2D is sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the side of his shoe. Still feeling awful for the mistake he had made the night before, he sighs and wonders if Cortez was still angry with him. He knew how hard it had been, for the raven to explain where the bassist was, and how he had gotten there. Although the raven had no way of giving the young man any details, so 2D's mistake was in a way, inevitable, at least to a certain degree. The raven had also explained about the impostor being a demon, although 2D had not really understood that completely, and still remained focused on the idea that Murdoc was possessed. 2D blamed himself for not completely understanding any of it, in the first place. Thinking that maybe if he wasn't slow in mind and unable to retain information for more than a few minutes at times, Murdoc would be back to his old self, and safe. He stops and thinks about that for a moment.

"So why do I haffta go down tah Hell again?" he ponders. He shakes off the thought with a sigh and looks down at his hands, studying the lines and creases.

Slowly he balls them into fists, turning them over to watch the way the skin stretches over the knuckles, them turning them back to look at his palms again, as he relaxes them. He could not help but to think how useless they were. Little more than lumps of flesh, muscle and bone. Just like the rest of him really, he thinks, looking down at the rest of himself, and feeling utterly hopeless. He lays back , resting his weight on his elbows. His whole body slumps as if wracked by exhaustion, his muscles limp and stringy. If it were not for his bones, he'd be little more than a globule of human skin, topped off with messy blue hair. He groans and drops down further on the bed, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing his tired eye holes with the heels of his palms. A mournful moan slips from his lips and slides around the room, traveling up to the ceiling and echoing around the corners. Until it falls gently back down to him, like a thousand autumn leaves. One by one landing on him and around him, buying him until only the toes of his shoes can be seen.

The passage of time seems to slip slowly through the air, and he feels as though he had lived a thousand years. It all seemed too heavy, much too heavy. Weighing him down and suffocating his senses. He sighs again and slides his hands down from his eyes, folding them together on his stomach. The flickering light from the giant Pong screens, draw his attention and he turns his head to look at them. Back and forth the little cursor ball bounces. Bloop, bloop, bloop. The sound almost an echo of the dull numbness he feels in his soul, as if it had been snatched away in the night, leaving a gaping wound in it's place. His smile and personality stripped away, leaving little more than a plastic shell behind, a plastic doll. Row upon row of plastic 2Ds. Fake smiles, and pointy plastic hair. Hundreds of them, thousands of them, all lined up like soldiers, stretching out toward the horizon, and not a one of them unique to another. Bloop, bloop, bloop.

He turns his head again and looks up at the ceiling. A crack in the paintwork high above him, catches his eye. He slightly tips his head toward his shoulder, staring at the crack, trying to bring his vision clear. It still comes back to him, as little more than a dull blur. Nonetheless, he tries. The crack seems to be growing, longer and wider, pieces of plaster and flakes of paint falling down on him. A rumble seems to grow in the distance. The room shaking and causing objects to fall from the shelves. He furrows his brow and sits up, not sure if he is imagining it or not. A sharp crack, like snapping timbers makes him flinch and turn his head towards the sound, as the room begins to shake even more violently, Keyboards fall from the walls, one of them bouncing off the bed and falling to the floor. He turns his head rapidly from side to side, trying to take it all in, gripping the bed tightly in his fingers, gasping with panic. Was this an Earthquake? There is another cracking sound from above him at the ceiling, splinters of wood raining down all around him. He snaps his face up towards the sound, raising his arms over his head to protect himself, just as a huge clawed hand reaches down from the gaping hole in the ceiling, it's fingers wrapping around him tightly and lifting him high off the bed, carrying him upwards to the hole and whatever menacing force lay beyond it.

2D screams and sits up, sheets of sweat coating his body, panting furiously. He leaps from under the bedclothes and looks about. However, nothing seems to of changed. Walking rapidly across the room, he snaps on the light, checking the ceiling. Squinting hard, he sees there is no crack, or any sign that there had been one. He lowers his eyes to the floor, rubbing the back of his neck, confused. Had he dreamed it, all of it? Did this mean that Murdoc was safe? That he didn't need to go down to Hell? That he had not really been learning how to fight and summon demons at all, and he was just being silly. He drops his hand from the back of his neck, and weakly reaches for the light switch, switching the light off again. Slowly he negotiates his way through the dark room, lit only by the giant Pong screens, and drops limply back onto the side of the bed. Bloop, bloop, bloop. He runs his hands back through his messy blue hair, while looking down at the sides of his bare feet, for a second lost in a daze. Sliding his hands down to the back of his neck, he holds them there for a moment, pressing his fingertips gently into the place where his neck meets his skull. Slowly a smile creeps up the corners of his mouth, and he begins to chuckle about how silly it all sounded. Of course Murdoc didn't need him and Cortez to rescue him. He waves it all off and lays back down, pulling the bedclothes back over himself. He settles half propped by his pillow, and reaches over to his side table, sliding a cigarette from his pack, and lighting it. He drops the lighter back down, and rests his head back on the headboard, picking under one of his fingernails with the other, watching a faint smoke trail gently move through the air from the cigarette resting between his lips. He draws heavily, the ashen end of the cigarette glowing brightly in the dim light, the sound of burning and hissing from it, just a little too loud in the quiet of the room. He lifts a hand and takes the cigarette from his mouth, thinking as he blows a long trail of smoke toward the Pong screens. Smiling again, he settles further down in the bed, dropping his head onto the pillow, and gazing up into the inky depths of the ceiling.

"I fink some right silly fings at times." he giggles to himself.

