Author's Notes: This is a little side-project I'm going to work on for the next month or so. As the title suggests, this is an album-fic slash-fic based on the album 'Demon Days' by Gorillaz but along the way I'll be including some other songs Gorillaz have made coz' 15 tracks isn't enough for the story I have in my mind. Most of the story will be written from Kyle's POV however there will be points where the POV will switch to Stan.

The structure is the same as usual album-fics – along the way, I'll highlight lyrics from the song (what the chapter's name is) in bold. Plus, I'm gunna try and set the mood and content of the chapter in the same way that the music for that track is, if you get me.

South Park (c) Matt Stone & Trey Parker

Gorillaz (c) Damon Albarn & Jamie Hewlett

Anyway, let's begin – Stan and Kyle's Demon Days experience.


It had been quite a while since I had been back to this place, but I never knew that it could have possibly turned into something so horrific and unbelievably twisted as this.

"Sir, we're entering the region of this state as you requested." The helicopter pilot called to me, but I did not reply – I was too busy allowing my mind to have a reality check to the place I once called home. My face – heh, I guess you could say it was a picture of shock and fear at what I saw only a few hundred feet below. A destroyed landscape of battered Earth and battle scars – a deadly and foul cross between something out of 'Dawn Of The Dead', a landfill and a nuclear bomb aftermath. It was like looking upon the consequences and tragedy of an ever-lasting raging war, which is what exactly happened here. I mean, WHO DIDN'T know of what happened here – the rumors, the eventual reality, the battles, the war, the corruption and eventually...all those deaths.

I just...I just hope that amongst this destroyed land, I can find the very one person that I came out here to look for. He has to be alive, HE JUST HAS TO BE.

"Alright, sir, we're about to make our descent onto the land."

"Thanks Tom." I reply to the pilot who begins to lower the strong steel structure of the helicopter down onto this cold and sinister land. The clouds were a miserable grey. I wasn't even on the ground yet and I could already feel this sinister emotion engulfing the land around me. I just hope I feel better whilst searching for him. Heh, YEH RIGHT.

But I just can't get those awful images of the war out of my head. The news reports, the radio descriptions, the newspaper pictures – the media were like parasites that just wouldn't let go. I mean, did they really have to cover so much of this tragedy – we knew how horrible it was without them making the most out of it. Fucking media leeches.

Who put me down on the bottom of the food chain?!

Who put me down on the bottom of the food chain?!

Who put me down on the bottom of the food chain?!

Who put me down on the bottom of the food chain?!

Anyone who was probably 16 or over was being forced to join the American army to help protect these lands. But it was all just meat for the grinder I suppose. It's times like this that make me fucking glad that I've got the job that I have. As most people in the art community know, I'm one of the most well known artists and art business tycoons in all of the World. Ah yes, Kyle Broflovski – the Richard Branson of art relations and designing, they would call me whenever my name popped up in discussions and business meetings. Who would have thought that someone who started off selling canvas art in small sales in New York, 4 years later, would be the CEO and head director of one of America's, hell, THE WORLD's biggest art and media empire, KBSM. If you haven't figured it out already, I named the business after my own name...and someone else's name. God, where is he? I sure hope this search isn't all in vain. NO, don't think like that – BE POSITIVE, you WILL find him. Yeh, I'll find's just a matter of whether he's still alive that makes the biggest difference. Jesus Christ, my mind's like a merry-go-round - it just won't stop spinning wildly in circles.

Finally, the helicopter touches down on the black and bruised ground. What happened to all the snow eh? This place used to be caked in it and I'm sure as hell our supposed fear of the dreaded Global Warming had nothing to do with it.

As I open the helicopter door and place my feet on solid ground for the first time in hours, my pilot puts his arm on my shoulder. What is he doing? Doesn't he understand that I have to do this.

"Sir...I'm...I'm sorry, I can't let you go. It's too dangerous to go on your own. Please, just give me an hour, I can call for other people to come and help you."

I look back at him and give him the most simplest answer my worried mind can come up with. "He may not have an hour Tom. And if that is the case, I would never forgive myself if I find him an hour later dead on the ground."

"Very well sir. I will pick you up in this same location in three hours time. Good luck sir, I hope you find him."

"Thanks Tom, thanks for everything."

As I finally slide the door shut, the pilot gives me the thumbs up and it slowly hovers back up and drifts off into the sky once more – disappearing across the grey horizon into the midst of the chaotic clouds.

Alright, now is the time – it's either now or never. I have to find him...wherever the hell he is. But I know I will find him – I'm gunna make up or all those years I spent without him. I'll be glad to see his cute little face after all this time – I wonder if he still has the longish short black hair I so much adored when we were young. Anyway, enough about the possibility, it's time I start my search.

And now we're true – THE HARMONIC CREW!

Don't worry Stan Marsh, I'm coming!