Sept [The Angel has tasks for the trio.]

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Sammy held an Alice Angel doll with both hands and gave it a small squeeze. It made no noise, which was a bit of a letdown. The wide-set eyes and passive smile reminded him a bit of a cow. But Alice Angel was supposed to be pretty. He shrugged and set it back on the pile.

Henry was pulling toys from the gears of the toy machine, pausing to give the Bendy doll in his grip a squeeze. It let out a tiny, sharp squeak that made him smile. Setting the little thing down, he pulled the lever.

Sammy jumped at the sudden movement of the shelves and stepped backwards. He shot the cartoonist a look. "Warn me next time, little sheep."

Henry chuckled. "Well, heads up; the angel-" He pulled again, and the door to the dressing room was revealed- "is through that door."

Sammy cocked his head, then turned to the desk and bowl. The ink-Bendy in the bowl quivered and undulated, but not much else. The ink man shook his head. "Thick ink."

Henry approached from the right and gave the ink an exceedingly gentle tap. It popped back up to take the form of Boris in toy form. He tapped it again, and it popped up as Alice. "One loop, I spent a good hour poking this lump."

"It's an entertaining lump." But his focus was back on the door. The door to her room. "What happens when you go in there?"

Henry frowned, watching the floor. "The angel plays a tune, jumps up, smashes a window… then I'm sent on a couple errands…" Then Buddy was ripped away from him.

Sammy noticed. How could he not notice the sadness that creased Henry's eyes when he talked about this part of the loop? He stepped closer. "After that?"

"… the crash." Henry swallowed. Hundreds of loops and losing Buddy always hurt like hell. "I lose Buddy to the Angel, and she turns him into a brute."

Sammy hummed lowly. "That is why I avoid her best I can, other than her blasphemy. Her malice… it's not like that which m- which Bendy gives." He'd almost slipped. Almost called the Ink Demon his lord once more. He'd been doing well, but old habits died harder than the human before him.

Henry smirked. "Malice Angel."

Sammy chuckled. "That's dreadful. I like it."

The cartoonist headed for the door to the dressing room, but paused. He glanced at Sammy over his shoulder. "You can stay out here if you want to.. although, she usually heads out that door after the lights go out… I think?" It occurred then that he didn't know what happened after the lights went out. So many loops in, he should, shouldn't he?

Tempting offer, but hiding wouldn't help Henry. "I'll… try, little sheep."

With a nod, Henry turned the knob and headed into the space. The lights went out, and the screens came on.

I'm the cutest little angel, sent from above, and I know just how to swing.
I got a bright little halo, and I'm filled with love...
I'm Alice Angel!

Henry glanced back at the open doorway, shooting Sammy a 'last chance' look.

The ink man stepped into the room without a second thought. He could do this! He could definitely do this.

I'm the hit of the party, I'm the belle of the ball, I'm the toast of every town.
Just one little dance, and I know you'll fall...
I'm Alice Angel!

A light clicked on to frame the door behind the glass in a circle of limelight. Henry set his jaw and walked forwards. He couldn't hear Sammy behind him, but the ink man wasn't far.

I ain't no flapper, I'm a classy dish, and boy, can this girl sing.
This gal can grant your every wish.

Twin fists of black slammed into the glass and the amalgam behind it shrieked "I'm Alice Angel!" in a two-toned voice. The twisted angel screamed wordlessly and slammed into the glass so it shattered, and she plunged the toy room into darkness.

A cruel chuckled bounced around the room. "I see you there. A new fly in my endless web… and it's made a friend." She cooed the last sentence in a way that made Henry's skin crawl. He could feel her cold, humid breath against the back of his neck. "Come along now. Let's see if you're worthy to walk with angels."

When the lights came up, the two were alone. The glass before the dressing room lay open and jagged.

Sammy turned to Henry and spoke lowly. "Definitely Susie Campbell. Had enough dramatic flare."

"You good?"

"Ha. In this place…" The musician shook his head slowly. "Who could be alright in this place?"

"I don't know… but I've fallen three floors and walked away, so…" Henry smiled. "I might not be the best example."

"You're the exception that proves the rule," he said, giving Henry's hand a squeeze… hold it. When had he done that? Sammy looked down at their hands and felt the impending sense of violation. Who was he to grab his savior's hand like this?

