First Meeting:
Murdoc Niccals inhaled deeply on his cigarette, wincing slightly as it touched his tender, now vaguely swollen mouth. He stretched his bruised knuckles and looked at his beaten hand. Then he looked out at the night sky.
It was a gorgeous night. There was no doubting it. Even the most sick, twisted, psychopathic maniac would look up at the sky tonight and think, Blimey! Those stars look quite pretty!
Even him, the twenty-three year-old, greenish-skinned, badly bruised Satanist couldn't not think it. The bluish-black sky stretched endlessly on, broken by glowing points of light. He was in… Some random field, actually; away from the city. The moon shone oddly on the grass, making it a dark bluish-green colour., whilst the trees in the distance were silhouetted black.
He was sitting on a tree swing; hand made with a plank, two pieces of twine, and hope. He was much too big for it obviously, so he had to pray that it was stronger than it looked. He gave himself a once-over, yet again, to assure what damage had been done. His red leather jacket was intact, which was lucky, as not only was it his favourite, it was extremely expensive too. But his blue jeans were destroyed at the knee, and there was a long rip across the midriff of his black t-shirt. He zipped up his jacket about halfway to compensate for the meantime. His Cuban heels (also his favourites; also bloody expensive) were fine, apart from being a little scuffed from running.
Aside from that, he was badly beaten up, bruised, and bleeding in several places he didn't care to mention. His nose was probably broken, but hey, nothing new there. It would only be the fourth time.
It was only to be expected really, after being cornered three-to-one in a Morrisons car park by lads almost twice his width and size. But they had gotten off a lot worse than he had, he thought smiling. Haw, haw, haw...
He had legged it when they limped away though, because they were more than likely going to get reinforcements, and he had ended up here, of all places, in the middle of a disused (he hoped) field on a child's abandoned swing., bleeding.
I'm bleeding, he thought.
That can't be good.
I don't think anything else is broken…
I should probably be going to the hospital… He took a drag on his cigarette.
Just then, he was aware of something prodding his back, and then a pull on his jacket. He turned around sharply.
"Wot the bloody 'ell d'you…?" He cut himself off. Standing there was a young boy of about eleven years old. He had vivid blue, long, spiky hair, and massive, silver-blue eyes, although that might just have been the lighting. He was small and was wearing a Human League t-shirt several sizes too big for him, long, khaki shorts, and white converse shoes. He had a plaster over one knee, and when he smiled, Murdoc saw that his two front teeth were missing.
"'Ello mister." His voice was high-ish and had a definite cockney, or thereabouts, tone.
"… 'Ello." Murdoc replied warily.
The boy seemed totally unfazed by this greenish, young man with ripped clothing, a cigarette, and one red eye, which was odd; because Murdoc was the sort to send little boys and girls running with nothing more than a smile. With a severe lack of warning, the boy thrust what appeared to be… A first aid kit(?) in his face. What the buggering hell was going on? Murdoc took it cautiously.
"Er… Thanks." He said awkwardly, not quite knowing what else to say. He somehow felt that he had lost control of the situation. "Er… What's yer name?"
"Stuart." The boy said brightly. "Stuart Pot. But me friends call me Stu."
"Right…" Murdoc bit his lip, then winced again. "Right. Well, er, Stu… Thanks for… You know… This." He waved the first aid kit in the air awkwardly. Stuart beamed.
"No problem mister. Mum always makes me take one wherever I go, 'cos I keep having accidents." He frowned slightly and gestured to his plastered knee. "She's a nurse, so I got plenty at home." He grinned again. "Bye." Stuart waved once, and then walked away into the distance.
"…Bye." Murdoc muttered. He watched Stuart go. Weird kid, he thought, and opened the first aid kit. Inside were an assortment of bandages, painkillers, plasters, a thermometer and a jam sandwich. Murdoc grunted, and smiled.
He then promptly forgot about little Stuart… Until about eight years later..