Return to Bendyland Chapter 9: Welcome to Hell
All toons are, by design, meant to comfort people. They are meant to be attracted to park guests who are feeling down, scared, or sad. This helps the toons find not only lost children, but those who might not have a good park experience. Just another part of Joey's money-making business, all guests need to have a good time. It was like a pulling, a calling, that tugged at the inky insides of all of the toons.
When ink started to bubble up from the ground, when the park started to fall apart at the seams amid shaking and earthquake-like tremors, the rising swell of fear and despair was enough to drive the last lingering Boris almost out of his mind. He stood among the chaos, guests running past him in all directions. They'd rush to the north, a swarm of people all following each other like a school of fish. And then it would shift, the ground moving back the otherway, ink or ruble or falling rides blocking their path to the north. Now they'd run west, or south, or east, but it always changed, the swarm always shifted. Nobody knew where to go or what to do but run. Run, and keep running.
Boris just hovered. Every passing person reset his desire to help. Every person was in danger, every person was in fearful need of help. It was maddening. His hands twitched, but he couldn't help them. His body wouldn't move, his soul was being torn from side to side with every passing person.
Among the madness, among the voices screaming around him, a strange quiet overtook him.
A name. A name other than Boris.
His lips moved, wolf-like snout parting to form a word he couldn't give sound to, but it was still there, it was still his. Deep down. Inside of him, finally able to surface with "Boris" struggling to focus on the panic.
Buddy.
His name was...is...Buddy.
It was so hard to remember everything. But a name was enough to fight off whatever lingering hold the ink and Boris had over him. Now when he looked around at the screaming people, he didn't feel the need to comfort him.
But that didn't mean he wasn't going to help them. Something was happening with the park, maybe an earthquake, maybe something more. Probably something more. Yeah. Most likely. He needed to get up, get to higher ground, try to see what was happening and figure out how to help everyone out of here. There had to be a way out. Maybe not for him, not like this, but the adrenaline was moving him past thoughts of himself. He had to help these people, even if he couldn't help himself.
He pushed his way through the crowd, aiming for the top of the carousel. It was about the only ride that was left standing. Sure, it was covered in ink in certain parts, but at least it wasn't in pieces like the roller coaster, or hanging on its side like the ferriswheel. It was standing, at least, but it was tall. It was going to take some work to get to.
Somebody shoved into him hard, and he went toppling to the ground. Feet kicked his head and back, people barely noticing him as they scrambled around. There were a few hands reaching down, probably to help him, but the moment they touched his cold, inky body, they reared back and disappeared into the swarm.
He didn't blame them.
Finally, there was a small break in the crowd, the smallest shift, and he forced himself to his feet and pressed on. He reached the carousel, pressing himself against the fence, meant to keep people waiting in lines in order, to keep away from the crowd as much as possible. He looked up at the top of the carousel, still several feet above his head. He could try standing on the fence to reach it, but there was no way it was strong enough to hold him. He looked around. A food cart had been knocked over on its side, but he wasn't sure it would provide him with enough of a boost to get up there. Maybe...maybe if he jumped, but if he missed, he'd probably fall right back into the crowd. If his body was normal, he was sure there'd already be bruises forming on his back.
He didn't have to climb the damn thing. He could already feeling Boris pulling at his brain, his chest, those tugs urging him to dive back into the crowd, the last place he wanted to be, to try to help the panicking people. It might be better for him to just get as far away from these people as possible, hold onto his sanity for as long as it lasted, and hope and pray that someone helpful would find him, save him from this mess, take him away, surely there was someone who could.
His eyes scanned the crowds of people. He lingered on their faces. Twisted up into panic, eyes darting back and forth, checking around corners, around edges, trying to find a way out, a break through the crowd, watching and waiting for more tremors and shaking. When a tremor shook through the earth, when ink burst through the ground like a geyser, everyone froze for a few seconds before running again. Some people were crying, some were screaming. But it was the kids...the kids were what got him. Children were tugged along by their hands, eyes too wide and scared to be filled with tears. Some were hoisted up into the arms of their parents, but they weren't looking around at the park, not much, not really. Their gazes kept falling back to the same old places. They kept looking up at their parents, looking for that safety, that security. The familiar calmness that normally came when they were upset. But they couldn't find that anywhere. A few kids even glanced at him, clinging to the fence for dear life, but they never lingered on him. Their gazes always went up to the faces of the people who were supposed to protect them and reassure them. But they couldn't do that right now. They couldn't. And he could see parents try to force uneasy grimaces that weren't fooling anybody.
