A/N: Henry doesn't know what to make of all the changes he is experiencing in this loop, but the one constant is Sammy determinedly coming after him, albeit in a different manner than before.
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Henry Stein was a tired man.
Tired, with hope quickly fading piece by piece.
There was a deep seated ache within his body that wouldn't fade away.
Henry knew the loops were getting to him. He knew that they were, and there wasn't a damn thing Henry could do but press on, and make an effort to hope anew that there would be an eventual end to all this madness.
The ink.
The general hopelessness of the situation.
It was getting to him more than usual.
Henry was exhausted, but he couldn't take a breather.
Not yet.
So, as he stumbled along a hall, Henry began to wonder where he could rest that he wouldn't be attacked and sent back to the beginning of the loop.
That couldn't happen.
Not this soon within the loop.
Boris' safe house, or even a little miracle station was a good contender for rest, but neither of the options would be viable until Henry met Boris. This meant that he was going to be meeting Sammy again, and that was always like stepping into a live fire.
Sometimes, Sammy was lucid, and Henry could slip by without being noticed. Other times, Sammy was a relentless, raving madman who caught Henry to offer up as a sacrifice to the ink demon.
Henry hoped that he would be able to avoid the music director's attention this time around. Henry was simply too worn out to do much resisting at this point. Maybe in past loops he would have been up for it, but not this one.
This loop was subtly different than the others.
Henry didn't know why, but he just got that sense. Maybe it meant something, maybe it didn't. But as he automatically made his way through the music department, there was a piece of him that had reason to hope again.
Hope that this time, this time, the loop would be different enough to break through the never-ending cycle.
Henry had not yet seen Sammy, neither on his way to the music department, or within it. All was quiet, with no searchers coming after Henry.
It made him lower his guard, and he soon found out that the quiet was too good to be true.
For the first time in a long while, Henry decided to check the office, on the off chance that perhaps there would not be an inky mess blocking Sammy's office.
There wasn't, but in return, there was someone who happened to be in the office.
Sammy Lawrence, with his Bendy mask.
Outsode the door, blocked by a chair, stood a Boris clone.
Henry didn't have much time to react to this peculiar, unexpected sight. Because the moment Sammy caught sight of him, the crazed inky man produced an axe to begin to hack away at the door in a far too frenzied way.
Eager, almost.
Henry didn't stick around and ran away. He hated running at this point, but there was little Henry could do about it, if he didn't want to end up being killed by the monsters in this studio. As Henry ran, he made his way to the infirmary, hoping to get a head start on Sammy. While Henry also had an axe, he wasn't planning to confront Sammy directly.
Instead, Henry fled.
Always running, it seemed.
Henry found it odd to be running away from someone on this leveled of the studio, instead of later on, when he would really need to. Run away from the circle drawn in ink on the floor, and run faster still in order to avoid being caught by the ink demon.
"Why are you there, Sammy?" Henry's breath hitched as he stumbled around a corner, and toward the infirmary. "I've never in your office before."
This was not at all how things had gone for the past seemingly endless times of this loop. Sammy wasn't supposed to be in such an obvious place. Lurking, yes, and keeping a close watch, but not actually being present in a room that Henry himself would need to have access to in order to progress forward.
Somewhere along the hall, Sammy's crazed ravings could faintly be heard.
Henry pushed himself to move a little bit faster, but knew that he couldn't keep up the speed for much longer. He was simply too exhausted from the way the last loop had ended in disaster, what with the ink demon getting to him and ending him in a very painful way. That pain had somehow carried all the way through to this next go around, leaving Henry with even less stamina than was usual.
The constant vigilance coupled with the ever present exhaustion was wearing Henry down more and more, with less time to rest and recover. Henry knew that he was making careless mistakes more often than usual, even when he knew better.
This right now?
Being chased by Sammy instead of being knocked out by the crazed music director?
Much more unnerving, when one didn't know where Sammy was going to show.
Henry did not like realizing that he had lost sight of Sammy. That could be dangerous, considering that Sammy was currently armed with something far more dangerous than a metal dust pan. Henry didn't know what happened to the Boris that had been nearby. Henry could only hope the toon wolf had enough sense to get out of Sammy's path. Henry felt bad about not sticking around long enough to see if it was the Boris that he would meet later or not. But Henry had far been more concerned with getting away from the sight of Sammy hacking an axe frantically against a door while spouting off some of his nonsense.
Henry stumbled down the stairs leading to the infirmary, and then went further down. He had to get the second value to continue on. Henry supposed he could have just let Sammy catch him and get on with things, but Henry couldn't bring himself to do that. He would just have to try to get to the door before Sammy showed up, if that was even possible.
As different as this loop was turning out to be, Henry had to continue on no matter what.
