I'm back! Gimme a hug buddy!
Alright, first thing I have to say is that this chapter took way too long and I'm not incredibly proud of it, but it continues the story. I've read it over and over myself, and this is really one of those chapters that emphasizes a couple of situations that are currently running through the Kong household, and will be addressed later, but real soon. PLUS, one HUGE introduction. But he can't stay for long. :D
And yes, Noodle cries a lot. She's ten, she lives in a dirty house with three musician guys in their 20s and 30s. So expect it. If I were her, I'd be traumatized, but she's strong like that.
Also, I know I can't write raps. So sue me.
I don't own Gorillaz, their songs, cartoons, or anything about them, especially their raps, so... yeah. I DO own a Hello Kinky shirt that I'm particularly proud of tho... dunno if that counts.
Enjoy this... chemical reaction I've so fabulously concocted. XP
December rain is not something you want to get caught up in, especially in the drab, dead winterland of Essex, England. It was completely grey. The ever-growing landfill to the west didn't help either, nor the shifting shapes by the cemetery, nor the drunken fools stumbling around in town. It just didn't look very brightening when one looked at it out of the garage from a lawn chair, watching puddles collect out in the downpour, drowning the anthills and spider webs. Stuart sat silent in the solitude of the basement, smoking and rubbing his temples to the beat of his painful heartbeats. It had been even worse upstairs, where Murdoc refused to stop playing his creation, Double Bass, and Russel had fallen asleep on top of the remote, with the channel switched to Huw Edwards just droning on and on about shit no one cares to listen to… ever. Especially at six.
2-D puffed a round blow of smoke into the air, watching it float outward and then fall victim to the rain. Ashes dropped onto the photograph in his hand, but didn't burn. The cold air sucked the heat out of everything, even 2-D. He had never felt so cold, as far as he could remember, and that wasn't worth much. No one counted on Stuart to remember phone numbers or addresses or hotel rooms. It escaped him in seconds. But this memory didn't. It just hurt too much to forget, and chilled him farther than to the bone.
Maybe one day, he promised himself half-heartedly, his brain would finally do its habitual job and let that go too.
All of this nostalgia was giving him a terrible migraine, as if he had never left the room of Huw Edwards and his nonsense they call news. It pounded against his forehead, stinging the inside of his eyes and making him cringe. His fingers scrambled across the pocket of his jeans, grasping his trusty green bottle and dumping its contents into his palm.
Alas, only one painkiller fell out. Stuart stared at this strange sight for a moment, a look of sheer confusion across his face. Then, he shrugged and popped the single pill into his mouth.
"Well," he grumbled, "What a sit'ation."
The headache subsided slightly with time, but nothing really changed very much. He was still moody, and sad, and the landscape ahead was doing nothing to cheer him up.
As 2-D's eyes started to droop (warning: may cause drowsiness), he leaned to the side to throw his empty bottle into a pile of rubbish that had somehow managed to grow perpetually alongside the garage wall. He thought that he had aimed correctly when he swung his arm, but only managed to smack the person who was standing just beside him. She had been watching the rain with him, without him knowing, and the sudden plastic-to-face action was enough to send her onto her back. Stuart was awake now, staring at his friend on the ground, praying to God that, please, no tears would - oh, too late.
Noodle's eyes slowly welled up, and as she started to realize what had just happened, the little girl couldn't help but start to cry. She rubbed her face, her forehead red from the smack, and cried out for something to happen, something better to wash the last thirty seconds away.
"Oh, no no no no," 2-D was about to cry as well. He had no experience with children – every chance he got, he ran away from that kind of thing – and he certainly didn't know how to make little Noodle feel better. Rock her in my arms? No, um, that was for little babies. Do I still pick her up? Oh, I don't know! He crept toward his sobbing friend, his heart being torn apart by her tear-stained face. She was usually always incredibly happy, and it would pain even the demon bass player to see her in a state like this. At least, Stu liked to think that. It was probably untrue.
Arms outstretched, the singer approached the little girl and put his hand on her shoulder. When she didn't react, he tried to take her hands away from her face, but Noodle cried harder and pulled back. Not sure of what to do, but remembering what his own mother would do when he was sad, Stuart awkwardly scooped her up and carried her back to his chair. She didn't exactly object, and once she knew what he was doing, she peered out from behind her fingers to look at him. He had started to tear up a little as well, though whether if it was because he was worried about her or if he felt unfortunate for being in this situation, she could not tell. Noodle hadn't stopped sobbing, and she couldn't have really explained why she was so sad even after the pain went away, but when 2-D sat down and held her in his lap, she felt comforted.
