My Life as a Protector.

Your Worst Nightmare.

I examine the remnants of a once-existing structure. I hold my head up, and sure enough, there the blood is. I think to myself. I still feel so empty; why is that? I expand on this thought: ever since I've been in this hellhole, I've been feeling weird. Whatever it was that I used to live with, I'm beginning to miss it. How am I even alive at all? The fact just crossed my mind that I was just flung through a whole building; I'm not sure how fast, but it was fast. I groan, rubbing my temples as I try to make sense of my current situation. The memories of what led me to this point are hazy, but one thing is clear - I am longing for a sense of purpose and connection that seems to have been stripped away in this desolate place. 

***

"That's basically how it works." Ink Papyrus says calmly.

"So let me get this right," I replied in a confused manner. "All of you are the same person from different universes?"

Ink, Error, and Fresh Papyrus nod their heads.

"...Wow. What do I even call y'all?" I question.

"I'm Fly, Fly guy!" Fresh remarks.

"Twitchy is the probably the worst thing they could've chose." Error sighs.

"Paint will do fine." Ink replied.

"Fly, Twitchy, and Paint..." I stifle a laugh. "Does all of the multiverse have trash nicknames."

"Wait 'til you get to 'Blueberry' and 'Fell' " Paint says snarkily.

"Does that mean I'm not the only 'Mist'?"

"Possibly. Though not many others get out in a multiverse other than the main cast. You might also be an outcode."

"So, if I understand correctly, the base universe continues to create different alternate universes as a result of a child who has the ability to reenact an adventure endlessly and experiences different possibilities that branch off from the original universe so much that it creates its own universe. And sometimes godlike beings known as creators can create their own universes by interpreting the original universe." I summarize.

"Yeah," Paint said encouragingly, showing thumbs-up. "Though don't forget about the alternate universes that branch into other alternate universes."

"Does that mean the-"

"Base universe changes all the time," Paint finished. "Just a regular Tuesday."

"Jesus- Where am I-?"

Paint chuckles, again finding amusement in my torture, he gestures to the hallway where the entrances to the rooms are. "Make yourself comfortable, maybe look in a mirror."

"Was that an ins-..."

I understood. I don't know what I look like. I walk toward the hallway. As I make my way towards the hallway, I can't help but feel a sense of unease. The concept of alternate universes branching into other alternate universes is insane, and it makes me question the stability of my own existence. I can't help but wonder if my appearance will be the same in every universe or if it will change with each new reality. Maybe I should take this more seriously or with a grain of salt. I march towards the hallway, passing all the rooms and halting at the mirror.

"It's you. Mist."

"It's you."

***

"Are you done having a flashback, stupid brat." The bony figure says.

"Who even are you?" I reply, antagonized.

He smirks deviously, crouching to get to eye level with me. "Your worst nightmare." He said in a low voice, trying to intimidate me.

All I did was stare at him. I felt like it should have worked on me even though it was so corny. What the hell is going on with me. I feel something with the other goofballs, but nothing with this asshole. I guess it's only natural, yet... it's weird.

"Was that supposed scare me?" I said, in spite my internal conflict.

"If getting slammed through a building that is on fire is not your worst nightmare, you need some serious help." He said, surprised.

"Don't ca-" 

Before I could even finish my statement, I felt my neck. It's a nasty cut, but it wasn't there before. All this skeletal terrorist did was raise his hand, he couldn't have. I feel like a viscous liquid is dripping down my body while I cough up blood—no more no less. He cackles and strikes a devious smile, crouching to get to my size. He bashes my head into the ground, he was getting more aggressive.

"You're interesting! I was aiming to cut off your head; it's funny the expressions people make seeing their headless bodies," He comments. "Yet here you are, head intact. When I threw you through the building it was weird too. You're not any regular refuge, that's for sure."

All I did is stare. All I could do is stare. I raise my head so my staring isn't directed at the ground rather "Glitch." I looked into the hollows of his eyes. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and having no eyes is fitting for him, at least in the spiritual sense. His soul was made up of the pain of others. I just want to punch him in the face and teach him a lesson. He's right, I am no regular. Left arm swipe, fatal. I jump back as Glitch swipes his arm at me, I dig deep into the culmination of the soul I left behind. The fiery desire to protect what's close to me, I grab within... I pull a kusarigama and swing at him. He looks shook, but regathers composure and dodges it. He grabs the chain and quickly lets go of it, jumping back.

"What the hell-! It's hot!" He says, blowing his hand like a child.

I drag my weapon back. I honestly don't what he's talking about, it's just a little warm.

"B-But that's besides the point! How the hell did you do that?!"