[Phase 0]

It's late at night, perhaps even very early morning.

It's been three weeks since Murdoc Niccals had kidnapped Russel Hobbs from his record shop, and actually, Russ has rather enjoyed said kidnapping, once he'd been given the reason for it. The bastard may be insane, but he definitely has a really damned good band in the works, yeah. According to the green man, he had even sold his soul so he could have the rights to Satan's bass, El Diablo, as Murdoc so lovingly calls it. If that's not dedication to a band, Russ doesn't know what is.

So, right now, as previously mentioned, it's really late. Russ is currently sitting at the dinner table alone, smoking a fag. Unfortunately for him, he's unable to sleep due to the souls residing in his person. The souls of his murdered friends. He knows they're present, but he doesn't know how exactly many souls are actually there. If he tries to sort through them, all he gets is the pain of phantom gunshot wounds through his body. He doesn't want deal with that at all again, since it turns out that gunshot wounds hurt like a bitch.

He is positive, however, about one soul in particular being in his body. His best mate, brother, and partner-in-crime, Del. And now, as it turns out, his literal soulmate. The up-and-coming rapper had been shot through the head by the drive-by-ers, dying immediately on impact.

"What are you doin' awake, Russ?" A soft-spoken voice says from the doorway. "It's late, did you know?"

"Their souls are restless, Stu. I dunno. Dunno what to do with it." Russel replies to the young man, not turning around to look at the singer.

"Oh, oh dear." Stuart sits down on the chair across from Russel. His hair is sleep-tousled, blue spikes sticking up every which way. The kid looks like he hasn't slept in a week, poor guy. His purely black eyeballs seem to be fixed on something other than Russel, but the drummer knows his attention is focussed on trying to figure out what to say next.

They sit in silence as 2D lights his own fag. "I'm real sorry you gotta deal with dis, Russ. I dunno what exactly to say 'bout it, quite honestly." He looks at Russ, finally. "You do look like hell, though. Guessing it's not the first time you gave had to, yeah?" The bluenette pauses for a moment. "Deal with it, I mean." He clarifies.

"No. It happens more often than not, it isn't anything new." Russel answers, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. "I think Del's upset about.. Well, uh, he probably has too much energy in here to jus' fuckin' sit around and mourn his own death." The man explains as he shakes some of the ashes from his fag into a makeshift ashtray. "That's probably it. I'd be the same way if it were me possessin' him. But the rest of the guys.. I dunno, they always did follow in Del's lead," Russel shrugs.

"That would make sense, yeah." Stuart replies, still obviously deep in thought. "Maybe they need a bit of a talking to?" The singer suggests.

"Dee, they're ghosts. They sure as hell don' need a fuckin' lecture, they wouldn't listen; that's for damn sure." Russ sighs again. He's getting too old for all these late nights, even if he is hardly twenty-six.

"Oh." Shrugging slightly, Stuart eyes his best friend with obvious worry. After taking a long drag from the fag he's holding, he says, "Either way, mate, it's not healthy for you to have all these nights without any sleeping, you know?" He scratches his head, a frown taking the place of the younger man's usual absentminded grin.

"Stu, I know that. I just don't know how to fix the problem!" Russel exclaims, causing Stuart to flinch. Russ doesn't normally raise his voice, no, and the poor guy doesn't know how to handle it.

"Sorry, dee. Didn't mean to yell, it's just frustratin' me a little, ya catch my drift?" The large man apologises.

"It's okay. I get tha. J-jus' wasn't qui' expecting it." Stu stammers.

"M." Russ replies, resting his forehead back on his hand again.

"Do.. Do ya want me to stay awake with you?" Stuart asks, the frown still not having left his face.

"Nah, man, you can go back to Paula, I'll be all right in the mornin'." He turns to gaze at 2D for a moment.

"Russ, uh.. Um.. I want you to know that I'm here for you. My advice is to stop trying to fight back the spirits. Maybe they're trying to tell you something."

A small smile makes its way onto the drummer's face. "Yeah, yeah, I might try that. But, I think another problem is that I... I don't know where to go from here. It's 'ard, ya know? I miss my friends. I'm just thinkin'.. Why did they have to go? Why couldn't it'a been me to die instead of 'em?"

