Goldfish in the sink --Chapter 2

Firstly I want to say thank you so much all you people who reviewed this -- you are my inspiration. So I quickly started writing this next chapter, hope you like it but because I've been rushing to finish it, its still my first fan-fic thing and the program I write it on has issues, it may be a bit bad. But please read and review anyway! And I'm writing the last chapter right now.

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"No, that's the wrong bloody note!"

The shouts could be heard throughout Kong studios, shouts which fell onto strange ears which had heard them countless times already in the past hour. The peculiar demon presiding over the reception desk sighed deeply as it continued to trace random shapes on the wooden surface before it. A beer bottle rolled across the room and nudged the jukebox, which promptly began to churn out the first music tracks it was set to. Still the music was not loud enough to cover the yells coming from the recording room.

"That's the wrong bloody note!" Murdoc yelled. "How many times to I have to friggin' tell you Brain-ache, you only play the FIRST progression the SECOND time and not the THIRD time, got it?"

"'M sorry, I cant 'elp it, I cant think."

"Well that's nothing new!" Murdoc almost slammed his bass to the floor and threw a bottle at 2-D, who apparently did not notice when it bounced off his skull.

"Hey," Russel cautioned. "Give him some slack, cant expect a man to work without those painkillers that someone poured into the goldfish bowl." Murdoc glared at the drummer.

"Then for the love of Satan get the boy some more!" He yelled. "Until his brain gets fixed, we cant record a friggin song." He stormed from the room, clutching the inverted cross at his neck and slamming the door behind him. 2-D returned Noodle and Russel's gaze with a shrug, and fell backwards. The loud thud on his landing suggested he had fainted, and around him wires snapped and computer screens spluttered and shut down. The short silence which followed was only interrupted by short snaps of sound from the sparking plugs.

"I think we gonna need some more of that medicine." Russel stated as Noodle patted the singer's wrist.

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There was only one thing that would put Murdoc into his normal mildly tolerable mood, and that was to sacrifice something. To watch blood drip down to the ground, to feel the thrill of taking away a life. Either that or find some gorgeous whore to de-stress himself with, but money was wearing low on the ground thanks to that blue-haired idiot dropping the savings pot into the landfill site again. Chicken sacrifice it was, then. Scratching spot below his eye, Murdoc slammed open the door to the kitchen and ignored the sound of cracking plaster and the ensuing tumble of objects from the shelves. When was the last time this place had been cleared up? Well he was damned if he was going to do it. Cleaning up was the kind of thing he bullied other people to do.

Bully. His mind once again replayed back to the night before, when he had actually…and he shuddered to think it…kissed 2-D on his neck, had actually wanted to…to…urgh, stop thinking.

Snatching a glass from the sideboard, the bassist fumbled inside a drawer for a bottle opener and his fingers closed over a rusty object so often used for this purpose. A label-less beer bottle, full, stood beside the sink and he homed in on this and grabbed it before yanking it open and pouring the fizzing liquid in to the glass. He then blinked at the pint glass, threw it over his shoulder and proceeded to guzzle from the bottle itself. A movement in the sink below caught his eye.

The goldfish was still alive, still swimming and ticking its long tail in the tepid water, completely undaunted by the filthy enamel sides of its new prison, or the amount of dead spiders and insects which were now floating on the skin above it. Murdoc watched the hypnotic movement of the creature as it swam round and round. Pointless, completely pointless, but in some way beautiful.

He'd kill that thing if it was the last thing he did.

But at that moment, he did not kill it.

He left it alone, he left the kitchen and went to his Winnebago, and the goldfish in the sink continued to gulp and swim as if nothing had happened.

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2-D's room was a mess. The light of late morning streamed through the partially blinded windows and lit up the chaos that was within, and the singer stood at his door and sighed heavily while his flipped a flick-knife absent-mindedly in his hand. The zombie which had scared him so badly the previous night was now an inanimate corpse, curled up on a chair in such a way that 2-D had yelped and ran at first, thinking it was still alive. After psyching himself up and peeking around the door, 2-D was finally able to stand in its dead-eyed gaze and fully take in how long it would take to make the room habitable again. The bed...well, that had to go for a start, unless he wanted to start living like a hamster. The posters along the walls were patted with blood and zombie life-essence, and the light fixture was hanging by a single wire and spluttering threateningly any time he tried to get close to it. As for any other object or item of furniture in the room, most had been smashed and was now clumped in unrecognisable clusters like the wreckage of a modernist sculpture exhibition.

