A/N: Sammy loses his tremulous grasp on sanity when he sees a human in the deteriorating studio.
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The whispers within the ink dragged him back into sluggish conscious.
Sammy struggled to come back fully into awareness after taking that strike to the back of his head. Sammy let out a low groan and lie on his side for a time. He waited for his vision to swim back into clarity from the haze of impromptu unconsciousness.
The ink.
It was always there.
Sammy closed what passed for his eyes, allowing the darkness to take over for a time as he pieced together what had happened. He had been talking to someone...had figured something out, before he had been so rudely taken from awareness.
Ah, yes.
Boris.
He had been speaking to one of the Boris clones.
Sammy put a hand to his inky head, massaging it with an equally inky hand. He had figured out that the toon wolf's real identity was Wally Franks, who had been one of Sammy's coworkers from before everything had gone so very wrong.
The bits and pieces of the events leading up to Sammy's meeting with the floor filled in sluggishly. Sammy sighed and turned onto his back from where he had been awkwardly sprawled out on the floor.
By the searchers.
Yes, that was what had happened.
The searchers had laid him down, after Sammy had been struck in the head and lost control of his body. Struck, because Sammy had been caught up in the sinister whispers and demands of the fresh ink that had spilled onto him.
Corrupting him.
Twisting him back into a crazed madman who sacrificed fellow beings to the ink demon, in hopes of being freed from this place.
But that overwhelming need to find an offering had fled for the time being.
Sammy felt relief over that. It appeared as though being knocked out had allowed for him to grasp hold of those thin strands of sanity, and remain himself.
For the most part, anyway.
Sammy felt trepidation over remembering so very little. Much of his life before he'd become an inky being in this broken place was just out of his reach. It was difficult for Sammy to know what to do with himself when he wasn't gripped by the ink and the insanity it drove into him.
It was...freeing, in a sense, but also intimidating, as he wasn't sure what to do with himself.
Sammy grimaced at the sight of his pants and suspenders ruined yet again by the ink that had spilled onto him. Movement caught his attention, and Sammy became aware of Wally carefully coming up alongside of him, the toon wolf looking at Sammy in an anxious sort of way.
Wally brandished a dust pan, the toon presumably showing Sammy what he had knocked him out with.
"I am...myself. For now." Sammy could tell that Wally didn't look very convinced but the toon wolf slowly lowered the pan. "It appears that the ink in this place...it really does seem to have a firm grip on me." Sammy said as he stared down at his fingers. Sammy lifted his head soon after to look at Wally from behind the Bendy mask." I feel as though I have a difficult time holding onto my sense of self. Especially when I get too close to fresh ink from the machine." Sammy fell silent, brief confusion trickling in again.
There it was again.
The machine.
But...what was the machine?
It created ink, obviously.
Sammy remembered that much. But apart from that, Sammy was drawing up a blank. He didn't try too hard to force himself to remember. Instead, Sammy focused on the here and now, which meant that it was time for him to sit up.
Wally stepped back, cautious.
"Are you going to stay in this area for a time?" Sammy found himself asking. "It might be easier to keep hold of myself, if someone happened to be around to prevent me from going crazy." Seeing Wally's wolfish frown, Sammy amended his statement. "Going...crazier?"
Wally was clearly reluctant about the idea of remaining in the same area as Sammy. But the toon wolf obviously wanted the company, because Wally agreed to Sammy's question from before with a slow nod.
Unfortunately, Sammy being able to gain and keep a companion in this wretched place was just something that wasn't meant to be at that point in time. Everything went downhill as soon one of the lost ones shuffled over to Sammy and spoke.
"There is a human who hasn't been claimed by the ink in this studio." The lost one remarked to Sammy. "He is headed this way."
"Hey!" Sammy let out an indignant gasp as Wally suddenly seized him by an arm and all but dragged the music director toward his own office. "What do you think you are doing?"
Wally said nothing as he unlocked the office. The toon unceremoniously gave Sammy a shove in his inky back to make him stumble inside, Wally slamming the door shut after the music director.
"Wally!" Sammy let out a soundless growl at the treatment as he turned to open the door, only to realize that he had been locked in his own office. Sammy stomped over to the long window and peered out, inky jaw setting. He watched through the window as Wally jammed a door beneath the door knob, to prevent easy escape. "What is going on?" Sammy demanded, before gesturing wildly at the locked door and chair. "What is all this for?"
