DISCLAIMER: I dont own the Gorillaz.

This is my first fan fiction ever, please read and review and tell me what you think. Am working on the second and final chapter right now.


Murdoc Nicols watched carefully as the single goldfish made its slow cycle around the globe that was its home. He would be the first to admit what he was doing was not the most kind of things, particularly as Noodle had developed a deep love for the pathetic animal since it had made a home in the kitchen of Kong Studios. But the fact was that fish, especially mindless ones, were a great irritation to the Satanist and besides, when was the last time he had hurt anything?

Poison was the first thing he could think of. Other options had included frying it, drowning it in air it could not breathe, or even skewering it and watch it struggle under his grip. But poison was the one method which meant he was pretty unlikely to get caught. 2-D left his medicines and pills everywhere including the kitchen, there was no reason that one of the bottles could have tipped over and dropped into the goldfish bowl. Murdoc hoped.

God knows what was in the medicine, but the skull and crossbones on the front was reasonably self explanatory. For a split second he found himself worrying about his band mate taking such things, but he shoved the thought away and boldly unscrewed the lid.

"Say goodbye." He chuckled as he gently poured the mixture into the water. When the darker cloud of poison began to enshroud the indifferent goldfish, he began to cackle to himself and threw caution to the wind, pouring the entire bottle into the vessel. The fish seemed to understand what was happening, and suddenly zipped around in an instinctive panic as its gills were assaulted by a stinging gel that was 2-D's cure for insistent headaches. Retreating to the ornamental house at the base of the bowl seemed to help, but even then the water was slowly curdling.

Murdoc watched with his wide mouth cut into a grin of glee. It had been too long since he had hurt anything. Of course there were the bugs which infested his Winnebago, you could never squash enough of those bastards, but somehow insect abuse just didn't do it for him anymore. He had once been a constant purveyor of beatings to just about anyone. It was 2-D who had been his favourite punch bag until Russell had finally confronted him about the situation and ordered him to stop.

"I made this band!" Murdoc had retaliated quickly. He had been slumped on the sofa in front of the TV, remote in one hand and bottle in the other, when Russell had cornered him and hesitantly made his point.

"D'unt mean you cn' hit ma' bro around though, Murdoc." The drummer pointed out, his arms folded in what he hoped was a gesture of strength. Again, Murdoc half glanced at him with miss-matched eyes.

"As I said Russ, I made this band and I can do what I want. Got that?"

"No I aint--"

"I said have you got that!" Murdoc had exploded. The bottle smashed on the wall behind Russell's bulky frame, and the man flinched and shook his head, holding his hands up in submission.

"Alrigh' alrigh', just trying to defend my bro. If he aint dun nuthin wrong, dunt you touch him. Haven't you got a heart?" And with that he had left, leaving behind the odour of hamburgers and cheap aftershave. Murdoc sniggered.


I suppose I don't have a heart, he thought now as the goldfish became his victim. And who's to care? I don't. The minute I start caring about someone Id...well I'd...

But he had been caring for someone. Else he would not be reduced to killing vulnerable animals for pleasure, right? Right? Murdoc tapped his temple irritably to push away the invading thoughts. Consciences were probably the biggest pain in the world, second only to pretty boy singers.

"Murdoc?" A little Japanese voice asked. The bassist span on his heels to see a pre-teen girl stood innocently in the doorway, guitar in hand and a most adorable smile on her oriental face.

"Er," Murdoc shuffled carefully to the side, entirely blocking the scene of his crime from her view. "Afternoon Noodle. Are you alright?"
"I have lost my Muse." She sighed, flicking the doorway as if doing so would help her find her lost inspiration. "I felt in my heart I had a song to write today, but all I had so far is soulless words. Would you help me?"

"Er...well actually I was just going to..."

