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"There you are!"
Scar swooped down into the shopping district, landing behind Mumbo. Mumbo practically leaped out of his skin. He yelped, spinning around and scattering the bundles of goods tucked under his arms.
"Scar, you about gave me a heart attack." He melted forward into Scar's arms, burying his head in his shoulder. "I'm getting old. My fragile health can't take the shock."
Scar gave him a pat on the back and a kiss on the head. "There, all better."
The Mumbo-shaped blob in his arms chuckled and stepped back, solidifying into a Mumbo-shaped Mumbo. He bent down and scooped his bundles up. One of Cub's fireworks shot into the sky, its hiss-boom marking the hour even if it was too bright to see it. Mumbo glanced down at his wristwatch. "Scar, are you actually early for a date?"
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean!" Scar puffed up in mock indignation. "You're late to plenty of things, too. Just last month, you were—"
"Half an hour late because I was fiddling with sugarcane, yes, yes, I know." Mumbo slipped the bundles into his inventory, double-checking their contents as he did. "It's just—you had to pick the day I was running late to be on time."
"Always glad to be of service!"
Scar and Mumbo could not have been said to lack opportunities to see each other. They'd been living next door for seasons now, and except when one or the other was off-server, Scar never had to go far to chat with Mumbo. Still, he liked making days to do things together. They both had the bad habit of getting absorbed in their work and forgetting the outside world existed, and with opposition to the Permit Office ramping up, Scar was finding himself busier with his Poe-Poe duties than he'd anticipated. It was good to take a break. Healthy.
Mumbo dug a crumpled-up piece of paper out of his pocket and stared at the cramped writing on it. "Huh. I thought I was going to another shop, but I actually have everything I need," he said. "Can we drop this off at my base real quick?"
"Of course, of course! I wouldn't want to tire you out carrying all that." Scar turned and headed back towards the… visually distinctive portal Pearl had built for them at the center of the shopping district.
"Yeah, I think my arms would fall off if I had to carry"—Mumbo pulled open one of his bundles—"a stack of glow ink sacs all day."
"They'd fall clean off the bone, yeah. I'd be sad. I like your arms."
"I'm quite partial to them myself."
They entered the Nether, walking across the rickety scaffolding that crisscrossed the bedrock roof. Scar waved to the skeletons and drowned guarding his portal. They responded by launching projectiles at him. He laughed. You could never fault those guys for slacking on the job.
Mumbo dragged him out of their range, towards one of the other portals clustered around the Magical Mountain area. "This is why I use Joel's portal." They stepped into the swirling purple light. Dizziness overtook Scar, and he had the feeling of falling through the ground before the dull crimson of the Nether gave way to the colorful buildings of Joel's city.
"Everyone's so dramati—waugh!"
Someone was in front of the portal. Scar narrowly avoided crashing into Joel, who jumped back with a squeak he'd surely deny making. He sidestepped just in time for Mumbo to come tumbling out of the portal as well. Predictably, Mumbo had the same reaction as Joel, like two identical records set on a time delay.
Joel placed his hands on his hips. It was probably meant to make him look serious, but was undercut by the custom statue of himself juggling horse heads behind him. "What are you two doing stumbling out of my portal? Wait, is one of you—surely not."
"Hello, Joel! Surely not what?" Scar stepped out into the courtyard, away from the awful gurgling of the portal. Mumbo followed after him.
With a glance back at the portal, which he had been about to enter, Joel sighed and turned to face them. "If you're playing dumb, Scar, I'm going to be very unhappy. You're supposed to be the law around here, aren't you?"
"I assure you, we know nothing," Mumbo piped up from Scar's side. "We're just going to my base."
"What's this about the law?" Scar asked. He was technically off duty today, but he felt he should be keeping tabs on Poe-Poe business. It was the principle of the thing.
Joel pinched his temple, scowling. "Someone's stolen from my bloomin' shop. I was checking the profits a minute ago, and someone hadn't paid, like I'm not poor enough already." He threw Scar a glare. "Are you sure it wasn't you?"
