"Hey, hey, hey, get away from there!"
"But I'm bored!"
"That's my desk, Mary, you leave that alone! There's nothing there that'd amuse you anyway."
But as he'd lifted the squirming nine-year-old away from his old writing desk, a piece of paper was swept outward, fluttering slowly to the floor. Mary wiggled out of her uncle's grip and picked it up, quickly skimming the contents. "What's this?"
"Nothing." The paper was quickly snatched back up and shoved into a drawer. "Nothing to concern yourself with. Now go...go watch TV for a bit. Get some of my old tapes out or something."
But children are naturally curious. Especially bored children, who've been sent to stay with their bachelor uncle while Mom and Dad are on vacation from them.
So in the dead of night while Uncle Henry slept, Mary re-dressed herself, and crept through the small house to his desk. She dared not turn on any lights, instead allowing the moonlight filtering through the blinds be her aid. She found the drawer the paper had been put in, slowly and carefully opened it, and removed the letter.
Children are curious. Especially bored children. Especially bored children who are already having a rebellious adventure by being out of bed and snooping around when they shouldn't be. And children who are already tasting rebellion and having one small adventure who have read all sorts of books featuring brave, rebellious children who run away to have adventures when grown-ups aren't looking...Those are the most curious children of all.
She'd only be gone for a little bit.
She'd peek around the address on the letter for a little bit, then come back.
That was what she told herself as she pedaled her bike to the abandoned studio, cold night wind stinging her cheeks and whipping her hair.
By the time Mary reached the studio, the familiar tales of rebellious children and adventure were turning into stories of ghosts, and monsters that ate kids. The studio loomed in front of her, dark and dismal. Mary let her bike coast to a stop as she stared up at it, scarcely believing the sight.
She knew her uncle had worked at an animation studio, decades before she was born. She knew the Bendy cartoons were made here – Uncle Henry had some of the cartoons in his house, and some of the original merchandise. He'd never allowed her out here of course, and he really didn't like to talk about his days out here, but she knew about it all right.
She just...didn't know it looked like this. Falling apart in some places, holes in the rooftop, windows boarded up haphazardly, some spots had to be reinforced with even more planks of wood... All in all, it looked more like a haunted house than an animation studio.
The wind blew ominously, gliding between some of the wood and making whistling sounds. The studio groaned loudly, as if in protest.
Mary should have been more afraid than ever.
But something compelled her to drop the kickstand and venture closer.
Maybe it was the fact she'd come this far.
Maybe the adventure stories were overpowering the ghost ones.
She put her hands on the gate, pushing gently. It flew open, squeaking loudly.
At the sound of the loud squeak, a light suddenly appeared in one of the windows.
Maybe that was what compelled her to run inside.
"Whoooaaaaa!" Mary whispered, letting the door close behind her. The studio was dimly-lit inside, casting an orange-brown glow to everything, and the halls were only in slightly less disrepair than the outside. Splatters of ink were on the floor and wall here and there, thick pipes swam in and out of the wood like a sea-serpent. The ceiling was hiiigh above Mary's head, making her feel like Jack in the giant's castle. Her astonished cry echoed around her, the floor creaked as if in answer.
And she was all by herself in here...
She only had one thing to say to that.
"Cooooool!" she shouted, fists clenched at her chest.
"ooool...ooool...ool...ol..." Her echo answered.
She couldn't help the delighted laugh from bubbling out of her throat as she did a quick, jogging dance in the entryway. Who cared what the outside of the studio looked like now, the inside was awesome! And so much room and and and all to herself and and oh wow, she could bring her bike or her skates in here and go nuts with all this floor space and
And Bendy cutouts and posters on the walls and some really old-looking stuff too that she didn't bother investigating, she could have so much fun in here! Heck, she could grab some snacks and a blanket or something when she went home and then come back and make this place her hideout!
Wouldn't that be a great story for when school resumed?
