Chapter 12: Unpaid Overtime

This wasn't what Henry expected when he came to the park. Not in the slightest. How long had it been since he'd sat next to Joey? Even back when he still worked in the studio, it had been a while. Now, he could barely remember a time when they casually sat side by side, watching people and clouds go by.

"You look good," Joey said, then took a long drag from his cigar. "Linda still good too?"

"Yeah," Henry said. "She's doing good. Pregnancy was hard, but we're on the up and up."

"Ah, that's right. Little girl, right?" Joey smiled, staring off into the park. He hadn't met Henry's eyes yet. Not that Henry had had the courage to meet his eyes either. "That's good."

"Yeah. Nearly a year old already."

A chuckle. "She'll be walking before you know it. Everyone says they grow up fast."

Henry cleared his throat. It caught halfway, but he managed to avoid coughing. He was so focused on the conversation that he'd barely noticed Bendy running off just in front to entertain more guests. People squealed and cheered as he spun around them.

"You've met Bendy then."

Henry swallowed. "Joey...how?"

"I'll show you. Later. Right now...let's just enjoy the nice weather, hm? It's been raining so much lately, getting a little sun is more than needed."

Henry didn't want to wait until later. He wanted answers. He wanted to tear open this park and see the dark truths lying beneath the cobblestone. He was so blinded by the storefronts selling turkey legs and rides lit up with bright bulbs and lights that he'd nearly forgotten why he'd come here. This place was like a spell, casting an illusion over every guest that stepped inside. How could people play with Bendy, how could they walk up and interact with something that so clearly wasn't an animatronic or person in a costume? They knew something was wrong, Henry did too, but the magic of this place pushed him into complacency, so content to stare at signs and listen to music to question it more than a second. Was that part of Joey's trick too? Was there really something supernatural to this park? He'd have brushed off all thoughts as nonsense before, but he didn't know what to believe now.

"Have you seen Bertrum's rides? He's really outdone himself. He's working on a new roller coaster right now. He just finished the ferris wheel last month. We're having our grand opening for it in two weeks. Going to be a great celebration. For the first time, I'm keeping the park open late so that all the guests can see the ferris wheel lit up with lights," Joey said.

"The park isn't normally open to dark?" Henry asked.

"No," Joey said briskly. "But we're working on fixing that. Just have to replace a few things here and there."

Henry ran a hand through his hair, leaning forward.

"You look tired, Henry."

"...I haven't been sleeping lately," he said.

Joey smiled. Soft. Sympathetic. Lingering remnants of a friend that Henry would stay up late into the night with, lamenting over drinks at a bar downtown before piling off into cabs. It would be so easy to close his eyes and pretend that those moments had returned. That the well of voices in the background were just patrons at the bar getting a little too loudly, that the warm sunlight was just a foggy haze caused by booze and jolly cheer.

"I don't get much sleep myself these days. Too many things I'm cooking up in the kitchen," Joey said.

"Always did have a lot of ideas in that head of yours. I'm glad to see them all come out to fruition. I really am," Henry admitted. "I always wanted everyone else to see the world that Joey Drew envisioned. All lit up and glowing brightly. I'm glad to see it now."

Joey beamed. "I come out to the park every day to see smiling faces, to catch a glimpse of that world myself. It doesn't feel real sometimes. Having it all right here in front of me. Not that I'm satisfied yet. There's still so many things I have planned."

Henry laughed. "You're never satisfied. But hey, you've got Gent backing you up now, right? They're funding all of your big projects?"

Joey smile fell. His head turned, away from the light, and Henry couldn't see his eyes anymore. "Yes. They've been very accommodating for my projects."

"That's...good, right?" Henry asked.

Joey didn't answer. He tapped the cigar on his knee, the ashes getting quickly squashed under his foot. He stood up, glancing over at Bendy again. "...why don't I show you the studio? A lot's changed since you've left. We've taken out a wall or two. Added in a few things. And I'll show you how I've created Bendy."

Henry stood up as well. He wanted to turn him down, but couldn't. Despite the foreboding feeling in his stomach, Henry had caught a glimpse of Joey. Of his old friend.

Maybe it wasn't too late to save Joey after all. Maybe he just had to push him a little harder.

"Lead the way," Henry said, and the two walked up to the old studio that Henry had left behind. Bendy chased after them a moment later, latching onto Henry's hand. Again, Henry was petrified, and even stopped in his walking for a moment.

Joey paused and turned. "...seems like he knows who his creator is."

"I didn't," Henry whispered, staring down at the little demon again. "I mean I...it was just..."

