#Downey does finger guns and walks out backwards

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

‘I need to know how to navigate this,’ Sicily says without preamble. ‘That wretched man has a bee in his bonnet about me. Thinks I have something to do with George’s death and I was trying to put it on you.’ 

‘Did you? And were you?’ Downey asks.  

‘No and no. It was there when I found George, just as I said. The thing is, I don’t have an alibi for the time in which it happened.’ 

‘Right.’ 

‘And I know how the evidence looks. I am not so stupid as to believe that if I have nothing to hide I have nothing to fear from the police. I wasn’t born yesterday.’ 

‘I was never going to suggest such a thing. The Watch are horrid and I wouldn’t trust any of them an inch.’ 

Sicily tilts her head in slight acknowledgement of the one thing they apparently agree upon. She pours herself more tea, adds milk afterwards. She should add it first, Downey thinks, if she truly wants to be a proper lady as she is so clearly attempting to do.

Downey and Sicily said ACAB but only because they’re both terrible and don’t want to deal with the repercussions of their actions. They like to fuck around and aren’t interested in finding out. 

Vetinari: do stupid things, suffer stupid consequences. 

Downey: sounds like something that happens to other people. I have money, didn’t you hear? I shouldn’t have to face the consequences of anything I, or people around me, do. 

Vetinari: 

Vetinari: get out of my office. 

[throwaway-sinfulwriter]

The Same - Chapter 7 - 3/6

Meeting Elaine Brown slightly lifts his mood, but the conversation with his father is still weighing heavy on the back of his mind. Getting her signature is a bittersweet moment, as he forgot to bring a pen and made himself a fool in front of her.

Still, he's proud of himself for asking her to do such a thing during a case.

He observes the two of the doctor's as they speak about Alice Downey. Dr. Brown is lying. He can tell. There's something they're not telling them, something they're hiding.

Malcolm is disappointed. He had looked up to Elaine Brown, and it was eye opening to see her lie to their faces.

Pressures of doctoral pursuit, his ass. There was something wrong with this situation.

He just wasn't sure what it was.

---

By the time they get back to the debriefing room, Malcolm is exhausted. His entire body is tense, and if he doesn't stretch out his legs soon he'll go into a fit of charlie horses and muscle spasms.

Legs stretching underneath the table, Dani takes over for the moment. Pinning the picture of Alice Downey on the board.

She's a kind looking young woman. He wonders what drove her to suicide. Affair with Professor Holton? Drugs? Depression?

He wasn't sure. There was no true way to tell, as the man closest to her was found with no brain.

"What do you think, Bright?" Dani asks, and said man sighs. Putting his signed book on the table.

"I think that Dr. Brown is lying. Never meet your heroes." He gives a sardonic smile.

JT takes over. "I went over to the admin building. They're all as crazy about Elaine Brown as you are."

Malcolm rolls his eyes. Hard.

"But they did find this crazy anonymously submitted letter with theories about Alice Downey's suicide." He puts it on the table. "Look familiar?"

Malcolm's eyes widened, and he grabbed the paper, reading it over. The same scrawl, same off kilter lining of the words.. It was their guy.

"The killer was accusing the psych department of off-the-book experiments."

Dani's eyebrows raise. "How off the book?"

Bright continues reading, trying to make sense of the writing. It was much more coherent than the one left of the crime scene.

"Giving students LSD. Apparently, Alice was tripping on acid when she went over that building. Pretty serious accusations."

Malcolm sets the paper down again, examining the words and their placing closely.

"This is older than the other paper." He says after a long silence. "It's slightly inflammatory, but much more coherent. It shows our killer's slow descent into a full psychotic break."

Malcom runs his fingers through his hair (damp, slightly greasy from not showering the night before) inhaling through his nose. "There's some meaning in these words.. Something he has to be telling us. What is he saying? What does he want us to find?"

Bright's eyes are darting all around the evidence board, analyzing each piece and trying to put it together. Like a jigsaw puzzle.

An incredibly difficult puzzle.

While facing this dilemma, Dani gets a call and heads out of the room. He can't pay attention to her right now, he needs to crack the letters opens, find out the meaning, find the answers..

He's broken out of his thoughts when she comes back in, firmly telling them that Carl Mitchell had been drugged and they needed to head back to the research building.

Malcolm follows the other two with no hesitation, quickly yelling into Gil's office that they're Ieaving.

The man looks panicked for a second, but by the time he gets up to follow them, they're gone.

