“She called me Martin. Not Murdoc. It quite irritated me, and I think I figured out why. Murdoc Alphonse Niccals I was born, you see, but later changed Alphonse to Faust when I sold my soul to the Devil for rock ‘n roll fame, as any red blooded, white nosed lad of his time would have, he he — just kidding about the white part, mind you (sniff). So to name me something else would maybe break the spell, the, er, *blessing* that the Dark Underlord had bestowed upon me. But — ahh — maybe that’s what she was actually trying to do, see,” he realized while talking it all out. “Martin, eh?” He turned the word around in his mind, examining different angles, different facets.
“And this was Blue Moon doing the, um, renaming?”
“Did I say that?” he responded, eyebrows raised. “I meant Blue Flower… eh hehehehe, *Moon* Flower. Yes, that was her name. Not the other ones. Although 2-D was certainly *her* blue flower. Sacrifice you see. Lamb. Just like…” He petered out here. He couldn’t remember anything else for a while. I put him back in his orgone chamber for recharging. I knew the upside down cross on the front would keep him there. The Fallen One.
—-
“Peter, yeah,” he starts when returning and after a sniff. “Sorry I…” He trails off again. Back to the chamber.
Sunklands 