The audacity! "I would never." Scar folded his arms over his chest. "Or, at least not intentionally, and not from you. Not in the market for much honey or slime, you understand."
"Nobody is," Joel said. His head drooped like a dejected puppy. It was almost a pathetic enough display to encourage Scar to throw his shops an extra diamond or two. Almost. At once, the disappointment left Joel's manner, and he clenched his fist at his side. "It's probably Pearl. I've been messing with her purpur, so she must have thought it was fair game."
Mumbo said, "So you're storming into the Nether to…"
"To visit her shops and get some payback." Joel flashed a dangerous grin. Then, making eye contact with Scar, he clammed up. "Uh, I mean, do law-abiding activities. Yes."
"Don't worry, I'm off-duty," Scar reassured him.
"…Right." Joel sidled backwards towards the portal. His hand twitched towards the sword strapped onto his waist, before he seemingly decided better of threatening them. "I'll be going now. Enjoy your… whatever you're doing."
"Always lovely to see you, Joel," Scar called as the glow of the portal swallowed him up. He could be a bit volatile, but he was nice. A lovely new addition to the server, even if Scar did not envy Pearl for whatever revenge was about to be brought down upon her.
Mumbo led Scar up one of the staircases, weaving through the city to get back to his base. The sight of open grass and the edges of Mumbo's wheat fields was a welcome one when they finally escaped the tight, maze-like side streets. They trudged up the hill to Mumbo's base, going around the far side to take the slow, if mechanically exciting, elevator.
"I'll be one minute. The item sorting system should be operational, so I can just drop everything off," Mumbo said, darting into one of his storefronts. Scar sat down on a nearby, unsorted shulker to wait. (Leaving shulkers everywhere like Scar did—oh, how the mighty fall!)
He didn't even have enough time to get bored before he heard a chest opening and closing a few too many times. Mumbo's voice carried through the open doorway. "Why isn't the hopper…?"
"Did it break again?" Scar asked. There was a long silence, followed by a sigh and a chest lid slamming shut, which he interpreted as a yes.
They spent the next half-hour investigating what was wrong with the noodles. Scar hadn't much of an idea what was going on, hopper minecarts zipping along their tracks and feeding out into who knows where, and he was glad for that. Mumbo didn't look like he was having much fun.
After a cursory survey of the system, he was removing his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeve. He then dived into the mechanism to readjust the minecarts by hand, muttering to himself all the while. Scar appreciated the show—despite his many persuasive arguments on the topic, he'd yet to convince Mumbo to dress down even a little bit—but he was happy to watch it a safe distance away from the redstone lines themselves.
His communicator buzzed with a few messages while Mumbo worked.
<cubfan135> This is a reminder from the Permit Office. Shops must be kept stocked at all times. (Yes, Pearl, even if they don't make many sales.) Failure to comply may result in seizure of your permits.
<PearlescentMoon> but i just restocked everything
<PearlescentMoon> wait
<PearlescentMoon> who stole all my purpur?
<Smallishbeans> SERVES YOU RIGHT
<Smallishbeans> i mean oh no i'm so sorry that happened to you
<Smallishbeans> i bet you are very sad right now
<PearlescentMoon> :(
<iJevin> This is an announcement from the No-Poe! As we all know, the Permit Office is a tyrannical bureaucracy in need of swift removal. A Hermit is stolen from, and what do they do? Threaten to take her permits. For shame, Poe-Poe, for shame!
<iJevin> Join me in solidarity with Pearl. They can't stop us all. SAY NO TO POE!
Scar frowned at the notifications as they came in. He should probably be doing something about this, but there were three other workers at the Permit Office. Surely they could handle a little purpur theft without him. It was his day off.
From the depths of the redstone noodles, Mumbo bit back a swear. "Oh, you're kidding me! What's gone wrong now?"
