part 1; the pier

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You sat on the same brown, wooden stool you sat on almost every day of the week. Your acoustic guitar in one hand and resting on your lap, and a free cup of water from a local sub shop in the other. Due to you not having a microphone or any possible way to push forth your sound, your right hand ached from having to pluck and strum the strings of the instrument loud enough to overcome the usual talk and other noise of the board walk. Your throat ached from having to project your voice as often as you did. Half the time, though, once you got into the groove of things and began to attract a crowd, you could relax your voice and fingers a bit because the people surrounding you could hear you just fine.
It was Sunday morning, so not many people were walking up and down the pier. But still, as you did every other day, you sat strumming your guitar. The soft blue waves crashed against the piers large, wooden stands, echoing through the wind. Over time, the crashing began to make what sounded like a beat. You began to tap your feed to the 'beat', humming the words to (your favorite song), and you strummed the guitar, playing every note perfectly. The gentle wind picked up, blowing your smooth, soft (hair color) hair behind your shoulders. You smiled as you looked out at the deep blue ocean. Your life wasn't what people would call amazing, but you liked what you did. You enjoyed seeing the beautiful view before you day after day, you enjoyed watching the children that pass by get captivated by your voice and playing, and you enjoyed being yourself. Sure, you were a little self conscious from time to time - but you were proud of your voice. Of your skills.
So you began to sing. You began to crescendo your beautiful voice, as it got carried down the beach through the salty wind. Every note you hit with your guitar and your voice was absolute perfection. You knew this song by heart, and you have ever since you were about 19, when you began your life out here on the pier. As you reached the end of the song, you heard the subtle thump of someone's feet walking towards you. You kept your eyes forward, focusing on your notes and on the gentle waves lapping each other. At the end of your final note, you let out a sigh, and then you heard clapping. Not the excited clapping you were hoping for, not the gentle clapping that usually came with one guest; but you heard a loud, slow clapping. Not meaning to sound sarcastic, but it almost came off that way. "Ey, lov, yah sure do have a nice voice~"
You recognized the man's voice, and twisted your body around quickly. Almost falling off of your stool, and kicking over your cup of water, your mouth dropped in awe. Standing before you was none other than Murdoc Niccals. His sloppily put together bowl cut seemingly bounced as the wind blew it back from his eyes. You sat there, not saying a word. He was... greener than you remembered seeing him on TV. Murdoc let out a soft chuckle and took a few steps towards you, his hips swaying almost seductively. "Hm? Cat gotcha tongue?" You shook your head in disbelief, gently laying your guitar onto the wooden planks next to your stool. "A-Are you... actually here? Listening to me?" You asked, your mouth still slightly parted, shocked at the person standing in front of you.
"Well, darling, when I hear talent of course I'm going to search for it and find it," He replied, a smug look on his face. Your eyes lit up, a smile widened across your face, reaching ear to ear. "I...I don't know what to say...I-" the tall, lanky green man cut you off by gently placing a finger over your lips. As he removed his finger, he let it drag down across your bottom lip, tracing your jawline with his jagged nail. "Well, lov, how about before we talk about your lovely voice and absolutely brilliant playing, I go refill that cup ah' yours with some fresh water? Seeing you spilled it and such." He smiled softly, and you felt your face heat up. "Erm..s-" but before you could even respond, Murdoc was bent down, picking up your cup. "I'll be back in just a few moments~" he said with a smirk plastered on his face. You sat still, your face a bright red, as you watched him walk off to a restaurant.
From the tons of articles you've read about Gorillaz, and the interviews you've heard, you knew that Murdoc was not a good man. You knew what he had done to his singer, 2D, and you knew about how many times he's used women and how many times he's been arrested. But still, despite that, you smiled. Because you've just met one of the biggest musical influences in your life. Although you have been on the road for most of your life, you read about his band, watched his band, and listened to his band as much as you possibly could. You loved the way Murdoc played the bass; even if his personality was utterly garbage. You got up from the stool and began to pack your guitar into your case, just casually picking up the area around you. As you were doing so, you heard Murdocs foot steps approach you once more, so you turned back around, smile still plastered on your face like you were some damn idiot.
"Here, sweetie, why not drink some now so you don't get dehydrated?" He said this in a stern voice, pushing the plastic cup towards you. "U-Uh sure! Thank you. Thank you so much, really..." you words trailed off as you took a gulp of the water. It tasted funny, and the taste stuck in your mouth. It didn't taste like soda, it didn't taste like alcohol. It tasted like something different - something rather bad.
Your stomach flipped, and your knees let out, causing you to flop down like a new born deer, your head rushing. You grated your nails into the wooden planks of the pier, running your fingers through your hair trying to ease the aching pain in your head. "Welp, see you in a few hours lov, I'll be sure to take all of this shit with us on our way! Ah, whatta shame we have to leave such a lovely view, eh?~" his words slurred together, your head still pounding. After time, all you could hear was your blood rush. Am I dying?? You thought, yet you think you said this out loud. Did I just get poisoned by Murdoc effing Niccals? Your head swarmed with questions, cluttering your mind. Soon, you could see nothing. But even sooner, you could feel nothing. "Well, let's be on our way then, eh, lov?~"

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