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DAY 33- 9.15PM: OS STUDIOSSusan regarded herself critically in the mirror.
It wasn't good. Not at all. Even one who was not so terminally pessimistic asherself wouldn't be able to admit otherwise.
With great efforts from experienced hair stylists, her once tight bun of
hair had been smoothened and curled around her face. Her eyes were
blackened with liberal amounts of eye-shadow; Apparently you were allowed
to wear more when performing, but her personal opinion stated that it
appeared as if she'd entered a fist fight and fared badly. Stacks of sugary
snacks previously delivered to the purpose of enhancing her performance
stood banished in a corner, unspoken of.
However, this was all peanuts in comparison to the dress.
She hated the dress.
She received a new one every show, curtsey of Dibbler's pocket. However,
if each garment had been priced according to the amount of material it
involved, his tightness was evident once again.
"I should have just continued with the family business..." she muttered, scowling
with distaste at herself.
A knock sounded on the door.
"Yes...?" she asked boredly, as if life didn't deserve her effort anymore.
"This is Dibbler. Are you decent?"
"I'm dressed, but I don't think that qualifies."
Taking this as an invitation, Dibbler pushed his way in. His eyes gleamed; the constant incoming of money could do that to petty people. "So, Sue, how's it hanging?"
She didn't reply. One, none of his visits were ever to just check up on her
well being, and two, he had called her Sue. Her name was Susan. A distinct
difference.
"Good, good. …All ready for the show? Excited?"
"Look, what do you want?" she asked irritably, her stored hatred ready to
make her rip his throat out with her teeth if the need should arise.
A slightly alarmed look passed over his face for a second, but he covered
it considerably well. Upon recovery he asked "…How old are you?"
Her eyebrows furrowed suspiciously. "What?"
"Well, I was wondering... you know."
She felt she probably did, but wished she didn't. "What?" she repeated.
"The media would go wild if we started going out. Just think about it. Million dollar Older Sibling producer and the lowly presenter-"
"Only one of us will be going out!" she exclaimed.
"Yeah, but-"
"GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!" she bellowed, causing him to scurry away with
his metaphorical tail between his legs. She slammed the door behind him with such force it was in danger of being ripped off the hinges; A warning to any others out there who may be thinking of so weakly asking her out.
Forcing her stress levels down with a strong hand, she sat in her chair again, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was not going to be a good day. Of course, ever since she had enlisted to Older Sibling she couldn't remember any good days. It had consumed her life.
"Just four weeks left, I suppose…" she sighed to herself.
In the distance, unheard of by her and the rest of the world, there was a desperate but very brief scream.
DAY 33- 9.30PM: IN THE HOUSE
"…Rincewind!"
"Huh? What? What d'you want?" he exclaimed as the boom sounded without previous notification.
"Say your goodbyes, as for losing the fighting task, you will now be evicted from the Older Sibling house."
And then silence fell, sinking upon the housemates like a heavy fog.
"Wasn't that a tad abrupt?" asked Ridcully, to no one in particular.
Rincewind, however, still with the tap running as he was in the process of washing his plate, said nothing.
"We will all miss your company, Rincewind," said Carrot, earnestly.
Once again he said nothing.
Ridcully leant over, finger ready to give the inspecting poke he normally reserved for the Bursar. "Rincewind?"
He was wearing an extremely strange expression. Although it portrayed no emotion
at all, they all saw as a single tear rolled down his cheek, just like the water that was slowly beginning to seep over the edge of the sink.
A small intrusion into the arm, like a kid might prod an interesting jellyfish with a stick. "Are you all right?"
He nearly fell backwards off his chair as the dam burst and water gushed from his eyes at an increasing flow. "I'm going home!" he bawled, a huge disbelieving grin spreading across his face. "I'm free! I'm actually free!"
"There's no need to rub it in…" muttered Angua, recoiling slightly.
At this point he began skipping around backwards and forwards, reminiscent
to his 'Grand Duke of Sto-Lat' days. "I'm free! I'm free! The nightmare is
over! I'm free!"
