The Joint Fic (title pending)
Author's Note: Hey, it's Ned here. Me and Jess have finally got round to doing that joint fic we've been going on about for several weeks. We're writing it via e-mail, and most likely sharing the publishing duties (as far as I know).
ahem
The curtain rises, revealing The Authoress wearing a black tux and top hat. She smiles and twirls her cane.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," she says, in a light American accent. "My co-host will be here in a second-"
On cue, The Author arrives, slightly out of breath and wearing a rather familiar white tux, albeit rather creased and with mud flecked around the bottom of the trousers.
"Sorry I'm late," he puffs in a Liverpudlian accent. "Bloody traffic wardens…"
"Look at the state of you! I told you, leave earlier if you're going to get here on time!"
"Look, it's not my fault they clamped my car! Nobody told me you can't park on the hard shoulder!"
"Good grief, you are unbelieveable! Can you not even park a car properly?"
"Oh, like you're so perfect! Remember the time-"
At this point, crooks extend from either side of the stage and drag the bickering writers off. The curtains close and a small sign appears, saying 'NORMAL SERVICE WILL BE RESUMED ASAP'.
DISCLAIMER: Everything is Pterry's. Except for Edward, who isn't.
It wasn't a dark and stormy night.
In fact, the low cloud cover seemed to give the miscreants who make 4am their day time enough light to almost consider sunblock.
And it wasn't storming, as such- there were clouds, as previously mentioned, but no thunder, and they certainly didn't look particularly ominous. The most hazardous thing they were doing, in fact, was dropping frozen water crystals down onto the streets below.
But hazardous it was, for various professions; for the thieves, it was harder to sneak up with their feet crunching the newly fallen snow; for the beggars, the cold meant that people could bundle out the sight and sounds of their plying with hats and scarves. And for the Watchman forced to walk his beat, the cold and wet could spell disaster. It was not surprising, then, that many had decided to inspect a tavern or a indoor scene (preferably with a good fire) at length.
Only one charged on as if oblivious to the chill.
Well, one Watchman, and one Watchwerewolf. But she didn't count. She was used to this kind of weather. (Although that didn't mean she would use the cold as an excuse to get her partner to share a bed later to, erm, "keep warm". She was human...most of the time, anyhow.)
"Carrot?"
"Yes?"
"Why are we doing this? It's freezing! Everyone else is lounging in front of the fire somewhere, out of the cold!" Angua rubbed her arms - even she felt cold in this weather.
Carrot fixed her with a stare which showed he simply could not comprehend in the slightest why they should stop patrolling just because Ankh-Morpork was colder than the depths of space.
"Angua, we have a duty to do-"
"Where? Carrot, NO-ONE IS COMMITTING A CRIME! It's too cold-"
She froze instinctively mid-sentence.
"What?" hissed Carrot. "What is it?"
"Over there!" Angua beckoned to the nearest alleyway. "Someone's trying to get into that warehouse!"
Carrot drew his truncheon, but Angua waved him away, saying "I'll deal with this..."
She snuck up to the alley mouth. The mysterious figure was rattling the windows and muttering under its breath. Angua could smell a familiar underscent, but the snow blotted most of it out. She chose her moment carefully, and leapt, shoving the stranger against the
wall and bashing his head against the wall. At which point the figure gave a rather familiar
yell, and staggered out of the alley, clutching at its nose.
"Are you okay, Edward?" called Carrot.
"I wab only locking ub der bragtish roonbs!" Edward wailed.
"Wha- oh yes," said Carrot. "The practice rooms. I forgot your friends hired this place out as a practice space..."
"Oh Gods! I'm so sorry!" Angua covered her face with her hands, eyes wide. She moved to help, but noticed the scent of blood, and thought better of it.
Carrot, meanwhile, had pulled a handkerchief from his breastplate and handed it to Edward, who now seemed to be trying to spell his name out in the snow with blood. This was going to be the laughing stock of the entire yard, he knew it. At least nothing felt particularly broken.
"Look, I'm going to take Edward back to the Yard," said Carrot. "Igor'll be able to sort his nose out, at least. Do you want to go to the Bucket? It's not far, and the shift's almost over..."
Angua nodded mutely. She wanted to get away from the scent - the wolf was beginning to growl, and it wouldn't give a damn if it tore Edward's throat out to sate its blood-lust.
/No/ she thought. /I can beat this... I can beat this... think of onions... onions.../
/Onions smell bad.../
"Oh? You'd prefer the stench of Edward's entrails, would you?"
She heard Edward scream and run off, and realised that she'd said the last phrase aloud. She looked bashfully at Carrot.
"Don't worry," he sighed, "I'll look after him."
"Thank you," Angua replied, and hugged him.
It was a long hug.
"Angua?"
"Yes?"
"Can you let go now?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I'm frozen to your shoulder..."
And there, my friends, is where we leave it for now. The second chapter is well underway, and should hopefully be up soon. In the meantime, read and review. Or I'll send Jess round to make you.
Ned.