Been pretty busy irl. Besides that, my obligations to original/patron content always comes before fanfics. Figured I'd go ahead and upload this one, but it could be a little bit before the next updates.

Thanks to everyone reading! ^_^


You came from your sleep as if your eyes had never even shut. They simply opened, and there was distant human noise all about the building; seemed you'd slept through the night, after all. A glance around revealed no Bendy, but he had gathered up the look-alike dolls in the room and piled them around you before he'd left. You clumped them up and snuggled against the rabbit soft fabric, and were too groggy to hear the door squeak open.

It was one of the men from the storyboard department. "[Y/N] we have a- what are you doing on the floor? Covered in- oh never mind, I don't even want to know."

You slowly sat up, and a look down revealed that what was once a lovely pastel dress had been totally ruined with ink. It was as if someone had thrown a whole bucket of the stuff at you, and you'd either been unable or unwilling to jump out of the way. You weren't upset, but you were embarrassed to be caught looking this way.

"Joey called a meeting, so you'd better change. Weeeell, you might not have time to if you gotta zip home, but I know you used to bring changes of clothes to work sometimes so-"

He would ramble if you didn't stop him. You ran a hand through your clumpy hair and said. "Yeah, yeah thanks, but when is the meeting?"

The man cut himself off, as if this question totally derailed what he had meant to say. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "In an hour! So chop chop!" He left you to your devices, door slamming shut.

You did not have a change of clothes. But what you did have was the ability to brew a pot of coffee in the break room before clocking in late on the first floor (to exaggerated expressions), then return Wally's keys. The coffee removed any traces of grogginess as you gulped the last drop down. Then you took your seat in the meeting room.

It was more of a presentation or class room than anything else. A myriad of folding chairs dotted the rectangle-shaped space, and at the head was a slightly raised platform with a projector in front. You watched the room fill out, and were anxious to find Mr. Lawrence, Mr. Connor, and his wife to be absent. Mr. Drew was present though, and he marched confidently upon the front platform to soon start the meeting.

The head honcho prepared himself for whatever cloy speech he had planned. His meetings could hardly be called such; it was more like he just talked at the room. As he made some last adjustments to his suit, your neighbor gave you a repulsive side eye and moved a seat over. You were used to such treatment, but severely wished you could change into something that didn't make you look like you stood directly under a burst pipe for funsies.

Finally it started. You zoned out as he went on about dreams, and making an effort, and blah blah blah. He was haggard and skinny upon the platform, leaning heavily against his cane and pacing around the stage. While Bendy grew, Joey shrunk. The lights highlighting him did nothing to make him any more attractive. Even so, nothing changed about the way his voice boomed and filled the area with ease. You couldn't help but remember the way he used that booming voice of his to yell at Bendy and the (previously voiceless) Alice every time he attempted to film them in the past.

"Now, we all know that animation production has halted to a crawl. But with a little elbow grease, and a pinch of magic, I believe we can get this place back on the right track!" His movements were wide and comical, like he himself were a cartoon. He ignored the groans. "Why as we speak, my trusty handyman, Tom, is toiling away to bring my dreams to fruition. Anyone know what that means?"

He waited, eyes roving attentively across the small crowd. So many seats stayed empty, evidence of widespread resignations and layoffs.

"Are we going to give Boris a voice?" someone offered.

"Close, but wrong! Firstly, Mrs. Allison will finally be replacing Ms. Susie as the voice of Alice Angel. Our pal Sammy is working closely with her to get those pipes a' singin'! Just the way we like'em!" Then he added, much more quick and quiet. "Course, our old Alice will be working at the future theme park, granted we can fix her face. If not, there are always extras that need a voice," he yanked at his collar, overheated.

Before anyone could comment, Joey wobbled across the stage, ranting on like he was the only one in the room. "And as for our little devil darlin', the star of the show... we've all known he's needed some workin' on for a while now, haven't we? Well, I think I've found a way to do just that! Our beloved Tom has also been tinkering away at the heart that gives Joey Drew Studios life- the ink machine herself! I believe that's the key to all of this. So by golly, our Bendy will be on model, and he will have a voice!"

Someone raised their hand, and Mr. Drew gladly called upon them.

"How are we paying for all this?" they scoffed. "I mean, all that ink... more and more is shipped to the studio, day in, day out. Is this really worth it? Just yesterday a pipe exploded and flooded our entire hall! It could have damaged our expensive equipment!"

Mr. Drew's smile twitched. He stopped pacing; he did not want to even think about money. "My boy, money is no object when it comes to fulfilled dreams. When you're-"

The closed door to the meeting room was a gunshot as it opened.

"Joey," the stern, serious voice of Sammy Lawrence called loudly. "We-"

Joey's face went beet red and he cut him off. "We're having a meeting!"

Sammy's eyes darkened. You could see where his pants had been completely drenched up to the knees in sopping black ink. "We have a problem," he finally got out, ignoring the crowd's panicked expressions.

Mr. Drew had swiftly, but reluctantly, called the meeting right there. People filed out uneasily. You lingered just long enough to see Mr. Lawrence talking with his hands at Mr. Drew, before leading him out of a side door.

It was after that moment that you had stopped seeing Bendy. In fact, the only ink creatures you began to see around were an empty-headed Boris and the scrawny, soulless employees. Mr. Connor, his wife, and Alice Angel had all but gone, too. And whenever you saw Mr. Lawrence, he had this funny expression on his face. He still smiled when you made eye contact, though. Mr. Drew would not open his office door.

Another bland week had gone by of brooding before anything of note happened. You noticed spots of dropped ink around the rim of your pencil cup, where you'd set the black tulip. It concerned you and made your heart ache. So, missing Bendy's spooky yet warming presence, you decided to lurk around the lower levels, near Mr. Connor's room.

Small flecks of ink in the wooden floors piqued your interest. They didn't really lead much of anywhere. Rather, they speckled and dotted all of the hallways surrounding the man's office. There were no signs of Bendy moving through walls; no Bendy-sized blotches in the boards that said he was using portals.

Then Mr. Connor caught you.

"...[Y/N], what are you doing down here?" he asked, sounding weary.

You were still ebbing away the shock at been found snooping about. "I was just," you sighed, realizing you were tired of being a liar. "I was looking for Bendy."

His brows furrowed. Something was way off about him. His fingernails were caked in dried ink, he hadn't shaved in a couple of days, and it even looked like he had yet to wipe away the trails where he'd been crying earlier.

"Me, too."

His haggard appearance compelled you to speak softly. "He got out? Yeah, he does that. I don't mean to be rude, but... you look pretty exhausted Mr. Connor, when's the last time you slept?"

The man sighed and rubbed his callused hand through his messy hair. "I don't know. But I already put my two weeks notice in with Mr. Drew, and he's working me to the bone. One more week."

You nodded quietly, understanding. "Guess he means to milk every coin from you. Hey, I could help you look for him if you want! Bendy, I mean."

That sad expression he'd given you when he'd first caught you returned in full force. He studied your face. Then he leaned on the wall and reached into his pocket to get a cigarette. You waited silently as he lit it up and took a long, well deserved huff. Then his eyes were on you once more.

"[Y/N]. He's not the same."

You scrunched your face, ignoring the sour smell. "Yeah, I know. That's why Mr. Drew handed him off to you. Did you fix him?" then you added nervously. "I remember a week ago, Mr. Lawrence stormed into the meeting room and said something went wrong."

He took another drag, calming himself down. Mr. Connor couldn't look you in the eyes at what came next. "No. We couldn't fix him. He got worse. You won't be able to take him back, [Y/N]."

You were greatly confused, unsure how to answer. Dread set in, in spite of it. You snorted. "Y-you're kidding. How could he get worse?"

Mr. Connor's eyes lifted, glancing behind you, then back to your face, then back away again. He hesitated, then gestured with the hand that held his cigarette. "See for yourself. Seems he found us."

Perplexed expression still plastered over your features, you twisted to look behind you. Instantly your heart stopped and you froze over, ice filling your blood.

"That's not Bendy."

"I'm sorry. We really tried."

"Thomas, that is NOT Bendy."

He just sighed.

At the mouth of the hall was an equally frozen body. He stood in place, swaying. From the neck down he was human, if a human had taken swimming lessons in a lake of sticky black ink. And, like the ink employees, his body was stick thin. You could see his ribs. One hand was covered in a white glove, and he had an offset bow tie upon his chest. Then from the neck up, he was cartoon. A wide, Bendy-shaped head sat atop his skinny shoulders. The ooze covered whatever pie-eyes might be there, but left his far-too-wide, white grin visible to all.

Even though he seemingly had no eyes, you felt his gaze piercing into your pores. It felt as if he could see everything about you. Right into your very soul. The hairs on your neck and arm were standing, and he was giving you a fight or flight response something mighty. Yet, you couldn't bare to move. He didn't, either.

"Joey is trying to figure out a way to get rid of him. Bendy just won't die, like the rest of his creations."

Your lips foundered and you shook, still unable to turn back to the mechanic behind you. "You've killed them?" you whispered.

"Joey has. When they're not correct. He's tried to erase Bendy in the past, but nothing ever worked. He's in his office now, researching."

You got the distinct feeling that Mr. Connor was giving you more information than he was allowed. This was confirmation to you that they had, at least once or twice, replaced Boris by killing and recreating him. Did Joey not see them as alive? You swallowed. Did you see that thing at the end of the hall as alive?

The not-Bendy took a few steps forward, towards the two of you. You seized up and almost bumped into Mr. Connor's chest.

"St-stay back!"

Surprisingly, he stopped. His head tilted and he looked around. Then he backed up, and limped down the way he had come, away from you and out of sight. The cold slowly seeped from your body as he left.

"I'm sorry, [Y/N]."

You were able to regain enough courage to face Mr. Connor again. It looked like he was on the verge of tears, but you didn't understand why. He had not been invested in either you nor Bendy, this should not affect him so passionate. Perhaps it was something else? Stress from the long nights? Moral compromise hurting his heart?

"Mr. Connor, are you okay?"

He smiled sadly at you. "No. Get out of this place as soon as you possibly can. Mr. Drew destroys the good in everyone he touches."

Somehow, you had the audacity to ask. "What about Miss Allison? Is she quitting too?"

His lip quivered. "Just leave this place [Y/N]. I have work to do."

He wiped his tired eyes with one big, dirty hand as he marched away down the hall to his office. As his body disappeared, you heard him repeat faintly "one more week, just one more week."