Plastic Beach, Ah the place filled with the smell of rot constantly battling with the oceans breezes. Nothing seemed more calming back then on the island. The sunsets where the most memorable. The images of the soft hues in the sky with a few scattered stars and cloud just beginning to show as the sun disappeared beneath the vast waves. Remembering, well, it was breath taking. It wasn't often that one could witness such beauty often. You made sure to always get the chance to go visit those skies before the sun bid farewell to the world until tomorrow.

If you looked at the tall mansion like building on top of Plastic Beach you'd wonder why it was only one shade. White. A hideous pale white that seemed to just stand out in broad day light, but in the night it seemed to blend into the darkness. It was perfect in a way, but not perfect enough. Sure, it was filled with anything you could want. Aside from one thing.

2-D did his best, when not being tormented within the solitude of his bedroom, he'd sneak out into the many hallways of his current home under the name of his band, but he felt far from calling it home. No matter how much beauty surrounded the island, and no matter how much of anything you could binge indoors, Plastic Beach was void of any and all happiness.

Hell, one band member down and another replace with a Cyborg. It was a laugh to even say he still had a band, but never the less, the ring leader of all of them had sedated him and got him stuck out here without even a single warning. Quite witty he had to admit, but that was no reason for Murdoc to drag him from his (almost) normal life. But who was he kidding, nothing had been normal for him in quite a long time.

The only things that kept him sane was the prescribed medication he'd been taking since he was finally knocked out of his coma, the occasional (often) consumptions of Marijuana and Alcohol, and of course the setting sun. When he wasn't banned to his room from an outraged Murdoc, he made sure to always soak in the beauty and hope of another day that maybe, just maybe, he could escape.

But, hope wasn't all that kind to him now was it? So, on a night like tonight, 2-D leaned on the balcony with crossed arms staring out at the already set sun listening to the stillness and calming sound of ocean waves melting away the zombie like state he'd acquire during the day. A breeze smoothed back some of the singers spiky blue tresses before letting go and letting them resume where they hang over his pale, tired features. Reaching in his pocket he pulled out a pack of Lambert and Butler, pulling a fag from the carton to his smiling lips and lighting it.

Taking a long drag he replaced the carton in his pocket and continued his slow steady drags. He knew Murdoc would come looking for him soon, but the singer honestly couldn't give a damn. It had been a week, easily, since he'd been outside. He was damned if he was going back in now.

After stubbing out what was let of the finished fag, 2-D flicked it off of the balcony. Glancing back over his shoulder he saw all the lights were still off. Odd, very odd. But Thankful, 2-D took that chance to one again get out a fag and indulged in the nicotine. He couldn't help the thought of the bassist getting caught up in working, or most likely the tosser was smashed and passed out in his room.

Which, not to look a gift horse in the mouth, some what bothered the singer. That meant the Cyborg made to look like his beloved Guitarist, Noodle, was doing god knows what and where. She could be lurking about and snooping into things to possibly kill one of them. He could never tell her motives with the cold eerie look in her metal interior features. How could a robot look so satanic and.. oh never mind. Murdoc did make her after all. Hopefully she was hooked up in her own room and shut down for the night. The singer only prayer that was the case. But one could never be too sure.

A unnerving chill traveled down 2-D's spine at the thought making him even more want to go explore the whereabouts of the other two residents of this place. Flicking his fag away, he walked from the balcony to the living room closing the double glass doors behind himself.

Nothing seemed to be alive and 2-D slowly treaded to the studio, his room, storage rooms and down hall ways opening each door to be greeted by one empty room after another. His steps landed heavier and faster as his pace to search Plastic Beach quickened. Where was Cyborg and more importantly where was Murdoc?

Taking the lift to the lowest level he figured to look first for Cyborg, but when he entered her room stray wired and cords were littered along the floors a few sparks erupting from the electrical mess. A wide tv screen flashing white static echoed and shadowed throughout the empty room. 2-D's eyes narrowed and widened to see better, confirming his worst fears. It was like a bloody zombie flick making it even more traumatizing. Fleeing back to the lift he pushed the button for Murdoc's room. His entire form started to tremble and his breathes shallowing. His anxiety was slowly climbing but he knew he had to keep his cool.

There had only been a few times in his life where he felt unadulterated fear and this would be one of those time. When the lift dinged he swiftly went across the small hallway to Murdoc's room. He hesitated for a moment. This was the last room he hadn't searched and with a sharp inhale busted through the door hoping to God he would see the Satanist. His eyes scanned the room being illuminated by moonlight and found a laptop on Murdoc's desk light up from charging but set on lock.

He slowly walked in careful to stay alert in case this was some kind of sick joke Murdoc was playing for 2-D sneaking out of his room. After a few minutes of steady breaths and hesitant searching the singer concluded the bassist was missing.

Tears began to well in his sockets and brimmed. But straightening himself 2-D steadied himself. He refused to cry. Maybe now was his chance to escape after all. Some how nothing seemed to feel right aside from the joyous thought of finally escaping. Cyborg and Murdoc missing? No where in this building? Just too damn weird.

Sitting down in a red velvet chair 2-D glared at the dimly light screen of the bassist's laptop. Come to think of it, the singer had one good night of solo drinking last night in his room and had only woken up today to see the sunset. God he knew he was a idiot now.

Eying the keyboard he contemplated a so called password. Pressing his index knuckle to his bottom lip he narrowed one eye at the screen again before lowering both hands over the keys. What was something Murdoc was sure to use as a password.

'Noodle'

Access denied. 2-D huffed in annoyance and rolled his shoulders. Two more attempts. He knew the bassist had a special connection to the guitarist (like they all did) so it was no doubt that she was his password hint, if not something she said. Maybe..sang?

'DARE'

Access denied. DAMMIT! His palms met his forehead and he groaned. He literally was fucking this up. If he didn't get it right next attempt the laptop was as good as useless. Pings of a headache started to edge the singer and he knew he left his medicine back in his room. Getting into this laptop was his top priority to find out what in the hell was going on. Lowering his fingertips over the keys he held his breathe. Maybe he was just paranoid.

'Toochi'

Access granted. The lock screen faded away and a Word program was shown on the other wise blank screen. 2-D lost his breath his eyes widening at the screen in disbelief. He couldn't believe it worked! Noodle's nickname for him was the.. password.. on Murdoc's computer..

The happy thought spoiled into a sad memory and his attentions focused on the electronic document still set in edit.

' Aye Faceache. Sorry to do this to ya but I can't deal with any of this anymore. I'm sorry mate but I ain't going to be dragging you all over to get ya killed because of me. You know? I've dismantled Cyborg and at this point she's sunk to the bottom of the ocean. I just can't deal with your depression or mine. You're free to leave my lovely Plastic Beach. But.. Enough people are after my ass and well.. It's time to put certain things to an end. Best of luck Stu

p.s. don't go doin' anything stupid '

Tears streamed down 2-D's face his features twisted in disgust, disbelief, and hurt. As much as Murdoc was an asshole he was his band mate. Or at least, had been. He never deserved to die or at least go out this way. Never in a million years did 2-D see this happening. A suffocating weight settled in the singers chest and he settled back in the chair, slumping in utter depression. His tears became more and more violent and his sobs echoed the building. He now knew he could leave his haunting place, but he would at least have one more night in this unhappy place. To fill it with at least some emotion, even if the sounds of his sobs would still haunted it. Lighting a fag 2-D continued to stay where he was put lazily slouched in the chair his legs extend to the floor and his tear stained face, emotionless behind each drag. Nothing filled his eyes. And nothing would for a very long time.