Chapter Text
Around the corner and down the road a little bit, Murdoc was shouting. Not only him, and not by choice. He hated these nights, having to go out with the guys and see some things he never wanted to see. The sick things that he knew were wrong he had to follow along with killed him a little inside every day. Like today. The wails died down and the cheering got louder. He wondered if the owner would miss the dog was just silenced.
Oh, well. Today was just another day of ‘fitting in.’ It was hardly close to over.
“Hey, there Big M,” a very tall, very strong, and very drunk person came up behind him, burping loudly in his ear. “How’s about you go and do that lil’ pinprick trick of yours. Look at ‘im over there,”
Murdoc turned. Easy target at one o’clock-tall, blue hair, male, small box in his back pocket-cigarettes? He looked weaker than Murdoc, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to violence. Either way, the cigarettes seemed like an easy enough lift.
“You know, I really don’t feel like I have it in me today.” Murdoc wanted to leave him be, he looked so content over by the bench.
“Oh, come off it, buddy. You know you do.”
“You come off it.”
“I swear to Christ, Murdoc-”
“To who, now?” Murdoc grabbed at a chain around his neck.
“Clance, you may have forgotten that your so-called God” he pulled out his crucifix from behind his shirt, “is dead.”
“Then why you afraid of sinnin’, Satan-Boy? Don't wanna be goin’ to Hell?” Murdoc quieted briefly. “God granted man free will. Steal ‘enever, bloody heathen.”
“Clancy Davis, you useless sack of soulless greed, I will steal on my own time. Did your God give me the ability to live in my own Satanist ways? What about the whole ‘Thou shalt not steal’ thing?”
“You listen here, you absolute know-nothing son of a whore, do you dare to believe that you still have God’s rights after submitting to the Prince of Darkness? Go do as I tell you or I will turn you into a bloody pulp and bathe you in holy water.”
Maybe Clancy wasn’t as drunk as Murdoc first thought. Maybe more, it was hard to tell. Regardless, he slunk over to the person alone on the park bench.
“May the Lord bless your soul and grant thee salvation.” Murdoc mocked the words of the Catholics as Clancy spat out death threats.
He sat behind him and took out one of the pocket Bibles he had been given. He kept it solely for the irony. He watched the air about muffin-top in front of him, He felt compelled to strike up a conversation, talk a bit. He looked farther in front of him and Clancy caught his eye.
“Look sharp, mate, or I’ll cut ya were ya sit.” At this Murdoc got up and stalked behind a tree, or tried to, anyway.