Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Gorillaz (Damon Albarn & Jamie Hewlett)

[Chapter 1: A New Name]

Stuart opened his eyes slowly. It was morning, but the living room was still quite dark from the curtains in front of the window. He was laying on a worn down leather couch with a towel for a pillow and nothing else but the clothes he was wearing as blanket. Which was a long sleeved shirt, pants and socks. At least he had the couch otherwise it would've been the floor. The towel was stained with dried blood and other mysterious spots and had a terrible stench, but the room overall smelled like cigarettes, alcohol and unwashed clothes so it just blended in.

Stuart raised his hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes, but the second he touched it, a terrible pain shoot through his eye, eye socket and head. He left out a whimper and clutched the side of his face. He looked up. In front of him was a living room table piled up with empty beer bottles, magazines and cigarette packs. He couldn't see well with his now both damaged eyes, especially the left one, which is still swollen from yesterday's accident. On top of that, the lighting in the room was not the best. With his other arm, he aimlessly reached over the table, toppling a beer bottle in the process which landed on the ground with a loud "clunk". Stuart moaned from the pain in his head. After shoving a magazine from the table as well, he finally found what he was looking for. He quickly took the little flask that was about to roll off. It read "Beforal - Butorphanol Tartrate" - a Painkiller used as intranasal spray. He stuck it in his blood encrusted nose without hesitation.

After a while, the pain started to dwindle and Stuart began to relax. He sat up slowly and wobbly, lifting his body with his weak arms. They felt like he hadn't used them in weeks and they were covered in cuts and bruises which whom he had no idea how he got them. He curled his hands in his lap and looked at them for a while. He didn't knew what to do next. Not a single thought formed in his head.

While staring at his hands, a faint urge raised in his mind. He looked up. There was a very full ashtray on the table and cigarette butts round it, which remembered him what this urge was that he felt. Luckily, a half empty package and a lighter were on the table as well. Stuart grabbed the package, but it took him a while to get a cigarette out of it. The lid of the package kept falling back which gave him troubles. After he got one out, he stuck it in his mouth but it fell out immediately through the space left by the front teeth he lost yesterday, because there was nothing to hold it in place. Stuart looked confused at the cigarette on the ground. He picked it up again, just for the whole thing to happen again, but this time he caught it with his hands. While looking at the cigarette, turning it around between his fingers, he started to feel with his tongue for his teeth only to find wound fleshy gums in place where his front teeth used to be. It tasted like blood, which wasn't a very pleasant taste. He stuck the cigarette sideways in his mouth and lighted it, taking a lungful of smoke.

The door opened and there stood a man with nothing on, but his underwear. His hair was styled to a black moptop, obscuring his eyebrows. He had a big wonky nose, from being broken multiple times and bags under his half opened eyes. Around his neck hung a golden upside down metal cross. Stuart remembered faintly, that this nasty looking man's name was Murdoc Niccals and he offered to drive him home yesterday. Only that it was his home, not Stuarts.

Murdoc stepped into the room and stopped, then he noticed Stuart. "Oh, right. I forgot." He touched his forehead. "Uh. What was your name again? Something stupid, I don't know." His voice was deep and raspy.

"Stuart Pot."

"Right. Yeah, that sounds like rubbish. Look Stupid. I brought you here for a reason." And added quietly: "And not only because I was forced to look for your sorry ass."

"I want to make a band and I want it to be perfect. Therefore I need a good looking frontman and you just happen to be good enough." He points at Stuart.

"I am?"

"Yeah, actually. I mean it. You look grrrrreat. Like an awkward corpse on drugs. With blue hair and a pretty-" He stops for a second. "-interesting face. Anyways - you worked in an organ store, right? Can you play keyboard?"

"Uuuhh… I guess." Stuart looked at his hands nervously.

"Good, good. Come here for a sec."

Murdoc left the room. Stuart stood up slowly, putting his hands on the table to support his weight. Just like his arms, his legs were in no better condition: Weak and wounded. He pushed his body up with all the strength he had. He started to stumble through the room, hitting his foot against the beer bottle that rolled of the table before, which he ignored. He then proceeded to step into something wet on the floor. He couldn't make up what it was because the room was dark and his sight blurry.

He didn't wanted Murdoc to wait long and hurried through the door into the other room. It housed various keyboards and other instruments. The walls were decorated with posters of bands and demons and Satanism references. An upside down cross hung on the wall and there was a poster with the text "I love Satan" written on it. In the corner was a bed. The whole room was very messy, just like the rest of the house.

Murdoc plugged in a keyboard and lit a cigarette. "Show me your skills, kid."

Stuart looked at the keyboard, hovering his hands over the keys. He remembers that he can play them and that he actually loves playing them. He had loads of electronic keyboard devices when he was young. His father even helped him to customise some and he tinkered a lot, making music with drum machines and synthesizers. He pressed the keys and started playing, just going with it, miraculously, without thoughts and formed a perfect harmonic tune. He didn't remember being this good though.

Murdoc dropped his cigarette as his jaw fell open. Damn it, that kid was a keyboard prodigy, he thought.

"OK, ok stop. Stop. That was - quite good actually. I doubt it, but can you sing?"

"Uhh...What?", Stuart squeaked.

"I need you as frontman and I need you to sing. Just go play and sing."

"I- I don't know what to sing."

"Just sing something. Anything!", Murdoc shouted angrily.

"B- but I don't know!" Stuart panicked.

