A Forewarning from the Author(s): The following is a graphic representation
of a common drug buy. In terrible detail it brings to life the terrible
events only described in chapter 7 of "From the Office of the Patrician".
Viewer discretion is advised.
~
A figure clothed in dark green padded silently across the rooftops. The night was warm, a gentle breeze drifting between the chimneys of Ankh- Morpork. The figure was naught but more than a shadow, drifting silently with the wind from rooftop to rooftop.
As one may have suspected, such a clever Assassin was certainly up to No Good. In fact, he was off to buy some substances of an extremely delicate nature. If he was caught with even the smallest amount of this substance, he would not only be charged but the Commander of the Watch would make sure he couldn't show his face in respected circles ever again.
So he had to be very, very careful.
The buyer crouched on a rooftop at the corner of Zephyr Street and an alleyway. His supplier lurked there under the weak glow of a streetlight. She looked completely relaxed and at home. Such an appearance was necessary if she were to keep secret the highly illegal amount of crystalline powder she was trafficking.
He dropped off the roof and stalked down the alley, keeping invisible. When he was directly behind his supplier he slapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her back into the alley with him. She squeaked slightly, but was otherwise silent. When they were far back enough into the alley (and shadows) he released her and looked her up and down.
She was thinner these days. Probably was exercising, finally. She still wore the red chucks that she had always worn and her battered blue-jeans hadn't changed much. The red 'EGGS' shirt was gone, replaced by its tight- fitting, black counterpart that read 'Las Vegas Crime Lab' in yellow letters across the front. And she'd cut her hair probably about five inches. And got another piercing in her ears and - if he wasn't mistaken in the poor light - had dyed her hair red.
"Hola Havvie!" Twist said perkily. The Patrician rolled his eyes.
"Gone emo, have you?"
"No, I dressed like this way before any of those 'emo' kids came in style. I so started it."
"Uh-huh."
"You know it, babe." She grinned and slung a messenger bag off her shoulder and onto the cobbles at her feet. "Got the moolah?"
"Only if you have the product."
Twist stuck her tongue out at him. "Fine." She opened the top of the pack. Tubes of the glorious powder sat there, perfectly innocent in their multi- colored wrappers.
"And they go all the way to the bottom?"
"Would I cheat you, Havvie?"
He paused. "Should I really answer that one?"
"No."
"No as in 'No they don't go all the way down to the bottom' or no as in 'no, don't answer that question'?"
"The second one."
The Patrician nodded and hefted the pack over his shoulder. He was about to climb back onto the rooftops when Twist cleared her throat.
"The cash, pookie."
Havelock stared. "You just called me 'pookie'."
"I call everyone 'pookie'. Now give me the money."
Vetinari reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch full of money. Its weight was reassuring in Twist's hand. "Take it. How much do you make, anyway?"
"In this dimension or the one where you're a movie star?" She grinned wickedly.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. Just in some other dimension you never did get to be Patrician and moving pictures really took off and now you're a famous movie star operation under the new name of . . . Jonathan Depp, was it?" She grinned. "And in another you came to Earth with me and became enamored with 'American Idol' and are operating under the name Clay Aiken . . ."
"You're joking." Vetinari turned to leave. Badly-sung strains of "Invisible" followed him for the next four steps. Vetinari was never caught without a suitable comeback, however, and this time was no exception.
"Vimes knows who you are," he called back over his shoulder. "And if he catches you he'll prosecute you and you'll never be able to sell in this town again."
There was a pause, but then she blew him a loud raspberry. "I have my ways, pookie. Never doubt an insane teenager."
And so she bounced off into the night towards the UU, to travel home through L-Space. Vetinari watched her go. When he was positive she was gone he opened the pack and picked out a green tube. Delicately, he ripped open the top and poured the tangy stuff onto his tongue. It wasn't like other drugs where a tolerance was developed; this one gave you the same rush every time.
He crumpled up the tube and shouldered the pack of Pixie Stix. And, with a feline grin, Havelock Vetinari vanished into the night.
