Hey its me again, expect the first few chapters to come quickly, as the story gets longer then expect for the chapters to be a bit further between. As always comments are appreciated :)

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Murdoc had been sitting in that blasted eighty-nine degree waiting room for about three days now. If this was what Hell was going to be like he might as well have been sent to heaven with the rest of the goody two shoes of the world. Oh and damn what he wouldn't have done for a cigarette at that time. He was running his hands through his greasy, unkempt, black hair in a nervous fidget. So far, me kickin' tha sodding bucket has given me nothing but grief and one helluva withdrawl. He ground his nasty, sharp, green teeth together. When was it going to end?! He had spent his whole life following the teachings of his royal lowness and for what?! To spend three stupid days sitting in a goddamn waiting room when he was the only one here! Unb-fuckin-lievable…

"Mr. Niccals?" Murdoc's head shot up to a woman with blue skin, red hair, and horns. Wasn't that bad looking if you asked his twisted brain. "He'll be seeing you now." She turned towards the office she had just strolled out of. "Thanks love." Murdoc said as he heaved himself to his feet. He knew he wasn't going to be seeing the Devil himself, he still had formalities to go through.

"'Ello, mate." Murdoc said as he sat down in a chair positioned in front of a desk that had a lazy good-for-nothing demon sitting behind it. He didn't even look to Murdoc, he just sat there, smoking a cigarette and reading a magazine labeled "The Flaming Pick". Murdoc couldn't help but stare at the cigarette in the demon's mouth. He ran his long tongue over his chapped leathery lips in wanting. The demon's left eye strayed from the magazine as the other kept focused on the page. Then as quickly as it had left the page it returned to it.

"'Ey! I'm 'ere ta be admitted to this sodding plain of existence! Now stop reading your sodding news paper and let's get a move on before this place freezes over for Satan's sake!" He yelled, more frustrated with the cigarette the demon was now flauntingly rolling between his lips than anything else. The heat and the fact that he had been waiting for three days straight really didn't help his mood any.

The demon took a long drag on the cigarette before extinguishing it in an overflowing ashtray nearby. He threw the mag down to his desk and turned both his roaming red eyes to Murdoc. "Alright then Mr. Niccals. You want business eh?" The demon started ruffling its' black hair and yawning. "Here is your business then." The demon pulled out a huge folder and plopped it down on the desk.

Murdoc surveyed the folder with pride, it was quite large and quite obviously his. He'd done a lot of shit in his life and this was proof of it. He was only a tiny bit surprised and disappointed that it looked like nothing more than a truly overstuffed filing folder.

"It's quite impressive." The demon said pushing it to Murdoc so he could have a look at it. "I haven't seen so many sins racked up in one year of existence before. That's only three of your forty-two years in actuality. Damn, you really earned your spot down here." Murdoc gave a throaty laugh. "Whoy thank ye! I try, I really do. Say, eh, any chance of ewe givin' me onna those fags ya got oveah there?" The demon blinked and looked around the room. After a few minutes he gave Murdoc a questioning look. "Wot the bloody 'ell was that? I asked for a fag ya dumbarse not for ya ta inspect the whole goddamn room!" The demon once again looked at him questioningly, he was obviously an American demon. Murdoc gave a rough angry sigh. "A fuckin' cigarette ya wanker."

"Why didn't you say that at first? I thought you wanted a-"

"-Shut up an just give it ta me already!" Murdoc yelled, cutting the young demon off. He had reached the end of his wick and really needed a cigarette badly.

The demon pulled a green filtered cigarette from his pack and handed it to Murdoc over the desk. Murdoc snatched the fag from the demon's hand, nearly taking his fingers with him. He took the lighter from the demon roughly and lit up. Taking a long drag on the first cigarette he'd had in three days, it was pure, for lack of a better word, heaven.

Slowly, he let the smoke float out his nostrils and eventually he sighed the rest of the greeny smoke out his mouth. "Alright, let's get down ta business ye?" He offered, feeling worlds better now that he had something intoxicating inside of his system.

"Uhm, alright." The demon said slipping a pair of glasses onto his face and examining a paper. "First off, Mr. Niccals, welcome to Hell and processing, or in many peoples case they are one in the same." Murdoc grunted in acknowledgement, still mellowing out thanks to the rolled bit of tobacco and paper between his rough fingers.

"Moving along then. Anyway, you, have the easiest trip to a demonship I have ever dealt with in all honesty." Murdoc raised an eyebrow. "Demonship? Wot the bloody 'ell is tha?"

