Hello! I understand that my story may be a little similar to one written by YourRhineStoneEyes, but I assure you, I plan to carry out a very different plot line than theirs. I have informed YourRhineStoneEyes on this matter, so do not fret for I will try my absolute best to not cross any copyright borders :)
Kong Studios was as quiet as ever, except for the occasional moan or howl rattling the shutters. Ghosts meandered meaninglessly through the halls, as they usually did. The graveyard was alive with zombies, trudging through the thick underbrush. The place looked just as it did every day; there was even a slight bit of rainfall to tie together the dreary ensemble.
There was a crack and a hiss as Murdoc opened yet another beer, enjoying his lazy afternoon away from band practice. He tipped it back, guzzling the frothy liquid as if it were water. He was in his old, rusty Winnebago, where he usually spent most of his time when he wanted to be away from the rest of his band mates. Putting the beer down, already more than half empty, he let his hand drift lazily to his V Guitar, plucking it from its stand. He had traded his soul for the magnificent instrument in his younger years, its sleek body shining in the weak light of the vehicle. Gripping the strings of the bass, he strummed a few chords, the sound still as beautiful in his ears as it was when he first had it.
There was a knock at the door of the Winnebago, jolting him out of his mood.
"Oi, who da fuck is bangin' on me door at dis hour?!" Murdoc screeched, putting his precious guitar back into its stand.
"I's me, Stu. We're gonna start practicin' soon, Murdoc, so come outta there." The warbled voice that drifted through the door belonged to the vocalist of the band, 2D.
"It's me fuckin' day off, you sodding bloke!" Murdoc yelled back, profanities bouncing around his hole-riddled head. How dare such an idiotic waste of space come banging on his precious Winny like that? If it weren't for Murdoc hitting him with his van all those years ago, he'd probably still have some working brain cells stuck in his noggin. Both of 2D's eyes had been dented in by the bassist, and if it weren't for that fact, he probably would have thrown the idiot out on his ass a long time ago.
"T'at was yesterday, Murdoc. You're forgettin' fings again," 2D responded, picking at something under one of his fingernails. "Jus' come on out, okay?"
"Awright, awright, jus' sod off already," Murdoc snarled, getting up from his armchair. He pulled on an old T-Shirt, and grabbed his bass once more. He slammed open the door of the Winny, 2D's black empty eyes staring up at him.
"Oh, 'ello there," 2D greeted him, his smile missing several teeth. They had been knocked out back in England, when Murdoc had lost his temper at the poor sap.
"Outta the way, faceache. There better be a beer waitin' fo' me back in ta studio," Murdoc hissed as he walked towards the entrance to Kong, bass in hand. 2D trailed after him like a loyal puppy dog to his master, his black dented eyes focused on his back. They made their way through the maze-like hallways of the enormous building, finally finding their way to the recording studio. Russel and Noodle were already there, fiddling with their instruments.
"So, you finally decide to show up, old man. Sup, D?" Russel greeted them both, sitting at his drum set. 2D nodded in response. Russel was taken to Kong by force, as Murdoc had knocked him out and kidnapped him from the old store he used to work at. His eyes were completely white, as his head swam with the souls of his dead companions. Noodle, on the other hand, had been shipped to the building by mysterious means, not even knowing one word of English. Luckily, 2D and a hired tutor spent time helping her learn the language. Her guitar was slung around her neck, obviously too big for the almost 11-year-old girl. Despite this, she had no problem gripping the strings and playing it masterfully.
"Awright, you bunch o' faceaches, le's get dis over wit," Murdoc sighed, gripping his guitar tightly as they began practicing. They had a tour coming up soon, so there wasn't much rest for the band members. They'd bang out tunes all day, memorizing their parts so thoroughly they could be renounced in their sleep. After that day's practice, everyone's fingers hurt from their instruments.
"Oi, wot's for supper?" 2D whined, peering into the old fridge with a heavy heart, as there was next to nothing in it.
"I don't bloody know, order something for Satan's sake," Murdoc growled, slapping the poor boy on the back of the head as he passed to get another beer. Noodle shouted something at Murdoc in Japanese, expressing her obvious discontent. 2D rubbed at his head absentmindedly, his migraine medication working wonders on the old man's beatings.
"Awright ten, where's the ringer?" Stuart replied, stumbling across the kitchen for the phone. After chattering into the telephone for a few minutes, he turned it off and put it back on the counter. He waddled over to one of the sofas that crowded around the TV, his lanky legs barely fitting into his skinny jeans. He sat down next to Noodle, who climbed into his lap and started feeling the blue ends of his hair. She had always been enormously fascinated with 2D's odd hair color, and would play with it every chance she got. As Stuart had fallen out of a tree and landed on his head during his youth, his hair had fallen out and grown back as the stunning shade of blue it was today. Everyone swore it changed shades sometimes.
"Whadja even order, anyways?" Murdoc asked, taking a sip of yet another beer. There was rarely a time where he didn't have some alcoholic beverage in his spider-like grip.
"Oh, jus' some pizza," 2D mumbled, staring into space as he usually did.
"Shit, man, pizza takes fucking forever to get to Kong," Russel whined, slumping back into the leather sofa, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well, i's not my fault tat we live in ta mittle of nowhere…" 2D whined, bowing his head down so that Noodle could grab at his hair easier.
"Ey, I got dis place for fucking zero euros, cut me some slack," Murdoc grumbled, taking another swig from his drink. "Go do yer bellyachin' somewhere else."
About an hour later, there was the expected knock at the door, the savior of Gorillaz delivering nourishment.
"Oh, mus' be ta pizza," 2D chattered excitedly, moving Noodle from his lap and getting up from the couch. He dodged past some specters that were absentmindedly floating around, grabbing the doorknob of the enormous front door. He swung it open, and lo and behold, there was the pizza man. He had a face of freckles with sandy blonde hair, and looked no older than 17.
"Cheers, mate, jus' lemme get my wallet-"2D began, but was cut off by the Pizza man.
"Y-you ordered a lot of p-pizzas, so most of them are in the c-car... I'll need your help br-bringing them in," the man stuttered, shaking like a leaf in the dreary front walkway.
"Oh, 'course. Mind ya step, though, there's a bunch'a zombies out in th' yard," 2D responded, leading the Pizza man to the front gate where his car was parked. The interior was lit, a tall stack of pizza boxes piled in the back. Did I really order t'at many? 2D wondered, as the man opened the back door. 2D bent down and picked up half the stack, the weight almost tipping him into the back of the car.
"Oof…t'ese are kinda h-heavy…" 2D mumbled, straightening his back. He was about to turn around and head back to the house, but the action was interrupted as a large blunt object came crashing down on 2D's head, knocking him unconscious. He let out a cry, slumping forward into the pizzas. The ones he had been holding fell out of his limp arms, now drenched in rain water and mud on the ground. The pizza boy leaned into the back of the car, wrapping his arms around 2D's midsection.
He hoisted the limp vocalist into the air, grunting as he stumbled around to the back of the car. He fumbled in his pockets for his keys, one hand keeping a firm grip on 2D. After unlocking the trunk, he flung the boy into the dusty compartment, blood dripping down from his forehead. He was bleeding badly, as the attacker's shirt and the outside of the car had spots of blood here and there. 2D moaned softly as his long legs were bent and stuffed into the trunk, followed by darkness as the door was slammed downwards. The pizza boy locked the trunk again, wiping sweat from his brow. He pulled out his cell phone, the light from the screen the only illumination in the dark rainy night. He sent a quick text, then climbed into the driver's seat, speeding off down the muddy road away from Kong.