-----

For a long, gruelling moment, Malcolm thinks they are too late. Thankfully, going up the roof stairs and entering the space, he hears the muffled telltale, fearful babbling of someone taking too much LSD.

"He's still here!" Malcolm says, and JT goes off, searching for the killer. Dani stays for a moment, mouth open in shock.

They made it just in time. Carl Mitchell is laying on the ground, hands and mouth tied. Saws, knifes, and blades lay next to him. There is a line drawn on his head, a guide line.

Like a doctor would draw for plastic surgery, Malcolm thinks as he takes the tape off and cuts him free.

"You're safe now, Carl." Malcolm says, helping the man to his feet.

"Do you see? Do you see it? Do you see how high? I have to fight.. I have to fight it. Oh, please! Please!" Carl rambles, and Bright grabs him by the shoulders.

"Listen to me, Carl. You're high on LSD. In large doses, it can mimic a psychotic break." He tells the dosed man, trying to calm him down.

"Police!" Malcolm hears a far off shout.

"I need to fight, need to..!" Carl grabs him, turning him around and backing up.

"Carl, Carl, calm down. You don't need to fight, just breathe. Everything is alright." Malcolm tries his best to calm the man down, but it's not doing much. He feels cold metal against his neck and shit, he grabbed one of the blades. When had he done that?

Malcolm is scared. He's either going to get his throat slit or fall with Carl over the side of the building to their death. He knows not to struggle, but his heart is hammering so hard in his ears he can't help but want to squirm.

He looks up as Dani approaches, gun raised. "Don't shoot!" He tells her. "He's been dosed. He doesn't know what he's doing."

Dani slowly lowers her pistol. "What can you do?"

Malcolm's muscles tighten as Carl begins walking back again. "Not a whole hell of a lot." Except get away from the drugged man, which would either end with his throat cut open or the professor hurtled over the building.

Neither were good options.

"Oh, it's what they want!" The man holding the blade to his throat says, and if he can just get him to let go of it he can get out..

"We're so high up! Oh, we're so high up!" Closer and closer to the edge they go, and Malcolm can see the fear in Dani's eyes. His body is locking up, ready for impact.

They're going to fall.

Mere inches from falling, Malcolm relaxes and heads into action. He grabs the two protruding bones of Mitchell's wrist, squeezes, and feels him drop the knife. Gasping, Malcolm shoves his elbow into him and the man falls backwards, off of the building.

"Oh!" Dani yells, running forward as Malcolm barely catches himself from falling with him. He's disoriented for a moment.

"Bright." Detective Powell says, and he risks a peek over the ledge, preparing for a bloody splatter on the sidewalk 10 stories down.

In reality, 2 stories down, there was a miraculous balcony which Carl Mitchell had fell on. Malcolm feels his body relax with sheer relief. Thank God. He hadn't killed someone.

"Did you know that was there?" He hears his companion ask.

"..Sure." He says unconvincingly, wiping the sweat from his face. Sure.

-------

As they return to the NYPD building, Dani asks him a question that derails him.

"So, what should I put in the report?" She asks as they walk into the detective floor. All three of them had been miraculously silent on the ride back over, and on the elevator trip up.

Malcolm looks at her strangely. "Well, I don't know. When I did reports, I usually wrote what happened at the scene."

JT decides to join the conversation then. "Whacko consultant pushes vic off roof?" He suggests, and not for the first time Malcolm feels anger towards him.

JT hadn't even apprehended the suspect, and he was the one criticizing Malcolm's judgement? Malcolm knew what he was doing. He did his job well, damn well. Even if he had to put himself in danger for it.

Carl Mitchell wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for Dani receiving that call, if Malcolm hadn't brought him out of his trip by tipping him off that ledge.

Gil approaches the rest of his team and tells them that Carl is stable, and the worst he had was a fractured rib.

The moment has already passed, but when Gil asks him if he's okay, Malcolm snaps.

"Whack job consultant's detailed understanding of the human psyche led him to anticipate, until diazepam could be administered, physical pain might be the only thing to bring the victim out of his psychedelic experience."

The team look at him in stunned silence for a moment, before Edrisa comes up to them, saying that Bright was right. Once again.

"50 times the standard dose.." Malcolm mutters to himself as the mortician goes on. "More than enough to induce fear and panic, leading to cardiac arrest."

"That could be his M.O." Gil suggests. Bright's eyes light up.

"To induce the fear that kills them." Finally, an answer.

"We're going to look for someone who was part of the experiments with Dr. Brown." They needed a list, and the only way they could get it was from Elaine herself.

