Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

May 31st, 2010. (Location: Point Nemo, 48°52.6′N 56°36.4′E, Plastic Beach)

The waves crashed against the shores, dragging various clumps of garbage and litter into the thrashing depths of the ocean, total blackness. A strong sense of dread always lingered alongside that salty cold seaside air, which also drifted with the stench of the trash the island was formed of, soaked, melted from the water, a place where nobody could hear you scream. The island was located so far and isolated from society, in the middle of nowhere with no land in sight. No boats that sailed through, aside from the boat that transported everyone to this hellhole in the first place, only the sounds of the waves, the strong winds that rattled the docks and the distant wails of whales.

 Mitch never remembered how she ended up here, she shouldn’t be here. But Murdoc was her father, no matter how much she hated that fact. She was never close with him, always feeling distant and almost… neglected. Even if he was seated right beside her. She spent her days roaming the trashy landscapes of Plastic Beach, wearing a pair of old flip flops or heavy boots built for sailors, depending on the day. She often found herself picking up the garbage from the never-ending production being pumped out from the island, not to clean it up to the tea, but just for something to do during the day. Nobody ever came alone, it was just her, Murdoc, 2D, that weird cyborg and a bunch of musicians Murdoc dragged along with him.

 Nights were quiet, Murdoc would disappear usually into the lighthouse to film some radio show, to drink until unconsciousness. Mitch often snuck into the basements of the island, with maybe a few fish that had been caught or washed up onto shores and suffocated from the lack of water and the garbage poisoning the surrounding ocean, microwave noodles or maybe a box of soggy crackers or rice cakes. 2D lived in the basement, practically starved and forced, sometimes at gunpoint to sing for the new album. She spent a lot of nights in that basement, just being around 2D. It was always cold down there, yet, 2D enjoyed her company. She pushed the heavy metal submarine door open, holding a small box of cold noodles and there sat 2D, with his knees to his chest, staring out the tiny circular window in his room, where a whale usually swam, almost guarding the island.

 He lifted his head, his almost soulless hollow eyes pausing on Mitch. His once vibrant blue hair is now a more dull lifeless greyish-blue shade.
 “Oh, I thought it was Murdoc.” He said, almost grateful by the tone in his voice that it wasn’t.
 “I look a lot like him now, don’t I?” Mitch muttered. Murdoc’s genetics of skin that gradually turned green had passed down to her, alongside small little dapples and flecks of pale, unpigmented skin that seemed to get larger everyday. She had larger floppy ears and naturally curly ginger hair, which now was often soaked, flattening out the curls. Her head was shaven and the leftover hair was a short mohawk with clumps of hair in the back. 

 “You do.” 2D said, as she handed him the box of cold noodles. “It’s the green and the nose.”
 Mitch never liked the green, or the fact she inherited Murdoc’s bumpy, indented nose, but his nose was broken repeatedly, her nose was just naturally bumpy. Her eyes too, she had his eye colour.
 “Yeah, I do look like him.” She sat down on the bed next to him as he started eating his noodles.
 “You know what today is?” The pale, scrawny blue-haired vocalist said after a moment of silence, interrupting Mitch’s train of thought. She looked at him as he lifted up a finger to point at the calendar that hung in his room.
 “It’s May 31st. Did you forget? I didn’t!” He smiled at her, showing off the gap in his front top teeth. “Happy birthday.”
 Mitch blinked at him, days felt endless, she’d lost count of the days of endless wandering. Everything felt wrong about being on this island, everything felt wrong with her life. It wasn’t the typical childhood. The first few months of her life was spent with two drunks, who then started Gorillaz, then she was just always sort of… a part of the band in a way. But now? It was just Murdoc and 2D. No Russel, no Noodle, just this.. cyborg, who didn’t feel like the real Noodle at all, and… no… no Rowan. 
 Mitch would never forget that day. She was 8, when the accident happened. She remembered Murdoc had stopped her to talk to her, which was something he never did, so it must’ve been serious.

