wacky crossover, this time more within the realm of the possible
So Dr. Horrible planted a couple of wacky crossover theories in my head; this is the less-cracky of the two, if still a little out-there.
Not That Organised
The day after his induction, Dr. Horrible is notified that he has an appointment with the Evil League of Evil's finance manager at the end of the week.
It's... almost intimidating enough to cut through everything else that's going on, really. The League's finance manager has been around since before Bad Horse was even born, he's rumored to keep a shark tank in his private office, he was lucky enough to be given an appropriately almost-sinister name at birth rather than having to create one from scratch - but for all that, Cosmo's never actually joined the League, and didn't even move his base of operations when Bad Horse decided San Francisco wouldn't really acknowledge their presence. How he survived that argument, no one wants to be the first to ask.
It also doesn't really help that Dr. Horrible has no idea why the guy wants to talk to him in the first place. There's no pay attached to the League, not just for belonging; there's a stipend for mayhem supplies, but he hasn't had long enough to take advantage of that. There might be dues he wasn't expecting (and a small corner of Billy's brain notes that a human life, particularly that human life, should have been payment enough), but he's not sure.
In any case, a car picks him up Friday morning and drops him off at a toy production plant outside of Fremont a few hours later. He received strict instructions to bring legal identification along, and tell the security personnel he's there to see the director, and he does so. On the way up to the third floor, he's still wondering why a toy company is serving as a front for the League's finances, and then it hits him - because no one would ever expect it, probably not even the people making the toys.
He's shown into a spacious office, otherwise lacking in people. There is a shark tank, he notes; he gets so caught up in watching the sharks that he almost misses Cosmo's entrance entirely. The man cuts an imposing figure, especially for someone who's pushing sixty and still holding their own in a sinister business.
"Good to see you made it," he says, smiling a little after Dr. Horrible turns around. "No doubt you're wondering what I could have to tell you at this early stage in the game."
"Well... yes, considering I haven't even done anything with the finances yet."
"Officially, we're putting you on the books, so that when the time comes you can use some of the budget, if need be. Unofficially? I happen to be a follower of that blog of yours."
That was something Dr. Horrible hadn't expected to hear. "Really? I didn't know I'd reached this far up the food chain."
"You'd be surprised, though it wasn't really for official reasons." Cosmo steers him toward a glass enclosure for a mostly-defunct supercomputer, and doesn't continue until they're inside. "Truly unofficially, you're never going to see the sort of social change you're after by working with the League."
"...What makes you say that?" He's not entirely sure social change is what he's after anymore - mayhem would at least be a distraction from the numbness - but he's here, so he might as well hear the man out.
"I've followed your blog long enough to know where your heart is, on the matter. And I know the League's methodology better than just about anyone alive - they've never had the attention span for that kind of work."
"How do you know?"
Cosmo smirks. "It's taken me forty years to even come close to the sort of social change I think the world needs. And nearly destroying the world economy isn't devious enough for the League, so I've had to do it alone."
"But... wait, I thought the banks were failing because of deregulation and--"
"Money is powered by psychology. Make people think what you want, and they do all the work themselves."
It's an impressive strategy, Dr. Horrible has to admit. "So why aren't you actually in the League? Why just mess around with that stuff on your own time?"
"I did try to join, once. This was well before Bad Horse was so much as a glimmer in a breeder's eye, but the philosophy requiring a murder before admission was still well in place. Preferably the murder of a former friend. In the end, I... couldn't bring myself to do it." Cosmo shrugs. "And then I realised the League would never want to change the world anyway. They're too caught up in instant gratification."
"Well. Maybe instant gratification is what I need right now. She's dead anyway." He knows it's a big risk, saying that much, but he can't really help it, in a way. Part of him suspects, after that story, that Cosmo might actually understand.
"She'd be a lot more impressed by the slow social change than anything that might come of hanging around Bad Horse, if the shelter's any indication."
"...Maybe. I'll need a while to think about it."
"Certainly. Let me know when you've made up your mind."
The car is waiting to take Dr. Horrible back to Los Angeles. He's still not sure what to make of that meeting, for a few days, but after three meetings of the League and not so much as a whisper about what he'd really like to do - and two dastardly plots that do absolutely nothing to ease the pain - he's more than ready to accept Cosmo's philosophy.
