Huit - The Trio has a job to do.

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"Come on, step out of your cage. There's a whole twisted world out here."

Buddy took off at a loping sprint, as always. Seemed he was eager to get it over with.

Henry sighed and headed to the stairs. "Here we go. Errand boy at her service."

Sammy cocked his head. "Errand boy? That's what she calls you?"

"Yup." The two men stepped through the double doors and down the path to the corpse display. "Has a little speech and everything."

"I detect annoyance, little sheep."

"If you had to run around the lower floors of the studio to gather parts for her, you'd be annoyed, too."

Sammy shrugged and followed close behind. "Fair point…" He slowed at what lay beyond. Dozens of clone Boris's, gouged apart and flayed open, eviscerated like frogs in a lab. He'd seen plenty of nightmares in this place, but there was always something around the corner to remind him just how hopeless this situation was.

Was. Until Henry came.

Buddy had paused before the nearest clone, pie-cut eyes worried. He'd been here before. It felt like a dream and he couldn't remember everything, but he knew these poor clones were a warning. A sign to turn back and hide. Tempting, but that'd mean Henry was alone with the Prophet. He could work with the Prophet if it helped Henry, but he'd rather go a day without soup than leave them alone for long.

"Look around. It took so many of them to make me so beautiful. Anything less than perfect was left behind. I had to do it. She made me."

Henry walked the planks to the next room, glancing over his shoulder at Sammy. "You can stay with Buddy or come with me."

The ink man headed for the rails before the ink pool and vaulted himself over the side to stand on the joining of two boards. He'd cut Henry off.

"You wanna lead?"

"Maybe." He turned and headed to the next set of doors, his strides long and precise.

Henry blinked, peering over his glasses. If he didn't know better, he'd think Sammy was showing off. "Alright. That tape is another from Susie. I don't want you falling in, so maybe you can skip that one?"

Sammy didn't even look at the tape and kept walking. "Noted. I've had my fill of Susie for the time being."

The doors up ahead parted, and Sammy headed inside without slowing down.

Henry turned to look back at Buddy. The wolf perked a little and waved their way, the Gent pipe firmly in one hand.

Okay. Buddy was fine. For now, just fine. Maybe he could still keep the wolf in one piece. Given this loop and how it was going almost too smoothly-

"Henry." The musician's voice was calm and questioning, the broken mask fixated on the man.

The cartoonist shook himself and adjusted the ax. "Right." No sense delaying.

Through the doors and down a ways, the twisted angel stood proudly in her operating room. A malformed piper lay strapped to an upright table like the Boris clones outside.

The angel's attention turned to the two of them, her mismatched gaze flicking back and forth between the two of them before she hummed in thought. "Hm. Now we come to the question... Do I kill you?… Do I tear you apart to my heart's delight? The choices of the beautiful are unbearable. How's a girl to choose?" The Butcher clone strapped down grunted as the angel raised her voice at it. "Take this little freak, for instance! He crawled in here... Trailing his tainted ink to my door! It could have touched me! It could have pulled me back! Do you know what it's like? Living in the dark puddles? It's a buzzing, screaming well of voices! Bits of your mind, swimming... like... like fish in a bowl! The first time I was born from its inky womb, I was a wriggling, pussing, shapeless slug."

She uncurled from herself slightly and stared hard at Sammy. "You would know all about that, wouldn't you, false prophet? But the second time... well... It made me an angel! I will not let the demon touch me again. I'm so close now. So... almost perfect. Yes. I will spare you. For now. Better yet... I'll even let you ascend and leave this place. If you will do a few eensy, weensy little favors for me first. Return to the lift, my little errand boy. We have work to do!" The steel shutters closed, and the screeches of the poor piper poured from beyond.

Sammy cleared his throat. "Well… you were wrong about her speech being little."

"Hearing it hundreds of times… the whole thing runs together." Henry sighed and turned back to the way they came. "All of this runs together."

"Little sheep, what's wrong?"

Henry glanced over his shoulder with a wince. "You'll have to narrow it down, there's a lot to go over."

... okay. Henry was cynical when upset. He could work with that, so long as he remembered that Henry was not Bendy. Henry would not harm him. "Is it the tasks themselves? Or their outcome?"

"Outcome."

"Which is?"

Henry paused, setting his jaw and hazel gaze on the ink below the boards. "The parts I gather for her go into turning him-" he gestured with his head at the wolf across the inky pond- "Into a brute. And, I have no way to avoid that outcome if I can't get him to hide before the crash."

