Welcome to Bendyland Chapter 8: The Blueprints, the Walkways, and the Light in the Darkness
The rain all but disappeared by the next morning, leaving only a few gray, puffy clouds littering the sky. Floods of people crowded back into the park, umbrellas shoved into backpacks and purses just in case the clouds tried to ruin family plans again. It was Saturday, which meant the park would be full of families and weekenders who had traveled down from nearby towns to spend some time in the park where dreams come true.
It also meant that Joey would be showcasing new attractions and rides to potential investors. He would be preoccupied for most of the morning. Shows were booked from the end of the parade to near closing time, so the toons would be occupied as well.
Needless to say, the only one who didn't seem to have something to do was Allison herself. Sammy had taken a rare vacation day, so she was left to her own devices. She was grateful for more reasons than one. The last thing she wanted was to see Sammy. He was just another monster in this game, one she definitely didn't feel like she could trust. It hurt, knowing that Sammy was the Follower. She'd always trusted Sammy, even with his narcissistic personality. She liked being around him, listening to him talk, and voicing her own concerns. But no. He was another piece in this park, and she couldn't risk being around him more than she had to.
She recorded a few songs on her own, mostly just to keep as proof that she'd been working and not just wondering the park. Which is what she was doing now, as a matter of fact. She lingered on the outskirts of a new roller coaster being built, the Bendy-Whirl. A spinning ride where the carts that seated four would turn and spin up and down hills at fairly high speeds. It was an ambitious project, and had already received quite a bit of funding, so it was no surprise to Allison that this is where she found Bertrum, leaning over a table with blueprints sprawled out on his work-desk. It was a movable desk, not that Bertrum ever did any of the heavy lifting himself. It moved around on wheels and followed him from job to job, or sat stationed outside of his main office in the studio. Joey had to pay a pretty penny to get Bertrum to agree to work with the park full-time. The man was an architectural artist, and he could have easily worked for amusement parks the world over.
But, just like many of the workers here, Bertrum was swept in by Joey Drew's dreams and grand ideas. They didn't use to get along at all, the two of them. Bertrum would scoff at Joey's big ideas, remark how impossible they were in reality, and then they would argue and fight and it would end with Bertrum demanding money for the dreams Joey cooked up or he'd leave and Joey's never see him again.
Allison often wondered what would have happened if Joey hadn't succeeded in getting that last loan for the ink machine, from a partnership with Gent, of all things. They'd worked closely with the studio before, but Allison never saw much of them. Just a tight-suited man or woman now and then, smiling and shaking hands with Joey, but that was it. If that last loan hadn't gone through, if the ink machine hadn't worked to bring those little cartoons to life, what would have happened? Would the old studio be abandoned, left behind, nothing else roaming its empty halls but a straw paper or ink puddle?
She sighed. She'd probably be curled up at home with another job, happy and content, grabbing lunches with Tom, maybe even going on a date or two, and the horrors of this place would be a long forgotten and non-existent memory.
But that wasn't her reality. Bertrum was still here, closer to Joey than ever, the two of them often meeting in quiet corners to discuss new ride ideas and map out possible attractions for the following tourist season.
He was exactly who she needed to talk to for the first step of her plan.
Allison slid underneath the cautionary tape and leaned up against the fence diving the construction area from the rest of the park. "Hello? Mister Bertrum Piedmont?"
"Whatever is it now, can't you see I'm busy?" the man scowled under his breath, not even looking up. "If you want to know how to get to another area of the park, or when the showtimes are, please go bother someone else doing something less important than me!" he grumbled.
"No, I'm not- ugh...my name is Allison Pendle. I work here, I'm the voice for Alice Angel?"
"And your point is?" he retorted back. "Whatever you need, I doubt it concerns me, Miss Alice."
Allison bit her tongue, forcing back a snide remark. But no, she could keep her tongue in check, she was prepared for this. She was aware of Bertrum's infamous attitude, especially while he was working.
And she also knew Bertrum's one weakness.
"I'm so sorry to bother you," she said. "I just, well, I'm a huge fan of your work."
He stiffened, tilting his head ever so slightly away from his papers.
Gotcha.
"I know it sounds silly, but I just love these rides so much, and more than that, each one is so unique! I mean, I've been to all kinds of amusement parks, but the rides here really are one-of-a-kind! I guess I just really wanted to talk to the mind behind them, but I understand if you're busy, I'm so terribly sorry for bothering you Mister Piedmont." She turned away from his work.