Sammy still wasn't in sight, but that didn't mean that the music director wasn't still around, stalking him from the inky darkness all around the studio.
The valve.
Henry had to focus on the task at hand. Henry felt that he would have to be quick, if only he could get his worn out body to cooperate. Henry passed by the small alcove where Jack Fain composed lyrics decades ago. Henry found that he was able to retrieve the valve, because the searcher with the bowler hat was not there to abscond with it. Henry stared down at the valve in his ink-stained hand.
Easy.
This was too easy.
"Don't question it." Henry told himself firmly, even as he warily looked around for anything else out of place. "Just press on." With a slow sigh, Henry began to head back to the infirmary, only to back-peddle close to the sewer's inky ground again at the sight before him.
Sammy had just finished hacking his way through the chain link fence, the music director forcing his inky body through the gap.
Henry took another step backward, bracing himself to run yet again.
"There you are, my little lost sheep." Sammy said, a sing song lilt to his voice. "We can't have our offering wandering away, now can we?" Sammy tilted his head to the side, the Bendy mask seeming to stare straight at Henry. "No, we can't!" The music director ended up muttering some more unintelligible nonsense under his breath as he hefted his axe.
Henry's body tensed up.
Sammy broke into a unnervingly eager sprint.
Henry fled in the opposite direction as fast as his weary legs would carry him. Henry hit the ink in the sewer and began to slog his way through the tacky ink. Henry's gait slowed greatly, even as Sammy sloshed more swiftly through the ink toward him.
That answered one question.
Sammy was somehow aware enough of himself that he wasn't being reclaimed by the ink. He was also wearing boots, so that may have blocked the ink from getting through to the rest of his body.
Both Henry and Sammy splashed through the ink, all the way to the dead end area where the levers and a crate were.
Henry knew that he would have normally raised that crate and then crushed the searcher with the hat to retrieve the valve. Instead, Henry was being pursued by an inky madman with an axe.
He'd rather have dealt with the searcher.
"There's no escape, my little sheep." Sammy slowed, brandishing his axe as he inches closer.
Henry began to carefully circle away from Sammy, aware that he was likely going to be cornered. While Henry also had an axe, he was far too exhausted to put up much of a fight. And with how weary his body was, Henry didn't fancy allowing Sammy to get anywhere near him with an axe. Henry remembered quite clearly the second time he would normally run across Sammy in this place. Henry knew that Sammy was strong and relentless, especially when upset.
This was a problem.
Henry didn't even know if Sammy wanted to kill him at this point, or if the music director planned to take him as a sacrifice to offer to the ink demon, as Sammy would normally do in this area. After a swing of an axe that was just a little too close for comfort, Henry wondered if it was the former as he began to lead Sammy around in circles around the small space. Maybe Henry would find an opening to slip by and escape the sewer.
Sammy picked up on this, however, and quickly began to cut off Henry's attempts to try and pass him by to get out of the dead end room.
Henry stumbled as he misstepped in the ink, which allowed Sammy to corner him against the crate. Henry brought up his axe to block a heavy swing from Sammy, his arms tingling as Henry scrambled to keep parrying those strong strikes.
It hurt.
It hurt a lot more than usual, blocking attacks, and it was a wonder that Henry didn't sustain any injuries apart from soon to be very sore arms.
After a few more clashes of axe against axe, Sammy succeeded in disarming Henry.
Henry let out a grunt of pain as his numb, ink slicked fingers lost their grip on the axe. He stepped back to avoid what he felt might be another attack, but Sammy merely used the butt end of the axe to send a painful jab into his abdomen, as Sammy's free hand reached out to shove him in the chest. Henry fell backward against the crate with a harsh intake of air. One hand went to his stinging stomach as his other arm lifted automatically in a defensive posture.
"Do not fight." Sammy half turned to set his own axe aside.
Henry felt relief but it didn't last for long as Sammy suddenly lunged forward to pin him against the crate, inky hands reaching for his throat. Henry brought both his hands up to grab Sammy's wrists, not keen on the idea of being strangled.
"A sacrifice must be made." Sammy was still spouting off his crazy talk as he began to free his hands from Henry's weaker grasp. "He will set us free, and with such a rare offering, surely He will hear me this time."
Henry did not expect this turn of events, and it was all he could do to keep Sammy's inky hands away from his throat. Henry grit his teeth as Sammy used his bulkier body to prevent Henry from being able to move in either direction. Sammy made it incredibly difficult to contemplate easy escape, and Henry knew that it was only a matter of time before he would perhaps end up passed out on the inky ground.
"Be a good little sheep, and this will all be over soon."