But Henry wasn't Bendy. Henry didn't so much as raise his voice. In fact, he squeezed the cool, black hand in his. "You got startled. It's fine."

"... is it?"

The cartoonist shrugged.

The prophet let go. Bad prophet. That is not allowed. Before Sammy could ruminate as to why he wasn't allowed to do something as simple as holding hands, Henry had moved on.

"Okay. Up ahead we meet up with Boris. After that, Butcher Gang." He shook his head a little. "Not sure who picked that name. Wasn't me."

Sammy followed some steps behind, looking back and forth between the crossroads. "Which one do we take?"

"You pick. They lead to the same place."

"Mm…" He turned right and headed down the Angel path. "Seems appropriate, don't you think?"

The cartoonist smiled faintly. "If you say so."

"Come along, little sheep."

"I'm coming. Keep your pants on."

Sammy huffed a laugh. It was almost too easy to fall back into it with Henry. He brought with him an air of calm and normalcy… But normalcy meant dropping walls, and in this sepia-toned nightmare, he couldn't do that. Not with the Ink Demon still very much active. A tape recorder on a discarded desk caught his attention. "Who's on this one?"

Henry frowned. "Susie Campbell. It's not good."

"Good or not, I need to know. At least if I'm going to remember anything other than you and Mister Drew." Sammy pressed an inked fingertip to the play button and waited.

Susie's tear-choked voice rattled from the speaker. "Everything feels like it's coming apart. When I walked into the recording booth today, Sammy was there with that... Allison. Apparently, I didn't get the memo. Alice Angel will now be voiced by Miss Allison Pendle. A part of me died when he said that. There's gotta be a way to fix this!" The tape ended with a click.

Hands flexing absently, the musician turned to Henry, suddenly hunched and ready to bolt. "If the twisted angel remembers me as an ass, it's no wonder she-"

-arrive at half-past six, dinner at seven, dropped off by eight. That'd be enough. Maybe Susie'd find him a boring workaholic and let him be, maybe she'd be want to do this again. Both worked for Sammy; it'd only benefit him to be seen with an attractive woman, coworker or not. How could he not find her attractive? Susie had the loveliest set of green eyes he'd ever seen, framed by waves of black hair. Flapper body with more substance, perfect for holding close or for dancing. Tall enough that he didn't have to stoop to get close. And such a heavenly singing voice…

So why did this feel empty? He had the actions, but the effort was merely effort. But Susie was different. An artist of her craft, and a singing voice that'd knocked him off his feet. If this went further than a single night, then all the better!

Sammy put on his best smile and knocked on the apartment door. It was 3C, right?

His answer came with the slide of a deadbolt and the door cracking open.

Sammy held out the daffodils and raised his brows. "Miss Campbell, I hope I'm not too early."

Susie beamed up at him and pushed open the door. The dress draped her form wonderfully. "Not at all, mister Lawrence. Come right in."

He stepped past the threshold to her small, neat apartment. Only the best for those who worked under Mister Drew. "You're out here by yourself? Doesn't seem safe for a single lady." He crossed to the kitchenette, fingers idly drumming the paper of the bouquet.

"Oh, I'm no pushover. Trust me." She took the flowers as she passed, ghosting her left hand across his back. "I'll just set these in water." From beneath the sink, she pulled out a small, green vase and held it under the faucet.

The cold tap squeaked out a sour B-sharp. Sammy fought a wince, taking in the view. Susie hadn't gone all out, but she had done more for her appearance than when at work. Work was a long skirt and conservative blouse. The dress was simple but elegant, the epitome of a little black dress.

Her giggle broke the trance. Susie turned and gave a painted scarlet smile. "I take it I clean up good?" she asked as she sauntered to the small counter that jutted from the wall.

"Absolutely." Bracing himself on the counter, the blonde smiled. "What is that scent you're wearing?"

Susie giggled and peered up through her thick lashes. "Tabu. You like it?"

Sammy leaned down, just out of reach of touching her. He didn't want to seem too forward. "I love it. It suits you."

"Mm, I'd hoped so…" Standing on tiptoe, she grasped the collar of his shirt and tugged just enough to ghost his cheek with her sweet breath. "Wanna know what else is taboo?"

…well! He hadn't even needed the wine! "Being late for dinner?"

