Murdoc walked cautiously along the alleyway. The walls of the buildings to his left and right were incredibly close together, creating a narrow path that made movement difficult. He cursed himself as he continued forward. What was he doing, being led into a dark and isolated space where no one could see him, by what sounded like a scary and mysterious figure? Thinking further on the matter, Murdoc decided that anything would be better than playing more music with those brainless baboons.

It was a cold November day. The wind was cool and relentless. Murdoc cursed himself again, this time for not thinking of bringing a coat with him. His breath formed thin, white clouds of evaporation that rose slowly into the night sky. But it wasn't the weather that chilled him to the bone.

"Yes, come closer... I'd like to discuss something with you..."

The words spoken by the disembodied voice were drawn out and could just barely be heard. Murdoc wondered who could possibly want to discuss something with him. There was a reason he was always in a sour mood. He'd never received any love in his life, not even from his family. Of course, there was that bartender... but she had been too drunk to realize he was only nine years old. He tried not to think about it too much.

"You're almost there... keep going..."

Suddenly, the cool breeze disappeared. Murdoc was no longer cold, and the snow that had began to pile up in the alleyway melted. It was strange, but he had seen stranger. Walking at a brisk pace, he halted when he reached the end of the road. Literally, as the ground that had led him here no longer existed, a large pit standing where the end of the road should have been.

"Odd..."

A flight of stone stairs spiraled down to the bottom of the pit. Murdoc peered down, unable to make out who could possibly be down there. He hurried down the steps, anxious to meet him face to face. In his state of desperation, he didn't think twice about the risk of danger or the consequence of his actions. He just wanted a band that didn't sound like a group of dying hyenas.

Murdoc reached a small platform, fire blazing from the depths of the surrounding pit. At the end of this labyrinth of heat stood a solitary figure in a jet black cloak.

"Hello, Murdoc..."

He turned to face the satanic bassist, whose mouth hung open in awe. The man had no visible facial features, save for two glowing red eyes that seemed to stare into the very depths of his soul. He laughed in a low and malicious manner.

"Yes... I've been expecting you... You need me... I am your savior... I will give you life... You know who I am."

"Uhh... you're a Jawa?"

The figure laughed again, this time very loudly.

"Of course not... I've been listening to your prayers, Murdoc... you wish for my assistance..."

Sudden realization came across Murdoc's face. He quickly bowed before him, kissing the ground and mumbling satanic words of worship.

"Oh, Satan! I've been waiting for the day you would reveal yourself to me! Please forgive my acts of goodness! Please give me the strength to sin some more!" He gazed up at his bright red eyes. "You wish to make a proposition with me?"

Seeing that Murdoc had properly taken hold of his bait, Satan continued his evil intentions. "Yes. I've noticed how you wish to play in halfway-decent band."

Murdoc's eyes glowed with appreciation.

"Well I won't let you."

If there had been an orchestra in the background playing triumphant music, it would have screeched to a halt. Murdoc sank to the ground in disappointment.

"But... I don't understand... I've been working so hard and..."

Satan uttered another booming laugh. "Yes, I won't let you. But I will allow you to play in a truly great band. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Murdoc quickly perked up. "Oh, thank you, O Holy Lord of Badness! I promise to continue your work on the-"

"There's something you must promise me first, however."

"Yes, anything!"

Satan spoke clearly, intent on making sure Murdoc understood every word.

"I want you to kill your band mates after your first album."

This shocked Murdoc into silence. Sure, he had done horrible things in the past, but murder? The taking of lives? What an awful thing to do. What an unbelievably wretched and evil practice to partake in. Could he really stoop that low?

"I'll do it."

Yes. Yes he could.

He shook Satan's hand.