Mary finally took a few steps down the hall, looking around as she moved. Now that her echo had faded, the halls were quiet again. The only other sound was the squeaks her shoes made, the slightest creak of the floor when she pressed all her weight on one foot. And those were small sounds, so they didn't count.
She paused in front of a cardboard Bendy, smiling jovially as if to welcome her in. With a matching grin of her own, Mary held her hand at the top of her head, then moved it to the cardboard Bendy's. "Hey, you're as taller'n me!" she laughed. "Uncle Henry always said you'd be shorter." She stood back, briefly waving at the cutout. "Well, bye!"
As she walked, taking in the scale and scope of the building, scattering pieces of paper in her wake, she wondered why her uncle had hidden the letter. Did he not want her to come here? She couldn't imagine why – this place was amazing! It was old and falling apart in places, but that only made it more interesting. Grown ups always worried about the silliest things, Mary thought to herself.
Her attention moved to some of the posters for Bendy cartoons. There weren't many – well, there were many posters, but not much variety. Some had splatters of ink on them, but where they'd come from, she didn't know.
clang
"Huh?" Mary stopped, looking around. "Hello?!" she shouted down the hall.
No answer. Even the clanging noise had stopped.
"Hm." Mary paused for a second, then shrugged.
Her adventure continued, taking her further down the hall and around a few corners. As she moved through the rooms, she found a few desks and chairs – maybe one of them had been her uncle's! She could grab a chair and bring it back as a souvenir, maybe. It wasn't stealing if nobody was using it, right?
Hm, but how would she bring it back on her bike? Maybe if she tied a bit of rope to the seat, or the back wheel.
Yeah, rope might work! There had to be some here...
Mary turned around, walking past the cardboard Bendy that stood off to the side of the doorway. There was another room at the end of the hall. She could look there first and
clang clang clang clang clang
And
Mary froze in the door, heart jumping into her throat, blood turning to ice.
The slab in front of her. The ink smeared on the floor. The thing strapped to the slab – like a mascot at an amusement park but not at the same time this wasn't a costume this wasn't a costume this
clang clang clang clang clang
The banging was louder now. Mary jumped, hand flying to her chest as she whirled around, looking everywhere – anywhere – but the ghastly sight before her.
"-lo?! Hello, can you hear me?!" burbled a voice.
"Wh-what?" Mary gasped, trying to sound as brave as she was ten minutes ago.
There was a brief pause, and then she saw it. A small piece of black piping near the wall started rattling and bulging, ink squirting between the screws. "Hello?! Joey, izzat you?!"
Joey?
"N-Nuh-uh!" Mary shook her head so hard her hair whipped around and stung her cheeks. "'m Mary!" She probably shouldn't be talking to a pipe, but the sudden change in atmosphere had her too startled and frightened to think rationally.
"Oh...Oh!" The voice sounded disappointed at first, then ecstatic. "Mary! Mary, you gotta get me outta here! You gotta lemme out!"
Mary moved closer, giving a wide berth to the candles on the floor. She still refused to look at the not-mascot on the slab, the scary text smeared on the wall. "How?"
"There should be a wrench around here somewhere. Hurry and find it, please!"
"A...a wrench...?" Mary mumbled. Where would she even know where to look? The place was huge, she knew that already-
CLANG
Mary shrieked and whirled around. (Behind her, the gurgling voice yelped "What is it?!") Nothing. With a loud gulp, Mary moved towards the door, still not looking at the slab.
A wrench was on the floor just outside, at the feet of a cardboard cutout. Mary couldn't believe her luck! Quickly grabbing it off the floor, she ran back inside to the pipe. "I found one!"
"That was quick...Okay! Unscrew those screws for me – righty-tighty, left-loosie!" it added, perhaps sensing Mary's brief confusion.
She really shouldn't be here. She should have turned and run for the exit the second she saw the cartoon – Boris, she realized, she barely recognized him with his chest torn... - she should have hopped on her bike and pedaled home.
But children were curious.
Especially empathetic children who heard a voice calling for help.
