Noodle stares at the spinning clothes in the wash. There is that soapy detergent smell of
a laundrymat. she can feel the weak strength of a ceiling fan trying to cool the room down. Instead the spinning blades only move the humid, sticky, afternoon air around. Russ wipes a few beads of sweat from his forehead and continues to shovel soba noodles and shrimp into his mouth. They had ordered chinese to go and were currently doing a bit of laundry.
Noodle adverts her eyes and uses her chopsticks to slip a piece of pork from her pork and broccoli dish into her mouth. She then turns her attention to the map she had in her hand. Places they had checked already were marked in red, places they hadn't in blue, and even some backtracking was done in green. She sighs and shakes her head, not entirely pleased with the results at hand. She wasn't sure how they hadn't come across Murdoc yet. She and Russ had always had a way of finding him. Then again, in the past he had always willed them to find them.
She puts a few more marks down on the map and taps her head, humming all the while. It's the guitar solo to feel good inc. She takes to chewing on the end of the pencil. She could really go for a smoke at the moment, but her mind was determined and one tracked on finding 2-D. She makes a few more sketchy marks on the map and looks up to Russel, who's white eyes seem fixated on the spinning of their clothes.
She folds the map back up and slides it into her pocket, then she takes the small box her meal was in and begins to finish it. Though she didn't feel as though they were any closer to finding the singer, she had to admit it was nice just to relax. Even if they were in some hot, cruddy, godforsaken, laundry room; eating chinese food out of a little semi cardboard box.
"What's the plan, baby girl?" Russ finally spoke up, before of course putting another bunch of noodles into his mouth and slirping.
"I say we head more north east, see if we can find anything up that way." She says as she thinks about their least searched direction. Not that they didn't have probably the entire world to search, but she had this hunch they were still in the U.K. Or at least somewhere in Europe.
"Alright, you got it. Whatever you say we do, you're the boss." He gives a nod and watches as the laundry finishes drying.
Noodle stands and begins to get their clothes from the dryer, placing them neatly back into the suitcases. She does this between bites of her food, and sips of her soda. She never once breaks stride, but that is noodle. Once she has her mind set on something she doesn't stop till it gets done. Russ finishes off his noodles while she works, and once she is done with her task she quickly shovels the rest of hers into her mouth.
The two give each other a nod and each picks up their own suitcase. They toss their boxes away into a trashcan that sits at the exit and then hop back into their car after tossing their suitcases into the trunk. Noodle gets comfortable and clips her seatbelt on, Russ following lead. Stuart was not the only one affected by Murdoc's driving it would seem. She gives Russ a look and a nod to let him know she is ready to move when he is. He gives the key a turn and there's the grinding noise of the engine as the car starts, and they drive off from the laundromat.
"How long are we planin' to search, Noods?" He asks looking to her a split second before focusing on the road again.
"As long as we have to." She says with a small shrug. Causing the drummer to sigh and shake his head.
"We've been at this for about four and a half months, we are gonna have to stop eventually, go back home. We ain't had a homecooked meal, or nothin' real good for us since we left. We can't live like this forever." He looks at her with a rather worried expression on his face. This wasn't healthy for either of them, especially Noodle. It was all she focused on and Russ is beginning to worry about her.
Instead of giving him an answer she reaches for a CD from the glove compartment. It's The Fall. The Album Stuart made all on his own. Russ sighs as she puts it in. Anymore it was her only way to find comfort. He gives a sad look which he directs to the road as he continues on.
Murdoc stops the car and takes a moment to look over at Stuart, who wears a rather worried look. The bassist squeezes the wheel of the car tightly and huffs a few breaths. 2-D had only been talking to an old friend he'd once known. A boy he went to school with. That however didn't seem to bode well, as Murdoc had gone deathly quiet, only to growl a demand that he get into the car immediately, after his old mate had walked away.
