What is this, you ask? Well, it's just another one of my side projects when it comes to writing stories. Since I am the type of guy who manages to create crossovers that while unlikely, seem to work in my eyes. As such, welcome to this Max Payne and Bendy and the Ink Machine crossover. However, before we start, a bit of clarification.
Text like this - Is demonic speak.
"Text like this" - Is a character's inner thoughts
Text like this - Is Max's inner monologue
São Paulo, Brazil
12:47PM, Wednesday Night
Estádio Do Galatians
The situation had not gone as planned. What was supposed to be a simple ransom exchange turned into a ambush conducted by a group of paramilitaries. Stuck in the middle between the Comando Sombra goons and the paramilitaries were Branco private security guards Max Payne and Raul Passos, who shot their way through the opposing forces in search of the guy who had their ransom money.
Unfortunately, while Passos managed to find him after Max provided cover for him to bypass the goons in the stands, so did the paramilitaries, who began to interrogate him. Once they got the information they needed, the bag guy was killed and the ransom money ended up stolen.
Despite this, Passos managed to overhear that Fabiana Branco, the woman who got pinched under Max's watch was being held at the docks up the Tiete River. With the operation having been canned, destroying half of Sao Paulo's most hallowed place of worship in the process, Max made his way to the upper catwalks to get rid of the final sniper that had been pestering them.
"Alright. I'm going up!" Max told Passos over headset.
"Good! Make it quick!"
"Believe me, I ain't gonna drag this out." He replied bitterly, just as he reached the top.
The paramilitaries present on the top catwalk were already waiting for Max, opening fire the moment they saw him. The man leapt forward in response, using the slowed passage of time that he was familiar with to pop a headshot off each of them with a Micro Uzi. Landing back on the catwalk with a grunt, Max picked himself up and walked towards the railing.
"I see you!" Passos called to him, "You're right on top of him! Jump the railing!"
"This is a bad idea!" The man observed.
"Well we don't have any other way of getting to him, Max! Get this over with!"
"Fine."
Holstering his submachine gun, Max hopped over the railing and slid down towards some spot lights. Landing on it, he used the downward movement of the emplacement to propel himself through the window, knocking the sniper down as he kicked him. Landing on his back, Max quickly drew his Uzi and unloaded his magazine into the sniper.
Even after he clicked empty, the man kept his gun trained on the downed foe as he got up. The confirmation of the kill was clear and Max headed down the stairs to regroup with Passos.
"I got the bastard!" He panted.
"I know. You know how to make an entrance, bro!" Passos replied, "Now, let's get the hell out of here."
There we were, home free, the subsequent possible loss of my other arm notwithstanding. And I was happy to get out there, considering me and Passos walked into another shitshow that left us worse off than before. Now, our only bet for getting Fabiana back from this point on was following up that tip we got earlier. The possibility of me actually making use of it to fix this… wasn't high at the moment.
Making it to the top of the stars, the two spotted the Branco chopper that they used to arrive at the stadium. Pausing to check if any traps remained, Max and Passos then quickly ran over to it and hopped in, flying off before any lucky paramilitary could shoot them down when they were at their most vulnerable.
"At least we know where she is."
"Yeah, fantastic." Max groaned, "Another good day's work."
"Trouble seems to find us, Max!"
Sure, trouble seems to finds us the same way you found me, slumped in a bar, drunk on self-pity. Little did we know, that night would have certainly been one to remember, for all the wrong reasons.
New Jersey, New York
4:06PM, Friday, A Few Months Ago
Golgotha Cemetery, North Bergen
My day, or rather night, had started the way it always had been for as long as I could remember. Drowning my sorrows in near poverty inside a rickety old apartment complex that I happened to call "home". Once I needed a change of scenery, I went out to the bar around the corner to do the exact same thing. Unfortunately for me, this "routine" I found well suited for someone like myself was about to be disrupted.
The moment this mafia rich kid, I think his name was Tony, walked in, the situation went from trying to drink myself numb to having a gun, the first one in years, pointed at me. A part wanted him to just pull the trigger and end my pathetic life. However, fortunate or unfortunate, depending on how you looked at it, smiled upon me, when an apparent old friend of mine, from memories I had long run away from, waltzed in and scared them off.
