When the Dawn Breaks [TBAU]

☆☆ Finale - p3 ☆☆

TWs: injury, dismemberment, character death (dw about it) 

~~~ 

There's something about persecution that's like an icebath for the suicidal brain, shocking it to its senses.

One might be inclined to say that that 'something' is spite, the urge to continue living in protest of those who would wish otherwise. This assumption would be correct, mostly correct, but not the whole truth. The other half of the realization is sympathy, brought forth by listening as words said alone into the mirror are parroted back onto a crowd, back onto oneself. Words that sound different out of someone else's mouth, harsh and cruel.

And suddenly, in an attempt to be better than those who oppress, one might stop wishing death upon themselves just because they're different, and start living instead.

Living for as long as possible. Even when it seems there's no time left at all.

The stale, acrid scent of the nether felt refreshing, Impulse thought. The air was heavy and laced thick with the smell of decay, and yet he was oddly at ease.

Four sets of footsteps, his own included, filled the otherwise hollow space, ringing out and echoing around alcoves of the fortress. Impulse knew the path he was walking on well, despite not having been told where he was going.

He'd known where he was going the moment the superiors had shown up at the cell door this morning. No, he'd known he was eventually going to end up here, walking this road, the moment he got his last mission three months ago. Or maybe he'd known for a long time now.

Perhaps going to the gallows had always been his fate from the beginning.

On either side of him were the superiors; Two made his presence known with a tense, stomping march, while One was practically skipping to the beat of some silent song. And Three... well Three was trying its best. Watching it for too long made Impulse dizzy. It was a good thing he wasn't watching then.

He took in another whiff of the rotting sky, going through the plan in his head. It was, quite frankly, kamikaze. But the stakes just made it all that more exciting.

Today was execution day, with one brown-haired, yellow-eyed demon on the chopping block. There was likely going to be a crowd before the gallows, one full of curiosity, apprehension, and fear. Bravery, too. Impulse had never been one to stomach watching an execution.

Along with the crowd, there'd be a posse of guards. And, according to BigB, most, if not all of those guards, weren't really working for the superiors at all. The plan weighed heavily on them, that is, if it was going to work at all.

Impulse's aptly dubbed Triple S Strategy: Stall, Surprise, Support, was definitely not the most innovative or survival-conscious thing he'd ever made up. But at least it had a fun, easy to remember mnemonic!

The first step, of course, was Stall. Impulse just had to get the superiors to talk, distract them however he could and delay the execution. It was probably the least necessary of the steps, but it would lower the superior's guard, and allow Impulse time to assess his surroundings.

That would be important for step two, Surprise. Impulse had claws. These claws were very sharp and would look very good coated with sparkly superior blood. Therefore, Impulse's goal for this step was to time an attack when the big three had their backs turned. And sure, Impulse didn't have a lot of fighting experience, but his blood was boiling with rage, and he had more magic in his veins than he'd had in months.

Inevitably, One, Two, and Three were going to beat the shit out of him. That's where step three came in, Support. BigB had explained Impulse's idiotic plan to the other rebellion members in the fortress, and, according to him, they'd been thoroughly intrigued. While the execution day wasn't a day of one of their actually coordinated attacks, they'd agreed to indulge Impulse. He didn't want to compromise any of their positions, but all of them had agreed not to apprehend him, at least.