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There were many, many, pros to getting freed from the studio, or rather, the studio's loop in most people's cases. Almost too many for anyone who had the misfortune of once living in it to count. But there were also a fair amount of cons. One of those cons being that it was kinda difficult to sneak ink monsters and living cartoon characters into society without raising suspicions. Thankfully for the group, by the time they got back to civilization it was dark and cold enough for coats, giant hats, and long scarves to be normal wear when out and about, making it easy to hide most of the odder ink monsters. But it was obvious that lingering in heavily packed and bustling cities like New York wasn't the greatest long-term investment.
Another big con was that Sammy went missing shortly after the studio went down once and for all. And as it had happened every time that the mad maestro was taken out of the picture 'for good' in the studio, the lost village was once again in a chaotic uproar that were refusing to listen to Henry, Tom and Allison. This time, with their heightened sentience, these angry ink creatures were mostly vocally angry, there were still some lost ones who got physical with the gang, (but they were rare as most of them feared Tom, Allison, Susie, and Norman enough to not try anything.) and ones who were both.
"Ah, for the love of... not these guys again."
"Liar! Liars all of you!"
"I'm gonna rip you to pieces!"
"Fuck off!"
"You killed him! Again and again you killed him! Every single time... You came to OUR village, you defiled OUR church, you had killed OUR prophet, followed it up by killing all of us as well... And now that he won't come back you expect us to grovel at your feet and obey your every whim?!"
"Behind you, Dumbass!"
"Leave us alone! Don't you think you've done enough?!"
"Start praying!"
"What makes you think you're any different from that lying puppeteer?!"
"You can run from your sins, but you can't hide from them!"
"Get them, get them, get them, get them!"
"Kill them!"
"You Bastards!"
"Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey..."
"Enough, you sons of bitches!"
"Not again..."
"Go Away!"
"You've led him astray for too long false shepherd, now that you've powerless, you can't expect us to follow you too..."
If it was difficult to herd thousands of ink creatures in general, it was even harder to herd them when they were fraught with worry and despair over their missing prophet as well as furious and terrified of the ones they blamed for his disappearance. Who had unfortunately for Henry, had been himself, Tom, Allison, Susie, and Inky, who was very bitter about learning that pretty much everyone in ‘his’ cult were actually only loyal to the missing musician.
The task of trying to get the lost ones and searchers to not start a giant riot that would cause a global eldritch ink outbreak had fallen to Jack and Wally. As the group had agreed that as they were the ones that Sammy was closest to before the studio fell, they’d be the ones who’d the village would listen to out of everyone who had been on Henry's side.
While it was a good idea on paper, in practice, the reality was that a swollen searcher with a hat and sentience and a talking tape recorder simply didn't make good replacements for the Prophet, let alone convince anyone that they were. However, they were mercifully a lot more civil with the pair than they were with Henry's other friends. Well, at least they were for the most part.
"I'm sorry, but I just can't take you two seriously. As leaders, I mean."
"No thanks, but good luck finding someone who will take you up on that."
"The Prophet was a complete loon, and an idiot for trusting the false shepherd in the first place... But he was a loon who had held us together when no one else would."
"Please just leave."
"You weren't there for us then, how can we trust you to be there for us now?"
"We understand that they fear we'll infect the world, but please tell them that they should at least give us time to grieve. We won't be leaving this place anytime soon to our knowledge."
"...He was more than just our prophet to us you know."
"Count yourself lucky none of us have killed you on the spot yet and just crawl back to your precious 'Creator' already."
"I doubt either of you two together have half the willpower he had."
"...Go Away."
"I want to trust you two... but I don't like that you're trying to replace him. Especially so soon."
After a long day of rejections and getting doors either slammed in their faces or having people awkwardly creaking the door closed in their faces, Jack crawled back to his hotel room, collapsed on the bed and chucked Wally onto the pillow of the other bed. Both glad the day was over and dreading the next one.
"Ugh, what a town..." Jack sighed as he was almost about to melt into bed, he quickly reformed with a sense of chilled dread in his tone "...I don't think that Conner or the Ink Demon will be too happy to hear that they don't plan on leaving."
Static played out of Wally's speakers before the tape recorder man finally got his thoughts together. "...Fuck."
"Fuck indeed." Jack nodded. "Fuck, indeed..."
"What are we gonna do?!"
"Calmly explain to the group that the town needs time to process everything going on before they try getting a new leader. ...And hope that the Ink Demon doesn't try to make the situation worse."
"Uh huh... Easieah said than done. How do we pull THAT off?"
"Good point, um..."
As the two mulled over how to break the news to the group, the phone on the nightstand began to ring. Startling both of them out of their thoughts.
"Should I pick it up?"
"Well I ain't got no arms."
"Oh! right..."
The searcher fumbled with the phone for a bit, almost worried that he accidentally hung up on the mystery caller. But instead, a familiar voice came through the speaker.
"Hello, Is this Wally and Jack?"
"Sammy! Thank goodness ya called! You've gotta entiah cult dat misses ya! We've trying gettin' them outta the studio, but they won't budge! They'll only listen to you!"
The speaker paused for a moment, almost as if expecting that response and unsure of how to proceed.
"...Well that's awkward because I only called to ask if you two wanted anything from Europe."
"What?!"
"As long as you're asking and if it's not too far out of your way, there's this Spanish nougat called Turrón. I've always kinda wanted to try it."
"Got it. Wally, what about you?"
"Ya gotta be pullin' my leg! You're going to Europe?! Now of all times?!"
"That's a fact Jack."
"I'm not Jack he's ova there!"
"Wally, it means that I'm not discussing this any further. And in this case, I couldn't even if I wanted to."
"I...!"
Wally thought this through. He knew Sammy and he knew that if he tried to push any more than he already was, he'd only shove him away, possibly when he'd be in danger too. But if he didn't, he'd lose the precious opportunity to get information on where the musician went. But if he did, he'd do unrepairable damage to his relationship with the man who had done everything in his power to keep him and his family off of the streets in his time of need. But if he didn't, Thomas would be mad at him if he told him about talking to Sammy.
He made up his mind.
"...Fine. Get me... da weirdest thing ya can find an' buy in a foreign gas station."
"Got it."
"And Stay safe, ya hear me! I don't wanna hear ova da news dat ya got yerself killed ova somethin' stupid okay?"
"Okay, you two stay safe as well. Bye guys."
"Bye."