"I've been having weird dreams."
Murdoc's grin peeped out beneath the copy of 'Tattooed Hunnies'.
"Freaky sex dreams? Those are the only good kind of weird."
"Bad dreams. You think it's the pills?"
He didn't look over, but she could tell he was thinking. She knew it wasn't. She'd been having them longer than the pills. But maybe the new ones from the last few nights were…
"Could be. Thought you had nightmares anyway," he muttered.
"They're different. I think they're about you."
"Can't be if yer not having wet dreams." The smirk was back.
Angel stared at her toes hanging over the edge of the bed. The hotness burned out of summer and Murdoc was sitting on the open windowsill, his legs kicked out on the roof.
"How long are you staying, Muds?"
Then he looked over.
"Rushin' me out the door? I see how it is. I'll just be on my way, thank you."
He choked on a fake sob, miming throwing himself out the window. Angel blinked slow, fighting a smile.
"Maybe a few weeks more," he admitted. "Not sure how long I'll need. I'm gracing you with my presence, isn't that enough?"
"Actually, as pleasant as your visit has been, you haven't been buying much besides beer and cigs. A trip to the store to buy real food wouldn't hurt every once in a while, now that you mention it."
"You barely eat anyway," he snorted with a smile.
Angel leaned on her elbows and rolled her eyes. His eyes went back to the magazine, the cigarette hanging from his lips twitching with his grin.
He was wearing colored contacts, turning the black and pink an unfamiliar brown. His hair was all slicked back like a greaser—he'd had her trim up the back—and every once in a while when he would go out, he sported glasses. She snorted—probably left over from his stint in Italy, if there was any truth to that wild story at all. He was hiding himself, and that made her nervous. How was she supposed to disguise herself? The black in her hair was growing out, leaving splotchy navy roots. She should die it again, she reminded herself. Not that it mattered, her face was a dead giveaway.
Murdoc glanced down to the street.
"Post's here." He shot a grin at her. "You should go get it."
Angel scrunched up her nose, getting to her feet.
"What do I look like, your butler?"
"Used to be."
She shoved him, nearly knocking him out onto the roof—he cackled.
"Bastard."
Angel never got packages. She picked up the box, surprised by its weight. Closing the screen door behind her, she called up the stairs.
"Murdoc, did you order something?"
She could hear feet thudding on the floor above.
"It better not be something gross! And you better not have used my card!"
She pierced a nail through the tape and peeked inside. Murdoc hovered on the stairs behind her. She didn't move.
"…Hands."
Two, pale hands, nestled neatly in packing peanuts.
"Just the hands?" he growled. "Damn you Americans and your postal system…"
"Murdoc why did you send hands to my house?" she yelled, growing white.
"Satanic summoning, why else?"
He snatched the box, picking up one of the hands, turning it over. Metal coated the wrists, and in the light, Angel could tell they were fake. That barely eased her.
"They're… what, plastic hands?" She wrinkled her nose. "Why?"
Murdoc wiggled his eyebrows.
"You're disgusting."
He cackled, putting the lid back on the box.
"Not the reason they're here, love. They're for something… much bigger! Something to get me, er, us… out of this mess."
Murdoc tossed the box onto the kitchen table, grinning. Angel folded her arms.
"You, huh?"
"Eh-heh, let me remind you that you're not the one with their picture on a proverbial wanted poster, alright?" He tapped the box with a scraggly fingernail. "This will solve all that, and get you outta the spotlight as a bonus, eh?"
"Hands?"
"What the hands will be attached to, dumbass."
Leaning in the doorway, Angel pinched the bridge of her nose.
"You're, what… going to build a robot double? Make a killer AI? Take over the world with little Murdoc robots?"
His jaw hung open and he tapped his fingers rapidly against the table, staring through her.
"That would've been cooler," he mumbled under his breath. "Augh, but I ordered all the parts already…" He snapped back to her, smirking. "Close though!"
He dug in his pocket, pulling out a yellow, stained piece of paper, folded and wrinkled from being carried around.
"Noodle gave me this before she left. She found out some things about 'erself, before getting shipped to us. It's something important. Something secret."
He tucked the paper back into his jeans and clapped a hand over his heart.
"She trusted old Uncle Murdoc with it, so I can't tell ya much, but… Noodle's got some serious 'Kill Bill' stuff goin' on."
Angel leaned on a chair, confused.
"How is Noodle going to help you, she's—"
"Gone! Disappeared! Haven't heard a peep from her in two years. Last I heard, she was in the Maldives, sent me a letter. Dunno what happened to her. So I'm gonna do the next best thing"
"What, build a robot Noodle?" she snorted, chuckling.
