(A/N: This is my second Gorillaz fanfic but the first I've actually put much effort into. This is not intended to be a one-shot. I also am posting it on tumblr. As for the pairing, you're not reading this wrong. I decided I'd explore a pairing no one generally considers. It'll take some time to develop. Constructive criticism is very welcome.)
(DISCLAIMER: THE FOLLOWING IS IN A PHASE 3 AU SETTING AND THE STORY CONTAINS IMPLIED CHARACTER DEATH; MAY LATER CONTAIN CHARACTER DEATH AND STRONG SUGGESTIVE MATERIAL. I DO NOT OWN GORILLAZ OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS.)
Not so broken-hearted (2D/STYLO) Chapter 1
It was a smouldering hot day. Dust lined airways and sand clawed at eyes. For miles, perfect blue skies were marred only by wispy excuses for clouds here and there. A familiar lanky young man sprawled across the ground in a tiny spot of shade provided by his vigilant companion, still and silent except for the slow tinking sound of metal gaining temperature in some places and losing it in others.
2D's mind raced as he lay on the ground, one hand clutching the keys to the Stylo, the other loosely grasping a mask painted to look like an eerie, smiling face. He wondered about how he made it there and where he would go next. His gaze wandered to the dark beast looming over him, almost watchfully.
As he took the time to slow down, he began processing the events that had taken place.
-
Since he had been forced to come to this stinking rubbish heap of an island, he'd resented his former idol. Murdoc Niccals. Man turned beast. The Satanist had mistreated him. Every day, it seemed, he would beat the poor boy from head to toe, even if he hadn't done anything wrong.
On this particular morning, 2D had been left alone with the Cyborg to oversee his behaviour whilst Murdoc took his merry ole leave to purchase more alcohol and cigarettes with the money the young singer had earned him.
2D sat awake, anxious, watching the window of his underwater room and waiting for his pursuer, the Whale, to come for him. Every day and night he sat, stood, laid, paced with anticipation of his death. As he was certain this surely would be the day, he was violently started from his thoughts as Cyborg Noodle thrust the door open loudly, marching in and matter-of-factly stating that, while "master" had gone, her orders were to escort the youngster around the island in order to maintain- for the sake of keeping him alive, he supposed- at least marginal exercise.
He cast a glance at the half-smashed face of the clock on his wall. 2 in the morning. He haphazardly stumbled over to put on some simple shoes and grab a ratty looking hooded jacket before walking to stand in front of the cyborg and wait for her command.
As expected, the robot eyed him before turning a full 180 and slowly marching out the door and up the stairwell. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he curled his fingers around the one object on the island which he trusted anymore: his switchblade knife. Maybe this would be his one chance.
-
Outside on the shores of the large landfill, the combined stench of bleach, paint, ocean water, and what he could only presume were dead things hit 2D all at once, sending his head reeling. He took a painkiller from his pocket and swallowed it dry without a second thought.
Deep black eyes scanned the beach, taking quiet note of the absence of the aeroplane. A dark form that seemed to suck in the light around it instead floated by a small dock. The upper half of a shark-shaped submarine, the most visible part being the upper point of a white star poking out of the water on each of its sides. The Stylo was home. And that meant opportunity.
Shuffling along behind the cyborg, 2D quietly observed the land and watched the robotic impostor for any sort of movements he should note. They circled around to where they began, the Stylo a short ways ahead. Suddenly, the boy heard the whirring of propeller blades and realised that his captor was returning.
Beginning to panic, Stu realised that this would likely be his only chance for escape and he acted without thought, pulling his knife and stabbing the cyborg in the neck where her spine should have been. He didn't know if it would work, but it was worth a shot.
Beginning to run, 2D looked back and did a double take as the cyborg wildly began firing its machine-operated rifle into the air at odd angles. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard several rounds connect with metal and a familiar string of curses fell from the air.
Turning to watch as a small, faded yellow aeroplane made a smokey descent toward the beach, 2D realised there was now nothing he could do to change his actions. The adrenaline in him suppressed any pang of remorse he might have had and he turned to run for the Stylo, opening the hatch and climbing in, rushing to the controls.
2D fumbled around before managing to turn and speed away from the island, the submarine shaking a little suddenly as a minor shockwave resulted. He did not want to look back, especially after watching several pieces of debris drift by. Sighing, he began to recall the emergency procedures Murdoc had taught him, setting the Stylo on an automatically piloted course for North America. He knew that if, by some miracle, Murdoc had survived, he'd assume 2D would leave for his home country.
Then he began to reason. Some miracle. Would Murdoc live? After all, it was a miracle he'd escaped. A miracle he was alive. That could happen, right? Sighing, he walked to the cot inside of the Stylo's cabin and laid down, trying to sleep.
This would be a rough night.
(I'm working on chapter 2 right now– just beginning it, rather– and so hopefully it will be up within the week. Hope you enjoyed. Please review; I'd like to know if I'm properly writing the characters.)