Disclaimer: Do you seriously think I would be writing for this site if I had invented Discworld or the Watchmen ? Terry Pratchett and Alan Moore did it before me.

Chapter 2: Unseen University

Rorschach finally surfaced after a few hours, he woke up and noticed there was a mirror in front of him. He could see the damages caused by the troll when he slapped him, black left eye, some bumps and wounds. Wait... eye ? The man in the mirror was Walter Kovacs, not Rorschach, where was his face ? And... he was wearing a dress ! Even worse, a dress decorated with stars and strange symbols.

He left the room, furious, and found himself in what looked like a castle corridor, he found there a little emaciated man wearing a dress similar to the one he was wearing and a pointed hat, he also had a broad smile in his beard and his expression showed he was watching a point located millions light years from this place. He came near the man and shouted:

" Give me back my face ! "

" Pink flower, coolness of woods. "

A lunatic… the only one who could give him any information was a lunatic.

" BURSAR ! " boomed suddenly a tenor voice.

Then others men who were also wearing dresses and pointed hats arrived.

" Oh, the stranger has finally awoken and we've found the Bursar, perfect. " He turned himself towards the others " Hurry, give him the pills ! Let me introduce myself, Archchancelor Ridcully, sir ? "

" Rorschach. "

The imposing wizard grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously, making Rorschach swaying.

" You can let go of my hand, you know, young man. "

" I'm trying, " answered the redhead,who was trying to free his hand trapped into the Archchancellor's hand like into a mantrap, trap which finally opened itself.

" Where are my clothes ? Tired of this ridiculous dress. "

" Hey, remain polite ! This ridiculous dress as you call it was one my most beautiful when I was your age, " roared the Dean.

That explained the breadth of the dress in which we could have put at least ten Walter.

" Who undressed me ? "

" And washed you. "

" What ? "

" You've been washed too, sorry to say you that but you smelled even worse than Modo's compost when you arrived. "

Rorschach's hair and face merged for a moment: someone had dared undress him and, worse, washed him.

" My clothes ! "

" Al right, all right, MRS WHITLOW ! " boomed the Archchancelor.

" Yes, sir ? " asked a strong-looking woman. " Hour guest is hawaken as I can see, hello, I see that mhy Lancre Whild Strawberry soap (1) has triumphed of this hawful smell. "

The face of the vigilante, who was now shaking, blushed even more.

" She… she has… "

" Undressed and washed you ? That's right, this good old Mrs Whitlow has done it, » said the Senior Wrangler who added lower, after giving Rorschach a tap on the back and winking at him: « you lucky bastard ! »

" MY CLOTHES ! "

" Fhine, fhine, dho not get hupset, I ham going to go and get them but they hare not dry yhet. "

Rorschach had never felt so humiliated in his whole life: a woman had him undressed, he was wearing a dress and... he smelled of strawberry ! A vigilante who smelled of strawberry, inconceivable. He would have never believed before this moment being relieved that the Comedian was dead.

She came back.

" Here they hare, sir. "

Rorschach took them back from her dryly , she left straight away, and he went back in the room, slamming the door. His clothes smelled of strawberry too.

" A rather nervous young man. "

" Maybe he would need the Bursar's dried frog pills. "

The door opened suddenly.

" Where's my face ? Give me back my face ! " yelled the man, grabbing the Senior Wrangler by the collar.

"Your face ? But you bear it on yourself, like everyone ! "

" This is Walter Kovacs's face, not Rorschach's face ! "

Personality disorders on top of everything ! The Watch really gave them a troublemaker.

" Wait, I think he's speaking of his mask. "

" We would have better find it quickly, Archchancelor, he seems more furious than before. "

" Indeed. "

" Sir, be assured we will find your face in quickly. Gentlemen, make yourselves useful and find where the " face " of this nutcase (2) could be. "

" Stibbons could have it, Archchancelor, he has spoken about study it further. "

" All right, we're going to ask him in this case. "

They quickly went to the High Energy Magic Building, followed closely by Rorschach.

" MISTER STIBBONNNNNNNNS ! "

" Yes Archchancelor ? " answered a rather pale young man wearing spectacles.

Rorschach intervened before Ridcully could say anything.

" My face ! "

" Beg your pardon ? "

" He wants his mask, give it back immediately so that he calms down ! "

" He seems to care a lot about it, " added the Senior Wrangler

" I admit I would have liked to study it, but I don't have it. "

" WHAT ? "

" But could you lend it to me so that I can study it once you get it back ? And could you answer some questions about your world ? " asked an enthusiastic Stibbons

Enthusiasm which chilled considerably when Rorschach, clenching his fists, got closer growling in a threatening way. The conservation instinct of Stibbons triumphed over his curiosity.

" Hem… forget what I've just said. "

" Archchancelor », said the Senior Wrangler, " maybe the mask is still at the laundry room, Mrs Whitlow probably let it dry there. "

" Good idea, Senior Wrangler. Everyone to the laundry room ! "

Once arrived in the laundry room, Rorschach was about to open the door but Ridcully stopped him.

" Hey ! This is the domain of Mrs Whitlow, you need her authorization to come in. "

" You are the Archchancelor. You supervise everything here, right ? "

" Everything except this room. "

The Archchancelor knocked at the door, Mrs Whitlow opened.

" Yers sir ? "

" Sorry to disturb you Mrs Whitlow, but Mr. Kovacs… "

" Rorschach ! "

" If you insist, in short, he would like to get his mask back, have you seen it by any chance ? "

" Yes, I wanted to wash it but these hawful stains didn't go hoff, it's drying there. "

Rorschach ran towards his mask and quickly smiled noticing it hadn't suffered any damages, then put it on immediately.

" Sir, you hare going to catch ha cold, it's still wet. "

He answered by a growl which could be translated by " don't give a damn. "

" Bhesides, I dhont't hunderstand why you hare hiding your fhace like that, you hare not hugly and you don't smell hanymore. Try to smile a little and you will maybe find a fiancée. "

He left the laundry room quickly, decided to leave this asylum as soon as possible, especially this woman, but he was kept from leaving by Ridcully, who shut the trapman he called himself a hand around his arm.

" Hey, not so fast, you're under our responsibility, and we're going to see the patrician to discuss your case. "

" The patrician ? "

" Vetinari, he's the ruler of this city. "

·][·

" Mrs Whitlow ? " asked one the maidservants

" Yes ? "

" There is a problem with the sheets. "

The white sheets were indeed covered with mainly black stains but also some other, red and blue, which were dancing on the fabric without ever blend however.

" These hare not proper sheets, throw them haway. "

And a street-urchin of Ankh-Morpork, the face hidden by a large cap, found one of this blankets and, fascinated by the dancing stains, decided to bring it with him, forgetting the most important thing: something coming from the University mustn't be touched.

(1) Registered trademark Nanny Ogg.

(2) Ridcully had an amazing capacity to ignore the people he was talking about, even if they were psychopaths about to explode.

I did my best concerning Mrs Whitlow's particular way of speaking, I must say I've never read in original version the books where she appears and even in french Madame Panaris (that's how we call her) has a language rather difficult to imitate.