Un
The Prophet speaks.
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Funny. Henry had heard somewhere that doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results each time was the definition was insanity.
Two-hundred and twenty-five iterations and he was as sane as the day he'd stepped through the door. If he had enough sense to lose his mind, maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
... scratch that. It'd still be bad. He just wouldn't understand how much so.
Henry knew the names behind the monsters. He just couldn't get through to anyone under all that ink. Jack was more interested in hiding the valve than talking. Sammy was always going on about his lord, then later on ready to take Henry down while delirious. Susie might change her tone or switch some words, but she never came back enough for him to have time to get through to her. Bertrum never responded to anything outside of having his robotic limbs severed. Polk didn't slow an inch, no matter how much Henry would shout his name. Allison and Tom were starting to deviate, but only with longer pauses and a slower tap of his ax.
Buddy… well. He was sorry about Buddy. Nothing changed for Buddy. Susie always wrenched him backwards into Hell and mutilated him beyond belief. Hundreds of times and it hurt the same way each time. It shocked the cartoonist he could feel much at all after so many times in this place.
But, just like he never got used to falling or the pain of losing Buddy Boris, he never got used to Sammy, knocking him out with a dustpan.
The world swam back into view. Henry was used to the tight ropes and that calm voice. Even if that calm had an undercurrent of madness bubbling underneath.
"There we go, nice and tight. We wouldn't want our sheep roaming away now, would we?"
"No, we wouldn't. I must admit I am... honored you came all the way down here to visit me. It almost makes what I'm about to do seem... cruel." Sammy eyed the ax before setting it down. Funny how he almost seemed sad about this decision to turn Henry into a sacrificial lamb. "But the believers must honor their savior. I must have him notice me."
Henry stared in disinterest. Being tied to a pole and hearing a madman with his sermon about the Ink Demon grew boring after so many times. He knew it word for word, movement for movement, from finishing the knot to the spirit fingers when the crawling started.
"Wait." Sammy leaned close enough that Henry could smell the ink fumes. How strange to say the prophet had a scent that had cemented itself into Henry's mind; pine and charcoal wafting from underneath the ink. "You look familiar to me. That face..." Sammy tapped the side of his mask under an eye, head tilting slightly.
Henry braced himself for the horror to come. When did horror become mundane? He surmised roughly twelve loops in. Time for the sermon. Time for sheep and sleep.
Sammy lowered his hand and braced himself on his knees with both hands. "It's… Henry. Isn't it?"
That was new. The cartoonist blinked and nodded. "Hello, Sammy Lawrence."
The prophet reeled back as if struck. "I..." He huffed a chuckle and lowered his arms. "That man is dead, so long as this inky abyss is my shell." The Prophet's voice swelled with passion, arms flung wide. "Which shall soon be no more, for the creator that abandoned my lord has returned! My lord will soon notice me."
The fractured Bendy mask once more consumed all that Henry could see.
"He will set us free." Sammy turned with sloshing footsteps and left out the side door to a booth. The microphone clicked and screeched in static. "Sheep sheep sheep, it's time for sleep. Rest your head, it's time for bed. In the morning you may wake, or in the morning you'll be dead. Hear me, Lord Bendy! Behold, my sacrifice for you! This tender sheep who had a hand in your creation!" Sammy's passion turned to a seething, giddy roar. "Seek your vengeance, and free me, I beg of you!"
The walls pulsed in rings of black, and rafters shuddered from the thundering, unsteady gait of Bendy.
"Wait, my lord! I am your prophet! I am your-" The stricken panic of Sammy's voice wasn't lost in the fray. Neither was his scream of agony as Bendy did what he always had.
Henry counted down in his head for when the ropes would give. It was different each time, but he had a time frame for it. He got to ten, expecting twelve, and ran for the exit after snatching the ax from the support beam on his way out.
He knew the path; run from Bendy, find Buddy Boris, then Susie, loose Buddy Boris, Alison and Tom, boat hands, Sammy, The End, Joey. Rinse and repeat.
But… Sammy broke the pattern this time, not him. While Henry hoped for a change of pace, some glimmer of hope, he wouldn't hold his breath. Maybe next loop. In this place, there was always a next loop.
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More on the way! Thank you for reading.