Dents

[+] Rock The House

We received a call from Murdoc the next morning.

He looked as he always did, which was terrible. He was disheveled, rude, and impossibly green. It was as if he was actually becoming more sickeningly vibrant as time went on. The instant we answered, he prattled on about the quality of the food and the supposed poor treatment he was forced to endure. 

I was surprised to find that I was happy to see he was the same as ever. Maybe it was because everything else had become so different.

Noodle gathered us in the common room for the video call so that we could all be involved.

In Murdoc's absence, the living area was abandoned to a state of constant disarray. It was an insight to how dysfunctional our household had become. Despite the fact that none of us really liked him, he was a glue that held our landfill together. Without it, the rooms crumbled in on themselves like ten tons of loose trash.

Ramen cups were stacked in various places around the floor with some as many as eight or nine bowls high. Dirty laundry had effectively replaced the carpet that we never bothered to clean. Cigarette butts were mixed in with crumbs from chips and loose papers. Promotional material for Humanz was piled in a heap beside the door, unmoved from where it had been since its release.

A portly mouse had taken up shop in a hole near the kitchen. The pudgy little fellow seemed to be eating better than all of us.

We had a lot of questions. Murdoc deflected them expertly.

From the limited information he was willing to share with us, we were able to paint a vague picture of events. We learned that he'd been framed by someone using the name 'El Mierda.' This El Mierda was presumed to have met him at a party, and didn't appreciate his unabashed bragging. Apparently, after six uninterrupted hours of Murdoc rambling on about how he had his own island and how he was making 'the best bloody music since Christ died,' Mierda framed him for a smuggling job to get him thrown in the can.

Obviously, Murdoc did not include the fact that the island he bought was made of literal garbage, or that album sales for Plastic Beach were in the gutter. In fairness, it might not have mattered either way after he pissed the guy off enough.

"So anyway. Enough 'bout 'at bloody prick. I've got somethin' to ask of you lot. I've got a plan, and I need help from one of you freeloaders topside."

None of us bothered to remark on the fact that Murdoc was in a low security cell on the ground floor, or that he had just insulted us. Noodle, perched nearest to the screen on her knees, spoke first.

"What do you need us to do?"

"I need you to crack into the mainframe ova here and insult the bloody 'ell out've Big Balls McGuinness."

"And how would you have us do that?" I asked.

"It can be done. I can do it," Noodle responded, "When?"

"Bloody excellent. I suppose now's as good a time as any. Live in the present, or so - "

Noodle disconnected the call before Murdoc could continue running off his mouth. She typed rapidly on the keys, her fingers hitting them so quickly that I couldn't differentiate one letter from the next. She worked with several windows open at once, typing various lines of text into each. When she finished, a new window with a view over the prison's cafeteria appeared on the screen.

What followed was the most grotesque and vulgar string of insults I'd heard in my entire life, broadcast by intercom to an entire prison full of hungry inmates. It was so unbelievably repugnant that I wouldn't dare to repeat it, let alone think of it, ever again.

It was very effective.

McGuinness was easy to separate from the crowd. He was the only inmate to be completely red in the face. He possessed a terrifying stature, stomping around like a hulking behemoth. That behemoth was headed straight for Murdoc.

It only took one punch for McGuinness to knock him out. As Murdoc lay on the floor unconscious, the nearby inmates erupted in celebration. To my surprise, they appeared to be cheering for Murdoc. Noodle cut the video feed.

"Do you think it worked?"

She turned to face us, unsure of herself. I finally understood why she had been so troubled since Murdoc's arrest. She wasn't worried about him, exactly. Noodle was concerned for the sake of the band as a whole. She could see better than all of us the effect that his absence had. 

I looked to 2D and Russel to reaffirm that what we had seen was indeed a good thing only to discover that 2D wasn't around. He had taken off at some point during the call and didn't return. 

"That was great, Noodle. Shit. He had that comin' to him," Russel laughed.

"Agreed. Bang up job."

Noodle's shoulders relaxed. Her confident demeanor returned.

"Say, do either of you know where 2D went?"

My stomach churned. A terrible anxiety brewed within me. Everything felt wrong. The 2D I knew wouldn't have left like that without saying anything.

Russel, avoiding my eyes, told me that he had gone upstairs.

I went upstairs. The same stairs with peeling paint that screamed in agony with every step upon them. The ones that would wake me when Murdoc stumbled up or down them in a stupor at two in the morning. How, I wondered, could I not notice that he had gone upstairs?

Maybe any other stairs, but these stairs?

The door to his room was slightly ajar. I let myself inside.

2D was perched on the edge of the bed. The television was off. The curtains were shut. His vivid azure hair seemed darker, hanging unkempt over his face. He was rooted in place, silent, undisturbed by my entrance.

"Hey, 'D."

"Hey."

I sat down beside him on the bed. I placed an arm around him.

"Will you tell me what's going on?"

He sighed. 

"I don't know," he said.

He looked at me. His eyes were lifeless. He had lost a bit of weight, creating a pale emptiness in his cheeks.

"Did I do somefink weird?"

I paused. 

"What? What do you mean?"

"I'm losin' time, Saoirse. I don't rememba wha' we were jus' doin', or why I'm up here in the dark."

"Losing time? Since when? What do you remember last?"

He blushed. The vitality the color brought back to his face was something that I'd been longing to see for days.

"What? What is it?"

"Well, uh, I... T - The las' fing I rememba was sleeping wifth you."

My stomach dropped. 

"2D, that was over a week ago."