Disclaimer: I don't own the Gorillaz and I am not making any profit off of this story. It is merely a work of fanfiction. *Edited 3-23-11.

Murdoc/OC; read and review please


Into the Underground

He saw her sitting in the corner of the dark bar. First, he noticed her hands, beautiful things they were. There was some man lucky enough to get her to talk to him, but when he got her to speak, she moved her hands. She was one of those people who, when they spoke, used their hands as if their point was even more illustrated by the slight movement or sudden jerk. The second thing he noticed was her laugh. At this point, he was ordering drinks to get himself obliterated. He wasn't looking at her chestnut hair or the hint of a smile that always seemed to play across her lips, but with his back turned, he heard her laugh. He hated it. He hated it because he loved it. Looking the girl over from across the way he could tell that she was naïve and innocent just from the way she interacted with people around the bar. Murdoc scoffed, but he continued to glance over at the unneeded ray of sunshine invading his space.

There are two reasons he came to that bar, the first reason was to drink his past to a watery grave, the second was to pick up a woman who could handle him for the night before he sent them on their way again. No way did this woman fit into his plans of either.

This woman infuriated him; he could only surmise that nothing bad had ever happened to her in her life. If she looked at him there was no way she could comprehend his gritty nature. The glass in his hand broke from his tight grip, all the while he was just listening to her laugh. Shards of glass broke into his hands sticking to his flesh. His imperfect hands, not graceful, but certainly scared from playing many a bass.

He stood abruptly, causing the bar stool to fall over loudly. Mismatched eyes glared all over the room as if everyone were plotting against him. Not caring about causing a scene, he left the bar with a bloody hand and an uncertain desire for a certain woman.

Later in the night, in his bed, all alone, he decided one thing. That woman would be his to mold and distort, making sure she would be less perfect then when he first found her.

Across town there were two girls engaging in their night-time ritual of girl talk and gossip. "Did you meet anyone?" a voice called out in the dark flat.

Missy's eyes got big. "No not really, just the guy I promised a date with. Something interesting did happen though. " Felicia sat down on the couch to listen to her flat mate's story.

Missy started her story. "So you know how I met up with that guy from the market?" Felicia nodded. "We're at this seedy bar where the people look like they're about to commit suicide or murder; me and that guy Craig are sitting down at the bar having beers and talking. At first everything was going well, but then he started talking about his job. Talking about how much it sucked and how he hated going in everyday; I was fading in and out of the conversation because he was so depressing which isn't how you act when you're trying to get to a second date. Then he starts talking about his job on the side and how he's doing something with travel. Craig was like, 'I'm in the traveling business and I have my own website, if you got a website and signed under me, you'd start cashing in on the money. It's only five hundred dollars to get started, but you'll make it back immediately.'"

Felicia started laughing. "You certainly picked a winner and you were almost out five hundred dollars. What the hell was he thinking?"

Missy threw her hands up. "I know, I tried to recover what was left of our date and I laughed at his lame jokes and talked about other general topics. When he left to go to the bathroom I threw out my money and was going to bolt, but there was a guy there that looked like he was going to mug me, so the rest of the date I sat there like a good girl, waiting for Craig to get back. When he did get back the guy who was giving me that dirty look broke his scotch glass, or whatever the hell it was, right in his hand!" Missy's hands were all over the place, looking like she was swatting flies.

"That guy sounds like he's a nutter." Felicia stated as she got up from the couch to go to the kitchen. Her friend always attracted the weird ones.

"You know," Missy called from the couch. "He may not like me, but I think I want to see him again."

Felicia shook her head. "Do you have a death wish?"

Missy's head rose above the back of the couch. "Come on, you gotta live a little."


He went to the bar again the next night, not expecting to see her, but he did. She wasn't in the corner again, and instead of a man, there was another woman with her. Once again she was talking and moving her hands in the air like she did the night before. He watched her from a more secluded spot this time and allowed himself to do more than glance. She smiled a lot, revealing straight teeth that looked like Chiclets.

'Obviously not British.' he thought to himself. Her noise was a little long, an Italian nose at best. It wasn't ugly though. Her mouth was pouty; her lips were full and curved into a little smile. Her hair was cut into a shag, with bangs grown out enough to skim her eyelashes.

He watched her for a long time, but she never caught him, he wouldn't allow that. She kept looking about the room as if she was looking for someone. Her friend that she came with seemed antsy, like she had somewhere to go. Maybe thirty minutes after they arrived, her friend gave her a hug, smiled, and left. The timing couldn't have been anymore perfect. He got up and went to the open space of the bar. It seemed like no one was going to put up a fight for her and her attention.

"Can I buy you some'thin teh drink?" Missy expected a sleaze ball to start hitting on her after Felicia left, but she couldn't believe it started happening five minutes after she left. Her eyes rolled and she turned around to politely turn him down, but her breath caught in her throat. Butterflies were trying wildly to get out of her stomach.

"Hi." She smiled. She couldn't think of anything else to say. It was as if her brain turned off and was letting autopilot govern her functions. Needless to say, her autopilot sucked.

He motioned to the stool next to her. "Mind if I sit?"

She looked a little absent in the eyes, but then her eyes lit up when what he said registered. "Oh, yes, please!" He sat down next to her, his leg brushing up against hers. He ordered two drinks, but she wasn't really listening.

They didn't say anything to each other for a couple minutes, as if they both had temporarily lost their will to speak. He spoke first.

"Wot's yer name love?" She smiled for a second.

"Missy, what's yours?" Her hand was palm up, but pointing at him, like she was expecting a small gift.

"Murdoc." He took her hand and kissed the back of it, like the true gentleman he wasn't. Missy giggled.

"You are such a creeper." He looked at her with narrow eyes. What did he do wrong? Had he already fucked up?

"How am I the creeper?" She never stopped smiling.

"I saw you last night; you looked like you were angry at something. I thought you were mad at me for some reason." If only she knew the half of it. The beers had come and Murdoc opened his first, then hers.

"Jus' a bad day poppet." He took a long and hard gulp, trying to figure her out. Missy had taken her drink and took a dainty sip, letting the bitter liquid slide down her throat. It warmed her belly and made her slightly dizzy for a moment. Looking at his damaged hand she questioned him, "How is your hand feeling?"

Murdoc lifted his hand to the bar top. "Peachy." It was wrapped in a few layers of bandages.

Missy looked at him in amazement. "You're such a bad ass, but I like it." She nudged him in the side.

He was taken aback, but then he smiled a smile that only the devil could do. "Would you like to take this back to my place?"