Work Text:
The blood on his hands did not belong to him.
It belonged to the same person the yellow feathers scattered around him belonged to.
They belonged to the dying man on the sidewalk.
Mumbo wasn't truly what happened, he'll be honest. It was a blur, heroes surrounding him, trying to shoot them off. He recognised some heroes, ones that had chased him before. There were new ones too, and..
Jimmy.
He knew Jimmy from sometime in college. Home was too far away, but when his friends heard he was alone for the holidays, he had been dragged to Grian's house, spending his holidays with a mess of three lovely siblings whose feathers managed to be all in his luggage when he left.
There he met Pearl and Jimmy. Pearl had already been a hero at that point, having gone into hero training the first moment she could. Meanwhile, Jimmy was still in high school at that time, yet excitedly ranted to Mumbo about his plans of hero work. Mumbo had enjoyed that, encouraging the boy to make it, sharing his own plans.
Only one of them had made it to hero work.
And Mumbo, the one who had encouraged that excited boy, was maybe the one to end Jimmy's dreams.
he hadn't been aiming for him. He was aiming for one that was more of a threat. But Jimmy, and the stupid kindhearted man that he is, had rushed in front of the other hero, being hit by the weapon in Mumbo's hands.
Now feathers and blood covers the alleyway. The other heroes had fled, none there to watch as Mumbo rushes towards the limp body curled up on the bloodsoaked concrete, pressing down on the wound he had caused.
Jimmy seemed out of it. He was trembling, looking too pale for it to be safe. Mumbo rips the mask off the man's face, uncovering his nose and mouth, praying it was easier for the canary to breathe without it.
Mumbo had killed hundreds before. He had watched hundreds bleed to his weapons, and had felt not a single ounce of remorse. But as Jimmy's blood soaks his gloves, gushing from his wound, regret fills Mumbo's chest like an icy cold dagger.
He can't bring Jimmy to a hospital. Both of them are in costume, but Mumbo's costume matters more, the villain identity he had created for himself putting them both in danger if he just walks into a hospital with a dying hero in his arms.
He needs to bring the other somewhere safe.
Unfortunately, he thinks he knows exactly where he has to go.
He removes his tie, using it to try and apply pressure to the bleeding. Mumbo hesitates and then scoops up Jimmy, quietly shushing him when the other cries out in pain, guilt stabbing through his stomach. He feels sick.
His legs almost stumble as he starts to walk. He takes a second, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. He can't save Jimmy if he himself isn't doing well.
The world rushes around them. He faintly hears Jimmy gag, and his own stomach swirls, sour with regret. He just prays the other doesn't throw up on him, and looks up to the door now in front of him.
It's unfortunately familiar.
If he had a nickel for every time he came here covered in blood, he'd have two nickels. Which isn't much, but it was strange it happened twice.
He wishes it was still his blood instead of Jimmy's.
His hand slams against the wooden door, begging that the two are still home. After a few seconds, he hears them rushing around inside, and relief fills his chest as the door flies open.
It's Grian. His hair is wild, like he had just woken up. His eyes were as just as wild, filled with panic as they locked onto the body in Mumbo's arms.
"I didn't.. I didn't mean to-" Why is he trying to explain. Why is he trying to make excuses. "Help him. Please"
Jimmy is practically ripped from Mumbo's arms, Grian rushing further into the house, yelling at Scar to call the hero tower for medics. Mumbo is left on the doorstep, costume soaked with blood.
He could leave. He could run off, he wouldn't be caught if he did. But his feet don't move, staring into the house, the empty entry room greeting him. All he can do is focus on the blood soaking him, still wet but drying fast. It makes his costume stick to his skin, growing itchy. He cannot move his hands to itch, listening to Grian's panicked shouts from inside the house, and the responses of Scar. He can almost hear the raspy voice of Jimmy, barely audible, filled with pain and tears.
It was hard for Mumbo to breathe, even outside the house, with all the fresh air. Hearing that voice, hearing the pain the other is experiencing, it makes his lungs close up, tight and painful. He caused this.
What if Jimmy didn't make it? His weapons weren't weak, able to kill with one hit. Even if he doesn't die, the injuries would be bad.
What if he ends Jimmy's hero career?
The thought makes him want to fall to his knees and cry. He remembers that boy, happy and excited to tell him about his plans. He can't.. he can't be the reason Jimmy's dream is destroyed. He can't be.
He's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't notice a hand touching his arm. He looks up from the ground he had been staring at, meeting green eyes that are filled with concern. For not just Jimmy, but for him.
For what he had said to Scar last time they met, he was surprised to see concern in his eyes.