Of course, like all the people I met through my life, he wanted me for something, some body guarding job where I would protect people that were rich in dollars but poor in common sense. Too bad for him, I wasn't willing to be a white knight again and I promptly attempted to make my exit from the establishment. Despite my willingness to avoid a spray-tanned Guido who wanted to cap me and head home, the promise of a free shot of Scotch made me stay. And stay I did.
Like I predicted, Tony, along with some of his dad's prized hitman, came back. It was at this time where I added to my list of mistakes that I would regret later on. Capping Tony only had one logical conclusion, a state wide hit on both my head and Passos', who was unfortunate enough to be stuck with me the moment trouble came my way once again.
The Hoboken streets, my destitute apartment block, several rooftops, and a chop shop later, the offer suddenly appeared desirable, given the circumstances. Also, it wasn't like there was anything left for me in this heartless city, after it had taken everything that I had cared for. So, I accepted. But I needed to do something before I left.
I needed to say goodbye.
Despite my wish to mourn my wife and baby girl for as long as I needed before I departed, I knew it wasn't realistic. Sure enough, we found ourselves in the company of several more partycrashers, who all wanted a slice of the "Max Payne bounty" pie Anthony DeMarco laid out for everyone. I knew I shouldn't have gone there and Passos may have to pay the price of my sentimentality.
"Jesus man!" Passos said, putting away his Colt .45.
"Sorry." Max apologized, walking through a gate, "I just had to say goodbye."
"Ah, you okay?"
"I will be once we get out of here." He replied, walking down the path in front of him alongside Passos, " I got a feeling that those weren't the only guys DeMarco sent after us."
The sound of a speeding car coming from behind them quickly caught their attention. Sure enough, it was a hitman who decided to take them out through a hit and run.
"I got that feeling too!" Passos remarked, drawing his pistol.
Shooting at the driver, the two were sure to prevent themselves from becoming roadkill. Slowing down the passage of time, Max scored a headshot on him, the result having the van crash, collapsing the gate they just walked through.
I started to wonder if my luck was about to run out when I realized it had. A long time ago. That's why I was here. Even if it was rock bottom, somehow, it was about to sink deeper into the hole it had fallen into.
Max and Passos knew that they weren't out of the woods yet. If they had been tracked down to the cemetery by DeMarco's goons, it was obvious that they were waiting for them up ahead.
"THERE HE IS!" A mobster yelled, "THE MONEY'S MINE!"
However, they weren't expecting a grenade launcher, let alone one of the grenade shells being fired at them. The explosive landed a good distance in front of their eyes and the two quickly ran behind some tombstones. Another thing it did was cracking the cement under Passos' feet. They didn't notice, as avoiding the explosions were their top priority. The mobster fired at them again, the resulting explosion cracking the cement even more. Still, the two men didn't notice that the ground they were standing on was starting to break away, although they did stagger, trying to remain behind their current cover.
"You good?" Max called out.
"Yeah. I'm okay." Passos replied.
Peeking out from the tombstone he was hiding behind, the man gripped his Colt .45, being prepared to end the grenade launcher wielding mook with his next shot.
"What the fuck?! They're still alive!"
"Come on, Frankie! Roast those motherfuckers."
The mobster shot another grenade at the duo. At the same time, Max leaned out from his cover and sent a bullet from his gun into the former's face. Leaning back to avoid the ensuing gunfire, Max's eyes suddenly gazed upon the grenade shell which was flying towards the ground near them.
I didn't see it before, but that's what happens when your focus is on something which has the potential to horribly disember your whole being. That patch of cement that Passos was standing on looked like it was about to crack in half like a tree getting split apart by a bolt of lightning. At first glance, even if the cement was about to collapse on itself, you'd be forgiven for thinking that the only end result would be causing you to lose your footing for a few seconds. After all, wasn't the only thing underground just regular old dirt? Perfect for burying the guys that had been shooting at us this whole time? Realistically, I would've been right, but I was about to find out that I wasn't in any normal story.
The grenade blew up as expected, with something unexpected happening afterwards. The cracked cement suddenly tore itself open. Like a sinkhole, the patch of ground between Max and Passos ended up sliding into the deep recesses of the Earth.
