Intro

edited on September 3, 2016

Disclaimer: I don't claim to own any of the characters involved in the story. Obviously. It's 2015. Bruh. All characters belong to Damon and Jamie B)

oOo

It's hard to tell the difference between what's real and what's not.

There are days when Murdoc will be lounging in his Winnebago and his eyes will flicker briefly and focus on a mop of blue hair settled in the far corner of his room. Then he'll blink, and the image will be gone.

And there are days, when he's drunkenly roaming the halls of Kong, that he'll come across a tall figure standing in the far outreaches of his vision, still as a statue and even more daunting. It'll stare vacantly past him, and when Murdoc finally walks by and crosses its path he'll swear that he can feel fingers brushing against his arm. He'll stiffen, and turn his head, but the figure will be gone.

Even now, curled on his bed with a bottle of rum clutched to his chest, Murdoc swears that he can hear humming in his ear. It's a soft, dismal tune.

However, he knows that the humming isn't real, because there isn't a reason for it to be. The humming person, whose voice continually haunts him, is in a different room doing who-knows-what with some tart he picked up that evening.

Murdoc frowns briefly and drums his fingers against the neck of his rum bottle in irritation. He groans, as if asking himself why he doesn't have some whore on his arm- it isn't like he can't afford it, after all.

A faint moaning in the distance reaches his ears and no amount of denial on his part will change the fact that it's real. The echo serves as enough evidence. He clenches a fist and takes a deep swig off his rum bottle before sending it flying across the room. The resulting shatter does nothing to dissuade his temper.

He heaves a heavy sigh, his voice a raspy growl. Resolute, he props himself up on his elbows just as another, more insistent moan makes its way into his hearing range.

Murdoc curses nastily, making a quick promise to kill the dullard when the moment strikes. He's intent on keeping that promise.

But as the moans and sighs continue to echo throughout the carpark, he begins to perspire.

Some days, it's hard to tell the difference between what's real and what's not.

Today isn't one of those days.

oOo