Her laugh was as musical as anything. "Try again, darling."

"I've got an idea," Sammy chuckled and slid his hands around her back. The silk of her dress was cold until he pinned it between the flesh of his palm and the warmth of her back. "Why don't you lead?"

Susie winked and lead him to the back room -the bedroom, he realized- and her giggle dipped low and hungry. Her hot hands roamed, slinking downwards with a teasing slowness, tugging to free his tucked shirt...

… he let her. He was supposed to enjoy this level of attention, especially from such a-

"...charming woman." The ink man slumped forward and just barely caught himself on the wall. The pained prickles of ice picks against his brain made the room spin. Even sitting, the room spun on and on. "Lord, help me-" He heaved but nothing came up. The lazy swirls of ink that covered him swirled like whirlpools of ancient myth. Why couldn't he calm down? Why did that one hurt so much?

"Sammy!" Henry sank down next to his companion and balanced with the ax blade to the floor. "Can you look at me?"

The broken Bendy mask turned to him, and a hand reached up and lay itself on his shoulder. Tar black ink seeped into the fabric.

"I was awful. I used her to hide, she used me to climb. We both fell into the dark." Sammy dropped his hand and leaned back, gasping without lungs, but let out a half sob.

He had no idea what to say. He didn't know what Sammy saw in his flashback or just what the hell he meant. So he stayed put.

It took a minute, but Sammy's breathing slowed. Why that memory felt like barbed wire dragged through his heart, he didn't know. For now they had to keep moving, keep on this path Henry had forged. "... think I can move again."

"Need help?"

"...yes." My Lord churned in the prophet's head like a raging tide. My Lord so patient so melancholy such a beacon of light my savior our savior he will set us-

The cartoonist stood and stuck out his hand, which Sammy took and was pulled to his feet. Henry didn't let go just yet. "Does this help?"

"Help."

"Help keep you grounded. Here, not back there?"

He nodded. The warmth, the faint thrum of the pulse beneath the skin, it grounded him. And, if Henry had offered, it must have been fine. His grip stopped the racing need to praise, at any rate.

Henry tugged, and the two moved forward. "Buddy's up ahead. He tries to scare me with a Bendy cutout."

"Ah." No sooner than the corner came into view did that very thing happen.

"Almost got me, Buddy." Henry said warmly. He relaxed the hand in Sammy's grip and headed the clone's way. "Got anything either of us might need?"

Buddy smiled and leaned around the corner, presenting Sammy with the Gent pipe.

It felt nice to have a weapon.

"Alright. Now, Buddy heads to that lever, I flip the other." Henry scowled. "There's a butcher gang clone behind a poster of the same name. I jump even though I know it's coming."

Sammy perked a little. "I'll get the lever." He hefted the pipe and tilted his head. "Might help solidify where we are, my little sheep."

Henry nodded, brows furrowed. "If you say so, Sammy." He pointed the way to go.

The ink man thumped down the hall and searched for the poster in question. Some hideous knock-off startling his sheep would not stand. He spied it and approached quickly.

A ripping of paper let the gargling, open-mouthed thing tumble out to the floor. It barely had the chance to stand and hobble his way before Sammy struck it down. Not the wild flailing he'd done so many times when he'd thought Henry was the Ink Demon, but the tight, outraged blows of a man aware enough to understand how screwed up his life had become.

Sammy missed the madness almost as much as he liked Henry. The clone gargled again and lay still, melting back into ink. That… felt fantastic. "Little sheep, the beast is dead."

Henry leaned into view, brows up. "Good job. Pull the lever."

He did, beaming mouthlessly behind the Bendy mask. Good shepherds protected their flock. He got to the man and headed towards the elevator.

"You're so interesting... so different. I have to say, I'm an instant fan… despite the rabble you're with. Looks like you've got a date with an angel!" The elevator creaked open, Buddy already making his way inside. "Come to me now. Level Nine. Just follow the screams."

Sammy groaned and stomped to the elevator, the prophet in him taking a back seat at the taunting reached his ears. "I'm rabble. Can you believe the nerve?"

"She swore a blue streak once. I almost went deaf." Henry never struck down an Alice Angel cutout after that one.

"I'll pass."

"Give it time. Sure she'll find something."

The elevator doors shut, and the group traveled in the shaky elevator to the angel's true domain.

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