Wally pointed to the ink on the wall, and then to the pipe that had broken earlier. When Wally saw that Sammy was watching him, the toon wolf then pointed to the music director before tapping his head.
Sammy rapped the window with a fist, feeling a little irritated. Wally was already worried about him losing his mind? What could possibly come of just a single human in this place? More likely than not, this human who had come to this studio would end up swallowed by the ink.
Trapped, like the rest of them.
Lost, with hope fading as time became meaningless.
Sammy turned away from the widow and locked door to restlessly begin to pace around his office, boots stomping to mark his agitated steps.
Why did Wally lock him in his own office?
Sammy was in his right mind at present, wasn't he?
In-between furious pacing, Sammy noticed that Wally was watching him from the other side of the window.
The toon wolf looked away now and again, as if he expected to see someone.
Sammy eventually sat down on a chair at his not often utilized desk. Pacing was not making him feel any better, nor was staring at Wally and attempting to silently will him to open the door. Sammy tapped three fingers against the desk in an uneven tempo, vaguely humming to himself as he made an attempt to think of a way out of this odd predicament. Sammy's fingers slowed to a halt to curl against the surface of the desk as he studied a blueprint on his desk.
A spark of recognition flared.
This was it.
The machine.
Sammy carefully picked the blueprint up, in a way that did not smudge the small writing with ink from his fingers.
Ink machine.
That seemed appropriate, considering how many damn pipes were around the dilapidated studio.
The longer Sammy stared at the blueprints, the more interested, as well as concerned, he became. Sammy should be able to remember this machine. He should know, because he had been in this place for a long time. Had worked in this studio for a long time.
The initials T.C. were in a corner of the blueprint.
Sammy felt as though he recognized the initials, but he couldn't place the name. Sammy could, however, remember that the pipes were somehow connected to the ink machine.
How?
How could he recall such things, and yet have such a hard time remembering a name?
Sammy knew that he was starting to connect the pieces together, but he was also beginning to feel ill when he thought about how he had gotten to where he was now.
Just how many of his coworkers had he offered up to the ink demon as sacrifices? How long had he been in this inky body of his?
Sammy stared at the blueprint again. At the ink machine schematics that were written there.
This was Joey's fault.
Sammy clenched his hands, fingers clenching against the paper as hell crumpled the blueprint the slightest bit at a flash of anger.
Joey Drew had something to do with this all.
Sammy knew he had thought before. But the question went back to wondering how Joey was connected to this all.
Sammy couldn't remember.
It was frustrating.
Just out of reach, like many of his memories.
Sammy was unable to concentrate for much longer, because a sudden ripple in the ink broke him from his train of thought. Sammy's connection to the ink compelled the music director to let go of the blueprint, rise to his feet, and go take a look out the window.
What had he just sensed?
Sammy could feel it, but not see. The whispers of the ink grew louder, becoming uncomfortable in volume the moment a new figure entered the hall. Sammy barely noticed that Wally appeared to be surprised and then pleased at the appearance.
The surprise seemed to be mutual.
But all Sammy saw, in the deafening whispers and now screams of the ink, was that the newcomer was human.
A human.
Here.
How very interesting.
Sammy wasn't aware that the ink was starting to drive him to the edge of insanity again. But with this human's close proximity, Sammy was having a hard time ignoring the urge to claim such an offering for his savior. But the longer Sammy watched the interaction between the human and the toon wolf, the less of a hold Sammy had on his sanity.
The human, an older gentlemen, was dressed in an outfit that had seen better days, some of it and the human's skin stained by the ink of this studio.
Sammy didn't realize that he had briefly blanked out amongst the whispers until the human was suddenly standing on the other side of the window.
"Sammy?" The human asked, his tone wary. "What are you...doing in there?" It was almost as if the human thought that Sammy should be elsewhere in the studio.
It shouldn't have been so surprising.
This was Sammy's office.
The music director stared at the human for a time, unmoving but for a light sway.
"Sammy?" The human tried again. "Are you...do you remember me this time?"
That voice.
That face.
Why was it familiar to Sammy?
The man's face was etched with weariness, his body giving off the impression of a deep seated tiredness. The human was also apparently confused, from the way he was studying Sammy in return, as if he were some sort of complex puzzle to solve.
