Feathers and Eggs

Chapter Two

After getting back to his small, untidy home, Doc couldn't help but think about his small conversation with Mumbo. As he sat at the table with a microwave pasta dinner in front of him, he remembered the sight of his friend. His black hair was starting to grow a tad longer than normal and looked unruly. I bet he hasn't tried to really comb it in a while. Also, did he have bags under his eyes? Doc thought back to the determined, blue eyes that had met his own one earlier. He could recall dark bags under those eyes as clear as day. How did I not notice them? I should have made sure he's been getting enough sleep, he thought to himself guiltily.

The detective ran his fingers through his slightly tangled, brown hair. He hadn't had much time to brush it, especially when practically every night he was woken up by a call telling him there was another egg attack. Looking ahead, he could see the dark screen of his TV and his own reflection in it. His organic eye looked sunken in; obviously the lack of sleep was taking its toll. His mechanic eye shined back at him from the television screen. Sadly, it was probably the best looking part of him at the moment. His green skin had paled slightly, and even his scars didn't seem to carry the same flare and character they normally did. 

Doc sighed. It was tough being a detective in a town with a supervillain. Was it even right to keep calling the eggman a villain in any other context besides "Sonic"? The only harm he did was throw eggs and cause people to hurt themselves running away. If the media stopped giving him so much attention, people like him could finally stop stressing over nothing!

Doc' s mind suddenly went back to the sight of poor Mumbo. He's sleep deprived, stressed, and having to handle practically as much pressure as me right now. Doc didn't blame the media. They were just trying to do their jobs like he was trying to do his. Maybe I can go to Mumbo apartment for a visit. He and I could both use some relaxation to get our minds off of all the stuff going on. Doc quickly cleared the table of his dinner and headed for the front door. He grabbed his keys, gun, and coat before making his way outside.

The evening air was cool and fresh. The sidewalks were still full of people, but they seemed to be walking briskly, as if anxious to get home. None of them want to run into any egg problems, thought Doc. The nearer he got to Mumbo's apartments on the east side of the city, the more deserted the streets got. He looked up to see the sunset casting an orange glow on the glass skyscrapers around him. Without thinking about it, he picked up his pace.

Finally, Doc had reached Mumbo's apartment. It was a little rundown, but cozy enough for a single reporter who was almost always working to live. Doc headed up a flight of stairs to reach the floor that his friend's apartment was on. Less than a minute later, he was knocking on the door to Room 12. He stood silently, listening for any indication that Mumbo was coming to open the door for him. He didn't hear anything.

He knocked a second time, hoping that he was not waking his friend up for an unexpected visit. I could have at least called before I got here. That would have been a smart thing to do, Doc mentally criticized. Again, no answer came from the apartment. Doc felt himself grow uneasy but could not understand why. Something just seems... wrong, he decided. Luckily, Mumbo had once shown him that he kept an extra apartment key at the bottom of a potted plant that the hotel owned on this floor. He walked to retrieve it, then walked back to Room 12 and unlocked the door slowly.

Carefully, he stepped into the apartment room. His boots felt loud and heavy compared to the dark silence that greeted him when he opened the door. The light that flooded in from the hallway was enough to make out the living room and some of the kitchen, but everything else remained dark. Doc flicked on a light and the whole apartment was suddenly visible. "Mumbo, you in here? It's me, Doc! I just came by for a little visit," Doc called out. There was no answer. "Mumbo?" He tried again. Nothing. Doc felt his heart begin to beat faster, but he tried to remain calm outwardly. He looked around the room, trying to find any visible proof that something was wrong besides the absence of his friend. For one thing, his keys that were normally hung up on the wall were gone, indicating that he might have gone somewhere. His reporting journal was on a coffee table, so he was not out for journalism. His wallet was still in its normal spot as well. Doc frowned.

He didn't take anything he normally takes with him. His journal is here, his wallet is here, his phone is here, and his car keys are here. The only thing that I can see missing are his regular apartment keys and... an umbrella? Doc quickly made his way over to the stand that held the umbrella practically everyday. The only time it didn't were the days it rained, but he knew for a fact that it was not going to rain anytime that week. So... why would he take an umbrella? To protect himself from getting wet? Or... Doc's eyes widened. He turned off the apartment lights and ran out of the room, closing the door behind him. He raced onto the street where night had already set in and sprinted to where the crime scene had been earlier.

Or he took it to protect himself from falling eggs.