Part II Chapter 6: He's Just a Brute

Wally Franks. The janitor. The man who cleaned up Joey's messes. In case anybody was wonderin', this studio had a whole lotta messes. A whole lotta stuff that Wally had to keep clean. And he wasn't just talkin' about the floors.

No. Wally was the cleanin' man. And as much as he wished he could just waltz right on outta those front gates and never look back, he knew he couldn't. It was nice to pretend he could, though. It was nice to tell himself that he was always one step away from freedom, from leaving this whole, twisted, inky world behind him.

Cleaning up Joey's messes was hard work. Really hard.

Joey didn't have time to cover up every missing person. He didn't have time to pay off the police, or cover up stories for the news. Nah, Joey didn't have time for that. But Joey assumed Wally had all the time in the world.

Jerk. Joey and this whole park could kiss his ass for all he cared.

Maybe that was why Wally was always lettin' Tom and Allison and Henry into the park after dark. He never really knew what they was doing. He didn't really ask. If he knew, he might have ta clean up them next. He really didn't want that. So he kept on playin' dumb, the ignorant janitor who lost his keys and just wanted to leave. Truth was, he cleaned up more than just missing people, the park, and the ink. He cleaned up a lot of things. Somebody had to be the gatekeeper. The guard, kinda. Someone had to make sure that the missing people, well...that they stayed missing. Cause they couldn't just leave.

Not after what Bendy and that ink machine did to 'em.

The man on Wally's break room couch groaned and shifted slightly. Looks like he might be waking up soon.

Wally sure as heck wasn't expecting to find anybody in that river when he was doing his rounds down below the studio, making sure nobody was gettin' out, misbehaving. Stuff he hated doing. When he saw movement in the river at first, he almost looked away. It wasn't uncommon for all sorts of things to fall down those drainage grates from the park up above. Small animals, birds...sometimes things that were even bigger. They'd fall down, and if the fall didn't kill 'em, the ink sure as heck would. Nobody could really fish 'em out of the ink though. The ink would swallow them whole, swallow them down into the depths, how far down even Wally didn't know, churning and mixing and stewing them altogether like one big foul-smelling soup. And it sure as hell wasn't bacon flavored.

So yeah, when Wally saw movement, his first instinct was to look away. He didn't wanna watch some poor little bird or something struggle to hold onto a life that was already being stolen away by the ink. But when he saw a hand reach out from the ink, well, Wally just about jumped right out of his skin. His scream probably scared the whole dang neighborhood of lost ones. Tom had been nearly entirely submerged in that ink, covered in it from head to toe. He wouldn't have even recognized him if it weren't for his missing arm. That was kinda a dead giveaway.

Golly...Wally wasn't really sure how Tom survived falling into that river...nothing else ever had. How did he even get in the river anyway? It's not like Tom could fit down a sewage drain. And the state of him...that ink had gotten places it wasn't supposed to go. Tom had been coughing the stuff up for hours. Would he even survive? Golly. Just...golly.

Tom and Wally had never exactly been...friends. Sure, they were cordial to each other. But Tom made no secret of the fact that he didn't like Wally going around and touching all of his stuff that he was working on. Tools and pipes and whatnot. But it wasn't Wally's fault! He had to clean! But no, Mister Conner didn't really seem to remember that. They used to really get into it back in the day, back when it was just a few of them. Wally and Henry and Sammy and Tom, and even Miss Susie too. Those were the days...back when they kept on going, milking the studio for every dime it would give them, knowing deep down it wouldn't last forever. They'd put up with Joey's schemes and scowls because they knew any day now, any day at all, the studio would go belly up and they could take their last paycheck and find work elsewhere. It wasn't easy to find other work, no, but that was just the nature of life back then. They always had to be ready to find new work. And they were grateful for the work they had in the meantime.

Besides, it wasn't like it was hard to find work as a janitor. Everybody needed something clean.

But...that's not what happened. The studio didn't just flop over and die. Things got better. A lot better. People from Gent started pouring in, that big ole ink machine got installed, and then suddenly the park was souring, everybody who was anybody wanted to come and visit. And those little toons that Joey created, well, they were just the bee's knees, weren't they?

For about a week, Wally was really starting to enjoy his job. He was happy Joey Drew Studios had gotten off the ground.

Then...then a little boy went missing.

And Joey approached Wally with a cleanup request.

Tom groaned again on the couch, and Wally cautiously approached. It'd taken him forever to haul Tom out of the river and get him up to the break room. Even longer to try to wash off at least some of that awful ink. He'd had to go to his breakroom on the lower levels, ain't no way he could carry Tom up them stairs, and Joey gave him a break room on the lower and upper levels. He coulda tried the elevator, but...

Well...Wally's job was to keep things clean. Clean up messes. And, well, Tom was sure a mess. He didn't hate Tom. But he was scared to death of Joey. So for now, he'd have to wait and see just how big of a mess Tom was in.

"...-lison..." Tom muttered. "Alli...son..." He started retching, and Wally jumped back. Whelp. There goes more ink. Guess it was better out than in. This time though, after he finished gettin' sick, Tom blearily opened his eyes. "W...Wally? That you?"

"H-hey there, Tom!" Wally said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Quite, uh...quite a bit of ink you got on you, there."

"...where...where am I?" Tom asked. "Why...the hell do I hurt all over?"

"You're in my break room," Wally explained. "I pulled you out of the ink river. You know? That big ole river beneath the studio, where ink and rainwater all mix together? You was drownin' in there. I thought you was dead til you reached up and nearly scared me half to death...how'd you get in there anyway?"

"I...fell," Tom said, struggling to remember. "Henry and I...Bendy found us. He...he attacked us. The floor gave way, a-and I fell down...that's all I remember," Tom said.

"Well you better count your blessings then, Mister Conner," Wally said. "If you wouldn't have hit water, that fall woulda killed yah. I'm not really sure hittin' the water was any better though. That ink ain't good for you."

"I'm aware," Tom grunted, struggling to sit up and catch his breath. He looked wobbly, like he might pass out again, so Wally rushed to get him a glass of water. Tom grabbed it and glugged it down in just a few gulps.

"...you...you was one of them Boris's, weren't you?" Wally asked.

Tom flinched, and looked up at him. In hindsight, Wally supposed the question did kinda seem to come outta nowhere. But it would make a lot of sense. "...I thought you didn't know about all of that."

"I know a lotta things, Mister Conner," Wally said softly. "Lotta things I wish I didn't know. Done a lotta things I'm not proud of either. But we all gotta do what we have to in order to survive."

Tom sighed. "Yes. I was a Boris. A long time ago."

"But...you ain't anymore?" Wally said.

"No."

"...well, why ain't you-"

"I don't want to talk about it," Tom said sharply.

Wally's mouth snapped closed. It was rude. Wally wanted to get mad about it. But beneath the harshness of Tom's voice, there was a crack. Something in his voice that sounded so broken. Before Wally could speak again, Tom quietly spoke.

"I don't remember how I became a Boris. I just was. Bendy dragged me off. Probably to the ink machine. I turned back because Bendy somehow took all of the ink back out of me. I don't know how. And I don't like to think about," Tom said. Each word sounded strained. Forced. Like he might crack at any moment.

"...did you...come down here looking for Miss Allison?" Wally asked. "I know you fell, but you'd still have to be down pretty low to be right above the river. And I...I know she's been missin' for a while. But I can tell you, she ain't down here. I...I keep track of everybody who's down here, you know. I clean up Joey's messes."

"No, I know she isn't down here. She's..." Tom swallowed. "She's Alice."

"Shoulda guessed...figured something had to change after that new Alice Angel got so pretty and sweet." Wally took a seat next to Tom. "...listen, Tom, I...I can't really let you go back up to the top of the park until I make sure you didn't...I mean, that ink you swallowed in the river...i-it's bad. I know you were a Boris, so you know what it's like a little, but this ink here? It's...it's different. The ink in that river, i-it's like dilluded. The ink machine produces good ink, to make the toons, but there's some bad ink too, some sort of foulness it gives off. It's like...it's like junk of some kind. It all gets washed up here. People who touch that ink, or get that ink in them, they don't turn out so well."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked. His eyes were a little afraid.

"Well...since you've been here after dark, you know that the old Alice used to be kinda a mess, right?" Wally asked.

"I remember," Tom said.

"Right. Well, that's cause she couldn't stay away from the river. Well, it was a puddle more like it. But even just a puddle messed her up real bad. The toons are fragile things, Mister Tom. I don't know exactly how Joey does it. You probably know more than me. But I know that good toons come from the good ink. And bad toons come from the bad ink. Bendy? He was Joey's first. Before Joey knew how to use the good ink. Well...how to use people and the good ink together. But Bendy was just all ink. He was good ink and bad ink all mixed into one. And the thing that came out, you know, it ain't right. It can be good to people, but most of the time? That thing is bad to its core."

"So what you're saying is, since I've swallowed some of that...that bad ink. You're saying something could happen to me?" Tom asked.

Wally nodded. "Now I...I don't know for sure. Maybe nothin'll happen. Maybe...maybe you'll start to turn back into a toon again."

Tom's hand curled into a fist.

"...but you can't leave until I know."

Wally braced himself. He was scared that Tom was going to put up a fight. Start swinging. Wally wasn't really a fighting man, he'd get whooped by somebody big and strong like Tom.

"...ya got any tools down here I could use?" Tom asked.

"H-huh?" Wally stuttered.

"Tools. Pliers, wrenches, screwdrivers and screws, bit of metal," Tom said, a little condescendingly, and Wally huffed.

"Yes of course I do! You don't have to be rude!" Wally said, and walked over to his supply closet. "Why do you need them anyway? You aren't gonna try to hit me upside the head, are you?"

"No," Tom said. "But back when I was Boris, I got damaged. Lost an arm."

"You don't say," Wally said, rolling his eyes.

Tom flipped him off while his back was turned. "Yeah, well, I worked together with Allison and Henry to make a new arm. We used ink, probably some of the good ink, and metal to make me a new arm. It only worked while I was Boris, because ink is what held it all together. Once I turned back into a human, the arm didn't work anymore." Tom frowned and put his hand to his chin. "But...if I got ink back inside me, it's gonna try to take shape somehow I reckon. And I certainly don't want it to turn me back into a Boris. I'm hoping I didn't swallow that much ink. If I can give it a place to go though, give it something to do..."

"Then maybe you can use it to your advantage," Wally said, turning around with tools in his hands. "Gee, you really are somethin' smart, Mister Conner! But...if you're right, you still won't be able to go back up to the surface...everybody would notice an arm made out of ink."

"And you're gonna try to stop me?" Tom growled.

Wally gulped.

Here he was again. He had a choice to make. He could give Tom his tools, let him do what he wanted, and probably make Tom even stronger than he is now. But then, Tom would try to leave. And if word got out that Tom was with Wally, and Joey found out...Wally'd be dead. Or maybe even worse than dead.

"...you and Allison. And Henry too. You were planning on taking down this park once, right?" Wally asked. "...would you still do it? Even if Allison is Alice now?"

Tom gritted his teeth. "...I'm gonna save her. And I'm gonna tear the park down too. This whole park is evil. It hurt me. It hurt Allison. And it's still hurting people, even now. She wanted to stop this place so bad. More than I did. So I'll find a way."

Wally was quiet. He walked over to Tom, and handed him his tools.

"...how can I help?" Wally said.

Tom smiled.

Wally Franks. The janitor. The man who cleaned up Joey Drew's messes, murders, and scummy underhanded dealings. The man who kept up Joey's image at the cost of his own moral compass. The man who had seen so many things, he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept without a nightmare.

It was time to clean up Joey's biggest mess of all, he reckoned.

It took hours. Calling it painful was an understatement. Having that ink back inside of him scared Tom senseless. For the most part, he didn't feel any different. But the more he thought about it, the more he self-examined, the more scared he became.

Something was definitely wrong.

For starters...he really shouldn't have survived that fall. What if he didn't? Or rather, what if he had only just barely survived?

The ink had healed someone before.

Tom thought to Alice. Where was she? Was she getting ready for her next show? His spot by the bar would be empty for today's show.

His stomach turned into knots. But maybe it really wasn't his stomach. Maybe it was something else. He'd felt nauseous since he'd woke up. His body was rejecting the ink. He felt hot on the inside, but his body couldn't stop shivering like it was cold, goosebumps popping up all over his skin.

How could the ink machine turn a human into a toon so easily? Well, relatively easy...he'd helped make the damn thing, but that didn't really mean he understood how it worked. He knew the components, the relative structure. It's not like making ink was hard really, he'd just ramped up the production on a massive scale. But that living ink? He'd had no part in that. He didn't know where it came from, what it was, or how it worked. Maybe GENT knew, or maybe only Joey knew. Maybe Joey had sold his soul for secrets. It was hard for Tom to imagine a hell more horrible than the one he'd been living in lately, but if such a place did exist, he hoped Joey got sent to the deepest, darkest part of it. That ink demon too, and anybody else who had let this corruption take hold of them.

Tom looked over at his new arm.

He might be sent to hell too once all was said and done. He wasn't really sure what all the rules were to gettin' out of it. As long as he could save Allison first...maybe then it'd be worth it.

And getting to see Joey writhing in pain all the time might not make hell so bad...

"You sure this is a good idea? That don't look like no Boris' arm," Wally said, scratching his head and looking down at the creation they'd both managed to cough up.

Tom tested out the hand. Squeezed the thick, four fingers that felt too large and cartoonish for his liking. How could he even begin to describe what his new arm looked like? It was nothing like his old Boris arm. Maybe it had something to do with the tainted ink? It was awful. Large and hulking, almost too heavy to lift. They'd had to attach it to the rest of his body with metal and pipes, and it was barely able to move under his own command. Ink spat out like blood from an open wound, and he sighed. "It's far from perfect..."

"Yeah, but how do you feel? Do you think it's working, you know, to keep you from being corrupted or whatever?" Wally asked.

The arm twitched. It felt all kinds of wrong and odd and heavy and...ugh. He hated it. But the twisting in his stomach had died down, and he hadn't started hearing voices. So...that was probably a good thing. He was worried that maybe he'd go back to how he was before, as the old Boris, just...mindless and thoughtless, unable to remember his name or Allison or anything. But no. His mind seemed to be okay, though it was hard to trust it. Odd, not being able to trust yourself. But for now, the arm was working. And more than that, it felt...strong. Stronger than a regular Boris arm would be. He'd instructed Wally to reinforce the thing with metal and pipes and all kinds of stuff inside of the ink as well, to keep it sturdy. The way it was, he felt like he might be able to tear apart a few things.

"Better," Tom finally answered. "I guess."

"I still can't let you leave," Wally said. "Granted, we've got that corrupted ink somewhat under control, but it isn't exactly normal looking..."

"I thought you said you wanted to help me end this park?" Tom asked.

"Well, yeah, but if you fail, I got no way to get outta here for good, and I sure as hell am not puttin' my ass on the line," Wally said. "My help starts and ends with me still stayin' safe and out of Joey's line of fire. You get me?"

Tom sighed and rolled his eyes. "I could probably just knock you out and leave anyway...this arm feels pretty tough."

"Yeah. But you won't," Wally said. "Though you do look like kinda a brute. Heh. Brute Boris. That's a funny thought."

"Enough of that," Tom said. "...so now what?"

"Whattaya mean?" Wally asked.

"Well, you've made it pretty clear you don't want me to leave," he said. "So what do we do now? Walk around underneath the park aimlessly?"

Wally hummed. "...hard to say. Sammy's always stirring up trouble down here, so that's something we can-"

"Sammy?" Tom interrupted. He scowled. "How the hell is that damn lunatic still alive?!"

"Probably the same reason you are," Wally said. "Though that ink mighta made him even crazier than before. It has a habit of pulling out the worst in people."

"How have you been able to keep him under control down here?" Tom asked. "That's your job, right?"

Wally rubbed the back of his head. "Well...you see...it's a bit harder to do that with Sammy, since he can...well, something about that ink has made it so that Sammy can walk through walls."

"Like Bendy?! No other toon can do that," Tom said.

"I guess Sammy's special. But we sorta have a mutual understanding that he at least won't go anywhere during the daytime. Night time is a whole 'nother story though..." Wally sighed and put his hand to his chin. "Can't deny that he's a problem...you know...if you could...well, I don't want to twist your arm or anything," Wally said, trailing off.

Tom resisted the urge to scowl again. Wally was playing dumb. Had a smirk on his face that Tom didn't like. But Tom took the bait anyway. "What do you want me to do?"

"If you can take care of Sammy, for good, then I'd be willing to look the other way if you want to...I don't know, slip passed me or something. Go up to the park. But you can't go leaving the park itself now, and you can't be seen during the day. Alright? Not like this. Not until we can find a permanent way to get that ink out of you, and for now, we ain't got no ideas. I'm pretty certain Bendy ain't gonna waltz out here and volunteer to take it all out of you."

"Not a chance," Tom agreed. "I won't be able to leave the park though?"

"Nope," Wally said. "Anything that's made out of that there ink can only go as far as the pipes. Some sort of containment system I guess. but the parks run pretty far below the park, they don't go passed the gate. That's why Joey keeps building down instead of building the park out. Can't go passed the pipes. None of the toons can go passed where the ink ends."

"I guess that makes sense," Tom said. "But I've looked around down here. These pipes won't hold forever. I don't think they're going to hold much longer at all. Doesn't Joey know, doesn't Joey care?"

"I can't say I know what's going on in Joey's head," Wally said. "But he seems to think that keeping Bendy and the other toons entertained with guests is more important than maintaining the pipes and the park itself. He'll pour all the money he has into keeping people coming back."

"But if those pipes go, this whole park will sink into the ground," Tom said. "People are going to get hurt. This can't keep going eventually."

"I know," Wally said. "But...there ain't nothin' we can do about that right now. Focus on what we got right in front of us. We'll worry about the bigger stuff later."

Tom agreed, but he couldn't help but wonder if that was the same kind of mentality that Joey had. Worry about it later, until later dragged this whole park down into the earth.

"Right then. Back to the matter at hand, and working out a deal for us," Wally said. "I can't control Sammy. At all. He's dangerous, and terrifying. You put a stop to him, for good this time, and I'll not only let you leave, I'll help you. Maybe even help you find Alice."

"...you're asking me to kill someone," Tom said.

"Haven't you tried to kill him before? Why the hesitation now?" Wally asked.

Tom really hadn't ever tried to kill Sammy before. Sammy had gotten in the way plenty of times, sure, but there was never a real moment where Tom had tried to fight him, one on one. Allison had shown little hesitation when it came to putting an end to Susie's Alice. Was Tom strong enough to do the same? There was no question that there was little humanity left in Sammy, maybe even before he got tainted by the ink, but to end a life?

He shouldn't be hesitating. Sammy was a menace. A danger, a threat, and an overall problem. A madman.

But...technically still a man.

Tom didn't know if he had it in him to kill a real person, or even somebody who used to be a person.

He...he could just knock Wally out and make a run for it. But then what? Wally had already said he'd look out for himself if he needed to. He could run to Joey, then Joey could use Allison against him again. And Sammy would continue to be a threat until they took care of him.

There wasn't a "they" though. No Henry. No Allison. And no Wally really. It was just him. If he was going to make the decision to kill somebody, really kill somebody, he was going to have to be ready. He had to be sure that this was what he really wanted.

Maybe he really would end up in hell after all. Right alongside Joey.

"Let's go find Sammy," Tom growled. "And give ourselves one less problem to deal with."

Hope you like this chapter everyone! Sorry it's a bit shorter! It's been a while since I've stuck to focusing on just one to two characters for the entire chapter without jumping around perspectives, but that's because Tom had a lot going on this chapter! I hope you like my take on "Brute" Boris!

As always, thanks so much for reading and reviewing, and I'll see you all soon! The next chapter may come out a little over a month as opposed to my usual once a month replies, just have some busy life stuff coming up that's going to keep me a little pre-occupied. But don't worry! I'll be back soon! And then things are REALLY going to pick up the pace. Seriously. Things are going to start getting really wild really quickly from here on out.

Hope you're ready~