Murdoc was renting some crappy studio apartment for the time being, so he could actually take a break from running for just a few months. After all, Noodle and Russ couldn't be so stupid as to come after them after his warning, it was implausible. They knew he was dangerous, and more so when he actually meant to carry through with his warning.
The satanist huff more and leans closer to the wheel with an unearthly growl. He's angry and Stuart knows it. The bluenette presses to the car door, as though it will save him. However this makes him feel no less nervous about the current situation.
"Ge' out of the car, go up the apartment. Sit yer arse down on the fuckin' bed. And stay there. " The most terrifying part is that he isn't yelling. He is quiet, there is just that growling in his voice. Stuart nods his head in silent understanding.
"Stay 'ere until I ge' back." He continues. Stuart thinks about asking where his mate is going but Murdoc provides the answer before the words are out. "I'm goin' tah the pub."
Tooey isn't sure why but that excites him a bit and his face heats up. He tries to adjust himself so Murdoc won't notice. There is silence between the two till Murdoc slams his hand on the edge of the wheel with a great amount of force. In reply the blue bird jumps and opens the car door to book it into their apartment as the other had instructed him. He can hear the car pulling away as he does this.
He doesn't try to run away anymore, or ask to go home. He's all but given up on it. It's pointless anyway. Murdoc would only come after him again if he did manage to make it home. And if the bassist allowed him to go home it was only a matter of time till he changed his mind. With that at the forefront stuart take to the fridge in the apartment. He noticed the beer at the bottom of the fridge and with a sigh took a six pack. He then set about making himself a peanut butter and jelly sits on the bed and turns the telly on to watch whatever rubbish may be airing.
By the time Murdoc gets 2-D is already coming down from his drunken state. He still feels a bit of the buzz and he thanks Buddha that he doesn't have a hangover. He hears Murdoc's car pull up and after a minute or so he hears the 'fwump' of boots against wooden stairs. He wishes these walls were thicker now, because the sound of Muds heading up to their apartment makes the experience worse. (Or maybe better, his goosebumps betray him in his slightly inebriated state.)
As expected the door flies open, hitting against the wall with a cracking sound, and Stu-pot wouldn't be surprised if wood chips flew off of the wall. Luckily they don't so they won't have to pay for repairs, which is good when they are getting to the point they can hardly make the rest every month. Of course all these thoughts are forgotten when sharp red and black eyes start to burn holes into him. He shudders and his breath catches in his throat.
" 'Ello, Stuaht." Murdoc chuckles, and although it is not shocking that the demon has a bottle of alcohol in his hand, the singer is shocked to see the handcuffs. No not shocked, scared. He knows what those mean and he hardly likes it, maybe he does, he can't tell anymore. His body does weird things, which is entirely frustrating during this already frustrating time.
"M-mudsh, put vose fings away, awright? I didn' do noffin', sho jusht calm down…" He's shaking now, he can hear his heart beat in his ears and his palms are sweating. Murdoc keeps stepping forward and for some reason the blue-bird feels that closing his eyes may make this more bearable.
The shackles find one of the singers wrists, bringing it behind his back, soon joining the other with it. He locks them tighter than normal, biting hard into Stuarts wrists. He whines, his heart sinking because he knows what comes next. He knows the pain (not pain, it no longer hurts too badly), the fear, and the initial need to be intoxicated. Smoke more of that damn medicine (it's weed he can't lie.) He shuts his eyes tight again, and to no surprise he is thrown back on the bed. The strange part is that he feels the wall behind his back, he is propped up.
The bassist straddles the singers legs, and it is far too confusing for the blue-jay, beyond unused to this kind of approach. Then the bassist has his hands on the taller mans shirt, his nails- no, claws to be exact- dig into the fabric and he tears it so easily that the other fears what would have happened if that had of been his skin. He shudders and swallows hard big black, blood filled eyes staring with complete terror at the older man. He has no clue what is going on, and another part of him is entirely upset that one of his favorite- and still intact- shirts was just destroyed. Of course his attention is redirected when the demon removes his shirt as well, revealing his sickly and repulsive body. This is of course what the other was expecting, but he becomes thoroughly confused when the other starts to remove the cross from around his neck.
