Unrecognizable

~Chapter Twelve~

3 months earlier

It'd been a week since Mumbo retreated into the mini laboratory he had built under his base. Having left just a sign noting his absence, Mumbo hadn't surfaced in quite a little bit. Of course, that wasn't out of the ordinary, as randomly disappearing for about a week was pretty normal. Large projects were called large for a reason, after all. And it wasn't like he needed to leave-- the brit had been sure to bring all the supplies he needed for his project.

And said project was... Not going too well. Mumbo had barely slept a wink since he had begun his work, and was starting to feel the repercussions. His hands and legs were shaking, and he was beginning to be rather sloppy. He could barely focus on what he was doing. And that wasn't ideal, seeing that he was working with serious redstone here.

But he was going to push through. He'd complete his project-- even if it killed him. Which he surely hoped it wouldn't, or, at least not too many times. Regaining life grows quite tedious, especially if it's too repetitive. So, Mumbo quite hoped he wouldn't be too harmed in the making of this.

Of his project.

Of his cloning device.

Well... it wasn't exactly a cloning device, per se. It was more of a matter duplicating device. That's how Mumbo described it, at least. Calling it a cloning device would insinuate that it would be able to create life out of nothing, which wasn't possible. Not in any way Mumbo knew, anyway. So, Mumbo decided that it was a matter duplicating device. Or it would be, anyway, once he got it to work. Right now it was just a few chambers that electrocuted anything that went near it. Mumbo had the scorch marks to prove that.  

But he wasn't about to give up. No, he knew what he wanted to do, and he could just feel that he was almost there. He just had to persevere for a bit longer and he'd be golden. Plus, he had worked far too long and hard on this to give up now. The brit was invested in this now. Perhaps if he was only a day or two in the making of this he could simply give up, but not anymore. Mumbo knew that he'd passed the point of no return. He was following through with this no matter what.

Mumbo was typing furiously on a computer-like machine whose screen Mumbo had modeled after his communicator's when said communicator dinged twice with two messages. They were both private whispers from Xisuma, reading,

XisumaVoid whispers to you: Hey Mumbo, haven't seen you in a bit. Wanted to check in
XisumaVoid whispers to you: I'm at your base

Mumbo couldn't truthfully say he was upset that Xisuma wanted to speak with him. It had been a little bit since he had retreated into his base; it was only normal that the admin would want to check up on him. The brit just hoped that X wouldn't implore too much as to what he had been doing. Quickly typing out a confirmation that he'd be out soon, Mumbo walked over to a staircase in the corner of his room. 

Mumbo had designed the room to mirror his base's ruined theme. Having used materials to give it an old and run-down look, he was quite proud of his secret room. Moss climbed up the chipped, broken stone walls, ever increasing in size. The rocky floor was bumpy and uneven, with stones jutting out in random spots. Torches and lamps lined the walls, casting a bright yellow glow that contrasted the electric blue-white from the screen of the computer. In the corner stood a spiral staircase leading to his base. A stone button was set up on the wall beside it, leading to a piston-powered opening at the top. Cobwebs were thrown aimlessly into corners, adding to the ruined atmosphere. The place looked like it had been abandoned for years, except for the large brown-gray machine in the middle, which stood out enormously. 

The brit placed his palm on the button, releasing it when he heard the opening of the piston door. Running up the stairs as fast as he could, Mumbo barely had made it out before the floor closed back up. Squinting his eyes against the natural sunlight, Mumbo realized how much not emerging from his base for an entire week affected him. He made a mental note to do so more often. He also had to fix the timing on his piston door, so he didn't have to run for his life each time he tried to leave.