Brooklyn, New York City, June 11, 2018.
My alarm clock went off, and I shut it off as I was getting out of bed.
"Ugh, just another morning in the Big Apple," I thought groggily while I was headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Once I was done, I shaved, cleaned my teeth, and brushed my hair.
My reflection in the mirror showed a 26 year old Caucasian male with dirty blond hair, brown eyes, and a body that was toned from two years on the job. As for my job, I'm a proud member of the New York City Police Department. Making sure my grooming was complete, I nodded and got dressed. I grabbed my keys, wallet, and phone on my way out of my apartment and headed to my car. As I was driving to work, I spent some time thinking about applying to ESU after another year of working in my current job. Before I knew it, I was pulling into the parking lot, finding a spot and getting out of my car and locking the doors. As I entered the building, I passed my fellow brothers and sisters in blue that were either at their desks, talking to each other, or leaving the building. I entered the men's locker room and opened my locker, took off my street clothes and put on my Kevlar vest, uniform, and duty belt. I took my citation book and hat off the top shelf, and closed my locker. While I was locking up, another officer walked in and spotted me.
"Hey Lewis," the officer greeted me while he was grabbing something from his locker nearby.
"Hey Dave, how are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm fine. Hey, did you catch the game last night?" Dave asked me.
"Nah, I decided to get some shut eye so I could get an early start this morning," I explained.
"Too bad, you missed out. So, what are you thinking about? You got that look on your face," Dave asked me.
"Well, I was thinking that once I pass my third year, I was thinking about applying for ESU," I admitted, and Dave grinned at me.
"Fucking hell, officer Lewis Stein is deciding to join the big boys. Outgrown your training wheels, have you?" Dave teased.
"Ha ha, very fucking funny," I said sarcastically as we walked out of the locker room, grabbed our corded radios that were in the charger, and put them into our radio pouches while slipping the microphone onto the shoulder loop. We headed to the briefing room and took our seats with the other officers just as Sergeant Williams (my former training officer) arrived.
"Alright everyone, I hope you all are having a good morning, because it's going to be a busy day. Now, here's what we have on today's docket. Officer Stein, since its on your beat, head over to the abandoned Joey Drew Studios to follow up on a 10-50 N that was called in last night by a passerby. It was probably some idiot teenagers who decided to break into the place because of a dare, but the responding patrol officer didn't find anything," Williams instructed me. "I want you to take a closer look."
"Yes sir," I responded.
A few minutes later, Williams was finished with the morning briefing and everyone left the room to carry out their respective duties. I left the building with a bean-bag shotgun and a Mossberg 590 shotgun. When I got to my patrol car, I put the beanbag gun in the trunk, and secured the Mossberg in the gun rack between the seats, then got in the driver's seat.
"Central be advised, 23-David following up on a 10-50 N at Joey Drew Studios," I said into my dash radio.
"10-4, 23-David," the dispatcher acknowledged while I drove out of the parking lot and headed to the abandoned studio.
While I was driving, I thought about the studio and the history of the building.
My great-grandfather Henry had been one of the co-founders of the Joey Drew studio, and I had researched the company and the building out of curiosity. The Joey Drew studios had opened in 1929 and had produced a well-known cartoon called the Bendy Show that starred a little mischievous demon called Bendy, an anthropomorphic wolf called Boris The Wolf, and and an Angel with horns called Alice Angel. The cartoons were really popular, but as the Great Depression progressed, the studio fell on hard times. Between financial difficulties and creative differences between Joey Drew and my great-grandfather, Henry chose to leave the business in the mid-1930s. The company limped along for several more years but never regained their former success.
In the years before the company's demise, some employees had mysteriously gone missing at different times, and though there were police investigations, no foul play was ever discovered and the cases went cold. In the end, Joey Drew had incurred massive amounts of debt, commissioning strange items and buying parts to create some kind of machine, and was forced to declare bankruptcy and shut the company down permanently. During the last few weeks, several more employees disappeared while in the building, and again, no cause was ever found to explain any of the disappearances.
Most mysterious of all, my great-grandmother Linda once told me that back in 1960, my great-grandfather Henry had gotten a letter from his old friend Joey that told him to come to his house for something important. Henry called Linda a few hours later and said that he was going to the abandoned studio building to check something out, and that was the last time she or anyone else ever heard from him again.