Pocketing the knife, 2-D shuffled along the carpet and dejectedly picked up a cracked red keyboard, before he prodded the power button and ran his pale thin fingers along the keys hopefully. A splutter from the plastic speakers told him the instrument was in no mood to work, and he allowed it to thud to the carpet along with the mess of clothes and a broken coffee table.

"Satan, this is worse than the landfill site."

2-D spun on his heel to see Murdoc standing in the doorway roving his mismatched eyes over the destruction, a strange sneer cut across his face. Immediately 2-D's face flushed and he looked away quickly while rubbing a red patch on his neck.

"It's dead, right?" Murdoc continued and, ignoring his band mate's uneasiness, he barged past towards the zombie resting in the desk chair. To test this theory, he punched the creature firmly between its eyes and seemed satisfied when the head rolled off with a sickening crunch and sloshed to the ground. "How these bastards get in, I've no idea but they're all over. Frankly, I don't like the idea of a load of bodies stinkin up the place, so you're gonna help me get rid of them, right?"

"Okay. Um, where..."

"Come on, and carry that damn thing downstairs cos I aint touching it." Murdoc watched as 2-D fought his fear and hitched the zombie onto his back, then the bassist took the singer's arm and yanked him from the room.

Russel was waiting for them in the sitting room, sat eating from a large bag of crisps on the sofa which was piled with at least eight of the dead creatures. The large man did not seem to be bothered by the clammy skin pressing against him, and he even poked on in the eye before pointing out something interesting which was playing on the television. Murdoc told 2-D to wait outside so he could pass the zombies to him, and the singer was only too glad to be as far as possible from the horrible things.

They were not the same as they were last night, it seemed that the life had been sucked from them. The spark of life, no matter how blank and meaningless, was gone. The carcasses slumped onto the cushions around Russel and stared eyelessly at those around. Murdoc picked up one of the dead hands and dragged it towards the door, where her threw the carcass on to 2D who was waiting outside. The singer was almost crumpled beneath the weight and screamed when he saw the dead faces.

"Shut it!" Was Murdoc's only offer of sympathy. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and an expression of sheer boredom on his unaimiable face.

"Want help there man?" Russel's voice asked, though the drummer made no move to offer any. Murdoc returned and yanked two more zombies away while 2-D stumbled to the main hall with cold skin decaying in his hands.

"What do ya think? Come on, don't just sit there, lets get rid of these things." He threw another body into the hallway while Russel picked up the remaining five in one large arm sweep and hurled them from the room before relinquishing his place on the sofa. Murdoc stared at him for a moment, before he poked his head around the doorway and yelled at 2-D who was still struggling with the first body.

"And hurry that up, brain-freeze, aint got all day." He blocked the chance of a reply by slamming the door and leaving the singer alone in the corridor with the bodies.

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It was midday by the time Noodle rushed back to Kong studios, a paper bag held proudly in her small hand. When she burst dramatically into the sitting room, she beheld Russel slumped on the sofa and snoring into a newspaper, while Del had appeared and was hovering transfixed before the television changing the channels seemingly by mind. Noodle paused for a moment to watch a newsreader merge into the mad dance of a MacDonald's advert, fizz to an interview with an up and coming pop band and return back to the news screen. Judging by the insane grin on the spirit's wide-lipped mouth, Del was enjoying himself.

"Yo there, what's the rush?" The spirit asked when he saw the young girl scamper through the room. He was ignored and so he returned to the flicking of the channels, the blue glow of his airy skin flickering like a signal.

"2-D!" Noodle called at the top of her shrill voice. "2-D, where are you?"

After darting around the rooms for over ten minutes, Noodle's sharp mind picked up some unease. She rushed to 2-D's room, the last place she thought she would find him, and stared in horror at the note she found resting on the table.

