A/N: Good lord I'm nervous, which shows in the most ambiguous title ever. Anyway. First ever fic, just some mad concoction my brain dreamed up while I wasn't paying attention. Rated T in case I slip up somewhere on the appropriateness scale. To anyone who reads this, please forgive me. Also, if you actually make it thorugh the whole chapter, I'll give you a cookie.
A highly suspicious grinding noise filled the air, clawing through the smoggy morning mist of the city, which was so thick and dense people were ducking to avoid running into it.
Apart from the fog however, this particular mid-morning was shaping up to become a fine early Spune day.
The people milling about the street all heard the peculiar noise, (in fact, it could be heard across several streets, bouncing as an echo off of the mist), and some even witnessed the big blue box appear out of thin air, but since things appearing at random accompanied by strange noises usually meant wizards or alchemists were mucking about, it was best to just ignore it and wait for it to go away (or possibly turn into a 5ft tall, self-destructing cabbage wearing a top-hat and monocle above a rather impressive mustache. It only needs to happen once for people to expect it to happen again), hence no-one payed any willing attention to it.
A door on the side of the box was suddenly pulled open from the inside, and the face of a young man with an almost maniacal grin peered out.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, and began extracting himself out onto the street. "Got it in one go!" He looked rather pleased with himself as he did a little pirouette, stumbling only slightly on the cobbles, arms outstretched as if trying to envelope his surroundings in an embrace.
The door of the box opened a little wider, and a young woman stepped out after him, an apprehensive look on her face. Said look turned quickly into a grimace of disgust, one of her hands flying up to pinch her nose shut.
"Good gods, what is that... smell?" she complained, turning slightly green around the gills.
The Doctor sniffed the air appreciatively before pulling out his sonic screwdriver from a pocket, waving it about a bit, and then taking in it's readings.
"That would be just about everything you could ever imagine smelling" he concluded cheerfully. "Oh, and a few things you probably couldn't."
Clara looked rather unimpressed at this, which made him lose some of his enthusiasm, but he soon managed to rally himself. Pocketing the screwdriver, he once more threw his arms out and beamed.
"Welcome Clara, to Ankh-Morpork, city of onethousand and one surprises, and greatest city on the Disc!"
"On the what?" she asked, slightly muffled as she was still holding her nose tightly shut.
"The Disc!" he repeated, eyes sparkling. "Marvellous world really; circular in shape, it rests upon the backs of four giant elephants, who in their turn stand atop the shell of Great A'Tuin the world turtle!"
"Wait, so this place is like, really actually turles all the way down?" she laughed. He gave her an endearing look.
"Well, no, not all the way down. Just one. But it is an interesting theory, though somewhat lacking in the possibility department. Actually , she - Great A'Tuin that is, fantastic old girl- swims through the multiverse as though it were an ocean, passing whole galaxies as she goes. Simply amazing, isn't it?" He looked so immensly pleased with himself for having brought her here that Clara couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"Yes, that is impressive alright." She did a little twirl herself, letting go of her nose all the while loathe to do so. "So, onethousand and one surprise, eh? First one has got to be the smell" she decided giggling.
"Well... Yes. No. Sort of. Sorry about that, probably should have mentioned it" he mumbled apologetically. "But the next thousand aren't quite as bad."
Clara felt definately sceptical about this, but shrugged it off for the time being.
"So," she said. "Why are we here?"
"Oh - you know. Things. Stuff" he answered, turning this way and that as if searching for something. "Now, where are we?" he muttered. Then, clapping his hands together in glee and pointing up towards a streetsign he exclaimed happily "Ah, Welcome Soap! It'll be a bit of a walk, but we'll have an excellent chance to take in the views."
He twirled around, gesturing up the street.
"Now then Clara" he said, offering her his arm. "Let's go!"
"Where to?" she asked, smiling excitedly.
"We," he said, drawing it out for best possible effect, "are off to see a wizard."
Across the Ankh, in Pseudopolis Yard, Sergeant Angua von Überwald of the City Watch threw her eyes open, and sat up so suddenly in bed that she fell out and onto the floor.
"What in the world?" she muttered to herself, blinking rapidly and straining her ears.
It had been the last night of the full moon the previous night, and having spent it in wolf form - only just having regained her human shape a few hours ago - her hearing was still extra sensitive.
She was normally accustomed to the sounds of a Ankh-Morpork morning, and could sleep through them just fine, especially after a night shift. But the sound that had woken her hadn't been part of the usual cacaphonous symphony of the streets.
It had been... strange. As if it didn't belong there. And if a citizen of this particular city deemed something strange, then whatever it was certainly lived up to it's description.
