Lying on his back on the floor outside the bathroom, Murdoc holds his aching crotch and stares up at the ceiling, while listening to the quiet sounds of Kong. Once again the old Bassist had accidentally made the mistake of surprising Noodle coming out of the bathroom, while he had been playing his favourite game of 'Murder in the Dark'. Thinking he was a burglar or something similar, the tiny Japanese girl had struck first, lunging at him and kicking him viciously in the crotch. He closes his eyes and rolls onto his side, deciding that the next time he played his game, he was going to wear the padded crotch guard he'd worn for the 'Rock the House' video. He winces and presses his hands harder against his groin, listening to the sound of water dripping, echoing from the bathroom. The wind outside howls against the side of the large grey building, making the windows groan a little as it presses against the glass. Murdoc lifts his head from the floor and cranes back his neck, trying to look up at the window behind him. Knowing he can't stay on the floor all night, he slowly begins to sit up, trying to shift the weight around and not putting too much strain on his aching 'love pouch'. Reaching back with a clawed hand and grabbing hold of the window sill, he slides himself across the floor, closer to the window so he can take a quick look outside.
The wind howls against the window again, spraying it with a fine mist of rain that accumulates together into droplets that slowly run like little rivers, pooling at the bottom of the frame, before dripping onto the grey concrete lintel underneath. Murdoc's warm breath forms a fog on the icy glass and he reaches forwards, wiping the haze away with the back of his arm and clearing his view. He shuffles closer to the window and turns his body to it, gently easing himself up onto his knees for a better vantage point. Pressing the side of his face against the window, he's surprised by how icy cold the glass feels against his cheek. It almost makes him pull away again, but he manages to ignore it and tries to catch a glimpse of the left corner of the building, from where he is. Although it is the middle of the night and pitch black outside, the full moon is just bright enough to illuminate the back of the massive thunder clouds that blanket the sky. Not a single star can be seen and occasionally a hint of lighting flashes in the distance, glowing like sheets of light coloured linen, deep inside the clouds and making the edges of them stand out against the cold black filled sky. Murdoc pulls his face from the glass and turns his head, pressing the other side of his face to the now warmer glass and again, peering out to look at the other corner of the building. The view this side is no better, if anything it's darker, giving the Bassist the impression that the storm is approaching them. He pulls his face back once more and cups his hands to the window, looking through the shaded gap his hands make, straight ahead towards the driveway at the very front of the old building, trying to catch a look at the trees that stand next to it. Thinking that if he can see the direction the trees bend as the wind blows against them he'd know if the storm had passed, or was on the way. But he finds that it's just too dark to see and his breath fogs the window again anyway. Pulling his hands and face away from the window again, he slumps back, resting his buttocks on his heels as he looks down at the floor. The distraction had made him forget about the pain in his groin at least, and now the pain had subsided enough for him to make an attempt to stand up.
Once again the old man grips the window sill with a clawed hand, using it as leverage to pull himself up off his knees and place his feet, one by one under him. A small shock of pain darts down his thighs, but it's not so bad that he can't handle it, so he ignores it until finally he is up on both feet. Still hunched over and a little afraid to fully straighten up, he rests his weight against the window sill as he instinctively continues to cradle his groin with one hand. Cursing the tiny guitarist under his breath, he slowly begins to straighten up. Little by little, with his body still tense and unsure if the pain truly had stopped, until finally he is once again back at full height. The Bassist closes his eyes and breathes out slowly, almost as if he'd been holding that one breath the whole time he'd been lying there on the floor. Just then the window behind him rattles, making him catch his breath again and look over his shoulder at it. Letting his feet take the weight from the sill, he turns around again and faces the window, watching the clouds brighten a little as a sheet of lightning flashes inside them. This answers his question from before about the storm, as it was now apparent it had been coming closer after all. But the old man doesn't care about that any more, so he shrugs and turns away from the window.