"Murdoc-sama!" Noodle called as she thumped heavily on the door of the Winnebago resting in the car park. "2-D gone! Come out, we need to find him! Murdoc!" The door was flung open and the girl rolled onto her back with a little scream.

"Cool it ya hyperactive midget!" The bassist yelled at her. "Cant I get a little shut-eye when I need it?"

"2-D is gone!" She repeated as she jumped to her feet and waved a sheet of paper in his face, which he violently snatched from her.

"Gimmie that!" He squinted down at the paper and mouthed the word written in the scrawling hand.

Goodbye

"Noodle, that doesn't mean a damn thing!" Murdoc ripped up the piece and threw it over her head, though in reality his mind was ticking. The dullard wouldn't go off like that would he, not after the...comparatively good treatment he was getting recently. The ground shuddered as Russel ran into the car park, rubbing his eyes and blinking blearily.

"Heard you screamin, what's goin on man?" Noodle jabbered an explanation while Murdoc leaned dejectedly on the doorframe.

The singer/keyboardist of the band was gone. Without a singer, that's no songs. Without songs, that's no money and without money that's nothing. Nothing was something Murdoc could do without.

"Right, so its down to me to get the dullard back?" He stated.

"We could--" Russel began.

"Shut it pork eyes I can handle this." The Satanist snatched the paper bag from Noodle's hands and glared inside to see a single bottle emblazoned with the familiar skull and crossbones. Grunting once, he clambered into his Winnebago and slammed the door behind him, before the entire vehicle shuddered as he made his way to the steering wheel. Russel and Noodle shared a sideways glance, then the air was suddenly assaulted by the cloud of blackness which coughed from the over-used exhaust. Still muttering, Murdoc drove the Winnebago out of the car park, but not before he had smashed into two cars and dislodged the front bumper. Soon all that could be heard in the park was the rolling of the broken metal and tinkle of broken glass.

After a short silence, Noodle glanced across to see that Russel was chuckling to himself as he picked up the large pieces of paper littering at his feet, piecing them together and laughing even harder. When he saw the raised eyebrow Noodle was directing at him, he smiled.

"D's fine." He stated. "I jes thought Murdoc was bein a little harsh on him, so I ripped this out of D's lyric book hopin he'd find it." He continued to chuckle while Noodle sighed impatiently, but soon a knowing smile spread across her face.

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"Damn idiot...going out on his own like this...might as well kill imself before those bastard monsters get him...not if I kill him first..."

Murdoc muttered continually to himself as he drove the Winnebago over the rough terrain towards the graveyard. Every so often he would fall swearing from his seat when a bump in the road proved too much for the vehicle's suspension, and as he drew nearer to the graves dotted in the distance his foul words grew more frequent and his slicked hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than was healthy. As he drove, his thoughts grew darker and darker -- perhaps 2-D, in all his idiocy, had invited another pathetic and less than attractive fan girl into the studios who had promptly pulled a bag over his head and carted him away to live in her celebrity boudoir. Kidnapped. Held hostage. Dear Murdoc Niccals, we have your singer. Give us all of your awards and you can get him back -- if not, he will die at midnight tonight. Pained at the thought of parting with the golden awards, Murdoc pushed the fantasy away and focused on the invisible road ahead of him.

His fear was short lived -- as he drew nearer, the bassist saw that a lanky figure was standing holding what looked like a spade beside one of the many gravestones.

While Murdoc began to growl unearthly exclamations directed at the distant figure, 2-D heard the rumble of the approaching Winnebago and waved brightly at him with the spade hand, and promptly knocked himself out with the handle. Throwing up a fine spray of dust and gravel, the Winnebago eventually thudded to a stop and out jumped a particularly livid Murdoc.

"There you are! You little fucker what in Satan's hell -- you're supposed to be gone, kidnapped!"

"Um, I don't fink I am." The singer looked around quickly. "Am I?"

"No brain-freeze, you're not." Murdoc slapped him on the back of his head. "I cant believe this! Came all the way out here, sacrificin beauty sleep too! I tell you, I'm gonna damn well give it to ya when we get back, I was dying of worry!" He kicked him firmly in the stomach and watched him fall into an open grave. After kicking the gravestone repeatedly for a moment, the Satanist's anger dimmed and he grabbed the hand that was furiously attempting to find purchase on the soil.

