eyes back and forth and humphed like a child being bullied.
"What!? Its a great name, okay!?" He hollered, trying to out-loud their annoying laughter. "Fine!" He finally said, as the two mads were still gasping for breath and chuckling a little, "You wanna play it dirty?" He reached below him and yanked up his prisoner: Pearl. She had a bruise on her cheek, her makeup smeared, her hair insane and a gag in her mouth as she screamed for help with a muffled voice. "Let's play it dirty." He smirked, evilly, and put a freeze ray of some sort up to Pearl's head.
Forrester was still wiping the laughter tears off his glasses lens, but when he shoved them on, he realized what was happening.
"MOTHER!" Forrester jumped towards the screen, only to be held back by a petrified Frank.
"No, your disgusting--"
"JUST CALL ME CLAY!" Forrester demanded.
"...Clay, he...he has a weapon." Frank pointed at the bulky and intimidating fire(or ice)-arm that Dr. Horrible was holding. Forrester tried to keep it cool. He'd honestly never been in a situation that wasn't somewhat hilarious. He snarled and hopped up and down a bit, withholding with all his might what he truly wanted to say.
"What do you want!?" Forrester hollered at the bloodthirsty villain.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now now boys....Play nice...." He imitated Pearl in a motherly tone of voice.
Forrester's eyes grew wide and his shoulders dropped.
"You...hacked our transmission...you heard everything we said, but--....how?" The man just laughed an evil laugh (which sounded rehearsed, to be honest) and continued,
"I know what those crates had in them. Any dolt with half a brain could figure that part out! The question was....how could I get MY hands on it...?" He snarled his mouth, "The word around town is that it can be so powerful with the right...'material' that it can bring the dead back to life." Forrester let out a shaky laugh,
"What are you talking about, you LOON! Its only a common vi--"
"SHUT IT! Or your mom's gonna have the worst BRAINFREEZE of her LIFE!" Dr. Horrible shoved his gun harder onto Pearl's already abused temple. She winced in pain and a sweat droplet trickled down her face. Forrester immediately shoved his hands in front of him,
"Nonononononono! D-don't hurt her!" He smiled, insanely, "Its m-me you want...r-right?" He said, placing a shaky hand onto his chest. Dr. Horrible cocked his head sarcastically and put the gun down,
"Yeah, yeah, alright. But I haven't finished my story yet...." He shoved Pearl away. The mads could hear a very loud thump followed by a muffled wail in pain. Forrester bit his lip hard. This bastard was gonna get it. "Sooo, what was my plan to get the crates, you ask?" He fiddled with the barrel of his freeze ray, "Well, simple really. Get my crew to send some assassins in there, take out your men guarding the satellite, steal the crates, and get them back." Clayton's eyebrows raised at the word 'men'. This guy didn't know how low-class the Satellite of Love was. They didn't have 'MEN' who 'GUARDED' the ship. They had a hippie and his two silly robots chillaxing on the ship, riffing cheesy films. Clayton tried not to smile.
"So, how would you do that? You can't send another ship after the Satellite, it has a radar that detects any other ship approaching it from lightyears away." This was the one installation of Clay's satellite that he was semi-proud of. He crossed his arms, in hopes he had stumped the superior scientist.
"Oh, I suppose you are right....hm....DUH!" Dr. Horrible sarcastically added, "I'd never waste rocket-fuel on your floating sewer!" He leaned back in his chair and lined his fingertips together, as any cliche villain would do. "Oh no...I'd do something much better...Much more EVIL...Much more---" He leaned back in and the light cast a creepy shadow on his face. "--Cool." He flicked down his goggles to add effect. However, this didn't quite work to his advantage as the reflection on his tinted lens showed that he was recording on a crappy laptop in a rundown apartment bedroom.
Frank accidentally let out a loud chuckle.
"What? What's so funny...make him stop..." Dr. Horrible pointed. He realized his mistake, flushed red, and yanked his goggles totally off, throwing them behind him. "Forget that happened..."
