Discworld: Comeback Kid ch.5

Ch.5 Lying is the most fun a Girl can have (without taking her clothes off)

Everything was going to plan. Or so the two slim, hooded figures thought as they made good their escape from the bank. As soon as they reached the alleyway, they put down the heavy burlap sacks and basked in the satisfaction of a job well done.

The taller one reached into the closest sack, admiring the contents.

“All in all,” a voice from inside the hood said “Not a bad night’s work, eh?”

The smaller hooded figure was unresponsive.

“Look, I know you were looking forward to it,” the taller one put a hand on the smaller one’s shoulder “Just that this was one of those big fancy banks, and marble doesn’t burn too well – You can burn the next one,”

“Really?” the smaller one brightened.

“Really.” The taller one smiled underneath the hood. This touching moment between thief and arsonist was interrupted by the sudden sound of cats hissing.

“We move like cagey tigers,

We couldn't get closer than this,

The way we walk, the way we talk,

The way we stalk, the way we kiss,

We slip through the streets,

While everyone sleeps,

Getting bigger and sleeker,

And wider and brighter,”

Someone was skipping along the alley, singing in a rather unsettling falsetto.

“We bite and scratch and scream all night,

Let's go and throw,

All the songs we know...”

“Evening, lads,” a voice from the opposite direction laughed amicably. The two hooded figures turned to see a woman dressed in lilac, backlit by the street-lamps, smiling in the darkness. She wore an elaborate chestnut-coloured wig that looked to be at least a foot tall, but balanced it expertly as she sauntered up to the pair of miscreants, grinning mischievously. She had a look on her face that seemed to say ‘I know some rather cheeky songs about hedgehogs’. The impression she gave was that of a woman who made a (relatively) honest living on the streets of Ankh-Morpork, and would always know where you could buy some slightly dodgy watches.

She winked at them “Those are some big sacks you have there…”

“Gosh!” an excited voice from behind them exclaimed, “They do look awfully heavy!” the hooded pair recognised this voice as the one who was singing beforehand – it was high and breathy and irritatingly saccharine; the kind of voice one would assume belonged to a simpering, silly girl who said things like ‘gosh’. As they turned their heads to catch a glimpse, they were surprisingly unsurprised. She was small and young, carrying a parasol and wearing an impossibly frilly black dress; her blonde hair fashionably draped over one eye (as if she had seen fashionable ladies do it, and wished to look like them). She wore an expression that seemed to say ‘I came to the city to work as a seamstress, because I’m very good at darning socks’, as if the only thing between her ears was cotton wool and dreams about unicorns.

The taller hooded figure spoke up, in a low voice that had the gravel-like quality of someone who had gotten very good at imitating a gruff man. “Evening, ladies. My friend and I were just making a… ahem… withdrawal from the bank,”

The smaller one nodded in agreement, slowly reaching for the matches.

“All of this is your money?” the woman in purple asked in mock surprise, still smiling.

“By my word,” the taller figure tried to look slightly offended “I am not a thieving man.”

The woman laughed cheerfully – suddenly the matches were gone from the small one’s pocket, and were in a purple-gloved hand “Oh, no thanks lads, I don’t smoke…” she said casually, tossing the matches aside “Allow us to introduce ourselves. My name is… Sybil, ah-hah, and this,” she indicated to the blonde girl “Is my associate- ”

There was a small pause.

“Mary,” the one calling herself Sybil said.

“Susan,” the blonde said at the exact same time.

Another small pause.

“But my friends call me Mary-Sue,” the blonde girl said smoothly “And…we’re friends aren’t we? I’d like to think that we’re all friends here…”

“Poor Mary-Sue doesn’t have many friends,” the one calling herself Sybil sighed despondently, then laughed (which was slightly unnerving to the hooded figures).

“But I don’t have any enemies at all – isn’t that nice?” the blonde grinned cheerfully.

“Yes… very nice,” the taller figure said uncertainly, suddenly feeling like a person who’s accidentally wandered into a dark room full of unlit fireworks; you think it’s completely empty in there, until something ignites and you realise that your head is now thirty feet away from your body.

“Hah-hah,” the one calling herself Sybil laughed “Well, since we’re all friends here, why don’t you share some of that money with us, lads?” They looked into her eyes, and saw two little lilac-clad demons smiling back at them – of course; this meant that they had taken their eyes off her hands.

Suddenly their world was a lot more full of knives to throats.

“So what do you say, friends?” Mary-Sue chimed in.

“Everyone’s happy,” Sybil smiled “We leave and no one gets hurt.”

“N,” the smaller hooded figure said “No one gets hurt?”

“By my word,” she smiled like a tiger ‘I am not a lying woman.”


*~*~*~*


Some time later, two figures were seen making their way back across the dark streets, carrying heavy burlap sacks.

“Really now,” the one calling herself Mary-Sue sighed in a voice that was a lot less high and breathy than fifteen minutes beforehand “Reduced to thieving money…”

“Oh yes,” the one calling herself Sybil mocked in a voice that was certainly not ladylike “You’re so above common criminals like me. I must have forgotten that somewhere between the stabbing, the breaking-and-entering, the kidnapping, the hired goons…”

“I’m not a criminal!” the blonde snapped, pushing her hair out from in front of her eye as she put down her sack and adjusted the front of her dress, taking out the wads of tissue that were stuffed into the cleavage area “This corset is killing me – I’m certainly glad I don’t have to be a woman every day…”

“I don’t know,” the one calling herself Sybil said wistfully “I like how the petticoats feel…”

The one calling himself Mary-Sue blinked mutely.

“Aha-ha,” the one calling himself Sybil laughed, albeit slightly embarrassedly, deciding to change the subject “What do you think she wants all this gold for anyway?” he asked, removing the wig and using it to mop some of the blood off the lilac dress, then throwing it into a nearby gutter.

“Damned if I know,” the blonde shrugged, “She doesn’t tell me any more than she tells you,”

“But you do get to wear that lovely collar with bells on…” the brunette grinned.

The blonde chose to ignore this statement, striding purposely forward.

“Come on, Sybil – we don’t want to be late for her majesty.”

“Hey,” the brunette said thoughtfully after a few minutes “Why did you pick ‘Susan’ as a name?”

“Shut up,” the blonde said, “That’s why.”

The brunette laughed – winding him up was just so easy.