"That's it!" Noodle suddenly brightened, and her face glowed as if a light had been switched on inside her. "I've got it! Thank you Murdoc!" And she zipped away before her companion could begin to wonder what power he had used to return the spark of creativity that was lodged inside her little frame. She was a godsend, that one. Must have been sent by the angels, or possibly someone who thought it would be amusing to pack off a child in a Fed-ex box. Without that flame of life inside her, who knows were the band would be now? Non-existent probably.

Murdoc blinked once, then he grabbed the goldfish bowl and hurled it against the floor with as much strength as he could muster. The glass exploded and shards were sent flinging into the air to bounce against the walls or embed themselves in his clothing. Without noticing the blood which quickly rushed into his left eye, the Satanist snatched up the gasping fish and bounded towards the sink, pushed the mountain of dirty plates out of the way, replaced the plug and frantically batted the rusty button that was the cold tap. When the clear water splattered into the basin, he carefully placed the fish into the growing puddle and watched hopefully as the level rose.

It was a beautiful creature really, perhaps that was why he had wanted to kill it. Jealous of its beauty, jealous of its ability to be able to please just by swimming around in a friggin bowl all day. The web-thin tail flicked in the water, and soon the creature was able to propel itself along under the pulsating skin of the water, happy and oblivious as before. When Murdoc saw it begin to retrace the circles it had made in its old home, around and around and around, he almost chuckled as he dropped in flakes of food from an ancient-looking pot on the side. He turned off the tap and watched the flakes being gulped up by the peculiar snout of the fish. Now he could see why Noodle loved this damned thing so much.

Glass all over the kitchen floor. Murdoc was damned if he could be bothered to clear that up. He knew he would have to explain himself to Noodle as soon as her quick little mind worked out what had happened, but right now all he cared about was wandering around the dark corridors of their home and mutter to himself. It would have been good to have hurt something else. But to be realistic, what kind of idiot gets pleasure from acting the hand of god on a goldfish? All this because that Russell had given him a pep talk on how to behave to a man who had about four brain cells, two of which were asleep most of time anyway. But then again, surely if he was like his old self, he would have hurt 2-D even more just to assert himself as a guy who wasn't going to take crap from anyone.

He had saved the goldfish because he did not want Noodle to get upset.

There. Admitted it. Oo, I can feel a heart beating away under that repulsive shell I've got for a chest. Next I might be handing out flowers and sending all my money to the RSPCA.

Well he knew that wasn't true. But still, he felt a peculiar feeling in his chest which felt suspiciously like guilt, guilt that he had wanted to hurt something which gave that girl so much delight.

Time to kill some cockroaches.

On his way to the car park, Murdoc passed 2-D's room. The singer was stood at the doorframe staring into his bedroom as if the devil himself was appearing inside it. Murdoc stopped and watched his back for a few seconds, then he made himself known the usual way.

"Hey, brain-ache!" He barked. 2-D jumped three feet into the air, spun around and fell over backwards, cracking his head painfully on the side of the chair which was lodging the door open.

"Uh, hi Murdoc." The singer said uncertainly as he sat up and drew a tentative hand to the back of his head.

"What in crap's name are you doing? Scared of the monster under your bed are you?" Murdoc leaned forward to survey the room. Apart from the fact that the bed had been almost entirely ripped apart and a sword was embedded in what was left of the mattress, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

"I thought I saw a zombie." 2-D mumbled. "The first thing I got in ma hand was Noodle's sword...I guess she must have left it..."

"Yeah." Murdoc showed his disinterest sharply. "Did you kill it or not, brain-ache?"

"I dunno where it went..." He mumbled. "I really don't like those things..." He looked over his shoulder at the pile of fluff and springs which was once his sleeping arrangements. "I think I might have...overreacted a bit."

"Hm." Murdoc chuckled. He offered his band mate his hand, and 2-D studied it warily, flinching away. "What?" The bassist asked, but when he saw the fear in his companion's eyes he sighed angrily and allowed his hand to flop to his side. 2-D struggled to his feet and took a few cautious steps into his room. There was a large bruise which could be just seen peeking from under the neck of his shirt, and Murdoc felt that peculiar pang in his heart again as he remembered the feeling of the taller man's flesh and bone thudded against his angry fist. Again, he pushed the thoughts which came with it away, and followed his companion into the room.

