Author's Note: This chapter is part of a two-parter in celebration of the Hymns AU turning a year old on November 9 (or tomorrow, as I am posting this). Expect the next chapter tomorrow on the anniversary! It's going to be very special.
76- A Jealous God
"Then the LORD said to Moses, 'Stretch out your hand toward the sky so that darkness spreads over Egypt – darkness that can be felt.'" – Exodus 10:21
They didn't have time for futile feelings, Sammy found as he and the angel began marching once again down the corridors of paper, wood, and ink.
"So we are simply going to keep…wandering like this until he comes?" Incredulous, almost biting. Wasting time-! Was this the best they could do?!
"Yes. He'll come. He always comes when I'm out too long." It's simply a matter of fact, but still spoken so bitterly from a woman cursed to never feel free to leave her shelter, be it the demon, the searchers, or the gang. "Either that or we…find him first."
A pause.
"And her," she added, maybe an assurance more for herself than to him.
"…I don't…expect her to be with him if he does come to greet us," Sammy confessed.
"Me neither. But it's this and hoping we can reach back to where he took her from there…or nothing…well, besides destroying those infernal cutouts. But we're no help to Francine in the puddles if we decide to pick a fight with him."
How ironic, considering they plead with Norman to try to do so only moments before. But having the demon mad at him as they tried to reach Francine would have been far different from having the god become enraged at them.
Having no idea what the projectionist left to do- if his escape was a conscious decision or merely one like overwhelming a nonsentient beast, the angel and prophet united only for love of one unlike them both were helpless but to be vulnerable in hopes that somehow, this would set her free-
A flicker of light from a crossroads a long distance away.
Alice gasped and felt hair hit the side of her face with her jump, and Sammy felt his skin crawl in anticipation.
…
…
Nothing more.
With renewed urgency, a hand reached back for Sammy and lurched him forward as she continued the same way, ensuring he was dragged behind even despite his melting, stressed body and unsureness of faith and what having it was meant to be. Almost as if it existed to heighten her own rising panic, Alice Angel noticed little things in their world getting louder and louder, more and more upset just like she.
The dripping of ink was faster.
The creaks of the floorboards threatened more and more a desire to break beneath them.
Everything was darker, and no shadow stood still.
…Something was not right.
Another noise, another light causing the two to jump once more and skid to a halt. Alice put a finger to her shredded lips, and Sammy's flat eyes searched about in prayer that their lord's inky webbing would crawl over the walls once more.
…
…A small noise. A single footstep, a falling board?
…
…
Nothing more.
And despite Sammy's trepidation, they moved towards the noise instead of away.
"Demon…!" his new companion taunted in a sing-song tone, swallowing back her fear to try to sound as coy as possible. "I'm wandering all alone! I thought that was a sin. Won't you come see…?"
Sammy cringed, and so did Alice, but the demon still did not come.
Or maybe he had, because a hallway they had surely crossed before now only had a blank wall where a path used to be.
Usually nothing so weighty fell upon studio floors, was on its own so loud and invasive. In some ways, it was a blessing that Norman choose the refuge of his cove; the ink muted his heavy steps, the walls didn't carry his screeching voice, and the maze kept him busy, busy, busy- ambling eternally with ever-changing sensations and stimuli for a mindless being to react to with only the interruption of those foolish enough to knowingly travel down and step in his way.
As the projectionist chose now, though, to leave the presence of the two who sought him out, one could only wonder if that was a decision of logical sense or merely physical sense. Was he out here, looking for Francine as they plead for? Was he upset at the news, and unwilling to banish them from his lair simply left it himself to grieve a woman surely lost to the same ink that took him too? Or did he even know or feel anything at all, and merely was confronted with too much at once- like an animal backing into a corner and escaping to anywhere- anything- that would relieve the overwhelm of not one visitor but an unheard of two?
Kismets must have found it did not matter, as it all turned out the same regardless.
The studio noticed this deviance- this…difference. It was unsettling. It was unsure.
So it sought to correct it, now that there be a need. There couldn't be chances- not now, especially not now.
