This is my first fanfic that I've written in 8 years, and definitely the first about the Boosh (and any ones I ever wrote before were crap anyway!), so please take that into account before you find it awful. I'm not sure why I'm submitting this yet as I have a terrible habit of never finishing what I've started, but I'm determined to do better.
I've always wondered why people write disclaimers - I don't think anyone is under the impression (least of all me) that I own any characters, especially not Vince and Howard (only in my dreams... and those are nice dreams...)
I have no idea how this is going to turn out, I'll say it now. Perhaps I could get some ideas...?
All the things I'll never see, all the things I'll never be…
It was bloody cold. Every other thought had been stripped away except for the numbness inside of him. It was just so, so cold. The last time he'd been this cold… funny how a pause at the wrong time almost ruined everything. The memory rose unbidden in his mind, but as he lunged desperately for it, it blurred into nothingness and he was once left with the biting cold filling his entire being, blocking everything else out. Had there been any tears left, he would have cried, but his weak and battered body was slowly giving up, and he was slowly, and softly, drifting off, away from prying eyes, and helping hands.
Vince Noir, rock and roll star, was going to die.
****
Perturbed! That was the word he was looking for. Pity it hadn't been relevant for three hours, but no matter - Howard Moon, colon explorer, didn't mind too much, as had he managed to think of it at the time, it would have gone over Vince's head anyhow. Howard sighed as he methodically pre-cut strips of sellotape and hung them neatly to fill the empty branches, ready to go should they be needed. He'd done the Scotch tape (which, he'd heard recently, was real man's tape), and was now moving onto the sellotape itself. He searched round the roll with his fingernail, again and again, until he found the edge and started the whole process anew, stretching out the tape onto each finger in turn, and cutting the tape into identical strips, then hanging them on the tree branches. It took him fifteen minutes, and it was only as he put the last one on that he realised that Vince was sitting in a chair, looking out the window with the air of one distracted. Merely noticing Vince's presence made him jump, as the shop was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop (not that one ever did, they were safely inserted into Pushpin Hill). No singing, no inane questions, just silence that the more he thought about it, the more it was deafening to Howard. With great effort and a quiet voice, he softly broke it.
"…Vince?" Vince jumped half a foot in the air, and whipped his head around.
"Wot?"
"Is there a hypnotist in the street?" A slightly confused look befell Vince's face, before he realised what Howard was getting at, and he gave a wan smile.
"Nah, just testin' ya! And you failed!" Something small and squishy flew at Howard's face, and after the initial shock of impact had worn off, he bent to pick up the satsuma from the floor, where it had burst slightly and was now looking decidedly sad. He flung it forcefully back at Vince, who dodged it gracefully, and it smacked into two bottles that were sitting on the front window display with a resound squelch, splaying its innards over the windowsill.
"OI! What was THAT?!" Both Vince and Howard grinned guiltily as the tiny shaman floated down the stairs on a cushion of air, his turban (and hair?) slightly askew. "Have you been throwing stupid satsumas AGAIN? What have you broken now!" Unfortunately, there was no denying it, and pretty soon, Howard and Vince were in the van on the way to the nearest local Shamansburys to pick up replacement bottles.
For twelve minutes (Howard was counting), the van was silent. Not an uncomfortable silence, just the kind of silence that has grown from no-one particularly bothered to saying anything, but as the seconds ticked by into minute thirteen, Howard panicked - this was actually the most peace and quiet he'd ever got from Vince in all of the years they'd known each other, and that was worrying.
"Something on your mind?" He got straight down to it, sometimes. After all, he was Howard Moon, talking straight was what he did best. Vince shrugged his shoulders in a noncommittal way, and said,
"Dunno, just…" He trailed off, and after a minute (and a near-collision with a tree) passed, Howard again broke the silence, this time with more vehemence.
"Vince, seriously, what IS your issue? You've been perturbed all week." Ignoring the look of complete and utter ignorance, he pressed on. "You've been quiet and sullen, and don't think you fooled me with the satsuma ploy to - I saw you grab it from the fruit bowl when I called you."
"God Howard, you're beginning to sound a bit like a telly announcer. 'Day six in the Big Brother house, and Vince is not saying much.' M'fine, just thinking about things."