At first gingerly, but with mounting confidence, he steps away and walks down the corridor to the door at the other end. The sounds of the still sleeping Kong seem a little louder to him now that he'd stopped paying attention to the growing storm outside, and as he moves along he listens more to them. Arriving at the door he reaches out with his hand and presses down on the handle, pulling it open and travelling through it with hardly any hesitation at all. Somewhere in the distance, deep inside the building, the old man hears an unfamiliar sound. A strange whining, followed by a sharp, almost metallic sounding click. Given he had spent many nights wandering the dimly lit halls of the haunted studio, all of the sounds were well known to him and each had been thoroughly investigated. This was something new, and on hearing it, it had made him stop walking and now he was standing there thinking about it. Raising an unseen eyebrow under his thick fringe, he rests most of his weight on one hip and scratches at the stubble on his chin with a long talon. Listening for the sound again he tries to work out, with what he had heard, if there was anything at all familiar about it. But it soon becomes obvious that he'd been too shocked by it to take it in. So he half laughs to himself and moves on, assuming he might of even imagined it altogether. As he moves further away from the door, he hears the strange sound again and freezing mid step, looks up into the direction it seemed to have come from. Remaining frozen to the spot like a statue, he strains to block out every other noise in the building. Focusing all of his attention to the task, as he waits for the sound again. But the sound doesn't come and the old man relaxes again, not sure if he should just ignore it and go to bed, or wait a little longer and track down it's source. He suddenly remembers he'd left his machete back in the corridor outside the toilets, so he quickly turns and marches back there to retrieve it. Back at the spot, he sees it lying on the floor, glinting in the light that flashes from the storm outside. The wind was really howling now, as the storm had built in strength. Murdoc leans down and reaches for the weapon, just as he once again hears that strange sound. The suddenness of it makes him jerk his hand back a little, but determined to track it down he starts a count in his mind. He snatches up the weapon and marches back down the corridor, slamming open the door. Reaching the lobby and stopping by the desk, he hears the sound again and stops counting. He moves over to the desk and sitting down on it, he starts the count again in an attempt to work out if the sound was coming at regular intervals.
The Demon at the desk grimaces at the Bassist and growls softly, angry at him for sitting on, what the creature considered to be, 'his property.' It leans forwards, slowly opening it's jaws wide with it's mouth full of razor sharp teeth, fully prepared to bite down on the Bassists behind as punishment for sitting so close to it. But just as it gets close enough to clamp it's teeth down on him, the old mans stale mixture of foul odours seem to reach out and embrace the small Demons entire head. The creature chokes and gags, flinching back into it's chair, spitting and hissing about it's predicament with disgust. It begins frantically waving one clawed hand in front of it's face, while tightly clamping the other over it's mouth and nose. Tears prickle at the corners of it's eyes and it shakes it's head from side to side, trying to avoid the pungent array of smells. Disturbed by the small red Demons antics and complaints, the Bassist looks back over his shoulder at it with a growl, while continuing the slow count in his head. The vicious creature ignores him as it reaches down and slams open a drawer with one hand still clamped across it's face. It rummages around in the now open drawer desperately searching for something, with Murdoc counting and watching curiously. It's hand suddenly emerges with a canister of air freshener and before Murdoc can react it spray him liberally on the back with it, making the old man leap off the desk and move away.
"You little bastard. Cut that out!" Murdoc snaps, pulling at his shirt and trying to see where he'd been sprayed. The shirt is a little damp, but Murdoc is more annoyed at being treated so disrespectfully, than in any damage that may have occurred. He raises the machete and threatens to swing it out at the small creature, who finally stops spraying and looks angrily at him. Not really afraid of the old man, but not quite willing to push him any further either. Giving the Bassist a defiant sneer, it tosses the canister back into the drawer and slams it closed again. Murdoc shakes his head in annoyance at it and looks away down towards the alcove. Only then does he realize he'd forgotten his place in the count and swearing under his breath, he waits for the sound again so he can start over. He steps back to the desk and goes to sit down again, but the little Demon jerks forwards as if about to open the drawer again and once again retrieve the canister of spray. Murdoc baulks sharply and steps away again, moving around it with a sharp hiss as he steadily eyes the little creature. It hisses back, keeping his eyes on the old man and hand poised ready to slam open the drawer at the first sign of trouble from him. Murdoc tips his head to his shoulder slightly, as if daring the creature to do something. It mimics the look and juts out it's chin with a grunt. Just as Murdoc is about to step forwards and take the little creature on in battle, the sound echoes through the room and he instantly turns towards it and forgets the little creature altogether. Counting again he follows the direction it seemed to come from, leaving the little Demon at the desk smiling confidently and chuckling at him in triumph.