As if the show for the night was now over, the four of them at the table sunk a little lower, paying no heed to the wizard spending his 'goodbye time' on dashing hyperactively around them.
There was no sound for the next few minutes apart from the jubilance on the side. These little speechless moments as each reflected their own self-pity were gradually increasing in occurrence with time.
And without warning, Angua lowered her head into her arms and began sobbing at a rate to rival Rincewind's.
"Angua!" exclaimed Carrot, hurriedly putting a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"It's never going to end…" she moaned, ashamed at her own sudden wretchedness. "We're going to be stuck in here forever… We're doomed… doomed…"
"Calm down, calm down," murmured Carrot, quite lost. It was only on very rare occasions that events could bring Angua to tears, and comforting on-the-edge women was not on his list of expertise. "It's not going to last forever, of course not."
"It will," she insisted. "He's going to make a new rule, just like he did with us not being allowed to leave when we want. We're going to be stuck in here for the rest of our lives, scrutinized and gossiped about and given stupid little nicknames!"
"Pish posh and poppycock, he couldn't do that," said Ridcully officially, but a skilled observer would be able to spot the doubt in his eyes.
"He's going to do it, I know he will, we're doomed-"
"Sergeant!" said the Patrician suddenly, causing them to turn. Had he… had he raised his voice? "This is not the time for putting yourself in a pit of misery. There are many great hardships that one can experience, and being contained within a house is not the worst of all fates. If Dibbler does decide to keep us in through some form, as it is very likely he shall try, we will just have to attend to the situation as it arises. For now, showing weakness does not help anyone but him."
They all stared. Angua had stopped crying, if only so that she could instead gawp at Vetinari in awe along with the rest of them. That was probably the longest speech he had said upon entering the house. "If you say so, sir.." she replied, rather blandly. She knew he was right, though.
"Mm, Vimes always said to not give them what they want," agreed Ridcully, sagely. "He always liked to annoy Older Sibling and you wouldn't want to go against his wishes..."
"You mean Mister Vimes always says not to give them what they want and he always likes to annoy Older Sibling," she corrected sternly.
"Same thing."
"This is Older Sibling," said the voice once again. "Rincewind, it's time to leave the Older Sibling house, I'm coming to get yoooooou!"
It disappeared as soon as it had sounded, causing Rincewind to stop with his joyous prancing. "Coming to get me?" he asked, doubtfully. "What's coming to get me?"
"I imagine it's just an expression," said Ridcully. "Be a good man and shove off now."
"I don't know…" said Ridcully, chewing his index finger nervously. "It might not be real… It might just be another task. I mean, it's not the end of the week yet, and they said 'I'm coming to get you'…" The part of his face that wasn't covered in scruffy beard whitened to it's usual shade.
Angua gave pity. They all knew the psychological effect that the house had on them all, but after her recent outburst she couldn't at least pretend that she didn't. "Here Rincewind. I'll come with you to the door."
"Don't try to nip out in his place, will you," voiced Ridcully.
Angua nearly bit off her tongue. Well, there was a plan uncovered and ruined before it had barely even developed. Regardless, she rose to her feet and walked with Rincewind out of the room.
Upon them leaving, Ridcully slumped back in his chair. Silence. Again. The room's other occupants were not doing a lot to make themselves noticed- Carrot simply stared at the table, his eyes focused on a small blackened patch. Vetinari just looked at the newspaper he had fashioned by himself for himself, occasionally taking a sip of his seemingly unending coffee cup.
Ridcully tilted his head to the side, as a thought struck him. "Captain," he said.
Carrot's head jerked up upon being addressed. "Yes, Archancellor Ridcully?"
"Do you know how to play Cripple Mr Onion?"
DAY 33- 9.50PM: OS STUDIOS"We have it under control!" a security guard was exclaiming. "We have it under control, but the creature is highly-"
At that moment, the 'highly' creature happened to burst into the scene. It was most definitely no longer under control, and torn ropes that covered it illustrated so.
Screams emanated.
DAY 33- 9.50PM: IN THE HOUSEIt didn't take heightened senses to hear the commotion from outside. Laughter. Cheers. Boos. People trying to sell T-shirts at ten dollars a thread.
The corridor that led out was very long and very narrow. Walking down it brought unusual emotions to Angua. …Back than, walking down on that very first day, she had been so naïve. She hadn't known what was lying in store for her... But that felt like an eternity ago.
"Thanks for coming down with me," said the little wizzard, nearly hidden under the greatness that was his hat.
"It's nothing." …Smells… such intriguing smells surrounding…
It appeared that there was something else Rincewind wanted to say. "Um… Angua..."
"Yes?" It was a mixture, a cocktail of odours, but there was a definite prominence.
"I… Uh, I mean… Uh… It's been really good that… uh…"
"That's nice…" she muttered absently. Yes. It was there, and she knew what it was. After all, coming from where she did, it would be hard for her not to. Even humans who came from Uberwald would be able to recognise that smell, even if they didn't exactly realize how.
"And… What I meant was, uh… I don't know if I've made it clear over the past weeks, but…"
They were very close to the door now. "See you round, Rincewind," she said, momentarily bringing herself back into the world of simple senses like sight and sound. "Good luck in the outside world."
The door burst open in a throng of light. Angua stood to the side of the door, allowing Rincewind to receive the spotlight in all its glory. A great unified cry arose, an ear splitting sound.
The stupid people… Angua found herself thinking. It's all just a game for them, but that's alright because they're not the ones who are playing. They're not the pieces, they're just the ones who roll the dice.
She couldn't help but also feel incredibly jealous. How easy it would be to push the wizard aside and take the exit for herself…
Rincewind, in a different world altogether from the one on offer, turned to look at her. And said something. Something that was lost to the roar of the euphoric crowd.
"I really like you Angua," he said.
She shook her head, as an indicator that she hadn't heard. With a brief sigh, and a fearful intake of breath that balanced it out, Rincewind stepped out into the masses.
And the door closed, trapping Angua from the light.
She fell against the wall. She wasn't paying much thought to working out what Rincewind had tried to say to her- Spitefulness was taking up too much energy to make room for that.
She walked back down to the house again, reluctantly. And thought about the smell of the crowd again.
It was such a strong taste, surely too much for mere air to carry. It was something she had felt whenever she was with her family, and something she found herself feeling whenever faking a life as an ordinary woman produced its toll.
Hunger.
DAY 33- 10.00PM: OS STUDIOS"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The audience echoed Susan's cry.
"OHMYGODS! You all know who it is, and I know you all love him, it's RINCEWIND!"
Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.
Rincewind tried to shield his eyes from the constant flashes from Times reporters surrounding, but this was difficult as he already had one hand in the hand of Susan as he was led onto the stage, one hand shaking the hands of others as he passed, and another hand to prevent hands dragging him off the stage. The last of which he unfortunately didn't have.
"Keep close to me," Susan muttered in a far quieter tone. "Don't let the big guys with tattoos on their heads grab you, and don't let the girls in little pink T-shirts grab you. Trust me, they'll skin you to the bone like piranhas."
Rincewind heeded this advice. In all honesty he didn't really want anyone to grab him.
But the presenter was managing to keep them at bay. Kicking them in the faces with extreme high heeled shoes in a way that probably only she was allowed to.
"So, Rincewind!" she yelled, as he was seated opposite her in a chair, which he promptly attempted to shrink into. "What can you tell us about your Older Sibling experience?"
"Uh…" He didn't know what to say. It was hard enough attempting to peel his eyes away from the tattooed guys and pink girls; it appeared that they were opposing clans, yet both bent on his destruction if only through different means. "It was… good…"
"But like, was it like, a high powered, top emotion experience?" She gave him a brief apologetic look that suggested she didn't know what it meant, either.
"Uh…" The past weeks. To talk about them now like they were nothing… "Yes," he decided. "Yes, it was, and some."
"Oh my gods! Just what I was thinking! That is like so totally like- what?" she held a hand to her ear, beckoning to the audience.
"That is like so totally wicked!" they chorused in unison.
Ah well, she thought to herself. At least when it was all over, maybe she could get a job in the pantomime business. Then she could be a wicked witch- at least she wouldn't have to act hyper and maybe on occasion be able to eat people.
But then there was a rumbling. A nasty rumbling, that started low and increased in volume and detail as seconds passed. A rumbling that paused the cheering, a rumbling that stopped Susan from asking any more questions, although she didn't present much resistance.
Screams came from the side of the stage. But not the joyous, pointless screams of the crowd. No, these were true screams, carrying out the purpose of the sound. To warn all others that something is coming and it isn't very nice.
"What the-"
And something rushed onto the stage. What, she couldn't really say, but whatever it was it had two men sat on top of it like a bucking bronco, tattered pieces of rope trailing behind it and a few limbs sticking out from it.
While terror enveloped everyone else, Rincewind's face melted into a maskof tired happiness.
DAY 33- 10.30PM: OS STUDIOSDibbler was not normally a smoker, but that had very recently changed. Recent in the sense of fifteen minutes ago.
"Okay," he repeated, wearily. "Run it past me again. What happened?"
The worker before him looked anxiously at the clipboard he was holding. No way in which he presented the words could make them any more acceptable, or plausible for that matter.
"Erm, Rincewind came out of the house, and the presenter sat him down on the chair."
"I gathered that much."
He made a decision and decided to go for the quick, and hopefully, easy technique. "Um. During the questioning, the… thing, that throughout the day Security had been attempting to apprehend, rushed onto the stage, ate several members of the audience, and kidnapped Rincewind." There. It was over. He'd said it.
Dibbler's brow wrinkled. Eaten members of the audience? Those poor people… what was he going to say to their families? How were they going to take the tragic loss? With the help of a lot of money, he sourly imagined. "The… thing?"
"Yes. The Thing."
"You might want to clue me in one this."
The man's mouth opened to frame the words, but it took a second attempt before any sound actually came out. "A huge… moving… box."
"A box."
"Yes."
"That's huge."
"Yes."
"That moves. How? I imagine it scoots around on little wheels, does it?"
"On little legs, actually."
At this point, Sol ducked out of the room and decided it would be a convenient moment for a bathroom break.
DAY 33- 10.55PM: IN THE HOUSERidcully was having a great time.
"So how do you want the payments to be made?"
"Oh, cash will do fine when we get out."
Carrot nodded, and then turned his utmost attention to the little slips of paper. They were very crude, but with only five minutes to work with and leftover grease scraped of the bottom of the frying pan to be used as ink, you couldn't really complain.
Realization dawned. "Oh! I've got that card again! The one that means I have to show you my hand."
"That it is. Go on then."
At this, Carrot placed his cards face down on the table, and held his palm out for inspection.
There was a small sucking sound as Ridcully chewed his lips from the inside. "I think I might need to go over these rules with you again, my boy," he said eventually.
Vetinari simply watched with interest. It had been a great wrench of his heart(1) to give up his newspaper in order for them to make the 'cards' out of it, but as he had expected it was the wise thing to do. This was far more entertaining.
"Well, he's gone," said Angua, slamming the door behind her. "I guess the public must have finally become as sick of his potato jokes as we did."
"Mm," said Carrot.
"There were a lot of people out there."
"Mm."
"But there was something really strange about them-"
"Mm…" replied Carrot as he thought, in the manner of all men who are not really listening.
She scowled. What was it with men and betting? "I think I'll go try wake up Vimes, if that's all the same to you.," she said, pouring out a glass of water. She didn't doubt that she'd need it. "Since no one else has bothered yet… You know… He could have died and we wouldn't know… Might as well… "
"Mm…"
"And then afterwards maybe I'll do the flamenco while only wearing a tutu and singing the hedgehog song..."
"Mm," Carrot replied simply again. However Vetinari's eyebrows raised slightly.
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(1)It did exist, but was just a very specialised piece of equipment.
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DAY 33- 11.00PM: IN THE HOUSE
"-Ohmygodsi'vekilledthebloodybastard!" Vimes exclaimed as he sat bolt upright, catching up with the past. A look of confusion crossed over his face as he glanced around. "Oh."
"How many fingers am I holding up, sir?" said a voice which he identified to be belonging to Angua.
He squinted. "No idea. It's pitch black in here. What happened?"
Angua tilted her head from side to side. "…What's the last thing you remember?"
He grimaced. You knew that good news was never going to follow a question like that. "…I remember punching the Patrician in the stomach, as much as I wouldn't like to."
"Ah. And you're probably wanting to know what happened after that."
"Yes, I am."
"Well then," she said, straightening up. "I think it would be better that you asked him that question, sir."
"What?" he said, as she exited the room, leaving him in the dark. "What do you mean? And why am I all wet? Sergeant? Angua? ANGUA!"
DAY 33- 11.30PM: IN THE HOUSE
"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?"
"He said we'd just start small since I was a beginner," explained Carrot, as Vimes searched around desperately for a towel in the background.
"Carrot, I'm not sure if you know this, but you haven't got two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
"Yes, but I might do someday, and we agreed that whenever I get my pay half of it will go to Ridcully."
Under the heated glare of Angua Ridcully steamed slightly. He gave a small wave.
"He was very kind about it," Carrot added.
Vetinari simply continued to watch. This was better than theatre. In fact in his opinion it was infinitely better, shown by the way he hadn't had them all hung yet.
Vimes was staring out of the window. "What time is it?" he asked.
"Nearly midnight," said Carrot.
Vimes shook his head. "Mm. I'm not sure whether I appreciate being woken up only to be told it's time for bed."
"You're not going to bed, are you Vimes? We were just about to play Strip Onion!"
There was a different kind of silence this time. Not one generated by a lack of things to say, but there because after a statement like that there wasn't anything that really needed to be said. The expressions cast at Ridcully held more value than mere syllables ever could.
DAY 33- 11.35PM: OS STUDIOS
"My gods…" whispered Dibbler to himself, leaning closer to the glass. "I'm dreaming. It must be dreaming. This isn't real. Sol, pinch me."
There was a complete lack of pinching. Dibbler turned and surveyed the room to see that his nephew was absent. It seemed that his time in the restroom had been extended. He shrugged; it wasn't his loss that Sol would miss what would probably be the best footage ever to be seen on the Dysk.
"He's not going to manage it…" he whined, as the sad truth developed. "The sad boring gits aren't going to agree… They must really hate me."
DAY 33- 11.35PM: IN THE HOUSE
"What?"
"Well, we have cards, don't we?" the Archancellor explained, defensively, running with a wild idea. "Always a lot of fun, I've heard. Late night game. Stop us being bored. What with there being nothing to do…"
Vimes laughed derisively. "Maybe not for you, but personally 'sleep' was pretty high on my agenda."
"You've just been out for near three hours, commander."
Vimes shot a peculiar look at the Patrician, not without venom. Surely he wasn't supportive?
"What are the rules for 'Strip Onion'?" inquired Carrot, innocently.
"Don't even bother, Carrot," Vimes warned. "Don't get sucked in."
"I agree," said Angua, nodding. "Strip games are only developed from man's love of mockery."
"This is Older Sibling," the voice interrupted. There seemed to be a breathless, hurried quality to it for some reason. "Older Sibling demands that the housemates agree with Ridcully's idea of playing strip onion, or they shall be punished. Thank you."
"That was surprisingly fast," said Vetinari.
"Their reflexes for the fist sign of sauciness must have improved," muttered Vimes. "They can stuff it. I'm going to bed."
"But then we'll be punished!" Carrot stated, anxiously.
Angua turned to Vimes, hesitantly. She looked clueless. But that was the problem with being the commander, even when you weren't at work, wasn't it… People always tended to look to you.
"Alright then," he said angrily, pulling a chair out and seating himself on it with a thud. "Let's get this damn thing over and done with."
"Capital!"
Angua followed his cue, if somewhat more slowly. Carrot pulled his chair in and sat ready to be enlightened of the rules eagerly.
Upon being so, his face fell with abashed horror.
DAY 33- 11.45PM: IN THE HOUSE
If I had been allowed to bring in my entire Watch uniform with me, Vimes thought to himself, This game might have been a lot easier.
The middle of the table was beginning to become quite clustered. In the middle lay four individual drawer compartments removed from Ridcully's hat, a pair of shoelaces with boots to follow from Vimes, a sock and a bracelet from Angua, and a single signet ring from Vetinari.
Carrot was doing remarkably well. Astonishingly, in fact. It seemed to be pure will that was allowing him to win, as the severity of the pink shade in his ears suggested.
"How long does this go on for?" growled Vimes, pulling a button off his shirt and placing it on the table grudgingly.
"Whenever everyone aggress that the game is over," explained Ridcully, dealing out the cards.
Hmph. Whether it was sexual frustration or a true boyish attitude he couldn't tell, but regardless Vimes could not help but think that due to Ridcully, this game would go one for quite some time.
DAY 33- 12.20PM: IN THE HOUSE
It hadn't got any better, as anyone might have surmised.
It was very difficult for the Watch members. After being in a job where day after day your clothing is decided for you, you become less concerned about what you wear otherwise. This was obvious from looking at the three of them, quite simply just wearing shirts and trousers.
Now in the centre there had been more recently added one coat, one cravat, one wizarding hat, one wizarding sash, one wizarding robe, twelve buttons, one shirt, one handkerchief, three pairs of socks, and five pairs of shoes.
"Hey, I think we've gone far enough. Fancy stopping now?" asked Vimes, upon looking at his new hand.
"I am quite fine with continuing," stated Vetinari quite simply. He was still comfortably dressed, which was extremely annoying.
Carrot gave an involuntary shiver. His winning streak had come to a severe halt, allowing him now to realize how cold it was in the house, especially so when there was nothing to protect your bare torso from it.
"Looks like you've got the worst hand, Vimes," said Ridcully, in a cheerful manner.
Vimes' face wrinkled with contempt. He pulled his arms out of his shirt and grudgingly threw his it into the centre of the table. It hadn't been serving as much of a draught excluder, what with all of its buttons missing, but it was the principal of the matter.
Him and Carrot were equally losing now. Angua was coming next, and Vetinari was winning, but that went without saying.
The problem was, there weren't many options left for the Watchmen to take.
DAY 33- 12.40PM: IN THE HOUSE
Angua was in dire jeopardy. People sat in just their underwear most often tend to be.
And she had been dealt a bad onion.
"Come on, let's stop now," said Vimes upon spotting her expression. It might have been thought a little too protective the way he was acting with her in the house, but she was the most supportive person for him in there. "This has gone too far."
Carrot just sat there, his face so pink it looked like it was going to go up in a raspberry-like explosion. At least he wasn't shivering anymore as the heat emanating from his flushed skin would be enough to warm a small village forthe night.
"Rules are rules, Vimes," said Ridcully, flicking a few cards in front of him.
Vetinari did not look angry or annoyed, but he did not look quite so amused as before. From the outside he appeared to be in a neutral state, which was quite commendable considering the fact that he was now in, for want of better words, his vest and undies.
Vimes looked at what he had been given.
Horrors.
It didn't matter whatever Angua had compared to this.
It was all over now, for him. And not just the game. Much more than that.
Ridcully had seen Vimes' backside before, a year or so ago after his little screw up with the past. But that hadn't mattered so much back then, partially because his family had been threatened and he'd be damned if he didn't save them, wobbly bits or no, and partially because he and Ridcully had hardly known each other back then and he hadn't known so much what a true git he was
Without a word said, and daring anyone to make a sound in his absence, Vimes lowered a hand to remove his final piece of clothing.
DAY 34- 0.05AM: IN THE HOUSE
Five people were sat at the table.
One of these people had their arms crossed definitely across their chest.
Three of these people had their hands discreetly lowered.
One of these people expressed an unusually small amount of smugness considering the position they were in.
It was Ridcully who finally brought out the big question. "Come on now, can we have our clothes back yet?"
Vetinari considered this. "Hmm… No."
And he turned back to his coffee, for all the world as if they weren't there.
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Well, you said to go further.
Okaydokey… lets have some votes! I'm sure I don't need to remind you how it works now.
Please tell me what you think of the story as well.