"The taking of the brain is..it's like a metaphor. For the destruction of his own mind." It was easier to think about the case then his own situation. To fill the space with his own deductions instead of hearing his father's disappointed words on repeat.

"He wants to rid the world of those who wronged him. We need to keep tabs on Elaine Brown."

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

I love switching from Vetinari’s point of view on a moment: 

He [Downey] then does that charmingly boyish smile of his that generally makes me liable to ignore any nonsense he has been saying, or any poor choice it is he has made or is about to make, and well, yes. Nothing worth recording after this point. 

to Downey’s view in the next chapter: 

You know, Downey thinks, it’s really about the sex after a bit of a tiff. Blow jobs hit differently. 

we know that Downey did finger guns while going ‘eeeeyy’ as he walked backwards out the door afterwards. 

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

My friend and I are Downey/Vetinari spewing geniuses

Vetinari: I recall one time when you called me, and I quote, “an absolute bucket”

Downey:

Downey:

Downey: I mean, I wasn’t wrong. Have you looked at yourself lately? Mess. Mess. Mess!

Vetinari is silently points at a door that says “Scorpion Pit This Way”. Downey does finger guns and walks backwards out of the oblong office like the genuine tool that he is

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

‘Fine,’ Downey shrugs. ‘Get to work, Dog-Botherer, and I’d recommend protective facial gear. Gods know what is in that growth once you puncture it for dissection.’

Vetinari, already waving him off says, ‘not my first time around the block, Downey.’

‘And you only have today. He’s going in the fire tomorrow morning.’

‘Then you had best leave me to it, hadn’t you?’

Downey grins, does crossbow fingers with a “pew pew” noise, and walks backwards out of the cold room.

In empty hallway Downey says to himself, ‘you couldn’t have been more of an idiot if you tried.’

Downey is the world’s worst flirt. Finger-guns while walking backwards out the room you fucking loser. 

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

"ive been trying to grab your attention in class for over half an hour by poking you and throwing things onto your desk and you’re refusing to acknowledge me and gdi all i wanted to do was tell you that you look cute and now it’s gone too far and it can’t go back" ~~~~~~ seems like classic Downey/Vetinari to me!! ~~~ (bonus points if Vetinari is testing out one of his disguises and supposed to be invisible and Downey is Ruining Everything)

Vetinari,self-assured, one and twenty, believes he is possibly the best of his class inmost things. Oh, but as a gentleman he would never admit it. He isn’t abraggart. He is quiet and self-possessed, always just-this-side of demonstrablyself-confident. He believes there is nothing wrong with pride so long as it iswell-regulated and deserved. He is, in no way, arrogant or a twit. Two wordsthat would describe a certain one of his graduate cohort.

How Downeymade it into the graduate cohort Vetinari isn’t sure but he is convinced it must haveinvolved a minor miracle. You can hire enough small gods to orchestrate minormiracles and Downey, Vetinari firmly believes, is the sort to resort to suchtactics.

Vetinari hasnever needed to organize a minor miracle in his life. He would like to keep itthat way.

Currently,he’s loitering in the rafters of the upper-years lab. A bright, airy room, hedecided it’d be a good challenge to disappear into it. The large windows arewest facing an added difficulty Vetinari is keen to surmount.

Slowly helowers himself down onto a beam wide enough to support his weight andprovide cover from those below. The room is mostly empty, only a few studentslingering on their lab work. One of them, coincidentally, is Downey. The baneof Vetinari’s student existence is doing something complicated with mushroomspores. Vetinari watches for a moment, attempting to figure out what the otherman is up to but gives up do to a lack of a clear line of sight. Downey’s broadshoulders obscure his notes and some of the glassware he’s working with. 

Vetinarislowly breaths out, works to level his heart rate and twists his head to affordthe best view of the room.

No oneappears to notice him as he is still. His challenge will be moving. Adjustinghis head again he looks down and sees that Downey is gone. Or not quite, hissatchel and books are still sprawled across the lab counter. Perhaps he went tothe bathroom. Odd, that Vetinari missed his movements.

Somethinghis the back of his head.

A pebble? Asmall piece of crumpled paper?

Somethinghits him again. He hears a snort and knows it’s Downey. Fuck. How did Downeysee him? He’s absolutely sure his position, from those below, would beunnoticeable. This is his fourth run and no one has seen him thus far. Not eventheir stealth professor who happened into the room on one of Vetinari’s earlytrial-runs.