As the years passed, there was talk that the place was haunted because many people passing by the building could hear odd noises coming from within. It was also rumored that anyone who entered the building, never came back out. In any case, due to the instability of the crumbling studio, the building was condemned by the public safety committee, and was boarded up to keep the public from breaking in. Since the death of Joey Drew several years ago, the estate had been tied up in probate while the court attempted to locate any next of kin or descendants, and so the building remained abandoned and shuttered for safety issues.
I was shaken out of my thoughts when I saw the studio, and I pulled up next to the cracked parking lot. As I got out of my cruiser and put my hat on, I examined the building that used to be a place of success.
The place looked like it was falling apart. What was once a fresh and innovative building that held the promise of success, was now nothing more than a crumbling shell of what it used to represent; cracks crept around the outside of the studio, and ivy vines swarmed over the sign of the business that hung high above the entrance door. Most of the paint and plaster had fallen apart, revealing the wooden structure underneath, and what windows that weren't boarded up were covered heavily in dust and grime from decades of extreme neglect. I shook my head sadly at the place that used to make shows for people to enjoy, and I reached for my mike, pushing the button and speaking into my radio.
"Central, 23-David is 10-84 at Joey Drew Studios," I informed while I headed up to the front doors.
"10-4, 23-David," the dispatcher said.
I approached the front doors and when I got close, I heard them unlock. I was instantly on edge since I didn't hear or see anybody.
"Central, 23-David, possible 10-10 inside the building. Be advised," I notified dispatch on my radio.
"10-4, 23-David, use extreme caution," the dispatcher stated as I put my hand on the butt of my Glock 17 generation 4 and cautiously opened the door and entered the building.
From what I could see, the hallway that led into the main room didn't seem to fare any better than the exterior of the building. The hall leading inside held up old posters of the Bendy cartoons that were faded from age and long periods of disuse, and the walls and wooden beams had also aged and fallen apart after decades of neglect. On one side, I could've sworn that I was seeing a black and rubbery looking liquid leaking out from the ceiling. Leaning close and making sure not to touch it, I smelled the liquid and was surprised to discover that it was ink.
"What the hell? Why the fuck is there ink leaking down from the ceiling?" I thought in confusion as I moved on into the main hall.
The main hall had yellowed papers strewn all over the place, and chairs stacked with random film equipment. A lonely desk sat in a corner with a small cardboard cut-out of the seemingly innocent image of Bendy the dancing demon, barely lit under an artist's lamp that surprisingly remains alight, despite how much neglect the lens had suffered. What unsettled me was that there was an old film projector that was running an endlessly blank loop on an empty screen.
"What the hell? Why does this old place still have power? Something feels really wrong," I thought uneasily.
On the wall to my right, a giant set of film reels in the logo for Joey Drew Studios kept spinning, but produced no sound for me to hear. Finally, the walls around me displayed cracks that revealed the wooden structure that was used in the construction of the building, tearing apart slowly from severe lack of repair; some of the cracks even had planks of wood boarded around them like crude bandages that weren't even close to keeping the damage under control.
"Jesus...this place did not age well over the years. Huh, it must've been really impressive back in the day before it closed down and fell apart," I mumbled under my breath.
While I was investigating the main hall, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me, even though I didn't see anyone in the room. It was not like anyone (except the prowler) was there to welcome me. It didn't make sense to me that someone would leave an old projector on, since those old things would eventually stop running. As I was still examining the condition of the projector, I stopped short when I saw something in the corner, and I looked up to see that it was a large cut-out of Bendy. It stood alone in the corner, with it's cheesy grin and it's quirky eyes fixed on my location. I didn't know if it was me or this place making me unsettled, but something about that human-sized cardboard portrait sent a chill down my spine, like that thing was purposely watching my every move. I just reassured myself by coming to the conclusion that someone must've put it there to either creep someone out, or because of problems finding spare space to place it in proper storage.
"Fucking thing's making me uneasy...it's like it's watching me...certainly fits this creepy place," I muttered as I backed away and branched off to the hallway on my left.
As I slowly walked down the hallway, I looked to the corner on my left and saw a lone desk tucked away and covered in cobwebs and an overhead light shining down on it. Papers hung around the walls like it's somebody's business, and another large Bendy cutout stared at me with its grin.
