(Woo! You peoples like the story! Okay then, here's more. The TENTH….CHAPTER……-dramatic pause—anyways. –shoves story at peoples-- )

Disclaimer: I do not own Gorillaz or good migraine pills which SUCKS cause mine don't work

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Grinning to himself, Murdoc Niccals floored it all the way home, losing five or six cops along the way, give or take. Well, the girl was gone, maybe now he wouldn't have to see the far-away look in 2D's eyes or have Russ telling him that he should drink less and try and clean up. Clean up, my foot!

He arrived at Kong, noting its silence, and wondered if they had caught on to his scheme yet. Parking the geep, he stumbled out, grabbing an almost empty beer bottle he found by the 'bago before slipping inside quietly. He heard voices on the fourth floor and rode up to the third, listening in a room whose ceiling was incredibly thin.

"What the fuck did he do to her?" The New Yorker's voice boomed, and Murdoc could hear him stomping around Noodle's room, as if she was crammed inside of a toy box or had fallen out the window.

"I'uh'o." 2D voice replied, and the bassist could just picture him shrug in the innocent way he always did.

"He better be glad I didn't find him in the Winne with her…" Russ growled, and Murdoc's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, his shoulders shaking with disgust and horror.

"Ew…" he muttered, and Russ' voice continued.

"I wouldn't put it past him since he was starin' at the male models. God knows what was goin' through his mind…"

Murdoc shuddered. "EW." He said again, swallowing, trying to get the nasty taste out of his mouth at the thought of him doing that to a ten year old girl. Even the great Niccals wouldn't do something THAT perverted.

2D's voice broke in again. "Well mebbe 'e'll come back?" his voice was hopeful. "I mean 'e can't go too far with a lit'l Japanese girl…Noods'll 'e fine."

Russ's voice deepened, and Murdoc pictured the drummer shaking his head. "Hope so…" With that he could follow Russ' footsteps with his eyes as he heard the great thuds of his feet make their way to the shaft.

Murdoc flattened himself against the wall as much as possible as the elevator lift passed by, as if they could see through walls.

When he was positive they were gone and out of his way, the bassist punched the air. "Yehhhh!" he said triumphantly. "And now teh seal i' off." He took the empty, crumb filled plate he had emptied not too long ago and set it on top of Noodle's bed, then slipped away quietly, taking the stairs downstairs.

He walked through the kitchen, belching loudly to announce his presence. Russ was the first to whip around and grab him by the neck. "Where is she!" he snarled, tightening his grip. Murdoc forced himself to remain calm and benign as he responded, with somewhat of a squeaky voice.

"Who, Noodle?" he choked as calmly as he could. "'Ow the fuck am I supposed to know whe' she is? I just went out to ge' some'm teh drink." He raised his shaking fist which was still clutching the dirty beer bottle. "E'sides," he added. "I saw the plate I gave 'er on 'er bed."

Russ' empty eyes flicked from the bassist's face to his hand, then back up again. His grip loosened a bit, but his hands remained posed for a fight. "If I fin' out otherwise…" he growled, and slammed his fist into the wall just millimeters from Murdoc's face, causing his greasy hair to lift from the current it brought. Murdoc swallowed, and nodded, allowing Russ to release him and move away, still grumbling something about a hacksaw.

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Little Noodle watched the geep shriek off, and she gaped after it. Her stomach hurt something fierce, as if he had poisoned it merely with his words. She swallowed, rubbing her forearm as she walked towards the library. At least in his stupidity and search for a good comeback line, he had dropped her off somewhere useful.

She walked in, getting odd looks from the English people surrounding her. Shrugging off their gazes, she made her way to the maps section and pored through a map of Essex, England.

She found no writings, no trails, no recollection of Kong whatsoever, and she grimaced. Maybe the old zombie house wasn't supposed to be on the map. Whatever the case, she got nowhere as she slammed the huge atlas shut. She ran her fingers through her short hair, pulling it back into two short, spiky pigtails as she focused harder on another atlas, still getting no answers.

Finally, after an hour of failing research, the Japanese girl gave up. "Chigaimasu!" she said furiously, slamming the final book closed. She sighed and leaned back in her chair.

She exited the library and found a bus stop not far off. Getting on the bus, she dug out ten yen from her pocket, offering it to the driver. He peered at the little coins, and then back at her in confusion. "Girl, this don't even equal a penny."

She got the just of what he was trying to tell her, and blushed, taking back her money and getting off with embarrassment.

Fuming at Murdoc, she stormed down the street, trying to find some way of going home. She resorted to finding the Chinese store, and would try and find her way back to her new home from there.

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Murdoc kept feeling this annoying pang of guilt with every swig of his drink and with every crunch of his Doritos. (AN: YAAAAAAAY DORITOS!) He clenched his teeth. "Wot is wrong wit me?" he snarled to himself. "I'm not guilty! I don't care!"

"Guilty abou' wot?" came the singer's voice, and Murdoc flinched.

"No'in."

"You said that when you were starin' at the models…" 2D said thoughtfully, then shrugged and slouched down into a chair, lanky limbs too big to really fit comfortably.

They gazed at the TV in silence for a while, until Murdoc stood up, surprising 2D as it wasn't even a commercial. He stormed out of the room, clenching his fists with anger. What the heck was he thinking, feeling sorry for her?

He didn't. No. Nope. Nothing. Aaaaabsolutely no feelings on this situation. No way.

But the feeling nagging in his gut remained as he stared at the 'bago's ceiling, as much as he tried to ignore it.

"HOW IS SHE DIFFERENT!" he yelled into the silence, causing his black feathered bird to shift uncertainly on his empty soup can perch.

"Shut up, Cortez…" the bassist muttered, as if the bird had just told him he was going soft, was getting old, was going all squishy inside.

"Not squishy…" moaned Murdoc. "Not squishy…"

Obviously half drunk, the bassist groaned again as he mumbled "not squishy" over and over until he fell asleep.

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(Awww...the things Mudsie says when half-drunk...-grins-)