A small sputter erupted from the speaker in the headless man's chest as his gleaming, seeing ray of light turned a corner and fell upon a wall. Now, normally this was nothing so unsettling to Norman; previously he'd had staggered into one of who knows how many dead-end nooks in his labyrinth. When such happened, all that would occur in response was a short stare- a contemplation of the texture of wood bars, of hearts and corpses left upon the floor- and he'd eventually set forth once more the way he came.
But this was different.
He may not have known this new maze like the back of his ink-soaked hand, but even the basest of sensations couldn't mistake what he witnessed.
Unquestionably, just a sliver of a second- Norman caught the wall ahead as it finished building itself up in front of a path that went far further than it intended him to go.
Maybe it was because he knew something was behind it.
Maybe he was merely frustrated.
Regardless, the pipes carried all of the sound, force, and fury of a man that didn't want to be contained by no choice but his own, releasing the cracking of wood underneath slamming knuckles and a cry so loud it could break glass.
Sammy felt the noise crawl up his spine, the distant thump of something crashing in the distance; it sounded the way aching bones felt- somehow distant yet close, softened yet sharp. A yelp escaped his lips and made him jump in place, shoulders tensing and fingers parting as his mask turned every which way, searching for its direction.
As he did, however, he noticed the darkness at the edge of his sight- always there but not always blinding- grow a more prominent border around his vision.
But a coming obscuring had arrived to late, and Sammy finally noticed what Alice did.
"Something isn't right."
The black and white angel thrown from heaven into hell knew very well what the latter was like. This world may have been terrible, but it had been calm. Calm ever since Henry finally left one way or another.
She got a taste of it slipping back previously, when Francine ran and ran down the path of the demon, the universe falling apart under her feet. Such revelation as it appeared again now made her eye widen with fear, as if it caught in its reflection the truth not seen with eyes alone. A whisper, a whisper of something she didn't know she had always prayed to never live through once more:
"It's happening all over again."
Any further revelation or explanation to the man beside was interrupted, a familiar but so much more haunting croak travelling much too far, much too clear for physical possibilities. The breaking pipes carried the utterances of beasts, and in a single moment one by one the pipes that lined the ceiling burst open in upset.
In prevention of their meeting and finding whatever turmoil lay ahead, the flurry of ink closed in from a crack, crack, CRACK from either side of the hallway, trapping the two in place.
Surely the ink was going to rain down upon them, and being made from the same blood as the machine they were to simply melt away-
No.
When the final break occurred- two ends inevitably meeting right where they stood, the ink blinded them, pushed them down…
And pulled away from their eyes to somewhere they couldn't cause trouble.
Flailing arms couldn't push back a flood, and shouts couldn't fight back the rush of liquid void.
It had never been so obvious in all their lives that the studio itself seemed to have a mind and magic far beyond whatever curse penetrated to their own souls as the spitting ink swallowed them and blew them away from the entrails of the building into the clearing of Heavenly Toys, even when it was nowhere in sight.
Norman's fist flew once more into the wall, its wood texture and smiling poster doing nothing to deter the violence of a man interfered.
A lack of response only seemed to stir up more from him; his fingers pulled in and out at their knuckles with either pain, stiffness, or a desire for improvement from a hand that failed not once but twice to destroy the barrier ahead.
With either bone or mechanics crackling in it, too, his giant hand pulled back, clenched once more, and aimed dead center for that Bendy's teasing grin.
…Crack!
…Crack!
…Crack-
And the glove of the demon reached out hold a leathery fist at bay, not even half an inch from contacting a flat, unmoving smile.
Right before him, that same face staggered into reality, the projectionist greeted by a swarm of pulsing black stains and rainfall of ink as a shape used his form as an anchor to drag itself out of the page.
The dancing demon finally came out to play.
Somehow far too quiet and way too loud, the entrance of the toy shop making a man and woman feel like they were dolls simply placed to and fro with the whim of a child.
At first it was overwhelming to the point they froze as if they couldn't move on their own. So tall. So empty. Only plushes, cutouts, stairs, and seats to say hello while Sammy and Alice lifted themselves, coughing out ink even though the same material made their own lungs. The room didn't hold a touch of the halls they were within just a second before, and distantly, once again, cries rang out that were surely unhuman.