Heading to the car park door as this seemed to be where the sound might have originated, Murdoc steadily moves through the filthy damp smelling corridor. Brandishing the weapon before him and crouching low, as if ready to pounce at anything that might suddenly leap from the darkness and attack him. Murdoc breathes softly as his eyes dart here and there around the room, watching the walls and the dark corners carefully for movement. He finally reaches the end of the short corridor and steps carefully to the door, flexing his grip on the handle of the machete and continuing to move his eyes rapidly around the small area. Once sure everything was in place, he leans on the door handle and begins to press open the door. Hearing the sound again he rapidly steps out into the car park and lets the heavy door close behind him. Restarting the count as he moves through the large area, he looks around at all the cars the band members had collected and for a moment, finds himself comparing the strange sound to one he'd heard outside Noodle's bedroom door. The stuck elevator made a very similar sound, but he soon draws the conclusion they aren't quite the same. The stuck elevator's motor would whine up, making a noise similar to a jet engine, as it strains to move the stuck car. The cables would groan as they stretched tight and the motor would begin to drone loudly and steadily, until finally giving a metal click, it would begin to whine down again and move back into a kind of standby mode. The cars around him seem to stand like sentinels at the many sounds in the large bunker like room. The sound from Murdocs stereo booms around the area closest to the door and the Bassist moves further away from it, so he can hear the rest of the room more clearly. One of the many cars seems to have a faulty alarm and every now and then would whistle loudly before finally stopping again, leaving only the music droning away in the background. Murdoc moves further amongst the cars as he counts and continues listening, convinced he must be heading in the right direction, as it had become more and more clearer and distinctive as he'd got closer to the car park.
Water drips from the ceiling in one of the darker corners of the room, the steady splat as it pools somewhere on the ground unseen, makes the old man raise an eyebrow at it and move towards it. He'd meant to check that leak many times before, but had always somehow forgotten about it until he'd eventually heard it again. The odd sound whines and clicks again, distracting him from the dripping water and making him look back towards the hole in the car park wall. The hole leads to Kong's lift shaft and down into the corridors and bunker rooms far below the old building, running like a maze deep inside the mountain. He quickly makes his way back past the rows of cars and steps through the hole in the wall, carefully picking a path through the rubble to look around the alcove inside.