"Did you say, you was worried bout me?" 2-D asked when he had been pulled out of the ground. Murdoc scowled and drew his hand back as if he had touched something distasteful.

"You're the singer brain-freeze. Without you I don't have a band. That's why I was worried."

"Right." 2-D mumbled as he rubbed the back of his head. "I thought fer a minute you was..."

"Was what? Ah forget it, lets just get you back before guitarist and drummer explode." The founder of the band raised an impatient eyebrow when 2-D picked up the dropped spade and began to dig into a mound of mud and rubbish with it, panting pathetically as he did.

"Sorry Muds, I've got to bury this first. I'll follow you in just a minute." And he lugged a mound of soil into the open grave. "They've only been coming alive because of the landfill site pushing them out of their graves, only fair to bury them again."

"What in hell are you talking about?" Murdoc looked down into the pit for the first time, and saw that partially covered by the dark soil and patted by partially submerged crisp packets, was a zombie. Judging by the hole between its empty eye sockets, this was one of the many which had felt Murdoc's wrath the night before. After another struggling effort from 2-D, the face was lost and in the dimming light the macabre effect was of a headless corpse. Shivering once, Murdoc glanced up at the sun in the darkening sky and noted how soon sunset would be. Too soon if this idiot was going to take forever burying this damn thing.

"Alright dullard, gimme the spade." The Satanist grabbed for the implement and his hand happened to close over 2-D's knuckles in a firm grip.

Both men froze for a long moment, each waiting for the other to let go. 2-D looked across to see that Murdoc's eyes were fixed on the spade, but his dark mind appeared to be lost somewhere else.

The moment was broken when Murdoc violently yanked the spade from the singer's hands and 2-D jumped back with a dazed yelp.

"I said give me the fuckin spade! Something wrong with your ears as well?" He pushed past and jabbed the spade into the mound, almost knocking his companion into the grave again as he did so. "Noodle said you were kidnapped, and really you were planting these damn things."

"Been doin it all day." 2-D replied proudly. "Only another eight of them to go."

"Sweet Satan." Murdoc muttered. This was certainly not his idea of spending an afternoon, but before he was going to yell at his band mate again he saw the way 2-D's eyes were shining in the simple-minded happiness of doing something good, that would put souls to rest. Not to mention stop all those midnight rescue missions. Grumbling inwardly, Murdoc agreed with himself to at least do this one thing for him. "There's another spade in the Winnebago, go get it and lend me one of yer pathetic greasy hands, I aint doing this all by myself."

"Right." And 2-D scampered away, his footsteps crunching on the broken glass glittering in the soil.

By the time the last zombie was being returned to its resting place, the sunset glared on the horizon like a slitted eye and the long shadows were slowly decaying in the dying light. Leaning against his spade, 2-D stared glazedly at the orange glow while Murdoc's flagging efforts began to cover the final zombie.

"Muds?"

"What?"

"Its bootiful, isn't it?" The singer sighed through his nose, then scratched the back of his head. Murdoc continued to pant as he paused and glared without much interest at the scenery. The soft orange light fell onto the small hills of the landfill site and the barren fields beyond, fragments of glass embedded into the great site reflected the rays, and the Satanist saw that because of this the surrounding area appeared to be shining. Cold, smooth, lifeless. He snorted.

"Yeah," Murdoc grunted as he returned to the work. "Absolutely fuckin amazin." His mind was not agreeing with him at that moment. Here he was, in the middle of a landfill site, helping a dullard plant the garden. He was doing menial work, he was commenting on the landscape, he was not beating up the useless idiot who had talked him into this. But who had talked him into this? No one, he'd brought it along himself...

"Muds?" 2-D asked again, shattering the Satanist's train of thought. Biting his lip, Murdoc did not reply but thudded the spade into the earth once more. "Muds, don't you think this is a scary gravestone? Looks a bit like a..." He trailed off, apparently not able to come up with a suitable simile. Murdoc glanced up and noticed that the gravestone was in fact carved into the shape of a curious gargoyle, the head of which was large and skull-like. The craftsmanship was hardily impressive -- the disproportion of the eyes was most noticeable, and the quality of the carving was jagged and unfinished. Making a mental note to draw it in a notebook as soon as he got back to Kong studios, Murdoc glared again at 2-D and struggled with the last few shovels of earth. Sensing tension, 2-D unsteadily rushed to help.

