A/N: I think it's worth warning you that there's a change in tone between this and the other stories. It's a lot darker, for one. One of the reasons I wrote it was because I was falling into the same trap as a lot of people; assuming the guards were all the same. In my case, I was assuming that none of them could be stupid or cruel, as opposed to all of them. I'd also like to point out that the views depicted in this story are not my own.
9. Hobbes
Hobbes had been outside for nearly three hours. At first, he'd had an excuse – he was supposed to be supervising the construction of the gallows – but now that was done and he leant against a pillar and watched the rope swing in the wind. It was a cold night, and the sun was just starting to creep over the horizon, but Hobbes didn't care. He'd stood out here before, sometimes for longer periods than this. You had to claim your spot early, or you'd never get a decent view. It was difficult enough when he was dealing with an ordinary execution; the whole army would probably turn up for this one. After all, it's not often you saw someone like Flynn Rider hang.
It was to happen at dawn. That was what the Captain had said, when he'd ordered Hobbes into his office. Rider would hang at dawn, and the gallows had to be ready by then. Even as he'd made this command, he knew Hobbes would get it done. The man alwaysvolunteered for this kind of thing; that was why he'd sent for him. The Captain would be lying if he said he didn't find it a bit disturbing, but Hobbes always did a good job so he couldn't complain.
Now, Hobbes admired his handiwork. He was the only one who could; the men who'd helped him had gone to bed, and there were no other guards about. Not that they'd associate with him anyway. There was something very unpleasant about Hobbes, something even the officers had picked up on. He had no friends and if anyone was forced to go on duty with him, they'd stand as far away as possible and avoid any conversation. It was not so much because of his appearance – Hobbes was an average-looking man and kept his uniform immaculate – but because there was something about him, something that was just wrong.
Hobbes didn't mind this. He didn't want anyone's company and he didn't like unnecessary chit-chat. The other men wouldn't understand, anyway. No one ever did.
Ever since he was a boy, Hobbes had been fascinated by death. His father had been an undertaker, and he'd often had to assist him, so dead bodies did not disturb him. He was amazed by how easily a person's life could be wiped out. Young or old, rich or poor... none of it mattered. No one was spared from death, regardless of which form it took itself; and there were so many ways. Illness, murder, old age... It was all so ominous. It was as if death was an all-powerful god, able to strike down whenever it saw fit. And if death was a god, then Hobbes was his devoted worshipper.
It became a fixation for him. In his teens, when he saw a pretty girl, he wondered how she would die. He wondered how many people had lost their lives on the cobblestones he walked on. Part of the reason he joined the Guards was because he'd have such close contact with death. This was not something the other men knew. He'd kept quiet about his "interest" as he called it, and since he was in good shape and reasonably smart, he was recruited without a second thought.
He'd tried talking about it once, to old Wilfred. He was the one who provided the rope for the gallows, had been for years, and he sometimes stuck around to see if it worked. He seemed content to listen at first. However, when Hobbes had grown increasingly more enthusiastic, he'd given him an odd look and asked if he was alright. He must've said something to the Captain, too, because that very afternoon Hobbes was sent for a "talk" with the prison's psychiatrist. They hadn't told him why, but Hobbes knew. They thought he was mad. He'd fumed with the indignity of it, but he'd managed to keep his mouth shut during his visit to Dr Magellan and he'd left the man thinking his mind was perfectly sound. As he should, because it was, wasn't it?
The other men seemed to agree with the doctor, so Hobbes was left alone. He felt slightly bitter about the accusation, but he still followed orders and tried to be a good soldier. And he volunteered to assist with any executions, of course. They were the only entertainment Hobbes had nowadays. It seemed that he was the only one who appreciated the irony of them. By killing these "criminal scum" – these thieves and murderers who'd apparently been deemed too unpleasant to live – they were making them equal to kings and generals. Where death was concerned, no one was better than anyone else.
Hobbes would never point this out to anyone. There was no way they'd ever understand. But he found it humorous that Rider, who'd been a thorn in his superiors' side for so long, was going to be given such an honour. And he wouldn't miss it for the world.