Chapter 18: The Space Beneath Hell

She woke up to a record player. It softly sang in the corner, a simple melody that bounced over itself in an endless loop. For a moment, she thought she was back home. Maybe she'd fallen asleep, forgetting to turn off the record. Cheese would be curled up at the foot of her bed. She'd have more stacks of unopened letters on her table. And any minute now she'd wake up and fix herself a cup of coffee, let the smell wash over her and wake her up, ready to face the day and push aside the nightmare of the past few days.

"Wake up little sheep. It's time to open your eyes."

The nightmare continued, it would seem.

Allison opened her eyes, noticing firstly the fact that her hands and feet were bound, and secondly that she appeared to be in a similar study to what she had seen earlier. This time though, the doors were closed, and she was locked inside. There was a desk with papers and inkwells, rickety old chairs lying in the corners, and she could have swore she heard the sound of rushing water nearby. She had been laying on a dusty old couch, and slowly moved to sit herself up.

"Where are you, Sammy?" she asked, looking around the room. Her exhaustion was quickly being replaced by anger. She couldn't see him, all she saw were books on the shelves and candles dotted around the room, a hazardous combo that made her nervous. One wrong move and this whole wooden place would be up in flames.

"Not far. Just keeping my distance for now. I thought I'd let you wake up a bit before bombarding you," he said. She hated the laugh that hinted around the edge of every word.

"Oh gee how kind," she said, gritting her teeth. "What do you want?"

"You, of course. More specifically, I want you to become what you were always meant to be. The perfect angel."

"Why am I surprised..." she muttered. "You're still just as crazy as ever."

"Crazy? Maybe. Maybe I really have lost my mind. It's hard to tell now that there are so many voices all in my head. Whose to say which one is my own anymore?"

"...what happened to you, Sammy?" Allison said softly. "In all the years I've known you, I...I never thought you could become this. I even used to consider you my friend. We didn't always get along, but I enjoyed working with you. When did it all change? When did your work become something more than a job, when did Bendy become something more than a cartoon?"

"The ink machine," Sammy answered.

He sounded much closer to her now. But she still couldn't see him.

"I was there. The day they brought it in. The empty pieces. The pipes. The GENT workers all in black suits. I didn't know what Joey was planning, but I was days away from quitting, so sick of working so many hours with disrespect, writing nothing but children's tunes...I knew I had talent. I knew I could do more. You're the same way, aren't you? You're better than this place. Better than Joey's greed masquerading as a dream. But then...he did it. He did the impossible. He brought his dream to life."

"It's a nightmare," Allison said.

"NO! No. Maybe he's not perfect. Maybe Bendy is quite what he was envisioned to be. But don't you understand? Joey drew took something that was thoughts, an idea, a concept, and he created life from it. What if my songs could be brought to life? What if this whole world could be rewritten, where the things that we imagine and want for ourselves, the dreams we keep tucked away, could be crafted to be real? We could touch them, see them as more than just ink on paper, but forge our own futures with only the limits of our imagination?"

"That doesn't sound like a dream world at all," Allison said. "I think we'd all be trapped in the same hell we are now, where our dreams become distorted messes of ink and darkness. Bendy should not exist, Sammy. None of this place should exist."

"That's a matter of perspective. Whether or not something should or shouldn't exist is irrelevant if it already does."

"...why won't you show yourself? Really?" Allison asked. "What happened?"

She was met with silence. The record had finally reached the end, leaving nothing but repeating notes at the end, slight static.

"Come out, Sammy. If you're going to kidnap me and force me to listen to your delusions, then you're going to show me your face," she said. "I want to see if there's anything left of my former friend."

Sammy chuckled, and Allison saw movement to her left. She'd thought it was just a dark shadow against the wall, something cast by the dim lights of candles against the bookshelf and nothing more.

"Well, if you see anything of him, be sure to let me know."

The shadow moved, a darkness that didn't reflect the light or bend around it walked toward her. Something vaguely human. Something that was once human. Ink clung to his skin, dripped and pooled around him in puddles, but left other parts of him bare, like the process to change him was never fully finished. She could still see his work clothes underneath, caked with dried ink. It swelled around his neck, stretching up and reaching across half of his face, a process not quite done. One of his eyes was just a golden hole now, nothing more, and the other looked half-mad. Ink dripped from his mouth and from his one good eye, black tears melting into the rest of his inky form. There were horns, but they were wrong, sticking out of the sides of his head at not-quite symmetrical angles, and the remnants of a half-broken halo stuck there too. He was half a monster, half devoured by the ink, and Allison thought she might get sick at the sight of him.