The area just inside the hole is very dimly lit in a soft blue light. It's difficult to see and the old man has to strain hard and carefully pick his way towards the lift and shaft itself. The shaft is huge and it's walls are made of thick concrete, the rail for the lift disappears into the darkness just a few meters down and makes any journey down to the bunkers seem ominous and the rider wish for much better lighting conditions. Not that there was a lot to see in the shaft, apart from the concrete walls, pipes and wiring. The lift platform seems large enough to park a small car on if one wished to, surrounded by a metal railing that at first glance seems a little on the thin side, to offer too much in the way of protection. The only consolation seemed to be that it was so large, it didn't seem like anyone would have reason to have lean against the railing. Of course in retrospect you would kick yourself for the assumption, as inevitably someone would lean against it, causing it to break accidentally and leaving the unfortunate person to fall to their death far below. Insurance companies would become involved, lawsuits would follow, and in the end, you just know someone will have to post a sign. The railing at the front of the platform stops, leaving a gap by which to gain entry and on either side of the gap sit two revolving blue lights. This of course being the explanation for the alcove's lighting condition. Just to one side of the gap is the lift's control panel and attached to that is another revolving light, but yellow rather than blue and at the moment appears not to be switched on. Murdoc moves though the gap and onto the platform, the blue light catching the side of the old man's face, making it look more menacing, angular and skull like. He listens to the revolving mechanism of the lights for a moment, but instantly dismisses them as a candidate for the unusual sound, moving over to the very edge of the platform to look down into the depths of the shaft itself. Taking the railing in one hand he shoulders the machete and leans over the edge, showing that although the railing might look flimsy, it apparently is strong enough to hold a person's weight after all. The sound echoes it's way up from the inky depths below him and bounces around the room, Murdoc follows it upwards with his eyes, staring hard into the darkness high above him at the very top of the shaft. He looks back down again and moves to the control panel, reaching out with a talon and pressing the down button to begin the lift's journey down to the bunker rooms themselves. The yellow light suddenly springs to life and helps to guide the way down into the darkness. Not as well as one would like, but good enough to at least make the ride a little more comfortable. Not that Murdoc seems to notice, as he begins digging under one of his filthy talons with the tip of the machete. He doesn't even really seem to pay much attention to the fact that the lights only shine on his fingers for a short time as they revolve around. Instead of looking he feels his way under the nail carefully, using the pressure the blade makes on his skin as a guide to how deep to dig under it. Listening to the sound the blade makes as it scrapes against the dirt and rasps along under the nail, similar to one if Murdoc was to scrape them down a chalk board. He glances up for a moment, as the lift gets close to the end of it's journey. Not quite a direct path straight down, the shaft angles at a point close to the very bottom and the platform itself tilts to compensate for the change of direction. It reaches that spot in the shaft and groans as the tilt mechanism is engaged, finally the light from the bunker itself begins to spill over the platform's edge almost blinding the old man for a moment as it reaches his face. He lifts his arm to shade his eyes and squints around his fingers to the area before him, waiting for the lift to come to a complete stop before he continues searching.
Finally the lift stops and the yellow light shuts off again, no longer needed as the bunker is much better lit than the shaft itself had been. Jumping down and stepping away from the lift, the Bassist first looks one way, then down the other as he steps further into the corridor itself, wondering which direction it would be best to travel in as he continues his search for the source of the strange noise. Not completely willing to walk off in the wrong direction and have to come back, but not entirely happy about standing in the one place for too long in the bunker. He scratches at his chin with one long talon, as he slowly looks at the boar's head above the door of the room of "Brians", thinking if he just moved slowly down towards that corner and didn't get too far ahead of himself, he at least wouldn't have to come back too far. So he slowly goose steps in that general direction, nudging shredded paper work aside with the toe of his boot and gracefully side stepping around the laundry hamper, as he listens for the sound again. Further down and past the food store, which is almost directly opposite the room of "Brians", the corridor continues down to a corner veering off to the right. Against the wall leans an old trestle table, against which is a relatively new looking AK47 assault rifle. Murdoc continues slowly high stepping towards the corner and right on cue he finally hears the strange sound again. He smiles as it turns out he was heading in the right direction after all, and marches directly to the corner and turns down it.
Negotiating over a few toppled filing cabinets, the old man looks up again as he thinks about what the noise could possibly be. This particular corridor splits off in the middle, heading in two directions. Straight ahead of him is a large heavy white door, that leads into the boiler room. The other corridor leads down to another series of rooms, none of which Murdoc had ever found particularly interesting. 'Convenient... Just not interesting.' He thinks as he taps the machete against his thigh. Next to him and almost to his immediate left is a life sized, solid gold statue of Vlad Tepes. To his immediate right is a ladder with a dead Nazi officer standing on it. Just down from that and along the same wall is another store room. Murdoc wonders if perhaps that was where the sound was coming from, thinking he 'hadn't been in there for a long time, so who knows what had been going on in there?' He looks up to the ceiling and follows the line of exposed pipes and wiring leading down towards the boiler room, almost becoming impatient enough to just walk into the store room and start searching. He manages to fight the urge and once again goes back to goose stepping as he waits for the sound.
