Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Audrey carefully rubbed at her eyes, taking care to not get the ink on her hands all over her face. Another keyframe done and inked, the little devil in black and white staring up at her from the latest cel on her animation desk. Complete with a bright red bow tie, little shines to his shoes, and a pair of perfectly crescent horns.

“One down,” she said, “two hundred and seventy more to go.”

Animation could be brutal like that. Pencil to ink and then add color frame by frame, not to mention the tweens and smears and everything in between. It was worse since the last full time staff member on the color team had seemingly quit by a week of simply not showing up.

The team was dwindling fast. Her lead storyboarder and concept artist was gone. Along with her only colorist and five of her animators. All three of her dedicated character animators for the main trio of the shorts. That left her with only herself and two animators, and one of those animators was supposed to dedicatedly be on tweens. She still had her Foley artist, two background artists, her editor, and her primary ink and paint. 

A team of only fifteen people hadn't been an issue when all they were working on was restoring damaged or missing sections. But when they'd been okayed for creating a new original short, their team size hadn't increased. No one else had been hired, even after she had asked to hire more animators. The most she'd been granted was extending the deadline.

And they were only a month from that extended deadline with hundreds of keyframes still to go.

For as much enthusiasm as Nathan Arch had for the Bendy cartoons — for as much as he'd talked up the 'Bendy Revival Project' to bring back the long canceled cartoon — he clearly didn't have much of a grasp on how animation really worked. Even if they were animating on threes or fours instead of ones and twos, the team still wouldn't be enough.

Disney had dozens of animators and other teams working on every project, and now she was down to only eight people counting herself.

Audrey sighed. The backgrounds were all done, at least. Ron and Ted were doing good work at helping José with the ink and paint. Jan was doing her best to help with consistency checks and editing, and Ruby was doing her best to help with keyframes. Without Carol and Patricia — her last animators — they would have no chance of finishing the scene they were on, let alone the rest of the short.

She understood that ArchGate Pictures was mostly tied up in their live action projects — they were a movie studio, after all, not a cartoon studio, they hadn't produced any animation until Nathan Arch had gotten the rights to the Bendy shorts — but that didn't make it any less frustrating. There was, supposedly, no budget for them until they got a full original cartoon out, but how were they supposed to get an original cartoon out without the manpower to to make it?

“I think I need a break,” she said, setting her pen down and leaning back in her chair. “What do you think, Bendy?"

The little plush devil that sat on the shelf right above her desk said nothing, just simply grinned as he always did. Audrey reached up and puppeted the stuffed toy's head into a nod, the black fabric soft and careworn beneath her fingers.

There was a clap of thunder, a flash of lightning. Rain started pounding on the windows, the blinds already down to try and minimize distractions.

Audrey glanced up at the clock on the wall, barely visible on the wall between notes and storyboards, character model sheets and assorted framed Bendy memorabilia that had ended up in her office after Nathan Arch had purchased the Joey Drew estate. Nearly midnight. There were too many keyframes left to go home yet and not enough time to do them on a regular nine-to-five. The rest of her team had worked overtime but left before her. They knew she had no expectation of extra work beyond what they felt physically capable of doing.

She could do more. She could always do more. She could do at least another handful of frames before she needed sleep.

"I think it's time for coffee," she said, getting to her feet.

The plush devil stared at her as he always did. It was so easy to imagine his embroidered eyes (done by her mother long ago, after his original inked on eyes had come off one night in her sleep, coating her hands and the side of her face in ink that had taken so much soap to scrub off that she could remember it as clear as day even all these years later) narrowing in judgement at her as easily as she could draw them.

"I know I don't like it," she said, grabbing her brown leather bag — with its unmistakable ink stain on one corner from a bottle that had come uncorked years ago — from the coat rack by her desk and slinging it over her shoulder. "But I need it sometimes."

More and more, lately. With how many nights of unpaid overtime she'd been working just trying to keep the project on schedule since her team started quitting without notice, likely too burnt out to continue but too polite to say anything.

Audrey picked up the stuffed toy and, after making sure the door to her little mess of an office was closed, hugged it to her chest, just like she had so many times when she'd been a kid. It was a little boost of moral support, and she really needed it on nights like this.

She tucked the toy into the crook of one arm before moving to check her face in the little mirror on one wall in her office.  It wasn’t much of an office, an animation desk crammed in among a few filing cabinets, but it was a quiet place to animate and had just enough room for a second chair when she needed to meet with one of her team, and that was all she needed. 

Her brown hair was coming out of its rolls, her hairspray finally failing her after more than its guaranteed twelve hour hold. Her short-sleeved blue sweater was flecked with ink, as was the collar of the undershirt she was wearing with it. Her hands and arms were in the same state, there was even a large splatter on one of her cheeks despite her best efforts. Her job was why she always wore black slacks and plain black shoes, the ink didn’t show up on those. 

Making sure she had her key in her bag, Audrey pushed open the door of her office and stepped out into the hall. It was barely lit, only the essential lights still on this late at night. The building was old, the floors a checkerboard of white and black marble, the walls wooden from the waist down and drab wallpaper from the waist up. The animation floor’s walls were dotted with posters and, for some reason, one of the older portraits of the company’s founder, Nathan Arch himself. And that was it, just a floor of doors with rooms filled with animators largely working on coffee and stubbornness.

And the steady paycheck. For all the company's oversights with its new animation department, ArchGate always paid on time.

It was really unfortunate that the only break room not on the studio lot was on the ground floor. The building was big enough that it was too much of a hike to go all the way from floor thirteen down to the first one most days, especially with how often the elevator had been going out in the past few months.

The only sound was the steady drum of rain on the windows.

Thunder rolled and the lights went out.

Audrey tensed, holding the Bendy plush tighter. Being afraid of the dark was incredibly childish, but she couldn’t help it. It put her on edge. Especially with how filled with darkness and ink her dreams had been lately. Strange and distant voices and the tang of chemicals on the back of her tongue.

The stress of the job was getting to her lately, that was all. Nightmares about ink made sense after she spent all day every day working with it.

She shook her head and pressed onward, rounding a corner in the dark by memory of the layout alone, wishing she'd thought to buy a flashlight to keep at her desk. The lights didn't usually go out, but every once in a while the building's old wiring failed.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the hall long enough for something to stand out in the gloom.

Audrey froze in place, holding her breath.

And then the lights went on in a sputtering flicker. The only thing in the hallway was a cardboard cutout right in the middle of the hall.

Audrey let out a breath.

“Oh Bendy,” she said, one hand to her racing heart. “You scared me.”

The cardboard cutout of the demon simply smiled back at her.

“Someone left you here to scare me, didn’t they?” she said, tucking the plush into her bag to free up her hands. “Was it Jan or Ted this time?”

The cutout, predictably, said nothing.

Audrey picked it up, carrying it to the elevator and setting it so that no one would trip over it, but anyone coming up that way was in for a surprise in the morning.

“There,” Audrey said with a satisfied nod. “You'll get them back in the morning, won't you?"

She patted the cutout gently between its horns and stepped into the elevator, wincing as the doors ground closed.

Audrey pressed the button for the ground floor and managed to only flinch a little at the sudden lurch. The elevator was almost painfully slow. Nobody in the building liked it, but today it was running, so there wasn’t much they could do. Most of the budget was going to the big name actors on the film lot and everyone knew it. It was just how things were.

The elevator lurched to a stop only two floors down. It was so long past close, who could still be here?

The doors ground open, revealing a tall, gaunt, and pale man in a gray mechanic’s jumpsuit, his gray hair balding and patchy. One eye was white glass, surrounded by a swath of scar tissue.

“Wilson? What are you doing here so late?” Audrey asked. 

“Someone,” the man said, voice hoarse and deep, “decided to unroll every roll of toilet paper on the accounting and writing department floor.”

It was probably the new hires again, the ones that were usually running catering requests or moving around lights on the film lot. They were a small group of part-time college kids, Audrey had overheard some of the film extras talking about them while she’d been getting coffee for her team the week before.

“They’ll only be here for a few more weeks,” Audrey assured him. “Have you tried telling anyone?”

Wilson grunted and stepped into the elevator, pushing the closed door button.

That was a solid no, then. She didn't blame him, janitors seldom got any respect, no matter how sad that fact was.

The elevator lurched again, resuming motion. The silence was painfully awkward.

“You were right about the storm,” Audrey piped up, hoping to break the silence at least for a little while. “It’s really bad out there right now.”

“My knee hasn’t been wrong yet,” Wilson responded. “What about you, Audrey? What kept you here so late?”

“Keyframes. I’m just taking a break.”

“Coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“I made a fresh pot not even an hour ago.”

Fresh coffee? “You’re a lifesaver, Wilson.”

“I try.”

There was a grinding sound. The elevator stopped, for no reason, at the next floor down, the door squealing as it opened. Wilson glared at the button, pulled a small notebook from the breast pocket on his coveralls, and made a note. For as much as the elevator technician had been in the building, Audrey had noticed that Wilson was the one who was fixing almost everything. The elevator included when he wasn't making sure the lights stayed on when the weather got bad.

There was, in the margin of the notebook, a doodle, Audrey noticed. One of Wilson’s own characters that he’d tried to pitch for a cartoon concept for a new series as either an alternative or in addition to Bendy. One ‘Shipahoy Dudley,’ a little vintage era sailor boy in the vein of old World War II cartoons. Audrey had drawn her own take on the design for Wilson’s last birthday. The little crab sidekick was Audrey's favorite touch to the design, but she was a bit biased about characters with bow ties.  The design just needed a bit of work, that was all. It wasn't quite true rubber hose, but it also wasn't modern. It needed work, but Audrey hadn't said anything. Wilson was too attached to his character, any suggestions she made would likely be taken the wrong way, no matter how well intentioned her suggestions were.

Maybe she could sneak in a little cameo in the background sometime as a thank you to Wilson for keeping the animation floor’s lights on through all the recent technical issues. And the moral support coffee runs.

Wilson jabbed a finger at the close door button. It didn’t work. He made another note before stowing the notebook. The only thing they could do was wait for it to close on its own.

“Is the production going well?” Wilson asked, clearly trying to break the silence before it became awkward again.

Audrey grimaced.

“Not really,” she admitted. “We’re down so many people that I don't think we'll make the deadline.

“Hn.”

“It’s not going to be much of a ‘revival’ if we can’t get a cartoon out.” She really, really shouldn't be putting any pressure on Wilson, but... “There’s... no chance you can convince Mr. Arch to hire some extra staff, is there?”

“My father,” Wilson responded, bitterness in his words so palpable that Audrey guiltily looked away, “has no sense of how to run an animation studio. I told him when he announced the project that it wouldn’t be enough staff to deliver on time.”

“He... was pretty insistent that the team would be big enough when he hired me on,” Audrey admitted. She'd thought he just meant for fixing the damaged reels that had been in the estate, not for making an entire new animation.

“He thinks that since his old friend managed multiple cartoons with only four individuals on staff that a dozen people could do just as much work even faster.”

“But that was—” Audrey began.

“And when I asked.” Wilson continued, his voice growing louder with each word. “He said ‘If Joey Drew did it, we can do it too!’”

Silence, save for the grinding of the elevator door shutting and the lurch that followed.

Wilson took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I... am sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to shout. It’s just that my father has an... unfortunate habit of not listening to my suggestions.”

Audrey nodded in sympathy.

“I’ll ask him when he’s back in the office on Monday,” she said. “See if I can at least get someone from another department to help on color so I can move someone to keyframes. I know you’d help if you could, Wilson, but with the interns lately...”

“Nothing would get done if I did,” Wilson agreed, visibly annoyed at the thought. “I need to finish the paperwork to get the elevator maintenance crew out. Again. My father insisted that Gent should take over between the elevators and the new contract, but all their elevators have gotten us are—”

There was a roar of thunder and the lights went out, the elevator lurching to a stop.

Audrey squeezed her eyes shut. No. It was pitch black. Breathe. It was fine. It was just the dark. It was fine. The elevator wouldn't fall, they were safe. It—

There was a scraping of metal. Light. Audrey’s eyes flew open. They’d stopped almost completely on a floor, only about a foot up from where the floor would have met the bottom of the elevator. Wilson had pried the doors open and was carefully sliding down and onto the safety of the solid tile.

“It’s stable,” he said, offering a hand. “Just go slow.”

Audrey gratefully took his hand and Wilson helped her onto solid ground. She leaned against the nearest wall, her hands shaking. 

The emergency lights were still on, bathing the entire room in red. There was another deafening rumble of thunder. Some of the lights flickered on, but not all of them. The overhead fluorescents were out, and the lights that were still working mostly lit glass display cases.

Wilson aimed a glare at the elevator, then sighed.

“I’ll call the emergency line when we get to the ground floor,” he said. “As long as the storm hasn’t knocked the phones out. Are you okay, Audrey?”

She managed a nod. Shaken, but fine. She’d be fine. Darkness had just... always gotten to her like that.

“Which floor are we on?" she asked, not recognizing the layout, or the display cases.

“Fifth,” Wilson answered. “The one with the Joey Drew Studios exhibit my father put together. It's likely what’s been causing the electrical problems.” He shook his head. “He insisted that the blueprints he found be followed exactly. Which meant writing up a contract for the Gent corporation to wire up an old piece of their machinery directly into the power.”

“...Why?”

What good would wiring old animation equipment into the power do? Especially equipment that wasn’t being used to make new animations? If it had been on the animation floor, she could have understood it, but what good did it do in a museum?

“Dedication,” Wilson stated. “He always admired Joey Drew.”

Audrey could at least somewhat understand that. Everyone knew that Nathan Arch and Joey Drew — the creator of Bendy, Alice, and Boris — had served in the military together and been friends ever since. The minute that Joey Drew’s death had been made public, Nathan Arch had been quick to snap up the rights to the Bendy cartoons before anyone else could. Not out of greed — the studio had gone under in ‘49 (Audrey had only been five at the time, her mother claimed she had bawled her eyes out the day she was told there wouldn’t be any new Bendy shorts, though she couldn’t remember that), the Little Devil Darling was almost a complete unknown in the present day once the old reruns from the early 50s on TV stopped, there was next to no money to be made there — but out of loyalty to his old friend.

Wilson checked the door to the stairwell, frowning.

“The stairwell lights are out,” he said. “Would you be willing to—”

“No,” Audrey said quickly. “Not... Not when I can’t see where I’m putting my feet.”

It was a weak and obvious lie, but Wilson didn’t pry.

“And given the storm, the fire escape is out,” he continued, “Meaning the only way I have to kick-start any of the power is by trying to work around the machine in here.”

“The one hooked up to the power?”

“Yes.”

“...Can you?” 

“I can try. It’s in the last room. Have you had a chance to look around the exhibit yet?”

Audrey shook her head. “I haven’t had the time.”

As much as she'd always loved the series, for as much as Bendy had always been her favorite cartoon character she hadn't really ever had a moment to get away from her desk once the restoration process got started, even more so when production on the original short began. At most she had time to run out and get lunch to go or a cup of coffee, but that was it.

“This may take me a while. Now’s as good a time as any.”

She had been meaning to get around to it, but work always came first. And at the end of a day, she’d much rather drive home and sleep than stare at a museum exhibit of any kind, even if it was an exhibit all about Bendy and the studio that had created him. She'd been planning on visiting it once the animation was finished, but without most of her team, it didn't seem like she'd ever get the chance.

There was an access panel on the wall. Wilson used a key to remove the panel and flipped the breakers inside off and on. The exhibit lights, the nearest ones illuminating a statue of what she guessed was supposed to be Joey Drew (she couldn't see any resemblance between it and the posters that flanked it with an illustration of the man’s face) turned on, but the stair lights didn’t so much as flicker. The exhibit lights must have been wired onto a different circuit, hopefully whatever Wilson was planning on doing to the main power would fix the stair lights. It seemed like a strange choice, but Wilson knew what he was talking about. He could fix it.

“If the lights go out again,” Wilson said, “flip the breakers to the outside, then the inside. I will see if I can do something to get the main power back on.”

Audrey nodded, not mentioning that she knew how to flip a breaker already and hoping the ones in the box were labeled correctly, and Wilson soon disappeared from sight around a corner.

She waited a few seconds, just to make sure Wilson wasn't coming back right away, and pulled out her stuffed Bendy doll. It was just a little moral support, having a familiar face around. Things would be fine. She took a deep breath, tucked the toy back away, and stepped into the makeshift museum.

It started with just a simple sign about Joey Drew. 1901 to 1971. He’d passed away nearly two full years ago now. The sign had nothing too interesting to it, nothing Audrey hadn’t heard before. He’d created Bendy in 1929 and helmed the studio, though there was no mention of its bankruptcy. It did mention that ArchGate was determined to keep Bendy’s legacy going.

“‘Dreams come true.’”

They sure did. Here Audrey was, working at a studio that was letting her animate her favorite cartoon character. The character she'd grown up with, watched on TV when there had still been reruns no matter how early or how late they aired. And she'd managed to make a career out of it. Dreams really did come true.

Around the corner was the proper exhibit. There was a large photograph of Joey Drew along one wall above an old animator’s desk. There were scattered photos from the heyday of the era on the wall alongside posters from the old shorts. There were various items in glass cases, a record player with a small selection of Bendy records in their original sleeves on a shelf along one wall, some old film cels in frames and a few information plaques here and there.

Audrey drifted between the different photos, the different stills. The things in the cases largely didn’t interest her. The music in the Bendy shorts was great, true, but the animation had been what had captivated her.

One of the cases was empty, oddly. Was it waiting on something to display in it? The glass wasn’t broken, so it hadn’t had anything stolen, it looked like. Or if it had, it had been someone with access to the keys.

One of the walls held a sign detailing the invention of Sillyvision. Audrey wished the technique hadn’t been lost. It took specially formulated ink, according to the sign and what Audrey had already read about it in her own time. The formula for that ink had been lost when the studio went under and even though Nathan Arch had replicated the magnification tables, nobody could edit the reels like the original Sillyvision animators would have been able to. Audrey had tried every ink formula that had crossed her desk and none of them had worked without ruining the test film stock.

It was a secret that Joey Drew had taken to his grave.

Audrey passed by more displays lingering, briefly, on a wall of early design concepts of Bendy. One with too soft of a face with a big note reading ‘NO’ plastered next to it. A few different design tests with different shapes to his gloves, an expression sheet where his expression didn’t change at all. A few other concepts here and there. No character could be perfect the first go around, no matter how careful that first draft was. She would know, she'd been off and on trying to redesign her favorite character for years, and none of the designs she'd tried had felt right.

She trailed through the end of the exhibit to the last room, more of a short hall and a room beyond it. There were six pedestals, three on each side of the hall, each with a plaque on the front and a spotlight illuminating them, though there was nothing on them. 

In the very last room, though, stood a machine illuminated by a spotlight. It was large enough that it would be roughly up to Audrey’s chest, made of yellowed metal that seemed like it should have been rusty, but she didn’t see any rust. Black stains dotted its base and the front (a nozzle of some sort?) was almost completely caked with stains. Audrey knelt down for a closer look.

Ink. Old ink. 

Yet there was a stain on the floor that looked like it was still damp. Maybe it was some kind of ink making machine? That would explain the gears on the sides. Had someone tried using it recently?

Wilson was at a fuse box on the wall, clearly trying to get something inside of it to cooperate.

“Any luck?” Audrey asked.

“Not yet,” Wilson said. “There’s nothing you can help me with currently either, though... perhaps there is something else you could assist me with.”

“What is it?”

“Each of those empty pedestals is supposed to have something on it as part of exhibit. Someone has moved their contents. Again.”

The new hires, Audrey suspected.

“I’ll see if I can find them,” she said. “They might still be around here.”

“Thank you, Audrey.”

“No problem.”

The strange ink-stained machine was something she could ask Wilson about later. But... maybe it was a machine that had been used to make the Sillyvision ink? That would make sense. An animation studio went through a lot of it, making it in-house would have likely saved a lot of money just by buying ingredients in bulk and not having to go through a supplier. Maybe that was the secret to the Sillyvision ink. Some in-house custom mix of ingredients to make the ink that had been such a secret that nobody had been allowed to write it down.

In the meantime, she had things to find. Each of the pedestals held a plaque. That was straightforward enough. A wrench, a record, a gear, a bottle that looked to be an old style inkwell, a book, and what looked like a little Bendy. Maybe a toy?

The wrench was easy to find, it was stuck in the hand switch marked ‘FLOW.’ She had to wiggle it a bit but it came loose without too much force. She placed it on one of the pedestals and began the hunt in earnest.

The gear was the next easiest, there was a gearbox on the wall with a large gear — roughly the size of a 78 record — shoved awkwardly into it. After that the inkwell, placed on top of the old animation desk. She deposited both lest she break the bottle by dropping it if the lights went out and she tripped over something. 

It wasn’t hard to find the record, shoved into a sleeve that didn’t match. ‘The Lighter Side of Hell’ had been stuck into the sleeve for ‘Bendy Sing-Along.’ Audrey flipped it over out of curiosity. A different B-side than the one she had at home, holding ‘Ode to Bendy’ instead of the track she was familiar with. It looked like it was an older print judging by how faded the label in the center was, the composer’s name completely illegible.

The book took a bit longer. She found it in a trash can tucked into a corner of the exhibit. She had to peel a candy wrapper off of the front of it. ‘The Illusion of Living.’ Joey Drew’s autobiography. Audrey had never read all the way through. She’d read the back sections, all of Joey Drew’s tips on animating, but that was it. She'd tried to read it, once, but the start of the book couldn't grab her interest. For as much as she cared about the series, Joey Drew's childhood just didn't interest her.

Some of his tips were good, at least. ‘Haunting’ people with your work wasn’t the word she’d use. Leaving an impact was important, but 'haunting' felt like the wrong word for a cartoon that was supposed to make people laugh.

With the book in hand, that left whatever that last symbol was. She placed the book and the record and carefully looked every display up and down.

She found it after some careful searching. An out of place Bendy plush stuck in a corner along one wall. Audrey picked it up gingerly. The fabric was stiff, unlike her own careworn stuffed toy. She took her own out for comparison. 

Her stuffed toy was made in a completely different style, seams less apparent from having burst years ago and carefully sewn back together by her mother so that no one could tell that there were seams at all. The display one was noticeably heavier and less soft, likely filled with sawdust. Her own had been re-stuffed with cotton years ago after he’d had a bad run-in with the neighbor’s dog. Her mother had worked her magic and had the toy fixed in an afternoon, replacing the sawdust with the cotton fluff from an old pillow. Audrey remembered it vividly, having spent the entire time at her mother’s side watching the impromptu ‘surgery.’

She looked around, Wilson was still busy with the panel in the final room. 

It was silly, she knew it was silly, but she couldn't help it. She moved both stuffed toys as if they were mirroring each other, one of the classic fundamental gags of old animated shorts. Left, right, up, down, side to side. And then finally a little high-five. 

She'd have to make sure that gag ended up in a future short. But, for now, she tucked her own plush demon away and returned to the display room, plopping the plush into place.

“That’s the last one,” Audrey said. “Any luck?”

“Just about,” Wilson said, closing the panel on the wall. “Could you turn the switch marked ‘flow’ for me? If I’ve fixed the fuses correctly, that should jump-start the main power.”

“Sure.”

Audrey turned and tested the switch. It stuck the first time, but it turned after a few more solid shoves.

The lights went out.

Audrey managed to bite back a startled yelp.

“It is done.”

Wilson’s voice was close enough that Audrey jumped.

The lights flickered. She turned, the only light that had come back on was the big one over the machine. Wilson was standing only a few feet from her.

“What’s done?” Audrey asked. “Wilson, what—”

“I need your help, Audrey,” he said, taking a few steps forward and placing his hands on her shoulders.

There was a mechanical noise. It sounded like an air pump. Like the one her father had used to detail cars in his shop.

“Wilson, I—”

Something cold splashed over her shoes.

Audrey looked down. Ink. Enough ink that it was already rising up over her shoes, pouring into them, the ink soaking her socks.

She looked up. Past Wilson. The machine behind him was steadily, impossibly, churning out gallons upon gallons of ink.

“I need your help,” he repeated. “I need you to come with me. I can’t fix things on my own. But you... You can help me, Audrey.”

“Wilson, what’s going on—”

“Shhhh.”

Wilson held up a finger for silence. Audrey stared at him, trying to take a step back. His grip tightened on her shoulders.

“Find me on the other side, Audrey,” he said. “I need your help to fix things. To save everyone. I tried to do it on my own, but I couldn’t. An animator might, though. The others couldn’t, but you’re the director. You might be able to save them all.”

Whatever Wilson was rambling about didn't make any sense. Audrey tried to take a step backward, but his grip was too tight.

Audrey took a deep breath and, remembering the handful of impromptu self-defense tips she'd learned in college, she slammed her foot into one of his shins as hard as she could.

It was enough that his grip loosened enough for Audrey to break free. She turned, trying to get away from him, but the ink was already up to her waist. She tried to slog through it, so dense it was like trying to move through molasses, but only got a few steps forward before Wilson grabbed her, pulling her closer to him, one arm pinning her in place. 

She stomped her foot down on one of his as hard as she could. Wilson didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m sorry, Audrey,” he said, his mouth right by her ear.

She smacked her head back as hard as she could and felt him stumble.

“Find me,” he said, voice sounding watery from a likely broken nose. “On the other side.”

He fell backwards, dragging Audrey with him.

Into the ink.

Audrey tried to scream but the frigid surface rushed up, closed in on her.

And there was nothing but darkness beneath it.

Chapter Text

Audrey awoke with a gasp. Something in her lungs protested, watery and dense. It was dark.

She managed to roll over, hacking and retching. She coughed up something, her gag reflex following suit. It burned, acidic and miserable, until all she could do was dry heave.

It was dark. She tried to open her eyes, but they stung. Something... something was in her eyes?

She could still feel her bag at her side. She fumbled. Napkins. Spare napkins, she always had some. She had been eating too much take out to not have some... there! There weren't many, but there were enough that she could scrub at her eyes, get them clear enough to see.

And she was, when she could see again... somewhere strange. Everything was yellowed, like old paper or sepia film. Yellowed with seemingly drawn on lines. It made her head ache slightly to look at, something that was both two- and three-dimensional at the same time. The storage shelf on the wall in front of her looked like it should have been illustrated, and yet it looked real. The only light was horribly, harshly incandescent yellow but in a way where it was too bright for what it should have been. 

Something was dripping. It sounded too dense to be water.

Audrey stared at the last of the crumpled napkins in her hand. Black. Ink?

One of her hands was covered in it.

Audrey held out her arms. Her left arm was coated in ink, from fingertip to elbow. It had been in her eyes and it was all over her arm. The back of her right hand had a few splotches on it and there were several obvious small splatters of it on her sweater as well.

Ink. Her head hurt. There had been ink. Ink from the weird machine that had been on display. What had Wilson done?

Her skin was yellowed too. So was her sweater. Like someone had taken her color and replaced it with poorly done sepia tones. What was going on?

And where was she?

Slowly, Audrey got to her feet. The shelf in front of her looked drawn on. But when she reached out to touch it.

It was solid, normal wood grain under her fingers.

An empty paint can on the shelf felt like metal, the handle of the paintbrush felt like wood. It... It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

One thing at a time. Something was dripping to her left. She turned slowly. There was a massive pool of ink. It was dripping from the ceiling, down the metal wall. The only thing keeping it from having flooded the room was that it looked like part of the floor had collapsed, keeping the ink from rising any higher.

Ink. So much ink. It didn’t make any sense. Where was she and how had she gotten there? 

“This... can’t be real,” she said slowly.

It was like being on the page of an old comic book brought to life. Like someone had sketched out a world and peeled it off of the page, somehow having shaken it out into something that was three dimensional, but looked so flat from the wrong angles. It felt real, yet not. Like the lines meant to make things look real weren't right.

Nothing was right.

She turned back around. There had to be a way out. The room seemed small. A work bench with scattered crumpled papers and old tools, either broken or visibly too worn to be any useful.

And a piece of paper, creased like a letter but sitting nearly open. Cautiously, Audrey picked it up. There was text on one side. Handwriting.

Audrey stared at the note. Dangerous? It... What was going on? What could be dangerous? And why would she need to hide?

Still... Something about the little Bendy head doodle put her at ease. She tucked the note away into her bag. She’d keep the scrawled on oval symbol in mind. She might not know where she was, but there was someone, somewhere in this... wherever she was, there was a kindred spirit around. Someone who would doodle the distinctive silhouette of the little devil darlin’ on a note. Someone who knew the show, someone who cared about it, even after all these years.

Whoever they were, if this place was really dangerous, she hoped they were okay.

She turned to the last wall. There was a metal ladder inset into the wall and nothing else. Audrey took a deep breath. In, out. She could do this. She just... had to figure out where she was, then she could figure out how to get back. There had been ink. A lot of ink. She'd have to figure out what that meant later.

She climbed the ladder. There was a small landing and a boarded-up portion of the wall that looked like it had once held a door. There was just enough space between some of the boards that Audrey could squeeze through.

Beyond was a hallway, metal walls and wooden floors, the floorboards uneven and peeling up in places. Audrey moved slowly, deliberately, straining her ears for any sounds. She heard nothing.

The hallway twisted around one corner, then another. She rounded a corner and paused.

“...Bendy?” she whispered.

It was a Bendy cutout. One of the old ones, clearly made out of actual wood and not cardboard. There were ink splatters on its face and bowtie.

Audrey let out a breath, walking up and patting the cutout’s head. 

“It’s good to see a familiar face around here,” she said.

Bendy was always a comfort to see in any shape. But seeing a cutout of him here didn’t make any sense. She clearly wasn't in ArchGate Pictures anymore. And Bendy had been virtually forgotten after Joey Drew Studios had closed. Finding people her age that even knew who he was bordered on impossible, and anyone under twenty had never even heard of him. 

Audrey frowned, running a thumb across the edge of one of the cutout’s horns. The machine that Wilson had turned on had been part of the Joey Drew estate, hadn't it? He’d created Bendy. And this place looked a lot like ink on paper so...

Her brow furrowed. It didn’t make any sense. But there was a machine that seemed to churn out endless amounts of ink with no ingredients, and now this place that seemed to be made of it.

...Had Joey Drew created something more than just a cartoon? Wilson had mentioned ‘the other side.' Was this what he'd been talking about? A world made out of ink? So the ink had been... magic?

It was an absurd thought. Magic ink. Ink couldn’t—

...Ink couldn't take you onto the page the cartoons were on. But this world looked like it was ink on paper. Maybe it was . But that should have been impossible. Magic wasn’t real. But... if it was, was this like some strange inverse version of ‘Out of the Inkwell’ ? Like she was the cartoon on the page on an episode of 'The Plausible Impossible'. 

This didn’t look like a world for cartoons, though. It was silent. Eerie. Completely quiet save for what sounded like running water from somewhere close by. A world of cartoons should have been cheery. Happy. Brightly colored, if nothing else. There should have been a little town of cartoon animals. Bendy should have had a little cottage to live in, or maybe the houseboat from the episode she'd been working on storyboarding in her spare time, the boat race one that she'd originally sketched out when she'd been in high school. Not... whatever this was.

Audrey reached into her bag, pulling out her stuffed Bendy toy. It had been completely unharmed by the ink. She hugged it to her chest, letting out a shuddering breath. It was some little bit of familiar, if childish, comfort in the middle of whatever had happened to her. She had to stay calm. She’d be fine. She’d figure out where she was. And how to get home.

If there was a way to get into this strange world apparently made of ink, there was a way back out again.

She carefully returned the plush to her bag. Her bag seemed more... spacious than normal. Strange. She’d worry about that later.

She gave the cutout another pat on the head before continuing on, the sound of what sounded like water, yet somehow too thick to be water, grew louder.

The planks beneath her feet soon changed to metal grates, and around a corner she stopped.

Ink was sloshing down a metal slope, pooling in a section of floor. Floating in the ink was kelp. Kelp that looked to have been drawn, but kelp nonetheless. It must have been ink overhead, sloshing along through something . It sounded like she was underwater.

She’d have to go through the ink to keep going. Her shoes were going to be ruined.

Better ruined shoes than being stuck here, though. Audrey carefully put a foot into the ink. It was only ankle deep, but it surged up and into her shoes. It was cold, but not freezing. Unpleasantly so.

She trudged through it slowly, the last thing she wanted to do was slip.

Something whispered on the edges of her hearing, but once she stepped out of the pool of ink the sound was gone. Strange.

Up the incline. Up and up until it leveled out. The ink had come from a burst pipe at floor level, slowly dripping. She stepped up and over it.

There was another Bendy cutout where the floor returned to boards. She pat it between the horns out of habit more than anything as the hallway continued on. Audrey moved slowly and carefully, ears straining for even the slightest sound. All there seemed to be was the sound of what had to be ink, audibly thicker than water when it sloshed overhead or dripped down the walls. There were, for some reason, free-standing lockers scattered along the hallway. Audrey checked each with care, the ones that lacked shelves were large enough to hide in, just in case whoever had written that first note was right about this place being dangerous, the silence save for the ink had her on edge enough to believe they might be right. The lockers that did held nothing potentially useful or anything that could give her any clue as to what was going on. Old rags and rusty tools, scraps of paper or empty bottles, no clues as to what was going on or even whose lockers she was rooting through as quietly as she could.

Something creaked overhead. Audrey froze. Footsteps? Definitely footsteps. They moved overhead until they were out of earshot. So she wasn’t alone. Definitely not alone. It could be anyone, or anything, in this strange place. 

She had to be careful. And keep an eye out for any staircases.

Audrey gave it another minute before she attempted to move forward, only for there to be a sudden screech. She dove for the nearest locker, slamming the door shut and pressing herself as far back into it as she could. 

“Denizens of the Machine,” a voice crackled out of what sounded like a speaker.

It had to be close. Audrey couldn’t see a speaker from where she was in the locker, but it was definitely close.

“This is Wilson.”

Audrey’s eyes went wide. Wilson? Wait, machine ?

“For two hundred and seventeen days you have been free of the yoke of the Ink Demon. Two hundred and seventeen days since I banished it, destroyed it and all of its horrible power.”

The what ?

“Once the last of the Demon’s influence has been banished, you will finally be freed of your torment within this machine! But in order to do that, I need your assistance. Denizens of the machine, there is a newcomer to this realm. A young woman.”

Oh no.

“Whoever brings her to the Gent building, unharmed—”

She didn't like how much emphasis he put on that word.

“Shall be greatly rewarded. Remember, she is to be unharmed. Those that are found to be responsible for any harm inflicted on her shall spend a week in the Pit. Remember, Wilson is always watching.”

This... none of this made any sense. Wilson could be a little odd, sure, but this was such a far cry from the usually mild mannered janitor’s personality that it was almost impossible to believe. Had he always been like this? Secretly scheming to do... something? Something that had half-drowned her in ink. His words didn’t explain anything, they only created even more questions. Ink Demon? Machine? And what was the Pit?

And now anyone within earshot of that announcement knew about her. She might be in danger now, with how much he emphasized that she wasn't supposed to be harmed. What was he thinking?

She’d have to be careful. Follow the advice of the ‘friend’ that had left the note behind. She had to figure out how to get out of... wherever she was before anyone caught her and dragged her off to Wilson. Who knew why he had dragged her to this place, what he was planning on doing if he found her.

Machine, though. The machine in the ArchGate building had spewed out so, so much ink. Was... It didn’t make any sense. Was the ink from the machine magic, or did the machine house whatever weird world she'd ended up in? Did the ink work like the pools from The Magicians Nephew ?

Nothing made any sense, and guessing wasn’t going to do anything for her right now, no matter how many new questions kept popping up. 

Audrey stayed in the locker for a few more minutes. There were no new sounds, no footsteps, no voices, and no heartbeat aside from her own that was slowly returning from a frantic staccato to something closer to normal.

She emerged cautiously and continued her trek down the hall, moving even slower than she had before. The sound of her own footsteps felt impossibly loud in her ears, even though they were largely inaudible over the sound of ink.

Nothing. Silence.

There was a gurgling sound overhead. A crash.

Something dropped out of a vent overhead.

Audrey yelped, scrambling backwards and losing her footing, hitting the ground hard enough that she let out a hiss of breath through her teeth. She threw her arms over her face to try to protect herself.

But nothing happened. No sound, nothing.

Slowly, Audrey lowered her arms and looked up. 

It was a body, tangled in what looked like cabling. Not a human body, though, the proportions were both too small and too large at the same time. A gaping maw of crooked teeth, one bulging eye, and... a triangular, canine-esque nose? And a tailcoat?

And one gloved hand with only four fingers.

“...Charley?” she managed, horrified.

There was no mistaking it. In the broad strokes, maybe, but not in the details. The suit, the waistcoat, the gloves, everything.

Hanging dead from the ceiling was the body of the leader of the Butcher Gang.

Slowly, Audrey stood up. The body didn’t make any sudden movements (maybe she shouldn’t have watched Night of the Living Dead last Halloween after all), so she carefully shuffled up to it for a closer look. The Toon was mangled, almost to the point of unrecognizability, but not all of the damage could have been recent. While one solid black eye, unsettlingly organic instead of pie-cut, bulged from its socket, the other had been stitched closed, an X shape that should have been cartoony but was sickening instead with the individual suture marks. His other hand was gone, instead there was only a wooden stump that had been shattered and splintered. One leg was missing as well, replaced with a clump of what looked like old pipes tied together. His clothes were badly tattered, one tail of the tailcoat missing entirely. 

Audrey had never been the biggest fan of the Butcher Gang. They tormented Bendy in the cartoons a little bit too harshly sometimes, but so did Boris, so that wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary. But this? It hurt to see. The Butcher Gang were solid antagonists, even if their designs weren’t exactly cohesive as a unit. But they didn’t deserve this.

But a cartoon was in front of her. A... priorly living, breathing cartoon. Her stomach flipped and she swallowed bile. She couldn’t be sick. Not again. Breathe, Audrey, breathe.

She’d take this all in later. Right now, there was a dead cartoon dangling from the ceiling, and Charley deserved better than that.

With a bit of searching, Audrey located a crate that was light enough to push. She stopped after every push, every grating of wood on wood, ears straining to make out any sound. Nothing. Once the crate was close enough, she climbed on top of it and carefully moved each length of wire out of the way until she could get the body free. 

Even as dead weight, Charley didn’t weigh much. A locker that had fallen over on its back almost flat against the wall would have to do. With a bit of maneuvering, the odds and ends in the locker were tossed out and Charley’s body was very carefully placed inside instead.

It wasn’t exactly a coffin, but it was the best she could do on short notice. Audrey made sure the door was shut tightly. She... should write something, shouldn’t she? 

There was plenty of ink around for it, at least. Audrey found the nearest ink drip, dipped a finger into it, and wrote.

Audrey paused. There weren’t any new sounds, so she added a doodle as best she could of Charley without a pen, on model and oozing confidence, simply posturing like he was the toughest guy in the room. There. That felt like a fitting tribute.

She wiped the ink off on her pants and stood. She wouldn’t have had a clue what to say for a eulogy, but... at least this was something. Some little bit of kindness to a cartoon that had deserved much better.

Hopefully the rest of the Butcher Gang were in a better state, if they were around too. If they were real, if they were alive , they likely weren’t, but she could still hope.

There was nothing she could do now but continue on. She had to find an exit.

Around the next corner was what looked like a little workroom, candles with flames that looked to be drawn on burning on a bench beside what looked like a cassette player, but far chunkier than anything she’d ever seen. It was likely going to make a lot of noise, but... what was it doing here?

Audrey carefully picked up the device, finding a volume wheel on one side. She turned it all the way down, then just the slightest bit up. There was a name written on the side across an old and peeling piece of tape. No date, but a name. ‘Shawn Flynn.’

Cautiously, Audrey pressed play.

"I don't be seein' what the big deal is.”

The voice on the tape had a very thick Irish accent. The speakers were extremely tin-y, but the audio was clear.

“So what if I went and painted some of those Bendy dolls with a crooked smile?

That's sure no reason for Mr. Drew to be flyin' off the handle at me. And if he really wants to be so helpful, he could be tellin' me what I'm to be doin' with this warehouse I got full of that angel whatchamacallit. Not a scrap of that mess be a-sellin'!

Probably have to melt it all down to be rid of it all."

Bendy dolls? Those had only ever been made by Joey Drew Studios. Nathan Arch still hadn’t gotten around to them. Mr. Drew, though. Joey Drew. This tape sounded like someone who had worked at the studio before it had closed. How old was this tape? And how was it here? Did they even have tape players back when the studio was open?

Why would Joey Drew get so upset at a defect that small? Especially if the toys had been produced by hand. Maybe Shawn Flynn had been exaggerating. She put the cassette player down and took a look around. No clear way forward, but there were some bricks sticking out of a nearby wall that were uneven and there was a landing above them.

Audrey clambered up without too much difficulty. There was a large metal door in one direction, and a large switch labeled ‘Security Override’ on the wall. She flipped the switch and the door slid open, allowing her to keep moving.

Lights flickered to life as she went. The hall wasn’t much different from the others. Around a few turns was another Bendy cutout. They seemed to be everywhere, and it was a welcome sight. Something familiar, something normal after what she'd just seen. With Charley's... 

She pat the cutout like she had the others on her way past.

Another turn, another after that, and then...

Audrey hovered in the doorway, squeezed up against the wall as best she could. Beyond was an atrium of some kind with a large sign above a fountain that had likely once held water, but now appeared to only hold ink.

A fountain with the words ‘Heavenly Toys’ written on a large metal sign above it. With illustrations of the Butcher Gang and Alice Angel on old and tattered banners hanging from the ceiling. A large Bendy plush with a crooked smile sat on the rim of the fountain, one set of stairs leading past it while the other was blocked with an absolutely massive plush Boris.

There were no new sounds.

Cautiously, Audrey stopped into the open. Nearby was what looked something like an outhouse, but with a square hole cut out of the front to see through.

With an oval drawn on it, sort of like a halo. It matched the one on the note she found.

Audrey quietly made her way over to it and opened it. There was a low bench inside and nothing else. She left the door open, just in case she’d need it. Seeing it... She wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or not, but if the note was to be believed, it was the perfect hiding spot should she need it. There was a sign on the top of it. ‘Little Miracle Station.’

With no other clear way forward, Audrey took the stairs. There was a switch on the wall next to another heavy metal door, but it was stuck. The only way forward was up another wall with jutting bricks and a broken banister.

Audrey slowly made her way to it. No sounds. Good.

She climbed, one hand over the other, she had one hand on the edge, ready to haul herself up—

Only for a disembodied head to swing over the side with a gargling screech.

Audrey shrieked, losing her grip and her balance. She landed on one of her arms, quickly scrambling to her feet. Something thumped on the ground behind her.

She didn’t stop to look, she ran. Down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and diving straight into the wooden box with the halo on the front, slamming the door closed.

She pressed herself up against the back of the box as best she could. Silence, for a moment.

And then a hand trying to reach into the box through the hole. Audrey barely kept down a shriek. A four-fingered glove.

Another Toon.

There were gargles as a hand slammed into the box. Audrey could just make out what was outside. A head suspended on a fishing pole, a button in one eye socket and the other empty and oozing ink. A mouth stretched open with metal bars, a set of teeth inside.

And a little sailor cap just barely held into place with what looked to be duct tape.

Barley, Audrey realized with creeping horror. Another cartoon mangled into a monstrosity. 

It couldn’t get into the box, though. It pulled back, grumbling a low, but unmistakable, ‘yarr.’

There was humming.

The mangled Toon stopped, looked around, and then made a run for it, head flopping side to side on its fishing rod string as it went.

Audrey stayed stock still. The humming grew louder, then fell silent. She was shaking. She clamped a hand over her mouth, tears starting to leak from her eyes. Two cartoons, mangled and almost unrecognizable. Two members of the Butcher Gang. If there had been two, then Edgar — her favorite of the trio, the childish one who always caused the others problems by accident instead of on purpose — had surely followed the same fate.

The cartoons of Joey Drew Studios had been brought to life only to be turned into... that . Had the others followed the same fate? No. God, please no...

There was a gentle knock on the door of the Little Miracle Station.

Audrey’s head jerked upright. There was someone peering into the box.

But they looked... more human? More, though, not completely. Real eyes, but their hair seemed to be made of ink and the dark circles under their eyes looked drawn on.

“Hey,” said a voice, soft and feminine, gentle. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Audrey choked down a sob and shook her head. Seeing Charley had been bad enough, but being chased by a beheaded Barely was just too much. If the Butcher Gang had been made real and mangled, had the other characters? Alice and Boris? 

Had Bendy?

The thought of her favorite Toon being so mangled was too much. She couldn’t keep her tears back any longer, everything was just too much between the fear and the tension and... everything .

“I’m going to open the door now,” the voice said, but Audrey barely registered it.

The door swung open and Audrey didn’t move. She must have looked like a complete mess, covered in ink and crying her eyes out. She didn’t have the will to protest as she was pulled into a hug.

Whoever it was didn’t make a fuss at Audrey crying on them, instead they slowly rubbed circles on her back, humming a familiar tune that she couldn’t quite place.

It didn’t take Audrey very long to cry herself out. She was tired. Tired and confused and scared. She wanted to go home (even if home was only a one bedroom apartment with an old TV and rewarmed leftovers, too many frames to draw to have time to cook).

“Better?” the voice asked.

Audrey nodded, stepping back and drying her eyes as best she could on her sweater’s short sleeves.

The person who had stayed through her breakdown was a woman who looked to only be a few years older than Audrey was. She was tones of yellow and ink black, hair pulled back in a ponytail and a headband, though her hair looked like it was either coated in ink or made out of it, a little mole by one of her eyes.

And a pair of horns poking out from her scalp. It reminded Audrey, very faintly, of Alice Angel, but the woman had no halo in sight. She wore a sleeveless dress that was some tone of yellow but was mostly splattered and stained with ink, a length of rope coiled over one shoulder. She also wore what had likely once been a pair of leggings, that or her legs were entirely coated with ink. Her boots were the same, though the belts around her calves keeping them in place were still visible. Her arms were completely coated with ink, though there appeared to be gloves going up to nearly her shoulders underneath.

She had a sword at her waist, one that looked like it had been welded together from scrap metal. At her other side was a belt pouch, the material looking to be ink stained leather, though it was hard to tell with the lack of color.

The woman — not a cartoon, she looked too human for that, even if her arms moved more rubber-hose than jointed — reached into the bag at her side and, seemingly impossibly, pulled out a metal can.

“Drink this,” she said. “It’s not great and the aftertaste is worse, but it’ll help.”

Audrey took the can carefully. Bendy’s face smiled up at her from the label. ‘Briar Label Bacon Soup,’ it read. ‘Just the way the little devil likes it.’

The lack of an expiration date or ingredient list was worrying, but Audrey would take anything that would help at this point. She pulled the pop tab and was treated to a soft hiss. The contents were suspiciously lumpy and ink colored.

Audrey held her nose and downed half the can in one go. The flavor that hit her tongue was nothing but salt and the faintest taste of smoke flavoring.

And the aftertaste was worse, like gargling salt mixed with lard and old socks. She gagged, but she did, abruptly feel a little better. The arm she’d landed on didn’t hurt anymore.

She still handed the can back. There was no way she was going to be able to finish it.

“Better?” the woman asked.

“A little,” Audrey managed.

“First day in here?”

Audrey nodded. Whatever 'in here' meant.

“The first day’s always the hardest. I’m Allison.”

“Audrey. Um... sorry. About that.”

Allison just smiled. “Don’t be. This place is good at getting to you.”

“Where are we? And was that really...”

She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t ask if it was really Barley that had tried to attack her on sight for no reason. A living cartoon whose first instinct seemed to be to attack instead of talk or pull a gag or anything else.

“Right now we’re in Heavenly Toys. You must have come up through part of the manufacturing floor. It’s a part of a recreation of Joey Drew Studios inside of something called the ‘Ink Machine.’”

Why could Audrey hear the capital letters in that?

“Inside of the machine?”

The thing that had just been on exhibit? Just sitting there? ...Until Wilson had told her to turn it on and she, like a fool, had.

“I couldn’t tell you how it works, but there’s an entire world in here. It’s... not a very friendly one.”

It... really didn’t seem that way, no.

“The thing that attacked you is what we call a Fisher. The one that usually carries a pipe is a Piper, the one with the big arm is a Striker. They’re part of a gang, so if you see one, be careful, the other two are usually close by.”

“The Butcher Gang?” Audrey asked weakly, stomach turning at the thought.

“Not anymore. Not really. The other things to watch out for here are the Lost Ones and Searchers. The Lost Ones look like people, only made out of ink. Searchers are the same, but they don’t have any legs and they like to swarm.”

Audrey nodded. The fact there were more things to fear than what she’d seen was... a lot. She hoped she wasn’t going to be sick again. Monsters. There were monsters in this place too. Not just mangled Toons. 

“There’s... a lot to learn, isn’t there?” she said weakly.

“Unfortunately. What else... Right. This world doesn’t work like the outside one does. Food heals injuries, so always keep some with you. Bags are bigger on the inside and most things in the Studio will lose sight of you if you’re in a vent or a hiding place. Find a weapon as soon as you can. You might have to fight if there’s nowhere to run or hide.”

“Can't I just go with you?”

Allison had a sword. Allison was helping her. Allison's voice, for some reason Audrey couldn't quite place, also sounded familiar, she just couldn't figure out from where. 

But Allison shook her head. “Tom — my partner — isn’t good with strangers, especially with Wilson telling the entire Machine he wants to capture you. He’s painted a pretty big target on your back.”

“You’re... not going to do that, right?”

“Of course not. Ever since Wilson came things have gotten worse. The Lost Ones used to keep to themselves, but now they attack on sight. You should head for the upper levels. There’s barely any Lost Ones or Searchers higher up, and there's a rumor the top floor is empty. The Butcher Gang doesn’t usually travel up too high either. Find a room with a sturdy door and lay low for a couple of days.”

“Days?! I need to go home!”

Deadlines. Deadlines and she wanted to go home. To her own apartment, her own bed. To be anywhere but here.

Allison shook her head. “There isn’t a way out.”

“There has to be. Wilson’s been working at ArchGate the entire time I’ve been there. If he’s been here for nearly a year, he has to have a way in and out.”

“You know Wilson?”

Audrey nodded. “He’s the janitor at ArchGate pictures. He hangs around the animation department a lot. I thought it was because he liked cartoons, but... now I’m not sure.”

He had to have known about this place to send her here. But why?

“Hm. If there’s a way out, it won’t be inside the Studio. Wilson’s been adding things, so if there’s a way out, it’ll be in one of his new areas. And guarded. He probably put it in the old Gent building, but if you tried to get in, you’d get caught for sure, his forces are swarming all over that place.”

“...So what do I do?”

There had to be something, right? She needed to go home .

“For now," Allison said, "head for the upper levels through the animation department. Lay low. Wilson captured a friend of mine a while ago now. I've been trying to get enough people together to try and break him out. When we do, we should be able to sneak you in at the same time. Once we’re ready, I’ll come and find you, okay?”

Audrey nodded. Okay. She... She could do that. Maybe.

“And stay away from the Ink Demon.”

Allison's expression was unsettlingly grave.

“What’s an Ink Demon?”

“A monster. You’ll know it when you see it. It has horns and it likes to smile.” She gestured a smile with both of her pinky fingers— no, her last fingers, she only had four. “And it kills anything that moves. If you ever hear a heartbeat, hide as soon as you can. You won’t be able to outrun it, but if it can’t find you, it’ll get bored and leave after long enough.”

“I thought Wilson said he got rid of it?”

“No one who’s been here long enough believes that. The Ink Demon’s the strongest thing in here. It can’t be hurt and it can’t be killed. I don’t know what Wilson did to it that no one’s seen it in months, but it’ll be back. And you don’t want to be caught off guard when it does.”

Audrey nodded. That... sounded uncomfortably like Bendy. But Allison also had horns, so maybe it wasn’t.

She hoped like hell that it wasn’t. She wasn’t sure she could take that.

Chapter Text

The only choice she really had, if she didn't want to risk whatever Wilson wanted her for, even if he had a way out, was to try to make it to the upper levels. The way up was through animation, Allison had said. From there, she likely just had to keep finding staircases. Maybe there’d be an elevator, though she wasn’t sure she should trust an elevator in a place where parts of the walls had caved in.

She moved slowly and cautiously as she continued to make her way through the studio's near silent halls, always stopping and listening before going around any corners. It was quiet, but that was what worried her. She hadn’t heard Barley since he'd run away, and there was no way he wasn't still out there somewhere. Hopefully he’d be going down instead of up. 

She leaned around corners when she was sure things were quiet, moving slowly, hallway by hallway. Every few turns of the twisting hallways, she’d spy a Bendy cutout. Some behind grates or wire fencing she couldn’t get through, others in plain sight. She’d pat the ones she could reach and wave to the ones she couldn’t.

It almost felt like the cutout of the Toon was showing her the way toward safety. Wherever she went, Bendy was there. If she stopped seeing the cutouts, was that a hint that she was going the wrong way? It wouldn't be the strangest thing that had happened to her today. She'd believe that until proven otherwise.

Up a wall by loose bricks here, up a ladder in there, the layout didn't make any sense. The rooms felt cobbled together, like someone had a bunch of spare rooms on a blueprint and stuck them all together at random. She'd somehow managed to find a very small locker room, of all things. What kind of animation studio had enough employees or enough theft that they needed a locker room?

With no locks on the lockers. She'd been told to find a weapon, something to defend herself, so Audrey rifled through them as quickly as she dared, mindful of how much noise she was making. One of the lockers held a set of keys, plus something called a ‘Bendy Bar.’ The label of the package ambiguously called its contents a ‘cereal bar.’ Without specifying the cereal, and it likely wasn’t cornflakes.

She stashed it in her bag anyway, just in case.

A Bendy cutout smiled at a cart full of junk that blocked a door. She could just imagine Bendy, in his full cartoon glory, pointing at the cart and giving Audrey a cheeky wink, as if to say ‘here’s a hint for ya!’. She patted its head and shoved the cart aside, one agonizingly loud shove at a time.

The moment it was moved enough to get past, she retreated to one of the lockers.

Nothing came around a corner, nothing jumped out at her.

She hated this place.

The door forward — one made out of metal bars, reminding Audrey eerily of a prison cell — proved to be locked, though one of the keys fit. She carefully set the chain on the floor rather than let it fall, lest anything hear it. Beyond that was a heavy metal door labeled ‘CAUTION’ then, in smaller letters under it, ‘KEEP CLOSED.’

Audrey grimaced but wrenched the door aside enough to slip through.

The hall beyond was bizarrely industrial. Like staring into the guts of a machine, pipes on the wall and pipes under grates in the floor. The only lights — they looked like the old sodium vapor street lamps around her grandparents’ house — flickered erratically.

But the only sounds she could hear was dripping ink and groaning pipes.

Audrey took a deep breath and moved forward. Down the long hall, ducking under a partially boarded up door, rounding a corner to another barred door.

She stepped forward only for something to drop out of the ceiling, clinging to the bars.

She stumbled back, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.

Trying to swipe at her through the bars was Edgar, just as mangled as the other Butchers had been. Two arms fused together with a spring-loaded hand instead of a normal one, one human eye and one pie-cut one, his lips sewn shut.

And a gaping maw across the top of his head with a number of protruding teeth that looked like it had been stitched on.

Audrey bit down a sob as the Toon, realizing he couldn’t hit her, dropped to the floor and scuttled out of sight.

That was all of them. All of the Butcher Gang, mangled into monsters. Was he in pain? He had to be with his lips stitched up like that. He didn’t deserve this.

None of them deserved this.

Audrey waited until everything was quiet before opening the door.

There was no sign of Edgar. The lights were better here, at least the ones that weren’t broken. To her left was a hallway with a Little Miracle Station shoved against one wall. To her right was what looked like a miniature restaurant. ‘The Little Devil Lounge’ the sign proclaimed, a silhouette of Bendy’s head serving as the ‘o.’

Coffee for 15 cents. Oh, if only cafe prices were still that cheap. But was this for staff, or visitors? The menu on the wall made it feel like it was for staff. 89 cents for a plate felt like an odd amount to charge, especially as exact change only. Bacon soup was on the menu with a hand scrawled note of ‘again’ with everything that sounded passable as a menu item sold out.

Bacon soup, though. She could use some of that. As awful as it tasted, she might need it if something found her and she couldn’t hide in time. 

She entered cautiously. No sign of anyone. There were some stale doughnuts on one table, though the buffet display held what looked only like rotten food. There was an unopened can of bacon soup on another table, and the vending machines had a bunch of ‘empty’ notes tacked onto all of the available options.

She took everything she could just in case. It could come in handy, and her bag didn’t seem to be running out of space. For every thing she added, there seemed to be room for whatever she needed to put in next. The door to the kitchen turned out to be locked, so if there was more food in there, Audrey couldn’t get to it.

She headed left. There were seating areas that reminded her very vaguely of a hospital waiting room, a locked door into what looked like an office, and some kind of odd thing on a wall. It looked like a pipe set over a big grate. It looked a bit like the front of the Ink Machine had. Unsettlingly so.

