Oh my god thank you so much for all the reviews I really wasn't expecting so many :* I give you a shiny new chapter. It feels kinda psychotic to me but idk these characters were made to be pretty crazy in themselves. I'll just leave the opinions out to the public ^^

Living Conditions

It was about 10 O'clock at night when Stuart hobbled into the apartment, wielding a supportive cane to use in case he was still too weak after a year of immobility. He carefully sat himself on the dirty sofa, brushing some stray ash and cigarette butts onto the floor as he did so. Murdoc slammed the door behind him as he walked in, making a beeline straight to the liqueur cabinet.

"Nice of yer parents to let you come live with me, eh two-dents?" He grinned, checking what he had in storage and immediately becoming irritant at the lack of rum. Did he not drink rum back then? Better go fix that, he thought, instead pulling out a half drunk bottle of JD.

"Yeah, I guess." 2D mumbled absently. His lack of enthusiasm since he woke up was really grating on Murdoc's nerves. It had been a month since 2D woke up, and only now were they living together. They were behind schedule.

Before, if he remembered correctly, Stuart had jumped at the opportunity to be in Murdoc's band and practically worshipped the ground he walked on. This time he had come close to begging the blue haired singer to stay with him. This wasn't right. Didn't 2D love him or something? Like Satan had said?

Well he doesn't know you yet, the little voice in the back of Murdoc's head reminded him, you haven't given him a reason to love you.

That last bit had been both unnecessary and pointedly gay on Murdoc's part, and he was liking the little voice less and less by the minute. But deciding to take these words on board, he made his way over to the bass stand.

Stuart watched him carefully as he set down his drink and picked up Vi. Vi was his old bass, from way back before El Diablo. She wasn't anything fancy, but sleek and black in colour, and very well cared for. Only now did he realise that he had missed her.

"Okay, two-dents, I know yer funny about the band business, but you haven't seen what I can do." He said proudly, throwing the strap over his shoulder and plugging the lead into the rusty old amp. He'd forgotten how poor he was back then... now. At this particular juncture "Any requests?"

2D was still a little off. He didn't really want to be here "Know anyfink by the Stranglers?" he asked tentatively. Murdoc was pretty sure he was scared of him. A dark grin spread across his face. Sliding his hand up the neck of the instrument, Murdoc played a few random notes before clearing his throat.

But it didn't come like it usually did. When did this happen? Murdoc had played songs by the Stranglers many times, but when he attempted their song 'Peaches', his hands didn't move. It didn't feel natural. Then a thought struck him. How long had he been playing naturally? Probably a good fifteen years ago, around when he made his deal...

It had been forever since he'd had to try to play, damn it. It just wouldn't come out. 2D was looking at him expectantly, one eyebrow raised as it had been a good thirty seconds and Murdoc was still just standing there, staring at his bass. So he tried. He searched up the second string, where he was sure the first note must be. The pitch sounds right and, yep, there it is. Now down a string? Yeah, hey, this is easy!

The first three notes were down, and his bass playing sensibilities were coming back to him. The rest was easy to figure out once he'd found the song's positioning on the fret board. He wasn't like he'd been before. No demon bass slayer here, but he was adequate. An acceptable bass player at best, just like he'd been before the deal.

But this angered him. It made him absolutely furious, because he wasn't good like he'd been before. He wasn't good without his deal, and it wasn't fair.

Despite being slightly useless, Murdoc played relentlessly, missing quite a few notes and getting things wrong here and there. It was loud. Probably loud enough that if he kept playing it would start to sound good. He was just starting to get into it when yelling and banging came from the front door.

Murdoc grudgingly made his way over, refusing to look Stuart in the eye. He opened the door slowly and it creaked something horrible the whole way. In front of them stood a woman, about thirty, who looked absolutely murderous. She glared at the bass still hanging around Murdoc's neck.

"No doubt that was you, then, mister Niccals?" it wasn't a question, it was a statement. What bothered him was that she knew his name.

"Who the fuck are you?" is how he put it so eloquently.

