Error was currently sitting on a very fluffy chair in the Avengers Tower, thinking about what to do. Hell, he had two years to do nearly whatever he wanted. He was living on a wage of 15 dollars an hour for the typical 9 to 5 workdays without doing anything too much, just letting Fury call him in whenever he needs it, and report anything suspicious. Normally he would take this time to knit if he was still in his own universe but now he knows it probably isn't the best to do that for 2 years straight. Sure he could give himself therapy because he has the whole of the universe in his head and they have to know some healthy coping mechanisms right? But that was fixed too, once again, because of the universe being in his head. Now he knows that a majority of what he has done is very much not good for the average person. Good fucking thing he isn't average. Or a person!
'I mean, I could work at a deli and be a slave to capitalism and not have to worry when I quit that job because I still have quite a bit of money saved up.' Error thought, 'Even better, just live in the woods for 2 years! Fantastic... But that would be boring as all hell, for around 1 and 3/4s of a year. He'd go and kill another universe just for the hell of it by that time. No, stop that. Murder bad, I keep fucking forgetting.'
Error slouched into the cushions, wondering what the fuck he was going to do. Maybe he could join a shitty circus and just perform silly magic tricks with the strings that have killed billions. God, he probably should apologize for that if he ever finds a way back. Not that he cares about that too much. He did treat them like shit and was at least a little bit clinically insane. But what is life without SPICE? Without something to give variety to life, to have a very small (so small really it couldn't even be counted) panic attack every time he saw red paint or thought about the smile of Blue or the hugs he gave Nightmare when he didn't feel his haphephobia... Okay, maybe some therapy later. Even the consciousness of the Universe as a whole can't solve PTSD. Good to know.
Back to the problem at hand, what the fuck is one supposed to do for 2 years straight. Error sighed and decided to solve this now or else he will just be living with Stark for the next 2 years and have nothing to do.
Suddenly, he had one of his best ideas in his opinion. Error got a piece of paper and wrote on it any and all ideas he had about what to do. Then taped each piece on the wall and summoned a bone. Just a blue one in hopes of not damaging the drywall too much. And with that done he had taken the bone and threw it.
Amazing. He got "Become a slave to capitalism (In Queens)." Maybe he should draw again. No, don't he would never get anything done if he just kept throwing magic at pieces of paper that decided his fate. Besides he put it right next to "Become Cryptid in West Virginia and just exist in a graveyard." ... He didn't put too much planning into that one.
He left this piece of paper vague on purpose, he could make his own store, but he doesn't exactly have the warrants for that unless he used Eetsy or something like that. But it was probably best to just get an entry-level job in a computer store or something. He was pretty good with coding if he does say so himself. That happens when you more or less fused with the codes of the universe. (or would it be the script here?)
With that settled out, Error decided to eat before bugging Fury about getting him a high school diploma, maybe a college one too. But that is after he eats an entire two servings of take-out Chinese food. Error has been told his multiple blue tongues "freak people out," and "give away that you're a alien," as if his eyes don't do that. So now he just eats take-out most of the time.
While eating at the bar in Avengers Tower, Error realized something. How is he supposed to get a job when he is very obviously an "alien" with the black sclera and fucking bioluminescent tear streaks? And New York just had an alien attack and there would be a stigma against aliens. Maybe he could ask Fury for one of his cool digital face-changing things. Maybe make him not look very scary to the human eye. He could make up something about how he is like Bruce?
And so the time passed until it was around the next day, and around noon there was a sudden slam of Fury's door. He sighed.
"They make these things lighter than expected? What are they made of? Ah! Right, Director Fury. I don't suppose you have a spare face-changing thingy just lying around, yeah?" Error came barging in. He looked like quite a mess, but he was filling out resumes and working on how to make it look like he was around 29 or something instead of the millions of years he is. Finding a job in a collapsing economy is hard.
"You want a holographic mask to get a job, yes. To get a job at, as you said, 'Jackie's Sweets and Bakery' in Queens. You want one of the leading devices in spying to get a job without being denied." Fury said, more as a statement than as a question.
When the idea was said aloud, perhaps it was a bit worse than he thought it was. Using one of the leading technologies that humankind has made so far to work a shitty 9-5 job for 2 years just to make some extra money. He did have a little more than one million dollars from the business deal made a couple of days ago. Whatever, he will rent a good apartment and do what he can for the people around him. It's not like he will live here for the next hundred years or so. Probably just around 10-15 years which is much longer than a few people would like he was sure.
