Resurfaced

Chapter 4

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ
Author's note: This chapter contains blood. This paragraph is marked with ~~Start~~ and ~~End~~. If you skip the transitions a bit strange, but you won't miss anything.
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When Mumbo came to, the first thing he felt was pain. Crushing pain that wrapped itself around his left leg and climbed up into his lower back. It felt like his bones had shattered, and given the recent battle, he wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. An attempt at opening his eyes alerted him to a pounding headache just behind his temples, so he decided to just listen to his surroundings instead.
He could hear the scuffle of footsteps and low murmuring voices to his left. They sounded human. Either the Watchers had let them get away, or they had thrown the Hermits in some kind of cell. Mumbo wasn't entirely sure which he would prefer. The air was hot, hotter than the shopping district, and much hotter than the End. Where did that leave? The nether? It felt too unlikely. Unable to stand waiting any longer, the redstoner focused his eyes open, ignoring how it made his headache flare.
Hermits in various states of consciousness lay in a massive dogpile around him. Almost everyone seemed to have some sort of injury. Only a handful were up and walking, and those who were were attempting to move the unconscious ones. Satisfied that the others were as safe as they could be, Mumbo examined the terrain a bit more closely.
They were in a very built-up mesa, terraforming and shops covering most of the clay underfoot. It took the Hermit a few seconds to realize why the surroundings felt so familiar. They were in the middle of the shopping district in the fourth hermit colony. Time and weather had left the buildings looking a bit worse for wear. Still, it was unmistakably the fourth colony's shopping district. More confused than ever, Mumbo pulled himself into a sitting position.
"Oh! You're awake! Okay, that's perfect, actually. We could use all the help we can get if you're up for it?" Mumbo looked up to see a very disheveled looking Joe Hills picking his way over to him. There were deep bags under his eyes, and his clothes were torn and bloody. He offers the redstoner a hand, which Mumbo gladly took.
"I think my leg is broken. I can't walk," he informed the Dog Catcher, "But other than that, I think I'm alright."
Joe gave a relieved chuckle at the news. "If that's the case, then you're pretty well off. I'll have Stress take a look at your leg, though." The poetic Hermit settled Mumbo on a makeshift bench off to the side of the road, allowing Mumbo to have a better view of the situation than he did from the ground. About half the hermits were still in a massive pile in the middle of the road, sporting various levels of injuries. Inside a nearby shop he could see the edges of a bed, and muffled voices came from inside. The only two conscious people he could see were Joe, who was carefully moving the unconscious hermits out of the road and into more comfortable positions, and Etho, who seemed remarkably well off for someone who was undoubtedly in the middle of the battle. Upon closer inspection, Mumbo realized that his right arm was wrapped up, and half-faded wounds suggested a healing potion.
Much to Mumbo's surprise, Stress came out to set his leg (it was, in fact, broken) and give him a health potion in less than twenty minutes. This made more sense when he was immediately sent to go find more medical supplies, along with water, food, and beds. Having been a member of the Hermitlands when this colony was created, he finds the materials with relative ease. In the end, he made several trips and even pointed Stress to some shops with supplies she may find useful in case she couldn't wait for him to return.
After making his fourth delivery run, Stress gave him the run-down of the situation. After the fight, Joe had sent them into the middle of nowhere to lose the Watchers but quickly realized they would need more medical supplies than they could gather quickly. When he was confident, the coast was clear, he sent them to the nearest abandoned colony to scavenge what they could.
He, Etho, and TFC had been put on supply gathering duty, having only sustained minor injuries and having lived in this colony while it was still active. Stress was attempting to heal some of the worse-off-but-non-critical hermits, with the aid of Hypno. Wells bonused between assisting them and helping the rest of the Hermits as they woke up. Scar was in another shop, using his vex magic to keep anyone on the brink of death alive; Joe was with him. The whole set up reminded Mumbo of a war refugee camp. Perhaps it was, in a way.
