Author's Note: These will probably be a more humorous take on Plastic Beach, like a Plastic Beach version of Banana Peels. Mini one shots among the same category.

Anatomically Correct

"Yo' never gunna let me go, are yeh?"

"Why bother askin' if yeh know the answer?"

"Tryin' teh make conversation I guess."

A bit of silence struck between the two men lounging about on the balcony of the bassist's newest estate, Plastic Beach, or the floating hellhole, as his singer so kindly nicknamed. The swirl of beer echoed within the metallic container, fizz snapping with what life it had left before being guzzled down by the younger man. It was a shock and frustration to him that he was being held prisoner on a mysterious and disgusting island of unwanted worldly mistakes. He vaguely remembered how he even arrived. Murdoc seemed to enjoy popping into his life during the most inconvenient times. He had just promised himself he had gotten over the loss of their beloved guitarist and would finally be able to move on to bigger and better things…

Glancing over his shoulder at the grimy, insane band leader, the bluehead sighed, crunching the aluminum in his hand before tossing it off the edge. Before long this island would also have a landfill, just like back in Kong. A slight chill ran down the spine of the pretty boy, feeling the need to question it, but he had to be careful with his choice of words. He was out here only because of "good behavior" as Murdoc called it, for a bit of fresh air and a beer. He was sure to be thrown back down into that cell of a room as soon as the bassist snapped out of his chipper mood. The snap of a tab brought the young man back into reality as he rolled the words around his tongue before finally giving them voice, "Oy Muds?" he piped up, rubbing his nose as he leaked backwards on the rail, "An island is nice an' all, I s'ppose." Complimenting the man's actions couldn't hurt. "But…why an' island at all?"

From the lounge chair the green toned male was sitting in, he lifted his shades with the fat of his thumb, a brow arched under the greasy mat of locks. Snapping the folded magazine in his hands, the bassist licked his thumb and turned the page, ignoring the slight breeze tickling the edges inwards. "To get into the groove of things, dullard. Album will be titled Plastic Beach, after all, or 'ave you not been paying attention to the songs you've been singin'?" The lad rolled his eyes while he played around with his scarlet ascot, loosening the knot just a smidge. "Thought it might've crossed yo' mind once o' twice down in that bunker o' yo's. I've been quite generous in the amount o' thinkin' time I've given yeh, 'aven't I?" 2D didn't have to turn around to know he was pulling the vilest of grins behind his back. Adjusting his captain's hat, the prisoner sighed, gazing out at the sea. Noodle would have loved the colossal view. Blue skies and clear waters, nothing at all like in Kong, what with the fog, perpetual darkness, and never ending zombie infestation, relaxation wasn't a skill much exerted in the haunted land of the dead. One was lucky if they had a decent night of sleep without the thuds of bodies rocking against your door desperately trying to break in.

"Kong is gone anyway, if that's wot you were goin' on about."

The young man's eyes popped. Gone? How could Kong be gone? His head tucked over his shoulder, face filled with more questions than his mouth could coordinate coherently, and it wasn't until Murdoc glanced up after glancing at an article about hair growth that the man realized his singer was going to suffer from a stroke if he didn't clarify himself. "Look, it caught on fire. Shit 'appens." the eldest shrugged off. No one said he had to be completely truthful. The lad's arms flopped to his sides, eyes wide and numb. He hadn't ever expected to go back or visit, but…but it was untouchable. And a fire managed to set it straight? Did that close up the portal? Were the zombies free from their eternal curse? Had he left anything worth anything? His lip pouted in thought. Not like it mattered much now anyway.

So, the famous home of the Gorillaz was destroyed.

Now that the foul aftertaste had gone from his thoughts, the singer realized he wasn't all that sad about it. Sure, they had had some fun memories in there, but living out his favorite movies was quite different once experienced. And it just wouldn't be the same without Russel or Noodle around. Murdoc's company was that of a different sort. And the boy couldn't exactly say this at the moment was treating company. Poking his fingers together, 2D twirled around, eying the bassist with a face of disturbia and curiosity. It took a whole five seconds before the bassist noticed.

"Wot?"