Scar craned his neck to catch sight of where Mumbo was squeezed into the system. "Everything alright down there?"
"No," Mumbo said miserably. With a sigh, he shimmied out of the mechanism and climbed up towards Scar. Redstone dust clung to his hair and mustache, giving him the appearance of someone who had lost a fight with a bag of glitter. He slumped back against the wall. "Sorry, I know I'm making you wait."
"Y'know, I think I might have a way to fix your problem." It was a testament to Mumbo's desperation that the look he gave Scar was hopeful, like Scar might have miraculously learned redstone in the time he was watching. Although if you thought about it, his solution was certainly more economical. An improvement, even.
He placed an empty chest in the center of the floor, presenting it with a flourish. "Behold, a chest! If you shove your items in here, you can ignore your storage system for as long as your heart desires."
Mumbo laughed. He walked over to the chest and, after a moment's hesitation, began tossing his miscellaneous junk into it. "These are bad habits you're promoting."
"It's not a bad habit if you tell yourself you'll clean it up later," Scar replied. "Now, come on. I know the perfect place to ease the stress of working with redstone!"
His initial thought had been to take Mumbo to the cat containment zone on the land he'd cleared for the zoo. Cats were cute, and relaxing, and he had a bunch piled up in boats, just waiting to be visited. However, Mumbo had pointed out that there was a perfectly good cat café in the shopping district, courtesy of Cleo, and that it would be more of a proper date than sitting around in an empty field and chatting, which they did a lot of normally. So, back to the shopping district it was, this time on their wings.
Even from the air, it was clear something was going on. More Hermits than usual were darting between the shops in decidedly suspicious attire, black cloaks wrapped around their bodies and hoods covering their faces. He noticed one person making off with a stack of banners from Skizz's shop, another stuffing nylium, of all things, into their pockets from Cub's two competing stands.
Mumbo pointed at one of the figures, wobbling in the air with the movement. "That's blatant theft, right? Shouldn't you be doing something?" The ground rushed up to meet them as they neared Cleo's café.
"I was approved for leave today, so it's not my problem." Scar touched down. It was a clean landing, his knees only cracking slightly with the effort.
"I wasn't aware the Permit Office had leave."
"We don't. I made a form and forged Cub's signature." He snickered at the memory of sneaking into the office to borrow their official stationery. "That way, Grian and Skizz can't say anything."
The bell over the café door jingled as they stepped in. A few of the nearby cats lifted their heads from their perches by the windows. "What about Cub?"
"That's what the second copy with Grian's signature is for."
They removed their shoes and placed them in the cubbies by the entryway, then sanitized their hands with the splash potion system Cleo had set up. The whole procedure was rather inconvenient when you just needed a book, and perhaps unnecessary, given how few people were on the server to spread diseases to the animals. Scar never minded. He respected the commitment to the authentic experience.
At the counter, Scar slotted a diamond into the drink machine and grabbed the mug of hot cocoa it dispensed. He was halfway towards carrying it to a table when he noticed Mumbo wasn't following. Looking back, he saw Mumbo digging through his pockets.
"Here, I'll spot you." Scar set his mug down and hurried back to Mumbo. Ignoring Mumbo's sputtered protests, he dropped another diamond in the system. "You can repay me by letting me choose the latte art."
"I have diamonds in my ender chest. Probably." Mumbo peeked over Scar's shoulder as he chose the foam design. Cleo had recently gotten one of those custom coffee printers from off-world, and they'd wasted no time setting it up to draw cat pictures on people's lattes. It was almost enough to make Scar into a coffee person.
He eventually settled on a design of one of the tabbies curled with her tail over her nose. Drink in hand, Mumbo returned with Scar to their table. One of the cats was sniffing at Scar's cocoa, and he shooed her down onto the floor.
They sipped at their drinks and talked about nothing in particular, as usual—opinions on movies, the latest server gossip. After they'd been sitting down for a while, the cats grew more comfortable, coming up to beg for the scraps of fish they knew Scar brought with him whenever he visited. Soon, he had one in his lap and another tucked against his side, with a third cat stretched across their table, tail swishing dangerously close to their drinks.