"Huh...I wonder who used to work at this desk. Probably an animator who had way too much time on his hands," I mumbled as I saw two drawings on the desk, one of them having a Bendy that was smiling differently, but the word "no" was taped to the drawing.
"Seems like someone didn't accept this version of Bendy," I thought as I turned around and entered the large room behind me. The room had several desks for animators, covered with drawings of the little demon, and had an adjoining bathroom, except that the way in was boarded up and there was no door in sight for any possible sense of privacy. With the latter though, I grimaced when I saw a Bendy cutout inside the bathroom, and felt sympathy for the people who would've used that bathroom and probably felt very uncomfortable about "Bendy" watching them in what was supposed to be an area of privacy.
"Poor bastards. Looks like the people that worked in this studio knocked out a wall or two after my great-grandfather left. It must've taken a few people to replace him." I thought as I turned around and left the room.
Walking past the main room and entering the hallway that led to the right of the studio, I spotted graffiti written in ink that said 'Dreams come true'. Something about the words made me wonder who wrote it, and for what purpose. Was somebody being zealous about accomplishing a big dream? Or was somebody being a little too enthusiastic with whatever it was they were working on before the studio closed down, and the words had ultimately lost their real meaning over time? Well, I am a cop and not a filmmaker, so who knew what went on inside these people's heads back then.
"Mr. Drew, what were your dreams back then?" I couldn't help but mumble out loud.
Not wanting to ponder on it for too long, I opted to keep going and get the prowler and myself out of the building for our safety. Just as I turned away from the graffiti on the wall though, I stopped to notice something hanging up above an archway down another hall. I had no idea what it was at first, so I decided to take a closer look to find out what it is. As I got closer, I read the sign above that said 'Ink Machine'. Ahead of me seemed to be a hallway that led out towards where the sign is directed, compelling me to investigate what it is that's supposed to be there, but a strange schedule on the wall caught my attention. A closer inspection showed the usage of ink that was monitored on a weekly basis. With each week, the amount of ink used escalated over time to the point where one week showed a shocking 423 gallons of ink. Down on the floor, a pipe crossed the open walkway that had a sign on it that said "Watch Your Step."
"Holy shit, who the hell needed that much ink?" I thought, dumbfounded as I stepped over the pipe and turned around the next corner to find myself facing a railing, beyond which opened a huge room with a large open space in the floor.
Below the balcony I was standing on was a dark, dank abyss that had chains hanging from the ceiling down into the open space below. Around the opening, barrels and crates were scattered about, making a mess of the ground floor. On the balcony where I was standing, I saw a power switch and a generator that had no power to them, having had no means to be activated for decades. Seeing this made me wonder if there was something important down in that large dark hole in the middle of the ground.
"Damn, just what the hell were they keeping down here? King Kong?" I thought in bewilderment.
Looking around, I saw a large dry cell battery that was laying on a storage shelf and I grabbed it. Looking in a big chest that was on the floor, I found another battery and placed the two batteries into the generator.
"Alright, let's see what the former employees of this place used to keep down here...hope I don't get in trouble," I mumbled as I walked over to the switch and pulled it.
The chains up above started groaning as they started moving and pulling up something enormous. After a minute of the clanking of the chains and the groaning of the machinery from down below, a huge impressive machine rose up from the hole in the floor and the chains stopped, leaving the machine hanging in midair.
"Holy shit..." I trailed off in awe at the incredible sight before me.
The machine was large and bulky, looking like a square, oversized fire hydrant with several mechanical belts on it and pipes that ran into and out of the monstrosity's foundation. Judging from the splatters of ink that were on it, I concluded that this was the Ink Machine. I turned around and left the room, but stopped when I saw a door on the left and the shutter door on the right was open.
"What the fuck? Those weren't open before," I stated uneasily and called out to whoever opened them.
"Hello?! NYPD! Whoever is here, you are trespassing in a dangerous and condemned building! You are to vacate the premises immediately for your own safety!" I announced, but there was no reply.
Keeping my hand on the butt of my service weapon just in case whoever was here was a hopped up tweaker that was twitchy and armed with a knife or gun, I cautiously entered the door on the left and headed down the stairs to find myself inside a break room of some kind. Seeing a hallway at the end of the room that branched off to the left, I slowly walked over to see that the hallway around the corner was completely blocked off by boards, forcing me to go back and head through the open shutter that led to two hallways on the left and right.