~
Real author's note: Yes, I believe this is a semi-series in the works. Oh dear. Look out for the next installment: Cops: A Buy on the Inside.
~
A figure clothed in dark green padded silently across the rooftops. The night was warm, a gentle breeze drifting between the chimneys of Ankh- Morpork. The figure was naught but more than a shadow, drifting silently with the wind from rooftop to rooftop.
As one may have suspected, such a clever Assassin was certainly up to No Good. In fact, he was off to buy some substances of an extremely delicate nature. If he was caught with even the smallest amount of this substance, he would not only be charged but the Commander of the Watch would make sure he couldn't show his face in respected circles ever again.
So he had to be very, very careful.
The buyer crouched on a rooftop at the corner of Zephyr Street and an alleyway. His supplier lurked there under the weak glow of a streetlight. She looked completely relaxed and at home. Such an appearance was necessary if she were to keep secret the highly illegal amount of crystalline powder she was trafficking.
He dropped off the roof and stalked down the alley, keeping invisible. When he was directly behind his supplier he slapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her back into the alley with him. She squeaked slightly, but was otherwise silent. When they were far back enough into the alley (and shadows) he released her and looked her up and down.
She was thinner these days. Probably was exercising, finally. She still wore the red chucks that she had always worn and her battered blue-jeans hadn't changed much. The red 'EGGS' shirt was gone, replaced by its tight- fitting, black counterpart that read 'Las Vegas Crime Lab' in yellow letters across the front. And she'd cut her hair probably about five inches. And got another piercing in her ears and - if he wasn't mistaken in the poor light - had dyed her hair red.
"Hola Havvie!" Twist said perkily. The Patrician rolled his eyes.
"Gone emo, have you?"
"No, I dressed like this way before any of those 'emo' kids came in style. I so started it."
"Uh-huh."
"You know it, babe." She grinned and slung a messenger bag off her shoulder and onto the cobbles at her feet. "Got the moolah?"
"Only if you have the product."
Twist stuck her tongue out at him. "Fine." She opened the top of the pack. Tubes of the glorious powder sat there, perfectly innocent in their multi- colored wrappers.
"And they go all the way to the bottom?"
"Would I cheat you, Havvie?"
He paused. "Should I really answer that one?"
"No."
"No as in 'No they don't go all the way down to the bottom' or no as in 'no, don't answer that question'?"
"The second one."
The Patrician nodded and hefted the pack over his shoulder. He was about to climb back onto the rooftops when Twist cleared her throat.
"The cash, pookie."
Havelock stared. "You just called me 'pookie'."
"I call everyone 'pookie'. Now give me the money."
Vetinari reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch full of money. Its weight was reassuring in Twist's hand. "Take it. How much do you make, anyway?"
"In this dimension or the one where you're a movie star?" She grinned wickedly.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. Just in some other dimension you never did get to be Patrician and moving pictures really took off and now you're a famous movie star operation under the new name of . . . Jonathan Depp, was it?" She grinned. "And in another you came to Earth with me and became enamored with 'American Idol' and are operating under the name Clay Aiken . . ."
"You're joking." Vetinari turned to leave. Badly-sung strains of "Invisible" followed him for the next four steps. Vetinari was never caught without a suitable comeback, however, and this time was no exception.
"Vimes knows who you are," he called back over his shoulder. "And if he catches you he'll prosecute you and you'll never be able to sell in this town again."
There was a pause, but then she blew him a loud raspberry. "I have my ways, pookie. Never doubt an insane teenager."
And so she bounced off into the night towards the UU, to travel home through L-Space. Vetinari watched her go. When he was positive she was gone he opened the pack and picked out a green tube. Delicately, he ripped open the top and poured the tangy stuff onto his tongue. It wasn't like other drugs where a tolerance was developed; this one gave you the same rush every time.
He crumpled up the tube and shouldered the pack of Pixie Stix. And, with a feline grin, Havelock Vetinari vanished into the night.
~
Real author's note: Yes, I believe this is a semi-series in the works. Oh dear. Look out for the next installment: Cops: A Buy on the Inside.