"WOAH, WHAT THE FUCK!" Passos exclaimed, losing his footing and falling into the newly formed hole.
"What's going on?!" A mobster yelled.
"Who cares! Payne's in the open! Whack him!"
Staggering for a bit, Max suddenly felt the ground under his feet collapse, resulting him falling into the newly formed sinkhole, following Passos into where it ended up, if it actually ended up anywhere.
"WOAH!" Max yelled out.
Like a punchline to a bad joke, I was falling fast. Wherever me and Passos were heading, it probably be someplace remotely satisfactory for two screw ups like us. Out of all places where'd we end up, the last thing on my mind was "abandoned animation studio". And little did we know, the situation would only get worse.
Unknown
"Ugh, goddammit!" Max shouted, as he slid down the hole.
"Max! Max, you're sliding down here, too?!" Passos yelled back.
"Unfortunately! Wherever we're going, it better not be the center of the Earth!"
"I don't know, i've been meaning to work on my tan!" He joked.
That's why I always liked Passos. Even in the face of imminent death, he still had the time to crack a joke or two. I guess having him around broke up the monotony of constantly judging myself for mistakes that I had long run out of time to fix.
"I think I see ground!" The Brazilian yelled, "SHIT!"
Landing on the ground with a grunt, Passos rolled on the wooden floor in an attempt to reduce the damage which the fall could've caused him. Shortly afterward, Max collapsed on the wooden floor as well.
"Urgh…" The man groaned, getting up, "Fucking great."
"You okay, man?" Passos asked as he got up as well.
"Considering that we fell through a sinkhole in the ground and ended up somewhere different, I'd say I'm fine." Max replied sarcastically.
"Okay. Uh… where are we?"
Taking the time to assess their surroundings, the duo noticed that they were standing in what appeared to be an old animation studio, complete with wooden chairs, projectors, empty film reels, animation tables, cardboard cutouts of a mascot littered everywhere where they could look and for some reason, ink dripping from corners of the area.
Well, this was a sudden change of scenery. Not a moment before, we were fighting for our lives against some contract buying scumbags out for the price on our heads. But now, we were in a place that looked like it had been abandoned for years, although I had no way of knowing. Despite this place not having any DeMarco goons readily shooting at us, something felt off, like this place had some deep dark secret that should stay buried like the bodies back on the surface. But knowing our luck, we were about to stumble on it.
"Beats me. From the looks of it, we landed in some old animation studio."
"Like Disney? You think we landed in one of their old workplaces?"
That's what Max thought, but a quick look at one of the posters plastered on the walls revealed the trademark of "Sillyvision" printed on them.
"Nope, something called "Sillyvision" used to own this place." Max observed, "Guess they got buried by the competition."
"At least it was in a graveyard." Passos snarked.
"I guess."
"So, what now?"
"It may be a stretch but…" The former hard-boiled Detective paused, "Let's look around to see if there's anything that can get us out of here."
"Get us out?" Passos asked incredulously, "Max, we've fallen through the fucking Earth and landed in some old place that everyone probably forgot about! How the hell are we going to get out of here?! Unless, you plan on building a ladder to climb out of the whole we fell through."
"And give the DeMarcos a easy kill?" Max scoffed, "If our luck checks out, they'll think we're dead and that'll give us a chance to slip out of New Jersey, undetected."
"Whatever you say, bro. Let's just hope that we can get out of here."
And so, the search for a way out of this place began. In all honesty, I didn't think that anything would come out of this. What dark secrets would a old, forgotten studio have, besides the obvious employee turmoil and vindictive boss that these poor souls had to deal with. I thought that at first, but the moment we turned the corner, that question unfortunately ended up being answered.
Scrawled on the walls in ink was the phrase "Dreams Come True", as if a five year old got a hand of some pastels and started to use them to write things that only made sense to him. It's meaning eluded me, but I could feel that it wasn't written to represent a universal celebration of an entire workforce layoff.
"What the hell?"
"Looks like someone was happy about getting out of this place." Passos joked.
"Yeah, but why leave it splattered all over the wall?"
