Feeling Reborn

Targets, Prey and too Many Bullets

Truth be told, Nightmare was sort of enjoying this new world. People were so defenseless, so scared, that he had no problem gathering negativity and replenishing his energy. He could probably summon half of his corrupt form, but only for emergencies. After all, it wouldn't do to for a hellish-looking skeleton to parade around a human town and cause mass panic. Oh, it would probably also initiate a war between Mafias.

For now, he sheltered in a remote coffee shop toeing the border of the Gaster Family, but still in the Red Hand's territory, according to the usual clients. Over a bloody fight over a month ago, the border which had been so troublesome to the Monster side, since it cut off their main supply routes and access to the main street, had been moved by a couple meters, unfortunately landing the otherwise cozy café in a bit of a tight spot. The Red Hand would do anything to get their lost land back, to once more block Gaster's Family from the 'city.'

It wasn't much of a city. It was more of an agglomeration of small shady businesses, dark alleyways placed in convenient locations for all Mafias, a downtrodden clinic and one or two tall, shiny buildings of the more fortunate who got to live within those well-kept brick walls. Those... fortunate people were usually minor politicians who, of course, belonged to local mafias who held downtown in their palm. This meant no outside help from glowing cities of glass and steel, no easy way to cross the borders of barbed wire or to gain better resources. Worst of all, they couldn't give a damn about the good-hearted citizens, preferring to clear the path for money.

Parks and jungle gyms were a no-go, unless you wished to contract some rare, fancy disease which the clinic could not cure you from or gaze at the ever-growing sea of trash and splintered wood. It was a miracle that it hadn't yet been taken down to make room for another crappy building. And, according to some drunk bastards on the street, the last proper mayor renovated the park decades ago.

But that was decades ago, when the once quiet town was developing into a bustling metropolis, when business was thriving and children were running amuck in the streets. Nowadays, even if the structures were somewhat sanitary, children were few and far between, and people mad enough to enjoy life in the hell hole, even further.

So, yeah, it wasn't much of a city, but what it lacked in habitability, it made up in deals. Money, to be more precise. Revenue and financial aid for big time Families, arms dealers, drug smugglers, animal and human trafficking, contract killing, the list goes on. This meaning, if you somehow managed to impress a mafia boss, there was a slim chance of being accepted into the Family and being awarded numerous advantages, both in lifestyle and in power.

Of course, that is if the mafia ranked high enough in the sector.

And Nightmare? He didn't like going small.

Plus, this may be his only chance to find Error- not that he'd admit it out loud.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The peace didn't last long.

Apparently Nightmare wasn't as sneaky as he had thought; a suspicious shadow was tailing him around every corner, no doubt tracing him for the kills committed in that dark alleyway a few hours ago.

And the place to hide was out in the open, on the stained and cracked sidewalks, the coffee shop no longer safe due to a thorough ransacking by a group of thugs wanting to get a quick buck or two. He was easily overlooked, hidden in the corner and all, and probably could've taken them out easily without his corrupted form, but he felt no obligation to help.

He was no hero. He was a villain, through and through, named so by the total of his Multiverse and himself. Heroes helped and saved others for the price of nothing, out of their own good will. And that ruled out Ink, who, by definition, couldn't feel, and therefore wouldn't have such a thing as 'good will.' Dream was trickier; even in their childhood, he could not read the guardian as well as other people. Nightmare couldn't tell whether Dream reveled in the praise or was repulsed by it, so, in his hate for the world, he took it as smug pleasure, and wreaked havoc on their people when his patience ran out.