Rule 9a) When it comes to Vimes, just don't.

Rule 9b) The same goes for Vetinari.

I landed and breathed a sigh of relief. I grinned nervously and leaned against the nearest brick wall with my hands on my knees and sucked in a deep lungful of air only to immediately throw it out again after tasting the foul stench in the air. Street dancing in Meryton had been fun, and so had seeing the delicate, genteel faces of Lizzy Bennet and especially Miss Bingley scrunched up in distaste at the new fashions from 'London'. At that thought, I smirked, looking down to see what changes had been made to my outfit. Surprisingly, not many. My long dark hair was messily scraped back into a ponytail and I was still wearing a navy blue zip-up hoodie that stopped just below my ribs with white stripes down the arms over the top of a rather fetching set of grey tracksuit bottoms teamed with a white spaghetti strap t-shirt. I lifted my feet out of the, for want of a better and more polite word, mud and saw that I was still in my comfortable trainers which appeared to have a new charm on them to prevent the 'mud' sticking. I was roused from my assessment of my clothes by a loud shout.

"STOP! Unlicensed thief!"

A rough around the edges-looking guy ran past, holding a bag full of objects that I guessed were not gained through lawful activity. He came so close to me that the next move came naturally and left him face-down in the, errr, mud. Three people came running around the corner of the alleyway I was in; one red-faced butcher, (going by the apron and bloodstains, he was either that or a very bad barber), one very well-muscled young man who, it would appear, was an officer of the law and one well-curved young lady wearing the same basic armour and helmet getup as her partner, but it was very much filled in two different places to Mr Muscle.

I waved to the unfortunate man face down and spluttering in the mud on the street. "Is this who you're after officers?" I asked, just barely restraining myself from calling them 'policeman-officers'*

Mr Muscle nodded and stepped forwards to pick up the criminal. His lady friend stayed behind but was staring at me with an expression not often seen anywhere other than on a ravenous wolf. "Thank you for Aiding The Watch With Their Inquiries!" he said, the capitalised letters clearly audible. "Would you like an Escort Home?"

"No, thanks," I replied, half turning away, only to whip round to face them when an idea hit me. "Actually, can I speak to your boss? Only, I've been having some… displacement issues and I'd appreciate knowing when and where I am."

"Magic?" he asked.

"Umm, I guess you could say so." It was half a question and half a statement because, after all, who knows how that sadistic being kicked all this off. "Just, please, take me to whoever is in charge of the, err, Watch." I walked out of the shady (in many ways) alleyway and into the bright sunlight. Blondie grabbed Mr Muscle's shirt and hauled him off to somewhere where they could see me, but I was not in earshot. I peered curiously in their direction and tried unsuccessfully to use my (un)impressive lip-reading skills in an effort to find out what it was they were saying. However, it seemed that I either

a) got the benefit of the doubt, or

b) was too dangerous to be left out on the streets unattended

because I got a police escort to their main station. Could have been either.

An irritated man rested his elbows on his desk and lent forwards, his stubble-covered chin mere inches from my own face. He was Not Happy with the entire situation and I still had not come to a conclusion as to which of the two reasons I had been taken to see their leader. He sucked in a deep breath and there was an almost tangible voice saying 'oh, gods. What have I gotten into now?' coming from him. Having released it slowly, almost grudgingly, he took in another, more normal, breath and prepared to speak, releasing fumes of tea and tobacco in my general direction. I have never been a fan of smoking and, while I do enjoy a cup of tea, it was overpowered by the stench rarely seen outside the mouth of a chain-smoker. Just as he was about to launch into a full-scale interrogation, a dwarf bustled into the room and slipped onto the desk a mug of strong tea that looked like it would corrode any metal dipped into it.

"Thank you, Cheery," he said, sounding and looking very much put-upon. She (judging by the fact that (s)he was wearing a leather skirt, high heels, makeup and a beard) bustled out. He leant back slightly in his chair and took a large swallow of the mildly corrosive-looking drink before returning to the interrogation.

"You helped the Watch with our enquiries. No-one does that. They dash into the nearest alleyway and try to hide from our attention; everyone has some reason to avoid us." His voice was gravelly, a result of the cigars I could see on his desk poking out from underneath the mounds of grubby, dog-eared, mug-stained paperwork that were piled up throughout the entire office. There were loose sheets that had fallen onto the floor and had been covered in foot prints and a couple of lonely piles stacked up in the corners of the dingy room that had been invaded by smog diffusing in from the open window. What with the smoke and the stench coming from outside, I was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.

"Would you mind closing the window?" I coughed out, spluttering my words weakly through the thick choking fumes. He blinked in surprise, the only outward show of any emotion except for irritation and suspicion I had seen on his face so far, but quickly leaned back on his chair, tilting it so that it sat on two legs, and slammed down the window with enough force that the glass jumped in the frame.

* If you haven't seen 'Hot Fuzz', you won't understand this reference. You poor thing.

It is official: I HATE writers' block. I have had inspiration for what is to happen in the future, but none for Ankh-Morpork… So, I have decided that you lovely people can help out. Just leave a review or PM me with your ideas and I will find it much, much easier to get through to the next rule which, let me tell you, is pretty good ;)

So, come Muses! (Read: Readers who want to have some input) Help me with my troubles and tribulations!

PS:
For the finale, I have decided that Alice will give your messages to whoever you would like to talk to/insult in fiction. Leave your answers in a review or PM me. I will need at least ten requests before I can write it, so get your thinking caps on and tell me who you want to insult/irritate/humiliate/flirt with throughout fiction. Be warned: if it is one of the many things I have not read/heard/seen/watched, I will have to search for a synopsis online, so some OOCness is to be expected, although I will try my best. Byeeeee!