"What happened?" Frank replied, stupidly.
"Thank you." Dr. Horrible didn't know how stupid this henchman really was.
"No, really, what?" Both Clayton and Dr. Horrible gave Frank a 'really, idiot?' look and then turned to face each other once more.
"Alright Alright Alright, we get it! You have all the fancy gadgets, the cool plans and the great hair--" Forrester began,
"Well...thank you..." Dr. Horrible rubbed his blonde quiff, flattered.
"--Uh...You're welcome...Now get to the POINT! What are you doing to our satellite?!" He tried to be intimidating by slamming his fist on his control panel, but, ultimately failed. (as Usual)
Once he slammed his fist on the panel, the transmission was lost. Clayton just stood still, staring at the blank monitor in frustration, not saying a word.
"Look what you did, Frank..." He attempted to shift the blame. "Now we'll never know his plan!" Clayton was still facing the monitor when he said this. Frank didn't respond. "Frank?" He tried again, slowly turning around.
Before him stood Frank. But something was off. He wasn't moving at all and seemed to be in an odd position as if he were warning Clayton about something. Clayton tilted his head in confusion and slowly walked up to Frank, dragging his feet in a terrified manner. He lifted a hand and placed it on Frank's nose only to yank it back in pain. Frank was ice-cold.
Just then, Clay froze-up in terror. A bulky object was shoved onto his back and a gloved hand covered his mouth. Someone leaned in towards his ear and whispered:
"Boo."
PATCHOOOOO!
Clayton was still.
"Hahahaha!" The man let out a pathetic 'evil' laugh, "Who am I?" He replied.
"Yes, who are you?" Frank responded.
The man squinted his eyes, "Who...am...I?" He witted. Frank looked confused and then imitated the man's squint,
"Yes....Who...Are...You..." Just then, the man bolted back with a disturbed look on his face, as if Frank had just won some sort of question-game.
"Pah..." He looked disappointed, "I AM DR. HORRIBLE!" He grinned, obviously eager to tell someone his new title. It was an awkward pause where Dr. Horrible shot his eyes back and forth at the two mads. They just stared in silence for a few moments. Finally, the awkward silence was lost when they both bursted into hysterical laughter.
"D-Doc-Doctor H-Horrible!?" Forrester exclaimed through wheezy laughs, "What kind of booby-name is that?!" He laughed harder, landing his face in Frank's shoulder for cover.
"What, were all the GOOD mad scientist names taken?!" Frank added, wheezing as well.
All the while Dr. Horrible looked frustrated. He darted his eyes back and forth and humphed like a child being bullied.
"What!? Its a great name, okay!?" He hollered, trying to out-loud their annoying laughter. "Fine!" He finally said, as the two mads were still gasping for breath and chuckling a little, "You wanna play it dirty?" He reached below him and yanked up his prisoner: Pearl. She had a bruise on her cheek, her makeup smeared, her hair insane and a gag in her mouth as she screamed for help with a muffled voice. "Let's play it dirty." He smirked, evilly, and put a freeze ray of some sort up to Pearl's head.
Forrester was still wiping the laughter tears off his glasses lens, but when he shoved them on, he realized what was happening.
"MOTHER!" Forrester jumped towards the screen, only to be held back by a petrified Frank.
"No, your disgusting--"
"JUST CALL ME CLAY!" Forrester demanded.
"...Clay, he...he has a weapon." Frank pointed at the bulky and intimidating fire(or ice)-arm that Dr. Horrible was holding. Forrester tried to keep it cool. He'd honestly never been in a situation that wasn't somewhat hilarious. He snarled and hopped up and down a bit, withholding with all his might what he truly wanted to say.
"What do you want!?" Forrester hollered at the bloodthirsty villain.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now now boys....Play nice...." He imitated Pearl in a motherly tone of voice.
Forrester's eyes grew wide and his shoulders dropped.
