Disclaimer: I do not own Gorillaz, lyrics, characters, or anything like that. They belong to Damon and Jamie...lucky guys.

Before starting this story I would like to point out a few things that will help you as you read the story I'm about to share:

1. Let's remember, Gorillaz goes back as early as 1997, when Murdoc gave 2D his first fracture.

2. Fast forward a bit. Kong Studios was acquired by Murdoc in 1999 where they recorded their first album...not much is known about how the property was acquired, exactly. When he bought it there was a shady and haunted history about it.

3. Upon this detail, let's go back in time a bit and we find that their first show was in 1998. They played at the Camden Brownhouse. Now, if they were the Gorillaz at this point, obviously, they'd have to have Noodle to be, in fact, Gorillaz, not Gorilla when Paula was still around. At this show is where they got signed to EMI label.

4. Reviewing all this, I assume Noodle was not delivered to Kong Studios, Essex. She was delivered to...wherever Murdoc, 2D, and Russel were staying before. If anyone knows where, please send me the info A.S.A.P. As for now let's just say it was a flat in the shady regions of Essex.

5. Now, let's go back to information on Kong Studios. We all know it has a shady and haunted background. It was also a landfill and a run down cemetery. Kinda creepy, yeah? And where did that cemetery come from? And how exactly did Murdoc get this place?

The story that I am about to tell is an idea I had about Kong Studios was before it was...Kong Studios, how Murdoc acquired it, and explain some of the bizarre happenings that go about in the place that people would rather die than call home. REMEMBER! This is only an idea! It's most likely not what actually happened! If I get a few details wrong here or there, I'm sorry and you can call me stupid. And to continue on with all of this, some of the events might not go in chronological order...deal with it, it'll help the story. I would also like to say that this story is my brain child, I have put a lot of time and research into this. Please don't steal. Arigatou.

------

Prologue:

The vehicle was beaten up, so beat up that anyone passing by, even those who considered themselves experts when it came to cars, different models, and all that jazz probably wouldn't have been able to tell you what it was for their life. Yes, it was that beaten up and further more, it was a miracle it was still running. It had, in fact, been rammed through a building. The driver of this car had to be insane, a nutter, barking mad, loco, and all the other terms in the book to describe just plain crazy to be driving such a thing. However, there's a fine line between just plain crazy and genius, and it was the only thing he had. The crazy driver had been on his own way on his little pathetic, almost daily routine. A stop for cigarettes were a must, no exceptions. Unfortunately for him, it was a good forty-five minute drive just for his precious death-sticks. He had been banned from all of the local tobacco and drug stores for stealing and...other reasons. So this led him through a drive through the country side of the rolling fields and uneven terrain of Essex. Our driver was surprised the road was even paved...even if it did need some TLC here and there. Didn't matter. Today was different. He'd been driving this road almost every other day for months now and something had started to catch his eye. About half way through the fields, there was always a thin fog that started only a few yards off the road and it would grow with the distance. It all built up to make great towers of clouds, keeping whatever was behind them unseen. Assuming that it just covered up some town, the driver didn't care, he had the cigarettes on his mind. However, as the days driving stretched into a few weeks, and then months, the driver noticed that the fog never shifted or left. It stayed the same...always covering up whatever it was hiding. The weather in the U.K was always a bit odd though, and he just wrote it off as that...at first. But a few days ago, he had started to notice figures moving about in the fog...which seemed to emerge from the clouds. It had taken him a while to notice but when he did another odd thing happened. While he was trying to make out the shape of these figures, seeing if they were female, they would quickly scamper away back into their clouded hideout. Today the figures were more distinctive. Once again the figures ran back into the clouded shelter as soon as the driver took any notice of them. His mind debated with itself. His curiosity was one of the wrestlers while the other was his addiction to cigarettes that he knew he would quickly run out of soon if he didn't get to a tobacco store that was still willing to sell to him. However, curiosity beat out the addiction. The wheel of the beat up car was turned and the tires squealed with protest as the car lurched off the road and into the field. The engine grumbled as it bumped its way over the uneven terrain and into the fog. The mountains made of clouds were further off than they looked though, causing the driver to curse at himself when he realized this...the tobacco store would be closing soon and this delay would surely cause him to go a day without cigarettes...an almost unbearable thought. However, there was no turning back now, seeing as for once something had, in fact, beaten out his addiction.

It took a while for the montane clouds to finally come close to the driver. He sped up the car just a little due to his growing impatience. He then glanced over at the passenger seat and spotted a cigarette that he had left the other day. With his right hand he picked it up. Carefully and skillfully he balanced his knee under the wheel, keeping the car from swerving as he shoved his left a hand in his coat pocket and fished out a lighter. With a slight smirk at his small talent, his lit the cigarette and took a deep drag as he carefully put the lighter back in his pocket and patted it fondly. It was, in fact, one of his best friends. His left hand returned to the steering wheel as he looked back up, only to be blinded by the thick montane clouds. Before he knew it, the clouds had engulfed him. The fog that made up these clouds were so dense...he could barely see his nose in front of his face. Cursing, he put his other hand back onto the wheel to keep the car from swerving one way or another. The living cigarette was held between his lips. Luckily the car didn't dip into any pot holes or big ditches..., if it did, the car probably would have given up the ghost, leaving him there to die. But instead the car finally broke out at the other side of the fog. The sight that greeted the driver's eyes was amazing. It caused him to have his jaw fall agape, the cigarette to fall onto his lap, and thus it burned a tiny hole on the thigh of his pants. But Murdoc Niccals took no notice. He was too infatuated with the view.