He told her that he was sorry a dozen times, unsure if she heard him, and cradled her against his shoulder. She mewled into his shirt and hugged him as if he would float away were she not holding, relaxing little by little until her cries turned into soft whimpers and her whimpers became gentle breathing. Stu didn't even notice that she had fallen asleep – he had dozed off as well.
The singer awoke not an hour later, the headache back and his vision blurry. But he wasn't cold like he had been before. He was actually warm. In a heavy state of confusion, he looked around, wondering if Russel had discovered him and given him a blanket. The big guy was nice like that. Out of focus, Stuart looked down and tried to examine the source of the warmth, but couldn't see very much. It appeared to be some multi-colored quilt or some such thing. But it was heavy. And 2-D gasped when it moved and groaned.
Slowly but surely, his mind came back to him along with his vision. He grinned and hugged Noodle back, being sure not to wake her. Her subtle sleeping smile was a stark contrast to the sadness she had displayed earlier. This was the Noodle he knew. It was the Noodle that he hoped would be around forever. Even though he knew, as well as anybody, that things tend to change between being ten-years old and being an adult, it was worth a shot to hope she'd be around to stay.
Eventually, the little girl grumbled and shifted around in Stuart's arms, rubbing her eyes and looking around for a clue as to where she was. A simple look upwards was all she needed, and Noodle smiled warmly.
"TooDee-san," she mumbled, wrapping her arms around her friend's neck and burying her head in his shoulder again.
"Hey doll, are you doin' a'kay? 2-D tried to look at her in the eyes. She nodded, whispered something in Japanese, and looked up at him. Her eyes were still red, but she felt okay now.
Keeping Noodle in his arms, Stuart started for the elevator, but he forgot his photo and picked it off of the chair before bringing the girl back up to the lobby. Both articles of precious cargo in hand, he felt much better than he had when he had come down there. He felt like just chilling and watching Dawn of the Dead for the thousandth time with a bag of tortilla chips and salsa… yeah.
"She pretty, TooDee-san."
"Hmm?" Stu had no idea what she was talking about, but then Noodle pointed at the photograph he held in the same hand as he was cradling her back with. She could see it perfectly.
"Lady. Very pretty. Who she?"
2-D was quick to hide the photograph down, underneath her shoulder. "Oh, nobody important, Noods," he lied. "Just one of Murdoc's, um, special pics."
"Ohhh, li-like Murdoc-sama hide in bedroooom, uh, wit'?"
"Exactly," Stu smiled and kept walking upstairs.
"Aight, guys. Dis session i' special an' impo'tant, so don't fo'get it," 2-D announced as he entered the studio, flicking on the recorder and standing in front of the room. "I got somefink that'll blow your minds beyon' further reco'nition."
The group stood there shuffling their feet, staring at him expectantly. Stu had planned his grand unveiling carefully, making sure everything and everyone was happy enough, and he didn't have a headache. Murdoc had been quiet most of the day, staring at the wall in the garage, which was better than most days. Russel had no complaints, and he had just bought Noodle a new amp, so she was anxious to try it out. 2-D smiled and raised his hands in a show of drama.
"Clint Eastwood." He dropped his hands, and waited.
Murdoc was the first to speak up, as always. "What the fuck are you talking about, you veg?"
Instantly, Stu was excited and jumping around. "Russel! Play liek dis!" He ran over to the big guy and motioned at the cymbals first, then a series of beats across the set. Russel tried it out and played perfectly.
"Good! Now, keep tha' beat!" He jumped over to Murdoc. "Play de notes ah play, mate!" Then to the keyboard, keeping to the beat of Russel's drums. It was slow and simple, and after once through, Muds picked it right up, a look of half-interest and half-annoyance across his face. It's a weird look.
"Awesome! Noodle, strum just liek dat, but a 'alf-beat behind!"
She waited for Murdoc, and then did just that. The amp sounded terrific. 2-D listened for a moment to the music, and beamed with pride to nobody in particular.
"RUSSEL!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, and the whole room went quiet. "You can rap while you drum, right?"
The New Yorker looked at his friend incredulously. "Hell yeah, man. Who ya think ah am? Me and Del got da beats cleared, 'specially if it goes on like dis da whole song."