Sammy's hands went to his head as he let out a pained groan. Those damn whispers were scratching at the inside of his head. They were approaching painfully loud ranges, and Sammy was unable to effectively block them out.
A human.
A human was here.
Sammy slowly dropped his hands to his sides, the loudness of the whispers becoming background noise as he focused on what the presence of a human meant.
What a rare offering.
Rarer than even a perfect toon Boris.
"It's been such a long time, since I've seen someone who hasn't been completely lost to the ink." Sammy began to say, as he turned and looked around for a weapon. "A lost sheep who has come to visit me. A fitting sacrifice to bring to my lord." Sammy slowly walked over to one corner of his office and picked up an axe. Sammy half-turned to look over his shoulder, to make sure that the human was still on the other side of the glass. "Surely I will be rewarded for offering Him such a tender sheep."
The human's attention was drawn to the axe.
"The ritual will begin soon." Sammy hefted the axe as he stepped up to the door. With a heavy swing, Sammy struck the axe against the door. He did not notice the human flinch back as he swung the weapon at the door again . Sammy hacked away at the door bit by bit, gripped with a feverish energy. When he made enough of an opening, he took a quick peek through the broken wood.
The human had not yet run but he was slowly backing away.
"There is nowhere to run." Sammy taunted, switching up his grip on the axe for better accuracy. "There is no escaping my lord in His home." Sammy straightened up as he swung the axe hard against the door, the wood splintering under the force with which he was striking it.
Rapid footsteps indicated that the human had decided to not stick around, and the extra footsteps indicated that the toon wolf had vacated the area as well.
Sammy broke the door open after a few more strong swings, able to force his way through the splintery mess he had created. Sammy gave chase to the two fleeing sacrifices, keeping his axe with him.
A human.
Sammy couldn't let him escape, or his lord would be most displeased. Sammy was His prophet, and his savior would not be disappointed.
The human was getting further away, and Boris had gone out of view.
No matter.
Sammy had ways to track down toons in this place.
The human took precedence.
Sammy would not let this rare opportunity pas him by.
As luck would have it, the human ended up going down some stairs into the infirmary.
Perfect.
Sammy slowed to a halt, considering how he wanted to approach this. There were other ways that he could get into the infirmary area himself, and without the human noticing him until it was too late. Sammy smiled behind his mask, before he turned and went in another direction.
Wouldn't the human be ever so surprised when Sammy caught him unawares? Such a prize would not slip away so easily. Sammy was determined to secure this human as an offering to his savior.
The ink had spoken to him.
His savior had spoken to him through that ink.
"Sheep sheep sheep, it will soon be time for...sleep." Sammy sang softly under his breath as he approached a wall covered in many ink markings. Sammy tilted his head at the ritual circle, before spotting a small offering, surrounded by candlelight next to a Bendy cut out. Sammy rested a hand against the wall where the most of the ink had gathered. Sammy let out a slow breath before allowing himself to pass through the ink, eager to continue to give chase to the human.
Passing through the ink in such a manner was dangerous. Unlike the ink demon, who could travel wherever he pleased, it was more hazardous to those who were not meant to perform such feats.
Sammy's hold on his sanity slipped a little further from his grasp. The whispers and the screams from within the ink almost seemed to tangibly brush against him as Sammy made his way closer to where the human would end up. The time for sacrifice was close at hand. All that was needed was for this wayward sheep to be caught and then offered up for slaughter.
"Let us begin." Sammy emerged from the ink in a new area, holding the axe tight in one hand. "I will have Him hear me."
The prophet would give his savior anything and everything. Would his savior not set him free in return for such unyielding devotion?
"He will set us free." Sammy murmured aloud, as he began hunt for the human who would make such a wonderful centerpiece for a ritual sacrifice to his lord. "This is a most wondrous opportunity. Can I get an amen?"
Silence greeted Sammy, but it mattered not.
The prophet planned to be the one to secure his lord's notice, and more importantly, His approval of a human offering.
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A/N: Note: I figured that it was assumed from ch 2 of the game that Sammy could travel through the ink since he just up and vanished from Henry's view in the game.
Regarding next fic chapter: It will be from Henry's pov because Sammy is currently indisposed and eager as the prophet of the ink demon to claim a 'new' sheep to offer to his savior.