"... I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"In a way, it is. My hands are stained by more than just ink."

Henry decided a subject change was in order, if the lump forming in his throat was any sign. "That reminds me. What would happen if you fell in? I mentioned it earlier, but you don't have to answer."

"Good question. I'm not as stable as Malice Angel..." Sammy placed a curled finger to the mouth of the mask. "... I could jump in and find out."

"Please don't."

"No, no, I bet I could breaststroke to the other side without disintegrating."

"Please. No." But he chuckled at the absurdity.

Index and thumb tapped idly on the left hand while the right pointed. "Mm. Alright. But I can assure you I'm an excellent swimmer. I think." Thinking back, the prophet wasn't sure he knew how to swim in his old life… but he knew he had liked the beach! "Best not to risk it." He might lose his fingers. The two crossed the ink pond and headed out. Buddy happily took off towards the elevator.

Once outside the twisted angel's inner sanctum, the doors snapped shut and her voice called out. "My machines are hungry. Gather me some spare parts." The dispenser turned to show a wrench, as always.

Sammy took the wrench and spun it in his hand. He could work with this rather than the pipe. Maybe Buddy having a weapon would make Henry feel a little better.

Henry rolled his shoulders as he made his way to the elevator. "She wants three gears. I know where they are." The doors shuttered, and they were all on their way. Finding the gears on level K was the easier of the tasks, but the angel didn't give anyone peace and quiet. She likely hadn't had a captive audience that was intelligent enough to know what she was saying in some time.

"Have you met him? The Ink Demon? They say he hears everything. Every creak of the floor. Every rustle of paper. I wouldn't run so fast if I were you, you never know what will draw him in."

"...how true is that?" Henry asked, gaze on Sammy. "You said you can sense Him, but is any of what she said true?"

Sammy wiggled the fingers of his free hand, trying to word it in his head. "It's… yes and no. He can hear everything, but doesn't care about most of it. If you heard the screams of the damned and the flow of ink for decades, you'd learn to block it out. It's volume, really. Do anything quietly enough, he won't care you're doing it." He shrugged as they left the elevator.

"That why you played the banjo outside the booth?"

"... maybe."

"I liked it. Fell asleep to it." Sammy Lawrence was a talented man, even with a body coated in ink.

"I'll play for you any time you want." He paused at the gargling of a clone that ran their way. Spying the gear it held, the ink man raced at it with the wrench held high and struck it down. The thing melted away as he plucked the gear from the ground. "One down."

Henry walked past the ink man and grabbed the other gear laying on the floor. "Last one's in the back." The cartoonist decided it best to not mention how the twisted angel would usually speak of Sammy at this point. Had this been any other loop, without Sammy here to help him, he'd be relieved at the sudden change. The twisted angel had made it clear that most, if not all, were beneath her, but her focus on Sammy hadn't caught his attention until now. Or, her lack of focus, seeing as she hadn't mentioned him as a good liar at all this loop.

He flicked the box open with his thumb; the gear was sitting comfortably where it usually did.

What he didn't expect was a searcher to spring from the nearest puddle and swing at his knees to knock him to the floor. Henry let out a sharp cry and fell back. A splatter of ink against his cheek made him flinch as the searcher lunged for him again and slammed a fist against his sternum. Henry wheezed and struck out with his ax, only for a third blow from the searcher to crack against his skull and plunge him into the darkness.

The tunnel had never been the scary part. Even the first time, it wasn't scary. It brought a sense of calm akin to the wave of ease that came after an adrenaline rush wore off. The whispers were things heard before. The light was almost like the sun. The tunnel was never the scary part.

The scary part of coming back to life was that he was right back in the place that'd killed him. He never had a chance to recuperate or breathe.

But this time, Sammy's overall-clad backside greeted him.

"Back! Back!" The prophet bellowed, his stance firmly placing the injured man between his feet. He swung the ax and connected the blade with the swiftly retreating searcher. "Try that again and I will send you to the Ink Demon myself!" He kicked the puddle hard, a jagged splash coating the wall. He turned to the slowly bubbling puddles in the corners. "That goes for you as well! For all of you! We do not harm this man! Let it be known he is mine!"

Henry remained on the floor, bent awkwardly but no longer horribly mangled. "Sammy."

The Bendy mask snapped downwards. "Little sheep, you've awoken." He stepped carefully away and drummed his fingers on the ax handle.

"How long was I down?"

The drumming slowed in thought. "I'm not sure. Long enough for me to think you wouldn't be back."

