Screaming out its frustration and displeasure somehow managed to calm the Ink Demon down. Destroying something would have been more productive, and less tiring. It could feel its throat was a little sore, which meant it had been screeching much too often this time around.
These repeats of time.
It was different now that it could think about things with more clarity. Things that didn't make sense before were starting to.
The Ink Demon turned its head down and stared wordlessly at Follower Sammy. It knew that it had just finished expressing its displease over the other attacking Beacon Henry again, and yet Follower Sammy was still there, pinned by its gloved hand.
Follower Sammy had not run, again.
Time and again, throughout the repeats of time, Follower Sammy had been there. The terms 'lord' and 'savior' were still lost in meaning to the Ink Demon, but it knew enough that the words were somehow Follower Sammy treating it well.
With...respect?
A jarring memory of a voice, one that wasn't Beacon Henry's, came to mind, sending a massive quiver through the skeletal creature.
'Get that thing out of sight! What would the investors say if they saw that...that thing wandering around? It's an abomination, is what it is. Too many people in the studio have seen it as it is. What? Only three? Well, that's three too many. We can't let it roam around like this anymore. It should have been destroyed-'
The Ink Demon's right hand pressed to the side of its head, eyes squeezing shut.
It didn't like that voice.
It didn't like being reminded of the trap-place.
The chains that restricted movement.
Bad.
A bad place.
A bad memory.
'Can't you keep it contained? It keeps getting out and into the halls. The other day it was with Norman. Sammy had it in the music department last week! It's bad for our image to have that...that abomination around. So if you can't keep it where it's been, then find somewhere on the lower floors of the studio to keep it. And don't come back until you make sure it can't leave.'
Bad. Bad. Bad. Badbadbadbadbad.
The Ink Demon let out a discomforted growl, pressing its clawed hand to its head harder.
"M-my lord?" Follower Sammy sounded hesitant. "I-is something else the matter?"
The Ink Demon felt one of Follower Sammy's hands reach up to hesitantly pat it on a horn. When had it lowered its head? The Ink Demon noticed that its head was resting on one of Follower Sammy's chest without realizing it. The Ink Demon thought about it, before it decided the reassurance was needed.
Follower Sammy never tried to hurt it.
Before, with Beacon Henry...Follower Sammy had just been attempting to get the human off of it. To make Beacon Henry stop squeezing its throat.
Assistance.
Offering help.
Giving reassurance.
Still rather foreign concepts it, and yet...
Follower Sammy offered no ill intent toward it, not that the Ink Demon could recall. Follower Sammy was offering reassurance and continued to pet its horn. Follower Sammy seemed to be content to wait for the Ink Demon to decide what to do with him.
What did the Ink Demon want to do?
Follower Sammy had seemingly meant no harm to Beacon Henry. That Follower Sammy had listened to it earlier. The Ink Demon cocked its head to one side, before it decided that it would let Follower Sammy go. The unhappy memories of that voice...of the one who didn't like it...the Ink Demon would ignore it.
It was the past.
Nothing more.
But before it left, it just had to make sure that its message had really been received...
"Mine. Beacon Henry mine. Chase only." The Ink Demon reluctantly drew away from Follower Sammy's letting of its horns and prodded a gloved finger gently to the other's chest. "No chase. No attack."
There.
That should be enough. The Ink Demon was still figuring out how to form the words it wanted, but for now, the words it had spoken would do just fine.
"O-of course, m-my lord." Follower Sammy stammered. "It won't happen again." He was quiet for a moment. "Are you...all right?"
"Bad past times." The Ink Demon stepped away, staring at Follower Sammy for a moment. It blinked, before looking in the direction Beacon Henry had gone. "Unpleasant...human. From past." Words seemed a little easier then before, even with the little time that had passed from its previous words. The Ink Demon focused harder on Beacon Henry's location, but intrusive thoughts persisted.
Failure.
Abomination.
Monster.
The Ink Demon straightened up with a snarl as it shook the unpleasant memories away, and began to head in the direction that Beacon Henry had gone.
It had questions it wanted answers to.
This time, after so many other times, something was different.
Different enough for the Ink Demon to take notice of. It presumed that Beacon Henry would know what was happening.
It would have those answers.
The thoughts that were forming...how they moved away from simple ones of chase, catch and kill. The Ink Demon was aware of it. That its mind was beginning to connect memories and how this connection led to past and present thoughts.
The Ink Demon dragged the claws of its right hand along a wall.
What did it all mean?
-x-x-x-
Sammy's pulse had yet to slow down after coming face to face with his savior.
Literally.
Those teeth had been very close the entire time the Ink Demon had been screeching at him. All Sammy had taken away from the tirade was the clear picture that the Ink Demon wanted him to stay away from Henry.
It was...unexpected, to hear all of those words between all the growling.
Sammy picked up his mask that he had set aside, and turned it over in his hands reverently. His lord and savior had spoken to him.
Well, snarled, but still.
The Ink Demon had spoken.
His lord had spoken to him again.