If she wasn't angry before, she was now "I'm Danielle. I live in the flat below? You're always playing that god damn bass guitar, and I wouldn't mind so much if you were actually good. I can't stand the tuneless thumping. I have a right mind to move out!"

Now he remembered her. Danielle, the frumpy single mum living downstairs. She'd rejected quite a few passes he'd made back in the day.

This is the day, he reminded himself. It was still hard to get used to.

"Feel free to move out any time you want. We'll all miss you Danny, so much." he mocked with a falsely sympathetic smile and slammed the door in her face.

This action was met with more knocking and yelling, ending with an "I'll report you, Niccals!" before she finally left. It was quiet as they waited for her footsteps to fade down the hallway. Murdoc turned around to Stuart, who looked very much as if he'd like to say something.

"Lovely neighbours." he spat out.

"Eh, you lived here for a year already. Get used to it." he went to put Vi back on the bass stand and grabbed his bottle, sitting himself down next to Stuart.

It was quiet for a moment as they sat together. Murdoc was frustrated beyond belief. He couldn't play the bass like he used to, not even close. How was he going to write music for Gorillaz if he couldn't figure out a simple bassline? He couldn't, that's how. Anger was building up within him, and he was just about ready to blow. And then;

"Are you sure about it? I mean, starting a band and that. You're okay but I don't wanna get involved, if you know what I mean." Stuart said, not looking at the bassist.

This, however, was the final straw for Murdoc.

"Okay?" he snapped. Oh, that had done it "Okay? I'm more than fucking okay! I'm Murdoc Niccals, bass player extraordinaire! You don't know who you're messing with! I've got connections with entities bigger than your fucking mouth!"

He jumped up off the sofa, gesturing wildly with his hands. Stuart sat below him, terrified and hugging his knees to his chest. Who was this crazy man he was living with? What was even going on?

He didn't see it coming. Two short and sharp a blows to the head, knocking him sideways. A punch to the already abused eye. Then another, a kick to his ribs, and then a gasp. A choke. Footsteps moving backwards. The room was suddenly empty.

Stuart sat up slowly and groaned. The bassist wasn't around. He didn't want him around. The man was insane And clearly deluded as he couldn't play bass for his life. Seeing his chance, the blue haired boy made a run for the door, almost crying when he found it to be locked.

This guys a nutter, he thought, what am I getting into?

He was pretty sure Murdoc would have gone into his bedroom, so he avoided that door while checking all the others. The bathroom was out of the question, the bassist had to go sometime, so eventually Stuart found himself a closet. Shutting the door carefully behind him, 2D leaned against the back wall and slid to the floor. He was still in shock at what was happening. How could his parents agree to letting Niccals take him in? It was crazy! They were all crazy!

He honestly couldn't help it. Stuart began to cry. His ribs were bruised, his eye swollen and he could feel a headache coming on. Wait, did this guy even know about the headaches? Would he have pills? Thinking was making it worse. His head was pounding now, to the point where he had to curl over on the floor, head between his knees. It stank in here. It was hard to breathe. 2D released a sob when he heard footsteps. Oh god, help me now, he thought. He didn't recon he could survive another encounter with this madman.

The soft creak of the closet door was too much for Stuart's headache. He groaned and held his head tighter as the figure leered over him. A cough "I could hear you cryin'." came a voice, still gravelly, but much softer than expected. A bottle of pills rolled themselves towards him in the dark, rattling and finally stopping as a large hand placed itself over it. 2D unscrewed the lid, pouring a few pills into his mouth and swallowing them dry. He didn't understand.

"I nicked 'em from yer room when I picked you up." Murdoc said, still standing over him, a silhouette in the light pouring into the closet "It's late and we got a lot to do tomorrow. You can, er, have my bed. It's all made up, and stuff."

A pair of hands gripped 2D's arms, pulling him up until he was standing. Murdoc looked so much smaller when he was standing. The bassist attempted to guide him, but 2D pulled himself from his grip, stumbling over to the door to the bedroom. It was quiet for a moment. Stuart stood with his hand on the doorknob, Murdoc waiting for him to enter.

