New story. Groooooovy.

Gorillaz belong to Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett. For those of the few fanatic zealot that didn't know.

'Dis be called… actually what IS it called… errr….

Oh yeah. Guess who. It's him. SPECTER. Dun dun.

It was 10pm, Tuesday night in muggy July and he was bang on time once again. He trudged through chary alleyways in the outskirts of Essex, stepping in puddles of rainwater to diesel oil to thieving blood. These parts of town always looking like they'd never been exposed to the light of day before. It always made him feel like he was back home in the States. Not a soul was in sight but a few slinky cats and rats scuttling in the trash. The heat was intense tonight. Morbid clouds gave the sky an almost purple glow that encouraged heavy rain but it was plugged up with some foul stench below. A shower just waiting to happen but would never come. The weather was always hideous.

After winding through endless passageways he reached the top-notch establishment that was running on the underground. Only known to the local few and friends, who had their dark sides to share, lost their way and came for a stiff drink and a smoke to think their lives over. It had been running for many years now and stole the old fashion of a Chicago 1920's joint. Almost like a speakeasy that time forgot and that's why he loved it. The previous owners were well into that sort of getup and murder mystery nonsense, and so the pub was named 'The Hogwash' because of it. Regular attendants always showed up every now and then, good company seemed to come around often. For a shabby tavern, it was quite flamboyant in customer popularity. The word of this extraordinary bar got around fast.

He stepped up onto the creaking porch and pushed open the heavy bolted doors, his head lowered and his hat tipped just over his nose. The conservative barroom was heavily packed that night with immortal patrons of which he'd never laid eyes on in his life. They came in groups, laughing and drinking and making good business but personally, he didn't like it. It was becoming some sort of circus tent now but he never spoke a word against it.

A few familiar eyes watched him approach the drinks bar in the centre of the room, stocked with every liquor you could find in England. Legitimate or otherwise. He tapped the countertop for attention and glanced over at the piano player in the corner. She caught his eye and gave a faint smile that enlightened the cheeky number she was playing. With the tip of his hat, he turned around again and stared straight into the pasty unshaven face of the bartender. His light blue eyes darting between both of his and his near-rotten teeth chewing hastily away wide open.

"Specter," he greeted warmly and gave him a rough pat on the shoulder.

"What's happening, Les." A dear friend from way back, Leslie of London.

"S'all good, mate. Production is steadily growing everyday, thanks to you." The mystery man gave only a shadow of a smile. He knew it was true. Les sighed and pulled out a fresh glass, dressed in the same olden clothing that came with the Hogwash and with great pleasure to serve the clientele. This was the get-together point for him. "What'll be, sir? The usual?" He gave a nod and Les poured out his favourite toxin with the dash of another. He always needed something strong to relieve him from the day and get him through the night. He took a small sip and pretended the raw alcohol didn't grill his insides like a roast dish. "Anything else I can do you for?"

Specter had the cash in his hand but Les shook his head and pushed it back to him. "On the house, mate. This night's your night. Quite a few people have asked about you already. Business is blooming good for both of us, eh?" He stared back at Les solemnly and took another sip. He looked over his shoulder nervously and scanned them all over like he was trying to identify who was searching for him. He turned back and shoved his hat back so everything wasn't so shady. "You're… clients, mate."

"Yeah… I guess I should get over there then."

Les held out a generous hand towards the people of the bar. "Have a good one, sir," he smiled his horrid wonky teeth and went back to serving the others. Specter took a lonesome seat at the very end of the pub where his table was always especially reserved like a late arrival. The ice clonked about in his glass of swirling concoction and he downed the last of it. It was like drinking bleach, but anything no matter how drastic so he could just forget. The girl on the piano finished up the song, gave a modest bow to the cheering crowd and started walking over to him. And as usual he was forced to play along, pretend she was just his partner in crime. The sex meant nothing. Every time he had to convince himself that she meant nothing to him. He was a man who couldn't afford to form relations, let alone lose them.

"Hey you," she whispered and nuzzled him further down the bench as she sat down. "Haven't seen you in weeks. Where'd you run off to?" Specter gazed upon her slapper beauty that just seemed to smack him around the head for rejecting her every time. She must've looked even more delicious without him wearing his sunglasses. She had gorgeously curled chocolate brown hair and olive skin. Real hazel eyes that glowed orange in the light. Her lips were so soft and her figure was so tall and slim. She could've become a model if she hadn't wanted a taste of the misery. He shook off the notions and turned sideways from her. She was American as well and that didn't do him any favours in trying to resist her.

"I had a, hmm… some family issues back in the real world." Her name was Madison. Specter knew everything he needed to know about her, enough to trust her as a close friend. Unfortunately she couldn't say the same about him. His hand slid around her waist and he flashed her some money that almost doubled her tips. "I'm back now."

"Have you missed me?" she asked. The money slipped from his grip and skidded all across the floor. Madison gasped and immediately dove under the table to retrieve the notes, grasping his legs on the way, feeling up the heavy artillery that lay behind his clothes. She sat back up and didn't count the money like she did, she just stared at it in distress. Her eyes were feeling heavy with tears because he still paid her even though he shouldn't have to. All she wanted to do was get to know him, be allowed to turn on the light whenever they were alone.

"Y'know, if you wanted, we could… take this into the backroom." His expression for her had now eased up. Specter was one who suspects ambition, senses pain and absorbs empathy. She just smiled back deviously. Who was she kidding? he wasn't interested in whatever else she had to offer. Only after one thing in women. She had just always wondered why out of all the other girls, it was always her being led out back, being given the nod of acceptance by the barman and the wink of approval by every whistling nosy git in the pub who happened to spot them. I guess these were the best happy days could get. An everlasting one night relationship that never went anywhere was the best she could have. It was a jigsaw falling into place, just like Specter.

Well there you go. Try it, you might like it…

I was gonna write more but that could take me weeks and I just wanted to get it out there now because everyone's slowly fading away… DX