"Well, well two dents, guess 'oo's gonna get a nice new scar?" The bluenettes brows furrow and he looks at the other confused. He doesn't like the sound of having a scar but he isn't entirely sure how the other plans to give it to him either. Murdoc pulls a zippo from his pocket, holding the metal inverted crucifix over it. "You a', I'm gonna make sure you're mahked up all nice like. Fuckin' dullard."
Stuart starts to shake pathetically, like the mistreated animal he is, like the quivering bitch he feels like, because the other has begun to heat the metal with the zippo. It thoroughly horrifies him and tears begin to roll down his cheeks, this is followed by choked out sobs as he tries to curl in on himself, it's no use with his hands behind him back and the demon upon his legs.
"Muhdoch, pweashe? I didn do nuffin, I shwear I been good this 'ole time." He starts to beg and plead with the other. It's useless though, because the wicked grin on the Bassists face only increases.
"Oh, course yah, didn't. Thought I wouldn' notice, aye?" The demon pulls the inverted cross from the flame and closes the zippo, setting it quickly on the bed and wrapping his free hand in his removed shirt, using it to keep from burning himself.
There is a loud scream. A blinding pain that courses through the blue singer. The sound is high pitched, something unfamiliar to even Murdoc. The smell of burning skin fills the air about the room. There is even a soft sizzling sound to accompany it as the form of the satanic symbol is burned fully into the vocalists chest, leaving it's mark. The green man laughs hysterically as the other tries to thrash away from him, his unaccompanied hand finding the singers throat and holding him still while he brands his skin.
To Murdoc he finds this delightful, the most permanent mark he can ever make on the boy, the harshest of punishments, the most assured method of owning him. And it is all wrapped up in the lovely experience of inflicting a severe burn on his frontman. He couldn't ask for anything more. He can feel blood rushing to lower regions of his body, muscles becoming attentive at the sight of the bastardous weakling below him. Sweet SATAN he loves it.
When he finally removes the metal it is only because it has finished cooling, and he peels it away from the entirely destroyed swelling flesh on Stu-pot's chest. It bleeds in some places but most has been cauterized by the sheer severity of the heat. Stuart whimpers and sniffles, his eyes somewhat tired, and even Murdoc -in a drunken stupor as he is- doesn't doubt that he would have passed out if subjected to the burning any longer. His green boney fingers extend to brush along it. This coaxes a simmering hiss from the victim followed by cries and whimpers.
"I d-didn't do noffin'! I d-didn'..." His voice is afraid, confused, and pained when he speaks.
"Oh~ Don' think I didn' catch chyoo flirtin' with thaht kid from your ol' highschool or what the fuck ever! I Saw what was goin' on there. No matter though. Don' gotta worry now. All mine now...heh heh. Got tah marks tah prove it too. Fuckin' pretty work if i do say so mahself." At Murdoc's statement Stuarts eyes widen.
"Muhdshy, I wasn' flirtin' I wasn'. I was jush' talkin' wiff him, I…" He's cut off by a hard smack to the head, one that sends him crashing to his side.
"Shuddup! Did I fuckin' ask you! No! I know what I fuckin' saw you little slut! I'm not fuckin' enough am I!? I'm not enough for you!? Yew gotta get out there and have any piece o' dick 'at walks yah way, don't yew?!"
Stu-pot is about to speak up again when he feels a knee to his stomach. A fist to his side. And elbow in his ribcage, and he feels like he's going to throw up. He feels his hair being tugged hard and by now he has completely blacked out. He is pretty sure Murdoc has thrown him to the ground, he can't be entire sure, but he feels as though he's hit wood. He's stopped responding at this point, allowing the other to beat him completely. It's better than sleeping with him. No that's not what it is, it's being violated. A beating is so much better than being violated, he can handle a beating, or so he thinks. The last thing he feels is a hard kick to the temple and all is lost.