She closed her eyes, listening for it. It was gone. She put her nose to work as well, but the only thing she could pick up apart from the yellowish-purple smell of the street outside were the distinct scents of armour polish and soap that filled the room thanks to it's main resident, Captain Carrot Ironfounderson.
She looked over at his sleeping form, grateful that her fall hadn't woken him.
They'd spent more or less the whole of the night chasing an up-and-coming criminal duo throughout the entire city. Jimmy "No-Nickname" Wells and Sarah "Likewise" Smith were well known across the planes for everything from pick-pocketing to straight-out larceny, but no-one had been able to catch them. Their faces were all over the place, practically a wanted poster around every corner, but no-one ever seemed to see them unless they were currently being victimized by them, and it was getting ridiculous. Apparantly they knew how to disguise their scents too, because not one of the crime-scenes left behind in their wake had contained more than a hint of something even remotely recognisable as them, and it was driving Angua up the wall. The only reason the two hadn't ben given any nicknames was that they were just so bloody good at everything they did, that it was impossible to chose just one outstanding charecteristic to dub either of them with. People in the streets however had given them the titles King and Queen of Petty Crime, which rubbed the guild of theives entirely the wrong way, and made Commander Vimes itch down to his boots.
Angua shook her head and rubbed her eyes, trying to give her brain at least a moment of repose from the enigmatic duo that threatened to drive her, along with the rest of the City Watch, around the bend almost every other waking moment.
She thought back to the noise that had woken her, musing over the possibilty that it meant more trouble from their highnesses, but managed to shake it off and clear her head completely. Taking a deep breath, she crawled back into bed and and lay back, inching in as close as she could to Carrot.
If that noise did mean trouble, and foreign things usually did in this city, they'd be sure to find out about it soon enough either way.
Mustrum Ridcully, Arch Chancellor of Unseen University, was in the throws of second breakfast when a stuffed heron suddenly whizzed passed him, ending it's journey across the room by burying it's beak an inch into the woddwork of the door, to the accompaniment of a humorous twanging noise. Sandwich halted halfway to his mouth, he staired at the offending feathered projectile which was vibrating sadly where it hung.
He'd opened his mouth to exclaim his bewilderment when the sandwich was suddenly yanked out of his grip as if by an invisible hand and thrown out the window.
Now, the heron he could just about live with, but losing his ham-and-3-pickle sandwich was too much.
As all kinds of items from arround his room started to behave unaccording to their own nature, he drew a deep breath and bellowed with all of his might.
"STIBBONS!"
As soon as he'd finished yelling, everything settled back down again and he looked around suspiciously.
"Hm," he muttered, and made his way to his desk, sat down behind it and stared at the door, where the heron was in it's last stages of movement.
The door suddenly creaked open, and a worried, bespectacled face peered in.
"You wanted to see me, Arch Chancellor?"
"Yes, I did."
The man stepped inside, closing the door behind him and giving the the newly attached door ornament a inquisitive look. When no immediate answer for the long-legged waterfouls sudden attachment to the door presented itself, he strode across the room and stood in front of the Arch Chancellors' desk.
"There's something afoot, Stibbons."
Wasn't there always, thought Ponder Stibbons to himself.
"Yes, Arch Chancellor," he said, trying not to show too much weariness. "If you are reffering to the disturbances in the thaumic field surrounding the University just now, I'm not really sure of what caused it. But seeing how it was barely a hiccough compared to the usual..."
"Hiccough? Hiccough?! Look around you, man! Does that look like a hiccough to you?"
Stibbons looked around the room, not really noticing anything out of the ordinary. Then he remembered the door.
"Ah, you mean the heron, Arch Chancellor?"
"Yes I bloody well mean the heron! And this mess to! My whole filing system to pieces."
Since the Arch Chancellors filing system normally consisted of putting things wherever there was room, Stibbons honestly couldn't tell the difference. He did of course not mention this. "I take it there was a... occurance in here then?"
"Yes there was. And it completely put me off my breakfast," the Arch Chancellor grumbled and stood up, wandering over to the window and staring out mournfully.
"Something wicked this way comes," he continued. "And it seems to have a taste for ham and pickles. Blasted thing bereft me of my sandwich." The last part was mumbled almost incoherently to himself.
"Look into it Stibbons," he ordered and pulled a peppermint out of his pocket, popping it in his mouth and reaching for his Tobacco inside the opposite pocket.
"Yes sir," Stibbons replied with barely the hint of a sigh. He then gathered himself and left the room, heading straight for the Technomancy department. If anything on the Disc had a clue as to what had just happened, it was probably Hex. At least, he hoped so.
A/N: *gives you cookie*