She couldn't form words, she just gaped at him in shock and horror. He gestured to himself and smiled. "I know, I know, not quite finished, am I? But I will be soon...still, it's better than nothing. I've gotten a taste of what's on the other side now...a taste of what it's like to exist as a thought, as a figment, and to pulse in and out of reality. I know what it's like to live in puddles. I hear Bendy's voice Alice, I can finally hear it, constantly, a constant hiss and voice and tone that's always speaking to me!"

"Don't call me Alice," Allison said, and narrowed her eyes.

"But that's what you are! That's why you were brought here! Everything happens for a reason, don't you see that everything here has a purpose? Tom had a purpose, you have a purpose, and I, even I have a purpose! We're all here to appease the demon so that he can grant us a reality that others can only dream of!"

"Some dream," Allison said. "Sammy, look at yourself! You...you've turned into an abomination, something half in the ink and half human, wha...how can you call that existing?! You used to write music and conduct orchestras and now you can do nothing but stumble around the room, waving ink-stained hands and rambling like a lunatic and purpose and appeasement!" she shouted. "Snap OUT of it, Sammy!"

He paused. His eye flickered. He looked at his hands, then back at her for a moment, brow lifting up in confusion.

She knew the look. She'd worn it often.

He was scared.

But then he scowled and walked over to her, and Allison sunk back into the couch. "Don't speak to me as if you know a damn thing about me, Allison," he said. "What do you know? You don't know anything. You don't know how hard it was for me to let Susie go. To pretend it didn't hurt me to see her in such pain. Then, when I'd finally moved on and thought things were better, thought that maybe I'd found a new angel in my life, I find out that she's gone and made doe-eyes at a filthy, talent-less mechanic." His breathing had quickened, taken on a reverb of something else, something deeper and darker that made her skin crawl, something inside of him that hinted that the monster wasn't just skin-deep.

Sammy grabbed her arm and roughly hoisted her to her feet. She thrashed about, dragging her feet into the wooden planks to stop him, but his grip was firm and insistent, and he barely hesitated, even as she used all of her strength to try to get away.

"You say this studio, this place, has changed me. You don't even know the first thing about this place."

"Let me go, let me GO!" Allison shouted, but Sammy just pulled her along and then pushed her through a doorway. She stumbled forward, the binds on her legs keeping her from moving more than a small step or two, and nearly fell backward in shock as she stared down into a river of ink. She yelped, and Sammy grabbed her arm again to keep her from falling into the roaring waves of ink. She heard it falling over the edges around her like waterfalls.

"Are...are we...?"

"Below the walkways," Sammy answered. "This is where Joey keeps the water and ink that run off from the park."

"It doesn't look like water," Allison said cautiously.

"The ink rises to the top. But that's not why I've brought you over here. You need to understand just how big this whole thing really is. Why this is bigger than you, and me, and anything other than the ink machine and Bendy himself," Sammy said flatly.

Allison turned to see what he was staring at across the river, and felt herself freeze.

Houses. More than two dozen of them. Stacked and built with loose wooden boards or dirt, pressed together on stilts to rise above the water. There were bridges and boats and chairs, all standing around a clearing. Messages were scrawled onto the walls, some coherent, some just children drawings. And slowly, one by one, Allison watched as figures came out of their houses, poked their heads out of windows or around corners to stare at the two of them. They were nothing but humanoid masses of ink, with sad, golden eyes that pierced her very soul.

"The missing and lost people..." she whispered.

"Once they were lost. But Bendy found them. He found them, and turned them into the only thing he knows. He doesn't understand, he doesn't exist the same way that we do. Don't you see, Allison? Bendy, me, you, and everyone else who's a part of this part, we're all meant to be the first of something much greater. The evolution of the human race. The next step. We're what comes next. An existence built entirely upon the fabrication of thought itself. No need to eat. No need to sleep. All we need are our dreams...and a few other things. Namely, we're missing our angel."