"Maybe to piss off the boss. I wouldn't want work here either."
The two continued on, noticing a peculiar object sitting at the end of the hallway, with a sign which read "Ink Machine" hanging above the entryway of the room,
What the hell was this?
"At least we found the culprit behind where the ink splatter came from."
"Jesus, who would need this much ink?" Max asked.
"These cartoons were probably hard to make." Passos replied, "But… I guess the people who worked here ended up using this to give a last "fuck you" to the man in charge."
Usually, I wouldn't have cared for random, cryptic messages written on walls. I had seen enough of them during the reign of Valkyr and what we saw back there was probably just a disgruntled employee celebrating his newfound unemployment. However, there was feeling that I couldn't shake, one which told me that there was a bigger meaning to all of us this, and that we'd be forced to stumble on it.
"Whatever, it's not like this thing's gonna help us find a way out." The man said, refocusing on their task,
Continuing to walk through the halls, Max and Passos noticed that the mascot littered all over the place was named Bendy, thanks to the posters placed everywhere. They couldn't remember if they saw him from any form of media they consumed as kids, but since they didn't, they assumed that the dancing demon became a casualty of both the Great Depression and Disney's dominance of the animation industry of the time. Reaching the end of the hallway, the two saw a loose wooden board fall from the ceiling.
"I hope this place doesn't collapse on us." Max dryly commented.
"Yeah, me too." His friend responded, "And I hope that a exit is up ahead."
Looking around, Max suddenly noticed something that appeared to be a body out of the corner of his eye. As he focused on it, he noticed two very important details about the figure. It was cartoony and more pressingly, looked lifeless.
"What the fuck?" Passos questioned, pointing at the the figure.
Slowly and waringly walking into the room which contained the unmoving figure, the two men could see that it was a cartoonish to a sort of operational table. Disturbingly, it's torso was ripped open, its ribs in clear view, and a wrench was wedged into the area.
If I thought that we weren't supposed to be here before, now, there would be no turning back. I didn't know what I should've been more troubled by. Either the fact that some cartoon character was ripped open and put on display like a pinata or that a cartoon character, one who would only be seen on a old, greatest hits, VHS tape of his glory days, was among the living.
"Jesus man." Passos whispered, "What kind of fucking lunatic would do this?"
"From my experience, someone so hopped on drugs that they've become unaware of the real world."
Case and point, Jack Lupino. But I'd rather be back at Ragnarok than in some old, decrepit animation studio, which had the possibility of a psychopath getting off to slaughtering people dressed up as forgotten cartoon characters roaming the halls.
"You think a person inside this?" His friend asked, believing the corpse to be a costume.
Getting closer to the lifeless corpse of the cartoon wolf, Max could see that it wasn't a costume. Rather, the body had a sort of inky texture to it, as if it was completely made out of it.
"I don't think it's a costume at all." Max replied, "It's Boris for sure." He said, having caught his name thanks to a poster in the room.
The ink scrawled onto the wall next to Boris' corpse, which read "Who's Laughing Now?", gave the two men the idea that it could've been Bendy himself who had done the deed, which made them not want to stick around any longer.
"Come on, Max. Let's go." Passos said, not wanting to stay in the room any longer.
Heading back into the wallway, the two headed into the second room present there, hoping it would lead to an exit. That hope was soon dashed, as they ended up in a room which contained six podiums adjacent to six picture frames and a lever in between all of it.
"Great." The man remarked, "Looks like we're stuck in here, Passos."
"Shit." He replied, his eyes gazing on the podiums, "Max, look at these photos!"
"What about them?"
"They've got items that need to be put on these things." Passos explained, pointing to the podiums, "Once we do that, it'll probably helps us find a way out of here!"
"And how, exactly?"
"I don't know, it just might! After all, isn't that a cliche?" He asked, "Find all the missing objects and then, the exit will be revealed!"
I knew a lot about cliches. Hell, my whole life was one, giant, clusterfuck of stereotypes and story beats and unlike those stories, I wasn't exactly "fine" after my escapades those years ago. However, what Passos mentioned didn't make sense. It's not like we were going to get out of a hole that extended probably forty feet into the ground. If we were to die here, at least we'd be well insured when it came to the burial costs. But anyways, I guess Passos was trying to be optimistic. As much as I hated to admit it, his idea might have some merit to it.