"God, this place is like a fucking maze," I thought as I went down the left hallway.
Turning around the corner, I saw a table that had a coffee cup and an old tape recorder that had the name Wally Franks on it.
"Huh, I wonder if there's anything on it," I mumbled as I pushed the play button, and a high pitched male voice with a Brooklyn accent (who I assumed was Wally) started speaking.
"At this point, I don't get what Joey's plan is for this company. The animations sure aren't being finished on time anymore, and I certainly don't see why we need this...machine. It's noisy, it's messy, and who needs that much ink anyways? Also, get this, Joey had each one of us donate something from our work stations. We put them on these little pedestals in the break room, to help appease the Gods, Joey said. Keep things going. I think he's lost his mind, but hey, he writes the checks. But I'll tell you what, if one more of these pipes burst, I'm outta here," Wally vowed and the recorder stopped.
"Huh...sounds like the founder of this studio was a little off in the head," I mumbled as I went down the hallway in front of me.
I kept walking and turning around corners until I found myself in what appeared to be in an old screening room. Seeing that it was dark, I took out my flashlight and turned it on, moving the beam around and looking for any sign of the individual that was here. I didn't find anything, so I turned off my flashlight, slipping it back into it's holder and turning back. Passing the tape recorder, I went down the hallway I hadn't checked yet and when I reached another crossroads, a board suddenly fell from the ceiling, scaring the hell out of me and I instinctively unholstered my Glock and aimed at the thing that startled me.
"Fuck! Shit...that scared the hell out of me...Goddamn place is falling apart. Okay, I need to find whoever is in here and get them out before someone gets killed by falling debris," I muttered after I holstered my gun and let out a nervous laugh for acting like a rookie greenhorn.
Taking a few calming deep breaths, I went to walk down the left path when I saw something that made me recoil.
"What the fuck!" I exclaimed in horror and covered my mouth in sheer disgust at what I was seeing.
What I was seeing inside the dimly lit room was the repulsive sight of what appeared to be a cartoonish creature that was strapped to an upright operating table that was used by morticians or surgeons. Approaching cautiously, I entered the room to investigate the nightmarish cadaver of what was once a black anthropomorphic wolf with a tail, pie eyes in the shape of X's, white overalls with pockets, white gloves, and black boots. Upon closer inspection, I could see that its chest had been cut open by some kind of blade and its organs harvested for some unknown purpose. But what made me nervous, is that the body looked fresh, like someone just killed this poor bastard recently, and there was a wrench inside the chest cavity. What wasn't helping the atmosphere of the room was tiny lit candles, and traces of more ink behind the victim, along with ink dripping ceaselessly from a fenced hole set high into the ceiling.
"What the fuck is this shit...what the fuck is going on here? Who the hell did this to you?" I questioned in horror and spoke into my radio, saying, "Central, this is 23-David...I have a DOA at Joey Drew Studios, requesting back up and HAU at my location immediately. Notify CSI."
"10-4," the dispatcher said.
"I need to secure the building and make sure not to touch anything that could contaminate any evidence," I thought as I saw more ink graffiti on the wall to my right that said 'who's laughing now?'.
"This is sick..." I trailed off and realized that if the body was fresh, then that meant there was a homicide perp loose in the building who was most likely armed and dangerous.
As I looked at the body, I noticed that it looked familiar and when I saw a poster nearby that showed Boris the Wolf on it, it suddenly hit me.
"This is Boris! But...how the fuck is this possible?! Cartoon characters aren't real!" I tried to convince myself, but there was no denying that I was staring at the dead body of a cartoon.
I unholstered my service weapon and aimed at the door that was to my left and entered the next room to find myself inside an animator's office. I headed over to the door that was at the far end of the room on the left and left the office to find myself back in the hallway that led to the crime scene. Turning left, I went past the crime scene and into a room on the right, and I saw what was apparently the control room for the Ink Machine. All I could see was a lever to turn on the machine, but there were six pedestals that were set in rows of three and connected to large pipes protruding from the walls, along with six pictures that had images of each pedestal.