Maybe Downeydoesn’t see him and he’s just chucking stuff up into the rafters for fun. Theman is an enigma to Vetinari because Vetinari cannot imagine being entertainedby dull things like dive-y pubs and messy flat parties. Downey appears to livefor social events and being loud and rambunctious in Guild corridors. Oh, andannoying Vetinari whenever the chance arises.

A smallprojectile hits his hand. Another hits his leg.

He isn’tgoing to move. He refuses to give Downey the satisfaction. Something hits hisleg again, this time a good deal harder. Vetinari silently curses Downey’simpeccable aim. The man even has impeccable aim half a bottle of brandy in. Heknows because he’s had a boot chucked at his head by a deeply drunk Downey onmore than one occasion. Usually proceeded by Downey shouting, ‘Hey!Dog-botherer, fetch!’ Before keeling over in laughter.

Who decidedDowney was a good idea?

A disturbedGod, probably. One with a terrible sense of humour and a vendetta againstVetinari.

A pebblehits his arse. Below him and still out of sight, Downey lets out a quiet breathof laughter. Vetinari can see the young man’s dumb face in his mind’s eye withthat stupid grin and his tendency to do finger-guns while going ‘eyyyy’ as hewalks away backwards.

Vetinaricould write a list about all the annoying things Downey does.

It’s deeplyunfair that the most obnoxious person on the Disc is blessed with a handsomeface and too much charm. Downey can turn the charm on when he wants to.Vetinari has witnessed it. Downey is impeccable in his ability to manage-up.

A pebblehits the back of his head again. He remains committed to not moving. Toremaining absolutely still. To outlasting Downey because he will not give oneWilliam A. Downey, assassin, the gods-damn satisfaction of acknowledging him.

Downeyhisses up, ‘Hey, DB. That can’t be comfortable.’

Vetinariignores him.

Downey says,more loudly, ‘Nice outfit DB. Mud brown is really your colour.’

Theremaining students begin looking over and Vetinari wants to drop down andpummel Downey for ruining his cover. But, again, he will not give the man thesatisfaction of a response.

This is atactic Vetinari has employed against bullies in the past and it has alwaysworked with the great, life-long exception of Downey. He puts it down to Downeybeing too stupid to understand the subtleties of being utterly ignored.

He hadcomplained to Ludo, the one person who can get Downey to do something Downeydoesn’t want to do. He had asked eloquently, ‘what the fuck is Downey’s deal?’

And Ludo hadreplied, ‘Um you’ll have to be more specific. Will’s got a lot of deals.’

And Vetinarihad explained, ‘His inability to back off. I’ve done everything you’re supposedto do to get bullies to leave you alone. He burned my book.’

Ludo hadthen said, ‘Oh yes, that night. And uh, Havelock, you know how boys pull girls’hair?’

And he hadn’tknown. So Ludo had just sighed at him and said, ‘Well I suspect it’s like that. But ifyou do anything with that information I’ll kill you.’

Vetinarihadn’t understood. Though he did believe Ludo would kill him, for whateverreason.

He still isn’tsure he understands. Why would anyone pull anyone’s hair? That seems unnecessary.And Downey had never pulled his hair. Just thrown things at him and called himDog-botherer and Scag. Scag doesn’t count, though. Downey calls everyone ascag.

‘Hey,Dog-botherer,’ Downey’s voice is suddenly close. Vetinari refuses to move. He feels ahand on his shoulder. Shit. ‘You look nothing like a rafter by the way.’

FinallyVetinari sits up. There’s Downey sitting in the middle of the rafter smirkingat him. He’s dusty, his usually pristine black marred grey and off-white. Vetinariglares.

‘I wastesting a different camouflage.’

‘Well itsucks.’

‘No one elsenoticed, Downey. This is my fourth time and no one has seen me before.’

‘Or they didbut didn’t say anything.’

Veitnariblinks at him. Downey’s smirk widens into a shit-eating grin. He needlesVetinari some more about how he actually has no idea how successful his attemptwas since no one was monitoring him.

Vetinari canfeel his cheeks burn. Downey tilts his head in considering of something. Vetinarisnaps, ‘what?’ Downey sneers, leans over and flicks Vetinari’s forehead thenscoots down from the rafters before Vetinari can retaliate. Vetianri shoutsdown at him, ‘Why are you like this Downey? Who made you this annoying?’

Downeygathers his books and satchel, he looks up Vetinari, they’re both so dusty, andsays, ‘I was going to say you actually look kind of cool for once. Since you’re about as cool as a uh, very uncool thing. But whatever. Ciao,Dog-botherer. Better luck next time with your stupid camo exercise.’

Downey then giveshim a rude gesture and walks out of the room.