His grin didn't falter. Her's did.
"You're kidding."
He flashed his sharp teeth at her.
"You're gonna help me."
"I'm not an engineer, Muds. And neither are you."
"I've got a doctorate!" he snapped, indignant. "How hard could it be, anyway? You're a professional grunt, and I've got the brains! All the parts are ordered, so all we've got to do is put her together, hook her up, download the info, and switch 'er on! Easy!"
"Easy!" she scoffed. "Yeah, let me just put together a cyborg in my living room! No problem! I've got a doctorate, I'm qualified to do that!" she mocked, putting on a horrid accent.
"That's an awful impression."
"Sorry, I forgot you're an educated man and I'm just your slackjaw lackey! My mistake."
Murdoc scowled, slamming his hands down on the table.
"Look! You can help me and get yerself outta this for good, or you can flab your stupid gob and get us nowhere. So unless you've got a better idea—"
"I'm pretty sure any idea would be better than that one."
His hand turned to fists.
"Hey, unless you want to pick up a shotgun and take Noodle's place?"
"You've been safe here so far! I could—"
"You could be my bodyguard, eh?" He scoffed. "Stand outside my bedroom with a gun? Keep awake twenty-four-seven?"
"I never said—!"
"I mean, you're already practically falling over yourself to have me, so what's one more thing, huh? I guess you're really desperate! So come on, little girl, fall on your sword!"
The chair went clattering sideways onto the floor and Murdoc jumped. Angel knuckles turned white.
"Get bent."
The silence after she slammed the bedroom door behind her rung in Murdoc's ears. He shook himself, letting his vice grip on his own chair go. His nails left deep digs in the wood and his lips curled into a grimace. He needed her on-board, he needed a partner that wasn't going to sell him out. He needed a shield. He couldn't afford to be a bastard now…
He went up the stairs carefully, listening at the door.
"I can hear you, Murdoc, you're not sneaky."
He sat down beside the door.
"Look out the window."
"Why?" she snapped, but he could hear the anxiety in her voice.
"Is there a black '95 Cutlass out there? Just sittin'…"
She was quiet, but after a moment, her muffled footsteps trailed off to the window. Angel didn't respond.
"He's been watchin' the house the past week. So, I don't know about you, but I think it's time we put all our little duckies in a row, eh?" He leaned against the door, picking dirt from under his nails and flicking it on the floor. "Or you can fight me tooth and nail, either way."
"…Your plan is stupid."
"Stupid will work. Just wait on the other parts and then if the cyborg does nothing but spit out horrible puns and make frozen yoghurt, then you can call me a fucking moron and we'll think of somethin' else, alright?"
"Muds?"
"Yeah," he sighed, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.
He struck the match against his boot and blew out a long puff of smoke.
"You are a moron."
She opened the door, staring down at him.
"If I help you, am I done?"
"Define done, heh-heh-heh," he snickered, wriggling in between her feet on his back and grabbing her by the ankles.
"Are you leaving after?"
He puffed out smoke that flew up into her face.
"Hard to say."
She crouched and hovered over him, her face serious.
"I've got conditions."
Murdoc scowled, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Alright, fair."
"One, you're going to earn your keep. I'm running out of funds and I need some help. You're going to run errands and pull your weight."
"Fine," he shrugged. He could afford it.
"Two…" She took the cigarette and puffed on it, watching him go red in the face. "No more coming and going—"
"What—?!"
"If you're going to be building your little science fair in this house, you're going to be workin' full-time. None of this disappearing for days crap."
Murdoc was absolutely silent, but his face was turning an even more impressive shade of red. Angel took another drag, relishing every moment. It was her turn now.
"Three, I want to disappear afterwards. Not me trying to scrounge up something. I was a real way out, where they won't find me. Maybe with you. You're probably going to keep your own hide safer than anyone else," she said off-handedly.
"Any more demands, princess?" he growled.
"Four and lastly, I want 2D kept safe."
"Two Dents? Why?"
"You took me to his house afterwards, moron. If you think they haven't been watching him too, you're—"
"Alright, alright, I get it. D stays out of it, alright."
She slid the cigarette to the corner o9f her mouth and jabbed her hand into his chest.
"Shake on it."
His smirk was strained.
"Strictly business?"
He grabbed her hand hard with his sweaty palm, squeezing hard.
"Strictly."
A moment passed in silence then he was on her, climbing up on his hands until he was over her, fumbling with his belt and she was desperately trying to find something to put out the cig.