There was a sign on the wall, though. ‘Inkwell. Patented Ink Delivery System.’ There were instructions to go with it. How much ink had the machine made that such a device could exist?

And why was the fourth instruction down ‘ignore any voices coming from pipe’?

Audrey forced herself to turn away and headed through the next door. Another sitting area. And a big sign above the door. ‘Animation Alley’ with a little up arrow ‘This Way.’

She tried the other key on the key ring she’d found. She turned it gingerly only to be met with a dull metal ‘SNAP’ as the key broke off in the lock.

Great. She’d have to figure out another way through now. The doors on the wall by the locked door proved to be locked, but there was a hallway past the chained door. She passed the door, patting the Bendy cutout leaning against the wall as she went. There was a door labeled ‘Atrium Supply’, and a section of metal fencing (why were there so many fences here?). Audrey peeked through the fencing and froze, stomach doing a nauseating flip.

Pinned to the wall with what looked like sections of rebar was an ink-soaked corpse. Rebar rods through one four-fingered hand, two through the opposite arm, one through a thigh, another through a foot, and one through the torso, a cloth bag over the corpse’s head tied around the neck with a rope. 

Scrawled on the wall beside the body were two words.

Demon. Like the Ink Demon that Allison had mentioned?

Audrey shuddered. There was a pipe embedded in the corpse’s torso, though. With the word ‘GENT’ on it. It looked solid and sturdy and, as morbid as the thought was... it could maybe be a weapon, something to defend herself with that wouldn't break after one swing. And maybe it was hefty enough to break the lock on the gate. It looked like the nearby door might connect, but it was pitch black inside. Maybe there was a way to turn the power back on?

The only thing she could do was backtrack, try to figure out if there was some kind of fuse box somewhere. She moved slowly, cautiously.

There was a muffled shout from somewhere.

Audrey ducked behind a bench. A grunt, the sound of a door being shoved open.

“If I find you, I’m going to rip your face off!”

Audrey stayed low to the ground. There was a lot of clutter scattered around. One of the doors had been forced open, and there was... well, it looked like it had once been a person. Covered in ink with glowing eyes. Was this what Allison meant by a ‘Lost One?’

And not a friendly one. Audrey kept low, moving slowly and keeping barrels and old file cabinets between her and the wandering monster. She ducked through the door it had come through. Inside was a storage room. With a hole in the wall that led to a cartoonishly simple fuse box with one missing fuse.

There were fuses in the others, though. One was labeled 'KITCHEN.' Audrey gave the fuse a solid tug. It didn't want to budge. 

But this was a storage room. She rooted around through the file cabinets. One held a cassette player. Out of curiosity, she tucked it into her bag for later. Another cabinet, under a stack of old rotting papers, held a scattered pile of worn out tools. Including an old flat screwdriver, too rusted to be used for its normal purpose, but it didn't need to. 

With a bit of careful prying, the kitchen fuse came loose, letting her pop it into the empty spot. There.

Now she just had to get around the Lost One.

She ducked back through the hole in the wall and waited for the Lost One to pass by her. It did, after several agonizingly long minutes, clutching what looked like a broken table leg in one hand.

She couldn't be seen. Not now.

She slunk past it. She just had to be quiet. Back the way she came. She was just past the front entrance when—

“Hey, you!”

She bolted, running straight for the Little Miracle Station. She slammed the door shut, clamped a hand over her mouth, and waited.

Eventually, everything grew silent again.

The Lost One had gone elsewhere. Was it still looking for her? It... didn’t seem to be. At least not within earshot. 

She was in a safe spot. She might not find one for a while, so... now was probably the best time to figure out what was on that cassette player. She turned the little volume wheel down on the side as low as it would go without muting it and pressed play.

"That Wilson! He’s everywhere! Yet he’s nowhere!

I don’t know how he does it! It’s madness! Madness!

What if he’s inside my mind? What if he can hear my thoughts?!

I could tear out my brain, then he couldn’t hear my mind! 

But the Prophet... The Prophet says to stay strong. Our Lord’s will protects us. 

I... yes. I have to stay strong. Until He returns.

I can hear them. The ones that sided with the Invader. They’re coming for me.

I won’t give in! I defy you, Wilson! All hail the Ink Demon! All hail!

He’s not dead! He’ll be back!

He will rise again! And his revenge will be dark and terrible!"

There was scuffling on the recording, shouting.

"All hail our Lord! All hail the Ink Demon!"

There was the sound of something being dropped and the recording ended. 

Audrey shuddered. Whoever had recorded the tape had clearly lost their mind. A Prophet, a demon being called a ‘Lord,' it all made no sense. It sounded like something out of a horror movie, the ramblings of an insane character before the monster made its first appearance. She’d... just leave the tape here. She didn’t want to carry it around. 

It sounded like the Lost Ones might be fighting each other, though. Were some of them working with Wilson?

She set the tape down on the little wooden bench and cautiously squeezed out of the Station. There was the soft sound of squishing steps somewhere nearby, so she moved carefully but quickly until she was back at the door. She moved quickly through it, making sure it shut behind her. There were only empty shelves and another hole in the wall. She ducked through it into another storage room, a heavily industrial one. Nothing useful and no Lost Ones, so she moved quickly. 

There was a door on the far end of the room. And beside it was the body pinned to the wall.

Audrey grimaced. There was a bench in the room with words scrawled across it.

Audrey shook her head and approached the body slowly. She gripped the pipe and gave it a tug. It was stuck. Grimacing, she put a hand on the wall for support and yanked it with all of her might. It came free with a meaty squelch. Audrey shuddered.

At least she had something to defend herself with now.

She turned, moving toward the door—

“Prophet? Is that you...?”

A voice. Weak and raspy, watery as well. But there wasn’t anyone in sight.

Audrey turned back to the body on the wall. They were...?

“You’re... still alive?” she breathed in disbelief.

“Barely,” the near corpse managed. “It hurts. The Invader’s forces... they know. They know we can come back through the ink. Prophet, please. Free me. It hurts.”

Prophet? It (he? The voice sounded masculine, it... sounded familiar. The voice from the tape?) couldn’t see her, maybe it was delirious, mistaking her for someone else. They didn't deserve this. No one deserved this.

She gave one of the sections of rebar a tug. It didn’t budge.

“I... I don’t think I can,” she said, keeping her voice quiet lest another Lost One hear her.

“Kill me, Prophet. Please. I still have His ink. I’ll go home. I’ll be safe. Please...”

Audrey looked at the pipe in her hand. She... This Lost One was delusional, but they were suffering. She...

Gritting her teeth, Audrey raised the pipe over her head with both hands and brought it down as hard as she could on the Lost One’s head. Even through the bag, she heard a dull crack, felt something cave inwards.

And the body melted. Reduced to nothing but ink dripping down the wall.

Audrey turned, found a nearby crate, and wrenched it open enough to be sick into.

Mercifully, the bacon soup didn’t come back up, just dry heaves.

Doubled-over and retching, she prayed nothing saw her, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. This place was terrible. She hated it. She hated it and she just wanted to go home.

Chapter Text

The pipe Audrey had found wasn’t overly heavy, and was a bit awkward to swing around as it was only two segments of metal pipe grafted together, but once she recovered enough to keep moving it proved to have enough heft to it to break through the padlock blocking her way in one swing.

It was agonizingly loud, though. If there hadn’t been a nearby Miracle Station to hide in, she would have been caught by not just one Lost One, but a second that had appeared in response to the noise. There was no way she would have come out of that alive.

Hiding in the wooden box and waiting for the sounds of inky feet to vanish, her stomach churned at the thought of actually having to fight one of the ink covered figures. She... She didn’t want to hurt anyone. But if she got caught away from a hiding place, she got the feeling that she wasn’t going to have a choice. 

Audrey swallowed thickly at the thought, feeling the tang of bile on the back of her tongue. She couldn’t be sick again. She wouldn’t . She’d just have to cross that bridge when she came to it, no matter how sick the thought made her.

Once the last sounds of footsteps faded away, Audrey finally moved from her hiding place. The gate to Animation Alley, mercifully, didn’t squeak or grind when she pulled it open enough to slip through. Beyond it was a metal door with a sign on it. ‘No Unauthorized Entry.’

There was a switch on the wall. The door opened with very little sound and Audrey slipped through as soon as it was open wide enough for her to squeeze past.

The room she emerged into looked like a war zone.

Audrey slid a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. What had once been a waiting room — more spacious than the scattered benches she’d passed before, with benches and chairs with actual cushions, reminding her of an airport — had been torn apart. Benches had been stacked into makeshift walls reinforced with crates and barrels and loose boards. Broken items that had clearly been used as weapons were scattered all over the floor, broken off chair legs and half-smashed bottles, an axe broken in two at the head mixed in among old pipes and bits of rebar.

The ink splatters didn’t just look like regular ink, not from a smashed bottle or some kind of leaking container. They looked like some of the scenes from a few horror movies her roommate in college had dragged her to. The ones that had been excessively bloody, the only difference was the color.

There was a message scrawled on one wall in ink, but someone had come along at some point and crossed it out with even more ink. There were marks on the wall like there had been something around the message that had been hacked out. The original words were still mostly legible. A second message was written beside it, clearly in another hand.

The text was surrounded by inky hand prints with only four fingers, along with some kind of weird makeshift altar that had been set up at the base of the message. A scattering of bacon soup cans cut in half with candles in them to keep the wax from dripping everywhere, the flames flickering even though they looked to be scribbles made out of light. There was a stuffed Bendy doll that looked like it had seen better days, stuffing poking out of the side. There were a few pages of sheet music scattered around too, along with what looked like the broken remnants of some kind of stringed instrument. 

Wilson. And the Ink Demon. What was going on here? This had to be from the Lost Ones, right? But why were they writing on the walls about Wilson? Or the Ink Demon? Wilson seemed to be able to leave this world and come back, but Wilson had threatened to hurt anyone that hurt her earlier. Allison made it sound like the Ink Demon was a bad guy, but she couldn’t imagine Wilson, of all people, hurting anyone. 

But all this meant that the Lost Ones were definitely fighting each other. One group that was siding with Wilson, for some reason, and another that apparently hated Wilson and was siding with the Ink Demon. The altar made it seem like one group was worshiping the Ink Demon, which didn’t make much sense. Allison had made it sound like the Ink Demon killed anything and everything, why worship it?

...Unless they were in the hopes it wouldn’t kill them. That would make sense. Still. If Wilson had killed the Ink Demon — which Allison didn’t believe, so Audrey wasn’t sure what to think about that — it would explain why some of the Lost Ones were angry at him. That still didn’t explain how or why Wilson would kill anything. It... She shook her head. She didn’t understand what was going on.

She should keep moving.

Her gaze fell on two Bendy cutouts, hidden mostly behind one of the makeshift walls. They were splattered with ink. It almost felt like they had been hiding. She didn’t want to imagine what it was they had seen here.

Audrey took a deep breath to steel her nerves, gripped the pipe in her hand a little tighter, and started moving. Slowly, carefully, ears straining for the slightest sound. Was there anywhere in this place where she wouldn’t have to constantly be on edge?

Something collided painfully with the back of her head.

Audrey stumbled, inky black spots forming on her vision. 

She didn’t think. She spun around, hands curled around the pipe, and swung as hard as she could. 

The pipe collided with inky flesh, a Lost One stumbling back from the impact. Where had it come from? Behind her? She hadn’t heard anything!

The inky figure let out an incoherent shout and took another swing at her with a chunk of pipe.

The weapon missed Audrey by inches as she stumbled back. She swung her own weapon in retaliation, heart hammering in her ears. The pipe caught the Lost One in the arm and it howled in pain.

There was a shout from what sounded like down a hall nearby.

Vision swimming, Audrey turned and ran. She couldn’t fight two people at once, let alone more. She had to find a place to hide. And fast.

She scrambled down a nearby hallway, the inky footsteps of the Lost One behind her. The doors along the hall were all shut, no time to try one. Her only option was the room at the end of the hall that was flooded with ink. She was nearly there, maybe she could scoop some up and blind the Lost One with it. Maybe—

Audrey cried as something slammed into the back of one of her legs along with a sickening crack.

She fell forward into the flooded room, the ink up to her chest.

The Lost One chasing her stopped. It eyed the ink as if it could come alive and attack it at any second. Two other Lost Ones ran up behind it, stopping short of touching the ink and eying it the same way.

Audrey scrambled back and onto a couch that was out of the ink, unable to bite back a whimper of pain. Her left leg was twisted around at an unnatural angle. It hurt. The edges of her vision were getting darker, something whispering at the edge of her senses.

Food. She needed food. Audrey dug her hands into her bag. She had to stay awake. Had to.

“Get her!” one of the Lost Ones shouted.

“You get her!” another one snapped. “I’m not going back to the Puddles.”

“I’m not going back either, moron.”

They paused, looking at the third of their number, Audrey barely registering it as her hands closed around something metal.

The third Lost One turned and ran, the other two running after it.

Audrey pulled out a can of soup, cracked open the lid with the pull tab, and guzzled its contents with desperation. The texture was awful and the flavor was worse. She nearly choked on it as there was a sickening crack, a burning pain in her leg, but she managed to swallow the rest of the foul-tasting liquid.

She threw the can away from her, gasping for air. It hurt. The room was spinning. The spots were gone from her vision and the awful taste in her mouth was an effective distraction to the pain.

And then the pain was just... gone. She slowly looked at her leg — she wasn’t covered in ink, she noticed, even though she’d been in a puddle of it — that was the right way around again. She put a hand to her head. It stung slightly to the touch where she’d been hit, but that was it.

She reached into her bag, quickly finding her Bendy doll and pulling it out and shoving her face into its soft fabric. Breathe, Audrey, breathe.

The soup was a miracle cure, just like a cartoon. Just like a can of Popeye’s spinach, fixing him right up so he could go and save the day. It was insane, completely insane, but it had saved her life. It had tasted awful, but without it she’d be dead, then and there.

The whispering was growing louder. More distinct.

When do we go home?

It hurts... please...

When I get my hands on him, I’ll—

Audrey pulled her legs out of the ink and up onto the couch. The whispering stopped.

...She should probably avoid puddles of ink as much as possible.

The Lost Ones didn’t seem to want to touch the ink either. She was safe. For the moment, at least. She looked around the room. There was a second couch, a potted plant in one corner, and a trio of Bendy cutouts on the other couch. The room was flooded but not enough to soak the couches.

There was a tape player on the other couch. Audrey reached out and grabbed it. It didn’t have a name written on it, but there was a label.

Curious, Audrey turned the volume down most of the way and pressed play.

Music. It flowed out of the tinny speaker, piano with a somber sounding melody.

And then there was a singer. Their voice masculine and soft, sad and gentle.

“Willow weep for me, willow weep for me. Bend your branches green along the stream that runs to the sea.”

The voice was surprisingly soothing, a bit like a lullaby. She yawned. She curled up on the couch, stuffed Bendy doll pulled to her chest. She’d just... close her eyes for a few minutes. She seemed to be safe here. She'd never gotten that coffee and the adrenaline that she'd been running on until now was wearing off. 

The tape reached the end and she rewound it before shutting her eyes. Just... a few minutes...

The recording shut off with a click. Audrey startled awake, rubbing at her eyes. She somehow felt rested despite only just closing her eyes. 

The three Bendy cutouts were surrounding her, their backs to her. She couldn’t see past them to the way she’d come from. Who had moved them? How long had she been asleep? It had only been a few minutes, right?

Audrey shook her head. The inside of her mouth tasted dry like she’d dozed off for hours, but it had only been the length of one play of the tape, right? She... She had to keep moving. She wouldn’t be safe here forever.

She stowed her trusty Bendy doll in her bag along with the tape player and reached out to give each of the cutouts a pat on the head. If the Lost Ones had come back, they wouldn’t have been able to see her. She didn’t know who moved them, but she was grateful. It was like having a friend watching her back, even if it was just a few wooden cutouts.

The whispers came back the second she put her feet into the ink and vanished the second she stepped out of it and back onto the wooden floor of the room behind. She was going to have to avoid puddles of the stuff for sure from now on.

There was no way to go but forward, so forward she went. Audrey stopped to check behind her every so often, just to be safe. She couldn’t risk being taken by surprise like that again. She only had one other can of soup in her bag, she’d need to find more.

There were so many hallways, twisting and turning. And Bendy cutouts. A lot of Bendy cutouts. Instead of just one here or there, there were groups of them, four and five and six at a time, then more and more as she went. It felt like a warning, of some kind, but also a reassurance.

‘There’s something up ahead,’ the cutouts seemed to say with their numbers alone. ‘But you’re not alone!’

She was grateful for that, but she crouched down so she could hide behind one if she had to, just to be safe.

There were voices. A large metal door like a shutter was half open at the end of the hall, raised up just enough that Audrey could slip under it. But there were voices in the room beyond.

There were a plethora of cutouts to hide behind, so Audrey crept forward. The room beyond was decently large with glass windows on the walls next to speakers like some kind of strange museum exhibit. There were three lost ones.

And more cutouts than Audrey could count. They filled the room to the point where it looked like there wasn’t any room to squeeze past one without knocking over another. 

“T-These weren’t here before,” said one of the Lost Ones.

“Let’s just smash 'em,” said another one, hefting a fire axe. 

“Are you nuts?!” objected the third. “Do you want to get the Ink Demon’s attention? It hates when you smash those things.”

“The Demon’s dead, idiot.”

“You’re really gonna believe Wilson ? Come on, the guy hardly knows this place, even if he’s actually doing something about it.”

“B-Besides, if the Demon’s d-dead, w-what did w-we catch?”

There was a tense pause. What had they caught? 

“W-What if what we caught is... l-like the Demon’s k-kid or something? W-What if it’s still out there?”

“...Then we better not get caught until we get that thing back to Wilson. Got any bright ideas?”

“Do you think they work like Wilson’s eyes?”

“They do if you believe those Demon worshiping kooks. Heard about a guy who smashed a cutout once and got eaten, so maybe they’re right. This one time.”

“Maybe we can just spin them around so they can’t see us?”

There was a collective pause, then a shrug from one of the Lost Ones.

“Fine. Come on, help me move these stupid things.”

The Lost Ones set to work. With no other way to go, Audrey crept into the room, staying low to the floor. There were so many cutouts that there was no way the Lost Ones could see her.

Strangely, despite there being so many in the room, there was a clear path through the room from where she’d started.

The door at the other end of the hall was like the one she’d just come through, opened just enough to squeeze underneath. Audrey did so, mouthing a heartfelt ‘thank you’ at the room full of cutouts behind her as she went.

On the other side was a hallway lined with cutouts, all standing shoulder to shoulder. There were so many that it felt like they were trying to guide her to something. The walls were dotted with glass windows looking into what looked like animation rooms, though they were very small with only a handful of animation desks in each and very poor lighting. She couldn’t imagine anyone would get any work done working in conditions like that.

There was a large cluster of cutouts partway down the hall, leaving enough room to move past but clearly intending to be some kind of barrier. Audrey stopped at the blockade of wooden Bendys, turning to look around. There was a door made out of metal bars chained shut with a padlock. Beyond it was another small animation room.

And huddled under one of the animation desks, pushing around a little toy train was...

“...Bendy?”

Audrey couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Bendy. It was really Bendy! He wasn’t mangled and off model in the slightest. He was just Bendy, little horns and little gloves with two little dots on the back of each of them and all.

But he was hurt. Badly too. His horns were lopsided, one of his arms looked like it was barely keeping its shape, and there was a visible gash in the side of his head, the wound weeping ink instead of blood. His eyes were squeezed shut. He had to be in so much pain.

He was wearing clothes, she noticed, which had never been on any of his model sheets. But they were cute, they fit. A little vest and a pair of pinstripe pants, plus his signature bowtie and shiny little black shoes.

Bendy’s eyes shot open at the sound of her voice. They were little pie-cuts filled with obvious fear. He pressed himself to the wall, visibly shaking, looking like he was having trouble breathing even if she couldn’t hear him making any noise.

Audrey crouched down, setting down her pipe. She didn’t want to scare him, this place was awful enough as it was.

“It’s okay,” she said, keeping her voice low, trying to sound soothing as best she could. “I won’t hurt you.”

Bendy didn’t budge. The Lost Ones she had passed must have been the ones to hurt him. She’d be wary of everyone in this place too, especially since the only thing she’d run into that hadn’t tried to kill her was Allison. And now Bendy, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, even in his own cartoons. Maybe a little slapstick, but never any lasting harm.

Maybe she could prove she wasn’t dangerous?

Audrey rooted around in her bag. Not the soup, not yet. Maybe something else would heal just as well as the soup could without tasting half as awful. Not soup, though. She wouldn’t subject him to that if she could give him something better.

Her fingers closed around something and she pulled it out. A doughnut. It felt and smelled a little stale, but she’d eaten worse out of the ArchGate break room.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, holding the treat out through the bars of the door, the gaps between the bars wide enough for her to slip an arm through. “It’s a little stale, but it’ll help you feel better.”

Slowly, Bendy wiggled his way out from under the desk, train gripped tightly in one hand.

He took a step forward, one arm — the one barely keeping its shape, dripping ink as he moved — dangling loosely at his side. His left leg dragged behind him with every step and he visibly flinched every time he had to put any weight on it.

Audrey’s eyes went wide in horror. Bendy was limping. Each step was so painful that his entire body showed it. She felt awful making him move now. Who had done this to him? The Lost Ones? Or someone else? Who would want to hurt Bendy? He was just a sweet little devil! A little mischievous sometimes, yes, but also kind, even if he didn’t always think of the consequences before he acted.

Even if the old shorts always ended with him betting the short end of every stick and the butt of every gag big or small.

Bendy reached the door, setting his train down. He hesitated for an agonizingly long moment. Then he hand darted out, snatching the doughnut from Audrey’s grip and shoving the whole thing into his mouth at once. Just like in a cartoon.

The food’s healing effects were instantaneous. Bendy's arm regained its shape and his horns snapped back to their proper symmetry. The wound on his head hadn’t healed at all and his leg might not have either.

Audrey carefully reached out and rested a hand on one of Bendy’s horns. He froze at the touch, clearly terrified. Audrey gently rubbed her thumb across the horn. It was solid and surprisingly smooth, but was very clearly solid ink. And cold, not freezing, but very cold. She didn’t want to scare him.

To her surprise, after a moment, Bendy very slightly leaned into her touch, his eyes squeezed shut. He was terrified, scared out of his wits, but leaning into the little gesture of kindness broke her heart.

“Oh Bendy...”

The little devil didn’t deserve this. No one did, but especially not him. The old cartoons had put him through enough.

“Who did this to you?”

He didn’t reply. Maybe he couldn’t? He was a silent cartoon, after all. Audrey had always imagined him with a bit of a Brooklyn accent, maybe with a touch of Transatlantic like an old radio announcer or movie star. It fit him.

He didn’t deserve this at all.

“...This place really is awful, huh?”

Bendy nodded.

Audrey pulled her hand away. This was... This was just too much. Tears were forming in the corner of her eyes, threatening to fall. Not only was her favorite character since she’d been a little kid real, he was hurt. Someone had hurt him so bad he was limping and bleeding. Someone had gouged a chunk out of his head with something sharp intentionally to cause him pain.

“I’m so sorry.”

Bendy stared up at her, his little pie-cut eyes wide.

“I...”

She sniffled, wiping away tears with the backs of her hands. Stay strong, Audrey. Stay strong. She had to get somewhere safe.

She had to get Bendy somewhere safe. She couldn’t leave him here. Before someone either killed him or before he got mangled like the Butcher Gang had. (Had Wilson done that? Was that why the Lost Ones were trying to take Bendy to him? What did Bendy have to do with the Ink Demon, besides being a devil himself? She didn’t understand.)

“I... I can get you out of here.”

Bendy’s gaze roamed in the direction Audrey had come from, where the trio of Lost Ones that had caught him and locked him in this room were. Then his gaze went to her and he shook his head.

“...Why?”

Why not? Didn’t he want out? He was hurt. 

He... He pointed to the gash in the side of his head. Audrey sucked in a breath. He thought that—

“I—” She felt sick at the thought. “I’d never hurt you, Bendy. I’m...”

It was a little embarrassing to admit it out loud, but...

“My name is Audrey. I’m... actually a big fan of yours.”

Bendy stared up at her, confusion plain on his cartoony little face. Maybe she could prove it. She rooted around in her bag and pulled out her trusty Bendy plush toy. She held it out through the bars.

Bendy took it, staring in nearly literal starry-eyed wonder.

She watched Bendy run a thumb over the careworn fabric like he’d never seen anything like it before. Maybe he hadn’t. The thought made her heart sink. If— no, when she got out of here, she was taking Bendy with her. No matter what it took. He didn’t deserve to be trapped in a place like this.

After a long moment, he passed the toy back to her. Then, after some hesitation, he picked up his little toy train and handed it to her with a nod. She nodded back and stowed both toys in her bag.

“You can’t walk, can you?”

Bendy shook his head. The food hadn’t done anything for his leg, then. He was definitely going to need some soup later once they got somewhere safe.

He was small, though. And he didn’t look heavy.

“Hm... I think I can carry you. But you’ll have to hold on tight, okay?”

She’d need to be able to defend the both of them if the Lost Ones caught up with them, or if they ran into any more of them.

Audrey picked up her pipe and stood.

“This is going to be loud, so we’ll have to run right away. Okay?”

Bendy nodded.

The clang of the pipe on the lock was near deafening in the silence. She wasted no time in wrenching the door open and scooping up Bendy. He wrapped his arms around her neck and she took off at a full sprint, the clamor of the Lost Ones reaching her ears almost immediately.

Bendy shuddered, pressing his face into her shoulder. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.

She ran. The hall twisted and turned. It ended in a large metal door like a bulkhead. There was a switch on the wall. Audrey tucked her pipe into her bag and grabbed the switch. It was hard to move, sticking badly. She pulled on it with all of her strength, trying to keep a hold of Bendy with only one arm.

“Get her!” someone shouted.

Audrey glanced over her shoulder. The three Lost Ones were trying to get to her, but the doorway was blocked by a cluster of cutouts that hadn’t been there before.

She owed them for this.

The switch finally gave and Audrey dove through the open door. There was another switch on the wall and Audrey flipped it, the switch mercifully moving with ease. The door clanged back into place, shut and secure.

Audrey looked around. There was a locker on the wall next to the door. Perfect. She set Bendy down on a nearby crate and shoved the locker with all her might. One shove. Two.

On the third the locker crashed to the floor. The sound was horribly loud, but there was no way the door was going to open now.

Audrey picked Bendy up, prepared to bolt. But... nothing. Just silence. And there was only one way into the room, a closed door. Audrey nudged the box in front of it. 

There. Secure enough for the moment. She sank down along a wall and pulled Bendy into a hug. He was shaking.

So was she.

At least now they had each other. They weren’t alone in this place. Not anymore.

Chapter Text

It took Audrey a good few minutes to calm down, her racing heartbeat slowing into something more reasonable. It felt like every few minutes she was either nearly too scared to think or sick to her stomach. It was awful, awful in a way she didn’t have words for. If she hadn't found a safe enough spot to rest when she had, she likely wouldn't be able to so much as stand right now.

But she wasn’t alone anymore. Bendy was with her. Bendy . It was hard to believe the little devil she’d been drawing for years after years not only existed, but was alive . And here with her. Injured and terrified, but alive.

He’d needed the hug just as badly as she had, it seemed. He looked completely exhausted, the bags under his eyes looked sketched on but were clearly real. He’d been so cold at first, but the ink he seemed to be made of warmed up as she’d held him. He hadn’t leached her body heat to do so, he’d just simply warmed up over time without leaving her any colder.

And they were safe. For the moment, at least. Bendy was flopped bonelessly in her arms, exhausted with inky tear stains in the corners of his eyes. He’d hardly made any noise, the most she could hear was very faint breathing, his breath sounding watery like he had something in his lungs. She hoped he didn’t, pneumonia was awful. 

“Feeling hungry?” Audrey asked.

Bendy scrubbed at his eyes with the back of a hand, then nodded. He slid off of her lap and leaned his back up against the wall beside her.

Audrey rooted through her bag, pulling out all the food she had. It wasn’t much, she’d need to find more. A can of soup, a sandwich, a Bendy Bar, and a bag of potato chips. The soup seemed to pack the most punch — probably because it was, supposedly, Bendy’s favorite food, it being so good made sense — so she handed the can over.

Bendy’s face screwed up in disgust.

“I know,” Audrey said, “but it’ll help.”

Bendy grimaced, but pulled back the pull tab anyway. He visibly steeled himself and chugged the can’s contents in one go.

His leg visibly straightened, but the gash on his head didn’t go away. How hurt was he?

The face of disgust he made at the flavor was funny, though, cartoonishly exaggerated disgust as he stuck his tongue out in a soundless ‘blegh!’. Audrey couldn’t help but laugh a little at the sight, it snuck out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Bendy stared up at her with wide eyes.

“Sorry.”

She hadn’t meant to laugh at him, that was rude. But Bendy shook his head and gave her a thumbs up and a grin to go along with it.

“Laughing... is a good thing?” she guessed.

She’d been drawing Bendy for years, and his body language was remarkably easy to read, but she still wanted to be sure she was right.

He nodded, grin growing a little wider.

That... made sense. Bendy was a cartoon, after all. A comedy one. Comedy cartoons were made to be laughed at like a comedian on a stage. Animation had come a long way since the early days of talkies and goodness knew not all cartoons were silly, but Bendy was from the era of early rubberhose. Slapstick and songs, some war propaganda here and there, but mostly skits and gags to make people laugh.

Something about his trademark grin settled her nerves. Bendy had been through hell, literally, in the cartoons. Granted, hell had been a haunted house-esque roller coaster ride, but still. If he could still smile here , then everything would be alright.

“Can you talk?” she asked.

Bendy shook his head.

“They never did give you a voice actor, did they?” She put a hand between his horns for a moment and he leaned into the touch just the tiniest bit in a way that was both endearing and hurt her heart a little. “That’s okay. Feeling better?”

Bendy nodded.

“Do you think you can walk?”

Bendy shrugged. He set the empty soup can down and stood up, testing the leg he’d been limping on. He looked at her and nodded.

“That’s good.”

He nodded, then paused, looking her up and down. Then pointed to her, tilting his head to one side.

“Who am I?” Audrey guessed.

Bendy nodded, then gestured at her to go on.

“And... how did I get here?” 

Another nod.

“I’m Audrey. I’m an animator for ArchGate Pictures.”

Bendy stared at her, opening his mouth then shutting it again. He mimed writing. Wait, maybe she did have something. Audrey reached into her bag and pulled out her sketchbook, followed by a pencil. She’d almost forgotten she’d had these. She flipped through to a fresh page (passing numerous sketches, mostly of Bendy, to which the little devil’s eyes went wide at) and handed him the sketchbook and pencil.

Bendy stared at both for a long moment before taking it and writing in it.

Arch as in Nathan Arch?

“You know who he is?”

Only that he an' Joey were pals

Joey? As in Joey Drew, Bendy’s creator? It made sense that Bendy knew who he was, then.

“Yeah. He started an animation department about a year ago now. After...”

Oh. Bendy wouldn’t know, would he? Oh... She was going to have to...

Well, he deserved to know.

“After he bought the rights to your cartoon, Bendy. Joey Drew... passed away two years ago.”

To her surprise, Bendy’s only response was to arch his little widow’s peak like an eyebrow.

You sure he’s dead?

“I... yes?” Why wouldn't she be?

Well, I wouldn’t be

But we got more important things ta worry about

“Right.” Like finding somewhere safe.

So what ya animatin'?

“Um.” Gosh, why was this so hard to say? “...You.”

Me?

“Yeah. I’m the director on what Mr. Arch has been calling the ‘Bendy Revival’ project. We reanimated a few reels with damaged master copies, but right now we're working on an original short.”

One that Audrey herself had done the initial storyboards for, though they still hadn't settled on a title, but she was excited to see Bendy finally get a happy ending in one of his cartoons for once. Even if the short itself was a little simplistic, a little more Looney Tunes in tone than she'd really planned on, but with a limited team and no writer, it was really the best she could do. She was just glad she'd been able to add in so many references to the original shorts. The graveyard from Tombstone Picnic , the sheet ghost from Haunted Hijinks , even a little reference to Construction Corruption on Boris' forgotten lunchbox in a shot near the end they had planned. It was the introduction of Boris meeting Bendy that Tombstone Picnic could have been if Boris' debut short hadn't come out first. And most of the short wasn't missing. ( Sheep Songs had been fine, it just wasn't long enough to establish the characters beyond Bendy and Boris sharing a handshake after a small scheme gone right, that was all.)

Bendy underlined his previous message. Twice. Added three more question marks to go with it.

“Yes, you.” He seemed so confused by that. It was adorably endearing.

But the studio went out'a business!

“Mr. Arch thinks that you can still be popular. I think he’s right, never moving to color cartoons was probably the biggest problem the studio had.”

I mean it sure wasn't but

Me? In color?

“Yeah.”

No foolin'?

“I’d never lie to you, Bendy.”

Ya just met me, though.

“I’ve been watching your cartoons my entire life. My uncle used to work for Joey Drew Studios, he’s the one that gave me that stuffed toy of you.”

Bendy underlined his previous statement and held the sketchbook even closer to her face to make his point.

“You’re the reason I started drawing, Bendy. Even if we did just meet, I wouldn’t lie to you. You can trust me.”

Bendy gave her a look that said so clearly that he doubted her, but didn’t write anything else about that. He wrote something else instead.

So what’re you doin' here?

“...Wilson dragged me in.”

Bendy winced.

He didn't put ya through the gears, did he? Ya don't look as bad as folks normally do

Gea— Oh. That...

“No.” Audrey felt sick. “He... did something. I’m not really sure what, but there was a lot of ink.”

Bendy’s expression was thoughtful, then a frown.

That’s new

Explains the new Lost Ones though

New— Oh god. Audrey slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Bendy arched a ‘brow’ at her. New. 

“The... We kept having people quit without notice all of a sudden. We’ve lost half the animation team and a bunch of interns. I thought that... oh god.”

Oh god. How many people had Wilson dragged into this awful place? Her team hadn’t quit, they’d been kidnapped . Turned into horrible ink monsters, just as the Butcher Gang had been horribly mangled.

Wilson was awful, it seemed. To turn her team into monsters...

Bendy’s frown deepened.

So he’s got a way in an' out

Sounds like you know the guy

“He’s the janitor. And Mr. Arch’s son. He’s... was always nice. Why would he...”

Wouldn’t be the first person 'ta lie an throw people in here

Ya can't trust him

“I won’t. Not after that.”

Good.

Where are ya headed anyway?

“Up. Someone told me that the upper floors are safer.”

Less Lost Ones up there, yeah

I need ta head down, though

“Why?”

I need'ta get home

Home? Bendy... lived here? That made sense, sort of. This place looked like it could have been out of a cartoon if it wasn’t so horrible, but...

“Isn’t heading down more dangerous?”

Sure is

Any chance ya can help me?

I tried headin' there on my own but

Well it didn’t go great

She... wanted to, but...

“...Can we head up first? I really need a break. I've been up for... I'm not sure. Maybe a day straight?”

She couldn't gauge how long that nap earlier had been.

Bendy looked at her. She wondered how bad she looked, because his expression softened. He nodded and held out a hand. They shook on it.

“Ready to keep moving?” Audrey asked.

Bendy nodded, then hesitated. He thumbed through her sketchbook, which made Audrey’s stomach flutter with nerves. Bendy, looking at her sketchbook. It was a little embarrassing, really. Most of her sketchbook was doodles of him. Thumbnails for potential pitches, little holiday doodles — the one she’d done of him on the beach with a suntan mirror had gotten used in the most recent internal ArchGate newsletter — and assorted pose practices. There were a few scattered Alices and Borises and even a few of the Butcher Gang, but the rest of it was Bendy. Plus or minus some realism practice scattered in there so she didn’t lose the ability to draw realistically. Her buildings had a tendency to come out a bit overly exaggerated if she went too long without practicing.

He looked up at her, brow furrowed a little.

“You’ve always been my favorite character,” she said. “Drawing you so much actually got me a job doing it. It’s... It was a dream come true.” 

Until all of this.

Bendy frowned at that and wrote another message.

Dreams comin' true ain’t all it’s cracked up 'ta be

Let’s get goin'

“Right.”

Bendy handed the sketchbook back and Audrey stowed it. She shoved the crate out of the way of the door and peered out.

Nothing. Good.

The room was rather small. To one side were a few art easels with empty picture frames resting on them and a door with a wooden porthole cut out of it that had ‘DON’T KNOCK’ scrawled on it. With no other options, though feeling very rude, Audrey knocked on the door.

“Who’s out there?”

A Lost One stuck its head out, Bendy darting behind Audrey’s legs.

“Is that you, Phil?” the Lost One said, looking around frantically.

Its gaze settled on Audrey and it glared. “I told you I’m not opening the door until you bring me back my pictures! I drew ‘em! I want ‘em back!”

With that, the Lost One darted back, slamming the porthole.

Audrey swallowed thickly. That had sounded a lot like Ed from her animation team. He had been the first of the animators to seemingly quit. She really hoped it wasn’t. Ed could be a little rough around the edges and had a sense of humor that made Jan smack him with rolled up old sketches on occasion, but he wasn’t a bad guy.

“...Now what?”

Bendy pointed to the wall. There was some kind of metal vent cover in the wall that was nearly perfectly Bendy sized. 

Audrey pried the cover off with a bit of leverage from her pipe, revealing an entire air vent system inside that was just big enough that the tips of Bendy’s horns missed touching the top of it. She’d have to crawl to get through it, but they’d both fit.

Bendy led the way. He was still favoring one of his legs over the other, but he didn’t seem to be having any trouble getting around. 

The vents twisted and turned, but Bendy strode forward with confidence. Did he know where they were? The vents were lit, at least, with lights scattered just far enough along that navigating was easy. Were these made to be walked through?

On the other side of the vents was nothing short of a maze of different animation desks and alcoves, all crowded in ways that didn’t make sense. Some even had doors that were chained shut from the inside, for whatever reason.

They worked their way through systematically. Audrey didn’t hear any Lost Ones and Bendy was moving much faster than he had been. He did stop periodically to riffle through desks whenever they passed one.

His searching turned up useful things, though. Some food, mostly Bendy Bars and some kind of candy called Bendy Bites. He also handed her other things, including some batteries, part of a roll of duct tape, and bottles of ink. She dutifully put each and every last item into her bag, which didn't seem to be running out of room any time soon.

The first picture — it had to be the right one, it was the only non-Bendy related thing they’d come across — was an abstract piece that Audrey stowed in her bag. The desk it was laying on had an entire can of soup under it which Bendy held up with a triumphant grin.

The second picture went the same, as did the third and the fourth. If there was one for each of the picture frames they had seen, there would only be five. Audrey was glad Bendy knew where they were going, there were so many twists and turns and everything looked nearly the same that she couldn’t keep it all straight. The desks scattered around held so many odds and ends.

Plus weird little wooden carved coins that Bendy insisted that she take with her. They weren’t real money, but they had the silhouette of Bendy’s head carved into them. Maybe they’d be useful for something? She had seen vending machines in the buffet, maybe there were more elsewhere in the studio?

Bendy led the way through the vents toward a small room they’d seen that had been locked from the inside when he stopped. Audrey stopped right behind them.

There was a little alcove in the vent that looked like someone had been living in there. A chipped mug, a handful of little Bendy coins, the tattered remains of something that looked like it could have been a curtain at some point, a Bendy doll that had seen better days, and a tape player.

Bendy picked up the tape and flipped it over. The label on the back read ‘The Prophet.’

For some reason, he hugged the tape player to his chest and hurried along, twice as quickly as they had been going.

The vent ended quickly. While Audrey stood and picked up the picture on the desk, Bendy plopped down on the floor with the tape player in his lap like a little kid sitting down with a book at reading time. He fiddled with the volume knob on the side for a moment before pressing play.

The quality of the audio was very poor, worse than the others. It didn’t help that the recording opened with cheering, or at least what Audrey guessed was cheering, it was a lot of bellowing noise that made it hard to tell.

It quieted slowly until there was silence.

“Your enthusiasm is a credit to every last one of you . T he Liar may have robbed us of our flesh, but he has not taken our humanity! He has not taken our joy, nor our hope, nor our rage!”

There was a roaring cheer in response, but it quieted quickly.

“The Invader may have taken control of the Loops, but he will never control us!”

Another round of cheering. The voice of the speaker must have been ‘the Prophet.’ Their voice was clearly masculine and they put strange emphasis on some of the syllables. A rhythmic emphasis. It reminded Audrey of some of the preachers she’d heard when her mother had taken her to her grandmother’s church on rare occasions. 

“We are the Chosen! We are the ones who have been blessed by the Ink Demon Himself! To serve Him! To fight against those that would rob us of our minds, our forms, and our homes!”

Blessed by a demon ? That was a thing? The recorded crowd sure seemed to think it was. And the Prophet was clearly playing to them, stopping and waiting each time a cheer went up until he could continue.

“The Invader speaks only lies! No man can slay the Ink Demon! He may have hidden our Lord from us, but worry not, my flock, the Ink Demon shall return! He will rise again and strike down the Invader! Drive him from our home! He shall set us free !”

The cheering was so loud that Bendy had to hastily turn the volume nearly all the way down before turning it back up once the recorded crowd quieted.

“The Invader poisons the ink and drives our brethren to madness beyond madness. He warps the world and twists it to his will. But we are not lambs walking to his slaughter! We are stronger! He cannot enter our sanctuary! He cannot twist our minds! Our Lord’s blessing protects us! The Invader’s contraptions will not protect him forever!”

More cheering yet again. Who was recording this? Someone in the crowd? That would explain the exceptionally poor audio quality.

“We may not be able to tear down the walls of his fortress yet, but we know where his followers dwell: within that mockery of a city forced into this world. We shall go forth and return them to the ink! Every last one of them!”

Roaring cheers, but the speaker’s voice rose above them.

“Only our Lord’s voice can guide a soul back from the inky sea! Without Him they are lost!”

The cheers continued for a good while, then quieted, brought on by a soft shushing, most likely by the Prophet.

“Let us pray, my sheep. Wherever He is, He will hear our prayers.”

There was silence, safe for the soft sound that was probably people moving to pray.

“May our Lord guide our hands that we may strike true. May our Lord shield our bodies from the blows of our foes and soften the pain when He cannot. May He guide us home should we fall during our efforts to reclaim what is ours. May His blessing remain ever strong and show true His mercy on our inky forms, proof that we are those chosen by Him, proof that we are those chosen to endure and live no matter the certainty of the Script or the uncertainty of its absence. Can I get an amen?”

The answer was a loud chorus of ‘amen’s.

“I said—”  

The Prophet’s voice rose, the amount of emphasis and emotion in his tone made a terrified chill run down Audrey’s spine. 

“Can I get an AMEN?! ”

The answering shout was nearly enough to break the speakers of the tape player before it finally clicked off.

That... had been intense. Whoever the Prophet was, they were definitely doing something that was close enough to being religious that it was unsettling. And he was leading, presumably, a group of Lost Ones against other Lost Ones. The ones loyal to Wilson, maybe? That would explain the pseudo-battlefield she'd seen before. That made Wilson the Invader, by the sound of it. What had the Prophet meant by a blessing, though? And city? There was a city here, somewhere?

But why? It didn't make any sense.

And yet Bendy was staring down at the tape with a soft little smile? Did he know the Prophet? Or was he just entertained by the tape for some reason?

One thing was for sure, she definitely didn't want to run into the Prophet. Or his followers.

“Do you want to keep this one?” she asked cautiously.

Bendy nodded enthusiastically, handing over the tape player. Audrey tucked it into her bag. She would ask later. She had to focus on keeping them both alive. Whatever this was, she could worry about it once they were somewhere safe.

Chapter Text

Almost unsurprisingly, beyond the doorway yet another hallway that twisted and turned at seemingly random intervals, the doors lining it all locked. It was cluttered with the same junk as they’d seen before, boxes and old lockers, ink dripping down the walls. Everything was starting to look alike.

Three turns into this new hallway, Bendy’s little inked-on widow’s peak furrowed like one would furrow their brow.

“What’s wrong, Bendy?” Audrey asked, voice scarcely above a whisper lest there be anyone dangerous nearby.

Bendy turned in a full circle, then shook his head. He mimed writing and Audrey handed over her sketchbook and the pencil. She should really find some string to attach the two.

Somethin's up. I don’t recognize anythin' anymore

“Did you know where we were before?”

Bendy shrugged as he wrote his response.

Kinda? It was sorta set up like the old animation department. Vents were new, but I used'ta get around with the ink pipes in the walls, so's it's not that different. I ain’t gotta clue where we are now. I swear the theater had another door before

“Should we go back?”

Bendy tapped the pencil to the page a few times, clearly thinking before shaking his head and scribbling out a response.

Nah, no point. We gotta keep movin’. The door’s prob’ly gone like the stairs did

“Stairs?”

Yeah, used’ta be stairs between the animation an’ music departments. They just up an’ poofed one day

“How?”

Heck if I know. Just be careful, the folks ‘round here seem’ta be itchin’ for a fight

“Right.”

Audrey stowed the sketchbook and all there was left to do was keep moving.

Bendy stuck closer to her side now, constantly looking around warily. She saw him reach for her hand once, only to pull away and not make eye contact. She offered her hand instead and he took it, not meeting her gaze. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

After a long moment, he squeezed back.

Despite Bendy’s inky appearance, his glove felt like soft cloth, the little dots on the back hard and smooth like little buttons. He seemed almost embarrassed to be holding her hand.

Audrey was so thankful that he hadn’t been turned into some kind of monster. She wished he hadn’t gotten hurt, but he was still Bendy. She wouldn’t have been able to endure the sight of Bendy being mangled and Frankensteined like the Butcher Gang had been.

She didn’t even want to think about what he would have looked like if he had been, it was too much.

The hallway continued to twist and turn, Bendy tugging Audrey away from doors when it became rapidly apparent that none of them were going to open and they were wasting their time trying them. Why were all the doors locked in the first place? It didn’t make any sense. Not that anything in this world did to start with.

The hallway eventually ended in a plain wooden door. Audrey tried the handle. Unlocked. Finally. Cautiously she opened it just a crack. No sounds.

Audrey slowly pushed the door open enough to squeeze through it, Bendy closing it behind them once they were both through.

The room they’d walked into was a miniature theater, clearly for screening cartoons in progress based on the old fading thumbnail sketches tacked on the walls. There was a little projection booth at the back of the room with a few glass windows so the projectionist could still see despite most of it being made up of wooden walls.

It was a screening room just for Bendy cartoons.

Audrey stared at the blank wall where the shorts would have been projected. What would it have been like to be here, to work here during the height of the studio’s golden era? To come to work every single day just to draw, just to animate Bendy and his cartoon world? If she had been born a few years earlier, maybe she could have gotten to see it for herself. She was sure her uncle would have been able to get her a tour if she’d been old enough to think of it at the time. Even if her memories of him were foggy at best, she was sure he would have said yes to giving her a tour if she’d asked. After all, he'd brought her shorts to watch before as a test screener. Maybe she could have even watched those shorts in the real version of this room.

Her memories of those work in progress cartoons were fragmented, but sharper than that of her Uncle J. Any time he'd ever visited that she could remember her eyes had been glued to the cartoons, not to him. She remembered some vague fragments and little else. Bendy’s failed attempts to steal his soup back from Boris, Bendy running and hiding from an angry Alice Angel, Bendy attempting to pull a prank on the Butcher Gang. 

If only the studio hadn’t gone bankrupt. Maybe if it hadn’t the studio would still be going, the machine wouldn’t be in ArchGate Pictures.

...Something didn’t add up. If the machine had been hooked up before, it would have had to be at Joey Drew Studios. They'd had to hire a company to wire it up, so it likely was something that took a commercial setup. Had the machine been running back then? Why? How? Was the world inside of the machine an accident, or had someone made it on purpose. If they had , though, why? What was the point of it? And who could have made it? Why would–

Bendy tugged on Audrey’s hand, dragging her back to reality. Right. She could think about all of this once she got Bendy home.

There was a door on the other side of the theater. With no other clear exit, Audrey started for it.

The door swung open with enough force that it slammed into the wall.

Bendy bolted as several Lost Ones stepped through the door. One let out a startled shout and charged at Audrey.

She managed to duck the plank that whipped past her head. Bendy. She had to protect Bendy.

She swung her pipe, slamming it into the Lost One’s side with a sickeningly dense squelch. It shouted in pain, the board catching Audrey in the side of the head.

Her vision swam and she swung widely. She felt the pipe connect, along with the stomach-turning sound of a gurgle starting and going abruptly silent.

Audrey knocked over the nearest chair, shaking her head in an effort to clear her vision. She had to try and keep some kind of distance from her attackers, maybe trip them up a little.

Wait, Bendy. Where was Bendy?

There! Even with her still clearing vision, he was easy to spot. He was holding the door to the projection booth open.

Audrey made a break for it, knocking over chairs as she went to try and trip up the Lost Ones. But they were fast. Something sharp cut across one of her arms but she didn’t stop to look.

She grabbed the door when she reached it, wrenching it closed. Bendy shoved a chair under the doorknob. Audrey dragged over the first thing she spotted, the booth’s projector. It was heavy and definitely ancient, her arms straining under the weight, but she managed to drop it in front of the door. It wasn’t a real barricade, but it was all they had.

Audrey sank down to the floor, hands shaking. The door wouldn’t hold forever. Either that or the Lost Ones would break the glass windows. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.

They were trapped and outnumbered.

“I’m... I’m sorry, Bendy,” Audrey managed. “I...”

Bendy shook his head. It had just been bad luck. There was no way out. They could try to fight, but it... didn't look good.

Bendy walked over to her, then stopped, staring for a good moment as the Lost Ones shouted outside, rattling the doorknob. 

He reached out a hand, one finger running across her left arm, the one coated up to the elbow in ink. She could heal, but what was the point of that now?

The Lost One must have only grazed her, since it barely hurt, but she was bleeding, one finger of Bendy’s glove was stained with a deep red.

It was jarring, seeing a color other than black and yellow.

She wondered if Bendy had ever seen blood before. Had ever seen color before. What an awful way to learn that color existed if it was.

But Bendy didn’t seem confused. Audrey knew his expressions, she’d been drawing them for years. He was thinking, ‘brow’ furrowed in thought, staring right at the red stain on his glove. He mouthed something, not a sound coming out. Audrey could tell what the words were, she'd memorized the mouth shapes of his reference sheet, but they didn't make any sense.

'All rituals require a sacrifice.'

He ran a finger right below the gash on his head, the ink still slowly leaking from it.

His expression set into one she didn’t expect to ever see on him. Mouth pressed in a firm line, gaze steeled.

Grim determination.

He nodded to himself, running a finger along his ‘bleeding’ injury. With the ink from it he wrote only a few words on the floor.

I need you to trust me.

“Of course I trust you.”

She always would. Even if he was right, even if she barely knew him as an individual, he was still Bendy. How could she not? 

He motioned to her to hold out her injured arm. She set down the pipe and held out her arm, not understanding what he really wanted her to do. She could see her injury now, at least. It wasn’t bleeding quickly, but the ooze of blood was noticeable.

Bendy hesitated. He took a deep breath and undid the topmost button of his vest, pulling down the collar with a visibly nervous tug.

Audrey’s eyes went wide. No wonder the soup had barely done anything, his chest was an oozing mass of ink, like someone had sheared off layers of inky ‘skin’ and had left the layer beneath to try and heal. It wasn’t dripping ink like the wound on his head, but she could tell it was damp, bleeding.

Tears pricked at the corners of Audrey’s eyes. Who could have done this to him? To Bendy ? He was just a cartoon. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

(Was it the same person who had mangled the Butcher Gang into near unrecognizability, or someone different?)

Bendy reached out a hand, running one finger deliberately along the cut across her arm. Audrey winced at the pain. What was he doing?

She’d... She’d trust him, though. She’d promised.

Bendy’s glove came away with a glob of blood, a deep stain of red starting to spread out through the fabric of his glove. She watched, frozen, as he put that bloody blob straight against his injured chest. He visibly flinched and shuddered. The ink on his chest visibly undulated.

He held his hand there for a moment before pulling it away.

His glove was clean.

The Lost Ones slammed into the door. It didn’t budge.

Bendy took a deep breath, planted his feet–

And plunged his hand into his chest.

Audrey felt frozen to the spot. She wanted to scream, to shout, to say something , but no sound came out. She could only watch, unable to do anything, as Bendy pulled a fist-sized glob of ink out of his own chest.

Before Audrey could manage to make a noise – of protest, concern, something, anything , Bendy was hurting himself! – Bendy pressed the ink glob into the cut on her arm.

Audrey gasped in pain. It stung, but she couldn’t get the words out to say anything. Bendy just held his hand firm against her arm, not moving, brow furrowed in concentration.

What was he doing ? It was ink. Was she going to get sick? Was–

Bendy said to trust him. She’d promised..

Audrey took a deep breath. In, out. It was Bendy. Whatever this was, he had to have a reason for it.

One of the Lost Ones swung something into a window. The glass began to crack.

She trusted him. Whatever this was, she trusted him. How could she not?

The ink seeped into her arm. She could feel it. Freezing, at first, then warming rapidly, growing hotter and hotter until it became a feverish heat. She could feel it oozing through the cut, soaking underneath her skin. It dripped down her arm. Inside of her arm, beneath the skin, inside of her flesh. She could feel it flowing in rivulets, pooling in her fingertips, oozing into the back of her hand, growing hotter and hotter until the fever became a burning, agonizing fire. She could barely move her other hand to her mouth to stifle a sob of pain.

The ink lurched and oozed and burned. The world started to darken, shadows on the edge of her vision creeping in like a haze of inky fog.

Bendy’s hand left her arm, though she could barely feel it from the heat, and took her burning hand in both of his own.

She wanted to scream, but the only sound she could make were watery sobs as her vision grew dimmer and dimmer until there was only black.

It felt like something placed an icy knife against the cut on her arm. She gasped, but the ice didn’t take away the pain. The sharp point grazed down her arm, down to the back of her hand, the ink under her skin swirling and rushing to follow it.

Something growled in her ears. A low sound, watery and choked and utterly inhuman.

AAAAAudreyyy.

A voice. It was in her head, rattling her skull. Deep, bassy, and terrible, guttural and strange. Unmistakable masculine and wholly, terrifyingly unfamiliar.

And it knew her name .

The point of icy sharpness ran along her fingers. It felt deliberate, purposeful, as if drawing, pencil and paper and not a knife (a claw?) to flesh. The voice filled her head, blotting out her own thoughts. There was only the burning pain, the single point of freezing ice, and the voice rumbling through her head. There wasn’t room for anything else.

I sssense my ink within you, AAAudreyy. It is old. Faint. Nothing but an old ssstain. I don’t know who brought it to you, but the ink knowsss you. Ssspeaks of you.

Audrey managed to choke out a sob.

(The glass cracked further. She couldn’t hear it.)

You are soft. Kind.

The voice made a low, gurgling noise of contemplation.

Sssuch things are scarce here. You arrre terrified. And yet...

The icy point paused for a moment, pressing into the back of her hand.

You were willing to make a saccccrifice. In blood. This issss... new for me.

'Me.' The voice was a thing, not just a voice, surely the owner of the ice-sharp claw pressed to her skin. It somehow almost sounded just the slightest touch embarrassed.

I ssshall give you a gift. A new gift.

The point resumed moving, but it was lighter, paintbrush on canvas motions swirling deliberately over the back of her hand.

Yesss.

The point drew back, for a moment, before pressing into the center of her palm.

This power is... Banish. Use it to return those that would harm us back to the Daaark Puddlesss.

The knife-point drew a familiar shape against her palm. One she knew well. One she’d doodled on her own skin while bored in school. A circle with a dip in the center, a silhouette with two little horns.

The sharp edge grazed over her palm with startling gentleness.

My ink issss with you now. I sshall keep you from the Puddlesss. Trussst me, Audrey. Use thisss gift well.

The sharp edge vanished.

Reality returned with a startling lurch, the fire in her hand cooling to a faint, uncomfortable tinge of heat.

Bendy’s hands were still holding her. He smiled up at her, looking wearier than he’d been before. She stared back.

She tried to open her mouth to ask something, anything – what that voice had been, what he had done, what was going on – the sound of breaking glass stopped her.

A Lost One had broken through a window, shattering most of it out, a pipe in its hand.

The ink in Audrey’s hand lurched. A whisper of a growl echoed through her skull. It growled something she couldn’t hear, but it compelled her.

She moved on instinct, tearing her hand from Bendy’s grip and jumping to her feet. She grabbed the Lost One’s arm before they could drag it back through the now broken window.