 “Noodle and Rowan died in the explosion.” The words constantly rang in her head, she hadn’t witnessed the explosion and was kept in a space a fair distance away with various collaborators on the album. She hadn’t been allowed on the site of the crash, or anywhere near it for that matter.

Since then, she’d lived with Murdoc; the band was done up until this point, at this… fucked up prison like island. Her 10th birthday in 2007 felt lonely, without Rowan nothing felt right to her, he was more of a parental figure than Murdoc ever was. Mitch sort of learned that her birthday wasn’t as important as everyone made birthdays. She’d been on this island since Murdoc moved in, which was in 2008.
 “I did forget.. It’s hard to keep track of the days here, you know?” Mitch murmured to him.
 “You’re what… 12 now?” He asked.
 “13! You goof.”
 “Already? I remember when you were a toddler.” 2D said. “Sorry I didn’t get you anything.”
 “It’s kind of hard to get anything for anyone on this dump.” Mitch told him. “I just… I wish Rowan was here to see it, you know?”
 2D went quiet, it was hard to read him from his dark holes for eyes. He glanced away, he didn’t appear upset but more uncomfortable or nervous. “So he never told you?”
 “Told me? Tell me what?”
 “Forget it…”
His tone had changed from that standard stuttery yet anxious voice she was familiar with.

Now it was a twinge of discomfort. Suddenly, everything felt different, off. Nobody ever spoke about Rowan after March 2006, especially her father. Something was wrong, and Mitch hadn’t figured it out until 2D spilled that sentence. What did he never tell? Was it a lie?

June 2nd, 2010. (Location: Point Nemo, 48°52.6′N 56°36.4′E, Plastic Beach)

Murdoc sat in the top point of the lighthouse, a cluttered, claustrophobic space, with crates upon crates of bottles of alcohol. A small microphone, radio and record player lay on a desk, cluttered with various maps, circular bottle stains and a box of records on the floor by the desk. Murdoc sat on a squeaky old rolling chair, his mouth on the edge of a bottle of liquor, his other hand on the edge of the desk, holding a burning cigarette over an overflowing tray of burnt up ash. The record he’d been playing cut off probably hours ago and he hadn’t bothered to get up and change it.

His pointed ear perked at the sound of the door creak open. “Christ, Stu– Mitch..” He turned around to face her, almost surprised she’d show her face like this.
“I have something to ask of you.” She spoke up.
Murdoc grumbled, adjusting his posture, “if it’s about leaving the island. No can do. We’re stuck here.” His voice was full of defeat, exhaustion and grief.
“I know…” Mitch’s eyes landed on the bottle in his hand. “I want to know what happened on March 7th, 2006.”
He laughed humourlessly. “That asshole you care so much about showed up, and tried to put a bullet in her head. He’s alive, I just didn’t tell you that. You would never see him again, and.. Death is easier to explain than the whole situation.”
“Death is easier to explain to an 8 year old?” Mitch scoffed. “I’ve assumed he was dead for years! He disappeared without a trace, you burned all his shit when you destroyed Kong!”
“And attempted murder is supposed to be easier?” Her father snarled.
“You’re lying, Rowan wouldn’t do that.”
“I’ve known that prick long enough to know how much of a dick he is.” Murdoc swirled the liquid in his drink. “Why would I lie now? If we die on this island, you should know the truth about him.”
Mitch’s eyes narrowed, he must’ve been drunk. She felt her fists ball, the shard of glass she’d picked up from the garbage piles on her walk to the lighthouse piercing her palm.

“I’m not that drunk, I’m sober enough to still have a proper conversation with you right now.” Murdoc stated to her. “He’s not that friendly, sweet person you know him as. He’s probably got a bigger ego than me. You barely know him as a person.” He took the final from his bottle, thudding the empty glass on the desk.
“He was more of a father than you were.”
Murdoc was quiet for a moment. “That’s true. But, do you really trust him? Do you really respect and look up to him after knowing he tried to murder Noodle?” He moved his long fingernails, carefully lifting the needle of the record player, still aimlessly dragging along the middle grooves and probably scratching it up more than it already was. “Mitch. I’m telling you, he’s always been bad news.”