"It's sort of like citizenship, only demons can safely inhabit the lower reaches of Hell honestly, a regular human soul just incinerates instantly. Anyway, to gain a demonship, you usually have to serve a time in hell or serve time top-side working for us." Murdoc gave a thoughtful groan in the back of his throat. "So, wot do I 'ave ta do?" He said not wanting to work again so soon.

"Well, instead of doing something like signing away souls to the big man, you get to serve Haunting Hours. 3600 of them to be exact" The demon looked away from the paper in hand to Murdoc. "So, in other words, you get to go back to Earth for the next five months to serve time scaring the shit out of inhabitants of wherever you choose to haunt." Murdoc's face was a hodgepodge of different emotions, anger, excitement, curiosity, and exhaustion to name merely a few. "When do I get to go back?" He asked as the cigarette began to burn at its' filter and he stubbed it out.

"Soon as you are deemed ready for the trip… Which is now." The demon snapped his fingers. Murdoc's eyes shot open wide as he was enveloped in flames and taken back to the world of the living.

After Murdoc had left, the demons eyes half lidded in annoyance. "Annoying mother fucker." He said as he picked up his magazine and began reading once again. He slipped another of his green filtered cigarettes between his lips and began to smoke once again.

When 2D awoke, he was sprawled out on his bed with a melted ice pack to his forehead. His headache had reduced to a dull throbbing, but the pain in his chest refused to leave. He gave an emo sigh of depression and rolled onto his side, facing the wall that held his organ. Woah…. I fink 'm hallucinatin' now… He thought as he saw a green hand with jagged, unkempt fingernails by his face. He blinked at it, still in a haze from his headache. He sighed, his body assuming it to be a hallucination of loneliness. He reached out to touch it. Finding that it was indeed solid, he swirled slow circles over the rough knuckles, now sure that he was still asleep. "Wot choo fink you're doin' faggot?" 2D's fingers stopped in their tracks at the voice. He blinked, he shouldn't be hearing that voice. He shouldn't ever be hearing it again… And yet he was…

2D shot up and stared directly at the deceased bassist. They stared at each other for a minute or two. "Agh!! Its' finally 'appened!!" 2D screamed, Murdoc stared at the distressed kid with a look of curiosity. "I've finally gone insane!! I always knew you'd be the one ta do it too Muds!" He screamed jumping up from the bed and pacing in a circle. "Wot choo talkin' about dullard?" Murdoc said glaring at him. Murdoc stood and walked over to the spasmodic singer and gripped him firmly about the shoulders. He smacked him clean across the face. 2D blinked at him with a look of horror in his eyes.

"I am insane! You're s'posed to be dead! I saw it! I saw your body in the casket! I know you're dead!" Stuart gripped his azure blue hair and began to pull at it. "Yea, so 'm dead, big whoop." Murdoc said grinding his fist into his opposite hand. "Fis is all a bad dream…" Tears nagged at the back of 2D's eyes, how he desperately wished it weren't true. "You ain't real."

Murdoc had had enough of this nonsense. "'M real enough ta do 'is." The bassist cocked his fist back and let fly a punch to the younger man's face. 2D was sent to the ground, he hadn't expected his hallucination to go so far as to punch him. Murdoc glared down at him. "I am real dullard." 2D looked up at him with an innocent face, his bloody nose making him look even more vulnerable. "But… You're dead… Ain't ya?"

"No, I had all tha fixed yesterday. Duh 'm still dead face-ache." Stu stared at Murdoc's ghostly form for a moment. His hair was still oily looking, his eyes were still mismatched, his skin, as he had just recently found out, was still dry and caliced, it looked to him like being dead changed nothing about you. "I missed ya…" 2D finally decided to say. Murdoc rolled his eyes and offered a hand to help him up. The singer gratefully accepted and was pulled to his feet.

"So, er.. Muhdoc, wot you doin' back 'ere anyway?" 2D was beginning to wring his hands nervously, hoping that he wasn't going to leave anytime soon. Murdoc looked at 2D as contemptuously as ever. "I like it up 'ere. Unfortunately dullard you're the only one tha can see me. So, 'm gonna need something from ya." A wicked grin spread over the bassist's face. "Uhm, wot would tha be?" Stuart was quickly becoming nervous with that look in his eyes. He took a step back from the ghostly man who, now that he looked at the space around him, was wreathed in a black aura, he swallowed as Murdoc stood from the bed and started pacing towards him. The grin was still plastered on his face as he spoke in a frightening and alluring voice. "I need your body dullard. 'M sick of not bein' seen. So, talk to ya latah mate." Murdoc all out slammed his body against 2D's. Who was then shoved into a wall, the back of his head connecting violently with it. 2D sank to the ground, a small stream of blood flowing from the back of his head. He fell forward, catching himself on his arms before his face hit the floor.