Bendy tilted his head at him.

"Now now Henry," Joey said. "You're a father, aren't you? Can't just walk away from that."

Henry paled. "No. This is...this is different, and you know it."

Joey chuckled and kept walking. Henry's feet were forced to follow.

It took a while to find him. They'd nearly gotten lost in the twisting halls, but finally, Allison found a door barricaded away from the rest. It was out of the way, an old maintenance closet. That's how she knew he'd be in there. Having a maintenance closet locked was one thing, no one would bat an eye. Having it barricaded was another, and she could see through the small, foggy window into the closet that someone had done just that with shelves and wood. She twisted the knob, but it was locked of course. She heaved and slammed her body against the door, feeling nothing but solid wood greet her.

"Miss Allison, you'll hurt yourself! Be careful!" Norman stuttered.

Allison rubbed her shoulder and stepped back. "He's in there. Gotta be."

"O-okay, so how do you suppose we go gettin' him outta there?"

Allison crossed her arms. "Well, I don't think we do. He's locked himself in. He can get out from the inside. We'll just have to wait until he comes to his senses."

"Do you really think it's a good idea to stick around here?" Norman asked. "Listen Miss Allison, I've been happy to help you, but Joey's gonna notice I'm gone soon. I...I've helped you a lot, but I don't know if I can help much more. I wanna leave and get outta here."

"I understand," Allison said. She turned back to the door.

Norman paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're uh...you're not coming?"

"No."

"How come?!"

"I've finally found Tom. I'm not about to let him go."

"That's...listen, if I believe you that that's your friend, what makes you think you can help him? He's...I mean, he's clearly not human anymore. Maybe you should just let him go," Norman squeaked. "I know that's hard to believe, but...but you just might end up getting yourself hurt trying to save him. Wouldn't it be better to just leave? Get out while ya still can? We could end up just like him!"

"I'm not leaving," Allison said plainly.

Norman was expecting her to get angry. But she didn't turn away from his words. She knew they were probably true, but that didn't stop her. Why? Could this person mean that much to her? He couldn't wrap his head around the thought. But he'd done all he could. Their plan to take the studio down didn't work. Even if they wanted to try again, Norman was done. He was too scared now. He wanted out. He wanted to run away from this place. Take his projection and get the hell out of here. She'd be smart to follow him, but he could tell she wouldn't.

"...good luck, Miss Allison," Norman said, and walked away.

Allison gave a half-wave and smile. "Thanks for your help, Norman." She let her hand fall back to her side once he disappeared around the corner and sighed, running a hand through her hair. She leaned back against the door, sinking down to the ground.

Alone again. Back to square one, and with more problems than she started with. What was she supposed to do now?

She heard a thump against the door, soft noises. Yeah. Tom was back there. Just a bit away from her. Locking himself away. How was she going to fix this? How was she going to get him out of this mess? Could she? What...what would she do if she couldn't? Allison ran a hand through her hair again, holding her palms against her skull and trying to slow down the rampant thoughts. The tape with her recordings still pressed heavily against her pocket.

Norman and her's plan had failed but...maybe it wasn't too late to continue. Would that be best though? Throwing this whole place to hell was one thing, but that meant throwing Tom into this hell as well. Dammit...

No. There was only one person who caused this chaos. And one person who could fix it. She just needed more leverage. Allison checked her watch. It was still several hours until close, and now that she knew where Tom was...

She stood. This wasn't over yet. She just needed a bit more, just a bit more information to use against Joey. She just had to find it. What had Norman said? About an ink machine? Tom had mentioned something about that too. She just wasn't sure where to find it.

She felt a plop of water on her foot. No. Not water. Thick, black, ink. Dripping from the pipes above her.

All she had to do was follow the pipes filled with ink. They would show her the way.

"I'll be back Tom," Allison said. "Just hold on. I'll find a way to fix this." She followed the paths, keeping her eyes upward, looking for ink stains and dripping trails. Tom's workers were good, but even a few days without Tom here to make repairs, the pipes looked ready to burst, leaking and flooding the halls with ink. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed how chaotic it had become. Just another way that Joey had taken Tom, had taken all of these workers and this place, for granted. She followed the pipes, deep into the studio, until they disappeared down a locked corridor with a sturdy iron grate. Allison pulled the knife out of her pocket. It wasn't strong enough to break the padlock, but she shoved it into the chain, holding her grip firm on the handle to prevent the metal from snapping, and pushed the cheap chains open until they snapped. The lock fell off, and Allison stepped through the grate.