"Be careful." 2-D said, looking at Murdoc with his brow furrowed. "Those things are attracted to...dark colours."

"You think I don't know that?" The bassist snapped, becoming more aware of his gloomy clothes. When he saw his forehead was being stared at, he glared back. "And what exactly do you find so interesting?"

"You've got glass stuck in you."

"Aw crap, really?" Murdoc lifted his hand to his brow and succeeded in impaling his fingertip on a sharp point which seemed to be jutting from his skin. "Fuck!"

"Hold still, I can get it out for you."

Murdoc, who was now sucking his finger, raised a critical eyebrow. The day he saw a druggie like 2-D have fingers steady enough to take glass from skin would be the day he shagged a guy. Neither was going to happen. Still, 2-D drew close and with careful, almost reverent hands he prodded the skin around the glass. Murdoc felt more blood drop into his already red eye and he slapped the arm closest to him. The singer stifled a yelp and drew back quickly.

"Don't touch me brain-freeze, I can deal with this myself!" To prove this statement, he grabbed the piece blindly and yanked it from his skin in one quick movement that sent a thin splatter of blood flying to land across 2-D's shirt. His yell was loud enough, but he stopped himself quickly and bit his lip. Blood poured down his eye and across his cheek, making him look like he was crying tears of blood.

"Are you alright?" 2-D asked with concern.

"I'm fine!" Murdoc snapped, and he pushed his band mate violently away, leaving a bloody handprint on his already stained top. He scrubbed away at the wound with his sleeve, willing the flow to stop which it soon did. 2-D looked like he was going to say something, when both men became aware of the fact the mound of destroyed bed was shivering violently. They exchanged a terrified look between them, before a ragged rotten hand burst from the wreckage and clawed at the air as if seeking for flesh to clamp onto. When the hand settled on the embedded sword and began to caress it like a lover, Murdoc snapped from his stupor and lunged forward to grab 2-D's arm and yank him from the room in one swift movement which would have rivalled a dancer. Outside, he flung the singer at the opposing wall and pushed the door shut before he began piling anything he could get his hands on against the barrier. 2-D recovered quickly and attempted to push the heavy water cooler towards the scene of action, only succeeding in spraining his wrist when he did so. Murdoc saw him and growled to himself, before quickly rushing to his aid. In a matter of seconds, the water cooler was lodged against the doorframe and the collection of heavy objects, including Noodle's go-kart, suggested there was a limited possibility of the zombie being able to get out of the room.

Murdoc leant a hand against the wall and breathed heavily as 2-D jumped around holding his wrist, his face twisted in suppressed screaming.

"You alright?" Murdoc asked eventually. He received a whimper in reply.


Dinner that evening consisted of the usual grimy takeaway. The band were gathered on the sofa before the Television, tucking into the pizzas and watching the flashing images with bemusement. Noodle was sat on top of the large pile of boxes which had made up Russell's dinner, quietly munching away on a crust. Her small eyes were continuingly darting towards Murdoc who was leaning against the arm of the sofa and taking up as much room as possible as usual. He pretended not to notice her and took another sip from the bottle in his hand.

2-D was sitting on the floor with his back leaning against the sofa's back, chewing on a tough slice of cheese and pepperoni and staring into nothing. He never watched the television unless he was feeling good. And he definitely was not feeling that. Someone had decided to hide his strongest headache medicine, the which had been his last bottle, and now migraines were taking over in the land which was rightfully theirs. For the hundredth time, 2-D wished he could think without having to swallow half a pharmacy first.

When the ashes of a cigarette pattered down beside him, he looked up to see that Murdoc was watching him with his arms leant casually on the back of the sofa.

"Not hungry, brain-ache?" He asked, nodding towards the three quarters of pizza which was growing cold in its box.

"Not really." The singer admitted with a shrug. The zombie attack had made him totally loose his appetite.

