A/N: Hello all! Hopefully this isn't too delayed, I was initially hoping to get this completely done by March, but a fair bit started happening and made me push it back about a month. Hope everyone's doing well, and that if you've had to do taxes that they weren't too much of an ordeal. As always, Bendy and the Ink Machine is owned by themeatly, the HATIM AU is the brainchild of thelostmoongazer on Tumblr, and kick your feet up if you can, relax, and enjoy!
Be Still:
His legs burned, mind equal parts buzzing and sluggish as he ran. Boris felt his throat grow slick, his lungs seizing in a gurgling cough as he felt something bubble into his mouth, his jog stumbling into a lean against the entryway into the haunted house. A white glove came away with a black smear, the sight causing fear to seize the wolf's insides. A part of him wanted to run back, wanted to go back to the only safety and help he had known in this place, but he knew he couldn't. Knew that if he did, all he would be doing would be condemning the two devils to be trapped within the studio, turning Bendy into something he was terrified of becoming, and Buddy-.
No, no he couldn't go back. He had to keep running, he had to get as far away as possible. And then he'd…he'd just…
Be alone. The thought made a few, gloopy tears slide free, the wolf hardly needing to look to see that the water was mixing with the ink already gathering in his eyes.
But he had to. To keep Bendy and Buddy safe, he had to run, get as far away from them as he could. Before he wouldn't have the thought to.
Fighting down a shudder, the wolf was about to keep running when a faint feeling started to permeate his form, a humming emanating from his right. Gaze turning to the inside of the ride at first revealed nothing, before Boris caught sight of odd little flickers in the semi-darkness.
It was only when a familiar, overall-covered, and towering figure slid into view that the strange movement clicked, Boris feeling his heart stammer in his chest as something a little more powerful than fear took hold. Acting on instinct, the taller toon started to run, heading clear past the Lil' Miracle Station before he could blink. Racing up the stairs, Boris caught sight of 'Sammy' leaving the confines of the haunted house, barely wasting a moment before steaming ahead through Storage 9.
It's coming for me. The chilling thought forced the wolf to keep going even as the spasms rattling through his lungs were calling for him to stop. But once he got back to the entryway room, Boris found that the little means of escape he had, namely the vent, were completely cut off. The covering had been placed back on, and his attempts to move it only proved that it was screwed in tight. The only other option was the workroom up the stairs, but there was no way out of there. If he tried to go up, all he would be doing was trapping himself in a different spot.
His thoughts freezing in a blind panic, Boris backed away from the vent, retreating into the center of the room just as that creeping, humming feeling started to come again. Head slowly turning in the direction of the door, the wolf caught sight of the flickers of black edging over the threshold, right before 'Sammy' himself appeared in the archway.
Boris turned, his brain firing frantically between the option of prolonging the chase and the simple realization that there was no way out.
And, the closer 'Sammy' got, the more the wolf's already ink-logged lungs spasmed, his heart frantically beating in his ears. Feeling a choking, terrified sob rattle its way up his throat, Boris shuffled further and further back as the smothering aura came closer and closer.
Ploosh
The odd sound briefly distracted the wolf, Boris's heavily inkshot eyes darting down to see ink pooling around his feet, flowing from somewhere behind him. It was in completely the wrong direction for the source to be 'Sammy', though the only thing behind him was…
Caught in the fear of looking away from the oncoming horror, Boris's head creakily turned, eyes easily spotting the monolith of Bendy at his back. But unlike before, the hulking statue was not a dusky sepia, but a writhing black as ink poured over its surface.
Immediately the image of the Bendy statue from his vision came back, the manner in which the ink was flooding the room reminding the wolf of how it had moved like a live thing, seeking its victim out even before he had been dropped in...
Another cough rattled through Boris's lungs, right as a sharp pain spiked in the tips of his fingers. Peering down at the white gloves, the taller toon felt his stomach freeze at the sight of small, black claws starting to poke through the white livery.
And the ink wouldn't stop coming. The wolf could feel a bit dribbling from the sides of his mouth, the various aches and pain lancing through him in time with his heartbeat as 'Sammy' inched closer, boxing him in the ink pool.
Though Boris did not notice it, the dark fluid was starting to bubble at the base of the statue, where his path was unconsciously taking him.
No one can help you. A little voice whispered in the wolf's mind, blotting out everything except the oncoming horror, the roaring of his heart in his ears, and the aches and pains reverberating through his changing form. As Boris gave a desperate, involuntary sob, the thoughts continued to spin.
No one is coming to save you. You're going to be just like the rest of them. Just another monster. Just like in the stories.
There was a brief moment of warning in something wet frothing around his feet before Boris's shoes slipped, causing him to stumble back into the ink-soaked statue. However, his attempts to regain his footing failed, as he felt his body start to sink into the base of the monolith.
Fear seized the wolf, his motions going from pained jerks to frantic scrambling as he tried to pull himself away. But for all his energy, Boris's efforts only managed to make him sink faster into the statue base. What should have been solid, strong wood felt like taffy around his arms and legs, pulling him down into what felt like a suffocating, slimy mush. And, as he sank further and further, 'Sammy' edged closer and closer, the smothering presence of the once-music director squeezing at Boris's insides.
Despite the fact that terror pulsated through him with an intensity that rivaled his own heartbeat, the wolf floundered like a drowning man, reaching for the monster who had once been his mentor. Even with ink flooding his lungs and throat, the noise burbling from Boris's mouth did vaguely resemble Sammy's name.
But by that point, he was in up to his waist, and with the majority of his body gone the wolf toon was slipping all the faster. Just as his head slid under, Boris was able to make out 'Sammy' turning away before everything went black.
Buddy turned his head away from the Lady's shoulder as he heard something click. Thankfully, the colors weren't too bad down here. He didn't feel the need to shy away from the walls, to avoid touching everything except the bare minimum lest something swirling around actually find a way to rub off on him. This place, wherever it was, was instead a mix of calm greens, browns, and blues, swimming with the usual coating of oil-slick-like miasma that whirled through every board in the old studio.
The presence of the colors calmed the minute devil, their composition quietly playing in his mind as he picked them apart. Blue flickers here and there, but the Lady was dripping blue so that was no surprise. There were, predominantly, greens and browns, with a flicker of bright, fiery yellow here and there, like the other toon that was with them. The one that smelled kind of like…
…Boris. The thought of which made Buddy reflexively curl up a little as the emotions kept at bay bubbled up again. Boris's colors had normally been strong greens, blues, and rings of sunny yellows, at least from what the tiny toon had seen. But, when the black interlaid with the oil-slick miasma had started to bloom…
If the wolf wasn't with the others in the walls yet, he soon would be. Or perhaps, he'd end up worse off, though the thought of Boris ending up like the thunderstorm of oil-slick and warped color that was the screeching monster, the one called Norman, made the tiny toon feel ill.
But, at least he hadn't had whatever happened to Bendy happen to him. It had been a little hard to make out, but Buddy had briefly caught sight of the other devil's colors flaring in a sickly, warped rush, almost in answer to the familiar-but-not-quite feeling that had erupted from the big room in the haunted house. Not colors, but a thrumming so powerful that it felt like it had reverberated inside the tiny toon's skull.
Then Bendy had gone dim, and from what Buddy could 'see', he hadn't changed. It worried the minute devil, reminding him of the faces that swam through the walls and in the ink, the faint suggestions of features pulled and twisted in grim despair. But there was only so much he could do while being carried, so for the trip Buddy had to hope that Bendy was alright. At least now, in what seemed like a relatively safe place, he could actually try to get a better 'look' at the other devil.
"Tom, how is he?" The Lady asked, Buddy watching as 'Tom's colors brightened with being addressed. The question made the other toon draw in closer, Buddy 'peering' at Bendy's prone form as it came near. At first, he thought that the other devil's colors were the same as that of the other toon's before Buddy realized that those were Tom's colors, enfolding around Bendy like a protective coating or sheath. But as he peered closer, they drew back, allowing the tiny toon to see the dull, lethargic smears of grey, white, maybe a hint of blue and sickly yellow-greens if he squinted.
The worst of it all was a mashing of sharp, harsh lines, a pattern on the other devil's front resembling a shattered window. The breaks were all a florid, infirm white, almost ghostly as they seeped more of the pallid color along with a heavy, smothering black. Briefly, Buddy's 'gaze' zipped down to his own front, his own frame softly glimmering with silver and blue, and a small, spiderweb gathering of cracks splayed across his upper chest. However, these were hardly seeping, maybe the occasional bit of grey would slip out but it was a mere trickle compared to the veritable fog emanating from Bendy.
And, all the more worrying was that the little devil wasn't saying anything, wasn't moving. He only lay in Tom's arms, completely silent and still.
Now fighting a twisting, strangling feeling in his chest, Buddy leaned out of the Lady's arms, towards the faint buzz of faded color. He could just hear the Lady make a noise to Tom, probably something along the lines of 'come closer' as the other toon inched nearer a moment later. Running mitten gloves over what he could reach of Bendy's head, Buddy was rewarded when the other devil gave a breathy sigh, shifting faintly in Tom's arms before going quiet again. The movements did alleviate the tension some, but Buddy could still see the faintness of Bendy's colors, the seeping, glaring monochrome from the cracks, and knew that it would not be as easy as that-.
-His eyes were burning. The tiny toon trembled as he curled up, mitten gloves a shaky flurry of motion as he both tried to do something about the wetness covering his eyes, and not touch any part of his face because it was BURNING. Sobs rattled through his frame one after the other, his mind torn between the immediate reality that was his profusely bleeding, painful face and the feeling of sharp tools, burning liquids biting into his skin and splashing into his eyes, and he COULDN'T MOVE-.
Suddenly they were there. Even sightless he knew the feeling they gave off, the faint hum of something electric in the air coupled with the scent of ink and paper, along with a sharper tang that the tiny toon could never find a name for.
They immediately tried to pick him up, long-fingered, soft, thrumming hands gently easing under his vibrating frame, though the first hint of movement caused pain to bubble through his face, the simmering hurt triggering a nearly silent gasp to erupt from his lungs. Quickly, the hands released him, the loss of contact forcing the tiny toon to fling out a mitten-covered hand, trying to find his friend, please don't go, no one's coming, he's never coming back, he doesn't care, please don't leave too-!
But they weren't leaving. The humming did not fade away, the hands back a moment later with a newfound sense of care. As they gently cupped under the tiny toon's head, his brain became filled with a light, airy sensation, the pain quietly easing to something more manageable. He vaguely noticed the feeling of what seemed like more liquids running off him, away from his face and eyes, but the observation was lost as the hands moved to wipe at the tiny toon's head.
But, as they cleared the slurry from his face, the minute devil distantly realized that, he should be seeing far more than he currently was. His face was cleared, he could feel his eyes open, but still everything was a black wall pressing against his face, pressing down on him, much like his own ink had as his face turned into ACHING, ACRID BURNING-.
The newfound burst of panic rattled the calm that they had created, their hands hurriedly moving to lift him up as he started to cry anew. He could just faintly hear them humming, going for a more traditional route at restoring calm, but his hysterics were as all-encompassing as the black filling his vision.
But, just as the tiny toon seemed fit to start crying himself out, a hand gently pressed to the top of his forehead, almost as though it were checking his temperature. And, as it lifted away, color started to bloom in his vision. Albeit, they were hardly the colors that he was used to, the duller sepias and monochrome almost paltry in the face of the blooming rainbow that seemed to whirl all about from somewhere in front of him.
This was them, he realized, he was seeing them.
The realization only heightened the strange splendor the sight provoked, the tiny toon completely still and quiet as he stared and stared, reading into the whirls of color, every swirling rainbow pattern, every star-bright pinprick, the little shows that they had done for him making sense, they were like the colors and stars he'd seen leap from their hands, rather than something dark like ink.
He could have kept staring, he could have stared until he'd completely wasted away if it were not for the fact that he could feel himself being turned from the source, the whirling rainbow of color swinging out of his view only to be replaced with something else. This was duller, further away, though it swam with an almost slick sheen of the same colors they were composed of. These were all wrong though, there was a sickness, almost a miasma to these that made him less enchanted and more…wary. Almost like if he looked at it wrong it would leap out at him. A faint flicker of motion in the color made him aware of a shape sliding through like it was riding on the top of a liquid, the tiny toon realizing with a shivering start the more he stared that he was looking at a face.
A face pulled in agony, from the gaping mouth and the squinted eyes, almost like it was frozen in the act of screaming. Immediately his brain spun with questions, who was that, why were they in pain, what had happened, as his body leaned reflexively away from the sight. But as his distress became more and more obvious, their hands gently steered him to be tucked up against their chest, the rainbow patterns still swirling but this time he was not looking at it straight on. Instead of blindingly transfixing, the colors were simply warm, calming, like being near a candle in a dark room.
But as he was curled up, the tiny toon caught a glimpse of himself, the sudden presence of something softly glowing a dull white and sharp black causing him to focus on a spot just under his chin. There, splayed across his chest, was a fissure that looked like it carved deep into his body, the seeming wound seeping the earlier noticed monochrome along with a flicker or two of sickly greenish yellow. As he took in the dismal display, the tiny toon's mind became filled again with the negative emotions, the pain, the hurt, every bit of terrible suffering that had happened to him under his creator's care. It nearly swept him away, the sheer emotional toll, the ripple effect spiraling through his very psyche.
He was broken, wrong, so very wrong that his own creator, his OWN CREATOR didn't care for him, and he had no way to fix it, no way to see, he was going to starve or die alone down here because the man wasn't coming back for him, no one was coming for him-.
A gentle jostle shook the tiny toon from his dismal thoughts, forcing him away from the literal peering into his own soul to them. Though they did not turn him forward again, they did still start up the same soft, ethereal crooning, their colors washing over him like cleansing water. As he looked to the tendrils of rainbows, he noticed the faint, barely-there hairline cracks, leaking the same glaring colors, but these were different. They were smaller, closing before his very eyes.
"You will make it through, my little one, my bright star." The voice seemed to both rumble all around him, and somehow hum so softly that he nearly needed to strain to hear it. "What is broken can always mend. Even a heart."
Ink saturated tears trickled down from the tiny toon's sightless eyes, but there was something more therapeutic in these, something more unburdening than his earlier hysterics. Though they probably didn't have long, his creator made sure they never did, he clung to the ethereal, humming frame for all it was worth, crying softly-
The reverie broke as Buddy noticed the Lady was moving him again, she and Tom heading to a room in the back of this little knoll. This one had a much stronger concentration of the green coloring that seemed to be the other toon's trademark, Tom's encompassing aura briefly pushing outward as though reaffirming the space. The Lady moved aside, an arm slipping away from Buddy as she spoke.
"Just lay him there, we'll see if he needs any help in just a moment."
The tiny toon kept track as Tom's almost fire-like green and brown surged forward, easing the quietly whirling fog that was Bendy down on something above the floor before backing away. Though the Lady's colors did flare brighter for a moment, bunching together like they were about to spring into action, they immediately faltered as she seemed to re-register Buddy's presence. It seemed almost too quickly that the tiny toon felt himself being held out, the soft voice murmuring a new command to Tom.
"Take him for a moment, please? I'll be right back."
And Buddy was plopped into a set of arms that honestly perplexed him more than anything. Firstly, one felt like a slightly bigger, floofier version of Boris's, the other was partly that, and metal from a few inches under the elbow down to the fingers. It was so odd that for just an instant, the minute devil wished that he could actually see. Instead though, he was relegated to just feeling what he could through his mittens, trying to figure out what he could from texture alone. Softness, and suddenly something hard and stiff like it had been torn away from the walls of the studio itself. Had the bad things tried to make Tom one with the ones in the walls?
But, as Buddy tried to get a better 'look' at this phenomenon, he couldn't help but notice that the green-brown combination of color was coming from there just as much as it was any other part of Tom's body, as though it were just as much a functioning limb as any other despite the difference.
But as his hands found what felt like a cable attached to the side of the arm, Tom abruptly dropped him onto a desk as the canid toon's colors flared with sharp, harsh greens, reds, and yellows, the brown disappearing almost entirely. On his new perch Buddy found himself bunching up in fright because he could only guess at what he had done wrong, what retribution the wolf might rain down on him, he could only think the words because he couldn't speak them, because it was bad to speak-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I won't be bad anymore, I won't, please don't hurt me…!
Though, Tom didn't come back right away. Instead the wolf's colors folded close to his frame, almost like he was drawing up some sort of defense, before they whirled to refocus on the tiny toon. Despite the protective, wary bunching, Tom's hands were hesitant as they came to rest on the minute devil's head, painstakingly careful, Buddy still flinching and shivering under even the relatively light touch. At the shaking, Tom pulled back, colors flickering about for a moment before he decided to try again.
But this time the touch was a little firmer, a little more sure of the fact that the tiny toon wouldn't simply snap under the pressure of the much larger hand. The fingers that gently rubbed small circles into Buddy's head were gloved, not the rigid, inflexible limb that he'd been fascinated by before. Honestly, the similarity was so close to Boris that it made the minute devil crawl closer as his sniffles started to turn into overwhelmed crying, Buddy's system wrung out by all that he had experienced, and the daunting nature of what was to come. How could he help Bendy, how could he do anything, he just seemed to make things worse…
As Buddy edged across the desk, his foot kicked something that made an odd, papery sound as it slid to the side. Head turning in the direction of the noise, the tiny toon was surprised to see an odd, faintly familiar flicker of color on the oil-slick coated greens and browns. Whatever he had kicked, it was flat, though the whirl of rainbow floating in and about the shape immediately had Buddy turn, his tears tapering down as his attention redirecting entirely at the small bit of recognizability.
A quiet sigh quickly forced Buddy to reconsider though, especially when the rigid, not-feeling-like-an-arm arm slipped in to scoop him up. Though this was quickly joined by the sensation of being pressed to a warm, fur-covered chest, a strong heartbeat thumping against his ear, Buddy did not forget what he had seen. As his head turned, still trying to consider the paper but not willing to outright defy Tom by trying to move away, the wolf seemed to clue into the reason for Buddy's distraction. As such, the tiny toon 'watched' as the small, flat shape was picked up off the desk, held up in front of him by Tom's softly glowing hand.
Though he couldn't read a whit of what was on the paper, he could still see the color, the flickering drawing Buddy to reach out to it, perhaps with some faint hope that by touching this one little offshoot, he could somehow reach its source. But, at the end of the day, the paper was just a paper, and Buddy's hands still remained frustratingly empty as the Lady walked back in with a meager, makeshift first aid kit.
In order for them to work Buddy was placed on the desk, the tiny toon still holding the slip of paper though he set it to the side as what was happening became more and more apparent even to his sightless eyes. Thankfully it didn't seem as though Bendy was really bleeding anywhere, the bandages wrapped around the little devil's chest, head, and leg only covering small bumps, or faintly disrupted skin under the fur that spoke of older injuries. For all intents and purposes, the wrappings were not needed, and dirty, so the angel removed them, Tom doing his best to gently steer Bendy's unconscious form this way and that so the angel could work. There were a few scrapes the smaller toon had on his arms and knees, but these were relatively minor and apart from being cleaned they were left alone.
