Hello, there. Lilith here.

And...yeah! I've jumped on the wagon that is the latest developing indie game: Bendy and the Ink Machine.

I won't deny that as much as I'm not much of a horror game fan (let's face it, horror games these days have gotten less horror-y and more shooter-y in big name games), I won't deny that at least the indie games have been giving people the horror they crave. And this game - created by the one and only theMeatly and Mike Mood - certainly has an art style that I'm totally invested in (and wish I could play myself).

And given how far it's come along, I thought it'd be amusing to put my own spin on the story. Because why not?

So, without further ado, enjoy this prologue!

EDIT: Seeing how the next chapter will be coming out soon, I expanded on the prologue a little bit, if just to add more to what I already have.

BATIM belongs to theMeatly and Mike Mood. I own the OCs.

Read, leave me a review, but flames are unacceptable.


Prologue: The Mysterious Message

"Is it going to rain today, Bogart? I swear I'm seeing lots of clouds."

"How should I know, Mae? It's not like you watch the news and check for the forecast."

On an unusually cloudy autumn morning, Mae and Bogart had just finished up their breakfast routine when the former just now noticed the uncanny sight of dark clouds slowly rolling through the skies like it plans to bring on the rain at any given moment. Given the fact that they're living in the state that might as well be the heart of all things cinematic, the weather should be at least reasonable with every season that rolls by each year. But now, there's something about it that just doesn't seem right.

At the age of twenty-nine, Bogart is an average young man with short, curled black hair with light peachy skin and brown eyes. Mae is twenty-five standing shorter than her brother with bob-length blond hair, light pale skin and blue eyes. Since the both of them had just woken up over an hour ago, the both of them are still in their nightclothes and haven't gotten themselves ready for the new day.

Mae just rolled her eyes as she set the dishes in the sink. "I don't like the news these days, plain and simple."

Bogart sighed in exasperation. "C'mon, now, is it because of the unrelenting rants about family rebellions and demands for more equal rights?"

"Call me childish all you want, but I'd rather watch old films and cartoons," Mae insisted strongly, "like those Bendy cartoons our uncle used to do. You remember those?"

That's something brother and sister remember all too well. Their uncle, Henry, used to work as an animator alongside an eccentric guy called Joey Drew and made cartoons involving a character called Bendy in a newly budding studio called Joey Drew Studios. They used to be told about those cartoons by their uncle when they were just kids back in the day, but over the years, he seldom spoke about his old friend Joey and never mentioned what happened to him. In fact, nobody knew what became of Joey and the people that worked with him or what became of that cartoon studio they'd heard about occasionally.

But then, the sound of something sliding through the letter door caught the attention of the two siblings as they wondered what just arrived at the house at this hour. Not in the mood to waste time, Bogart lazily set aside the newspaper he was reading earlier and left the kitchen to see what the matter is.

But when he got there, though, the only thing he found at the entrance is an envelope that seemed yellowed from age and a seal with the letter initials 'J. D.' stamped on the back of the envelope. On the front of the envelope is their uncle's name, but that's all there is to it.

Suspicious as to whether this is someone's idea of a joke; Bogart opened the door and looked around the front porch – only to find nobody there. Rattled by this, he slowly closed the door and returned back inside.

"That's just creepy…" he muttered to himself.

Mae peeked out from the kitchen and asked, "What'd you find, Bogart?"

"Just an old-looking envelope with something in it meant for our uncle," he replied, suspicion evident in his voice.

As he returned to the kitchen, Mae snatched the envelope from her brother's hand and examined it herself, curious as to what it is that got sent to their uncle's doorstep.

"Wait…Is this thing sent by that Mr. Drew?" Mae asked. "If so, then what took him so long to write a letter? I thought he lost touch with our family long ago."

Bogart shrugged his shoulders. "Heck if I know. We'd better let Uncle Henry see this, and let him be the judge about it."

"And what am I supposed to be judging about?"

