Two indistinct shapes loomed near the gates of the long vacant Kong Studios. Rain pelted the earth in large, hard drops, soaking the figures and putting a damper on the volume. "Yew know, I din'n fink there were any 'ills in Essex." The taller man had dark blue hair plastered to the sides of his face despite only being in the rain a few minutes.

"You 'ave to have a brain to think." Shaking his thick, black mop-top the shorter of the pair started walking back to the Winnebago.

His friend followed behind, "aw come on, Murdoc, be nice." The only response was the slamming of the car door. As the gangly boy climbed into the Winnie it started off, pushing the gates to the studio aside with ease. Mud squelched under the tires as they made their way up the staggering hill to the carpark.

Slowly the vehicle rolled to a stop and each hopped out. "Best git on with it then." Murdoc tried to open the door to the building, and, finding it wouldn't budge, ended up kicked it in. His friend followed behind, wringing his hands together and letting his gaze linger at the muddy footprint of a Cuban heel on the door. He kept close to the smaller man, not wanting to stray in a strange place. But he followed a bit too closely and when Murdoc stopped briefly to glance at what looked strangely like a blood stain on the carpet he promptly crashed into him. "Gah! 2D. Back. Up." He gave him a 'got it?' look before turning and muttering under his breath.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry 'bout that…" His voice was small and trailed off. The building was quiet, save for the muted noise of rain and their footfalls. As they continued farther there would be a creaky floorboard or the sound of the walls settling, but nothing too abnormal. 2D's eyes focused on a spot on the ceiling where water was dripping through. He merely looked up at it, blinking, watching as each drop fell to the growing puddle on the ground.

Murdoc watched him for a bit, reminded of a turkey in the rain, before continuing down one of the halls. Even when he was with Stuart the Satanist couldn't quiet shake the feeling that something was gravely wrong. Part of him reveled in it, loving all the sick vibes that seemed to pulse from the place. But there was a smaller part, somewhere hidden in him, that knew this was a very bad sign. Never the less he continued down the maze of hallways, some leading to dead ends and others leading to more hallways with more doors and more decaying building. After he had gone around a bit he started to recognise some of the rooms. Eventually he paced about what he had deemed the main living area. He looked around briefly before walking over to the restrooms. "Oi! Stu-Pot! Toilets are ova 'ere if ya need 'em!" Strolling into the room he walked into one of the stalls and unzipped his fly. Murdoc gave a sigh of relief that was cut short as he heard something wet hit the floor behind him. "JESUS CHRIST!"

Stuart spun around from watching the puddle take over the floor and tried to locate the source of the yell. His dented eyes looked around frantically, before he started off at a brisk pace through the hallways. A gunshot sounded through the building and 2D full out ran. The studio let out a groan, as if offended by all the noise after being quiet for so long but another round was fired and the sound of it pierced the frantic singer's ears. After what seemed like forever he found the toilets and slammed through the door. Murdoc was on the floor, nob hanging out and piss on his pants, and only a meter or two away was a zombie, head splattered against the wall.

Knees giving out, "wot va Hell is that? I mean… wot th'…" His eyes widened into twin pits.

Murdoc ran a hand through his hair and thanked whoever was listening that he'd brought his gun with him. Standing shakily, "well, looks li'e we best keep our guns on us, mate." He looked down to his soiled trousers. "Satan…" Wiggling out of them he stepped out of the stall and made for the Winnebago, patting Stuart on the shoulder as he went.

"When d'you start workin'?" The bassist looked across his motor home.

2D was laying on the couch, spread out across the whole thing. "Munday at four."

He nodded. "So, wait 'at's next Monday, right?" There was a small noise of conformation. "Okay so we 'ave a week an' a half. Yew any good at painting, Stu?"

A slight pause, "wull, I mean, I can get real high up on tha ceilings, if that's wot yer askin'."

"Right, so yull get that an' I'll get someone in 'ere to do flooring or something… The 'lectricity works, thank Satan, but we'll need ta fix up them leaks. And then there's movin' in all the furniture and buyin' a washer an' a fridge an'—"

The singer groaned and rolled onto his side. "I don't wanna fink about it. One day at a time, pleeease."

He crossed his arms. "A'right. Tomorrow we're going to go buy paint and get carpets or tile or whatevea started in. I hope you 'ave your room all sorted out, because you ain't sleepin' in here all the time."

An almost sorry smile flashed onto the singer's face, there and gone in a moment. Well, I guess I should have my own bedroom and all… It'd be a bit weird to always sleep in the same bed as your best mate, even if it is nice… And it is nice… even if I wake up with a stiffy sometimes. But that's normal, right? He shook his head, making the thoughts disappear like smoke. His long legs found the floor as he got up to down his pills and head to bed. Some things were easier to just not think about.

The next few days passed in a tired haze, working from the time they woke up till they were too sore to keep going. Stuart had paint in his hair and along his skin from being careless. His mate kept telling him to wash up better but until he started work the next day he didn't see a real reason to.

Long legs reached the cheap table they had set up in the living room. The whole place smelled of new paint and this sort of funny chemical smell from the flooring. Their couch came from Stu's mum. She had said something about if her son had to live in that rubbish heap of a house he'd at least have a couch. He had also brought over his bed and some furniture from his old room to Kong as well. The boy had made a home away from home in one of the lower bedrooms.

Okay, it was in the basement, but he liked being out of the way. Besides, it was perfect for when he got migraines and needed quiet. But as something creaked deep within the building he found himself scooting closer to the man beside him. It didn't feel safe to be walking around by yourself. It always seemed like… something was watching you. For the first few days most of the progress on the house was getting all of it's undead residents out so now that they were gone there really shouldn't have been a reason for that feeling…

Murdoc's eyes opened a bit as he felt the singer move closer to him. He had been weaving in and out of sleep, despite it being five in the evening. The small telly in front of the pair had again fallen out of signal and into static. They hadn't gotten cable set up yet, or gotten any phones for the house. Being this cut off from people made part of the Satanist smile. He could do anything he wanted and there was no one to bother him. Well, there was 2D, but he never put up that much of a fight.

"Hey, let's go to the Winnie… Yer fallin' asleep anyway." The man stood up as his dented eyes looked around the room worriedly. He extended a hand to help his friend off the couch but it was ignored. Murdoc stood on his own and took the lead to go to the car park. Stuart followed in tow, keeping close to his companion.

When the pair reached the Winnebago the bassist looked at the taller man. "You're sleeping with me tonight, aren't chya?" It wasn't a negative or positive statement, simply just a statement. A small blush threatened to creep onto Stu's face. He nodded, not wanting to say anything. Murdoc just shrugged and walked into his home, leaving the door open for Stuart.

This is the first rewritten chapter. I plan on going back through the story and rewriting nearly everything. This chapter update was on 9.09.10.