Everybody was different colors and different shades of this same picture.
It didn't matter if he was Boris or not. He couldn't just leave 'em. He had to climb this thing and figure out if there was a way through the chaos, through the panic. If there was a way out of the park.
He shoved his way back into the crowd, moving against the flow, a painful action that pulled at his sides, made it hard to breath with how often bodies shoved against his sides and chest. He reached a gloved hand out to the toppled food cart, grabbed it, and pulled himself out of the crowd. He took a deep breath, still surprised at how even that didn't make a sound, and then looked over at the carousel.
It wasn't going to be an easy jump. It wasn't extremely high, but a fall would still hurt.
He had to jump quick, or he was going to lose his nerve.
He bent his knees, took a breath, and jumped. His hands caught the edges of the carousel awning, digging into the metal and trying to grab onto the slick surface. Cheap paint chipped away and dug into his fingers, sending searing pain straight down his back. His legs kicked helplessly below him, trying to push off of invisible surfaces to give him the boost up that he needed. He would have grunted if he had the voice to do so. He felt someone smack against his feet, and he almost lost his grip. But ink or muscle forced him upward, using every bit of strength he could find to move himself and pull himself over the edge. He paused for a moment on his hands and knees, catching his breath, and listening to the flimsy metal awning creak underneath him, clearly not used to more weight than a passing pigeon.
He really hope it didn't break. A fall from up here would really hurt.
After taking a moment, he stood up, and started to look around. The waves of people and ink seemed never ending. Whole parts of the park had collapsed, falling underneath in those dark tunnels he'd walked through before. Giant sinkholes were dragging in food, people, rides, anything it could consume and pull down with it. And the ink, there was so much of it. He'd walked these streets as a man, danced across them as a toon, and now they were submerged in a thick, mucus-like ink. The smell rolling off of it caught him off guard. It was so strong. It smelled like rot, like death, and it was overwhelming. He could barely stand it. And somehow, it was captivating, pulling him in, like it was whispering to him.
He forced his gaze away. Forced himself to look above the streets, over the trees, to find something, find a way out, to tell people where to go, if they listened. At first, he couldn't find anything, the main gates had fallen over, iron bars keeping anyone from leaving, regardless of how much they banged on the bars or tried to climb over, ink had covered the bars and people slipped and fell over themselves as they tried to push past them. The back employee exit was the same, sinkholes opening up underneath employee parking, a pile of cars and vans preventing anyone from getting out that way either.
There really didn't look like anyway out. Except...yes!
A tree had fallen over next to the toy factory, and it led up to the roof of the building. On the other side, there was the city street, a small crowd of people gathering to watch the park in awe and horror. If people could get up to that roof, surely they'd be able to get out of the park, it wasn't a very tall building, they might even be able to jump down from the building, over the fence, and be alright, especially if the baffled onlookers could help.
His heart felt light, filled with hope, and he turned down to the crowd and opened his mouth.
And no sound came over. His lips and mouth formed the words.
But no sound.
The light feeling in his chest turned to a weight, sinking down to his stomach. He tried waving. Frantically pointing. Jumping up and down, ignoring the creaking metal.
Nothing.
Nobody gave him a passing glance.
He was overwhelmed by his own silence, and suddenly his legs and knees felt too weak. He flopped down, sitting there and feeling the weight in his chest grow heavier and heavier. He watched the people pass by, frantic and moving to and from their own demises, passing by the fallen tree and the toy factory without giving it a second glance. And Buddy just watched them go, trying to swallow and breathe.
Their world was falling apart. She'd always wanted it to. But this wasn't how Allison imagined it all ending. She hadn't imagined the real world mingling with this destruction so much. She hadn't expected to see pockets of sky open up above her as they raced through the pathways. She hadn't expected to hear people screaming and crying. Smiling Bendy cutouts and carts crashed around her, taking whole parts of the walkways with them as they continued tumbling down, further and further down.
Her legs had never burned like this before. She felt like an animal. Darting from side to side, just focusing on survival. On moving forward.
At least "Alice" wasn't there anymore.
That was something. She felt like herself again. Her thoughts were hers. Her actions were hers. Her body felt wrong. Plastic, almost.
But that was fine. If this body wasn't real, not in the way it should be, she'd just use it to her advantage. Use it to keep going. Use it to push onward, find the ink machine.