The next morning at breakfast, 2D is sitting at the table, head down, cheek resting on the tables cool surface, fast asleep. Murdoc walks in and kicks out a chair, disturbing the young man. The keyboardist snaps wide-awake and yawning, sits up, scratching the back of his head. He turns to say good morning to the bassist, but instantly sees the dullness in the old man's eyes. It had not been a dream at all. This was not Murdoc.

Realizing he could not waste any more time, and determined to make up for his mistake. 2D decides to just get down to the Hell hole room, and rescue the old man himself. He knew his fighting skills were non-existent, but he hoped to avoid a lot of that, by simply hiding as much as possible. Just to be on the safe side, he would take his weapon. Grabbing his backpack and specially made bracelet, he loads the spell books and a few jars of ingredients into the bag. Stopping and thinking carefully to make certain he did not forget anything. He mentally goes over a few of the defensive spells he had learned, opening the bag again and rechecking the ingredients. He decides to bring a bottle of Scotch and an extra pack of cigarettes to be sure, shoving them into the bag as well. Then going over the mental list one more time, he satisfies himself that he has everything, and closes the bag. Picking up his weapon, he heads for the lift shaft. Cortez is sitting on the Winnie's roof lamenting the loss of his master, when he sees 2D out of the corner of his eye. He nearly falls off the wagon when he spots the young man step through the hole in the car park wall.

'Ce? What that hombre theenk he doing!' Cortez splutters, taking off at great speed to try and stop him. The bird lands on the railing of the lift, as 2D presses the down button and the lift begins to move.

"No Cortez. I messed up and I'm gunna make it right." the young man snaps, brushing the raven aside as it tries to step on the stop button. "Look, stop it will yah. Just go back to the Winnie, okay?" The bird pecks his arm and continues trying to step on the button, filled with dread of what he imagined would happen to the young man, if he went down to Hell so unprepared. Not that he cared about the young man, but more that he didn't fancy the idea of starting again with anyone else. Although, he is impressed with the keyboardists determination. 2D roughly shoves the bird aside one more time, not being careful or gentle any more. Finally the raven backs away. He looks at the young man's body language and the firm expression etched into his face, and can plainly see the keyboardist really meant it. Regardless of what the bird wanted him to do, he had every intention of going through with this.

'I get you wrong amigo. You is annoying and stoopeed, si. But you is one brave hombre. You goeeng to die, but that okay, I make sure Murdoc know what you deed. Adiós amigo.' The raven takes flight again, soaring up to the top of the lift shaft. He circles high overhead a moment, thinking. A whole range of emotions run through him. Fear, anger, sadness, loneliness, all seem to be pouring out of him, down into the depths of the shaft like a waterfall. He presses them back refusing to allow himself to be affected by them, but that just seems to make them rage higher and higher, consuming him until he can no longer stand it. Finally overcome, he dives down into the hole again, with one beat of his huge black wings.

'He my master, eet only right I be there to. Beside, that hombre need me to protect heem.' 2D looks up as the bird swoops down, and finally lands on the railing again, he grits his teeth angrily, and turns away from him.

"Cortez, I said I gotta do this!" he snaps as the lift finally reaches the bottom. The young man moves to jump down from the platform, when it occurs to him that the raven had not done anything to stop him. He pauses and looks back at the black bird, which gazes back at him silently. "Are you gunna help me?" he asks the raven. The bird bobs it's head as if nodding, and the keyboardist sighs heavily with relief. Tightening his grip on the handle of his weapon, he jumps down from the platform, and slides the backpack onto his back. The raven flits ahead to sit on the overturned cabinet, and as 2D approaches leaps up onto the young man's shoulder. They both look firmly ahead as they round the corner, walking steadily to the boiler room door, and the Hell hole room beyond it.

Closing the Hell hole room door and dropping the backpack to the floor, 2D gazes down the small flight of steps to the fiery hole and shudders. Taking a piece of chalk from his pocket, he leans down and begins to draw out a transfer circle, mentally going through the spell carefully in his mind. Cortez sits on the ground close by, observing, making sure the young man didn't make any mistakes. The raven is almost astonished that the young man seemed to be doing it quite easily, almost as if he had been performing the ritual all his life. However, as the ritual comes to an end, and it is time to step into the circle, the raven cannot help but cross his toes. The last thing they needed was to appear as frogs on the other side, or some other ridiculous thing. They step in and a moment later, the room fills with a blinding light.

"I fink it worked?" 2D says to the bird, as he looks at the brightly glowing bracelet, as he slides it onto his wrist. He looks up and gazes around the room, wrinkling his nose at how badly everything seemed to smell to him.

"I can see that stoopeed." Cortez replies. 2D snaps his head around, staring in astonishment at the raven, nearly dropping the backpack in his hand.

"Cortez, I can understand you! You, you spoke." he splutters, pointing at the bird. The raven looks back at him incredulously, cocking his head to one side.

"What you talk about hombre? I no speak monkey!" he snaps back, looking the young man up and down in disgust.

"Monkey?" 2D asks, raising an eyebrow, Cortez pulls away from him in shock and surprise.

"Holy caca! You can understand me." he gasps. "What you do to me bastardo? When we find Murdoc, I goeeng...." He stops mid-sentence thinking, then slowly looks down at the dusty floor of the long corridor they seem to of appeared in, not sure if he really needed to finish the sentence.

"It does make fings easier...., don' it?" 2D mumbles. Cortez looks up at him, and slowly bobs his head.

"Si. I just teenk that myself. We go now." the bird replies. 2D smiles and pulls on the backpack, and choosing a direction, they begin their journey. "You know, eet would be better eef you had geeven me hands. Weef them thumbs like you have. Thumb's good. Those theengs seem to come een handy. Ha! I make funny." Cortez says with a chuckle as they turn a corner.