"Urgh. Fine." Murdoc was pissed. He looked around and picked up crumpled up piece of paper.

"Here.", Murdoc handed him the paper with a songtext written on it.

"Play something fitting and sing that."

"Okay." He looked at the text for a few minutes while Murdoc was tapping his foot in anticipation. Then, Stuart started to play a beautiful tune, yet kind of creepy and proceeded to sing the first verse of the song. His slow, slurry speaking voice changing to a deeper harmonic singing, in proper english, which went perfect to the melody of the keyboard.

Murdoc was awestruck. There he stood, slouched over a keyboard with a great look and angelic vocals, singing some stupid lyrics he wrote. He had his frontman. Although it came with an annoying price, as Murdoc will learn later on, since the accidents he caused didn't do his new singers mind any good.

Stuart looked at Murdoc, anticipating a response.

"Ok, good. Although a little warbly, buuut we can work on that. You're in."

Stuarts face lit up. "Yeah!", he said with a big, tooth gap sporting smile. Stuart had never thought of what to do with his life anyways and the offer to play in a band and doing what he loves - making music - was great, so he agreed.

"Anyways, what you need is a new name. A cool one, easy to remember. I can't have a frontman who is literally called "Stupid". People will laugh at us."

"But ma name is not Stupid. It's Stu-Pot."

"Exactly. That's what I'm talking about." He took a close look at Stuart. "Two black hole eyes… dented face. Dents. Hmmmmm. Two dents. Two. D." He scratched his chin. "2-D. Heh. That's good. I'm brilliant! Short, easy to remember AND it sounds cool for the teens. You will be 2-D from now on. Got it?"

"Okay."

"Good." Murdoc seemed pleased. The boy was more obedient than he thought. "Get your face clean, we're going out."

He left the room, presumably to put some clothes on. 2-D was left alone. He stepped into the hallway and looked around. Where could the bathroom be? He opened a white door which seemed to be the right one, but it was just a small storeroom filled with… well interesting things. An inflatable sex doll fell towards 2-D and he slammed the door shut, perplexed staring at it. That was not the bathroom, obviously. He shook his head, trying to forget what he just saw and went to the next door.

He didn't learn from the first time and pulled this door wide open again. He had luck and it was indeed the bathroom. The filthiest bathroom he had ever seen. It was very small with only a shower, a toilet and a sink and no window. Empty toilet paper rolls were piled up in a corner and the toilet itself looked like it has never been cleaned before. On the floor was dirty underwear and towels.

He tried to not step onto anything on his way to the sink. Then he looked at his reflection and the first thing which caught his eye was... well, his eyes. He opened them as wide as he could, but they were completely black. It looked like they were actually missing, but he could still see, which means they must still be there. He got closer to the mirror and the light illuminated his eyeballs, making them a shining dark red. They were fractured and filled with dried up blood which impaired his sight. The left eye was also severely bruised around it, making the skin all blue and purple. His natural azure blue hair was all messy and greasy. He opened his mouth and inspected his missing front teeth. Yup, completely gone, knocked out of his jaw in one piece. Nothing but bloody gums were left. As if his teeth weren't bad before, now they're worse. Speaking of blood, the rest of his face was covered in grainy, dried up blood, scratches and scrapes.

The wounds were from a car accident that happened yesterday, but 2-Ds own memories of it were quite hazy. Murdoc found 2-D and offered help, which was really nice of Murdoc. He said that the culprit fled and that he thought it was his duty to help someone in need. The only car accident he remembered was back when he worked at Uncle Norms Organ Emporium, which was in August 1997. He strangely remembered that day very well. Murdoc said it's April 1998 now which means yesterday's accident was a different one. He had no memories of the time in between, which was strange. Thinking about it only made his head hurt, so he didn't follow that thought any further. He would find out eventually.

2-D grabbed the nearest towel and washed the blood off his face and tried to fix his hair. He could really use a shower, but it was stuffed with various things and could not be used. "Murdoc doesn't seem to shower often.", he thought and left the bathroom.

"Muuuurdoooc?", 2-D shouted through the house. "I'm hungry."

Murdoc, sounding very pissed off screaming back at him from another room: "Look in the kitchen you moron!"

The kitchen was in no better condition than the rest of the house. Dirty dishes and moldy leftovers everywhere and full trash bags on the floor.

2-D opened the fridge, which was half empty and full of alcoholic beverages. Anything resembling food had gone bad. He grabbed a package of milk and a glass that looked only a little used and tried to pour the insides of the package in it. Nothing. The milk had gone so bad that it was just a clump. 2-D wrinkled his nose as the smell of rotten milk came up and put the package aside. He filled the glass with water and took a few big gulps. It tasted like alcohol, probably from the residue of the glass' former contents.

The kitchen cabinet didn't look any better, although he found a package of bread. It was stale and the last half moldy. He found it difficult to clearly see which slices were moldy or not. He looked at the package from all angles and picked one slice that had at least no black mold -which was easier to see- on it. He sat down at the kitchen table - which had empty packages, bottles and leftovers on in. 2-D looked out of the window and nibbled on his stale slice of toast. It tasted bad, but it was better than nothing. All of a sudden, Murdoc stood in the door.

"Get your ass up Dentface, we're going." He was wearing shoes, trousers and a black shirt now.

"Uh… wa? Where?", asked 2-D. But Murdoc was already on his way out. He quickly stumbled after him and to the red sports car that was badly parked in front of the house and got in.