Both siblings turned around to find that their uncle Henry just happened to come down the stairs without them realizing he heard about the strange mail delivery. Despite being in his late fifties, he has the decent physicality of someone in their twenties or thirties, but the grey streaks running rampant in his otherwise brown hair and the slight wrinkles near his eyes warned about his actual age. Even after years of no involvement with his former job, he still dressed like that of an artist trying to make ends meet since the old ink stains are still visible on his trousers, and his shirt was disheveled from repeated rolling up his sleeves and adjusting the collar regularly.

Both siblings can tell that he knows something's up since he has his eyes fixated on the envelope in Mae's hands and his brows held a poorly hidden indication of suspicion crossing his face. Perchance he heard mention of the name of Joey Drew as he was coming down the stairs? If that's the case, then he probably has a lot of questions that not even he can answer about what is going on today.

"Where did that come from?" Henry asked them, implying the envelope.

"No clue. I didn't find anybody outside," Bogart replied first. "And to my knowledge, the mailman has a day off today."

"Uncle Henry, you don't think this came from that guy you and Dad used to know way back when, do you?" Mae asked out of curiosity.

Now, this was a rather sensitive topic for the family in the house: Bogart and Mae knew well how their father, uncle, and Joey Drew had big dreams to make their marks in the film industry ever since their youths in California. They had heard a few times how the trio had gone to art school together and talked about big dreams in animation, even the idea of making cartoons that would be the talk of the state. Henry and Joey went on to establish a film studio of their own, and their father joined in as the assistant artist for their uncle. However, years later, the company – as they last heard – went out of business due to financial issues in the wake of 'the Crash', and personal problems occurred between Joey and their relatives. Since then, Henry sought out other film companies that would take his talent while their father turned his attention to providing concept arts for monster movies at another studio. Neither of them has ever heard from their old friend after years of separation.

"Yeah… But that was a long time ago," Henry finally answered.

"Thirty years, if I remember right," Bogart recalled. "But then why write now?"

"Maybe he missed our uncle," Mae guessed, "and wanted to reconcile for whatever mistakes he made before."

"Then why'd he bother writing now?" her brother questioned skeptically. "It's been thirty years. I'm sure everyone else thinks he's either dead or a recluse by now."

Not paying attention to their questions bounced between one another, Henry took the envelope from his niece's hand and opened it up to find out what's been written to him since it's been addressed specifically to him. Sure enough, he finds a short handwritten message written on an old sheet of paper, almost as yellowed as the envelope itself. But something about the message is a bit…off, almost a bit stiff to say the least, like someone was trying to keep a steady hand while writing without making a mess.

'Dear Henry,

It seemed like a lifetime since we worked on cartoons together. Thirty years really slips away, doesn't it?

If you're back in town, come to the old workshop. There's something I need to show you.

Your best pal,

Joey Drew'

This gave Henry all the more reason to believe that his niece and nephew are right to be confused about the sudden mail delivery. He knew that he hadn't heard from Joey for thirty years since the failure of the studio, but then why would he write back now after not contacting him for so long? For that matter, what is it that Joey wanted him to see at their old workshop? Something about this just didn't sit right with him.

The same thing can also be said for Mae and Bogart, since they've peeked over his shoulder to find out what the letter is about. Apparently, the strange implications of an invitation raised a few red flags for them since there aren't any clear details as to why Henry would be summoned to the old studio he used to work at decades prior. Not only that, but he didn't sound remotely aware that Henry's brother, their father, had passed away some years ago and left behind a wife and two children – that is, until a certain incident damaged their mother's reputation, leaving them in their uncle's hands until matters are sorted out.

"So, Mr. Drew doesn't contact you for thirty years, not even a letter to check in on you," Bogart struggled to make sense of the situation, "and now he wants you to come back to the place where your career started for something that he's not telling you about? This all sounds extremely suspicious to me."

"Maybe he wants to surprise our uncle," Mae guessed, trying to be optimistic.

Her brother didn't feel convinced. "And just what surprise would that be? There aren't any details about it."