"Awesome, just awesome!" Stu clapped his hands in further anticipation. " When Ah'm done singin', hit de cymbals four times liek in da b'ginnin', and then just… rap!"
"Anything, man?"
"Anythin', for forty five seonds."
"Aight, man."
"Okay, ev'rybody! Take i' from da top! Go!"
Cymbals four times, then more beats and the guitars started, the keyboard doing the exact same thing with a couple of exceptions. Wait, eight seconds, and…"
"Woo, hoo hoo hoo hoo!" 2-D yelled high into his microphone. It caught Noodle off guard, and she almost lost her place, but they kept going. The singer took a deep breath, and let it out.
"Ah ain't happy! I'm feelin' glad! Ah got sunshine!... in a bag! I'm useless. But not for long, the future!... is comin' on! Ah ain't happy! I'm feelin'glad! Ah got sunshine!... in a bag! I'm useless. But not for long, the future!... is comin' on, is comin' on, is comin' on, is comin' on, is…"
The cymbals clanged, and Russ was ready. He opened his white eyes, and grinned.
"Shotgun, boy ya know dat dis is da one! Ya hear it, ya break it, it ain't gonna be fun! Don't you pilfer it, you kill for it, you wish it was yours to spit, it ain't. It ours. And and and… and ya furkan gonaaa… ughh."
Russel had stopped rapping, his head drooped low, and 2-D's rhythm was broken, so the whole room halted except for the drums. He was in what seemed to be a state of unconsciousncess, staring ever forward and down, but still drumming. And drooling.
"Um, Russ? What're you doing?" Stu asked carefully.
Noodle ventured farther. "Russel-san, wake!"
Instantly, light shot from the drummer's eyes, aimed directly at Noodle, who screamed and fell back on the floor in terror. In front of her, a figure had appeared, pushed Murdoc out of the way, and smiled down at her. When it spoke, the voice was like that of something Otherworldly, but kind and comforting.
"Elephunk," the deep voice rumbled the entire room, white eyes and a big, red grin appearing. It was tall, and blue, and it wore Russel's headphones. Without another word, it pointed at 2-D and then at the keys. Unsure, but not wanting to anger the spirit (enough movies he'd seen told him to never anger such a being), the scared kid moved to the piano and immediately started playing what he'd been playing before, to the beat of the drums. He was nervous, and afraid that he'd pissed his pants, until the thing started rapping.
"Mah gurl, what an int'restin' word! Mah ears, oh mama, terrifically unheard! It sounds so absurd, but lemme reword! Ima gonna be me, it's da funkee homosapien! Six feet deep, but alive if you so think Ah can!" He knelt down and picked Noodle up off the floor, letting her fly in the air and then land right on her feet. The ghost seemed to be having fun. "But here I am! And here I'll stay! Up until death warms over and takes me on fuckin' away!"
He jumped up on the counter, mixing all the machines into a frenzy of buzzes and beeping, and continued his intro, all the while smiling between Noodle and 2-D. Murdoc was still trying to regain his composure from the floor.
"Sure, that was cheesy, but finally, someone let me out a mah cage! Now, time for me is nuthin' cuz I'm countin' no age! No, I couldn't be there, naw ya shouldn't be scared, I'm good at repairs, and I'm under each snare!..."
As he rapped all across the room, the walls and ceilings becoming the canvases of a fantastic light show that brought the three rockers in all directions, the ghost somehow convincing every other instrument to play itself – or so it seemed.
The spirit knelt down to a trembling Stuart. "You think this fictional? Mystical, maybe. Spiritual, hearable. What appears to you is a clearer view cuz, man, you crazy!" He rapped against the singer's head and a loud echo seemed to roll around the room. "Lifeless, to know the definition for what life is. Priceless, for you cuz I gon' put y'all on da hype shit! Ya like it? Gunsmokin' righteous with one token, psychic among those who posses you with one go!"
Russel's drumming intensified, came to a peak, and then smashed and ended with the cymbals echoing. The colorful lights dimmed back to normal, the other instruments realizing their inanimacy and settling down where they started. 2-D carefully stopped playing the keys, and all the band turned to the ghost who leaned against the wall and twiddled his thumbs.
"Sup, kids," the spirit greeted, and smiled at Stu. "Nice rhythm, mah man."
"Uh, thanks," the singer tried to say.
The blue thing stood up. "No prob, I'm Del." He held out his transparent hand to Stu, who was slow but eventually made a move to shake. All he got was a fistful of nothing, and his eyes bugged out of his head, the sudden nausea a sure sign that his brain was confused. Del laughed out loud.