His communicator buzzed against his side. The cat lying there startled and leaped off the bench. Careful not to dislodge his other friend, who was purring against his chest, Scar pulled out the communicator. He had a single message.
Grian whispers to you: shopping district is bad. where are you
Scar sucked a breath in through his teeth. He'd been seeing more and more people dashing past the window with stolen goods from other shops (including Etho, who had walked into the café, grabbed a pile of books, noticed they were there, and then wordlessly exited the building), so it was only a matter of time before someone expected him to help. Nodding along to Mumbo's description of a trail he had hiked, he typed his response.
You whisper to Grian: I am enjoying my day off that I booked before
Grian whispers to you: ???
Grian whispers to you: you dont have days off??
You whisper to Grian: Cub gave me permission
In his infinite foresight, he had taken pictures of his excuse notes, one of which he selected from his gallery and sent to Grian.
Grian whispers to you: scar why is my signature on there
Grian whispers to you: i never signed that
Shoot. Wrong picture.
He couldn't delete the image without looking even more suspicious. Left with no other options, he was forced to deploy his ultimate tactic: ending the conversation.
You whisper to Grian: nO REASON
You whisper to Grian: Talk to you later goodbye!
Before Grian could reply, he turned his communicator off and slapped it down on the table. The cat in his lap flicked her ear in irritation. He ran a hand down her back in an attempt to soothe her, though if he was being honest, it was more for him than anything else.
Mumbo was watching him with a pinched expression. "What was all that about?"
"Nothing, nothing." Scar tried to force a smile, but he barely held it for a second before caving. "I might have sent Grian the leave form with his signature on it, and boy, did he not buy that."
"That's the danger with Grian, he's hard to gaslight," Mumbo said with a laugh. "I know what—we'll just run away if the Permit Office shows up. I don't think I want to be here for any showdowns anyway."
They managed to eke out another half-hour at the café. In that time, a persistent white cat succeeded in covering Mumbo's suit in hair, and Scar had his hand pounced on twice. All in all, a fruitful visit.
It was as the sky outside was beginning to tinge a light pink that Mumbo's communicator lit up. Mumbo looked at the message, then shoved the device in his pocket. "They've announced a raid on the shopping district in five minutes. We might want to get going."
"Aww. I'm starting to think that No-Poe has a point…" They returned their dishes and selected their complimentary books from the shelves. Mumbo tried to brush the cat fur off his jacket to no avail. Then they were shoving their shoes back on and speeding off into the forest, just as they heard the Permit Office horns blaring in the distance.
Once they were under the cover of the trees, Scar slowed. Unless someone ran this way (unlikely, given the fact that everyone had wings), they were unlikely to be spotted. The river flowed gently to their left, clear enough to spot the salmon that darted between the rocks and the aquatic grasses. Besides the occasional burst of a rocket overhead, the world was quiet. Peaceful.
Mumbo laced their fingers together. Their hands dangled between them as they navigated the terrain, picking their way over tree roots that split the ground and around bushes whose burrs clung to their pants. Scar knew this was nowhere near Mumbo's top speed, but Mumbo made no attempt to change that, seemingly content to let Scar set the pace.
Voices carried through the forest from beyond a small hill up ahead. Scar immediately pivoted to head towards them. At Mumbo's frown, he whispered, "It doesn't sound like anyone from the Permit Office. Aren't you curious who's out here holding a secret meeting?"
"Depending on the type of meeting they're having, I'm not sure I'd like to know," Mumbo murmured back. He let Scar lead him forward anyway, the voices growing more and more distinct.
Cleo's laugh rang clear. "Oh, everyone would hate that. You should absolutely do it."
More quietly, and nervously, came False. "Should I? It feels a bit evil, after everyone's already been stolen from."
