Chapter Text
Mumbo stared up at this bird-man creature with wide, terrified eyes. His face was gaunt with hunger and exhaustion. His clothing was torn and stained with blood, he was down to his shirt and trousers- no shoes, no jacket, those were lost a while ago. But what the hell was going on? Who was this alien? He hadn't seen it before- he'd seen the species but not this exact one- last thing he remembers were alarms blaring and his hands stinging, going numb- he'd been taken again that easily?
Come to think of it. The cell was different too, they'd moved him.
Oh god, was this a new ship? At least the cell was bigger this time- and something he hadn't seen in years - a bed! Hopefully they don't want his heart in exchange for it.
God, how did he get himself into this mess?
It was any other day, he was on his way back from work, briefcase in hand. He'd gotten out of work late that day- he just had to get the final design down and finished. It could mean a big promotion for him, and a lot of progress for the company. He was excited.
He'd even treated himself on the walk home! A job well done. As he looked for a bin to throw his wrapper away, he wondered into a darker street, one away from home, he spotted a bin, threw his wrapper away and turned to feel a sharp prick in his neck.
Next thing he knew, he was in a cage. In some sort of cargo being transported with other crates. His treat was the last thing he ate for at least 48 hours after he'd woken up- he'd tried his best to keep count of the hours dragging by. It was the only entertainment he had.
His stomach was screaming at him, eating itself, when finally, the loud blare of the engines turned into a quiet rumble, someone- something came and threw him some slab of dried meat. He wasn't proud of how he devoured that, probably convincing the aliens even more that he was just a basic beast.
Yes. You heard him right. Aliens. Creatures he'd only ever seen in movies- read about in books! Here. And they'd taken him? He didn't know why and he wasn't excited to find out.
It felt like years till his diet changed from salted meat and water. Till he got to see something other than cool metal bars and wooden cargo crates. How he didn't die, he didn't know, but he felt close.
It was the day his location changed, he must've looked like absolute shit. He hadn't showered in months , was only fed questionable meat and water, and had lived in a literal cage. However, he'd gotten an upgrade. A cell. Woo.
It was better, at least he could actually walk around, if only a little bit. It was about triple the size of the cage with a large mirror that turned into a window at the push of a button (the button was on the outside, otherwise he'd be making some extreme gestures to the bastards that had put him in here.), that took up much of the third wall.
There was nowhere to hide in here. Except maybe under the pathetic excuse for a blanket they'd so kindly left for him to sit on.
As he dissociated, staring at his unkempt self in the mirror, a small hatch in the bottom of the heavily locked door opened and a tray slid through. He was curious, sue him, it's literally his nature.
He sighed and picked himself up, walking the short distance. He was planning to wait until at least a month of being here to crawl across the floor like a slug. He picked up his tray, tentatively sniffing the stuff that was unceremoniously dumped on top.
One of the items, he could tell immediately, it was that horrendous salted meat that he'd been forcing himself to eat to survive the cargo hold. The other stuff was new. Some sort of purple mashed up slop and chunks of green. Not the most comforting but definitely interesting. And new. Thank all the gods above for the new .
He took himself back over to his seating arrangement of pathetic blanket and sat back down. Crossing his long legs, he sighed and bit the bullet and scooped up some of the mash and put it into his mouth. It was, not good, but not salted meat, so better. The green cube was okay? Slightly sour and maybe… spicy? But that was about it. He hoped it wouldn't upset his stomach further. That had probably been the worst experience yet. The adjustment period.
He sat back against the cold wall and sighed, what had his life become? To get excited by purple mash and green cubes? Why him? Why hadn't he just carried that bit of rubbish home with him and gone the short way back? Why?
He cried. He's not too much of a man to admit it, he sobbed like a baby thinking of his life and what he'd left behind. He'd do anything to go back but he was very sure that unless he was somehow able to take down an entire ship of, of things. Not like he'd have a chance, they drugged him anytime they wanted to move him. He wasn't going anywhere. This was his new life- some sort of display? A pet? A shiver ran up his spine, an experiment?
He hadn't been probed yet but god he hoped that wouldn't ever come true.
It wasn't long before the flap opened back up again, he supposed they were demanding the tray back- did that mean they knew he had some sort of sentience and just didn't care? He supposed it didn't matter, he stood up and kicked it hard through the flap for good measure. It did cheer him up to hear some sort of frightened gurgle from the other side of the door before the flap locked in place.
He was about to go and sit back on his throne when the trickling of water interrupted him. In the corner of the room, where a large tile had been strangely lowered, water trickled down from the ceiling in some sort of shower. It burst forth into a more forthcoming stream and honestly, he didn't think twice. He stripped down to his briefs and dove under the water, scrubbing months of grime off his skin with his tie as a makeshift sponge. Once he felt as clean as he could without soap, he gulped down the lukewarm water, when he was sure if he had anymore, he'd probably throw up the meal he'd just had, he reached for his clothes, shirt and trousers first- he got to work, rinsing and ringing out the months of sweat that had built up, he laid them out once he was satisfied. It was still running so he risked it and washed his jacket as well.