Stuart considers this thoughtfully. "Maybe.. No, definitely.. It wasn't' your time, Russ. Maybe they went in a really, really bad way, but that just means you gotta live the rest your life in the best way you can. Y'know, as a memorial to the lives that were taken too early. They'd want it so tha' yew were happy, wouldn't' they?"

Russ is staring at Stuart like he's just grown a new arm. The man is utterly speechless.

"Plus," 2D adds, "you're smart enough, I'm sure that you will be just fine, in the end." He says, standing up. "Well, I'll be off, then." Yawning, he starts over to the doorway, though he knows he won't be going back to bed, just yet. He has something to do before he can go back to Paula.

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Russel wakes up with a start. There's a painful crick in his neck, though that's to be expected if one falls asleep with their head rested down on a wooden table. It's six in the morning, right now, which means that he's only had two hours of sleep.

Sighing, Russel rests his chin on his left palm, eyes still closed. Using his free hand, he feels around for his box of fags. However, instead of fags, his hand finds its way to a. . . Cassette tape? He's positive that it hadn't been there before he fell asleep.

Finally opening up his eyes, they focus down on this newfound cassette. There's a white label on it with something scribbled on it in blue ink. *'For Russel', it reads. The man immediately recognises the handwriting as 2D's.

Standing up, he goes to find his walkman, sure he's left it in one of the cabinets in the den. Once Russ locates it, he returns to the kitchen and sits back in his chair. Putting the cassette in its slot, he presses play on the walkman.

There's an odd instrumental recorded with questionable quality that begins playing, and Russ is ready to push the stop button when he hears 2D's singing voice start on the track.

"Why can't you be near? Never one would appear, where do we go from here, where do we go?"*

Russel is stunned. He doesn't dare move, he's too drawn into these words. The editing of the vocals in the track is less-than-adequate, but Russ doesn't mind.

"If the last one isn't there, and it's all gone . . . But if the last one wasn't there, it'd all be wrong. . ."*

The man's fighting tears, now. He'd needed this.

"Sometimes you turn around, sometimes you're lost but not found. . . Where do we buy the day, when we go?"*

Here come the tears.

"If the last one isn't there, and it's all gone. . . But if the last one wasn't there, it'd be all wrong. . ."*

Russ sits there silently for a while after the promptly-made track has ended. He's filled with some sort of emotion he can't put a name to. Something like nostalgia mixed with longing, and maybe even a bit of hope.

He knows that he'll be eternally grateful to his friend for this. He's so calm, now, so peaceful. There's no inner-turmoil, to speak of. It's like this song is magical or enchanted or some shit. Even if the whole thing is less-than-perfectly executed, he's positive that it's more powerful than any alcohol he could have consumed; more powerful than any drugs he could have taken.

Russ is sleeping again in a matter of minutes, a peaceful expression on his face. At some point during the day that follows, Murdoc brings a comforter up to the kitchen and covers his drummer with it. He had been sure to help make the musical tones of 2D's song as calming as he could with what he had had to work with, and was glad to see that Lards was finally resting. He'd even been a bit impressed that 2D had managed to make the song title like it was taken from a dream, *'Mr. Softy's Balloon Race.'*

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Hello, yet again!

I had read in the YouTube comments on a certain song video that 2D had written that song to try and help Russel out of his depression, so naturally, I had to write how it played out. It's actually canon, more-or-less. ;)

Needless to say, I'm a bit surprised that there aren't any fics about it. I hope I did the story the justice it so very much deserves.

So, I obviously don't own the lyrics. If you're interested in what the song does sound like, put *"Mr. Softy's Balloon Race"* into the YouTube search bar. It's probably one of the least-known Gorillaz songs out there, and I don't even remember how I found out about it. Seriously, that song is a piece of perfection. So lovely, yet so very obscure.

Hope you've enjoyed the extra updates, I know I've enjoyed writing them!

My Humanz favorites are Charger and Busted and Blue.

Have a great week, okay?

Until next time,

Liz