Her hand flared with golden light and heat. The light ran up the Lost One’s arm like an old film reel catching fire, crackling and popping and burning. It spread across their body until it consumed them. There was a flicker of light and the Lost One was gone. No ink on the floor, no evidence they’d been there at all, just... gone.

Banished.

The other Lost Ones, seeing their ally vanish into thin air, turned tail and ran.

Audrey stared at her hand. While the light was no longer near-blinding, it hadn’t vanished entirely, only settled to a dull glow in clear patterns that seemed etched into her skin, shining gold where her hand was stained inky black. They were strange, surreal swirls, the ones on the back of her hand formed a distorted, screaming ghostly face. She could feel the ink inside of her fingers, not quite matching the patterns but very close to it, swirling beneath her skin, unseen.

Bendy had... done this, somehow? It didn’t make any sense. There had been ink, yes, but that didn’t explain the pain, the icy claw to her flesh, the awful voice in her head. Bendy was just a cartoon, but...

...No. No, she had to focus. Whatever this was, she could worry about the how and why later, once they got somewhere safe. She could protect Bendy with this... whatever it was, right? It got rid of Lost Ones. That made whatever that had just been worth it.

She’d have to make sure that she didn’t touch him with her now faintly glowing hand, just to be safe. She’d have to make sure that he ate more soup too, as soon as possible. As soon as they were somewhere safer.

“Ready to keep going, Bendy?” Audrey managed, throat dry and voice shaking.

Bendy nodded. Then swayed.

And then fell backwards.

“Bendy!”

Audrey rushed to him, kneeling down only to hear... snoring? Barely audible and watery snoring, but unmistakable cartoony snores nonetheless.

Audrey let out a relieved breath. Whatever that had been, it had clearly tired him out. He just needed a bit of rest. She’d carry him and keep moving. Now that the way was clear, they had to keep moving.

She had to get Bendy home.

With care, she stowed the length of pipe she’d been using and picked Bendy up with her ink-free arm, holding him securely against her. She’d protect him. She’d get him home no matter what.

If she focused on that, she would be fine. If she stopped to think about what was happening she might not be able to keep moving forward anymore.

Chapter Text

To Audrey’s equal parts surprise and relief, there weren’t any more Lost Ones on the other side of the door out of the viewing room.

There were, frustratingly, more winding hallways.

Bendy snoozed contentedly in her arm as she made her way onward, the little demon’s face tucked into the crook of her neck. It was adorable, really. Whatever he had done had really wiped him out.

At least she’d managed to find a sign on the other side of the door with four labels. ‘Employee locker room,’ which didn’t make much sense, this was an animation studio. ‘Theater,’ which was back the way she’d come from. ‘Artist’s Rest,’ which was most likely some kind of break room.

And, finally and mercifully, ‘Elevator.’

Eventually, the winding hallways let out into a large room with a giant hole in the wooden floor separating Audrey from the elevator on the far wall. It was far too large of a gap to even consider trying to jump or trying to build a makeshift bridge across it.

If it had been a cartoon, there would have been a bevy of ways across. Audrey could think of three easily – a conveniently placed ladder, a makeshift bridge, and a cobbled together catapult – off the top of her head, but this wasn’t a cartoon. 

At least they weren’t completely stuck this time. The door to the locker rooms sat just slightly ajar on one side of the room, the other wall had a doorway out that was blocked by rubble she couldn’t squeeze through.

As always, Audrey moved slowly and quietly. She heard no footsteps or voices as she entered the locker rooms, which was a good sign. The lockers were split by gender, so Audrey ducked into the women’s side first.

The locker room was smallish, the only way out was back the way she’d come from. Audrey gently set Bendy down on one of the low benches before taking out her Gent pipe and cautiously exploring. There were showers, but the drains were so choked with kelp that each and every one was filled with a fine layer of what looked like watery ink filled with seaweed and a watery plant she didn't recognize, little bubble-like beads on thin stalks. A hot shower was definitely out with that. 

The mirrors above the sinks were mostly smashed, but one was mostly intact.

Audrey paused at the one mostly intact mirror. Even through the spiderweb of cracks along the surface her reflection was clear enough. She looked exhausted, bags under her eyes. There was a considerable amount of ink dripping down the side of her head where she’d been hit earlier. She didn’t look like she’d been drawn, but all of the color to her appearance had been washed out, save for a smear of blood on her arm where she'd been cut. The cut itself wasn’t bleeding anymore, but the line where it had been had turned jet black, looking like it had been scratched on with a pen.

She should clean that before they kept moving. The last thing she needed now was some kind of infection.

Her clothes were flecked with ink, as was her face, and the only reason the rolls in her hair were still keeping shape was that the ink was seemingly holding them in place. How her clothes weren't completely coated with ink she couldn't begin to guess, but she wasn't going to question it.

Well, they were in a locker room, maybe she could find something useful. Audrey returned to the main part of the room. The lockers didn’t have locks, only latches. There were a number of towels in the various lockers, nearly all of them ink soaked or badly stained. The fluffiest one with the least amount of stains became a makeshift pillow for Bendy. She tucked it under his head and he rolled over and curled up on it. Audrey had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle the squeak that threatened to sneak out of her at the adorable sight.

She slung one of the towels that still had some unruined patches over her shoulders and kept on searching. There were a few snacks that went straight into her bag, as well as a decent pile of little wooden coins. There were changes of clothes in some lockers, but most were horribly ink stained, nothing any less strained than what she was already wearing. There was nothing in the way of first aid supplies, but there was something she desperately needed: soap.

It was only a thumbnail sized scrap, but it would have to do.

With the bit of soap and a clean corner of a towel, Audrey scrubbed her arm in a sink even with the worryingly murky water. The ink in the cut lightened but didn’t vanish, but the soap and water cleaned off the blood and most of the ink well enough. It scrubbed away the ink stuck to the side of her face from her head injury, though, which was good enough for now. The remnants of the soap went into her bag as well, just in case. 

There wasn't much worth using left in the lockers, but she did manage to find a few bobby pins and a small pair of scissors that weren't too rusted. A few extra bobby pins to hold her hair in place were welcomed. She felt bad for taking things that weren't hers, but she needed them, no matter how much guilt she felt pooling in her gut.

With a handful of useful things stowed away, Audrey glanced over at Bendy. He was sound asleep and didn’t look like he was going to wake up any time soon. She didn’t want to let him out of her sight, but she couldn’t just put him into her bag, no matter how seemingly spacious it seemed to be. And there were no ways out of this side of the locker rooms, so...

Audrey strained her ears. She heard nothing other than Bendy’s soft, nearly inaudible, watery snores. (How much healing food would it take until his lungs were clear?)

She’d be careful. She had Banish now, which was a bit more reassuring than just a length of old pipe, no matter how sturdy it was. One use of it had been enough to scare off an entire group of Lost Ones.

The ink inside of her fingers squirmed, the gold marks on her hand brightening as it did, as if in response to her thoughts. Audrey shuddered and did her best to ignore the stomach-turning sensation.

Audrey moved slowly, shuffling instead of taking normal steps to keep her shoes from clacking on the tiled floors. The men’s side of the locker room looked nearly the same as the women’s side when she reached it, only it was three times as large, turning a single boxy room into a miniature maze of lockers. Which made a certain amount of sense, given that the studio had closed in the forties. There hadn't been many women in the industry back then. More than in the twenties because of the war, sure, but historically in ink and paint more than anywhere else, and Joey Drew Studios had notably never upgraded to paint.

Unlike the women’s side of the locker room, there were bubbling puddles of ink on the floor scattered more or less all over.

Audrey stared at the nearest puddle with trepidation. She’d seen plenty of ink, but she’d never seen it bubble like boiling water before. Whatever was causing it, she definitely shouldn't touch it.

Audrey carefully skirted around the puddles. As much as having a clean change of clothes would have been nice, it wasn’t worth finding out what those puddles could do. Leaving was the sounder option.

But there weren’t any doors out. Not past the showers (which were somehow even worse than the other side, kelp slowly starting to climb the walls and the watery ink so deep it was spilling out of the showers, coating the entire area in a thin layer of ink), nowhere inside of the locker room itself either. 

Backtracking to the main portion of the locker room, she did see a vent above some of the lockers that she could maybe squeeze through. But that was it. If that led nowhere, they were completely stuck.

Something made a bubbling gloop behind her as she was slowly sneaking her way back out.

Audrey turned slowly, not daring to take a full step, turning just enough to see what had made the noise.

Where a bubbling puddle had been moments before was now a monster. It looked like a Lost One, but melted. Its body ended at the end of its torso in a puddle of ink. Its arms were unnaturally long, what passed for something resembling a mouth stretched out in what looked like utter agony and where its eyes should have been there were only empty, inky pits.

It matched Allison’s description of a Searcher perfectly.

It didn’t have eyes, though. Audrey slowly covered her mouth and nose with a hand to stifle the sound of her breathing. It if couldn’t see, maybe she could sneak away without it noticing her?

The Searcher let out a low, keening moan. It sounded like it was in horrible, terrible pain.

The other puddles started to bubble even more intensely for a moment before they began rising up into the shapes of even more Searchers.

Audrey hurriedly shuffled over to the nearest bench, climbing up onto it. The Searchers started roaming the room, moving around with nauseating squishing noises.

But none of them attacked her. None of them seemed to notice her at all. Maybe they really were blind. Could they hear, though? They didn’t have visible ears, but neither did the Lost Ones or Bendy and they could hear her just fine. She couldn't risk it.

The Searchers didn’t seem to show any signs of stopping their goopy wandering any time soon. They bumped into each other occasionally, letting out low groans when they did, more annoyed than anguished. She’d just have to wait it out, it seemed, but they really were completely blind.

There was a thump in the vents.

Audrey’s hand over her mouth stifled her yelp. 

There was another thump. Then more. Rhythmic, like someone was actively crawling through the vent. Maybe there was.

The sound got louder and louder until it stopped.

The cover on the vent was pushed open and a Lost One stared out of it.

A Lost One... wearing goggles on its head?

“Why, hello there!” the Lost One greeted, tone utterly cheerful.

The Searchers all groaned in unison. They swarmed against the lockers right below the vent.

The Lost One tried to wiggle further out of the vent, but they seemed to be a bit stuck. They managed to get one arm, at least.

“Now now, gentlemen,” the Lost One said, “none of that. It’s just me.”

The Searchers fell silent. It was more of a confused silence than anything.

The Lost One’s hand glowed. There was a rush of gold and ink and they blurred like a smear frame, reappearing in the room on the floor.

The Searchers swarmed. But the Lost One didn’t run. They just... knelt down?

“You’re all quite riled up again,” the Lost One said, voice not faltering from a cheery tone. “Here, I found something you all might like.”

The Lost One reached into the bag on their back. And it was a bag. It was a stitched-together thing that generally resembled a bag, at least, with one solid strap over their shoulder. Their other shoulder was occupied by a length of rope wrapped around their shoulder to carry it several times, ending in what looked like an oversized fishing hook.

No, a grappling hook. Like something right out of a cartoon.

The Lost One pulled a rubber duck out of their bag, of all things. They squeezed the duck and it made a surprisingly robust squeaking noise. The toy was passed to one of the Searchers. It slowly turned the object over and over in its hands before squeaking it. The other Searchers clustered around the one holding the toy.

The Lost One carefully picked their way out of the pile.

“There we are,” the Lost One said, turning their attention to Audrey. “They like the noise, you see. That’s why they’re in here, the sounds are a bit louder in here.”

Audrey stared, hand still over her mouth. The Lost One, aside from, arguably, the grappling hook, wasn’t armed. She didn’t move, her grip still tight on her only means of immediate defense.

The Lost One tilted their head just a bit, a hand to their chin. Their hand was glowing. Like Audrey’s, but the design was completely different. Instead of the ghost-like mark the gold formed a spiraling golden swirl. It was a much softer design, but something about the ‘brushwork’ felt similar in style.

“Ah! You must be new,” the Lost One observed. “Come on, let’s leave these gentlemen to their business.”

The duck toy squeaked.

The Lost One held out a hand. Their glowing one. Audrey slowly lowered her hand from her mouth and, moving forward slowly, took the offered hand.

The ink under her skin wiggled.

The Lost One helped her down from the bench and led her by the hand out into the common area of the locker rooms.

“There we are,” the Lost One said, letting go of Audrey’s hand. “It looks like you’ve had quite the scare. Are you alright?”

“I’m... fine,” Audrey managed. As good as she was going to be, at least. “I...”

What was she supposed to say? Every Lost One so far had tried to attack her. Then again, the other Lost Ones hadn’t been wearing accessories or carrying anything but weapons.

“Seem a bit lost?” the Lost One offered. “It’s quite easy to get turned around in this studio. Ah, introductions. I'm Porter, my dear.”

Porter. A name.

“Audrey,” she replied.

“Audrey. Auuudreyyy. It doesn’t really suit you, are you sure?”

Audrey blinked at him for a moment, bewildered.

“I’m sure,” she said. 

“Well, if you’re sure, Audrey. What were you doing on the men’s side?”

“...Trying to find pants,” Audrey admitted, feeling her face going a little warm with embarrassment.

“Ah! Understandable. The ink does tend to get onto everything after long enough, even if the bigger puddles don’t always stick. Not much left in the way of spare clothes, unfortunately. They’ll turn back up in a day or two.”

Audrey stared.

“This world’s special, you see,” Porter said. “Things reappear after long enough if you leave them alone. A bit like an old cartoon. It’s wonderful! It’s a good thing, too, otherwise we’d run out of food.”

He shook the bag on his back with one shoulder.

“I’m out of a supply run at the moment. Do you know where you’re going, Audrey?”

“Up?” Audrey said. “Someone told me that the upper levels are safer.”

“Less of those of us that have lost their heads, certainly, but I’m afraid you won’t be able to get up any higher from this part of the studio.”

“But there’s an elevator.”

“None of the elevators here work anymore. You’ll be able to get down, though! And you can always go down to go up if you find the right way. Though... hm. Maybe not. You’ve still got bones, after all. Those don’t tend to do too well going down. Now–”

There was a soft shuffling. Audrey and Porter both looked over. Bendy had stepped into view, the towel Audrey had tucked under his head over his shoulders like a blanket. It was so cute that Audrey didn’t manage to fight down a squeak at the cuteness. He stared up at the both of them, visibly a little bleary-eyed even with pie-cuts.

“Feeling better, Bendy?” Audrey asked.

Bendy scrubbed at one of his eyes with the back of a hand and nodded.

Porter crouched down, holding out a hand.

“Why, hello there,” the Lost One greeted.

Bendy stared for a moment before trotting forward, somewhat warily. The Lost One reached out and patted Bendy’s head. Bendy leaned forward just a little into the attention until Porter stood back up.

“I think I may be able to help,” Porter said. “May I see your hand, Audrey?”

Audrey held out her hand, the one covered in inky gold. 

Porter, like Bendy had, took her hand in both of his.

The gold on the back of his hand flared. The ink on his hands went drippy. It squirmed forward. Audrey took a breath in and out. Bendy didn’t seem worried, he was just staring up at them. This... might be fine? So Audrey forced herself to relax.

The ink covering her hand went a bit goopy. The ink from Porter’s hands moved a bit like slugs, slowly but surely merging with the ink covering her hand. It felt lukewarm, not like the fire that had given her Banish. It felt uncomfortable, though. Her fingers felt far more rubbery than they should have. Not pins and needles, just... rubbery. Springy. She shuddered at the sensation.

Porter’s hands pulled away and the sensation turned from rubbery to something that made her hand, for a moment, feel like it was floating before gravity reassured itself. The ink was once again solid, but her palm felt a bit warm, the ink inside moving like a slow-spinning washing machine.

Audrey turned her hand over. Her palm was covered in a golden spiral matching the one on the back of Porter’s hand. The ink took a long moment before it felt like it settled.

“There we are,” Porter said, tone suggesting he’d be smiling if he had a mouth. “Now you can move like me! Come along, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

And off he went. Audrey looked down at Bendy.

“...Should we follow him?” she asked.

Bendy simply nodded. Then paused. Then pointed to her bag.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

He nodded.

Audrey knelt down, opening up her bag. Bendy hopped inside of it. He, almost unsurprisingly, fit perfectly fine. He had his hands balanced on the edge of the bag, his head poking out adorably.

It would free up her hands, so if he was okay with it, Audrey was too. Plus he could hand her the pipe if she needed it.

A bit against her better judgment, Audrey followed Porter. It was jarring to meet a Lost One that wasn’t trying to put a blunt object through her skull, even if Bendy didn’t seem bothered by him at all. Maybe he was used to things like this? Maybe not everything in this world wanted to hurt her. Maybe at least some small fraction of it were more like Bendy, more like Allison.

Audrey flexed her hand. Her fingers still felt a little strange and rubbery. Hopefully that sensation would wear off. If not soon, then at least eventually. 

“Flow’s a very useful thing,” Porter said brightly once Audrey walked into the larger room. “Missing floors won’t be a trouble anymore! You can even fall a few stories without getting hurt if you time things right. Though... hm.” He squinted at Audrey. “No no, I wouldn’t try that yet.”

“Why not?”

“Bones, you see,” Porter said, reaching over to lightly tap one of her arms. “None of us have those anymore. They’re handy for keeping shape, but they do quite like getting stuck in things. I would be careful since you still have them. No jumping down pits or squeezing through keyholes.”

“You can do that?”

“I can fit through anything I can see through, my dear.” His laugh was a startlingly jovial ‘ohoho’ sort of sound. “When you’ve been down here as long as I have, you learn to pick up a few tricks. Now, just do what I do and you’ll be an expert in no time. First, hold up your hand.”

Porter did and Audrey copied him. The lines on her hand glowed steadily.

“Point it at where you want to be.”

Across the room seemed safe enough, and Porter seemed to be doing the same thing, so she’d go with that.

“Very good! Now, mind the angle, you can go up or down or even sideways if you get it right. Now, stare at the spot you want your feet to be at, you may run into a wall if you don’t.”

Okay. That sounded easy enough.

“All focused now?”

Audrey nodded, feeling distinctly like she was listening to her grandfather lecture her about how to cast a fishing line for the hundredth time. When she got out of here, she should go see him. And her grandmother, it had been a while since she’d seen them.

Right, focus.

“Splendid! Now, let the ink do all of the work and Flow!”

Porter became a smear frame of ink for a brief moment and reappeared, solid, on the other side of the room.

Let the ink do all of the work? How? Maybe if she made a fist or–

As Audrey flexed her fingers, a sensation not entirely unlike falling off of the high dive at the public pool when she was seven (something she still had the occasional nightmare over) grabbed behind her eyes and guts and pulled .

The world blurred into a smear of black and yellow for a brief moment, her ears filled with a rush of what she hoped was just blood.

And then everything re-solidified back to normal.

Audrey staggered. Her entire body ached faintly, like a bad flu, her entire ink-filled hand was filled with pins and needles, the horrible rubbery fingering taking over her fingertips nearly entirely and refusing to budge when she tried to shake her hand out. Though, surprisingly, she didn’t feel dizzy, even if her head felt a little weird.

“Splendid!” Porter declared. “With enough practice, you won’t even need to think about where you’re going anymore, you’ll just Flow.”

“Right.” Audrey shook out her hand a bit more. It helped with the pins and needles sensation, at least. “Are you okay, Bendy?”

The little demon in her bag gave her a thumbs up. He didn’t seem bothered at all.

“Now remember,” Porter said, “the gold ink is there to protect you. Be sure that you let it do its job if you’re in a tight spot. Let it do what it wants when it wants to, but it’ll always listen when you need a hand.”

“Protect?”

Audrey scrunched up her face a bit at that in confusion. How could ink protect her? Though it... did seem to react to her thoughts, sometimes. Maybe it could .

“Of course! Best of luck, Audrey, I’m off to go and see if there’s any snacks left over in the old lounge. Ta ta!”

And with that, Porter Flowed across the room and was quickly gone through the door Audrey had come from, out of sight.

Audrey stared down at her glowing hand. Protect? How? It had saved them once, sure, but...

Wait. The gold... wasn’t it Bendy’s ink?

“Bendy?”

The little devil stared up at her.

“You... gave me your ink, right?”

A nod, a quizzical expression making it clear that he wondered where Audrey was going with this. 

“To protect me, right?”

A very enthusiastic nod, a wide grin to go with it.

“And Porter’s ink will too?”

Bendy looked like he wanted to say something, but he just nodded. Audrey ran a hand down her face.

“This is so weird.”

Bendy gave her arm a sympathetic pat.

Audrey sighed.

“Thanks, Bendy. I’ll... worry about this later. Once we’re somewhere safe. Ready to keep going?”

He gave her a thumbs up and a bright grin even with the bags under his eyes. It didn’t look like his nap had helped him too much.

Okay. Time to keep moving. Porter had mentioned that holes in the floor didn’t matter anymore, so in theory...

“I hope this works.”

Audrey stepped up to the edge of the giant hole in the floor and did her best not to look down. Okay. Focus. Hand out, focus on a point she could see, let the ink (that wiggled inside of her fingers as if it was excited to help, like a dog wagging its tail) do all of the work. Curl her fingers in.

And Flow!

With a falling, tugging sensation and a fresh wave of faint ache, Audrey was across the gap. It worked! It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it worked!

And the elevator was gone.

Audrey carefully peered down through the stuck, half-open elevator doors. Instead of an elevator there was only a seemingly bottomless shaft.

“So much for that,” Audrey muttered.

Plan B, then. She looked around, trying to find something. The doors on the next floor down were open, one of the two entirely off its track.

“Hang on, Bendy.”

Go down to go up, right? She could do that.

Besides, if they ended up having to head far enough down, it might just be easier to take Bendy home before making her way back up again.

Audrey focused, tried not to think about the drop, and Flowed.

And then they were in a brand new hallway. One with a large sign on the wall pointing the way forward.

‘Artist's Rest’ the sign read in a font that reminded Audrey a bit of an old diner sign.

Bendy passed Audrey her pipe from her bag and the two forged ahead.

Chapter Text

Artist's Rest was heralded by a little 3D illustration of Bendy sleeping in a bed, the illusion of depth created by three different layers of carefully arranged cardboard.

The hall rounded the display and opened into a large central room. The space was two floors, the room tiled in a way that made Audrey's shoes clack if she took full steps instead of shuffling. There was a potential way forward through a large doorway flanked by a pair of stairs, one of several around the room leading to the upper floors, an inset part of the room to both the left and the right with the second floor forming a sort of overhang.

The most striking thing was the concession stand at the center of the room. It was massive with a spinning lit sign reading 'Artist's Rest' that cast a spotlight as it swept slowly across the room, likely keeping anyone who ever tried sleeping near it awake. 

The prices displayed over top of the windows that ringed the stand were outrageous. 68 cents for a cup of coffee, but blankets for only 20? It painted a poor picture of how dire the financial situation had been when the studio had closed. She wondered what the little coins were for. The only thing she could think of was company scrip, which didn't make any sense for an animation studio to have.

There were, at a glance, no Lost Ones. That didn't mean Audrey could move about carelessly, though. She stuck to the edge of the room, moving slowly and quietly, shuffling so her footsteps didn't make any sound.

The right hand side of the room contained only a small alcove with a few benches and vending machine tucked into one corner, the machine's lights still on. 'Tasty Eats' was branded across the top of it. 

She reached for her bag to search for some loose change and, to her surprise, Bendy's hand poked out, holding a pile of little wooden coins. Would those work?

Well, Bendy knew this place better than she did, so she took the coins and slotted a few of them into the machine.

A drawer at the bottom of the vending machine quickly slid out, revealing a jar full of assorted chocolate covered nuts and a Bendy bar. Better than nothing. Both went right into Bendy's hand and were pulled into the depths of her bag with comical speed.

She would check the most obvious way forward after she was sure she wasn't going to be ambushed by any Lost Ones. She carefully made her way across the room, sticking to the walls. The other side of the first floor was an alcove that was a jumble of discarded chairs and tables and empty bottles that had probably once held alcohol with a few scattered playing cards and little wooden coins.

Among the debris was a surprisingly intact piece of paper. Audrey tugged it out from under the leg of an overturned chair.

Audrey shivered and put the note back where she'd found it. It was unsettling, to say the least. She really didn't want to know what it meant.

The second floor held what was clearly supposed to be some kind of cubby holes inset into the wall for staff to sleep in, but they were visibly claustrophobic, just tubes built into the wall with grates in front of them with no real privacy. Some of them held ink stains or ratty blankets splattered with ink. She only spotted one that had anything resembling an actual mattress inside of it, and it looked thin and uncomfortable, and that one held what looked to be a small cache of supplies, too far down into the tube for her to easily reach them.

She needed to keep moving. Even if it was safe for the moment, there were clearly Lost Ones living here.

Cautious exploring of the second floor net nothing of use and a side hallway full of doors that dead ended with no Lost Ones in sight. 

Audrey tried a few of the doors, Bendy hopping out of her bag to do the same. All locked, it seemed. It was a trend of this world that was steadily growing more and more annoying. It almost felt like they were being funneled forward, pushed in one specific direction with no offshoots or alternatives. Maybe–

There was a soft little click. Audrey turned just in time to see a little swish of something black out of the corner of her eye. Bendy was beaming up at her. Had he found some way to unlock one of the doors?

Audrey walked over, staring at the door for a moment. It looked exactly the same as all the other doors, plain wood. She put a hand to it, intending to push it open, but it didn’t budge.

And something under her palm felt wet.

Audrey pulled her hand away. There was nothing on the door, though. Slowly, Audrey put her hand back to the door. Not all of it was damp to the touch, only partial. Like something had been drawn there with paint. Or ink.

Invisible ink? The idea was absurd, but she traced the parts of the door that felt damp. It... formed a circle? No, an oval. Like the ones on the Little Miracle Stations.

Like the one on the note she’d found.

The doorknob had an inky hand print on it.

A hand print with five fingers.

Audrey pulled the door open. The room was no bigger than a broom closet, just enough space for the mattress that had been crammed onto the floor, piled with blankets and pillows. Bendy slipped past her legs and all but dove into the pile, his horns poking comically out of the tangle of blankets.

Audrey closed the door behind her, the room too small for her to stand on anything but the mattress, feeling bad about whatever inky shoe prints she may be leaving on the materials. There were a few shelves scattered around the room holding odds and ends of supplies, a few Bendy Bars, some old tools, lengths of wire and some remnants of rolls of duct tape. It wasn’t much, but it was still a noticeable stash, something clearly gathered intentionally, not things just left behind.

The most noticeable things, though, were the drawings.

They covered every last blank space of wall from floor to ceiling, even more tacked onto the edges of shelves by little scraps of duct tape and, judging by the staining on some of the pages, globs of ink when there hadn’t been enough tape. 

The drawings were clearly arranged deliberately judging by the sheer difference in styles. At a glance alone, one wall was visibly covered in realism, another in classic rubber hose style, and the last was... inky. She’d... She’d get back to that one.

Her gaze went first to the wall of rubber hose cartoons, Bendy’s head poking out of the pile of blankets to stare at the same wall. Every last character on that wall was from the Bendy cartoons. All of them. Most were of Bendy, but there were some scattered Alices and Borises and even a handful of the Butcher Gang. They were drawn true to style to the original handful of shorts with a technical prowess that put Audrey’s own skills to shame. 

Most of the drawings were of Bendy in either happy incidental moments – eating an ice cream cone, enjoying a bit of fishing on a pier, dancing to some music – or getting into little mischief, usually with the Butcher Gang on the receiving end. Some Bendys had been drawn with a tail, some hadn't, and a few sheets were clearly pose practice trying to figure out uses for the little spade-tipped tail for poses or little gags, like Bendy using his own tail like a pen or picking a lock with it. There was a lot of potential there, but animating a tail was a lot of extra work, she could see why it wasn't a thing in the old shorts. 

There were a few illustrations of Boris with a tail too, though Alice's only design inconsistency was her horns or halo changing size with one of her expressions, or her halo falling off entirely when she was doing something particularly un-angelic. Closer to the comics than the shorts.

There were even some little comics scattered in. Only a few panels, but they were all fun and silly. Who had drawn these? They were so clearly drawn with so much care, so much heart. Whoever had drawn these loved the characters, loved Bendy .

That, at least, she could understand.

She wondered, for a moment, if it was the same person who had left that note behind with the little Bendy head doodled on it. Maybe one of the drawings would have a signature, or some kind of writing on it she could compare?

She looked at the opposite wall, the one covered in realism with a skill that outstripped Audrey’s by several measures, though her realism skills had just barely been good enough to get Bs on most of her assignments in college. A fair portion of the wall was taken up with what looked like model studies and quite a few head shots, the rest were occupied by what looked like sketched versions of full photographs, a handful with backgrounds, even if most of them were more vague suggestions of backgrounds than things with full detail. A few had names written next to them that went with the figures in extremely dated fashions that dotted the wall.

A man with long hair in a ponytail and big round glasses, his features thin and sharp. ‘Sammy.’ Drawn playing a piano, strumming a banjo, smoking with an annoyed look on his face, his clothes somewhat classic, just a collared shirt and slacks, it was the suspenders that dated the look more than anything else.

A beautiful woman with hair mostly done in buns or elegant curls. ‘Susie.’ Singing at an old microphone, dressed in so many different dresses and coats that Audrey could only call vintage, like an old movie star with long gloves and glittering jewelry. 

A handsome, very clearly African American man with stylishly done long dreadlocks. ‘Norm.’ He was drawn as taller than anyone else on the wall, noticeably so, a casual and effortless sort of style. Slacks and matching vests, button-down shirts but with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Drawn lugging a projector around here, visibly annoying ‘Sammy’ in others, his grins drawn friendly and broad, sometimes a little mischievous.

A shorter man in a slightly silly-looking hat and, in some sketches, sillier looking clothes, with little glasses and a roundish face. ‘Jack.’ Writing in this sketch, singing in several others. There was one of him singing while ‘Sammy,’ only discernible because of his hairstyle, was mostly hidden behind a piano, clearly providing accompaniment.

These felt like memories, photographs committed to paper because of the lack of a camera. And the clothes were old, too. Vintage. Easily the 20s or 30s, Audrey couldn't really tell. 

There were also two drawings and a few scattered sketches of scenes that looked like, based on the photos from the exhibit in ArchGate, were of Joey Drew, but they were all sequestered in one little corner of the wall, like the artist hadn’t wanted to look at them. Were these... other people that had worked at Joey Drew Studios?

There were two more people in the illustrations. A man and a woman. There were hardly any drawings of the man, and none of them were labeled. There was only one drawing that wasn’t part of a larger, full page illustration, showing an older man with short, clearly greying hair around his temples based on the shading, a rather plain outfit, and a leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up. Maybe it was a self portrait?

The woman had her own corner dedicated to her. She was very pretty, though not in the nearly model-like way that ‘Susie’ was. She was drawn younger, drawn older, laugh lines on her faces and a few of her wearing clothes that were dated, but only about a decade or so out. The line work was done with so much obvious care that Audrey had no doubt that the artist that had drawn her was in love with her. Maybe they were married?

She stared hard at one of the drawings of ‘Linda’ and spotted a wedding ring. The man who didn’t have a name beside his few drawings had a wedding band that matched.

This man must have been the artist, then. He’d been married, and he so clearly loved his wife that it shone through in his art clear as day.

Audrey slowly turned her attention to the last wall. Unlike the other walls, captured memories and doodled cartoons, this wall felt like it was capturing nightmares.

Nightmares soaked in ink, flooded hallways and broken floors. They reminded Audrey a bit of her own nightmares as of late, the chemical tang of ink on the back of her tongue and darkness, but instead of a cold feeling of dread the line work somehow felt... annoyed, somehow. The intentions of the artist were so intense that she could almost tell what they were thinking when they were drawing it.

Among the inky hallways, there were a few scattered drawings of the mangled Butcher Gang which seemed, after the initial shock of the illustrated grotesqueries, was just... sad to stare at.

There were a few drawings of Boris, a happy wolf among inky halls. There were a few of a different Boris, one with a mechanical arm and several scars across his muzzle. 

There were a few drawings of Allison too, a friendly face that Audrey actually recognized. It seemed that the artist knew her too, she had no doubt every sketch here was done by the same hand. 

And then there was the monster that dominated most of the taped-up pages on the wall. A nightmare with a form that was almost human, yet looked completely wrong. Too thin, too skeletal, legs twisted the wrong way around, mismatched hands and uneven proportions.

With two horns and a toothy grin.

...Wait.

Horns and a grin. Was this... the Ink Demon?

It looked like someone had taken Bendy and stretched his signature features out over a lopsided skeleton. Even his bowtie, sunken into his chest and slipped down too far, was asymmetrical, and not in an appealing way, like he'd been half melted instead.

Audrey glanced over at Bendy, all cozy in the blanket pile and staring at the cartoon doodles. No wonder the Lost Ones that had captured him had thought that Bendy had something to do with the Ink Demon.

Maybe the Ink Demon was like the Butcher Gang? A mangled Bendy, just not the only Bendy in the inky world. The thought hurt. Bendy didn’t deserve that. And one of the Ink Demon’s legs ended in more of a lump than a foot, which looked painful. This Bendy didn’t deserve that, even if he looked horrifying. Even... Even if it sounded like he was hurting people. He didn’t deserve that any more than the Butcher Gang did.

The artist of the sketches seemed to agree with her. Even though some were drawn with a perspective that made the Ink Demon loom, as if preparing to attack the viewer, not all of the drawings were like that. Some of the sketches seemed more sad. An Ink Demon half hunched over, visibly dragging himself along. It was like looking at a photo of a tiger in a too-small cage at a zoo. The creature behind the glass could kill you, but it shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

Audrey reached out to take one of the drawings of the Ink Demon off of the wall for a closer look – mindful of Bendy in the blanket pile – her fingers just barely brushing the corner of the page when her mind was suddenly flooded with guilt guilt worry guilt sadness worry WORRY –

She tore her hand away, breathing heavily. But the feeling was gone.

What... had just happened? Had it been the drawing? She... the emotions that had gone through her head had felt alien, not her own at all.

Audrey cautiously reached for another drawing, one from the wall of apparent memories, a drawing that looked like it was illustrating a party that everyone on the wall, save for Linda, had attended. The second her fingers touched the page a feeling of nostalgia washed over her, warm but tinged with something bittersweet and apologetic.

She pulled her hand away and the emotions vanished.

The drawings... were magic? At least a little, it seemed like they had somehow really, genuinely captured the artist’s emotions when they were being drawn and were holding them to the page. It felt invasive, like she was seeming something she shouldn’t. Like she was flipping through someone’s sketchbook without permission, but worse. 

And yet she wanted to know more. See more, feel more. Who was this person that had spilled their heart all over these pages so strongly that Audrey could literally feel it?

...

Audrey gently placed a hand on the edge of another sketch, then another, curiosity (and a little bit of wonder, what artist didn’t want their emotions, their intent to be seen, to be understood by the viewer?) getting the better of her. Nostalgia filled the left wall, fondness in nearly every sketch, tinged with sadness and a low buzz of guilt. The drawings of ‘Linda’ didn’t have that sadness and guilt, though there was a bit of an empty feeling that ran as an undercurrent beneath a warm emotion that Audrey couldn’t quite place. 

Grief, she realized. Grief along with love.

The few with Joey Drew oozed with resentment over a bittersweet wistfulness. Every last one held the same resentment in every drawing of him, even the ones with other people. Like Joey Drew was only in these drawings because he’d been there, like maybe the artist had wished that he hadn’t been. Maybe the relationship had gone sour and the artist missed what it had once been like?

The only one that didn’t hold some kind of emotion like that were the ones she suspected were self portraits. There was no fondness, only a faint buzz of annoyance that Audrey recognized all too well. She wasn’t any good at self portraits either, she could never get her nose right and her hair always ended up looking too cartoony no matter what she did.

She turned her attention to the wall of cartoons next. Bendy must have noticed what she was doing because he was doing the same thing, clearly basking in whatever emotions were on the pages. Audrey gingerly brushed a hand over several sketches. Mostly it was just pure artistic focus, a background buzz of happiness purely from the joy of creating. It was what Audrey felt whenever... well, not whenever she drew. When she drew for fun, these days, drawing for work was just putting out frames, trying to keep everything together. The fun had dwindled as the size of her team had.

There was a faint undercurrent of guilt with a few of the doodles, which she didn’t understand. Why feel guilty? It was just art of Bendy and his friends. It didn’t make sense. Some of the sketches of Bendy being happy put a little hollow feeling in her chest while her hands were on the page, a regret that felt like it was eating a hole inside of her heart.

Whoever the artist was, Audrey hoped he was okay.

With that, the only art left was the wall of nightmares and monsters. She.. wasn’t sure she wanted to know what all those drawings held. Maybe just a few of them? Yeah. Only a few, though, that was it.

She started with Allison. Fondness, though less intense than those of the wall that might possibly be of the artist’s coworkers from the studio’s heyday. Same with the Boris with scars, albeit there was also a light tinge of resigned annoyance, something nearer to exasperation. 

The other Boris brought completely different feelings. A low buzz of guilt, something that felt warm. Protective. She couldn’t put it into words, but... it felt a bit like when, on rare occasions, her dad actually hugged her. Or like when her mom gave her a good, tight hug on a bad day. A protectiveness tinged with care and familial love.

The artist had to have been an animator if he’d worked for the studio, right? Even if they’d primarily been on thumbnails, they had to have been working on other things, right? Who had he been?

She hesitated, a hand hovering just over the page holding an illustration of the Butcher Gang. Did she...?

Carefully, Audrey placed a single finger to the page. 

Rage flooded through her. Indignant and blazing. She tore her hand away. It hadn’t been anger at the twisted, barely recognizable Toons, no. It felt more like the artist was angry on their behalf.

She understood that. God, she understood. She just felt sad looking at them, she couldn’t imagine how someone that had worked on the original show would have felt seeing them like this.

...Was the artist who had drawn these trapped in here like she was? How? Why?

Had it been Wilson’s fault, or someone else?

Audrey carefully poked at a few more drawings, the ones without anyone, or anything, in it. Annoyance, all the way down. Like... Like when someone was trying to prove to Audrey that their portfolio was perfect, that they were a far better artist than they actually were. Someone who didn’t know the glaring holes in their skills, or when someone copied someone else’s artwork and was trying to pass it off as their own.

The atmospheres being depicted were meant to be scary, and they did look the part, but with that annoyance, their atmosphere failed to be anything more than ink blocking hallways and holes blocking stairs.

So why had the drawing of the Ink Demon she’d touched early been filled with such extreme emotions?

Audrey cautiously brushed a single finger across a drawing of the Ink Demon, her mind ringing with guilt and worry for the brief second she made contact with the page. 

She didn’t get it. She expected to feel fear radiating off of these drawings, terror, trying to get the nightmare down on paper just to get it out of the artist’s head. This... wasn’t that.

Audrey looked over at the wall of cartoons. Maybe that was where all the guilt was coming from. The Ink Demon was a mangled Bendy, but Bendy nonetheless, right? Just like the Butcher Gang was. If she’d been drawing the shorts just to see that someone had turned the little demon into a monster, she’d probably feel pretty bad too.

She carefully prodded at one last illustration of the Ink Demon, one which simply appeared to be a character study. 

Rage flooded her mind, worse than that from the sketch of the mangled Butcher Gang. Nothing but a burning fury. Not directed at the Ink Demon, no, she could tell, but anger all the same.

Audrey pulled her hand away. For as soft as the emotions filling most of these drawings, the artist – the mysterious man who didn’t put his name on his own self portraits – held a deep, burning fury. Something about the Ink Demon made him angry and judging by the Butcher Gang, it was anger at the Toons being in their current state.

Wilson said the Ink Demon was dead. Maybe that was where all the guilt was coming from.

Bendy stood on his tip-toes to brush a hand across the same drawing she had. She wanted to pull his hand away, but Bendy pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned, staring at the drawing with wide eyes.

“...Bendy?” Audrey said softly.

Bendy shook his head, running his hand along as many of the drawings as he could reach. When he finally pulled his hand away, his expression was completely unreadable. Bendy stared at his hands, flexing his fingers over and over.

...Bendy looked like the Ink Demon, the Ink Demon was probably a twisted version of Bendy, a Bendy that could have turned out like the little on-model one she’d found. But if Bendy was like this, that means the other Bendy may have been too, at one point.

Whoever had done this was horrible. She understood that rage now.

Audrey sat down. If Bendy needed support, she was there.

But Bendy just stared at his hands, she could nearly see the gears turning in his head.

His expression turned resolute. He nodded once and turned to poking around the room. He seemed... motivated, somehow?

He poked through the supplies, grabbing food and shoving it into Audrey’s bag. He... she didn’t get it, but he definitely seemed to be determined to do whatever he had resolved to do now.

Bendy started moving aside pillows on the mattress in search of supplies and paused.

There was a tape player. There was no label on it.

Bendy plopped down where he was, the tape player taking priority over anything else. He rewound the tape all the way (which took a noticeable amount of time) and pressed play.

“To be honest, I don’t really know how to start this.”

Bendy’s little pie-cut eyes went wide.

“I found this tape back in Heavenly Toys. It’s one of Joey’s old ones. Being able to record over it with something else feels a lot better than it should.”

A laugh from the man on the recording, his voice wholly unfamiliar and surprisingly calm.

“I guess I should start from the beginning. My name is Henry. I used to work for Joey Drew, back in the beginning of Joey Drew Studios. I don’t know what year it is anymore, but when I ended up in this place, it had been thirty years since I’d left.”

Thirty years. That... the studio had formed in 1929, which narrowed things down a bit. In the beginning though.

The recording of Henry sighed. 

“I guess Joey couldn’t let things go. If you’re hearing this, that means either something’s happened to me, or I left this behind in case someone else stumbled across it. I should start from the beginning, but I’m not much of a storyteller. To be honest, I’m recording this to try and get my thoughts down, try to figure out what I’m even supposed to do next.”

Henry sounded tired.

“Before Wilson came here, this world ran in a sort of loop, like the same movie being played in the cinema all day long. Sort of like ‘Dead of Night.’ If anyone even remembers that. It was a UK film, Linda and I got to see a screening in L.A. once. She liked it more than I did, I’ve never really liked horror. The point is, movie starts out the same way that it ended, implying that the same day’s events keep happening over and over again. Every time the main character dies at the end, he wakes up back at home and everything starts back over from the beginning. That’s what this place has been like. The same thing, over and over, everyone playing a part like a cartoon script, only Joey never really did have a sense of humor.”

Bitterness crept into the man’s recorded tone.

“He also wasn’t good with the Script either. We had some room to breathe, after a while. Not much, but a little. We were starting to talk, after a while, all of us that were trapped here. We tried to make truces, even if the Script kept making us fight each other. Kill each other. Not that death lasts long around here. Unless you’re a Boris. Then...”

Silence, for a long moment.

“Never mind. The point is, at the end of the Script everything just starts back over again from the beginning. Or at least it used to, until it stopped. I remember exactly when it happened. I was working my way through Heavenly Toys like I always did. Bendy decided to jump me on my way back to the elevator from getting Alice some of the gears she always asks for, but then he just... stopped chasing me. And I stopped running.”

A sigh.

“I don’t know what Joey did to him, but he can’t talk. When Joey made the Ink Demon, he made a monster that couldn’t speak. He could understand me, though. So I asked him if he felt like chasing me anymore, and he shook his head. Neither of us were really sure what to do after that. Neither of us really wanted to keep following the Script, so we just didn’t. Alice got pretty mad, at first, until she realized she didn’t have to stick to her usual lines either. So we called a truce and tried to figure out what was going on.”

“Then we met Wilson.”

Something about that was extremely foreboding.

“I’m still not sure how he managed to get into the Machine while still being human. He said that he’d found a way to enter the Machine safely and that he wanted to try and help everyone that was trapped in here. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Alice, Bendy, and Boris? Not so much.”

All three? The entire trio? Was Alice mangled too? Henry hadn’t drawn her outside of her cartoon appearance.

“I wanted to give him a chance, but no one else did. And when he came back, he came back with monsters of his own.”

A bead of ink rolled down the side of Bendy’s head.

“He called them the Keepers. If you see them, run and hide. You’ll know them on sight. They have diver’s helmets for heads and they make this metal slithering noise. They have long claws and these cables like a tail instead of legs. I don’t know how Wilson made them. I’m not sure I want to either. Their faces light up, so you might see the light before they see you.”

Wilson had made monsters ? Why?

“Wilson attacked the entire studio. I lost track of everyone in the chaos, even Bendy. I tried to hide, but I ended up having to run. That’s how I ended up here. In this... other studio. Joey must have designed it, it has all the things he always talked about wanting to put into the studio when we were finding a place to rent. It took me a while, but I managed to find this room. The door locks from the inside, so it should be safe enough to hole up here until Wilson stops looking for me. Then I’ll go back to the other studio. I need to find Boris. And Allison and Tom. And Bendy. The last time I saw him he was tearing Keepers in half with his bare hands."

Audrey shuddered at the thought. No wonder Allison told her to be careful of the Ink Demon. But if the other Bendy was only doing that because he had to, because he was stuck on some kind of script, then...

“If you’re hearing this, don’t trust Wilson. Even if he said he’s trying to help, attacking people doesn’t help anyone. Everyone in here has suffered enough. I’m going to try and get some rest now. I need to find supplies soon, even if I’m pretty sure nobody in here actually needs to eat anymore.”

There was a click of the recording ending, even though the tape was still going.

That was... That was so much to take in. Henry seemed to be implying that this horrible place was Joey Drew’s fault. Not even implying, stating . That... The man that created Bendy made this horrible place? There... There was no way.

And then the recording started up again.

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting this tape to still have room on it. It’s been at least a few days since Wilson attacked the studio, it’s hard to tell how much time passes down here. The Loop hasn’t started over yet. It looks like the Script might actually be broken. I tried to get back to the other studio, but the way through is just gone. I’m not sure what to do next. I need to find Boris and the others. I’m not really sure what to do next. I guess the best thing I can do right now is just gather supplies. Maybe I can find a few Lost Ones. Even if they don’t know what’s happening, they may know where the others are.”

Looking for Lost Ones? Why? They were almost universally dangerous.

Another recording stop and start.

“I don’t know what’s happening, but the Lost Ones aren’t acting like they used to anymore. They’re violent. I don’t know what Wilson is doing, but it feels like this might be even worse than what Joey did to this place. I’m going to try and find the others. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I can’t just let this happen.”

Another stop and start again.

“I’m back again. I managed to find Allison and Tom. Things were a lot worse than I thought they were. Wilson’s managed to make an entire city in here. It’s not stable, I felt a lot of earthquakes over the past few days while I was making my way through this new studio. I think Wilson’s trying to make changes to this world. I can’t imagine what it’s like for everyone trapped in there right now. That’s... not the worst of it, though.”

The pause was painful.

“Wilson claims he’s killed the Ink Demon.”

There was so much pain in the man’s voice. Audrey felt her own eyes going a little damp in sympathy.

“Bendy’s a lot tougher than that, though. He has to still be alive. I’m... not sure what to do now. Not after Wilson’s Keepers managed to kill me. I wasn’t expecting to reappear here, but at least I know it’s safe. I don’t remember drawing that symbol here, I think the ink must have done it, somehow. I... need to think. Clear my head. I have to think of something. Allison and Tom are safe, but the others, and Bendy...”

A deep breath on the recording. In and out.

“I’m going to find out what Wilson did to him. He has to be alive. I let you down enough, bud, I’m not going to let someone do all of this to you. Not again. I promise.”

Another click of audio off and on.

“I’m going to face Wilson.”

Henry sounded so resolute. Determined. 

“I’m going to fix this. I’ve been sitting around long enough. Hiding like a coward. I could make some excuse, but that’s all it would be. An excuse.” 

“Don’t worry, Bendy. I’m not running away this time. I promise.”

The tape clicked off properly, finally out of reel.

Inky tears were dripping down Bendy’s face. He hugged the tape player to his chest, his entire body shuddering with silent sobs. Audrey pulled him into a hug.

She’d look for a way forward later. Right now, Bendy needed her. Henry clearly cared about the character he’d once animated. To the point where he was willing to face Wilson, face creatures that had killed him, to try and help the Ink Demon.

Though she had a sinking suspicion that he may be the person that Allison had mentioned being captured.

Maybe she could find some way to help her. After she got Bendy home. She’d promised.

And right now Bendy needed her. Finding the way forward could wait.

Chapter Text

Bendy had taken a while to stop crying after Audrey had carefully bundled him in blankets. He'd made himself comfortable only once she sat down on the small mattress beside him. He'd pointed at one of the drawings and she'd taken it carefully down from the wall. He wouldn't set it down after that, clearly comforting himself in whatever emotion was rolling off the drawing of his illustrated counterpart enjoying a chocolate chip cookie.

But they couldn't stay here forever. No matter how much easier it would have been to just hole up in the room for a while. Audrey had to get Bendy home. The sooner they did that, the sooner they could really rest. No matter how cozy the room was, they should press on. This place couldn't go that much deeper, could it?

Bendy seemed reluctant to extract himself from his pile of blankets, though. The contents of the tape had really shaken him, but he didn't seem to be distraught. Just... overwhelmed. 

But the room's last resident hadn't stayed either. Audrey could understand why Henry had been willing to leave the safety of the room to help the Ink Demon. The other Bendy, twisted and malformed as he was, was still Bendy. Whatever Wilson had done to him, even if it had just been keeping him captive and claiming to have killed him, it hadn't been deserved. Even if he'd hurt people, he didn't deserve unnecessary cruelty. 

It was hard to reconcile the idea that Joey Drew, the creator of her favorite cartoon, had seemingly made this hellish world. That he'd made a Bendy that was twisted into a hideous form that couldn't speak, made another that hadn't been mangled but that was cursed with silence. She couldn't imagine why he'd be so bitter about one employee quitting that he'd... that he'd make someone die over and over again in an endless loop, some weird episode of Star Trek that took its time travel one step further and several steps more horrific. 

...If Joey Drew was willing to trap one person, were there more? Bendy had mentioned being 'fed to the gears.' That Wilson hadn't been the first to trap people in this horrible nightmare of ink. Had Joey Drew been the other?

How many people were in here? Had he trapped Allison too? Porter? The Prophet from the tape? Or were they more like Bendy, a twisted cartoon, just not ones the studio had ever animated? Or were they all human, one of them driven insane by being trapped, one who might just be eccentric, and one who had helped her?

Were the Lost Ones human? The Searchers? Audrey held up her ink-coated arm. It didn't look much different, other than it was a lot more solid. Were they characters or people? She wasn't sure which was worse.

Audrey looked at the drawings on one of the walls, the ones that seemed to be of Henry's former coworkers and wondered, sick at the thought, of just how many of them might be trapped like she was. 

Like Henry was. Who may have been down here for years by the sound of it from his tape.

...And she had someone she could ask.

She didn't want to burden him, though. Bendy already seemed to be dealing with a lot, but...

"...Bendy?"

He gently set down the drawing he was holding before looking up at her.

"Can I... ask you a few things? If you know about them, I mean. I... get the feeling they won't be good things."

Bendy nodded. 

Audrey took a deep breath. She should make sure Bendy could answer. She handed him her sketchbook first and he took it, flipping to a clean page.

"Do you... know if Joey Drew trapped people in here? In this world, like Wilson did?"

Bendy nodded with no hesitation.

"Oh god."

How...? Why? 

"...How many?"

Bendy wrote quickly and held up the sketchbook.

Everybody he could get his hands on. Most'a the folks that worked here, 'cept for the temps an' the lawyers an' some other folks that had the good sense'ta stay away. I know at least three folks that got away for sure, an' one of 'em just about got herself killed later, but she got away before Joey got to her.

"Everybody?"

Everybody who worked for Joey Drew Studios.

"Why? How? How could..."

That was easily hundreds of people. Hundreds of people trapped in this world. How could anyone...

'Cause Joey couldn't stand losin'. An' the studio shuttin' down was the biggest thing he could'a ever lost. So he got mad. Real mad. An' when Joey Drew gets mad, bad things happen.

"So he'd... Oh god."

He'd kidnapped people. So many people. Trapped them in the machine like she had been, but maybe even worse. So...

"So the Lost Ones are..."

Bendy nodded solemnly. Audrey felt sick, the cold terror in her stomach was the only thing keeping her from being ill again.

"And... you...?"

Bendy shook his head.

Me an' the Butchers are real Toons 'cause he tried'ta make us from art that someone put their heart into. Everybody else is. If ya went through the gears, ya don't get out in one piece.

"But Henry mentioned Boris and Alice and–"

Bendy could only nod, mouth a grim little line.

He'd...

"Why?"

Alice 'cause he thought he could make a real one. Neither of 'em turned out right. Far as I can tell, the Borises were all the poor folks he was real mad at and didn't want 'em talkin' again.

"Both?"

Allison had horns. Not like Bendy's either.

Like Alice Angel.

Oh, Allison.

'Cept for Mistah Norm and Mistah Piedmont. Joey was almost as mad at them as he was at Henry.

"It... gets worse than that?"

Bendy flipped to a clean page and sketched for a few minutes. The sketches he held up were of a creature with a projector for a head, but a human silhouette, and the other was an octopus ride with someone's head trapped in the center column. 

"Oh god."

That... That was worse. Mangled like the Butcher Gang. Mangled like the Ink Demon.

How could anyone do that to someone? How could Joey Drew do that to someone? He'd wanted to make dreams come to life, hadn't he?

"But... But he made you ," Audrey said, trying and failing to put the image of the man who created her favorite cartoon into the place of someone willing to mangle his former employees out of what sounded like nothing but spite. "How could..."

He didn't.

"Huh?"

Joey Drew might'a been the reason I got spat out'a tha' machine, but he ain't the Creator. He didn't make me, no matter what he says.

"Then who...?"

Audrey's gaze went to the drawings on the wall, on model almost exactly to the first handful of shorts.

There was... No, that couldn't be it.

There's a lot'a reasons we call Joey the Liar down here.

Audrey put a hand to one of the cartoon sketches. Warmth filled her head, a happy feeling she knew to just be the sheer joy of drawing.

No wonder Henry had gone to face Wilson to save the Ink Demon, to save Bendy .

"I'm so sorry, Bendy."

Don't apologize fer nothin'!

"It's... not fair to you, though. To anyone here."

Bendy stared at the sketchbook for a long moment.

I ain't a good guy, Audrey. Don't let the cute face fool ya.

His hands were shaking as he held up the words for her to read.

Audrey wanted to ask, but Bendy looked so... scared. So guilty.

So she settled a hand between his horns. He stared up at her, wide-eyed.

"It's okay, Bendy."

He looked away from her, clearly thinking otherwise.

"I'm... I should go look for a way out. Do you want to stay here a little longer?"

Bendy looked around and, slowly, nodded.

"I'll be back before you know it. And you can keep my sketchbook. Why don't you draw something? It looks like you're a good artist."

Bendy blushed as much as a monochrome Toon could.

Things were bad, yes, horrible, but there had to be a way out. She'd get Bendy home, then figure out a way out. And she'd take Bendy with her. And then anyone else she could find. Maybe she'd get everyone out. If not, she could at least get a few people out. Allison, maybe. Henry, if she could find him. Had Wilson captured him? Or had he just never come back to his safe room?

Bendy was going to get out of this place with her though, she was set on that. He deserved to escape this nightmare.

Everyone did.

Besides, she had to keep herself busy. She'd probably be sick to her stomach if she gave herself any time to sit around and think about any of the things Bendy had just told her.

Audrey pulled her pipe out of her bag and slipped out of the room.

No sign of any Lost Ones. She'd rather avoid them if she could. They were people . They didn't deserve to be hurt. She'd defend herself, if she had to, though. She had to keep Bendy safe. Why couldn't they just talk things out? Henry's tape made it sound like they just attacked anyone they saw, and Allison had said the same. But why? Henry had mentioned that it might be Wilson's fault, somehow. But how? And was there some way to stop it so they wouldn't have to fight?

She moved slowly. Carefully. There was nothing but silence.

She made her way back to the center room, sticking to the wall. There was a way forward past a large doorway with a mural of Boris eating a sandwich on one side and Alice Angel swinging on a swingset on the other.

The hallway beyond that branched. The sign indicated that the sauna was to the left and the elevator was to the right. The way to the elevator was blocked by an electrically powered gate with no switch in sight. 

Even if the elevator didn't work, the sauna was all but guaranteed to be a dead end, and she wasn't about to risk setting foot in another locker room if she could help it.

The only option was to find a way to power the gate and get through, or maybe find some bolt cutters and cut her way open. The former seemed more likely.

She'd check the concession stand first. There might be supplies there while she was at it.

Audrey backtracked to the concession stand. Still no sign of any Lost Ones. She wasn't sure if that was a good or bad sign.

The door to the stand was, surprisingly, unlocked. Audrey had honestly been expecting to have to try and break in through a window. There wasn't much. A few handfuls of wooden coins in the old cash register that she swept into her bag. A few bags of potato chips and a single chocolate bar. She took everything and started moving aside boxes. All empty. Maybe some Lost Ones had already been through here before?

Behind one of the boxes was a fuse box.

Jackpot.

