BLIND | DreamSMP

XXVII - Up in Smoke

As it turned out, an execution was quite difficult to plan.

Quackity had assumed that it would take a few hours at most to gather some basic materials and build a gallow in the public square, but once Tommy and Techno were led to the dungeons in shackles, he felt that a simple hanging would fail to meet expectations. There were other options of course, but none seemed to fit quite right. Though he would have loved to dirty his hands with the man's blood, a beheading or disembowelment just wasn't satisfying enough, and drowning him seemed too fast and not nearly as exciting as Techno's death ought to be.

Quackity wanted something enjoyable, something symbolic, something panache, something that really sent a message of victory to the citizens of the nation and a warning to others who might dare to act against L'Manberg.

He ran through different methods in his head, playing out the scenarios with relish, weighing the pros and cons of each idea before discarding them with pursed lips, until finally, he hit upon a thought that just felt right– fire. It was easy enough to set up, a gradual and painful death that wouldn't bore an audience, and it was a wonderful metaphor. After L'Manberg had been destroyed, fires had dotted the smoldering wreckage for weeks afterwards, making it impossible to begin rebuilding until the embers had died out. Seeing Techno's body go up in flames would be a fitting payback. All he would need was a sturdy tree trunk and some kindling to get the blaze going.

With any luck, they could burn him alive by nightfall.

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Ranboo didn't feel good.

On the one hand, Techno was an enemy of the country, which meant that he was his enemy too, seeing as Ranboo worked for the government and assisted the president. So it was perfectly fine for him to lock the man and Tommy in the dungeon underneath the courthouse. There was nothing wrong with him fettering Techno to the wall and cuffing his wrists with heavy iron manacles, or chaining Tommy beside him. It was acceptable and understandable for him to follow Quackity's orders to not allow the prisoners any food or water; Quackity had said they were going to put Techno on trial soon anyways.

So then why had he thrown a regretful glance at Techno as he climbed the stone steps back up from the dungeon? Why was he sick with guilt at his actions? Why did the whole affair seem unjust to him?

Ranboo really didn't feel good.

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Fundy took another shaky draw from his cigarette, puffing out the smoke in a wobbly ring that fell in on itself almost immediately. His room reeked of tobacco. He probably wouldn't ever be able to get the smell out of the wallpaper and furniture. That was alright. He never had guests over anyways, so there was no harm in going through a few cigarettes to calm his nerves.

Except this time it wasn't working. His hands still trembled as his bushy tail twitched back and forth in harmony with his pointed ears. He wondered if maybe he should dig up a bottle of vodka or rum, something to get him drunk fast and easy, stop the crawling sensation under his fur. But Quackity wouldn't like it if he showed up to the trial tomorrow with a nasty hangover, and the kind of drunk he wanted to get would stick around overnight and well into the afternoon.

Fundy leaned back in his chair with a sigh, kicking a foot up onto the empty kitchen table in front of him and keeping the other planted on the floor as he tipped his seat back, the action slightly calming his anxiety and giving him the peace to mull over his feelings.