When the Dawn Breaks [TBAU]

☆☆ Finale - p2 ☆☆

There were two hundred and thirty eight bricks making up the wall. Fourteen rows multiplied by seventeen columns. Impulse had counted them out individually to check, of course, running his fingers along the grimey stone and dusty mortar. That number only accounted for one wall though. He'd have to count the bricks contained in the other two walls at his sides and the segments that framed the array of rusted metal bars behind him.

He decided to recount the wall he was facing first, shifting back and forth on his feet as he did. Impulse reasoned that if he didn't turn around to look at the iron bars trapping him here, then he could pretend they weren't really there. He was in some building in Hermit Village with an exposed brick wall, like the shed by the horse stables, and he hadn't been sucked back down to the nether through a portal under his feet.

Oh, who was he kidding.

At least he hadn't gone down without a fight; he'd been kicking and screaming like a little kid who'd been told it was time to leave the playground, clawing at the edge of the portal until he couldn't anymore.

And look how well that worked out. The back of his mind scoffed, annoyed with himself. Impulse frowned at the angry voice in his head, he was trying to focus on counting and it really wasn't helping. It was right to some degree, to be fair. Impulse hadn't escaped his doomed fate yet, after all.

He let out a huff of breath somewhat resembling a laugh, remembering a movie he'd watched with the hermits about some redhead princess who wanted to change her fate. She'd succeeded, of course, as most movie heroines do, much to Scar's delight. The vex had been on the edge of his seat during the princess's whole adventure, even though he'd clearly seen the movie before. A beat of sadness wormed its way through Impulse's veins. He missed Scar already.

His mind stopped counting bricks, distracted by images of his friends flashing by in the back of his head. Scar and Skizz and Pearl and Tango and Zed and Bdubs and Grian, and, what number was he on again? It'd probably be best to start over.

Impulse sunk to the ground, running his hands down his face. He got his legs into as comfortable of a sitting position as he could on the cold floor and began counting once more, muttering numbers under his breath so he wouldn't lose track. He kept it going for a while, focusing on the wall, only the wall, and nothing else. Nothing else mattered. When he finished, he started over again.

After a while, how much time specifically he wasn't sure, he heard a curious noise from outside his cell. Impulse didn't turn to face the sound, it was only the guard stationed outside his door, after all. He didn't want to give them the satisfaction of his attention. In fact, he preferred to pretend they didn't exist at all.

They didn't exist, not when they changed shifts. Not when they peered into his prison with curiosity in their eyes. Not when they hummed tunes to pass the time. Not when they whispered to each other about overthrowing the–

Hold on.

Impulse stilled, listening in to the conversation behind him. A second guard with awfully loud boots had approached the one currently stationed outside his door, and was murmuring under their breath.

"I've got word from Littlewood. We've just got to hold this position. The superiors don't suspect us yet." The loud-shoed guard whispered. Impulse fought back a chuckle at the name the guard had mentioned; he didn't want them to know he was listening.

The other guard sighed, replying in a smooth voice. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I feel like I'd be of better use somewhere else, you know?" They sounded young. And tired.

"Yeah, c'mon man, we're just as important to the plan, you know that. When they start the raid and those three weasels see their own guards turn against them? It's gonna be priceless!" Loud shoes proclaimed excitedly, forgetting to use their plotting-against-the-government whisper voice. The other guard was quick to hiss out their grievances about this, and loud shoes mumbled an apology.