She'd never been to this part of the studio before. It was pitch black ahead. There were no lights or anything, and the wooden floors looked relatively unused. Even a lighter would be something, but she didn't have that. Pressing her hand to the wall, Allison felt her way forward until she came to a flight of stairs leading down, down, down, deep below the studio. She couldn't hear the cheering and parades up above anymore. No more creaking wood. Deep, dark, silence. The only thing keeping her fearful heart from leaping out of her chest was the brief comfort in knowing that Bendy was up above in the park entertaining guests, and Alice had been taken care of the night before.

She was gone...right?

Allison shook the thoughts away and pressed on into the darkness. She took each step carefully, never knowing if she was about to run into a wall or off a cliff. Where could this place possibly lead? Was she even going in the right direction? She didn't know anymore, but she kept at it, until finally, finally, she reached a door. It wasn't locked, likely assuming that whoever made it this far was supposed to be here. That certainly worked for her, and she turned the handle and stepped inside.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. The thick, dizzying smell of ink that made her head spin, like she were surrounded by it. Covering her nose with her hand, she blinked up at the few flickering candles that dotted around the shadowy room. They hung in tiny sections around the room, suspended by wires or scattered about the ground in groups of three or four. The wax pooled below them, immune to the ink, and their flickering flames would have almost been cozy.

Almost.

In front of her, the enormous ink machine stood suspended by clinking chains. It was attached to some larger machine, churning out floods of ink into a canal. Not just any canal, the canal that was supposed to catch rain water, the canal that Joey had told them was to prevent flooding. Now, Allison knew the truth. The roaring rushes of water were really rivers of ink running just beneath the surface of the park. The canals stretched down every drain pipe and well under the park, as did all the underground walkways. They collected the ink and washed it to every inch of the park. Streets were held up by flimsy wooden boards and pipes, but just under the surface was an ocean, waiting to swallow guests whole.

Allison was caught in awe at the sight of it, too stunned to feel any horror. The whole machine looked wrong, some mix of an inkwell and pipe, all nuts and bolts and metal and chains in all the wrong places. Most machines looked odd, but this just felt so unnatural surrounded by candles and symbols on the ground, like some sort of alter, and still it kept churning ink down below, far down below where she could see.

Did Tom know about this? Did Tom really help build this? Why? Why would Tom ever want to help create such a thing, and what the hell was Joey doing with it anyway?

Sound caught her off guard as she heard footsteps coming from the hallway behind her. In a panic, Allison looked around for some place to hide. She couldn't even see the end of the walls with the candlelight being so faint, and she was worried that one wrong, frantic step would lead to her tumbling down to the rivers below. Wincing, Allison ran to the ink machine, hiding behind the large, metal pipe, and praying it would be enough. As one final precaution, she blew out the candles nearest to her, cloaking the side of the machine, and herself, in darkness.

Joey stepped through the doorway, putting his hands in his pocket. "Well. Here we are. The start of all this."

Henry followed hesitantly behind him, still leading Bendy by the hand. "What...what is this thing?"

"The ink machine. It makes ink."

"I, I can see that, but what do you need this much ink for anyway? Is this how you made Bendy?" Henry asked.

"And the others. But Bendy was the first," Joey said, stepped closer to the machine. He looked down at a few blown out candles and hummed, fumbling in his coat for a his lighter. He flicked it a few times, then sighed and tossed it back into his pocket. "Looks like I need a new one..."

"Good God, Joey...how does it even work?" Henry said, taking another cautious step forward.

"Trade secret, I'm afraid," Joey said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Can't have you off and running to my competitors now, can we?"

"Joey, you know I would never-"

Joey laughed and cut him off. "Yeah, you were always too good for that. You wouldn't rat me out. Even after everything."

"...why'd you bring me here?" Henry asked, letting go of Bendy's hand. The little inky demon hadn't moved much since they'd stepped into the room, mostly looking between Joey and Henry. Waiting. Watching. And always turning back to look up at the ink machine. "Joey...what is this about?"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking, Henry. Wondering how far I'd go with this studio, and what my next step was. People love this park, that much is true, but there's always more that could be done. I want to think bigger. Better. First, a television cartoon in every household! Then, a park that everyone could go to, even just once! Now...now, I wonder what my next step is. A cartoon Bendy in every home? Boys and girls clamoring for their own, lifelike Alice's and Boris's and Bendy's? There's a thought...but then what? What from there? When does it end? I don't give much thought to endings. Just the next, big dream. If I had it my way, cartoons would never end at all."

"You're not making much sense," Henry said. "Joey. Why me?"

