A/N: Decided to do a more humorous fic with shorter chapters since most stories I've been working on are deep in angst.
Tags from ao3:
Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, don't take this seriously, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tired Henry Stein, he is done and ready to nope out ,not giving a damn, one too many loops, Mix of ic and ooc, bendy is trying to help henry after so many loops, ink demon bendy is out for blood, henry will have that tommy gun, sammy is incensed over the disrespect, everyone is screaming at one point or another, henry is the one giving chase now, Rating May Change, Sarcasm, maybe some satire, Swearing.
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Walls that were covered with familiar posters and thick trailing ink greeted Henry's vision. The man gave a few blinks of his eyes as his shoulders sagged in realization. This meant that he had yet again failed to prevent himself from going through the door to the studio.
How lovely.
How perfectly wonderful.
How Henry loved romping through the studio with all the crazed beings, death traps and the never ending ink that always left behind a stain on him, inside and out.
Such fun.
Who wouldn't want to be trapped in an animation studio with real live toons, many of whom had such striking personalities? Gotta love that possessed amusement ride deep beneath the studio.
...Damnit.
Henry blew out an audible sigh of pent-up frustration. He was trapped again, and this meant that he would be forced to go through yet another loop. Henry decided then and there that he refused to play along anymore, no matter how futile that resistance would be in the end.
Henry Stein was finally finished with it all. He was done with the endless repeating of the same actions.
Done with Alice Angel, the Butcher Gang, Sammy, and the Projectionist.
Absolutely, completely done with the Ink Demon.
Bendy's twisted form brought to life could come out of the wall right now and eat Henry for all he cared. Or perhaps Sammy could stop with his obsessive worshiping and take Henry out of his misery. Hell, that twisted Alice Angel could drag herself from the relative safety of her domain and end things for him.
Anything could happen to Henry at this point and he wouldn't care, so long as he didn't have to turn on that damn machine.
Henry would not willingly start the cycle all over again, and took steps to prevent it, at least for a time. Henry eased his already exhausted body to the floor, and rested his back against the door. The same door that would never open for him but to taunt Henry before he would plummet, just out of reach of the door's handle.
Common sense told Henry that if he didn't turn the ink machine on, he wouldn't have to deal with the madness it brought.
Hours, or perhaps days, maybe even weeks, passed by.
Henry should have given in and started the machine, since starving to death didn't seem to be an option in this hellish place. But he held out, despite the boredom this place brought him. Not even doodles on the floor helped. Henry had even taken to lying flat on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.
How droll, seeing images of his creations within the ink that was there. As if Henry needed more to drive him insane in this place.
The ink dropped down from above now and again, even without the machine turned on.
It was kind of peaceful, in a way.
The silence instead of the madness.
Without warning, there was the jarring sound of the ink beginning to be pumped throughout the pipes in the studio.
Henry jolted upright, even as he groaned over the way his body protested the sudden movement.
What the hell was going on?
Was it a dream?
Was he imagining things?
Henry heard what could have been the pattering of feet nearby, but he was much more concerned that someone had dared to start that wretched contraption. Henry hurried to where the machine was kept, and slid to a halt, seeing the boarded up room.
No.
Someone else really had started up the Ink Machine.
Henry felt dread creeping in on him, before a sense of hopeless despair washed over him. That feeling of despair was soon overtaken by the kind of anger that only happened when one's own choices were wrenched out of their control. As before, Henry knew that he was done playing the games of this studio, and a kind of recklessness sunk in now that the Ink Machine had somehow kicked on.
Done.
Henry was done with this continued abuse of his mind and body. With a firm set of his jaw, Henry slowly stepped forward, prepared for what happened next.
The moment the Ink Demon took a swipe at him was when everything would change.
Henry timed it perfectly, and as the Ink Demon lunged and reached out for him, Henry stepped out of range. Not a moment later, Henry stepped in closer than he ever dared before to the creature.
The Ink Demon twitched before going completely still, a low growl emitting from it. For a brief instance, it seemed perplexed, as if not knowing what to do about being touched by someone it normally killed.
Henry methodically clenched his free hand into a fist.
No more thinking.
Only action.
Henry gripped the Ink Demon's forearm tight with his left, and swung his right hand hard at its face. Henry's fist smashed straight into the inky being's eternal fucking smile, and damn if that didn't feel good to Henry after running away from the Ink Demon all of the time.
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A/N: Because sometimes, you just want the main character of a game to stop following the rules and turn the tables on their enemies (and in this case, do that with some help from your own creation).