Audrey pried the panel off, leveraging the edge open with the end of her pipe. There were several spots for fuses with corresponding labels in marker on old tape, but there was only one intact fuse currently powering the sauna. 

It popped out with surprisingly little resistance. Audrey slotted the fuse into the spot marked 'Elevator Access' and ducked under the counter.

The gate ground open loudly enough that Audrey could hear it quite clearly even from inside the concession stand. There was no way that any Lost One in the area hadn't heard the noise.

At least Bendy would be safe. She just had to worry about herself.

She gave it a few minutes before emerging from her hiding spot. The kiosk had windows all the way around it, making it easy to look around. There were no signs of any Lost Ones still.

She wasn't sure that was a good thing.

Audrey slowly poked her head out of the stand. Nothing.

Should she go now in case the Lost Ones hadn't reached the area yet, or wait until she was sure it was clear?

She settled on waiting, straining her ears for even the slightest noise.

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Slowly, Audrey slipped out of the concession stand, heading for the stairs. If she just stayed quiet–

Something slammed into her, tackling her to the floor. Inky hands wrapped around her neck.

Audrey flailed, one hand managing to grab onto the Lost One's leg. Her hand boiled with heat beneath her skin, the Lost One disintegrating into light just as spots were starting to invade her vision.

She scrambled to her feet just in time for a brick to smash into the tiles where she had been seconds before.

Audrey looked up. There were two Lost Ones on top of the concession stand.

They'd been waiting for her.

Audrey turned and ran, holding out her hand to try to focus and–

Flow tugged her out of the way of another thrown brick. She staggered, one knee cracking into the tile as she lost her balance.

The Lost Ones jumped down from the roof and gave chase.

She couldn't lead them back to Bendy. She had to get out of sight. If she could get back to the stand–

A brick collided with one of Audrey's legs, sending her staggering into a wall. Hopefully not broken, but moving that leg hurt.

She couldn't run like this. She was going to have to fight.

Audrey turned, grit her teeth, and gripped her pipe in both hands, standing her ground as the Lost Ones charged, both shouting incoherently.

One was holding a brick, the other unarmed. The brick-holder ran forward, Audrey throwing herself to one side. She pivoted on her good leg and swung her pipe into the Lost One's head as hard as she could.

There was a sickening squelch as its head caved in under the force and it collapsed to the ground.

Fighting down a wave of nausea, Audrey turned to face the remaining Lost One. Focus. Be sick later.

It charged, fists swinging wildly. Audrey swung, hitting it in an arm. Its fist collided with her windpipe. 

She gasped for air, swinging the pipe wildly as she wheezed, trying to get air.

She managed to land a glancing blow, one of the rougher sections of the pipe scraped across the Lost One's face, over one eye.

It shrieked in pain, the eye leaking ink. But not just ink.

There were specks of color within the ooze.

Color. The sight of it in a monochrome world should have been a relief, but the sight of it turned her stomach. It was wrong , bright yellows and blues and reds were too brilliant, too vibrant, and seemed to glow.

Audrey smashed her pipe into the Lost One's chest as hard as she could. Color oozed from the impact site, rivulets of neon color in the oozing ink.

She brought the pipe down on its head and its form buckled, reduced to formless ink with specs of brightness.

Audrey wheezed, one hand going to her throat. She could still breathe. It hurt, but she could still breathe. She needed to eat something, needed to heal, needed to–

Something collided with the side of her head.

She hit the floor, vision half dark and the room spinning.

A Lost One with a head partially caved in staggered toward her, brick in hand.

She had to move. Had to get up. The ink under her skin shot a bolt of burning heat through her entire arm as she tried to sit up, tried to banish her attacker, tried to–

Chapter Text

When do we...

Stairwell flooded again...

When I find him...

Dark.

So dark. The acrid taste of ink on the back of her tongue.

I'm sorry...

I'm so tired...

I can't believe...

She felt... not weightless. Floating. Like floating in a pool, but heavier, thicker than water.

It would be so easy to just sink. Relax. It was so dark and she was so, so tired...

Just close your eyes...

No way out anyway...

I tried fighting, but...

It felt like hands were pulling at her arms, at her legs. But not tugging. Gentle pulls, slow and unrushed, unhurried. Something bubbled in her ears.

Sleep...

Can't sleep, deadlines...

...Au—

Voices slipped through her head, from one ear to the other. Maybe, maybe she should...

My paycheck...

Just give up...

Audr—

Had that been... no. She just needed to sleep. Yeah. Just sink back, relax...

It's over...

Audrey!

Who...?

That... was her name? It... yes. Her name was Audrey. But who was...

So loud...

AUDREY!

Let me sleep...

A voice boomed in her head, shredding through the other noise. Her name. Growled out, bassy in her ears so much that she felt her bones shake from it. What—

Quiet...

Stay awake, Audrey! Ya can't give up!

Be quiet...

The voice was unfamiliar, but... she knew it, somehow. The accent was distinct, unplaceable, but—

So loud...

Jus' follow my voice! This way!

Always loud...

With a great effort, Audrey opened her eyes.

It was dark. An inky vortex all around her. Ink. Whispering voices trying to force their way back into her head.

But there was light. Like the end of a distant tunnel, light. What had just—

A memory of pain crashed into her. She wanted to sob, but there was too much ink. She couldn't get the breath in through it to let out so much as a sound.

Him...

AUDREY!

Run...

The voice. She had to follow the voice. The booming voice that filled her skull and shook her bones, the gentler voice that was urging her forward. Both of them, alternating. They sounded like they were coming from the same place.

Slowly, she slogged forward. It felt like the ink was up to her chest. But she did.

The light got bigger, slowly and steadily. It was nearly blinding. The rumbling voice, the bright voice were forcing away all the others.

Her left arm boiled beneath the skin.

Stay...

Yer nearly there! Keep goin'!

No...

She did. The light got brighter and brighter. 

Then, abruptly, the world tilted. 

She tried to swim up, but hands dragged at her limbs, insistent dead weight.

A hand plunged through the light. Four-fingered. Two dots on the back.

Bendy!

Audrey stretched out a hand.

There was a surge, a sensation of horrid weightlessness, of being stretched out.

And her hand grabbed onto the one outstretched.

It tugged.

Her hand broke free to cool air. She forced the other one through the surface, finding purchase but only barely.

She squeezed her eyes shut and, with all of her strength, pulled herself out.

It was like climbing out of a pool made of tar. The air was horribly humid, the smell of ink was cloying in her nostrils, old ink that smelled so much like blood.

Audrey gasped for air, barely able to take in her surroundings. Monochrome, lit with yellowed lights. 

And someone tugging on her hands. 

Audrey blinked her vision clear. Bendy's hands were in hers, tugging her forward. Out.

Out...?

Audrey looked down.

And nearly screamed, jaw locked in fear. From the waist down there was only ink.

Bendy was tugging at her. Tugging with all his might. Audrey wanted to scream, but Bendy was pulling at her hands. 

But he didn't have enough strength to pull her out.

Audrey freed one hand from his, anchoring herself, her breath catching in her throat.

She braced herself and pushed herself up. More of her lower half reformed. She took her other hand from Bendy's and pushed herself out further. Out and out. 

She got stuck at the knees, Bendy grabbing onto one of her arms and pulling and pulling.

Then, all at once, the rest of her popped out of the ground. She was sent sprawling, laying on the cold tile and gasping for air.

All she could do was try and breathe for a long moment. Until her vision cleared, her heart stopped racing, her breathing slowing back to normal.

She was shaking. She could feel it. The memory of pain hadn't gone away. 

She... She needed to move, though. There could be Lost Ones—

The Lost One! 

Audrey bolted upright. Where was the last Lost One? It could hurt Bendy!

But there were no Lost Ones in sight. Only puddles of ink.

Two of them.

Audrey looked at Bendy, who was staring at her in concern, hands to his chest like he couldn't figure out if he should keep his distance or reach out for her.

His gloves were smeared with ink, one finger soaked in it.

There was a splatter of it across his vest.

He... No. Bendy wouldn't have hurt anyone.

Would he...?

Audrey shook herself. No. Bendy... If Bendy had saved her, she was thankful for it. But, what had happened? She...

"Bendy...?"

Her voice shook. 

"Did... did I...?"

The memory of pain. Of a brick coming down on her skull.

"Did I just... die?"

Bendy, solemnly, nodded.

"But..."

That couldn't be right. She was still here. Still breathing.

She looked down.

There was something drawn under her.

Slowly, shakily, Audrey staggered to her feet, feeling her breath trying to catch in her chest again.

There was a strange design on the floor. A circle, lines she couldn't understand, but in the middle of it was a splatter of ink.

Inky hand prints where she'd anchored her own hands to try and pull herself out.

Out? Out of what ? There had been the ink...

"I'm not going back to the Puddles!"

The words of one of the Lost Ones when they'd seen a room flooded with ink came back to her. Puddles. The ink pooled and gathered. The voices when she touched it...

Had she been inside of that ink? But that didn't make any sense. She...

Bendy had done something, though. One of the fingers of his gloves was soaked in ink. He'd... he'd drawn that symbol on the floor, hadn't he? And he...

"Were you... calling my name?"

Bendy nodded furiously. 

Bendy couldn't speak, though. He didn't have a voice. But... she'd still heard him, somehow? The ink... Maybe it had been the ink. Bendy was made of ink, after all.

She didn't understand.

"I..."

Audrey let out a shuddering breath. It was... The memory of pain wasn't going away. It kept trying to reassert itself, fill her head with nothing but what had happened.

Bendy slowly stepped forward.

Audrey sank to her knees, threw her arms around him, and pulled him into a hug. She sobbed.

And he hugged her as she broke down completely.

It was an awful, horrible day. One awful, horrible experience after the other. She'd... She'd died . It was like a nightmare, but a million times worse.

And Bendy didn't let go until her sobs stopped.

She let him step back and he grabbed one of her hands, tugging it. Slowly, Audrey managed to get to her feet once more. 

She let Bendy guide her. Back up the stairs, back up to the safe room. He shut the door behind them and gently tugged on Audrey's hand until she sat down.

And then he carefully piled blankets around her shoulders, made her as comfortable as he could. He peeled one of the drawings off of the wall and put it into her hands.

The warmth of an emotion not her own flooded through her and she managed a full, proper breath of air.

It helped, but she was exhausted. A bone-deep exhaustion that she had never felt before. It had been a long, horrible, awful day, and there was no end to it in sight.

"I'm so tired, Bendy."

He nodded. He dug through her bag and produced a can of soup.

The taste was horrible, but she drank it anyway. Her head pulsed dully with pain that quickly faded. Her arm ached more persistently, her fingers not feeling quite solid.

Audrey held out her left arm and there was more ink. The blackness had spread from up to her elbow to up past where her sleeve sat. Rolling it up, it was nearly up to her shoulder.

"What's happening to me...?"

If not for the drawing Bendy pressed back into her hand, she was sure she would have started crying again. Her fingers gripped one edge enough to crinkle it.

Bendy frowned. He dug around in her bag for a minute before pulling out her miniature compact. Grimacing, he held it out to her.

She took it, flipping it open. There was a little mirror inside. Why did he want her to—

One of her eyes was glowing. 

Faintly. Her left iris had taken on a glowing tinge, a faint but clearly luminous gold. Not quite like the lamp-like eyes of the Lost Ones, but no longer something human.

Audrey set the drawing full of warm emotions that were not her own aside and sobbed.

Bendy handed her the stuffed toy of himself from her bag and she brought it to her chest, clung to it, and sobbed. He gently tucked himself under one of her arms and stayed there, a gentle weight, a soft warmth.

And Audrey cried. 

Chapter Text

It took a while for Audrey to cry herself out. She felt numb, Bendy curled up at her side and her stuffed toy loosely held in the crook of one arm.

Bendy had rooted around in her bag and came up with the 'Willow Weep for Me' tape at some point while she had been crying. It had taken her a while to notice it, but the voice drifting out of the tape and the piano were soothing. Something normal in the midst of everything.

She... She had died. She was still alive, though. Still breathing. And there had been ink. So, so much ink...

Bendy gently pressed a candy bar into one of her hands. She blinked, staring at it for a long moment. She wasn't really hungry, but chocolate? Right now, that sounded nice.

She broke the bar in half, holding the other half out to Bendy who shoved it into his face with cartoonish speed that she couldn't help but laugh a little at. He beamed at her laughter.

"Thanks, Bendy," she said, reaching out a hand and settling it between his horns.

He leaned into the touch. He wasn't afraid of her at all anymore, was he? 

Audrey munched on the chocolate bar. A little stale, but still chocolate. It was a welcome little bit of comfort in this place. Bendy scooted back into his spot at her side, sketchbook in his hands.

Feelin' better?

"A little. I... died, though. Right?"

Bendy nodded.

"I'm still alive, though. I..."

It didn't make any sense.

Death ain't real permanent ‘round here. The hard part's gettin' back out

"Out?"

Out'a tha' Ink. Since there's a lot'a ink, folks usually call the bit with all the voices the Dark Puddles. Or the Well of Voices if they're bein' fancy

"Dark Puddles?"

That... really didn't do justice to where she'd been. The voices, the darkness. Dark, yes, but a puddle? Not even slightly. It was closer to an ocean, deep and drowning. The name was almost silly.

Yeah. Most folks who end up in there don't get out so well. Some folks never get out at all

Audrey shuddered at the thought.

But ya got me! So ya don't have'ta worry 'bout it!

Bendy stared at his own writing for a moment before frowning.

Well, I wouldn't die again if ya could help it. I dunno how many dips in tha ink ya got before ya come out as a Lost One. Usually it only takes one'ta ink folks

"...Oh."

So that was why. If you died in the ink and managed to get out again, it... changed you. It had changed her, at least slightly. Was that why one of her arms had been coated with ink when she arrived? Was that arm made out of ink now? It didn't quite feel like it. Were the changes permanent? Hopefully not, but... She was still human. Still alive. She clung to that thought. If she let go of it, she wasn't sure what she'd do.

"Guess I got lucky, right, Bendy?"

Yeah. Maybe it's 'cause ya had my ink before ya got inked?

He stared at the page for a bit before adding: Dunno.

He tapped the pencil to the page a few times in thought, but he didn't seem to be writing anything. 

His ink. She still really didn't get what that meant.

There was also one other thing that didn't make much sense.

"Bendy?"

He looked up at her.

"What was that circle thing?"

That's how ya get out'a the ink if ya die. They're called protection circles even if they look like ya can summon somethin' with 'em. They're made so that if ya have my ink, you can use 'em'ta pull yourself back out again!

How did Bendy know how to do that, though? Had he done this before?

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

From Sammy!

The little devil was grinning a little, holding the page up with pride.

Sammy? Wait, that name.

"Like the person from Henry's drawings?"

Bendy nodded before writing more.

Yeah. Sammy used'ta run tha' music department before stuff fell apart. He knows all sorts'a stuff like that. He's the one that came up with those circles.

"Knows? He's still alive?"

Yeah. He's

Bendy's 'brow' furrowed at the page, clearly trying to think of the right word before settling on something.

He's a good guy. Little too enthusiastic about stuff sometimes, but that's just Sammy. He's who we're tryin'ta get to since he lives all the way under the studio. There's a bunch'a caves once ya get down far enough, next'ta nobody ever gets down that far, so it's real safe.

"So he lives with you?"

Bendy nodded.

Audrey let out a sigh of relief. Bendy wasn't alone here after all. He'd just gotten separated from Sammy. He'd been hurt, but he had someone to help keep him safe in this horrible place. It was a weight off her mind to know he hadn't been alone the entire time.

She was going to try very hard to not think about the fact he was just as trapped in here as she was. Not right now.

"We should get you home, Bendy, he must be worried about you."

Only if yer feelin' up'ta it!

"I'm... I think I'll be okay. Is there anything you want to take with us?"

Bendy nodded, handed Audrey back her sketchbook, and started carefully taking down drawing after drawing from the walls, each with great care, handing them to Audrey to tuck into her sketchbook.

Soon the sketchbook was brimming with the pages and stowed away. The blankets and pillows and the supplies still in the room followed them.

It was time to move on.

Audrey gave her Bendy plush one last hug before stowing it away and taking her pipe out instead. Bendy climbed into her bag and gave her a thumbs up.

They wouldn't get anywhere by staying here. It was time to go.

Audrey stuck to the second floor as much as she could. There were no signs of any more Lost Ones. 

The circle on the floor that Bendy had drawn to save her was still there. She tried not to look at it.

On the other side of the gate that had ground open just enough for her to squeeze past, the elevator was gone. It was open just enough that Audrey could see through it and to the next floor down where the door was wide open, as the last one had been. She pointed to the next floor down, wanting to keep silent just in case there were still lurking Lost Ones. Bendy, poking his head out of the bag, nodded. 

Audrey was just glad he didn't mind being in the bag and didn't mind it when she used Flow. Using it wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was undeniably helpful.

She tried to ignore how using the strange power made her bones ache when she used it. She tried not to think about how they ached less when she used it this time. Hopefully it was just her getting used to using it. 

The next floor down had stairs not far from the elevator. Actual stairs! Rickety wooden stairs, but stairs nonetheless, intact enough that they managed to descend a few floors before any progress was cut off by the next flight down being completely flooded with ink. Just how big was this place?

Audrey slowly opened the door on the landing of the last unflooded bit of stairwell, poking her head around cautiously as Bendy clambered out of her bag. One hallway. No sign of any Lost Ones. Nowhere to go but forward.

There were more pipes on this floor, Audrey noticed, Bendy keeping behind her now. Bigger pipes too. It was more industrial, not like the slimmer pipes that seemed to be used to transport ink. What were they for? And where were they going? They’d passed through a toy factory, the animation department, a place for the staff to sleep while never leaving work... What else could there be ? Not that a lot of this place made any sense, but wasn't it still a cartoon studio? Shouldn't there be editing? Audio? She hadn't seen any recording equipment. Bendy had mentioned a music department, where was that? Shouldn't it have been somewhere near animation? Surely the two departments would have collaborated. The one at her job did, for as little attention as they were being given by the rest of ArchGate Pictures. They couldn't get the full orchestra yet, they were on the waiting list, but they'd make do with the small band recording they'd gotten if they had to.

No, focus. Getting Bendy home before anything else.

Eventually, the hallway split in two different directions with no indicators of what led where. 

And there were footsteps.

Audrey dove behind a pile of nearby crates, grateful for the easy hiding place, holding Bendy tight. The footsteps passed without incident. She didn’t move again until they were completely gone.

The path the footsteps hadn’t gone down was the obvious choice now. 

The walls grew more and more industrial as they went, more and more ink dripping down them, all with no indication of where they were in the studio anymore. There were no offshoot rooms, no offices, no signs or any labels on any doors declaring them to be offices or departments or even bathrooms. It didn’t make any sense. A lot of things in this place didn’t make any sense, but at least the upper floors had some kind of general purpose behind them. This one didn't really seem to.

All there was to do was to keep walking. If it wasn’t for the looming threat of Lost Ones and Searchers, the seemingly endless hallways would have been incredibly dull. The tension was doing nothing for her nerves. Audrey flexed the fingers on her hand with the glowing gold on it. She could defend herself if she had to. Her and Bendy. She just wished she didn't have to.

The hallway split off again, this time in three directions. But there was finally a sign on a wall, made of metal and riveted into place. The way they’d come from was just labeled ‘Stairs.’ One direction was ‘Flow Control,’ another ‘Maintenance,’ and the last ‘Sewer Access.’ Audrey wrinkled her nose. They had to be really deep under the studio to be anywhere near the sewers.

There was a sound down one of the halls. Audrey couldn’t tell what it was, but it was better safe than sorry.

There weren’t many places to hide, but there was a lot of junk lying around. Audrey smashed open one side of a rather large barrel with the pipe, wincing at the noise before spinning it around so that the hole she'd made in it faced the wall, leaving just enough room for both her and Bendy to squeeze inside and hide.

There were a few knotholes in the wood that were just big enough to serve as little peepholes, Bendy and Audrey each claiming one to peer out of and wait.

The sound of Lost Ones arguing with each other grew steadily louder. Soon they plodded into sight. Three of them, each armed with something or other. A chunk of pipe, a wooden leg off of some kind of furniture, a broken bottle. They just had to wait for them to pass. They wouldn't even have to fight if they were patient. That was for the best. They'd have to be very quiet, though, they might have to fight if they weren't carefu–

There was whistling.

The trio of Lost Ones fell silent, each exchanging looks. There was whistling coming from the other direction. It became louder and louder.

The whistling became humming. The tune was familiar, but Audrey couldn’t quite place it. She knew that song. Wasn’t it from a Bendy cartoon? One of the ones on a record she’d had as a child? She'd only ever had the one that her grandmother had bought her for her birthday when she'd been seven.

“Sheep, sheep, sheep,” a voice floated down the hall, a warm baritone with an unsettling cadence to it. “It’s time to sleep.”

Bendy shoved his face as far forward into their hiding spot as he could. Trying to get a better look, maybe?

There was a single set of footsteps now. The trio of Lost Ones gripped their weapons.

“Hey!” one shouted. “This is our turf. Back off!”

“Rest your heads,” the voice down the hall continued, growing closer, “it’s time for bed.”

Wait, wasn’t that from–

There was a blur of inky black and one of the Lost Ones had an axe embedded in its skull.

The axe was wrenched free by a tall man with dark skin, dressed in ink-stained pants with suspenders, the hems so soaked in ink it was hard to tell if he was wearing shoes or if his feet were merely soaked in ink. No shirt and an obviously muscular build.

The body of the Lost One that had taken an axe to the face wobbled for a moment before splattering into shapeless ink on the floor. The remaining Lost Ones charged.

The axe wielder sidestepped a wild swing, the chunk of pipe missing by inches. Audrey watched the man with the fire axe spin it around in his hand. He brought it up swiftly, slashing sideways with the spiked back of the weapon, cutting his attacker across one shoulder and clean through their neck. There was a gurgle and the body collapsed into an inky mass.

The masked (masked? Yes, masked, though what kind Audrey couldn’t tell) man took a single step forward, visibly putting a lot of weight on one foot as an anchor and hefting his axe straight down through the last of the trio’s head, the axe’s blade splitting halfway down the Lost One’s inky torso before being reduced to nothing but splattered ink.

The three Lost Ones had been reduced to nothing but globs on the floor in a matter of seconds.

The masked man flicked a splatter of ink from his weapon.

“In the morning, you may wake,” he said, cadence unchanged despite what he’d just done. “Or in the morning, you’ll be dead.”

That was not how that song went. ‘Sheep Songs.’ Audrey recognized it now. It had been on the Bendy sing-along record she'd owned as a kid. But that last line was wrong. And to use it for this ... It made Audrey’s skin crawl.

The masked man turned, Audrey holding her breath. He wore a Bendy mask that looked to be made out of cardboard, part of the mouth punched out but the eyes still intact. 

But he wasn't human. 

It was obvious now that he wasn't in motion. His skin wasn't dark, it was coated with ink, the sheen clear where it caught the light. It was more solid than the Lost Ones, but the shape of his torso wasn't right, more cartoonish in proportions in a way that made it readily apparent there wasn't really a rib cage there. The elbows too, like Allison's, didn't quite bend like there were bones in them. 

A Lost One. A dangerous Lost One, he'd just killed three others with seemingly no trouble. They'd have to stay here until he went away.

Bendy all but threw himself away from the knothole in the wood, straight for the gap between their hiding spot and the wall.

“Bendy!” Audrey exclaimed as quietly as she could manage, trying to smother the word through her teeth.

Bendy ignored her and squeezed out of safety.

What was he doing ? He was going to get hurt! This person was dangerous !

The very real danger of an armed Lost One that had just killed three others didn’t seem to occur to the Toon. Or, if it did, it did nothing to deter him as Audrey stared, frozen to the spot, only able to peer out from her hiding spot in mute horror. 

Bendy ran straight for the masked Lost One, wrapping his arms around the man's leg and clinging like a child running to their parent for comfort after being pushed off a swing set at the park.

Audrey held her breath as the Lost One looked down. She had to do something. Anything . She had to move. Bendy was going to get hurt, she had to–

“...My Lord?” the Lost One uttered.

Lord? Like the one from the ramblings of one of the recordings she’d found?

Bendy looked up. His eyes were brimming with inky tears, visible even from Audrey's hiding spot. He moved his head like he was sniffling.

“My Lord!” the Lost One exclaimed.

The axe was dropped, along with the sack that had been slung over the Lost One's shoulder. He knelt down as Bendy detached himself from the Lost One's leg. 

But instead of hurting him, the Lost One scooped Bendy up into a hug, holding Bendy like one would hold a child that needed to be comforted. Bendy clung to him, shoulders shaking with visible sobs. Whatever the Lost One was saying to him was too soft for Audrey to hear beyond indistinct little murmurs. 

Audrey stared, confused. Bendy clearly knew this Lost One, clearly trusted him. The mask was weird, but could she really judge after everything that she'd been through?

And if Bendy could trust him, she didn't have to be afraid of him, did she...? He'd just killed three Lost Ones without seeming to put in much, if any, effort. 

...

She couldn't leave Bendy, though, even if she was scared.

Clutching her pipe tightly, Audrey squeezed out of the gap between her hiding place and the wall.

The Lost One snapped to attention in an instant, the gaze of the mask directly on her. Audrey stood her ground, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to keep the cardboard gaze.

Bendy lifted his head to look at her, then back at the masked man, and gently tapped him on the shoulder. His apparent gaze shifted and Bendy gave a thumbs up. He seemed to be done crying, but there were little ink tear stains on his face still.

"...If you're sure, my Lord," the man said.

Bendy nodded rapidly. 

The tension dropped from the man's posture somewhat, but his gaze returned to her. It was like the eyes drawn on the mask were staring into her soul.

The tension in the air was palpable. Audrey held her ground and tried her best to keep her expression neutral.

"You are new," the man said at last, the cadence of his voice sent a creeping chill up her spine. "Another one thrown in by the Invader, yes?"

"The... who?" was all Audrey could think to reply.

"The man who calls himself Wilson."

"Oh. I... Yes. I was."

"You are the one he is looking for, then."

Audrey nodded sheepishly.

"He has thrown too many souls into the Machine," the man said, mostly muttering to himself. "That he is so willing to cause others be lost to the ink..."

He shook his head.

"A matter for another time. Do you have any plans to side with him?"

"Side with...?"

"The Invader has amassed a number of individuals willing to fight on his behalf. They aim to take over the entirety of the Machine for their leader. The man who claims to have killed the Ink Demon. He speaks of freeing us from the Demon, not understanding the nature of this world, not understanding that He is not the one that twisted this world into the nightmare it has become."

The man took a step forward and Audrey took one back.

"Do you choose to side with the Invader who speaks only lies?" he asked, Audrey taking another step back at the intensity of his tone. "Or are you willing to listen to the truth?"

Audrey's mouth felt dry. She took another step back, her shoulders bumping into the wall behind her.

Nowhere to run.

She took a deep breath, preparing to have to defend herself. The ink under her skin warmed, preparing to use Banish. She raised a hand and–

Bendy gently bumped the side of his hand into the man's mask.

The man turned his gaze to the little devil.

"My Lord?" the man asked.

Bendy shook his head before gesturing to Audrey. The man's gaze returned to her and seemed to drift downward. It was hard to tell, she could only judge by the mask.

"Ah," he said, and he took a few steps back. "My apologies. My Lord has already given you His blessing."

"Blessing?" Audrey managed.

"His ink."

The man held up one hand. The ink rippled, revealing a gleam of gold for only a moment before the color faded.

Audrey held up her own hand. The gold on the back glowed brighter for a brief moment.

"I don't understand," she said.

"Perhaps I should start from the beginning," the man said. "I am the Prophet of the Ink Demon. I hear his voice and speak his words for all to hear. I–"

Bendy gave the man a pointed look, crossing his arms. The man stared back for a long moment. Bendy looked like he'd be tapping his foot if he was standing, Audrey had drawn nearly that exact pose before.

"...Too much?" the man asked.

Bendy nodded a single time.

"Very well."

The man turned back to Audrey, paused, then sighed.

"My name is Sammy Lawrence."

All of the unsettling cadence went out of his voice at once. Audrey could only stare.

"I used to be the music director for Joey Drew Studios," he continued, though there was audible disgust at uttering the studio's name. "Since my Lord–" 

A gentle tap from Bendy on the side of Sammy's mask.

"Since Bendy has already given you his ink, that means you have done something to prove that you are trustworthy. Where did you find him?"

Sammy? Wait, wasn't that–

"A... A couple of Lost Ones locked him in a room by the animation department," she answered. "I said I'd help him get home after I got him somewhere safer after that. But... Bendy, was this the Sammy you mentioned earlier?"

Bendy nodded.

"The same one from the drawings?"

Another nod.

"Drawings?" the masked man asked.

Audrey tucked her pipe under one arm and reached into her bag, pulling out her sketchbook. She had to flip through a few – a slightly dizzying sensation at all the emotions from thumbing through the pages – before finding one to hold it out.

"Be careful," she said, "when you touch these they–"

The man didn't wait. He took the picture, holding it up and staring at it.

There was silence for a long moment.

"Where did you find this?" he said.

"In a room in Artist's Rest," Audrey said, shrinking back a little bit. "They were drawn by someone named–"

"Henry. Henry Stein."

"How did you...?"

"His realism hasn't changed much since the last time I saw him draw something other than cartoons. Though this... Whatever this is, is new."

"The..." Audrey didn't know how to describe it, she could only gesture at the page with her free hand.

"That, yes. Flattering that it appears that he may still think of me fondly after all these years. And after all the things I've done to him here."

He handed the drawing back and Audrey tucked it away along with the sketchbook.

"Those drawings are of the man I used to be, yes," he said. "But that man died a long time ago."

Bendy gently tapped the side of Sammy's mask.

"I did die in '48, my Lord," the man said stiffly.

Bendy tapped the side of his mask again.

"I am not retracting that statement."

Bendy rolled his eyes, glancing at Audrey with the air of 'can you believe this guy?' It was a little levity in a situation that didn't at all call for it, but it helped ease Audrey's fears a little. If Bendy wasn't taking this man completely seriously, she didn't have to either, did she?

Sammy – it felt weird to tie such a normal name to a face she couldn't even see – sighed.

"Regardless," he said. "It seems that my Lord has given you His blessing, so that means he is willing to trust you. As such, I will extend you the courtesy."

That odd cadence was sliding back into his voice.

"Rest assured, little sheep, I will not harm you."

Sheep...?

Audrey settled for just nodding.

"Though I am surprised to see that you are still human. Few retain their humanity for long in this place. Their apparent humanity, at least. Though from what I have been told, Wilson has not been feeding anyone through the gears as the Liar had."

Audrey winced. 'Fed through the gears.' She didn't want to think of what that actually entailed.

"Although... may I see your hand for a moment?" he asked.

"I... don't know if that's a good idea," Audrey answered.

She flexed her fingers. The marks on the back glowed a little brighter.

"The golden ink is a gift from our Lord," Sammy assured her, something in his tone soft despite how much his cadence unsettled her, something about it was just wrong in a way she couldn't quite put into words. "It is His blessing, it would never harm either of us."

He held out one of his own hands, the one that he wasn't currently supporting Bendy with.

Four fingers.

He flexed his fingers into a fist and a few trails of gold rippled across it, holding for longer than the last time, Audrey just barely able to make out the shape of music notes before it dimmed and vanished.

Bendy gave Sammy a look of obvious concern.

"I... will explain later, my Lord," he said. "I promise. The Invader has eyes in far too many places to speak of it here."

Bendy nodded, though he didn't quite seem convinced.

Slowly, Audrey held out her own hand.

Sammy gently set Bendy down, the little devil going to Audrey's side and leaning up against one of her legs. The weight was reassuring. It helped.

The masked man – how could he see anything? – carefully investigated the golden markings, one hand holding her arm steady while the other traced the golden lines with a finger.

"These patterns are... new to me," he said. "No one has received a gift like this before."

Even if he had killed three Lost Ones with little apparent effort, his touch was surprisingly gentle. It was careful, as if she was made of fine china.

He gently turned her hand over, running a finger over the swirls of gold on her palm.

"And you've met Porter," he observed. "His version of the gift is strong with very distinct swirls, though why his is so distinctive I couldn't say. He passes it on quite freely to those who he thinks need it."

"You know Porter?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Not particularly well. The man is capricious on a good day, but he's exceedingly helpful when he chooses to be. The other markings are new, though. Have you discovered what they do yet?"

"It's called Banish. It... destroys Lost Ones."

"Hm. Few things can truly destroy us as we are now. Are you certain?"

"W-Well, there was... This is going to sound insane."

"Please, speak freely."

He was still holding her hand. Somehow, it made him less intimidating. He was genuinely listening to her patiently and he hadn't tried to hurt her or Bendy yet, so...

"There was... a voice. In my head, I mean. It said to 'use it to return those that would harm us back to the Dark Puddles.'"

It had been awful and– Wait, Bendy had used that term before. It meant the ink. The ink full of voices.

"A very useful tool," Sammy appraised with a nod, gently closing Audrey's fingers into a fist. "And the voice you heard was the voice of our Lord."

"Lord?"

"The Ink Demon."

"But I thought Wilson killed the Ink Demon."

"Wilson lied, though any who knows this world knows better than to believe him. The Ink Demon is alive. This realm is His and it will not be so easily destroyed."

"But isn't the Ink Demon dangerous?"

"He is the strongest force in all of the Machine, but He will not harm you."

"How do you know that?" How could anyone, if it was a monster that attacked anything, or anyone, it saw?

"If He wanted to harm you, He would not have given you His ink."

"But... he didn't. Bendy did."

Sammy looked from Audrey to Bendy. The little devil bowed his head.

"...Should I tell her, my Lord?"

Bendy, very slowly, nodded.

"Tell me what?" Audrey asked.

"The Ink Demon," Sammy said, "is with us now."

"I don't–"

Wait.

Audrey looked down at Bendy. He wasn't looking at her, but one of his hands was carefully clinging to the hem of her sweater.

There was no way. The thing from Henry's drawings had been... terrifying. Awful. A twisted cartoon around a semblance of a human skeleton. There was no way that could be...

"Bendy?"

Slowly, Bendy nodded.

Chapter Text

There was no way.

Bendy's grip didn't leave the hem of Audrey's sweater, but he didn't look up at her. 

He couldn't be the Ink Demon. Could he? Allison said that the Ink Demon killed anything that moved. Bendy wasn't like that though. Bendy was sweet. Bendy had helped her, comforted her, had–

...Had killed the Lost One that had killed her. 

But that couldn't be right. Bendy hadn't been twisted like the Butcher Gang had been. He...

I ain't a good guy, Audrey. Don't let the cute face fool ya.

When Joey made the Ink Demon, he made a monster that couldn’t speak.

The Butcher Gang had all been twisted. The Butcher Gang were the only other Toons she'd seen.

Henry had drawn the Ink Demon. Henry had drawn the monster he'd encountered. That had pursued him through some kind of time loop. Had possibly killed him.

Maybe even more than once. 

But the pages of the Ink Demon held emotions of anger and frustration. Not at the Ink Demon, but at something, or someone, else.

Henry had gone back for Bendy. Not the Ink Demon, Bendy. Even as Wilson said that he'd killed the Ink Demon.

The horrible voice in her head. The rumbling voice in the ink.

"Only our Lord’s voice can guide a soul back from the inky sea!"

Bendy...

"Are... you really the Ink Demon?" she managed.

Bendy nodded but didn't look back up at her.

"Do you... really kill anything that moves?"

Bendy started shaking his head, then paused, then started to nod, then stopped again.

"It is... complicated," Sammy said. "My Lord has harmed many, but not all of his own free will."

"Free will...? Wait. Henry's tape said something about a script?"

Bendy visibly shuddered.

"The Script, yes." How could Audrey hear the capital letter in that? "The will of the Liar that puppeteered us all until it broke when the Invader arrived."

"So Bendy hurt people, but not because he wanted to?"

"Some of them."

That didn't mean all of them, but it made Audrey feel a little better.

"So what is the Ink Demon?"

"He is the strongest force in all the Studio. This realm was His creation before the Liar snatched it away from Him and twisted a dream into a nightmare."

Sammy sounded kind of like a preacher, Audrey was starting to realize, though she had only been to a handful of church services (her father had never really approved of religion in general), his words slowly gaining more intensity. 

Strangely, Audrey found her attention being tugged along with his words.

"He is the one that blesses us with the gift of the golden ink. It is His will by which we are protected from the Liar's influence as best He can. It is by His will that we have a safe haven far removed from the turmoil of the rest of this world. He is strength, He is hope. And one day He shall set. Us. Free. Now, can I get an amen?"

Audrey couldn't quite bring herself to say the world aloud, but she mouthed it. Sammy's words were mesmerizing, she couldn't quite explain how, they just... were.

"The Ink Demon has caused great harm, yes, but you are not on the Liar's side, nor the Invader's. You are not with Gent, nor any other who are responsible for doing our Lord harm. With the Script broken, we are not enemies because we have been written to be so. He has already given you His ink. If you wish, you may join us. Come with me, little sheep, and I shall bring you to safety."

"Sheep?"

The word felt so out of place that it knocked Audrey right out of the slight daze she'd started to fall into. 

"I am a shepherd to a flock, after all," Sammy replied simply. 

"And Gent? The elevator company?"

"They are still around, then. That is... unfortunate. They are far, far more than that. Do not trust any who count themselves among their number."

"I... don't get it. Bendy's... not a monster?"

"Monstrous, yes, but I have seen true monsters with my own eyes. He is not one of them."

"Really?"

"Monsters wear the skins of men, in my experience."

"Oh." 

That... didn't really explain anything. She wasn't sure she could really trust Sammy's opinion on this. He didn't seem to be quite all there.

"He doesn't look like the drawings did, though."

"That... I cannot explain."

Bendy held his free hand over one eye. 

"The Invader."

Sammy's tone was dark. Dangerous.

Bendy visibly shuddered.

"You do not have to recount what happened now, my Lord. Let us go home."

"Home?"

"Of course. As close as we can get to it here, at least."

"Oh. I... did promise to get Bendy home." Which meant where Sammy lived, if she was understanding everything right.

"Then you are quite fortunate, for our Lord lives among His Flock. And we have had a few new additions as of late, so one more soul among our numbers is something we are well prepared for."

New additions? Wait.

"Do you know any of their names?"

Please no. Let her be wrong.

"Of the new arrivals? From most recent, that would be Max, Cassidy, and Jason. They all arrived over the past few months, if the Invader's gratingly consistent broadcasts are even the slightest bit accurate. Do you know of them?"

Audrey felt her heart drop into her stomach.

"From ArchGate Pictures," she managed, feeling sick. "They're from the animation department."

"...Correct," Sammy said slowly. "And you are, little sheep?"

"Audrey. I'm the director for ArchGate's animation department."

"Ah. They have spoken of you before."

"Really?"

"They were worried about you, as well as their other coworkers. Given there is no way to know where one's point of entry into the machine seems to be..."

"...Oh."

Her coworkers... Wilson had thrown them in. They hadn't gone missing, they really had been thrown in here. She'd been right. She hated being right.

And she'd never thought to look into it. She'd never asked questions, never pushed, never even tried to contact them beyond a handful of phone calls. She felt ill.

Sammy held out a hand.

"Come with me, little sheep. Let us go home. It is a bit of a walk, but I will answer every last question you have once we are safe."

Audrey looked down at Bendy, who wasn't meeting her gaze. 

She settled a hand between his horns and he, finally, looked up at her.

"We'll talk about it later, okay, Bendy?" she said.

Bendy, slowly, nodded. He finally released his grip on her sweater and scooted over to Sammy, who scooped him up easily in one arm.

"Would you mind carrying our supplies, little sheep?" Sammy asked. "I will defend us, if need be."

Audrey, slowly, nodded, and picked up the sack that Sammy had been carrying. It wasn't very heavy. Sammy hefted his axe and kept it in his free hand.

He led the way down the hall, Audrey trailing after him.

She had no idea what was going on, but... her coworkers. Bendy might have been some kind of monster, but he hadn't hurt her. She'd already promised to trust him. And she would, she'd promised. And her coworkers. Her coworkers were with Sammy. He... might have been a little crazy, but Bendy trusted him. And her coworkers were with him.

And it sounded like she'd maybe, finally, get some real answers.

So she followed Sammy down the hall.

Toward the direction labeled 'sewer access.'

Why the sewers were the way forward Audrey couldn't guess, but she followed Sammy nonetheless. Through a gate, down a short access ladder, and into an oversized pipe directly into the sewers.

It didn’t smell, at least, but Audrey was still slogging through thin, watery ink up to her knees, trying to keep up with Sammy's steady pace. The man seemed undaunted by the ink, Bendy carefully supported in one arm while his axe was held in the other. 

There were whispers in Audrey’s ears, but they were so faint that she couldn’t even begin to make out any of the words. It had to be the ink. It... She didn't really want to think about it. No wonder the Lost Ones didn't want to set foot in the stuff, it was close enough to like being in the ink after dying that she felt like she might be sick if she opened her mouth to try and say anything.

She put her attention entirely on Sammy and slogged forward through the ink anyway, doing her best to ignore the whispering. She hoped he actually knew where he was going, she didn't want to get lost in here. She couldn't begin to guess at how Sammy had any idea of where to go when everything looked more or less the same, ink and giant pipes and the occasional metal grate or fence blocking off one section or another.

She also didn’t understand how he could slog through the ink without slowing down. The ink was frigid and she could feel her completely ink drenched socks squishing in her shoes with every step. It was awful. Not nearly the worst thing she'd endured in this place, but she wasn't enjoying it in the slightest.

The sewers flowed steadily downward, the tunnels abruptly growing wider. With... spiders drawn on the walls? Spiders didn’t have human-like teeth, though.

“The Invader has made a number of attempts at creating life,” Sammy said, clearly noticing Audrey staring at the strange art on the walls. “One of which were spider-like creatures we call Ink Widows.”

Bendy visibly shuddered, expression contorting in disgust. 

“One of the Lost Ones," Sammy continued, "managed to kill the largest one, the Widow King. He immediately declared himself Lord, which my Flock took offense to. The tension between our factions was quite intense for some time, but we agreed to a truce. We’d conceded our territory in the sewers here in exchange for unobstructed passage.”

“Territory?”

This was a cartoon studio. A hellish, twisted version of one, but still. With how horrible this place was, shouldn’t people here be sticking together and trying to help each other? 

“Ever since the Invader came and broke the Loop," Sammy said, as if reading her mind. “Those of us who are trapped within this world have taken to forming factions out of necessity. My Flock – those who are loyal to the Ink Demon – existed long before the other factions. Before whatever the Invader did to the ink dragged the Lost Ones out of their despair and misery only to replace it with senseless rage.”

Wilson had done that? How? Why? She wanted to believe it was an accident, something that had gone wrong, but there were too many things stacking up. Kidnapping her coworkers, hurting Bendy... She didn't understand why he was doing any of it, but the effects were becoming very clear very quickly.

“Our territory,” Sammy continued, “encompasses the cave system below the studio. We once held territory in the music department in the Old Studio, but the Invader’s forces drove us into the depths.”

“That’s horrible,” was all Audrey could think to say.

Sammy nodded, but something about it felt a bit absent-minded, as if it was a reflexive sort of movement. 

“We have endured before this, we shall endure now. That said, there are other factions you must be aware of, for they are dangerous. There are the Followers of Amok who control the sewers. So long as you are with me, they are no danger to you. There are a handful of rumors of some that have managed to retain some sense of sanity attempting to form a rebellion somewhere, but they have yet to make any move to claim territory, so their truth is dubious. There are also the Angel’s followers. Supposedly they’ve taken to calling themselves ‘Alice’s Angels’ as of late.”

The distaste in his voice was readily apparent.

“The Invader’s forces drove them out of Heavenly Toys as we were driven from the music department. From what I have heard, they have established themselves within the city in retaliation from being driven out of the studio.”

A city. Henry had mentioned a city. Alice, though... She wasn't a cartoon. She was human, an attempt to make a real cartoon Alice. Had she turned out more like Bendy, or was she twisted like the Butcher Gang.

“We haven't dared try to contest them for territory," Sammy continued. "We would be outnumbered between the Invader's forces and the Angel's. Those who haven't managed to keep their minds that align with neither attack anyone they see on sight. The city itself is too unstable to risk venturing into, though the earthquakes seem to have subsided. The Invader's additions to the ink are too unstable, yet he has somehow managed to keep his fortress intact."

“Fortress?” What was Wilson doing?

“They call it the old Gent building. It is an echo of a horrid place, though not one I know first hand."

Gent again. They were just an elevator company, weren't they?

"Why would–" Audrey began.

Bendy held up a hand. Sammy stopped in his tracks. Audrey did as well, falling silent at the sudden stop.

There was splashing down one of the adjacent tunnels. Footsteps. And a lot of them.

“Stay behind me and say nothing,” Sammy said in a low voice.

Audrey nodded. Sammy stood his ground and simply waited. They weren't going to run? Were they going to fight? No, that couldn't be it. Sammy said that he had an agreement with the Lost Ones that lived down here. Maybe he was just supposed to let them know he was passing through?

Five Lost Ones splashed and trudged into view, each wearing some kind of strange headgear that vaguely resembled the legs of a spider, but there were only four legs on their heads, not eight.

“It’s just the Prophet,” one of the group said. “I told you it wasn’t an intruder.”

“And which one of us is captain?” a second retorted. “I heard voices, so I get to say we need to investigate.”

“As if anyone’s dumb enough to try and get past us.”

Sammy cleared his throat. The bickering Lost Ones paused and looked at him.

“May we pass?” the masked man asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” the apparent captain groused. 

“Hey, what’s with the Toon?” a third said, pointing at Bendy.

The little devil waved.

“My Lord can take on a number of different shapes,” Sammy replied stiffly.

“Didn’t know the Ink Demon did cute,” said a fourth Lost One.

“Hey, if I could get someone to carry me so I didn’t have to walk through this stuff, I’d do the same thing,” said the fifth.

The fourth Lost One that had spoken edged forward cautiously. Sammy simply nodded and the Lost One pat Bendy carefully on one horn. The little demon’s content little smile was heart-meltingly adorable.

“Man, Drew really screwed the pooch on this one, huh?” said the third Lost One. 

There were nods and scattered agreements. Audrey blinked. The more she seemed to hear about Joey Drew, the worse the man sounded. She understood the hatred, at least. He'd trapped everyone here. Intentionally, if she was understanding things correctly.

“I wouldn’t show the guy that I could do cute either if it was me,” said the fourth Lost One before finally taking a few steps back away from Bendy. “If I could’a eaten his face off before I got chucked in here, I’d have done it.”

There were more nods of agreement. Everyone here really did hate Joey Drew. It was difficult to imagine the man whose work she'd spent her entire life caring about as someone who was willing to do such horrible things.

“May we pass?” Sammy asked again, sounding bored but his one was drifting in the direction of irritation.

“Yeah, yeah,” said the captain. His glowing gaze drifted over to Audrey. “Dragging a new recruit home, huh? She still looks mostly human.”

Audrey’s grip tightened around the sack she was carrying. 

“The Invader does seem to be intent on adding to our collective ranks,” Sammy replied, annoyance seeping into his tone. “And before any of you get any ideas, she’s already been blessed by my Lord.”

“We don’t need any newbies anyway,” the captain said dismissively. 

“Everyone says they want to join until they find out what initiation is,” said the first Lost One that had spoken.

“Exactly,” said the captain. “Now beat it.”

“Gladly,” replied Sammy.

Sammy slogged onward, Audrey following close behind him.

She had so many questions. It felt like the more time she spent in the place the less sense it made. But Sammy had said he'd answer her questions. She really, really hoped he could.

For now, all she could do was follow Sammy to wherever it was that he, and Bendy, it seemed, considered to be home.

There was one question she wanted to ask as soon as the Followers of Amok were out of earshot.

“What’s the initiation?” she asked.

“Eating Ink Widow flesh,” Sammy answered.

Bendy’s face screwed up in disgust. Audrey felt her stomach slosh in nausea.

“Why?”

“One part ritual, one part utility.”

“ Utility?! ”

“The Invader has done something to the ink, perhaps to the Puddles in its entirety. As far as we can tell, it seems to be the Paint, the color where none is meant to exist in this world. I have seen very few coated in it, but those that are have lost all their reasoning. It is possible that it is in the ink itself, causing those that once kept to themselves in their misery to turn violent."

Like the Lost One dripping color, glowing neon against inky black.

"None of the Flock have succumbed to it. Neither have the Followers of Amok, or the Angel's followers. Our Lord's ink grants us protection from however the Invader is spreading his poison. Ah, here we are.”

There were raised concrete sections in this portion of the tunnel, along with a long metal ladder. Sammy wasted no time in stepping up out of the ink.

“Drop the supplies once I’m all the way down, as well as my axe,” Sammy said, handing her the weapon and shifting Bendy so that the demon could cling to his back like a little monkey. “And keep a tight grip on the ladder on the way down.”

Audrey nodded and did just that, seeing why Sammy wanted the supplies dropped and not carried. It was a long ladder, but once she heard the sound of Sammy’s boots thudding down the ladder one step at a time finally stopped. She put the axe into the bag and dropped it rather than let the weapon fall while it was out and loose. There were no complaints shouted back up at her, so he must have been at the bottom to have caught them. She didn’t dare look down to check, staring straight down made her dizzy from the distance.

All she could do was climb down after him and very pointedly not look down while she did so.

Down below, once her feet were back on solid ground again, was a cave. An honest to god cave. There were stalactites (or was it stalagmites?) hanging from the ceiling, what looked to have been a natural river carved out over countless years, though the water had been replaced by ink. The cave held some man-made supports, but they still looked as drawn as anything else. It was staggering to see something that looked organic after so many hours spent navigating maze-like hallways.

There was also no way to continue once Audrey reached the bottom of the ladder, they were just on a chunk of rocky floor with nowhere to go, Bendy once again being carried by Sammy in one arm.

“Be patient,” Sammy said before Audrey could ask a question. “Simply watch me.”

Audrey did, staying quiet. Sammy turned to face the inky river and whistled. Not casually, but a tune. Bendy’s theme tune. But why?

There was a sloshing in the river. Audrey stepped a little bit closer to Sammy. She didn’t hear any motors, so he wasn’t calling for a boat. So–

A giant hand rose out of the ink.

Audrey scrambled backwards, fumbling at her bag for her pipe. 

It was massive. A giant four-fingered hand in a white glove with a black arm descending into the river. Oh god, how big was whatever it was attached to? It was going to squish them, wasn’t it? No, no she didn't want to die again!

“Audrey.”

Sammy’s voice was like a bell through her panicked thoughts. He... wasn’t panicking. He was just standing there, patiently staring at her as she gripped her only means of defending herself, knuckles nearly white as she gripped the chunk of old pipe.

“This,” Sammy said, tone calm and voice even, “is the Hand in the Ink. While it may be surprising in appearance, it is harmless so long as you do not attempt to harm it.”

“You... You can't be serious," Audrey said, staring not at him, but the thing in the inky water.

“I could not be more so if I tried, little sheep. Here, I will show you.”

Sammy turned back to the giant cartoon hand.

“Greetings, o Hand in the Ink,” the masked man said. “There are three of us that need passage back to the Lost Harbor. Can you ferry us there?”

The giant hand gave a thumbs up.

Audrey was fairly certain she could feel her brain stall for a moment.

More so when the hand lowered itself, palm up right over the rocky ground. Sammy stepped onto the hand. Bendy wiggled a bit until he was set down. He sat himself down on the palm of the hand, legs criss-crossed like a child watching Saturday morning cartoons, and gave Audrey a thumbs up.

She couldn’t think of anything to say.

Sammy extended a hand. The only thing she could do was walk forward and accept the help up.

“My Flock and the Hand have an agreement,” Sammy explained as Audrey sat down beside Bendy, not daring to try to stand in case the hand moved. “The paddle boats left abandoned down here from the Bendyland project churn the ink too much. It ferries us through the river in exchange for songs and not using the boats. And do not ask where the Hand came from. Not even the Hand itself knows.”

The hand wiggled a thumb like it was trying to nod.

“Now then, what to sing... Ah, I know just the thing.”

Sammy took a deep breath and sang what was from one of the old cartoons. It took her a second before it clicked. It was from ‘Black Sheep.’ She’d always wished that one had a better ending. Bendy got chased out from the flock of sheep after the sheep he’d painted black ended up taking over the flock. Why couldn’t they have just been friends?

(Why had Bendy’s cartoons always been so cruel to the poor little demon? He never did anything wrong in them. Pranked Boris occasionally, sure, sometimes made Alice mad, but he’d never done anything to deserve half of the things that happened to him. Even if Joey Drew hadn't been the one to design Bendy, why did the cartoons need to be so cruel to him?)

And with the song the Hand started steadily moving down the inky river and into a tunnel.

Audrey gripped her pipe, having something to defend herself with made her feel at least a little better. Bendy scooted next to her and tucked himself against her side. She... Maybe this would be okay. Maybe things would work out.

She couldn't think about what would happen if they didn't.

Chapter Text

With nowhere to go and nothing else to do, Audrey could only spend the journey down the inky underground river thinking.

There was so much to think about. It was all awful as well. Her coworkers hadn't quit, they were trapped in another world with no way out. How many of them were Lost Ones? Searchers? Were any of them stuck in the ink as voices? Was there any way to save them from that?

And Sammy. She didn't know what to make of him at all. He called himself the Prophet, meaning he had to be the same voice she'd heard on that tape drumming a group of Lost Ones into a frenzy to fight the Lost One's on Wilson's side. He was the one the demon follower had thought she had been, the one pinned to the wall and begging for death.

She'd been trying not to think about that. Her stomach did a worrying roll every time the memory resurfaced. She'd killed them. Even if they'd been begging for death, seeking comfort from the man presently singing to pay for passage through the tunnels from a giant cartoon hand. Asking to be killed rather than be trapped in agony. 

And then there was the ink. Audrey looked down at her hand, the glowing gold symbols on the back of it. 'His Ink' the dying Lost One had called it, as much as she didn't want to revisit the memory. The Ink Demon. The voice that called her back out of the Well.

Bendy was saving people. Trusted enough that someone was willing to die knowing they'd be able to get out of the ink because of it.

The Ink Demon couldn't be bad, then. Bendy was saving people. Saving them in this horrible, awful world. And Sammy was involved in that, somehow. 

Could she just ask? Should she?

Audrey waited until Sammy finished singing before speaking up.

"Can I... ask you something?" she said.

"Of course, little sheep," Sammy replied.

"Where are we going?"

"To our home, our sanctuary. It is not much, but it is ours. We call it Lost Harbor."

What a sad name.

"You do not need to be afraid, little sheep. The Flock will not harm you."

"Flock? As in... a religious one?" 

"Of a sort, little sheep. Not one that expects adherence, though. It is a comfort. I was raised with religion a long, long time ago. A faith that required mandatory piety before an uncaring god that expected everything but gave nothing in return. An uncaring god that called for those who were different to be either harmed or cast out, shamed before the pulpit to be brought to change or culled from the herd."

He took a deep breath, a low exhale. 

"I escaped that faith's poisonous claws long ago, but I remember what it can give. The sense of purpose that it can give. There are no gods from the world above here, if there were any ever to begin with."

Audrey stared up at Sammy, who had turned to face her, one hand on the giant hand's thumb to keep his balance. Her grandmother's church hadn't been anything like it, but... maybe there was a reason that her father had never been interested in getting anywhere near a church, let alone attend a service or even a potluck.

"Before it all changed, the only 'higher power' allowed in the studio was Joey Drew himself. He was well known for bursting in at inopportune moments, hovering to demand unnecessary changes, not letting anyone have any room to breathe as he expected perfection but could not even draw a simple circle unassisted. But not in my department. No. He was not allowed to set foot in my department without my agreement. The one power I had kept him away. The music department was protected. I knew the look in the eyes of my band then as I knew it now: reverence. To follow me was to be safe. They knew I would not allow the Liar's presence, that I would defend them if need be, that I would be willing to do whatever had to be done to ensure that everyone was paid, that the sick would have time to recover, that those infirmed by the war would not be cast out because of it. Prayer meant nothing, action did."

Sammy's head lowered slightly. Audrey wished she could see his face.

"Fitting that it was my department that was the first to fall apart. The ink that ran through the pipes bent to the Liar's will. It was poison, straight from the heart of the Machine. It muddled minds, destroying from the inside out. The Machine's ink tried to kill me, once. I nearly drowned from it. A 'pressure failure' they called it. Gallons upon gallons of ink that would have drowned me. But my Lord saved me. His gift... changed me. It was unpleasant at the time, but I would have died without it. To be changed from the inside out was horrible at the time, but I am grateful for it."

"Changed...?"

"Human lungs cannot breathe ink. But my Lord's ink is powerful. It can change. It can save ."

Sammy put a hand to his chest.

