212 Wobble Street. 10:00 AM

Murdoc yawned. He stretched out slowly, cracking open one eye to look about him. Judging from the light that streamed softly from a crack in his boarded up window, it was around ten in the morning. Surprisingly, he actually fell asleep last night to actual need of sleep, instead of his usual cocktail of highly dangerous narcotics and cheap liquor. Okay, so maybe he had a little cheap liquor, but still, his current sobriety was unusual to say the least.

Well, at least he didn't have his usual morning headache that typically led to 2D getting punched for no reason other than existing in the same space as Murdoc. It felt sort of good, this unfamiliar lucidity. As he got up from whatever pile of filth he had collapsed on in his almost pitch black room, Murdoc decided that maybe he wouldn't get drunk off his ass tonight…yeah, right, He thought to himself quietly. And maybe Faceache would master quantum physics. The day he finishes a puzzle with more than 20 pieces is the day I quit drinking, he thought wryly, a small smirk gracing his face as he thought of his lead singer and on-and-off friend.

He then left the darkness of his room, his aging body protesting against being up so early and not being under the influence. He ignored it, deciding to walk down the stairs of the mansion instead of using his crappy escalator-type-thingy. As he made it to the kitchen, he entered to the stare of a confused but cheerful 2D.

"Heya Muds," he said, in that unrelentingly cheerful tone that made Murdoc want to smile at him and punch him at the same time "Whatcha doin' up so early?"

"None of your business, Faceache," growled Murdoc, but since nothing was actually thrown at him, 2D assumed that he was in a good mood. As Murdoc rummaged through the fridge to find something edible, 2D suddenly remembered something.

"Oi, Muds. Some new fan mail came in the post for yew." the bluenette chirped. Now, as surprising as this sounds, Murdoc actually got the most fan mail out of the group. True, a lot of it was hate mail and death threats, but it was also a lot of aspiring musicians and anarchists applauding him for his musical talent, number of felonies, or just his general badassery.

Which is why he responded to 2D's announcement with "So what? "

"Um….well…..'ts a bit unusual." This piqued Murdoc's interest.

"Unusual how?" He inquired, turning away from the fridge with a slice of pizza that looked only a little moldy.

"Well…..um….you should pro'lly take a look at it." 2D got up and handed him a large envelope. Glancing at it, Murdoc raised an eyebrow. It was unusual, to say the least. For one thing, it was a blood red envelope. Do they even make those? thought Murdoc inquiringly. Well, obviously they did. Taking a better look at the strange mail, he noticed that on the front there were black flames carefully inked to wrap around the border of the paper. In the center of the flames written in a fancy script was this:

To the Prince of Darkness

Well, thought Murdoc, this is new. He had been called many things, but this was the first time he'd been called a prince by anyone, even a dark prince. Thoroughly interested, he used a fingernail to rip open the letter to reveal a white letter penned in red ink.

...

Thanks for reading! So...I have absolutely no idea where this story is going. I mean, I have a vague idea obviously, but nothing's really concrete yet. So, expect this to get really weird and random and just...yeah. Tell me I'm pretty and my stories are cool.

~Ramona