2D rubbed his neck a bit, eying the ground, "Wull…I've just been thinkin'…"

"Do enlighten me."

"The…erm…robot."

"Wot about it?"

The singer crossed his arms loosely with a shrug, scuffing the white floor with the heel of his boot, "Why'd yeh make it look like Noodle?"

"It 'as 'er DNA formatted into the circuitry, face ache," he sighed with a growl, flipping through the mag for something interesting, "Now if yeh don't mi-"

"But yeh could've made any kinda robot, an' made it look like anyone."

Furrowing his brows, the bassist glanced up over the edge of the booklet, "Memory serves me wit four band members under the title of Gorillaz. Know 'ew they are?" The young man nodded wearily, leaning his back on the firm metal. He ran his finger along his cuticle, wincing, "Don't yeh find it kind of…wull…creepy?"

Pinching the bridge of his shattered nose, the bassist released a heavy sigh. He was going to need some tea or warm coconut milk after this conversation. "I'm positive the girlie will care less. She understands Gorillaz must go on, for the good of the world. It's done a downright spectacular job if I do say so myself. Imitates 'er skill to the tee." the older man smiled, rather proud of his handiwork. Not to mention the robot was a dedicated and well programmed body guard as well as assassin. It wouldn't be heading through any metal detectors any time soon.

"I meant along the lines of the robot lookin' a bit…stretched." 2D mumbled, crossing his arms behind him along the rail. Murdoc arched a brow while his eyes squinted in thought, the word stretched repeating over and over in his mind. Stretched? Well, of course the robot would be taller than the real Noodle they had last seen years ago…It was only natural that…wait. The bassist could feel his mind snap in a sudden halt among the flow of things, eye ticking as he focused intently on the singer fumbling in his glued spot, offering a quick flush cheeked cough into his fist. Tossing the magazine, the Gorillaz leader leapt off his seat, throwing out a threatening finger towards the boy like a javelin, "An' jus' wot the fuck are yeh insinuatin', face ache?"

Feeling more relaxed than he should be, 2D merely shrugged out his arms, the awkward situation warning him that he'd be locked up till next Christmas, "I jus'…wull it looks older, so yeh know…I mean…yeh didn't…" he trailed off as the two stared at each other, words lost in translation. The bassist's face had grown to a rarity of deep purples, fingers curling into fists faster than a gasp of air. "It just looks so real, yeh know? Even the skin feels real…" the boy's sentence wavered, giving the band leader a bit of an odd look as if thinking over the taboo himself.

"It's all wires an' circuits! Metals an' anythin' else I managed to scrounge out 'ere. Details aren't necessary!" the bassist growled, taking a step towards the bluehead who was eying him with judgment. "Detail wos done perfectly…It looks human enough. Shit, I'd think it wos the real Noodle…hair…eyes…skin…" his eyes stared up, cheeks flushed as could be, "She…it…it's not anatomically correct, is it?"

"THAT'S IT!" Murdoc bellowed, snatching the singer by his ear, dragging him to the glass door. However waiting there in perfect attention was the RoboNoodle, responding to her master's scream to double check if everything was in order. The bassist nearly ran into it, flushing darker as he closed his eyes while throttling the singer, "You bloody nitwit! Can't just keep yo' gob shut can yeh? Is that where yo' mind flows to in tha' room?"

"Wot! No!" the singer cried, ears tinting a healthy rose, "I wos jus' sayin'! I jus' find it creepy is all!" The grip on his neck grew tighter. "For all the wrong fuckin' reasons!" the bassist hissed, about ready to pound the living daylights out of the singer, when the cyborg tilted its head and took a step closer for a better view. The two men stood awkwardly in their frozen acts, unable to face anything that reminded them even the slightest of the Japanese woman. "G-Go recharge for three weeks or somethin'!" Murdoc managed to weakly snap, dropping the singer to the floor the moment it was gone from view. He really needed that coconut milk. He was going to have to drown himself in it.

Author's Note: Yeah...Murdoc's never letting D out of his room again after that awkward mess. But I must admit...the thought had crossed my mind from time to time. Able to build a futuristic looking Noodle robot? Just a tad creepy...for all the wrong reasons.