Murdoc sat in his room, looking over some old things that he'd managed to hastily shove into boxes before he burned Kong down. The first box he opened was full of CDs and vinyls, padded by clothes on either side. He pulled out the one on top: Gorillaz. Their first album, really. He pulled it out from its cardboard case, smiling, looking at the list of tracks on the back. "I remember these." He chuckled, putting it back and moving to the next.

Demon Days... oh, Demon Days. He'd said in his radio show that it was "horrible", and had "too much Noodle". Truth was, he'd give anything for more Noodle than he currently had. He hated to admit to any form of emotion, but... he really was a bit worried about her, out there on her own.

He set that record aside quickly, not in the mood for all those emotions to come back. Below that were some clothes, the topmost of which was a shirt with a large red 'T' that had 'VIRUS' spelled across it. This was 2D's, from the Clint Eastwood video... the hours after that made up a night 2D would never forget, and Murdoc would never care about... probably.

A few more of 2D's trademark strange shirts came out of the box, along with Murdoc's flamboyant outfits from various videos and other things, and, at the bottom of the box, an old outfit that Noodle's left behind (it was her beige dress; it no longer fit her). He tossed them all aside, kicking the box for good measure.

He'd never liked dwelling on the past, anywho.

He heard staccato banging on his door. Let Cyborg knock, why should he care? He pulled out a bottle of Grey Goose and took a swig from it, gagging slightly as he did. He'd always felt that he was more sober when he was drunk...

The knocking went on, just a faint buzz in Murdoc's ears. He let his mind wander, thoughts flowing easily like waves onto the plastic shore. And then his door was kicked down, like a shark emerging from those waves.

"Murdoc, y-y-you u-useless drunk, g-g-get up..."

Murdoc sat up, sporting a lopsided grin. "Ah, Noodle! Back from the Maldives already?"

Cyborg scowled. "I-I'm not Noodle."

"Yeah, you are..." He drew out all the words, slurring them slightly. He then flipped on his back and hung off the side of the bed. "Oodles of Noodles..."

"Murdoc, s-s-something's w-wrong, and I don't know what..."

"You go fix it up, Noodle-oodle-bo-boodle... I'm having a stroke of musical genius..." He waltzed over to his keyboard and tapped out chords. Noodle stumbled back out towards her living quarters.

Through the static noise in Cyborg's head rang one word, barely intelligible. A feminine voice shouting "Gorillaz!"