Henry felt himself tiring further as he continued to struggle to keep Sammy's hands away from him. Henry really, really didn't want to be put in a position where he might drown in ink again. It might be a possibility if Sammy decided to pull him away from the crate to pin him face down in the ink.
It was an unpleasant kind of death, drowning in ink.
"Sheep sheep sheep, it is now time for you to sleep." Sammy's strength and tenacity finally surpassed Henry's feeble resistance. The fervor the inky man had over the idea of pleasing the ink demon broke through Henry's grapple as Sammy wrapped his fingers firmly around his neck.
Henry had hoped that Sammy wouldn't do that, but it seemed that the music director had opted for strangulation as how he wanted to render Henry unconscious. Sammy had leverage over Henry, keeping him pinned up against the crate. Henry struggled for breath, even as he began to feel lightheaded, his vision prickling at the sides.
This was bad.
"Shh, just go to sleep, and everything will be fine." Sammy was surprisingly calm for someone cutting off another's air supply as he continued to utter praises to the ink demon. "He will surely be delighted to have such a tender sheep being offered up for slaughter. Perhaps rare enough that He finally free us all from this dark, inky abyss."
Henry desperately attempted to buck Sammy off of him, but Sammy merely tightened his hold and rested heavier against Henry.
"I won't let you slip away."
Henry pushed at Sammy's inky hands, making a final attempt to dislodge the music director's fingers from around his neck. But Sammy's hold was unbreakable. Henry finally just let his eyes close, sagging backward against the crate. He was ready to resign himself to this being another failed loop, when the pressure around his neck suddenly loosened all at once.
Sammy let out an unnervingly inhuman snarl at being interrupted.
Henry sucked in several grateful breaths of air even as he grimaced at the ache he felt. Leaning against the crate, hand to his throat, Henry coughed hoarsely as he saw Boris attempting to restrain Sammy.
Interestingly enough, the searcher with the bowler hat had finally showed up, and was currently wrapped around Sammy's torso, one of its arms pinning one of Sammy's own. The toon wolf desperately took hold of and held on to the music director's right arm.
"You dare interrupt me from carrying out His will?" Sammy was clearly displeased by this setback and desperation made him fight back. The inky man's rants become louder, as if to attract the ink demon with the din. "He will destroy the non-believers! Make those who would dare prevent such an offering from being made vanish from this plane of existence! Unhand me at once, before He comes!"
Henry dug uselessly through the ink for his axe but didn't have enough time at the moment to locate it. Sammy's axe was too far away to chance going for without having to turn his back on the inky man. Henry wasn't about to take that risk. Not after the near-strangulation he'd just gone through.
"I will deal with you both later!" Sammy suddenly broke away from both Boris and the searcher, the music director all but throwing himself toward Henry, hands outstretched. "I will not let such a rare offering run free!"
Henry had only seconds to make his decision, barely managing to dodge out of the way as Sammy hit the crate instead of him.
Sammy grasped at the ropes to push himself away from the crate, only to have Henry show up alongside him with an inky length of rope. It had broken off from the crate from an earlier axe strike.
"Sorry." Henry wasn't really, considering what had just happened, and how sore his throat was. But he was sorry that the man had lost his mind to the ink. Henry swiftly looped the rope around, pinning Sammy's hands, wrists and forearms to the other ropes that were there and secured it with a few sloppy knots.
Sammy let out a disgruntled gasp, as if not expecting to be the one who was caught.
"The crate!" Henry backed away as Sammy began to strain against the rope to free his hands and forearms. Satisfied that Sammy wouldn't get free any time soon, Henry turned and called over to the Boris that was there. "The crate!" Henry repeated. "Send it up!"
Boris waved a hand in acknowledgement, and oddly enough, it seemed like the toon wolf was almost pleased to pull the lever that brought the crate up into the air.
Sammy let out a pained yelp as his feet left the ground, his weight held by his hands and arms that were still bound to the crate. The music director clung to the crate, muttering unintelligibly until he finally quieted apart from a cross-sounding exhalation.
Henry was uncertain if this meant that the man was open to being spoken to, or if Sammy was merely attempting to figure out what to do next. Henry jolted in surprise when a lost one made an appearance next him and offered him a...dust pan. Henry took it, at a loss for a moment, especially because of the lost one's appearance on this floor. Then, Henry realized that he was holding a metal dust pan. He wondered if it was the same one that Sammy used to knock him out in the past many loops.
"You delay the inevitable. My lord will have His offering. I will offer you to Him, even if I must drag you to Him myself!" Sammy writhed and kicked the air, as he attempted to free his stuck arms.
Henry didn't think that the dust pan would exactly solve what to do in the moment. But with Sammy still up and out of range, Henry looked away from the music director and over to Boris, who had moved to stand in front of the lever that would drop the crate down.