Not That Organised
The day after his induction, Dr. Horrible is notified that he has an appointment with the Evil League of Evil's finance manager at the end of the week.
It's... almost intimidating enough to cut through everything else that's going on, really. The League's finance manager has been around since before Bad Horse was even born, he's rumored to keep a shark tank in his private office, he was lucky enough to be given an appropriately almost-sinister name at birth rather than having to create one from scratch - but for all that, Cosmo's never actually joined the League, and didn't even move his base of operations when Bad Horse decided San Francisco wouldn't really acknowledge their presence. How he survived that argument, no one wants to be the first to ask.
It also doesn't really help that Dr. Horrible has no idea why the guy wants to talk to him in the first place. There's no pay attached to the League, not just for belonging; there's a stipend for mayhem supplies, but he hasn't had long enough to take advantage of that. There might be dues he wasn't expecting (and a small corner of Billy's brain notes that a human life, particularly that human life, should have been payment enough), but he's not sure.
In any case, a car picks him up Friday morning and drops him off at a toy production plant outside of Fremont a few hours later. He received strict instructions to bring legal identification along, and tell the security personnel he's there to see the director, and he does so. On the way up to the third floor, he's still wondering why a toy company is serving as a front for the League's finances, and then it hits him - because no one would ever expect it, probably not even the people making the toys.
He's shown into a spacious office, otherwise lacking in people. There is a shark tank, he notes; he gets so caught up in watching the sharks that he almost misses Cosmo's entrance entirely. The man cuts an imposing figure, especially for someone who's pushing sixty and still holding their own in a sinister business.
"Good to see you made it," he says, smiling a little after Dr. Horrible turns around. "No doubt you're wondering what I could have to tell you at this early stage in the game."
"Well... yes, considering I haven't even done anything with the finances yet."
"Officially, we're putting you on the books, so that when the time comes you can use some of the budget, if need be. Unofficially? I happen to be a follower of that blog of yours."
That was something Dr. Horrible hadn't expected to hear. "Really? I didn't know I'd reached this far up the food chain."
"You'd be surprised, though it wasn't really for official reasons." Cosmo steers him toward a glass enclosure for a mostly-defunct supercomputer, and doesn't continue until they're inside. "Truly unofficially, you're never going to see the sort of social change you're after by working with the League."
"...What makes you say that?" He's not entirely sure social change is what he's after anymore - mayhem would at least be a distraction from the numbness - but he's here, so he might as well hear the man out.
"I've followed your blog long enough to know where your heart is, on the matter. And I know the League's methodology better than just about anyone alive - they've never had the attention span for that kind of work."
"How do you know?"
Cosmo smirks. "It's taken me forty years to even come close to the sort of social change I think the world needs. And nearly destroying the world economy isn't devious enough for the League, so I've had to do it alone."
"But... wait, I thought the banks were failing because of deregulation and--"
"Money is powered by psychology. Make people think what you want, and they do all the work themselves."
It's an impressive strategy, Dr. Horrible has to admit. "So why aren't you actually in the League? Why just mess around with that stuff on your own time?"
"I did try to join, once. This was well before Bad Horse was so much as a glimmer in a breeder's eye, but the philosophy requiring a murder before admission was still well in place. Preferably the murder of a former friend. In the end, I... couldn't bring myself to do it." Cosmo shrugs. "And then I realised the League would never want to change the world anyway. They're too caught up in instant gratification."
"Well. Maybe instant gratification is what I need right now. She's dead anyway." He knows it's a big risk, saying that much, but he can't really help it, in a way. Part of him suspects, after that story, that Cosmo might actually understand.
"She'd be a lot more impressed by the slow social change than anything that might come of hanging around Bad Horse, if the shelter's any indication."
"...Maybe. I'll need a while to think about it."
"Certainly. Let me know when you've made up your mind."
The car is waiting to take Dr. Horrible back to Los Angeles. He's still not sure what to make of that meeting, for a few days, but after three meetings of the League and not so much as a whisper about what he'd really like to do - and two dastardly plots that do absolutely nothing to ease the pain - he's more than ready to accept Cosmo's philosophy.