When the group made it back, the others arrived with questions. Most could really be summarized into the question of, "Did you get him this time?", which was answered with small 'nos' and 'nopes' alike.

The Star Sanses left to go discuss their next course of action, specifically how they should subdue Nightmare, while the remains of what used to be the most feared group in the multiverse hung around their place of new residence. It was a quaint little house, one with your typical living room, kitchen, five bedrooms, etc. The group hung out silently on the porch, Horror and Dust sitting down on some nice cushioned chairs while Killer leaned against the wall.

Cross sat on the floor. "I wanted it to work this time."

"Yeah, we know." Horror was twirling around his axe, gazing into the blade.

"How's your arm?" Killer quietly asked.

Cross looked at the stump. Ink had offered to paint it back but Cross quietly declined, only asking if he could stop the bleeding. Why would he stay without an arm? Well, Cross knew one of the few ways to reach Nightmare is guilt. Yeah, a bit underhanded, but what could you expect from an ex-nightmare sans? "I'm getting used to it. Kind of."

"Maybe you should hack off your own arm to see how it feels." Dust threw out, smiling at Killer.

The skeleton gave him a 'shut up' look but couldn't help smiling at the thought. "Ooh, maybe. Horror, gimme your axe."

"Like hell." Horror grumbled, protectively holding his weapon closer.

"Come on, just a little hack~!" Killer cooed, smiling widely as he tried snatching it.

"I WILL NOT LET YOUR BLOOD DEFILE MY PRECIOUS WEAPON--" Horror basically screeched as the two started fighting over the weapon. Dust laughed at the chaos he managed to stir up while Cross made a face.

"Ew, guys, don't get it on the porch." Cross said in mock-disgust before having a small laugh with Dust.

"Isn't that what Nightmare would've said if he were here?" Dust asked through his case of the chuckles.

It was also contagious since Cross started snickering too. "Definitely."

When the fight for the axe finally settled down (Horror won btw because he somehow got onto the roof to avoid Killer), the group entered a period of silence.

They really missed their boss.

A lot, too.

"Wonder what the big oaf is doing right now." Dust wondered aloud, leaning back in his chair.

~~~

"I F#CKING TORE OFF HIS ARM, OH MY GOD, THIS IS HORRIBLE-"

Nightmare paced his evil castle as the shadowed guards stared at him with intrigue.

"Sire, what do you me-" One dared to ask but was promptly interrupted with their leader shoving a severed arm in its face.

"I. TORE. IT. OFF-" Nightmare basically screamed the words at them, scaring them off. He put a hand to his face as a gesture of stress and panic. "What the fresh HECK do I do now? DO I- DO I JUST GIVE IT BACK TO HIM OR???"

He took in a deep breathe, trying to calm himself down. After all, the last time he didn't, the stupid tentacles on his back went into a frenzy and slapped the ham sandwich Cross spent hours making out of Horror's hands.

There was tragedy on that day.

And yes, there was also a sandwich funeral.

Why?

Well, that's what villains do, I guess.

"Okay. So," Nightmare told himself. He had a habit of doing that when sh#t hits the fan. "I have Cross' arm WHICH I ACCIDENTALLY took from him. It probably hurt like hell too. They also seem to all hate me at this point and I basically screwed our friendship over like I do with everything. So now, I can't take any of this back without looking like a piece of crap asking for forgiveness, which I kind of am and- I'M JUST GONNA STOP TALKING TO MYSELF NOW."

He let out a large sigh, leaning against the wall, much to his octopus parts' displeasure. He didn't care, he needed to lean against a wall for a moment. "How do I fix this...?" His hands dragged down his face as the thought bounced itself around in his mind.

Could he fix this when they fell apart so easily?