"Now, fuckin' get up you useless piece of shit!" Murdoc snaps, his sharp teeth grinding on each other. The blue bird doesn't move, doesn't answer, doesn't even whimper. "I said GEDDUP!" He screeches. Then it hits him. There was no response, no sound, not even a shifting of eyes behind lids. There was no sound of labored or shallow breathing.
"Stuart?" The question is said with a softness to it that not even Murdoc quite understands. He looks about the room because he can't believe that was his own voice. He can't believe he had that kind of gentleness in him. He clears his throat. "St-stu-pot? A'right, 'at's 'nough playin' dead, geddup...If yew a'e fuckin' unconscious I'm gonna beat the shit outta you ten times wo'se than I did just now." Murdoc is beginning to sober up.
He kneels next to the bluenette and smacks his cheek lightly a few times, he feels a bit clammy, gross even. It's unnerving. When he gets no response he lowers his ear next to the others mouth and nose, trying to catch a breath. There was none, none at all. His green skin raises with chills, hairs on his body standing on end. *No.* His hand moves quickly to turn the other over to undo his wrists from the handcuffs. He gets it done with fumbly hands, and it takes to long for his liking. His fingers rest upon raw wrists, testing for some kind of pulse. No. No! NO!
"Wake up! Fuckin' wake up Dullard!" He screeches, his body beginning to shake. His arms wrap around a lifeless body. He pulls him close and holds him tight, pressed hard against his bare chest. He shudders and shivers. For the first time in a very long time Murdoc feels tears pricking needles at the back of his eyes, that feeling of a ball in his throat. He doesn't even fight the tears, letting them fall with a haunting honesty. "Wake up Stuart. Oh fuck, please wake up Stu-pot! Please." His voice breaks and he nuzzles into the others hair, after all this time it still smells a bit sweet. This only serves in drawing more tears, more pain. His heart throbs hard, and he swears he can feel it shatter. He didn't even know he still had that, but he did now, because now he felt it break into a thousand tiny pieces.
He hoists the other into his arms, holding him like a bride as he stumbles over to the bed. He rests him on it, resting the blue mess of hair upon a pillow. His gnarled fingers brush softly over the beaten face. And even with 2-D on the bed Murdoc is able to pull the piece of furniture to the center of the room, though he does stumble and fall, due to his mental and emotional state. He has never felt so broken in his life. He positions the bed and hurries over to a drawer. He retrieves from it his candles and a book with what even appears to be wicked writing upon it. He grips his inverted crucifix hard and begins to place the candles in a circle.
"'S-s'okay, Stu-pot, s-s'alright. We'll getchya fixed up nice an' new. Promise we will." he says through sobs as he begins to set everything up. How could he be so fucking stupid, how could he kill -MURDER- the man he loves? How could he do this? He always said he was heartless, he never MEANT IT! He never thought he was capable of this. That's not to say he hadn't murdered before. He had. He had never felt one bit of guilt. This though, this was different! This was Stuart '2-D' Pot. HIS singer. His.
He quickly finds the ritual, and seeing as he does not have the time to grab a sacrifice he looks to his hand. It will have to do. It will have to. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath he sinks his teeth hard into the heel of his palm. It's a terrible feeling, the needle like teeth piercing flesh, denting and entering it, like contaminated medical shots. With a quick turn of his head he begins to bleed. A chunk of flesh now missing from his hand he spits it to the ground. This will have to do, it will have to. He readies to light the candles, and finds the page he needs in his book.
He is GOING TO bring Stuart back. If it kills him.
Author note-
Thank you so much for waiting so long. I apologize for how long this chapter too to get out. I had a lot on my plate as of late and my creative juices haven't been flowing well, but here's a new chapter and I will start working on the next one, which will probably be short as it is just a wrap up for this one. Hope you guys will stick around, and Don't worry. Things will be alright, after all; without 2-D how can I have any more fun?
