Chapter Text
His eyes open to skyscrapers, monoliths made of concrete, surrounding him. Bottom up view, as if he's lying on the ground. His back feels sore, and his head feels like it hit concrete.
Hopefully he doesn't have a concussion.
Standing up, he stretches like he just got off of a long flight. Which, he supposes he did. World hopping is always a bit disorienting, anyway, and he's still working out the kinks of doing it without a designated portal.
Hopefully he got close to the right spot this time.
Looking around what he can now see is an alleyway, Grian smiles, hands on his hips. “Right. Where are we?”
He finds that the style of dumpster doesn't look familiar, nor do the skyscrapers look at all similar to the building styles of anyone he knows. He furrows his brow. Ah well, he didn't fully make it. Better luck next time, he supposes.
Still, he needs to figure out where he's at. He forced his wings out of his back, wincing when he felt a bit more pain than he expected. He flapped them once, twice.
He flew into the air, rising above the roof of the building he used to be laying against. The city seemed to span on for miles in most directions, with only one side, behind him, being cut off by the ocean. To his right, the skyscrapers seemed to get even taller, surely surpassing the height limit. To his left, they got smaller and smaller, and the city got less dense, but the concrete jungle never truly died out.
Who has the time to build all of this, really? Not to even consider how insanely detailed this place is, if the alley he woke up in is anything to go by.
Well, he should find the builder of this place and congratulate them, despite the fact that they probably have too much free time.
He puts both of his hands in an L shape, putting one upside down so he can form a rectangle. He calls upon his magic and expands the shape so he can look inside of it with ease.
Searching the UI, he finds that this place is called Prime. It's unlisted, which, fair enough, but he can't seem to find the playerlist anywhere. Not only that, but the server ID is corrupted as well. All the other information isn't really something he wants to look through, but he's pretty sure it's corrupted too. Great.
He closes the panel, and sends out a ping to find whomever may be in a one mile radius. It takes a couple of minutes, but it returns back to him all at once. The sound of the “ding”s in his ears are deafening, making him clamp his surprisingly soft hands over his ears instinctively.
The news is horrifying. There's well over 1,000 entities around this area. How can this server even survive? How has it not collapsed?
Though maybe, he hopes, maybe his readings are wrong. He doesn't even feel that sick from lag, so it's possible, right? Maybe something here is putting his powers on the fritz.
Sighing, he sets his feet down on the adjacent building’s ledge, back facing the drop. He looks down at the gravel coated roof before him lazily, rubbing his temples as he starts to feel some sort of migraine coming on.
And then he gets tackled from the back. His brain registers that someone was yelling, still is yelling, or at the very least being very very loud.
His brain can't process what it’s saying as he instinctively rolls back to dodge out of the grapple, pulling something from his back as he does. It feels right in these hands, ready to strike, but his vision is closing in on all sides and he can't quite see what it is, can't see his assailant before his vision goes black.
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Scar comes to in a very weird position.
First of all, he's kneeling on a bunch of little rocks. His bow is out, string drawn back and ready to shoot, pointed at someone not 10 feet away.
Second off, his bow is pointed at a guy he's never seen before. He has short, cherry red hair and amber eyes, with general boyish features. He's wearing a tank top and some cargo pants, along with a red flannel jacket tied around his waist. It seems like he was trying to talk to him.
Third, Scar has no idea where he is. At just a quick glance this is definitely not in his bedroom, nor anywhere else he might frequent on the Hermitcraft server. How he got here, he doesn't know.
Fourth and final point, he really wants to shoot this guy. Like, really wants to shoot him.
“Hey, uh, Vynce? Could you stop pointing your bow at me?”
Speaking of, the boy in front of him has been trying to talk to him for at least a minute.
“Who?” Scar asks, smiling politely.
The boy just stares, processing. It's like you could see the tic delay. “You, Vynce? Did you hit your head or something?”
Scar shakes his head, grin widening. “Oh, no, no, you must be mistaken. I'm…”
“...Hotguy!” He lets his arrow fly after a brief pause, jumping back and away from his previous spot on the ground.
He tumbles on the next available surface that meets his back, seeming to be an aircon unit, and then turns into a full sprint. He found that he was, in fact, not on the ground, but in the sky as he jumped from building to building, the red haired boy giving chase.
It felt exhilarating, jumping from place to place, wind in his hair. The adrenaline was sure pumping through his veins, and he felt a little spark of magic in his chest at a prank well done. Yet, he felt a presence in the back of his mind.
Oh, goodness, where am I? I wasn't summoned here in my sleep, was I?
Listening to it, it didn't sound like his own, or one of the Vexes. It sounded like-
“Mumbo?”
Oh my word! Scar! You scared the life out of me! Where are you? I can't seem to find you.
“I don't… know? I was sleeping in my room again when I ended up in a city being chased! And now you're in my head! Oh, Mumbo of my conscience, what should I do?”
He lept over a large chimney, barely not knocking anything over. He heard a crash afterwards, so it's safe to assume that his assailant was unable to do the same.
Mate, I don't think I'm your conscience. Think about it! I'd be terrible at it!
“Well what other explanation is there for you bein’ in my head? Don't get me wrong, Mumbo, you're Amayzin’! But I'd prefer to have my head to myself.”
And I'd rather not be in your head!
“Exactly! Now, how did you get in there? Did a Redstone contraption blow up? Oh! Did we-”
I have no idea, mate! Look, let's figure this out when we're not being chased, maybe?
As if right on cue, Scar face planted into a wall. It was weird, and blue, and see through. He could have sworn it wasn't there before.
Not only that, the floor he landed on was blue. Along with 3 other walls and a ceiling made of that same material.
He looked around, trying to find the source. Who trapped him?
His eyes finally settle on a ghostly figure surrounded by blue flame. They're wearing a hoodie and are ghastly pale, with dark black hair with a large streak of white at the front.
They begin to float towards him, and Scar feels his consciousness pushed back.