"Okay...looks like I would need a wrench, a gear, a book, a Bendy toy, some kind of music, and an ink bottle," I mumbled as I saw the machine also turned on the power, and that there was an indicator that there was low pressure.
I turned around and left the room, only to nearly shoot when I almost crashed into a Bendy cut-out that was smack dab in the hallway.
"Motherfucker! Okay, whoever is here, come out now with your hands above your head!" I called out, but there was nothing.
Grumbling, I went back into the crime scene where one of the items I was looking for was at. Grimacing, I looked around for something to get the wrench out of the body without leaving fingerprints, and I spotted what appeared to be a clean cloth. I used the cloth to grab the wrench and pull it out, then walked back to the room behind me and put the wrench it on its pedestal. The pedestal began to sink with a rumble, and a light shone down where the pedestal had been. Nodding in satisfaction, I left the room to look for the other items.
After gathering everything I needed (going through a few scares in the process) and turning a valve in the screening room, I placed the items onto the pedestals and pulled the lever. The machine started up and the lights in the room shut off. I took out my flashlight and was navigating through the darkness back to the Ink Machine when I noticed that the entryway into the large room was boarded up.
"What the hell-" I started to say, but I was cut off when a messed up gooey looking Bendy with ink covering the upper half of it's face, a skinny frame, and a clawed hand suddenly lunged at me from behind the boards, trying to swipe at me.
"Fuck!" I exclaimed in terror as I threw myself to the floor and shot once at the monster, making it recoil from the bullet striking it in the face, but it simply grinned and melted into the ink that was coming from everywhere. At that point, I just decided to get the hell out and quickly got up, speaking frantically into my radio.
"Central, 23-David is 10-13! Repeat, 10-13! Need back up to my location ASAP! A shot has been fired!" I exclaimed in terror as the ink was flooding the building.
As the studio was breaking apart and unleashing streams of ink, I frantically moved through the ink to the front door. I didn't know if it was my fear-addled brain, but it almost felt like the ink was trying to grab me and drag me under as I almost made it out. Suddenly, the floor that I was running across near the entrance of the building gave way and I fell several feet down.
"Oh shit!" I screamed until I hit solid ground hard, the impact knocking the breath out of me.
Picking myself up, I groaned when I saw that my uniform and duty belt were covered in ink, and that I was standing knee deep in ink.
"Ah shit...Sarge is going to kill me," I groaned. I saw a valve and trudged through the rubbery substance to reach it. I turned the valve and the ink began to drain out of the room. Now that I had more breathing room, I realized that I was trapped God knows how many feet underground and tried to contact dispatch.
"Central, come in...Central, do you read me," I spoke into the radio, but nothing came through, not even static. I checked the radio and saw that there was a crack, showing that it broke when I landed hard.
"Well isn't that just fucking perfect...now I'm trapped down here with a monster that looks like it came from a horror movie, and I can't call for help. Looks like I need to get out the old fashioned way," I thought unhappily.
Looking around, I saw another tape recorder. When I walked over to it, I saw the name Thomas Conner on it. I pressed the play button, and a grumpy, male, gravely voice spoke.
"It's dark and it's cold and it's stuck in behind every single wall now. In some places, I swear this Godforsaken ink is clearly up to my knees! Whoever thought that these crummy pipes could hold up under this kind of strain either knows something I don't, or he's some kind of idiot. But the real worst part about all of this...is them noises the system makes. Like a dying dog on it's last legs. Make no mistake, this place...this...machine...hell, this whole damn thing...it just isn't natural. You can bet, I won't be doing anymore repair jobs for Mr. Joey Drew," Thomas complained and the tape stopped.
Well, it wasn't much to go on, but I could tell from the frustration in the repairman's voice and the other tape by Wally Franks that they were pissed to be working in a place that had daily problems with Joey Drew and what was happening in the studio. And the fact that Thomas had experienced the problem firsthand, it made me dread to think what other problems were going on in the studio back then other than the issue with the ink pressure and the building falling apart.
But that wasn't the only thing that was on my mind-far from it. I had seen that cartoons were as real as flesh and blood, only one had been mutilated, and the other had tried to kill me. I could only theorize that Joey was doing something back then with that ink machine and he had somehow managed to make cartoons into actual people, but something must've gone wrong with the Bendy character and now it had been on a bloodthirsty rampage for who knows how many years. I thought about all the people I looked up in building's history that had gone missing, and I wondered if that monster killed all those people back when it all went to shit, forcing Joey to flee the place and shut it down. Guess this shows what happens when you try to play God.
