If Murdoc Niccals had known that the walk to Crawley would have been this awkward, he honestly would have just let that zombie eat him from before.
Between the large, dark man who spoke few and far between during their journey- and had let it be known to the Satanist that he did not like him at all-and the tiny ten year old who barely spoke any English, Murdoc was certain this was going to be a long trip.
At first Murdoc was ecstatic that the duo wouldn't try to have small-talk of "where-do-you-come-from"s or "why-the-inverted-cross-around-your-neck" and other such topics that pry too much into his personal life, but now? Now he was bored to tears by these two! Though it wasn't really Noodle's fault, what with the language barrier between them making it difficult to communicate. She does try though, and Murdoc was able to get her to learn his name but that was only after an hour into their long walk and they both have since then dropped conversation.
Releasing an irritated groan, which Murdoc purposefully extended to annoy his companions, he finally spoke after what felt like forever. "How much longer until we reach this stupid, bloody town?" He complained, turning to Russel who was behind the group as look-out (or as Murdoc saw it, guy-who-gets-attacked-first-so-he-can-escape) and giving the larger man a sour frown. Russel wasn't up for the Satanist's antics, however, and simply kept looking forward (or was he? It was so hard to tell when he had no visible iris or pupils) before answering the dark haired male ahead.
"We just passed a sign. Should be another quarter mile before he hit Crawley." He said, shuffling his belongings from one shoulder to the other.
Murdoc groaned even louder, "Whose fuckin' idea was it to go to shitty Crawley anyway?" he nearly growled, running his fingers through his dark, dirty hair. Russel finally turned to look at him.
"It was your idea." He snapped, milky white eyes boring holes into Murdoc's head. "If Noods and me had a choice, we'd go our separate ways and never see your face again. But we don't got that luxury now, do we?" Murdoc simply rolled his mismatched eyes, gritting his sharp teeth. "Oi, don' get yer knickers in a bunch, tubby." He said, straightening out his sore back as he continued on his way, certain that Russel's blank eyes were boring through his head the whole time.
Moments later, Noodle wandered up to Murdoc, keeping up to his long strides, and stared up at him, her face contorting into a question that won't seem to form in what little English she knew. Murdoc only pretended to not notice her, looking at the road ahead and on the sidewalks, high on alert.
After realizing that just staring at the taller man wasn't going to get his attention, the tiny girl changed her tactic, bravely grabbing Murdoc's jacket sleeve and tugged it, once, twice, three times. Giving in to the kid's demands, Murdoc looked down at her. "What is it, what do ye want?" he asked none too kindly, but Noodle didn't seem to notice, or ignored his tone.
Instead she pointed to her nose, wrinkling it slightly to imitate how Murdoc's now looks. "Hurt?" She asked, her voice thick with an accent and worry. Suddenly feel self-conscious, the Satanist covered his broken schnoz and glared at the now giggling child.
"No, et doesn't bloody hurt!" Noodle wasn't convinced though. She shook her head, reaching behind into her colorful backpack and skillfully pulled out a neon green band aid, offering it to Murdoc.
The dark haired man, however, vehemently walked further ahead, disregarding Noodle's gift to him. The sooner they get to Crawley, the better, Murdoc thought.
As if by some strange turn of fate, buildings from the town could be seen in the distance and Murdoc could almost feel the glee burst deep within his gut. Now that he was further ahead of the duo, too, he figured it wouldn't hurt to poke around and see what they were dealing with.
As far as he could see, there appeared to be a fork in the road; a driveway into someone's home, perhaps. Deciding to play it safe for once, Murdoc walked down the gravel fork, away from the city.
"Yo, Murdoc!" Russel called out, finally catching up to the fork along with a very confused Noodle, staring after the taller man. "Crawley's that way. Where the hell are you going?"
"To a safe house, mate." Murdoc replied, gesturing to the sky, already in various hues of pinks, purples, and blues, slowly getting darker. "It's late and I'd rather not have to feel around to see where I'm going just to have some infected prick bite me, yeah?" With that, the Satanist continued on his path, Russel and Noodle a bit reluctantly followed not far behind.
Sure enough, the group arrived to the steps of what could only be assumed as an abandoned farmhouse. It definitely didn't look smashed in; the door and windows were still intact, though a lot of ivy was growing on the sides, climbing its way to the second story window panes.
"I think it would be best if we made sure this place isn't occupied, right Murdoc?" Russel asked, motioning his bald head to the front doors of the old house. Murdoc nodded in agreement, pulling his pistol out of his belt loop as he strode to the door. He tested the waters by rattling the doorknob to scare off whatever creature could be on the other side before attempting to twist it open. Finding it unlocked, Murdoc slammed it open, gun out and ready. Nothing jumped out at him so he turned to Russel and gave a quick nod.
