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Storyboard for context (btw I’m calling the guy next to Murdoc on the 4th panel Terry)
“You’re really gonna lug that bloke everywhere, eh?”
“Yes. Required by law.”
“Since when did you start obeying the law?”
“Since I got caught’s when,” Murdoc snapped as he shoved the comatose Stuart into the car. Terry had tagged along, one of his many hooligan friends that seemed to come and go at moment’s notice. Murdoc stared at the one-eyed, blue-haired heap slumped in the back seat. A second passed. Murdoc sat the boy up and daintily placed the limp forearm on the kid’s lap, pleased. Terry scowled. “Get in already, bender,” he muttered. “Bender!?” Murdoc yelped as he slammed the door shut. Once he hopped in the driver’s seat, he pouted and flitted his eyes around, trying to think of a comeback. Suddenly, a smirk crept across his lips. “Say, would a bender be looking to participate in...oh, I dunno, that parking lot with all those loons mucking about, eh? Care to go for a hell of a spin, Terry? Or are you some kind of bender?” Terry’s eyes widened as the greasy animal revved his late father’s jalopy.
“You’re bluffing, now.”
“Nuh-uh!” Murdoc cracked a snaggle-toothed grin, “we’re in Nottingham, mate, we may as well.” He cackled as the beat-up Vauxhall Astra, patched up from the fairly recent crash that bestowed him the unresponsive teen, sputtered its way to the parking lot derby.
By the time they got there it was raining lightly, but that wasn’t stopping anyone. Terry wasn’t too keen on potentially snapping his neck, much to Murdoc’s amusement. He opted to stand and watch while the mop-topped madman tore up the parking lot. Despite Murdoc’s mockery, Terry gave him a big smile and a double thumbs up for luck before stepping out. Murdoc smirked, and a chuckle rolled out of his throat as he fiddled with his cigarette. He tossed it out the window and slammed his foot on the gas. The deafening roar rumbled out of the car, almost drowning out the cheers. He picked up more speed and performed a few donuts, tossing the blue-haired ragdoll, still in the backseat, to-and-fro. Murdoc, however, was having a whale of a time, laughing maniacally and beeping the horn. Eventually, when he’d had his fun, he screeched to a halt next to the crowd, surveying his captive audience, panting and feeling — kind of — alive. They were going wild, waving, whistling, hollering; it’s what he longed for, what he dreamed would meet him onstage one day…
Murdoc was quickly snapped out of his musings with something else that allured him so.
Tits!!! On a lady!!!
A girl had taken her top off to, well, encourage him. And boy, did it ever. Murdoc’s freakishly long tongue lolled out of his maw as he tried to plan his last trick on the spot, the grand finale. He revved the engine once more, to another wave of applause. The speedometer gradually climbed up to around ninety as he spun the car around the lot. With his rearview mirror ravaged with cracks and rendered useless, he turned his head out the window to see if that lady was still offering her “encouragement.”
B-DUM!!!
It hadn’t been so much as two seconds before Murdoc’s car barrelled head-on into a bollard at top speed. There was a deafening crunch of metal twisting, shattered glass, and the smell of rising smoke. The car alarm rang like a cry of agony. Murdoc shrunk in his seat. The impact had left him pretty scraped up, but mostly alright; a bruise or some cuts here and there, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. The very kid he was supposed to look after would beg to differ. Having not been buckled, Stu careened through the windshield and hit the pavement, skidding on his face for what felt like half a mile before his head made a final impact on the curb. Oops.
Almost on cue, the rain seemed to pick up slightly, and the surroundings grew dreary to match the sky. Stuart lay limp on the road, surrounded by bits of broken glass. Murdoc, hands still latched onto the wheel, craned his neck to get a look at him. Moments passed. Despite the blaring alarm and the rain, it felt just as heavy as silence.
Stuart’s fingers twitched.
He lifted his head off the ground.
Painstakingly slow, the boy who was a crumpled, immobile heap mere seconds ago pushed himself off the road. Disoriented, the spindly teen hoisted himself to a shaky standing position. And there he stood, swaying, but there he stood. Murdoc stared, gobsmacked. Then he finally got a good look at the boy’s face. He was missing teeth, he was all bloodied up, but that was barely noticeable compared to what took center stage.
Stuart had no eyes. In their place were two empty, reddish-black voids. Murdoc had bashed one in before, but what were the chances it would happen again?
Now, this was quite a unique look, Murdoc thought as a smile began to stretch across his face. That kid worked in the Keyboard Emporium, didn’t he? He was fervently plotting now, gleefully hunched over the wheel. This was an opportunity he couldn’t miss.
Murdoc stepped out of the wreckage and trotted over to the bizarre-looking fellow.
“Hey!” He waved as he approached the lost-looking lad.
“...Huh?” The further disfigured Stu turned to squint at the small, grayish, greenish, blackish blob.
“...Erm…” Murdoc scratched the back of his head. Perhaps he didn’t plot as well as he thought. “R’you...ok?” He asked, surveying the damage. The younger bloke didn’t respond, staring blankly in a now quite literal sense until he could figure out it was a person he was looking at. He looked at Murdoc, then back at the wreckage, then back at Murdoc, then the car again. Suddenly, his pitch-black eyes widened and his bleeding jaw dropped. “Oh my god!” He warbled, turning back to Murdoc, “did you crash that car?” Murdoc wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to answer that.