"Do I hear sum pizza going loose?" Russell asked hopefully. 2-D passed the box up without looking and big beefy hands took it gratefully.

"Are you feeling alright, 2-D?" Noodle's voice asked. Again, a shrug. Noodle reached down and patted his blue hair with a concerned hand.

"Has anyone seen my medicine?" 2-D suddenly asked as he took Noodle's hand and unsteadily got to his feet. He was assaulted by the bright flashing light of the television set and he held up a hand to shield his eyes. "The one with the skull on the front. It was my last one...I really need it right now." Murdoc felt that feeling again -- that damned feeling - in his heart again, but he refused to show it.

"Must be in your room, dim-brain, you tried looking?"

"I did...but now with that zombie in there..." 2-D shuddered involuntarily. The thought of the creature destroying his only sanctuary was not a pleasant thought.

"It'll be dead as soon as morning comes along." Murdoc pointed out as he flicked a slice of pepperoni from his chest. Russell eyed it, but stopped himself from going after it.

"On top of that..." 2-D continued in his misery. "I don't have anywhere to sleep tonight..." He let this hang in the air hopefully. Noodle was first to point out she may be open-minded, but she was not going to have a guy sleep in the same room as her. She was getting to that age, she stated. Russell apologised for the mess in his room which meant that even now he was restricted to sleeping on the windowsill, and so all eyes fell on Murdoc.

"What?" He demanded.


2-D watched the goldfish swim in the sink, happy as it had always been. The shards of glass on the floor were still around, though Russell had attempted to clear up earlier, and the singer noted the glint of sharpness around his bare feet with caution. The fish gulped and splashed around a little, before continuing in its circle. A perfect circle. He was sure he had heard somewhere that if you could draw a perfect circle, you were mad. He would have to try that one out.

Another few minutes, he knew, and the lights in Kong studios would all be shut down. He wished he could have remembered to bring his torch from his room at least, then he would not have to face the dark without just a little light to prove there was nothing in the black that was going to hurt him. Being careful where he stepped, 2-D walked back to the sofa which was to be his bed for tonight and absent mindedly began to unbuckle his belt.

Then he heard a sound from the music room. It was a sound that sounded too much like the sound that comes before the lurch of dead feet and the glare of hollow eyes. 2-D froze in fear, grabbing his blanket and wrapping it around himself as if he expected it to deflect bullets. The ceiling churned as a machine deep in the building's heart clicked off, and the room was plunged into complete darkness.

That was it. If there was one way 2-D did not want to die, it was from being eaten in the dark by a zombie. His feet found his shoes and he rushed blindly towards the faint outline of the door to the main corridor. He could have sworn quick footsteps followed him not far enough behind. Stumbling along the corridor, he struggled to remember the layout of the building. He'd have to take the lift if he wanted Russell or Noodle to save him from becoming a ready meal, and the lift this time of night would probably get stuck and leave him whimpering in the dark -- the only place of hope was the car park, where Murdoc's Winnebago was parked.

Always hearing footsteps behind him, 2-D spurred himself on with fear dancing in his belly and blindly rushed through the doors and corridors along the path he could remember with his eyes closed.

The car park was lit with the glowing orange light coming from the Winnebago, and 2-D welcomed the light like a ray from heaven as he rushed towards it. He slammed into the door and frantically batted on its surface, looking over his shoulder to see that not one, but three zombies were heading towards him with a mission.

"Murdoc! Open up! Please!" There was the sound of someone swearing from inside, and then the vehicle shuddered as footsteps sluggishly scaled the distance to the door. 2-D fell when it was opened quickly, fell directly into Murdoc's arms.

"What the hell are you doing, brain-ache!" The bassist yelled as he shoved 2-D away with a look of forced disgust. Then he saw the three monsters heading for the Winnebago. "Aw, shit, you had to bring them along didn't you." He grabbed the singer roughly by his shoulders and yanked him inside, before he slammed and bolted the door. 2-D collapsed while Murdoc fiddled with the locks and cursed under his breath. He was wearing only trousers, and 2-D could see that the older man's muscles were more pronounced than he could have guessed. Lord knows what he used them for.

