You trotted after him, struggling to keep the stuffed Bendy from tumbling from the safety of your purse. He was moving fast, and wherever he went ink seemed to boil and burst and break down the wooden corridors. It was like the building was reacting to his unpleasant emotions.

"Where are we going?" You huffed, clinging to the purse. At the very least, his "fast" was still way below the speed of escaping a human in good health. He always moved with a limp, but it was more obvious when he ran. It frequently reminded you too much of Joey.

Bendy growled and sprawled open a portal against the wall, just seconds before he'd have barreled straight into it. You nary had time to slip through before it snapped shut on your tail. It vomited you back up into an unknown part of the cavern, deeper inside the building than you'd even expected possible. The ominous amusement park was one thing, but this place was truly another world. You weren't sure that you were even still inside of Joey Drew Studios at this point. For all you knew, you'd dug to Hell itself.

"Wh-where are we now," you whispered to yourself, shuttering.

Bendy had went on ahead and stopped before a wide, expansive ocean of ink. Thick plumes of fresh ink washed down from pipes overhead, feeding directly into the ocean like great metal arteries. Directly across from the rocky shore was this towering machine, looming over everything and causing the ground beneath your feet to rumble. The vibrations embedded themselves directly into your bones, causing a strange bodily sensation, as if all your cells were dancing at once. It made you feel weak.

You uneasily came to the demon's side as he bared his fangs and looked out across the surface. He only slightly calmed upon seeing you. Joey was here, and he had been prancing around the mechanisms of this mighty machine, defiling it with greasy hands. And this may have been where Bendy had swallowed a man whole, but it was not the machine's fault. No, that burden laid upon Sammy, and the orders passed down from Joey himself. So Bendy did not hate his machine, no more than you could hate the organs inside of your human body that kept you running. But he did hate the man who blessed it with life. Hated the man who bid it to do what it had done to he and his friends, to your friends.

Bendy's fingers dug into his palms, whole body shaking with rage and fear. He tensed and shifted when you laid your hand upon his back, between the protrusions of his curved spine. But then he relaxed, looking down into your worried eyes. However, it could not stop the shaking.

"I've never seen the ink machine before," you said above the noise, as softly as allotted. "I didn't expect it to be so... ginormous. Wow. And you came from it."

He looked back out across the ink, unsure how to feel about that. But he did know that he had to keep looking for Joey. He had, earlier, felt his hands and feet somewhere within the machine, and then within the ocean. Joey couldn't be felt inside any longer, but he had to still be here. Even Bendy could work out that much with his limited reasoning. There were prints leading out from the ink, so that was where he would start.

He tore himself away, turning abruptly to search the room. But the room itself was scarce; just a couple of rusted chains and piles of boulders. However, there was the opposite hall, flickering with yellowed light, and the prints faintly lead towards it until the ink had dried on the bottom of his soles.

"These footprints are probably his," you suggested, tugging Bendy's arm. "Or I guess someone's. They're still wet."

For some reason you couldn't explain, you had this awful sense of dread. Something bad was going to happen. No good was going to come of searching for Joey Drew, and the busy machine at your back humming away didn't help whatsoever. You wanted to go back, wanted to open the locked doors and have dinner in your warm apartment, but it was far too late to go back now. Your heart quivered, and your veins flooded with cold adrenaline. Keeping a hand around Bendy's boney wrist helped to alleviate that, but not by much.

He was going faster now, eager to come upon his creator. You didn't know what he was intending to do, but the way his drip quickened and the way his mouth twitched unnaturally did not give you any hope for the man. It almost made you wish you had stayed on the top floor, with the group awaiting some rescue. But you also knew that was impossible. You were too far in to not have followed Bendy through that first portal. As you spared another quick look up at his face, you knew that you were too far in in general, too.

Something shattered down the hall.

"Shit!" cursed a man.

His horns trembled, gait hesitating for a beat. And then that was it, he rushed forward with his limping legs, dragging you until you were forced to match his staggered speed. As you approached the corner his mouth pulled apart. Then you skid around the edge, tense and unsure, heart throbbing painfully as soon as your eyes met the cause of such suffering. The hand around Bendy's wrist shivered with excitement and nervousness.

"It-it's you!" He slurred, surprised.

Joey was sitting with his feet up, propped over an old slanted drawing table. In his lap sat a dog-eared tome, and below the chair was a shattered glass and a half empty bottle of whiskey. He'd been drinking. His eyes were unfocused, but he was clearly alarmed by the sudden appearance of his guests.

In an attempt to keep Bendy from automatically lunging for the man's neck, you rubbed up and down his arm soothingly. "Bendy, don't do anything rash." You still held onto a shy glimmer of hope, wishing that by some miracle, Joey would recant all of his mistakes and truly fix them. You didn't really want to see a man be squished into a bloody pulp.

Joey's feet slid off, and he sat slumped over the desk with one elbow propping his cheek. This was the most nonchalant you'd ever seen the grumpy man. "Yes, better listen to your pet," he teased rudely.

You narrowed your eyes and glanced between them, while Bendy's fists clenched and un-clenched, his maw drooling profusely.

"So what the Hell do you want? Come to demand your paycheck again?" He scoffed, leaning dizzily to pick up the shards of glass. "Guess you brought back up this time. Smart girl," he wagged a finger, then promptly pricked it against the glass with a hiss. You thought he dramatically mumbled something about the 'world being out to get him.'

When you didn't reply, he straightened, dumped the shards onto the open book, and looked disgusted at the two of you. "...Well?"

Words came out of your mouth tasting like sour milk. "I think he means to kill you," you warned.

A dead silence perpetrated the hall. Everybody's heart slowed, like the cold, stagnate underground air. Even the ink machine down the way seemed to stop babbling. Joey examined your stoic face, then Bendy's threatening one, noting that the withheld violence was restrained by only the touch of your fingers against his oozing ink skin.

"It's astounding," he slurred with a cocky laugh, blinking tired red eyes over dark bags.

"What is?"

Joey rubbed a heavy hand down his face and reached for his cane, which at some point must have fallen to the floor. He was taking his damn time and it was starting to piss you off.

"You! You are! Always demanding things. Never doing... never doing your damn job right," he burped drunkenly, the beginnings of heartburn stinging his esophagus. The book slid from his lap and banged against the hard floor, sending tiny fragments of glass dust blowing away from the impact. Everything moved in slow motion.

Bendy snarled, tracking every single clumsy movement. He'd done his job perfectly; he brought you here and cornered the son of a bitch. And every fiber of his being, every lost soul inside his head, was screaming for him to kill Joey, do it now! Now! But your palm against him held him back, like a sandbag against a hurricane. He was being good. But only for a moment more. Soon, it would flood.

"You're pathetic," it just came out, your guts knotting.

The man stood on knocking knees. He looked so awfully frail, so drained of energy and time. But behind that, and behind his stale whiskey breath, he had a plan. Joey Drew always had a plan. He knew Bendy would eventually catch up to him, just like all his mistakes. But Bendy was the only mistake that bore teeth. Even demons had a weakness though, despite the uselessness of that ancient book crumpled on the floor between the broken glass. Books never really taught him shit. Nobody taught him shit, he was Joey Drew for God's sake! The dream maker himself, in the flesh!

He took a step and stumbled, leaning against his cane heavily, his eyes cutting into yours sharply. They flickered down your body the way all men's did- with disgusting, lewd debauchery. And that pissed you off, too. Bendy's curled lips and tenseness did nothing to scare him from sizing you up.

"So what," he shook his head. "Going to sick your dog on me then? A pretty girl like you wouldn't do that. You're a good girl, [Y/N]."

Your own lip curled with distaste. "I... you're right. I couldn't do that."

Joey looked smug, leisurely stepping around you and leaving the mess he made behind. Bendy continued to track him, turning his full body to follow, ink plopping down from his open jaws as if starving. You continued to keep a careful touch, and stroked down his arm gently.

"For whatever reason though," Joey went on, his slow pace excruciating. "He listens to you. And it's repulsive," then he bellowed and stopped. "Why didn't I think of this before? Just ask him to go away! Would you do that for me, sweet cheeks? Ask him to die? Hahaha!"

Your cheeks flushed with fury as you ground your teeth. The fucking nerve. Bendy fed off of that. He squirmed and took a step, his shake moving through your arm and shoulder. His whole body became a spring, just waiting for a signal.

Joey just kept laughing and started to hobble down the hall again, muttering under his breath. You had never felt so much righteous rage in all of your life. Why did you come here? Why on God's green Earth did you come here? Joey disappeared around the corner, and with him went your guilt. You were aware of this change in ideology. You were aware, and only somewhat disturbed, of the strangeness that was your increasing glee for deserved pain. It was like a switch had been flipped. A month ago you'd have never thought to laugh at a man in terror, but today you laughed. And a week ago, the idea of Joey succumbing to the collective passion of a resentful studio was but one nasty idea floating around in your mind. Now you were going to be a direct player in it.

You gripped Bendy's arm harshly, releasing some stress, then slowly, hesitantly, you slid it right off.

"Bendy."

He crouched to your height, never taking his gaze from where Joey had slunk away to. His teeth chattered excitedly. If he still had a tail, he'd have been lashing the spade wildly with pent up energy.

"Go."

He roared savagely, spreading fingers like claws itching for soft flesh, and then took off for the hall. But even running as quickly as he could, and using every drop of withheld rage inside of him, Bendy could not catch a human fleeing at full speed. Lucky for him, Joey could not run at full speed. That made you smirk, and for the first time the thought of violence was not a stain upon your heart. The mother fucker had it coming to him.

You stayed in place, body relaxed and eyes fixed to the wall, listening. Bendy was quiet without the splash of ink to alert human ears to his direction. But suddenly he roared again, questioningly, from around the bend. Your eyes snapped away from the thousand-yard-stare. You rushed for him around the corner, to find him at its end and swiveling his head this way and that in confusion.

"Where is he?" You asked, gritting your teeth and stomping forward. "Where is the bastard? Did you lose him? How on Earth can you lose a man with a cane!"

Bendy turned to face you, just as angry. He took a step and suddenly his head snapped up stiffly, horns pushing closer together. He almost looked afraid to move. The first time you'd seem afraid all day.

"What?" You asked, twirling around. "Oh."

A section of the wall had shifted, its boards and planks having opened like a door. Joey was in the middle of the hall, just before the opening, and pointing a 38/44 revolver directly at your person. He had that stupid smirk on his face, like he'd just won chess.

You swallowed dryly and Bendy didn't dare move. Even his drip slowed to a crawl. He knew what guns did to living things, and for once he was the one struck with cold fear.

You narrowed your eyes but rose shaky hands in defeat. "A secret room?" You asked coyly, eyeballing the weapon and opened door.

"There are more secrets hidden in this building than someone like you could ever imagine! You know, I only hired you for the publicity," he admitted rudely. "There were plenty of qualified writers I could have hired instead, but a woman? Hahaha! So count yourself lucky. You should have just sat in your little chair and kept quiet."

You scowled, gnawing on the inside of your cheek nervously. He was telling you something that you already knew, as if this confession was a kindness, or a burden to lift from his soul. But you weren't a damned priest, and this wasn't Confession.

He re-adjusted against his cane, keeping the gun as steady as a buzzed, cornered man could. "Now come here [Y/N], before I get happy."

Bendy snarled threateningly. He started to reach for your shoulder, but as soon as he heard the gun click he froze in place again.

"Ah-ah, don't even try or she's dead. I might not have been able to put you back where you came from, but I don't recall you having the ability to bring the dead back to life! Certainly didn't help that fellow inside of you, huh? How's that body treating you now'a'days? Well? Speak boy!" He chuckled, as if this was all some big joke. The gun shook in his hand unsteadily.

"This isn't funny," you tried.

He stopped. "No. No, it's really not, is it. Come here!"

You were reluctantly forced to comply, slowly going over to his side. There was nothing either you or Bendy could do.

"Now," Joey choked out, the first time you'd heard his voice crack during the whole ordeal. He softly set the barrel against your temple, an arm snaking across your chest to press you back against his damp, sweaty front. The cane was perfect for barring you in place. "I'm going to leave unharmed. And you're going to let me, Bendy. Or I'll kill her-" Bendy's lips twitched- "and don't test me! Because you know I will. I will."

The two stayed that way for a few seconds, with Joey awaiting any indication of rebellion. But Bendy did not take any action. As Joey shuffled sideways towards the secret room, Bendy's head followed along, watching, waiting for a slip up.

Joey slowly, painfully, shut the door behind him, its rusted hinges creaking ominously as the panels slid back into place. On the outside there would be no indication that a door was ever open. It just looked like another part of the crumbling wall. The whole time Joey kept a hard hold of your body, the gun always tight in his opposite hand. His putrid breath still smelled of alcohol and stale tobacco, filling your nose with a burning sensation. It made you want to puke.

The room was empty and cramped, the only thing in it was a small, opened suitcase in the corner. It had some money in it and a few papers; no doubt that this was where Joey had stored the revolver. It was like he had known something like this would happen, and had been hiding among the ink machine on purpose in wait.

"He won't let you leave," you ground out, shivering. You were just waiting for Joey to get distracted, to aim the gun somewhere else. You could over power him. He was just a frail man with a failed dream. His wobbly grip and walk were whispering that you could do this, you could break free. Just had to wait for that opening.

Joey stumbled forwards, forcing your legs to comply. He snorted and sneered. "Ya got jokes. Shut up."

He glanced at the bit of money inside the suitcase warily, unsure if he had time to line his pockets. But then he quickly decided against it as something scratched at the hidden door, and he knew Bendy was growing restless. He needed to move before the demon changed his mind and decided he could just find a new human to dote on once you were dead.

You squirmed and became heavy, so Joey had to jostle and lift you partially from the floor to get your ass compliant again. The purse started to slip as he forced you to go, and soon it was flopping to the (unsettlingly clean) ground. The stuffed Bendy, with its eerily blank gaze, tumbled out.

Joey paused. He shook his head and patted the wall, searching for something. "He's not what you think he is kid, he's not that." Something in him softened, but just for a second. There was pity in his voice, as if he'd been there, believing the same thing you did.

Oh, but you'd known that for some time. You were not under any illusion that the demon at the door was the cartoon on the screen. Joey's mistake was thinking you gave a shit about that anymore. You bore your teeth and spat back. "I know more than you, I spent the most time with him! All you did was treat him like a toy! A product!"

Joey rolled his blood shot eyes and shoved you forward against a wall, which sounded hollow. Another secret door. He kept the gun pointed at your back. "He IS a product! Just like this dolly," his back popped as he leaned to reach for it. "What, were you going to bring it home and-"

There was your opening. You leaned out of the way and took hold of his wrist, your fingers clamping down hard and struggling to bend his arm away from your chest. But he reacted instantly, caning your hip a few times before dropping it in favor of grabbing your arm with his free one. He bent back one of your fingers and you screamed, nearly crumpling, and then you released one hand automatically to relieve the pain and then-

BANG!

The whole universe expanded, stretching itself as thinly as possible, reaching into the corners of a blank page, before snapping back again like a child gluing shattered glass together. And god, it hurt. It hurt so badly. It hurt it hurt it hurt...

The gun clattered to the floor and Joey stared, unreadable. You had lost balance and collapsed against him, ruining his nice clothes with fluid that should have remained inside of your body. There was roaring at the door. Joey panicked, shoving you off of him into the middle of the room. You fell to the icy floor against your knees, and without seeing it, heard the man slam the other secret door open and run for it without his cane. Because he knew if Bendy caught him, he would suffer a fate worse than even you.

Without thinking he came through a portal. Joey was nowhere, but he had dropped his weapon, and now Bendy would kill him. He stepped around your hunched body to follow, but stopped when you coughed and spat blood against the pristine floor. Bendy shook with rage. Joey was going to get away with this.

The unsure demon got on his boney knees beside you, where you had turned and shifted to rest against the wall. Your body was running cold, and everything took too much energy. You needed to conserve what was left.

"Bendy... I think I'm going to die here," you whispered through wheezes. Talking hurt. "Shouldn't have... tried to fight him."

He tilted his head and shut his mouth, observing. He could not express his horror, his desperation and woe, instead his perma-smile bore into the fading light. You were in so much pain, but he knew he could do something. He had to, or he'd lose you. Bendy would lose the only person who really cared about him, soul or not. He laid his human hand against yours, and you smiled despite the exhaustion.

You glanced down at the wound. It was a bullet to the chest, near point blank straight into a lung. It made sense why you were gasping for air, why it was filling with fluid and choking you. The lung had collapsed. You'd be blessed to have ten minutes of consciousness left, before the low oxygen forced you to pass out, and then the wound would quickly kill you. This was it. But at least it had not been Bendy's teeth that got you as you'd once feared when he was small.

Bendy's hand moved to the bloodied hole, his palm hovering over it as he thought things through. But you had other ideas. You had things to say before you could no longer say them at all. Talking was going to become increasingly hard, were it not hard enough already. But you had to say it. You had to take the chance and let him know how things were, and how they'd been for a long time.

"We have to talk about it," you wheezed, "before.. ack!"

He'd stuck a finger against the wall of the bullet hole, forcing you to involuntarily curl into yourself and cry in pain. The sensation was so excruciating that you could not form words to yell at him to please, please stop. What was wrong with him? He could see how badly it hurt!

Bendy pressed more fingers inside. He could tell you were fading, nearly passing out from the pain alone. At this point you surely wanted to, simply hoping it would all stop. But he had to do this; there was no other way. If you wanted to waste your breath you could waste it on screaming. And then, when things were better, you could talk about 'it' all you'd like.

You convulsed and were overcome with a bodily reaction to cough, as if drowning. You gagged and spat, but instead of blood being pushed from your collapsed lung, a black goo came from your lips and stained your chin grossly. You placed your fingers there and they came away dark. Brows furrowed. It was ink; Bendy was pushing ink inside of your body and into your hurt lung. Then you heard something inside of your head that nearly made the suffering worth it.

...Save you...

It was a voice- or voices- whispering. And it sound like men, or women, or everybody all at once, but there was one pitch that overcame all the ones behind it that was distinctly him. He was in your head. You had not heard his voice in a very, very long time. Tears stung your eyes and your bottom lip quivered. You tried to mouth his name, but your throat tightened and nothing came out.

It felt otherworldly mingling with the pain. The way ink mixed into blood was far less painful than being shot in the chest was. It could not compare to the deflated lung, or the loss of air. It was just a dull ache, like the iron being leeched from one's bone marrow, or like getting a yearly shot, but everywhere all at once. Like the flu, even. You shook violently, freezing cold.

Bendy made a displeased noise.

...Not enough...

A meek smile. "You tried."

Ink splattered as it bubbled in your throat, leaking then pooling at the collarbone. A weak hand lifted to his cheek, thumb brushing across affectionately. He was so... strange and beautiful. You started to see spots. It looked like Bendy's black body was flashing with sparkling stars. His ink was from the universe itself, swirling with nebulas and black holes and dying worlds. So pretty. Your fingers shivered against his head, trying and failing to warm the bone and muscle.

He shook his head and took your wrist, settling it back on your lap. Then, as gently as he could, he shuffled his arms under your back and rear, then wobbly stood. You were being carried bridal style. Tired eyes shut, ready for sleep. This was so comfortable, but anything would be more comfortable than dying on the floor. His ink felt soooo warm compared to that. You laid your head against his shoulder, nearly dozing.

He shook you, and your eyes stickily opened again. You wanted to grumble and ask him what gives, but words weren't coming out anymore. Oh, you were no longer in that cramped room. He'd walked you out to the shore of the ink machine, where the sea of ink lay still.

...More...

You gazed up at his drippy face in wonder. Maybe you were starting to feel a little delusional and hysterical, but that was okay. You suffered quite a bit of blood loss, and despite the black creeping up into the veins all across your body, Bendy had not been able to fully replace what you'd lost. You were rather disappointed to discover that the sparkling stars were everywhere now, not just across his skin.

Bendy took a step into the ink, which came to his pelvic bone. ...More... He repeated in your mind.

And then he sank you into the sludge. You squirmed uncomfortably, uncertain and now a bit confused in your near-dead state. Bendy submerged your head and you started to suffocate. But with so little energy, you could do nothing but grasp his forearms weakly in fear. Ink soaked into your open wound like a funnel.

He was killing you? Bendy was killing you? Was this supposed to be a mercy killing? Why why why, your brain was slow, repeating things, constantly asking questions. It was a stream of betrayal and joy, all lit up with pain. But as you gasped into the ink, its taste filling your mouth, the words became unreadable. The pain dull and stale.

...Quiet...calm...

After a minute he lifted your head from the ink. And at first you seemed dead, black eyes staring into nothing. He hefted you up and carefully laid you along the rocky shore, watching from the ink. This had to have worked, it had to. He'd done all he could, just short of begging the ink machine to fix it. Then your finger twitched, and then your calf. Suddenly it was a cascade, and you sat up in a rush, gasping and then splattering up the ink from your lungs and stomach. Whatever was left in there, blood, acid, air, came right out in one awful wretch.

Bendy's horns curled up and he leaned over, patting your back. You wiped your lips and then stared in shock at your hand. You were as dark as the ink sea itself, as dark as Bendy. Bits of memory trickled into you like a leaking facet. Your hand flew to your chest in a panic; there was no longer a gunshot wound.

"I'm... not dead. I remember being shot." You sat on your bottom and sent him wide, imploring eyes. "I was shot, wasn't I?" Your hand went to your head, having developed a nasty headache. "Yes, Joey shot me... and he- he ran away! Bendy! We have to find him!"

Sticky legs scrambled to push you onto weak feet, but you yelped and slipped back onto your rear. Wow, everything ached. The demon shook his head and rose his palms for you to be careful. Maybe you'd just rest a second first. Joey couldn't hobble far, you rationalized.

Bendy eventually pulled himself from the ink and sat on the edge beside you, feet mingling with the collective. He observed you nervously.

You were still pretty confused and began to stare at your stained hand again. The palm was so dark that you could hardly see it against the backdrop, and the backside fared no better. You put your pointer and thumb pads together, then watched as a thin line of ink stretched between them as they came away. Then you glanced to your thighs, which were just a dark. Dread set in. Something felt wrong here.

...Saved you...

You jolted, head snapping to stare at him. The voice was like a frying pan to the head, bringing in a few more drops of memory. You remembered being shot after trying to escape, and Joey running away. But you also remembered laying on the floor, bleeding out, with Bendy- you clenched the site of the removed wound. Bendy had picked you up, and then you'd been lowered into the ink. A baptism. You drowned. And then you sat up, spat out what was left in your body, and now you were here, looking out over the ink machine.

Feeling overwhelmed, all you could do was lean back against your hands, gaze at the ceiling, and mutter "Woah."