Holding the back of his head, he sat up and surveyed the room. Yes indeed it still was 2D's room, he looked down at himself and made a wicked grin. He gave a throaty laugh before hauling his disproportionate body to its feet. He looked to himself in the mirror and was surprised to see that his reflection had its eyes closed! He raised an interested eyebrow and walked over the mirror. "Wot the bloody 'ell?" 2D inspected himself in the mirror for a moment, it still reflected his every movement, just something was up with the face. He grinned at the mirror, the grin was reflected back, but the eyes of his image were still firmly shut. "Mn… Tha ain't weird at all…" He shrugged when it didn't seem to have any ill effects on him. "I could really use a beer…"

Before heading out, he pulled his shirt off, the blood was beginning to stain the back of it and he didn't need the fat ass asking him what had happened. He decided he'd go to the bathroom and clean it up before going to the kitchen just to be sure. With that as a parting thought, he left his room and headed up to the bathroom and eventually the kitchen.

Russle sat at the table eating a bowl of ramen Noodle had made for him. He was sort of wondering if he should check on 2D or not. He seemed fine when the left the procession. Russle thought it was rude to leave in the middle of one, especially the bassist's. He resolved to go check on the singer after he had finished his noodles. He picked up his fork and quickly realized that he wouldn't have to go check on the singer when he was done because he had just strolled on into the room shirtless with dripping blue hair. He watched him curiously as he walked over to the fridge and opened it. 2D leaned against the door scratching his hip in a very familiar way. He leaned down and plucked a beer from the back of the fridge and plopped down in the seat next to Russle. "Uhh… Hey D." He said as 2D opened his beer with his teeth and tossed the cap away.

"You know how beer messes with your meds man. That's not a good idea." 2D looked over at him out of the corner of one of his black eyes. "Keep your shit brown arse outta me business." He sucked down nearly half the beer in two seconds.

"What did you just say!" Russle had never heard 2D talk to anyone like that. Not even Murdoc when he was angry at him. Granted 2D loved Murdoc, but still even someone who obviously was pissing the singer off never had to endure more than a "shut up" or "stop it" from him.

"I jus said 'keep your shit brown arse outta me business' savvy?" 2D took another swig off his beer. "D, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were Murdoc." At Russle's comment 2D looked over at him. "Well good fing you know betta then 'ey?"

"Look, I know how you felt about him, but just because he's gone doesn't mean you have to start acting like him." Russle layed his massive hand on the whippet thin singer's shoulder. 2D swiftly shifted his shoulder and smacked the hand away. "Don't touch me." Once again he took another mouthful of beer and swallowed it. "Oh come on D, don't be like that."

"Don't be like 'ow? I jus don't want your fat arse hand touchin me." For the first time since meeting the blue haired man, Russle seriously wanted to beat the shit out of him. If this behavior kept up he wouldn't miss the dearly departed bassist for long. He ground his teeth in frustration.

"Finally ewe shut your fat-arse mouth." That was it. Russle grabbed the blue haired man by his neck and cocked his fist. Luckily for him though, Noodle walked into the kitchen.

"Russle… What are you doing to 2D-kun?" She asked disapprovingly.

"This guys been nothing but a rude-ass mother fucker ever since he got up. I tried to be nice to him and all I'm getting is shit!" Russle growled to the guitarist, not taking his eyes off the man between his fingers.

"Noodle, love, can you please get 'is caveman offa me?" 2D asked as sweetly as his personality could currently manage.

Noodle looked at 2D. Her brow furrowed, she had definitely noticed something was up. That caught 2D's breath in his throat. He began to squirm in the drummer's iron grip, clawing at Russle's large hand. "Put me down now! Honestly, leggo!" 2D let a bit of his childish whine seep into his voice, he wanted to get away from the young guitarist's perceptive eyes.

"Russle-san, please can you put 2D-kun down?" She asked hesitantly turning her gaze to Russle. Russle growled before opening his fist and letting the puny singer drop to the floor.

It hadn't taken 2D two seconds to scramble to his feet and run out of the kitchen. Noodle looked after him as he ran. Once Stu had rounded the corner she turned back to Russle. "Something's wrong." This statement was met with a swift nod from the drummer. "I say we look into the problem. You?" Noodle tapped her chin with her index finger a few times. "Hai, whatever is wrong we have to do something about it."