The multiverse wars had finally subsided. There was an agreed truce, and everything was much calmer.

In the void, where Error Sans’ usually resided, there was an unexpected pop-in from two familiar skeletons: Geno and Fresh, his two brothers! They were dropped in by some unknown portal, falling on top of one another infront of Error’s hammock, constructed with his own strings, hanging in the middle of the blank space.

“Agh… what a fall…” Geno announced, begrudingly.

“You can say that again, brotato chip.” Fresh replied, his rainbow-braced smile still relevant.