"That's if it actually does that." Max replied, crossing his arms, "For all we know, by doing this, we're falling right into some shithead's hand."
"Well, do you have any other ideas."
I wish I did. Unfortunately, my mind had been geared towards surviving an onslaught of bullets previously and thus, when our scenario drastically altered, I was left at a loss.
"Fine. Let's grab these things and turn this dumb machine on so we can get out of here!"
Turning back into the hallway, the two men suddenly noticed a Bendy cutout arbitrarily standing up in the middle of the hallway.
This was odd. One of the cutouts was suddenly just standing in the middle of the hallway with no rhyme or reason for it. Either it was always there and we'd just overlooked it, or some guy left it here to fuck with us. And given the fucked up shit we've seen so far, I wouldn't put it past me.
"Who put this here?"
"The little guy was probably waiting for us." Max joked.
'Yeah, ha, ha. Whatever, Max. Let's just find these items."
And so, the search for the items were on. Max and Passos were looking for six items, a wrench, a Bendy doll, a gear, a record, a ink jar, and, a book. The difficulty to finding the objects was simply their locations, as things such as the gears and record were hidden behind the Ink Machine. However, it didn't take long to find the items and they were soon placed on their respective podiums.
"Alright, what next?" Payne asked.
"Well, it says that we gotta restore the ink flow." His friend observed, "Let's go."
Heading back into the hallway, the two men continued their quest to turn on the glorified Ink Dispenser and escape from the abandoned studio and by extension, the DeMarcos. As they passed by a set of two doors, Max caught something in the corner of his eye.
There was a tape in between the doors.
"What'd you got there, Max?"
"I'm wondering too."
Pressing the "play" button on the tape, the old recorder crackled to life and along with it, the confessions of a former employee began to echo through the old studio.
"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 out work stations. We put them on these little pedestals in the break room. To help appease the gods, Joey says. Keep things going. I think he's lost his mind, but, hey, he writes the checks. But I tell you what, If one more of these pipes burst, I'm out of here."
Guess this little place had some unhappy workers, driven to eventual despair thanks to the actions of a boss who probably spent all their money on some useless junk that nobody in their right mind would think to be useful for the business.
"He sounded pissed off."
"I'd be too, if I had to deal with a boss like that." Max dryly replied, placing the tape back.
Shaking his head, the two men continued down the hallway in order to reduce the ink flow. Unexpectedly, a Bendy cutout peeked around the corner, starling the usually unfazed former detectives.
"Jesus! Did you see that?!"
"I did." Max replied, pulling out his pistol.
Quickly running to the end of the hallway, Max aimed in the direction of where the possible person who peeked the cutout would be standing. However, nobody was their, neither was the cutout.
I must be losing it.
"There's nobody here."
"How the fuck is that possible!" Passos exclaimed, "What, are these fucking things sentient?!'
I didn't want to think that they were. Given our luck, however, we found ourselves stuck with a possible psychopath roaming around and his army of sentient cardboard cutouts. Yeah, I agree, it seems ridiculous, but when it's happening to you, the absurdity isn't on your mind.
"I don't know." The former detective replied, an annoyed tone, "This place is already fucked up." He stated, walking over to the pump, wanting to finish their objective as soon as possible.
Entering the room, a projector suddenly turned on, displaying a simple animation of Bendy onto the wall. Ignoring it, Max turned the pump on to restore the ink flow, narrowly dodging a bunch of ink that spilled out of a busted pipe.
"There. Turned on." The man sighed.
"Finally." Passos remarked, "We can get out of here soon."
"That's if any of what we did helps us at all."
"You don't know, Max. Maybe it will, we just have to-"
Unexpectedly, the sound of loud banging was heard above them, starling the paranoid men. Although they couldn't see the thing causing the metal banging, they could deduce that it was coming from the pipes. And whatever was crawling through them, it was crawling through them fast, causing the two to give each other a nervous look.
I didn't think much would come out of this little collectathon we were forced into. At most, we'd be disappointed by nothing happening once that machine was given life once more. Our unexpected guest making a pretty loud indicator of his presence made me regret doing what we've done so far and wish that I was a little more quicker at shooting that annoying bastard.