Russel turned to Noodle, kneeling to be at her eye level and staring into her with his blank eyes. "Noodle," He said, slowly. "Stay here, okay?" Grinning broadly, Noodle enthusiastically nodded her head, helmet shaking with her movement and dark strands of hair falling over one eye.
"Hai!" The American chuckled, tucking the misplaced hair back into the girl's helmet, patting it when he was done before rising and following the Satanist into the house, leaving Noodle by herself.
And she would have stayed in that exact spot too had it have not been for her excellent hearing picking up strange noises close by. Alert, the Japanese girl cautiously followed the noise to the backyard.
Treading silently, Noodle could make out soft moans getting closer as she made her way to a very tall, long dead tree where she saw the shadow of a figure there, unmoving. Bracing herself, she jumped out in front of the figure, ready for a confrontation.
Instead, she screamed.
Meanwhile, Russel and Murdoc inspected the farmhouse, finding it relatively empty minus a mouse here and there, but otherwise it just looked to be completely abandoned by whoever used to live here. Russel eventually searched the back and found a generator and turned it on. Suddenly, the house began to hum to life; lights flickered on, a sink upstairs seemed to be running, and an air-conditioner drummed quite loudly.
"Cut that shit off!" Murdoc snapped, poking his head through the back doorframe. "You'll attract every fucking infected in town with that."
Right before Russel could reply, however, a high-pitched scream ripped through the air causing both men to whip their heads around in the direction it came from.
Russel reacted first. "Noodle!" He called out, breaking into a mad sprint to the girl who kept screaming, this time in spit-fire Japanese that neither man could even make out if they tried.
Following close behind, Murdoc expected the worse—infected hoard, mutated animals (he heard those fuckers could get big…) or worse, another gang whose territory they just unknowingly entered.
He wasn't exactly prepared for what he saw instead.
Tied up by the wrists to one of the high, dead branches of the tree, was a tall, young man in perhaps his early twenties. Despite how tall he was, however, his feet still dangled below him, untied converse barely scraping the ground below him. He was certainly odd; stick thin with a mop of spiky blue hair (who dyes their hair anymore, honestly? In these times?). Looking closer, Murdoc could easily see now that the poor sod was bleeding rather badly on his head, the red contrasting and blending with the blue strands, caked to the sides of his rather pale and bruised face. The liquid dripped down onto his yellow, long-sleeve shirt, permanently staining the bright material.
"Sweet Satan." Murdoc breathed.
Behind him, Noodle was still yelling something at Russel that he couldn't catch as the other male desperately tried to calm the girl panicked down. "Do'ya think he's still alive?" He asked Murdoc, almost in a whisper. As if to answer him, the boy began to stir and cough, causing all three to gasp in surprise.
"W-whozzat..?" The young man began quietly in a thick Cockney accent, trying to open his eyes but when he did he quickly shut them again, sharply hissing in pain through his teeth. Or rather, a gap through his teeth, the front two seemed to be missing.
Russel tried to go near the kid but Murdoc stopped him, hand gripping the other man's shoulder, dichromatic eyes hard in a glare. "Leave 'im." He commanded, his voice deep and guttural. Finally, he released the large man's squishy shoulder and began to saunter off back to the safe house.
"We can't just leave the kid here; he's still alive! We can help him." Russel pleaded, staring at the injured young man dangling pitifully, his consciousness swimming around, muttering something about needing to use the toilet badly. Whatever strength the skinny twerp had was disappearing fast.
"Oh yes we fuckin' can." Murdoc argued without turning to Russel, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and lit one. "Why do you think he's even here, mate?" Murdoc asked, pointing to the tree with the hand that was occupied with the cancer-stick. When the white-eyed man didn't answer, Murdoc continued. "Obviously the zombies couldn't have roped him up and left him 'ere for fun, right? This kid," He finally turned around, expression dark. "Fucked up somefin' fierce and now he's payin' the price." With that said, Murdoc stuck the cigarette between his lips and dragged the toxic smoke in deeply.
Russel frowned. "Whatever he did doesn't matter now. He could be helpful to us," He dug deep into his pocket and pulled out a hunting knife, making his way to the blue hair boy. "After all, 'safety in numbers'. Those were your words, Murdoc."
Murdoc gritted his teeth, throwing his arms up in the air in defeat. "Fuckin' whatever. But if that dullard smothers me in my sleep, I will haunt your fat arse, got it?" He said with a growl, puffing away grumpily at his cigarette. It was obvious that Russel wasn't going to leave the kid there and would have cut him loose anyways, but that doesn't mean Murdoc still can't be bitter about it.