"I won't," Allison whispered. "I won't be like this...I'm not going to be your angel...I won't! I won't, I won't!" she screamed, breaking into hysterics and trying to crawl away from him. He stared down at her with a slight smile, like she were a child throwing a temper tantrum, and not a scared adult who thought she might die if her heart beat any faster. Every breath turned to choked sob as she tried to back up, tried to get away from him as he stepped closer. She reached the edge of the dock, looked down at the churning water and waves below her. The inky river stretched down and around the corner, a canal that may never have an end. She looked back up at Sammy, at his half-consumed body, she thought of Tom and his forced silence, the fear in his eyes every morning as the sun rose, and the chilling stillness his body fell to as he lost his mind.

Dangling between the edge of hell and oblivion, Allison made her choice.

She rolled over the edge of the dock, saw Sammy's eyes widen and his mouth open in rage and horror, but she didn't hear his scream. She tumbled beneath the pitch black waves, and heard nothing but the sound of water rushing in her ear.

She felt herself knocked against the walls, struggling against the bindings on her feet and hands. The currents dragged her below the water, the ink and water filling her nose and mouth. She gagged at the taste and the smell, looking to grab onto something, anything to keep her above water. The water spun her head over feet, tumbling, and there was nothing but darkness. She couldn't tell if she were up or down, but she felt something brush against her thrashing hands and she grabbed on tightly. If her hands were tied behind her back instead of in front of her, she probably would have drowned, but she held tight and pulled her head above the water.

Allison still felt the water crashing against her, and her fingers were under constant threat of losing their grip and sending her back into the dark abyss. She held on, kept pulling, trying to use the strength of her arms and not her tied wrists. She kicked her legs to push herself up, feeling them loosen slightly. One more kick, and the ropes gave way completely. Allison kept pulling on the rope, dragging herself higher and higher until she felt solid land. She heaved herself over it and collapsed into a fit of coughs and gasps.

Alive. She was alive.

And she was cold. It was dark here. The river of ink and water had sent her tumbling through the tunnels, through ravines and caverns passed any other structures. There was no light here. No flickering fluorescent bulbs or dimly lit candles. Complete and utter darkness. The only thing keeping her grounded was the wood underneath her, and the sound of the roaring waves below.

She wasn't sure where she was. Maybe some sort of builder's platform, left behind after they made this place. She wasn't sure. She tugged and pulled at the binds on her hands. The ink had made them slippery, slippery enough to squeeze free. She rubbed her wrists and felt around in her bag, still slung over her shoulder. Her knife was gone, or course Sammy would have taken that with him, but she felt around until her fingers brushed up against her flashlight. Her heart filled with hope for a moment, and she pushed the button.

Nothing. Either the water, ink, or tumbling and crashing into the walls had ruined it completely. Dejected, she tossed the thing into the river. It plopped down a few feet below her.

She shivered, rubbing her arms to try to keep herself warm. It was cold down here, without any lights. Just how far down was she? She'd always known the drainage channels were down here, far below the walkways she'd traveled beneath the park, but she didn't know there was an entire civilization down there are well, an entire network of people and channels and rivers...

A whole world beneath the park. It didn't feel real. There shouldn't have been any realistic way for builders to craft something this far down. It didn't make sense. This place had to have been built before the park, but even when this place was just a studio, she never knew a place like this had existed. How could she even fathom it? It seemed so vast, so far below everything else.

Allison leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, tried to push out the darkness that always seemed scarier with them open. Henry would have gone looking for her by now. Tom had probably woken up too.

Why hadn't she just stayed with them? Why hadn't she just waited patiently until they were ready to go search for Norman with her? It's not like she'd been able to save Norman anyway. No. She hadn't been able to save anyone.

She couldn't save Tom. Or Susie. Or Sammy or Henry or Norman and not even herself, and she hated it. If the cold wasn't seeping the strength from her, she'd scream and kick and punch something, but right now, all she could do was huddle into a ball and feel sorry for herself.

"Tom..." she whispered. "I'm sorry...I guess I won't be back soon after all."

Tom only felt a little better with the weight of the axe in his hands. It was better knowing that he had two hands to use it. Allison really had done a good job with it. He could move each digit, and while he didn't really feel it like he did his other limb, it took naturally to the rest of his body. He probably had the ink to thank for that. The ink machine itself was an algorithm of machinery and ink, so it made sense that he worked the same way too.

His axe couldn't do much against Bendy though. He remembered their last encounter. How he'd almost gotten Allison. He wasn't about to go looking for a fight with the ink demon, but if he stumbled upon Joey, he'd see just how far his hate would take him in this form.

