75- Goliath
"From the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I…" - Psalm 61:2
"This is all your FAULT!"
That's what Alice Angel screamed as Sammy was knocked back by a punch dead into the side of his face. A yelp, a skid, and a splatter, and then Sammy was left with his legs outstretched, one arm dangling limp in front of a leaning torso and the other pointlessly coming up to feel where her knuckles hit- as if whether or not his body shed ink would even matter. As much as Sammy loathed himself- certainly more than any purely human body would allow- Alice's response left him utterly perplexed…-
…And considering how strained and stressed their limited time was now, totally outraged.
"How could I have stopped the ink demon from ripping her out of my arms?!" Sammy demanded, balling his own fists not to hit back but to prepare himself for retaliation.
And it came. Just as he shouted back, this very same upset would bounce right back at him, her voice echoing not only down the hall but straight into his heart and head.
"That's not what I meant, and you KNOW it, you damn bastard!"
With Sammy having stumbled backwards with her blow before, its deliverer had plenty of space to step down from the stage, literally stooping down to his level. Her approach- her still clutched fists by her sides- forced the man to take a step back, and then… then came something she had kept inside for a long, long time, even as many two voices in one still straining to accept what they carried off her tongue.
"YOU…lulled her into trusting the demon- into trusting this…hell!" the angel began to seethe, blame twisting her expression into a scowl. "When I first saw her- saw her coming to me on her own after knowing you decided she's somehow yours…I was so scared. Back then, I was scared she was like Henry- that she would simply…take from me, too, and that since you even encouraged her to know the ink demon, that maybe she would in some foolish hope take from me for his sake. But now I realize…there's SO much more to be afraid of than that, and I still managed to pick the wrong reason to fear."
As one voice strayed into the other back and forth- like rocking from one train of thought into another- one eye and one socket pinched together into something that resembled Susie more than Alice had allowed herself to show before…no less in front of the man that took not only a superficial shred of joy so many decades ago the angel could have used before crossing into their limbo…but also, she believed, he who permitted another woman to be taken from the little she had left, too.
"She had a safe place. She could have stayed. God, she could have STAYED in your PATHETIC hidey hole and never look back upon the rest of this wretched world that wished her DEAD! But she wanted to leave…of course, she wanted to leave. We all do. And you trusted the demon so much that you felt her safe to fly into the spider's web all on her own…"
Of course, this web referred to Alice- the black widow of the studio's dusty cobwebs- but finally as Sammy studied her face, watching her justified rant, something clawed inside him that this could be other dangers too. The searchers, the butchers, the…-
And with satisfaction, she set forth one final sentence to finish fabricating that worry into reality just for him to bask in, surrounding him with not only the truth but with the worst of it…that he deserved to hear:
"…But you should have been terrified all along that the demon would finish what he started."
The silence was all-consuming, almost as much as Sammy's deity and his craving for lost souls to drag to the puddles had proven to be. It wasn't only in spite of his care for the woman but alongside it that the man had abided by such folly. He protected her by the definition of caring not only her body but her heart; so easily was he swayed by her desires to be at peace with the world in which she was trapped for who knows how long.
…But now they knew how long could maybe be so, very short thanks to his and Francine's assurance in the demon, and so the angel prepared her finishing strike for someone already down for the count. Maybe so much venom had been released in their last meeting in her explanation for hating him in the past, but now she had one concise truth for why she hated him now.
"You are a shepherd, my dear, naïve Lawrence," she spitefully, ragefully relished to inform him as the worst of possibilities came true, "And you led your lamb to the slaughter."
Something so long coming- something he sang and prayed for day after day for decades, desired himself to pass- should not have landed upon his shoulders and knock wind from his lungs as suddenly as it did.
In that second, everything he had done- all the sense it made to him, all the intricate strings that wove together the flowing cloth of fate made from each decision, each thought, each emotion that led up to this moment…-
…Didn't make sense to him at all.
It was like walking upon a path and looking back only to find that the view behind was nothing like looking ahead, even if you were already there to witness it. But despite the chaos of a racing mind, there was one distinct belief that made its way to his tongue in a desperate attempt to explain it all, to justify what led him here, and without his friend:
"…I just wanted her to be happy."
So quietly muttered, so shameful like sin. And as he said it, he realized that so long ago…he was right. When Francine's decided to journey for the demon, Sammy simply looked on and thought to himself that maybe being happy isn't as important as the patience of faith. Of course, he too, eventually, tried to search for happiness like she, and what did that make him?
Hardly happy at all.
But even if Alice knew his story, it wouldn't stop her from driving the point home like a knife in his chest- that was what he deserved after sentencing her to a life sentence in the same purgatory they've had… that they prayed she could avoid, hope against hope.
"Well now she can be happy being dead. That is…unless we still have time to do something about it."
Somehow a statement both relieving- she'd help, Alice would help-! And yet so very, very grave, reeking with death either coming or already starting to rot as they idled about to speak.
Skeptical, the seraph took yet another step forward- scrutinizing, flickering her one eye up and down in a lack of assurance while the gaping holes in her head somehow seemed to beg he not even receive a chance to explain himself.