Mitch’s jaw clenched, biting back a retort to his words. The inside of her hand felt lukewarm and sticky, the glass digging into the skin. 

“He has a fat ego, thinks everything will be handed to him, and wants to be involved in every tiny little thing and will go to the extremes for it.” Murdoc explained. “That’s just the surfa–”
Before he could finish, Mitch charged forward, slamming the shard of glass right by Murdoc’s hand on the record player hitting and smashing the record instead, her muscles ached from grasping the broken material. He tried to grab her wrist to pull the shard from her but she whipped back, slicing a wound on his forearm. 
“FUCK!” He snapped at her, hissing at the blood seeping from the fresh cut. She growled, swinging back and elbowing him in the stomach to knock him over onto the ground.
“You should’ve told me the goddamn truth! You should’ve been there for me! I’m close with him because he did more for me than you ever did!” Before Mitch could do anything, the shard slipped from her hands and clanked against the floorboards.

She felt something against her shoulder blades, feeling the sense that it was Cyborg, her hands lifted in surrender, still bleeding from one palm. “You won’t kill me..”
Murdoc looked at Cyborg, holding his slashed forearm. “No.” He murmured. “Mitch, Mitch I’m sorry about what happened, for keeping this from you. You were so young, and.. The event was so life-changing for everyone in the band.. I didn’t know how you’d react.”
She kept her hands up, as Cyborg hadn’t moved.
“You need to trust me. Everything is true.”

Chapter Text

March 7th, 2006. (Location: Windmill Island)

Clouds lingered in the sky, surrounding the shape of a rickety island with debris falling off it as it moved. It looked unstable but managed to cling together as the piece of land traveled through the sky, it was safe, yet never felt that way. On the underside of the island, rocks clung to the dirt and roots stuck out from crumbling dirt, twisted like claws. The top of the island looked like any piece of land, covered in grass and weeds. A long catwalk like cliff edge overlooked the deadly fall, and led towards a larger chunk of land connected. A windmill rested, towering and blocking out the sun, red and white stripes snaked up the circular base, directing the eye to the main attraction of every windmill, the massive wooden fans, which creaked like old floorboards whenever they moved. All for a goddamn music video. This set was made for a music video. Well, two music videos

Noodle didn’t really complain about being away from the boys, but she had a bad feeling. She was simply told this was for a music video, and there’d be helicopters firing fake bullets at her to add to the drama. She was given a parachute if anything went wrong. She gazed up at the windmill, harsh air blowing her hair out her eyes. She could hear the loud whooshhh with every gust of wind, the grating sound of the wooden fans. The guitarist wrapped her arms around herself as the air got colder, rougher before she dragged her boots along the dirt and grass towards the windmill.

In the base of the windmill, she had a supply of food, a sleeping bag and her instruments set up, she constantly heard the windmill shake, the wood shivering. Noodle looked up, a stairway spiraled up into another space of the windmill which had a locked door and she couldn’t help but shake the feeling she wasn’t alone here. Anytime now, the shooting for the music video should start, and the sooner it ends, the sooner she’ll be able to get out of here. It felt strangely inhumane, she would’ve expected this behaviour from Murdoc towards 2D, not her. 

A while went by, the door to the windmill opened, Noodle turned to see the silhouette of a person she couldn’t distinguish the features of from the bright sunlight that suddenly shot into her small little space, she hadn’t heard any helicopters, or ones she was aware of. She lifted a hand to block out a bit of the sun, trying to figure out who this was.

“Rowan?” She called out, “what are–”

She was knocked to the ground unexpectedly, pressing her hands nervously against the floorboards, she felt a boot against the back of her head. She looked up and saw Rowan, dressed in heavy metal boots, an army jacket with various straps for carrying ammo and protective gloves.