"I, um, thanks." 2D's voice cracked slightly as he spoke. He really wasn't used to this kind of environment, one where he was practically in danger every second of the day. He slammed the door shut as he hid himself inside the small bedroom. He immediately ran towards the window, finding it to be barred shut with what appeared to be wrought iron, which was a good indicator to what kind of neighbourhood Murdoc lived in. Just his luck, locked in some dingy apartment with a basket case. He was genuinely surprised that he'd been given the bed. This Murdoc character seemed the type to lock him in a box as long as it made life easier.

Searching around the room for some kind of file, Stuart was stopped by his reflection in the dirty mirror atop the drawers. He hadn't forgiven Murdoc, for the record. His own appearance scared him, looking like the zombies he usually loved so much; black, sunken eyes, missing jagged teeth, greasy blue hair and limbs so long and skinny it was almost worrying.

He ruined me, he thought, the guy ruined me, and now I look like him.

The sudden intrusion of thought was unusual for Stuart. As an individual, he didn't really think all that much because it made him hurt. And now with the addition of mild brain damage and worrying thoughts, they scared him. What do I mean I 'look like him'?

Like a demon. Like you just walked out of hell. He changed you.

Honestly by this point Stuart felt like crying again. He'd lost everything. His job, his looks, his girlfriend before the accident, and even his parents pushed him off onto a psychopathic stranger. Giving up on his search for a file to break out, 2D made his way to the bed, climbing under the covers, still fully clothed.

He's abusive. Joy, the thoughts were back. And he's nasty, and ugly, and he can't actually play bass that well for all he talks. Get away, I gotta get away as soon as possible.

But there was one part, that Stuart could feel without explanation, that he should be here, with this crazy man.

You look like him.

He changed you.

He's important.

Back in the living room, Murdoc was sat on the sofa, brooding. He couldn't believe he'd lost it like that on the first day Stuart had agreed to stay with him. He was just so frustrated. It wasn't fair that he couldn't play bass properly, and it wasn't fair that his singer was terrified of him. It was all going wrong.

But there were good sides of this situation too. First off, he wasn't going to lose his soul, huge bonus. Also, it wasn't like he hadn't looked in a mirror lately.

Murdoc had forgotten how good it was to be young. Well, not young young, but thirty two wasn't bad at all. The back pains and constant strains on his muscles had completely vanished, and he wasn't green. That's right ladies and gentlemen, Murdoc Niccals' skin was indeed back to the ugly yellowing tanned colour it had been before, keeping him looking vaguely normal and low key in public. He wasn't famous yet, so the stares would be for completely unwanted reasons. Staring was only good if you were doing something worth looking at.

The nice thing about being young again was that Murdoc's libido had apparently returned at full volume. After all that time spent on plastic beach he had never gone back to shagging a new girl every night, but instead spent a lot of time holed up in his room, waiting for the bogyman.

Well, no more of that, he cheerily thought to himself. He had a good mind to find himself a bird tomorrow. He hadn't had a chance since the revival of 1998, too busy making plans and all that. He'd already bought Kong studios online before Stuart got here, because the miracle of it actually being available for free had seemed too good not to be the devils work, but alas that was one coincidence completely unrelated. But the studio was useless when he couldn't play the fucking bass.

What kind of band could he pull together if he was just some mediocre musician scumbag who couldn't remember a single song he had written before? Satan fucking meant it when he said he'd erase Murdoc's musical memory.

Either way he was going to give it a go. He had a singer who was most likely terrified out of his wits, but would probably do whatever he said, and tomorrow was important. Tomorrow was the day he was going to get Russel.

And so now there's this :) It's pretty much just their living conditions and how fucking miserable everyone is. But could you imagine being in this position? I didn't know how else to write it. some more pointers as to what may happen (wink wink). Next chapter is very stressful I do warn you. Oh, and I probably won't update as quickly as I did this time I mean this is a record for me Christ you should have seen my old account.

Sorry I went off topic thanks for reading leave me some reviews I loved some of the suggestions left last time byee xoxoxo