"I…do assume you coming to me can only mean you must doubt your…'lord's' decision to take her?" Even if it was inflected as a question, both could see through the shadows the truth of her words; if there was any lack of assurance that he wasn't ready to do something- dare it be said something against what his god willed…- she might be as good as gone no matter what they tried.
Of course, a man whose life was painted by the brush of faith never framed a picture like before, much less on his desperate way to see the keeper of his last hope. After all, the heresy of suicide to a soul such as his already gone was very…very different than actively stepping into the destiny God sets forth to take place. His eyes fell to the floor, and silence took over once again, choking his mouth until not even the most guttural, primal of reactions to such violent upheaval of his existence could sound into the dark. Alice normally would have relished such an opportunity- to force him to verbally agree to abandon his god entirely in order to save the woman he protected in his name and, finally, finally hearing him say he was wrong- but there simply wasn't the time. And it seemed like he might be doing it already on his own.
"Good," the angel answered to promises unspoken.
"…Where do we begin?" he finally answered with a hush hardly a whisper, so hollowed with the idea of disobeying and yet unsure how to go on any other way. His mask- that mask, the one a master had bestowed upon his prophet so he may gaze upon glory- it was now being used to accept and ponder in his heart what Sammy had always considered evil.
Sharply, however, one gloved hand raised up with a point intended to silence, the other coming to her chin in contemplation. As level as she appeared, panic crawled her skin inside out, shaking her insides already so delicately and barely put together in the first place. This was serious; of course, so many of her efforts constantly threatened with the waiting arms of the puddles and starting all over again were grave matters, too...
But with Francine, however, it wasn't coming back that was the trouble. It's different to start over as Alice did into a base state, but Francine? Truly starting over is what this first, most crucial death would be, becoming something with absolutely nothing left that was her own.
Everything Alice cherished and had privately, secretively wished to maintain- that had survived despite inky death's disgusting reach for the girl's soul…
That was at stake.
Alice couldn't be human again. She knew it. But she still treasured that which she had strived so hard to emulate, and for the young woman's body to die but her soul to live on- to be…connected to the wails and aches and the god-DAMN sensation of your mind swirling and swirling away forever into nothingness…-!
"Shut up and let me think!" she barked, uncaring if it was really at he or her own trepidation.
Heart racing and lips slightly parted, the man with no ideas yet so many, many clambering worries was helpless but to watch the wisdom he called upon pace the room, her growing panic radiating until he began to fear himself if she who purposefully tempted and toyed with the demon before had any wisdom about him at all.
Snap!
Both her fingers and her posture changed to fit this word; briefly, the image of this woman drained of color was impressed into Sammy's mind- undeniably, a striking glow about her of determination and a very, very hesitant yet still brilliant hope.
It enthralled him so greatly that it slowed by half a second his reaction to her speeding out of the room. The sight of the dying again Piper flickered in his peripheral before he too left that only witness behind.
"Where are we going?!"
The straying shadows of the halls flew over them one by one like migrating gulls, lines of dullness and glimmerings that played with the tones of oil and paper that built up a man made of ink and a broken doll from discarded mortality. The walls groaned with the sound of the pipes as they weaved down the tight halls and then sprawled out into the room of corpses, like searchers were coming to life inside of them. The gulf of ink seemed to quiver just a little more as the two traversed over wooden plank bridges, like invisible drops were being added slowly, one by one to disrupt the usual stillness of the black lake. She didn't even look back to address Sammy, allowing the click of her shoes and the slosh of his feet to converse in their place until- in the most quiet, willful divulgence of schemes normally kept to herself…-
"There's only ONE thing that even has a sliver of a chance against the ink demon! Only ONE of these monsters among us that has no sense to leave him alone if they happen upon each other…and the only one that has the strength to give the demon anything that even resembles a fight."
Before Sammy knew it, he had followed her into the elevator once again so very soon, watching light gloss the length of her thumb as it jabbed into the button that read "14."
If Sammy had ever been down here, it hadn't been a time he could remember. It was a room that once you stepped out and stood atop of its tower, looking down upon the abyss of ink, it was like entering a giant, gaping wound. While she rushed out, his arrival was slow, gasping as he saw how simply…vast it was before him; it was like looking down upon their universe itself, witnessing ink cover and shine across the floor far below and flow into two rooms he couldn't see into from where he stared.
"Fool! Keep! MOVING!"
Of course, Alice was on edge, but the atmosphere didn't help. There was one pipe in the corner of the massive chamber that continued to drip, drip, drip as she stormed down, down, down.
It was like hearing a clock tick, and each passing second brought with it more and more traces of the possibility this is all for nothing and Francine was already as good as dead. It was so nerve-wracking that she couldn't even recall if that drip was there before in the most recent time she had traversed this forsaken level.
And as Sammy finally scurried down close behind, he would learn that this place felt so ominous to him for a very good reason.