After about ten minutes, the angel had to concede that they'd done all they could. The little devil was quietly tucked in on a hammock that hung towards the back of the room, with just enough room so that it could swing comfortably. As Tom set Bendy's coat and scarf on a chair, he gave a somewhat mulish and frustrated look to the still careworn, dismal features the little devil wore like a weight strapped to his head. The look softened somewhat as the wolf considered the dour, exhausted expression etched on Bendy's face even in sleep.
A moment later, a metallic arm carefully reached out, tapping at the side of the hammock and sending it into a calm, slow rock.
"Tom, can you help me?" The soft question broke the wolf's concentration, Tom turning from Bendy to where the angel was facing Buddy. The tiny toon still sat on a ramshackle desk pressed to the wall, sightless eyes peering up at the turn in the conversation. Buddy jolted a little as the first aid kit was set on the table next to him, the angel opening the metal top and digging around inside. Noticing the manner in which the minute devil's head was flipping back and forth, between her noise and the sound of Tom approaching, the angel took pity on the blind toon.
"It's alright, we're just going to replace your bandage." Probably a good thing to do, given that the scrap of cloth looked like it had been dragged through a few different variations of mud. Ink-based systems or not, keeping a wound clean still mattered.
Buddy did stay still when the angel gently wound the strip of fabric off, though he still quivered, flinching as his injuries were exposed to the air. The wounds were still weeping, she quickly moving to wipe the excess ink away. In doing so, she exposed the pale, sightless pie-cut eyes underneath. Her hands stilled, the angel just managing to suppress a flinch on the grounds that she would jostle the tiny toon's injuries. She could hear Tom take in a hissing breath of air behind her, Buddy flinching (colors went sick, they're not happy, not happy, what did he do what did he do wrong?) at the sound.
As the tiny toon started to reflexively curl up in fright, the angel snapped out of her quiet shock, her brows furrowing in both aching sympathy and a quieter, more personal upset. Though Buddy initially flinched at the feeling of a hand resting on his shoulder, the manner in which the angel rubbed gentle lines into his upper back slowly drew some measure of calm. Albeit he couldn't relax completely, not when Tom's colors were starting to turn dark and sharp, the brown flaring with angry, angry red and yellow flames. The calmer, deep green was almost completely absent from the wolf, though there were flickers of it at the base of the emotional firestorm, which mostly eased the worry that Tom was changing, that something really bad was happening. Though a part of Buddy had a hard time seeing this as anything but bad as while the man, his creator, had showed a fair amount of rage or upset in the short time the minute devil had known him, he'd always had a certain way of reacting towards Buddy when he was in this sort of a mood.
Though, as Buddy internally fretted and debated whether or not he should hide, the angel simply took note of the hard stare the wolf was aiming at the wall, and the manner in which his arms were crossed with his hands clenched into tight fists. Reaching out to Tom, she waited for him to look from the hand resting on his arm to her face before speaking.
"Let's just try to help him, Tom. One step at a time." The quiet guidance eased the frustrated anger in the wolf, his stance relaxing piecemeal as the expression on his face melted into one of solemn planning. Though the bad mood seemed to pass with redirection, the angel noted that Tom's metal hand had not yet opened.
"Tom," She murmured, the toon's ears twitching as his head turned to look in her direction. "Can you open your hand?"
A frown creased the canid snout as the wolf hurried to peer at his metallic limb, the fingers trembling slightly before they were able to pry themselves apart into a more relaxed position. The mobility did cause the angel to relax, her hand gently resting on what she could reach of Tom's shoulder before she was forced to move the moment along and turn back to Buddy. The tiny toon's wounds had started to weep again, the ink trickling down around the dirtied, moon-like face.
With gentle motions, she did her best to clean up the new and old mess, before using the few strips from the makeshift first aid kit. Though Buddy flinched and winced in starts throughout the whole procedure he did hold still, letting the angel's careful fingers tie a new bandage around his head. The minute devil briefly padded at the cloth, before pulling his tiny hands away and peering sightlessly up at the angel.
"How does it feel? Is it too tight?" The soft voice made the tiny face scrunch as he did a mental survey, but ultimately Buddy gave the angel a small nod; everything was fine.
"My name is Allison and his is Tom. Can you tell us your name?"
Not that Buddy wasn't grateful for the more direct telling, but the thought of trying to speak made his skin crawl. He was never supposed to talk, never make noise, noise was bad, noise made his creator mad...
"It's okay, it's okay, you don't have to…does it, hurt, to talk? Does your throat hurt?"
The soft, quietly worried voice of Allison eased some of the twisting anxiety churning at Buddy's insides, the questions turning his thoughts to more concrete, analytical venues.
His throat had been a somewhat spotty ever since his creator had…had tried to fix his eyes. Perhaps some of the burning liquids had splashed into his mouth, but the few, weird noises that he'd been able to make hadn't hurt, exactly. But they did feel odd on his vocal chords. Odd enough that it wasn't just his creator's old lessons regarding making noise that kept him quiet, though that was certainly a big part of it.
But, he wasn't totally sure. Maybe, maybe he'd have to try to feel it out, though the thought made his fur-covered skin want to shiver off his inky body. Taking in a slight breath, Buddy shakily opened his mouth, and let out a whistling breath along with a buzz of staticky humming that should have been a very, very soft 'aaahhh'.
The noise made both sets of colors flare up for a moment, blurs of sick-yellow and green overtaking the gentler greens, browns, and blues. Then a set of slim-fingered hands pressed to the sides of his head, the sudden presence of someone touching him causing Buddy to jump and freeze like a deer in the path of an oncoming car. Not that Allison wanted to prolong the poor toon's fright any more than she'd already had, the angel quickly withdrawing once it was clear that she'd startled Buddy.
Though, while she certainly could only do so much for an internal injury, especially one as crucial as a small, impossible-to-reach spot as the throat, she could definitely look to any other needs that the tiny toon might have.
"…Would you be able to eat? We can warm up some soup for you…" The suggestion did cause Buddy to nod, the angel quietly smiling with a grateful sigh at the opportunity to do something.
"Come on, we'll go and get it ready, let Bendy rest." Allison murmured, gently picking up the tiny toon and making to leave the room. However, as it became clear that they were heading for the door and away from the hammock, Buddy started to lean away, face pinching in upset. Thankfully it didn't take Allison and Tom long to figure out the reason for Buddy's sudden fervor, the angel quickly coming to a decision.
"It's alright, we'll bring him some when he wakes up, we'll come back…" The hurried soothing did seem to calm the minute devil down, but his expression hardly cleared. In an effort to further mollify him Allison turned to Tom, the wolf nodding at the silent question in her eyes. He moved to get the chair tucked into the desk, pulling it as quietly as possible over to the still-slumbering Bendy and settling down to wait.
As the pair went out, Tom considered the small slip of scrap paper forgotten on the desk, scribbled with his own untidy scrawl. Even in the low light, his eyes could make out the words, easily reading them to himself.
THEY SAID BENDY AND BORIS ARE COMING SOON.
"…hopefully he will see reason. Lord knows everyone else…"
Whispers. Murmuring. Boris felt the feeling flood back into his limbs nearly one microbe at a time, his frame awkwardly propped on something with a hard, sparsely cushioned surface. The worst of his complaints, apart from stiffness and zinging aches, was a dull pulsating weight concentrated behind his sternum, almost like there was something more gathered in there apart from his heart. Weakly, the wolf shifted around trying to see if he could dispel the odd feeling, but the movement only made everything swim, the pounding roaring through his ears forcing him to still.
Just as it cleared, Boris caught the sounds of a cane tapping against a hard wood floor as the source came to stand in front of him. His eyes opening, the wolf fought the weakness and pain as the world swam into view.
He couldn't help starting at the sight of Joey Drew standing in front of him, though when he tried to remember why his creator would have this strong a reaction, Boris couldn't come up with anything. He knew there was something there, something important, but it seemed so hazy and far away, like trying to look at things through a misted window.
"Hello, Boris. You've given us all quite a scare."
"I…I did?" Why did his mouth feel so…off? Dry but gluey at the same time, turning his words into a slurring mumble. Had he been sick? Was he sick?
"Indeed. But, not to worry, you'll be right as rain in no time." Joey said, voice almost jovial as Boris struggled to keep up. He was going to be alright? That was good, but what was this Joey was saying, about something he needed the wolf to do. It wasn't that Boris didn't want to help, but part of him wasn't sure he would be able to get out of the chair. Everything still felt so wobbly and wrong, the throbbing under his ribcage weighing heavier and heavier as the minutes crawled by.
"Actually, Boris, I wanted to be the first to give you the good news! Bendy's come home."
The thought was, elating, to say the least, and given that Joey didn't sound the least bit upset Boris concluded that the devil was alright. But…somehow, he wasn't as surprised by the news as he thought he would be. It was almost like he'd…already known? But that didn't make any sense, he hadn't spoken to anyone…
-Bendy's figure trembled, the wolf's eyes roving over the patchwork coat and scarf the little devil was adorned in, a wild franticness to his dark-rimmed eyes-
…had he maybe seen Bendy already? Before he'd gotten sick? Though before Boris could follow the train of thought, Joey was speaking again, the wolf hastening to throw his attention back into the conversation.
"Actually, you might be able to find Bendy yourself, Boris, if you're feeling up to it." The voice was casual, but the faint hum interlaid with the words made the whole thing stand out to the toon's ears, something about it setting him on his guard.
The thought caused Boris to curl at first subconsciously, then with more awareness as he realized how he was moving. The motion pulled somewhat at the center of his chest, the uncomfortable weight feeling like he had a pulsating ball pressing against his sternum.
-a hand slipping inside, the acrid reek of ink, PAIN PAIN PAIN-
Boris felt his breathing catch, his arms shakily coming up to cross over his chest in a form of protection.
"What's wrong, Boris?" Joey's voice suddenly hummed, the wolf jolting as he realized the man had taken a seat almost in front of him, the footstool placed just a bit to the left. It wasn't quite looming, but something about it felt too close for comfort.
Boris's jaw twitched, nearly opening if it weren't for some base instinct to stay quiet, stay still, and watch Joey Drew like he'd suddenly lean too close and reach inside-.
"Boris…" The faint murmur of his name snapped the wolf from his daze, forcing him to look his creator in the eye. Though the off-look was still present in the studio head's gaze, Joey's expression was, quietly upset, almost, the sight imploring Boris to maintain eye contact.
And, taking that as the wolf's cooperation, Joey began to quietly murmur, Boris faintly noticing how the rest of the office seemed to fall away, his brain growing murky with his creator's words.
"You still look so tired, Boris. And, I understand. I know, it's been so hard for you. You just haven't been yourself since Bendy ran away."
He hadn't been. Even though there was a part of him that felt like it was a lot longer than he remembered, he could easily recall the first few days that Bendy had been gone, especially when it became clear that the devil wasn't going to simply turn up. With every morning he'd greeted Henry, the wolf had felt himself grow more and more anxious and despondent as the animator came in without Bendy, or any news as to where the small toon might be. His worry had made it harder and harder to get a full night of sleep, the days blending into mires of exhaustion as he tried to carry on with his usual routine.
It only got worse when he'd overheard one of the animators off-handedly mentioning that Bendy probably wouldn't last outside for long, because he'd never left the studio before. That added layer of stress had completely knocked out the wolf's appetite, a few days of sparse eating, poor sleep, and constant tension eventually cumulating in a fever. Sammy of course had noticed, and in between his efforts and the rest of the band's Boris was herded down to the Infirmary for the day. But while he had to stay, deadlines meant that everyone else still had to work. So, the wolf had been left alone. With the ink he needed, but drifting in and out of a half-feverish, half-ashamed and anxious delirium. He couldn't even sleep then, the emotional, mental, and physical mess leading to vivid, twisting nightmares.
-Boris could just hear the thrumming rise and fall of the band, the low hum of sound reverberating through his pounding head as he fumbled his way up from what must have been another bad dream, though the details were already fading from his mind. But even still there was one crystal clear image, of Bendy with his back to the wolf, running running running falling crying hurting melting, the last of which made Boris shakily twist around in his half-awake state, shadowy whimpers coming from him as he reached out for the small toon he knew had to be there, had to be in trouble, had to help him…!
"Shh, boy, stop movin'..." A familiar voice said from somewhere over his head, the wolf's hands gently grabbed and eased back to the bed. Or more rather, an attempt was made, as Boris still reached out, arms swinging wildly about for the toon he knew had to be here, he just saw him-!
"Ben-!"
"…He's not here, Boris." And, when the haltingly final declaration made the wolf toon stop, eyes peering up at the swimming features of Norman Polk with something close to incomprehension, the projectionist reiterated. "Bendy's not here."
It was like having a wound rip open all over again. Boris knew he'd cried in front of Henry at some point during the second week since Bendy'd run off, but somehow the tears that sprang to his eyes at Norman's somber assertion, of reality coming back in, felt as fresh as if he'd just heard the news. Thankfully the old projectionist didn't wait long in drawing Boris up into a hug, even bundling a blanket over the wolf's shoulders as he gave gentle snippets of calming sound and let the crying run its course. It all seemed to blur for Boris, though after what felt like years his throat was worn, eyes itching as the fur on his face was stiff with drying tears.
As he sagged against Norman's front, the wolf let out a shuddering, wet sigh, the sound rewarded by a slightly-gnarled set of fingers carding through the somewhat sweat-dampened fur around his ears-
-Boris jolted as a hand clumsily ran through the clammy fur on his head, pulling uncomfortably at his scalp. Joey's face loomed in the lower light, vaguely unsettling as he seemed to try to emulate something comforting. But there were still shadows in the dark eyes, and something about the motion further unnerving Boris and causing the strange daze that had gripped him to lift a hair.
"You've been trying so hard, and for such little reward. How many times did you help only to have to prove yourself again and again? Not to mention what you do to protect Bendy…"
He had, he tried. Certain band members themselves weren't replaced often, but the lyricists, sans a few, and some musicians, were often shuffled, and every time Boris felt he had to do something to alleviate the initial hesitance and wary looks. He never wanted anyone to be afraid of him. He wasn't like the stories, not at all…
But Bendy hadn't been, Bendy'd always tell him that he wasn't just some cartoon monster or bad wolf, and Boris tried his best to pay that back even as working at the music department pulled them apart.
It hadn't worked though, it had never worked, they'd been separated, things had gone so wrong anyway, nothing had worked, and everyone had suffered.
What did I do wrong, what went wrong, how can I fix this, can I even fix this?
"I know how that feels, Boris." Joey continued, voice a lulling hum. "I know what it is to work for the best, not just for yourself, but for the people you care about. It's hard when it goes wrong, when no one, not even the world itself appreciates your hard efforts."
The studio head's hands were roughly carding through the fur on his head again, though instead of being put off, Boris only passively registered a heady, floating sensation permeating his brain, his arms sliding back to his sides. He didn't understand, he'd been achy and unpleasantly groggy a moment ago, but this was, almost nice. He nearly wanted to keep this strange sort of calm, sink into it and leave his worries and pains behind, but Joey was speaking again, so the wolf tried to focus enough to listen.
"But, Boris, I've found a way to make all of that go away. I can make everything much better than it used to be. No one will be hurting, no one will be afraid, or have to leave, ever again. You can be happy, Bendy can be happy, Alice, Henry, all the others, they can all be happy."
He could see it floating in his mind's eye, the things Joey talked about. He could see them running through the halls again, laughing, playing like they'd used to. Bendy's face was no longer worn, darkened, and haggard, instead grinning and lively. A glowing smile was on Alice's face, mirroring the halo above her head. Henry and Sammy, smaller but no less happier expressions and grins, absent of the weariness and exhaustion that came with trying to meet deadline after deadline. Wally, still wise-cracking as he always was, but looking less like he was trying to carry the happier mood on his own, fill in the heavy silence with his own humor and jokes. Norman was there as well, the projectionist less quiet and distracted and more the smiling older man that had told Boris all about the dancing halls and the late nights he'd spent listening to the jazz that played in them.
It was happy, so happy, something about it causing tears to quietly run down the wolf's face, Boris sniffling softly as he cried, though he didn't understand entirely why.
A gap, something missing, something big, what was he missing, why did all of this make him feel this way?
…And why can't I think…?
Unheeding of his creation's struggle, Joey plowed on, eyes keenly watching the canid toon's face.
"All you would need to do is help me, Boris, just with this one little thing. All you would need to do is to find Bendy, and bring him to me."
It was a subtle thing, like a poison slipped into the sweetest nectar, but the hum underlying Joey's voice shattered the dull calm that had entrapped Boris's mind, the sound yanking a recollection from the mire-.
-The Bendy statue across the room reforming, ink rushing over the sepia surface and turning it black. The wolf's own, warped frame carrying a small, squirming devil toon to the edge of the precipice as the words boomed in his mind, BRING HIM TO ME, BORIS.
"Boris, pal, wait, what're you doin'?!" The words were faint to his ears, but the speaker and tone unmistakable; Bendy, Bendy afraid, but why, why was he afraid, why was he asking Boris what he was doing, what was the wolf doing-?
And then the image of the wide-eyed, terrified devil dropping into a pool of frothing ink came, the dark liquids rising in a contained flood as they fought to draw the small toon in, to warp and change him-
"Boris, are you listening?" Joey asked, the low question causing the wolf to snap out of the strange reverie that had gripped him. What, where had that come from? What did it mean, was Bendy in trouble?
"Boris?" His creator said again, the hum snapping Boris away, making him refocus on the conversation at hand. Though now that the daze gripping him had dispersed, his brain scrambled around as it tried to both chase the strange recollection, and keep up with Joey. At the same time, the studio head quietly studied the wolf's face, before pressing forward.
"Do you understand what I'm saying, Boris? I want you to bring Bendy to me. That should hardly be difficult."
"I-I…" Boris stammered, before a question simply popped into his head and was out in the air before he could really think on whether or not it was a good idea to ask. "Why, why do y'need Bendy?"
It did seem to throw Joey for a moment, the wolf's creator blinking before he had a counter.
"Bendy is, what I have planned is very big, Boris, and Bendy is a very important part of it. But, I cannot go and get him myself, which is where you come in. I know things haven't been great, now, but it'll just be a little while longer, Boris, just until Bendy accepts what he has to do. Then we'll all be happy. You want that, don't you, Boris? Don't you want everyone to be happy?" Joey asked, the questions feeling like they were meant to cut into the wolf's resolve, to make him give ground.
But the images were still in his mind, still pricking his conscience to life. Boris knew that he could not back down, that there was something wrong about what Joey wanted, somehow knowing that if he did, then something very, very bad would happen.
"…N-No."
The expression that flashed over Joey's shadowed face was one that nearly made Boris push himself into the back of the chair. It was a barely-held anger that he'd been on the receiving end of a good number of times, usually ending in pain of both the emotional and sometimes the physical variety.
But, as he stared, the flare of emotion passed, Joey drawing back and turning away from the wolf.
"Very disappointing, but perhaps you need some time to consider why this is so important. I know you'll come to the right decision, Boris. You've always been a very level-headed sort. A good, loyal dog. You just need some motivation."
