#d.o.g

after following the fraudsters all across england, the chase finally came to a close when a certain someone (the one, the only murdoc niccals) stumbled across the woman who had caused him so much heartbreak and pain and costed him so much in petrol.

D.O.G.

there she was, surrounded by her little gang of thieves as they knocked back shots of who knows what. murdoc reminded themselves they were only famous because of him. they wouldnt even be here if they hadnt of taken his fucking guitar.

if youre new to our tale, let me catch you up. once upon a time, the daughter of your favourite member of the mystery gang - shaggy jr - set her eyes on stealing the GRAMMY award trophy from the Spirit House in hopes of earning a pretty penny. during her heist, she stumbles across another unknown person who calls herself “D.O.G”... nobodys quite sure why she calls herself that but shes not really a talker so i wouldnt bother asking. apparently, murdoc stole her football in year three and never gave it back and was about to kill him in his sleep for the crimes he had committed. each to their own, i suppose? they teamed up, obviously, and came up with another ingenious idea: rob the fuckers. they took whatever they could get their hands on; instruments, notepads, awards, crisps, wallets, jewellery, merch, used underwear and of course... el diablo, murdocs very own guitar. the second D.O.G touched it, murdoc felt himself stur, and the duo took this as their signal to run.

and run they did! they ran all the way across the country, picking up friends as they go, like everyone’s favourite local police officer august and trainee mechanic venom. after having a few legal issues flogging Gorillaz merch, the gang decide to try something radical and fresh. they tried to start a band.

they were absolutely shit.

but everyone loved them.

they toured the country, a very angry murdoc hot on their trail the whole time. he just wanted his guitar back.

and now here he was, meters away from the woman who took it from him. he swung his gnarled fist at her jaw before he could even consider the concequences, and the next thing you know hes rolling around on the sticky, sweet floor of the nightclub with the woman he hated the most.

hes glad she’d had a bit to drink, otherwise he might of lost this battle. she was ferocious, but he was the spawn of the devil baby. and also sober. well, mostly sober.

they smoked together in silence after being kicked out of the sweatbox known as “snobs” which, quite frankly, was full of anything but snobs. just stupid young people. he took a big breath in before letting it out through his nose, which he now realises is bleeding.

“can i have my guitar back now or what?” he snarled, wiping his nose against the ghost sleeve of his jacket, realising he was only in a vest. he left his jacket in his car, like a fool.

“yeh. ‘s shit anyway.” she gargled back at him, spitting a ball of blood at the concrete floor. she was covered in blood and bruises, but murdoc couldnt ignore the hint of a smile on her lips.

he had won.

and also he had one less enemy.

maybe they could be... aqcuantances?

“ve’ got a few beers in the fridge...”

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