Henry rolled onto his front and slowly stood up. "Let's get back. I got the gear."

Sammy nodded and turned to the stairs, still holding the ax.

Henry raised a brow. "Can I have that back?"

"No."

"You're serious."

"Very." The prophet plodded down the stairs, shoulders hunching as he spoke. "I let you out of my sight for a second and you get yourself killed. No, my little sheep, that will not due."

The older man sighed and followed him into the elevator. "You're a good shepherd, Sammy, but I'm not defenseless. That searcher got the drop on me. It happens."

"Tell that to your caved in skull."

His brows shot up. He'd felt something crack, but he hadn't thought it was that severe. It explained why Sammy was worked up.

The prophet's posture tightened, as did his grip on the ax. "Forgive me if I'm distressed at seeing that." His tone crept towards the petulant anger he displayed down in the Lost Harbor. "If I can prevent it, I will prevent it."

Henry frowned and hit the button to travel to level Nine. "I've done this before. That searcher wasn't new. It caught me because they rarely show up right there."

A shudder and the elevator moved. Sammy turned to face Henry. "New or not-" he thumped the head of the ax into his hand- "I won't stand by."

The cartoonist let out a sigh. "Where's the pipe?"

Buddy, who'd stood back and watched with pinned ears, tapped Henry's shoulder. He held out the pipe with his other hand. The wrench stuck out from a pocket in his overalls.

"Thanks." His focus was back on Sammy.

Sammy stayed tensed and glaring at the walls that moved outside the cage.

/

The syringe was a terrible weapon, but it beat not having one. It took plenty of convincing to get Sammy to stay out of the way and let the cartoonist just do this on his own. It's not that Henry didn't appreciate the ink man's desire to keep him whole, but Henry could handle this. He'd done it hundreds of times.

Though, considering the holes Sammy's gaze burned into his back? The ink man wasn't pleased at all. But for Henry, it'd only slow things down if Sammy told every searcher to get lost if it got too close.

"That's done." He set the full syringe into the bin and awaited what the angel's next command. It wasn't much of a wait.

"I'll make this simple. Look for valve panels. Turn the little wheels. Then bring me their power cores. Please don't make me regret sparing you. I can always change my mind."

There sat the plunger. Not wanting to snub the angel and possibly set her off, he took it and headed for the stairs. At Sammy's confused tilt of the head, he shook the plunger a bit. "This thing? This says she has a sense of humor." He frowned at the object and stepped into the elevator. "I just don't get the joke."

"Mm. What now?"

"Power cores. Level P." He didn't turn to face Sammy, but glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He liked to think he could read the ink man at least a bit, even after such a brief period this close. "Wanna put that ax to use?"

"... maybe."

He pressed the button and away they went. "Then come with me. There are always searchers and Butcher clones breathing down my neck out there."

"Gladly." He hoisted the ax to rest blade out over his shoulder.

They landed and Buddy, as always, stayed back. He never left the elevator. Sammy could sympathize; avoiding certain doom when safety was dull but within reach.

The ink man strode out of the cage first, ax at the ready. Sammy hoped being out and moving before Henry would give the searchers a chance to think twice about attacking.

False hope, since the first puddle sprang to life and crawled their way in an instant.

"Back!" He barked, the ax raised.

The searcher paused, jaw working to form garbled nonsense.

Sammy stomped a boot at the poor thing. "I said back to your puddle!"

The searcher hissed and scuttled back into the ink. Who knew ink could glare?

"Huh." Henry stood shoulder to shoulder with Sammy. "Didn't know they could understand speech." They mostly stared at him whenever he tried to communicate. He strode towards the trio of pipes and turned the wheels, and soon enough the side panel popped open. The cartoonist offered the core to Sammy. "Wanna trade?"

"Some can." The two turned the corner to find another burbling puddle. Sammy prodded it with the handle of the ax. When no one popped out, they kept going. "Most can't. Nice try, my little sheep." Movement from inside the vestibule caught his attention. A Butcher clone stumbled out of a doorway and growled as it hurtled towards them. The set of teeth atop its head chattered as it grew close.

The human walked around the ink man with a scowl and raised the pipe. "Striker. I've got it." Henry raised the Gent pipe and swung, once, twice, thrice, plop. Nothing but an ink puddle and a power core. He smiled at Sammy over his shoulder. "There we go."

"Striker."

The cartoonist fully turned to Sammy and shrugged.

"You gave them names?"

