"So are you ever going to tell me what happened Sammy? Or are you going to keep answering all my questions very vaguely?" I grumbled crawling behind him in the vent. A shiver going up my spine when I pressed my hand into a puddle of ink. I shook my hand trying to get it off of me.

"We are almost there." Sammy said continuing on seemingly not realizing I had stopped. I quickly crawled towards him not wanting to get lost in the maze-like vents.

Finally, we made it out and I stretched my sore back. "I'm way too old for this." I grumbled before grasping as I realized my surroundings. It was like an entire town, deep under the old studio. "This defiantly wasn't here when I left."

"Things change Henry, much isn't the same from when you left." Sammy walked off to a boarded up area. Above it, more words smeared in ink. I glanced around to see a few people that peeked through window blinds. All I could make out is glowing eyes. Sammy suddenly spoke loudly turning from his place on the steps to face the town. "Fear not my people! For your brave prophet has brought to you the Shepherd!" He shouted gesturing his arms in a swooping motion. "Do not fear my little sheeps."

Soon people began to leave the scrap made houses. Like Sammy they where made from ink and stood upright, like people. Unlike Sammy, they all seemed to have glowing eyes and very rarely appeared to wear clothes. I looked amongst the group in amazement. I was certain that the studio never even had this many people in it, no it certainly didn't. The group of creatures whispered amongst themselves.

"Shepherd?"

"Why isn't he like us?"

"He's still human."

"Will he set us free?"

"Will you help us go home?"

They whispered and I felt a pang of pity in my chest. Joey must have done something terrible to these people. These... Lost ones. "I don't know if any of you remember me, but I'm Henry. Henry Stein."

"Henry?"

"The artist?"

"He owns this place too."

"Weren't him and Joey partners?"

"It's his fault too."

I tensed slightly as their whispering changed, they do seem to recognize me, but they don't seem to particularly like me. Sammy crossed his arms in an annoyed fashion. "Hush my succulent sshheep ssshhh. The Sheperd created our dear ink demon the one that will set us free!" He shouted to get his point across. "Surely our Lord will thank us for taking care of his tender lamb."

I shivered. Succulent, tender, he makes it sound like we're a home-cooked meal. I decided to remain silent this seems to be something Sammy is much better at doing. Organizing people guess he did run the music department. Which suits me just fine was never much of a talker.