Wacky, Insufferable, Arm-Flailing Nightmare

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Summary: Arm wavy goodness.

Frantic footfall beat against sweltering concrete, seemingly echoing throughout the eerily empty streets as three brightly-clad individuals pursued a menacing group of five skeletons: Nightmare, Killer, Horror, Dust, and Cross

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Frantic footfall beat against sweltering concrete, seemingly echoing throughout the eerily empty streets as three brightly-clad individuals pursued a menacing group of five skeletons: Nightmare, Killer, Horror, Dust, and Cross. All of which whom were all too familiar with being on the run.

After causing trouble.

This time, however, the situation was a little different than usual. Rather than spreading their typical mischief (stabbing, murdering, kicking shins, and etc.) in the Underground, the "evil" group opted to go on a rare mission to a desolate Surface AU.

Everyone hated it, especially the Lord of Nightmares himself.

Hot, dusty air sapped the moisture from the land and what little greenery dared to grace the concrete jungle looked withered and sunburnt, no doubt suffering a long stint of being given hardly any water.

Adding to the desert-esque ambiance was none other than a brilliant, blazing orange-yellow sun that shone overhead without a single cloud in sight. Thus, making his outer negativity melt and ooze and bear down on his hidden silvery bones like a suffocatingly warm winter coat, only further adding to his growing exhaustion.

Nightmare shot a glare toward the sky and silently cursed the burning, gaseous ball in the cosmos.

This is exactly why I prefer keeping business in the Underground. Surface weather is so much more severe and volatile.

Loud, laborious (somewhat wheezing, in Killer's case) breaths escaped the childish murderers following closely.

Though, if I got the boys out of the castle and in the sun more often, maybe they would be more acclimated to this climate.

The negativity-laden monster side-eyed the axe-wielding, hoodie-clad skeleton running alongside him, noting the thick red droplets sliding down his cracked skull.

And less sweaty.

A pant forced its way past Nightmare's jaws as his boot heels slammed against the ground with his speedy gait. If the pace slowed ever-so-slightly due to the biting ache in his legs, he ignored it and pushed onward.

His skull turned left a fraction after a harrowing ten steps, and his cyan eyelight peeked over his shoulder at the monsters producing the rumbling footsteps trailing after them.

Their three pursuers (Dream, Ink, and Blue, of course) ran several paces behind. Far enough away that attacks would be ineffective yet considerably too close for Nightmare and his boys to make a proper getaway. Plus, not a single drop of sweat laid on their bones, no magical flush colored their cheeks, and they looked prepared to continue the chase for as long as they had to.

Or until the "nefarious" Sanses were driven to exhaustion- a strong possibility at this rate. His team was hardly in a position to continue on like this.

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