"W-Well, as it were, I was just about to go on break for a moment. I suppose I could indulge a few questions from a fan."
Allison resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead plastering on her widest smile.
Play to your strengths, Allison. Your cute smile. Your girlish giggle. You're nothing if not a talented actress.
She spun back around, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. "Really? Oh you promise it's not too much of a bother? I'd be more than happy to buy you lunch!"
Bertrum smiled at her. She could already see the red in his cheeks, the way his eyes glanced her up and down slightly. He wasn't used to getting this much attention, certainly not from a woman. His hands found his pockets, and she wondered how his fat fingers could even hold his pen. She tried not to be too repulsed as he opened the gate to the fence and walked over to her, smelling of sweat and sawdust. His thinning hair was combed back over his head, and his little mustache looked more than a little greasy. He leaned in and smiled. "Oh no no no, a sweet little lady like yourself can't possibly pay for lunch, but I'd be more than happy to take you out to eat."
He probably thought he was being charming, but Allison felt her heart squirm in her chest, like worms were wiggling beneath her skin. She hated this feeling. She'd worked damn hard up until now to get into this industry, to be treated as a professional based on her talents and not just her looks. It was extra hard as an actress, where looks seemed to be everything. And every time she made herself up in the mirror in the mornings, she had to tell herself it was for her own benefit, and not for the favor of men whose eyes lingered in all the wrong places. But sometimes, it was hard. It was. She second-guessed herself when she wore her favorite skirt. Did it show too much skin? Did her blouse show too much cleavage? Was it wrong if she wanted it to, was it wrong if she didn't? If she knew that it might help her get more attention?
Tom. Oh Tom. That was another reason she liked him so much. They'd met in the pouring rain, with makeup running down her face as she held a raggedy newspaper over her head, trying to hail a cab home. She'd had a long day. Joey had made a snide comment about her voice, and she'd gone to the bathroom to cry in peace, debating with herself on whether this whole acting thing was even worth it even more. The rain was welcome. It covered up her red cheeks.
Tom had come up beside her with an umbrella, asking her if she were alright, if she needed to borrow his umbrella. She said no, she wasn't sure why, maybe because she was tired of men doing everything for her all day long. It was rude, and she didn't like being rude, but sometimes it just felt nice to not have to smile and be a perfect little angel all the time.
So he'd shrugged, wished her a good night, and headed out into the rain with his umbrella.
It was the first time in a while Allison felt like she had been listened to and not looked down on for her decision, silly as it was.
The next time she saw him, working under the walkways of the park, he probably hadn't recognized her, but she recognized him and struck up a conversation. He did remember her. She expected some sort of comment about her in the rain, about her being rude. But he didn't. He just asked if she was alright. Wanted to make sure she hadn't caught a cold in that storm. When she said no, they moved on with their conversation. He didn't pry. Didn't make a comment about how she shouldn't have been out by herself. He instead asked her if she liked the rain.
She did. She said as much. And he had smiled. He said he liked it too, because it washed the ink from his clothes.
It was...nice.
Allison clenched her hands into fists, but quickly hid them behind her back so Bertrum wouldn't see.
This was for Tom. And as sick as it made her feel, she was willing to use whatever assets she had to get more information. Even if it meant kissing ass and batting her eyelashes. Even if it meant she didn't like her reflection tonight when she washed the makeup off her face. It was for Tom, and Allison promised herself that if she could find him, if he was still alive and she could get him out of here, they'd run away together to a place where all of this would be nothing but a bad dream.
Henry drummed his fingers on his work desk. Did he really want to get an old friend wrapped up in all of this? Not that he could really call the two of them friends. Old coworkers was more accurate. He'd ask why Henry called. It wasn't like Henry to dig up the past, and even if this was important, he just wasn't sure if he wanted to get him involved. It didn't feel right somehow, considering how much they'd worked with each other. He was another one there, in the beginning, when Joey started all of this. If Henry was the artist and Joey was the dreaming businessman, then Norman Polk was the brains behind their little studio. No one knew how to operate the film reels and lighting like he did, and helped their creations come to life on the screen.
One call wouldn't hurt. Just one call, just one to check in and see if everything was alright, if things were really as bad as Allison made them out to be.