Boris's brain whirled, completely caught off guard by what Joey was saying. But before he could work up the nerve to ask about it a sudden burst of cold air pressed at his back, the wolf's head jerkily turning to see a black spot forming on the wall behind the chair, growing bigger and bigger until it stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The more it grew, the more faint noises teased at Boris's ears. Humming voices, the tones ranging from speaking to screaming though the words could not be heard. Something about it instinctively turned the wolf cold, he knew without a doubt that it wasn't good, that he didn't want to go through, but it was eating at the chair, he'd be pulled in-!
But Joey's hands clamped on his head, turning Boris's view around to the calm, even smile his creator displayed, though his eyes were empty, almost lifeless. Before Boris could so much as protest, the man spoke something with a soft but altogether too placid tone.
"Don't worry, Boris. In fact, if all goes well, you won't be worrying about anything."
The words were so calm, yet they broke through the last barrier on Boris's memories, easily harkening back to a time of straps and tools, of 'I will not allow you to die', and why did Joey sound so calm-?!
But, even as the wolf's mind turned to panic, the studio head's hands briefly clasped on Boris's head, raising it up to just about where the angle was uncomfortable. Still, the man's fingers were moving in their fumbling way, a thumb rubbing against Boris's jaw in a clumsy gesture of affection. For an instant, the wolf felt some of the tension drain, right before Joey's hands moved to his shoulders and shoved.
The push sent Boris plunging through the portal, something snapping in his chest as a terrified scream escaped from his vocal chords. As he fell, his eyes just caught sight of Joey's tall frame silhouetted in the light above. The man's impassive shadow was the last thing he saw as the portal was swept out of sight, and the wolf's frame crashed into what felt like icy-cold water.
Though, unlike water, Boris was not allowed to rise to the surface. Instead, he was tossed and pulled about within, hearing a thousand voices crying out, feeling handsgrab and sink into his fur-.
-ink everywhere, pipes breaking, screaming, screaming, the dark floods rushing-
-never liked being down in the lower levels, knew it would kill me, IT'LL KEEP ME FOREVER-
-pulling up from the cold, but it never leaves, it never leaves and it takes parts of you, keeps you within-
-faces, a thousand faces all indistinct, whirling in the dark and pressed to the boundary, under the planks that made up the walls, floors, and ceiling, waiting to be set free-
-I CAN'T GET OU-
-tumbling screaming screaming around and in everyone everything fighting no light no air-
-was A MONSTER where's the rest of me where's me-
-never pain, just cold, so cold-
-I can hear them screaming, they're always screaming-
-please I'll do anything just LET ME OUT-
-and he was pulled up, a strong hand closed around Boris's as he was lifted away from the murk. If the wolf did not feel so painfully weak, chilled to the point of immobility, he would have tried to help, either by clawing himself up the rest of the way or trying to grab onto his rescuer. But for the moment, all he could do was be distantly grateful and fearful that he would fall back down, the adrenaline from the latter the only thing keeping him from dropping into the exhaustion threatening to drag him under. Still, Boris's efforts to stay conscious were hampered by a light-headed feeling soaking through his brain, making everything seem like it was moving almost too fast around him.
His fight to stay awake only lasted until he'd been extricated entirely, his rescuer moving to lift him in a bridal carry before moving along above the swirling mass under them. Boris barely registered the air growing warmer, the humming and chittering falling away into something soft and quiet before it all winked away into a relieving, silent black.
Waking came in stages, the quiet creak of the hammock under him the first thing Bendy registered as he came to. Though, immediately after he recognized the noise, the first thought on his mind was the hammock in the safehouse, the memory a short leap from the one that had just been formed, where Boris-.
Though a sob remained locked in his throat, Bendy could still feel his eyes start to burn, ink liquifying on his brow as his mind spiraled, remembering the sound the wolf had made, the coughing, the fact that Boris had backed down so easily, like he'd known, pal, why didn't you tell me…?
A small sniffle rang out in the room, Bendy briefly lost in his own misery before the minute sounds of something moving around came from his left, his only warning before something nudged the hammock under him into a somewhat stronger rock. The sudden jolt made the little devil start, eyes flying open and immediately riveting on a far-too-familiar visage to his left, the toon in question just about to lean back before he'd caught sight of Bendy staring at him.
He looked so much like Boris that for a moment the devil nearly got his hopes up, before little things about the wolf in front of him became apparent and dashed the brief wish that perhaps, somehow, something had gone right for once and Boris had ended up okay.
For starters, this toon was too broad-shouldered to be the wolf that Bendy was familiar with, the inky frame more thickset and stockier than Boris's lankier, long-limbed stature. There was also the fact that the other wolf was just, boxier overall, the black nose a squarish shape rather than a rounded circle. Catching sight of a glimmer of something metallic at the toon's left arm, Bendy briefly glanced down to see a familiar prosthetic attached to the wolf rather than a proper hand. Right, the Bendy animatronic had been missing an arm, guess that mystery was solved…
Though, as the little devil jerked back to look this new toon in the eye, he couldn't help but feel even more lost. Where on earth was he now? And where was-?
The instant Bendy remembered the tiny toon that had been accompanying him and Boris, his eyes blew wide, head swiveling around as he tried to get some hint of where Buddy might be. However, a brief wave from the wolf got the devil's attention, just in time for him to see the stockier toon point in the direction of the door.
"I-Is he-?" Bendy croaked, the stuttering question answered with a quick nod. The flagging energy fell away to nothing, the little devil almost not noticing when the wolf suddenly waved his hand again. "Huh?"
Though the light grunt was completely lacking in everything from verve to intelligence, the other toon still sought to push forward, holding out his prosthetic hand with the palm up. Looking from the hand to the other wolf's expectant face, Bendy internally floundered before an idea occurred, his hand hesitatingly easing out to rest on the metallic hand.
He nearly jumped when the wolf carefully flipped his hand over, though when the longer finger started to trace a few shapes in the center of the little devil's palm Bendy found his brief flicker of fear replaced with confusion.
In what seemed like a few seconds, the wolf had finished whatever he was trying to do, looking at Bendy like he was expecting some sort of a response. Though, upon seeing a complete lack of comprehension in the little devil's eyes, the wolf gave a gusty sigh before pointing down at the small, gloved hand still resting atop the metal prosthetic, and gave the little routine another go. This time, Bendy was able to parse out the lines traced into his palm, putting together the spelled-out message as T, O, and M.
"Tom…?" The little devil wheezed, the wolf giving another nod before pointing to himself. Comprehension broke like a rising dawn, Bendy giving a quiet 'oh' along with a nod of his own to show that he'd understood. Looks like his new friend had a name after all, Tom. Though it did sound oddly familiar, Bendy could hardly bring himself to be too concerned given that it wasn't as though the name 'Tom' was an uncommon thing.
Still, that left the pair of them standing a little awkwardly, more or less staring at each other as they waited for something to push the conversation onward. Bendy briefly contemplated introducing himself, though he figured that it'd be redundant at this point. Well, maybe redundant. Perhaps he ought to check…
"Guessin'…y'know who I am, already?"
Another nod, and though Bendy could say without a doubt that he was thoroughly exhausted he was passively glad to see that a faint sense of embarrassment did not fail to materialize.
"Alright then…" The little devil hummed, casting around before his eyes lit on something stuck to the wall near his head. At first, the scribblings and lines did not make much sense, before he internally stepped back and tried to puzzle it out. From a more broad vantage point he could see how the lines meshed, how it all came together in the image of some kind of a machine, maybe a generator?
There was another paper on his other side, one with the plans to what was more readily obvious as some sort of pump. Maybe to drain ink? The place might very well need it.
But it was the plans tacked to the opposite wall that got Bendy's attention, and made something curdle in his stomach. The paper in question was so big it took up a good chunk of the wall, and while he wasn't sure if this was a copy or something else, Bendy could easily pick out the familiar nozzle, the body shape covered with pipes and hoses, the completed image more than merely recognizable as the Ink Machine.
The only difference was that on this version of the plans, there were little bits and pieces here and there that were marked. Around the nozzle, the parts where the tank connected to the rest, some bits on the side, were all circled.
A faint shifting yanked Bendy's attention back to Tom, the wolf shuffling quietly about as he moved in his chair. The other toon's gaze roved for a moment before refocusing on the wide-eyed stare the little devil was beaming up at him.
"What's…what's that?" Bendy asked as he pointed up at the Machine plans, both trying to play dumb and figure out why on earth this toon would have them in his room of all places. Tom appeared to think for a moment before proffering a hand again, Bendy easily picking up on the cue this time and letting the wolf spell out M-A-C-H-I-N-E in his palm.
"The, that's the Ink Machine, right?"
A nod, Tom's expression looking more or less calm at the assertion.
"What're all those?" Bendy asked, the question clearly not getting across the meaning he wanted given that Tom's immediate response was to look more or less befuddled, before giving Bendy his hand back and moving over to the plans.
"U-Uhm, the thing on the…" The devil started, picking up on what the wolf was doing as he raised a hand to point the picture, letting Bendy guide him to the spot he was talking about. "The nozzle, what's circled there?"
Comprehension dawning, Tom briefly glanced to the plans before looking back to Bendy, his hands moving in a motion like he was breaking something apart.
"You, you wanna break the Machine?"
Another nod, Tom moving easily back to his chair like he'd just announced that he was going out for a burger. Catching Bendy gaping at him, the wolf's impassive expression morphed into a look that was easily recognizable as a somewhat irritated 'what'.
"I, I just…why? Why have all'a this? You can just go an' break the one down the other hall, off from th' elevator, looked like it was on its last legs anyway…"
From the expression Tom was making, that was not common knowledge. The wolf gave the matter about three seconds of stunned silence before he nearly surged forward, gesturing for more information.
Bendy, for his part, made the entirely rational decision to do his best to flop away from the intensely-focused wolf. Seeming to realize that he was not helping the little devil feel any more comfortable, Tom backed off, but still tried to gesture for Bendy to elaborate.
"U-Uh, it w's when…we fell, wh-when she dropped the elevator, we just kinda..ran that way. The door was, was open, we just went on…" The little devil stammered his way through the story, tail weakly coiling close to his frame as he kept watch on the hungrily attentive expression Tom was wearing as he soaked in every word. "That, we found Buddy down that way…"
Seeing the familiar canid hallmarks of confusion, in the form of a somewhat tilted head and quirked ears, Bendy found his retelling stuttering to a halt as he tried to figure out where he might not have been clear. When Tom reached out again, the devil received something of a hint, in the form of the letters 'W', 'H', and 'O'.
"Oh, the lil' guy, that's Buddy." Bendy explained, Tom giving a soundless 'ah' as comprehension dawned. "A-Anyway, we found 'im, an' hid out ferra bit b'fore we tried t'keep goin'."
That had been about when Boris had started getting sick, Bendy realized, the thought making him pause for a good few moments before he'd noticed that he'd left Tom hanging.
"Uh, an', well, we got held up a lil' bit here an' there, but we kept goin' inta, i-inta a shaft, an' we heard…her."
Thankfully, 'her' didn't seem to need much explanation, as Tom's expression morphed into one of immediate disgust and anger.
"She, sh-she tricked us." It was the long and short of it, but the thought of what exactly the angel had promised, and what had been there to greet them when they went into the haunted house, nearly made something ache in Bendy's chest.
He desperately hoped that 'Alice' had been wholly tricking him, because if she hadn't been then he'd lost more than one friend in this mad venture.
You got the both of them hurt. The thought weighed heavily on Bendy's mind, and though there was some part of him that could argue schematics, it felt paltry in the face of what had happened.
The sudden rocking of the hammock jolted Bendy out of his thoughts, his head zipping to look in Tom's direction as the wolf lowered his hand back to his side. It took the little devil a few moments to catch up to what had happened, but a faint harkening back to something in another safehouse, from what seemed like so long ago now, made him give a wet smile as a driblet of ink slid down from his brow.
"…Thanks."
Though it was obvious he couldn't answer, Tom gave a small, closed-mouth grin in return, reaching out again to gently poke at the hammock and keep it rocking.
An abrupt creak of the door opening shattered the moment, making Bendy jump and causing Tom's eyes to zip to look behind him as someone eased their way in. But the newcomer was only Allison, the angel balancing between Buddy in one arm and a hot bowl of bacon soup in her hand. Immediately, Tom got up to help her, leaving Bendy nestled in the hammock, staring for a moment before he flipped himself onto his side and pretended to be asleep.
"Thanks Tom." Allison said softly, letting the wolf take the soup as she gently eased Buddy down onto the chair that had just been abandoned. The tiny toon didn't seem too wound up, but he still glanced from the bowl of soup to the prone devil, something about the sight making his expression sink and pulling him from his perch to stand next to the hammock. Brow furrowed, worry overwrote the earlier calm as Buddy tried to reach to pull himself up. However, the minute devil being the shortest his mitten gloves came just shy of his goal, leaving him pawing uselessly at the fabric.
But, once he'd set the soup down, Tom quickly came to Buddy's rescue, carefully picking up and placing him in the hammock next to Bendy. As soon as he was set down, Buddy crawled over to press his tiny hands to the devil's arm, faint, involuntary shakes reverberating down his arms as they tried to jostle Bendy awake.
And, given that between Buddy's efforts and the fact that he knew Tom at least was likely staring, the little devil finally let his head roll back to consider the two. For Buddy, even though he knew the minute devil could not see it, Bendy offered a small smile and quiet murmur of 'hey, Bud', reaching carefully up and resting a hand on the tiny toon's bandaged head. Catching Tom's eye, and the bowl of soup that the wolf had grabbed in the interim, Bendy let the shadow of a grin fall, feeling awful for what he was going to say next but…honestly, the image was too similar to another place, another time, and another wolf.
"Thanks, but, 'm not that hungry right now. Y-Y'can set it down somewhere, I'll eat inna bit."
Or never, but Tom didn't have to know that. Besides, the wolf was perfectly content to move away, placing the soup down. As he did, Buddy crawled around, Bendy easily able to feel the shakes rattling through the tiny toon as he paused in front of him.
"Aw, Bud, c'mere, 's okay, I'll be fine."
I'll always be fine. The thought was there but given what had happened down on Level 14, Bendy didn't want to put voice to it. Either way, Buddy took it as clear invitation to huddle in close, practically tucking himself into the front of Bendy's coat as he buried his face into the larger devil's chest. The shakes juddered down to nothing as Bendy gently ran a hand up and down the tiny toon's back, Buddy's breathing evening into a slow, soft pattern with Bendy following him into slumber a moment later.
Neither noticed that Tom and Allison had quietly slipped out the door, the wolf pausing to listen and be sure their new charges were asleep while the angel carried on to the main area, trying not to get lost in her thoughts.
Besides, she had something to do herself, and only a small window of time to do it in. While she never liked to venture beyond the safehouse, the outside only too much of a reminder as to what had happened and what she had lost, the angel knew that she had to anyway. Usually for her and Tom's needs, though this time it would be hopefully the last.
She just hoped that nothing had happened while they'd been preoccupied…
Allison's hands were a barely restrained motion as she arranged her little survival pack, making sure the wrappings that made up the hilt of her sword were on tight. Even after thirty years, every venture outside made her nervous like never before. Especially now, after Bendy's return had stirred up all of the local horrors that had been dying down in the last few years, though Allison was starting to think that had been less dying down and more of a hibernation.
The return of the Ink had been a particular shock, though she'd been more than grateful that it had not tried to come their way. There was no way one could hope to take it down, it being able to take just as much punishment as it could give. Not to mention that it was death to get too close.-
Not daring to speak, Allison raced down the staircase, the heavier pounding of footsteps hinting that Tom was right behind her. And under that was a low rushing, a pulsating hum that set her teeth on edge as she tried to scramble out of range. They'd just been going through an office for supplies, but even the simplest of tasks had the tendency to turn into a fight for your life down here.
Though a part of her mind was focused on where to go, where to hide, even as she scrambled for cover in some discarded instruments, undercurrent of gibbering and whimpering trailed in the backdrop of the angel's mind, the part of her that still thought all of this was insane, that she should have been dead ages ago, why did she survive when barely anyone else did-?
She could feel it, the Ink had to be somewhere above them, it would hear them, they were going to die…
Allison barely suppressed a gasp as Tom abruptly twisted around, the wolf toon wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a somewhat lopsided hug. Out of the corner of her eye she could make out him staring fixedly at the ceiling, almost as though he were daring the Ink to come near.
Though there was a faint flicker of recrimination at the sight, that the wolf which had followed in her footsteps like a duckling should have to be strong when she was older and should be strong for him, Allison felt something in her unfurl at the sight. It brought a small bit of courage back to her, a hand coming up to rest on a furry arm. Tom's ears twitched, his eyes briefly darting down to look at her face though his nose remained pointed slightly upward. Together they sat in silence, staring up as the dark trails swept over the ceiling, heading from right to left as their source moved.
And faded, the dark trails vanishing as the source of the Ink moved far enough away. Letting out a breath that she'd only just become aware that she'd been holding, Allison let the tension ease from her frame in stages. Next to her, Tom relaxed as well though he didn't loosen up just yet in his hug. He didn't seem to realize that he was still hugging her, at least until she reached up and gently carded through the fur on his head. Though the wolf didn't outright jump, his ears flicked upright like he was listening for some hint as to where this strange assault was coming from before his head turned in her direction. Immediately upon making eye contact with Allison Tom's expression warmed, frame relaxing like that of a child who had just seen a beloved family member.
Though the angel did not dare speak, she did give the wolf one final affectionate hair-tousle, before jerking her head in the direction of the door at the end of the hall, and their home. Quickly picking up on her meaning, Tom gave a nod, easing himself up with the utmost care before reaching down with his only hand to help her up.-
-Much like always, the effect of each other's company was very much the same. Allison's frenetic motions eased, as Tom's guard lowered with a quietly happy smile and slight tail wag.
Still, she was at the door, and there were things to be done, so the brief reprise of peace broke apart as the angel pulled away, giving one last, reassuring grin to Tom as she went through.
The wolf, for his part, managed to keep his own, lighter expression up until the metal slab swung shut again, to which a more dour, quietly worried look slid into place. He knew change was coming, that much was certain…but he wasn't sure if it would end well. There'd already been one too many deviations from his own expectations, and as such, he didn't want to form new ones. Though it didn't seem like he'd have much choice in how things were going to go. Just had to hang on, and hope it was strong enough that he wouldn't fall off.
Fighting back a wave of frustration at the thought, as he couldn't act on a problem that hadn't arrived yet, Tom turned back in the direction of his room, keeping his footsteps light as he slid inside and hurried to the chair to keep watch.
Boris could feel his limbs swaying as he was carried, his body partially curled up in someone's arms as they walked down what sounded like a hallway. His head felt floaty, everything but his own frame seeming distant and far-away. But, the longer the moment went, the more solid everything felt, the more he could feel the arms of the person holding him, the feeling of a gentle warmth radiating from a body underneath a cotton shirt, the cloth holding a scent mixed with soap, oil, paper, ink…a vaguely familiar blend that teased at something in his memory, if his brain were a little more than a quiet mush he could recall-
-the office strangely spacious, the wolf's suspicion that no one really spent time in here only confirmed at the next words.
