Chapter Text
Russel Hobbs was an honest man, he had lived in Essex for well over 12 years and was rolling in to turn 32 that year. Ever since he moved to the uk Russel had gotten involved in many many bands. He assumed it was because of his rad drumming skills and undead rapping friends living in his brain, although Del only came out to rap if the music was good, way good. I guess that's why he never saw him around much, and the fact that Del was so finicky was often a source of great grief for all of the bands he worked with. He had dealt with around 10 bands this year alone. None of them went anywhere of course, they never did, but it was an excuse for Russ to keep his mind off of things. Plus he really had no idea what he really wanted to do, he supposed he really wanted to be in a band, but he was never really happy with any of the bands that picked him up, he was always the best player there,and if your drummer is the highlight of your band then your music REALLY sucks ass. And thus the cycle continued, Russ would get roped into playing with some talentless hack products of the time, play a few gigs get paid, then the band either breaks up or falls flat. That's just how things went, he was used to failure at this point. He was so sick of it all, all of these so called musicians who think they know what real music is, who think their going to make it big, it almost made Russell want to laugh. They were so fucking blind and dumb and…..just God damn he was sick of it. The cycle continued on until one Friday after a gig.
The band that he had just finished playing with was one of the better ones, but they were still crap. Just because they were making more money didn't mean they were making good music. Russel was still the best player and he wasn't the only one who could tell. He really just wanted to pack up his stuff and go home.
“ I don't really know why the hell you're playing with these tossers” a younger man mumbled at Russel as he unplugged an amp. The man had dreadlocks, that sent off many warning signals.
“ it pays the bills” Russ mumbled shrugging.
“ I've heard you play before man, with like other people man, you're kind of a legend man, but like you gotta take charge I dunno maybe play with some folks with actual talent.”
“ like bring together my own band?” Russel replied unamused.
“ sure, man with your drumming skills man like who knows what you could do man.” The stranger replied.
“ you say man way too much. Are you a hippy? I hate hippies.” The stranger seemed off put by Russel's answer. “ but thanks for the advice, I would normally say don't let yourself become corrupted by the media and don't join the hivemind,but it looks i'm too late, here's to hoping you figure it out soon kid, Caio.” Russel gave the guy a two fingered salute and finished packing up his equipment and promptly left to go back to his bedsit apartment and pig out while watching gossip girls or whatever the fuck else was on at 11:00pm.
Back in Russel's apartment he mulled over what the hippy had said to him. Make his own band? Why hadn't he considered that before? It was a perfect idea, instead of being forced to play with talentless hacks he could pull together a team of people who thought more his speed. People who were against the media, against the man, people who weren't fucking hippies. He just needed a fresh start, a new beginning. He just needed a place to start . Russ looked at his humbled drumset as it stood lopsided and sad looking in the corner of the one room apartment. That was a start. A new set of drums, the old set that wallowed in his room was around 20 years old and was looking like it needed to retire. Russel knew just where to look, a place called uncle norms organ emporium, he remembered passing it after the show earlier. He had thought they just sold pianos, keyboards and harpsichords things like that, but as it turns out their latest selling point was, WE NOW SELL DRUMS. So it was the perfect opportunity, not to mention it was really close. He also had the funds, his most recent band endeavor was going better than most, but of course they would never get anywhere as per usual. But the idea of getting his own band together gave him hope, brought back his passion, he even felt a bit giddy. He would go buy a new set of drums tomorrow and move forward from there.
Murdoc niccals hated his job with a burning passion. It was so fucking boring,
but it was also the only place that would hire him within 500 mile radius so he was just fucking stuck where he was. It bothered the hell out of him. He was a Saturday boy for some shitty keyboard place, Murdoc couldn't even fucking play a keyboard. It was like spending your weekends at school, uncomfortable and shitty. Well everything about his life was shitty. He was still living with his dickhead father at the age of 20. Then again it's not like he had much choice in the matter, he needed a place to stay and he sure all hell couldn't afford an apartment, but he could afford to help his father's alcohol addiction, the bastard never stopped drinking . The worst part of it was that he didn't even know what he wanted to do with his life he might as well just waste away,forever a slave to his dad. He just wanted to be in a band, like a good one, a band that would top the charts and give a big middle finger to the cardboard cutout musical artists that dominated the music world,but that would never fucking happen. Not with Murdoc’s lousy luck. So he was stuck. The only thing that gave him any solace was playing his bass, but that was rare because his father HATED the noise, so he could only play it if A: his dad was shitfaced drunk or B: out of the house shagging someone at a bar. It happened often but not nearly often enough. Murdoc should be in college I mean he was 20 , but he lacked both the brains and funds to do so, so once again he was stuck. He figured he would just have to be the best fucking employee ever and work his way up to a steady job position and finally get an apartment on his own, then maybe he could work his way up to the top and eventually own the entire damn store and turn it into an empire and then complete his plans for world domination. Of course it would never happen but he liked to daydream about things like that. It was one of his favorite dreams, his first favorite being beating his father and shithead brother to a bloody pulp and then burning their house down. And of course Murdoc had a lot of time to daydream during his time working at uncle norms, and that's just what he was doing when a certain….. Distraction ebbed their way into Murdoc's view.