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A loud groaning interrupted her before she could tell Mumbo who was in what condition. He followed the healer to the farthest bed, where the sound was coming from, and instantly stumbled back when he saw its occupant. Iskall's face was drenched in half-dried blood, coming out of the holes where his eyes used to be. The organic one was covered by a large bandage that wrapped halfway around his skull, but it was soaked with blood and stained red. The patch over his right eye, however, had come undone, revealing a gaping, bloody hole. The robotic eye itself sat on a table next to him. The contraption was smoking slightly and coated in more half baked gore.
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"Iskall, he- he took an explosion straight to the face," Stress explained sadly. Her voice somehow turned even more solemn as she added, "He- he's going to be completely blind if he survives this." It took Mumbo a few seconds to comprehend the meaning of her words.
    "But- But he had a bionic eye before," Mumbo sputtered, unable to accept the news. "Why can't he have a second?"
    "His optical nerves are too damaged to pick up signals" Stress shook her head. "At best, he may be able to reagin minimal vision in his left eye. Enough so he can walk but not much else. I know it's hard, Mumbo. If you need a minute to yourself, you can take one, okay?" The healer's voice was soft and full of unprocessed pain. Mumbo knew the two were close, and he knew that if there was any possible way to help his friend, then she would. The resignation in her voice only severed to deepen his anger.
Now that he thought about it, he really was angry. Angry at the Watchers for doing this to them, to all of them, and angry at the universe for letting it happen.
Mumbo nodded to Stress and jogged out of the makeshift hospital without another word. He ran down streets at random, slowly picking up speed, lost in his own thoughts until he collapsed in front of a lamp post and cried. Cried because everything felt so much more real now, not that there were lasting consequences. Cried because Iskall, who always took on the most ambitious projects, who loved Redstone and sparing more than most Hermits ever would, Iskall, one of his closest friends, would be blind forever. Would never be able to laugh at him when he cut his mustache wrong again. Would never be able to laugh at an ugly building in another kingdom again because he would never see an ugly building in another kingdom again. Would never be able to build a Redstone farm or contraption again. Because if he lived, he'd be blind forever. If he lives. Which means he might die. Iskall could die permanently. Which would mean he would never see his friend's face again, never hear that infectious laugh. Never make idle conversion with him after a long day. Never swap stories till there was nothing new left to say. He had never imagined a life without Iskall, and now he might have to live it.
He refused to think about the fact that he hadn't seen Grian yet.
Eventually, the sun set, his tears ran dry, and his breathing calmed. At some point someone must have found him, because a blanket had been draped over him, and a plate of food that had long gone cold lay by his feet, but no one had asked him to get up.
Calmer now, he got up and made his way back to the others. He'd been gone for a good few hours, and by now several more hermits were up and moving. Zedaph had joined Tango at Impulse's bedside, and the pair were asleep and leaning on each other in a way that couldn't be comfortable. Impulse himself was awake and looking at them with a soft smile. He was covered in a nasty set of second and third-degree burns from head to toe, but he would survive.
Joe was on a break, passing the time by playing a game of cards with Cleo. The duo was sat in between False and Xisuma. The zombie girl had one hand on her friend's bed, which she lifted to wave at Mubo as he passed by. Cleo's middle was raped in sizable bandages, but she was much better off than False, who was swollen and covered in bruises like she had been crushed. Xisuma, on the other hand, showed no signs of injury but also had not moved since Mumbo last saw him.
Mumbo took a seat beside Iskall. The upper half of his face was now wrapped in fresh cotton, and he lay sound asleep. He looked to be in considerably less pain than he was earlier, but the memory of his empty eye socket staring up at the ceiling ached in the taller Hermit's mind. Mumbo curled up in the chair, long legs spilling over the sides. He felt guilty for deciding to stay with Iskall instead of looking for Grian, but Iskall was hurt and possibly dying. He knew Grian would understand; he would too if the roles were reversed. Besides, Grian was probably asleep now anyway. He would look for him in the morning.
Little did he know that Grian was, in fact, not asleep at all. No, instead, hundreds of miles away, the aforementioned Hermit had just opened his eyes