Without further interruption, Russel took the knife and began sawing away at the thick rope tightly binding the poor blue haired boy's thin wrists. Freed at last, the stranger slumped forward, completely unconscious.
Russel quickly caught him, scooping the blue haired boy over his shoulder. Feeling a slight tug on his pants leg, the American looked down at a very concerned Noodle, her brows knitted tightly together in worry.
"Kare wa daijōbudeshou ka?" She asked slowly, not taking her eyes off of the blood stained blue hair. Although Russel could not understand all of what she said, he was certain she was asking about the young man who was currently out for the count.
"He's gonna be alright, baby-girl." The black male reassured her, taking her tiny hand in his large, free one and started back to the safe farmhouse. "Let's go get him cleaned up, okay?"
Murdoc trailed after them after a few moments to himself, madly puffing on his cigarette to calm his nerves. Checking the edges of the littered backyard, the Satanist found no traces of any infected or the mark of a named band. Crushing the remains of his cigarette with the heel of his Cuban boots, Murdoc made his way back to the house, where he pretended not to notice the unconscious tall man on the dirty, worn couch, or Russel cleaning the blood from his head wounds with a washcloth (possibly from the bathroom upstairs, if Murdoc recalled the running water from earlier) and Noodle standing beside him, colorful band aids in hand.
Heaving a sigh, the dark haired man slumped into the worn recliner that sat opposite to the occupied couch. Feeling bored of watching Russel play nurse, Murdoc reached for his dropped duffle bag for his bass and began strumming a nonsensical tune until the wide-set male in front of him stood from his crouched position.
"There's an empty room upstairs he can rest in." Russel said, more to himself than to Murdoc. The bassist wasn't paying him much mind anyways. Gently, the black male picked up the younger blue haired teen and carried him up the stairs, the boy's long, bony limbs swished back and forth with the heavy footfalls.
Murdoc scoffed when Russel was out of earshot. "What a poof."
Turning his attention to the child in front of him, Murdoc continued playing on his bass as they watched each other. Eventually, Noodle became brave enough to get closer to the bassist and sat right in front of him, admiring how his untrimmed, cracked nails strummed the chords of the instrument.
Suddenly, he stopped. "What's with the helmet, luv? Bad haircut or somefin'?" He asked, tapping her helmet lightly. He figured it was a safe question and hoped she would understand. Thankfully, she caught on and gave a small "oh!" in realization, quickly taking her helmet off, showing the inside to Murdoc.
"Head-phone!" She exclaimed happily, her thick Japanese accent cutting through the words like a sword. Peering into the helmet Murdoc saw that there was, in fact, a pair of speakers on either side where Noodle's ears would be. He took the headphones into his hands and inspected it further, whistling lowly.
"Impressive." He said, handing it back to the girl, flicking the antenna jutting out from one of the earphones. "That bit for a radio or somefin'?" He asked. Noodle gave him a blank look, tilting her head from side to side, her messy black hair following her movement. After a moment of confused silence, Murdoc tried again, much slower while pointing to the helmet. "Radio?"
Finally understanding what the bassist meant, Noodle grinned, showing off her pearly whites. "Hai!" She exclaimed, putting her helmet back on. Right then the heavy stomps of Russel could be heard coming down the stairs. Moments later confirmed that the large American was now on the first floor with everyone else. It took all of Murdoc's inner strength to not make a snide remark over how the other male was acting towards the blue haired stranger.
"So," Russel began, taking a seat in the now empty couch, causing the cushion to dip under his weight. Noodle joined him on the other cushion, kicking her legs that couldn't quiet reach the floor. "What's your plan this time, Murdoc?"
The Satanist raised an eyebrow from under his dirty fringe. "What do ye mean? We're safe, ain't we?" He leaned forward in his seat. "We're goin' into town when the sun's up, look for supplies. Ya know; food an' shite. 'Till then," Murdoc stood, stretching out his sore limbs, moaning when they gave a satisfying pop. "Wash up an' get rest, because I will not have someone lag behind, got et?" With that, the bassist made his way to the stairs for a well-deserved shower on his achy muscles.
Russel nodded, standing up and motions for Noodle to follow, and was about to tell her about another bedroom she could use when—
Thump!
"Blimey!"
Rushing past Murdoc, Noodle took the stairs two at a time, Russel following behind her. Growling, the satanic bassist followed the duo into the bedroom the blue boy occupied. When there, he saw that both Russel and Noodle were just standing in the doorway, staring down at the teen in shock. He had somehow tangled himself up in his sleep and fell off of the bed, blinking up at the group like a deer in headlights.
Only there were no visible eyes.
His eyes were complete black holes, vacant.
My God, Murdoc thought to himself staring into the deep black, depths. That's beautiful.