The splash of ink against his legs as he navigated across the wide hall was so haunting, so…emptying; he could feel it- he could feel it trying to pull him back in. He couldn't let that happen. Any day but today. Any time but now. And so against the reaches of the wanting, selfish grasps of the puddles bleeding from the floor into his soul, he ripped his legs again and again up and out until-…
Until…well…he wasn't sure. It seemed endless. His chest felt paralyzed, as if it didn't want him to breathe, and each labored step left him wondering if he could keep up with the angel- who was more and more looking less like a person and more like a flicker of a shape up again. Almost as if his lord's aura was in his mind, once again fading, consuming shadows ate at the corners of his sight.
But at the same time, everything felt so much brighter, too, as the prophet caught these glimpses of the most innocent form his god chose to take.
But then one of the clunky devices that streamed the cartoons moved, and that was when Sammy finally comprehended maybe not where he was but precisely what they had came for.
How funny how you couldn't have given Sammy anything in the world before this moment to get him to agree to see the projectionist by his own accord.
The being Sammy had only come across in either coincidence or thanks to a will not of his own cocked that machine that either replaced a skull of covered it to the side, intense light glowing over a seraph and a preacher until they couldn't even see each other's corrupt faces. Sammy could note, however, that while his own body quaked with fear- aware of this creature that held an incredible, otherworldly ability no one else but his lord possessed, walking through walls with no seeming point besides to terrorize that in his path as he searched for…something, something surely he'd never find down in the depths of hell-…
…Alice was calm. Almost as if his presence was not a danger but a relief.
"Norman."
That lit-up gaze so firmly upon the man struggling to keep an already melting form from sinking into the pool beneath them finally shifted to the woman that called his real, true name. This was a very different meeting than their last; instead of coming alone to confess the everlasting pains in her heart about a man that prodded her into such aching discomfort, she brought him with her.
And looking lost in one way now came across as something totally other.
With a cock of his head that appeared to be listening, Sammy gasped once more as he saw not one pair of hands but two lift as Alice guided fingers much bigger than her own to grasp around her jaw.
"ALICE-!" Sammy instinctively yelped at the contact of such massive, ruthless hands upon her already torn face, but soon he was interrupted by both a one-eyed glare from one person ahead and a mouthless screech of the other. With a grunt he took a step back, shocked and amazed, and the two strange friends stared their spite into him just a second longer before a halo bounced back to face the light.
"I need-" she began, once more, the effort to ease the sound of her own voice obvious, "-You to help us."
A small crackle, Norman's eyeless gape moving from one intruder to the other. Sammy saw her jaw tremble slightly as the projectionist's hands began to roam her face. He assumed that this touch meant he could- unbelievably- attempt to feel her words in place of hearing them, a deaf man finding a way to somehow communicate without ears or a voice of his own.
But of course, he heard Francine almost guess as much herself.
Alice bit back her own uncertainty if after all these years he could ever hear her as they did this at all.
"I need-" she repeated, a firm desperation more tangible as one palm held her cheek and the other grazed over her lips, "-You to help us…fight the demon."
A long, long silence. Perhaps she expected more in response- maybe so did Sammy, but his mulling over that impossible utterance of fighting the demon distracted him enough to not ponder it for long. When nothing more changed but the lingering of dust motes through the gradually dimming ray from Norman's face, Alice decided it was time to get to the point.
And from what she knew of his experience with the mortal woman, Alice hoped it would be enough for the projectionist to agree to a what can only be described as a fool's errand.
"She's gone. Francine. He took her."
A small twitch, his light flickering brighter with a few quiet ticks of machinery, but her eye wasn't squinting and her mouth wasn't grimacing because of anything the metallic man had done. No, it was herself- what she was forcing herself to say just like Sammy did not even thirty minutes before.
Her own hands smoothed over his, begging maybe as much as her voice as his grasp moved one set of fingers towards her eye and horn while the other caressed her cheek.
"The best chance we have to keep her from being killed, too…is you."
As other hearts stayed still upon the floor, the one in Sammy's chest pounded so hard he wasn't sure if nothing more was said after that or if his pulse simply drowned it out. Before him, the monster so painfully slowly began to drop his hands from the angel's face to let them dangle by his sides; if Norman could, in fact, understand language, then surely this would have been a conveying of complete and utter shock.
And it did, indeed, seem to match such a response.
One foot stumbled back.
Then another.
And then another.
Alice found her own arms falling as well with the projectionist's release, and soon she and Sammy were mirrored as they watched at the man and prayed that however he chose to react would be in their-…no, her favor.
And when Norman was a good two meters or so away from the two cursed wanderers that had asked a third to find their fourth, he allowed his light to filter over them until its luster eventually even faded so far as to fall onto the door of the Little Miracle Station, a pathetic piece of wood ripped from its and allowing ink to lap over its edges since the very first time he met Francine.
Alice and Sammy would have believed if they were told their own hearts were dissected and thrown to the floor, too, after the projectionist made use of a power they hoped to have had on their side, the only soul that could even stand a second against Bendy then simply turning to a solid wall and walking right through it to heaven knows where.
So very soon, a man and woman were alone once more as they stood against God himself, the pipe in the distance dripping as it knew fully well they could feel each and every second slip away.