A NGE/Discworld Fusion
The characters are the property of Terry Pratchett, the situations are the property of Gainex and Hideaki Anno
C&C , MSTs are welcome
Email to: dan(underscore)s(dot)comments(at)att(dot)net
Neon Genesis Wossname: pt 2
. . . Imustn't run away, Imustn't run away, Rincewind thought it was a good saying, it let him keep a good steady stride, as he ran away. He didn't look behind him. He still thought Commander Vimes was cheating. A Watchman chasing him was supposed to shout bloodcurdling oaths or shoot at him with whatever missile was the national favorite. It was traditional, historic even, it was also immensely encouraging. Instead, Vimes was just running behind him, not even trying to sprint after him. Just a steady pace as if they were running together. Like he thought, cheating. Rincewind figured he'd lose Vimes in the forest.
. . . Dodging among the trees, he could still hear Vimes behind him. Trees don't grow limbs that fast! was Rincewind's last thought for a while.
. . . "Good job Captain," Vimes panted as Carrot Ironfounderson lowered his arm and stepped out from behind the tree.
. . . "I believe this was part of the script," Carrot said, slinging the unconscious 'Wizzard' over his shoulder.
. . . Both men turned to the crashing sound behind them. The sight of a 40 meter tall ape coming through the forest was something neither man was comfortable with.
. . . "You were supposed to be helping us," Vimes shouted.
. . . "Ook," the Librarian replied.
. . . "Why do you have a shovel?" Carrot asked.
. . . The Librarian hid the EVA scale shovel behind his back and tried to look innocent. "Oook?"
. . . "The one you're hiding behind you," Carrot replied, pointing at the handle and blade that they could still clearly see, "And where is the Luggage?"
. . . "Ooook?"
. . . "Come on, we can discuss this later," Vimes said, "Put your hand down, I want to get back. Not you Captain."
. . . "Just giving you a leg up, sir," Carrot told him.
. . . "Eek!" the Librarian put a 2 meter across palm where the two watchmen could climb aboard.
. . . "Wasn't there an alert?" Carrot asked, "Shouldn't you be out there?"
. . . "Ook," the Librarian said dismissively.
. . . "I think Commander Vimes might like to see that. We might charge the them with inciting lascivious behavior," Carrot said.
. . . "You got all that from an 'Ook'?" Vimes asked.
. . . "An 'Ook', sir," Carrot corrected.
. . . Vimes decided to drop the subject.
. . . "Grandfather, I don't think the American audience can understand him," Susan told plugsuited figure beside her. Her gaze kept being drawn to his chest. Her grandfather had read that Rincewind had to grope him. Since Death naturally lacked the necessary targets, he'd asked for help. Susan just wished he hadn't gone to Nanny Ogg. One grapefruit, halved, would have done the job. From what she'd heard about Rincewind, a few potatoes would have had the desired effect. Two watermelons with 'any tom ical authenticalatin' bits' seemed . . . excessive.
. . . THANK YOU, NO, Death told the small red haired blue man.
. . . The figure leapt onto the table, then confronted Death face to face, then forehead to forehead. "Bigjobs!" There was a sound like a gong made of eggshells. The Nac mac Feegle landed on Death's new prosthetics, then slid to the table with a surprised expression.
. . . The Death of Rat kicked the small figure off the table, then tugged on Death's sleeve. SQUEAK.
. . . WE ARE CONDUCTING AUDITIONS, Death said tiredly, YOU DO WANT SUSAN TO HAVE THE BEST AND MOST APPROPRIATE PARTNER, DON'T YOU?
. . . SQUEAK! The Death of Rat shook its bony fists and hopped up and down, sounding like an angry maraca. SQUEEEAK! It grabbed at its red robe, and the scythe altered to appear as a tiny sonic glaive. SQUEAK? SQUEEEEEK!
. . . Susan hid her smile. Something else had caught her eye. "Excuse me."
. . . WE HAVE ANOTHER CANDIDATE, Death indicated the pointy hat, decorated like a magpie's hoard, shuffling onto the stage.
. . . "I trust you two," she kissed her Grandfather's cheek and patted the Death of Rats, "You'll do the right thing."
. . . She stepped into the corridor, out of sight of the others. Binky, Death's horse awaited, seemingly worried about something. She stroked the soft nose, got a gentle nuzzling in reply. "Grandfather has been quite cross, where have you been hiding?"
. . . Binky wickered softly and glanced back at the paper carefully tied to the saddle's pommel. Susan recognized it was a page from the guide book that let the current participants see what the original people and things looked like. The picture was black and white. No, Susan realized, The subject was black and white.
. . . "This character is just the comedy relief," Susan told Binky, who nodded. "All right, I'll tell Grandfather, I guess you'll be able to watch out for me better this way. How are you going to fit in that tiny refrigerator?"
. . . An irritated snort from Binky told her it wasn't her problem. After all, Death's horse could go anywhere.
. . . She wandered back into the audition chamber.
. . . I CAN ASSURE YOU, Death was telling the irate hat, IF NO BETTER CANDIDATE PRESENTS ITSELF, THE JOB IS YOURS.
. . . "There is no better candidate! I'm tired of doing stunt double work in Rowling's stuff! That two bit felt hack! He's just a prop, a humorous tool! I am the Archchancellor's Hat. I am an artiste!"
. . . The Death of Rats looked ready to turn it into dust bunnies.
. . . NEXT, Death announced with all the finality he could summon, which was both considerable, and barely sufficient.
. . . The grumbling hat continued, but left the stage.
. . . I AM SORRY, SUSAN, Death said quietly, NO SUITABLE CANDIDATE HAS PRESENTED ITSELF. I HAD HOPES . . .
. . . "Binky doesn't want the job," Susan said as she set the picture on the table, "He's found a more suitable role."
. . . OH, DEAR.
. . . Susan turned to the Death of Rats, "Your friend Quoth, is he available."
. . . There was a small clatter as Death of Rats fainted.
. . . HE WAS MY SECOND CHOICE, Death admitted, BUT WE SHOULDN'T LET HIM KNOW THAT.
. . . "Agreed."
. . . It was an elf maiden, a very shapely elf maiden, a very shapely elf maiden with a very definite come hither gaze, a very shapely elf maiden with a very definite come hither gaze wearing enough leather, silk and chain mail to make perhaps four decent dresses. Since the creature in question was nearly 40 meters tall, that left very little to the imagination. It was also very dead, its head resting near the rest of the body, which made everything almost manageable. The two massive whips it carried seemed not so much weapons as . . .
. . . "It's very . . . " Carrot managed, finding his eyes drawn to various places, and a few very embarrassing thoughts. He tried to loosen his collar.
. . . "Yes it is . . . " Vimes agreed, "Isn't it." He glanced at the cigar he'd been handling and quickly tossed it away, putting his hands behind his back.
. . . "Ook," the Librarian commented, giving the impression that a fur covered bean bag chair would have been more effective.
. . . "Who who is handling the clean up, sir," Carrot said when the Librarian turned for home and blocked their view.
. . . "A contractor from the Nerima district," Vimes consulted his notes, "She claims she'll be able to grind it up and sell it. Whatever 'via grass' is."
. . . Carrot, still looking very embarrassed, only nodded.
. . . Ponder Stibbons was locked in a battle to the death, he wasn't about to let it get the better of him. All it takes is speed, he thought silently as his hand hovered over its target.
. . . Then it rang.
. . . "HelloPonderStibbonNERVcentral!" he gasped, to a dial tone. He carefully replaced the handset and waited. It had been doing this for days! It would ring once. A few minutes later, it would ring again, once. It shouldn't have bothered him, he should have just shrugged it off. Yet there was something maddening about it. It had started that morning last week, in his quarters, moving on to the cafeteria, he'd moved five times just today and it followed him. The nearest phone would ring, once; then it would ring again, once. All day, all night.
. . . "Mister Stibbons, you need a break, some tea." Aoba, aka Mustrum Ridcully told him.
. . . "I'm fine Archchancellor," Ponder said, preparing for another attempt, it would ring soon, and he'd be ready.
. . . "Mister Stibbons, I am your Archchancellor, I'll tell you when you need your tea. Is that clear?"
. . . "Yes, Archchancellor." Ponder stood up and walked past him.
. . . The phone in front of Ridcully rang. Ponder froze, Ridcully glanced at it. When it didn't ring twice, he went back to polishing his crossbow. It rang again, once, again Ridcully ignored it.
. . . "Aoba Archchancellor, aren't you going to answer it?" Ponder asked as he stood there, he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, his hands clenching and unclenching, "It might be important."
. . . "No." Ridcully sighted down the length of the crossbow. "If it's important, they'd stay on the line." He fitted a quarrel in the bow sighted again.
. . . It rang again, once. Ponder couldn't stand it, he leapt at the offending instrument. His leap was mistimed and poorly executed. He wound up tangled with the cord and the Archchancellor.
. . . "Mister Stibbons?" the Archchancellor asked in the voice of the terminally patient. Your terminus, not theirs.
. . . "Yes, Archchancellor?"
. . . "Been at the dried frog pills, Mister Stibbons?"
. . . "No, Archchancellor!" Ponder insisted.
. . . Ridcully helped the other man up. "Word from the wise, Mister Stibbons."
. . . "Yes, Archchancellor?"
. . . "Start."
. . . Ponder walked off dejected, It is only a telephone. Then it rang again, just once. Ponder turned, he could answer it he knew he could. Except the Archchancellor was staring at him, smiling in that knowing way of his. As if he actually understood! He doesn't understand! he raged inwardly, his eyes touching the phone, it taunting him that way. Ponder glanced at the Archchancellor again, and slunk off to get the tea.
. . . Mustrum Ridcully looked around, "You can come out now. I'll be explaining it to Mister Stibbons all presently." Now Ridcully was angry. The boy had some daft ideas, but he was faculty.
. . . The swarm of gray monoliths appeared, replacing the command deck. He will be ours, eventually. Ridcully remembered them saying.
. . . "I don't see it," Ridcully said, he didn't hate much, but these things definitely took the cake, and you never took a wizard's cake. "He'll see it was just a trick. No path into darkness, like the book."
. . . Darkness? Book?
. . . Ridcully knew he had them.
. . . "One ring to rule them all and one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them." The screaming did not stop for several minutes.
. . . The alarms brought the entire crew to alert status.
. . . "Report," Granny ordered, putting on her 'Commander' glasses.
. . . "It's another angel, Gran " Magrat stopped when she looked up and saw the stare, "Commander."
. . . Granny nodded down to the girl, "That was a little too fast," she said to Gytha and the Patrician.
. . . "The artillery seems to have little effect," the Patrician reported as the flashes appeared on the surface of the blue translucent octahedron. Inside the elven crew were preparing something.
. . . "It's going to try to bore into the base?" Granny asked quietly.
. . . "That's what the script said," Nanny agreed, "Do we sent the ape out to get parboiled?"
. . . "No." Granny sat, stared at the screen.
. . . The Angel headed towards it's position and started lowering the drill.
. . . DUUUU DUNT! The sound shook the entire complex.
. . . "What is that?" Vimes demanded.
. . . I LENT THE LIBRARIAN MY ORGAN, Death explained.
. . . "I've met Igors who do that," Nanny said.
. . . "Put it on the screen," Granny ordered.
. . . DUUUU DUNT! Sounded again as the image of the Librarian appeared. Because of the scale, he had with what looked like a stiff thread in each hand poised before what looked like a toy organ. DUUUU DUNT!
. . . "Who is John Williams, and where exactly is Spielberg?" Vimes shouted over the noise as he tried the read the sheet music the Librarian was using.
. . . DA DANT. DA DANT. DA DANT. DA DANT.
. . . "I think we have handled the problem," Granny said as the Elfangelion took its final position. As the drill touched the ground. There seemed an impossible moment as the elves sensed their doom. The Luggage erupted from the earth directly beneath it. Its lid wide open, legs flailing. The Luggage snapped up the machine, swallowing it whole. It landed, sat there, looking as if it desperately wanted a toothpick.
. . . "Does that take care of it?" Vimes asked, more than a little shaken.
. . . Rincewind squirmed as all eyes turned to him. "It always kept my underwear clean."
. . . "I'd call that a yes," Vimes said, lighting a cigar. Glanced at Magrat when she coughed theatrically. "You should get that seen to."
. . . DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN.
. . . "Someone tell him to stop, we won!" Granny covered her ears and shouted over the din.