He wasn't sure what he'd do once he had his answer either way, but just one call couldn't hurt.
He dialed the numbers on the landline, heard the phone ring and trill a few moments before it clicked and Norman's rough, gravely voice answered.
"Y'ello?"
"Norman?"
"Wha...well I'll be darned. Henry? Henry Stein?"
Henry smiled. "Hey Norman."
"Lord Almighty, it's sure been a while since I've heard your voice. What can I do you for, Henry? It ain't like you to call out of the blue like this."
Henry ran a hand through his hair. "Have you...have you noticed anything odd going on in the studio lately, Norman?"
"Odd? Whatcha mean?"
"Well I...I had this woman come by my house today. Miss Allison Pendle."
"Oh yeah, she's the voice for that there Alice Angel. Can't say I've talked to her much myself, but I know of her. Everybody knows of her." There were rustling noises on the other end of the line, like Norman was pulling a chair out and taking a seat.
"She told me there were some odd things going on at the studio. Now listen, I don't want her to get in trouble. And I know...well, you said it yourself once, Norman. Projectionists see a lot. Sometimes more than they should. I guess I was just wondering if I should be worried about what's going on down there at the park."
There was a lot of silence on the other end of the line. Silence and static that made Henry swallow a lump in his throat.
"Norman?"
He sighed. Henry heard the creak of weight on wood, and rustling. "How's your wife doing, Henry?" Norman said, his voice low.
"I...s-she's good. Just had our baby girl."
"And you wouldn't do anything to risk the life you have now, right?" Norman asked. Henry had to press his ear to the phone in order to hear him now.
"Of course not. They're my everything."
"'Course they are. And that's good. You're a good guy, Henry, always had a lot going for you. You're smarter than the rest of us. You got out while you still could. A part of your gut said that you should get out, stay away, and you listened to it."
"What are you getting at, Norman?"
"Listen to your gut, Henry," Norman said, and Henry could hear the waver in his voice. "Listen to your gut, and stay out there in the light. Don't seek out the darkness. You'll find too much of it here in this studio. And please, for my sake too, don't call me again."
There was a loud click, and then Norman was gone, leaving Henry with a ragged, twisted, ugly feeling in his gut.
Something was very, very wrong.
Allison swept the letters and loose papers from her kitchen table, paying them no mind as they scattered to the floor at her feet. Cheese darted out of the way, running to the safety of Allison's bed, still made from the night before. It called to her, urging her to take just a few moments to rest her eyes, but she kept her back to her bedroom, focusing instead on all of the information she'd managed to gather.
Blueprints from Bertrum. They weren't easy to get, but getting the man a little drunk was easy, and convincing him to let her borrow his blueprints to admire his "work" was even easier. She'd slipped away from him after that, left him trying to wipe the drool off of his face in the restaurant. She made quick work of sketching out rough copies of the plans, just the information that she needed. She knew she couldn't borrow these blueprints for long, so getting the information she needed was necessary.
Walkway and structural maps from Wally. Good old Wally Franks. He was more than willing to help her, more than willing to "stick it to the man" Joey Drew. On top of that, she'd given him a very reasonable excuse. She was always getting lost down in the walkways. Not true, she knew how to get to exactly where she needed to go and nothing more. These maps indicated just how large of an underground expanse this was, and while some rooms weren't labeled, she knew this would be helpful. She could fill in the empty spaces, travel unnoticed from Joey Drew, and maybe, just maybe, find that ink machine. Maybe even find Tom along with it. She couldn't describe it, but she just had this nagging feeling that the two would be connected. Maybe it was the way Tom was always going on about the machine being his creation, even a creation that he regretted. She wasn't sure. But it was a start.
Her plan was coming together, bit by bit. There was only one thing she needed, one thing to really set everything into motion. She needed Joey's contracts with Gent. Gent was their biggest supporter and funder. If Allison could sabotage the park while Gent were visiting for some sort of investment, Joey would never be able to recover. And that's what she needed. She couldn't just loosen a few bolts on rides or linger around underground walkways. No. Any minor damage she did, or anything she tried to expose, Joey would find a way to cover up. Because, as much as she hated to admit it, Joey was brilliant. She needed to hit him where it hurt, and there was no better place the pockets he so eagerly lined.
Expose the park to the public. Find Tom. Cut off Gent's ever-steady flow of money. And this whole place would come crumbling down.