"Yeah, but who cares? Besides, you won the permit fair and square. We should have just been better at the game."
"That'll be my defense. If anyone objects to me using my permit to sell their stolen goods, I can call them a sore loser."
"Exactly! It's the perfect plan."
Scar and Mumbo had crested the hill. The other side sloped down to a small inlet where water from the river lapped at reeds in the rocky soil. Cleo and False were sitting on two boulders near a steep cliff opposite Scar and Mumbo. Scattered between them were a collection of goodies: stacks of logs and golden carrots, stone and prismarine, and dozens of other blocks that, unless his memory was failing him, neither of them had the permits for.
He took a step forward to get a better look.
Crack.
The two snapped halves of a twig lay under his boot. He froze. All that did was make himself more obvious, as both Cleo and False swiveled their heads to stare at him.
"Hello!" he called, hoping to play it casual. Mumbo was unsuccessfully attempting to blend into the shadows behind them, so Scar tugged him forward. They needed to present a united front. "Lovely evening for a walk, isn't it?"
False shared a look with Cleo. Their spoils (or, whoever's spoils those were—it seemed an awful lot for two people) were plainly visible, and neither was making an attempt to hide them. Glancing back up at them, she waved. "Hi, Scar. Mumbo."
"You two heard nothing," Cleo declared. She pointed a finger threateningly across the clearing. "Especially you, Scar. I'll be very cross if the rest of the Poe-Poe come flying in after you."
"Wuh—I'm simply passing through!" Scar let go of Mumbo's hand to hold his two up in surrender. "It's my day off! Can a man not go for a stroll without having people assume ill intent?"
"You're welcome to go for a walk. It's the eavesdropping on our scheme that we aren't thrilled about," False said. She tapped her chin thoughtfully and smiled. "Though I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."
Ah. Scar hadn't intended to rat her out (at least, not until tomorrow), but he wouldn't mind something to sweeten the prospect. "So what's the angle? What's my silence worth? Cut of the profits, or…"
"The shopping district is a mess. I still haven't used my joker permit. I use that to sell everything that was stolen, and everyone can have access to resources until this blows over." False's gaze narrowed. "How does a 50% discount sound to you?"
"That sounds excellent!"
"Hang on." Mumbo squinted down at the cove, raising his voice. "You're paying him to keep quiet, but not me?"
Cleo arched their eyebrows. "I mean…"
"Come on! I can totally be an informant! Here, I'll message Grian our coordinates right now, how's that sound?" He pulled out his communicator. In the deepening shadows of the woods, the screen cast a ghostly light over his face.
"You can have 50% off, too," False said hastily. At the glare Cleo gave her, she shrugged. "I don't think this business model's going to last more than a week either way."
Cleo nodded. "It does seem likely to get struck down in court. Bdubs might also appreciate a discount, if you get my meaning."
As the two of them returned to discussing logistics, Mumbo grabbed Scar's arm and tugged him back into the forest. "Let's go before someone less bribe-able stumbles across this." Scar took slight offense to that, but did as Mumbo said. They began following the river once more, though from a further distance, until False and Cleo's voices had long ceased to echo through the trees.
Golden light bathed the canopy, dappling the leaf litter they walked on. Twilight was beginning to take hold of the woods, though, and it wouldn't be long before they needed a torch to see the back of their own hands. They curved back around to the open skies of the river. The bank was gentler here, the throng of trees giving way to soft sand and riverside bushes that flickered with fireflies.
Spotting a fallen tree, they sat down, the trunk sinking with their weight but holding steady. The water glowed with pinks and oranges, the darkness of the opposite shore sandwiched between it and the pastels of the sky above. Branches to their right hid the setting sun from view, long shadows cast over the sand like great cracks in the earth. Scar closed his eyes, taking in the gentle bubbling of the water over a distant stretch of rapids and the scrape-scrape-scrape of Mumbo dragging his foot through the sand beneath them. The shopping district could burn to the ground, for all he cared. He would be content smelling the smoke from here with Mumbo by his side.
