(Untitled)

[in_horribleness]

WHO: DR. HORRIBLE and SOLLUX CAPTOR, at the least.
WHAT: SUMMONING-PLOT-RELATED THINGS
WHERE: The DESERT, possibly the TROLL-HOUSE
WHEN: Backdated to... a week ago. (*sob*)
WARNINGS: May contain horribleness.
SUMMARY: Dr. Horrible follows this funny feeling towards those weird aliens. (Troll-peeps can tag in if appropriate.)

Comments

I feel like a D&D GM. "DR HORRIBLE ENTERS THE TROLL DEN..."

[seeingtwofold]

The Trollhouse was a three-leveled, worn down warehouse a short jaunt out of town. From the outside it was nondescript - a primarily featureless rectangle looming over the horizon, and that didn't didn't change as one got closer. That is, until it became apparent that the front door had been painted a glaring shade of red.

Not much surrounded it, except vast stretches of desert and a surprisingly large and meticulously stacked pile of tumbleweeds. It was still dark out, so one would normally expect activity to be low, but to a race of nocturnal aliens this meant very little.

Sollux himself was perched on the building's roof, right at the edge so that his legs could hang over the side. He had a laptop resting over his legs, and was typing away at something with such focus that he didn't notice someone approaching.

CRITICAL FAILURE

[in_horribleness]

Screw this, he thought. He wasn't getting anywhere. He wasn't... He stumbled over a tumbleweed, and finally looked up from the gorund, squinting into the distance at.. Hey, there was a building, there, and a laptop's glow, and... What the hell was that thing? Guy. Thing.

Whatever it was, something just beneath his conscious mind seemed to click into place. That was who he was looking for. Right. Now what?

"Hey!" he yelled, though he crossed his arms over his chest and slouched a little, as if trying to look small. "Uh. You... uh... disperse any mind-control rays, lately, or send any psychic messages, or..." He shrugged a little.

[seeingtwofold]

And suddenly someone was talking at him from down below. Sollux looked up from his laptop, pushing down his shades so that his natural night vision could get a better read on the stranger. His pupil-less red and blue eyes glowed dimly in the moonlight.

"The fuck?" he started, tilting his head. He was anything but threatened by the guy's presence. He seemed kind of awkward, more than anything. "What are you talking about? I don't know what you'd heard, bro, but I'm not that kind of psychic."

He narrowed his eyes a little, and something occurred to him.

"Wait - are you that dude from the network?"

[in_horribleness]

Recognition dawns. "You're the one who went on about 'stereotypes' and asked if I built shit. I never answered. Why yes. I do, in fact, build shit." He pauses.

"So... You didn't... somehow... send for me?" He reaches up to rub his eyebrow. "Look. I don't really know why I'm out here."