"..." Passos paused, "Max."
"Yeah?"
"You think we fucked up?"
"Knowing our luck, probably." Max replied, "Let's just hope nothing comes out of it."
We could only guess what events would happen next, until they actually happened. Till then, we were left wondering if our little endeavor here turned out to be a mistake. But, I had a gut feeling there it wasn't going to be a party waiting for us once we made it back to the lever.
The two, now on considerable edge after hearing something bang its way through the pipes, treaded lightly with their banter and the sounds of their footsteps, not knowing if something or somebody was now alerted to their presence. They were soon back into the room with the lever, the main power now online.
This was it. The thing we had been working for ever since we fell into this hole would now be complete, for what that was worth. And once we flipped that lever, we'd see if we fucked up or not.
"We gonna do this?" Passos asked, looking pretty nervous.
"If you're willing, amigo."
Thinking it over for a few moments, the Brazilian took in a breath and pulled down on the lever, turning on the Ink Machine. However, the moment he did, the lights went out, only leaving a dim illumination in the hallways.
The moment the lever was pulled, I felt a sense of regret. What we did just now probably left us in a bad spot. Sure, we turned it on for the hope of having the Ink Machine reveal a way out of this decrepit hole of ruined dreams. But, I realized that turning on this glorified ink dispenser fucked us in the long run and soon, we'd be facing the consequences. I wasn't looking forward to it.
"Uh…" The man paused, chuckling nervously, "I… I think it's working now."
"Great." Max replied, "Now, we finally dispense as much expired ink as we want."
"Yeah… yeah, let's go see it."
The now dimly lit hallways did wonders for making the two mens' anxiety and paranoia shoot through the roof, with them trying their damndest to stay silent in order to not attract the attention of Boris' killer, who was possibly now alerted to their presence. Even if the Ink Machine couldn't truly give them a exit, Max and Passos at least hoped that it could be crafted into something, like a ladder, so they could climb out of the hole they've fallen into. However, once they neared the Ink Machine, they noticed two things. The first thing was a puddle of ink arbitrarily scattered on the floor. The second thing was wooden boards blocking their path to the machine.
"What the fuck?" Passos remarked upon seeing the wooden boards.
"Looks like we've been locked out."
See, I could joke too, even if they weren't that funny.
"By who?!"
"Probably by the same guy who'd been messing with us this whole time." Max replied, looking to his side, anticipating something running at them.
Going up to the boards, Passos tried to see if anyone had been hiding within the room containing the ink machine. He couldn't see anyone, leading him to believe that he was starting to go crazy. Suddenly, something moved under the floorboards, with the man catching it out of the corner of his eye.
"Hey Max, do you see-"
The man's question was interrupted by a large mass of ink suddenly rising up from the floorboards. Before Passos could utter a profanity in shock, the ink suddenly grabbed him and pulled him closer to the boards. Immediately, the man made out the devilish grin on its face and the crookedly hanging bowtie.
"THERE YOU ARE!"
"Urk! Max!"
"Huh?! Get off him!"
Who the fuck was this?
A tug of war ensued, with the former hard-boiled detective doing his best to pry his friend out of the death grip of the abomination in front of them. With one hard tug, Max managed to pull Passos out of the monster's grasp.
"Jesus! What the fuck are you?!" The man exclaimed.
Not to be deterred, the monster, with a loud growl of anger, destroyed the wooden barriers in front of it with a single punch. It was here when Max noticed the pretty distinct features of the sentient blob of ink.
As I got a closer look at this thing, my eyes went straight to its bowtie and shiteating grin, as if it was gonna relish in the experience of tearing us apart. Was this Bendy? I would've questioned this more but I knew that Passos and I were about to be possibly torn apart like the way Boris was if we didn't try to take this thing down.
"You're not escaping from me! You will pay for what you did! Just like all the others!"
"What's he talking about, man?!" Passos asked.
"No fucking clue."
Drawing their pistols, the two opened fire, aiming for "Bendy's" big head, hoping that he'd be easily put down with several .45 ACP rounds to the noggin. Unfortunately, all it seemed to do was anger him, as the bullets ripping through his inky form caused a painful feeling to ripple through his form.
