Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What Mumbo hadn’t been expecting, even amid all the yelling, was to be tackled to the floor the moment he was able to consciously register any part of his surroundings. Though honestly he wasn’t sure what was up with the yelling, either. 

The shocking pain of Grian’s talons digging into his arms was enough to distract him from the actual words Grian was saying. Something about stopping, he thought. 

“OW! What is wrong with you!? You’re gonna damage my wiring!” Mumbo complained, doing his best to flex his fingers to make sure none of his internal connections to them had been cut off. Grian froze, face going blank as he released some of the pressure on Mumbo’s arms. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna pass out again.”

“What? No- no, I’m- I’m fine, just- you’re-”

“Are you sure? Did tackling me make your blood pressure drop?” Grian had been having heart issues since he had found his strange boulder - the entity, he called it - but refused to acknowledge that the timing may not be a coincidence. “Maybe you should sit down for a second.”

“No, no, I’m alright, are you- do you know where you are?” Grian asked. 

What a strange question. Mumbo tilted his head to the side as best he could while still lying on the ground. Of course he knew where he was, why wouldn’t he?

Except, come to think of it, he actually had no idea where he was. 

“Um… I don’t believe I do, actually.” Mumbo sat up as Grian stepped off to the side, leaning against the wall a bit and hopping a bit on one of his feet. He scanned the room - or he tried scanning it, that is, because his heads up display seemed to be malfunctioning, causing him to have to rely solely on eyesight. “I um… I think my HUD’s broken.” He would have looked at the floor while admitting that if he weren’t still trying to figure out where he was. 

It seemed to be some type of server room, however there was no way of knowing what the servers were used for without his HUD. Mumbo knew it wouldn’t take a robot to be able to recognize that they were in poor shape, though. 

Actually, to say they were in bad shape would be a bit of an understatement. Frayed wires sparked as they tried their best to use gravity to break free from the ports they were meant to be plugged into. Lights flickered wildly where they should have been steady and where they should have flickered they were turned off entirely. One rack of servers was laying on its side, fallen across the floor as if someone tried playing Jenga with it and lost. 

Xisuma stood halfway between Mumbo and the door of the room, hands held up in a placating gesture as if he were trying to calm a wild animal. Scar was behind him just inside the door and despite that he was looking down in his lap Mumbo still noticed the flash of a lighter colour in his eyes from the dim light of the room reflecting off of what he could only assume was tears. 

“Your HUD’s not working at all?” Xisuma asked. 

“Doesn’t seem to be. Is everything alright?” Mumbo looked around the room again. It was a good sized server room, it looked like it was fairly powerful. Or at least it could have been powerful before it was destroyed, he wasn’t so sure how well it could function with all of that damage. He stared at his hands in the blue-tinted lighting. He hoped it was blue-tinted, anyway, he didn’t want to have to do a display colour calibration on top of fixing his HUD. 

His hands looked damaged as well. The imitation of skin that sat atop his hardware was torn across his knuckles and palms in a way he was sure would have left them bleeding if he had blood in the first place. Instead, a steady stream of hydraulic fluid dripped slowly from a cut across the knuckles at the base of the middle and ring fingers on his right hand. At least that explained his difficulty with moving them when Grian had pinned him down. 

When he looked up from his hands, Mumbo saw Xisuma typing something on his communicator. He sent whatever message he was typing and put the device away. Mumbo was momentarily confused about why the message didn’t appear for him before he remembered his broken software. 

“Who are you texting?” Mumbo asked. He respected Xisuma’s privacy of course, he was just very curious and couldn’t help it. It was weird not knowing if he was receiving messages. 

“Hm? Oh, just letting Doc know you’ll probably need some repairs.” Mumbo was no expert on lying, but that seemed like a lie. He wasn’t going to call X out on it, but even if he were to try he would have been cut off by Scar.

Scar wheeled past X, stopping only when he was mere centimetres away from Mumbo. Xisuma visibly tensed at this. 

“How’s your memory?” Scar asked, eyes wide, curious, and slightly red.

“My… memory?” Mumbo repeated as he stood up, one of his knee joints locking slightly as he did. “It’s- I mean I don’t know how I got here or where here is but aside from that alright, I guess. Why?”

“Just cause you bumped your head when you hit the floor, that’s all!” Grian interrupted just as Scar began to open his mouth. Mumbo caught a glimpse of him shoving something in his pocket.

“My head isn’t where my memories are, Grian. There’s not enough space for that. Most of my long term memories are stored outside of my body so I can remotely access them without needing to carry them with me. You know that.” 

“Right, yes, of course, guess we just forgot. Silly us, you know?” Grian replied, not at all suspiciously. He patted Scar on the back with a little more force than necessary, eliciting a grumbled complaint. “I mean if me and Scar are known for one thing, it certainly isn’t thinking.” Grian laughed and it definitely wasn’t forced. 

“Hey! I’ll have you know I can think very well, thank you very much.” Scar crossed his arms. “How do you think I got netherite so fast, hm?”

“I don’t know, but I do know you used it on a hoe, so I’m not sure that’s an apt defence for your intelligence,” Grian shot back, earning a very offended Scar noise in return. 

Mumbo looked between them, thoroughly confused by the whole situation. Xisuma didn’t seem any more keen on explaining anything, opting to stare at his communicator instead, typing quick messages Mumbo still couldn’t see. 

“So… is anyone going to explain what happened here? Where we are?” Mumbo asked. 

“We’re-” Scar started before being cut off by Grian.

“Are you feeling alright? You’re a little busted up.”

“Yeah, um, how did that happen?” Mumbo asked.

“Nothing to worry about, are your joints intact? You know how to fix your HUD or whatever?” Grian tapped his fingers against the side of his leg anxiously. 

“Um… I can’t run diagnostics right now I don’t think, but two of my fingers won’t bend and I think my knee’s a bit damaged. Definitely busted a hydraulic pump or two and some skin. I’m not sure what’s up with my software, I think I’ll need some help with that.” 

“How about we get you back home, hm? I’ll tell Doc to meet us at your place.” Xisuma said, looking up from his communicator. Through his tinted visor, Mumbo could tell there was sympathy in his eyes, but there was also something else. He wondered what it was. 

“Alright.”