"Ah love doing dat to folks!" the former man giggled, edging his way right through the instruments to Russ, who was still asleep. Del bent down and aimed his finger into the drummer's ear. "Ya think we should wake him?" He prodded the big guy a little a grinned at Murdoc.
"Are you up for it, Muds?" he asked, pointing to the cymbals.
The Satanist smiled devilishly. "Glad to, mate." See, Murdoc had had experiences with spirits in the past. Most were actual undead, something that the majority of Britain and the world believed non-existant - they'd never been to Kong. But all of the ghosts and zombies and occasional demons that the bassist had ever come into contact with led him to believe that these beings were only still here because the big guy downstairs forced them here. Earth was their Asphodel Meadows, the place where the strong and deeply rooted souls chose to stay, and where the tired and ignorant souls were forced. You could live undead positively or negatively. Murdoc tended to prefer those happy spirits that refused heaven.
Therefore, when a ghostly rapper steps into your house and tells you to loudly wake up your bandmate with his own cymbals, well… Muds wasn't one to refuse such an obvious gift from dear Beezlebub.
The amazing and well-thought out clang that reverberated through the room and tingling spines of the mere mortals present brought with it a chilly whirlwind that sent Noodle to 2-D's leg and Del directly back into the memories of Russel Hobbs. Lights shone brightly, blinding the wielder of the cymbals and throwing the band's instruments to the floor. The recording device buzzed endlessly with a deafening static that brought back poor Stu's migraine, the debilitating pain bringing him to his knees. And all at once, the static stopped, Murdoc could see again, and all the pain was gone. Russel was awake now, the fragmented remnants of his attempted rap escaping his lips before consciousness returned. The big guy groaned and leaned against the wall, eyes bloodshot and tears rolling down his face. Russ looked around at his shocked friends, but said nothing. He knew what had just happened.
Once Muds was back on his feet, and eyed the expressions of the other victims of paranormal activity, he smiled and spoke for them all.
"So, mate," he started at his drummer while picking up the fallen bass guitar. "That was Del?"
Russ was silent for some time before even acknowledging Muds. He sighed, and grinned a sad grin. "Yeah." It was hard to get words out. "That was Del."
They sang as loud and as proud as they could. "Ah ain't happy! I'm feelin' glad! I got sunshine, in a bag! I'm useless, but not for long! Mah future, is comin' on, it's comin' on, it's comin' on, it's comin' on!"
Muds zoomed them down the highway, ignoring traffic laws as best as he could, closing in on Chelmsford. They all packed into the newly-repaired-but-not-quite-perfect dunebuggy that had finally come back. It still needed a new clock and radio, as well as adequate parking capabilities, but it raced just as well as it used to. Besides, why listen to generic shit on the old AM/FM when you had Stu-Pot and Noodle singing a duet?
They were happy there, Noods in the seat behind 2-D (the seat that was missing a door, but she was the only one wearing a safety belt, so it evens out, right?), both of them belting out the kid's new song with such a fierce passion that it scared the crap out of Murdoc. It wasn't their voices which scared him, no, their voices were perfect. And it was just that. It was perfect. Muds was as anxious as he'd ever been, for the future. He hadn't remembered feeling like this since an overdosed hospital-patient Stu had accepted to sing for him.
Russ was relatively quiet, sitting in the back next to Noodle, prepared to jump over and hold her tight should anything happen concerning the missing door. He wasn't a singer; for every time he tried, he had been laughed out of the spotlight. He was content enough listening to the two stars next to him be perfect in every way.
So the group tore down the road, weaving in and out of evening commuter traffic, not a cop in sight. It was rather refreshing. After the incident in the studio, Mr. Niccals was in such a good mood (strange, right?) that he wanted to celebrate somehow - a big Chinese take-out feast or something to keep the moment alive. Noodle did him one better: she had found a Japanese restaurant nearby, who's presence piqued her interest in her own native cuisine for a long while. It was a good idea.
Zen Noodle Bar was ten minutes away, and the band was dying to cool off for just that long in the frosty air. When they pulled up to the neon downtown building, Noodle immediately jumped out and ran for the door, leaving her "guardians" behind. Without a second thought, she rushed up to the bar and ordered everything that looked good. Luckily the bar girl spoke Japanese, and hesitantly did as the little kid wished. If she couldn't eat it, Russel would.
