This chapter may contain some spoilers about Chapter 3 and Chapter 1, but it is purely non-cannon, so please proceed at your own risk!

Bendy and the Ink Machine belongs to TheMeatly.

The Boris clones.

There were many, many clones of Boris the friendly wolf. Enough to almost fill the whole animation production area of the studio.

They were organized in different rooms though from the most perfect to the most common victims of being tainted by the Ink Demon. It was easier for HER to become more beautifully organized. And physically too.

These Boris' were standing around, eating soup, and playing cards with each other. You know, Boris-y things. All of the Boris clones were doing these activities, but that is if you don't count the Boris clone huddled up in the back of the room.

He had his hands over his ears, shaking in fear brutally with closed eyes. He just wanted to stop hearing all of these voices in his head. Speaking gibberish by talking over each other in madness. The fear and sadness from the voices caused the Boris' heart to ache with pain. He wanted to claw his chest open, hoping that maybe it would stop the pain. Probably not the voices though. He hated them, but he was forced to listen to their desperate pleading. The joys of being one with the ink…

"I am not a clone..."

The intense pressure from speaking those words caused the Boris' throat to feel like sandpaper. Sure, the Boris didn't know what sandpaper felt like, but it hurt like hell.

Why did his throat hurt after he had said those few words, you may ask. Well, it was all the work of the angel. She'd toy with their minds, causing some of them to become her slaves. She'd mess with their ink minds so much that the Boris clones had lost the memory of how to speak and what it felt like. If one didn't forget within her own scheduled time period, she'd cut him open and gut him, throwing his remains into the never-ending pools of ink.

To make the clones forget was the only way for her to make sure that they couldn't yell for help.

Nobody would come save them if they couldn't…

This Boris, the one still in the corner, was lucky. The angel was about half way through her work with his mind, until she got instantly interrupted by the Ink Demon. She gasped, dropped her tools, and ran. It wasn't long til the Ink Demon showed himself to the Boris. It was an introduction without words, but everything was understood. Then, the Ink Demon inched closer, causing the Boris clone to flinch and shake with fear. He then closed his pie-cut eyes, preparing himself to be dragged into the Ink Demon's inky lair. But when he opened his eyes again, his feet were solid on the ground and his arms were pinned to his side with his fists clenched tightly.

The Boris gripped his ears tightly in his gloved hands. The voices were long past the soft whimpering and crying. They were now screaming like the Ink Demon himself was after them, attacking them. It was causing this Boris to want to scream, to block them out with his own voice.

…

He said something, screamed something in that moment. He didn't know what it was that he had said since the voices were way too loud. But he knew that all of the other Boris clones were staring at him with cold, dead-looking eyes.

The Boris clone quickly got himself off the floor and onto his feet. He was prepared to run across the room. He was ready to open the door and see the Ink Demon or angel standing there.

He was ready to go to where the voices wanted to go to. He wanted to go home…

He positioned his feet and ran towards the other wall. He watched all of the other Boris clones continue to stare that the wall that he once was at. It was unnerving... Their gaze didn't change. The Boris shook his head and mentally reminded himself about what he was doing.

He slammed his hands on the door that led out of the room. He was out of breath. He was going to rest before he did anything else that was stupid.

He then grabbed the door knob with his left hand, turned it, the walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The first thing that the Boris clone saw was ink. Dark, black ink that came in all different shapes and sizes. And it was everywhere!

The Boris clone didn't mind when his legs got dirty from the ink though. In the room, at least two or three Boris clones tripped over him, spilling bacon soup all over him. Then, the angel had to clean him up. She would be furious that it took over half of the things she was planning for that day, but she wouldn't stop til he was clean. Perfectly clean and spotless; that's what she'd mutter over and over and over again while he was being cleaned.

But despite all of the silence and ink, the Boris quite liked this place much more than that crowded room. There were more places to check out here, and the Boris could finally be adventurous!

Then he saw a weird looking box, so he ran towards it. It had many strange shapes all over it a had many little, black, shiny circle things placed around it. The Boris clone also noticed that there were some of those black things on the floor too, underneath the table and half drowned in ink.

He concluded that whoever was here last as in a hurry and made a huge mess of things.

He turned his attention back to the weird looking box. Taking a glance at it in all of the possible directions, the Boris noticed that it wasn't really a box. It was a long rectangle with one side standing up horizontal compared to the other side. There was a smaller box on the more rectangle side too, and it looked like a dark tunnel that led into the whole object.

The Boris put his hands on the table that the strange object was on, but, he felt something underneath his left hand that felt different in comparison to what the table felt like under his right hand. He lifted his hand and saw a piece of paper with words on it. The Boris clone was curious and read it.

'Don't touch out of work hours!

Your projectionist,

Norman Polk'

Confused as the Boris was, he took his other hand off of the table out of caution. Was something wrong the this 'projector'? And when was work hours? Was it, at this moment, still work hours, or after work hours? And if it was work hours, where were the workers?

Well, this Boris clone, as aware of the words on the paper as can be, couldn't help but be curious about this projector. What did it do? How did it work? A projector projects things, right? How does it project things? What does it project.

Then a dangerous thought came into the Boris clone's head. If he found a way to look inside of it, would that answer all of his questions? Only one way to find out...

Cautiously, he lightly tapped it with his left hand pointer finger. He then took a few steps backwards and closed his eyes. After a few moments, he slowly reopened his eyes. Nothing happe-

Something instantly grabbed the Boris' left arm and harshly tugged at it before successfully tearing a majority off, leaving a small portion of his upper arm to his shoulder. The Boris clone tried to call for help, but the pain was so unbearable that nothing came out. His attacker then forcefully pushed him to the floor, causing the back of his head to hit something hard.

The Boris clone's vision slowly faded to black…