"Ein, zwie, drie Heil! Ich bein eine Berliner!" He jokes as he pretends to be one of the dead Nazi officers. The sound echoes again and the old man once again marches firmly, this time towards the white boiler room door.
Behind the door Murdoc immediately slaps his hands over his ears, as the pipes bang and clatter loudly overhead. Knowing it would be absolutely impossible to hear the noise in this room, he looks up to the other door and quickly makes his way across to it. Deciding that if he went in the Hell-hole room and shut the door, he might have a better chance of hearing it again. Stepping into the room and slamming the door shut, he quickly places his ear to the door and listens. The pulsing light from the Hell-hole in the middle of the floor, casts eerie shadows round the walls and over the old man's back. The room itself is quiet, aside from an occasional hiss from the hole, so the old mans knows it should be easy to track down the noise if it turned out to have come from the room he was now standing in. Murdoc is concentrating so hard on listening for the sound, that he doesn't see the dark shadow that looms up from the hole and passing first across the walls, eventually stops and settles on his back.
"Well hello there." Comes an oddly familiar voice from behind the Bassist, it's so familiar that it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The Bassist stands up much straighter and spins round to face the voice, holding out the machete and preparing to defend himself. Instantly his jaw drops and he stares wide-eyed and shocked at the Hell-hole as he finds, unbelievably, another "Murdoc" is floating high above it looking down at him. The Bassist steps forwards still gripping the machete tightly in his hand and refusing to drop his guard, studies his floating duplicate. Not quite sure if he's dreaming, or if perhaps the fumes from the Hell-hole are maybe affecting him? He takes another tentative step forwards and stops at the top of the small staircase that drops down into the room itself. The duplicate Murdoc grins evilly at him, enjoying the shocked look his presence had made on the Bassist's face. The old man snarls and holds the machete out at the duplicate, making sure it knows he's not playing games and if necessary, had no problem using it. But unperturbed at having the old man waving the weapon at him, he yawns at it and does his best to appear bored at the whole idea. This just makes Murdoc confused and he straightens up again and scratches the back of his head.
"Okaaay? Now how did I...? I mean you...? Actually, I have no idea at all what I mean? But I do know that this world just ain't big enough fer two Murdocs. So however I did that? I'm just going to have to undo it." He smiles evilly and points his machete back at it. The duplicate chuckles at him and folds it's arms over it's chest.
"Now what makes you think YOU did this? And although I agree that there is not enough room for the both of us. I was assuming yyyyyou'd be nice enough to just pop into this hole here, annnd bugger off fer good." It slurs with a defiant sneer, pointing down at the hole before floating over and alighting on the bottom step below the old man. Murdoc hisses angrily at the idea and grinds his teeth, still brandishing his machete before him.
"Oh fuck off. ME?! Yer the one wearin' the poncey white trousers. Wwwwhy don't YOU, climb back down into that hole and get some fashion tips from someone other than Andy Warhol?" He snaps, and sees that for just a brief second the duplicates smile flinches. "I have a reputation to uphold here, so yer gunna have to goooo." He adds with a distinctive drawl. The duplicate looks first down at his trousers then back up to the old man on the top step, his smile disappears completely, replaced by a ferocious angry grimace.
"What the fuck is wrong with white trousers?! I personally think they accentuate my already accentuated assets." He growls, pointing at his crotch with a taloned finger. Murdoc rolls his eyes and grips the machete handle a little tighter.
"MY assets you mean! And I still wouldn't be seen dead in that get up. So stop stallin' and getcher scrawny Demon arse back in that hole!" He growls back, pointing at the hole with the machete. The duplicate turns his head slightly and looks back over his shoulder at the hole, before turning back to the old man and folding his arms defiantly over his chest holds it's head up high with brilliant confidence.
