Ode to the Multiverse

Chapter One: The Secret

Do you want to know a secret?

Error remained motionless, hovering in the sunless place that was his mind. The vast and empty darkness made not a sound. And yet there was no serenity here... No peace.

It all feels so marvelous.

He couldn't breathe. He was drowning. Drowning in an invisible sea of fire which licked his every nerve with searing hot pain. Not a single bone was spared from the flames' relentless assault.

To be tortured by my own crashing. To have my blemished soul experience all the agony I've inflicted tenfold.

His pinpricks began to flicker back into existence, fighting tooth and claw against the glitches which plagued his vision. It wasn't an easy battle. The black little 'errors' continued to dance in and out of existence, their letters blurred to an unrecognizable degree.

These instances are the only times in which I ever feel this hopeless multiverse has found a sense of justice. No matter how cryptic it may be.

His red and yellow talon-like fingers twitched. The movement felt stifled, as if his joints were forged from rusted metal. He didn't bother trying to force any movement. He already knew it would be to no avail.

Ah, but I'd never admit to any of that out loud... and there is a very simple reason as to why not.

He felt prickles on the back of his neck's vertebrae. He welcomed the sensation of his recovering nerves, feeling the numbness travel down his spine. He no longer felt enveloped by flames, as now only small wisps of pain lapped at his limbs.

If I spoke those words aloud, I'd have to admit that my every move since becoming the so-called god that I am now, was something I deserve to be damned for. As if every piece of code I've severed, number by number, should have been left untouched.

A blinding white light suddenly assaulted his sockets. He winced, jaw clenched and bone brow furrowed. At last, his body had reached the verge of rebooting. Reality was finally within reach.

So, I've known for some time now: That's my little secret.

Error inhaled a sharp and ragged breath, which caused him to sputter and cough. The condensed flame that made up his eyelights shrank as he forced himself onto his knees. He heaved a bit, his body's sporadic glitches making his every movement a little harder to bear.

I've had better reboots than this. His crashes had a wide range of intensity, and that one had been particularly violent. All of that triggered by a simple well placed punch in the midst of battle.

He scanned the tattered Anti-Void for his opponent, but he was alone. There was nothing left of him, aside from the splattered splotches of ink secreted by his oversized paint brush. Broomie, as the artist had appallingly named it. Stars, Error hated that thing. He'd been whacked over the skull by it one too many times...

The fact that Ink hadn't taken the opportunity to finally erase him from the multiverse wasn't the least bit surprising. Although Ink had proved time and time again that his morals were a jumbled mess, he seemed to always draw the line at killing others. Stupid Guardian. The longer I live, the more stray code I demolish! He certainly held no restraint when it came to battling his nemesis. He'd use his strings to pry apart that skeleton's every bone if he could! And it would be a hysterical sight to behold!

Error hauled himself fully up off the ground, his limbs initially wobbling in a fit of protest. He didn't care. He just ignored the ache and carried himself with no sense of dignity, feet dragging beneath him. He at least watched his step. He had to.

Blasters, specifically his own, had torn up long streaks of the Anti-Void. Though like the fresh bruises upon his bone, the world between worlds would heal itself. It only needed a little time.

Wanting to return to his comfortable corner of this hellhole, he honed in on his unique ability to glitch the code which made up every aspect of reality. Before his outstretched hand formed the start of a blocky portal, though before the window could become a frame big enough from him to easily hop through, he caught sight of a contrasting color against the Anti-Void's stark white. Brown, a specific shade of which he knew all too well. It made him tense, portal fizzling out of existence as his concentration broke. Is Ink still watching me?

Though with his double take he realized it wasn't the artist's entire scarf. The blur couldn't be anything more than a stitch of it, pinned to the ground by one of his red projectile bones. However he knew better than to trust his faulty vision. Thanks to his modified tear ducts messing with his pinpricks accuracy, he had misinterpreted many sights over the years. The need to confirm just about everything he looked at was a hard learned lesson; So, Error near instinctively went to investigate.

When he stalked closer, sockets narrowed, he was certain that it was nothing more than ripped fabric. He would have left it at that if it weren't for a new detail. Scribbles of black. Is that writing? It piqued his interest. "What sort of stupid little reminders have you left behind?" He asked aloud. He hoped to find something he could take advantage of, the sinister concept sparking a wide grin.

He placed a slipper upon the edge of the fabric then pried his bone out from the ground. He carelessly tossed it aside, letting it clatter elsewhere while he crouched down to get a better look at the words. Ugh. Does he have to write in such small print? Forced to be even closer, he plucked the piece of scarf up with just the tips of two claws. He did this as if he genuinely considered the item to be toxic. He held it right before his eyes, tilting his skull to clearly read the slanted letters.

He began to speak every word he read. Despite the little glitches riddling his tone, he quite liked the sound of his own voice.

"Remember to never ever let Error know about the secret." He blinked, smile gone as he instead pulled his fangs back in distaste. "Secret?" He repeated. His voice became a snarl. "What secret?!"

Error had been caught in constant turmoil with Ink for long enough to learn a thing or two about him. One, the god of creation absolutely thrived off of secrets. And two, if Ink wanted to single him out from a certain piece of knowledge, it was definitely something he would want to figure out as fast as possible. Yet with that in mind, how was he supposed to discover the nature of this secret?

He scanned the rest of the fabric for some sort of lead. Just one hint was all he needed to begin. He admittedly didn't like what he found a few inches down, slightly more faded than the previous sentence. It caused dread to settle in the depths of his soul. There were only three other words visible to him, cut off the torn edge. One was a not so pleasant name to see or hear anywhere.

'Nightmare has the-'

Nightmare. A being even Error had to be wary of. Under the right circumstances, the god of negativity could harness enough power to bring him shaking upon his knees. That wasn't a situation Error ever wanted to put himself through again. Being forced to bow to another just that once had been more than enough humiliation. Hell, he even kept his distance from certain worlds under Nightmare's domain to avoid any sort of confrontation.

But what does Nightmare have? Could the king really be conspiring with Ink? Against him? Error wouldn't take the risk. He had to understand. He had to find answers. He could spy. He could carefully keep an eye on the movements of the few who did Nightmare's bidding. Maybe then another hint would arise, and an opportunity to snuff out Ink and Nightmare's plans would present itself.

Yes. I quite like that. And if the whole endeavor turned out to be a waste of his time, he could take it out on Nightmare's pathetic anomalies! Surely he could kill most- if not all of them before Nightmare had a chance to chase him off. High LOVE or not, mortals were easy pickings.

With a dark laugh, he properly glitched a portal into existence and vanished through the opening.