justprompts: Fire
"Billy - Billy doesn't always deal with things. He'll lock them away where he doesn't have to see them. If they're not there, they don't exist."
When he deals with things, he tends not to deal with them very well, so not dealing with them at all works out for him pretty well. One of his methods of not dealing with things involves work, which he has realized he's been pretty lax in what with his random extended vacation and various things going either very right or very wrong.
So he dives right back into his work, spending hours upon hours in his lab, working on plans for rays and devices he'd set aside for rainy days, coming up with new ways to wreck havoc on LA. Usually it came down to robbing banks. After a while, it got predictable and tiring. It isn't the only evil thing he does, but that's usually his play-it-safe way of going about business. And half the reason is just so he had cash enough to pay the rent and buy some groceries, not out of a need to be evil.
And, really, he doesn't need to keep doing minor acts of villainy. If he could just kill someone...but no. He sets that aside as well.
All the busywork feels refreshing and clears his mind. And also gives him a little plan for chaos. As he'd explained on his vlog before--a few times before, actually, because people just couldn't understand his methods the first time around--the point wasn't about making money. Sure, he had the ability to wipe a bank clean, but it wasn't necessary. It was about taking it. It was about destroying the supposed "status quo" which was clearly not so quo.
But why take? Why take when he could destroy? With everyone pinching pennies enough as it is (hell, the economy is doing half the work for him already), if one bank and nearly all of its stock inside suddenly burnt to the ground, that might prove, well, fun, even. It'll fill up his afternoon, anyway.
Instead of sneaking about, he switches up his tactics. Sure, it might get Captain Can't-Keep-It-In-His-Pants here a lot sooner, but he's extra confident today that he'll get away with everything, and even if he doesn't, he knows he won't really care in the end.
He announces his presence boldly, brandishing a homemade flamethrower. (He was thinking of calling it a 'flame ray' until it dawned on him that this device had already been invented and already had a much better and more common name.) He orders the vaults open--he even brings Moist a long, so he can carry the loot, what with Dr. Horrible's hands all full, and really, he doesn't care so much about the money--and then orders everyone out. He suspects, with that nagging voice in the back of his mind, that he'll never quite be able to kill someone in cold blood. He might never get into the League, because they won't wait forever for him to man up and grow the balls enough to do so. But not today.
They all obey, quietly, frightened like rabbits. Moist grins at him as he scampers out of the vault, desperate to keep a slippery grip on the bags of cash. The good Doctor waves him off, out, back home, he'll catch up to crash on the couch and celebrate later. No, he steps into the vault next, and money is flammable, easily so, the paper currency, and if he gets the metals hot enough, he can melt those, too.
He hears sirens wailing outside as he's burning down desks and potted fake plants, and most of the place is up in flames by now, so he sneaks away, out the side, the same way as his sidekick. He doesn't need to deal with the police and the firemen and--oh, he hears the loud, ludicrous tones of the city's hero now, echoing in the streets to cheers, but he won't find anything to save or to punch.
It's catharsis, in a way. He's never thought to be an arsonist before, but after playing with fire to cleanse away the things he hates, even if just drunkenly and not exactly thinking to begin with, he's starting to see why it sounded like such a good idea to begin with. It felt good. It didn't solve any of his problems, but he's much happier burning shit down than thinking about any possible problems he might have. Much happier working than thinking about things that might as well not even exist.
When he deals with things, he tends not to deal with them very well, so not dealing with them at all works out for him pretty well. One of his methods of not dealing with things involves work, which he has realized he's been pretty lax in what with his random extended vacation and various things going either very right or very wrong.
So he dives right back into his work, spending hours upon hours in his lab, working on plans for rays and devices he'd set aside for rainy days, coming up with new ways to wreck havoc on LA. Usually it came down to robbing banks. After a while, it got predictable and tiring. It isn't the only evil thing he does, but that's usually his play-it-safe way of going about business. And half the reason is just so he had cash enough to pay the rent and buy some groceries, not out of a need to be evil.
And, really, he doesn't need to keep doing minor acts of villainy. If he could just kill someone...but no. He sets that aside as well.
All the busywork feels refreshing and clears his mind. And also gives him a little plan for chaos. As he'd explained on his vlog before--a few times before, actually, because people just couldn't understand his methods the first time around--the point wasn't about making money. Sure, he had the ability to wipe a bank clean, but it wasn't necessary. It was about taking it. It was about destroying the supposed "status quo" which was clearly not so quo.
But why take? Why take when he could destroy? With everyone pinching pennies enough as it is (hell, the economy is doing half the work for him already), if one bank and nearly all of its stock inside suddenly burnt to the ground, that might prove, well, fun, even. It'll fill up his afternoon, anyway.
Instead of sneaking about, he switches up his tactics. Sure, it might get Captain Can't-Keep-It-In-His-Pants here a lot sooner, but he's extra confident today that he'll get away with everything, and even if he doesn't, he knows he won't really care in the end.
He announces his presence boldly, brandishing a homemade flamethrower. (He was thinking of calling it a 'flame ray' until it dawned on him that this device had already been invented and already had a much better and more common name.) He orders the vaults open--he even brings Moist a long, so he can carry the loot, what with Dr. Horrible's hands all full, and really, he doesn't care so much about the money--and then orders everyone out. He suspects, with that nagging voice in the back of his mind, that he'll never quite be able to kill someone in cold blood. He might never get into the League, because they won't wait forever for him to man up and grow the balls enough to do so. But not today.
They all obey, quietly, frightened like rabbits. Moist grins at him as he scampers out of the vault, desperate to keep a slippery grip on the bags of cash. The good Doctor waves him off, out, back home, he'll catch up to crash on the couch and celebrate later. No, he steps into the vault next, and money is flammable, easily so, the paper currency, and if he gets the metals hot enough, he can melt those, too.
He hears sirens wailing outside as he's burning down desks and potted fake plants, and most of the place is up in flames by now, so he sneaks away, out the side, the same way as his sidekick. He doesn't need to deal with the police and the firemen and--oh, he hears the loud, ludicrous tones of the city's hero now, echoing in the streets to cheers, but he won't find anything to save or to punch.
It's catharsis, in a way. He's never thought to be an arsonist before, but after playing with fire to cleanse away the things he hates, even if just drunkenly and not exactly thinking to begin with, he's starting to see why it sounded like such a good idea to begin with. It felt good. It didn't solve any of his problems, but he's much happier burning shit down than thinking about any possible problems he might have. Much happier working than thinking about things that might as well not even exist.