When he was done, he laid everything out, hoping they'd dry fast, before sitting on the bare floor with his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. This was the best thing that had happened to him in months. He hoped he at least would get regular showers now.
He did, while he was there. He eventually figured out that it was some sort of show and tell house, a museum, he thought at first. He was wrong, it was an auction. He stayed a month, he was put to sleep a few times, waking up to find needle marks in his skin made him have several panic attacks. But he recovered, as much as he could.
Then he was sold.
He's certain he was sold, strictly because of the environment- he'd been wheeled up on a stage in an ornate glass tank with holes for him to breath, poked by poles to stand for the audience of aliens in front of him.
He'd gone to the highest bidder. A slimy looking frog man with some sort of furry feminine looking rat clinging to its arm. He was scared. He'd had the right to be.
Ever had to fight in an underground fight ring? Well! Mumbo has now! It'd been about a year since he'd been bought and he was a killing machine. He was stronger, sturdier and endured much more than his opponents could. He'd never felt so strong before- sure he was tall and often told he was intimidating but he'd never hurt a fly! Well- until now. He'd fought in cold, fire, water, there had even been a makeshift jungle once but he thinks it was discarded because the viewers couldn't tell what was going on. He was a champion. He was alive. He was a murderer.
He wanted to die. But he just couldn't let some alien be the reason why and he couldn't bring himself to do it either. He had killed . He was a goddamn architect/engineer before all of this- he wanted to help people and now he was surrounded by things he couldn't understand and the only way to survive was to fight .
He hated it. He'd do anything to get out of this.
He had an idea.
“ꈤꂦꅏ ꍟꈤ꓄ꍟꋪꀤꈤꁅ ꓄ꃅꍟ ꋪꀤꈤꁅ, ꓄ꃅꍟ ꃅꀎꂵꍏꈤ!” Something blared over the speakers. He guessed the announcer?
He walked into the ring through a tunnel connected to his transport cage. Still dressed in his ripped up suit, he'd been offered no change of clothes in months, he was tired, he was hungry, he was ready to brawl.
The other competitor was announced. It was a scared looking bird creature. Yellow and baby blue feathers decorated it's body, the colour was gorgeous, it reminded him of a summer's day, a picnic. It was tall like him but still much shorter. Young. He felt pity.
The cut-through-anything talons gave him a pause as he prepared himself. He was going to lose today.
It didn't take long for the bird creature to stop begging for help, it puffed up it's feathers to try and intimidate him, it was one of the first creatures he'd fought in the beginning, because they were so delicate. He wondered why this one was sent now? Punishment? Reward? Whatever it was, he was about to let some aliens down.
Mumbo took a solid blow to the chest, talons dug into his flesh, leaving a deep wound that stained his shirt with blood. The birds other foot dug it's claws into his arm. He screamed in pain, the claws had to have been tipped with something- it burned! The bird screeched in victory.
He quickly found his bearings and threw the bird to the floor, it crashed hard in a lump of feathers and pained squawks with barely any effort at all. His plan was to get hurt enough where he'd need severe medical attention- not die.
He took a fistful of wing. He pulled and bent. He had to make sure it wouldn't come and finish the job after he was down for the count.
A loud cracking sound filled the arena as the bird screamed in agony, it's bones feeling like sticks under his hands. He picked it up again as it weakly fought for it's life, and threw it across the arena for good measure.
As he stood and watched as the bird tried in desperation to crawl away from him, back to the door that let him in. A spell of dizziness cast upon him, his vision going dark as he stumbled, adrenaline wearing off, he limped towards his doorway. He was so tired. He wanted to go home. He slid down the wall, slowly losing consciousness as his warm, sticky blood stained more of his shirt.
“-mm sorry…” He mumbled before giving in to the call of unconsciousness.
It was a shit idea in hindsight, ah yes Mumbo, make yourself weak and vulnerable while surrounded by evil creatures! Good plan! He almost missed the arena.
When he was deemed no longer fit for fighting. Guess what? No, go on, guess!
He was deemed perfect for science. Or torture? He wasn't 100% sure of what was happening. However, he was pretty sure they had no reason to be torturing him for a reason- so he deduced science.
Fuck science. He was very quite upset and quite ready to give into the loving arms of good Lady Death. They wouldn't let him. Everytime it went a little too far and he heard to void call to him- they brought him back. He'd learnt not to refuse food, because then they just stick tubes in you to make sure you are getting nutrients!
At least he was asleep when he was dissected. The scars were enough to leave him with nightmares though.
Years passed, he remembered home a little less everyday, he couldn't remember the face of the lady that had given him his last treat. Couldn't remember his neighbours name. Nothing…
He imagined sometimes, being back, having a picnic, playing on a beach, he even tried his best to remember what an average day in the office was like. Any reminder of home was joy and joy was the only thing that, well, kept him going? But even then, he was so ready to die.