"Yes..." God, he was a fucking fool. He looked like a dumbass right now. He looked more human than he has in his life and here he was looking to be greedy and want more than he had. He didn't even look like a skeleton, he could probably get a job just fine-
Fury sighed. "Please do note that if you were anyone or anything else than what you are you would not be receiving this. You can effectively do the job of 5 Avenger level personnel and if you refuse to come in even once without reason, we will assume you have gone MIA and kill your false ID, bank account, and documents. You will be discarded without a second thought. So please make sure to make good use of the fake background we have set up for you."
"You already have a background for me?"
"Of course, you are neither God nor human and will not receive good light from the press without some work. You will be known as Evan Yubeta and bring no attention to yourself. You lived in the busy city of Columbus, Ohio for most of your life and moved to the town of Prescott, Arizona. Later you moved again to New York City to find a job that supports the dream of being a clothing designer. You were homeschooled for all of your life and graduated high school in the top percentage of your class. Your powers will be categorized as a more mutant type power, much like the hulk. Your eye color changes and you gain marks on your face. With these changes, you also get the ability to create a string-like material that can bend to your will. You cannot do anything else and you will not use these powers in public as we have hidden a majority of your presence from the media but nothing is untraceable. People still have the chance of recognizing you from small clips in the news, or on social media. Now, any questions?"
Error stood there, shocked. They must have been able to tell that his purple-blue scarf was hand knit and thought he had enough skill to make this backstory work. Perhaps Error could even try to get into a college during the two years and take leave while working for SHIELD. They will probably call him in during the situation in two years. Maybe some small things in the meantime as well.
"Good, you will receive your documents and papers later this week. Make sure to memorize your new birthday."
And with that over Error left the SHIELD building. In the next week he went to go get an interview with Jackie. The interview went smoothly enough, with the omission of a few rocky questions about his time in Ohio and when he forgot his fake birthday.
And so life went on like that for him. He was one of the best cake designers in New York by the end of 5 months. He met the soon-to-be Spider-Man at least once a month, as well as visits by the other Avengers that were still allowed in the public eye.
Error himself was recognized a few times walking home from work. It was a rare thing though. Talked with them, and he asked them if they wanted a picture because he had found that people sometimes forget to take pictures. For small things. To post on their social media, to brag to their friends, all kinds of things.
Time dragged on and on, and eventually, two years passed as slow as it could.
Omake #1
The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny
"Ahhhh... Ahhhhhhhhh... Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... Hello? My name is Evan. I am a normal person who definitely is a human being. I am Evan, what's your name? What- What's your name?"
Error was practicing an ability he found out he could do moments ago. If he tries, he can take away the glitch-like effect on his voice that he had for millennia. He, however, found that it takes a shit ton of energy and focus to keep his voice like that.
"Hello, my name is Evan, what's yours? God this fucking hurts. I am a part of the Avengers. Wait what is something Tony would say, say something he would. I- I am Iron Man. Hello Pepper. Peeeppppppeerrrr. Happy, Happy, Happy. Kid, Spider-man, spider-kid. God, I sound like every single Sans ever. Hello Error! I am here to kill you and save the Multiverse from your evildoing! I am the true and only good in this hellscape of existence!"
Error was sitting in a park near his future job. Fixing his appearance of a button-down shirt and slacks. Of course with his scarf and trench coat. It was mid-Fall anyways, no one would find it too weird. And with everything read, he began to walk.
The bell rings out, calling to attention the one person whose approval he wishes dearly for. And there she was, Jackie. Owner of "Jackie's Sweet's and Bakery" and one of the few people who could very well decide Error- Excuse him, Evan's future. Perhaps it would be for the best if he just left- nope, he's already sitting down. Right across from her. Great. No backing out of it now.
"Hi! It's good to meet you."
"Hello," act confident, make no mistakes, eye contact, nope scratch the eye contact. Feels fucking weird. Talk normal, normal voice, no glitching or echo effect.
"Let's just hop right into our interview then, huh?"
"Yep," Error said with his best 'god I'm in so much fucking pain, the social anxiety, it's killing me' smile.
"Why do you want to work here?"
"I want to work here because of the opportunities and the paths this job could open up for me, and where it could lead me in this industry." Don't say you're here to make money, don't say you're here to make money, don't say you- "I am very interested in taking my cake decoration skills to the company and seeing what I can add to your business."
"Good, good, great to hear," She scribbled words down on a piece of printer paper. "What would you say your greatest strength is?"
"I learn quickly and have a," and so the interview went on and on, dragging out throughout what felt like hours to Error.
Eventually the hours passed and soon, the next day, he was accepted into the new job. He celebrated with newfound fervor. He, the killer of millions, would have a job! How surprising! If Ink could see him now. He would probably still try to kill him honestly, not a new revelation.