Tropetember Day 5: Rockstar AU
I got lost down a rabbit hole with this one. From TV Tropes:
Rockstar:
When they were young, everyone dreamed of being a Rock Star. They're living idols that people look up to. They follow every Rule of Cool and wear lots of tight leather and make up. They're loud. They're fun. They're rolling in girls and money, have a Cool Car and a Cool House. They're larger than life and they're part of the jet set.
The Rock Star is often found around Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll, but on occasion this is subverted and they are found to actually be the character with their heads screwed on the best. If this character is an adventurer they tend to use The Power of Rock as their weapon; or, failing that, they will be a Musical Assassin.
This led me to look up:
Musical Assassin:
Musical assassins are hitmen with style. Who needs guns when you can lay waste to your enemies with a carefully-calculated concerto? Techniques start out at Brown Notes and only get more ridiculous from there. These assassins are especially popular in old Chinese martial arts movies. Advantages of such a combat style include invisible attacks that move at the speed of sound (Duh) which makes it difficult to be blocked by conventional methods like other weaponry. However, this is normally traded off with a high required skill level, especially when it comes to aiming sound waves.
And I immediately thought of Virgil Tracy at the Assassins' Guild in Ankh Morpork.
This is a bit of a crack!fic. And is completely Sineater and MariaShadow's fault.
'Lord Vetinari.'
'Drumknott?'
'I have the list of the latest intakes, sir.'
'Oh, Drumknott? Anyone of interest?'
'Only one, Sir. '
'Do tell.'
'There's another Tracy at the Assassins' Guild.'
'One imagines that it would be Gordon. Scott was quite…enthusiastic about his brother.'
'Goodness knows Colonel Jeff Tracy needs another high achiever after the debacle of John.'
'Debacle, Drumknott?'
'Wizard, sir. Well, started as then switched to Astronomy.'
'Astonishing. We have a guild of Astronomy?'
'We do now, Sir.'
'Amazing. So is it young Gordon?'
'No sir. It's the middle son, Virgil.'
'The musician and artificer?'
'Yes, my Lord.'
'Well, this will be interesting.'
*Elsewhere*
'Sir, he's here!'
'Who's here?'
'Mister Tracy, sir!'
Lord Downey, who was still seated at his desk writing away, paused for the merest fraction of a second.
Another Mr Tracy. It wasn't unheard of for the richest families to be able to send more than the eldest son to the Assassins' Guild, and Colonel Jeff Tracy was certainly one of the richest, even if he lived on his own little island and rarely visited Ankh Morpork.
Scott Tracy had been a superb Assassin. The man had a grasp of mathematics and probability that had astounded his tutors and had aced every exam. He had been a very personable young man and Lord Downey had been sad to lose him, he could have been the very best. As it was he counted him among the top five, not that he'd ever tell the man that.
In an unusual twist of character for an assassin and an eldest son who had four (four!) brothers, Scott sang the praises of his siblings liberally. Lord Downey had wondered - momentarily of course - what it must be like to have family members who hadn't paid to have you inhumed.
So when another Tracy had applied Downey had agreed without any hesitation.
Now he wondered if he'd made a mistake, judging from the agitation radiating from the man in front of him.
'Is there a problem I should be aware of?'
'No, Lord Downey.'
'Good. Then I shall look forward to meeting Mr Gordon Tracy at my customary meeting.'
It was a dismissal but still the man hovered. Lord Downey sighed, put down his quill and finally looked up. The man in front of him was sweating.
'Well?'
'It isn't Mr Gordon, sir!'
'Not Mr Gordon? Then who is it, man?'
'It's Mr Virgil!'
'The musician and artificer?'
'Yessir!'
'Oh. Very well. Thank you.'
And Lord Downey went back to writing until the door closed with the barest click. Once he knew he was alone he carefully laid the quill down, steepled his hands and sat back.
Virgil Tracy was certainly a surprise. And this could become very interesting. Very interesting indeed.
*Another elsewhere*
Virgil finished unpacking his scant belongings. Apart from his uniform and a couple of spare changes of clothes his luggage consisted mainly of paints, pencils and sketchbooks.
Once unpacked he stood in the middle of the tiny room closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He was finally here.
He'd had to fight his father tooth and nail to get the man to send him to the Assassin's Guild. Dad and his two youngest brothers had been convinced Virgil would want to go to either the Musicians' or the Artificers' Guild, but after hearing from Scott what his training was like Virgil knew the Assassins' was where he was meant to be.
Scott and John had fought in his corner and eventually their father had agreed.
Thinking about Scott had Virgil grabbing his cloak and a pocketful of change. He had a couple of hours to kill - pun not intended – before his meeting with the Master and he had promised to send a clacks home to say he'd arrived safely.
As he picked his way along streets with weird names and even weirder shops Virgil drank in the sight. Being raised on the family cabbage farm on the Sto Plains before their father struck it rich and bought an actual island to move them to meant that Virgil was well used to the smell – or so he thought.
He went over in his head the warnings Scott and John had drummed into him. Don't under any circumstance try to even touch the river Ankh. Don't drink alone at The Mended Drum (sometimes called The Broken Drum) and only eat a meat pie or a rat-on-a-stick from CMOT Dibbler once suitably drunk. And then only once. Scott had also taken him aside and explained about the Seamstresses' Guild, and Virgil was thankful for such knowledge.
