Thread: Brand New Day: A Horrible RP (SevenxSome Drunkard)

Sometimes he wasn't sure anyone could see him there were days where Billy would walk down the street and watch people going on with their lives, he would see them pushing their strollers, or holding hands with their loved ones, or even just window shopping, and they would pass by and he could see them, hear them, smell them - but none of them ever seemed to look at him. It was as though their eyes passed right over him, right through him, like they would see the brick wall behind him but never actually see him - like he had somehow slipped through the grates, dissappeared. Like Merlin in the woods, he was doomed to stay in one place, watch the world continue around him but never be given the ability to join them - a big, invisible wall that kept them away from him. Or maybe it kept him from them. Maybe that was it. Maybe the big, metaphorical wall kept everyone else safe. After all, he was the Villain. Billy peered at his reflection in a store window and a skinny blonde with big, sorrowful blue eyes stared back at him - he wasn't sure why he kept expecting something different, but it somehow didn't seem right. He had sort of thought that once he had been accepted into the Evil League of Evil that things would change, that he might seem somehow - eviller . The press certainly thought he was - and everyone in the city was frightened of him, feared the very name of Dr. Horrible after his most recent crime spree, even if the one thing they would always remember him for was the defeat of Captain Hammer - but it just didn't look right. Billy tried scowling, appraising the result he tried jutting his jaw a bit too, and knitting his brows for a more sinister look, but ultimately he just looked vaguely constipated - not a great expression for commanding respect. He decided he should probably just grow a goatee, even though that particular endeavor was likely to take longer than making a new ray gun. Though, he was getting pretty good at making those as far as he was concerned, nearly everything could be turned into a ray gun. They were useful - and distinctly evil. Just - he hadn't been able to make a ray gun to do his laundry. Yet. So until he worked out the kinks that had the Washing Gun - he was working on the name - shredding his pants every time he tried to trigger a spin cycle, he would have to stick to the coin laundromat. For the first month, Billy had resisted going back it used to be that he had trouble going inside because he knew Penny would be there with her red hair and her coconut-scented shampoo and that funny way she scrunched up her nose when she was folding shirts - but now he had trouble going in because he knew she wouldn't be there ever again. There was even a day he had absent-mindedly bought a second frozen yogurt to bring with him, only to realize after the fact that he had no one to give it to - so he had pretended he was going to use it for an experiment, and when he couldn't figure one out, he just stuck it to the face of a park statue and laughed maniacally, telling himself it was his evil deed for the day. Penny wouldn't have approved though, so he ended up coming back later and cleaning it up. But it turned out being in the Evil League of Evil didn't prevent him from having to do laundry, so he'd decided to just stop going on Wednesdays and Saturdays and instead went on Tuesdays and Sundays. At least if he went on different days, he could act like he was avoiding Penny out of abject social terror rather than having to acknowledge that he was running from a ghost. Turns out that didn't work either, though. Every time he stepped into the laundromat, he found himself peering longingly at the second last machine in the third last row, wishing he would see the sway of red hair, or the gleam of the little gold chain she sometimes wore. But now those little details only existed as memories and Billy felt as though he was the only one remembering them and it seemed so - wrong. Penny had done more for the city than Hammer ever had, yet the only mourning was for Captain Hammer and his deflated ego - no one remembered Penny because they were so caught up in their biased news reports and their mindless television shows and their - and their ignorance . They had forgotten what was important , but he would show them, he would - he would remind them . Somehow. He was a Villain. A Supervillain. He would figure it out. Billy was yanked out of his laundromat reverie by the feeling of something wet across his neck he looked down and realized that in his absent-mindedness, he had managed to squeeze the dollar wash packet of liquid detergent so hard that it had popped and sprayed across his torso and up his throat, leaked out onto his hand and down his wrist, coating his fingers in slippery blue soap that had absorbed into the cuff of his hoodie. He let out a small noise of irritation and swiped his hand down his chest, succeeding only in smearing the detergent. Soapy Supervillain. he murmured under his breath, sidling away from the washing machine in as villainous a way as he could manage it - he was trying to work on his sidling, he wasn't very good at it, Moist sidled better than he did, but partly because he kept slipping on his own sweat - and he huddled himself down against the windowsil. It was a spot that Billy had taken to, the same place where Penny had told him to keep his head up, words of kindness that had driven him forward - and now he sat in that spot twice a week while his laundry was in the machine, sometimes he would scribble in a notebook, but most days he just sat in silence and stared at the far wall, lost in his thoughts. On that particular day, he curled up into the spot and made an invested effort to get the detergent off of his hands with kleenex, and the endeavor was not turning out to be a successful one.