Henry understood the reasons to be suspicious about the message, but even he couldn't help but wonder what it is that Joey wanted to show him after not speaking with him for decades. Perhaps whatever it is he wants to show him is meant to be a surprise, like Mae said. Or maybe there's something amiss in this invitation, as Bogart has reason to believe. Either way, he's not going to find out about it if he doesn't at least return to the old studio he once worked at and investigated what the situation.

"I'm heading to the workshop," Henry suddenly announced.

This stunned both siblings when they heard him suddenly decide to take the invitation.

"Wait, what?" Bogart asked, dumbfounded.

"I'll be heading to the studio, see what Joey wants," Henry clarified, "If I don't find anything after a while, I'll come back home right away."

Although they had no idea why, something about their uncle's idea of departing alone bothered them to no end. Whether it was because they feared losing yet another relative to troubling circumstances or because they think the invitation might be a trap set up by some dangerous serial killer, they don't know, but what they do know is that they aren't too thrilled about letting someone close to them go off alone without a good reason to do so. What if he goes missing and the police can't find any trace of him? No, they do not even want to think about that!

Fortunately, Bogart made his protest first. "I don't think so, Uncle. And besides, even if you do go there, what are you gonna do then? Say 'Hello? Joey? It's me, Henry.', and expect to see your old boss come out and greet you like an old college buddy who missed your presence? Nuh-uh, old man! I'm not letting you head over there alone."

"I'm going, too!" Mae piped up, "I want to know what happened to Mr. Drew, too. If he's hurt or sick or something, then he'll need help."

"Look, I know you kids mean well, but I don't want to –" Henry tried to dissuade them.

"Stop right there, Uncle Henry!" Bogart interrupted, "My sister may not be an expert in film biz, but she's right about one thing: if there's someone in trouble where you're going, someone has to do something to get help. And frankly, we're not gonna let you do this alone. Letting you go by yourself would make me regret not doing anything to help you, and Mae would cry like she did when we had to bury our dad years before shit happened to our mom." He paused a moment to stop his tears. "Look, just give us a few minutes to get dressed and we'll all get out the door together and check out the studio. If we find Mr. Drew, we'll do what we gotta do if he's got troubles. If we don't, we'll get out and report to the police something's wrong, whether there's foul play or not. Simple as that."

As unexpected as it was to hear, not even Henry could deny that his nephew had a legit point about the situation. If anything did happen to him, what could his only living relatives do without his support? Haven't they had enough problems as it is? It felt too difficult to turn his back on them now.

"Alright… You both got ten minutes to get ready," Henry complied, "I'll use the time to make sure the motorcar is functional before we go anywhere. No dawdling, you hear me?"

Try as they might to hide it, the triumphant smiles on the siblings' faces clearly indicated they've succeeded on convincing their uncle into letting them come along for the ride. As their uncle went out the door to check his vehicle in the garage, brother and sister wasted no time hurrying to dress for the trip to the one place they hadn't seen in years. Bogart changed into a plain white button shirt and cool grey pants worn over a light blue long-coat with dark brown shoes; Mae garbed in a purple dress underneath a fur-trimmed plum coat and color-matched bucket cap laced with a net veil with short brown boots.

While Mae felt excitement and nervousness for what might be waiting for them at the studio, however, Bogart carries a heavy feeling of unease as to the strange circumstances of the letter and the invitation that seemed to promise something fascinating. Now, the whole family is joining together to uncover the mystery of the studio once well-known and spoken about by the people in the state, hopefully to find the answers they all have for the questions that lingered within their minds for decades. They don't know what they'll find once they reach their destination, but now they're about to pry open the mystery brought right to them.

But as the entire family left the safety of their home and followed the path down to the place where the beloved Bendy was created by the hands of ambitious men, the air almost felt eerily cold as the clouds continued to spread tints of darkness across the skies. Any traces of civilization that could be identified grew more and more distant as they approached a long abandoned part of the road that once led to a sanctum for the select few that wanted to make their mark on the pages of history.

What neither of them, though, is that they will not be fully prepared for what it is that waits to be discovered…