Oneshots! (Mostly Hermitcraft)

Viva la Revolution: Into the Fire [Grian]

Febuwhump Day 26: "Help Them" ft. Cute Guy!Grian
SEQUEL to Febuwhump Day 22: "You Weren't Meant to Be There"

TWs: hanging, blood and injury, violence

Grian perched on the rooftop, overlooking the town square. Already, most of the hermits were present, facing the stage Ren had erected overnight with varying emotions. He could see Etho standing off to the side, so tense he could make out his muscles twitching. In the heart of the crowd, Pearl was hugging Gem tightly with Tango standing to the side, his ruby eyes reflecting the sunlight.

Finally, Grian's eyes landed on Mumbo, who stood on the fringes of the crowd. He'd asked the moustached redstoner to cover for him and make up an excuse for him to miss the gathering. After all, there were permits to manage and books to be caught – Ren would understand. Grian was nothing but a loyal citizen, even if he was sometimes disobedient.

One would never expect such an average guy to be the vigilante Cute Guy, the archnemesis of Hot Guy: the King's loyal guard and enforcer.

Grian adjusted his grip on his compound bow as the execution party came into view, shifting into a steadier kneeling position as he nocked an arrow. Bdubs led the way, followed by Ren, who was decked out in his formal, furred red cape and tiny crown. Behind them, Cleo led Impulse forward, a hand firmly on his shoulder as Scar brought up the rear of the party, bow slung across his back. None of them expected an intervention today, especially since the notice was so last-minute. Unfortunately for them, as a government worker, Grian had early access and was prepared.

Ren gave a speech about the dangers of treason and the punishment, going on a lengthy tangent about the dishonour and fake news spread by the posters. Grian barely listened to him, his mouth dry as he tried to evaluate the situation and select the best time for a rescue. There were too many people guarding the prisoner at the moment: staging a rescue now would give away his position and bar any other opportunities he'd have.

Frowning, he took off the arrow already on his bowstring and slid it into the quiver on his back, taking a modified arrow from the quiver tied close to his leg. Its head was shaped like the tail of a fish, unintentionally matching his current running joke. The curved inside of the head was razor sharp – he'd tested it the night before – and perfect for severing rope. He'd made a few spares, but the first shot was the one that mattered. Grian was unsure of how long death by hanging would take, but he'd like to stop it as quickly as humanly possible.

Brain damage and all that. Look, he has a degree in biology, but that doesn't mean he uses it that often, and it certainly didn't imply that he knew that much about humans.

Ren's speech was winding down and Grian forced himself to focus, nocking his arrow and looking through the scope he had mounted on his bow. He'd calibrated it last night, so its aim was as perfect as he could get it. Taking a deep breath, he raised his bow and brought his walkie talkie to his mouth, pressing the button and opening the channel with a small crackle of static.

"Doc, you ready?" he asked and released the button, watching Cleo lead Impulse to the gallows. He squinted slightly: Cleo was considerably more pale than she usually was, her fingernails digging into Impulse's shoulder. He could see Impulse forcing himself to remain calm, offering a small smile. In the centre of the crowd, Tango had moved to envelop both Pearl and Gem in an embrace, unable to tear his steely gaze from the execution as the two couldn't bear to continue watching.

"Yeah," the German confirmed from his position near the stage. He wore his usual lab coat, using it to conceal whatever weapon he'd elected to bring to the battle. "Did the wings work last night?"

"I was gliding with them and they seemed fine," Grian replied, fiddling with the cord that would activate the artificial appendages. "I just need to get down there quickly, so that will be fine."