"C'mon kid, we'll find someplace for you to practice."-
-wincing as his fingers slipped, the note ringing discordant in the halting, unsure performance. Immediately Boris screeched to a stop, ears pressing back as he peered at the watching brown eyes, looking for some hint of disapproval, of punishment, perhaps a complete tirade ending with the man throwing him out, declaring the lesson a waste of time.
"Don't look at me like that. This is your first lesson, you're gonna sound awful anyway. Just play."-
-his chest twisting, tears pouring down his cheeks as he tried to both stem the terrified, upset, and altogether suffocating emotions roaring through both his head and insides. The object of his current meltdown, a broken and poorly remolded clarinet, sat in his hands as he held them up in a meager mockery of an offering. Maybe the man would just take it, and not be too harsh about throwing the wolf out of his office. Though Boris's mind was conjuring worse, of yelling, screaming, a hand yanking on his ear, telling him to GET OUT, GET OUT YOU CLUMSY MUTT, YOU STUPID BRAT, CAN'T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT-.
"How did this happen?" It wasn't yelling, but calm could easily turn to yelling so Boris was hardly eased.
"I, I fe-hell an', an' broke i-it-."
"Wait, you fell on it hard enough to break it? Are you alright?"
"Y-Yeah-." The wolf started, right before the question actually registered and he turned a completely shocked look up at the man, the quietly attentive expression quirking in a somewhat amused grin as he took in the complete shift in Boris's demeanor.
"Kid, at the end of the day, I don't care if the clarinet's busted. Any instrument is replaceable, anybody in the band really isn't."-
-But the strong, liquor-saturated scent wasn't the worst, it was the fact that the voice was clipped, the eyes carefully avoiding his own. It was so unlike what he was used to that the wolf felt his insides twist, falling back into old fears and patterns at the off-putting behavior. But, he was here to help, he promised the rest of the band he'd at least try, so Boris quietly stowed the feelings, and tried to plow onward.
"I-I'm sorry, I, I just…wanna help you, you're…you don' seem too good, a-an' they said I could help, but I don' know what t'do but 'm tryin' an', an'…" His eyes were misting, the wolf's voice turning quivery at both the situation and his own inability, his lack of understanding of what was happening only fueling the curdling in his chest and making it grow and froth until it was starting to trickle from under his eyelids. And, worst still, he couldn't make it stop.
This was going all wrong, he was supposed to be helping, but all he could do was cry like a useless brat, a coward, he wasn't helping at all…
"Kid, look, I-."
The speech stirred something in Boris, the wolf jumping before outright launching himself into a hug that wrapped around the man's shoulders. The motion pulled a few short sobs, the toon desperately trying to hold them back before he was forced to give up. But, as he was hurtling towards loosing control, a familiar, long-fingered pair of hands came up to return the hug, one wrapping itself around his shoulders as the other carded messily through the fur on his head.
"Shh, shh, Boris…'salright, you're alright, 'm sorry kid, you didn't do anything wrong…" The voice, though raspy and rough still sounded familiar enough that it crumbled the wolf toon's last defenses. Despite a part of him howling about how cowardly he was being, how he was letting the band down because he said he would help and crying was not helping, Boris still allowed himself to settle more securely into the hug, wrapping his own arms around his mentor's frame, hoping to give some of that back.
He knew he was still crying, he could feel the various fluids leaking from his face, but the wolf continued to cling to the man, letting the moment carry for as long as he could.-
It was like a light flicked on in his head. Feeling as though his body was trying to move through jello, the wolf started to squirm, pulling away from his rescuer to get a better look at the person. His eyes felt like they were being held together with glue, and when Boris finally managed to get them open a flash of pain zinged through his left, forcing him to keep it closed as he tried to see with just his right.
It didn't look like he'd left the studio, the walls around them still a dingy brown and stained with ink here and there. There was, however, once difference in that there were small orbs of light floating about, sparingly illuminating the corridor. However, the person carrying him was standing so that their face was in shadow.
The sight should have made him more nervous, but for the wolf fear was a vague and faraway thing, and not just because he still felt so weak. It was because…
…He knew who this was.
If Boris had more energy, he might've tried to squirm around to hug the man, his mentor, but for the moment all his body was able to allow was the ability to stare up at Sammy, eyes tracing over the music director's features and finding everything a perfect match for what he had known. Though the upper half of the man's face was smeared with ink, the dark eyes, shoulder-length black hair, and angular features were as he remembered them, like it had only been a day ago that they'd sat down for a music session that neither had thought special, said goodnight to each other without any second thought that it might be the last time.
"Hey kid." The voice was a little echoey, which did ring as odd to the wolf's ears, but it was the same. Same tenor, even the same moniker.
Though the name was on the tip of Boris's tongue, it suffocated under the weight of emotion that left a solid mass in his throat, and pulled tears from his eyes. Despite the fact that the musician himself did not start to cry, Boris could see the frown in the ink-stained face, right before Sammy drew him up and held the wolf close in a hug.
The motion, the careful safety, all of it finally broke down Boris's crumbling walls. Quiet tears and hitched breaths turned to gusty, heaving sobs, the lanky toon clutching at what he could of Sammy's arms. Over his head, the wolf could hear the musician quietly murmuring. Semi-awkward things, that it was alright, he was here, he was safe, I've got you, it's…it's alright, Boris, I've got you…
The tone almost made it sound like an apology, though for the moment Boris hardly wanted any of that. Bendy'd apologized, for things that weren't his fault, some things that might've been, but these felt the same way. Hard, painful, like pulling something from someone rather than having it offered of their own free will. Like the apology was something they would say if they just wanted everything to stop.
But then again, Sammy had been dealing with the hell the studio became long before Boris had, or at least could consciously remember. It couldn't have been more than a day for him and Bendy, but for Sammy it was probably a lot longer.
Though his throat was too tight, everything above his neck a sobbing, liquid mess, the wolf forced more energy into his upper body, squirming around in Sammy's arms until he had wrapped his own around the musician's torso in a rough approximation of a hug. The motion, along with the change, briefly made the murmured comfort cease, Sammy seemingly taken off-guard.
But then it started up again, quiet shushing interlaid with faint snatches of humming. Boris vaguely recognized the melodies as things Sammy would use to teach him to play, back when he'd been still learning. The music lulled the wolf into a gentle, painless grey, far from the rushing noise and cacophony of the black, and not taking him away from the physical comfort he had found. It didn't feel quite like he was sleeping, but his thoughts definitely turned back to their previously mushy state for a bit as he settled down. Even still, he did not let go of Sammy, and the musician's arms did not loosen in their effort to hold onto him.
Bendy drifted in and out, mostly due to things such as the sound of the door creaking or the hammock lightly rocking as Tom gently nudged it. He hardly had much of an inclination to move, apart from when Buddy shifted around in his sleep. A few times it seemed like the tiny toon might've been on the cusp of a nightmare, but Bendy did his best to head off the bad dreams when they rolled through.
His own sleep was mired and fraught with half-images, of Boris's frame twisting and melting as the wolf's eyes stared accusingly at Bendy, of the monstrous, chimera version of the lanky toon as the features dribbled off and the black ink turned red, revealing the battered form of Henry before the animator was simply swallowed by the floods. Alice's face staring down at him, grim and hateful as half of her scowl deformed into the empty socket and malformed smirk that had been part of her warped double's ensemble.
The worst though was when, from out of the black floods of ink arose a familiar, tall figure leaning on a cane, face pulled in a leering, empty grin that was all too reminiscent of the devil's own portraits lining the studio halls. Looming over the small toon, Joey Drew's voice hummed lowly that you should never have left, Bendy, you were always meant to be here, with me, and as he was speaking the ink that was pooling around them rose like snakes, wrapping around Bendy and dragging him down-.
It was this that had the little devil waking up in a cold sweat, thankfully not jostling the hammock and rousing Buddy along with him as he did. Still, he couldn't keep himself from shaking, a quiet collection of sobs gusting from behind a clenched set of teeth. For a moment, the little devil lamented the state of the pillow under his head, as this could only be one of their rescuer's beds, probably Tom's if he was to go out on a limb, but he could only muster up the energy for that for so long. His arms tightened almost of their own accord, wrapping Buddy's still-slumbering body in a somewhat desperate hug.
Boris may have been gone, but Bendy still had some measure of responsibility, one that he wasn't sure that he had any business to. He was a magnet for trouble down here, with every kind of horror gunning for him and people he cared about getting caught in the crossfire. Buddy definitely deserved better than that, maybe he could…make sure the little guy could stay with Tom and the angel. They seemed like good people. Then…maybe he could just phase himself out. Disappear. Let the things that groaned about being set free chase him and leave everyone here alone.
You're not going to get away from them. Not forever. A voice went in the little devil's brain, with a tone to it that reminded him of Boris. Don't do anything crazy.
But did he really have the right to be safe when so many were suffering in his name? Pleading for him to find a way to save them? When lunatics and monsters were hunting for his ink?
The sound of the door creaking open didn't get Bendy's attention at first. He figured it was just Tom, maybe the angel come in to check on them. But, as he was about to pretend to be asleep, he caught a noise that was distinctly off from the lighter and heavier footfalls of the angel and the wolf. A sort of rhythmic splattering and wet dragging, the sound of something pulling itself into the room as though half of its body didn't work right.
And, though it had been a while since he'd heard the like, the sound rang just a little too familiar for Bendy to ignore. Trying to be as quiet as possible, the little devil flipped his head to look behind him, and nearly sprang upright in a rush as he recognized the decently-sized, humanoid inky shape sitting in front of the door. Though the light was at the thing's back, there was enough of a contrast that Bendy could pick out an equally recognizable white spot on its front.
The monochrome ink monster had finally caught up to him. And this time, there was nowhere to run. On an impulse, Bendy quietly threw a part of the blanket over Buddy, hiding the tiny toon from view as he tried to sit up as silently as he could. It still hadn't moved, but Bendy knew from experience that the thing's hearing was nothing to sneeze at.
In fact, the slight rustle of the blankets moving about was getting its attention, causing the monster to rock for a moment before reeling upright, standing on indistinct 'feet' as it grabbed onto the doorframe in what might've been both an effort to stay up, and to keep Bendy from bolting. Not that the little devil had much energy to anyway, but he could see the reasoning.
Briefly shooting a glance back at the still-sleeping Buddy, Bendy took in a deep breath, and quietly made his decision. Hopefully the monster would just be happy with him, wouldn't try to search the room. Buddy would get out of it fine, at least for a little while. It was all he could do anymore.
"Alright...c'mon." Bendy found himself saying. At another point in time, he might have been surprised by his own daring, though it seemed like an age had passed between then and now. Now, he just wanted things to stop. He wanted everything to stop.
"You wanted to get me? Whelp, you did it, I'm got."
Still nothing, though if Bendy were being charitable, he would have said that the atmosphere in the room had grown almost tensely silent, as if holding its breath waiting on his words. Alright, fine. He had plenty to say.
"Yeah, you got me. I'm done." Bendy couldn't help the rueful chuckle that slid out immediately after that statement, his mouth only going further and further off the rails. And strangely, he didn't care, even kept going though a part of him couldn't help but flash back to a certain scene in a vent, the wide eyes of Boris peering at him through the dark... "Yeah, you're hearin' right. I. Give. Up. I've had it, I'm done, really I could keep goin' on but-."
The pause he took was involuntary, but for the life of him the little devil couldn't tell if what came out of his mouth in the interim was a strangled cough, a hollow choke of laughter, or a partially smothered sob. It honestly could have been all three. Still, he couldn't stop talking.
"R-Really, think I've done enough here. Enough's happened. I get it, leaving was a mistake. Eh-Everything was a mistake." He was definitely crying again, he could feel the ink running down his face as he gripped at the edge of the hammock. Hadn't he done that enough lately? Still, with every failure playing on the backs of his eyelids, every nightmare, every suffering soul that was here because of him, he couldn't stop. "Everythin's gone so wrong and I can't, even help. Nothin' I do helps. I come back, whoop, too late, everyone's either gone or lookin' pretty dead, I try to leave, I almost become a part of the scenery, I try to just, leave with…my, my pal…"
Bendy's voice warbled heavily on the last word, black drips framing his face and sliding around his eyes. In the lull, the monster took a heavy, glooping step forward, but jolted as the little devil began to speak again, voice turning high-pitched with hysteria.
"And, funny thing, that fell through too! Y'know, pretty sure I even left Boris in a worse spot than I found him in, didn't think I could get much worse than walking out, but hey, I'm just full of surprises apparently! Like somehow bein' some kind of cult magnet! An' havin' people makin' sacrifices and doing really horrible things to 'appease' me, turnin' folks into monsters, and turnin' my home into a hellhole!" Though he ended up cutting down his volume so as not to wake Buddy, Bendy ended up pressing the heels of his hands into his head, ink running in near-constant rivulets down his face. "So, y-y'know what, you'd probably be doing people a favor, really. So, just, let's get this over with. You got me. Y'caught yourself a devil. 'R demon. Whatever."
The little devil quietly let his hands fall from his head, instead wrapping them loosely around his own frame. The ink continued to drip and trickle unabated, though he made no move to try to wipe it away. Still, the monster stayed quiet, standing in front of the hammock.
"Just…do what you gotta do. Get it over with. Hey, with my luck, I'll mess that up too."
A shaky, breathy sigh.
"Just make it stop, please."
It came out remarkably steady given that Bendy was sure that half of the ink from the top of his head was now running down his face. He didn't feel stable, either. Instead it felt like the world was swirling under his feet, sucking him down into a black, dismal whirlpool.
What was the point of trying anymore really, if all he seemed to be able to do was throw a massive monkey wrench into everything good?
It seemed like a perfect justification, and Bendy didn't move from where he sat as he waited for the thing to finally grab him.
And waited, the silence dragging on for so long that the little devil looked up in exhausted confusion.
The monochrome monster was still there. Just, quietly standing there with a hand on the desk and a finger in the bowl of soup that had been left to cool. Did it, not know where he was? How did it not figure that out, especially considering that Bendy had pretty much lit up an auditory bonfire with his little soliloquy a moment ago?!
But then the thing reeled forward, the little devil tensing again as it brought its head to right in front of him, drops of ink splattering on the tiny toon's knees. And it just stayed that way for a moment before its other, overlarge hand came up and began scrubbing at its head. Almost like…
A flash of memory went through Bendy's mind, of being caught under the monster's arm, biting through and sinking his teeth into something, something much tougher than ink.
The monster immediately stopped moving as Bendy's lean forward made the hammock creak, even bringing its head closer so that the little devil could have an easier time reaching. Bendy's fingers trembled as they tried to paw through the thick ink, eventually resorting to just scrubbing at the head and the face underneath it, with an already black-stained coat sleeve as the suspicion gnawing at the back of his mind grew tenfold.
It was difficult, given that no matter how much the little devil tried to clear it the ink kept coming from somewhere on the figure's body. But, by using one sleeve as a buffer and continuing to clean with his other hand, Bendy was able to clear a patch of greyish-toned skin, helped along by the monster lowering itself to a kneel so gravity could help the process along.
It took him a moment to realize what exactly he'd uncovered, but with the familiar landmark of a closed, human eye Bendy realized that yes, he was indeed looking at a person, and the more he looked, the more something like familiarity began to blossom in the little devil's mind.
Because while it was the wrong skin tone, and while the eye was closed, he could easily imagine it a pale-ish, more healthy peach, and the shape of the eyes immediately made Bendy think that if they opened, he might see that they were blue-.
But the ink was getting in the way again, the dark rivulets running over the pale grey growing thick enough that Bendy automatically tried to clear them, triggering a wince that flashed across the afflicted face, the eye briefly blinking open to reveal all-encompassing, wet black before they shut again. But the dark, liquid ribbons on the skin were not going away, Bendy about to wipe at them again before a realization crashed in on his mind.
They weren't just simply rivulets of ink, they were tears in the skin; the ink was coming from underneath. The thought of which made Bendy's stomach flip-flop threateningly though he knew that there was nothing for it to bring up.
What made it all the worse was, he could guess as to who this was. The name was there, right on the tip of his tongue, but for the life of him Bendy couldn't make it leave his throat. Couldn't let it be said, because then that'd mean that he'd been running from…
"H-Henry?"
And, lo and behold, the man turned monster nodded, the muscles in the exposed face screwing up in a painful-looking grimacing shadow of a grin. The blackened eye opened again, ink leaking from it like tears.
Before he could really think on what he was doing, Bendy pushed himself off the hammock, rocking it and dropping the little devil right onto Henry's upper body. The impact knocked the man back onto his rear, a pained, watery grunt ringing out even as an overlarge arm came up to properly stabilize the toon's impromptu landing. Though the instant Bendy noticed that his impulsive action had caused the animator actual pain, he immediately tried to pull away.
"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" But despite the apparent hurt, Henry did not loosen his grip, keeping Bendy pressed to his front as he tried to resettle. The ink had recovered the man's face, leaving his exact emotions a mystery, but the little devil could read into the quiet shuddering that had taken hold of the slime-covered shoulders, a faint, hitching sound gurgling from where his face was under the ink.
It really hit home for Bendy as to what had been happening. Henry had been trying to find him. This whole time, and even with monsters and nightmares about, Henry had been looking for him. And he had done nothing but…
"I, I'm sorry, H-Henry," Bendy warbled through hiccups and sobs alike, the words simply tumbling off his tongue with reckless abandon. "I'm s-s-sorry fer bitin' you, an' yellin' all'a that, an' runnin'-."
Letting out a noise that honestly could only be categorized as a strange hybrid between a sob and a somewhat hysterical snort of laughter, the little devil's mouth pulled into a mirthless grin as a new slight came to mind.
"I e-even hit ya wi' a, with a plunger!"
The thought of which would almost be completely hilarious if the circumstances weren't so dire. Maybe if he hadn't hit Henry, the man might've been able to explain, saved them all a lot of pain and grief. They could've skipped that nightmare in the elevator, skipped the whole latter half of the ordeal with 'Alice', if not the whole thing given that Henry had appeared long before that, the thought making Bendy want to either scream in frustration at himself or just start crying harder.
Would knowing that the monochrome monster was Henry had saved Boris? Bendy, honestly wasn't sure, but he ended up forcing himself to truncate the thought. It hurt too much to think about, and for the moment, everything came with some degree of pain.
He couldn't go back, couldn't undo a thing, and at this point, he was more than afraid to go forward. The little devil felt paralyzed, both caught by this bittersweet fortune and what could happen in the possibly near future, how he could lose this too. The fear bubbled up inside, frothing up until it turned into more tears. But, even though the crying and muted wailing, Henry did not loosen his hold on the small toon, resorting to quietly rocking back and forth in lieu of verbal comfort as the ink from the man's body grew runnier with his own emotions.
A pair of faint creaks had Bendy attempting to peer to both sides of the room, the little devil easily catching sight of Buddy peeking over the side of the hammock, and Tom and the angel quietly opening the door.