"It's not working Max!"
"I know!"
"COME HERE!" "Bendy" snarled, lunging for the two.
"Shit! Passos, run!" He frantically told his friend, turning around and running back down the hallway.
"Where Max?!" Passos questioned, following his friend.
This was fantastic. Not only were we stuck probably thirty feet underground in an abandoned animation studio that the history books forgot about, we had no escape and were probably about to murdered by its mascot out for our blood for whatever reason. Guess that's what we call an Friday night.
Turning the corner, the two found themselves back in the room that they fell into. However, there was suddenly a corridor that wasn't there when they first arrived at the abandoned studio. And at the end of it was a door, with a exit sign hanging above it.
"What the fuck?' Max exclaimed, "When did this get here?"
As the two men stood perplexed by the sudden appearance of the corridor, their eyes suddenly caught eye of "Bendy" turning the corner, making them remember that they were being chased.
"WHO CARES, LET'S TAKE IT!" Passos yelled, dragging Max out of Bendy's swipe for him.
Rushing down the hallway, the two men could hear the labored breathing of the ink monster grow closer as it got gradually closer to them. They could also see dark ink covering the walls, threatening to drown them in it. They only focused on grabbing hold of the exit door and rushing out of there. As they got close, the wooden boards under their feet suddenly gave way, sending the two falling further into the depths of the studio.
"WOAH!" They both yelled as they fell.
Great. Just as we almost made our escape, fate decided to toy with us a little more and have us falling deeper into the hole that was this mess we've gotten ourselves into. And now we had no more exit, a evil, sentient cartoon character out for our blood, and a proven exercise which showed us that our usual practice of popping a cap in thugs foolish enough to mess with us would prove ineffective this time. That last, sad piece of reality of our current predicament really gave me a sense of confidence.
Landing in a huge puddle of ink, the two were glad that they weren't too badly hurt. However, they were aware that their chance for escape was ruined and they had fallen further into the studio and by extension, ended up in a situation they didn't want to get involved in.
"Christ." Max groaned, trying to shake some ink off his jacket.
"Ugh…" Passos coughed, slowly getting up, "Hey Max…"
"What?"
"Back in the day…" He paused, "You ever piss of some murderous blob of ink."
"No."
Getting to his feet, Payne looked around and saw a door.
"Hey… look. There's a door."
"No. Max, I've had enough of this shit." Passos replied, "Getting chased by monsters, fucking falling through the Earth! I was fine with mobsters but this shit? Hell no."
"Well, it's not like we have a choice." He told him, "Plus, we aren't going to get out of here by standing here." Max reminded.
Sighing, Passos just walked towards the door, not having it in him to make a sarcastic quip. Following him, Max noticed "Bendy" leaning towards the hole that they fallen into. However, it didn't look like he was about to jump in to continue his pursuit. Rather, it appeared that he was simply watching them, wanting to know what their next move would be. Grimacing at the ink demon, Max simply followed Passos through the door and down the stairs, slowly but cautiously making their way to the bottom.
What they found surprised them. A whole ton of coffins and on the floor, a giant pentagram scrawled in ink.
"What…" The Brazilian trailed off as he saw the satanic symbol.
Guess this explains all the shit we saw upstairs.
Suddenly, the door they walked through shut violently by itself and dark ink started flowing down the walls.
"Oh shit! He's not here, is he?!"
A image of a wheelchair flashed through their minds.
"The fuck?" Max questioned.
A image of the coffins flashed next, with a image of "Bendy" in all his horrific glory showing up next.
"Fucking… christ!" He groaned, clutching his head in pain.
A image of the Ink Machine flashed next, with the two men falling unconscious afterwards. Little did they know, the situation would get worse.
And that's the first chapter, hope you enjoy. Also, for those who follow my other story, "Daughters of Jack", I'm working on the next chapter, I just hadn't had time to write anything or couldn't do it because of a lack of motivation and severe writer's block. I'll hopefully have it out soon. Otherwise, I'll see you guys later with an update for both of these stories.
Thanks 4 reading, Lt-RexCole out.