"Not yet." Henry said to the toon wolf, who merely gave a single nod. Henry turned his attention back to Sammy, and saw that the man was still desperately twisting to and fro to get free.
It didn't take very long.
"You will not stop me. This is only a minor setback." Sammy soon loosened the ropes with his erratic movement. In a remarkable display of strength, Sammy clung to the side of the crate as he freed first one arm and then his other, before he hoisted himself onto the top of the crate. Sammy looked down as he pointed at Henry with a rather dramatic flourish. "The ritual must be completed! I will not allow anyone, human or toon, deter me from what must be done!"
"Boris, drop it." Henry said grimly, as he grasped the dust pan firmly in hand. "Now!"
Sammy let out a cry as the crate unexpectedly dropped beneath him. Sammy hit the crate hard enough upon its meeting with the ground that his mask went flying off. Sammy's arms flailed but after the rough landing, he ended up falling off the crate to land face first into the ink below with a tacky-sounding splash.
Henry went over as quickly as he could, even as Sammy, groaning, pushed himself to his hands and knees in a woozy sort of way.
Sammy hadn't vanished within the ink.
Henry took aim, and then swung the dust pan as hard as he could, smacking Sammy hard over the back of his head.
Sammy instantly crumpled and dropped into the ink again, almost vanishing from sight but for the ink soaked trousers and suspenders. Thankfully, the mad raves had been silenced for the time being.
Henry let out a slow sigh, lowering the dust pan. That had felt good, considering all of the avoiding Henry normally had to do with his pursuers.
"What is going on? This isn't the same as before." Henry looked away from the unconscious Sammy to glance between Boris, the searcher with the hat, and lost one that was hugging themselves tightly. Since none of them moved, Henry took the opportunity to pass the dust pan back to the lost one, and went to locate his axe. Henry dragged his foot around in the ink around where he had lost his axe, but soon found it. Henry wiped the ink off the handle of the axe as best he could, before turning to the inky brings and toon standing there, all of them staring at him. "You should all leave while he is unconscious." Henry waved his free hand in Sammy's general direction.
The music director was still face-down in the ink, unmoving.
Boris shook his head as he stepped forward and stopped to awkwardly lift Sammy up out of the ink. A few weak coughs and hacks sputtered out of Sammy from being pulled out of the ink, before he quieted. The music director sagged in the toon wolf's arms, mercifully still unconscious.
Boris looked up at Henry, and, shifting his hold on the limp Sammy, poked the music director's head, pointed to himself, the searcher, and then finally to Henry. The toon did not include the lost one, as the inky being had already wandered off to leave them to whatever it was they were doing. Boris repeated the gestures when Henry didn't respond straight away.
"I'm sorry. I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me." Henry told Boris apologetically.
The searcher lurched through the ink to a blank wall.
Henry stared as words were written. He sucked in a sharp breath, disbelieving.
We remember. Sammy remembers. But the ink. It runs deep.
"Who..." Henry let out a slow sigh as he shouldered the axe. "Who are you?"
Lyricist Jack. The searcher paused and then added. Boris is Wally.
"So some of you do remember who you used to be. But did you remember any time before this loop?" Henry murmured, more to himself than to the inky beings. With a weary sigh, Henry forced himself to get down to business, despite the fact that he was immensely curious over just how much the other two recalled. "I don't suppose either of you have any ideas about what to do with Sammy? We need to make sure he doesn't attack us when he wakes up."
Boris, or rather, Wally, offered Henry a mischievous smile, so unlike the toon wolf whose image he held.
"I'll take that as a yes." Henry couldn't help but offer a small smile in return. "Well then, let's get to it, before Sammy wakes up."
Wally hefted Sammy up, before he gave up getting him over a shoulder. Wally began to half drag, half carry the unconscious music director along.
Henry trailed after Wally, as the searcher with the bowler hat, who claimed to be Jack the lyricist, went along with him at his side.
This was different.
Henry couldn't help but start to feel a spark of hope return to him. This was much different than before, but would he find that to be a good or bad thing in the long run? Henry supposed he would soon find out, as he entered the infirmary again, and looked around.
Now...to make certain that Sammy wasn't going to have an easy time securing an 'offering' for the ink demon upon waking.
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A/N: I'm assuming most people have their own ideas of what Henry looks like, so I'm being purposely vague for now-in the next chapter there's a bit of a description for him, but otherwise it's open, due to all the interpretations I've seen around.
I'm personally kind of in the mind set of a middle age to older Henry (50s/60s) whose fashion sense is comfortable clothing (maybe sweaters and dress slacks?) but again, if people have something firmly pictured, have at it- I'm mainly interested in trying to keep as ic as I can.