Dirt started to rain down on their heads. Linda reached up in confusion, touching her hair and shaking the dust from it. Tom looked up and raised an eyebrow. "What on..."
A small hole started to spill open behind them as they ran. It spread wider and wider, like a gaping mouth spreading open in the ceiling. Concrete and metal fell away, leaving only jagged iron bars, like teeth, staring down at them. There were too bright lights, and a blaring noise that sounded like-
"Is that...a car horn?" Henry asked.
A car started slipping down and tumbling a few feet behind Henry. It crushed the platform behind them, sending tremors through their walkway. Audrey screamed and Henry's eyes widened, scrambling to keep his daughter in his arms and his feet moving underneath him as the walkway crumbled underneath their feet. The car's horn grew quieter and quieter as it fell, eventually disappearing entirely.
There was no more sturdy footwork, nothing more to keep them grounded. Allison had walked these pathways so many times, sometimes with Tom, and the only thing to ever drip on her head had been a few drops of ink. But now that ink had grown, sloshing around below them, sounding like a roaring waterfall just a few stories below.
"FASTER!" Allison shouted, grabbing Linda's free hand and pulling her along. Allison could feel Linda's pulse through her fingertips, racing like a heartbeat. But she never looked back, and Linda found herself admiring the woman for that. She was stronger than she'd ever thought.
Audrey screamed as dirt tumbled down onto their faces, dust and cement scattering around them. They knew what was coming this time, and swerved around a side pathway to avoid the falling debris. Allison didn't look back, but she heard distant screaming.
"...we should...go back to see if anybody needs help," Linda said. But Allison heard the hesitation in her tone.
"We can't," Allison said. "The only way to help these people is to get to the ink machine, and stop this."
Linda breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
Allison pretended she didn't hear it.
"Allison, are we getting close?!" Tom shouted, looking around him with growing panic.
Allison took a deep breath. Focused on her chest. On the pull. The invisible thread tying her to the ink machine. It was harder to find it now. Instead of one thread, it felt like there were a thousand, all tugging her in different directions. So much chaos and so much ink made it hard to focus. But out of all of the strings, the ink machine's pull was always the strongest.
"This way!" she shouted, and took a right. There was a door just a bit more in front of them, bright bold lettering reading "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY."
Tom raced ahead of them, taking a running charge and barreling straight through the door. It slammed open, breaking off of its hinged and clattering to the ground before. "MOVE IT!" he shouted as dust and dirt started to sprinkle down above them again.
Linda, Allison, Wally, and Henry carrying Audrey all ran into the room, right as another new sinkhole opened up, dropping a huge part of the studio fencing right behind them. It fell a bit before wedging itself stuck in the hallway.
"Damn," Tom whispered.
"What?! What you cursin' for now?!" Wally said, coming over. His eyes widened when he saw the wreckage blocking their way out, and he started cursing too, though it wasn't long before it devolved into chaotic and hysterical ramblings instead of coherent curses.
"Does...that mean there's no way out?" Linda asked.
"No," Allison said quickly. "I've been to the ink machine before, and I don't think I took this path. That machine is important. I'm sure there are a lot of different ways to get to it. There might even be a hidden elevator or staircase that leads up to Joey's office. I wouldn't put it passed him to pull something like that."
"Well I'll be looking for THAT while you all go and...and do whatever you think you're gonna do at the ink machine!" Wally shouted. He walked ahead of them quickly.
"You sure you wanna go off on your own?" Tom called after him, but Wally didn't answer. He was gone a few minutes later.
"...w-why did he leave?" Audrey asked.
"He's...he's gonna help us find a way out," Henry reassured.
Allison looked down the darkened hallway. The pull was strong and clear now. The ink machine was close. Really close. She could feel its humming parts turning and squeaking over each other. It felt like organs, pumping and pushing blood through the body.
"Stay close," Allison said. "I think the power's out, so we need to careful where we walk. There's no telling what damage has happened in here too."
They started walking forward, the hallway only big enough for them to go single-file. Allison led the ground, with Tom behind her, Linda behind him, and Henry bringing up the rear. There was an ever present distant rumbling, sometimes growing stronger. When it did, they all paused, hesitating, listening for signs of the ceiling falling down on them, or the ground giving out beneath them.
Or something worse.
The demon could be around any corner.