A loud caw from the driver's seat demanded attention, and 2-D saw a black raven perched on the fake leather ruffling its feathers at the new arrival. He smiled weakly at the bird and pulled his blanket more firmly around himself. Murdoc turned around and folded his arms, glaring down at the man on his floor.

"You know what time it is?" He demanded.

"'M sorry Murdoc. This was the first place..."

"Alight whatever, but don't do this again brain-ache, I dunt like those zombies any more than you do." When he offered his hand down, the singer flinched in the preparation of being hit, and Murdoc growled impatiently. "Not gonna hit you, just helping you up for fuck's sake. You don't have to shrink away like I'm going to rip your head off." The calloused hand remained suspended in air, a hand which 2-D recognised only as something which could hurt him. When his companion grumbled again, 2-D was spurred on to reach up and put his own limp hand into that strong darker one, and he found himself yanked in one deft movement. The two men shared eye contact for a split second, then Murdoc released his grip and headed towards his bed without commenting. 2-D watched him flop onto the sizable mattress, watched the magazines and various strange objects being shoved away by a big hand. "Suppose you're sleeping here tonight, right?" Murdoc asked, not hiding the contempt in his voice.

"Um...if that's alright with you. I could just..." He looked around for an area of visible floor space and was disappointed. "Actually I don't even need to sleep, I'll just perch here until..."

"And have you watching me while I'm sleep?" Murdoc demanded. "No. That would freak me out." He shuffled across the bed and leant his head against the windowsill. "You'd better sleep in here with me."

2-D was stunned. He blinked at his friend and readjusted his ears, backtracking on what he had heard.


"Come on, get in here. I want some sleep." He rolled over to face the wall, presenting his band mate with his toned back. 2-D took a deep breath, and stepped towards the bed with the mind of a man in a minefield. Murdoc rolled onto his back when 2-D slumped onto the stained mattress, and he looked sideways at the singer with the disconcerting red eye. "'Nd you better not snore, or you're out of here, get that?"

"Yes." Was the weak reply. Murdoc sniffed and closed his eyes.

The following few moments of silence were used by Murdoc to think. He was on a bed with a man. Not any man, but 2-D, that insufferable jackass who still had some kind of -- what was it? -- attraction to anyone. He was like a goldfish. Always swimming around in that circle, never showing much thought about anything, a regular brain vacant. So why was this feeling welling up in his chest? Murdoc wanted to hit him, to hurt him, to make him scream his name...2-D shuffled and the entire bed shook on its springs.

"Hey!" Murdoc growled. "Don't frigging move, this thing wasn't made for two people you know!" He bit his lip against the hypocrisy of that statement, thinking of all the faceless women he had brought here. Never a bloke though, he'd never thought...he'd never wanted know...

"What's got into you lately, Murdoc?" 2-D asked suddenly. The bassist almost jumped upright.


"You just seem different. 's all."

Murdoc calmed when he realised what his question had meant, then confused himself wondering why he had thought 2-D was implying that...what he thought.

"Different?" He growled. "How do you mean different, brain-freeze?"

"Dunno." The younger man shrugged and pulled his blanket over his head. "You haven't been...hurtin me as much."

"You want me to make up for lost time?"

"Nah nah, 'm not complaining! Just seems weird, 's all."

Murdoc watched the mound under the blanket rise and fall with the breaths in that weak frame. Damn Russell, damn Noodle, damn that friggin goldfish, damn everyone. When he saw an insect skitter across the windowsill, he lunged forward and crushed it beneath his precise finger. Bastard thing...

"Murdoc?" That pretty boy voice came again, and the bassist snapped his eyes shut in quick meditation. "Murdoc, do I have something on my back? It really hurts, I dunno what..."