"...you created Bendy. I can fool myself into thinking whatever I want, but you were the one who drew him. Who thought him up into this world. And despite what you see now before you, Bendy...isn't perfect." Joey turned away from the machine to face Henry. "I want your help. I want you to help me make the perfect Bendy."

"What's...what's wrong with this one?" Henry said, turning to look back at the toon, only for his eyes to widen in horror. Henry fell back to the ground, knocking over candles and sending hot wax spiraling over symbols and smearing the inky incantations. Bendy loomed over him, all long limbs and ink and jagged smiles. His voice caught in his throat, lodged in a half scream that threatened to burst at any moment. Bendy hissed, leaning over Henry again and tilting his head.

Joey pushed his hands into his pockets. "Easy, Bendy. Henry here hasn't agreed to help us just yet. We gotta get these things in writing first...right? You see Henry, Bendy here was missing a crucial ingredient that it takes to make these toons. I'm getting close to perfecting the recipe, but the first attempt didn't turn out so well. You can play around with ink and paper all you want, but that doesn't mean something will come to life. I even tried building a mechanical contraption to walk around and look like Bendy. But that's all it was. A look-a-like. I wanted the real thing. Something more than ink. But it isn't easy to create life from nothing. Well, this kind of life anyway. Normally, it just takes two people, and, well, you know the rest. But Bendy? Taking a thought and turning into something that could move, think, feel, react...I was so close with Bendy. So close. But he's not perfect."

Bendy stood above Henry still, showing no signs of flinching at Joey's words, or being phased by them at all. He just seemed oblivious. It was obvious he could hear him, but he just seemed numb. Used to it. Henry was torn between a feeling akin to sympathy. What kind of horrible existence was he living, where he was reminded every second that he wasn't perfect? Henry didn't have the luxury of such thoughts for long though.

"Normally, Bendy isn't like this. But when he's close to the ink machine, he shows his true colors. If I can get him in front of people, he knows what he's supposed to do. He's supposed to entertain! Make people smile! Make people laugh! But it doesn't last past dark. He's only missing one more thing. Henry, I need your help to find it. To help make Bendy whole, to make him perfect. Will you help me?"

How could he agree to something like that? How could he agree or disagree with anything while staring death in the face? He knew what Joey wanted him to say, and staring at Bendy looming over him instinctively made him want to agree, just to turn around and run away from this place. If he refused, would Joey send Bendy after him? Would Bendy's former friendliness turn to hostility? Would Joey turn his own creation, once a figment of his imagination, against him?

He was just about to open his mouth and say no, and just live with the consequences, try to run, accept the fact that he had gotten in too deep, but Joey was a smart man. He was always the man with the plan, and he always had cards up his sleeve.

"Your daughter...you'll take her to the park eventually, won't you?"

Henry froze. His refusal died on his tongue.

Joey smiled and turned to Bendy. "I think she'd like Bendy. Don't you?"

So. It was an act from the beginning. The sinking realization that Henry had been tricked, been fooled, pooled in his stomach and swirled around in a nauseating mix. The lingering remnants of his old friend had been nothing but wishful thinking, and the illusions of a man who was, is, and always will be, a conman to his core.

Joey must have known he'd won before Henry turned to look at him again, because he was outstretching his hand already for Henry to stand.

"What do you say? Do we have a deal? To help Bendy become whole?"

What choice did Henry have? Even if he was about to sign his death warrant, Joey had him backed into a corner. He had underestimated the lengths Joey would go to. Henry's fate was sealed the second he stepped foot into this park, into this never-ending loop of false smiles and nightmares. He reached for Joey's hand, when a loud, metallic groan cut him off. Joey spun around as one of the chains supporting the ink machine snapped, sending the back corner sinking into the rotten wood stained and soaked with ink. It sputtered, splashing ink in random directions, and Bendy hissed and shielded his eyes at bolts and metal flung off from a loose panel of the machine, before the whole thing groaned and lurched to a halt, the ink flickering down to a small drip.

"What in the-" Joey started, but Allison was too quick for him. She launched out of her hiding place in the chaos, grabbed Henry's hand, and pulled him to his feet before he could even open his mouth.

"RUN!" she shouted to him, and Joey cried out in frustration as the two took off down the dark hall.

"BENDY! AFTER THEM!" he shouted. "Don't let them get away!"

The ink demon, as obedient as ever, turned and chased them down the hall.

Joey turned to the ink machine, scowling at the mess that would take at least two days to fix. He roared and kicked over more of the candles, sending them tumbling down the inky river below. After watching the flickering lights disappear, he checked his jacket pocket. GENT repair.

The ink machine couldn't stay broken for long.