Allison could feel a thread to him too. But it was always shaking, always tugging and pulling. Not really connected to her, more like, he was connected to the ink machine, stronger than any other toon, so his connection could be felt even by them. Like a dog on a chain, biting and snarling at the end, just waiting for a chance to break free.
"Do you...do you think Joey's really...?"
Tom's soft voice surprised her. She glanced back at him, but she couldn't really see him through the darkness. She could hear him though, and feel him occasionally when he brushed against her, like he was making sure she was still there.
"...I can only hope that man is so easy to kill," Allison whispered back. They kept their voices hushed. A mutual understanding not to let Henry hear their conversation.
"...I kinda thought...that once he was gone, everything would just, you know, be fixed. Like he was the cause of everything. That if we got rid of him, it would all go away. But instead..."
"Yeah. I know," Allison said.
Instead of everything going back to normal, everything had gone to hell. The ugliness that had always been lurking beneath the smiles had erupted with full force, dragging its evil out on full display. The monster had been let out of its cage.
"What...do you think will happen? If we can't stop this?" Tom asked.
"I'm...I'm not sure," she admitted.
"This whole thing, I mean...what if Bendy made it to the outside world?"
"He's never been able to leave the park," Allison said. "None of the toons can."
"Yeah, but...I think that's 'cause of the ink. I helped install those pipes, Allison. They perfectly encapsulate this whole park. They're like a lining to it. They run directly underneath the perimeter fence. But that ink, it's crazy now. Those pipes have all burst. Even now, I think it's rising. So..." Tom trailed off. "Sorry. Just...filling the silence, I guess."
That was part of it, Allison knew. But she knew what guilt sounded like, and Tom was full of it right now. It was dripping off of him.
"We can't think about that," Allison said. "We just have to focus on what happens if we're right. If Henry can really control Bendy like Joey did. There's a chance he can stop all of them. Bendy and the ink machine are connected. If we can stop one, the other will probably stop with it. I'll end this, even if I have to take the machine apart piece by piece with my bare hands," she said.
Tom chuckled. "Hey. Maintenance is my job, remember? If anyone is going to be tearing that thing down, it should be me."
Allison laughed with him. She allowed herself a small moment of peace, to close her eyes against the darkness and enjoy the sound of his footsteps behind hers.
"...there's something else I'm worried about too," Tom admitted. His voice shook a little. "Allison, when I...when I got an injury as a toon, it stuck. I mean, I lost my arm, and that wound stayed. It's gone now. You...Allison, you were, you were shot. What if we do turn you back and-"
"Please don't," Allison said, stopping. Tom almost crashed into her, but he froze, inches from her. He could imagine her lip quivering. "Please...don't. I don't...want to talk about that," she whispered. "Let's just keep going. Please."
"Okay," Tom said softly. "I'm...I'm sorry, Allison."
She swallowed the lump in her throat, and started walking again.
About fifteen minutes later, after taking careful steps, walking around holes and hazards, the air grew colder.
"We're almost there," Allison said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Get ready. We don't know what's going to await us here."
"R-right."
"We're ready."
Allison took a deep breath. She continued on, embracing the cold, and small bits of light filled her vision. There wasn't much light. The ceremonial candles that normally dotted the room where knocked over, some extinguished while a few remained stubbornly upstanding, their flames flickering down to the edges of the wax.
The sound caught their attention before the machine itself. Of gears grinding, pushing, moving, an overstrained vessel fighting for everything it was worth. The ink machine was pushing out ink like a gushing waterfall, it had long overflowed the pumps that connected it, and the heavy wet ink had rotted away the floors directly underneath the nozzle, creating a hole for the ink to pour into, gallon after gallon, filling the areas below them.
"What is that thing?!" Linda asked.
"The cause of all of this," Tom grumbled. "It makes a bunch of ink. That ink makes the toons, and keeps them contained. I think. But I think Bendy, or something, must have set this thing to overdrive, because now it's pumping out fuel by the truckload..."
"How are we going to try to bring Bendy here?" Henry asked.
"You sure you can do this, before we want to do that?" Tom asked.
"It's too late to back out now. I've come this far," Henry said. "I think it's the only shot we've got at this point. That, or just destroying the ink machine. But something tells me that will send Bendy running."
"Well, that's the plan," Allison said, looking around for anything she could use. "I doubt it will take long, so...make sure you're ready."
Henry nodded, and handed Audrey over to Linda. "Stay in the corner, and try to stay out of sight, okay? And Audrey, I need you to promise me you'll be as quiet as possible."