"To feel one's lungs replaced with ink that can breathe what would have killed me was not a pleasant experience. But it saved me. And when the ink from the Machine began to take my mind from me, I fed that ink, the gift already trying to keep me alive. But the stores of clean ink ran dry, replaced with the ink from the Machine. It robbed me of my mind, my senses. It forced me to follow the Liar's Script in its earliest draft. It forced me to kill."

One hand tightened into a fist. He exhaled, tension slowly leaving his shoulders.

"It nearly caused me to kill someone I cared for. I was not strong enough to stop the other ones. It tried to force me to kill children. Teenagers. Too curious for their own good, too young to be involved in any of this..."

Sammy's voice grew distant. Audrey's thoughts were swimming, remembering the horrible feeling of ink sliding around under her skin. It sloshed in her fingers nauseatingly, a reminder. Having it inside of her arm was bad enough, she couldn't imagine having it replace her organs .

But Bendy had saved Sammy, if he was telling the truth. Was it better to live, changed, or die?

"That was long ago, now. One of the teenagers was clever. She stopped me. When the Liar found me, found that I had failed him, I was run through the gears. My body was destroyed, and I was left with... this." He gestured to himself. "This inky abyss I am forced to call a body. I could not return to my normal life after that, even if the Liar's Script faltered with no place for me at that moment. I was forced to hide within the depths of the studio until my Lord made this place to hide us from the Liar. The Liar and those that were loyal to him. We hid and more and more souls were fed to the Machine. To attain a glory that never happened. To cover up the Liar's actions, to try and create an impossible perfection. Perfect cartoon characters. Living, breathing cartoons, all to staff a theme park."

"Bendyland," Audrey breathed.

She remembered it being announced. Remembered that it never came to be, how excited she'd been for it as a child. Joey Drew had...

Sammy nodded. "In his pursuit of perfection, he became unafraid to try to use souls, convinced that my Lord was nothing but a soulless thing when He was created from the Machine in a form that the Liar deemed less than ideal. So he killed to hide what he had done. Killed to hide that the money was running out, that the investors were leaving when they saw the blood in the water. Killed to hide the truth behind his actions, behind the experiments into the ink that he and Gent attempted. And the more he killed, the more souls were damned to this inky hell. My band were among the first he sacrificed. They knew it was his doing that I disappeared. More and more they were thrown into this world. Lost. Confused. Despairing. And despair drags you into the Ink. Without some reason to cling to hope, they were becoming lost. And I knew them. Remembered them. Remembered their names and places in a place where the ink tries to rob you of your identity, everything you ever are or ever were. I remembered that look in their eyes. Reverence. Trust. Devotion. And I remembered words that came to me while the ink was trying to turn my mind against itself."

His head angled up, his entire posture made him seem, for a brief moment, larger than life. Audrey couldn't help but hang off his every word.

"I was allowed to survive because of my Lord's ink. I survived, I endured. I had hope and His voice to guide me. The Liar once joked that my band was willing to worship me if I told them to do so. I had no interest in worship, but I remembered what it could do for those who needed it, who needed something beyond themselves to cling to. And so I remembered one statement that was crammed into my mind by the Liar and took it for my own: 'Why please a man when you can please a god?'"

He waved an arm, a grandiose gesture, and yet it fit with his words. Perfectly so.

"And was the Ink Demon not a god? He provided for us a place of safety. He provided us a world where we would never run out of food, where the Liar could not truly kill us. He gave us our sanctuary far from the Liar's influence, even as the Liar's will twisted this world from our Lord's vision, His dream of safety into a living nightmare of despair. He could save a life. He could guide a soul from the Ink. Was he not a god? It was such a simple conclusion when I realized it. Why not revere that which protected us, that which was willing to save us? Why not worship a god who would listen? Who could demand anything and yet demanded nothing at all? It was so simple, especially after my Lord granted me a means with which to see when the Liar robbed me of my sight."

Sammy touched a hand, reverently, to the edge of his mask.

"Why not worship the Ink Demon? Not mandatorily, no, for I know the scars left by the demand to pray and prostrate. Simply agree that He is the strongest power within this world. He shall save us. One day, He shall set us free. I was already granted a grand gift, the ability to hear His voice. So I took the mantle of Prophet, the one who would speak His words where no other could hear Him. And many agreed. And through our belief, we were granted a great boon."

Sammy held up a hand. A little dance of golden light rippled across his inky skin.

"We prayed and thus we were granted the golden ink. We were granted Flow and its variations that we may traverse this place in more safety, as little as there can be safety here. Our Lord is powerful, but the Liar still traps us here. But the Liar is only human. One day, we shall leave this place. One day, He shall set us free. And until then, we have the hope the promise of freedom brings. When despair threatens to drown us, the Ink Demon gives us hope. With our belief, we are kept from drowning in our own sorrow. And so I lead the Flock and keep our hope that we may someday leave this world and return to our old lives."

Audrey couldn't find the words to reply with. Bendy gently gave one of her arms a little headbutt of reassurance.

It was awful, but... Sammy was trying to help, by the sound of it. It didn't sound quite so crazy to worship a demon now. Even if it was just trying to cling to some kind of sense of hope, of purpose in this horrible world.

"And speaking of the Flock," Sammy said, turning to face the direction they were traveling in. "We have returned home at last."

Audrey followed his gaze. Among the seemingly endless tunnel was some kind of a little shack up on stilts? It looked like it wasn't much bigger than a shed, but there was light coming from the inside. There was a low wooden dock built just above the waterline leading to it, but Audrey didn't see a place to climb up.

The cave rounded a corner, the dock following the side of the wall. There were gaps in places, some that were several feet wide, like it had simply had sections fall apart and never replaced.

Audrey's eyes went wide. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, not really. Maybe a couple of makeshift tents, some repurposed office chairs. But not this .

It was a village. An entire civilization deep beneath the studio. 

The construction of the buildings was rather rough, clearly formed from sheets of scrap metal and recovered wood from the studio above, but it seemed sturdy enough. A dock led from the water to the edge of the rocky shore. There were more buildings than Audrey could easily count, some multiple floors high, some appearing to be built right into the walls as the cavern was more open here, towering high overhead. There were lights on inside some of the windows, smoke curling out of makeshift chimneys in a few houses.

It reminded Audrey a bit of a collection of photos she'd seen at a museum once. It had been a collection of photographs of the Hooverville that had popped up in Central Park in the early 30s before it had been torn down by the city. It hadn't been anything on that scale, but the buildings here looked a lot like those, ramshackle but still built to look like real houses. Her grandmother had told her about seeing it in person once, watching the people stay there trying to pick mulberries from the trees for food. Seeing it in person was a thousand times worse.

"We call it Lost Harbor," Sammy said. "For though we are lost, we have found shelter from the storm. Here, we are safe in the sanctuary our Lord has provided for us. It may not be much, but it is ours."

"Did you build this?" 

"The Flock has built this together, yes. We've been able to build it up quite a lot in the absence of the Script. Little mercies."

The hand slowed to a stop at the dock – it looked surprisingly well maintained, all things considered, even with a makeshift sort of street lamp made from old pipes and a sodium light, the entire cavern was lit up with enough lights that it felt remarkably cozy for being so far underground – and lowered itself into the water enough that it was just above the dock itself.

Sammy stepped onto the dock with ease, extending a hand. Audrey took it, the bit of extra balance helpful in getting down from such an awkwardly shaped thing. Bendy just hopped from the hand to the dock, his little shoes clacking on the dock boards.

"Stay behind me," Sammy instructed. "You are new, and we the Flock are cautious of those that they don't know. With good reason, unfortunately. Given how much sound carries through the tunnels, they doubtless heard your voice as we were speaking. They are harmless so long as you do not raise a hand in threat, but stay behind me until I can introduce you."

Audrey nodded, trying to swallow down her fear. Her pipe was in her bag. She was unarmed. It would be fine, right?

Bendy reached up and gave one of Audrey's hands a squeeze. She squeezed his hand back. 

Even if Bendy was the monster Allison had told her about, he wasn't bad. A real monster wouldn't try to comfort someone that needed it.

He gave her a thumbs up before trotting over to Sammy's side and the Prophet led the way.

There was a symbol drawn on the cavern's wall at the end of the dock, the same as the one that Bendy had pulled her out of. Scrawled on a makeshift fence right beside it, where the dock met the rocky cavern floor, was a rather eerie message.

DOWN HERE WE'RE ALL SINNERS.

Sammy kept walking, so Audrey did her best to ignore it. There were similar messages scrawled here and there on different makeshift houses – each house, she noted, had its door shut, some with light leaking out from under it, all the windows, if there were any, shuttered.

IT'S TIME TO BELIEVE

THE CREATOR LIED TO US

WE SURVIVE

THE INVADER SHALL FALL

HE WILL SET US FREE

The last one had the words 'HE WILL RETURN' scrawled all around it, looking like multiple different people had written the same thing. There were a few doodles of the outline of Bendy's head crammed into some of the gaps between words.

There were inky handprints scattered on the walls, four-fingered hands of different shapes and sizes. It was all... Audrey wasn't sure. Eerie? Sad? Unsettling for sure.

And, as they moved further into the village, a shack at the far end of the space became easily visible. One covered in those inky handprints on scraps of paper, candles lit up along the makeshift porch. An old and tattered curtain covered the doorway. And it had a large board across the top of it with two words scrawled on it.

NOT MONSTERS

People lived here, Audrey realized, feeling a little sick. People, reduced to living underground, living by sodium bulbs and candlelight. Turned into inky monsters, but declaring otherwise.

And this was Bendy's home?

Sammy stopped in what looked to be the center of the makeshift village. It was completely silent. Audrey looked around slowly. A few of the shutters on the houses were open to little cracks, a few with glowing eyes just barely visible in them.

"It is alright, my Flock," Sammy called into the silence of the village. "I have returned with another who was cast into this world. And I come bearing the greatest news we have heard in a long, long time."

More shutters cracked open, some of them squeaking quite obviously. Dozens of glowing eyes appeared in the windows.

Lost Ones. Dozens of them. Hundreds, maybe. All of the buildings seemed to be filled with them. She was in danger here. They all were.

And yet Bendy didn't seem to notice at all. He was just standing at Sammy's side, head raised, posture a little bit tense, but he didn't look scared. Just determined.

"Prophet...?"

A voice floated out from a nearby house, low and hesitant.

"All is well, my sheep," Sammy replied. "The Invader's lies shall poison our thoughts no more."

There were murmurs, too soft to be distinct, and it felt like every last window was thrown open, glowing eyes on inky forms peering out.

"The Invader has made many claims," Sammy stated, his tone slowly moving into that strange cadence he kept using, the one that felt more like a sermon than a speech. "That he has the ability to save us. That he has the ability to end the torment of the Cycle. That the man does not know the word we use to refer to the endless loops brought on by the Script is proof enough that he does not know what he speaks of. He lies that the Ink Demon is a monster. He lies that our Lord is the one who brings misery to this world. But we know that is not true. We know that our Lord is the one who saved us. Our Lord built this world so that we might be saved from those who would do us harm, from those who would treat us as nothing more than specimens to be cut open and examined in the name of 'progress.'"

There were agreeing murmurs. A few doors cracked open, Lost Ones peering out.

"He claimed that he killed our Lord. But we know better. Our Lord is far stronger than that. Our Lord could not be so easily killed. This realm is His."

More agreement, rising from low murmurs to something louder. Like Sammy knew exactly how to play to his audience, a call and response he was used to, that he knew how to conduct.

"And now the Invader's words have been proven to be only falsehoods as I bring great news, my Flock! Our Lord has returned to us!"

And Bendy stepped forward, head raised high.

Lost Ones rushed out from the cobbled-together houses, from doors thrown open and out of windows. Audrey tensed, holding her breath as a veritable swarm surrounded her. Surrounded Sammy and Bendy, forming a circle around them. This was it. She was going to die. She–

"Our Lord!" "We knew the Invader lied! We knew it!" "We never lost faith!"

The cacophony of voices was nearly overwhelming. It was like being in the ink all over again. She couldn't breathe, she–

"...But why is he small?"

All of a sudden the crowd went silent. Every last set of glowing eyes was on Bendy.

The little devil bowed his head, slowly shaking it in a slow 'no.'

"It was the Invader," Sammy explained. "I am not certain what he has done, but he has managed to bind our Lord's power to a small form. So much so that His voice is beyond even my reach."

There were murmurs, both sad and furious.

"But fear not, my Flock!" Sammy declared. "What has been done can be undone! There is no power the Invader could hope to harness that can bind our Lord forever! And without the Script puppeting us on the same path over and over, we have time. We have hope! The Invader claimed he had killed our Lord but failed! He is nothing but a man, and what is a man before a god?!"

A cheer went up, raucous and horrifying.

"Take heart, my Flock! Our Lord has returned to us! And soon He shall be all powerful again and we shall cast the Invader and his ilk from our home forever!"

The cheers were louder. Deafening. Audrey swayed a little, trying to breathe and failing.

"But, for now."

Sammy turned, placing a hand on Audrey's shoulder, the cheers quieting around her. She let out a shuddering breath. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to go home.

"We have a new member of our Flock," he continued. "Another cast into this world by the Invader. The one who brought our Lord back to us. He has already blessed her with His ink. She has already walked in the Well of Voices and followed His guidance back from it. Please, give her some space, she has not yet known kindness in this world."

And the Lost Ones backed away, giving her more space. Audrey managed to breathe again with more room. She... She wasn't going to die. She wasn't. If she was going to, it would have been just now. She wouldn't have been given space if she was going to die.

"Breathe, little sheep," Sammy said. "You are safe here."

Audrey wanted to believe that, she really did, but the last time she'd encountered a group of Lost Ones, she'd...

"Breathe," Sammy repeated.

Audrey did, her breath shaky, betraying how close she was to terrified tears.

Bendy grabbed one of her hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. She looked down at him and he smiled up at her.

This... was his home, wasn't it? He was home. He didn't have a reason to be afraid here because he lived here. He knew these Lost Ones. These... people. She'd managed to get him home.

A thread of tension she hadn't realized had been holding her uncoiled, her shoulders drooping. She'd done it. She'd gotten him home .

"We're really safe here?" she asked.

Bendy nodded.

Audrey didn't understand how Bendy could feel safe here with how many Lost Ones had tried to hurt the both of them, and had succeeded in some cases. But... maybe they weren't any different from people, even if they didn't look human anymore. She just... had to trust Bendy. She'd promised that she would.

She gave Bendy a little nod. He beamed up at her.

Audrey took a few deep breaths to steady herself. Sammy's hand hadn't left her shoulder the entire time, a steady anchor.

"I'm okay," she said, though it sounded a little strained.

"The first few days are the worst, little sheep. We understand."

They... were. They really, really were. She couldn't see how this could get any better, any easier.

"Would you like to introduce yourself, little sheep? Or would you rather I do it for you?"

Introduce herself? Did she.... really need to do that? Maybe she should, given how many Lost Ones there were here. She could let Sammy do it, though there was no way to know what on earth he was going to say.

She'd never really been great at public speaking, but she could do it. Probably. She–

"Audrey!"

She turned, not expecting to hear her name. Sammy had been able to name some of her coworkers, that they were recent members, but–

"Out'a the damn way!" a second voice shouted. 

A voice with a thick, familiar southern accent.

The crowd of Lost Ones parted enough for one to shoulder through with a second trailing in their wake. One was a little broader-shouldered than the rest of the crowd, the second a little shorter and skinnier. Each had a curl of barely visible golden marks on one of their arms.

The shorter with a pair of familiar coke bottle glasses, one lens badly cracked. The other with ink forming a distinctive ponytail.

Audrey felt sick.

"Director Audrey!" the shorter of the two Lost Ones exclaimed. "It's... really you, right?"

She knew that voice. Oh god, it really was him.

"It's... It's me," Audrey said, not sure what else to say. "...Max? Is that..."

"Yeah, it's me." He scratched at the side of his head like he always did when he didn't know what to say. "Unfortunately."

He sighed, shaking his head.

"I was really hoping that Wilson wouldn't try throwing you in here too."

Her gaze went to the other Lost One. "Then... Cass?"

"Only because the–" The sound of a bicycle bell came out of the taller Lost One. "Hn. Hate that. Only because that old sonovagun got the jump on me when I realized what was going on."

"...What?" Audrey managed.

"The sound effect thing? This place is nuts. Can't swear beyond damn an' hell."

"A bit of lingering cartoon logic that persists despite what the Liar has done to this world," Sammy added in an attempt to explain how a sound effect came out of one of her coworker's mouths. Roughly where their mouth would be, at least. 

"Try not to think about it too hard," Max said. "All you're gonna do is make your head hurt. Anyway, you're okay, Audrey?"

"Mostly," Audrey admitted, holding up her ink-coated arm with the glowing golden marks on it.

"Ya lucked out so far," Cass commented. "I got splattered all'a once and got stuck like this."

"Only once here, but it turns out the Angel doesn't believe in anesthesia," Max said with a visible wince. "I don't really remember what happened after that other than the ink until Sammy came along. Turns out demon ink really clears your head."

"Pretty sure I tried stranglin' him at some point. The damn ink'll drive ya nuts."

"You were not the first to attempt as much, I assure you," Sammy commented. "Fortunately, you kept some semblance of a more human form, so it was easier to tell that you were recently thrown into the Machine."

Splattered? Anesthesia? These were members of her team! She'd hesitate to call them her friends given how they'd never really had any time to hang out outside of work, but... What had Wilson done to them? To the rest of her team. To–

"Wait," she said. "Where's Jason?"

She was dreading the answer, but not knowing was even worse.

Cass and Max exchanged a look. Even though they looked like monsters, covered in ink with no mouth or nose and glowing golden eyes, they were still her team, her employees. That hadn't changed.

"...Yer not gonna like it," Cass said. "Wilson got to 'im."

"He's part of my team too, Cass, I need to know."

"Well... alright, but don't say I didn't warn ya.

She turned to the crowd.

"You heard the lady. Move it!"

The sea of Lost Ones parted just enough for them to pass.

Bendy stuck at Audrey's side as she followed her coworkers through the throng of inky bodies, one of his hands in hers. He wasn't going anywhere. It helped, even if it was hard to breathe until they got through the crowd.

Cass led the way down a few houses to a smaller one near the end of the village and through a door that looked like it had been busted off of a wall and dragged elsewhere.

It was surprisingly cozy, though visibly ramshackle, lit by one sodium light mounted to a wall and a few scattered candles kept in old soup cans cut down to serve as drip catchers. There was only one room, but it was obvious that it was members of her team staying there from the drawings plastered to the wall, a mix of characters from the Bendy franchise and more modern things here and there, mostly the department's traditionally running gag of other popular studio mascots making various obscene gestures. There were a number of Bendy storyboards too, full ones made from scattered pieces of paper stuck together, proof that Cass was still working on the various ideas she wanted to pitch but hadn't had any time with so many people vanishing. It was heartening, for a moment, to see that her lead storyboarder hadn't quit being herself. Especially apparent that one of the storyboards was a series of disconnected sketches of Bendy inflicting various forms of bodily harm on the mouse (her staff contained a few hopefuls to that particular studio that hadn't gotten in and it really showed).

There was an animation table crammed into one corner, a mess of paper and loose pens and pencils and half empty bottles of ink. There were three mattresses on the floor that barely fit into the remaining space. Two were unoccupied.

And one, crammed into the far corner, had a Lost One huddled on top of it, curled up in a ball with their hands over their head, sobbing softly.

It... No. That couldn't be right. That couldn't be...

"It's him alright," Cass said, putting a hand on Audrey's shoulder. Her disbelief must have shown on her face. "He comes to every once in a while, but most of the time he's like this."

"Wilson did this?" Audrey asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Max said. "From what he's managed to tell us, Wilson's been experimenting on people. We're not sure what he did exactly, but... well. You can see what it did to him."

"I just... I don't understand."

"None of us do, hun," Cass said. "Sammy found him sobbin' in a corner somewhere and dragged him here and made sure he was safe. Sammy's nuts, but he ain't a bad sort'a nuts. Guy really seems to care."

"I think he's allergic to lying, honestly," Max commented. "I think the ink's gone to his brain. What's left of it at least."

Bendy let go of Audrey's hand, a frown on his face and his brow furrowed. He trotted up to Jason and, after a moment of thought, put a hand on the Lost One's shoulder and closed his eyes.

The golden swirls down Jason's arm blazed with a golden light for a moment so brief and bright it was like a lighting strike.

The sobs stopped.

Bendy took a step away, looking drippy. He wobbled over to Audrey and she scooped him up without thinking. He flopped his head against her shoulder as she dug through her bag and quickly pressed a cereal bar into his hands. He nibbled on it, eyes closed and body sagged in obvious exhaustion. What–

"...Director Audrey?"

Audrey's gaze snapped from the slightly melty demon to her last team member. Jason uncurled himself from the corner, slowly getting to his feet and staring at her.

"Yeah," she said, though it sounded a little strained from holding back relieved tears. "Yeah, it's me. Are... Are you okay, Jason?"

"I..." He put a hand to his head. "I feel like I just took a sledgehammer to the face and it took half my head in the process. What was that?"

"Bendy."

"Ben–"

His gaze fell on the Toon in Audrey's arms, half-heartedly munching his way through a stale snack.

"Holy–" Bike horn. "..."

"You get used to it," Max said. 

"We get damn n' hell at least," Cass added.

"Still," Jason said. "That's... jesus. He's real."

"Yeah," Audrey said. "Sammy... said he's the Ink Demon, though."

"Considering the smoothie it feels like he just turned my frontal cortex into, I'd believe it. Sammy's sermons are intense enough that some of those got through even when I was out of it. But he's... cute."

"Yeah. He's... He saved my life. But Wilson did something to him and he's stuck like this now. It might even be hurting him, whatever he did. I don't know."

"I can't believe Wilson would hurt Bendy," Jason said. "We've been animating him. His dad's the one that bought the rights. Just... jesus. I know he was on about the Ink Demon being evil, but there's no way."

"Hey, while you're all here," Cass said, "any chance you remember what Wilson actually did to you?"

"Yeah. It's... not great, though."

It couldn't be, not with everything else Audrey had heard since being thrown into this world. But...

"I need to know," she said. "If he's really hurting people, if he's hurting my team, I need to know that."

If he was hurting her staff, his coworkers, she needed to know. She wanted this to all be some big misunderstanding, but it looked like there wasn't any chance of that. She needed to know, even if it made her sick to her stomach.

"...You're going to want to sit down," Jason said. "It's... a lot."

Chapter Text

"Okay," Max said, "black coffee for Cass, cappuccino for Jason, sugar with creamer for director Audrey, just sugar for me, and hot chocolate for uh. Do you want me to call you Lord or...?"

Bendy just shook his head.

"Just Bendy?"

The little devil nodded, making a grabbing hand motion at the drink that was handed over. With that, Max joined the rest of the group seated on the mattresses on the floor, the few soft surfaces pushed together to make up for the lack of chairs. Everyone had a singular mug of some kind of hot drink now, though no two mugs were the same, and each had some kind of damage to it. Some with missing handles, others with chips along the rim or base, but all still functional. Each just solid enough to hold a drink without dripping everywhere.

If not for their surroundings, it would have just felt like a normal morning meeting.

Somehow, Audrey thought, that made it worse.

Her coworkers sipped their respective drinks. Cautiously, Audrey tried her own.

It was warm and sweet.

"It's... good," was all she could think to say.

"Better than the swill Arch pays for, that's for sure," Cass commented. "Damn good coffee."

"It's one of the few things in here that actually tastes good," Max added. "Apparently the Amok guys have a coffee machine in their territory somewhere."

"We trade 'em for bread," Cass said. "I've been on a couple'a supply runs. We roll up with a bag full'a bread and slugs, we get a few barrels full'a coffee, we head back. Pretty easy."

"So it's... okay here?"

"Could be worse. Sammy's nuts, but if you don't pick fights he doesn't care if you skip out on all the sermons and junk he does. My gran'd be rolling in her grave if she knew I was here, but it ain't that bad."

"Sermons?"

"He runs this place like some kind of weird church," Max said. "Morning prayer, afternoon worship, evening sermon. Every day."

"He goes all in on the whole Prophet thing," Cass agreed. "But we ain't gotta sit through it, so it ain't that bad. Anyway, you still with us, Jason?"

"Yeah," he said. "Just... are you sure you want to hear this, boss?"

"I need to know what Wilson did," Audrey said, even though she wasn't as sure as she was trying to sound. "Everything I've heard sounds awful, but..."

"But it's Wilson, right? Our janitor who keeps us in coffee runs all day and makes sure when the power trips our floor's the first one back up if Arch isn't in?"

"Yeah. It's... still a little hard to believe."

"You get used to it," Cass said, glaring into her coffee. 

"Still, I need to know what happened."

Jason took a sip of his coffee – somehow, Lost Ones didn't have visible mouths, but Audrey was trying not to watch too closely, it felt rude – and sighed.

"If you're sure," he said. "Guess I should start from the beginning, right? It was... middle of February. I think. What day is it?"

"June 15th," Audrey said, though it was likely the 16th by now.

"Feels like it's been longer... Anyway. So I was working late. Trying to finish that last batch of tween frames we had for the second scene. I needed a break, but I don't trust the elevator, so I took the stairs. Wilson was working on the floor with that weird Joey Drew museum thing in it and asked me if he could get some help on my way past. It was Wilson, so I couldn't just say no."

There were nods all around the room from the other members of Audrey's staff. It was Wilson. He was enthusiastic about animation, but just didn't have the experience to back up that interest. Plus he always kept suggesting using his own character when Nathan Arch had said they weren't creating a second show and weren't adding any new characters to the Bendy series yet, but he seemed harmless.

Seemed harmless.

"He asked if I could help him clean up the displays a bit since someone had trashed part of it. I said sure, because it's Wilson. It'd take, what, maybe ten minutes because he doesn't ask for help unless he either actually needs it or it won't take that long."

More nods. Wilson didn't have a history of asking for help very often. Even with his injuries from the war, he seldom asked for any assistance. Audrey had never been sure if it was pride or stubbornness or if it had been because he was Nathan Arch's son. It was a lot to live up to, especially when he was only a janitor and his father never seemed to listen to him. Or... really notice when he was around, come to think of it.

"Someone had moved a bunch of stuff around, so I put a couple of things back while Wilson cleaned up glass because someone had dropped one of the picture frames off a wall. Then before I know it the whole place is filling up with ink and Wilson's telling me to 'find him on the other side.'"

Audrey winced. Wilson had said the same exact thing to her. Asked for her help the same way. How many times had he done that?

"Same here," Max said.

"An' here," Cass agreed.

"Then," Jason continued, "he shoves my head under the stuff and I wake up in an alleyway hacking ink out of my lungs. And my hands are covered in the stuff."

"Alleyway?" Audrey asked. "In the city, right?"

"Yeah. Couldn't tell you exactly where, that place is a maze. Where'd you end up?"

"Somewhere near Heavenly Toys."

"You must just get spat out wherever," Max said. "I ended up in the city too, but on the Angel's turf."

"An' I ended up tanglin' with the Projectionist," Cass added. "Don't let the clunking around fool you if you ever run into him, he's damn fast."

"Anyway," Jason said. "I was trying to figure out where I was when this... thing grabs me. It looked like someone had mashed together a diving suit and a zombie with a bunch of spare industrial supplies. And cords. And it talked. I think I nearly lost an eardrum from how loud it was. Screeching and weird static-y noises like the thing could barely talk with a microphone lodged in its throat. I thought it was going to kill me, but it dragged me to this weird brick building with 'Gent' on the front sign."

What was Gent anyway? They were more than an elevator company, and Sammy had mentioned that they'd experimented with the ink. They'd hooked up the Ink Machine in ArchGate Pictures. Did they know about the Machine beforehand? If they knew about the ink, they would have had to know where it came from, right? And why was Wilson using their building as a base?

"It drags me through the building and the place is just... way bigger inside than it looked from the outside. I'm pretty sure I heard something screaming in there while I was getting dragged through there before it dumps me into this mad scientist lab thing with these weird metal tower things all over the place. And Wilson in the middle of it."

A lab? 

"So he welcomes me, apologies for the whole thing and the 'Keeper' that dragged me the whole way being 'a bit rougher than designed' and he'd 'iron out the issues in the next batch he'd make.''' 

Designed. Audrey felt a little nauseous at the thought of creating something that sounded like it could talk, could think for itself. Cartoons were one thing, but creating an actual living thing whole cloth (or, like it sounded Wilson had, piecemeal)? No.

"He promised to explain everything after I had a chance to settle in, so he leads me up into a mansion. An actual mansion connected to that lab thing. With a fountain in the entryway and everything. And this portrait of Wilson with a sword drawn all heroic fighting off some kind of monster thing." Jason paused at that, the ink on his face roughly wrinkling around where his nose should have been. "That was probably supposed to be the Ink Demon, but you could barely tell what anything in the thing was it was so poorly drawn."

Bendy's little widow's peak furrowed and he took a long, very angry sip of his cocoa.

"He said the whole place was open except for the north wing because the Ink Demon had trashed it. And when I asked what an 'Ink Demon' was, he said he'd explain later, told me his 'housekeeper' would take care of me, and left. The housekeeper wouldn't have been that freaky if it wasn't for the mask for a face and wooden hair. She was dressed up like a less frilly version of Paulette Goddard from Diary of a Chambermaid – that movie's a mess, don't watch it – but she was actually nice. And British, for some reason. Said her name was Betty, led me to a guest room, brought me dinner, which was actually good. She handed me this sleeping drink and before I knew it I was out cold."

Audrey could only stare at that.

"Gross," was all Cass had to comment.

"He made the Keepers and a maid?" Max said before pausing and shaking his head. "Talk about priorities. Jeeze."

"I don't know how long I was out," Jason said, "but when I woke up I got steered down to breakfast with Wilson. He said that he found this world by accident after they offloaded all of Joey Drew's stuff down at Arch Steel just after Arch got his hands on the stuff. According to him, this place was made by the Ink Demon to torture the souls of anyone who got stuck inside of it for all eternity. He called it the 'demon's playground.'"

Bendy's expression was downright affronted at that. He shook his head and scowled.

"He said that he'd managed to kill the demon, but he hadn't figured out how to free the souls he'd trapped yet, and he wanted my help to improve things for everyone trapped here while he worked on a way to fix everything."

"That... does sound like Wilson," Audrey admitted. "Always trying to help. But Bendy wouldn't trap anyone. Right, Bendy?"

The little devil vehemently shook his head. She could read his expression so easily with how offended he looked. He would never!

"I didn't know that at the time," Jason said, "And it was Wilson. He's weird, and the whole making a maid thing felt kinda gross, but I thought, he's not bad, right? So I said yes, sure, why not. So he takes me down to the lab. There's a guy down there coated in ink like us. Never got his name, but he kept checking this old pocket watch any time he wasn't doing something else. The guy hands me this weird metal frame thing with lights on the sides and a sheet of paper inside of it, plus a pen with a cable on the end of it. Wilson tells me to draw something I think would help everyone stuck here. So I drew the first thing I could think of. A movie theater. I'm finishing up the interior sketch of the concession stand when there's this massive earthquake, shakes the whole place. Nearly knocks over this weird fish tank in the corner before Wilson caught it."

...Fish?

"After it stops, Wilson leaves and I can hear him ordering a bunch of Keepers around. The Lost One just hands me another piece of paper and tells me to keep drawing. So I get working on sketching out a deli. A good one. Wilson doesn't come back until I've got the entire thing drawn, then there's another earthquake. So I ask the guy what's going on and he just stares at me and goes 'we're doing something that matters. Keep drawing.'"

Earthquakes. Henry's recording had mentioned earthquakes. Sammy had too.

"Eventually Wilson comes back, asks me if I want to see my theater. I don't know what he's talking about, so I say sure, why not. So he gets a bunch of Keepers and we take the train – don't take those, by the way, the arrival board said most of them had derailed – and we end up in this tiny side street, but there it is. My theater. Complete with the Bendy shorts I put on the marquee. One of the Keepers opens up the doors and the next thing I know I'm waking up in a puddle of ink without any pinky fingers because someone put half a lamp post through my head."

Audrey winced. Someone had killed him. It... None of this should have happened.

"Turns out the Angel's followers had set up an ambush. Killed me and two Keepers. Wilson finds me and hauls me back to the mansion, tells me that I'm stuck here now and the whole drawing things into existence won't work anymore since I'm not human, but there's something else I can help with if I wanted to."

Audrey's mouth set in a thin line. She didn't like where this was going.

"So of course I said yes because I want to go home and before I know it I'm strapped to a table and getting pumped through this stuff that looks like full on DayGlo. And when I start screaming because it feels like I'm getting acid dumped in my arms he says 'I should be thankful that I'm contributing to such an important cause.'"

Audrey put a hand over her mouth, unable to form words. Wilson had...

Jason nodded. "Yeah. I know. So I start screaming bloody murder and Wilson doesn't peel me off of the table until I'm throwing up bright orange and can't stop. I tried to clock him and he said if I didn't behave he'd throw me into something called 'The Pit.' So of course I try to clock him again, not that I can really focus on much, and the Keepers drag me off and throw me into this hole. It's like being in the ink, but without the voices. It's just... dark."

Audrey shivered. Wilson... He really was an awful person. How much of his helpfulness had just been an act?

"There were two other people in there with me. One of them was just curled up in the corner crying. The other actually tried to help me, not that he could do much. He talked to me until I could think straight again. It would have been a lot worse without him. He said his name was Elias. Said he used to be a horn player in the JDS in house band back in the day. He told me the truth. About what Wilson was doing, the experiments, capturing people. About the world. About the Ink Demon. When I told him I was animating Bendy shorts, he insisted that I have some golden ink to keep me safe. Said it'd help me get out of the ink again and that he was sure 'the Prophet' wouldn't mind since I was animating 'their Lord.' So... I took him up on the offer."

Audrey could only nod in mute horror. Wilson was actively torturing people. Including Lost Ones. Including his coworkers .

It was no wonder Bendy had assumed he'd thrown people into the gears. If that was what Joey Drew had done, then...

"Thinking gets really hard down in the Pit. And I kept throwing up paint, which didn't help. Then Elias says we both have a way out, but it won't be pleasant."

That... oh no.

"So he asks me to kill him and he'll kill me so we can both get out. I'm barely able to focus anymore, but I want out of that hell. So I said yes. Then I woke up here. It's... foggy other than that. I think I remember a mask. A few different people bringing me food. I was really in and out, I don't remember much."

It... It was so much to take in. Wilson was a genuinely horrible person. There was... There was no excusing this. Wilson claimed to be wanting to help people, but he was hurting them. Torturing them. For what reason? She couldn't imagine it was just because it amused him. But something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

And Wilson was definitely guarding the only way home there probably was in this place. 

She couldn't try to convince him to let her leave, that much was clear. And she couldn't just leave either. Not with half of her team trapped in here. Only three of them were relatively safe. How many were stuck in the ink? How many were Lost Ones, feral and shambling and attacking anything that moved? Were some Searchers, unable to see anymore? How many were lost and alone, or captured by Wilson?

Bendy scooted over to lean into her side. She rested a hand between his horns. Even if Bendy might have hurt people, he'd never do anything like that. He was actively doing what he could to help her feel better. Meanwhile, Wilson was throwing people into a dark pit and leaving them there, to the point where death without a guarantee of coming back was seen as the best choice.

"That's awful," was all she could think to say. "There..."

There wasn't really anything she could do, was there? But she couldn't just leave . Not with half of her team here. And who knew how many other people. Allison was just as trapped here as her team was. Porter. Nobody here deserved any of this.

She took a deep breath, hoping it didn't sound as shuddery as it felt.

Cass leaned over and put a hand on her shoulder.

"It ain't great," Cass said, "but you're safe here, at least. This place ain't much, but it's better than the rest of this hellhole."

Audrey shook her head. She couldn't just stay here. But there was no way Wilson would let her go home, no way she was leaving without her team either. It... She'd think of something.

There was a knock on the door.

"Yeah?" Cass called.

"You missed lunch," Sammy's voice said from behind the door. "May I come in?"

"Sure."

The door swung open with care and Sammy entered, carrying food.

Audrey stared. It smelled good. It was a plate piled high with little sandwiches, but the bread looked and smelled toasted and warm. Her mouth watered.

"May I sit?" Sammy asked.

Both Cass and Max nodded, scooting over to make room for Sammy on the cluster of mattresses, the plate set on the floor in the center of the impromptu circle. Bendy snatched up one of the sandwiches, shoving it in his face in one bite with a speed that made everyone let out some little exhale of laughter, much to Bendy's visible delight.

Cass and Max grabbed a sandwich each, Jason taking one hesitantly. Audrey couldn't help but just stare at the food. It looked fresh. Smelled fresh. But everything she'd eaten here had been so stale or awful.

She very carefully took a sandwich from the pile, staring at it. The bread was toasted. Peeling one half of the sandwich off revealed the filling to be peanut butter and some kind of chocolate spread. She put the two halves back together and took a cautious bite.

It was good. Peanut butter and chocolate, a little dry but not horribly so. The bread was undeniably fresh. 

"How?" was all she could think to say.

"Sourdough starters," Cass answered. 

Audrey stared.

"Starters are simply flour and water and time," Sammy said. "And we have plenty of time. We managed to bring a single vending machine down this deep, and though it may only dispense saltines and potato chips, we've made good use of it."

"And the peanut butter? And chocolate?"

"Chocolate can be removed from the coated mixed nut sets some of the vending machines in the New Studio dispense, though it takes much time and effort. A recent addition to our number here managed to create a blender from scrap and an old projector motor. And, with enough time and effort, chocolate and water can make a somewhat underwhelming ganache. Many of us lived through the Depression, improvisation for survival was necessary. We simply adapted to what we have access to."

Audrey stared down at her sandwich in wonder. This place was awful, and yet some of the Lost Ones had figured out how to make food, not just survive off of scavenged supplies. It was... sad, really. That anyone had been forced to figure out how to make food, not being able to just go out and buy it. Audrey hadn't been born until well after the Great Depression, but she'd seen some of her grandmother's cooking and baking using very few ingredients to make entire meals at times. Her mother did on rare occasions, but she was more inclined to try out questionable gelatin concoctions she found in magazines and things that were in fashion for the moment. Audrey would take a tomato aspic gelatin ring with green olives over the bacon soup of this world any day, though, but... still.

"That said," Sammy said, looking at Jason, "I am surprised to see you awake, little sheep. Jason, correct?"

"Yeah. I... don't know what Bendy did, but I can think again. For now, at least. Where are we, anyway?"

"Deep beneath the Studios, safe in a place we call Lost Harbor. You are already a member of the Flock, little sheep, the one who passed you our Lord's gift told me of what transpired in the Pit. You are welcome to stay here as long as you need. Attending service is not required, of course."

The ink around Jason's eyes furrowed slightly.

"Cass mentioned that. Like church service?"

"Nothing so formal. Or bearing of expectations."

Jason stared.

"Weird church," Cass said. "Unless you remember 'Bimbo's Initiation.'"

"It is nothing like that," Sammy said, sounding affronted. "Actual worship of our Lord is not mandatory."

"She's got a point," Max commented. "It's a little... you know. Cult-y."

Sammy crossed his arms in a way that made it very apparent that, even though she couldn't easily see his mouth through the hole in his mask, he was definitely frowning. Bendy snickered soundlessly.

"...Really, my Lord?" Sammy said.

Bendy shrugged in a very 'hey, I calls 'em as I sees 'em' sort of way. Sammy sighed and shook his head.

"I won't deny that there are... certain aspects that may seem similar," Sammy relented. "But attendance to service is not mandatory, nor is actual worship. Basic reverence and the agreement to not harm the others of the Flock are the only requirements."

Bendy tilted his head toward Audrey in a 'see, I told you so' sort of gesture. Audrey couldn't help but chuckle a little at that.

"While you're here," Max said, "Jason told us what Wilson's doing."

"The... 'paint,' yes," Sammy said, somehow managing to inflect a grimace with words alone. "I've been made aware from one of the Flock that escaped the Pit. That it's being used directly is concerning."

"Did Elias mention drawing things into the city?" Jason asked.

Sammy's silence made it abundantly clear that he hadn't. Jason supplied an abridged version of the story he'd told Audrey. Sammy drummed his fingers on his knee, clearly thinking.

"The city, the instability... yes," Sammy muttered, largely to himself. "Though... hm."

Bendy tilted his head toward Sammy.

"It is... nothing, my Lord," he said.

Bendy leveled Sammy with a look. Sammy was silent for a moment before sighing.

"Fine. I am wondering how the Invader managed the things that he has. This world shouldn't be so malleable. The Liar managed to change things, but he had the Script and control of the Machine from the outside. I doubt the Liar would so easily relinquish his control. Then there is the matter of the things he's brought into the Machine with him. Gent things."

Gent thi– Audrey's eyes went wide.

"Wilson's in charge of the supply orders," she said slowly. "Nathan Arch hired Gent to replace the entire elevator system. And hook up the Ink Machine to the studio's main power like it was in Joey Drew Studios. I don't know if the accounting department actually checks the supply orders, so–"

"He's ordering stuff from Gent directly," Jason said, sounding ill at the thought. "Is that where the paint's coming from?"

"Given their experiments with the ink," Sammy said grimly, "I would not doubt it. If that's the case, I'm surprised they have not tried to directly interfere with the Machine. They are fully aware of the existence of the Ink Demon, though they shouldn't have any knowledge of this world. Unless the Invader has told them of it, but they would have tried to destroy the Machine by now if they did."

"The Ink Machine's on display, though," Audrey commented, trying to piece things together in her head. "If someone tried to destroy it, someone would notice it, right? And if Wilson wanted to destroy it, he would have by now. But what is Gent?"

"A construction company of some sort, originally. They sponsored one of the Bendy shorts. 'Construction Corruption.'" There was a grimace in his tone. "One of the worst crunch periods Drew ever saddled us with. We had to use stock sound effects to make the deadline. They're the ones that built the Machine and brought the Ink to the studio in the first place. They're the reason the Liar was able to create our Lord."

Every eye in the room went to Bendy, who visibly grimaced and nodded.

"The Machine was designed to create living, breathing beings from ink," Sammy explained. "Magic and science combined together, though how Connor managed to make Drew's wholly incompetent attempts at rituals and sigilwork function is beyond me. All of this done only to create mascots for that damned theme park Drew was so obsessed with. And when the Machine spat out something he didn't like, he only made things worse instead of trying to fix his own mistakes."

Bendy nodded. He stood up to scoot past Audrey and plopped down in front of Sammy, who scooped the little demon up without thinking, Bendy rested his head on Sammy's shoulder, clearly not wanting to be part of the conversation.

"He didn't get a perfectly on model Bendy on the first try," Sammy continued. "So he locked that creation away and tormented it when he was in a foul enough mood. So he kept trying. And when he couldn't fix it and there were several deaths and disappearances in the Studio – myself included, along with a child he elected to twist into the first Boris on a whim – he shipped the Machine off to a Gent location to try and have it fixed. The result was four more deaths, three of them children that were scarcely eighteen, and one Gent employee. When that did nothing, he sent the Machine and the demon he created off to Gent's headquarters. Our Lord created this world to hide us from the Liar, from Gent, so that we were not subjected to their experimentation. But they knew of our Lord. He was not spared the fate he protected us from."

Bendy shivered in Sammy's arms. Sammy placed a hand gently between Bendy's horns, thumb rubbing little circles on the little demon's head to try and comfort him.

"They experimented on people with the promise of pay. Used the ink for their own purposes. I do not know how or why, but the Machine was shipped back to the Studio for storage after the bankruptcy. The Liar tempted several individuals back to the Studio, the woman that he would twist into the Angel among them in one last attempt to make his idea of 'perfection' from a human soul. None escaped, but during his experiments, the Liar discovered this world. But he could not bend it to his will easily. So he tried to directly harness our Lord's powers to create a gateway into this world. The Machine was sent to a television studio."

"Kismet Productions," Audrey said, remembering the logo vividly from her childhood. "They were the ones that reran the Bendy shorts when I was a kid. I think there was supposed to be a show that went with the shorts, but I never saw it."

"It was likely short lived considering it resulted in the death of another teenager, and I would not doubt the ones that escaped managed to get the show canceled. The Machine was damaged before Drew moved it into his own apartment. And from there, it... spiraled. More and more people tempted back and thrown into the gears. The earliest throes of the new Script began. Then the Liar threw the Creator into this world and the Script became the Loop that remained until the Invader came. Given what Gent did in the time they had the Machine in their possession, I would not doubt the things Wilson has used were created by them."

"...What if Wilson's trying to do the same thing Gent was?" Audrey asked, trying to put the disparate pieces together in her head. "Experimenting. What were they trying to do?"

"That I am not sure of. There is another with more information about them than I have, I will see if I can invite him to speak with us for more insight. I would not doubt it."

"Isn't there anything we can do? To stop Wilson?"

"Not that we haven't already tried. Without our Lord at full strength, we will not be able to do much. Killing the Invader is likely our best option, though I am sure you would not prefer that option."

Audrey looked away. She... couldn't imagine that, but with what she was doing... she couldn't just say that wasn't something they might have to do.

"It is not a problem for today, little sheep," Sammy assured her. "You are safe now. You should rest. Given the lack of space, my home is open to you until we manage to find enough supplies for you to stay elsewhere. With your coworkers, I assume?"

"If that's okay."

"Of course," Cass said, to which Jason and Max both nodded their agreement.

"We'd be happy to have you, boss," Max agreed. "Mattresses are just hard to get down here."

"Annoying to move," Cass agreed.

"Thanks," Audrey said. "...I do have one question, though."

"Of course, little sheep," Sammy said.

"'Creator?'" Bendy had used that term too.

"Ah, I hadn't mentioned him properly, had I? Bendy's true creator. Even though some blame him for abandoning his creations, it is hard to fault him for escaping before things grew to the point that they did."

"I thought Joey Drew created Bendy."

She hadn't doubted that fact until the room full of sketches. Bendy had implied it back in the room, but she needed to know for sure.

"Of course not," Sammy scoffed. "Drew could hardly draw a straight line, let alone genuinely create something. The man has less artistic ability than a rock."

"If he didn't, then who did?"

"Could you hand me that sketchbook of yours for a moment, little sheep?"

That wasn't an answer, but Audrey did. Sammy thumbed through it until he pulled out an illustration of an on model Alice, Boris, and Bendy, though Bendy had a tail. Some of Henry's drawings featured Bendy with a tail, she'd considered similar in the past but it slowed down animating considerably to include it, so she tried to stick to the model sheets.

"Henry did create Bendy," she said, eyes wide.

It fit. The drawings in the safe room that had covered the walls had been filled with so much care, so much love . Henry had drawn Bendy happy and enjoying life. Henry had worked for Joey Drew Studios so long ago that he'd been able to come back thirty years after leaving. So why hadn't she seen his name anywhere before?

Audrey suddenly felt sick. Joey Drew hadn't designed her favorite character, and the art in Sammy's hand confirmed what she'd suspected. He'd lied . Henry had created Bendy.

And Joey Drew had stolen him.

He was a thief. The man whose work she had looked up to for her entire life wasn't just a liar and a murderer, he was a thief. He'd stolen the work of someone who so clearly cared about his work and claimed he'd come up with it. There was no greater crime an artist could commit in their field than that.

"Stein designed Bendy, Boris, and Alice," Sammy confirmed. "He never finalized any designs for the Butcher Gang, but he did a few early sketches. Stein quit in '31 and Drew's held a grudge ever since. He tailored the Script to create an endless loop of misery for the first man to ever escape his grip. Forced the man to both kill and be killed by what had been his own creation over and over again."

"...Why?"

Audrey couldn't understand. Couldn't fathom it. Any of it at all.

"There are a few reasons, little sheep, but for now, try to rest. We have some time before we need to begin work on dinner. You're welcome to join in preparations. For now, rest."

Audrey nodded mutely. Her appetite was entirely gone.

Joey Drew and Wilson...

How could either of these men do such horrible things?

Chapter Text

Despite reeling from the revelations about both one of her coworkers and the man whose work she had idolized for her entire life, there was little to do but move on. Or, in this case, distract herself with things.

Audrey managed a singular small sandwich, her appetite largely gone, but Max and Cass were more than willing to chatter on about the work they'd been doing while stuck in the hellish world of ink. Mostly it was odds and ends sketches, loose concepts for shorts or gags. None of them were writers, the episode they were actually working on for release had been a team effort. They'd taken the idea of Tombstone Picnic with its completely missing second half and turned it into their own by stringing together a few gags and improvising the rest. They'd only barely been able to squeeze in Bendy dancing at all, and only in short bursts.

The short was simpler than Audrey had wanted, but they hadn't had enough time to hash out something more complicated. It was a bit more Scooby-Doo in tone than she really would have liked, but if they were lucky it would get them at least a little traction.

It worked as a distraction though, going over these scattered ideas. There was a noticeable lack of Alice Angel – not that Audrey was going to say anything, considering what her coworkers had told her about the Alice that lived in this world – but plenty of little gags between Bendy and Boris, and a few with Bendy and the Butcher Gang. A lot were minor self-inflicted gags, all ending harmlessly. Which was leaning more on the old shorts, but softening it.

Everyone on Audrey's team was very open that they didn't like a lot of things about the old shorts. Bendy frequently being the butt of the joke for no reason was the main one. The Hayes Code could only explain so much. 

Audrey thought about the drawings in her sketchbook and wondered how much of that was because Bendy's creator had left.

After a bit of debating, Audrey tacked a few of Henry's drawings up on the walls, just a few thumbnail sketches and some of the art of Bendy with a tail. 

"Who drew these?" Max asked. "They're really good."

"Bendy's creator," Audrey said, carefully taking the page with the doodle of Bendy using his tail as a pen and a few other gags to the wall with thumbtacks from a box beside the room's lone animation desk. "His real creator. Henry. He left a bunch of these behind in a safe room we found and Bendy wanted to bring them with us."

She couldn't help but feel a bit connected to the man after experiencing so much of his art, the emotions attached to them. She could only look at his work fondly since he had no deadlines, no incentives to draw other than he wanted to. And he'd been willing to face Wilson to help Bendy, even when Bendy had looked like a monster. And his work, his characters, had been stolen . There was nothing worse to endure as an artist, to have something you put your heart into claimed by someone else as theirs when they hadn't had a hand in it at all. 

Audrey wanted to hope that Wilson hadn't done anything to Henry, but since Wilson had been willing to hurt his own coworkers, it was unlikely.

"Joey Drew pulled an Oswald, huh? Sounds right for the guy," Cass commented, squinting at one of the drawings. "This Henry guy's got skill, no doubt about it. What's with the tail, though?"

"Not sure," Audrey answered. "It was probably to save time."

That was extra time keeping a moving tail consistent if it wasn't held static outside of gags. If the studio only had a limited number of animators, they would have had to save time where they could.

"Kinda cute. It'd be a–" Car honk. "Hn. A pain to animate on ones, though."

"What if we animated it on another layer?" Jason suggested. "We could make a bunch of stock cels for the motion based on the pose to save time. It'd be good busywork between projects."

"We can't really do test animations down here, though," Max pointed out. "And we're stuck here."

"Sammy's sure that Bendy'll get us out," Cass said. "But like hell anything's happening while Wilson's screwing around. Plus Sammy's god's a little... fun-sized."

"He was really hurt when I found him," Audrey said, "I've got one of Henry's drawings of his... other design, but don't touch it, okay?"

She tried to handle one of the drawings of what had to be the Ink Demon as little as possible, the furious rage that filled the page was almost dizzying. She settled for putting it on the animation desk so she didn't have to hold it. She understood the emotions behind it now, though. Henry was staring down his own creation, twisted into a monster. She'd be mad at whoever had done that too. 

(It was likely Joey Drew, by the sound of it. The thief willing to mangle someone else's creation with no regards to the fact those creations could think and feel.)

Cass let out a low whistle.

"Freaky design," she said, "looks lopsided, though. Weird skeleton deal."

"The asymmetry looks... kind of tacky," Jason commented. "Like when you can really tell someone couldn't draw the other eye right and gave up."

"Joey Drew can't draw, apparently," Max said. "And Sammy's sermons were pretty clear on it being the 'Liar's' fault for everything down here, so he probably designed this."

"Why shouldn't we touch it, anyway?" Cass asked.

"Henry... puts a little of himself into his art, somehow," Audrey said. "Literally." 

There was a pause.

Audrey was hardly surprised when all three of her team reached out to poke the page.

Jason yelped like he'd been stung, Max froze, and Cass' eyes narrowed.

"I... see what you mean," Max said, moving his hand away from the page. "...Do the cartoons do that too?"

"Not as bad as this one, but they do." Audrey didn't know how Henry had managed it, but it really made his feelings clear. Abundantly clear. 

"Freaky," Cass muttered. "Still can't see why Sammy's convinced this thing's some kind'a god though."

"I mean." Jason held up his hand. A simple golden swirl covered the back of it. "You got the voice in your head too, right?"

"Yeah. Freaky... stuff."

"Doesn't fit the design either," Max said, staring at the demon drawing. "This design's more like... hm. Mid range with some kind of weird echo on it? Not bass bass. If you ran the actual voice through real speakers you'd shake an entire theater. This one'd be higher pitched than the real one."

"We could do better," Cass said.

"With our hands tied behind our backs," Jason agreed. "It's just a monstrous version of Bendy, right? You just keep parts of the silhouette."

"You could probably just keep the general horn shape and get away with it," Max mused, a hand to his chin. "We've got time, who wants to do a redesign?"

Nobody had any arguments against it, so everyone pulled up a spot, pulled out something to draw on (Cass winning the desk in a game of rock-paper-scissors, Jason going back to his spot in the corner, Max leaning up against one wall and Audrey leaning up against another, her team using scraps of wood for lack of proper sketchbooks to have a solid surface to draw on), and started sketching. No one had figured out any better way to kill time anyway.

Audrey went through a few different design iterations, starting by drawing both Bendy normally, then the Ink Demon that Henry had illustrated. Demon... Demon . She wished she had reference images to work from.

She'd worry about why her pencil didn't seem to be losing its sharpness no matter how much she sketched later.

Demon. He needed better horns, that was for sure. Not lopsided. If he was supposed to be scary, you could go with uncanny and asymmetrical, but Audrey couldn't see why anyone would. Wouldn't it be better just to have something scary instead of unsettling if the end goal was to be something monstrous? That was what that design had to be, right? Someone had to have designed the Ink Demon, had to have intended to make Bendy into something uncanny. If someone designed Bendy, someone had to have designed what he looked like as something a little (or a lot) bigger because he was a cartoon, right? It only made sense.

She couldn't understand the design philosophy behind it though. Joey Drew definitely couldn't draw. What was the purpose of making Bendy big and scary? Or had it just been the best the man had been able to come up with because he hadn't actually drawn Bendy before? 

Audrey frowned, erased a few lines, and started on some different horn sketches. Keep the silhouette... maybe modify it? Hm. Yes, that looked much better. Keep the smile... oh! Yes, that would work. But it would look silly if it was triangles all the time, maybe just when the mouth opened? Yes, that meant there were still the flat lines of the original design in the new one. But more obvious teeth. Making the line of the gums more apparent looked a little gross, but it worked to the design.

The rest of the body... Well, big. Claws? Definitely claws. But the big glove had to go. Four claws. Hm... What if she added spikes? It would be better shape language to suggest that he was dangerous.

Spikes seemed to solve a lot of things. Spikes on the shoulders, spikes down his back looked good with the rest of the design. She kept the general concept of a wider chest and narrow waist, but with enough room to suggest there were actually organs . She could make the limbs reasonably spindly, but... no, put joints in. Rubber hose, but not quite. And the hands... Ah, she could keep the gloves! Just make it look like the claws had exploded out of them, so there were just bits left behind. And for legs... hm.

Audrey tapped her pencil to the page, thinking. Demon, demon...

Of course ! Hooves! Simple cloven hooves and... done!

...No. The design looked off balance, somehow. But it was symmetrical. And yet...

Hm...

Audrey sketched in a thin line of a tail. It... actually did a lot for the design. Balanced it a lot. Gave it a more predatory look, more like a tiger or leopard.

So she added a tail with spines and a sharp spade for a tail. There, much better.

Oh, she'd nearly forgotten the bowtie. She penciled it in, but had it look a little ragged. There, now it was done. Much better.

There was a little knock at the door.

"Come in," Audrey called.

The door swung open just enough for Bendy to squeeze through. He looked around at the art in progress, tilting his head at Audrey in question.

"We're just working on some redesigns," Audrey said. Then paused, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "...Of you."

Bendy pointed a finger to himself to clearly try and say 'me?'

"Well... of the drawing Henry did of you. That's what the Ink Demon looks like, right?"

Bendy nodded, though there was a grimace there. 

"Not the best design?"

Bendy shook his head, brow furrowed in clear annoyance.

"Well, we're taking a stab at it," Max commented. "Who's got a finished sketch?"