But if Alice was an incomplete doll still sewing itself together, then she was not to be played with, and with that along with the fire inside that swept over her brighter and stronger with each wind of change- each second of precious humanity ticking away- precious humanity she had only begun to know she cherished- it was gone, IT'S GOING TO BE GONE, SHE IS GOING TO DIE UNLESS-
Sammy flew back once again not with a physical force but with the shock, with the fear of destroying what was sacred as Alice attacked the nearest cutout with her bare hands. Going in one direction didn't last long, however, as Sammy either in instinct or common sense threw him around her arms, gripping her wrists tight as the woman's fingers clawed as he held them in the air.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
The broken half of her face came to see him, hatred for the image ahead burning once more for the same upon his mask.
Determination.
Even for a woman defined by that word- fighting and working every day for her life to be what she wanted to be- this was a moment where maybe never before had it meant so much to her.
"PUDDLES BE DAMNED! I ALREADY LOST IT ALL! I'M GOING TO BRING HIM TO ME EVEN IF I HAVE TO DIE AGAIN TO DO IT! NOW LET-"
Her elbow swung forward.
"-GO OF ME!"
Her elbow swung back, a blow right into chest that forced Sammy to loosen his grip and stagger.
And Alice set forth to scar and demolish the face of the demon until it stopped him from doing the same to Francine.
Yet another cry from Norman Polk, either disturbed or satisfied as he finally could let loose ferocity against a being that would fight back.
Exchange for exchange, tooth and nail from a creature with one and a creature with the other. The sounds of violence filled the air with voiceless utterances and flesh pounding against something not skin.
But nothing is mightier than a god, not even those without the sense to run while they still could.
Thud, thud-
Smack!
Something akin to a car crash rang as a projector head was thrown back, something like the screech of brakes sounding as the demon wrapped a paw around his neck.
And placed the other on the source of his searchlight.
A quick jerk upward and a decapitation-
…
…
Left unfinished.
Norman scrambled up to his feet as soon as he hit the floor, but it wasn't in time. The demon silently made his leave, the projectionist's hands pounding into a wall just as the coming darkness ate the lord's presence and faded as soon as it came…
…Only for it to return.
Sammy noticed it first, but of course he would.
A prophet knows his god.
"My- my lord, my-!"
He couldn't even finish.
But Alice could.
Gasping for air with the effort of destruction, Alice's gaze became sharp with dread-
But then, a smile sliced into her face.
"Demon…there you are."
She wasn't even sure what she was going to next. The desperation of a moment left blank an actual plan for a woman usually so cunning, so ready for anything.
But even as she didn't prepare for this, for once she felt in control and allowed herself to relish it before decades of work went to waste.
Sammy's misshapen foot stepped back, trailing ink underneath like a paintbrush as anxiety took his voice and left him unable to act besides clutching a hand to his chest and wait.
Wait as the aura of their lord swallowed them.
But Alice stood tall against it.
She had had it. All he could do was put her back to the beginning, to send her back to the puddles. She framed that as the worst, and it emboldened her to go beyond where she had ever gone.
The shadow of the demon loomed over her, raspy breath falling upon her. Closer, closer, closer-
But then something.
Something.
Something.
It wasn't a sound, a sight, or a feeling. It was simply…there- tangible only to the powers of God, and something changed everything. The splatter shooting up the walls- over the corners of the ballroom for playthings- retracted as fast as a sudden step back.
He stared a second longer before once again leaving prey untouched.
A smile never withered so fast.
"N-no!" At first hopeless, helpless- but then sadness and confusion upon her face warped into comprehension.
He left for a reason. There must be a reason, something strong enough to distract him from delivering his wrath.
…Francine-!
And before Sammy could react Alice lunged for another cutout, believing her still to be alive, believing she could bring him back…
…But belief wasn't enough. Instead of a demon, she brought a storm. As nails streaked off paint from one toon's flat face, its angle curved not because of her wrist but because of her feet falling beneath her.
The world itself quaked.
The sign of "Heavenly Toys" teetered with the trembling universe, a cutting squeak before it crashed to the floor.
The fountain of ink exploded like a volcano to cover every last inch with its black.
But instead of drowning and crushing, disaster behaved like a broken heart.
And the world as they hardly knew it crumbled away.