Once the girl was satisfied with her spending of Murdoc's money, the whole dysfunctional family chose a corner seat with big chairs, where they could celebrate loudly in peace.
Even after Noodle was full, she still wanted to try different good-looking dishes; Russel cleaned up whatever she left behind; Murdoc chose only sake, and it was beginning to show; while Stu just sat there, humming his song to himself, picking at a big plate of rice and shrimp. The waitress who was in charge of them could only imagine the situation that landed a small ten-year old in these delinquents' hands.
Muds eventually took a smoke break outside, watching the cars pass by and listening to a nearby nightclub pump its nightly beats. Somewhere between the salads and the seafood, a rather content 2-D left his hungry friends and joined the bassist.
In the light of the neon, Murdoc's small, smoking smile appeared illuminated brilliantly on one side, and then thrown into a dramatic pitch black shadow on the other. The smoke from his Capstan too vanished into the wall of nothingness, dissipating into the air without anyone's notice. Even the scorched bald spot that the musician was desperately to hide wasn't visible until he turned towards the lanky figure approaching him.
"Ah, Denthead," he started with a slight wave of his fag. "I'd offer you one, but the last time I did that to anybody, she was your girl."
The singer chuckled soberly and leaned against the wall beside his friend. "Tha's aight. I got mah'wn." He edged out a pack of Lucky Strikes and popped one in his mouth. The one thing that Murdoc did offer was a light – a very great generosity on his part, really.
The two just stood there, puffing and eyeing the girls all dressed up for a Saturday night out. None of them had dates, as far as either of them could see, but… Noodle's bedtime was 10. So the second-long fantasies that each of them had was enough for the moment. 2-D didn't feel like getting up and doing much anyways.
Muds had other plans. Once the filter was crushed into the sidewalk crack, he took off into the alleyway, leaving his lazy colleague behind.
"Oi!" Stu called out. "Where ya fink ya goin'?"
But Niccals remained silent as he disappeared into the darkness. On the other side of the alley, more lights shone through, allowing the bassist's silohuette to take a vague shape above the ground. Blindly, and already with bad eyesight, 2-D felt he had no choice but to go after him.
"Murdoc, Ah'ave a feelin' Ah'm gonna 'ate you real soon."
"Why must you always denote me to violence, faceache?" the darkness replied.
"Coz tha's yo defau' settin'."
"Perhaps, but is'not my only one."
By some sort of miracle, 2-D found himself stepping from the alleyway unharmed, back into the light of the small city. Muds was farther down the street, never stopping to check on his confused follower.
The two walked on at a distance from each other, the sidewalk getting more and more crowded as they made their way into the center of Chelmsford. Well-dressed youths loitered around the shops and cafés, passing around pot and alcohol, having fun but never getting out of control; for every ten kids there was a cop leaning against a wall, but they too appeared to see it as a night out. Music pumped from somewhere in the distance, and as Stu got closer and closer to the epicenter, he realized where Murdoc was leading him.
"There it is, dents," the old man mused, eyes wide and hands on his hips. "There's our ticket to the beginning of what'll be a long and beautiful… collaboration." He turned to his blue-haired friend. "And today, you basically gave me my Christmas present."
"Ah tot ya dint celbrate Chrismas."
"Don't be a dolt. Any occasion where I get free gifts is an occasion I'm at." Turning back to the brightly-lit Dukes Genesis club, he sighed. "I didn't think I'd meet a ghost today, I didn't think I'd have sake again, and I didn't ever once believe that that tiny little walnut o' yours was capable of some sort of genius." Muds reached over a knocked on 2-D's head, forcing the singer to shrink away involuntarily.
"Yessir, we're gonna fucking rock. Once my hair grows back right, o'course."
Stu looked back at the distant alley of the noodle bar anxiously. "Right, well, I's hopin' ye'd liek it. Worked o'it fo' a good fi'e monts, ah did."
"And it showed, denty, it showed."
Murdoc wouldn't take his eyes off of the club. The kids strolling in and out of the building looked like they were having fun, but the bassist imagined the look on their faces – they demanded something new, something fresh. He pulled out another cigarette, the liar, and lit it up without looking. So taken up by this moment of glory was he, that he didn't notice Stu inch away down the street, hurrying to be back with his real friends.
I don't think anyone knows just how much fun I have with 2-D's accent. ^_^
Murdoc DOES celebrate Christmas. Why? Because he loves free stuff. Does he GIVE during Christmas? No fucking way.
R&R! I hoped you liked it.