Henry smiled sheepishly and bent to grab the power core. "Not much else to do around here." He hissed through his teeth and froze just as his grip closed around the core.

Sammy was on him in a second. "Are you alright?"

"Nng… yeah. Never better." He grinned but it turned sour soon as he straightened, core in hand. "Bad back. Been like that since the war."

"You were… in the war?" He didn't know why that shocked him. Plenty of young men got drafted, but Henry didn't seem the kind to be out on the front lines.

The man peered at Sammy over his glasses. "You remember the war?"

"Only that I wasn't able to serve. Too old."

"Heh. I was just young enough." The sharp pain eased to a dull throb, and Henry got back to it. "Last core is this way."

The duo finished the task in silence and returned to the elevator. Buddy waved upon their return.

Sammy held out a hand to Henry, palm up.

"Yes?"

"I can take the cores."

He huffed. "I'm fine."

"Henry."

"I'm good." His back still hurt like hell, though.

Sammy flexed his fingers, tilting his head down. "Give them here. I have pockets."

"So do I!"

"Mine are... bigger," he offered lamely.

Buddy laughed silently in the corner.

"Christ." But he chuckled at the ink man and passed the cores his way. If it made Sammy feel better, he didn't see a reason to complain.

The angel's voice crackled as the elevator sank back to where she remained. "You're quite the efficient duo, aren't you?" Her smile-laced voice sunk low in her throat. "Though, it's obvious who the better half is, don't you agree?"

The ink man slumped at the shoulders, the broken mask facing Henry. "Always something to say, that one."

The cartoonist smiled faintly. "Oh, she says a lot more when it's just me."

Sammy chuckled lightly. "Trying to drive a wedge between us, little sheep." Charcoal fingers drummed the handle of the ax. "She, Susie… she did that often enough, if she thought it'd help her career. She didn't think people could tell when she was playing with them."

"Sounds taxing."

The ink man tilted his head back, shoulders lax. "Taxing as holy hell, Henry."

The elevator doors opened, and the pair headed to the Angel's doors. Sammy dropped the cores in the bin and rolled his shoulders. What could the mad angel want of them next?

Henry shot the ink man a look. He'd only just realized how this next task could go. "You might wanna stay in the elevator for this one."

Sammy responded with a hand to his hip and a tilted head. "Now, Henry, I'm starting to think you're trying to shake me."

"Never. But…" His brows pinched, and he adjusted his grip on the newly gained ax. "Feel free to hang out with Buddy."

The twisted Angel purred her demand. "You see those grinning demons? Let's remove them, shall we? I've got just the tool to make this even more enjoyable."

The prophet tensed. "...ah. That explains it." He fixed his gaze back onto Henry.

"That's why I offered."

Sammy looked back at the ax he held. "Well… down here, we're all sinners." And last he'd checked, the Ink Demon kicked him across a room without hesitation. He scoured the room for cutouts. "How many?"

"Fifteen."

He twirled the weapon once and caught it, perked but sounding sour. "Lets go, then."

If Henry didn't know better, he'd think Sammy was having a blast bashing cutouts.

They worked quickly enough, one cutout beside a miracle station in Heavenly Toys remaining. Henry scowled at it. "Don't run off." He swung hard and shattered the grinning chunk of cardboard with a hard swipe.

"Why would I, little sheep?"

"Ah, now that was fun! Oh! But I forgot to mention... He hates it when I do that. I would hide if I were you."

Sammy stared up at the nearest speaker. "Ah. That's why."

Henry grabbed Sammy's arm and pulled him to the miracle station against the wall. "In we go."

Sammy locked his knees and tried to argue. "There's not enough room for-"

"In." Henry shoved Sammy into the box and followed suit. He'd have to stand and hunch over for it to work. Cramped, but alive!

Sammy spread his legs to give Henry space enough to get the door shut. His thanks were the human's torso pressing against his chest. It shocked him he could feel the faint but quick thudding of the man's heart.

Henry glanced over his shoulder, one hand clenching the door shut. "You good back there? Able to breathe?"

"Yes." This wasn't at all awkward, legs spread and forearms braced against the walls. He tapped a forefinger idly, focusing not on the warm body against his but on the cruel beast lurking nearby. He could sense the slow, plodding beast creeping out into the toy room. "Wait, what about Buddy?"

"It's never gone after Buddy. Is it close?" Pulsing rings of blackness drifted out and across the walls outside. Stains of ink bloomed like rippling mold. "Never mind."

In any other circumstance, Sammy would have laughed.

/