My first Discworld fic, I'm so excited!

I was just wondering, what would have happened to Vimes if Carrot had lingered with Angua a little longer? Lots if character pain in this one, and I'd be really grateful if people reviewed and told me whether there should be character death as well. I know that some of the references in this story belong in Night Watch, and most of the things that the gonne says are in the wrong order, but please bear with it.

I'm so sorry that you have to read this. I really, truly am. I'm also sorry for any grammar, spelling or punctuation mistakes and the typos. I'm writing this on a program that doesn't have a spellcheck, and I'm not very good at spotting obvious mistakes.

Disclaimer; Godsdammit, I don't own Discworld or any of its characters. I suppose that's a good thing for Mr Pratchett and all his fans (including me!)

N.B. /this is the voice of the gonne/
'this is people thinking' ~*~*~*~

Goodbye Mister Vimes.

/You're mine. We don't need him anymore./

/All that you hate, all that is wrong- I can put it right./

/Shoot them all. Clean up the world./

That gentle, soothing, hypnotic, commanding voice, resonating round his mind, swamping his thoughts, drowning his control. Vimes shook his head to clear it, trying to rally his thoughts. The voice of the gonne had been murmuring to him, but the quiet hum was growing louder and louder, more and more full of rage.


"Shut up!" Vimes yelled, clutching with his free hand at the side of his head. In the background, behind the endless scream of command, he could hear Cruces talking, begging, pleading.

The gonne quieted for a moment and Vimes felt the malicious glee oozing from it. It was enjoying this abject submission from its former vessel. But it was hungry for more death.

Vimes forced himself to focus. 'I am the Captain of The Watch. I am about to marry the woman I love and spend the rest of my days in happy retirement,' his hand on the gonne tightened. "This thing killed Angua. It killed Mr Hammerhock. It brought about the death of Cuddy. It killed a girl whose name was unknown and whose life nobody cared about," his grip on the metal slackened again. 'But I am still a member of the Watch. And I will get this bastard by the Law.'

He flung his hand out and the gonne clattered to the floor, snarling with anger at its defeat. The screaming inside his head was silenced. And before he could make any move to stop him, Cruces had grabbed the gonne and was pointing it at him, his eyes blood-shot and manic.

"You thought could stop me, you stupid policeman! But Ankh-Morppork needs a king, and I have all the evidence I need to make sure this city can regain its former glory. What I don't need is you. Goodbye Mister Vimes!"

The gonne fired. A horrendous white-hot agony seared though Vimes' chest, burning, ripping, biting, clawing, tearing. He staggered back into the wall, putting his hands to his chest. He fought down the cry of pain that threatened to erupt from his throat as hot blood cascaded down his clothes, soaking the material and covering his hands. The world swam in front of his eyes; he felt dizzy with the shock, the sheer torture was almost driving him to his knees.

Cruces swaggered over to him and sneered over him as he struggled to stay on his feet, bent over in an attempt to rid himself of the pain. Vimes' head was bowed and his chest heaved as he dragged in great gulps of air. The head of the Assassin's Guild smirked at his plight.

"You see? No-one can stand against me! You thought you could arrest me like some common felon? Hah!"

Vimes forced himself to look up. 'Hope like hell your captor is an evil man. A good man will kill you without a word.' Cruces continued to crow and leer over him as he tried to rally his thoughts and his instincts- instincts he'd honed to razor sharp, instincts that had kept him alive when he was the skinny gang kid on the streets. He let the Beast off its chain. It was as weak as he was, but it could smell blood.

With all the force he could muster, Vimes channelled all the rage he held towards this evil man into that single blow. His clenched fist connected with Cruces' face and his head snapped back with a sickening crack. The black clothed form slid slid to the floor. The gonne clattered away over the boards. Vimes collapsed.

Lying in a tormented heap on the floor, he strained to focus as he heard heavy familiar footsteps thunder up the stairs. Carrot burst into the room and stopped dead in horror. Then a strangled cry rose from his throat. "Sir!" He ran to Vimes' side and knelt next to him, gently turning his captain over to examine his wounds.

Vimes moaned and feebly struggled as the corporal pulled away his shirt to reveal the gapind wound that was spewing blood down his chest and soaking his clothes and Carrot's.

"Sir! Mister Vimes, can you hear me? Please sir, answer me! You've got to stay awake!" Carrot cried as he feverishly began to rip up strips of cloth from his shirt and wrap them over and around the wound, putting pressure on it in an attempt to staunch the blood flow.

Vimes cried out and pathetically tried to push Carrot away. "Carrot, you great pillock, leave it! Go and help Angua! She's a werewolf, she'll recover! Go on, I'm done for!" Vimes' voice was choked and hoarse, barely audible.

Carrot's eyes were spilling over woth tears by this time, his huge shoulders shuddering slightly as he continued to tend to the injury. "Come on sir, don't give up! Not now- you can't hurt Lady Sybil like this sir, please!"

Vimes sighed. "Carrot," his voice was slowly growing weaker. "You're in charge now- look after the city for me. Tell Sybil I love her. And don't let the Watch get to the state it was..." He closed his eyes and allowed his exhausted body to relax slightly. The hideous agony faded as he sank into blackness.


Well? What do you think? Please tell me!

Also, do you want Vimes to survive or perish? It's all down to you chaps and chappesses! Register your vote via reviews! (please?)