He was never going home. All he felt, all the time, was pain. He wanted to go home.
But could he?
He stopped crying awhile ago, it was a waste of water and honestly, it just wouldn't come. He felt like he'd exhausted his tear ducts at this point.
He stared up from the slab he was strapped tightly too, the straps dug into his flesh, open wounds being roughly sewn back together by the same white face he'd seen a lot this last year or so.
They were pure white. Their skin looked almost porcelain, arms long and bent at strange angles. Their bottom half, like a snake with two little spider legs coming out of their front. Strange and terrifying. He had enough nightmare fuel for centuries .
It wasn't long before he was out back into his cell, white walls and floor with glass walls. Perfect test tube.
Except this time, there was something new. In the cell next to his, a creature, it’s colours were pretty, he'd give it that.
Some sort of moth creature stood, glaring defiantly at the porcelain monstrosity that had led him back to his cell.
They seemed to communicate, it seemed the moth wanted out and to possibly kill the porcelain creature and well, the creature seemed to grin mockingly and say no. Then it left.
And there Mumbo was, with a brand new alien, right in the cell next to his. He couldn't help but stare, the new colours were dazzling to his eyes that had been starved of any colour apart from his own blood for ages.
The moth seemed to notice his staring and made the conscious decision to sit on the side of her cell then furthest away from him. She seemed nervous but not, dangerous?
He tilted his head in thought, drifting off into his mind for a second before realising she had tilted her head in return. This first, tiniest, smallest piece of communication sent sparks through his heart he thought were long dead- excitement? Curiosity? He'd thought those feelings long gone. Now there was only conformity and acceptance.
He tilted his head to the other side, she copied. He sat up straighter, wincing at the pain his stitches rippled through his body. She seemed to be sympathetic. Hard to tell. It was a massive moth thing.
But he'd try, the first conversation he'd had in years and he was already judging- great job Mumbo.
He shook his head, and approached the glass separating them, she scooted closer but not up against the glass like him. He waved with his left hand, she looked confused but lifted her equivalent in the same way.
Oh my god- he was communicating- he smiled, for the first time in a long time, it hurt his cheeks, his lips cracked from their dryness, but the smallest spark of hope blossomed.
She seemed a bit taken a back by his smile but slowly approached when he didn't make any further aggressive movements.
“Hi, I'm Mumbo.” He croaked, voice wavering from just that short greeting.
“ɧȝʅʅԾ ԵɧȝՐȝ, ʍՎ ՌԹʍȝ ɿՏ ρȝԹՐʅ.” A soft chittering escaped her, it was comforting in a way.
He relaxed slightly at her attempt at communicating back to him, maybe he'd have some company before she was eventually killed or dissected like him.
“I wish I could understand just… someone.” He sighed and turned around to lean against the glass, looking away from her so she didn't see the tears he'd been without for so long.
Pearl looked at the Human sadly and couldn't help but wonder how long exactly he'd been here. He looked worn, near death and severely uncared for.
She tried to offer comfort back to the human, to offer anything, the poor guy definitely looked like he could do with one good thing.
She was surprised at first, to see a human. She was a part of the side of the galaxy that believed humans were more than just killing machines. However, it was still a bit scary coming into such close quarters with one.
After the one-sided screaming match she'd graciously given the Porcinagga- a race known for their cruel indifference- and her introduction to the human, she just hoped her crew would show up soon. They were on their first big travel mission, had finally gotten to the other side of the galaxy and boom. Attacked on their last refuelling trip. She was captured but the boys made it off the planet safe.
She was sure they'd be back for her soon.
Alarms blared and red lights flashed. Casting the white cells into pink prisons of noise . God the noise would not shut up- it was the worst alarm Mumbo had ever heard, some sort of hiss mixed with a grumble.
He'd take an iPhone alarm over this. Maybe.
A group of three porcelain monstrosities burst into the cell block. Opening Mumbo's and the moths cells, they held spears with sharpened ends, pointed at the moth, ready to skewer her should she try to run. The largest porcelain thing grabbed him and dragged him forward, demanding him to… attack? The moth?
He looked towards her, her wings were tucked tightly at her back as her eyes scanned for any exit. There weren't any, it was Mumbo or the porcelain beasts.
A loud explosion rocked the room they were in, everyone jolted to the side and Mumbo used the chance to dart between the moth and the porcelain things- at the very least, he wasn't going to let her die before him. At this point, her one moment of kindness from earlier was enough for him to trade his life for hers. Space needed at least one non-psychopath.
He lashed out and grabbed the nearest creatures spear. Some sort of acid laced on the handle burnt his hand but he didn't care. He was seeing red. He hadn't wanted to hurt someone this badly in a long time.
He impaled one, shattered the next with the butt of the spear and watched as the third turned tail and ran/slithered away. He turned back to the moth to smile at her and show her it was okay, only to wobble. His hand felt strangely numb- the spear fell from his hands. Black spots dotted his vision until he was tumbling down like a sack of bricks.
He was out like a light.