The gravestone shuddered and the obscure head wobbled precariously on its plinth. Murdoc paused in his progress and narrowed his eyes at his companion.

"If that's you fecking about dullard, I'm gonna rip yer eyes out."

"Promise you its not me, Muds."

"How many times do I have to tell you brain-ache, you call me that again--" He was cut off when the stone head slammed past his face and thudded to the earth, and he yelled in surprise and dropped the spade. While 2-D laughed nervously, Murdoc gazed down to see the gargoyle head rolling gently, its gloomy eyes two dead black holes in the growing darkness.

"I don't fink that's supposed to happen..." 2-D stated carefully. Murdoc fought the urge to hit him again and shovelled the last measure of earth into the grave.

"Right, that's it, don't say I don't do anythin for you brain-ache. Lets get back before any of them wake up. Hey!" The bassist thumped the singer lightly on his arm, and watched as the younger man blinked as if stepping from a trance. 2-D's eyes watered and he put a hand to the side of his head, wincing greatly. "Hey," Murdoc continued in a gentler voice. "I said lets go. Your head hurtin' again?"

"Uh, yeah." The singer muttered, swaying slightly. He turned quickly to the Winnebago and made stumbling steps towards it, apparently under the impression that the ground was swishing under his feet. After taking one last glance at the broken headstone, Murdoc stepped after his band mate and gently closed his hand around the younger man's elbow. 2-D did not resist, and gladly accepted the help up into the Winnebago and promptly collapsed onto the sparse and cluttered floor space.

Wordlessly and glowering into the dank air, Murdoc latched the door and stepped over his band mate's twitching body towards the driving seat, where he picked up the paper bag and poured the bottle out into his hand.

"Muds..." 2-D muttered as the older man picked him up by the underarms and dragged him towards his bed. Murdoc merely tightened his grip and threw him onto the stained mattress.

"There!" He growled, throwing the bottle at him. He spun around and stamped towards the steering wheel, and as he sat in the driver's seat he heard clearly the sound of the bottle being opened and the dangerous liquid being poured down 2-D's throat. Soon after, the silence from the bed was replaced by a snoring which rivalled the rattling of the Winnebago's engine, and Murdoc forced himself to blank out the sound as he whacked the dashboard in an attempt to make the headlights work. When they flicked on and badly illuminated the dusty tracks made on the journey there, Murdoc thought for a split second that the cracked shapes in the pools of light resembled a certain type of fish very closely...

Blinking shook that illusion away, and Murdoc made a mental note to kill the goldfish in the sink as soon as he got back.

They were close enough to Kong studios to see the high whitewashed walls in the darkness when the Winnebago spluttered and the engine shut down of its own accord. Swearing and kicking the steering wheel and gear stick made absolutely no difference, and resigned to this fact Murdoc stepped towards the bedroom ready to take his anger out on the sleeping singer still curled up on his bed.

"Hey, brain-freeze!" He shouted while banging his knuckles on the wardrobe. Seeing this received no response, the bassist grabbed the younger man's shoulder and rolled him onto his back, to see that 2-D was still sleeping peacefully, cuddling the off-white pillow to himself as if it was his long lost love. With his thin lips curled up into a contended smile and his gel-less blue hair resting over his eyes, the singer looked happier than he had for months. Murdoc withdrew the hand that was intended to punch the sleeper in the stomach, and instead carefully brushed the hairs from the young man's face. At the feel of the rough fingers passing gently across his forehead, 2-D frowned slightly and rolled back onto his side, muttering some half forgotten song lyric. Feeling a peculiar sensation burn in his chest, Murdoc swore to himself again and telling himself he was stepping so quietly because he did not want to break anything, left the Winnebago and began to trek through the dark to the waiting door of Kong studios.

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Okay there it is, any more reviews? (Ppplease?) Im not sure where im going with the plotline but hopefully I can tie it up in the next chapter.