The universe was a vast, sprawling tapestry of colors and code, each thread a story, each knot a life. Most days, Error could appreciate the meticulous chaos of it all. He could even take a perverse satisfaction in untangling the flawed, the redundant, the truly *awful*. Today was not one of those days. Today, the tapestry felt less like a work of art and more like a poorly rendered screenshot, pixelated and grating against his very existence.
A high-pitched, almost imperceptible whine started somewhere deep in his skull. It wasn't pain, not exactly. More like the auditory equivalent of grit between his teeth – a persistent, low-frequency hum that signaled a deeper disharmony. It was a premonition, really. Error knew the sound. He’d known it for eons. It meant Nightmare was close.
He tried to focus on his work, if one could call the methodical unraveling of an unwanted timeline 'work'. His strings, vibrant and neon against the pale void, sliced through the digital fabric of a particularly saccharine flower field AU. Too many smiles. Too much sunshine. Blight on the multiverse, honestly. The sheer saccharine overflow made his circuits hum with distress, an almost physical itch beneath his phalanges.
His focus, however, was a rapidly fraying thread itself. The whine intensified, morphing into a low growl, echoing in the quiet of his corner of the Anti-Void. Error's eye lights flickered, a familiar anger beginning to coil in his chest. He hated that sound. He hated what it heralded. He hated *him*.
Error had never liked Nightmare. That was not an opinion, nor a temporary irritation. It was a fact. Whenever Nightmare appeared, Error's patience disappeared with him. The mere sound of his voice was enough to make Error's temper flare, especially when that infuriatingly calm voice carried the faint amusement of someone who knew exactly how irritating he was being.
A shadow, impossibly deep and vast, swallowed the already dim light of the Anti-Void before solidifying into Nightmare’s familiar form. Tentacles, sleek and glistening with negativity, unfurled slowly from his back, like a blooming nightmare flower. He didn't speak immediately, simply *stood* there, a monument to gloom, radiating the sort of oppressive stillness that made Error's code twitch.
Error’s left eye light contracted, a spark of pure frustration. "What do *you* want?" he rasped, his voice glitching around the edges. He didn’t bother turning fully. He kept his back mostly to the nightmare king, presenting his hunched shoulders and the furious, rhythmic tapping of his foot against the invisible floor. He’d learned long ago that looking Nightmare directly in the eye was an invitation for mind games he didn't have the patience for. Besides, the tapping, a nervous habit he'd developed watching corrupted code process, was a small defiance he could offer.
A soft chuckle, low and resonant, vibrated through the emptiness. It was the sound of a predator toying with its prey. “My, my, Error. Such a warm welcome. One might almost think you were *pleased* to see me.” Nightmare's voice was a silken caress, each word perfectly enunciated, carrying that infuriating hint of amusement. The tentacles behind him shifted, swaying subtly, like dark kelp in an unseen current. “Though I confess, your greetings usually involve less… *fidgeting*.”
Error stiffened, the tapping momentarily ceasing. Nightmare always noticed the little things. It was unnerving. “Get to the point, tentacle-freak, or get out.” His voice was laced with static, his strings twitching erratically. He tightened his grip on the timeline he was destroying, almost relishing the violent shudder it gave.
“Always so direct. So… predictable.” Nightmare took a step closer, his negative aura washing over Error, making his code shiver with an involuntary revulsion. “Very well. I merely wished to inform you that there has been a… *development* in a certain corner of the multiverse. One that may require your particular talents.”
Error finally turned, his head snapping around. “My 'talents' are for destruction. And I work alone.” He narrowed his eye lights, trying to gauge the true intent behind Nightmare’s placid expression. There was always a hidden layer with him, a labyrinth of motives and manipulations.
Nightmare’s grin widened, a flash of pearly white against the darkness of his face. “Indeed. And this development, I fear, is proving quite… *resilient* to my own more… persuasive methods.” He paused, his gaze drifting over the crumbling remnants of the flower field AU. “It seems a particular anomaly has taken root. A unique kind of… *distortion*.”
Error watched him, a prickle of unease working its way up his spine. Nightmare rarely admitted to a problem, let alone one that required Error's involvement. This wasn't a request; it was a prelude to an obligation. And the word "distortion" sent a jolt through his circuits. Most anomalies were simply 'glitches' or 'errors' in the code. A 'distortion' implied something… *else*. Something not quite right, even by the multiverse's chaotic standards. He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.
"What distortion?" Error demanded, the whine in his skull reaching an insistent pitch. He knew, instinctively, that whatever Nightmare was talking about, it wasn't going to be simple. And it definitely wasn't going to be good.