Sammy would be able to carry out His will the more He spoke in an understandable way. Sammy's inky face split into a pleased smile, a flash of gold appearing where his eyes would be before it faded. Sammy replaced the mask, and hummed as he walked in a different direction than his savior had.
There was some...concern, over the way his lord had acted. To allow Sammy to pet his horn again...to get so close as to nuzzle against him again...
Something was troubling his lord.
A human from the past, which meant that it was not Henry.
Sammy would think on who could have possibly upset his lord and savior so much, but for now...Sammy had another task.
Toon Bendy.
He must be unhappy, trapped with the non-believer.
Sammy set his jaw, a flash of jealousy rising over remembering the Ink Demon asking for Henry's name. His lord didn't need to know it, if He would kill the human once He caught him.
But, no matter.
His lord had let Sammy know what He wanted, and as his Prophet, Sammy would bow to His wishes. Which sent Sammy back to his previous idea the last time he had come across the Ink Demon.
Rescue toon Bendy.
Sammy figures that the toon may be unhappy for a time, but surely seeing the lost ones further below would help. Would show toon Bendy that his mere presence could offer hope and cheer to those trapped in this miserable place.
It had to be a sign.
A sign that they would all be free, sooner rather than later.
The despair was getting to be too much to bear, for everyone within the studio.
With another hum of some tune from long ago, Sammy went about his preparations. He needed to wait for the right time to strike, and in the meantime, Sammy would go acquire a little assistance, to deal with Henry.
Some...firepower.
-x-x-x-
The Projectionist had returned to his endless patrol of the dark depths of level 14.
Past and present collided in a confusing mishmash of sounds and pictures. When one thought was grasped, it was lost in favor of another.
Over and over again.
Memories were in pieces and scattered about.
All one could do was move, and exist, as one waited for those memories to solidify and make sense of the world around them.
It was a dark place, this studio, one without color, but it was always bright for him.
Having a projector for a head always ensued that the Projectionist would never run out of light, unless he happened to temporarily shut off the light. But doing so brought a deep darkness where he could see nothing, not even the surroundings he had become familiar with.
A cracking static of unease emitted from the Projectionist's chest. An inky hand reached up to rub at it irritably. The only sound he could make make was through the dratted thing, and just making those terrible screaming screeches took a lot of effort. Words were beyond him, seeing as it already took a lot of effort to 'see' where he was going.
It was flashes.
Impressions of rooms, walls, objects, and any living beings who may be around. Vibrations and touch, directly 'looking' at something with the light of his projector head, all of this helped him to better 'see' these flashes of what was now his world.
The Projectionist had gotten used to his body as it was now. Lately, his attentions were on the oddly familiar intruder in the studio. It was a break from the Bendy cartoons that endlessly played in a loop. And his current thoughts, usually muddling and confusing? They were clearer than ever before, even amongst the sounds of projectors, his own included.
Connecting the dots.
Using hazy memories that surfaced to cling to coherency, even if the clarity was punctured by the sound of the Projectionist's own projector head reel turning endlessly. The Projectionist let out a static growl of frustration as he reached out to rest a hand on a wall.
His focus was slipping.
The Projectionist needed to ground himself and follow this new train of thought. Something new had just happened, on an upper floor.
Bendy.
The Projectionist pressed his hand hard against the wall as he struggled to bring up the flashes he had managed to retain of the encounter.
A toon Bendy was in the studio. It was not like the monstrous Ink Demon at all. And despite toon Bendy's excitability, the Projectionist had found the toon's presence comforting, in a way.
Calming.
The Projectionist had not questioned allowing Bendy to hold his hand, nor had the Projectionist hesitated to protect toon Bendy from the human that had been nearby.
The one who brought death to this place.
The Projectionist curled his hand against the wall, his speaker crackling to life again. He was not sure why he believed this. He hadn't seen the human before.
Or had he?
Something didn't seem to add up.
The human appeared familiar to him, and yet...
The Projectionist's speaker crackled with static-like unease. If the human came down to this level, perhaps he could get some answers...
But how, when he couldn't speak?
How could the Projectionist get the human to understand that he wanted to ask questions, when he had chased said human not too long ago?
The Projectionist turned his light onto his hand on the wall, and pulled it away. A flash, an image of an inky hand. Another flash, and he turned away down a familiar hall. The Projectionist began to search for a clear wall without much ink on it.
Spoken words may be lost to the Projectionist, but perhaps written words were still within his grasp. It had been some time since he'd attempted to write anything but it was worth a shot.
Though if the human brought 'death' with him, then writing a message could be a useless endeavor.
But the Projectionist decided to try, as doing something was better than staying in the dark, waiting for time to move forward. If he had to, he could remain in the dark of the various areas of this floor.
Hidden.
Quiet and watchful.
If the human did come down here, he wouldn't hear the Projectionist's approach.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
A/N: I forgot to post this chapter here Sunday evening.
Bendy pov next chapter. Poor thing is so worried about Henry.
(And yes, Sammy is off to go retrieve his Tommy gun).