The screws were a bit rusty, and the edges were caked in dried ink. When Mary tried to unscrew it, at first all she got got for her trouble were some loud squeaks of protest, and very sore hands. But she kept trying. She grit her teeth, propped one foot against the wall, the chair she was standing on threatening to give way as she made it shake...
A Bendy cutout fell in the doorway, almost distracting her.
Mary paused for one moment, catching her breath and wiping her red hands on her pinafore. "Okay," she grumbled. "Once more!"
She braced her foot against the wall, one hand on the pipe. She turned as hard as she could-
-the screw gave way.
With a loud cry of victory, Mary hurriedly unscrewed it the rest of the way until it fell with a clatter that echoed around the room. "I got it!" she shouted, hopping backwards from the chair. "You-"
The rest of her sentence was lost in a loud gshshshssssh! of ink as the pipe suddenly moved. It was a bit like when the gutters broke, as the pipe suddenly swerved out diagonally, spilling ink in a thick waterfall to the floor. Mary had to leap back to avoid getting drenched, though some of it splattered over her shoes. But that didn't matter – she just stared, transfixed and a little horrified, as finally, one large black lump was pushed from the pipe and fell with a splut to the middle of the puddle.
As Mary was about to get a better look, the blob shuddered violently, then surged forward.
And then two long tube-things stretched out of it, followed by a round little head...
And...this really was the only way to describe it: Bendy pulled himself out of the ink and into the shape.
He remained on his hands and knees for a bit, coughing and sputtering violently. Black drops of ink spilled from his mouth to hit the floor, he wiped at his mouth with his arm. "Th-thank...you..." he gasped like a man saved from drowning. "I dunno how long I've been in there..."
Mary just stared, her eyes growing steadily wider. "B...Bendy...?" she whispered.
"'s'me!" Bendy looked up at her, his trademark grin appearing for a second-
-only to vanish, a cry of dismay and horror escaping as he saw what was behind her. "BORIS!" he shrieked, trying to run past her. He slipped and fell, his legs still weak, but he didn't stop. Instead, he crawled, pulled his way to the slab, falling into the depression and attempting to climb onto the slab himself. "Buddy! Boris, Boris, hey! Hey, look! 's me! Wake up, buddy!"
As the cartoon shouted, sounding on the verge of hysterical tears, Mary allowed herself to finally look at Boris again. She still couldn't stand to look for longer than a few seconds, but it was long enough for her to notice the ink splattered just behind his body. And the little X's on his eyes...sometimes cartoons came from from having X-eyes, didn't they? On the TV?
Bendy's screaming was slowly faded, replaced by wet coughing. Mary cautiously approached him, reached to touch his shoulder. He felt a little cool, and slick without being wet. Like a wet, sticky beach ball, but no real wet there. "Maybe...?" she whispered. "M-Maybe we can fix him?"
Bendy stilled. "Of course," he whispered. "The Ink Machine."
"The what?"
"The – the machine! The thing that – ow." He winced for a second, holding his held like he had a headache. "If we turn it on, we can save him! We can probably bring him back!"
"The Ink Machine?"
Bendy was already moving behind Mary. Without waiting permission, he hopped up – easy, since this Bendy was actually a little bit shorter than Mary herself was – and looped his arms around her neck, legs round her hips. Like a little kid getting a piggyback.
"I'll guide you," he was saying, propping his chin on Mary's shoulder. "I know this joint like the back o' my hand – we'll set this right, kiddo!"
"O...Okay!" Mary's voice began apprehensive, but ended confident. She reached down to hold Bendy up better, nodding as a grim look of determination appeared on her face.
She shouldn't have been here.
She should never have come.
She should have turned and run back to her uncle's as soon as she saw Boris.
She shouldn't have taken those first few steps out of the room, a living breathing cartoon on her back ("I'm kinda glad a kid's the first friendly face I see 'round here. I always liked kids..."). She shouldn't have gotten mixed up in all of this.
But children are naturally curious.