The motion of Mumbo's foot stopped. "Oh," Mumbo said, more an exhalation than a word. "Scar, I think I might have done something very bad."
"Like what?" Scar cracked an eye open. Mumbo was gazing out across the water. His mouth was drawn in a tight line, his hands closed into fists.
"Joel owns the glow ink shop, doesn't he?" It was phrased like a question, but he pronounced it with the finality of a man reading out his own death sentence.
"I think so. We could go ask if you aren't sure—"
"No, no need to ask!" Before Scar could even consider hopping off the log, Mumbo threw an arm in front of him, barring his path. He was wide-eyed with panic. Combined with his stained, dust-and-fur-covered suit jacket, he looked like a crazed survivor in an apocalypse.
Scar was concerned, of course, but more than that, he was confused. "Mumbo, seriously. What's going on?"
Mumbo locked eyes with him. "You have to promise not to tell anyone, okay? I need you to take this secret to your grave."
When was the last time he died, he wondered? This morning? It wouldn't be hard to keep something hidden until his next death, at least. He gave Mumbo a lopsided smile. "I can certainly take it to my grave."
Mumbo must truly have been stressed, because he didn't question Scar's wording. Instead, he leaned forward, burying his head in his hands. "You know how I was shopping when you came by? I was getting glow ink sacs for a project, but I'd run out of diamonds, and my ender chest is a disaster, so I thought to myself, right? 'Why bother digging through that, when I should have some profits in my shops I can pay with? I'll go grab those.' And then…"
Oh.
"And then I came along and distracted you." Glee was not the proper response to this confession, but Scar couldn't keep it from creeping into his voice. "Mumbo Jumbo, are you saying it's you who sto—"
"Don't say it out loud," Mumbo hissed, raising his head. "I'm—Scar, what do I do? It's all my fault!"
Scar hummed. "I dunno. Sure, you started it, but it's not like you asked Joel to steal all of Pearl's stock. You didn't make Cub send that silly announcement."
"That's not the point!" As if seeing him for the first time, Mumbo blinked at Scar, his face paling. "What if Cub shuts down all my shops? What if they take all my diamonds, and then I have to grind for everything by hand? What if—"
"Shh." Scar placed a finger on Mumbo's lips, shutting him up. "None of that will happen, because we aren't going to say anything." He nodded his most convincing of nods.
A second of silence. Mumbo laughed. Scar's hand drifted away from his mouth to sit on his shoulder, thumb rubbing circles into it. "What, just keep it a secret? For how long?"
"Until people stop caring. Until the season ends. Whichever comes first." Scar grinned. He thought of the deepslate diamond ore tucked away in one of his chests. "It's easier than you think."
"I—Sure. Sure! I can do that. I can be a thief. Yep. That's me."
Scar would have liked to do something more. Give Mumbo advice or reassurance about his new life of crime, which, as he understood it, didn't come as naturally to everyone as it did to him.
Unfortunately, they were interrupted by someone dipping low over the river. A flash of red-yellow-blue darted past just above the water, close enough that the tips of its wings skimmed its muted reflection. The Grian-colored blur gasped and threw its wings wide, coming to a sudden stop. "Scar! Where have you been?"
Right. They'd built the Permit Office back in these woods.
The very Permit Office he was playing hooky from.
"Go, go, go!" Scar grabbed Mumbo's hand and dragged him off the log. They'd kept their elytra on, which was the only reason they had any chance of escape. Scar slammed a couple rockets into the ground. They shot into the sky together, and Mumbo's hand tightened around his, the only thing keeping them from shooting off in separate directions.
Grian shouted after them from below. "You too, Mumbo? You're supposed to be a good influence on him!"
"Sorry, Grian. I've been chosen by the life of crime!" Mumbo called back. Whether his words reached Grian through the wind whistling around them was dubious, but Scar and Mumbo laughed with delight anyway, racing off into the night.