2D parked the car a good distance from Murdoc's Winnebago. He didn't need it getting caught up in whatever mishap the drummer was sure to have. His hands automatically lit up another smoke as he strode towards his room. The pain in his skull was worsening and he needed it to subside long enough to do a little musical work. He gave an absent wave to Russel's comment about heading off to roam the building.

Russel watched the singer disappear from view and spent several seconds staring at where he'd once been. He was obviously in pain but he wasn't acting like he usually did. He seemed agitated. The keyboardist shook his head and tried not to dwell on it any longer. He started towards the stairs. There was a lift, but none of them trusted it not to collapse.

As he walked down the halls, keeping an eye out for anything that might be lurking, he heard a loud crash several doors down. Upon reaching the room the noise had come from, he cautiously opened the door, fist clenched just in case. The light from the hall revealed Murdoc, hunched over a set of fallen drums.

Muds turned and saw Russel looking like he wanted a fight. He stepped back and raised his hands. "Hey now, c'mon. I haven't even done anything to ya."

The keyboardist relaxed. "Sorry, man. I heard that racket and didn't know what to expect. You get rid of those demons?"

The raven-haired man picked up a snare. "Not yet. Those little bastards'll be gone soon though. I called in a company that specializes in demon removal."

"There's a company for that?" Russel asked, incredulous.

"Yup. It's like a bug killer company, but for demons. They should be out in a couple o' days," he said causally, picking up the rest of his kit. He sat down and began making adjustments. "They do a damn good job too. I once had a mishap a few years ago and they cleaned everything right up. Place looked like new, except for the scorch marks. And blood."

"You... You're a real freak, Muds, you know that?" He watched the man's lips pull into a sick grin.

"That's what the ladies love best." He leaned back and cackled.

Russel forcibly erased all mental images. Needing to change the subject, he said, "Why you got your drums in here, man? Ain't we gonna practice together?"

Murdoc stopped laughing and twirled a drumstick. "Eh, I wasn't gonna tell you just yet but..." He got up, placed the stick next to its twin and stepped past the larger man. Motioning for him to follow, he said, "C'mon. I got something to show ya."

The keyboardist quirked a brow but obeyed, curious. The drummer led them further into the bowels of Kong, stopping at what seemed to be a recording studio.

"Go on inside. I think you'll be impressed." He bowed a bit and gestured with both hands at the door.

Russel walked in and found not just his keyboard in there, but a state-of-the-art, brand new, top of the line one as well. He rushed over to it like a kid on Christmas. "Is this what I think it is?" he asked, ecstatic. His fingers were already roving over the keys, testing them and imagining all the different things he could do with the new instrument. He didn't see Murdoc's satisfactory smirk.

"Yeah, old Mudsy has a heart after all. He's not just full of bullshit and liquor. Remember how much I saved on this place? Well, you didn't think I'd go and spend all the money on myself, did ya?"

"Actually, yeah, I did. I honestly thought you had. Glad to see I was wrong though."

"Hmph. What kind of a person do you think I am anyway?"

"I ain't gonna answer that. There's no way I'm gettin' on your bad side after this. This is awesome, Muds, it really is. Thanks." He stopped ogling the keyboard long enough to look the other man in the eye. He glanced around the room and found a different set of drums and a new guitar among the mix of equipment.

"For faceache," he said, catching Russel's gaze.

"But... why? I am thankful, Muds, really, and I'm sure D will be too. But why are you spending all your money like this?"

"Because we'll never get anywhere with old equipment, Russ! You can make that keyboard of yours do all sorts of things but de-aging it and making it new again isn't one of them. And faceache's guitar is gettin' a little worse for wear. I'd say it's on its last legs at this point. If we really wanna stand out we have got to be the best. Besides, I've been itchin' for a new drum kit anyway." He crossed his arms and looked at the wall.

Russel burst out laughing, much to the annoyance of Murdoc.

"And what's so funny, tub lard?"

"You, tryin' to act like you don't care. Just admit that you did all this for us, man. That tough act of yours ain't gonna hold up forever."

He felt his face heat up and hoped it wouldn't show. "This is more for me than you. I've been wanting those drums for ages. But then how would we sound with me being the only one with a decent instrument, huh? I can't be the ringleader of the world's greatest band when I'm surrounded by a bunch of hacks with shitty instruments! This was for the betterment of the band, not you!" Russel continued to laugh and tease him, so he turned to leave.

"Aight, aight, I'm done now," he said, grabbing an arm so he wouldn't go. "I promise I won't tell D about this."

"You'd better not." He pulled his arm free and walked over to his kit, finger sliding across a cymbal. "You guys find any good deals on a fridge?"

The keyboardist thought back to 2D's behavior at the restaurant, about how their lack of a bassist had bothered him so much. "No, not yet. To be honest, we didn't even look."

"Figures. It seems I'm the only one who knows how to get anything done around here." He plopped onto the stool.

"Hey, Muds?"

"Yes?"

"Have you heard anything from any potential bassists yet?"

"Not a fucking word. When I said we were the last of the world's talent, I was joking. I didn't mean for it to be taken so literally." He slouched against the drums.

"What do you think the alternatives are?" He wasn't about to spill the singer's secrets; he had a feeling the man hadn't even meant to let them slip like that. But he still wanted to do something to help.

Murdoc sat, thinking. Finally, he said, "Maybe one of us could learn how. It'd be quite the bitch during live shows though."

"You think we could make it computerized?"

"Hell no! That would ruin the whole thing! We couldn't even call that music. Don't ever say some shit like that again." He picked up a stray cable and threw it at the other man, watching it hit him on the arm before falling to the floor.

"Well, I'm just trying to think of ways to get things movin'," he said, unfazed by the assault. "We're gonna have to do something eventually. Can't stay waiting forever."

"Someone out there has to have talent. Or at least enough of a brain to play. I'll find someone myself if I have to."

Russel's eyes widened. "Muds, don't you even think about it. The next person you try that shit on ain't gonna be as nice."

"How would you know? I took a gamble on you and look at how that paid off." He grinned madly.

He decided to save himself the headache of arguing with the man. Sometimes there was just no winning with him. "Look, man, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to practice a little bit." He went back over to the keyboard.

"Oh, sure, sure. I understand." He got up. "You and Jessica need some alone time. I'll just leave you two to it."

"Jessica?"

"What? You don't think Jessica is a lovely name?"

"I'm not naming the keyboard Jessica." He massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Well, what would you name it then?" he asked, stopping by the door.

"I'm not naming it anything," Russel answered, eyeing the drummer in confusion. "Don't tell me you name every part of your drum kit."

"Of course not. That's just ridiculous. I only name the whole thing. But I want your honest opinion. What do you think of the name Jessica?"

"It's... a name." Murdoc gestured for him to continue. "It's a nice name, I guess." He had no idea where this was going and didn't want to find out.

"Do you think Jessica is more attractive than Megan?"

"The name or the person?" he risked, hand over his face.

"You know them?"

Russel looked up and saw he was serious. "Muds. Get out."

"But-"

"Out. I ain't about to help you with your love life. I'd like you to keep it as far away as possible." 2D had told him all about the couch. He didn't blame the singer for being unable to let it go.

Murdoc huffed but still obliged, the door latching shut.

Now that he had the recording room to himself, he could finally test a few melodies he had come up with. As he got acquainted with all the functions and modes of the keyboard, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to his conversation with 2D and the dilemma they were facing about not having a bassist. He had said these things take time, but how much time was acceptable before it became a lost cause? The singer was obviously on the clock and he didn't seem to have much real estate left. Maybe they needed to step up their ads. Or perhaps, if they scored a few gigs and became at least relatively known, they could host auditions somewhere to attract potential members. Anything would do. Sitting around waiting was not going to get them anywhere.