Roasted

His eyes opened, the world a mix of shadows ranging from reds to oranges and hints of black in between. The birds were silent for the most part, unless cawing out when the meal of the night was spotted. Sunset…

So lovely. He actually enjoyed the serenity of it, reflecting its calm on his little island. How generous. Feeding him pleasant thoughts while lounging on his deck. Couldn't ask for a better moment in time…though he did miss the company of a woman…at this point he wouldn't even have judged. What solitude did to a man. He pulled his face off the plastic coated strips of his lounge chair, lifting a lazy arm to rub the gathering spit off the corner of his lips. Seemed like a good nap, and the chair wasn't as uncomfortable when done belly down, aside from the skin taping itself to it. With a sniff, he slowly stretched his neck, listening to each and every crack popping back into place. Perhaps a massage could be snuck into his very busy Plastic Beach agenda, right after his snack and just before another nap. He was positive he could program some kind of mode into that robot for a simple massage. Couldn't cook worth biscuits, though. Nearly imploded all of Plastic Beach with the microwave alone.

It seemed the mosquitoes were managing to start their own life on the foul isle, and without the bassist's consent. The man growled as he felt the prick of the nasty little vermin along his neck, leisurely sucking away at his precious life. Well, he would have none of that. Not on his expense anyway. A quick swat ended the creature's feast. It also managed to morph from a simple relief to an electrocution of horror.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAHHHHHH!"

The man jumped off the chair as it collapsed on itself, waving his hands in order to cool off the pain spreading from his neck, but to no avail. The damage had been done. The pain throbbed up the left side of his face down to the very soles of his feet, itching and pricking with every movement he made. The weight shifting on his feet continually created a chain reaction of never ending hell. Within seconds he abandoned his post, slipping through the glass doors into the cool hallway. He slapped the wall as he bit down on his lip, heaving as the pain crawled under his skin with its own heart beat. Falling asleep in that blistering sun…what had he been on? Of all the idiotic…

"Oy, gov! Jus' catchin' up on some din-…Caesar's ghost, cap. Wot in blazin' 'ell 'appened to you?"

Lifting his head painfully so, Murdoc glared out at the handyman of the island, and second human of Plastic Beach, Dave. The indolent conman merely stared at him, a baseball bat tucked away behind him as if Murdoc couldn't notice, but at the moment, the man hardly cared what his handyman would need with one anyway. "S'exactly wot 'appened to me." he barked in a hiss, nails scraping along the paneling as he slowly lowered his arms with clenched teeth. Dave remained quiet, avoiding eye contact with the unevenly scorched skin mask. The best reaction was none at all when it came to Murdoc.

"Looks like yeh could use some o' that coolin' lube for burns. Works on all types, work related and leisure. That oughta set you straight." the mechanic offered with a smile, backing a good five steps or so when the bassist nearly launched at him, "Well, wot the fuck are yeh waitin' for, yeh twit? Let's 'ave it!"

Jerking a thumb back, Dave did his best to attach himself to the wall as far away from the boss as possible. Living was essential in order to enjoy the money he was swindling. "I left it in 2D's room! Used it when I got a shock usin' 'is plugs! 'e oughta know where it is!" the stout Brit clambered, leaping to the other side of the hall as Murdoc charged passed, cursing the world and his father as he did so. Shaking his head, Dave released a slow whistle, heading off in the other direction. God help the poor lad now.

It took a ghastly ten minutes before the bassist remembered how to get to the singer's room all those floors below. A twist took him here, and a turn took him there, but neither took him where he required being, and time was being quite unreasonable with him in his current condition. By the time he found the boy's room, his rage and limit for pain had reached to just about the temperature boiling on his back. He was in no mood to be messing with doorknobs now. Preparing for the worst, Murdoc slammed his foot against the swollen wood, breaking off the lock and handle. His teeth clenched tightly as the singer screamed from the corner on his bed, covering his face before peeking out to make sure his window was still intact. However, his gaze managed to only lock on the man charging in, clad in nothing more than a pair of zebra striped knickers. The man looked ready to kill.

"WHERE'S THE FUCKIN' LUBE?"

There was a fraction of silence before the bluehead's hands slipped off his face into his lap, brows pressed and eyes winced. Surely, he had misunderstood…

"…W-Wot?"

Items began to fly as Murdoc slapped them to the floor, yanking out drawers, "THE LUBE! THE LUBE! DAVE'S LUBE! I NEED IT NOW!" he hissed, ignoring the look of horror on the lad's face.

"I-I don't 'ave any o' that stuff!"

"Dave said 'e used it in 'ere last time 'e came in. I swear teh yeh dullard, if yeh don't find it I PROMISE YEH IT'LL 'URT YOU WAY MORE THAN ITS HURTIN' ME!" the bassist heaved, taking a heavy step towards the young man who was throwing himself against the wall, porthole or not. "Oh my GOD!" the singer cried, burying himself in the furthest corner he could find. He had to barricade himself, avoid contact at all costs, find an extra pair of trousers if possible. There was no way in hell or deep water he was going down like this. NO way. He squeaked when the eldest shouted in triumph, expecting him to rip the sheets right off him, but when he opened his scrunched eyes he saw nothing more than the leader handling a white tube, desperately trying to pop the lid off. Dear lord, what was this island coming to? 2D pulled the blanket over his hair, shrinking into himself as the man managed to break it open, pouring a sizable amount into his palm before slathering it all along his face. He trailed it down his neck and along his arms, sighing in relief with each spread.

"Oy, dullard! Get over 'ere!"

The young Brit squealed before shoving himself so hard he fell off the edge of the bed, blankets and all. Eying the mess behind him, Murdoc only shook his head, mood brightening as the Robot Noodle marched along in the hallway, peering in at the sight of its master. "Excellent! Cyber Noodle! Make yo'self useful an' rub this ointment on me back." he ordered, careful to hand her the tube without much contact on his behalf. He turned on his toes, blowing along his arm as the cooling agent of the cream began to immediately sooth his irritation. "Murdoc Niccals master….Gorillaz…leader…Command detected…Accepted." the machine lopped off, squeezing the rest of the tube out on the victim's back while the singer righted himself on the floor and peeked over the bed's edge at the scene. The robot was in on this as well?

Her eyes gazed firmly at her hand before shoving it against the bassist's skin, a foul cry erupting from his throat, "GAHHH! ARE YOU FUCKIN' NUTS YEH PIECE O' JUNK? GENTLY! GENTLY!" Crawling under his bed, 2D shivered, wrapped like a mummy, paler than a ghost. It seemed there were new things to be fearful of on Plastic Beach…and the whale wasn't one of them.

Author's Note: Geez, I'm horrible. XD Wrote this with a migraine in tact, but it had to be done. This idea of Murdoc being burned has been floating around me head since Plastic Beach first came out. I just needed a good structure to write it out, even if it was short. I enjoy this one. I think 2D's going to be disturbed for a long while. I mean it is dark down there. Who was he to notice the burns? XD