"You...hacked our transmission...you heard everything we said, but--....how?" The man just laughed an evil laugh (which sounded rehearsed, to be honest) and continued,
"I know what those crates had in them. Any dolt with half a brain could figure that part out! The question was....how could I get MY hands on it...?" He snarled his mouth, "The word around town is that it can be so powerful with the right...'material' that it can bring the dead back to life." Forrester let out a shaky laugh,
"What are you talking about, you LOON! Its only a common vi--"
"SHUT IT! Or your mom's gonna have the worst BRAINFREEZE of her LIFE!" Dr. Horrible shoved his gun harder onto Pearl's already abused temple. She winced in pain and a sweat droplet trickled down her face. Forrester immediately shoved his hands in front of him,
"Nonononononono! D-don't hurt her!" He smiled, insanely, "Its m-me you want...r-right?" He said, placing a shaky hand onto his chest. Dr. Horrible cocked his head sarcastically and put the gun down,
"Yeah, yeah, alright. But I haven't finished my story yet...." He shoved Pearl away. The mads could hear a very loud thump followed by a muffled wail in pain. Forrester bit his lip hard. This bastard was gonna get it. "Sooo, what was my plan to get the crates, you ask?" He fiddled with the barrel of his freeze ray, "Well, simple really. Get my crew to send some assassins in there, take out your men guarding the satellite, steal the crates, and get them back." Clayton's eyebrows raised at the word 'men'. This guy didn't know how low-class the Satellite of Love was. They didn't have 'MEN' who 'GUARDED' the ship. They had a hippie and his two silly robots chillaxing on the ship, riffing cheesy films. Clayton tried not to smile.
"So, how would you do that? You can't send another ship after the Satellite, it has a radar that detects any other ship approaching it from lightyears away." This was the one installation of Clay's satellite that he was semi-proud of. He crossed his arms, in hopes he had stumped the superior scientist.
"Oh, I suppose you are right....hm....DUH!" Dr. Horrible sarcastically added, "I'd never waste rocket-fuel on your floating sewer!" He leaned back in his chair and lined his fingertips together, as any cliche villain would do. "Oh no...I'd do something much better...Much more EVIL...Much more---" He leaned back in and the light cast a creepy shadow on his face. "--Cool." He flicked down his goggles to add effect. However, this didn't quite work to his advantage as the reflection on his tinted lens showed that he was recording on a crappy laptop in a rundown apartment bedroom.
Frank accidentally let out a loud chuckle.
"What? What's so funny...make him stop..." Dr. Horrible pointed. He realized his mistake, flushed red, and yanked his goggles totally off, throwing them behind him. "Forget that happened..."
"What happened?" Frank replied, stupidly.
"Thank you." Dr. Horrible didn't know how stupid this henchman really was.
"No, really, what?" Both Clayton and Dr. Horrible gave Frank a 'really, idiot?' look and then turned to face each other once more.
"Alright Alright Alright, we get it! You have all the fancy gadgets, the cool plans and the great hair--" Forrester began,
"Well...thank you..." Dr. Horrible rubbed his blonde quiff, flattered.
"--Uh...You're welcome...Now get to the POINT! What are you doing to our satellite?!" He tried to be intimidating by slamming his fist on his control panel, but, ultimately failed. (as Usual)
Once he slammed his fist on the panel, the transmission was lost. Clayton just stood still, staring at the blank monitor in frustration, not saying a word.
"Look what you did, Frank..." He attempted to shift the blame. "Now we'll never know his plan!" Clayton was still facing the monitor when he said this. Frank didn't respond. "Frank?" He tried again, slowly turning around.
Before him stood Frank. But something was off. He wasn't moving at all and seemed to be in an odd position as if he were warning Clayton about something. Clayton tilted his head in confusion and slowly walked up to Frank, dragging his feet in a terrified manner. He lifted a hand and placed it on Frank's nose only to yank it back in pain. Frank was ice-cold.
Just then, Clay froze-up in terror. A bulky object was shoved onto his back and a gloved hand covered his mouth. Someone leaned in towards his ear and whispered:
"Boo."
PATCHOOOOO!
Clayton was still.