"Is…everything alright?" The question had come from the angel, and it left the little devil blinking at the almost normal switch the conversation had taken. Like this just wasn't that strange of a thing to be confronted with.
Given that Bendy was shocked into silence, Henry was left to give a sort-of-answering gurgle and a slight shrug of the shoulders. Seeing the more relaxed mood, both Tom and the angel edged in, joining the huddle on the floor. Though Bendy didn't exactly flinch away, the little devil stayed still as a statue, watching the pair come near.
Despite the fact that this probably wasn't too endearing to look at, the angel still passed him a glance with an attempt at an integrating smile.
"Sorry, we weren't introduced. My name is Allison."
"Nice t'meet you." The words were barely out of his mouth when Bendy suddenly noticed spots dancing in front of his eyes, the little devil's frame sagging back to the point of nearly falling over if it were not for a large, inky hand pressing to his back and keeping him upright. Too much ink, he'd dripped too much…
Immediately things happened in what seemed like rapid succession. Henry made a noise, Tom's hands came round to lift Bendy up off the floor, Buddy's mittens patting at his head and face, someone else, probably Allison from the shape of the hands, feeling his forehead and easing what felt like a cup to his mouth.
Water, blessedly cool water. Bendy practically tried to tilt the cup entirely towards his mouth the second he registered the liquid. It seemed almost too soon that the thing was drained dry, though immediately after the lip of a bottle replaced it.
An inkwell, actually. Though Bendy's expression pinched at the somewhat emotionally-charged range of hazy thoughts that flashed through his mind as he realized what he was drinking, he still downed the whole thing. With the world around him winking away into a comatose darkness, Bendy acted on the one thought still firing in his hazy brain.
"'enry?" The little devil groaned as he shakily reached about, his left hand quickly caught in an overlarge set of fingers that felt sticky through his gloves. A faint, bubbling noise came from that direction, Bendy's mouth quirking in a relieved grin even as fading paranoia dragged the following slurred words from his tongue.
"Don' go, 'lease…s'rry…"
It was nearly soundless, but of course the man-turned-ink-monster heard it, an answering, burbling hum following the little devil down into darkness.
The sound of a hissed conversation over his head drew Boris out of the grey, the soft murmur condensing into words as his mind slowly woke up.
"-you won't be able to keep him here forever-."
"I know that!" The tone came just shy of a bark, the arms tightening around the wolf's frame for a moment before making what seemed like a conscious effort to relax. "I know. I, I just need a few minutes…"
"What are you gonna do for him, Sammy? What can you do?" The other voice, the new voice, said, the gravely vocals familiar but recognition was slipping Boris's mind. Instead, he was drawn in more by the topic at hand, what were they talking about…?
"I wasn't going to leave him down there-."
"I know, believe me, I know. But…" A pause, before: "Joey's gonna figure out you took him, if he hasn't already. I'm not saying abandon him, but…you're going to want to set some things straight, the sooner the better. You're not gonna have long."
Murky thoughts lent to murky conclusions, the wolf still confused on who this 'he' was that they kept going back and forth about, but he definitely homed in on Joey's name. The singular word brought back a flood of unwelcome memories, of hands reaching inside PAIN PAIN PAIN a humming voice telling him to FIND BENDY his creator throwing him into a dark maelstrom, dropped him into a chorus of desperate screams, grabbing hands that pulled him down-.
Fear broke up the last of the fog, the wolf giving an involuntary shudder as his breathing quickened. But almost immediately one of Sammy's hands moved to rest on Boris's head, gently scratching around his ears in a motion that calmed, but for the wolf the mention of Joey's name was too big a threat to simply sink back into the lulling not-slumber.
The touch did, however, ground him. Enough that instead of springing up Boris only uncurled slightly, trying to open his eyes and only managing to get the right one. Through the left he got a brief flash of pressing, moving darkness before a spike of agony knifed through his head.
At the pained gasp, Sammy snapped into action, peering down at the wolf before speaking up.
"Kid, just shut the eye. It's, you won't be able to use it."
"W-Why?" Boris asked, shakily bringing up a hand to cover his left eye as he did his best to look at the musician with his right. From what he could make out, Sammy's eyebrows were furrowing under their inky coating, expression mired in a rare worry. There was also something else, but only just as the wolf was blinking, something like a faint, golden cloud or mist surrounding Sammy's shoulders and head…
"It's, it's not that important right now, just keep it closed." A faint pause, as the musician's eyes cast about. Boris was nearly ready to turn and see what Sammy was looking at, but as he started to move, the musician hastened to speak again. "Boris, kid, I need you to listen to me-."
"What's, what's happenin', you weren'-." The stumbling start triggered more memories, the wolf briefly pausing as scenes played on the back of his closed eyelid, of 'Sammy's inky, whirling form gliding down the claustrophobic halls, running as ink flooded his lungs, sinking into the Bendy statue as 'Sammy' stood there and watched-.
"Sammy, wh-what's goin' on, why…what happened t'you?"
The whimpered questions seemed to knock the wind from the musician's sails, Sammy briefly going quiet before he could find an answer.
"…I, I made a bad decision. Took up with the wrong people." A brief shadow passed over the ink-stained face, somehow darker than what Boris remembered, though as he tried to levy himself up in order to give the musician a more secure hug, the wolf found that his legs would not move one iota.
"M-My legs, I can't…" Boris stammered, squirming around in Sammy's grip as he tried to get a good look at the aforementioned limbs. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with them, no ink anywhere, and they didn't hurt. But…they also wouldn't work. They almost felt too heavy to move.
"Yeah, 'cause you still have a body to go back to." The return of the gravelly voice made Boris half-jolt, the wolf doing his best to peer around behind to see the owner. Sammy only gave the matter a sigh before taking a hand away to gesture, a tall, stocky man stepping into view a moment later. Boris blinked as he took in this stranger, the ink-stained work overalls and faded brown shirt with an askew collar, black smeared around the shoulders. The stern, weather-beaten face was dirty, though it was impossible to tell whether or not this was more ink or just machine grease. Boris's nose seemed unusually dulled for some reason but he could smell both, along with a fainter odor of sweat hanging around the man, mixing in and telling of close quarters and heavy, churning machinery.
Like the stuff he had seen down in the toy area. The thought of which reminded him of a particular few tapes, with glimmers of advice and windows into the more mysterious parts of the studio. And, the more that Boris thought about it, the more the auditory parts of his memory kicked in, supplying him easily with the gravely, crackling voice that he had heard through the tape deck speakers.
"Connor…?" Boris blurted out, the quiet murmur getting the mechanic's attention with a faint, almost surprised lifting of an eyebrow that was almost completely hidden by the dark stains framing his eyes.
"Didn't think you'd actually know my name, kid. Pretty sure I never met you."
"N-No." The reply came on the heels of a flutter of anxiety, the more impassive part of the mechanic's demeanor setting Boris on edge. It was too much like another, with dark eyes hidden behind spectacles…
"The, the tapes. I 'membered you from the tapes. An' when you came…"
"We were told to keep you out of the way." Sammy slid in, slipping his way back into the conversation. "Boris, this is Thomas Connor."
The wolf sat there blinking for an instant, before ingrained politeness had him reaching shakily out, holding out his hand to the mechanic in an effort at a handshake.
"Nice t'meet you, Mr. Connor." Though there was an odd beat of staring, Thomas easily took the gloved hand, carefully pumping it up and down.
"Nice to meet you too, kid."
But something from before was intruding on the moment, something that the mechanic had said a while ago, about Boris having a…body to go back to…
"Wait, I…" Boris started, turning back towards the musician before the final pieces begun to click. "Sammy, are you dead?!"
"…Alright, technically yes, but no one ever really dies in here..." The partial explanation cut itself off as Sammy realized Boris was a hop, skip, and a jump away from crying again, the musician passing a glare and hissing a barely-restrained 'thank you so much' in Thomas's direction.
"Don't look at me like that, Lawrence, we're cutting this close as it is-."
"I know."
"You keep saying that, but I don't think you're getting it." Thomas ground out, kneading at the bridge of his nose before snapping at the musician. "Just tell him, Sammy, we don't have-!"
The mechanic abruptly stopped, eyes going wide and peering off in the direction of the hall behind the wolf, the motion getting both Boris's and Sammy's attention as the musician's arms tightened around the lanky toon, hampering his efforts to look. He could faintly hear something though. An odd, mechanical groaning that sat at the periphery of his hearing.
"…Just hurry up, Sammy. We can't keep this up forever. You know he won't let us."
"Wh, who won't let us?" Boris asked, voice a hushed note of vibrating tension. Immediately, Sammy's eyes were yanked back to meet the wolf's, something in the musician's jaw working for a moment as he appeared to fight, either to explain or console. But, for an instant, he could do neither.
After taking a breath, though, Sammy did try.
"Boris, we're running short on time, so just listen to me, Joey's probably trying to find us-."
Despite the impulse to stay quiet and listen, the name alone had the tension ramping back up in Boris's mind, the wolf's memories easily recalling the words that Joey had said to him before dropping him into the darkness.
In fact, if all goes well, you won't be worrying about anything. If his creator caught him, he might make good on the threat, might make it hard to think, hard to remember, and turn Boris against Bendy. He'd become a monster, and he wouldn't be able to stop himself-!
"W-Wait, Joey's, h-he's comin'-?!"
"Boris-."
"Please, Sammy, don' let-!"
"I'm not!" The musician's voice had risen in a yell, the tone completely shutting down the panicking wolf as he huddled in a trembling, curled-up little ball. "Boris, I am not going to just let Joey take you. But, just in case…"
As he spoke, Sammy's fingers were gently carding through the fur on Boris's head, a silent apology for hollering at him. Even still, he continued to speak, the lanky toon doing his best to hang onto the musician's every word for something that might help him.
"No matter what Joey says, no matter what he promises you, keeping telling him no. Don't accept anything he tries to sell you, because he will lie about what's gonna happen if you help him." But he'd have to face Joey again anyway, the thought of which made something shivering and small in Boris want to cry out, to plead for a better way.
But, maybe Sammy couldn't help. Maybe nobody could really help, because Joey had made sure that they couldn't. Feeling the slight hope draining away as a worn sniffle rang out, Boris quietly leaned into Sammy, the musician gently wrapping the lanky toon in a careful hug.
"…I'm sorry, Boris." The wolf could vaguely remember something similar being said, when he'd first woken up. This sounded the same, worn out and defeated, pricking at the toon's sense of compassion. This wasn't right, none of this was right, he didn't want to get Sammy back just to make his mentor sound so drained, because of him. But though 'it's okay' was on the tip of Boris's tongue, what instead came out was…
"He, he wanted me t'get Bendy. T'find him an', an' bring him. But…I saw…Joey, h-he's gonna hurt Ben, I couldn'…I couldn' do that." Boris wasn't sure exactly why he'd said it, maybe he'd wanted to let someone know what had happened, maybe he had the thought in his mind that if he mentioned it then maybe there might be something more that someone could do. But, instead of some grand epiphany or sudden lifting in mood, things only seemed to sink even more. Sammy only gave the wolf's frame a brief, tight squeeze of a hug, Boris's more sensitive ears able to pick up another faint apology.
"You probably know more than us then." Thomas quietly murmured, the out of the blue speech getting the attention of both Sammy and Boris. But though the wolf was completely confused, the musician seemed to have something more in terms of an inclination as to what Thomas was talking about.
"I think only one person here really knows what Drew is up to but seeing as they're not allowed to talk…" Sammy's semi-explanation ended with a glare aimed at the ceiling, Boris briefly confused as to who the pair were talking about. Who would Joey tell his plans to? Why would this person be helping the studio head do all of this? Did they have a choice in the matter?
But before Boris's brain could fully follow the tangent, he noticed something. Namely that the sound that had been teasing at his ears from before was back, much louder, and this time, he could place what it was.
It was the sound of pipes groaning when they were under too much pressure.
Sammy nearly threw himself to his feet, Boris almost tumbling from the musician's arms before he managed to right himself.
"Sammy, c'mon-!" Thomas hollered, the mechanic already running down the hall, away from the shrieking of the pipes. Sammy did dart after him, Boris bouncing a bit as the musician tried his best to get some distance, but it seemed like only moments later that the groaning cut off in an echoing crash.
The sound was followed by a mighty thunder of rushing liquid, Boris peering over Sammy's shoulder and catching sight of the rising, dark floods beginning to fill the corridor behind them. The wolf almost thought he could see hands reaching from the inky mires, reaching out for him, trying to claim him, pull him back-!
"Sammy!" Thomas shouted up ahead, the pair's attention quickly grabbed as the mechanic climbed up a few barrels to what looked like a level above where they were. With the promise of higher ground, the musician dashed for the makeshift 'stairs', hefting Boris in his arms as he tried to follow Thomas's example.
But with the added weight Sammy was just too slow, and the flood quickly knocked Boris from his grip. Though before the wolf could be entirely swept away, the musician managed to latch onto his right arm with a hand, keeping his head just above the rushing ink. Boris caught sight of Thomas grabbing onto Sammy's other hand, anchoring the musician as he cried out to the wolf.
"Boris, hang onto me!"
Boris certainly tried, floundering to try to grab on with his left hand too, but the floods were too strong. And he could feel the hands, pulling at his clothing, his legs, even the aforementioned arm, trying to pull him back under. As the ink splashed around his ears, he could hear the hum of the voices, the cacophony of screaming sounding like it was coming from a badly tuned radio. But it was there, close enough that it made Boris fight all the harder not to be dragged down.
His other arm would not rise above the ink, his legs dead weight in the slurry. And, with the slickness of the ink soaking into his right arm, the grip starting to slide as the fur grew slick.
The fight in Sammy's eyes turned to desperation as he realized what was happening, the musician briefly fighting with Thomas's grip on his other hand to use something, anything to stabilize the wolf. But it wouldn't work, Boris knew it wouldn't work, he could feel his hand slipping, he'd be pulled back in!
"S-Sammy!" The wolf choked, trying to keep the ink from getting into his mouth as terrified tears trickled down his face. "Sammy, please! I-I can't-!"
"Don't start that!" Sammy snarled back, nearly yanking his hand away from Thomas's to lend his full effort to keeping Boris above the flood. "Don't talk like that! Give me your other hand!"
The wolf hand been about to try, desperation kicking his efforts into overdrive, only to freeze as a hand suddenly rose up from the ink and grabbed at the right side of Boris's head. The fingers were cold, wrapping themselves around the toon's ear and yanking down. The motion pulled the right side of Boris's head into the ink, and forced his left eye to open.
The world turned dark and swimming, pain knifing through the wolf's eye socket as he started to thrash. He felt like his legs were moving, but they were doing nothing to help him push through the current towards the hand that still held onto his arm. Boris could hear Sammy, but the musician's voice sounded faint and far away, drowning in the roar of the ink and the chorus of screams and cries that pressed against his right ear. He wanted to scream, to call for help, but he still had enough sense that he knew if he opened his mouth he would swallow the ink.
But even as he fought between fear and frantic energy, Boris could feel the grip in the hand slipping from his arm, falling further and further as Sammy's yelling grew quiet, the musician throwing all of his concentration into keeping hold on the wolf.
Though, despite Sammy's best efforts, eventually there was no more arm to hold onto.
A muffled scream reverberated through the wolf's throat as he suddenly felt the current carrying him away, the grasp of multiple hands latched onto his legs and arm only helping him along and pulling him under. Boris could only just hear an answering yell from Sammy, an alarmed noise coming from Thomas echoing oddly in his ears right before the toon was submerged in the ink, spinning end over end in darkness-.
-SCREAMING, EVERYONE'S SCREAMING-
-can't do this anymore-
-Long days, long nights, never going home, we're never going home-
-GET ME OUT-
-please, just let me go, let me die-
-SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE-
-help's not coming, it's never coming-
-save us, he has to SAVEUS-
-don't give up, mustn't give up-
-that's it, come right up here…" The voice sounded different from the others. Clearer, more coherent as it managed to squeak past the cacophony of chatter and screams, drawing Boris to it like a moth to the flame, the wolf desperate for some stability in the whirling dark. But as he came close, something long and thin wrapped itself around his limbs and torso, pulling him up, up, up and away, and into a new sort of space. This was much quieter than the void, surely, but for the moment Boris would hardly say that it looked much better.
For starters, it was almost just as dark, the walls swimming with movement, almost like he was in a dome of sorts, and the ink was still flowing around outside. There were shapes pressed against the walls, almost like there were two other domes sitting on either side of him, but no matter how much the wolf tried to see he couldn't tell what was in them.
He also could feel something, things, wrapped around his arms, legs, and even a few times around his chest. Looking down, Boris was completely surprised, and more than a little worried, to see that the something was a winding line of blood red string. At least, it looked like string. The wolf was fairly certain that string was not supposed to glow, or pulsate like this one was. His attempts to grab it were not all that successful either, Boris feeling the thin cord burn under his fingers as he tried to get ahold of it. Yelping and withdrawing hands that felt like they should be smoking, the toon had a moment to breathe before suddenly the ropes yanked, pulling him upright and a few inches off the floor.
Underneath the high-pitched yelp Boris made as he suddenly found himself dangling, his heart stammered in his chest as his ears picked out an all-too familiar clopping noise, like a cane hitting wood.
His lungs joined the rest of his chest cavity in its panic as Joey Drew stepped around to stand in front of him, the wolf meeting his creator's eyes with nothing but mute terror. This was a far cry from last time, where his mind had been muddled, his memories far away.
Now, he remembered everything. Everything that Joey had done, everything that had happened out in the studio, the fact that Joey had caused it…
…And now, he was alone with the man.
No one's coming. No one's going to save you. You'll be just like them. The thoughts pounded through Boris's head, beating a violent tattoo on his already-terrified mind.
But, in a complete contrast to the fear-struck image the wolf cut, the man simply looked over the toon, before glancing down at his own hands. As Boris stared, more of the red cords suddenly appeared, leading down into the 'floor' as they spiraled out from Joey's fingertips.
A faint twitch of his fingers, and something pulled the cord wrapped around Boris's right arm. The sudden wrenching pulled the wolf's arm from hanging in the air to pointed at the ground, yanking hard for a moment before letting up. Despite a faint, pained gasp, Joey hardly looked up at the noise, instead focusing his attention on his own hands as his fingers quirked and pulled at the strings.
And, as he did, the wolf's frame was tugged about, an arm up, another down, body veering wildly from side to side, his legs swung forwards and back at the whim of a few tugs from the red string. The end result was a still-panicked, now thoroughly discombobulated Boris that only had a few moments of peace before the strings pulled again, this time sending his arms pointing at the ceiling, and tightening around his upper body.
The pain and pressure grew and kept building, terror growing in Boris that he would be torn apart under the force. Joey had already hurt him, it wasn't too far out of the realm of possibility, the thought provoking the mental image of the cords biting through his wrists and into his midsection and pulling him asunder-.
"J-Joey-!" The wolf yelped, eyes tearing as pain spiked through his arms and chest. "You're hurtin' me, stop, please-!"