Everyone had a workable one. The team moved from their spots to hold their sketches out for comparison. Cass' design had gone the way of something a little more B movie, like a weird costume that was poorly fitted on a mostly human skeleton. Riffing on the original design, but increasing how uncannily human-like it was. Jason had gone for roughly the same design as the original, but with disturbingly realistic teeth, too many of them to be human. (He'd always been good with that, exaggerated realism, he just had no place to do that in the cartoons.)  Max's design had tacked on a number of extra limbs and not terribly much else.

"Which one do you like the most, Bendy?" Audrey asked.

Bendy put a hand to his 'chin,' clearly deep in thought. He observed each. The relative style of the art varied quite a lot, given that Cass usually worked on quick sketches in miniature, Jason tried to streamline designs for ease of animation even though his work in medical illustration showed through sometimes, and Max mostly worked with paint and did a lot more backgrounds than character work. Audrey's may have gotten a little out of hand, especially in comparison.

Bendy eventually tapped Audrey's design.

"Do you like it?" she said.

Bendy nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

"Thanks. I was trying for, um..." Why was this so hard to say? Maybe because it was art of him? "Scary, but dangerous. If that makes sense."

Bendy nodded in understanding, then pointed toward the door.

"Dinner prep?" Max guessed.

Bendy nodded.

"That's our call," Cass said. "You can hang here, boss. You too, Jason, you've been down and out, Sammy doesn't expect everyone to help."

"Dinner prep?" Audrey asked.

"Got lot'a mouths to feed, so we gotta chip in. Fair's fair. It's not that hard. It's mostly just ingredient prep, the head chef knows what they're doing."

Well, even if this place was generally kind of terrifying, given how many Lost Ones there were, her team didn't seem scared, and neither did Bendy, so...

"Can I help?" Audrey offered.

Bendy beamed, grabbing one of Audrey's hands and tugging her toward the door.

"Okay, okay," Audrey said, though she couldn't stop herself from smiling. "I'll help with whatever you want me to, Bendy."

Bendy tugged Audrey along with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas. The entire shantytown was a bustle of activity around them. There were Lost Ones in scattered little groups, chatting and nursing cups of coffee, or sitting on rooftops and chatting. Some were moving things here and there, boxes and scraps and supplies. 

Most of the activity was concentrated in one corner of the shantytown that was tucked around a far corner, against one of the back walls of the cavern. It was an entire outdoor kitchen, with tables and benches and stoves made out of cinderblocks and scrap metal. There was an oven made out of bricks, crates with stacks of soup peeking out of them, and, somehow, a vending machine crammed into one corner. It was bustling too with what were clearly dinner preparations, chunks of food being cut with pocket knives and what looked like knives made out of scrap metal. There were a few scattered large soup pots too that looked similarly forged from scrap, plus a few battered frying pans in a neat stack on top of a row of crates, clearly awaiting use.

And the Lost Ones scattered around the scene were just... working. Chattering as they worked, conversations audibly calm and casual. Someone at a far table must have made a joke as nearly everyone in that corner erupted in laughter. 

It all felt so mundane. Normal. Like one of her grandmother's church potlucks.

The realization hit her so hard that she felt sick. These were people. Nobody here could be a monster, not when they were so visibly human, even though they didn't look like it. They were all just people, inky and trapped in this place. All of them.

Bendy tugged Audrey toward the row of lined up makeshift stoves, to the Lost One clearly helming the entire operation (obvious only because of the chef hat they wore that looked to have been stitched together from scattered scraps of fabrics of many different textures).

"My Lord?" the Lost One questioned, intonation not any more masculine than it was feminine, which gave Audrey a moment of pause. "Didn't the Prophet say you needed actual rest?"

Bendy shrugged and made a so-so gesture with his hand not presently holding Audrey's.

"We both know we won't hear the end of it if you hurt yourself," they said.

Bendy nodded, then gave the chef a wide-eyed, puppy-dog sort of look. They stared for a moment before sighing.

"Fine. You can go help Bill with his contraption or something."

Bendy scampered off, giving Audrey a wave and a big grin as he did so.

"And don't strain yourself!" the chef yelled after him.

They shook their head before turning back to Audrey.

"I don't know where he gets all that energy from," they said. "Then again, I don't think I've ever seen him small before."

"It's cute," Audrey said. Because it was entirely endearing, honestly. 

"Yeah. So you're the new one, right? Name's O. Just O. And before you ask, memory's one of the first things to go." They flicked the side of their head. "After the pinkies, at least."

"I'm Audrey."

"Audrey. Right." They looked her up and down. "Surprised you're still this human. Your friends gatecrashed the usual introductions, so you didn't get the Prophet's whole long-winded welcome spiel. You're new, so you don't have to help with anything."

"I don't?"

"Nah. The Prophet gives people a while to settle in first. Unless you want to help."

"I don't mind. I don't really cook much though."

She'd been living mostly off of deli food and take out since her team had started disappearing, and before that it had been a lot of quick cooking meals and TV dinners. 

"Then you're on potato chips. Mike's a good kid, he'll walk you through it."

"...Kid?"

"Yeah. You want the story, you gotta ask him. Far table next to fish prep." They pointed. "Can't miss it."

"Right. Thank you."

She followed O's directions. There was one table near the side area, though spaced quite a bit away from most of the activity. Another table was even further away than that, at the very edges of the area, the two Lost Ones seated on the low benches slowly making their way through cleaning several crates of fish. The table she'd been actually directed to sit at had a big pile of potato chip bags on it, a few crates, and a single Lost One seated at it that was noticeably smaller than all the others, teenager sized at most.

Audrey felt a little ill as she sat down.

"O send you my way, huh?" the Lost One asked, and they sounded like a teenage boy. He held out a hand. "Name's Mike."

Unsure of what else to do, Audrey shook his hand. "Audrey."

"Welcome to the dullsville table," Mike said, sliding Audrey a bag of potato chips and a battered rolling pin. "Population: us. Everybody around here gets all jumpy about handing me a knife, they doin' the same to you?"

"No, I just don't cook much."

"You're sixteen, kid," one of the two Lost Ones from the fish table said, voice noticeably deep, pausing long enough to peel a cartoon skeleton out of the fish he'd clearly just cut open (which was surprisingly bloodless, but the squelch was disgusting). "These things'll fall apart if you bend them wrong."

"I know how to use a knife!"

"Let's not argue again," the other Lost One at the fish table, voice feminine and build a little more willowy than the others, said. "O's just worried about you."

"O lets Bill use that blender thing and that's got knives in it."

"Bill built that thing," the deeper-voiced Lost One pointed out, gesturing at Mike with a decidedly shoddy-looking knife. "The Prophet doesn't want to regrow anyone's fingers if he doesn't have to." 

Mike grumbled something under his breath and grabbed the other battered rolling pin at the table.

"Don't mind the kid," the knife wielding Lost One said. "Chip duty's just boring. Name's Dale. That's Violet." The slimmer Lost One offered a little wave. "You're the one who found our resident gremlin, huh?"

"Dale ! That is our Lord!" Violet chided.

"Hey, just because I live here doesn't mean I gotta be a pray the rosary, knees in the dirt every service kinda guy. Mischief and machinery malfunctions? Gremlin."

"Don't let the Prophet hear you say any of that," Violet warned. "Especially the rosary part."

"Yeah, yeah." Dale shucked a fish head into a barrel and the cleaned sections into a crate. "Not everybody here's music department."

"Just ignore 'em," Mike said. "The old fogies fight about who's department was better stuff all the time. Just roll out the chips, it's easy."

"Right..." was all Audrey could think to say.

Dale and Violet got into an audibly heated argument, but the pace of their work didn't slow even with that. It sounded like they'd definitely had this exact argument before. Audrey just followed Mike's example, rolling out the potato chip bags (opening them first so they didn't pop) to crush the chips inside before putting the bags in a box. It was easy and definitely more than a little dull.

"It's for potato pucks," Mike said, likely after he noticed Audrey staring at the box full of bags with open confusion. "Add water, fry 'em, and it's almost a french fry. Man, I could go for real fries. Or a hot dog."

"How did you end up here?" Audrey asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

"Same as everyone else. Joey Drew." He leaned on the rolling pin hard enough the crunch from the bag he was rolling out was loud. "He had this TV show. The Joey Drew Show. We got these fancy 3D glasses as a test family since my pops used to work for him. It was cool at first, walking around in a cartoon world while the show was on, but the cartoons didn't go away when you took the glasses off. A bunch of us almost died in here. This girl – Rose – helped get everybody out. Well, everybody but me, but I'm okay with it."

He put one bag into the crate and grabbed the next, opening it and swiping a chip from the bag to eat. 

"There were these two old folks, see?" he continued. "They were gonna die if someone didn't help 'em. So I did. But everybody else got out, so it's okay. That Sammy's guy's got a few screws loose, but he ain't bad. Ain't much down here, but you get used to it."

"Even with all the demon worship," Dale grumbled. "Ah, damn it."

Audrey turned to look and stared.

The fish that Dale had just cut open was leaking paint. Vibrant greens and blues.

Dale used the knife to scrape it into a barrel that, now that Audrey was looking closer, had a big X drawn on it.

"Eighth one today," Dale grumbled, chucking the wooden board Audrey hadn't even noticed he'd been using as a cutting board into the barrel, along with the knife. "We're gonna run out of knives again."

"What was that?" Audrey asked.

"Wilson," Dale said flatly. "Don't know what he's doing, but the fish are bleeding colors now. We can't eat that. Supply's still steady but it's getting worse."

Which... That was probably the only fresh food everyone down here had other than the bread. That wasn't good.

"We'll be fine," Violet said. "Our Lord shall provide for us."

"Yeah, soup and saltines."

"It is still sustenance. Not that we truly need it, but..."

"Just pass me another knife," Dale said, shaking his head. 

Audrey turned her attention back to her own work. There had to be something she could do. This was an awful, horrible way to live. An awful thing to have to get used to. 

There had to be something, she just had to figure out what it was.

Chapter Text

The end result of the toil of the assembled Lost Ones was food. Real food. Or at least as close as they could get to it.

Audrey watched Bendy scurrying from table to table to pass out mugs full of soup as more and more Lost Ones packed into the space, some standing and others finding somewhere to sit or lean. There was a noticeable pep in his step as he raced around to pass out soup. It was probably a good thing that it was O passing out bread, the platter they were carrying around was piled so high that the odds of the little devil accidentally tripping over his own feet in excitement was a little too high. 

Every Lost One visibly perked up at Bendy's presence, some more so than others. Most of them either thanked him or patted his head between his horns. Two of them groveled at his feet over being brought food by 'our Lord Himself,' to which Bendy gave a visibly embarrassed and strained smile but patted them gently on the shoulder before handing them their soup and rushing off.

And it was good soup. It was a fish soup, the stock made from bone broth from fish bones, the fish fresh, the vegetables floating in it left a stale aftertaste in the back of her mouth that suggested they'd somehow been recovered from cans of soup, but it was good. And there was bread. And little fried pucks of potato chips that did taste just a little bit like french fries. And water. It tasted very mineral, but it was so good. And fresh. It was a little miracle in this place.

No wonder some of the Lost Ones fell to their knees and started praising Bendy like he was some sort of god. Little good things in a sea of bad ones could be a lot.

Eventually, Bendy finished his rounds and trotted over to the table Audrey was seated at – alongside Mike and Dale and Violet. He had his own slice of bread and mug of soup and he was positively beaming as he hopped up beside her and took a big bite out of his bread. He was breathing a little heavily, but he didn't seem to be in any kind of pain, he had clearly just pushed himself just a little bit too hard.

"It's really good, isn't it, Bendy?" Audrey asked.

Bendy nodded, grinning a genuinely content grin. Audrey patted him between the horns and he bumped his entire head into her hand like an affectionate cat. It was all Audrey could do to not coo at how cute he was. He leaned against her as he sipped his soup, clearly content. The mug looked a little out of scale in his gloved hands in a way that was silly, endearingly so.

A Lost One plopped down at the table across from Audrey, one with a tool belt strapped sideways across his body like a bandoleer. He was noticeably smaller than most of the Lost Ones, like Mike. He hadn't brought any food with him, maybe he'd eaten already?

"They weren't kidding, you do still look human," the new Lost One said, accent so heavily Jersey that Audrey could only stare for a moment. So Jersey that it stood out quite alarmingly in a sea of different New York accents. The Lost One held out a hand. "I'm Bill."

For lack of knowing what else to do, Audrey shook Bill's hand. "Audrey."

His handshake was alarmingly business-like, professional, but he couldn't have been that old. He couldn't have been anywhere near her age, he sounded too young.

"If you don't mind," Bill said, drawing his hand back, "how'd you get down this far? This entire place is a death trap."

"A lot of luck, I guess," Audrey answered. "I had a few close calls, and... not everything went well." She touched her inky hand to her eye, the one that had started to take on a glow. 

"See any Keepers on your way down?"

"No. I'm glad I didn't, if they're as bad as everyone says."

"They are, but... Well, I was hoping to get someone to help me test something."

Bendy shook his head, expression hard to read but his mouth a little thin line just shy of a grimace.

"Test?" Audrey asked.

"I made some... pretty big mistakes before I got turned into this." He gestured generally at himself. "But I'm good at fixing things. Wilson had to make the Keepers, right? So there should be a way to fix them so they stop moving. The problem is no one wants to actually test anything I make that might work."

"Because none of us want to end up in the Pit, kid," Dale grumped, pausing to take a bite out of bread (how he managed this without a mouth Audrey did not care to speculate). 

Kid. She'd been right. Bill must have been one of the other teenagers that Sammy had mentioned. That Joey Drew had either killed or gotten killed. It was awful. How could anyone do that?

"No one wants to fight a Keeper unless they have to," Violet agreed.

"And Sammy won't let me," Mike said, sounding like he'd be frowning if he could.

Bendy just shook his head.

"You could have a little more faith in me," Bill said, his gaze on Bendy. 

The look the Toon gave him was flat and unamused. Audrey got the sense that, if Bendy could actually talk, this would have been some kind of argument.

"What kind of test?" Audrey ventured.

Bendy gave her a look that very plainly said 'seriously?'

"It's a weapon modification," Bill said with a near audible grin. "You've got a weapon, right?"

"It's... not much of a weapon."

"Can I see it?"

"Sure."

Audrey fished her pipe out of her bag. Bill visibly brightened at the sight of it and all but snatched it out of her hands as soon as Audrey held it out across the table.

"A Gent pipe," he said, enthusiasm audible. "I don't know what they made these with, but there's nothing sturdier."

Bendy rolled his eyes again.

"Hey, the one I tore out of the Machine didn't break when he hit you with it, did it?"

"What?!"

Why? How? What? And... Why did Bendy suddenly look sheepish?

"It's a long story," Bill said. "The short version is that I thought working for Gent was a good idea. I got a little too curious. I got myself and my two best friends killed between trying to destroy the Ink Machine and letting Bendy out of this fridge they were keeping him in. Though by the sound of what Gent did to him, I don't blame him for thinking that we were all with Gent."

Audrey looked at Bendy, hoping for some kind of explanation. Bendy sheepishly looked anywhere but at her.

...Gent had kept him in a fridge?

"Joey Drew had shipped the Ink Machine off to Atlantic City for repairs," Bill explained. "I ended up working on it when they were down someone since Gent ran most of their operation out of Atlantic City. I tried to fix it, then I tried to break it when we thought the ink was going to take over everything if we didn't stop it. I tore out a few of the parts and got turned into this because of it."

"This world doesn't exist without the Machine," Violet said softly. "Our Lord protected the Machine. He had to."

"My buddy Brant actually ended up fighting the monster, but we didn't make it out since... Well, you try fighting something that shrugs off getting hit with a pipe like it barely even felt it. We bought Constance time, but Joey Drew got her. And Scott – he worked for Gent, for Mr. Connor – too. He threw them both in here. We got separated when Wilson showed up. He's using Gent tech, but Sammy won't let me get anywhere near the city."

"He just wants to protect you," Violet said.

"I can look after myself!" Mike argued.

"Anyway," Bill continued, while Mike and Violet broke into an argument over why Mike wasn't allowed to join in on any of the fighting (because he was too young, it sounded like). "I figured Wilson might be using Gent tech, so maybe some Gent tech can turn them off. I'll give this back as soon as I'm done."

"Right..."

Teenagers. Even if they had been teenagers, had been too young. Bendy had killed two teenagers, barely more than kids. And Joey Drew had murdered a third in cold blood. And a fourth if her count was accurate based on Sammy's explanations.

Even when she thought this place couldn't get any worse, it somehow did.

"...Bendy?" she asked gently.

He didn't look at her.

"Did you...?"

He nodded.

"...Do you regret it?"

Another nod. 

Things... Things were done. And they were horrible, awful things. It was so hard to reconcile the little demon in front of her with something that could kill people, kill teenagers that had gotten too curious for their own good.

"Did you apologize?"

Another nod. Audrey sighed and rested a hand between his horns.

"It's... I'm glad you apologized," she said. "It's... bad, what you did. Really bad, but..."

"I probably would have died anyway," Bill offered. "Joey Drew killed anyone related to the Ink Machine project eventually. I'm pretty sure he got his hands on Mr. Connor too, from what Sammy's said. He's the one that built the Machine. And if it helps, I'm not mad. I'd be pretty mad too if someone shoved me in a freezer and left me locked in some old speakeasy basement."

This place was truly horrible. And it didn't sound like Gent was much better. They'd built the Machine, then, but Bendy had made the world inside of it. It was all so confusing.

She just wanted to go home.

Instead she sipped at her soup as Bill left the table and Mike and Violet's argument petered out into nothing, the both of them sulking across the table from one another. 

The ambient conversation was disarmingly normal. Chatter about this and that and nothing in particular. Occasionally laughter would rise up from one of the tables. It was like the employee break room at ArchGate Pictures, Audrey thought, but with significantly better coffee.

Eventually, Lost Ones started trickling out back in the direction of the houses. Was it late? Audrey couldn't tell. Without windows or a clock she had no way of knowing. It had to be, she couldn't tell. It didn't feel early, but it didn't feel late. It was just strange.

She looked around the space. There weren't many Lost Ones left. Some stragglers, clearly huddled in groups if they were left. 

Dale was the first to leave the table, then Mike, followed by Violet, who trailed in the general direction of a cluster of Lost Ones that were milling around the house at the very back of the cave. Bendy hadn't really moved from staring into his now empty mug of soup after finishing it.

"...Bendy?" Audrey asked gently.

Bendy just shook his head, but didn't protest when Audrey put her hand between his horns in an effort to give him at least a little comfort. He'd done terrible things. But she didn't know the details, didn't know the entire story. She shouldn't judge. Not until she knew what had really happened.

Plus seeing him this gloomy didn't sit well with her. There had to be something she could do. Hm...

"How about we get another cup of hot chocolate?"

That got the little devil's attention. He didn't hop to his feet, but he did wiggle out of the seat and waited for Audrey to stand up before grabbing one of her hands and all but dragging her toward O. There weren't many Lost Ones still hanging around and the makeshift stoves were slowly going out, but O was still keeping one stove lit.

"Is there any hot chocolate left?" Audrey asked.

"Only if you're willing to wait for it to warm up," O answered, gaze going to Bendy. "Unless you want to kill some time by helping Sammy out."

Bendy visibly perked up a little at that.

"Think you can run a couple of mugs over to him? Save him the extra trip."

Bendy nodded eagerly, standing on his tip-toes to retrieve a precariously tall stack of mugs from the makeshift counter beside the equally makeshift stove. Audrey quickly grabbed part of the stack before anything could fall. Bendy may be a demon, but he was still a cartoon, and a stack of any dishes taller than he was could only be a pratfall waiting to happen. Bendy was dealing with enough, he really didn't need that on top of everything else right now.

With a bit more pep in his step, Bendy trotted past the group of assembled Lost Ones outside of the house at the far end of the cavern and all the way to the far wall opposite the 'kitchen.' To a building squirreled away in the corner, impossible to spot until you were almost directly in front of it. The makeshift door sat ajar but, curiously, was mounted to swing outwards instead of in.

Bendy carefully nudged the door open with a foot and hopped over the board that served as a makeshift threshold barrier. Audrey took a step to follow him and froze.

Inside, in a room lit only by a makeshift brick fireplace filled with candles instead of firewood, were enough Searchers that Audrey could barely see the floor through their half-melted forms. They were slowly crowding around Sammy, who was crouched in the center of the room with a pot of soup on the floor in front of him. There were so many reaching arms, crowding, swarming–

But Bendy trotted right up to Sammy, holding up the stack of mugs with a bright smile.

"Ah. Thank you, my Lord," Sammy said, as if he didn't notice the swarm of inky creatures around him.

The little demon beamed.

Audrey watched, her heart doing its best to force its way out of her chest out of fear for Bendy's safety, at the sight of the scene. There were so many Searchers, Bendy could get hurt, or worse. 

Sammy simply ladled soup into a mug and carefully pressed it into the hands of one of the Searchers. It took the mug with an audibly grateful sort of gurgling noise before oozing its way out of the mass of melted bodies and to one of the walls to hunker down and slowly sip at its soup as best something without a lower jaw could.

One by one, Sammy ensured that each Searcher had a mug of warm soup, Bendy completely unbothered by the swarm of inky forms. He was careful to not tread on any ink attached to any of them when he trotted back across the space to retrieve the rest of the stack of mugs from Audrey, who could only watch with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Bendy patted her arm reassuringly before trotting back to Sammy to help ensure every last Searcher got a mug of their own.

Soon each and every Searcher was settled, quiet and calm with only the occasional little bubble of ink around their forms or watery noise that almost sounded content, looking so close to the Lost Ones that had been scattered through the cavern with soup in hand that it hurt to look at. These were people . Just like the Lost Ones. Just more deformed, more twisted out of shape, terrifying with their stretched out and mangled faces, but still people.

"Many forget the Searchers," Sammy said, causing Audrey to jump a little at the sudden break from the silence. "Half lost to the Well of Voices, barely able to separate themselves from the Ink. Scarcely able to remember themselves, too lost in their despair but not so far gone that they have given up hope. Robbed of their sight, but clinging to their hearing, their remaining ability to still feel warmth. They are still human, for all the burdens of their current forms."

"That's... awful," was all Audrey could think to say, wishing she had something better to offer for how truly terrible it was.

Sammy nodded solemnly.

He stood, empty soup pot in one arm.

"...Some of them were my band, once," he said. "Some weren't. No one deserves this fate."

Audrey couldn't think of anything to say. She could only nod as Sammy stepped out of the darkened space, Bendy following at his heels. His masked gaze moved to her slowly.

"None should be without hope, little sheep," he said. "Least of all those only barely clinging to it. So we survive. We hope. One day He shall set us free. That is what this is. What all of this is."

Audrey looked down at Bendy, who gave her a single nod, his expression looking determined all of a sudden.

For as awful as this world was... Oh. That was why. It might seem silly to see a cartoon character as some kind of god, but when you had nothing else to turn to, something actually tangible would help, wouldn't it?

"That said," Sammy continued. "You're welcome to join us for the music this evening, little sheep. Normally there's a sermon beforehand, but given that those can be quite... impassioned."

Bendy gently elbowed Sammy in the leg.

"...Overzealous," Sammy corrected, "I elect to skip on such things on the first day of any new arrivals. The first days are always the hardest, after all, there is no need to make it worse, even on accident."

"Music?" Audrey asked.

"Our instruments may not be in the best repair these days, but a number of us are still musicians."

"Sure."

She didn't know what to expect, but she could really use something at least a little bit normal right now. Even if it was just for a little while.

Chapter Text

It took Audrey a good minute after waking up to remember where she was.

The couch she'd woken up on was unfamiliar and dotted with old ink stains, the blanket draped over her and the pillow under her head both smelled faintly musty. But the couch was comfortable and the blanket was warm and big enough to hide the fact she'd spent the entire night with her Bendy plush held to her chest. It was childish and embarrassing, but it was a little extra bit of comfort that she sorely needed.

Audrey rolled over, giving her a full view of the singular room that made up Sammy's house, the house that sat at the far end of the cavern, the one with 'Not Monsters' written above the door. For someone ostensibly leading some kind of Bendy-based religion, it was almost shockingly plain. It hardly had more to it than the house her coworkers were living in. There were two couches, but no mattresses. There was a makeshift bookshelf holding a number of things – an axe, a banjo, stacks of loose papers and bottles of ink, a battered record player and a small stack of equally battered records, a scant handful of books, and a few stacks of worn folders. There were caches of supplies in crates here and there, candles and empty cans of soup mostly, plus a writing desk with a chair and a small little sodium bulb desk lamp on it. But that was it.

Sammy was undeniably a tidy person, everything had its place in the little house. Including pillows and blankets when not in use, carefully folded and stacked in one corner of the other couch which was otherwise empty. Both Bendy and Sammy must have been up and around for her to be the only one in the little house.

Audrey had no idea how late the music had actually gone. And it was quite a lot of music, though she recognized only a handful of songs from her mother's old records. She recognized 'Willow Weep For Me' from the tape she'd found, recognizing Sammy's voice (the tinniness of the tape had made it so hard to tell it was him) but deciding not to mention it. 

Before the music had been over, Bendy had dozed off and Sammy had simply hefted the Toon into his arms before tucking him in with the other couch as a bed. It had been disarmingly adorable. Audrey had been tired enough that she'd followed them and passed out the second her head hit the pillow.

For all of Sammy's... Sammy-ness, he was very clearly a good person. And noticeably paternal to Bendy, to the point where it seemed to simply be automatic for him. That fact made her chest feel a little tight, but she shrugged it off. Her father just wasn't like Sammy, and that was fine. Even if he could be distant, he had still encouraged her dreams and her career. He'd helped her pay for college and get her dream job. He just wasn't the best with words or showing what he felt, that was all.

Audrey's stomach rumbled. Her bag was right where she left it, right beside the couch, so she tucked the stuffed toy away before getting out of 'bed,' folding the blanket and leaving the pillow on top of it. The couch had been surprisingly comfortable for how lumpy it looked. She could really go for a shower, but breakfast and a cup of coffee was probably going to have to do it. 

And then what? Spend more time with her coworkers, maybe? Work on fleshing out some more ideas for animations or storyboards while they were down here. But if she just sat around all day, that wasn't accomplishing anything. Allison had told her to lay low for a few days, but she needed to get home . But if Wilson knew the way in and out, there was no way he was just going to let her leave. Not after everything he'd done.

As nice as taking a break from all the horrible things sounded, sitting around didn't feel like an option, not really.

...Breakfast first. Making plans on an empty stomach was rarely a good idea.

Audrey shouldered her bag and pushed past the curtain that was in place of a door. Lost Harbor was a bustle of activity, but it was all very subdued with a morning drowsiness. Nearly every Lost One she saw was nursing a mug of coffee, some carrying around sandwiches or somewhat sad-looking bagels. Bread and peanut butter really did seem to be the staple foods of choice, but it was fresh bread so she couldn't judge. 

A few Lost Ones were scattered around the chairs and tables of the kitchen, as Audrey was starting to think of it, with O overseeing several reheated pots that by smell alone were definitely reheated coffee, not soup.

A smear of black was the only warning she got before something collided with her legs and Audrey barely managed to keep her footing. She looked down to see Bendy, his arms wrapped around one of her legs, grinning up at her.

"Good morning, Bendy," she said. "Sleep okay?"

He nodded, grabbing one of her hands and dragging her toward the kitchen. Soon Audrey was handed a piping hot mug of coffee and a bagel with a rather half-hearted sort of chocolate ganache between the layers. It wasn't bad, just rather plain, and there were plenty of open seats to simply sit around and enjoy breakfast with murmured conversations for a calm, startlingly normal background noise. 

Bendy had quite a lot of energy, helping run mugs of coffee or breakfast out of the kitchen and to the houses. It looked like not everyone in the shantytown got up in the morning, Bendy being willing to take people breakfast in bed, more or less, was heart-meltingly endearing. He wasn't a monster, he couldn't be. Even if he had hurt people. Everyone made mistakes, and hurting people wasn't good, but if he was sorry about it, then he couldn't possibly be bad.

She did notice that he had to stop his errands occasionally, pausing to put a hand to his chest and take a few deep breaths. Audrey frowned at the sight. With how eager Bendy was to run around, something had to be wrong to slow him down so suddenly and enough times that it was more than a little worrying.

Eventually Bendy made his way back to her, hopping up on the seat beside her with a bagel of his own (with extra chocolate slathered on top of it, it looked like O was a bit biased toward the little devil too) and a mug of cocoa.

"Are you feeling okay, Bendy?" Audrey asked.

Bendy's smile faltered. He looked around and, with no one looking at him, shook his head a little bit before setting down his mug of cocoa and pointing to his chest.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

Bendy visibly winced, but held up a hand to show that it was just a little. He looked away guiltily.

Audrey set down her own drink to rest her hand between his horns.

"It's okay, Bendy," she said. "Whatever's wrong, I'm sure we can figure out how to fix it."

Bendy nodded. He paused for a moment before scooting over to lean against her. It was adorable, really, and she didn't say a word, she just went back to enjoying her breakfast.

Audrey was content to people watch, for the moment. It was... sad, in a way. So many people, trapped and changed, still managing to live their lives despite everything. They talked to each other, shared breakfast, it was an entire community of people stuck in such an awful place. 

But even with that, this place was almost normal. The only difference between this and anywhere in New York was that the people here were subsisting on what they could scavenge rather than buy. And everyone acted like they didn't realize how terrible it was, how they were surviving, not living. Which was so wrong, in its own way. Like they were used to this.

No one should have to get used to this. To get used to being something made out of ink, no longer looking human. To be able to be so normal despite it.

Audrey scanned the scattered crowds. She didn't see her coworkers, who were most likely sleeping in. She did spot Sammy toward the far edge of the village talking to... well, they looked human, at this distance, in a long trench coat with a hat that hid their face. Lost Ones, Audrey had noticed, aside from Sammy, didn't really wear clothes, so were they a human? Or were they like Allison?

"Bendy?" Audrey asked.

The little demon looked up at her.

"Do you know who that is?"

Bendy nodded, his expression falling, guilt written right across his face.

Oh.

"That's... someone you hurt, isn't it?"

Bendy looked away but nodded.

"Did you apologize?"

Another nod. She gently placed a hand between his horns.

"Then it'll be alright, Bendy. Everyone makes mistakes. Hurting someone isn't something you can take back, but you can still try to make up for it."

He looked up at her, inky eyes wide with little tears threatening to form in the corners. She could see what he wanted to say in that expression.

"Yes, really," she assured him.

Bendy squished his face into her side and hugged her. Audrey hugged him back.

Bendy wasn't just a character. He was his own person with his own feelings. He'd done bad things, but he wasn't a bad person. Bad people didn't feel guilty or apologize. He didn't deserve this any more than anyone else here did.

And what he clearly needed right now was some extra love and reassurance. She may not have had all the details – she wasn't sure she wanted them, with how horrible every new thing she learned about this place was – but Bendy had been hurt by Wilson. He'd had to do bad things when he hadn't wanted to. And, until recently, there had been no opportunity for him to just be .

She'd help him however she could. He deserved so much better than that.

Bendy clung to her like a lifeline for a good few minutes while Audrey watched Sammy and the possibly-human pass all the way across the shantytown, all the way to the kitchen so the person in the trenchcoat could get a bagel and a cup of coffee.

Sammy's masked gaze caught her and he headed for her, the mystery individual in tow.

"How are you feeling, Audrey?" Sammy asked.

"Better than I did yesterday," Audrey admitted, Bendy finally looking up from her side. "It's... a lot to take in."

"Things will get easier in time, little sheep."

"Audrey?" the person in the trench coat asked.

Sammy simply nodded.

"You're the one Wilson's been looking for," the man, judging by his voice, said, his accent distinctly British and rather rough. "He's been tearing the city apart trying to find you."

"Oh."

Why, though? Sure, Jason had made a movie theater, but if Wilson expected her to make things, the only thing she was drawing was an exit.

Sammy cleared his throat.

"Audrey," he said, "this is Archie Carter. He's the one who is... unfortunately well acquainted with Gent's practices. He's a reliable source of information in exchange for supplies and, while he is not a member of the Flock, he is welcome here all the same."

"Hard to worship the thing that killed you," Archie stated. "I hear that voice in my nightmares as much as it is."

Bendy dipped his head in shame. Audrey ran a gentle thumb along one of his horns to reassure him.

Archie still looked human, though. Only... no. With a closer look Archie's skin was yellowed like hers, the color of old paper, but his hair stuck to his head like it was damp with ink. There was the smallest hint of gold underneath his skin, jagged claw-like lines near his ears. His eyes were hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses that were likely blocking the glow all the Lost One's eyes seemed to hold.

Like her own were starting to.

"Why did–" Audrey began, only to close her mouth.

She shouldn't ask. Bendy felt bad enough already.

"He thought I was with Gent," Archie answered. "They used his ink on us. He thought I was with Gent and that I had agreed to what they did to us."

Archie absently ran a finger down one of the glowing lines on the side of his head, his inky hair moving enough that Audrey could see that it looked like golden claws had torn across the side of his head and left glowing scars behind, the glow so faint they were nearly invisible.

Audrey wanted to ask what Gent had done. She really did. But every answer was worse than the last, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"He killed me because we tried to destroy the Machine," Archie continued. "We didn't know the truth about this place at the time. How many people were trapped here. I can't blame him much."

"We?" Audrey ventured cautiously.

'We.' More than one person? More people that had been hurt by Gent? They'd hurt Bendy and they'd hurt other people too?

"We didn't know much about the Machine," Archie said. "I just knew that Gent was trying to use it to 'bridge the gap between worlds.' Whatever they thought that meant. They did... horrible things to us. Experiments. Called it volunteering. Three-fifty a week." He shook his head. "Locked us in and kept us there and wouldn't tell us what they were doing. I was the only one that got out. I thought Joey Drew might be able to help fix things, but he was just as bad as they were."

His mouth set in a bitter line. Joey Drew. Again. How many lives had he ruined?

"There was a girl that worked for Joey Drew then. Her name was Rose." His expression softened. "She was brave. She wanted to stop the Machine from hurting anyone. She brought a friend, Dot. Someone who knew about the Machine, about the monster. We tried to destroy the Machine together. It didn't work. I was killed and got trapped in this place."

His tone was wistful. Nostalgic. Rose. Hadn't Mike mentioned Rose? 

He meant Bendy when he said monster, didn't he?

"Rose made it to this world, once. Joey Drew tried to trap people in here. She helped them get out. I did what I could to help her. And I haven't seen her since."

Had Rose used the same way out that Wilson was, or was there another way?

"And now Wilson's here." Archie's voice turned bitter. "He's Gent at this point. Experiments, machines, even the old Gent building... I'd hoped I'd never see that place again."

Gent. Experiments. Wilson was... Wilson was just continuing what had happened before. What had, it sounded like, happened to Archie. He'd done it to his coworkers. He'd done it to Bendy.

...How many more people would he hurt if he wasn't stopped?

"How can I help?" Audrey asked.

Her words were met with silence. Bendy stared up at her with wide, confused eyes.

"There has to be something I can do to help, right?" Audrey said. "People are getting hurt. Wilson's going to keep hurting people if no one stops him. There has to be something I can do to help. Anything."

"Asking that could put you in danger, little sheep," Sammy said softly. "The things that need doing beyond supplies all come with risk."

"I can't just sit here and do nothing. It's not right."

It was her team being thrown in here. Tortured. Killed. She should have gone looking for them before. She couldn't change the past, but she could try and make things better now.

"You remind me of Rose," Archie said, fondness in his voice.

"I can't place you on the front lines, little sheep," Sammy said. "Nor can I let you venture into the city and directly into the Invader's hands."

"Too many Keepers," Archie agreed. "Wilson's followers are everywhere. The Rebellion's in hiding if they're still alive, and the Angel's followers are everywhere Wilson's aren't."

Silence. There had to be something.

Bendy looked at Sammy and nodded once.

"There is one thing you could do, little sheep," Sammy said. "But I have no way of knowing how much danger you will be in if you go."

"Tell me."

Audrey wouldn't stand by and do nothing. She wouldn't just let people suffer. She wouldn't let her team be killed. Not if she could help it.

"I need to break whatever curse or seal the Invader has placed upon my Lord. I was forced to leave my entire collection of texts and notes on the subject behind in my sanctuary in the music department of the Old Studio. Progress will be slowed without it. If you could recover those texts, my work will be much faster. But I do not know how many of his forces the Invader has left behind, or if any others are still lingering there that would harm you. The Projectionist likely hasn't left his lair, and though his sight is poor, his hearing is sharp and he does not take well to intruders. It will be dangerous, little sheep, but I cannot go in your stead. The Flock needs guidance, without it their fear of the Invader and what he may do to them may cause them to give up hope and be lost to the ink. And I cannot leave my Lord in this weakened state without someone to guard him. There are many whose faith would never waver, but their forms can only take so much before falling. I am the most solid, though I wish I could undertake this myself, I cannot."

He sounded genuinely distressed by that. Torn between helping people here and helping Bendy.

"I'll do it."

"It will be dangerous, little sheep."

"I know. I'll do it."

She couldn't sit around. She couldn't. If she could help Bendy, and if Bendy was as strong as everyone seemed to think then maybe, just maybe, they could stop Wilson.

And if they couldn't? Then at least Bendy would feel better.

Sammy was quiet for a long moment.

"Very well, little sheep," he said. "But you are not going anywhere until you are prepared. Wait here."

Chapter Text

Properly prepared, in the case of Sammy's Flock, included a lot of food. Several loaves of bread, a few cans of soup, and assorted snacks, plus a very battered metal thermos full of coffee. 

Plus a coil of rope and, for some reason, a very large, very flat knife with a sheath made out of several layers of old mismatched chunks of leather stitched together. 

"You'll need it," said one of the Lost Ones whose name she didn't know. "Wilson's eyes are everywhere. Literally."

"They're not overly difficult to evade," Sammy said, attaching the knife via a cobbled-together belt clip to Audrey's waist. "They're sensitive to sound. If they're open, they're easily blinded with a bit of ink. All you need to do is avoid their gaze, or slip the knife underneath one and twist. They're not affixed very well."

"What are they?" Audrey asked.

"Ever seen barnacles before?" the Lost One said. "That, but with eyes in them."

Audrey shuddered at the thought.

"Yeah," the Lost One agreed. "Hey, where's Bill?"

"A good question," Sammy said. "My Lord?"

Bendy, who had been sitting on a nearby bench at the edge of the 'kitchen' while Audrey was being kitted out perked up.

"Could you go find Bill for us?"

Bendy saluted and scampered off.

"It's still freaky to see him like that," the Lost One said once Bendy was well out of earshot.

"One gets used to it," Sammy said simply.

"Yeah, but you weren't in animation."

"Leave the old rivalries at the door, animation."

Sammy's usual priest-esque cadence dropped in a single sentence.

"Oh yeah, because the blatant favoritism never mattered."

"The only favoritism was that if I quit they'd never find someone to replace me. Or Jack. And the entire band would have gone with us. Not that it matters anymore."

"Bull it doesn't."

"Do you really think I would have deigned to stay in this underpaid hellhole if Drew didn't bite his tongue and pay my band a living wage?"

"...I guess."

And then all the building tension between the two evaporated as Sammy busied himself with double-checking that the clip for Audrey's knife was sturdy enough like a fussy parent and the Lost One ambled away. What had that been about?

Before she could ask, Bendy bounced up with Bill in tow. Carrying... well, it looked like it had been her Gent pipe. At some point.

"There you are," Sammy said. "Now, what exactly did you make?"

"I call it the shock pipe," Bill answered with an audible beam in his voice. "I'd have to test it to see if the voltage is high enough to actually disable a Keeper, but it should be enough to at least stun them on a full charge."

Bill walked Audrey through the device currently strapped to her primary means of self-defense. It was battery powered, a charge level indicated in little lights along the side of the metal thing the battery slotted into. The handle was wrapped with something vaguely rubbery that looked suspiciously like it had once been a boot sole so that Audrey wouldn't get electrocuted while holding it. The 'shock' pipe had a very simple flat toggle switch to turn it off and on so she couldn't shock herself on accident.

Bill handed her a grand total of four batteries. She'd have to keep an eye out for more. 

It was awkwardly shaped, but if it worked, being able to stun something that formidable was a little miracle of its own.

Bill also included a length of braided leather that looked like it had been made from scraps along with an equally cobbled-together leather bracelet so that she didn't have to worry about fumbling her pipe or getting disarmed that affixed to a clip at the end of the pipe. He really had thought of everything, hadn't he?

"Thank you," Audrey said earnestly.

"Not a problem. And if you run into Brant or Constance, can you tell them I'm here?"

"I will, don't worry."

"Are you ready to depart?" Sammy asked.

"As ready as I think I can be," Audrey answered.

Bendy tugged on the hem of her sweater. She looked down to see the little demon holding his arms up.

Audrey knelt down and pulled Bendy into a hug. He bumped his horns into her chin.

"I'll be back before you know it," she said. "Don't give Sammy too much trouble while I'm gone, okay?"

Bendy's mischievous smile promised nothing. Audrey would have ruffled his hair if he'd had any, so she settled for gently flicking the tip of one of his horns instead, to which he stuck out his tongue in retribution, making her laugh. He beamed in clear victory.

With that, he stepped back and let her stand up.

Sammy led her back to the docks.

"I can't go with you," he said. "But I have a reliable guide to take you as far as the tunnels, though I do need him back here once he is gone as far as we know is safe. And... do not begrudge the Projectionist if you encounter him. Whatever the Liar did to him... Well, he is only the remains of Norman Polk now."

Audrey nodded. Sammy sounded sad. Bendy had drawn a monster with a projector for a head, that must have been the Projectionist. 'Mistah Norm' Bendy had called him. It... somehow, it sounded like what he'd been turned into was even worse than being a Lost One.

"Who's–" Audrey began, only to stop.

The Lost One standing atop the giant hand in the ink waved.

"Porter!" she exclaimed.

"Hello, Audrey," the Lost One greeted. "You made it down here all in one piece, I see."

"Mostly."

"Well, mostly is still quite good! The Prophet said you needed a hand getting to the Old Studio, and fortunately I've still got two of them, oho!"

The giant hand gently bopped him with a finger for the bad joke. Audrey couldn't help but laugh at it a little.

"Now there's something you don't hear much anymore!" Porter exclaimed. "Come along, Audrey, the sea awaits."

The hand lowered itself so that Audrey could step on, but she sat down as soon as she could.

"You'll need a password for my sanctuary," Sammy called as the hand rose up. "The tape with it should be in my office."

Audrey gave him a thumbs up and Porter waved before launching into a sea shanty that she was fairly sure was actually from an old Popeye cartoon, but the hand started on down the inky river all the same.

The way into the old studio was, in a word, bizarre.

The river tunnel stopped at what Audrey would, though only very loosely, call a boat launch. Not a very good one, not much more than a shack with a ramp with a paddleboat at the top of it with the vaguest of Bendy theming to it. The Hand stretched up enough that they could step up onto solid ground without needing to climb the ramp.

"Thank you," Audrey told the Hand.

It gave her a thumbs up before retreating back under the inky water without so much as a single ripple.

"This way, Audrey," Porter said. "Do watch your step."

The way forward was a dimly lit rocky tunnel with bits of wall and boxes and barrels littered around. Audrey followed, taking care to mind her step. The floor was uneven, puddles dotting the path as ink dripped from the massive pipes that poked out of the ceiling in places.

The path ambled, but soon the rocky walls were replaced with normal wood, closer to that of the New Studio, but different, somehow. Audrey ran a hand along the wall. It still looked painted, still felt like real wood beneath her fingers, but the lines were... simpler. Less detailed, more the broad strokes that it took to make the wall look like a wall and nothing else, no accents or embellishments. 

The hallway narrowed steadily until it stopped, abruptly, at a simple wooden door.

"This is as far as I can take you," Porter said. "We've been able to keep this path clear, but with the Projectionist roaming without the Angel to keep him on just a few floors, I can't say I know what you're going to find on the other side. Well, aside from Bendyland."

"Bendyland?" 

As in the amusement park that was never built? It had been announced, but nothing had ever come of it.

"Oh, yes. The bits of it that were built, at least, though there's not much beyond unfinished rides and some odd scrap. It's still a ways up to the music department, but you can save quite a bit of time if you can get the elevator working. The Angel stopped it during the evacuation so the Keepers couldn't use it, but there's an access panel... oh, the nearest one should be up on Level 14. A good jolt should get it going again, we used to jump start it with the projectors from the storage down there. Well, up there, from here. From there it's just a ride up right to the music department. Of course, you'll have to get there first."

Elevator. Okay. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, given the lack of functional ones before now, but if Porter said it was safe, it was... probably fine. 

"You'll need to go through this door," Porter continued, "out of Bendyland, through the planning department, through a few vents – it may be a bit of a squeeze, but you'll fit right through – and into the break room. Through that, up the stairs – all of them, Audrey, don't bother taking any of the doors until you get to the top – and across the gap. You'll need to take the vents up a few floors since the archives are locked up tight, but a bit of Flow should get you up to Level 14."

That sounded like a lot. But easy enough. Out the door, out of Bendyland, through a department, through some vents, up some stairs, and through some more vents. She just had to be careful.

"Got it. Thanks, Porter."

"Of course. Do be careful, Audrey. Just because you can come back from the ink doesn't mean you should take risks you don't need to. The Prophet has circles all over the Old Studio, but try not to need them."

"I will."

It felt like reassuring her grandfather that she'd be back by curfew on a school night more than anything. 

"Best of luck then, Audrey. Eyes up and remember to check your surroundings."

Audrey nodded. Porter gave one of her shoulders a squeeze before heading back the way they'd come from. He waved as he went. Audrey waved back.

And then she was alone.

With nowhere to go but forward.

Gripping her Gent pipe tightly, Audrey took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The door didn't open very far, but it was more than enough for Audrey to squeeze through. It was blocked from opening all the way by a pile of trash cans with covers that vaguely resembled Bendy's face, sheets of corrugated metal, and chunks of broken boards. 

The junk formed a loose sort of path that blocked the door from the rest of the space. Audrey moved through it slowly, taking care to not jostle anything, parts of the stacks looked worryingly precarious. 

Beyond the mound of junk was... Audrey hesitated to call it anything other than a mess. There were piles of construction materials stacked haphazardly, and the handful of structures that were standing all looked cheap and questionably constructed, liable to collapse if someone looked at them wrong. 

Audrey slipped between two of the wooden booths and out into an open stretch between two lines of similar structures. There was a bottle toss booth, a shooting gallery–

Wait. Each booth either held a carnival game or nothing at all. Audrey turned in a slow circle. At one end of the space was what looked like someone's best attempt at a cartoon haunted house. The idea was there, but the execution was a little lacking, the mismatched wooden teeth looked too fake, too silly. At the other end was a half-finished carousel with rubber hose style horses half collapsed in a pile along with what looked like it had been some attempt at building a miniature train. Put together, it was a glaringly cheap attempt at an amusement park's midway.

It was, as Porter had said, Bendyland, the bits of it that had been actually built. 

It was all so... cheap, though. Joey Drew had to have sunk tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of dollars into the project, to the point that the studio had gone bankrupt, but this was the result?

Maybe the Studio had already been failing and the project had been the final nail in the coffin. That and however much time and money must have gone into the Ink Machine, into making Bendy. The studio had never gone to using color, and you could only make cartoons where the main character was the butt of every gag so many times before audiences stopped paying attention. That was why the early Bendy cartoons were the best ones.

(Were those the cartoons that Henry had worked on?)

Audrey shook her head. As much as she would have loved to see an entire Bendy themed amusement park, it had clearly been a mistake of an investment. She couldn't stay here, she had to keep moving.

At the far end of Bendyland – though someone had written over the sign that stretched out over the entrance to the space into 'Bendy Hell' – was a large set of metal doors, more slabs of metal and bolts welded into the rough shape of doors. They were closed, far too large and heavy-looking to try and pry open, and no switch to throw or button to press to open them.

There was, however, a vent on the wall nearby. It was up high enough that she'd need to climb up on top of something to reach it, but that was easy enough. If the grate on it hadn't been closed, she could have just used Flow, but there was more than enough junk and boxes laying around that finding something wouldn't be hard at all.

Something clanged off the wall, making Audrey jump. She spun, holding her shock pipe at the ready, and froze.

It was Charley. Alive . Mangled, but alive nevertheless. One arm was just a stump of shattered wood, one leg replaced with a bunch of cobbled-together chunks of pipe stuck together with tape. He had an old wrench held in his one intact hand, his other arm holding an empty can of soup to his side (he must have thrown one, hitting the wall instead of her) and he hobbled forward with a horrifyingly gurgling sound.

It was heart-wrenching. He could barely walk, one eye a stitched-up X, jaw looking painfully stretched out.

"...No," Audrey said aloud.

She lowered her pipe, resolute. 

Charley paused in his hobbling, staring up at her.

"I'm not going to fight you," she said.

The Butcher Gang may have been Bendy's antagonists, but they were still Toons. They didn't deserve to be hurt. They were like everyone else here, trapped. Mangled into something almost unrecognizable.

She couldn't, she wouldn't, hurt him.

The Butcher Gang's leader tilted his head, a sickeningly floppy motion.

"I'm not going to fight you, Charley," she repeated. 

Unlike the Lost Ones that had just attacked her, he... wasn't. He was just staring at her, head tilted at a slightly worrying angle.

"...Hit me?" the Toon gurgled, the words almost indecipherably choked out.

It should have been terrifying, it should have. But all Audrey felt was sad and slightly sick.

"No," she answered. "Never. I'm... glad you're okay, though. Alive, I mean. I thought..."

Charley blinked his one (uncomfortably human, uncomfortably stretched out) eye at her, eyebrows furrowing. He dropped the can he was carrying to tuck his wrench under his bad arm and motioned like he was using a pencil, very clearly writing the letters 'RIP' out in the air. Wait...

"Oh! Yes. That was me."

A makeshift coffin and an equally makeshift headstone. She hoped he hadn't minded the doodle, drawing without a pen wasn't easy. 

He gave her a very clearly skeptical look.

"I'm an animator," Audrey said. "ArchGate Pictures has the rights to the Bendy series now. We've got a couple of storyboards for how to reintroduce the Butcher Gang, we just haven't had the chance to get to that yet."

They had to get Bendy's reintroduction done first. Boris' had just ended up being alongside his, and they still had to do Alice after that. Audrey really wanted to use her boat race idea to reintroduce the Butcher Gang, but if they didn't get the first new short done, if Audrey didn't get back, then that would never happen.

Charley pointed to himself in clear bewilderment.

"Yes, you. And Barley and Edgar too."

She knelt down, closer to his level. The Butcher Gang's leader was, at most, only a little taller than Bendy was.

"Plus," she said, "I've got a couple of ideas. Sure, Bendy needs to win if it's just you against him, but what do you think about your gang and Bendy teaming up to beat someone else? I was thinking about bringing back Boswell Lotsabucks from the comics."

The rich fat cat was an easy target that could easily serve as an antagonist for not only Bendy, Boris, and Alice – and had worked well as one in the handful of comics the studio had produced – but for the Butcher Gang as well. Greedy corporate moguls were easy targets in the cartoon industry.

Charley let out a thoughtful gurgle, then nodded. He held out his one good hand. Audrey took it and shook it.

"I'm Audrey. Truce?"

Charley let out an affirmative-sounding gurgle and nodded. Thank goodness.

"I need to get to the music department, does that vent go that direction?"

Charley nodded. Thank goodness.

She couldn't just leave Charley, though. Not like this. He was barely able to walk. Maybe...

This place had been an amusement park in progress, once. And if there were enough bits of things leftover, maybe she could help Charley too.

"Do you want some help finding something for a better leg?" she asked.

Charley stared at her for a long moment before, slowly, nodding. Audrey stood up, thinking. The metal doors were a dead end, and she didn't hear anything else shuffling around, so maybe they were safe, at least for now? 

Audrey carefully and systematically worked her way down one side of the space. It was all scrap and junk. She took a right at the end of the midway, past the haunted house. There was a door tucked against one wall with the words 'Changing Room' scribbled onto a peeling piece of tape.

The door was unlocked. Inside was a small work table, a chair, a switch on one wall, and several Bendy-shaped costumes that had clearly been designed for someone to wear around the park. Mascot costumes. They were unsettling, really. Using mesh for Bendy's smile for someone to see out of didn't look right.

But there were shoes! And a single glove with a wooden arm (painted cheaply, the black paint rubbed off on her hands Audrey picked it up) and, digging around in the work table's drawers, glue and duct tape.

And Audrey still had scissors in her bag.

The fabric of the unsettling costume's torsos were quickly reduced to strips and scraps to stuff into one of the shoes until it was solid enough that Audrey could, with a generous dollop of foul-smelling glue, pop the wooden arm out of the glove and wedge it into place. The glove proved to be filled with sawdust that Audrey promptly dumped and filled full of fabric scraps instead, lining the inside wrist of the glove with two layers of duct tape to make makeshift double-sided tape.

Charley gurgled at her from the doorway.

"Here," Audrey said, offering Charley the shoe, the glue already nearly dry. "How does this look?"

Charley looked at the shoe for only a few seconds before leaning against the door frame and rapidly undoing the mess of tape keeping the bits of pipe strapped to his leg.

Audrey's scissors cut through the rest of the tape. Charley's leg cut off just below the knee, an old injury Audrey had seen many times before. The war from her childhood she couldn't really remember had taken both lives and limbs, a missing arm or a missing leg weren't uncommon to see when she was growing up. Her fix wasn't a good prosthetic, but it would have to work.

Audrey wrapped the point where leg met wood with a carefully tied length of fabric before Charley pointed at the duct tape. Reluctantly, she handed it over and watched the toon tape his leg to his new replacement. It looked uncomfortable, but she didn't say a word.

Charley's bad arm was much the same as his leg, the limb missing below the elbow. Duct tape patched over the splintered parts of the wood already there, the glove very carefully taped into place in a way where the tape wasn't visible under the glove.

"Better?" Audrey asked.

She wished she had some talent for this. She knew how to sew, sure, she'd even made her own clothes a few times, but this was so far beyond her.

Charley nodded appreciatively. Audrey breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Sorry it's not much."

Charley waved a hand, clearly trying to assure her that it was fine.

"Thanks. I... should probably get going. Are you going to be okay?"

Charley nodded. 

Audrey stood, prepared to leave, then paused. She dug around in her bag, pulling out one of the loaves of bread that had practically been shoved into her hands.

"Here," she said. "It's a lot better than the soup."

Charley stared up at her with his one eye wide. He hobbled away – much faster on his new leg – and came back with empty hands, gesturing in the direction of the big doors and then gesturing up.

"Oh. Thank you."

Shoving a crate over to the vent was much easier with Charley's help. And one crate was all Audrey needed to reach the vent.

She stared down at Charley. He waved at her. Audrey waved back. 

With that she lifted the vent's grate and shimmied in.

She was long gone by the time Charley, holding his new hand up to eye level, managed to wiggle one of his fingers.

Chapter Text

It took Flow and a bit of careful shimmying to get through the vent system, since it had quite a few sections that went straight up at too sharp of an angle to easily climb up. 

Audrey elbowed a vent cover open and squeezed out, the vent hidden behind a stack of crates and a few Bendy cutouts. She had to rest for a moment, catching her breath. Her entire body ached from having to use Flow so much to climb up and she tried, very pointedly, to not think about Porter's comment about bones.

She really hoped that getting the elevator working meant she didn't have to do that again on the way back down.

The sensation wasn't fading, so Audrey dug a Bendy bar out of her bag and nibbled at it. The food helped and the ache was gone by the time she was halfway through the snack. It was better to not think why something that could heal injuries made her feel better right now.

Slowly getting to her feet, Audrey poked her head around one of the cutouts. She was on a landing for a massive staircase that spiraled up and down and she'd been let out somewhere in the middle.

And directly up the stairs was a Bendy cutout staring at her like a warning.

Audrey's eyes slowly moved up, above the cutout.

There was a barnacle the size of a teacup saucer a good foot above the cutout. No visible eyes like she'd been told, but that only meant that they weren't open right now.

She'd have to be quiet.

Audrey carefully made her way across the wooden landing, pulling out the knife she had been given. She pressed herself flat against the wall to get a better look at the massive barnacle. She'd gone to more than enough beaches and docks to know what barnacles looked like and, from a distance, they looked right. But closer up, it was painfully apparent that whoever had drawn these had been trying to copy a scientific illustration without understanding what the real thing looked like. The lines weren't in the right place and the eyelid in the center – thankfully still closed – clashed grotesquely. 

Wilson had never been the best artist. Audrey had never seen any kind of warm-up sketches from him in the entire time she'd worked for ArchGate.

The knife she had been given was quite large, but very thin. She slowly slid the blade under the barnacle, between it and the wall, and gave it a good twist. 

The barnacle popped right off the wall, landing with a soft splat as a puddle of yellowed ink on the ground.

She could do this. There would definitely be more, though. She'd go slow. And be careful.

With nowhere to go but up, Audrey climbed one step at a time, going slow and staying quiet.

