"All right, Hen. . . just, please be back soon."

He already has this thoughtful look in his eyes from trying to mentally map where the buttons to the garage door could most potentially be, but doesn't even hesitate to give you a patient nod. Only departing after double checking that you're well supported against the wall, directly across from the hallway he came through. This way you were always in view should something show up. You had no complains. There was food in reach on the shelve beside you to snack on.

Just earlier you were practicing on your own to walk with and without the axe to lean on. To each end of the small but unflooded hallway. Both efforts led to some pros and cons; with the axe there was more space you could reach, of course, but having all that weight on your upper body without proper support hurt. The two of you now are already lost and trapped underground with no medical supplies, the LAST thing you need is to cripple yourself further and make it impossible to heal from this going forward. Without some sort of support. . . walking wasn't an option. On the bright side, you could move totally fine so long as you had a wall to lead on. It was faster and out of the way of, well, Henrys way. Speaking of, Henry was thankfully back in no time at all while you were on your second bacon binge.

He stands close enough that you can see his eyes flicker to every flat and wide enough wall surface, still looking plenty thoughtful. 'Must be one short,' you think and glace to the power switch box; two out of three buttons are glowing. 'Yup, just one left.' Idly, your hand reaches for one more of the soup cans by your hip when one of your finger brushes against something. A small chirping 'click' goes off that you and Henry tilted in suspicion to see what was it you heard exactly? Curiosity quickly subsides when you see that it was just the last hidden little power button 'Oh, nice!' and Hen is wasting no time turning on the gate for the road ahead. It rises with a not too terribly loud rattle and clanging but low pitch enough to comparison to your small space to create a terribly monotone echo.

By the time you've limped over to Henry your surroundings are back to dead silence so you move to slide by him to further down that hall. Or you would have had he not suddenly put up his hand to stop you directly from following just yet.

Completely mute, he puts up the same hand back up to his mouth with one finger up motion 'Shhhh...' with silent desperation. His face has lost some of his darker hues, around his cheeks and ear lobes there's no long that charming blush. He's as pale as a sheet. 'He heard something else.'

A prey-like fear doesn't stop it's take over your beating heart, hands grip the door frame like a life line till your knuckles turn white.

Henry waits for one more moment in the silence before using his other arm, axe in hand, to swiftly break down the boards blocking the second doorway at the end of the exit hall. So you wait. . . in the eerie silence, with nothing but a friend traveling bravely ahead alone, unable to even help them. Who's moving forward, only a fire axe in hand toward whatever possible danger to find your safe exit for the both of you.

What's even worse; it's much harder to see in here.

Peaceful, undisturbed, dead silence. Henry seems just as, at least not equality thanks to his own experiences, disturbed as you are. ". . .It's really dark up ahead"

Like a sloth, you inch over into the room with your hands sliding over the woods surface, just to keep you steady. But Henry keeps moving, till he's out of sight around another corner, a hall way leading to who knows where and try not to pant in fear when it gets hard to breath.

Thankfully, you can still hear him "It looks like the exits flooded. We can find a way to drain it and then see about getting out of here." So you keep still near the wall and take in just what's here, ground yourself and breathe. The whole room is shaped like a 'U' and has doors and hall ways on every side leading to another part of the large abandon studio. There's a big sign on the wall in the middle, but you can't read it. A bit of ink falls from a leak on the celling right on your lens, making it even harder to see.

You put your full weight to leaning on the wall again to use your now free hands to remove your glasses and wipe them with your long sleeve. 'Drip' another ink droplet then pelts just above your eye brow, cold and sticky, and quickly use your other sleeve to wipe there. 'Drip. . . drip. . . drop' That's odd, it sounds like it's in rhythm now.

'Drip drip, bop. . .' no, it really DOES sound like a rhythm now, but that can't be- can it?

The monotone musical sounded distant before, muffled. It faded like it was under layers on cotton. Just radio static. . .

Suddenly, the cassette player handing on the wall, by the sign you couldn't read with your dirty glasses, plays aloud on it's own. It's not even loud enough for anyone outside the room to hear, but it's terribly close to you. Compared to the deafening silence earlier, it's jolting.

An upbeat tempo starts, playing three low notes every sentence like something's getting closer when it rises then repeats. 'Bop bop, bang. . .'

A lever flips on audibly in the direction Henry was and a spot light fills the middle of the room. 'Bop bop, bang.'

You look down at your feet.

The torso up of a humanoid creature is posing there, but it's body is completely coated in pitch black oily ink with skeleton like jutting features. One hand, the source of the sound, is held in a tight fist had been banging on the floor to a rhythm only you two could hear. It's other hand, is raised toward you, a breath away from reaching where your hand was holding your glasses to press against your shirt, in a mocking 'will you dance with me?' manner.

You think you've shat yourself in fright.

Through the terror you recognize you're not alone with just the Thing and shout "Henry!" for help. When he returns, just as quickly as he left, with his axe. He seems to get the same stomach dropping terror you got before rushing to protect you.

Just then, to just make it worse, an inky blob MUCH larger than the one stalking you falls from another pipe in the celling. SPLAT it flattens directly between you and Henry, but before it can flee between the floor boards cracks, it reforms into an exact double of the creature before you.

Henry slices it quickly and effectively before it has the chance to attack when in reach. However just as soon as it's split two more take its place from the ink puddles. Whether it's because of it's size or a well-timed counter attack you don't have the time or the blessing to dwell on it! The original one at your feet has started to try and climb your body, claws reaching for your wrists and throat. "Henry! Help me, please!" You plead in terror. 'it's going to drown me, it's not going to stop till I'm down.'

Meanwhile Henry, sloppy but efficiently, has taken down the others. He doesn't bother to check if more have spawned and luckily doesn't need too, after sticking the last one on the back right between its shoulder blades just before its hand could touch your jaw. It shutters before losing form completely to nothing more than a puddle staining the floor.

With it's hold removed from your body, you collapse and curl in on yourself when you fall on your knees. Henry of course is still there, trying carefully to help you stand up but you can't stop shaking and panting. "I-I. . ." you sob and Henry relents and lets you stay there, instead moves to hold on tightly and cover you with his body, like a hug would protect you from it all.

'i could have died. I could have died and left him with nothing cause I wasn't strong enough to help and left him alone in here.'

Like some sort of hellish congratulations for successfully fighting for your survival the rest of the lights quickly flick on by themselves all at once, the past threats no longer taking over the area with their darkness. The music you could hear faintly before, plays aloud from the speakers overhead but in a much more even and normal tempo. Henry is still there and doesn't flinch when you hide more under his chin and cry.

'Is he going to die, too? All because of me weighing him down. . .'

The sign reads, in bold sharp font;

Welcome to the

MUSIC DEPARTMENT