Chapter Text
***
None of them really expected a girl to be the new guitarist. What’s more, none of them really expected her to be 10 years old and jumping out of the cardboard box like a jack-in-a-you-know-what. But she did, and it was terrific, and now she was here to stay.
From the get go, Noodle (which wasn’t her real name, but it was far better than whatever the three minds of the male band members combined could think of) took the most liking towards Russel. They formed a very peculiar duo, a big, dark-skinned guy and a small, asian girl, perched up on his shoulders like a scruffy cat or waddling along beside him wherever he went. Russel was never much of a talking type, but strangely enough whenever he did talk, it was almost always to (or with) Noodle.
There was also 2D. Oh, 2D. For one reason or the other the lead singer took the longest to get used to the new acquaintance. She wasn’t much like the other kids he’d seen coming to the record store way back in the day though, so in time they became inseparable as well, like siblings that neither of them had before.
And Murdoc. Surprisingly Noodle tolerated Murdoc just fine, maybe because for some mysterious reason he was at his decent around her. Well, putting the sailor swearing aside of course, which was only natural and the least worrisome behavior of the leader that the rest of the Gorillaz band had to put up with…
***
He came back late in the night. Not expecting anyone to be up at this hour, Murdoc Niccals marched straight into the kitchen, although he wasn’t making any efforts to be especially quiet either. “It’s my studio, and my rules” was his first thought. “Dear god, I need something to drink pronto” was his second.
It was roughly 2 am, so it’s not difficult to imagine the musician's fright, when upon opening the fridge’s doors and taking out a can of beer, he noticed a small, dark figure suddenly lit up by the newly activated (and the only) lightsource in the room.
“Fucking ass!” he screamed, nearly dropping the drink. The figure was unmoved though.
“How do you do this?” it spoke in the nearly monotone voice of Noodle, the band’s sixteen years old guitarist.
Murdoc didn't reply. Not only because he didn't have the slightest bit of an idea what the Noodle- shaped thing was asking him about, but also because he was still in the process of deciding if it was in fact her. It wasn't until they repeated the question that he recognized who it was coming from, although on the bassist's defense, he was a little drunk already.
"How do I do.. what. Exactly"
"You.." - Noodles' voice lost its significant certainty for a second. Although they've been practically raised by three english-speaking men and lived in England for almost 6 years now, they still needed time to form coherent sentences in this language. Especially when they wanted to keep things subtle.
"You have not showered. In a week. And you're just back from that... "date" of yours."
The man's green face contorted in a smile. He was well aware why Noodle put a pressure on this certain four letter "d" word, as it was used rather generously in his example. These meetings went well most of the time, but they never continued. One time was enough, that's just how he rolled.
"Natural charm I suppose" he took a sip from the can, simultaneously walking up to the teenager who was sitting perched up on the chair like a cat. "What do I say, I'm a pretty handsome bloke"
He admitted this with dead honesty, although the face of the girl in front of him communicated otherwise. It showed well deserved skepticism, but also with a hint of.. anger? jealousy?
Murdoc didn't notice that, of course. Maybe if he did, things would have ended a bit differently for the both of them.
“What? What’s with that stare? Can’t a man go and have fun once in a wh-”
" Usotsuki! " she growled, as if the bassist's statement was a personal insult "You use devil's magic, you cheater!"
The man's attempt at a smile turned into a genuine, sour frown. He did not like the sound of that word. And whether or not he was using higher help to get what he wanted was none of her business.
"Or maybe... you just lack the skills " satanist hissed through the clenched jaw, making his british accent especially visible on purpose.
That was a deal breaker for Noodle. In a singular motion, she leaped from a chair, her left hand shooting towards the green guy in black, full swing. In a blink of an eye he was left with a nasty scratch, the appearance of which he did not expect, making him drop the can and cover his wounded side, quite speechless.
Teary-eyed, the young guitarist ran away, leaving silently cursing Murdoc and the messy kitchen behind. The beer was still sizzling on the floor, when the other two residents woke up to investigate the commotion, despite strong resentment from both parties involved.
That day they had both received something though. Murdoc - a valuable lesson on boundaries, and Noodle - a new set of headphones.
"Scarlet red, like the blood of your enemies, if they ever dare to cross you. Nice scratch attack technique youngin. You'll do just fine in the big world” said the note attached to them.