Of Death, and Salvation.
Oneshot
Murdoc's bloodshot eyes squinted as he watched the dimly lit plasma screens display various areas of his former residence, Kong Studios, as well as parts of the plastic prison he himself created.
It had been days since he's been able to leave his secret layer because of the bookcase malfunction, and he was on his last bottle of Jamaican rum as well as the final pair of edible panties, which he grudgingly ate due to his poor planning in the case this situation ever arose.
Not that he didn't ever think it would happen, mind you. He kept a few bottles of rum stashed away in there, but that wasn't really anything out of the ordinary seeing as how every room on Plastic Beach had it's own secret stash of rum hidden somewhere.
His tired eyes shifted from one screen to the other, desperate for some kind of activity to occur that would help him get out of this humiliating predicament he was in.
Being trapped in his own private war room was not how he'd expected to die, not to mention being outlived by the very person he loathed on the same island.
Starving to death, alone in a room with nothing more than a bunch of bloody useless computers that have no internet access, a war table he'll never even get the chance to use, a couple of boxes of old "playthings" he imagined he would use when showing off his secret layer to the various women Snoop Dogg brought along from his yacht, and that accursed book he found washed up on shore, "The Plastic Beach," were all he had left now.
He growled in frustration that the last conversation he'd had was with that clueless dullard, 2D, about something involving his diary getting stolen.
It was a fairly good read though, he thought, save the parts where 2D went on about gibberish no one in their right mind would care about far longer than anyone wanted to even think about.
He cursed that fellow in the boiler room Dave, for not doing something about well... anything really.
Wheeling his black leather chair to the desk he dropped his head on a keyboard, staring vacantly at nothing, waiting for his demise.
Just then a small flash of light on the wall caught his attention and he raised his weary head to the source of the light.
He couldn't tell if his eyes were deceiving him when he gazed upon the screen displaying the entrance of the island. A strange, unfamiliar man appeared to be talking with the filthy seagull and pelican perched on the railing.
"Mmmm. Maybe there is a chance I'll get out of here after all," the sickly green man murmured as a wicked smile formed across his face.
Plastic Beach Community Member 
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