The stairs stopped at landings periodically along the spiral, each with the doors buried by rubble or nailed shut with boards. There were barnacles at every landing, and more along the way. Cutouts blocked the view of any that were low enough on the wall for them to cover, and Audrey mouthed a sincerely grateful 'thank you' to each one she passed. The ones that were higher up popped off of the walls easily enough, and marks on the wooden walls made it clear that she wasn't the first person to do this.

It was slow going, but it was quiet. 

The stairs did, eventually, end on one last landing. One with a doorway, but no door. Splintered chunks of wood and a stray doorknob made it clear that there had been one, once.

A trio of cutouts blocked the way. A warning. Audrey crouched down and peered between them. Beyond was a short hallway, but at the end of the hallway was a barnacle the size of a dinner plate with an open eye that was slowly drifting from left to right. A human eye. Audrey's stomach rolled a little at the sight.

How was she supposed to get past it without it seeing her, letting Wilson know where she was?

...

It was stupid. An impulsive idea, there was no way it would work. But...

Audrey picked up one of the cutouts, spun it around so the printed side was toward the eye, and slowly shuffled down the hall, crouched and hidden from sight. 

She'd seen this in a Bugs Bunny short once, only it had been with a different prop. Sure it had fooled Elmer Fudd, but that was a cartoon. There was no way this would work.

Though... Bendy was a cartoon. Bendy had made this place, if Sammy was right. Maybe it would. Maybe there was still a little bit of cartoon logic left in this horrible place.

Audrey shuffled to the edge of the hall, holding the cutout right up to the eye and sliding the knife under the barnacle. It popped off the wall just like all the rest, the splat and puddle of ink were just larger and bigger.

Had it worked? She didn't hear anything. So... maybe it had?

"I owe you one," she told the cutout, keeping her voice low.

...She should probably keep it with her. At least for the time being.

The hallway turned at sharp angles and Audrey hid behind the cutout every time she had to turn a corner. There weren't many eye barnacles as she went. It felt like they were set up like security cameras, set at deliberate points rather than clustering like real barnacles did. How had Wilson come up with this? And why?

Why was he doing any of this for that matter? It didn't make any sense. She'd just have to worry about it later. She had to focus. Get up to the music department, get Sammy's books, and get back the Flock. Cult? No, they weren't bad, and Sammy did kind of sound like a preacher at times, but she couldn't see him actually doing anything that would warrant the group being called a cult, even if the comparison to the old Fleisher animation was stuck in her head now.

The hallway dead ended at a door blocked with rubble from a collapsed section of ceiling. Ink leaked out from under it, pooling to ankle deep at the far end of the hall.

There was a vent on a nearby wall, at least. Even if crawling through vents wasn't exactly enjoyable, it meant she didn't have to waste time finding another way around.

Audrey set the cutout beside the vent, giving it a pat between the horns and a whispered grateful 'thank you' before squeezing into the vent. This one sloped up at a gradual enough angle that she didn't need to use Flow.

There was an ambient hum of noise through the vent that grew louder as she went until the vent dead-ended. There was a grate, though one that had a straight drop to the ground below. The visibly very flooded ground, the hum now a more distinctive sound she knew well.

The sound of a running film projector. 

Audrey's mind went to the projector-headed horror that Bendy had drawn. The thing that had killed Cass. She stayed silent, straining her ears for any other sounds.

Instead of the steady hum of the projector, the sound of it was suddenly getting louder, accompanied by a clanking sound of metal on metal, a click of film not spooling right.

A light flickered into view, growing brighter as the clanking and clicking grew louder.

A towering figure with a projector for a head shambled into view. Audrey clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Cords plugged into flesh, metal embedded into their body at apparent random. A body made of ink, but with film spooling and unspooling on a battered projector.

The Projectionist. 

Audrey felt sick. It looked incredibly painful. And Joey Drew had done this. Deliberately.

The Projectionist slogged through knee-high ink, shoulders slumped forward. The projector looked heavy.

Audrey couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He hadn't done anything to deserve this. All he'd done was make the mistake of working at Joey Drew Studios.

She waited until she couldn't hear the clanking of cords bumping into metal, jostling around in inky flesh, before using Flow to silently reach the floor. The ink was deep here, nearly to her waist, forcing her to slog onward at a painfully slow pace. At least the voices in the ink weren't loud. They were only whispers, though it was all the same words, like a chorus, but too faint for Audrey to make out the words clearly.

The hallway twisted at sharp corners like a maze. Audrey couldn't use Flow to make any progress, it would only take her a short distance at a time, and using it too much was unpleasant. For some reason, there were projectors crammed into odd places in the flooded maze, placed on top of crates and barrels, each playing the same Bendy cartoon. She didn't have time to stop and watch them. How were the projectors still running?

There was a Little Miracle Station around the third corner Audrey turned, the door ajar. She squeezed into it, tugging the door shut. It was flooded with nowhere dry to sit, but it was safe. 

The elevator had to be somewhere. Hopefully somewhere nearby. Slogging through this ink meant if that if the Projectionist saw her, she wouldn't be able to get aw–

The sound of the projectors grew louder.

Audrey covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her breathing as the Projectionist slogged by. It stopped, head slowly moving side to side. Audrey slumped down so, when its light slid over the Little Miracle Station, all it saw was the wooden back of the box. The light moved on, but the sound of the clicking projector didn't stop. 

Slowly, Audrey sat up. The Projectionist's back was to her. It was... fiddling with a projector? One that was off, sitting on a crate across from the Station. There were clicks and clanks. Then a solid 'thump' as the Projectionist smacked the side of the machine.

The light flickered on, the reel starting up. 'Hell in a Handbasket,' Audrey recognized it.

The whispers grew louder. Just loud enough to hear.

Just loud enough to hear them reciting Alice's dialogue as she cautioned Bendy and Boris against trying to go for a picnic in poor weather. 

The Projectionist gave a nod and slogged out of sight.

Audrey waited a few long moments before squeezing out of the Little Miracle Station and slogging onward. She hoped there was an easier way to get back down to the sewers that she could take on the way back. 

Every time one of the scattered old projectors clicked she jumped, expecting the Projectionist. She forced herself to trudge on as fast as she could, the ink was denser than water, it was more akin to trying to push through molasses. But she had to keep going. Around another corner, a second, a third–

There was a deafening screech, the sound of shredding film and feedback and static like a blown out speaker. Light blinded her.

The Projectionist had doubled back.

Audrey turned as best as she could, using Flow to try to outrun the clanking footsteps she could hear bearing down on her.

The halls were too short, she couldn't use Flow fast enough, couldn't get enough distance and–

Something slammed into her with enough force that the wall rushed up to meet her and–

"I'm the Dancing Demon–"

"It's too stormy out!"

"I warned you, Bendy!"

Audrey gasped for air the moment her head broke the surface of the Well. She fell sideways, landing on something. She scrambled to her feet, trying to get her bearings. She was out of the maze, but still in nearly waist-deep ink. There was a protection sigil on the wall she'd just fallen out of. A... short wall? No, some kind of platform in the middle of the ink. With stairs climbing up the side of it.

She looked up. An elevator shaft ran straight up from the platform.

There was an inky gurgle right next to her.

Audrey looked down. She hadn't landed on something, she'd landed on some one .

"Oh. Sorry, Barley," she apologized.

The Butcher Gang member's reply was only a raspy 'yarr,' head swinging from the end of a fishing pole. He raised a broken bit of pipe, ready to strike.

A static-filled screech filled the air.

The Projectionist.

Audrey didn't think as the light barreled into sight. She Flowed upwards, aiming to get over the railing at the top of the platform. Her aim was bad, her ankle catching on the rail as she landed in an ungraceful faceplant. She groaned at the impact, but forced herself to stand up. Her ankle and face both ached, but she had to stay focused. She pulled out the Bendy Bar she'd been munching on earlier and shoved the rest of it into her mouth before turning her attention to the elevator shaft.

There was no elevator car, but there was an electrical box on the side of the call button stand, marked with a lightning bolt. Audrey might not have known the first thing about elevators, but she'd helped her father with more than enough cars at his repair shop to know how wires worked. And there was just enough space between the ones that looked to be the most important ones where the circuit might just take a jump-start.

She pulled out the shock pipe, pressed the end of it to what she really hoped was going to be the right spot, and flicked the switch on the pipe's battery box.

There was a surge of electricity like a lightning strike with the sound to match. The call button flickered to life with a soft glow. 

Audrey jumped to her feet and slammed the button marked 'Up' as the Projectionist let out another screech. 

Audrey rushed to the railing, peering over the side. Barley was running from the Projectionist, around and around the platform in a circle like an old cartoon, his head swinging wildly on the pole's line.

The Projectionist would kill him like he'd killed her if it caught up.

"Barley!" Audrey shouted. "Up here!"

The Butcher Gang member stopped, staring up at her as the Projectionist ran past him (which would have been funny if it wasn't so horrifyingly sad). Barley grabbed the fishing line his head was attached to, spun it in a wind-up, and threw it upward.

Audrey dropped her pipe, grateful for the wrist strap it was attached to, and leaned out over the side, catching Barley's head in both hands. The Toon's body used its hands to reel in the line, pulling the rest of him up to the platform as the elevator dinged.

The Projectionist, realizing that its target had disappeared, screeched in rage.

Audrey dropped Barley's head, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him into the elevator, smacking the button for the highest floor up the second they were both inside.

Soon the flooded floor below was out of sight, the Projectionist along with it.

Audrey exhaled, leaning against the solid metal corner of the elevator. Safe.

A confused gurgle reminded her that she wasn't alone.

Barley stared at her. His head was so mangled that she couldn't tell what his expression was.

"Are you okay, Barley?" she asked.

His one working eye socket – the one with a button where an eye should have been, the other was only an empty hole – narrowed.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said. "My name is Audrey. I'm an animator. I've been working on the new Bendy cartoons since Nathan Arch bought the rights."

Barley let out a confused gurgle. 

"After Joey Drew died, there wasn't an estate, so the rights went up for sale to pay off his debts, I think. Nathan Arch is rich, and he and Joey were good friends."

Another gurgle, closer to a 'yarr?'

"We started by reanimating damaged sections of some old shorts, but right now we're working on the first new Bendy cartoon right now. Or... we were until Wilson threw me in here. And half of my team too..."

Another gurgle.

"Nathan Arch made me the project director. I have a few ideas for a new short with the Butcher Gang once I get out of here. After we introduce Bendy, Boris and Alice, we can't do everything at once."

And once she figured out how to get her team out of here too.

She couldn't read Barley's expression at all. His head kept swinging a little every time he moved.

"Can I help you with..." She gestured to the fishing pole. "It looks pretty painful."

Barley stared before grabbing his head so he could move it in a nod.

The fishing pole had to go before she could worry about anything else. Audrey dug around in her bag, pulling out her trusty pair of small scissors. She cut the line with a single snip, Barley holding his head as she put the scissors down.

Audrey took a deep breath. She grabbed the fishing pole embedded in Barley's neck, braced her other hand on the Toon's shoulder, and pulled .

The rod came free with a sickening squelch. She quickly dropped it, digging around in her bag and pulling out the blouse she'd found. The scissors cut through the fabric easily and soon the shirt had been turned into makeshift bandages.

With Barley holding his head steady, Audrey managed to get it back into place.

He'd need to eat to heal, but his mouth was being kept open with what looked like chunks of metal dug into his flesh. She didn't have anything for that.

"We'll have to find a way to take these out," she said, indicating the metal. "We'll find something. And for your eyes... hm."

She bandaged the empty socket with makeshift bandages, but there wasn't much she could do for the other one.

Barley stared at her. He managed a very strained 'Why?'

"Because you're hurt," Audrey answered. 

He stared more, somehow.

"I grew up with the Bendy cartoons. You don't deserve this any more than anyone else here does. I can't fix everything, but I helped Charley, so I think I can fix at least a few things."

"Yarr?!"

"Yeah. It's not much, but he's got a new arm and leg now."

Barley sat down, clearly needing a bit to think about what she'd just said.

Then, slowly, he pointed to the button in his eyes and made a snipping motion.

"...You're sure?" Audrey asked.

He carefully nodded.

Audrey, very carefully, used the small scissors to cut the thread holding the button into Barley's eye.

With the thread cut, the button was still there, stuck fast. Audrey grimaced. She carefully grabbed the edges of the button before she could lose her nerve. The button was stuck to what felt like old, congealed ink. She dug her fingers under it and tugged.

The button gave with a sickening squelch. Audrey dropped it and turned, doing everything she could to not throw up again. She focused on her breathing. She was okay. She was okay. Don't think about it, don't think about it.

Barley let out a concerned yarr.

"I'm... I'm fine," she managed, turning back around.

Barely was holding one of the lengths of bandages up to his eye, the bandage folded up into a little square. He really needed to eat something. He... wait, Barley was managing to open his mouth just a little even with the metal propping it open.

Audrey focused on the Toon. She had to help. Focus on that instead of the ink she could feel under her fingernails. She pulled out the thermos of coffee and took a deep breath as the nausea tried to hit again.

She managed to keep her last meal down.

"Can– Can you drink something?" Audrey managed.

There was an affirmative-sounding gurgle.

With care, Audrey held the thermos up to Barley's mouth, to his teeth. He managed to open his mouth enough to take a few sips of coffee.

Barley lowered the cloth from his eye and a perfectly intact pie-cut eye stared up at Audrey.

Thank goodness.

Audrey managed a sip of coffee herself. It steadied her stomach far more than she had expected it to before she tucked it away. Better. She could do this. She'd be fine.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

An uncertain-sounding gurgle. Unsure wasn't bad, at least.

The elevator dinged, finally slowing to a stop with a small jerk. The gate ground a little as it opened, but Audrey elected to not worry about it. She tucked the rest of her things away and stood up. She had to help Barley.

She exited the elevator and Barley followed her.

The floor they'd ended up on was filled with the sound of machinery, meaning she couldn't hear if anything was going to sneak up on her, but nothing attacked them as Audrey searched around for anything useful. There wasn't anything near the elevator, just crates and barrels and a lot of ink, the area more industrial than the one below.

She tried a nearby door. It opened into a stairwell that went down.

Audrey descended the stairs slowly, keeping an ear out for anything, Barley following a few steps behind her. The stairs held a landing with a desk shoved into one corner next to an old wooden filing cabinet. With an old toolbox crammed under the desk.

Jackpot.

Audrey flipped open the toolbox. It didn't have much at a glance, though Audrey still took a screwdriver and a wrench and the partial roll of duct tape and stowed it in her bag anyway. She popped a new battery into her shock pipe before she could forget about it.

There was, tucked underneath a pile of loose papers, a set of bolt cutters. Perfect.

Audrey turned to find Barley rummaging through the cabinets. Three cans of soup that weren't there before were stacked up beside it and Barley fished out a fourth, adding it to the stack.

"I think this will work," Audrey said, holding up the bolt cutters. "Ready?"

Barley's answering 'yarr' was decidedly uncertain, but he still held still as Audrey knelt down.

One snap. Two. And the metal holding Barley's jaw open was cut through. The ends were stuck, but they came out with one squelch. Two. Three. And four.

Audrey had to remind herself to breathe. It was fine. Audrey threw the chunks of metal away and cracked open a can of soup, handing it to the injured Toon.

Barley downed the entire can in one go, his mouth snapping back on model in time for him to grimace in disgust. His beard wasn't back, but there were little lines of cartoon stubble along his jaw. 

"Better?" Audrey asked, stowing the bolt cutters in her bag just in case.

"Yarr," Barley said, voice a bit clearer.

"Good. I need to keep going. To the music department."

Barley's expression was easy to read now and it was clearly confusion.

"I have to help Bendy," she said. "There's some things I need to find in the music department for that. Do you want to come with me?"

He shook his head, but gave her a pat on the arm of encouragement.

"Thanks, Barley."

"Yarr."

Chapter Text

There didn't seem to be much of anything in the halls other than machines, junk, and ink.

Audrey still moved cautiously regardless. The ambient noise meant that anything that wanted to sneak up on her would have an easier time of managing it. She just had to be careful and she would be fine.

She tried not to think about the fact her left arm was inked almost the entire way to her shoulder. She didn't want to find a mirror to check how much her eye was glowing now.

A few hallways in there was a small table with a tape player with a recording of two employees arguing about pressure. Ink pressure, maybe? That would explain how many burst pipes there were, since there wasn't anyone left to maintain the pressure anymore. 

There were a few large metal doors, but some of them were already open, so she went through them rather than trying to figure out how to open the rest.

The occasional cutout propped up against the wall eased her fears a little, she was likely going the right way if they kept appearing and didn't block her path. They were good at looking out for her. She really wished she could pay them back for it.

One of the doors opened to a flooded room, but only flooded up to her ankles. One with rows upon rows of shelves.

Shelves with toys on them.

Audrey stared in awe. Bendy toys had stopped production when she was a kid when the studio went bankrupt. If not for the one her uncle had given her, she wouldn't own any of them. A small part of her wanted to take all of them, but she stopped herself. That many stuffed toys would just be too much. But the toys would make great Christmas presents for her staff.

(She would get out of here. Get them out too. They'd all be back in time for Christmas, she wouldn't leave them trapped here.)

Audrey settled on one Alice and Boris plush for herself to go with her Bendy plush for the complete set. There weren't any Butcher Gang toys and she frowned at the realization. The Butcher Gang deserved toys too. Even if Charley and Barley might have been seen as less marketable compared to the main trio, she was sure that any toys of Edgar would have sold.

She'd have to bring that up to Nathan Arch at some point, if they could start making the toys again. But one thing at a time. She had to focus.

She took a stuffed toy for each of her staff members, either knowing or guessing at everyone's favorites. She grabbed an extra Bendy plush for Nathan Arch too. She stared at an Alice plush for a long moment, debating on if her mother would really want one or not. She took it anyway, along with a Boris for her father. Even if her father had never been much of a fan of the show, it was the thought that counted, right?

Bag no heavier than it had been before, Audrey wove her way through the maze of shelves – pausing only to take a Bendy wall clock that was still ticking away on a wall and add it to her bag, she hadn't seen these Felix look-alike style dangle clocks before – and kept going.

There were so many hallways in this place, twists and turns that looped in ways that made no sense. No real building would have been constructed like this. Bendy must not have been too familiar with the original layout, or Joey Drew had done something to it to make it not make any sense. She couldn't guess at which one it was, or even if it was both.

The hallway, abruptly, stopped at a fork. Audrey tried the left one first, only to find that the door at the end of it was solidly locked. The door at the end of the opposite fork was, thankfully, open. 

There was a small step down into the room which was flooded from ink, though only up to Audrey's shins. There were multiple pipes in the ceiling that had burst, dripping ink and coating most of the room. 

A cutout leaning against a wall assured her it was the right way.

And, for some reason, there was an audio log propped up on a chair tucked in the corner of the room. 

Audrey couldn't help but walk over and pick it up.

Joey Drew's name was written on the side of it.

Curious, she pressed play.

"There's nothing wrong with dreaming. Wishing for the impossible is just human nature. That's how I got started. Just a pencil and a dream. We all want everything without even having to lift a finger. They say you just have to believe.

Belief can make you succeed.

Belief can make you rich.

Belief can make you powerful.

Why with enough belief, you can even cheat death itself.

Now that... is a beautiful, and positively silly thought."

Audrey didn't like the sound of that. Not in the slightest. Cheating death?

Did you see a body?

A creeping sense of dread washed over her. Nobody here died and stayed dead. Did that mean...?

...She'd have to worry about that later. She pushed the thought aside.

It was strange, hearing Joey Drew's voice for real. It sounded... familiar. 

She had to focus. She had to help Bendy. Everything else she could worry about later.

She left the tape where she'd found it and kept moving.

The hall beyond was, thankfully, not flooded. It ended in a room full of Alice Angel themed decorations. The room had a recording booth in it, the window of it smashed to pieces. From the inside.

The Angel, Sammy had said. Alice Angel. A human that Joey Drew had tried to turn into a cartoon, that had likely been left mangled by the process.

And since the Angel had vivisected one of Audrey's team, it was probably a good thing that she wasn't in this part of the studio anymore.

Beyond the room with the recording booth was another room filled with shelves covered in more toys. Audrey had to resist the temptation to take more plush toys that she didn't really need.

She did take a wooden train with three train cars trailing behind it for Bendy though.

A few more hallways and Audrey was... in the entrance for Heavenly Toys? It was much more plain than the one she'd been in before, with marks all over the walls to prove that there had been eye-barnacles there before. Maybe the Butcher Gang had gotten rid of them? She could see that, they probably didn't like Wilson watching them any more than anyone else did.

There were two doors on the far side of the space. One led to a dark, narrow hallway. The other was well lit and held a set of stairs.

Audrey picked the stairs.

The stairs were steep, the lighting spotty in places, but Audrey kept walking, wincing every time one of the steps squeaked under her weight. But there was nowhere to hide, the only way to go was up.

And up and up and up, Audrey gripping her pipe tightly, until there was finally a door.

Audrey opened the door a crack and peered through. The hallway beyond was thoroughly soaked with ink like it had been flooded but had been drained at some point, coated in stains halfway up the walls. There was no sound, though, save for the constant white noise of sloshing ink through the pipes. 

She moved slowly, ears straining for any sounds. Nothing. But that didn't mean there really was nothing, she had learned that well enough.

The hall passed several locked doors until reaching what a sign on the wall declared to be an infirmary, the door broken off its hinges.

Infirmary. Actual medical supplies. Real bandages.

Audrey wasted no time in investigating the small room. There was one cot, stained badly with ink, plus one cabinet and a set of metal medical drawers. A quick riffle through the room yielded little. A small roll of gauze, a few gauze pads, and a nearly empty tin of band-aids.

But the room had one more door in it. One with a strange circle drawn on it that didn't look like the protection circles. And remnants of boards nailed to the frame like it had once been boarded up.

Audrey pressed an ear to the door. Silence.

She pulled it open slowly. The room was a mess, surgical tools scattered all over the floor, ink splattered on the walls. There was no cot, only an empty metal frame.

And a lone four-fingered inky hand print on one wall, one too big to be a Lost One's hand.

Audrey had a sinking feeling that she knew whose hand print that was.

Joey Drew kept getting worse and worse the more she learned about him, about this place. But she had to stay focused, no matter how bad things were. She had to keep moving, she'd think about all of this later.

Down the hall, up a few flights of short stairs, and around a corner. The hallway abruptly opened into a large room with a few different hallways branching off of it with a big wall in the center of it.

Audrey slowly crept closer.

'Music Department' the sign on the wall read. 'Director: Sammy Lawrence.'

There were awards for four different songs on the wall, along with three records with a spot for a fourth. There was a discoloration to part of the wall, like one record had been removed at some point in the past.

The music department! She'd made it!

Now all she had to do was find the password Sammy had mentioned. Find the sanctuary, get all of Sammy's books, and get back to the cult.

Back to Bendy.

Now she just had to figure out where–

Something collided with the side of her head.

The impact sent her to the floor, vision swimming. Gripping her pipe, Audrey staggered to her feet, blinking her vision clear as best she could.

Edgar, reeling in his spring-loaded arm, stared her down, posture rigid.

He wasn't angry, Audrey could see that even with her vision a little blurry. His eye – a human eye where a pie-cut one should have been, like the one opposite of it – was so wide that no one could miss it.

Audrey lowered her weapon. No. It was Edgar. Even if he'd attacked her, hurt her, she was not going to hurt him. No matter what.

Edgar's mouth was stitched shut, two arms fused into one and turned into something mechanical. She might be able to fix the first, but not the second. There was an extra mouth in his head. He'd already suffered enough, she would not make it worse.

The youngest Butcher Gang member took aim with his spring-loaded arm. 

"I'm not going to fight you, Edgar," she said.

That earned her a gurgle, one that didn't sound convinced.

Audrey unclipped her pipe from her wrist and put it away entirely, slowly lowering herself to the floor. She needed to sit for a minute, he'd hit her pretty hard. 

The teeth in Edgar's head clacked warily.

"I promise that I'm not," Audrey said. "Even if you did hurt me, I won't."

The Toon's body language was visibly tense, wary.

"I... couldn't. You were always my favorite Butcher Gang member. But don't tell the others, they might get jealous."

Edgar pointed his two right arms – off model, Audrey realized, Edgar was supposed to have four legs and one set of arms that could double as legs for gags – at himself.

"Yes, you."

There was an uncertain gurgle.

"I mean, Bendy's my favorite from the show, but yes, you."

Edgar lowered his spring-loaded arm, warily inching forward until he was sitting across from Audrey.

She pulled out a bag of potato chips, eating a few until her vision fully cleared. Which still left her with half of a bag.

"Do you want some?" she asked.

Edgar nodded excitedly, the teeth on his head champing in equal excitement. Audrey obligingly tilted the contents of the bag into the mouth on the poor Toon's head, the mouth happily munching away.

"I'm Audrey," she said.

Edgar managed a muffled, gurgling squeak, and waved happily with his two good arms.

"It's nice to meet you too. Can I help you with those?"

She pointed to the thick threads that had sewn his mouth shut.

His answering squeak was confused.

"I helped Charley and Barley, and I want to help you too."

A surprised squeak.

"Yeah. I met them on the way up. I can't just leave the three of you like this when I can help."

Edgar tilted his head, letting out a questioning squeak. 

"Why? Because it's the right thing to do. Plus... I grew up with the cartoons. No one should have done this to you, none of you deserved this. I can't just leave you like this."

Edgar's eyes slowly went wide. Hopeful.

"And when I get back," Audrey continued, "I'm going to make the best Butcher Gang short that I can. Once we get the ones reintroducing Bendy, Boris, and Alice done. I've already gone over an idea I had with Charley, I think it'll be a good one."

A confused squeak.

"Nathan Arch bought the rights when Joey Drew passed away. He hired me on as the director. It's a dream come true to work on the show I grew up with. And... it's why I can't just leave things like they are here."

She couldn't see the cartoons that had made her so happy as a child languish like this. Not when there was something she could do to help.

"So, can I help you?"

Edgar nodded enthusiastically then held very still.

Audrey pulled out her scissors and set to work. The strings were thick and didn't cut easily, but she hacked away at them until each and every cord was cut through. She winced as she tugged the strings out of Edgar's lips, the holes slowly leaking ink. He'd need food for those to heal over properly. Soup would be best.

Edgar opened his mouth experimentally. His teeth were missing.

Audrey looked at the mouth on Edgar's head. Someone had... No, focus. She had to help, not wonder at the cruelty of it. But she had to get the teeth back to where they belonged. But how?

...The Projectionist had chased Barley around like it was a gag in a cartoon. Characters in cartoons lost their teeth like they were dentures in a number of different ways. She wasn't going to hurt Edgar to knock the teeth loose, so what could she try?

There were a few. Which one... wait, of course!

Audrey pulled a Bendy Bar out of her bag. She unwrapped it and hoped this would work.

"Do you want another snack?" she asked. "These like to stick to your teeth, though."

Edgar gave an affirmative squeak, eyes bright.

Audrey lowered the bar partially into the open maw on Edgar's head. The teeth clamped down and rather than biting right through it, they got stuck. She tugged once. Twice. Three times.

And Edgar's teeth popped loose like a set of gag dentures.

The Toon held his mouth open so Audrey could pop the teeth back into place. Edgar's lips healed as the Toon happily chowed down on the bar, though it took a bit of prying to get it unstuck from his teeth and into his mouth.

It had worked. Audrey let out a sigh of relief and handed Edgar a can of soup while she worked on bandaging his head with real bandages. It had really worked! Was it because Edgar was a Toon, or did toon logic work because Bendy had made this place?

Regardless, Edgar was better now, happily sipping on the soup despite its horrible taste.

"I don't think I can do anything to fix your arm," Audrey said. "But I can bandage that eye if you want to? Maybe it'll help?"

Bandages and casts in cartoons could do a lot, she wasn't sure if that would work though. She couldn't guess at which things would work and which didn't."

Edgar nodded with excited squeaks.

The bandages already wrapped around his head, with a bit of adjustment, and a gauze pad made for a quick eyepatch. Edgar seemed delighted at his new accessory, touching the edge of it gently with a happy squeak.

"There. What do you think?"

Edgar smiled and gave her a thumbs up. 

"Good."

Now what? Hm... Maybe.

"Edgar?"

A squeak.

"Have you seen a tape with a password on it? Or do you know where Sammy's office is?"

Edgar shook his head, but gave her a salute.

"You'll... help me?"

An affirmative squeak.

"Thanks, Edgar. Should we split up?"

Edgar nodded and scurried away.

Audrey couldn't help but laugh as he kicked up a little dust cloud as he went.

The Butcher Gang had just been hurt and scared. Like everyone else here. Audrey was just glad she could help.

Now, to find that password.

Chapter Text

The music department was bigger than Audrey had expected. Practice rooms, instrument storage, and doors without labels. She barely knew where to start, especially since there were no signs indicating where any offices were. Most of the doors proved to be locked, which at least narrowed things down slightly.

One door she tried opened into a full recording studio with a stage for a small orchestra with some instruments still sitting on the stage, complete with a projection booth to ensure that the audio matched up with the animations.

Audrey felt a small pang of jealousy. A full recording studio with a full band. They had to make due with one of the studio's recording booths for Foley work – which was time consuming with only one Foley artist on their team – and the ArchGate Pictures music library. Which meant no fresh music, even if it did have all of the old Bendy songs that still had surviving recordings. 

Maybe if the new cartoon did well, Audrey could convince Nathan Arch to hire a composer, if nothing else. Or at least a second Foley artist.

Maybe Sammy had some spare sheet music for his old work that she could borrow.

The stage didn't have anything on it beyond old instruments, most of which were surprisingly intact if quite ink stained.

She checked the projection booth next. There wasn't much there. A projector, a desk, a chair, and a tape player with the name 'Norman Polk' written on the back. Curious, she pressed play.

"Every day the same strange thing happens, I'll be up here in my booth, the band will be swinging, and suddenly Sammy Lawrence just comes marching in and shuts the whole thing down. Tells us all to wait in the hall."

Norman Polk had a distinctly southern accent, which Audrey hadn't expected.

"Then I hear him. He starts up my projector, and he dashes from the projector booth and down to the recording studio like the little devil himself was chasing behind.

Few seconds later, the projector turns off. But Sammy, oh no, he doesn't come out for a long time. This man is weird. Crazy weird!

I got half a mind to talk to Mr. Drew about all this, I really do. But then again, I have to admit. Mr. Drew's got his own peculiarities."

Running between the booth and the stage? That had to be something. Was Sammy's sanctuary here, then? Hidden behind a password that only he knew so he couldn't be disturbed. But why interrupt practice in the middle of the day? Maybe she'd ask him later.

She still had to find Sammy's office and the password, though. She left the audio log where it was and resumed her search.

The next door opened into a stairwell, the stairs leading upward. Did the music department have a second floor, or did this lead somewhere else?

Not hearing any footsteps or other noises that could indicate danger, Audrey pulled out her pipe and climbed the stairs.

The stairs went up and up, enough that she must have gone up at least two or three floors, before ending in a door. Audrey pushed it open slowly. There was a projector on a small table in front of the door, an animation desk crammed into the corner, a strange sign made of metal that looked like giant film reels reading 'Joey Drew Studios,' and a cutout leaning against the wall nearby.

Audrey breathed a sigh of relief. Cutouts were always a good sign. She really wished she could pay them back somehow.

She stepped out into the room proper. There really wasn't much there, but there was a hallway nearby. One with a cutout in front of it, blocking the way forward. A signal to not proceed, or to proceed with caution, which was appreciated either way. She turned slowly and paused.

There was a door with bright light spilling out from under it.

Audrey slowly got closer. A way out? No. No, Sammy would have told her about it if there was. It...

Audrey looked down. There was a hole in the floor, like an entire hallway had collapsed. There was no place to stand to try and open the door, even if she did use Flow. It was a dead end. It–

Something squished under her foot like she'd stepped in ink.

Audrey looked down. There was nothing on the floor, though. It was dry. She stepped on the same spot again, it sounded like there was ink where there wasn't. She knelt down, slowly running a hand along the ground. It felt like ink, too. Maybe it was like the circle on the door to Henry's safe room? The invisible ink marking the space as safe.

The ink was more than just a puddle. Lines formed letters, letters formed words, until there was a message.

'Don't turn on the machine.'

Machine? What machine? The Ink Machine? But they were in the Ink Machine. That didn't make any sense.

...Were there more messages?

Audrey stood up, slowly reaching out and touching the wall. Lines. She ran her hand along the wall. Lines after lines after lines. No, tally marks. All over... all over the entire wall, and the one next to it. And the one across the room. Had... Had Henry made all of these? But why? Keeping track of what?

...The loops. It had to be the loops. Written in invisible ink so Joey Drew couldn't see while he puppeted everyone along the Script, pronounced with that capital S. There had to be hundreds of them. Thousands. 

How had Henry not given up from all of that?

There was a cutout beside one of the hallways in the room. She took it as a sign of where to go next. She walked down the hallways, a hand on the wall, feeling tally mark after tally mark of ink beneath her fingers.

The hallway was short with an animation desk tucked into a corner, the walls plastered in paper, anything that had been written or drawn on them long faded away. There was a drawing with Bendy's face still on the desk, though the corners were too rounded, the design too cutesy. There was a note reading 'NO' tacked onto the corner of the page. Maybe a rejected early design?

Meaning this desk belonged to...

Audrey sat down in the wooden chair in front of the desk, running a hand along the edge of the desk. Her fingers brushed across letters carved into the wood. She looked down at it.

Henry

This was Henry's desk. Where he'd animated Bendy from. He must have spent so much time in this chair, drawing frame after frame of the little devil like she'd been doing for months now.

She reached up to touch the old design and felt damp ink. Not where there was ink, where there was only dry paper. Another message.

'He was born here.'

He. Bendy. Bendy had been designed at this desk. Henry had created her favorite character right where she was sitting now. He'd been shoved in a corner, toiling away, and had made her favorite character, only to be forgotten when Joey Drew claimed he had designed Bendy.

No wonder the cutouts wanted her to see this. She really did owe them so much.

She had to go back to the music department, though. As much as this was amazing – to see some fragment of the studio that had long closed down, where her favorite character had actually been created – she had to get back to Bendy.

She stood up and turned and there was another section to the hallway behind the desk, leading down a small set of stairs into a room crammed with animation desks.

The original Joey Drew Studios animation department.

...She'd just have a quick look around. Just a short one. There didn't seem to be anything up here with her. Then she'd head right back to the music department, find that password, get those books, and head back to Bendy. But this was the original place the Bendy cartoons had been animated! How could she resist looking around?

The space was woefully inadequate. The desks were visibly cheap with chipped and splintering wood, the chairs wooden and even cheaper. There wasn't enough space to hold any decently sized animation team. There were only five desks, including the one over to the side of the crowded-in desks that had a dedicated extra light above it that had probably been for the lead animator. That wasn't even half of the amount of staff that was needed to churn out complex hand animation in the amount of time that Joey Drew Studios had between its releases. Even a dozen animators all working together would still have not been enough to maintain pace without horrific amounts of crunch time.

...Joey Drew had always been cruel, hadn't he? It must have started relatively small, with things like this. Understaffing and excessive crunch time, likely unpaid overtime too. The industry had only gotten more competitive from its start at the tail end of the 20s, especially once color became commonplace. The studio's staff – overworked and almost certainly underpaid – had been worked harder and harder until it had all fallen apart and the studio had closed.

And then everyone had been killed for no crime, no mistakes other than agreeing to work for Joey Drew.

Her inky hand went suddenly cold.

"Well now, enjoying the sights?" a voice behind her said.

Audrey spun around, pipe at the ready to defend herself with.

Only for her to stare. The person standing in the hall looked human. The only ink stains were a few on his pants, a few more on his shoes, and some splatters on the rolled-up cuffs of his button-down shirt. Short hair, shorter on the sides than the top, a thin, neat mustache. A pinstripe vest and matching pants – brown, as far as something could be brown in this sepia world – along with a striped tie. He wore an expensive-looking wristwatch and a little bronze button shaped like Bendy's head on his lapel.

He looked familiar. He sounded familiar.

"I'm afraid it's not quite what it used to be," the man continued, taking a few steps forward (as Audrey took a few steps back). "This old workshop sure has seen better days. Back before–"

"Who are you?!" Audrey demanded.

He shouldn't be human. Nobody here was still human. Unless...

...It couldn't be, could it?

If the man was annoyed at her interruption, he didn't show it.

"I'm Joey Drew," the man said with a smile that didn't look quite right on his face.

She hated being right.

"Joey Drew is dead," she said, keeping her tone as level as she could.

"Oh, believe me, I know," the man continued. "That's why I'm here."

Wait. Audrey had an idea.

"Where is here?" she asked. "What is this place?"

Joey Drew had no way to know how long she'd been in this world. He had no way to know that she knew Bendy, knew about what he had done. She could accuse him of everything she learned, but what could she do? Joey Drew had power over this world. Or had. He might still have some kind of power, and with what he'd done to his staff? She couldn't risk getting on his bad side.

She could just play dumb. Pretend she'd only just arrived. That she was clueless and hadn't met anyone who knew what he had done. Lying to the Liar didn't feel much like lying at all.

And then she'd go back and tell everyone that Joey Drew wasn't as dead as he was supposed to be.

"That," Joey Drew said, "is a very good question. How much do you know about Joey Drew Studios?"

"They made the Bendy cartoons. They closed down when I was a kid. Bankruptcy, I think."

"That's right. But it wasn't an overnight thing. The Studio was running out of money for a long time. But Joey Drew had an idea, something that would get all eyes on the Studio again. Did you ever hear about Bendyland?"

She'd been through its remnants, but he didn't need to know that.

"Only that they announced it but it never opened."

"It very nearly did. But a regular theme park wasn't going to be enough to get every set of eyes on it. Without the right mix of thrills, amusements, and top notch quality, you'd just end up with another Brighton Beach or Dreamland. Good enough for a few seasons, then completely forgotten about."

Audrey's brow furrowed. What did that have to do with the Studio?

"So Joey Drew had an idea. A brilliant one! Why not set the park apart from the competition not just by having the best rides, the best food, and the best cartoons, but something truly unique. Characters! Walking around, shaking hands and signing autographs. Bendy, Alice, and Boris, all brought to life for folks to meet at Bendyland, with commemorative photos to boot."

Joey Drew gestured as he spoke, movements grandiose. If she didn't know better, she may have been taken in by all of that.

Audrey opened her mouth to say that Disneyland had that, but stopped. Disneyland had opened when she'd been a kid. In 1955. Years after Bendyland was supposed to have been built. She'd been 11 when it had opened. She'd never had the chance to go, but she'd seen more than enough photographs – plus everything she'd seen about the park from watching Walt Disney's shows (they were on The Wonderful World of Disney now, carrying on even after Walt Disney's death. Audrey had grown up watching the other shows, mostly for the behind the scenes specials about their animations) – to know that the park was second to none. But it had opened many years after Joey Drew Studios had closed. If Bendyland had happened, it would have beaten Disney to the punch by nearly a decade.

"He tried costumes, but it wasn't right, it wasn't enough. So Joey Drew built an amazing invention. The Ink Machine. Not only could it create ink, but with it he created an entire cartoon world, one where all of his characters could come to life. Done with just a pencil and a dream! And a little help from the Gent corporation. But something went wrong. Horribly wrong."

The way the man's expression fell felt blatantly performative.

"I don't know what caused it," he said, "but the Ink Machine never worked right. Instead of bringing those beloved characters to life, everything that came out of the machine was a monster, no matter how hard Joey Drew worked to fix it, no matter how many times the Gent corporation replaced parts and pieces. Even the cartoon world – the world that was supposed to be an amazing, fantastical place for Bendy and all his friends to live – turned out wrong. And worst of all, the Machine accidentally sent a monster into the real world. A monster that tried to destroy Joey Drew Studios before Joey managed to seal it away in the Machine. The Ink Demon."

"What's an Ink Demon?" Audrey asked, hoping she sounded convincing.

"A monster worse than any you could imagine. It took over this world, twisting it. Whipping all the other monsters made by the Machine into a frenzy. But Joey Drew managed to seal it away. And he left me to keep an eye on it."

"So you were... made by Joey Drew?"

"Correct. A memory of the man, made to make sure the monsters stay inside the Machine while the real Joey Drew tried to fix things from the outside. But while he was trying to fix the Machine and build Bendyland, the funding ran out and the Studio had to close its doors. He spent the rest of his years trying to fix his mistakes, but he never could, the Ink Demon fighting him every step of the way. It's all I can do to keep the monsters in here so they can't get to the outside world and wreak havoc like the Demon tried to before it was sealed away."

Lies. All lies. But Audrey kept her expression one of mildly stunned terror and confusion. Or tried to, at least. She hoped it was convincing.

"...But I got in," she said. "Wilson... My coworkers, Wilson. He did something. With the Machine, I mean. There was ink everywhere. And now I..."

She flexed her inked hand. She couldn't see the gold on it, for some reason. She could feel it, but it felt like it was holding very still. Like it was trying to hold its breath.

Like it was scared.

"I'm not sure how," Joey Drew said, "but Wilson managed to figure out one of the secrets of this world. Joey Drew left a way out, just in case the Ink Demon managed to trap someone in this world. You're still alive, which means that door should work for you too. All you have to do is find it."

"Then where is it? Where do I go? I need to get home."

Which was true. So true. She wasn't leaving yet, no, but Wilson clearly had an exit. And if he had one, she could use it.

"Wilson should be guarding it," Joey Drew answered. "Making sure that none of the monsters from the Machine escape through it. He's likely made his monsters guard it."

"Monsters?"

"Anything made by this machine is a monster, but Wilson figured out how to create a few that are... tame, so to speak. For him and him alone. He sends them roaming these old halls sometimes, so be sure to keep an ear out, they only listen to him and I don't think they could tell the other monsters from humans if they tried."

Keepers. "Right. How do I find him, then?"

"There should be a way out somewhere in this Studio. Probably a few floors down, through the subway system."

"There's a subway system?"

Wilson had added subways?

"Sure is. It's recent, so the entrances aren't always where they should be. But you should be able to take a train right to him."

Audrey breathed a false sigh of relief. "Okay. I can do that. Thank you, Mister Drew."

"Call me Joey, please," the man insisted. "Speaking of, you look familiar. What's your name?"

...She'd been hoping to get out of this without telling him.

"Audrey," she said.

"Audrey, Audrey..." Joey Drew muttered to himself. "Now, doesn't that sound familiar? What's your last name, Audrey?"

Audrey hesitated. She hated using her last name. Everyone always assumed it meant more than it did, because it didn't. It didn't mean anything but make people think that she was related to someone with the same last name.

"Drew," she said, managing to keep most of the bitterness out of her voice. "Audrey Drew."

"Audrey!" Joey exclaimed. "I thought you looked a little familiar. Joey Drew left me all of his memories, and I know he'd say this if he was here, but you've grown into a fine young woman, Audrey."

"...What?"

Audrey blinked. What did...?

"I know I don't look anything like he did the last time you saw him, but I'm sure you remember me, Audrey. Do you still have that old Bendy doll I gave you?"

The voice, the face. It was familiar. It was–

"Uncle J?! " Audrey exclaimed, blanching at the thought. 

There was no way. She couldn't be related to him. To this... this monster.

"In the flesh! So to speak," Joey replied with a grin that Audrey was sure was meant to be reassuring, but just made her skin crawl. "I can't say I was expecting to find you here of all places, Audrey. You were such a talented child. Are you still drawing Bendy?"

She didn't want to answer him, but she had to. She had to keep her hands from shaking, keep her voice from shaking.

"Yeah. Nathan Arch bought the rights after you... after Joey Drew died. I'm one of the animators on the new Bendy shorts."

"Splendid!" Joey Drew beamed. "He's the best character, isn't he?"

"The best," Audrey agreed, wishing that he didn't think so.

"You always had good taste, Audrey. Now, get going. Take the stairs in the main room and move quickly. There's plenty of monsters in this place, so don't be afraid to hide if you hear something."

"Right. And... Uncle J?"

The words felt awful on her tongue.

"Yes, Audrey?"

She had to know.

"Why didn't you ever come see me when I was a kid? After the Studio closed?"

"Someone had to keep the monsters at bay, Audrey," Joey Drew answered.

Instead of waiting for another word, Audrey left.

She didn't stop moving until she was back in the music department. She closed the door and sat down beside it, shaking.

Joey Drew. Her uncle was Joey Drew. She was related to the man who had killed so many people. Hurt the Butcher Gang. Hurt Bendy. And had the audacity to lie about the whole thing. Claim he was the memory and not the man when Audrey knew better. He might have left a body behind to be buried, but there was no way his soul wasn't still here. Writing the Script, tormenting everyone even from beyond the grave.

There was a squeak, a hand on her arm. Audrey looked up from the floor. It was Edgar, a hand on her arm, a tape player in one of the others.

"It's..." Audrey took a breath, feeling numb. "It's fine. I just... found out some bad news."

Edgar squeaked in concern.

"I'll... tell you later," she said. "Is that the password?"

A nod.

"Thanks, Edgar. You're the best."

She... She didn't know what to think. She should be focusing, but she was... Her uncle was...

Edgar set the tape down and held his arms open. Audrey hesitated for a moment, then scooped the Toon up in a hug, chin resting gently on the uninjured part of the Toon's head, feeling numb and sick all at once.

Chapter Text

It took Audrey a good while until she felt better, felt like trying to keep going. It was... it was a shock. It was all so much. The further she went in this place, the worse things seemed to get.

But it was easier with a friend.

"Thanks, Edgar," she said with every bit of sincerity she could. 

Edgar gave a cheerful squeak, hopping up and to his feet, picking up the tape player as he went. There weren't any labels on it that Audrey could see, but she trusted the Toon to know what he was doing.

She had to keep moving now. Bendy was counting on her. She'd worry about what all this meant later. Much later. She couldn't be distracted by this any longer than she already had. If she got caught up in all the thoughts trying to swirl around in her head she'd never get back.

One thing at a time. And the first thing to do was stand up. The next was to play the tape Edgar had found.

"Every artistic person needs a sanctuary. Joey Drew has his and I have mine. To enter, you need only know my favorite song:

The banjo playfully plucks.

The piano delicately calls.

The drum thunders in triumph.

The banjo, once again, strums its melody.

Sing my song and my sanctuary will open to you."

That was... a bit much? Even for Sammy, it felt like. Maybe it was because of the Script? It... No, it would make sense for Joey Drew to write something that over the top instead of making it a simple combination lock with numbers. At least it was mostly clear what the password was? Banjo, piano, drum, banjo. Which meant those instruments in the recording studio still had a use.

"Okay," Audrey said. "I... think I know how this works. Can you help me, Edgar?"

A squeak and a salute. Audrey couldn't help but smile. It really did help to have a friend around.

Audrey led the way to the recording studio. There were more instruments on the stage than the ones mentioned on the tape. She didn't know how to play any instruments, hopefully it would just work.

"There's a projector in the projection booth up there," Audrey explained, pointing to the booth. "Can you turn on the projector for me?"

A squeak and Edgar was off, skittering right up the wall like the spider he was. There was a click of the projector turning on, though all it projected was blank light.

Banjo, piano, drum, banjo. Audrey hurriedly strummed the banjo to a sour note that made her wince, pressed a few random keys on the piano, picked up the drumstick with a rounded end and gave the drum one good hint, and then strummed another sour note on the banjo.

There was a grinding noise of metal on metal as a shutter door in the corner of the room that Audrey hadn't noticed slowly raised itself. It worked! It was a bit weird, but it had worked!

Edgar scurried down from the projection booth with a broad grin. Audrey pat his head, the Toon happily leaning on her leg.

"Thanks, Edgar. You're the best."

A delighted squeak. 

Books. She was looking for books. It was time to focus.

The door opened into a hallway lined with empty instrument cases, a few upright basses leaning against some of the shelves. There were papers scattered all over the floor, ink staining the walls. One wall held a scrawled message.

SING A HAPPY SONG,

WHISTLE A MERRY TUNE.

WAIT FOR HIS ARRIVAL,

HE'S COMING VERY SOON.

That would have been unsettling if she hadn't known who had been using this space.

There was a small room at the end of the small hallway. There were pipes in one wall, one with a valve on it labeled 'FLOW.' There was a small cot crammed into one corner beside a desk with sheet music covering its surface, along with a sheet music stand with a few pages of music still on it. There was a protection sigil on the ground, which was a small reassurance, and a waist high bookcase half full of books. 

And... a toilet tucked into the corner by the pipes. With a hat in it.

Audrey blinked. That was weird. Edgar let out a questioning squeak. 

There was a low gurgle. Not sounding like plumbing, more like...

"Hello?" Audrey ventured.

Another gurgle. An inky head slowly poked itself up out of the toilet, the hat (a bowler hat?) balanced on its head. No eyes. A Searcher. 

A Searcher, who was hiding. Who couldn't see anything. It reminded her painfully of the Searchers that she's seen Sammy looking after. A person reduced to little more than a puddle of ink. 

Who had been left behind when everyone else had fled. Maybe she could help?

"It's okay," Audrey said, approaching them slowly, "I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Audrey. Sammy sent me."

Edgar gave a few squeaks that sounded like he was trying to explain something.

The Searcher slowly raised itself out of the toilet, carefully tumbling onto the floor. It righted itself, adjusting its hat as it went. Audrey knelt down, digging around in her bag until she pulled out the thermos now only half full of coffee. She uncapped it and poured a cup full into the cap, carefully pressing it into the Searcher's hands just like she'd seen Sammy do. 

The Searcher very slowly took the offered drink and very slowly tried a sip. It let out a contented bubbling noise and relaxed.

"I just need to grab a few things," Audrey said. "I'll be quick."

She had no idea what book she was looking for. Most had no titles on either the spine or cover, and those that did she couldn't read because they weren't in English. Her bag seemed to be endless, so she piled the bookshelf's entire contents into her bag. And there was still room for more things. So she piled all the sheet music that wasn't on the floor into her bag too, just in case Sammy needed it.

She'd made it, found the books she needed. She'd made it. Now she just had to make it back.

Audrey checked the drawers in the desk too, just in case. There was a tape player in one of them, the name 'Jack Fain' written on the back. Curious, she pressed play.

"I love the quiet, and that's hard to come by in these busy times.

And yeah sure it may stink to high heaven down here. But it's just perfect for an old lyricist like me. Sammy's songs always got some bounce, but if I didn't get away once in a while, they'd never have any words to go with them.

So I'll keep my mind a-singin' and my nose closed."

The man on the recording's voice definitely sounded like he was holding his nose while recording the tape.

The Searcher let out a bubbling sort of groan. They set the thermos lid down and reached out their hands. Confused, Audrey handed over the tape. The Searcher rewound it and played it again. And again. And a third time as Audrey put the cap back on the thermos and tucked it away.

Maybe...?

"Jack?" she ventured. "Jack Fain?"

Someone that had worked with Sammy. A lyricist. Wait, Jack. Sammy had mentioned that name before, hadn't he?

The Searcher nodded. 

"It's nice to meet you, Jack. Sammy sent me to grab a few of his books, so I'm going to see him next. Do you want to come with me?"

An enthusiastic nod, the Searcher having to reach up a hand to keep his hat on his head.

There was a lot of ink between here and there, though. And stairs. 

Bendy had been fine in her bag though, so that was probably the easiest way to go about it. Searchers were a bit drippy, though. She didn't want to ruin any of Sammy's books. She looked around and... there! In the corner, tucked up beside the desk was a mop and a bucket, the mop badly stained by ink. Perfect.

"I have an idea," Audrey said. "It's... a little silly."

She set the bucket down in front of Jack, loudly enough that he could definitely hear it. He slowly reached out, feeling all around the sides and the inside of the bucket, before nodding and oozing into the container. Somehow, he fit his entire body into it, minus his hat that was too wide for the bucket. 

"Okay," Audrey said. "I need to have my hands free just in case, are you okay if I put you in my bag like this?"

A thumbs up. Okay. Audrey slowly lowered the bucket into her bag. Jack poked his head out of the side, one arm balancing on the edge of the bag for support. Yeah. Okay. This would work.

Back to the elevator, back through Bendyland, down to the sewers, back to the cult. Back to Sammy.

Back to Bendy . 

She started for the exit only to stop. There was sound. Beside her, Edgar froze. 

Something heavy was dragging itself across the floor. Heavy and metallic. With breathing that sounded raspy, like it was struggling but not through ink, like it was through a bad speaker. 

A light appeared on the wall. Like the Projectionist's, but weaker.

Audrey instinctively grabbed one of Edgar's arms and dragged him under the desk. There was barely enough room for the both of them to squeeze under.

A monstrosity lugged itself into the room. It had a head like an old diving helmet that glowed from within. Its body looked like it was trying to be humanoid, but it wasn't right. The chest was too barrel-shaped, the rest of the body more of a cone. Instead of legs, tentacles that looked like thick wires with metallic ends dangled behind it. 

And its arms. Its arms looked like they were made from flesh, augmented with gears and metal and stained with ink. One arm broke into two, a tube running from its back to one of each of its arms, another tube wrapped around its neck. An oversized gear protruded from the back of its neck. It looked damp. It looked like someone had taken a diving suit and tried, clumsily, to bring it to life.

A Keeper.

Audrey put a hand over her mouth to muffle her breathing. The Keeper's illuminated gaze roamed the room before it turned, finding nothing of interest, and lugging its misshapen body out of the room.

Had she missed one of Wilson's eye barnacles? Had her plan to sneak past with a cutout not actually work? Or did Wilson just send one of these monstrosities over to see if anyone had wandered into this place?

They were going to have to sneak past it, though. And there weren't any Little Miracle Stations until they reached Heavenly Toys.

Edgar wiggled out of her grip. He squared his shoulders and nodded once.

He wasn't... He couldn't!

"You'll get hurt!" Audrey objected, trying to keep her voice low.

Edgar shook his head. He pointed to her, nodded, then scurried off.

"Edgar!"

Audrey squeezed herself out of her hiding space and chased after him. What did he think he was doing? He was going to get hurt! Or killed!

But that wasn't stopping the little Toon. 

The Keeper was lugging itself toward the stairs that Audrey needed to take when Edgar let out a squeak. (A mighty squeak, as loud as the Toon's little body could make, but it still sounded like someone had stepped on a dog toy.) The monstrosity turned and let out a screech that hurt Audrey's ears.

The Keeper slithered forward. Edgar's spring-loaded fist hit it square in the face, cracking its helmet. The Toon looked to her and gave a single nod, his face the picture of determination.

A distraction. He was creating a distraction. 

Audrey made a run for it, heading for the stairs. There was a screech behind her, along with the sound of crunching glass.

She took the stairs two at a time, making her way down as quickly as she could. There was a Little Miracle Station ahead. She just had to get to it. Just had to–

A new screech. A second Keeper, hauling itself as fast as it could go across the entrance of Heavenly Toys. It saw her. She couldn't hide.

The only way to go was the dark hallway.

Audrey turned and ran. She didn't have a choice. It was dark. She couldn't see a thing, save for the illumination cast by the Keeper's helmet as it chased after her.

She heard a door swing open to her right. She turned and ran for it. A door slammed shut behind her, along with a 'bang.'

There was a little bit of light that swung toward her as she leaned on a wall, trying to catch her breath. She held a hand up, eyes adjusting to the light.

The light on a hard hat, an old mining helmet. On the head of not a Lost One, but instead–

"...Boris?"

It was Boris. On model almost perfectly. Just a little shorter than Audrey had expected. Lankier like a teenager that hadn't quite grown into their new height. And, as far as she could tell in the dim light cast by the helmet's flashlight, a tail. 

The wolf was eying her warily, but was visibly unarmed. Audrey was holding her pipe, but didn't want to let go of it, with the Keeper out there, but she didn't raise her arm. The door he'd let her through had a metal bar blocking it, one that swung into place to bar the door. It was pitch black in the hallway (tunnel? it felt more like a tunnel) save for Boris' light.

"Thank you," she said. 

Boris looked surprisingly fine. On model. He wasn't mangled like the other Toons. But he wasn't a Toon. Sammy said that the only Toons were Bendy and the Butcher Gang. Meaning that this was a person. A human. Someone who had been turned into Boris, not a cartoon brought to life. A body mangled into a shape it shouldn't have been in, someone made into something they weren't against their will.

It was like what had been done to the Projectionist. No better or worse, just horrifically different.

Something banged on the door. Boris hesitated for a moment, then grabbed Audrey's arm, leading the way through the tunnels. The walls were industrial, filled with pipes and metal instead of wood. She was grateful for what little light there was in this place and let the not-Toon lead the way through the tunnels. Multiple, there were many parts that twisted off in seemingly random directions.

They passed through several more doors, some with bars to lock them and some without, until they reached one last door. Boris let go of Audrey's arm, breathing a little sigh of relief, and pushed the door open.