"And now I'm trapped with the fucking thing, great. How the hell am I going to explain what I've seen? Everyone will think I'm crazy and I'll become a joke to the department that will never be taken seriously. On the plus side, I did manage to put in a code 10-13, so now every unit in the area will be coming here to provide backup. Wait, what if the other officers arrive and they encounter that thing?" I thought, recalling that I shot the thing in the head and it didn't do shit. I paled when I realized that my fellow officers and even an ESU team would be slaughtered if they tried to fight that thing.
"I can't think about the repercussions, I just need to find a way out of this fucking place," I mumbled as I walked over to an open doorway that was nearby, aiming my Glock to the right and seeing a staircase that led down. Cautiously walking to the stairs and heading down, I saw that even though I had drained the area, there was already serious leakage and damage done from the unseen ink spills somewhere within the deteriorating walls. Seeing ink flooding the next flight of stairs, I turned the valve that was next to me and the ink drained to free the path before me. I walked down the stairs and threw up my hands in disbelief at seeing more ink flooding the bottom of the stairs.
"Are you fucking shitting me? How much ink is in this damn place? This is ridiculous," I questioned to myself, shivering as I recalled the ink trying to grab me and drag me under like a living breathing creature.
I shook my head and headed down the stairs. Looking down the end of the hall and seeing a valve, I waded through the ink that was up to my waist, and I grimaced when I felt the ink trying to grab and pull me under as I turned the valve, causing the black rubbery liquid to drain and freeing a door that was nearby. I slowly opened the door and moved inside while aiming my gun just in case. Not seeing any threats, I holstered my gun while seeing more graffiti that said 'the creator lied to us.'
"Damn, somebody had issues working in this place," I mumbled as I turned and saw the opening that led to the next hallway was completely boarded up, but I spotted an axe on a table and picked it up, swinging it to test how durable it was and I nodded in satisfaction.
"This will work. I can't rely on my service weapon since I have a limited amount of ammo, so I need to conserve it," I thought as I walked over to the boards and hacked them down with a few well placed swings. Moving further down the hall and chopping down any boards that were in my way. I walked around a corner to see a door that was boarded up, but a few swings took care of the blockage, and what I saw when I opened the door shocked me.
Inside was a solitary room that was dimly lit by candles arranged within a ritualistic circle, hand drawn by thin paint or ink with a pentagram in the middle of the sinister circle. Surrounding the ritualistic circle were three coffins that had the disgusting stench of rotten corpses coming from them. Two of the coffins were propped up in a slant against the wall while the third one was nestled in it's proper position towards another side of the wall.
"Jesus Christ...what the fuck was going on in this place? Ugh...those coffins...smells like whoever is in them has been dead for decades," I gagged out while covering my nose and mouth.
From what I could see, someone had dabbled heavily into the occult and quite possibly killed more than a few people in this place before it closed down, which explained how people went missing before the studio shut down. Some kind of satanic cult must've operated in this place in secret and killed a lot of people. As I entered the room, a strange feeling came over me that made me nauseous. It was like whatever was in the environment of this room was making me feel sick, and it wasn't the sight of the coffins or the lukewarm air around me.
"Ugh...God...feel like shit..." I barely groaned out while I stumbled to the door across the room.
Just as I walked into the circle, an agonizing pain ripped through my head and I yelled in pain as images of the Ink Machine, a wheelchair, and the messed up version of Bendy appeared in my mind. I dropped the axe and collapsed to the floor and blacked out.
In a few seconds I was out cold, unable to defend myself from anything that was lurking in this place and wanting to kill me.
A/n Hey guys, looks like it's not going to well for Lewis. Before you say anything, I just wanted to say that there is going to to be a twist at the end of chapter 4, but I'm not revealing anything so it's up to you to come with your own theories as to what the twist is. Before I forget, I just wanted to say that I have no experience in law enforcement at all, so if any police officers are reading this, then I want to apologize if I screwed up for not having my OC follow procedure. Well, if that's all, stay tuned.