Reality

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

warning: this one features a weird hallucination. nothing too horrible tho don't worry (i mean it doesn't freak me out so) drug induced? only i know the answer to this.

oOo

((withdrawl))

Rain pelts incessantly against the outer walls of Kong as the inhabitants continue to sleep. It creates a continuous rhythmic beat as a dull roar settles into the background, lulling and coaxing those around it into a deep sense of peace.

Murdoc can't hear any of it.

Barely asleep, he drifts in and out of consciousness and sighs tiredly through his nose. Clad in only a pair of briefs and 2D's jacket, he presses his face into his shirt-sleeves and inhales deeply.

In, and...

...out.

He breathes in the potent scent of his singer, cloudy mind drifting off even further as his brain begins to shut down. In the silence of early dawn, he allows himself this small sense of bliss.

There's a loud rumbling just overhead and his muscles clench involuntarily, stirring him from his haze. A clap of thunder sounds sharply against the outer-building and he falls to the floor in a startled heap.

"Shit." he hisses, tangled and lost in his stained sheets and he has to kick his legs several times in order to free himself. "Satan!"

Having successfully escaped the sheet's evil clutches, Murdoc claws at his bed and drags himself to his feet, disoriented and sore.

Overdid it again, he chastises himself. Should'a kept at it.

He stumbles a bit and nearly trips, gripping desperately at the nearest surface in an attempt to balance himself. His hair hangs limply in his face, obscuring his already blurry vision and when he straightens himself out he brushes it away from his eyes. His arms are lost within 2D's jacket-sleeves, jumbled, and he struggles to roll them up.

The rain is loud now, falling harder and Murdoc knows that the power is going to fail soon. He wraps his arms around himself tightly and mutters something under his breath, padding over to his door. He opens it slowly and across the lot he can see shadows dancing.

Almost un-recognizable shapes move and sway across the walls and he nearly slams the door shut again when he sees something standing just outside of 2D's room. He squints his eyes, trying to focus them enough to see the figure properly. Something in the back of his head is telling him to look away, to stop staring but of course he's going to ignore it.

The figure is long, lean, lanky and for a second he thinks he knows who it is.

"Stuart?" he asks, hesitant and in his tired state he forgets to put his guard up. The figure's back is to him still, too dark to make out any specific details and when it doesn't respond Murdoc calls over again. "'D?"

Its head bobs gently and it raises an inhumanly frail arm, audibly snapping under the pressure of movement. It turns its head slowly, bones cracking in its neck sickeningly and okay that's definitely not 2D.

Murdoc feels his breath hitch in his throat and his blood runs cold.

Those eyes.

They're hollow sockets, devoid of light and emotion, seeming lifeless but they hold his gaze effortlessly. It doesn't have a mouth but the bottom of its face sags and the skin there strains as if it were crying out in pain- as if it were attempting to break through the flesh that prevents it from doing so. Its skin is a disgusting pasty yellow, peeling around a sunken nose and the sparse hairs on its head are a deathly gray. Almost blue.