"Make me." He grins. His eyes flash and burn brightly, brighter than the fires that burn down in the hole behind him. Murdoc grimaces and clenches his jaw, knowing that this duplicate had absolutely no intention of doing what it was told. If it was him, he wouldn't do it either. It watches him hesitate for a moment, before dropping it's chin to it's chest and gazing at him from under it's fringe, it's eyes still burning brightly. Murdoc realises he'd paused for too long and had given the duplicate the upper hand. So a much more physical approach would be needed to get his point across. Gritting his teeth hard, he gives it an equally ferocious look and presses his weight back on his heels.
"FINE!" He snarls, lunging forwards and attempting to push the creature backwards into the hole. But the duplicate knew he would try something like this, and was fully prepared for the reaction. Gracefully and without even the slightest amount of effort, it steps sideways and out of the way of the old man. Suddenly there is nothing but thin air between the Bassist and the Hell-hole, and he topples awkwardly down the stairs towards the hole. At the last second he manages to stop just on the edge of it, flailing his arms in wide arching windmills, he tries to pick up enough momentum to pull his unbalanced weight back from the brink of tipping over and dropping head first into the hole. The impostor yawns as if bored, and turns to watch the old man struggle with his odd balancing act. It grins evilly and reaches out with a taloned finger, pressing it into the Bassists back, and with just a gentle nudge, sends him over the edge and head first into the hole.
"ARRGGHH! You utter bastaaaaaaaard!" Murdoc screeches as he plummets down into the fiery depths of the hole. The impostor looks over the edge at the rapidly disappearing Bassist and smiles, making a show of dusting off it's hands. It drops it's chin to it's chest and chuckles to itself, before gracefully diving into the hole to 'finish the old man off', so it could take over his role as Murdoc Faust Niccals. Down in the fiery depths the two Murdocs fight fiercely, the sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and the crunching and cracking of bone against bone, echoes around the Hell-hole room for what seems like hours. The sound stops and silence follows, after a short moment a hand shoots from the hole and scrabbles at the edge, digging it's bloodied and bruised fingers into the soil and trying to get enough leverage to pull the rest of itself out.
Murdoc wakes the next morning and shivers in the cold air of the Winnie. He sits up and rolls onto his side, reaching for a packet of cigarettes and sliding one from the pack, before pulling back the blankets and walking down to the toilet as he lights up the cigarette. He hums quietly to himself as he circles the bowl with a steady stream of urine, watching it splash it's way around the bowl, before finishing and tucking his genitals away again. He briefly looks at the wounds on his knuckles, before continuing on his way to the far end of the Winnie to finish off the Scotch he'd started drinking after his fight in the Hell-hole room. Passing the zombie lady, their eyes meet for a brief second and she sees something strange in them. Something she had never really seen before in all the time she'd known the horrible green skinned man. His eyes seemed to be burning. She cringes away from him, terrified by what she could see and he turns his head slightly back at her annoyed.
"Now what the fuck is wrong with you, ya moron?" He snarls, but doesn't really want or expects an answer. He settles down in the passenger seat and unscrews the lid from the bottle, tipping back his head and swigging on the contents quickly. He drops his head slightly and looks at the zombie lady as he drinks, making sure she understood the situation she is in. Not that he needed to tell her as she more than understood the consequences of disloyalty.
Outside the Winnie, 2D is walking from his bedroom with a bag of rubbish. He approaches the bin near the door and is about to lift the lid, when he sees a piece of material poking out from behind the metal cover on the air vent right next to the corridor door. Curious he drops the bag on the ground and pulls off the metal cover for a closer look. He reaches inside and retrieves what had been blocking the vent and holds the object up so he can see. A reasonably new looking pair of white trousers.
"Ewww, retro." He grimaces and gingerly drops them into the bin, placing his rubbish bag on top, he squashes down the lot and replaces the lid. Heading back to his room without a second thought.