Though the words did get the pressure to loosen, Boris knew better than to get his hopes up; pleading with Joey hadn't worked before. He was proven sadly right when another loop of the red string lashed itself around his muzzle, pinning his jaws shut and keeping the sobbed cries muffled, any further beseeching locked in the wolf's vocal chords. Instead the toon tried to struggle away, hoping that if he moved he might loosen the grip of the ropes, but that only made them tighten more so he was forced to stop. Trying to keep as limp as possible, Boris felt himself be flipped around again and again, a cord pulling hard at his right arm, another doing the same with his left, two more yanking at both his legs before it seemed that a reprieve had been granted, the wolf coming to a hovering standstill.
Except this time, it seemed as though Joey wanted to break his silence. Boris felt himself start to cower as his creator looked from his hands to the wolf's wide, terrified eyes.
"Now, Boris," Joey's voice hummed like something far too big for the man's frame, the wolf wanting to shrink away though the red strings kept him from moving. "…I am going to give you one last chance. And, I'll even sweeten the deal for you…"
"If you bring Bendy to me, I will make sure to fix things for everyone. Sammy, Wally, Henry, even Norman, if I can manage it. And of course, you will have Alice, and Bendy, once he and I are finished with what we need to do. In fact," Joey's voice turned jovial, the wolf feeling himself grow more fearful at the new edge to his creator's smile. "As a show of good faith, I'll even let you talk to Sammy, right now. Wouldn't you like that, Boris?"
Yes, yes he absolutely would, but not like this. Not dragging his mentor right in the middle of this whole sordid scene. While the wolf was undoubtably still scared out of his mind, the idea of someone he cared about getting caught in the crossfire only frightened him more. But, even without Boris's direct say-so, Joey had already withdrawn a tape deck from somewhere on his person, the red cords wrapping themselves around and attaching to the back. At the same time, Boris felt something both cold and warm in spots slither around his head, the feeling making his fur stand on end. There was a brief crackle, before suddenly a voice popped its way into clarity over both the tape deck, and from whatever was pressed to the wolf's ears.
"-the hell?!" If Boris had any doubts about who was speaking, the familiar tones and irritable twang cinched it for him right away. It also made his heart both leap in his chest, and stammer horribly given that this could only end badly.
"Hello, Sammy." Joey replied conversationally, the greeting getting a stony silence for a singular beat before the musician launched into a furious rejoinder.
"Go jump in the goddamn Ink Machine, Drew."
"As loquacious as ever, I see."
"Hell with you and stay away from me, you goddamn sadist."
"Duly noted, though I think we might have a very good reason to talk, apart from the fact your body is making things so much easier for me regarding keeping things under control…despite hiccups."
"Screw off, Drew!" The snarl was probably the angriest that Boris had ever heard Sammy, and there had definitely been some moments that he could remember. Though he knew it was hardly meant for him, the wolf felt himself flinch away, blinking tears out of his eyes as he peered down at where Joey stood. Even though Sammy sounded like he might want to reach through the connection and strangle his creator Joey looked almost bored, quietly examining the cords spiraling off from his fingers as though the racket that the musician was making was mere background noise.
"Oh come now, surely we can both be adults here-."
"That's very rich coming from you, you walking house of horrors."
"If you'd decided to work with me rather than against me, Sammy, it might not have been this way."
"Work with you?! On this?!"
"Well, you know what they say, too many cooks spoil the broth. Projects tend to go better if everyone's on the same page."
"You're playing with people's lives. You call that a 'project'?" The hissed note from Sammy provoked barely a chuckle from Joey, almost as thought the musician had said something particularly funny or outlandish.
"They've signed contracts, haven't they?"
"And that gives you the right-?!"
"They wanted to work for me so badly, they can carry it on for as long as I want them too." The response was even, almost cold, making Boris shiver as he remembered the faces of the music department. Every last person, and Joey thought of them as less than the people that the wolf had interacted with every day. It had been a realization that was hammering away at the back of his mind, but hearing it now felt like a bucket of cold water to the face.
An angry snarl was Sammy's only response, the noise faintly broken up at the tail end by a rumble of noise that, to Boris's more discerning ears, reminded him of Thomas's voice. Was the mechanic still there? At least Sammy wouldn't be alone…
The wolf might've remained quiet, wanting to be as far removed from the pitched back and forth as he could be, but his role was decided for him when one of the cords tightened over his muzzle. The burning constriction causing a strained, muffled yelp to burst forth from Boris's vocal chords, ringing out in the brief lull.
The silence that followed was so thick it could have been cut with a knife, Joey remaining quiet as though to let the noise sink in. After a moment though, Sammy's voice came through with a crackle, the musician's voice a complete reversal from the fire and brimstone that had fueled it before.
"…Boris?"
He almost didn't want to answer, knowing far too well now what Joey meant to do with this, but a part of the wolf desperately wanted to reach out, wanted to be helped and taken away from this horrible, horrible place…
The only sound Boris was able to make was a faint cross of a human and canid whimper, but to Sammy it might as well have been a booming cry.
"Joey…?" The silent question was answered with a faint, humorless chuckle, Boris watching as his creator gave the tape deck a triumphant smirk before he formed his reply.
"Think we can both be adults now, Sammy?"
"Leave the kid alone, Joey-." The musician started, a disappointed clicking of the tongue the only response before the fingers on Joey's left hand snapped closed, flipping Boris entirely around and completely upside down. The wolf's limbs were pulled into a starfish position, arms and legs pulled away from his body, a yelp and a faint scream the only sounds escaping from his throat as he fought to re-orientate himself.
Albeit, before he could, Boris caught sight of something directly under his head, almost like some sort of shadow showing through the floor. He couldn't make out much, maybe some foggy specifics, a tall, long shape, almost like someone lying down-.
And then something touched Boris's chest, directly over his heart. The faint contact chased the thought from the wolf's brain entirely as he gave an involuntary, strangled scream and tried his damnedest to scramble away, his brain screaming gonna kill me, he's gonna kill me again, can't run, please I DON'T WANT TO DIE-!
But, for all the frantic energy put into the attempt, the cords only tightened their grip on his frame, doing more than enough to keep him still. Over his panic, Boris could hear Sammy yelling, both through whatever was wrapped around his head, and the tape deck that Joey still held in his unoccupied hand.
"JOEY, JOEY STOP, LEAVE HIM ALONE!" And, as the relatively gentle prod turned to a complete hand pressed to Boris's front, the touch causing heat to seep into the fur and turning the wolf's muffled screaming to terrified sobs: "STOP GODDAMN IT, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?!"
"Hmm?" The questioning hum was the only acknowledgement that Joey made towards Sammy, having completely tuned out both the musician's and Boris's cries as his hand pressed into the wolf's ribcage.
"What the hell do you want, Joey?! Why are you even doing this, the kid's done nothing to you!"
The warm pressure of the hand on Boris's chest was starting to be answered by a pulsing rhythm under the wolf's skin, the almost heartbeat-like thundering reverberating through the toon's frame. Boris's eyes squeezed shut as the only defense he could offer, tears trickling to the top of his head as he sobbed helplessly. A sudden, sharp tug on the front of his chest made another strangled scream break forth from the wolf's still-bound jaws, though what he saw when he opened his eyes confused him. There was a new red cord hanging near his face, coming from somewhere above him. Not to mention, his ribcage still felt intact. What was going on?
"JOEY!" The holler reminded the pair of the third party to their one-sided conversation, Sammy's anger reaching a fever-pitch as he tried to discern what he could from the sounds.
"In an answer to your earlier question, Sammy, all Boris has done is made things difficult, really. It would be so much easier if he'd just do what was asked of him." And with that, Joey rounded off the explanation by outright tossing the tape deck away. Even still, Boris could hear Sammy hollering, asking what was going on through the thing still wrapped around his head, but for the moment it was put on hold as Joey looked up at the wolf.
"So, what do you think, Boris?"
A teary, uncomprehending stare was the only answer the toon felt able to offer, the notion behind the question completely escaping him as the moment railroaded between terrifying and enigmatic. Flinching as the silence provoked an irritable downturn in Joey's facial features, Boris was both relieved and even more wary when his creator simply opted to repeat himself.
"Regarding our earlier discussion, about my offer." The tone was one of those slow, simplistic ones that Joey used whenever something he'd said had gone completely over Boris's head, but for the moment the wolf was glad for the simplicity. It made things easier for his frantic mind to process, though what he was coming up with hardly made him feel much better. He remembered all too well what Joey had been asking him to do, and while the answer was still no the wolf was wholeheartedly terrified by what his creator might do with yet another refusal.
But what Sammy said earlier rang in the wolf's ears, and he could definitely say that he trusted Sammy far more than he trusted Joey. And, if his mentor had told him not to…
Reading the slight, trembling shake of Boris's head exactly as he'd meant it, Joey's expression turned sour before going blankly impassive, and yanking up on the cords. Boris's eyes slammed shut, shivering in fright before he'd realized that he hadn't moved an inch.
But, if that hadn't been what Joey had pulled on, then what…?
It was right then and there that Boris noticed that the floor was different, the dark, swimming surface suddenly looking a lot more, monochrome. The shape he'd noticed before, it had been outside, Joey must've pulled it through.
Though it took the wolf a moment to have some sense of what he was looking at, probably due to the ink rushing to his head, there were still familiar landmarks with which he could guide himself. It took a second, but Boris could eventually pick out that the shape was wearing off-white overalls, covered in ink-slick fur, a canid snout and features…
It was like looking in a warped funhouse mirror, the sight reminiscent of the vision that Boris had experienced back in the haunted house, the comparison only making his fear grow. Not to mention, the cord that he had noticed earlier was leading down to the prone form's chest, connecting him to it, along with others leading into its legs. And, as he stared, the wolf became acutely aware of a pounding sensation reverberating through his chest, the grinding thump-thump echoing in his ears as though the organ was fighting to perform it's intended purpose.
Tearing his eyes away, Boris's gaze shot to his creator, both wondering at what exactly was about to happen and knowing that he absolutely did not want whatever it was to pass. But Joey avoided his eyes, seemingly out of indifference at the wolf's fear, tweaking the cords and causing the body to jerk, the rippling of the ink-logged frame bringing to light more and more changes. Instead of merely being long and lanky, the length of the body was nearly grotesque, the teeth showing through the partially open mouth looking far sharper than Boris could ever remember them being. There were also claws poking through the dark shoes and white gloves, the pale articles themselves stained with black ink that both gushed from the canid mouth, and dripped from seemingly all over the body. Even more alarmingly, the more these spasms rocked the warped form, the more Boris could feel a pressure in his chest, a pulling in his limbs, like they were being yanked along with the tugs on the malformed body underneath. Though they were distant, it more than reminded him of the vision, and the scene he'd watched played out in the mirror, the feeling only compounded as the pounding in his chest and ears grew stronger and stronger. The likeness simply caused more tears, the liquid trickling down Boris's ears as he dreaded what was coming. Faintly, he could still make out Sammy hollering, but it seemed far away in the face of smothering, colossal panic. But despite his muffled whimpering, Boris did not dare try to plea, knowing that if he made a move, it would be worse, if he protested, it would be worse, it would always be worse, his creator wouldn't listen, he'd just cut and hurt and take-.
And, as Joey gave one, final yank of the red strings, the wolf was dropped down into his altered body, feeling the ink-logged muscles and limbs lock in around him, stiff and painful from the changes wrought. Though he tried to scream, his mouth would not move, his too-long, warped frame instead clambering up to stand at the ready in front of Joey, his creator coming forward with a pleased smile lighting over his face.
"Now that that's all done, Boris, don't move until I say so. And not to worry, this'll all be over soon."
Despite the somewhat hunched, at-attention pose Boris's malformed frame kept, inky tears still trickled from his eyes, the rest of his face frozen in a blankly still expression. Even still, the wolf could hear Sammy faintly murmuring, the musician having apparently given up on trying to harangue Joey and instead had turned his attention to the sobbing toon that he could talk to.
"It's, I'm here, Boris, I'm still here…"
The little devil tried to be as quiet as possible as he crept down the hallway. Things had calmed down, as it was after five, but there were still people milling about the halls. Still, where he was heading was making him more than a little nervous, as it was in the less active parts of the studio, and the lights down here had been turned off. Still, he knew he had to try this part. He wasn't going to try the upstairs yet, as far as he knew Joey was still up there, and he'd checked through the rest of the animation floor. This had to be it.
Opening the door to the downstairs break room, Bendy peered down in the shadowy darkness, trying his best to see and listen. He definitely didn't have as good ears as some other toons, but, over the sounds of the Ink Machine churning away, he could make out the sounds of something, or someone, sniffling and quietly sobbing from somewhere in the dark.
"Boris?" Bendy murmured, carefully padding his way down the stairs as he tried to do his best not to trip. The last thing he needed right now was to take a spill, though arguably that would probably make the wolf come out a lot faster…
At the soft call, the crying was immediately smothered, though Bendy could still just hear the muffled sounds as the source tried to taper down on the noise while being unable to completely stop. Though he peered under the stairs, the little devil found that there were no odd shapes in the shadowy dark, nothing that stood out to him as unusual and therefore worth further investigation. Still, the more he listened, the more he was realizing that the muffled noise was coming from somewhere off on the other side of the room, where the light would not touch. It figured that the wolf was off hiding in the farthest corner, his sight being much better at navigating in the dark than Bendy's, but that didn't mean that the little devil had to enjoy stumbling through the break room after him.
After reeling around following his stubbing his foot on a chair leg, Bendy shuffled his way forward, hands held out to hopefully keep himself from running into anything else. Besides, the noises were getting slightly louder, he had to be getting closer…
"Boris? Pal, you there?"
A faint sniffle and a shuffling answered Bendy, the source moving even further away into the alcove at the far side of the room. The noise made the small toon hurry along as best he could, remembering how there was a boarded-up part of the room to the left. The last thing he wanted was for Boris to somehow break through or have an accident.
"Boris, it's okay, I'm coming." Bendy tried again, finally making his way past the doorframe of the alcove. Nary a step later, the little devil practically tripped over Boris's leg, nearly veering into what might've been the wall if it were not for a long arm flying out to grab him. The movement made the wolf give a shuddering, shiver of a breath, the taller toon clearly still in tears despite the distraction.
"Pal, its, it's okay, I'm here, what's wrong?"
But, instead of answering, Boris gave a whimpering little whine, Bendy more feeling himself be levied to rest in the wolf's lap as the lanky frame shook underneath him, the hand moving away to some other place in the darkness. Reaching after it, the little devil managed to latch onto it, though felt the faint unease grow into a burgeoning sense of alarm as he realized that Boris had wrapped his hand around his ear, and was giving the appendage a series of jerky, rough tugs that probably hurt more than anything else.
"Boris-?!" Bendy squeaked, further exclamations of 'what are you doing?' and 'stop that, you're hurting yourself!' on his tongue. However, instead of giving them voice, the little devil choked them down and focused his efforts on getting Boris to let go of his ear. Not that the task was hard, Boris's fingers loosened up at the slightest bit of resistance from the much smaller, gloved hands, but the wolf's crying was still very much a problem. Fumbling in the dark, and hoping desperately that he wasn't about to poke Boris in the eye, Bendy's hands carefully rested on either side of Boris's head, trying his best to wipe at the tears he could feel soaking through his gloves. As he did, the gears of his brain kept turning, mouth spitting out words that seemed to run off his tongue like water.
"Boris, pal, it's okay, it's okay, I'm here, I'm here, pal, you're, I gotcha, Boris, I gotcha…" They almost didn't make a lot of sense, and almost sounded lame to Bendy's ears, but between the careful touch and the lower, soothing tone, the wolf's breathing eased away from the gasping, shuddering sobs and into something a little calmer, but no less winded. Though for a moment after, Bendy found himself stuck with a conundrum on just how to comfort the wolf. Usually Henry would gently knead around the devil's horns if he were this upset, but Bendy's shorter frame restricted him to either just hugging Boris, or trying to stand up in the wolf's lap to reach his head.
Hugging it was then, especially since Boris had chosen to wrap the little devil up in a somewhat desperate squeeze, Bendy doing his best to reciprocate despite the somewhat cramped position it left him in. As he did, the little devil couldn't help but wonder what exactly had happened. Had someone said something to Boris, was that why he was hiding like this?
It wouldn't be too hard to figure, Bendy had already had his share of snide comments after the animators who'd been around when he'd been made had left, only to be replaced with people who didn't know him, didn't care, would ask questions like 'why did Joey even make that thing?' when Henry and Louie weren't around and they thought Bendy wasn't listening…
Fighting around the strange knot of emotions broiling in his gut, the small toon simply hugged the wolf all the tighter, trying to put all his energy into providing comfort rather than dwelling on a problem that as far as he knew, he could do nothing about. He definitely didn't want to get shut in some closet again. Joey'd stopped after Boris came along, but that could easily change if Bendy made him mad enough.
It could have just been the thoughts clogging up his mind, but it took the little devil an embarrassingly long moment to realize that Boris was talking. Well, not so much talking as murmuring under his breath, but the words were still audible all the same.
"'m sorry, 'm sorry, 'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry…"
"Pal, pal, it's okay, it's okay, Boris…" Bendy tried to answer, putting all his effort into the hug as though he could simply squeeze the bad emotions out of the wolf if he tried hard enough. "Y'didn' do anythin' wrong, y'didn', y'didn' do anythin' wrong…"
Bendy could still feel Henry's hand closed around his own as he woke up. It made the little devil wonder if he'd been asleep a lot less longer than he'd thought.
He felt…better, ish, at least physically. Mentally was a whole different ballgame right now.
At the faintest groan, the ink-covered animator turned towards the hammock, the grip shifting a little to accommodate the movement. Though the sight both made something in Bendy freeze in both a mix of fear and quiet regret, he nearly didn't remember why the latter emotion was there until his mind was able to catch up to the moment.
"…Hey, Henry…" The quiet greeting did get a somewhat friendly-seeming burble, the animator seeming to realize immediately off that he didn't really sound all that great and tried to scrub at his face, a pained hiss accompanying the motion.
"H-Henry…" The faint whine stopped the man's efforts cold, Henry's attention immediately turning to Bendy as though the little devil had shouted his name instead.
"'s okay, don' do that, sounds like it hurts…" Bendy's words did get Henry to stop, the man giving a quiet, more affirming and apologetic gurgle. However, the small toons efforts to flip himself over to bring both hands closer made the hammock wobble threateningly, the noise drawing a surprised gasp from Bendy, a garbled squeak coming from somewhere at the little devil's back, and a watery-sounding inhale from Henry as the animator reached out with his other hand to steady the hammock. At first, the shrill noise coming from behind him threw Bendy entirely off guard, before he remembered who else was likely on the hammock with him. Trying his best to sit up without shaking the hammock again, the little devil flipped his head around to look, immediately catching sight of-.
"Bud?"
At the sound of his name, the tiny toon flinched, 'looking' up in Bendy's general direction with a shivering little nod and a quivering smile. The small grin grew more sure as Bendy reached over, gently scratching at the minute devil's still ink-logged 'hair'.
"Hey, Bud. Sleep well?"