“...Yeah.”
“I coulda been killed!”
“Oh, shut up, you-“
“You saved my life, mister!” Enthused, Stuart leaned closer and began twiddling his fingers.
“...Beg your pardon?”
“Not sure why I was on the ground, but if you hadn’t crashed your car, you woulda run me over n’ killed me for certain!”
Murdoc was at a complete loss. At least this idiocy and/or delirium was in his favor.
“Yeah, let’s go with that.”
“What was that, sir?”
“Nuthin’.”
There was a bit of a pause. Stuart observed his now fuzzy surroundings. Murdoc looked at the ground and whistled for a second or two before clearing his throat. “You play keyboard, right?”
“Yeah!” A big, dopey smile spread across Stu’s scraped up face, “I work at Uncle Norman’s Keyboard Emporium. Ever been?”
“Oh yeah. I don’t think they like me very much over there, though.” They chuckled, but only Murdoc knew why it was funny.
“...Why not?” The boy tilted his head. “Not important,” Murdoc made a dismissive gesture, “anyway, erm, I’m forming a band, actually, and I think you’d be a welcome addition.” Stuart’s new eyes tried their hardest to light up. “You really mean it?”
“Sure, sure. I’m certain those… interesting looks of yours would make good frontman material. Definitely draws attention.” Stuart beamed another jacked grin, overjoyed from the pseudo-complement. “Why, thank you, mister! Sign me up! I owe ya for saving me whole life ‘n such.” Bingo. With some disinfectant and patching up, Murdoc would have the perfect face for the band. Other than his own mug, of course. “I sing too,” Stuart added. With a voice like that? “Doubt it,” Murdoc replied curtly. “Well,” he tutted, “no use standing around in this rain. I’ll nick a car and you can clean yourself up at my place.”
“Ok!”
The new recruit was rather complacent watching Murdoc smash a random car’s window and start it up, and soon enough the budding band was on the road. It felt strange for them to both be conscious. Once they were properly introduced and caught up, small talk was made, but it was dull. As frustratingly dull as the former coma patient himself.
“Er… Murdoc… whose car is this again?”
“I told you, it doesn’t matter!”
Similar conversation plagued the car throughout the ride. All the while, Murdoc found it ridiculous that this moron could look so strange and have a name like Stuart. Not if he had anything to say about it.
“We can’t keep calling you Stuart, man.”
“Then call me Stu!”
“No! It’s boring! You need a stage name, looking like that.”
“...StuPot? That’s what they called me in school.”
Murdoc groaned. “Let me do all the thinking, and you can tell me what you like best. C’mon, man, it’ll be cool.”
Murdoc ran through a list of nicknames he thought of on the spot. As Stu dismissed one after another, Murdoc grew exasperated.
“Well, if you don’t like Denthead, Dentrimental, or Dent, Daft, and Beyond, then what?! Come on, those were good!!!”
The boy shook his head, “Too long for me. I like Stuart. It’s easy to remember and quicker to write.”
“I can’t work with that criteria!”
Stu almost rose his shrill voice. “Just keep it simple, please.”
“Ugh, simple’s what we’re trying to avoid!” Murdoc scowled. “Just Dents, then?”
“Does it have to be about the dents in my skull?” Stu whined. “Well, I mean, yeah,” Murdoc retorted. “You have dents in your skull,” he continued, “that’s fuckin’ metal.” Stu nodded slowly. “It’s just a bit on the nose, innit?”
“Then…” Murdoc was damn near out of ideas. “How about… 2-Dents, then? ‘Cos you’ve got two now, don’t you? It’s not just ‘Dents’ and it could be ‘2-D’ for short, yeah? It doesn’t sound bad, even without the implication of brain damage, so there you go.” Stuart mulled it over, nodding slowly, then picking up speed as his bloody face beamed once more. “I actually really like that! That- That’s quite good, innit?” He went so far as to declare, “from now on, I want everyone to call me 2-D!” Murdoc was pleased. “That’s the spirit!” He hollered. “Right then, 2D, this is it. The big one. We’re on the road to stardom, I can feel it. This is gonna be revolutionary, just you wait.”
“Well, no… we’re on the road to your place, remember? If we’re going to stardom we must’ve taken a wrong turn…”
“Well, you see, my place happens to be where stardom is.”
“Wow! No kiddin’!”
The new duo was jovially cruising to Murdoc’s shitty bedsit in high spirits now that everyone had an appropriate title. Still, likely due to 2-D’s lack of brain functionality, it wasn’t long before conversation dissolved to nothingness.
Suddenly Murdoc cussed and banged his fist on the wheel, wide-eyed.
“What happened, Murdoc?” 2-D chirped, craning his neck at the fellow.
Murdoc had one hand on the wheel, one hand rubbing his temples. “We forgot Terry.”
“Who’s Terry?”
Murdoc hesitated, then he sat up, looking straight ahead. “Eh, you’re right, no one important.”
Murdoc decided to sober up (just a wee bit) so he could concentrate more on his new up and coming band. 2D is willing to help in what ways he can, even if Murdoc doesn't want it.
