2D's P.O.V.
What exactly had possessed him to even for a single second believe it when Murdoc told him that once they were done touring that he could go back home. That he could go back to his little flat in London and forget all about Plastic Beach. Why did he believe that the half breed demon could ever keep a promise?
When he thought about it he really did deserve to be locked up in this room right now. This room far under water; this tiny room with its too small bed, items he hadn't seen since Kong, a door on the other side of the room leading into a small bathroom, beside the bed a round window outside of which waited a whale. He hated the whale, all whales for that matter; he hated Murdoc using something like that to torture him. 2D even remembered when he confided in the bass player that he feared those evil creatures, it was around the time Murdoc told him how deathly afraid of small spaces and planes he was. Secrets that should be kept in confidence between friends….Were they friends?
If they were they weren't now, they weren't anything.
Buzzing came from the corner near the door, the one that lead outside of this crap little room. He looked at the robot standing there; she looked like Noodle as much as she didn't. He wasn't sure anymore if their long lost guitarist was dead or alive, there were videos and rumors about her still being alive. He hoped that she was, he hoped she'd find him on this horrible place. At this point he wasn't too sure that he cared if Murdoc came along with them or not, at one time he would care….Did he still care?
It was thoughts like these that drove him insane. He felt like all life had been drained from him, he rarely smiled anymore unless he was stoned out of his mind. The problem with this place was that he ran out of his pills quite quickly, he hadn't needed them until he came to this island. He had actually been going a couple of years without drugs of any kind, until Murdoc started drugging him to keep him docile, to knock him out, or to just make him shut the hell up.
He remembered the day he woke up on Plastic Beach. Breaking out of that tiny suitcase, his head fuzzy, and eyes stinging as he squinted up at the sun. He had felt a chill go through him when he heard that old familiar scratchy voice he hadn't heard for years. It should have angered him or scared him hearing Murdoc's voice, especially when he could easily put together that Murdoc was the one who drugged him and stole him miles away from his home. Yet he hadn't felt afraid or angry, he had actually felt….It was like a strange sort of pleasure hearing his voice again, he hated himself for it. When he had seen him he felt more so….Shocked; he still looked like Murdoc, a bit older. A lot had changed though, he was paranoid more so than he used to be. He dedicated even more time to alcohol, he almost always had a pistol or a knife on him, his eyes both were this odd red type of brown they hadn't been before. His teeth were just rows of pointed fangs, rows like a shark, his nails were jagged and long, his ears were longer and pointed. He still looked like him, but at the same time he looked like some type of demon hybrid.
It's not like 2D was scared of him; the longer he stayed on Plastic Beach the less he feared him. Yes he fully realized that Murdoc could and probably even would kill him, without any guilt.
His eyes locked on the rifle that Cyborg held; it made him think of the first time since coming here he saw Murdoc kill somebody. It freaked him out as much as it hadn't, being around the older man caused one to be rather numb to violence of all kinds. The ones he killed were Black Clouds; 2D knew it was to defend the island, to defend themselves. It was just how cold his eyes were, how easy it was for him to put the barrel of the gun between that man's eyes and pull the trigger. Like it literally meant nothing to him, but Murdoc was crazy that was something that always kept true. It was one of his charms, a charm to 2D anyways; everybody else found it to be a disturbed flaw, but it drew the blue haired man in closer.
He hated this place, he hated the stupid robot, he hated Murdoc, and he hated himself. He felt himself losing everything he used to hold onto. He feared what he could turn into if he continued to stay here; he wondered if he would end up like Murdoc. End up a soulless half breed demon using people like pawns in some fucked up game.
2D picked the pill bottle up from the small cluttered night stand. He still had enough pills to knock himself out for the rest of the day, he could use it. When he slept, really slept that was when he dreamt it was years ago. He spilled the green tablets out onto the palm of his hand, placed them on his tongue, and swallowed them. He rubbed gently at his throat to make them go down all the way, he saluted the cyborg giving her the middle finger before laying down and jerking the thin purple blanket up over his head shielding him from this horrible plastic trash world.