A quiet nod was the answer to that, the tiny toon briefly clambering over to huddle next to Bendy before a faint burble from Henry drew Buddy's attention to the animator. But, surprisingly, the minute devil didn't seem the least bit perturbed by the odd noise. Instead, Buddy shuffled over a little more, reaching out to Henry's hand. Not really thinking about it, Bendy helped to guide the tiny mitten hands to the large, globby ones, finding himself even more surprised when, instead of completely withdrawing, Henry only seemed confused for just a moment or two before relaxing, a finger gently maneuvering to try to steady the minute devil.
"Uh…" Bendy started, the hum getting the attention of both toon and transformed man. "…Did I miss somethin' here?"
The question snapped the pair's 'gazes' back to Bendy like a magnet, though, as to an answer, neither seemed to really know how to go into it. Not to mention, they were both dealing with some significant obstacles, so the little devil decided to let the matter go.
"Never mind, I…don' think I need t'know right now. We'll figure out-." A sudden growl coming from the small toon's stomach cut the moment short, Bendy's face coloring as his insides protested to going without food for so long. He'd maybe have tried to ask for the bowl that Tom had left a little while ago, cold food was better than none, but a quick glance told the little devil that he hadn't been wrong before; Henry had indeed put his fingers in it when he'd been holding onto the desk for support. Certainly nothing edible there now…
But to get more, that meant going back out into the front room, wherever Tom and Allison were. Not exactly a daunting prospect, but there was still a part of Bendy that couldn't help an ashamed grimace at the idea of admitting that he'd wasted food.
Still, sitting here and stewing wouldn't get him anywhere, and given that the intestinal rumble was certainly loud enough for Henry to hear the animator-turned-ink-monster was already gesturing for the little devil to hop down to him. Though Bendy balked at leaping directly onto Henry again, he did meet the man halfway, or tried to, landing partially in Henry's brandished arm while still giving himself more than enough space to touch down on the floor proper. To further help things along, Bendy reached back for Buddy, gently levying the tiny toon to stand. Albeit, Buddy seemed to have other ideas, carefully pulling himself up to sit right on Henry's shoulder. And, though Bendy winced at both the sight and the memory of the painful-looking rifts in the artist's skin, he was rather surprised to see that Henry didn't try to shuffle the tiny toon off, barely even one twitch of movement to hint that Buddy wasn't welcome where he was.
It almost seemed…somewhat practiced. Like they'd both done this sort of thing before, further lending to the idea wiggling about in the back of Bendy's mind that there was something here that he wasn't aware of. But, short of a long stretch of wall he wasn't sure Henry nor Buddy could really tell him too much right now. Snapping out of his thoughts at the quiet gesture the animator gave him, an invitation to hop up himself he wanted, Bendy did his best to carefully turn down the offer with an unseen smile and a murmured word.
"'m good, Henry. 'Sides, don' wanna put too much strain on ya, y-y'look like you've had enough'a that fer a while." It sounded much steadier than everything he'd said before, but Henry still paused, carefully reaching up and partially feeling his way to rest an overlarge, inky finger on Bendy's coat shoulder, almost like a comforting hand. The little devil halted, thoughts to go to the door completely put on hold with both the desire to indulge Henry, and perhaps the creeping realization that, twisted around and different as this was, there was something in the contact that the little devil had sorely missed.
It was a calm, quiet moment that was interrupted too soon by another low growl from Bendy's stomach, the little devil actually feeling some hunger pangs this time around. Feeling Henry's effort at a comforting touch turn into a more insistent nudge, the little devil couldn't quite stifle a quiet, worn chuckle at the quiet encouragement.
However, when the three went out into the main room, a surprise was found on the wall immediately to their left. Namely that of a slew of lines inked into the old wood, Bendy peering at them as he, Henry, and Buddy made their way through. Given that the other two couldn't really see the drawings the small toon opted not to mention it, instead trying his best to look closer while keeping one foot in front of the other.
It wasn't until he was nearly level with it that some of the intersections and squiggles made sense, things falling into place in short order. The lines were a rough map, probably of the inside of the studio if Bendy were to be any judge. He…wasn't sure if this was a place that he had been to yet though, as either the person making the map had a particular way of layering the many floors, or he was really bad at reading this particular one.
But, even with the conundrum of the map to consider, the little devil's attention was swiftly redirected as a faint humming started to make itself apparent to his ears, his behorned head spinning quickly to the right and taking in a sort of makeshift kitchen.
Well, half a kitchen, it definitely didn't look like the one in the safehouse that he and Bor-that he had been to recently. There was something on the far wall that he could definitely tell had some purpose as an oven, and a table right nearby where people might eat. No chairs though, which made Bendy wonder if chairs were a luxury that were harder to swipe or if this hadn't been as lived in as he'd initially thought.
Not that the thought really mattered all that much, the tiny kitchen was indeed occupied by both the angel (Allison, his brain reminded him.) and Tom. The wolf was sitting up against the wall with a bowl of soup held carefully in his metal hand, alternating somewhat between handling a spoon with his right and directly sipping from the bowl. Allison was busy with something over near the stove, though whatever that was was immediately put on hold as the sound of the trio coming in registered.
The humming that Bendy had noticed before stopped as the angel turned, eyes carefully peering out at the little devil under black bangs. The sheer intensity of the gaze, like Allison was optically coming close, going through his pockets, shaking him around to see what would make him tick, made Bendy want to shrink back behind the door frame in an effort to keep a barrier up.
Though, seeming to notice the effect her demeanor was having, Allison blinked, the scrutiny draining away from her expression and gaze as something softer and more empathetic seeped in instead.
"Sorry, it's just-." The angel started, before seeming to change her mind and instead swapped the subject. "Did you want more soup? We still have some left."
"Y-Yeah, that'd be great." Bendy replied, trying to settle now that the odd moment had passed. Though as the somewhat shaky tone registered, Henry pulled himself a little closer, an almost quiet gurgle emanating from where the man's head lay under the ink.
"I'm fine, it's fine." The little devil murmured back, easing himself forward as though to prove it, stepping fully into the room as Allison put together a bowl of soup, easily turning and handing the food to Bendy. And, as the smell of something warm permeated his nose, his stomach gave another vocal complaint, the small toon's face coloring as the noise drew a few laughs and a pair of humored snorts from Buddy and Tom, the latter of whom tried to hide the resulting grin in his soup bowl.
In lieu of chairs, Bendy sat down on the floor with his soup, about to dig in before looking around and briefly scooting a little closer to Henry, the animator inching nearer at the sound of shuffling. They ended up meeting each other in the middle, Bendy partially reclining against Henry's offered arm as he tucked into his bowl. Tom was not too far away, the wolf glancing up and giving the movement a thoughtful look before going back to his food.
Allison meanwhile had spooned the last bit of soup for herself, and joined the rest of the huddle on the floor. Catching sight of Buddy still perched on Henry's shoulders, the angel couldn't help a smile rippling with quiet laughter. The tiny toon's tail wagged at the cheered noise, though his expression clouded as Allison tapered off, the angel's gaze falling to the clothing that Bendy was dressed in. Though the coat and scarf were worn, and liberally coated with ink, it wasn't hard to see that they didn't exactly fit with the rest of the little devil, the worn and patchwork dark browns completely contrasting the simpler, if slightly dirtied monochrome of Bendy himself. They certainly didn't blend with the ink-stained sepia of the studio.
"Are those from… outside?"
Bendy jerked up at the sudden, halting question, briefly fighting with a prodigious mouthful of soup so that he could answer. Even though he didn't have a proper neck, the little devil still had a brief worry that he'd overestimated his esophagus.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll let you finish-." Allison had started, realizing that her would-be conversation partner was wrestling with his food. Despite the fact that it felt like the heat from the soup was still wafting uncomfortably up his throat, Bendy tried to grin and bear it as he waved the apology off.
"No, no, it's okay. Uh, yeah, they pretty much are. Just whatever I could find." He finished the explanation with winding off the ink-stained, once light-colored scarf, easily handing it over to Allison if she wanted to take a closer look. For a moment, Bendy wasn't sure he'd done the right thing, the angel's face miring with something heavy and forlorn as her fingers gently touched the black-spotted fabric.
But something in Allison's face softened, her eyes turning from the stained scarf to the little devil still sitting in front of her.
"What was it like? Out there? What's changed?" The quiet questions were, thought provoking to say the least, though Bendy wasn't sure he wanted to ask them and redirect the conversation.
"Uh…" Well, geez, where was he supposed to start? Bendy tried to fight off a flicker of unease, mostly because he didn't think he ought to be putting himself into a mindset where he could lose any more ink if he could help it, and just fired off with the first thing that came to mind. "…well, movies got more expensive, that's for sure. Used to be 'bout a dime, now it's a couple'a bucks. I used to go t'see stuff, when I could find change. Saw a lotta great movies that way, like this one called Singin' In The Rain, still 'member the songs..."
A quick glance up told Bendy that this wasn't entirely the track that Allison had wanted to go on, considering the still somewhat expectant gaze she was beaming down at him.
"Uhmm…well, th-there was a lotta music that came out, lil' while ago…" Please figure out where in the heck you're going with this, Bendy, please… "Th-The guy, Elvis, he passed away recently, he made a lotta good songs, heard 'em on the radio plenty, along with some others…"
"He was a jazz singer and they played him on the radio?" Allison asked, the angel's brows furrowing as she tried to keep up with the somewhat stilted explanation. For a brief instant, the question confused Bendy until he remembered, if Allison was from the studio, then maybe the last thing she'd remember would be from the nineteen-forties, jazz had been the big thing then.
"W-Well, naw, Elvis wasn't really jazz, he was…he started makin' a new kind of music, an' people liked it so much they played him all over."
Briefly Allison looked as though she wanted to keep asking on that train of thought, but another idea came to mind.
"What else has happened? I think, the last thing I remember hearing about was that there was…some sort of problem in…I think it might've been China…"
Now that, Bendy wasn't too sure about. He'd gone to libraries, especially after people on TVs and in the streets had started vehemently discussing what they called the 'Cuban Missile Crisis', to look at maps to figure out where these places were, how it would affect him, if it would affect him at all, but it always felt like he had only some of the story. Like he was reading a book with the earlier chapters torn out so he just had to orientate himself with small scads of information. He'd still retained his curiosity, though Joey's words about people and what they might do if they discovered who and what he was heavily tempered the impulse to openly ask about the news. So, he'd been left to his own, limited devices.
"Uh…don' 'member too much 'bout China, know where it is but that's about it. I know there was somethin' in a place called Cuba a good while back…" And, like a bolt of inspiration something else occurred to him, though Bendy wasn't sure if this was a good thing to try to talk about. They might all think he was crazy bringing this one up. Eh, if they wanted to know about big stuff, then he might as well… "They sent a bunch'a guys t'the moon."
That got somewhere around the reaction that the little devil had been expecting, with Allison's eyes widening at the declaration and Henry giving a burbling jolt from his spot right behind Bendy. Tom and Buddy also looked up, more taking an interest in the conversation due to the adults' responses than any real context with what was being said.
"…And it worked?"
"Y-Yeah, definitely did, they all made it back alright. All over the news for a good bit too, their names were Buzz Aldrin, Michael Collins, and Neil Armstrong." Bendy's response to the hushed, almost disbelieving question provoked only more staring from Allison, a quick look out of the corner of the little devil's eyes revealing that Henry was also 'looking' his way. The sight immediately drew some shyness from the little toon, as even while he'd been in the studio, Joey had had a way of presenting him to the other workers that felt like it was putting Bendy on the spot. And, after thirty years of avoiding contact, this was only making that horribly familiar twisting, uncomfortable feeling all the worse.
But, as his eyes wandered about the room, Bendy caught sight of something leaning up against the unused table that perplexed him. The handle sticking out immediately made him think of some kind of cast-iron pot, but he knew of no kind of cookware that should have lights coming from where the food ought to be.
"What's that?" Bendy found himself asking, realizing nearly after the question was out of his mouth that he was pulling the conversation away from what Allison had wanted to talk about. Still, the angel hardly seemed too bothered by the notion, not protesting a bit as Tom got to his feet to retrieve the indicated object.
The object which turned out to be a glass panel bordered with lights on the inside, attached to a long handle, was held up for the optically-inclined to better see.
"Tom and I were up on one of the upper levels when we noticed the glass. We were initially just going to take it, but when we held it up, in the light, we noticed that we could see something written on one of the walls, something that we couldn't see with our own eyes. A bit of fixing later, and we came up with this."
"Wait, like a hidden message?" Bendy asked, once he was sure of the break in Allison's explanation. The angel gave a nod, proffering the handle to the little toon as she replied.
"Yes, I've been keeping track of the stuff we've found written on the walls, if you want to look at that next."
Already giving a nod, Bendy took ahold of the odd tool, and couldn't quite help the comparison to a magnifying glass. Though, as he pointed it around the room, he couldn't help but notice something glowing on the far wall. It was a sentence that, at first, merely confused, but after a moment of really thinking on it pricked some of the more anxious thoughts to life in Bendy's brain.
BE CAREFUL OF HIM, HE'S NOT WHO YOU REMEMBER
"Is something wrong?" Allison asked, noticing the sudden change in the little devil's facial features, Henry too picking up in the shift of the mood, the animator's ink-dripping head swinging back to Bendy with a questioning burble of a grunt.
"U-Uh, it's nothing, it's…" He'd already started, before realizing that they might know something about this. "W-Was that always there?"
Reaching over, Tom grabbed the seeing tool and peered through it at the wall Bendy had just been looking at. Judging from the momentary flash of surprise, followed by a frown, the little devil deduced that this was not something that they had seen before. The wolf immediately handed the tool to Allison, letting her read the writing on the wall.
"Be careful of him, he's not who you remember…" Allison murmured, the sound somehow carrying despite the softness to it. "No, no that definitely wasn't there before…and it's an actual message too…"
"Huh?"
"Sometimes they're not. They might be a random word, simple drawings of stars or eyes. I think the most coherent thing I saw was a message to break the machine, up on one of the upper levels, there are rooms that were used as backup offices for the animators. There was a set of plans, for the ink machine, set into the wall, that had that written on top of them. Seemed pretty clear to me that it had to be important, especially if the person writing it had to go through the trouble of hiding it."
"So, wait, you know who's writing them? Do they write the other messages too?" Because if that was the case then Bendy wasn't sure he wanted to listen to even what might be a helpful message. But even as the little devil finished, the angel was shaking her head.
"No, I don't know who's writing them, but, I don't think it's one of the Lost Ones, or anyone else I've seen. Definitely not the Ink. They're all the ones writing the messages you can see, these read different when they're coherent. More, aware of what's happening. I was able to make it up to the toyroom, once, after I made this. I found a message written up there, stating that we were all…his playthings. No explanation to who 'he' was, but…this feels the same…" Allison's somewhat halting train of thought was broken up by a declarative tap, both the angel and the devil redirecting their attention to Tom. The wolf had pulled away from his soup, listening to the conversation with a contemplative air and deciding that he had something to add. Setting his bowl to the side, Tom pointed at the wall that the hidden message was on, before pointing up at the ceiling, and miming separating two things, objects...?
"You think they might be…about two different people?" Allison asked, Bendy more than a little relieved that the angel was more familiar with Tom's style of communication. Between the two, the little devil had no huge amount of trouble following along.
And the one-sided conversation moved right along, as Tom nodded his reply and reached out for Allison. With complete ease, the angel gave the wolf her hand, letting him spell out a word on her palm.
"Boris…?" The query was further backed up as Tom pointed at the hidden message on the wall in the room. "You think the message is talking about Boris?"
It made a disturbing amount of sense, and the thought of it chilled Bendy's ink. While it made it sound like Boris was still alive, the idea that the wolf had been changed, altered, warped…the little devil felt increasingly small and fluttering somewhere between stunned silent and wanting to curl up and hide away, stay away from everyone else lest something of this leak to any of them…
BURDEN MONSTER MY FAULT MY FAULT MY FAULT
A sudden gurgle from somewhere behind Bendy made the little devil jump, capturing everyone else's attention as well. Henry had noticed the tension skyrocket in the small toon, though he did have a thought of his own that he wanted to convey. Resting a few overlarge fingers on Bendy's back for an instant, Henry carefully nudged Buddy off to sit next to his somewhat bigger counterpart. Feeling his way to the wall behind him, the animator was about to start scribbling his thought when he halted, looking back at the rest of the group with a questioning gurgle.
"It's okay, Henry. There's nothing there." Allison reassured, confirming to the man that they'd be able to read his message. Feeling a faint flicker of irritation at not being able to confirm it himself, he fought down the thought with the fact that there couldn't be any cutouts in here, would defeat the purpose of the place being a safehouse. He'd just have to do this blind…
Slowly, deliberately, Henry's overlarge finger ran through the motions, spelling out a name on the wall. He knew that the message had come clearly across when he heard a quiet hiss of air coming from behind him, though he couldn't tell who exactly had made the noise.
"Joey…" Allison murmured, Henry thankful that the name had come out clear enough. "You mean Joey Drew?"
Nodding his answer, Henry rounded off his thought by raising both hands, the pointer fingers extended, and bringing them close together.
"You think they're both talking about Joey? Both messages?" Allison asked, getting another affirmative from the animator. He could faintly hear shuffling, either from one of the toons or the angel herself, the guess making Henry wonder if they had other questions as to why he was so sure.
Granted, they didn't know Joey the way he did…
The thought was completely cut off as the pounding pain in Henry's frame abruptly reached a crescendo, wiping his awareness of the room away as he was thrown into a mire of noise and flickering sight, of screams and hurried speech, Henry able to pick out snatches of he's come home, he's come at last, as the image of a hallway swam in and out, the knowledge somehow imparting that this was close, very close, and there were familiar dark trails starting to appear at the far end of the corridor-.
"-appening?! Henry!" The frantic voice was the first thing to greet Henry as he snapped back to awareness, back to his own aching, ink-logged form. It took the man a moment to realize that he'd keeled to collapse on his side, arms lying at odd angles as they twitched spasmodically. There was a small set of hands attempting to clear the ink from his face, another set resting on his shoulders and keeping him on his side. The touch and fact that he could place the voice helped Henry get caught up with what was happening around him. Bendy was the one touching his face, the little devil's voice crackling with fright as he called the man's name. The fingers pressing through the ink at his back had to be Allison, as Tom would have had hands that were somewhat mismatched in texture.
At first, he tried to respond as best he could, half a gurgle out of his mouth as he tried to shakily reach for Bendy's hands, but then the memory of the vision, and what it must mean, crashed through Henry's mind like a bull through a china shop. They were in danger, horrible danger, and they needed to getout-!
"Henry, wait-!"
"Whoa, whoa, hold on, take it easy-!"
Both tried to reach out to him, though the animator managed to slip away and crawled back to the wall, a finger shakily starting to write on the wood. With the way he was trembling, from both pain and the fit, he was worried that his explanation might not have been very legible. However, upon hearing a whine from someone near him, Bendy possibly, Henry knew that something had gotten through.
Just to make his point clear, the animator rushed to add another word, rounding off the message with something that he hoped would put some urgency into the situation.