He hurried through the offices, not carrying if people saw him. A few did, their eyes wide only for a moment before they rushed off. He didn't hesitate though. People didn't bother him.

He hesitated when he saw the other Boris though. It was just for a moment through one of the studio windows. The Boris was outside the studio, happily strumming a banjo. He didn't appear any differently than he did during the day, but it was still...odd. Like thinking you saw your twin or brother that you didn't really have. He shook it off though, and kept going into the studio. He still didn't really know where he was going exactly. The ink machine? No. He wanted to stay away from there if at all possible. Joey's office? Maybe. He wouldn't be surprised if his angry footsteps led him there eventually. He headed past rooms and sound booths, animation desks and offices, then finally passed by a room where he heard a familiar voice.

"-told you Henry. All I need is your cooperation."

"You brought my family into this, Joey. My family."

Tom stopped. He lingered in the doorway, crouching down and pressing his ear against the wood. Was that voice...Henry's? Talking to Joey? He was tempted to call him a traitor, but judging by Henry's fearful tone, he didn't think that was the case. As easy as it would be to believe, Henry didn't sound to be double crossing them intentionally.

"You didn't give me a choice."

"Fuck you, Joey. Damn you to hell," Henry's voice broke, breaking into something Tom couldn't place, but it went quiet. "How...how could you do this to me?"

"I told you," Joey said calmly. "You didn't give me a choi-"

"No, NO! You're wrong and you're sick and to hell with you and this place and-"

"I DON'T HAVE A CHOICE!" Joey roared. Tom flinched, as did Henry on the other side. Joey took a deep, shaky breath, then dropped his voice. "I've been trying to tell you, but you still won't listen. No matter what I do, you don't listen to me, Henry. I never wanted to bring your family into this, but there's nothing else I could think of to get you to listen to me."

"So blackmail, then? For what? What do you need me for?" Henry asked.

"I need you to tell me where Allison Pendle is."

Tom froze. His eyes widened.

"I don't know where she is."

"Don't lie to me, Henry," Joey said tightly. "I don't think that's wise given-"

"I'm not lying," Henry snapped. "She went to search for Norman Polk this afternoon, and I haven't seen her since."

"...so you have been meeting with her?" Joey asked.

"Yes," Henry said.

"So. You, Allison Pendle, and Norman Polk. Is there anyone else I should be worried about?" Joey asked.

Henry was quiet. Tom took a step back, his foot creaking against the wooden floor. Joey didn't seem to notice, but Henry glanced at the door for a moment before looking back at Joey.

"Just us," he said. "We are planning on dismantling the park. To stop you."

"Are?" Joey asked.

"You got my family involved, Joey," Henry said. "So you hold all the cards. I'll do what you say. I'll do what you want. But I promise you that I will never stop wanting this park to burn to the ground. And you with it."

"That's fine," Joey said, turning and walking toward the door. "I don't need you to like it here. I just need you to do your old job again."

"Where are you going?" Henry asked.

"To find Allison Pendle. She's been too meddlesome for too long. It's time she learned her place," Joey said. He opened the door to the hallway, but Tom was already long gone.

Allison didn't stay on that platform for too long. Just long enough to catch her breath and give herself a pep talk. But staying here in the darkness was too much. Her eyes hadn't adjusted, and she was ready to be back in the light. For all she knew that ink had gotten in her eyes and she couldn't see a thing anyway, but she didn't think that was the case. Her eyes stung a bit, but nothing that felt like a newfound blindness.

Keep one hand to the wall and one hand in front of her, Allison carefully began to crawl across the wooden platform. She wasn't sure where it would lead, but she hoped it didn't just drop off into nothingness. There were a few times the platform started to wobble underneath her, years of instability rearing its head, but it always held. Eventually, the platform started to get sturdier and move upward, and Allison felt a warm breeze brush across her skin. She moved toward it, and slowly started to see the faintest of lights in the distance. She continued to climb up and up, she wasn't sure how high or for how long, but the platform turned to rickety stairs beneath her feet. When she saw the blue light more clearly, she smiled.