Finding a Clacks Tower wasn't too difficult. There were quite a few dotted about, and he went into one, paid his fee and sent a simple message home.
'Have arrived. V.'
The answering clacks would take a while, such was the distance from the island to the nearest Clacks Tower, but he knew Scott would be waiting for the message and would reply immediately.
Virgil went straight back to the Guild. He had an important meeting to get ready for.
Lord Downey's gilt-edged invite in handwritten black ink (Noodler's Heart of Darkness, if Virgil wasn't mistaken [He was not]) was not something to be missed – or late to – and Virgil dressed in his finest uniform of black with the addition of the darkest green cravat he could find.
He was knocking on the Master's door the second the clock chimed the hour, even though he knew the Inhumation bell was 'fashionably late'. The door opened and Virgil was ushered in. He took in the desk and the study, but was shown to a small side table with two comfortable chairs.
The Master gestured for Virgil to sit in the vacant chair. On the table sat two delicate slices of almond cake and two glasses of sherry. Virgil smiled inwardly. Scott had warned him that Lord Downey might do this, but it wasn't a given event and it was a test in of itself. He settled into the indicated chair.
'Sherry? Cake?'
'Thank you, Lord Downy but I must decline for now.'
'Are you sure, Mr Tracy?'
'Quite sure, my Lord. I do, however, have a gift for you from my father.'
Virgil pulled the small package from inside his jacket and placed it on the table in between the two plates. He tried not to smirk as the Master regarded the package suspiciously. Lord Downey didn't touch it but turned to Virgil and smiled.
'Do thank your Father for me. Now, I shan't keep you long, I just wanted to discuss with you the house we have assigned you.'
Cake and sherry ignored by both, Lord Downey observed the young man before him. He had a familial look of the two Tracy men the Master had seen, but he was also very different.
Black hair rather than brown, brown eyes rather than blue or grey, shorter than both men but broader too. Downey looked down at the resumé before him. Musician, artist, artificer. The man was as talented as his older brother and father, and not for the first time he wondered what kind of woman had given birth and nurtured such unique men.
'We have decided, due to your…*other* talents, not to put you in the same house as your brother or father, but to put you in with Kompt de Yoyo in Wigblock Prior. They have a particular bent for music which we think will suit you.'
Virgil nodded and stood up. If he was a little disappointed not to be assigned the same house as Scott he didn't show it, but he bowed and left, only turning at Lord Downey's final words.
'Oh, and Mr Tracy? We tolerated your brother breaking the strict dress code only after he earned it. Do not make the mistake of believing we will tolerate you following in his footsteps until you too have earned that right.'
'Yes, Lord Downey.'
When he got back to his room there was another invite there. Still hand written but this time signed in the name of his house Master. This was not something he was expecting, but the missive said he was to attend immediately and so, without stopping to change except to remove the green cravat that the Master had alluded to, Virgil about turned and went to find the Kompt.
Once more Virgil was gestured to sit at a small table and offered food and drink that he knew better than to partake of. The gleam of approval in the man's eyes had Virgil once more smiling inwardly and casting a blessing on his brother for all the pointers.
'So, Mr Tracy. Why are you here?'
'I want to be an Assassin, Sir.'
'Really? You want to go all the way in your training?'
'That is my goal, sir.'
'Oh. We had thought that maybe you were only interested in being a Oppidan.'
'With respect, no Sir. I wish to go all the way.'
'Fair enough. Do you think you have what it takes?'
'Sir?'
'There is a certain…cutthroatedness to being an Assassin that we are unsure you are capable of.'
'You can test me, sir. But I already know what kind of Assassin I will be.'
'Oh? Already? Do tell.'
'I will be a Musical Assassin.'
His House Master looked sceptical and Virgil knew that this was the moment, his moment to sell the extraordinary skill he'd accidently discovered.
'My piano playing slays, Sir.'
The Kompt blinked.
'I don't understand. Do you mean that you kill them with piano wire? It makes a good garrotte.'
'No sir – I mean I kill people with Rock and Roll.'
The Kompt stared and Virgil tried again, with something he hoped House Master would have heard of before.
'My music has rocks in.'
'So you kill them by bashing their heads in with a rock?'
'No, no, I don't think you understand this at all. I'm a musician. I kill them with my music.'
'Your playing is that bad?'
Virgil sighed and looked around the room. Seeing the small baby grand piano in one corner his eyes lit up.
'Sir, may I show you? I promise I will stop before I kill you.'
He didn't wait for a reply, making his way to the piano and running a couple of finger drills to check the sound. Perfect. It was pitch perfect.
Starting slowly, Virgil began with one of Scott's favourite classical pieces. He then morphed into one he knew would have the desired effect. As the tempo increased he cast a glance at his House Master.
The man was engrossed in his playing, but as the beat and music increased the man went first white and then grey, clutching his chest. Virgil stopped abruptly.
It took the Kompt far longer than he would like to admit for his heartrate to return to normal and to stop feeling like it was about to explode. All the while Virgil sat at the piano, a slightly worried look on his face. Clearing his voice, the master addressed his newest student.
'Whaa – *cough* - What a fascinating skill.'
'Thank you, Sir.'
'Welcome to the Assassins' Guild, Mr Tracy.'