SAMMY COMING
"Tom, whatever you need to get, do it now." Allison said once the warning had sunk in. Henry let himself sag against the wall, listening as Tom left the room, the angel herself doing so not long after. If he was remembering right, this left him with…
"H-Henry…?"
Bendy. And very likely the smallest toon as well, Bud or Buddy from what Henry remembered (faintly ironic, he couldn't help but think), but for the moment the man's concern was more for the little devil that sounded like he was worried that 'Sammy' might simply pop up from the floorboards at a whim.
He hadn't wanted to scare Bendy, but there was no way he could protect the little devil from the reality of the situation, especially this late in the game. He'd already failed too much and Bendy probably had a very good idea of what would happen if 'Sammy' were to catch him. Feeling around, the animator was able to rest a hand on what he hoped was the small toon's shoulder, the faint contact causing the devil to jump before resettling, all seemingly in the span of an instant.
"Heh, sorry, I just…yeah, think it's pretty fair t'say 'm rattled."
With good reason though, a concept that Henry tried to convey by giving a somewhat close, but sweeping gesture meant to encapsulate everyone in the little safehouse.
"…Yeah, guess so." Bendy's answer was, lackluster to say the least, Henry not entirely sure that the little devil had gotten the point. But there was hardly time to go further into it, as nary a moment later he could hear the clattering of Allison and Tom coming back, and he knew they'd be leaving as soon as they rejoined the group.
"We're ready." Allison said as she came close, Henry honing in on both her lighter tread and Tom's heavier footfall. The pair came around and went in front, the animator's guess that they were heading for the door. Acting on instinct, Henry made sure that Buddy was still secure atop his shoulders, before snaking out an arm to Bendy. Though he could feel the little devil jolt at the contact, Henry persisted in levying Bendy up to his other shoulder, forcing himself up on legs that felt almost too rubbery to support his weight. Despite the faint noises of worry coming from the small toon, Bendy still did his best to hang on as Henry tried to follow the noises that Tom and Allison were making.
He still had to feel his way along, a hand trailing the length of the wall as Henry both tried to keep up and not trip over something. Not that the wall was really helping with that, as it was uneven at best and varied between a few different surfaces.
A sudden noise from somewhere in front, a squelching mixed with a half-groan, was enough to bring the train to a halt, though from the sound of something impacting with something wet cut off the earlier racket.
"Just one of the little ones." Allison murmured, likely more for Henry's benefit than anything else. "Let's keep moving."
As they continued on down the hall, the group began to slow again, the animator at first confused as to why until he felt a very familiar hum on the periphery of his mind, like his skull was smack in the middle of two magnets and feeling the pull between them. Instinctively 'reaching out', the animator found his mind filled with an image of the five of them, Bendy, Allison, and Tom staring at the cutout with very aware trepidation in all of their faces. Buddy, on his shoulder, looked no less afraid, though he probably couldn't tell exactly what they were all looking at.
And if he could see it, everything else in the studio that was smart enough to use the cutouts definitely could. It was about the same as tripping an alarm.
Though, as he 'looked' from face to face, Henry could also see Allison's expression pulling from deer-in-the-headlights to something more calm, calculating in the face of the danger. The sight was relieving for the animator in its own right, as given his situation he could really do only so much proper leading. You generally had to be understood by everyone you were with for that to work well.
Even still, he already had an idea of what was to come, nudging Buddy and Bendy to stand on the ground in preparation.
"…We'll have to split up. Just to keep them busy. Two groups are harder to catch than one." Though the idea was sound, Henry knew that it wouldn't be so easily for all members of the group to accept it, just on the grounds that he could feel Bendy stiffen up next to him, and heard Tom give a slight hiss of air which definitely did not read as calm acquiescence.
And, thankfully, Allison heard and correctly read it too. Henry could see the angel gesture insistently to the wolf, Tom stiffly walking with her out of the view of the cutout. However, it was not out of range of Henry's ears, which were able to hear the hushed conversation that took place on the periphery of the room.
"Tom, please, I know you don't like this, but you have to trust me-."
There was a noise that sounded like prosthetic fingers tapping against something leather, Allison giving a semi-frustrated sigh in response before launching back into her explanation.
"If we split up, they'll have a harder time tracking us down. You'll have to go with Bendy and Buddy, Tom. They'll need you to stay safe, and Henry and I can head the other way. Draw them off."
Another stony pause, though Allison must've felt she was making some headway, as she quickly added another, softer bit of encouragement to the reticent wolf.
"I trust you, Tom, I know you can handle this. I'll be fine. We'll meet up later, but right now, this is the best way to go. Keep them safe, please. Take the seeing tool, alright? You might see something we'll need to know."
There was a long, tense pause before they seemed to come to some accord, judging from the faintly relieved note to Allison's next words, the sound coupled by a faint rustling.
"Thank you, Tom. I'll see you later, I promise."
Meanwhile, the two devils stood off to the side, Bendy's hand clamped over one of Buddy's out of habit as his head was a-whirl with all that was happening, eyes dully watching Tom carefully take the seeing tool from Allison. 'Sammy' was coming, looking for him, obviously, but seeing as he was apparently being protected by Henry, Allison, and Tom, they were getting dragged into it too. And, at the same time, he so desperately did not want to be separated again.
Burden…
He was snapped out of his dismal thoughts as Henry reached out, the light, dripping contact to his shoulder making Bendy shiver and hunch down around himself.
"Henry, I can't…" The little devil tried through a tight throat, feeling his already-shining eyes burn in tandem with the sensation of ink sliding down his face. "…can't just leave, I can't…"
And though the animator could no longer speak, Henry quietly steadied himself on his 'legs', and wrapped the shaking, small frame in an inky bear hug along with Buddy, giving both devils a light but grounding squeeze before letting go and pushing them away. He turned, about to go back down the hall before a sudden, pitiful cry came from behind.
"H-Henry?"
And though the man knew that he should be going, that the longer he stood here the more likely the jaws of this supposed trap were closing on their necks, he couldn't make himself go. Sliding to turn back around, Henry instinctively reached for the sight the cutout provided, and felt whatever remained of his insides sink at the vision appearing in his mind's eye. Bendy was still facing towards him, head slightly bowed and small frame looking as though it were trying to hide in the baggy coat the way it drew inward, shoulders bowing under some invisible weight. But what really made Henry stop was the fact that Bendy was shivering as one sob after another came, tears and ink pouring down the pale face as his head lowered and arms wrapped around his frame. What's worse was that there was barely any audible hint of this, perhaps a faint hitched breath if Henry strained to hear, almost as though Bendy had had a lot of practice in the art of quiet meltdowns.
Either way, the image made the ink oozing from the man's head go from viscous to runny, and Henry turned all the way back round to face the toon devil. At the noise of Henry pulling his body around, Bendy's head rose back up, pie-cut eyes bleary and wet.
Though the image in his mind's eye practically screamed at him to do something, to not leave things like this, to at least try to help the little toon in some way, the animator faltered, suddenly caught in the reality of his ink-logged body, slime-shrouded arms, and rubbery legs. Lowering his head, Henry's fists clenched against the ground as he drowned in more than ink.
They all deserved so much better…
And suddenly there was a clatter of footsteps, and Bendy threw his arms around the man's goop-covered neck. Even though it had been thirty years, Henry still found himself wrapping a steadying arm around the toon's frame, his other hand about to rest on the devil's head before he thought better of it and just completed the hug.
Not that Bendy really seemed primed to care at the moment, as he had turned his silent misery into slightly more audible sobbing as he clung to Henry. Despite the fact that even the slightest pressure to his neck and shoulder hurt the man could hardly care less about the pain, rocking slightly on his knees as he did his best to convey through the hug what he could not through words.
But, as with all moments, the hug had to come to an end. Henry could hear Allison starting to shift behind him, knowing that the angel was probably thinking of what would happen if 'Sammy' were to turn up right then and there while they were all distracted. He honestly had no desire to see the once-musician again, not after the cat-and-mouse they'd gotten caught up in on Level K. Not to mention there was very much a part of Henry that felt something break inside at the idea of his friend, his friend since forever, lost for decades, broken, pushed closer and closer to the brink until there was nothing left to do but tumble over the edge-.
Bendy gave a congested sounding grunt as he was eased away, Henry moving the little devil to stand more in front of him rather than plastered to his torso. Hoping that the small toon was looking at him, the man pointed to Bendy, and then to about where he figured Tom was standing.
Though Henry couldn't see the gesture, Tom still gave a nod to the ink-covered animator, quietly reaching out to Bendy. The little devil's gaze flipped between the wolf and the man, realizing what would have to come even though he had no desire to bring it about. Despite feeling that he was tearing open a barely-healed wound, Bendy drew away from Henry, taking Tom's hand and allowing the wolf to bring him to stand alongside. As he let Buddy grab onto his jacket, the little devil looked again to the man he'd known since nearly his beginning, and wondered if this was going to be a much more definitive goodbye.
"S-See you 'round, Henry." It was attempting to be flippant, to pretend that there was nothing wrong and that everything was going to be fine, but Bendy was sure that the wet, shaky tenor gave away how he was really feeling. It seemed that before he was ready, Tom was steering him away, Allison and Henry going in the opposite direction as the group split.
Elsewhere, a sharply-dressed man with somewhat askew, receding brown hair sat in a softly-lit, small office, pouring over papers as he tried to read. Around him floated the occasional, glowing orb, a similar glimmer faintly wafting off his shoulders and head, but the majority of his light came from a lamp perched on the upper shelf of the desk. Just as he pushed his glasses back from where they'd started to slide down his nose, the lamp suddenly dimmed, a faint groan running through the pipes over his head. Though he grabbed his papers in preparation to move, nothing happened, the strain disappearing as quickly as it had come, and the man tried to go back to reading, sparing a glance or two at the pipes overhead just in case the universe had a change of heart.
However, a new distraction presented itself, in the form of heavy, plodding steps coming from outside of the little office. But despite man turning to the door to see the newcomer arrive, his facial expression did not turn the least bit surprised at the sight.
The newcomer was tall, needing to duck to fit under the doorframe, details of the towering frame only somewhat visible as it was mostly wrapped in a pure white robe which drew up into a hood to hide the head and face, like something that would have been common in a monastery. But there were some hints, such as the fact that the edge of the white cloth was saturated with black, and a heavy, ragged breathing, that all was not well, this being the final straw that caused the man to lean away from the desk entirely.
"Everything alright?"
"He has been, stirring them up." The voice emanating from under the hood was like faint, rolling thunder, multiple tones dancing in the syllables. But still, much like the rest of the figure, it was worn down, the powerful gravitas a mere shadow of what it could be. "He is making it hard to think, on purpose. He is trying for distraction."
"Hmm." Though the idea that the collective weight of all the trapped souls was starting to wear down on something that had, at one point, seemed so absolute, was quite frankly a little terrifying, the man kept any anxiety he was feeling from the thought clamped down tight. It would do no good to start openly panicking, especially when calm would help him learn more about the situation. "And how is the rest of you?"
"I believe the word you have for this sort of feeling is 'swamped'."
"Makes sense. Maybe you ought to sit down."
With a bare wave of a dark, diffuse-looking hand sheathed in a white sleeve, a faded, green armchair simply slid through the wall, popping free like it was escaping a bubble. Once it was out, the towering frame sank onto it, deflating slightly as they relaxed. However, there was barely a moment of relief, as another rumble echoed through the ceiling, the tall form stiffening as the lights dimmed and flickered again. The figure's own lights also flickered in tandem with the disturbance, blinking in and out from the shadows under the hood. This bout, however, was hardly over so fast. Instead, the man watched with a growing anxiety as the lights continued to sputter for about two minutes, the effect this had on the figure easily seen. As the pulsating lights from under the hood began to blink even more urgently, the dark stains on the hem of the white robe began to travel upwards and stain the brighter livery. The tall frame's shoulders drew inward, the figure folding in on itself as though they were in some internal distress. Instinctively the man reached out, resting a hand on the white-clothed shoulder, and nearly drew back straightaway due to both the heat that roiled under the robe, along with the feeling of squiggling, constant movement in the tall frame, like the skin itself were crawling.
The man's grip grew tighter, the tension he'd been fighting with a moment ago turning hard to control as his mind went in circles. But, before he could well and truly start to panic, he felt something wet start to soak through, his eyes catching sight of something black pooling around his hand.
The sight barely had time to register before a buzzing began to ring through the man's ears, his hands coming away though it hardly did any good; the humming had grown louder and louder, evolving into shrill, piercing screams. Though he knew it would not help, the man still found himself trying to cover his ears to block out the sound. Even still, the noise continued to change and grow more distinct, forming into words-.
-home, he's come home-
-set us free, please, set us free-
-he will he will come he has to-
-so cold bring warmth let us see the sun-
-His eyes were filled with the sight of swirling darkness, able to just see the grasping hands reaching out from the black slurry under his feet. Head turning to look upward, he could see a shape crowned with a collection of three spheres round its head that rose above the mire, though it was becoming overrun by other, smaller figures, all grasping and reaching for some way out of this hell. And, underneath the buzzing screams the man could hear another noise that was half a scream, turning into a tormented roar that rumbled like thunder or an earthquake, calling for the cacophony to CEASE-
"-ant. Grant Cohen." The rumbling tones to the voice were mere whispers, but even they were enough to jolt the man from his daze. Blinking heavily, he refocused on the sight of the white robed figure, quietly peering at him from the chair through hooded, exhausted eyes that were reverse colored, white on black.
"…I'm alright." He said, even as he snuck a glance down at the hand that had been stained with ink, now left clean. Probably returned to the body it came from, speaking of which…
Taking quick stock, the man noticed how the stains he'd seen before had retreated, pulled back into the body underneath the white robe. Still, they had not completely gone away, the hem still mired with black, and the ragged breathing only grown more prominent with this recent fit.
"It's even affecting your proxies…"
"Unfortunately." At first, the words seemed lucid, but as the figure continued to speak, the more the man began to believe that things were worse than he'd initially thought. "We, I…growing tired. They keep screaming, they think, they dream harder than they have before, so many dreams…"
"Here, let's try to get you to focus on something else…" Grant's plan, though slapdash, was enough to get the figure to perk up. Even though it was only a chess board set up on a chair in between them, it still provoked a lightening in the mood of the room, the glimmering reverse eyes blinking heavily in an attempt to focus on the possibility of a game.
It was funny to think about, given that they had been so frustrated by the whole concept of chess at first, the idea of complicated strategy not needed for something of their…origin and thus it was a thing that they struggled with. Now they practically leapt at the chance to play, which was wonderful for Grant, as he had been an avid chess player before working at Joey Drew Studios stole up all of his time both free and otherwise.
He allowed them to start the game first, moving a black pawn into the no-man's land between the arranged rows. A few, small moves across the board later, they spoke up, the words indicating a much-welcomed return to coherency.
"I may have to condense the space, sacrifice some rooms. Will speak to the others, so they are not left stranded." A plan then. If not to deal directly with Joey, then to limit the damage. Seemed sound, but just in case…
"When will you plan on doing it? I'll remind you if you like."
"Once we're done here, if not sooner. He has…" At this, the dark hands stilled in the act of picking up another pawn, something under the hood flickering like a wavering fire. "…he has already taken Boris. I could hear him too. I think that may have been on purpose."
"It very likely was. He knows," Grant started, stilling in his own movements to run a hand through his hair. Though he'd known that Joey was very much a tyrant when it came to his workers, he would have thought that the man might've been a little bit more lenient on something, or more rather someone, that he had brought into the world. But, from what they had told him, the somewhat less-than-ethically-sound treatment had been a long-running affair. And, considering how it had turned out after the studio head had gone mad…
"…he knows you care, after all. He will use it to hurt you, if he can." Grant finished, moving one of his own pawns to capture theirs, unable to stop a faint quirk of a smile at the faint huff that came from under the hood. They, for their part, politely ignored the show of triumph, and opted instead to examine the board.
"I could guess that part. He would do that to Henry and Samuel many times." They replied, moving another pawn into the open. "But it still baffles me. I gave them their spark of life, made the dream he'd wanted a reality. He should know that they are, unquestionably, alive. But still, he treats them as dolls, pawns. No different than these."
"For some, life is not good enough a reason. We can only try to move forward now, work around Joey's plans, and make sure their ultimate goal never pans out." 'The ultimate goal', as he'd used it, had become something of a euphemism between them, born from discussing strategy and seeing as they were restrained from discussing specifics of Joey's overall plan. Everyone knew that what Joey wanted hinged on Bendy, but that was about the extent of it. It had certainly been a good rallying point to get the more shattered souls of the studio workers involved, heck, Grant had believed it himself, when he'd been one of them. But, once his mind had been made clear and after remembering how the little devil had sounded when he'd answered the phone in Joey's office, resembling a child with his speech and mannerisms, Grant could only hope that Joey never got his wish.
"He has moved in already. Though I had suspected he already guessed where Allison had settled." They suddenly spoke up, finally managing to take one of his pawns. Not that they were allowed to celebrate the victory long, as Grant quickly claimed one of theirs. But, even as he moved the captured piece off the board, the words caused him to look up with no small alarm in his face. It had only been maybe a few hours, things couldn't have been moving that fast…
"He has? Joey?"
"I have warned Henry. He'll have to, to act where I cannot." At this, the more intent, focused air they exuded began to dim, not that Grant had to think hard to understand why. While his own meetings with them went back for at least two of the three decades that they had been trapped here, Henry had been the first one to somehow engage with this alien being, not counting Joey Drew. Grant never understood the exact circumstances of how they'd managed to bond, but for the moment, he could easily say that he was very grateful for it. Even if it put the animator in the very difficult position of needing to combat the real physical threats that Joey had set up around the studio. And, from what he'd managed to glean from them, with at least three kids in tow, only one with any significant experience in defending himself, but perhaps Bendy could be relied upon in a pinch…
…Either way, it seemed like the best option possible would be to avoid fighting all together, not that Joey would likely let them do that if he could help it. It was times like this when Grant wished he could do more than merely advise from the shadows, though without a proper body that was more than slightly difficult.
And any serious creation had to go through Joey first, as they'd put it. Grant held no illusions about what that might very well mean, especially considering how easily the studio head could stir up the various monstrosities that were about.
"Guess he will." The response was somewhat canned, more automatic than actually contributing. But, really, it was out of their hands. And worrying over it like a dog with a bone would only be so productive. Hearing a somewhat affirmative noise from his chess partner, he refocused his attention on the board, hoping to at least provide a decent distraction like he'd initially planned.
Looking down, Grant couldn't help but notice that the figure had moved in a new piece to protect their king, even though there were still a few black pawns on the board. Instead of those, they had chosen the knight.
And there we go. The next chapter I will be working on, but I want to hold off on completing until the books come out in September. In the meantime, there are a few other projects that I hope to work on, some being more prequel stories for UaD. As another note, I've also tweaked the last bit for the previous chapter, the semi-out-of-body experience that Boris has, as I found that it didn't quite fit with the lore I was developing. To wrap this up, there's also some art that I've posted on my Tumblr page for this story, just go to nemo-draco dot tumblr dot com and look under the tag nemo's art.
Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews!