A/N: Here's chapter five! This chapter is heavily inspired by my friend kukapetal's story, "Discarded". I highly recommend reading it.


~Chapter Five: Traveling In Style~


2D's brain, which usually sucked at making connections from point A to point B, and therefore wasn't great at making analogies and comparisons of any kind, realized something. Remember in gym class back in primary school, where that hulking, smelly coach would yell at you to run, run, run faster around the gym? Even if you had no physical abilities what so ever, you were still forced to jog and jog. The sporty kids would zip right by you without even breaking a sweat, while the others were left panting in the dust. Thinking back on it, there wasn't a class Stu Pot hated more than gym. Every time he was forced to jog around the gym for reasons far beyond his current comprehension, he would end feeling like his legs were going to fall off and he was choking on air.

But compared to now, that seemed like nothing.

And they hadn't even been running.

Looking back to the day before, 2D wondered idly Why couldn't we have taken the car?

The cyborg had had her double Uzis to their backs for what was now two days, and if they made even a sound she would jab the cold metal between their shoulder blades and tell them to shut up. 2D once stopped to tie his shoe and she kicked him in the ribs. The only time they were allowed to stop was bathroom breaks, which were done with her watching like a hawk, the guns still pointed at them.

2D thought for sure that sneaking like this through freaking Las Angeles was futile and that someone would see them and save them, but apparently he was wrong. The trio somehow managed to take every back route, every foresty path, every deserted ally way and swamp and abandoned beach, through the city. It was as if Cyborg Noodle had a topographic map programmed into her head, which, 2D reminded himself, she probably did. And when they did have to pass through a populated area, she would hiss, "Act normal or you die," put the guns away, and stalk behind them, ready to kill them upon signs of unwanted movement.

So they didn't resist.

At first, Murdoc tried to. He swore at her and walked slower to bother her, but after a few threats to blow his head off he seemed to get the point and he kept quiet.

Throughout the whole first day 2D constantly was looking at Murdoc, still unable to believe what was happening, his empty eyes begging for answers and help. But Murdoc never returned the gaze, and kept his grumpy eyes fixed ahead, his hands balled into fists at his side, (except for his broken finger, which he tried to keep as idle as possible). For the first time in ages 2D was desperate to talk to Murdoc, desperate to hear him say it would be alright, and explain to 2D exactly what was going on.

But that wasn't going to happen, and they continued on.

By the first night they were nearly out of the city, but not quite. It must have been nearing midnight by then and they still hadn't stopped. 2D's head was throbbing, and dried blood from the submarine accident coated the back of his neck. He realized with a sudden jolt his cell phone and migraine pills were still in his pocket, but he also realized his captor would surely confiscate them if he took them out. So he kept quiet, even though he felt like his legs were on fire and he wanted nothing more but to curl up into a ball and sleep. Finally, she led them into an old, rundown building where no one seemed to be currently residing, and commanded them to sleep. As expected, she stood there the whole night, her guns forever armed. Once again, 2D desperately glanced at Murdoc. His throat itched and he wanted to yell. But Murdoc had laid down facing a wall and stayed quiet.

As much as he wanted to, that first night 2D barely got a wink of sleep. He was afraid if he closed his eyes Murdoc would leave and then 2D would get shot.

So, back up to date, when they were marched out of the city and into swampy woods, 2D made the gym class analogy and frowned. That pain was nothing compared to this. His head throbbed, he was seeing lights, his legs ached and he couldn't help but pant. He hadn't eaten in two days and his stomach was well beyond empty. It was taking every fiber of his being not to fall on the ground and sleep. He had already been walking for five hours that day and they were far from done.

It was around then that Murdoc dared get mouthy again. "So, Noodle," he started, glancing over his shoulder at the android. She glared at him in response, but he continued. "Mind, uh, mind telling your master where we're going, hmm?"

"Murdoc Niccals is not my master," she hissed at him angrily, jabbing him with the barrel of the gun. Murdoc flinched in response, not only because that had hurt, but also probably because he wasn't used to her sounding angry. He wasn't used to her sounding anything at all.

"Then who is, eh?" Murdoc dared to roar in response.

She suddenly brought her metal arm up and slapped the back of his head. A dull 'thunk' sounded and Murdoc stumbled forward, nearly falling but catching himself. He clutched his head in agony while Cyborg Noodle stood over him with her gun. "Up," she commanded, and he had no choice but to listen. When they started marching again, 2D heard her whir in a low voice, "You will meet him soon enough."

His stomach lurched and he kept moving, feeling like a zombie from his favorite movies.

But this wasn't a movie. This was real. This was real and this was scary.

After they stopped for another bathroom break when the sun had passed its middle point in the sky, the cyborg opened a compartment in her leg and threw a bag of potato chips and a bottled water at them; probably taken from Plastic Beach before she somehow managed to also get away. 2D and Murdoc gluttonously devoured the chips and split the water evenly. Murdoc still never looked at 2D.

When they continued marching, 2D's stomach suddenly did a back flip and next thing he knew he was on the ground on his hands and knees, retching up the little food that had hit his empty stomach. No! he wanted to yell, Don't leave; I'm so hungry! But now it was all out of his stomach and onto the cold ground in front of him.

"Up," the cyborg commanded, nudging him with her boot.

2D tried to do as he was told, he really did, but his body refused to budge.

"Up!" she repeated again, sounding angrier this time.

Once again, 2D tried, and he made is off his hands and onto his knees before collapsing back onto the ground. He felt terrified. She's going to kill me, he thought feebly. Get up, get up, I don't want to die!

He suddenly felt something grab him by the hem of his shirt and wrench him to his feet. The cyborg then threw him into the trunk of a thick tree where he crumpled, whimpering. His cheek had been cut open on the sharp bark, and he was once again on the ground, much to his captor's frustration.

At this point 2D was sure he was dead, and he raised his hands over his face, preparing himself. But when nothing happened for a few more seconds, he looked up frightfully. Murdoc Faust Niccals was standing over his ex-band mate, a hand extended. 2D stared at it for a second, then remembered the guns aimed at them and took the green hand hastily. Murdoc yanked the lanky man to his feet, and when 2D stumbled, Murdoc caught him.

"Toughen up, Faceache," 2D heard him mumble into his ear before he was shoved away. This time 2D caught himself. His legs wobbled but he didn't fall.

"Enough," the cyborg hissed from behind them. "Walk, now."

Wiping vomit and blood from his face, 2D did as he was told. He took Murdoc's advice and toughened up as much as he could, praying it would be enough.


Murdoc hated to admit things to himself. The thing he hated most was admitting feelings. They were disgusting things, things only felt by sissies. As mentioned before, all he wanted to feel was smugness, anger, and drunk.

But now… well, now he was feeling absolutely terrified.

He didn't know where the hell he was going, where the hell she was taking them, what the hell he was supposed to do, what the hell was wrong with 2D, who the hell that new master she mentioned was, and, to top if off, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?

Murdoc also didn't like not knowing things, hence that rant.

His legs were killing him, his broken finger and the back of his head where he had been hit were both throbbing, he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night, and the potato chips his captor had been so lovely of granting him weren't sitting well in his stomach. Neither was the lack of booze, and he would have jumped through flaming hoops for a cigarette at that point.

He hadn't even looked at 2D once since this new ordeal began, for multiple reasons.

1.) Whenever Murdoc was grumpy, he got the irresistible urge to punch that dullard's face in. Looking away would weaken the temptation.

2.) He didn't want to get in trouble with the iron bitch.

3.) He didn't want 2D to see how terrified he was, himself.

They were walking through a disgusting, wet, muddy forest that Murdoc didn't even think possible to exist in California, but here it was. They had just eaten and had now gone back to their usual routine of walking until they had to piss, when 2D suddenly faltered, falling to the ground and spewing up chunks. Murdoc looked away in order to keep his own lunch down. But when 2D didn't get back up, both the Cyborg and Murdoc grew uneasy. Even when the iron bitch commanded him to rise twice, 2D still didn't get back up. Murdoc watched as the Noodle imposter grabbed 2D and threw him into a large tree trunk, and Murdoc flinched as 2D's already-busted face collided with the wood. When he slid back down it and the cyborg pointed her gun at him, Murdoc knew he had to do something. He may have a black hole for a heart, but he wasn't about to let his only company get shot.

So he helped the stupid dullard up, all the while taking the risk of getting shot himself, gave him a universal word of advice, toughen the fuck up, and then shoved him away, returning to the death march. 2D, apparently taking the advice, fell back into step right along next to Murdoc.

The Satanist thought little of the act as he slouched through the mud and dirt. He tried hard to think little of everything, but the bad thoughts bombarded him.

And they continued to bombard him until the sun set and Murdoc couldn't see where he was going. All he was conscious of was the gun to his back.

At around ten, 2D fell again, only this time it was because he tripped over a root protruding out of the earth.

"Up," the cyborg commanded, but Murdoc stepped between her and 2D, glaring at the metal girl with hateful eyes.

"I think it's time to rest now, love," he said with fake sincerity in his voice. The robot seemed to fume, but she didn't object; she simply pointed off of the dirt trail.

"Sleep over there," she commanded in her monotone voice, and Murdoc did as she said, with 2D crawling after him. The two men collapsed onto the ground. This time, Murdoc was determined to get some well-deserved rest, despite the screaming of his broken finger and bruised head.

He nearly jumped when he heard 2D whisper, "I'm really hungry, Muds."

Murdoc lifted his head in annoyance. 2D was lying next to him on the ground, lying on his back and looking up at the stars with desperate eyes. The whisper was barely audible, but Murdoc was sure the cyborg could hear, so he hissed back, "I know, dullard, now keep quiet!"

"It hurts, Murdoc."

"I know, D, now hush up!"

"I'm really scared."

"I said shut it!"

This time Murdoc's voice rose above a whisper, and he heard the cyborg yell, "No talking!" The bit his lip in anger.

He glanced over at 2D again. He had his eyes shut tight. Something wet escaped from the left one.

Murdoc hated himself for doing so, but he found himself whispering one last thing to the blue-haired man. "We'll get out of this okay, D, just gotta hold up until then. Ok?"

"Ok, Murdoc," he whispered back, his voice cracking. And Murdoc watched as his shoulders relaxed and his breathing evened. It took Murdoc a few more minutes to be able to do the same.

The next morning, the routine continued. They were fed once again, this time one Super Fast Jellyfish each, and this time both of them kept the food in their stomach. And the routine went on. And on. And on.

At some point Murdoc shut off his brain, too deprived from its usual amount of drugs to function properly, and let his body do all the work.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

He would be left-right-ing for a long time before he could stop.