Seize [Many, many mind games.]

/

Crawling behind Sammy through an air vent wasn't where Henry thought this would lead. Still, better to have him near than not have him at all, even if the view was less than stellar.

"Bendy pops up up ahead." He then frowned. "Turn right after that. I know you can sense him, but-"

"I appreciate it, little sheep." The faint pulse that was the ink demon grew and thrummed in the back of Sammy's mind.

An open vent came into view… but there was no terrible screech or slamming of mismatched hands.

The ink demon slowly stood and came into view, face pressed to the grate, smile fixed and vibrating. Even while lacking eyes it was unquestionably looking at Henry. The thin, humanoid fingers of its ungloved hand curled into the gap between the bars. It made no noise, save the constant drip of ink. With a tilt of its head, the ink demon let out a grumbling noise and two brief grunts at Henry, before slinking slowly out of sight.

Henry frowned, brows pinched at the retreating demon. It had changed its patterns, but still tried to hurt him whenever the chance came up. The bony thing just confused him further, but… Henry tapped the leg in front of him. "That's new."

"How so?"

"Usually, he shushes me and leaves."

"He shushes you? Like a child?"

"Yup."

Sammy shook his head and crept forward. "Too much noise irks him, but m- the ink demon isn't one for being patient." My Lord would not cross his lips so long as he had lips at all. Not for Bendy, not for Henry.

Henry followed and pointedly looked away from the grate that showed a lost one bashing its head into a wall. "You've said it ignores most noises, but what does it do when it can't ignore something?"

"If he likes it, he lets it continue. If he doesn't… splat." Sammy met the end of the ventilation shaft with a grumble and a sharp shove to get it open. The grate dislodged and fell forward with a clang, making him flinch. He didn't even want to know what note that was. Sammy pulled himself forward and out of the shaft with a grunt and managed to not fall on his face… mask. He turned back to Henry and held out his free hand.

Henry took it and carefully worked his way out of the opening.

Sammy tilted his head. "How did you get out of the vent without help before?"

"The same way you get your pants on, I guess," Henry said, tongue-in-cheek.

The ink man snorted a laugh and promptly to let go of Henry's hand. Don't be grabby. Don't be greedy.

"We're headed up there next." Henry headed for the stairs to where the Bendy-Land model sat. It was inside of a massive Bendy head trashcan topper. Kind of fitting. He had to admit, a theme park just for Sillyvision creations was interesting, but not exactly sensible. The toons had been popular, but not enough to garner an entire theme park.

He could have told Joey that if their friendship hadn't gone to hell in a handbasket.

Henry looked up at the multitude of blueprints and concept art that lined the inside of the head. Bertrum had the eye of an artist, at least from an architectural standpoint.

Behind him, Sammy drew close and looked around. "Mm… this doesn't feel familiar."

"Well, there's a tape on the table. Might help."

"Might." He hit the play button and circled the table. The drawings may have meant nothing, but they were interesting to look at.

"For forty years, I've built attractions that stagger the imagination! Colossal wonders such as the world has never seen! I have earned my legacy with sweat. But right in front of everyone... high level investors, Wall Street tycoons, the ever-tactless Joey Drew introduces me, the great Bertrum Piedmont, as Bertie! Like I was his child. You may be paying me, Mister Drew! But you don't own me! I'll build you a park bigger than anything YOU could ever possibly conceive! But before you go taking any bows, Mister Drew, know that this grand achievement will belong to me... and to me alone."

Bertrum's tape never failed to make Henry grimace. Ego with talent to back it never seemed to go well for people who ended up in the studio. He peered at Sammy over his glasses. "What do you know about Bertrum?"

"Not much." Sammy plucked a scale model from the table, giving the bland little cube a smirk. "We shared a passion for our work, but steered clear of each other." The ink man hummed a bit and looked back at Henry. "We both hated Joey. But the parts of Bertrum I remember were… mm." Sammy rubbed at his scalp and grimaced. "Oh. Fantastic. More fainting." The sharp voice of the musician cracked from under the smooth calm. He planted a hand on the table to steady himself, a tight fist around the tiny model. The ink that enveloped him writhed and shimmered. "Henry, this one-"

"-to call me Bertrum." The massive man said with a smile. He looked about the room of people and his gaze fell on Sammy. "You're the man in charge of sound, I take it?"

Sammy fought a sneer. The metallic patina that coated the back of his tongue reminded him repeatedly that he needed another dose. But, business. "How'd you ever guess?" Sammy frowned at the blueprints before him. Why was he called in for this so early on?

But his snark made no impact. "Luck. Now then!" The man pointed upwards at the blueprints tacked to the wall. "The park should span four hundred acres at the start, but we're looking forward to expansion once the park truly takes off."

On and on, just noise. Chatter. He could do something so much better with his time than stand around having a bull session about a theme park… like hiding in his sanctuary to get something done for once, or adding more ink to his coffee. Something that wasn't standing around. The ink whispered so sweetly in his brain, called his name like a prayer-

"-and that's where you come in, Mister Lawrence." Bertrum's voice pulled the blond from his dour mood for a moment. "Mister Lawrence? Are you still with us?" He joked, but he didn't look happy at not being given full attention.

Hushed whispers fluttered in his mind. Come back, they purred from the blackness. Claws of irritation pricked up Sammy's back. "You're hard to ignore. What's the point of me being here? Nothing's built yet."

"Rides need music." The giant man shot Sammy a testy look. "I want you to think up music for these pieces. Fun, bright, what you think will work for these rides of mine."

Come back. Sammy nodded. "I better get on that now, then." He turned and left the room, even as he heard many voices call out for him. But they didn't matter. The call inside his head did. It wasn't madness. He knew madness. This was the ink. That cursed, cruel, fascinating ink.

Come here. Sammy. Come here now.

It knew his name. He couldn't refuse it. A dose of ink, just enough, a dram. He could get through the day if he just got more of it.

Please come back. Let us in. Let us in. The ink hushed and calmed the voices, but they always crept back after a brief time. He didn't know how, but he knew he needed to get a hold of more of it. Let us love you. Sing for us. Play for us. He had to listen if only to shut them up. Let us in so we may love you. The lithe man broke into a sprint and bolted down the hall-

-and promptly hit a wall with all his might. Papers fluttered to the floor, and he felt the stabs of pain lance over his chest. He fell back with a gasp of air and lay still. Well, he did not miss the sensation of having the wind knocked out of him.

"Jeez, Sammy!" Henry approached carefully, bewildered at the speed with Sammy launched himself. "What was that?"

"That!" The ink man rolled onto his back, mask facing the ceiling with a desperate need to catch his breath. "Was awful."

Henry frowned and squat down, wincing at the tinge in his back. "What was? What did you remember?"

"I remembered a pinch of Bertrum Piedmont-" he rolled onto his front and balanced on his elbows- "And the ink."

Henry blinked slowly. "The ink?"

"It liked me," he spat. "Offered things and dug around in my head to know what to do and say." He looked up with a forced smile. "I flung myself headlong into its embrace. It wanted to be inside of me."

The cartoonist shifted uncomfortably. "What even is the ink?"

Sammy carefully pushed himself onto his feet and stood, still trying to catch his breath. "I'll ask it next time I fall in."

"Do not fall in."

"Oh, fine." He limped over to the table, glancing over the model of what had become the corpse of some huge dream. "It's… strange. I utterly lost myself to the ink just as Bendy-Land was coming to fruition. I didn't even get to try making ride music for anything. There was some party to garner funding, but…" Sammy cocked his head, setting down the model piece where he'd found it. "Did Bendy-Land ever exist outside of this place?"

"Nope."

He waved a hand at the scale model and smirked. "Ah. Not surprised. Joey was terrible with money. The ways you kept Joey in check were gone along with you. No one noticed until it was too late." He nodded, mind distant for a moment. His gaze fell on Henry, those sweet, muddled feelings creeping high inside of him. "Yes. When the ink first consumed me, I remembered you and how you'd kept Joey from coming unglued… and fury was all I knew when I remembered you had gone."

Henry lowered his head, looking anywhere but at Sammy. "And now?"

He shrugged dramatically. "Now, I want to kick Mister Drew's teeth in."

Henry managed a chuckle and turned for the park itself. "Get in line."

Sammy followed, snark seeping into his tone. "There's a line?"

Henry smiled at Sammy over his shoulder. "Everyone gets a turn."

\

Alright. Henry could confirm a few things on this loop. Flipping the switches was easier with two people. Fighting Bertrum was easier with two people. Fitting two people into one booth was still cramped… and Sammy was being more cautious about how tightly he grabbed around his waist. Not a death grip like the first few times it happened, but he chalked that up to Sammy still being off from being thrust back into acting as Prophet.

The ink man frowned at the haunted house entrance. "I already know this'll be a nightmare."

The cartoonist sighed and thumped himself into the seat. Susie was remarkably quiet since she'd gloated in the stairwell. "Always is. See you soon." The car trundled down the track in silence. As the car pulled into the main room, not even the music played from its lone record player in the corner.

Maybe this was Susie's idea of melodrama. He didn't quite know or care. He just wanted to get this over with.

His car came to a stop after the last set of doors, and the man braced himself. The massive white mitts grappled with the front of the car with a low groan, and Buddy's head flopped into view.

"Buddy-"

The brute groaned and flung the car across the room.

Henry landed with a dizzying thud and lay still. Just had to get his bearings and breathe.

Sammy leaped out of his car and ran to be between the man and the brute.

"Don't-" Henry coughed and rolled over on his front to stand. "Don't get puddled. I can't lose you both again."

The ink man's head snapped Henry's way with a sinking pain in his chest. "No promises-"

But Buddy bellowed and lumbered their way, and Sammy took off. The brute swayed on his feet with mouth open and leaking. He didn't raise his arms and roar, he just stayed in place and leaked.

What the hell did she do to him?

"This way!" Sammy yelled, trying to get Buddy's attention. The wolf turned and limped painfully his way. "That's right! Over here!"

"Sammy, I said don't get puddled!" Henry yelled from his spot on the floor.

"He can't even run! He's-" But as Buddy turned to the voice of Henry, the ink man paused. His mouth hung open in shock. "Henry!" Sammy called over the lethargic roar of Buddy. The beast turned his way again. Sammy lifted the axe and took off, still shouting as he ran. "His head! Look-" the brute hurled a crate his way and the ink man fell as it landed too close for comfort.

"What…" The man pushed himself up from the floor, still dizzy and half-awake after hitting his head. He squinted behind his cracked lenses, trying to piece together what Sammy had seen that he missed- oh. Oh god. He saw it now. The gaping hole in the back of the poor thing's head. Susie hadn't just rebuilt him, this round she cored him like an apple.

"Oh, you finally noticed?" The twisted angel cackled from her hiding place. "I figure he can't remember you with no mind to remember with! End them, my brute! Destroy them!"

Buddy moaned, not even trying to talk, and limped slowly Henry's way.

"What do you think of my work, Henry? Does it hurt? Isn't it ugly? Isn't it perfect?" She gave a sweet, contented sigh and drew closer to her microphone. "Maybe next time, you won't be so keen to hide what's mine."

Henry watched where he stood. Was this what he had to look forward to now? His wolf broken and tortured just for fun? For beauty? He was vaguely aware of Sammy calling for him.

Buddy grasped a shoulder in each massive mitt and lifted Henry from where he stood. The exed-out eyes were blank, and the ruined mouth hung open. The brute just held him in the air, wobbling and wheezing.

Henry blinked his tear-filled eyes at the wolf holding him up. "I'm sorry, Buddy."

The white face twitched at the nose, and the wolf growled. Two quick grunts over and over, quicker and more frantic, like the wolf were trying to capture a rabbit running in the woods. "Hng…. Rrr…." The wolf managed one try at words before Sammy launched himself up and buried the axe head into Buddy's skull. It caved like a rotten pumpkin and the beast fell with a splatter.

Even gutted and broken, something of Buddy remembered. The cartoonist lay where he'd been dropped, even as Susie screamed overhead and Sammy tried to get him to stand. But… why bother? He'd just have to do this over next time. Always again over and over next goddamn time.

"His mind was in my hands! There was nothing left to remember you with! I don't care how you did it, but you won't ruin my fun anymore!"

Buddy melted away, a glittering puddle, and Susie sprang from her hiding place with a screech.

For all her bragging about knowing they were stuck in a loop, Susie seemed to forget what happened after Buddy's death.

Rising from a puddle behind her was Allison, her cutlass striking home and splitting from Susie's breastbone. The twisted angel fell, as she always did.

Sammy stood before the horned woman and the wolf, axe at the ready.

Allison scowled and looked between the two of them. "Both of you, come with us."

The ink man sneered her way. "I think not." He adjusted his stance, but looked down at Henry patting his leg. "Henry?"

"Help me up."

Sammy paused, then did so, keeping an arm around Henry's back.

"Okay… Alice and Tom."

Tom squinted and frowned, mechanical hand rapping its fingers to the pipe.

"Sammy. This time, please come with me."

"I will not be caged, little sheep."

"Please."

That tone troubled him, softer and sadder than anything, but the ink man didn't show it. He huffed and turned his attention back to the duo before him. "Where to?"

Henry lay a hand over the one across his shoulders. "Thank you." He didn't have enough fight in him to beg.

The horned woman furrowed her brows, but nodded. "This way."

/

Scowling from where he sat on the cot, Sammy could safely say that being boarded up into a tiny room was crap. Pure crap. Even with Henry on the cot next to him, it was crap.

The one armed wolf affixed the final board and nodded at his work, before turning to the horned woman who'd held the boards up for him to nail.

Allison's wide eyes were soft when they fell on the wolf. "You can still go for that supply run if you want to."

Tom glared their way. Sammy glared back, even with no eyes and a mask.

She tried again. "I'll be fine, Tom. Promise." She patted his cheek spot and smiled.

The wolf grumbled before huffing and stalking out of the room. The door clicked shut with a whir of gears behind him.

The horned woman watched the door for a couple seconds, then turned back to the two in the cell. "Henry. I remembered."

The cartoonists brows lifted. He stood and rested his forearms on the boards. Finally, a bit of hope after this gnarled loop. "How much?"

She smiled, eyes bright. "Some of me. My name, bits of who I was… I remember Tom." Her smile fell. "He was… I married him."

Wow. "Have you told him?"

"I wouldn't know where to start." She looked back over at Sammy, who'd hung back to let them talk. "You weren't what I expected when Tom and I went into that room."

A shrug. "Can't leave Henry to himself in this place. Too many monsters running around."

"Well… it's true." She looked back to Henry and smiled. "But Henry, you were right." She lay a thin hand over her chest with a nervous fidget to her bow tie. "I have a name, now. My name."

Henry tiredly smiled back. "Good. You'll get more as you go. That's how it is with Sammy, at least."

She squinted. "Sammy."

The musician cleared his throat.

She blinked. "I… didn't realize you knew your name, too."

Sammy tilted his head forward, frowning her way. "You and Henry are the only ones, then. Knowing who runs about this place, I'd like it kept with the few who know now. But…" He looked over at Henry and stood. "My little sheep, time for sleep."

Henry smirked his way and leaned on the boards. "I'm fine, Sammy."

"You're not. You didn't sleep last night- don't argue, Henry," he sniped when the cartoonist opened his mouth. He grasped gently at Henry's elbow and lead him to the cot. "I mean it. Rest now. You couldn't be safer to do so."

Henry fought off a yawn. "Well… if you insist. Don't wander off."

Sammy smiled softly as the cartoonist lay on the cot and shut his eyes. He bent and sat against the wall, facing the boards. He turned his focus to the horned woman still watching them.

She nodded Henry's way. "We can talk later."

"I heard that." Henry mumbled from the cot.

Allison laughed silently and nodded before heading around the wall to where she and Tom slept.

Sammy leaned back against the wall with a silent sigh. Alright… he was worried. Everything from the haunted house up to this point was horrible. What stirred the worst in him was how Henry'd just… collapsed. That look of utter defeat didn't sit right on Henry. Sammy took a deep breath and let himself fade out into the dark. He couldn't sleep, but he could rest.

But his mind didn't. Not for long.

The blonde woman glanced his way with a confident smile. "I've been looking forward to this all week, Mister Lawrence."

Sammy frowned, brows lowered. "Three rewrites latter, you damn well better be."

Her smile softened. "How's your cheek?"

Sammy's gaze rolled skyward. "Good enough, as with everything else in this place."

"Good to know." She turned into the recording booth, before shooting him a smile over her shoulder. "I'll bet you I can get this in one take."

Her confidence did nothing for his exhaustion. "If you get this in one take, I'll owe you lunch."

Allison giggled. "Guess I'll have to nail it." She pulled the door shut.

Sammy took a breath before addressing the crew still setting up. "Alright, fair warning, first person to screw this up gets sacrificed on the altar of the lil devil darlin' himself." He strode to his podium and grabbed the sheet music. Someone in the back snickered softly. "Laugh among yourselves, but I'm one bad session away from setting this place on fire." He took up the baton and tapped it for attention. Icy eyes danced across the room, and with a calm down-stroke, they began.

The harpist plucked their way through the opening bit, and Sammy shot a glance over to the booth to find Allison with her eyes closed, just listening and taking in the sound.

A honeyed smile, and Allison crooned sweetly into her microphone. "I'm just a lonely angel, sittin' here on a shelf."

Oh… Sammy schooled his surprised expression back to stern concentration. Floored or not, he had a band to lead. As Allison pressed forward, the musician smiled. Susie sang like an angel, but Allison sang like Alice Angel. Brutal as the transition from Susie to Allison had gone, seemed that Joey had picked-

"-the perfect voice." Sammy muttered. He looked up past the boards to see the horned woman scratching quietly away at the wall.

Allison paused and turned to shoot him a confused look. "You say something?"

He frowned and lay fingertips to the side of his face. It didn't hurt, but he swore he felt the ache mentioned in his cheek. "I remembered something. You sang Lonely Angel and got it in one take."

Her brows lowered. "Sorry, I only know what half those words mean."

Sammy stood and rested his arms against the low board. "Means you had a fantastic voice with talent behind it."

Allison set her pen down with a confused scowl. "I don't remember it." Her eyes narrowed. "He calls you Sammy, but what does that mean? I knew that was your name, but... Who were you before this place?"

Sammy hummed in thought. "I was a man who made music and lead a band. My job ranged from composition to folly work, all the way down to being Joey Drew's favorite victim." He paused and pointed her way. "Joey Drew is responsible for the mess we're all in."

She shook her head faintly. "Can't remember him, but I kind of have something for you, I think."

"Is that so?"

"Tall, for one thing. Quick and sarcastic… kinda like a… what are those birds that circle in the air?"

He sneered. Rude, but not inaccurate. "Vulture. And that seems to be my leading impression." Sammy drummed his fingers against the board he'd perched upon. "Tall, temperamental, and a liar." He huffed and rested his chin on his arm. "Gotta say, that does nothing for wanting to remember who I am. Who'd want to remember being an ass?"

Allison sighed softly, offering Sammy an understanding frown. "We've all done things we're not proud of."

"Down here, we're all sinners." He glanced over at Henry, out cold on the cot. "Well… mostly."

Allison's expression grew lax. "I don't remember him at all. From before, I mean."

The ink man scowled, gaze on the floor below. "I did. He was one of the best things about the place back in the early days."

"Sounds right."

"He's the one who made those cute toons, you know. The true creator. Ask for his sketchbook some time. You'll see what he meant these monsters to be like."

She blinked at him with parted lips. "He made them?"

"Yes."

Allison's expression turned from surprise and melted to somewhere between the realm of thoughtful and concerned. Possibly calculative, like cogs were going. She drew a thin hand to her mouth. "He made them. That…" She went quiet and turned to the door. "I think Tom's coming back. We'll talk later."

The ink man frowned before pulling away from the boards. "So you say."

"We will next time." She smiled and turned back to the wall. "I promise."

Sammy hated that word. He sat, one leg bent up, and turned to the still sleeping Henry. The easy rise and fall of his chest calmed Sammy, but staring was invasive. How uncouth it was to watch someone sleep…

But so was pulling Henry against him in a booth. Something that prompted him to loosen his grip and let the man be. Bad Prophet. That is not allowed. But if Henry didn't mind or care, why hold back? Sammy sighed quietly and lay back against the wall. No, today had been enough. This loop had been plenty of hell on them both. No more thinking. Just rest.

/

stares at Bertrum fight I don't wanna. ;_;