Her plan might just work, even without Henry's help.
Henry. She knew he had to believe her. He had to. And she wanted his help, but...she still couldn't be mad. She still couldn't blame him. And if he didn't want to help her, then that was his choice. She was going to respect that. She just wished she didn't have to go in this alone. Not that she didn't think she could do it by herself, but some company would be appreciated. Someone she could trust.
She couldn't trust Sammy, he was too unpredictable. With the odd way he spoke of Bendy, Allison had a feeling he'd be all too opposed to doing anything that might hurt his inky incarnation. Bertrum was definitely not an option, he was too close to Joey and this park made him too much money. She thought about confessing to Wally, he'd certainly seen a lot over the years, but she didn't want to get any of Tom's old crew wrapped up in this. It felt wrong.
Allison sat down at the table, putting her head in her hands. Her head was pounding. Her heart was pounding. The whole room was spinning and she had to dig her fingers into her hair to keep her from falling over.
Dammit, she was scared. What she was planning to do was crazy. She didn't want to do it alone. She didn't want to do it at all, she just wanted to run away from here. Her eyes glanced over at Tom's recording. She wanted to hear his voice again, but it was all wrong, too scared and too desperate to feel like it was really him. She missed his gruff curses and flushed face anytime she gave him a certain grin. She could always see him trying to keep his composure around her. It was cute. Made her feel worth something.
"Tom...how am I going to do this without you?" she whispered.
A sharp knock on her door jolted her upright.
Had she been found out?
Was Joey here, ready to drag her back to the park, never to leave?
Maybe he'd gotten the police involved, he figured out her meddling and her plans and was ready to arrest her on some false charges...
Allison grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter and held it behind her back. Ready. Waiting. She opened the door just a crack.
"Miss Allison Pendle?"
Her brow furrowed a bit. "Who..who are you?"
The man before her caught her off guard. He was tall, she had to tilt her head up a bit to meet his gaze, and fidgeted quite a bit, his hands never holding still. Thick-framed, circular glasses outlined owlish eyes and freckles. His hair was a mess, looking like he just ran through a wind tunnel. He was a mousy sort of man, if mice were tall and lanky.
"My name is Norman Polk. And I think, well, I'm thinkin' we should talk. I think we might be after the same thing."
Was this a trick? If it was, Joey hadn't exactly sent the most intimidating man.
"I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong person," she started, beginning to close the door when his fingers lurched out and grabbed the edge. His fingertips were black. Stained with ink.
"W-wait! Please! I talked to Henry!"
Allison paused, lingering and letting the door stay open just a crack.
"He told me you came and asked questions. He wanted to know if what you said was true. I knew it was, but I couldn't get Henry involved, not now that he's got a family and all. But I also just couldn't sit by, knowing there was someone else out there, who seen the same things as me, who's trying to change things!" he said quickly. "I know you ain't got no reason to trust me, Allison. But I wanna help, even if it's only a little."
She opened the door a bit more, facing him again, still keeping that knife hidden behind her back. "...why?"
"I sees things, Miss Allison," he said. His voice was low, and it shook in a way Allison was familiar with. The voice of someone struggling to keep themselves from running away. "I'm the projectionist, see. I've been here since the beginning. I was an old friend of Henry's. I never cared much for Mister Joey Drew. But after them things I've seen...I've wanted to quit this studio for a long, long time. But I can't. Not knowin' what I do. So if you're plannin' to do something about this place, this I wanna help."
Allison's thumb trailed up and down the hilt of the knife behind her.
Could she trust him?
Maybe not entirely, but...
She opened the door for him and turned to set the knife down on the counter. His eyes widened a bit when he saw the knife, but she shrugged it off and gestured inside.
"Then let's talk, Norman."
Figuring out who would help Allison along the way has been really fun. I've been doing a lot of digging into audio files and tapes, really asking myself, what would these people be like if the park was successful? Who would support Joey, and who would turn against him?
Who would side with Angels, and who would side with Demons?
I'm taking a few creative liberties with Norman, since we really don't know too much about him aside from what we can learn from the 2 audio tapes he's in. I hope you like my take on the "creepy projectionist, always looking for trouble."
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, thanks again for reading! Look forward to going back to the park at night in the next chapter, sorry it's been a while, but I've wanted to set up a lot of stuff before I dove back into the action. Have a good day/night!