“ hey babe” came a sweet but slightly whiney voice, it was Paula cracker Murdoc's current girlfriend, although he was hardly loyal. He shagged who he wanted when he wanted and after all he'd been through he figured he deserved that much in life. Paula had a rubbish looking face according to Murdoc but her body and curvature were on the higher ends of the scale so it was almost worth keeping her around.
“ hey Paula” Murdoc sighed “ what brings you here.”
“ I'm on my lunch break and I figured I would go and see my shitstain of a boyfriend and see how he was holding up.” She replied.
“ Everything still fucking sucks.” Was Murdoc's reply
“ oh really?” Paula sneered, she reached down into her long black purse and produced a long tall bottle of red wine she wiggled her eyebrows at him as she set the bottle on the counter, it was supposed to be seductive but it just made her look retarded. Ah yes Murdoc thought Yet another reason to keep the bird around, her old man owns a wine seller down east. “ your boss around?”
“ Nah he's busy setting up a business deal with some guitar shack down in soho.” Murdoc replied with a laugh “ it won't work out my boss is a drunken idiot he couldn't convince a fish to swim, he'll be in his office for a while”
“ Perfect.” Paula said with a smile providing two small glasses from her bag, and Murdoc couldn't help but notice that her lipstick was smeared. Sigh what an unkept bitch. he thought to himself. Paula handed him the wine glass and Murdoc gave it a sniff, he wasn't really one for wine but Paula's stuff was an exception, it always felt rough going down the throat just like her, and it burned like alcohol too. He downed the glass in a couple of gulps and Paula filled his cup again.
Russel was excited as he drove down the freeway, he couldn't wait to get his new set of drums and start fresh. He figured after he bought the new set he could go searching for some other members, he hoped the right people wouldn't be hard to find it was becoming so much more difficult to get people you could trust these days. Russel fumbled with the radio for a bit until he heard something good. He tapped his fingers on his steering wheel along to the beat as he moved down the highway.
He mused on about the kind of drums he wanted, nothing to big or fancy Russel thought to himself just good sound, that's all I need.
He was just about to turn into the street that lead to the strip mall where Uncle Norms was when a semi truck flew out of the Murky abyss of traffic, it caught Russel off guard and he tried to get out of the way, but the truck ended up slamming into his car propelling him forward, and that's when everything started moving in slow motion. It reminded him so much of the drive by shooting it was scary, so scary it put him into shock. He barely noticed that the semi caused him to go flying towards the front window of the store he wanted to make a peaceful visit to. By the time he realized what was going on it was too late.
Paula had left a few minutes earlier and Murdoc was only extremely drunk at that point, he didn't quite get to shitfaced like he had hoped but in all honesty it was better than nothing, he was glad she had left, looking at her face made him want to slit his wrists. Murdoc amused himself by daydreaming about taking over the world, and fucking Madonna. Yep, that was the fucking dream. He was just about to fall asleep when a large crashing noise caused him to jump into alertness. In his drunken stupor he noticed the large car careening towards his face. For a moment he thought it was a demon from hell finally coming to take him where he belonged, but alas it was a car, and it landed smack dab in the middle of his face, knocking him quite hard in the nose making Murdoc reel backwards and fall over. He landed on his back and figured the ground would just be his home for a while. The whole situation was so ironic it made Murdoc cackle. Of fucking course he got hit by a car, what else was new, just his fucking luck. He was laughing so hard he barely noticed a large African American man come to his aid. The man mumbled a few choked “ I’m sorry” s before Murdoc's world became black.
Russel was so worried that he had killed the guy, but he had just knocked him out. It was still awful but it wasn't murder so Russ really had to count his blessings. He peered down at the person who's face just collided with his car and sighed, the person had a fringe and black hair, as well as pimples and a sneer. Which frightened Russel, this demon of a man had been laughing, no cackling after he hit him with his Porsche. His bloody face reminded him too much of events that he did not want to remember, and it took him places he did not want to be. His vision became fuzzy and all of a sudden he was just a teenager again and all his friends laid around him. Dead. He sat by Murdoc's bloody body for a while stuck in the past, until he realized that he had to call 911. He pulled out his flip phone and quickly dialed the emergency number.
“ hello this is Russel Hobbs, I was driving down Damon avenue…..yeah uhhh d-a-m-o-n, that's how it's spelled a semi hit my car it sent me flying through the window of the store,.....what store? Oh uhh… Uncle Norms Organ emporium, yeah the one on 180, anyways I hit someone with my car and they don't look too hot….you'll be here right away? That's so good to hear thank you ma'am.” Russell hung up his phone, there wasn't much he could do except wait for the ambulance to arrive.