Scar is inspecting him, making sure Mumbo wasn't also injured. Then he speaks, voice serious. "You need to leave"
"Is he okay?"
"You need to leave, there will be other heroes here in a few seconds-"
"Is he okay?!" He repeats, harsher than he meant. Screw him, he's worried. "I.. I'm not leaving until I'm sure he's okay"
"Mumbo, you are going to get caught"
"I've escaped once, I can escape again. Now fucking answer me, is he okay?"
"He's fine" Scar finally answers, snapping back at Mumbo. "He'll be okay. He's stable. The medics will be here soon, they'll take over. They're good at their jobs, he'll be fine. You will not be fine unless you leave-"
"Fine" Mumbo's voice isn't as angry. He just sounds tired. He is tired.
He needs a shower.
He takes a step back, but theres a noise behind him. Cars rushing in. Scar's eyes meet Mumbo's, and both know what they have to do.
Mumbo's legs burn as he suddenly breaks into a sprint, but Scar is quick behind him. The other had hero training, Mumbo didn't. Arms grab onto him, and he stumbles over his own feet, hitting the concrete with a smack, Scar falling right on top of him. The wind is shoved quickly from his lungs, chest and knees scraping against the ground as Scar grabs his arms, wrestling them behind his back.
The other heroes rush to help, while others rush inside to help Jimmy.
Mumbo can't focus as the heroes drag him up from the ground. He faintly thinks he hears them reading his rights, but he isn't focused on that, red eyes staring at the window of Grian and Scar's house, watching the medics rush to treat Jimmy.
Jimmy is going to be okay.
He doesn't fight as they drag him off. He doesn't fight as they try to remove his mask, but he does laugh just a slight bit when they can't, the mask made to only release for one person.
He doesn't feel fully there from then on out. Maybe a hundred miles from the body that's soon forced into a cell, chained up and left there until they can figure out what to do with him. He hears whispers of unescapable prisons, he hears murmurs of the death sentence.
He doesn't care whether it's the cold cells or the icy embrace of death that await him. He probably deserves both at this point.
Nobody visits him. The door stays closed, except for trays of food slid into the room every so often. He doesn't touch them, doesn't move from his cot. Nobody visits him, nobody to ask for news.
He doesn't know if Jimmy is truly okay. While he tries to believe it, he doesn't know for sure. For all he knows, Jimmy was gone, and all that was left was the bloody feathers that were still stuck to Mumbo's costume.
Mumbo isn't sure how long he was there before his first visitors come. Maybe a few days, maybe a few weeks. However long it was, eventually there were visitors. Two in fact, whose concerned eyes are hidden behind colourful glasses.
Cuteguy looks a bit pissed. Mumbo can't blame him. He does blame him for how he deals with his anger though, for he does not acknowledge his anger. He stays quiet, forcing the anger out of his voice as he speaks. "We heard you weren't eating"
He doesn't answer. His eyes return to staring at a crack in the wall.
"C'mon Virus, at least speak to us" Hotguy crouches next to Mumbo's cot, speaking to him like a child. Mumbo still does not answer.
The two look at each other, before Cuteguy sighs and finally reveals the true reason they were there. "Listen, Mum... Virus. The hero organisation would like to offer you a.. a deal. Because you didn't leave Canary to die, they want to offer you the ability to join a rehabilitation program. You'll be under me and Hotguy, and we'll work together to rehabilitate you and get you working somewhere in the tower. Maybe you could even be a hero" His voice quiets, as if a quiet voice would break the cameras. "You could follow your dreams. The ones you had when we were in school."
Those dreams didn't apply to him anymore.
Mumbo doesn't even look up. His eyes stay on the wall, and eventually Cuteguy sighs, motioning for Hotguy to follow him out. Before the two could leave though, Mumbo finally speaks, voice raspy from days of dehydration and a lack of using it.
"Is he dead?"
Mumbo finally does look up. His red eyes are rimmed with tears, and he's blinking fast, trying to hold them back as he stares at the door, where Grian and Scar are just about to walk out.
Grian pauses, glancing back at Mumbo. His eyes twitch, a kind look on his face. "He's alive. And recovering. He's going to be okay. Can even go back to hero work next month" He smiles. "He is even one of the main supporters of our offer. So think about it Virus. Things could be better if you just do this."
They leave, finally. And the tears finally fall, Mumbo's body shaking with sobs.
Jimmy is alive. He is okay. And he wants Mumbo to join the rehabilitation program, he wants Mumbo to get another chance even after he nearly killed him.
The bloody feathers on his suit seem to finally fall off, drifiting down to the floor of the cell, no longer feeling the weight of them on him as he cries.
It's going to be okay.