Linda opened her mouth to speak, but Audrey's voice chimed in before she could.
"Daddy...what's gonna happen? Why's everything breaking?" she asked.
Henry frowned. "It's...it's really complicated sweetheart. This park has been broken for a really long time, way before you were born even, and now's the time it's just really starting to show it."
"Henry," Linda said. "I don't...I don't know if this is safe, what if that thing, that demon, just attacked you like it did Joey?"
Henry swallowed. He forced his best smile. "That won't happen. I promise."
"You can't promise me that knowing it might not come true," Linda whispered.
Henry kissed his wife again. "Stay hidden."
Linda watched as Henry turned to follow Allison and Tom. Tom had found a maintenance closet in the corner, and was digging around for tools, while Allison was pacing back and forth and rubbing her arms. It was obvious being this close to the machine was hard on her, somehow.
"Please be okay," Linda whispered.
Henry approached Tom and started to reach for a tool, but Tom lightly smacked his hand away. "No. You leave the demolishin' part to Allison and I. You just keep an eye out and get ready, alright?"
"I could help," Henry said.
"No, Tom's right," Allison said. She looked jittery. Her eyes kept darting to the machine, and her hands constantly clenched and unclenched. "We can handle the machine. You need to be ready for when Bendy comes."
"...Allison, you don't have to help me," Tom said. "I can start dismantling this thing on my own."
Allison paused like she was considering it. Her eyes shifted to the floor, following a pattern to the ink machine.
Henry hadn't seen it for himself, but he knew what Tom had done. Was she remembering those moments before she was tossed inside? Is she staring at the floors, searching for any small traces of her blood still lingering there?
"I...gotta help," Allison said. "This thing has taken so much from me. I deserve to take a thing or two from it as well."
"I understand," Henry said. He gave her a smile and a thumbs up. "Then take an extra piece or two for me as well, okay?"
She chuckled and met his eyes. "Yeah. Thanks, Henry." She turned back to Tom and grabbed a wrench. He had grabbed a crowbar, and the two exchanged a look.
"Ready?" he asked. "No telling how long we can work on this before Bendy shows up."
"I know," Allison said. "Let's go." She located a bolt on the back of the machine, and stuck the wrench and twisted. It was tight, extremely tight, but Allison grit her teeth and kept pushing until she felt it give a little.
Tom, following her lead, jammed the crowbar in-between two pieces of sheet metal and pushed. The metal bellowed and groaned, resisting every attack with its hardened metal body.
"Damn, Tom, just how tight did you make all these bolts?!" Allison said between clenched teeth.
"I only helped," Tom grunted, struggling as well. "It's supposed to be sturdy! I'd be a bad mechanic if it wasn't!"
"Yeah, well, I'm wishing you were a pretty terrible mechanic right about now," Allison said, huffing as the bold gave way a little more.
Tom pushed down with force, and a large metal sheet ripped off of the machine. Tom burst into a wide smile. "Hell yeah! I got it! Allison, I..." he trailed off.
Allison had collapsed to the ground. She was gasping for breath, her eyes wide as she clutched at her chest.
"ALLISON!" he shouted, diving down to her side, crowbar falling from his hands. "W-what's wrong?! Allison!"
Something roared down the hall. Henry tensed. "I don't think...Bendy liked that much..."
Allison slowly started to catch her breath, but she was still gripping at her chest. Tom checked for any wounds, anything, but there was nothing. No damage, no bruising, no signs that anything had happened to her. "Feels like...something got...ripped out of me..." she gasped. "Like something just got torn off..."
Tom's eyes widened. He looked down at the metal sheet that lay at his feet, and then back up at the ink machine, looming over them.
"Dammit," he whispered. It was the only thing he could think to say, and it fell flat and quiet beneath the rumbling machine.
Thundering echoed down the hallway. It sounded like a train coming their way with the way it shook the walls and room. The ink machine shuddered, and ink poured out more quickly.
"I think...he's almost here," Henry said.
Tom swallowed. He picked Allison up into his arms. Audrey curled closer to Linda and closed her eyes. And Henry stared down the hallway, trying to still his trembles.
Bendy had arrived.
Thanks again for your patience everyone! These chapters have taken me a bit longer than normal to release since I want to make sure everything is in order and really take the time to build up the suspense and action, so I appreciate you all waiting that extra bit of time for each new chapter! See you in the next one soon!