"If I take a look are you gonna shut up?" Murdoc did not wait for a reply, but snatched the protecting blanket away and flung 2-D onto his front before he sat behind him, and roughly pulled him up into a sitting position. With his back against the wall and the singer cradled in his legs, he pulled up the pink shirt and surveyed the pale scrawny back of his band mate. "Fuck!" He exclaimed when he saw the scabbing cut across the younger man's shoulders. "What did you do to yourself?"

"Think it was that zombie..." 2-D murmured. "Someone must have taught them to use samurai swords. My other shirts ruined now." He added petulantly.

"Don't care about your damn shirt brain-ache, more concerned about you right now." He rushed into the depths of the Winnebago while again 2-D backtracked on what he had been told. He cared about him? Really? "Because of the band that is." Murdoc added quickly when he returned with a damp cloth. "The singer needs to be healthy, don't want the Cheshire cat grafted into his back." He reclaimed his previous position and pulled 2-D back to rest against him. "Take off yer shirt brain-ache." The singer complied, and goose pimples popped up over his exposed skin like needles forcing themselves out of their warm prison. When Murdoc pressed the cloth against the wound, the singer fought back a squeal and bit his lip as the sting of antiseptic wound into his body. "Shh, this wont take a second. What, you cryin?" 2-D was forcing down the pinpricks of tears that were the fruit of the pain and the sensation of being so close to his band mate, a sensation he never thought he would experience -- a sensation he could not work out if he liked. He was even more surprised than previously when Murdoc reached around and drew a finger under the younger man's eye, wiping away the water which had been threatening to burst out. "Something eating you, mate?"

"Its the medicine." 2-D replied quickly. "My last bottle, gone, and I really need it...right now." He shuddered at the feel of those hands on his back. "Its not just the headaches...its the depression that gets to me...and that hurts."

"Depressed? You? You mean you've got enough brain cells to get depressed?" The words were cutting, but his tone was subdued. The wound wasn't too bad, it would leave an impressive scar that would fade eventually. He wouldn't be surprised if it was infected already, especially if the sword had got zombie juice on it first.

"Yes, I get depressed." 2-D replied in an indignant voice which did not suit him. "Everyone does."

The two man sat in silence for some moments, the air between them gunging thick with tension. 2-D answering back was a revolution to Murdoc, and he almost permitted a spark of pride to light somewhere in the darkness where his heart should be. For years he had been trying to force the pathetic man to fight back, to stop him from sitting in the corner and shivering whenever anyone raised their voice to him. But if the little louse tried to hit him, well...just well.

"There." Murdoc announced, and he threw the cloth into the mess of the floor from where it would not return for at least three months. "All cleaned up. If it gets infected now, you cant blame me for anything." Without thinking through what he was doing, Murdoc found himself wrapping his arms around 2-D's stomach and squeezing him in a hug. He pushed his chin in-between his neck and shoulder. "'M sorry." He mumbled.

"What?" 2-D asked carefully. He put his hand on top of Murdoc's knuckles, deliberating whether to return the embrace or push him away. It was somehow comforting to feel a warm body against his, a body that did not want him because of his fame, or wanted to bruise him all over.

"Said I'm sorry Brain-ache, you got ears?"

"Sorry for what?"
"Sorry for hurting you all the time. Okay? That okay?" He growled in his ear.

"Yep." 2-D replied after a pause. "That's fine."

"I do care bout you, you know. Its not like I hate your guts so much I'll kill you one day. Which reminds me, I haven't sacrificed that chicken yet."

"Well then I'm sorry 'bout gettin on your nerves sometimes." 2-D stated, staring straight ahead. Murdoc chuckled and kissed the younger man's neck, it was a quick and almost neutral action which made his blood run cold.

Both men froze, 2-D staring at the picture of the disfigured woman on the opposite wall, and Murdoc with his mouth open and poised inches above the soft skin of his band-mate's shoulder.


Eventually Murdoc slithered away from the embrace and rolled to his side of the bed. "Night." He said quietly, and did not speak again.


What do you think? You want me to write the next chapter or stop cos im rubbish? Please tell me i love feedback.