“Where’s Murdoc?! This isn’t in the script!” She winced, fear taking over her anger. “W-where are the cameras?” She didn’t know what was happening, she wasn’t ever scared like this. She could take Rowan in a fight and easily win, but this was so… out of character for both of them. Suddenly she saw it, what was making her so afraid. A gun, not a small pistol but a large assault rifle, the silver glinting in the sun. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I’m not going to lie to you.” Rowan spoke, his cold tone was making Noodle’s heart race. “There weren't any changes of script. I’m doing this because I was offered the chance to.” He snarled, pressing the sole of his boot down harder. “And I’ll enjoy it.” His teeth gridded together in tense frustration but also nervousness.

“If… if this is about me taking over as the band’s guitarist..” Noodle muttered. “I didn’t know, I was just sent here and promised to be the guitarist in an upcoming band.”

“Murdoc was very mistaken about not having a guitarist in that ad.” Rowan growled, “He did it because he’s a dick. Because we had a fight after he cheated on me with the previous guitarist.”

“So your anger is with him.. Why am I invol–”

“You took it from me. My opportunity for fame. You?” He laughed. Not that laugh she often heard when he was with Murdoc, but a menacing and uncomfortable chuckle, like he was speaking through clenched teeth and with laboured breaths. “You’re just a kid.”

She swallowed again, the floorboards felt comforting now.

“I had to work to get to this space, build my way to the top, and earn Murdoc’s trust.” Rowan continued. “You just show up, not even speaking English and everyone loves you?! Because you’re a fucking child?”

“I didn’t get that treatment, neither did Mitch, Murdoc’s own daughter!” He laughed again. “You have everything handed to you on a goddamn silver platter, do you know how frustrating that is for everyone? It almost makes me sad that you don’t have to learn shit the hard way, that you don’t understand the shit I’ve been through to get to this place.” 

Noodle kept quiet, she was listening to his words but also plotting a way to fight him off.

“So I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do.” Rowan told her, keeping his foot in place but kneeling down. “I’m gonna kill you, and when those helicopters show up and blow up this island, it’ll simply be a freak accident. I’ll get off scott free. I’ll have my place back.”

“How does that sound, Noodle?”

She could taste his breath from how close he was. A buildup of plaque on his teeth and the garbage he consumed wedged between his teeth, a faint smell of cigarettes and alcohol and the musty scent that hung in his hair that smelt similar to Murdoc’s winnebago. “Jimmy Manson gave me this role. Murdoc doesn’t know. He’ll never know. Everything will be a perfect utopia afterwards, because I'll be in the spotlight. And nobody.. And I mean nobody will take my spot. Ever. Again.”

“All because of me.” Noodle muttered.

“Correct, all because of you.” Rowan’s voice was like venom, he was an asshole but he was never like this. He was always jealous, always tried to compete against her, but it was just constant one sided beef. He tilted the rifle slightly, before lifting it up.

“Murdoc preferred your skills over mine, his own boyfriend. You understand how humiliating that is? I’ve known him since 1993.”

“So take your anger out on him!” Noodle yelled, managing to pull herself onto her elbows. “You’re insane!” Rowan knocked her down again. 

“Well, tell me something I don’t fucking know.”

He lifted the gun, pointing the barrel directly at Noodle. The silence was deafening. Rowan’s finger rested on the trigger, shaking.

After what felt like hours, the gun fired, hitting the wood flooring beside her. Rowan breathed, the gun trembling in his grasp. He stepped back, boots thudding against the ground. Helicopters could be heard flying just outside the windmill, propellers slicing through the clouds. He stood quiet for a moment, staring at her in silence, the gun lowered to his side. Noodle lifted herself up and onto her feet again, keeping her eyes locked with his. Her hands clenched into fists as he turned away, quickly slipping away without a single word.