She nearly ran to it, but forced herself to stay grounded. Light could mean people, and not everyone out there was a friendly face. When she crept toward the light, she realized that the soft light was coming from a drainage grate at the park. Her platform ended, and once upon a time, before the drainage grate had been built, this might have been an entry or exit way for the builders. Now, it was just a dead end that lead to a peek at the outside world. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to peer around her, but didn't see anything or anyone. Night had closed the park in shadow, but the light of the stars and moon was enough for her to know where she was. She was near Bertrum's new ride, halfway between the studio and the food stands. She was about to lower herself back down when she saw feet move passed the grate. She knew those feet.

"TOM! Tom, I'm down here!" she shouted. The feet stopped and moved back to her, bending down to look between the grate bars.

Boris tilted his head at her.

Oh. Not Tom. The new Boris.

Allison swallowed her disappointment and forced a smile. "H-hey there, buddy! Do you think that you could help me get out of here? I'm stuck."

The Boris looked confused, and then concerned. It tugged on the bars, but then looked worried.

"Maybe if you could find some tools or something. Like, um...oh! The ride! Bertrum's ride! He's been working on it so I bet there are tool lying around. Like a crowbar! Do you know what a crowbar is?" she said.

Boris blinked.

"This is going to be harder than I thought," Allison whispered to herself, but then turned back to Boris. "A long piece of metal, it's curved on the end. Can you get it for me? Please?"

The Boris smiled and nodded, then ran off. Allison hoped he'd be right back. The toons naturally gravitated towards people who were upset or crying in the park. Some sort of "helpful" intuition maybe, but in this case, it might be helpful. Allison wasn't sure why this Boris was still acting "cartoony" after the sun went down. It actually made her a little nervous. Whoever this person used to be, there didn't seem to be any trace of them left, at least not that she could tell. Would it have been that way with Tom, too, if she hadn't run into him so early? She wasn't sure, but she didn't have time to think on it much before the Boris returned with a metal plank, a wrench, and, thankfully, a crowbar. Allison pointed to the one she wanted and the Boris handed it to her. She shoved it into the grate edge, and was just about to push when Boris suddenly stood bolt upright.

Footsteps.

"Boris, what are you going over there?"

Shit. Joey.

The Boris pointed down beneath the grate and Allison dove into the shadows, praying that her ink-covered body would help her blend into the darkness. Joey's freshly shined shoes appeared in front of the grate.

"Is there something down there?"

"Maybe an animal fell down there or something?"

Wait, that voice...

Henry?

"Hmmm..." Joey crossed his arms and bent down, but then stood back up a moment later. "That grate leads straight to the channels for water below. If something fell down there, it's dead by now." Joey yanked the other tools out of the Boris's arms and glared at him. "What were you doing with these? You're not supposed to touch things that aren't yours. That's against the rules. Go put them back."

Boris pointed again at the grate, but Joey crossed his arms and Boris scurried quickly back over to Bertrum's workplace.

Allison peeked through the grate. Was it really Henry?

"Are you going to let me go home to my family, now?"

"No, not yet. You'll see them again tomorrow. Linda told me she'd be back, after all, I gave them free season passes." Joey laughed. "Don't look so glum Henry, it's not like I'm going to do anything to them. I'm not a monster. I just needed you to have a little more work motivation! Now, where do you think Allison would have gone?"

"I told you, I don't know where she is," Henry said. "She could be anywhere. She could have gone home for all I know."

"She's not home. I've had a few men already sweep her place. She's not there, so she had to be here somewhere."

Henry sighed and turned away from Joey and back toward the grate. Allison dove back into her hiding place.

Had he seen her?

"What's wrong, Henry?"

Allison held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Had he seen her? Was he going to give her position away?

"Nothing," Henry said. "Let's keep looking so I can go see my family again."

Joey grunted and slowly their footsteps disappeared further down the path. Allison let out the breath she'd been holding.

She wasn't as mad at Henry as she thought she'd be. Probably because she wasn't really sure she'd be able to do any differently in his position. And she was sure that he'd seen her just a second ago, but he hadn't given her away.

No. Henry hadn't betrayed them. He was just under a much closer watch, more now than ever before.

Allison shoved the end of the crowbar under the grate again and heaved. A moment later, the grate popped open, and Allison was free.

I hope you guys don't mind that I took quite a few creative liberties with Sammy's appearance. It didn't really make sense to me that he would look the same as all the other Lost Ones, especially if we assume that it was Alice that put him in the ink machine. It made sense to me that his appearance would look wrong as a result, so I hope you don't mind the route I've taken. I hope I've described it enough! Let me know if you've got any feedback! Thanks!