2D was abruptly startled from his restless slumber by the feeling of something dripping onto his forehead. He attempted to open his eyes, but reeled back in pain as a blindingly white light scorched his bloodied retinas, dancing colorful spots seemingly stained to the underside of his eyelids. He bowed his head quickly, feverishly attempting to escape the blinding light, but it persisted no matter how hard he struggled. After his mind had settled, he slowly began opening one eye.
The room was very dark, except for the stupid light 2D was beginning to loathe. He lifted his head slightly, opening his other eye. He was in a sitting position, something cold and metallic digging into his ankles and his wrists, which were locked behind his back.
Where th' fuck am I? 2D pondered, sweating in the blistering heat of the dark room. Wot about th' pizza?
"Ah, I see you are awake." A firm voice echoed around the room, interrupting 2D from his dazed recollection. "I was beginning to worry that my…underling…had treated you too inhospitably." There was the sound of loud, clanging footsteps, like a large man going down a metal staircase.
"Who are yew?" 2D began to say, but all that came out was a choked cough. He also noticed that he was incredibly thirsty; his tongue was like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth, the coppery taste of blood lingering on his back teeth. The back of his head began to sting distantly, as if his head was just remembering that it had a gash in it.
"I apologize for the poor arrangements…" snickers cascaded around the room. "We have very little to work with, as you can see." The light disappeared as someone moved in front of it, standing directly in front of 2D. The overhead lights snapped on, illuminating the area around him.
"W-Wot…" 2D managed to cough, craning his head to look up at the tall apparition. A man in a garish pink mask stood before him, a collection of blue feathers sprouting from the top. He was adorned in a satin housecoat with a leopard pattern, as if he had just climbed out of bed. He had a wide, toothy smile and seemed as tall as a building from where 2D was sitting.
"Don't you recognize me? Oh come on, you must!" The man chuckled, raising his arms and nodding, the upper platform illuminating to reveal rows upon rows of people. They began cheering wildly, clapping and screaming as if the strange, colorful man were their messiah.
"Uh…" 2D murmured, drawing a blank as the man looked down at him expectantly.
"Jesus Christ, you'd mind as well know nothing!" The man sighed, laughter resonating through the metal building. "Behold, the magnificent Dr. Wurzel, nemesis of the virtual band, Gorillaz! ~" The man called out, the unseen crowd once again cheering and shouting.
Tis feels like one o' my ol' B-movies… 2D groaned in his thoughts, the cheesiness of the situation around him draining his energy. Jus' wot the fuck 'ave I been dragged into? The man seemed to sense his obvious discomfort, chuckling and placing a hand on his own hip.
"Well, I'm quite surprised that you can't seem to recall my identity, as your friend Mr. Niccals knows me…quite well," Wurzel chuckled, looking expectantly at his group of lackeys who had materialized out of nowhere, and were now standing behind 2D. They all laughed as expected, but it sounded more and more forced with every round. "I've devoted much of my personal time to absolutely terrorizing the poor drunk. In fact, I've been organizing a devious master plan to steal his precious Winnebago! ~"
He began chuckling madly to himself, but suddenly turned serious. The smile was gone from his face, his maniacal laugh lines seemingly out of place. He kneeled down in front of the azure-haired vocalist, placing a hand on his shoulder so that they were eye level. 2D could swear he could hear a dramatic string orchestra in the background.
"Are you seeing a pattern here, Mr. Tusspot?" Dr. Wurzel murmured, his voice soft and stern at the same time. 2D flinched at the sound of his original last name; his family had always preferred the shortened version, yet 2D could only wonder how this strange man even knew his last name.
"P-Pattern…?" 2D whined, his voice back to its usual high octave. The man's stagnant breath was so debilitating, 2D could barely keep his eyes open. He swore he could see a piece of lettuce stuck in his molars.
"Yes, Stuart, a pattern. I have a knack for collecting…precious goods. Especially when those precious goods belong to others, am I right?!" he laughed, the rest of his group laughing with him. 2D couldn't see the other people, but he could hear them shuffling around behind him. He wondered if the pizza boy from before was amongst them.
"Alright, back on topic. Yes, yes, precious goods, ANYWAYS! Right now, my radar has landed on your satanic friend, who seems to have…many, many precious goods. His Winnebago, his "El Diablo" bass guitar, his portal to hell- oh! And you too, of course!" Wurzel chuckled, poking 2D's nose playfully.
"M-Me…?" 2D coughed, surprised at the strange man's accusation. He had never considered himself one of Murdoc's precious things; not compared to the guitar he had traded his soul for, or his highly prized love-shack on wheels.
"Why, of course! What would a virtual band be without a vocalist?" Dr. Wurzel chuckled, grinning madly once again. He absentmindedly played with the ends of 2D's hair, tilting his head like a child fascinated with something shiny. "This is going to be a very grand operation, I'll have you know. I've already stolen you away from that putrid sack of flesh; now I only have to wait until the rest of his treasures arrive at my doorstep."
2D was beginning to catch on to what Dr. Wurzel was envisioning, a sense of dread clouding his mind. Not because he'd be used to retrieve the rest of Murdoc's stash, but because he was most likely going to die here, as Murdoc would never give up any of his things.
"Yew do know Muds's never gonna 'and over his Winnie," 2D groaned, glaring up at the colorful masked man. He laughed in response, the way an adult would laugh at a child.
"Oh, Stuart…you'd mind as well just open your eyes. Just think with me here for a sec…what does Murdoc value most?" Wurzel said to him condescendingly, as if he didn't expect 2D to understand. He glared at the young boy, patently waiting for his response.
"Er…getting' laid an' wasted?" 2D answered quizzically, tilting his head. He just wanted this delusional line of questioning to end.
"Oh, you're so cute," Wurzel said to him in a high-pitched voice, pinching his cheek playfully. "Despite your cuteness, you are just as incorrect. No, my dear Stuart, Murdoc's main goal in life is to run a successful band. I know, it does sound out of character; but when you think about it, he sold his soul for that bass, did he not? His deal with Satan details that when his band is the most successful, he'll be dragged off to hell. Now here's where you come in, you petulant fool; without Gorillaz's iconic vocalist, the band will fall apart completely! Now, THAT is why I am convinced that you are my little golden ticket to Murdoc's treasure trove! ~" He squealed to himself for a moment, awash in the fantasy he had spun for himself.
"Yew're absolutely bonkers, mate," 2D sighed, shaking his head. He was growing tired of this mindless charade, and his head was really starting to hurt now. He felt a warm liquid trickle down his neck, wincing as his head wound re-opened. He imagined his beautiful bottle of pain medication, but no amount of imagining could stop his head from pounding.
"Oh, I know I am, but that is why I'm so serious about this. If I wasn't serious, I'd just meander into that car park of yours and make off with that Winnebago of his; but as you can see, I have a plan. I'm weaving a fail-safe net of protection underneath me and my crew, ensuring my absolute victory. Oh, it gives me goose bumps just thinking about it!" Wurzel gasped, wrapping his arms around himself. "Ohhh, I can only imagine the look on his face…pure agony as he watches me drive around in that putrid vehicle, my feet propped up on the dashboard…mm, I'll need to get a picture of that!"