Unfortunately for Vince, his best personality trait (ie his complete and utter honesty) was working overtime against him, as a flash of what was clearly 'bother' crossed his pale, half-arsedly painted face. Howard gave him a stare, so he carried on. "I don't know, just feeling a little… queer. Don't really know why, Howard. Just kinda do, really. Went out clubbing with Leroy last week, and I can't remember much, but I had an awful nightmare that night. S'pose it's been bothering me." As long as Howard could remember, Vince had been plagued with nightmares - a parting gift from his years alone in the jungle before Bryan Ferry came to look after him. Normally, it didn't really bother him, as his generally sunny disposition overrode any nighttime interruptions. A dark look flitted across his face, and in a moment, it was gone, replaced by a genuine smile. "Anyway, never mind! S'alright really, going out again tonight when we get back. I was thinkin' of getting a bird familiar for myself, what do you think? It'd be brilliant! The special offer leaflet that came in the door said they're only €200! That'd be sweet!" Try though he might, Howard couldn't really find any trace of anything hiding behind that statement, so he responded, and the banter continued all the way to Shamansburys.
****
Later that evening, with the soft strains of Wayne Krantz smoothly dulling out the outside sounds of darkening Dalston, Howard Moon knocked on the bathroom door, and shouted "Tea!" at the top of his voice. The hairdryer briefly stopped, and Vince opened the door to ask for Ovaltine instead, all the while still bent over, as though paused mid-hairstyling. Howard smiled at him and closed the door, then went to put the kettle on. As he reached into the overhead cupboard to find the Ovaltine, his hand passed over the Bovril and he briefly considered throwing in a spoon, just for kicks, but decided against it in the end. He hummed to himself as he made an Ovaltine paste with milk, and sloshed in the hot water into Vince's and his own mug, watching his teabag swirl. He turned around and drew a breath to call Vince, only to start and have the air strangle in his throat for a moment as he found Vince standing right behind him. Missing only lippy, the sole phrase that could describe Vince was a vision. His hair was perfect, his makeup incredible, and his outfit looked almost couture. Howard quickly found his voice, and offered the mug to Vince, who grinned a cheeky grin, and took a sip.
"Oh Howard, how do you do it? No-one makes a cuppa like you!" Howard lowered his head, and grinned,
"Ah-thank you. So where you off to tonight? Pipped Post?"
"Nah, Naboo said he went to the Blue Hippo the other night, and apparently it was amazing, apparently they've got conga eels in tanks all around the dancefloor, imagine that!" Howard did imagine, and it sounded brilliant. Though the older man had only just started his tea, Vince took one last glug from his mug and quickly rinsed it out and laid it out on the draining board. He popped on the most subtle lipgloss anyone had ever seen, and with one last check of his hair, waved goodbye to Howard and swanned off out the door. Just as he was running down the stairs, Howard heard him shout "See ya!" to Naboo and Bollo. All at once, the flat was silent, but for Wayne Krantz. Howard looked at the upturned mug beside the sink, and smiled to himself.
Little did Howard know.
****
Vince stumbled out of the club, leaning heavily against the brick wall, a blissfully gormless smile gracing his lips. He wasn't drunk, just worn out and a bit overstimulated. He was alone, as he was leaving early, but strangely, he'd been alone all night, just chilling in the background - no-one he'd known had shown up, but it wasn't the first time that had happened. He was quite content sitting drinking for a few hours, just watching the world dance by. He was propositioned a few times, but he politely declined each one - he was enjoying himself too much, being at peace while the throngs pulled amateurish shapes in front of him.
He wandered tiredly along the street, intending to get to the high street and catch a taxi. He didn't rush, as it was only 1am and they wouldn't be busy just yet, so he could afford to take his time on the surprisingly empty streets. The moon was out in the sky, and he was sure he saw it beam down at him. As he neared a side alley just down from the club, he heard a muffled voice call him.
"Got a light, lady?" Laughing to himself, Vince turned his head to say he didn't.
"No way mate, sorry, don't… oh, hi-" The force of the punch to his cheek sent him reeling, and blackness instantly appeared at the edges of his vision. He staggered backwards, and was about to cry out, but suddenly the person was behind him, grabbing him around the neck with an arm. He heard, rather than felt, the cloth over his face, and with frightening speed, he felt himself drift off. He dropped like a stone to the floor.
The man who had asked for a light lit his cigarette, took a long, slow, satisfied drag off it, and jingled the van keys in his pocket. He strolled around to the back of the van, opened the door, and calmly lifted Vince's inert body into the back of the van. Anyone who had been watching may have been surprised to note he covered Vince in a blanket up to his chest, almost tucking him in. He then got into the front cab, and drove away, flicking the spent cigarette out the window.