There was light inside. A short hallway into a room. A room. Not a very large room, but a decently spacious one. There was a stove. A real stove! With some pots and pans and even a few utensils. And a table with two chairs. Plenty of lights, and while the walls held ink stains in places nothing was actively dripping anywhere. There were barrels and boxes scattered around, supplies stacked on shelves, a deck of cards on the table that was lit by a candle in an empty half-can that had once held soup.

Audrey stepped inside, looking around slowly. It was a safe room. No, a safe house, there were a few doorways leading further in. Something about it felt familiar, like she'd seen it before. Boris pulled a switch beside the door and a metal door slid shut. Nothing was getting through a door like that.

Audrey leaned against a wall and let herself breathe. Safe. She was safe. With multiple doors between her and Wilson's monsters. Edgar had... She wasn't sure if she could call it sacrificing himself. Toons were resilient in their shows, bouncing back from anything from dynamite to falling pianos. If even some semblance of that same cartoon logic worked here, he'd be fine. Maybe in need of some new bandages, but fine.

She hoped so. She'd have to go back and make sure he was alright. Hopefully the Keepers would get bored of waiting and move on.

For now, she was safe. With an unfamiliar Toon that wasn't really a Toon, but she wasn't worried. She couldn't imagine Boris – or someone that looked like Boris – ever hurting anyone. He was too friendly of a character for that.

"Thank you," she said again, wanting to be sure he understood how thankful she really was. 

He'd spared her from another trip through the ink. With how much the ink had spread up her arm, she couldn't risk too many trips through it.

Boris nodded once, though the movement was a little stiff, like he was nervous but trying not to shake. He walked through one of the doorways and out of sight, coming back with a small notebook and a pencil, his helmet nowhere to be seen. Maybe he couldn't talk? Bendy couldn't either. They were silent cartoons, after all.

Boris wrote something down and held it up.

Who are you?

Just like Bendy, then.

"I'm Audrey," she answered. "I'm an animator for ArchGate Pictures."

That got a furrowed brow, a tilted head.

"After Joey Drew passed away, Nathan Arch bought the rights to the Bendy franchise," she explained. "He added an animation department onto the movie studio. Though Joey Drew's..."

How did she explain this...?

She took a deep breath. In, and out.

"He's not really dead," she said, wishing it wasn't the truth.

Boris' ears shot up in alarm.

"I... met him. In the animation department upstairs. He said he wasn't really Joey Drew. But." She shook her head. Liar. It was a title for a reason, she understood exactly why now. "It's... complicated. You're... not really Boris, right?"

A nod. A pause, then a shake of his head. The wolf wrote down another message and held it out.

Sort of. There's two of us in here, Boris and me.

"And who's 'me?'"

A hesitation.

My name's Buddy. Buddy Lewek. I used to work for Mister Drew. Before he stuck us in one body like this.

Another person whose only mistake had been working for Joey Drew. But that was... new. Boris and a person in the same body? How did that work? Maybe she shouldn't ask.

Boris' – Buddy's? – brow furrowed and he scribbled down another message.

How did you know I'm not Boris?

"Sammy said that the only Toons were Bendy and the Butcher Gang. Everyone else... used to be human."

Boris' eyebrows – or, well, the edges of the black on his face that worked in place of eyebrows – shot up.

And you're okay? He's killed people before. For the monster. He tried to kill me.

Killed people? Sammy had... Joey Drew was the worst. He really was the worst.

"Joey Drew made him," Audrey said, once again feeling sick. "I don't really understand it, but he can control people, somehow. I think it's the ink. Sammy called it the Script."

That earned her a skeptical look.

"Sammy's not bad. He's been helping people. He helped me."

That got another skeptical look, somehow even more so than the last one.

"He did. He's the one that told me about this place, about what happened here. He sent me here to find something to help Bendy because Wilson– Do you know Wilson?"

A nod, clearly wondering where Audrey was going with all of this.

"Wilson did something to Bendy. Sammy's trying to figure out how to fix it. Once Bendy's better, he'll... I don't know. But we have to stop what Wilson's doing. He's... he's killed people. Tortured them."

Tortured Bendy. Tortured one of her staff when he wasn't human anymore.

Bendy?

"The Ink Demon."

There was a long pause before Buddy wrote another message.

Why would you want to help him?

"Because he's Bendy."

Buddy's expression said that wasn't nearly enough of a justification.

"He's hurt people before," Audrey said, "but I know he feels guilty about it. He's trying to make up for it, it feels like. For both the things he's done and the things Joey Drew made him do."

He was so eager to help, so eager to please. It was plain as day that Bendy actually cared about the Lost Ones and Searchers that Sammy was helping. Just because he'd done bad things didn't mean he was a bad person. Just because Joey Drew made him do horrible things over and over and over didn't mean he was evil. He was a cartoon. He was what the script said he should be. But he didn't deserve to be forced into this, into any of this against his will. Not forced to be a theme park mascot, not forced to hurt people.

Buddy shook his head and set the notebook down on the table in the room, sitting down and putting a hand to his chin in obvious thought. 

The room held a stove. They were safe. Even if she couldn't convince Buddy with words, maybe she could do something to prove that she was honest, that she wanted to help . And if there was a Boris in the same body alongside a real person...

"Do you want something to eat?" Audrey asked.

Boris' ears perked up. He nodded excitedly.

So Audrey set to work. There was a pot on the stove and plenty of soup around on the shelves. Bacon soup wasn't good cold, but heating it up could only be an improvement, so soup it was. Two cans, knowing Boris' appetite.

There was a badly dented frying pan along with the big pot on the stove, plus an old wooden spatula, and Audrey had seen the Flock cooking, so she pulled out a can of ham from her bag (with a soft apology to Jack and an explanation that she was going to make some food, to which he nodded and happily leaned to the side so she could reach past him) and dumped the oil in to fry in, frying the meat after before chunking it up and into the soup. There was a badly blunted knife, but it was good enough to hack one of the loaves of bread in her bag into rough slices. The bread toasted up nicely, filling the safe house with the smell of ham and bacon and fresh bread. There were a few chipped plates stashed on one of the room's many shelves, and bowls as well. Once the bread was done, she managed to cut the ham into rough chunks and fried that too, adding it into the soup. It could only help mask the flavor, if nothing else it would make it taste at least a little bit better.

The end result was, at a cautious taste test, warm soup with ham chunks that only left a faint aftertaste of old socks and plenty of toasted bread to go with it.

Audrey managed to find three bowls to set out and served the soup, though there wasn't an extra chair for Jack. She had to drag over a crate, which got her a strange look from Boris.

"I brought someone with me," Audrey said. "He's not dangerous, I promise."

Boris gave her a wary look, but didn't comment.

"Jack?" she said.

The Searcher poked his head out.

"Soup's done," she said. "I'll help you, okay?"

A nod and an inky gurgle.

Buddy stared warily as Audrey hauled the bucket out of her bag and set it on the crate. She ladled out three bowls of soup and carefully pressed one of them into Jack's hands. She made sure to put his plate of bread right next to where she set the bowl and made sure he knew they were there.

She understood how Sammy was so willing to be surrounded by Searchers to ensure they got some comfort like this. Without sight or legs, they couldn't do that much on their own, and that made her heart hurt. Hearing could only get them so far, and they were people, just people who had lost their sight, their legs, and their ability to speak. Like so many injuries from the wars all piled up at once, but with the added horror of the Well of Voices that didn't always let people go.

Jack visibly perked up as he sipped at his soup as best someone missing a lower jaw could. Buddy eyed the Searcher, but ate as well. Cautiously, at first, a few hesitant spoonfuls, and then wolfing down the food with the same zeal that his cartoon counterpart did. 

Audrey couldn't help but smile as she ate her own meal. It was a nice short break, one without having to fear for her life for at least a little while. She just wished Edgar was there with them, he deserved a break too. All of the Butcher Gang did. If she could invite them on the way back down, she'd invite them to come with them. She was sure O wouldn't mind sparing a few extra bowls of soup if Audrey volunteered to help cook it.

And she was going to get back. She had Sammy's books now. All they had to do was get to the elevator, which should take them all the way back down. Then it was just through the door, through the sewers, and back to Lost Harbor, safe and sound.

Even with its aftertaste, the soup and the safety of the space did wonders for her nerves, tension slowly leaking out of her muscles. She'd been on edge since she'd set foot on the boat launch. She couldn't wait to get back now.

Though this place being so familiar needled at her. Maybe... Maybe she had seen it before. Just not in person. Audrey dug her sketchbook out of her bag and flipped through it, flipped through Henry's drawings until she stopped at one.

An illustration of Boris – matching the Boris currently munching his way through half of a loaf of bread, not quite perfectly on model but very close to it – in this exact room. A feeling of fondness came with the page. Warmth. Safety. Henry had been here before.

Henry knew Boris. Knew Buddy.

"Buddy?" she said.

One of Buddy's ears perked up.

"Do you know Henry?"

His ears fully perked up, his gaze on Audrey.

"I found this earlier," she said, handing over the drawing. "In a room in the other studio. He left a tape behind and, from the sound of it, Wilson captured him."

Buddy's entire expression sank. He took the drawing, though, and stared at it for a long moment before handing it back. Audrey tucked it safely back away in her sketchbook as Buddy reached for his notebook.

Is there any way you can help Henry?

"Maybe," Audrey admitted. "Once Bendy's better, maybe we can figure something out. You could come with me, I'm sure Sammy wouldn't mind it."

Buddy's expression was wary, uncertain. He stared at his notebook for a long moment before writing another message.

I want to help Henry. I can't leave, though. Boris is too scared. Every time we make it to Heavenly Toys he turns around and runs all the way back here. He won't let us leave, he's too scared. Even if I haven't heard the Angel since everyone left.

"Won't let you?"

A nod. Audrey understood being terrified in this horrible, awful place.

But she also understood Boris. 

"Well, I have some good news. The Angel isn't here. Sammy said she's in the city now, so the only thing here are the Keepers. And I'm sure we can sneak past them if we're careful. And if we make it back to Sammy's hideout, they've got a kitchen. With real food. Fresh bread and fresh fish. Even doughnuts."

Boris' tail wagged hard enough Audrey could hear it thumping into the sides of the chair he was sitting in. Nothing motivated Boris more than food. He'd risk any danger for a big enough meal, or even just a good enough snack.

"There's a few Lost Ones living there with him, but no one there will hurt you. I promise."

There was an excitable nod. There really was a Boris in there, wasn't there?

"Let's finish our food first, then we can go."

More nods and Boris tucked back into his soup. 

Jack flashed her a thumbs up. Audrey was just glad she could help. This place may have been safe, but the Keepers were definitely dangerous and two were harder to evade than just one. Buddy would be safer with Sammy and his Flock, even if they could be a little intimidating.

For now, soup. And bread. Audrey hadn't realized how hungry she actually was until she started eating. She wasn't sure if that was because of the world itself, or she just hadn't been paying attention to her stomach and only eating when she'd been hurt.

Audrey was the first to finish her food. She tidied the mess and made sure the stove was off. She wasn't sure what Buddy would want to take with him.

She didn't end up needing to ask, as once he was done eating the Toon and not-Toon started gathering up everything into a – to Audrey's surprise and amusement – a little checkerboard print cloth like a hobo's bindle out of an old cartoon. Once it was tied up, Boris just kept adding things to it, like it was just as big as Audrey's bag was. Soup, supplies, the pot and the pan and all the utensils. A pack of playing cards, a few candles. He wandered out of the room for a while and Audrey decided not to comment on the cartoonish clangs and clanks of whatever it was that he was gathering.

Instead she focused on getting Jack back into her bag. He seemed much more relaxed now, all but completely puddled into the bucket. All the food was probably making him sleepy. Audrey wasn't about to consider taking a nap, she could do that once they got back to Lost Harbor.

Buddy eventually trooped out of the back, a proper hobo bindle slung over one shoulder like he was about to hop on a train car and ride the rails all the way from New York to California. Where he'd gotten the stick for it was anyone's guess.

He also had something held in one hand. A stack of papers big enough to be a book. He held it out for Audrey to take. Confused, she did, flipping through it. It was all handwritten in Buddy's handwriting, some pages stained with ink along the edges. She flipped back to the front.

Write it down. Buddy couldn't talk, but was this... Audrey skimmed a few pages, actually reading the contents of a few pages this time. It was Buddy's story. What had happened to him before the ink, before the Loops.

She handed the bundle – kept together with thread carefully worked through the pages – back with care.

"I'll read it once we get back," she said.

Buddy nodded and pocketed the makeshift book in the front pocket of his overalls. It must have been too precious to him to worry about accidentally losing if he dropped what he was carrying. Out of the same pocket came his hat, along with a flashlight that he handed to Audrey. It was old and clunky, but that meant more light to see by.

"Thanks, Buddy. Are you ready?"

His nod was stiff and uncertain, but his expression was determined.

It was time to go. They had to get back. They'd just have to be careful.

Chapter Text

Having a flashlight made navigating the tunnels much easier. Or at least it was easier on Audrey's nerves. The flashlight might not have been very bright, but between her light and Buddy's it was more than enough to not only see by, but see decently well. 

The tunnels that held Buddy's safe house were a maze, but it was clear that Buddy knew exactly where he was going. He was shaking a little as he walked, knock-kneed and clearly terrified, but he was still moving forward regardless of that. This had to be a lot for Boris, but he was being very brave.

Fortunately, it didn't take them very long to reach the last door out into the rest of the tunnels. Buddy cracked open the door, Audrey peering out over his shoulder.

There was a line of Bendy cutouts blocking the door.

"Wait," Audrey whispered.

Buddy tilted his head to one side, confused, but didn't protest, sliding the door closed.

A few seconds later there was a slithering, scraping sound. A Keeper? It had to be. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

The cutouts had, once again, saved her life. She really wished there was some way she could pay them back.

They waited, silent and tense, until the scraping sound was gone. Audrey gave it a little extra time before nodding for Buddy to open the door.

One cutout was leaning against the wall, blocking the way to their right. Audrey pointed to their left and Buddy nodded. They slipped out of the door – Audrey mouthing a 'thank you' to the cutout – and pressed on.

They didn't encounter any Keepers on their way out, the darkness giving way to the well lit entrance of Heavenly Toys. They stashed their respective lights, Audrey holding her pipe at the ready, and slowly crept their way across the open space. One of the staircases, Audrey noticed, was blocked by a gigantic Boris plush. Too big to fit in her bag, otherwise she might have tried to take it.

No Keepers appeared as they made it into Heavenly Toys proper. It was too much to hope that there weren't any around. Hopefully the shock pipe would work. Would Banish work if it didn't? She'd hardly used the power, and it didn't work quickly. If she snuck up on one, maybe, but using it if one had already seen her was out. 

They moved through the maze of shelves and at a painfully slow pace, but they couldn't risk going quickly and running directly into danger.

No cutouts blocked the way through. A good sign.

They reached the Alice Angel themed recording room. It was quiet here too. So far so good.

Something flickered in the corner of Audrey's vision. She turned.

There was a cutout blocking the doorway they'd just come through.

"Go," Audrey whispered.

Buddy didn't need to be told twice, he all but sprinted for the door out, Audrey right behind him.

They were barely through the door when the grating screech of a Keeper filled the air.

"Run," Audrey said, flicking the shock pipe's power on.

Buddy ran, Audrey right behind him.

The hallway split into two paths with a sign. Angel and Demon.

"Left!" Audrey exclaimed, remembering the way she'd come from.

Buddy veered left, hesitating at the entrance to the flooded room. Another screech sent him barreling through the ink, even as his ears pinned to the side of his head and he let out a low whine.

The scraping slither of the Keeper was catching up to them.

Audrey ducked around the corner of the door out of the flooded room, gesturing for Buddy to keep going.

He did. Audrey waited.

The Keeper splashed out of the room with a screech.

It didn't notice Audrey until she slammed her shock pipe into the side of its head.

The pipe discharged with a sound like a lighting strike. The Keeper screeched in clear rage, crumpling to the floor and laying there, some of the metal embedded into it sparking. Its light was still on. Not deactivated, but stunned. 

Audrey flicked off the pipe's power and ran. Through the next set of shelves, catching up with Buddy going at a slog, the ink slowing him down quite badly. 

Audrey grabbed his arm and pulled him onward. They were nearly there. Nearly there. They just had to get to the elevator. They were–

There was a garbled screech as they rounded the last corner.

A Keeper was blocking the elevator.

Audrey fumbled for her bag, Buddy skidding to a stop. Her hand closed around a fresh battery with the Keeper barreling down on them. She popped out the old one, trying to slot the new one into place as the Keeper reached for them.

Something clanked off of its head. Enraged, the Keeper turned to find the source.

A second object clanked off of the monstrosity's head. An empty can of soup. And this time, Audrey saw where it had come from.

Charley, a pipe in one hand, a soup can in the other, scowling at the Keeper.

The Keeper charged at the Butcher Gang member. Charley's scowl turned into a fierce grin – the same grin Audrey recognized from the show when one of his plans was working – and gave a whistle of two short notes.

Edgar dropped from the ceiling as Barley burst from behind a barrel. The trio descended upon the Keeper, the sound of their makeshift weapons clanked loudly against the monster's metal head and limbs.

Charley looked up from their assault long enough to flash Audrey a thumbs up. She nodded, popped the new battery into her shock pipe, and ran for the elevator.

Buddy made it before her, jamming the call button with a thumb. The elevator's doors clattered open and the pair piled in, Audrey slamming a hand on the bottommost button labeled 'L' (had that been there before?). 

The door scraped closed and down they went.

Audrey leaned against the side of the elevator to catch her breath. They'd made it. And Edgar was okay! All of the Butcher Gang were! Three on one were good odds, they'd gotten out of plenty of scrapes in the show, so she wasn't too worried about them. All they had to do was distract the Keeper and run away.

Meaning that Audrey was home free. Though... since when did Charley have two functional hands?

Buddy stared at her, confused, and gestured upward.

"I helped them earlier," Audrey explained. "I guess they wanted to repay the favor."

Buddy stared at her with an expression that clearly said 'why?'

"Because it was the right thing to do. Nobody deserves what's happened to them here. I couldn't just leave them like that when there was something I could do to help."

Buddy's expression was thoughtful at that.

The elevator clacked and clattered on their way down, buttons lighting up as they went.

"We're almost there. There's a door in Bendyland that goes straight to the sewers. We just have to go through that and get to the boat launch."

Buddy nodded. Audrey was just glad she didn't have to crawl through vents this time. Hopefully the door into Bendyland opened from this side.

Jack poked his head out of Audrey's bag and made a concerned gurgle.

"We're almost there," she assured him. "Just a little further."

He nodded a little hesitantly and ducked back inside.

The elevator ground to a stop. Audrey found the electrical box for the elevator and unplugged one of the wires. Easy to fix, but this way only the cult – Flock, she reminded herself, even if they were a little bit cult-y – could fix it, keeping the Keepers out. With that, she turned and led the way, ears peeled for any noise. Just because she'd only run into Charley on the way up didn't mean that Bendyland was completely empty.

There was, mercifully, a switch on the giant doors leading into Bendyland, and Audrey flipped it without hesitation. The door ground open only partially, but it was more than enough for both of them to slip through.

It was quiet. Audrey walked briskly, Boris' knees were knocking worse than they had before. It was pretty creepy down here with all the abandoned rides and bad lighting, she could understand that. Or maybe it was that he'd never been this far from his safe house before? Either way, they were nearly there, just a little further.

They rounded the corner of piled junk – the door in sight – when a screech split the air.

Not a Keeper, no strange and garbled sounds to it, just metallic with a hiss of static.

The Projectionist.

Audrey didn't stop to think. She shrugged off her bag and tossed it to Buddy, turning around and turning on her pipe's power.
"Go!" she insisted. "I'll distract him."

Buddy let out a low whine, but slung her bag over one shoulder and bolted for the door anyway.

If she died again, Buddy and Jack would be safe. She'd have to crawl out of the ink again, but it would keep either of them from running the risk of getting trapped there.

And this time she knew he was coming.

And... she had an idea.

The Projectionist tromped into view, not quite moving at a full charge, cords clanking against the metal lodged in his flesh. Audrey stood her ground, one hand out.

"Hey!" Audrey shouted to get its attention.

The Projectionist screeched and charged at her, reaching out a hand to try and grab her.

Flow tugged her safely out of the way.

The Projectionist screeched in confusion, trying to find where she had gone as Audrey gripped her shock pipe in both hands and slammed it into the side of his head.

The projector's reels seized with the audible crackle of electricity. The light sputtered and died and the Projectionist collapsed in a heap.

"Sorry," Audrey apologized, feeling a little nauseous.

Nobody really died here, not for good. Audrey clung to that thought as she turned and hurried for the door, making sure to block it with a few crates before hurrying after Buddy.

Buddy was standing in one of the paddle boats that he'd somehow gotten into the water by the time she caught up with him. His eyes were a little wide and worried at the sight of her.

"I'm okay," she assured him. "And we won't need the boat."

She Flowed down to it anyway, slinging her bag back over her shoulder as Buddy held it out to her. 

Instead of powering on the paddleboat, Audrey whistled Bendy's theme song.

The Hand slowly rose out of the ink in front of the boat, Boris letting out a terrified whimper.

"It's okay," Audrey assured him. "It won't hurt us. It just doesn't like the paddle boats."

The Hand gave a thumbs up before lowering itself alongside the boat. Audrey stepped on before holding out a hand for Buddy, who clambered on with knocking knees.

Right. Audrey needed to sing. She wasn't much of a singer, but she'd just about worn out her sing-along record as a kid.

So 'Lighter Side of Hell' it was as the Hand rose up and started on its way.

Boris shook the entire time, not that Audrey could blame him. She'd been terrified of it before too. But now here she was, holding onto its thumb for support and singing her way through the songs she'd grown up listening to and hoping she wasn't too out of tune.

Lost Harbor soon came into view. Sammy was waiting at the dock, Bendy practically bouncing up and down beside him. She waved and Bendy, grinning from non-existent ear to non-existent ear – waved back. 

Buddy whimpered.

"It's okay," she assured him. "They won't hurt you."

His skeptical expression made his thoughts on the matter abundantly clear.

The Hand lowered to the dock, Audrey helping Buddy onto solid ground. Once they were both on the dock, Bendy bounded forward, leaping into Audrey's arms as she dropped her pipe and pulled him into a hug.

"I missed you too, Bendy," she said.

The Toon bumped his horns into her chin, making her laugh. He'd missed her a lot, it seemed.

He leaned back, grin morphing into concern as he gently placed a hand on her forehead. She heard a very soft squish of ink under his glove.

"The Projectionist got me," she admitted. "How bad is it?"

Bendy grimaced.

"That bad?"

 Bendy held up his fingers and gestured for a little, just a pinch.

"One of your eyes glows," Sammy said, stepping forward enough to peer at her to get a closer look. "And it looks like some of the skin on the side of your neck has started turning to ink, along with your arm, but you're still a long way from losing your humanity. And." His gaze turned to Buddy. "I see you brought a guest."

Boris ducked behind Audrey with a whimper.

"It's okay," Audrey said. "Sammy won't hurt you. Sammy, Bendy, this is Buddy. And Boris? It... sounds like it's a little complicated."

Bendy ducked his head against Audrey's shoulder in clear shame. Sammy took a step closer to the cowering wolf.

"It's been awhile, Art Department," he said.

One of Buddy's ears perked up and he peaked out from behind Audrey.

"...For what it's worth," Sammy said, "I am sorry about my attempt to sacrifice you. The ink's influence was stronger than I was, but Drew's Script has fallen by the wayside since Wilson arrived. There will be no more attempted sacrifices, I promise you that."

Buddy leveled Sammy with a look.

"On my honor as a musician," Sammy stated.

That earned a nod. Good enough, it seemed.

"I brought someone else with us," Audrey said.

She opened her bag with her one free hand. An inky head topped with a hat poked itself out.

"...Jack?"

Sammy's voice was soft. Disbelieving.

Jack reached out a hand with an inky gurgle.

Sammy dropped to his knees, taking Jack's hand in both of his own.

"I was so worried," he whispered. "I thought you were..."

Jack's other hand reached out and patted Sammy's shoulder. The musician's shoulders shook like he was holding in a sob.

"Thank you," he whispered, cardboard gaze fixed on Audrey. "Thank you."

Audrey nodded. She was just glad she could help.

None of them said a word about the inky tears that dripped out from under Sammy's mask.

Chapter Text

Audrey relaxed into the cushions of the couch, a warming mug of hot chocolate in her hands. She was safe. There were no Keepers here, nothing to sneak up on her. It was amazing how much that settled her nerves, just knowing she was somewhere that she didn't have to constantly be checking over her shoulder.

Bendy was tucked up next to her with his own mug of cocoa, his presence reassuring, a steady weight at her side that grounded her. Buddy was sitting on her other side, warily sipping at a mug of cocoa as well, no longer shaking in terror but his ears were still pinned to the sides of his head. Boris wasn't likely to bolt with the presence of food, at least.

Sammy was sorting the pile of books Audrey had brought with her onto a bookshelf, each neatly put in a place that it clearly belonged.

"You did very well, little sheep," Sammy said. "I should be able to draft a preliminary counter circle by tomorrow."

Jack, still in his bucket, seemed content, placed alongside the opposite couch and relaxed to the point of bonelessness so much that only his hat was visible above the bucket's rim.

"And that will fix what's wrong with Bendy, right?" Audrey asked.

"If it doesn't, it will eliminate a substantial number of possible causes. I don't know what the Invader used, but I suspect it will either be a simple fix to the point of being insulting once the right tools are in place, or a massive headache of complex sigilwork to fix."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not tonight, little sheep. For now, you should rest. Though some assistance with the sigilwork tomorrow would be appreciated, freehanding circles is tedious."

"It really is, even when you're used to it." She'd been freehanding circles for years to draw Bendy, but that didn't mean it wasn't still difficult at times.

Audrey took a long sip of her drink. It tasted sweet, fresh. A little bit of light in the darkness. She understood why the Flock was so willing to work so hard for little things like this. It helped to an indescribable degree.

Bendy would be better soon. Then they could figure out some way to stop Wilson and fix whatever he had done.

If Joey Drew didn't just go and make everything awful again.

Bendy looked up at her, his expression concerned. She must have let the sour thought show on her face.

"I'm fine," she assured him, "it's just..."

She should tell them. But...

"Food's up!" O's voice called from outside.

Boris was off like a shot without a second of hesitation or thought.

Audrey took a deep breath. She just had to say it. She couldn't lie to them. They needed to know. And if she didn't say it now, she might not be able to work up the nerve later.

"Joey Drew isn't dead," she said, her voice wavering on the last word.

Sammy's masked gaze turned to her. He stood, work very much forgotten, and crossed the room to stand in front of her.

"You are safe here, little sheep," he said.

His voice was gentle, calm, like she was an actual frightened sheep ready to bolt at any moment. She felt a little bit like she might.

"You are safe," Sammy said, kneeling down to be closer to her level. "Tell me what makes you say this, little sheep."

Audrey's hands tightened around her cocoa mug. Bendy gently tugged it from her grip and set it down on the floor where it wouldn't spill along with his.

"I saw him," she said, voice soft, like saying the words made it even more true, somehow. "In the animation department. In the old studio."

Her hands tightened into fists in her lap.

"He said he wasn't the real Joey Drew. That he was just a memory. That he was just there to make sure nothing in the Machine got out. That everyone in here was just a monster. That–"

"Breathe, little sheep,"

Sammy's voice was gentle, one hand on her shoulder. Audrey forced in a breath, the words all trying to get out of her at once now that she'd started saying them.

"That he – It was all lies. I–" 

"Breathe."

Another breath. She hated the truth. Hated what she knew could only be the one grain of truth in the man's entire story. She was shaking, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes even as her fingernails started digging into her hands from how tightly she was clenching them.

"He said he's my uncle. And I... I remember him."

Sammy was silent at that.

"He stopped seeing me when I was a little kid. He... He said that the only reason he stopped seeing me was that he was keeping the monsters in the Machine. He's... He's the only reason I know about Bendy. I'm– I'm related to that... that monster . I–"

Bendy's horns bumping against her chin broke through her thoughts. He was hugging her, arms wrapped her shoulders as best he could with his small stature. She sniffled.

"Breathe, Audrey."

Her breath came out watery and shuddering. 

Sammy set himself down on the couch beside Audrey, one hand still on her shoulder, solid and steady.

"It's okay," Sammy assured her. "His relation to you means nothing."

"B-But–"

"You are not him, Audrey. Blood means nothing unless you want it to, I know that all too well. You being related to him changes nothing. You have not changed simply because you have learned this. Breathe."

She did.

"That he managed to evade his death does not surprise me. You did not fall for his lies about us, about this place. That is what matters. You are brave, Audrey. Brave and kind, kinder than any could ever expect one to be in this world. That you share any relation to that man does. Not. Matter."

She clung to his words, a hiccuping sob escaping her. Joey Drew had made this world horrible, ruined so many lives, and she...

"B-But–"

"You are not responsible for anyone else's sins, Audrey. The notion of the sins of the father is an antiquated one to begin with. You are not him. You are nothing like him, that much is abundantly clear. If you feel betrayed by him, you have every right to. Monstrous though he may be, your feelings are your own, and to be abandoned is to be hurt. You are your own person, Audrey, and he has no bearing on that if you do not wish there to be."

She tried to find the words, any words to respond with, but all she managed was a choked sob. His words cut right through the thoughts swirling around in her head. The fact that Joey Drew was the only reason that she knew about Bendy. The only reason she'd taken this job. The only reason she'd started drawing. He had...

...But he hadn't made Bendy. And even if he'd given her the stuffed Bendy all those years ago, he hadn't made it. It had been whoever was in the toy department. He hadn't made the music she'd listened to, hadn't drawn any of those animations. All he'd done was put his name on it. Still, he had–

"You are no more responsible for his actions than Bendy is," Sammy said.

Bendy. Bendy, who was also related to Joey Drew by a technicality. Not created by him, but forced into the world by him.

Audrey let out another sob. Sammy gently pulled her into a hug and whatever dam was keeping her together, trying to make it so she could get her words out, broke. She sobbed, clinging to him like she was a child.

(Her father had never held her like this whenever she'd cried, she thought dimly. Her mother had, but never her father. He wasn't a bad person. Just... distant. Busy. Always busy.)

"You are safe, little lamb." Sammy's voice was so kind that it almost hurt. "You are kind. Brave. His words can do nothing to you, you are stronger than he is."

He... He was right, wasn't he?

Bendy tucked himself tight against Audrey's side, arms wrapped around her middle.

All she could do was cry until her tears were all spent. She felt numb. Numb and snotty, but relieved in a way she couldn't put into words. Like Sammy had just taken some huge weight off her shoulders.

"Thank you," she mumbled into his shoulder. "And... sorry."

"You are far from the first to fall apart here, little lamb. Bendy did the same thing many, many years ago, about much the same thing."

Oh.

"...Sammy?"

"Yes, little lamb?"

That was... a nickname. One just for her?

"Does it... really not matter that I'm related to him?"

"I spoke honestly, little lamb. Have you heard the phrase 'blood is thicker than water?'"

She nodded.

"It is an incomplete version of the phrase. The true one is 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.' Blood means little to some. To others, it is an excuse to justify a debt that doesn't exist, that to be born is to owe those that brought you into the world. That is the reason I left home, and I am not the only one to do so. Family is not always by blood. Family can simply be by choice."

Audrey leaned back enough to see Sammy glance over at Jack's bucket, the Searcher was poking his head out with a concerned hunch to his posture.

"Is it... really that easy?" she asked.

"Sometimes. The choice is always yours, little lamb."

Bendy bumped his horns gently into her side and grinned up at her. She managed a weak smile back.

"Thanks, Sammy. You too, Bendy."

So it... didn't matter. It didn't matter unless she wanted it to. And she didn't.

"Though it's... it's a little silly," she said, "but..."

"Yes, little lamb?"

"Because of Joey Drew... doesn't that mean Bendy and I are... family?"

Sammy hummed in thought at the question. It was a silly thought. It was, but...

"By technicality of the Liar's involvement in our Lord's creation, but you don't need a technicality of blood," Sammy said.

Bendy wiggling into the hug to bump his horns against her chin made his thoughts on the matter very apparent. She let go of Sammy to give Bendy a nice, tight hug. If he didn't mind, then, well... It still felt too silly to voice, but Bendy was more than just a character. He was real. And Joey Drew had hurt him worse than he'd hurt Audrey.

He deserved a family that cared about him. He clearly already had Sammy, but if he didn't mind Audrey including herself in that a little? She wouldn't either. 

Chapter Text

The old attic was dusty. And dark, lit by only a single lightbulb on a pull string. Audrey had never liked it, but it needed to be dark to see the movie her uncle had brought with him. Her uncle was the best! Even though she was only four, he listened to her when she said a cartoon was too sad or wasn't silly enough. He called her a little expert! She was good at knowing when things weren't silly enough, it was easy.

She just wished they didn't have to use the attic. It smelled weird and there were lots of spiders.

Something growled. Audrey squeezed her Bendy doll to her chest, looking around for any monsters. She didn't see any, just boxes and cobwebs.

She shuffled toward the corner where her uncle had set up an old bed sheet on a wall to use as a screen, along with an old projector and two old chairs. Her uncle was already putting the reels into place. The film tin on the floor had a label on it. Audrey could even read it. 'Cowboy Bendy – TEST.'

That short had never been released, part of Audrey's mind pointed out. It–

"Are you ready, Audrey?" her uncle said.

She looked up. He looked... not old enough. His hair was supposed to have more grey, his face more wrinkly. Pinstripe vest, little Bendy-shaped pin on his lapel.

Another growl. Audrey took a step back, away from her uncle. This was wrong . This was... This was the old attic. At the house before her parents had moved to when she was nine. This–

Yet another growl. Around her, in her head. A clawed hand on her shoulders. Four sharp fingers.

"That's not very polite, Audrey," her uncle said. "Are you ready?"

Audrey squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn't real.

Liar.

The voice in her head. Deep. But she knew whose voice it was now.

"It's not nice to ignore your uncle, Audrey."

Joey Drew's voice was carefully polite. But she knew better. She wasn't going to fall for this. This wasn't real.

And she wasn't alone.

"Bendy," she whispered.

I am here, Audreyyy.

There was a weight of a second hand, on her other shoulder this time. Something audibly dripped ink. Audrey could feel something tall curling around her. Protecting her.

"Now, Audrey," Joey Drew said. "Why don't we have a little chat? You–"

"Shut up."

An ink pipe audibly burst.

Audrey opened her eyes. Joey was no longer towering over her. He was just as tall as he was when she'd encountered him – or, rather, she was no longer as tall as she'd been when she'd been a little kid, hanging on her uncle's every word as he showed her cartoons that he never made the changes she suggested in the first place. 

Gone was the attic. They were back in the animation department. Ink like mist coiled around the room, the wall behind Joey Drew covered in dripping ink. 

Bendy growled. The ink under her skin rippled. It felt like it was slowly making its way up her arm, up the side of her neck and into her head. It felt wrong , but Bendy would never hurt her.

"No–" Joey began.

"Shut up."

She didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to hear any of his lies. Her hands curled into fists. She'd never been so angry before. She wanted to– the thought was so violent that she couldn't even finish it. She could feel the ink sloshing around in her head.

He deserves it.

Was that... what Bendy wanted? 

She couldn't blame him for that. All he'd done, all the people he'd hurt. She took a step forward, a heavy, squishing sound told her Bendy was doing the same on legs made out of ink. Ink dripped down around her, she could feel him leaning over her, far taller than she was.

"Audrey," Joey said, taking a step back, closer to the wall of ink.

"Shut up!" Audrey snapped as Bendy let out an agreeing, guttural snarl. "Leave me alone !"

The ink in her hand went hot. She held it up to her eyes. The mark of Banish was glowing nearly white with heat.

...He deserved it.

Audrey took another step forward, another step from Bendy with it. Then another, then another, until Joey was backed into the wall.

He opened his mouth to say something but Audrey didn't let him. She grabbed onto his arm as the mark on her hand flared gold and the specter of Joey Drew boiled like burning cellulose.

And then he was gone.

A pleased rumble filled her head, a sense of satisfaction that didn't feel like her own. He was gone. They could do this again. Maybe this one would stick. Maybe–

Audrey blinked, staring up at the ceiling of Sammy's makeshift home. Her body felt heavy.

She looked down. Bendy was sprawled out on top of her like a cat, sound asleep. She was trapped, then. Oh well.

That had been a dream, then. A weird dream. Part memory, though, she remembered the movies in the old attic so clearly now. She didn't remember what suggestion she'd made for one of the shorts that had come out, but it had been so mean to Bendy even after she'd told him to change it. He'd never actually cared about what she had said, had he?

...So why had he bothered asking for her opinion in the first place? There had to be some reason. It didn't make any sense. Maybe she'd ask Sammy about it later. Maybe he'd been using her as a focus group to try and sell investors on more cartoons on the cheap. 

Audrey tilted her head. Buddy was fast asleep on the opposite couch. There was no sign of Sammy or Jack. Maybe Sammy had slept somewhere else since she and Bendy and Buddy had taken up the only places to sleep in his house. She didn't doubt someone would offer him a spare mattress if he asked. What time was it anyway?

Bendy rolled sideways, off of her and against the couch cushion, still out cold. She smiled, carefully wiggling off of the couch without waking him up. She tucked the blanket around him. He rolled over and stole her warm spot on the couch. 

She smiled, shouldered her bag, and snuck out of the little house. There weren't many Lost Ones around, so it must have been early, as much as that meant something here. The kitchen was slowly working into full swing, which meant coffee.

O was a lifesaver, handing over a mug of coffee the second Audrey stepped up to ask.

She thanked them and took to wandering. As terrified as she'd been at first, Lost Harbor was safe . Not in the best condition, but safe. So what if it was a little bit makeshift?

A series of clangs filled the air. Audrey blinked. That was so loud, what–

Sammy tore out from the entrance of one of the houses, an axe in hand. Was it some kind of alarm? Audrey pulled her shock pipe out of her bag and followed him.

A number of other Lost Ones joined, all armed with some form of weapon. Mostly axes and pipes, a few with chunks of wood. And another shock pipe– oh, it was Bill, that made sense. It was kind of hard to tell who was who.

The Lost Ones formed a defensive line at the end of the dock, Cass – armed with a large chunk of what looked like rebar – standing beside her, acknowledging her with a nod. Sammy stood at the front of the formation, axe at the ready.

"What's going on?" Audrey asked.

"The alarm," Cass said. "There shouldn't be anyone that can get down here though."

Had Wilson figured out a way down? She didn't hear any screeching Keepers, so–

The Hand sloshed its way into view. With someone standing on top of its palm.

The Projectionist.

How? Audrey felt a little relief at seeing him, but confusion quickly overtook the feeling. He... wasn't screeching, though. He was just standing there, one hand on the Hand's thumb for balance. Could he talk?

Sammy walked to the end of the dock, axe at his side but clearly prepared to swing if the need arose. 

Audrey felt a tug on her sweater. She looked down. Bendy was staring up, confusion on his face.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head.

Bendy frowned, but turned his attention to the Hand that was lowering itself to the dock.

There was silence as Sammy and the Projectionist stared each other down. It was probably a good thing Sammy wore a mask, the light would have hurt to stare into. The tension was so thick Audrey could have cut it with the barnacle knife still strapped to her leg.

The Projectionist let out a static-filled sound. Not a screech, but it grated horribly. A few Lost Ones covered the sides of their heads where their ears would have been.

Just barely audible through the static was... it sounded like a hiss, at first. It quickly managed to solidify itself into a slightly more coherent sound.

"Saaa... Sssss..."

Wait, was the Projectionist–

"...Norman?" Sammy said, voice so quiet Audrey almost didn't hear it.

The Projectionist clapped a hand on Sammy's shoulder.

Sammy dropped his axe. The group of Lost Ones tensed.

Audrey watched as Sammy reached up a hand and gently set it on the side of the projector. He wasn't attacked. Instead, the light shuttered itself.

Sammy's hand dropped to his side and he turned.

"It is alright, my sheep," he said, voice taking on a distinctly Prophet-y cadence. "The Projectionist has regained his sense of self, it seems."

The Lost Ones exchanged confused looks, but shuffled into a looser cluster, weapons still at the ready as Sammy led the way down the dock, the Projectionist clanking after him. Sammy stopped in front of Audrey.

"Did you do something while you were in the old studio, little lamb?" he asked.

"I... Um..." She felt bad about it, but Sammy was asking, so. "I sort of... hit him in the head with the shock pipe?"

"At full charge?" Bill asked, stepping up beside her.

"Yeah. I... thought it knocked him out."

"If there were unshielded wires in there, you might have flash-welded a bad connection back together."

Flash welding? Her dad had used that before to fix cars. That was typically a lot more targeted than smacking the side of a projector with something high voltage.

The Projectionist tilted his head to one side until something audibly clanked.

"Sounds like you need more repairs," Bill said. 

The Projectionist, despite not having anything on his head resembling a face, somehow managed to look at Sammy with blatant skepticism by the tilt of his head alone.

"He's good enough to know how to not break anything in that old projector, Polk," Sammy said. "Possibly that speaker of yours as well."

The Projectionist– no, Normal Polk, tapped the side of the speaker embedded in his chest, then managed to, somehow, give Bill a skeptical look.

"I'll fix it," Bill assured him.

Norman was motionless for a long moment before slowly nodding.

For a moment, Audrey was glad she'd made such an impulsive decision. She'd wound up helping someone instead of hurting them. That was good.

She looked down. Bendy beamed up at her. Yeah, she'd done something good.

Norman didn't make another appearance until well after dinner, stooping to make his way into Sammy's home as the Prophet was hard at work sketching out sigil designs on loose paper (having been thoroughly distracted from the activity the entire day, so frequently going to check on Norman and Bill that eventually Cass had needed to step in to give Bill time to actually work ), Jack contentedly sipping on a mug of soup, and Buddy, Bendy, and Audrey all sketching ideas for potential new shorts, Audrey having managed the first few chapters of what she'd loosely call Buddy's memoir. He'd been through a lot. 

Buddy was pretty good at drawing, even if he was hesitant to get started on any given sketch.

Everyone looked up in near unison, Sammy quickly standing from his desk in the corner.

"Norman...?" he asked, cautiously.

"Still hunched over your desk all day, Sam?" 

Norman's voice had a tinny quality to it, muffled just slightly in a way that made it clear it was coming out of the speaker in his chest. But it was clear of static and didn't hurt anyone's ears.

Sammy crossed his arms.

"I don't need you to nag me about my work ethic, Polk."

Normal laughed, a deep rumbling sort of laugh, clapping Sammy on the shoulder. Audrey got the distinct impression that Sammy would have rolled his eyes had they been visible. Norman had a distinctive southern drawl to his voice, even more than Cass did.

"Even the ink hasn't changed that about ya, Sam." He glanced over at the trio huddled around loose sketches on the floor. "Always knew you'd be the type to end up with kids."

Sammy sputtered. Norman laughed. Jack managed a gloopy chuckle.

Norman sat himself down on the floor across from them.

"Name's Norman Polk," he said, offering a hand out to shake.

"Audrey," she said, shaking his hand. "This is Bendy and Buddy."

The little demon wrung his hands as he looked up at Norman. The man reached out and pat the demon between the horns.

"No hard feelings, Bends," Norman said. "The ink got in everyone's head. And don't you go feelin' guilty 'cause'a what Joey did, you got that?"

Bendy nodded. Norman's light wasn't so bright, Audrey noticed, it was barely lit and didn't hurt to stare at.

The man's gaze went to Buddy, who stared with wide, sad eyes.

"Yeah," the man said. "It's me. Sorry I didn't get out with that proof, kid."

Buddy's ears flattened and he let out a low, sad whine.

"As for you, Auds," he said, turning his attention to Audrey. "You weren't one'a the studio gals. Little young and a little human for that. How'd you get down here?"

"Wilson," Audrey answered, mouth a grim line. "After Joey Drew died and put his soul into the machine, Nathan Arch bought the rights to the machine and the Bendy franchise. I was hired on as the director of the new cartoons. Wilson threw me in here. He's been throwing the entire animation staff in here, it seems like. One by one. But... we're going to stop him. I don't know how, but we'll... we'll think of something."

"Bill told me a bit 'bout all'a that." Norman shook his head. "An' here I thought Joey was gonna be the worst of our problems. Well, if somethin' goes wrong, count me in, kid."

"He's also captured Henry," Sammy added.

Norman's head swiveled to Sammy.

"...He ain't got a single idea'a who he's messin' with, does he?"

"Clearly not. He's using Gent tech to keep us out, though."

"Well, he ain't got a damn thing that'll stop me, bet ya anything."

"He's made guards. Mostly machine, not enough soul in them to be Toons. We'll go over this another time."

"Good. He ain't got a damn clue'a what he's done, lockin' up Hen like that." Norman shook his head. "Joey ain't dead then, sounds like."

"Not as much as we'd like." Sammy's tone dripped with displeasure. 

"Damn shame, the Loop was bad enough. Had my head on almost right 'till he started all that up. I'd say I can't believe he'd do all'a that just fer old Hen, but you know what he was like."

Sammy snorted. "Entitled. It's never changed."

Buddy and Bendy's heads both tilted sideways. Buddy scribbled down a message and held it up.

I know Henry's the one that made Bendy, but why's Mister Drew so mad about him quitting?

The ensuing silence was decidedly uncomfortable.

"It's not just that Henry quit," Sammy said. "It's more... How do I put this..."

"Just say it, Sam. Ol' Joey was light-footed, at Henry so much it's a wonder nobody outside the Studio said anything."

Audrey blinked, confused. She looked at Bendy, who looked just as confused as she felt. Buddy, though, looked like his eyes were at risk of popping out of his head in surprise.

"What?" Audrey asked.

"He wore sensible shoes," Sammy offered. "Grey suede before it became obvious."

"What?" Audrey repeated. What did that have to do with anything?

"He lived in the Village," Sammy said.

Audrey stared. Wait. No, there was no way–

"Artistic only in one sense'a the word," Norm added. "Most obvious confirmed bachelor in the whole studio."

Buddy scribbled another note and held it up.

A friend of Dorothy?

Norm laughed. "Got it in one, kid."

"Wait," Audrey said, mind spinning. "Really?"

Meaning that the reason that Joey Drew had...

The drawing of the woman with the wedding ring, of Linda. The self portrait with a matching wedding band.

He'd... Joey Drew really was the worst. How could anyone resent someone that much? Just for that?

"To the point of being nearly painfully obvious," Sammy responded. "At least until he had to start impressing investors and the general public and wore that mask so much everyone bought it."

"Up to and including all the investor gals he used to woo at those big fancy industry parties."

Bendy grabbed one of the loose pieces of paper, quickly scribbled something, and held it up.

An' ya never told me this?!

"It wasn't really important at the time, my Lord."

Bendy gave Sammy a very solid stink-eye.

"He ain't wrong," Norman agreed. "'Cept for Miss Campbell, the whole old guard was a bunch'a artists. Jack's a regular pansy."

Jack nodded in agreement.

"Sammy's a workaholic but he lets his hair down every once in a while."

"It's called having standards, Polk. I'll never understand how anyone could actually think cruising or the bathhouses were worth their time. Disgusting."

"He's our resident prude. An' I'm our resident double-gated good-lookin' heartbreaker."

"If I still had eyes, I'd be rolling them."

Norman just chuckled. 

Audrey's head was spinning. Everyone in New York knew about the Village. But... But it lined up. He'd never gotten married, never had kids. That would have come up at some point when Nathan Arch talked about him. Nathan had been married, had a wife who had died many years, ago, but–

"Wait," she said slowly, "was Nathan Arch...?"

Norman's laugh said it all. Which... explained a lot, really. No wonder he was so preoccupied with keeping Joey Drew's legacy alive.

Audrey had to sit down on the couch as it all sunk in. It... It made sense. Joey Drew was awful. If he didn't get what he wanted, then he'd take some form of revenge for it. Henry had left and lived a happy life, had a happy marriage until he'd been trapped in this place. What about his wife? Did she know? Was she waiting for him to come home, only for him to never return? 

And it hadn't been just that, had it? Henry had created a character that people had loved, not Joey. Henry had drawn the cartoons that had kicked off Bendy's popularity, not Joey. And Joey Drew didn't seem to be the type to let go of a grudge.

"Joey never did take ol' Nate gettin' married the best," Norman continued. "'Course, unless you had a good enough career, you had to back in those days if you were the respectable business type."

"And he took Henry getting married even worse," Sammy said, shaking his head. "I never saw him look at anyone like he looked at her."

"I still remember when we helped him get that fancy dinner reservation. Hen was wound up so tight about her likin' the flowers that you could'a sworn his head was gonna pop. Him courtin' her was the cutest darn thing I've ever seen."

"They were insufferable. And when Henry quit because he was barely seeing her while they were trying for a family, no one but Joey Drew was surprised by that. I'm not surprised that he hasn't let it go all these years later."

There was a shuffling of paper. Audrey sat up enough to read Bendy's message.

Yer tellin' me that Joey made the Loop 'cause he got mad that Henry ran off with a nice dame an' never came back?

"More or less," Sammy said. "I don't doubt that the rest of us were thrown in here simply for revenge, or that he blamed us for the studio's failure, but for Henry? A large part of it was the studio's failure, I have no doubt about that, especially since Henry's ideas were what created it in the first place, but given Drew's entitlement? I wouldn't put it past him."

Bendy stood up and joined Audrey on the couch, shoving his face into a pillow. If he could speak, Audrey was sure she would have heard a muffled scream. 

Joey had put Bendy through the loops too, all because his creator had quit. Quit and gotten happily married to the woman he was in love with, leaving Joey and the studio behind.

"Anyway, Sam," Norman said. "What's all the work for?"

"Attempting to reverse whatever Wilson did to trap my Lo– ...trap Bendy in the small form he's in now."

"Was wonderin' why he wasn't ten feet tall. Need a hand?"

"That depends on how many of my books you read when I wasn't looking."

"Everything that wasn't in Latin' there, Sam."

Sammy sighed.

"Standard countersigil. I'm cross referencing to make sure it doesn't have any possible banishment connotations."

"Regular ol' Sammy stuff, then. Sure, I can give ya a hand."

Audrey would offer, but she needed a minute to process everything she'd just heard.

Chapter Text

Audrey suspected, when she woke up the next morning and both Sammy and his notes weren't there, that he hadn't slept.

She had, fortunately, with her dreams no more terrifying than the constant sound of dripping ink and the occasional low, rumbling growl.

Bendy had curled up next to her to sleep, tucked up under one of her arms like a stuffed toy. Maybe that was why she'd slept so well.

With one of her arms pinned, she waited until he woke up to try and move. He looked exhausted despite how long he'd slept.

"How are you feeling, Bendy?" she asked.

Bendy fished around on the floor for a spare piece of paper and something to write with. They had left kind of a mess the night before. Brainstorming sessions got out of hand sometimes.

Tired. It's gettin' kinda hard to breathe again. Hasn't done that unless I've been runnin' around before.

That wasn't good.

"We could go find Sammy," she offered. "Maybe he knows something that could help?"

Or maybe he was done with whatever it was he was planning on using to help Bendy. If he was, he could have woken her up to help, she didn't have a schedule here, she didn't mind.

Bendy nodded and rolled off of the couch so Audrey could stand up. Her arm was only a little bit asleep, she shook it out and it was fine.

Buddy was still snoring full on cartoon sawing logs style, so the two quietly made their way out of the house.

It must have still been pretty early, there weren't too many Lost Ones milling around, and it looked like breakfast was still being prepared. Audrey didn't know where to start looking, so she asked.

The fourth Lost One she talked to had seen him and pointed her the way. In a far corner of Lost Harbor, tucked away out of sight past even the house where the Searchers stayed. 

Sammy was surrounded by what Audrey could only, charitably, call a mess, muttering to himself while shuffling between different loose pieces of paper. Scattered paint brushes, a small stack of books and an entire bucket of ink were placed around him haphazardly. And, given that Jack was oozed comfortably in a nearby corner, it was clear where the bucket had come from.

Norman was leaned against the rocky cave wall, a book held out at nearly arm's length, his light focused on it. He looked up at the sound of their footsteps.

"Your kids are here, Sam," he said.

Audrey blinked. Sammy looked up.

"It is still early," he said. "Did you both sleep well?"

He... wasn't refuting it. Bendy nodded, like Norman's words hadn't even registered. Or was he used to that?

"I slept okay," Audrey answered. "Bendy said he's having some trouble breathing."

"Hn. Fortunately, I believe I am ready for your assistance, little lamb. I'm finalizing the last of the sigils and symbols we'll need. If Polk will focus and tell me which symbol I'm staring at."

"Hold your horses, Sam. And it's the wrong one, line's aren't crossed on the one in here."

Sammy grumbled under his breath, crossed something out, and scribbled something else.

"Why the hell did Drew have to base his sigils on alchemy?" he muttered, loudly enough that Audrey could hear it. "This could have been easy."

"What can I help with?" Audrey asked.

"I need three circles. Concentric. Center one is twelve inches across, next is eight, third is six. In ink, use one of the paintbrushes. And take care to draw carefully, this won't work if the circle isn't perfect."

Audrey nodded, picked up a paintbrush, and set to work. She could eyeball distances by using her hands to measure, she'd had to do it for placements of objects on her key frames before. Free-handing circles wasn't easy, but she'd had a lot of practice.

And soon there were three circles, just as he'd instructed, nested inside each other.

"Good," Sammy said. "Stand back for now, little lamb. I'll handle the next step."

Audrey did and watched Sammy carefully and painstakingly draw a myriad of strange symbols. Some were simple, like the center-most one which was a square with a T-shape on each of the flat faces. Others were squiggly and intricate, interconnected spirals and lines. He muttered under his breath the entire time, but the words Audrey managed to catch definitely weren't in English. Ara...mentum...? 

It was a good while until Sammy sat back, the entire circle filled with strange shapes and squiggles.

"Done," Sammy announced. "Are you ready, my Lord?"

Bendy nodded, hopping into the very center of the circle in a single jump.

"Whatever happens," Sammy said, looking up at Audrey, "do not interrupt me. Interrupted incantations could go haywire in unexpected ways. Should anything strange happen, remain calm. And above all else, do not break the circle. Understood?"

Audrey nodded. It was okay. Bendy was going to be fine.

Sammy knelt, hands just outside of the circle on the ground, and began to chant something in a language that Audrey couldn't understand. 

The circle glowed faintly, somehow, with black light. Bendy squeezed his eyes closed. His ink visibly rippled like someone was dropping little pebbles in a lake. 

Audrey covered her mouth with a hand, lest she accidentally do or say something that would distract Sammy. 

Bendy grimaced, a hand going to his chest, fingers digging into the fabric on his vest.

Then, all at once, the chanting, light, and the rippling of Bendy's ink stopped.

Sammy let out a breath, like he'd been holding it. Bendy, slowly opened his eyes, trembling faintly.

"...I have good news and bad news," Sammy stated.

"Good first, Sam," Norman said.

"While the circle hasn't undone anything, I have figured out the source of what has managed to confine my Lord to this small state."

"Then... What's the bad news?" Audrey asked, though she knew she wouldn't like the answer.

"It's a foreign object embedded within His flesh."

Audrey felt cold. Wilson had... He just kept getting worse. She'd worked with him. Had he always been like this, or had something changed?

Bendy stared down at himself before slowly unbuttoning his vest. The ink covering his torso was visibly damp, still weeping ink like blood, like the 'skin' had been peeled back and hadn't stopped bleeding. It hadn't healed, even with all the food he'd been eating.

"Gent tech," Norman said with clear disdain. "I'd bet anything. Their weird contraptions were all over the place right before this." He tapped the side of his projector. "Happened."

"There's little question about it, given the signal towers and their effects on any with demon ink."

"So how do we get it out?" Audrey asked, already feeling nauseous at the prospects, suspecting what the answer was.

Bendy visibly shook. 

"...How malleable is your ink, my Lord?" Sammy asked.

Bendy gave a slow, uncertain nod.

"You can't just reach in and grab the damn thing, Sam," Norman said. "...Can you?"

"It would be the fastest way. Deeply unpleasant, but fast. It is your choice, my Lord."

Bendy hesitated for a moment, then, mindful of the symbols on the ground, stepped out of the circle. He looked up at Sammy, visibly terrified but mouth in a resolute line.

"I will do this as quickly as I can, my Lord. I promise."

Bendy nodded and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Do you want me to count down for it?"

A shaky nod.

"Alright. Three."

Sammy placed his hand directly over Bendy's chest. Audrey pressed her hand firmly over her mouth. Whatever she was about to see, it was going to be... horrible, completely horrible, but she couldn't look away.

"Two. One."

And Sammy plunged a hand into Bendy's chest. Leaning forward as his arm slowly sank further into Bendy's torso. Up to his elbow, to his elbow, past his elbow, and–

Sammy's arm liquefied in a shower of neon color sparks.

Audrey screamed. Sammy tore his arm – what was left of his arm, it was gone nearly to his shoulder – away. The remnants of the limb dripped ink. Audrey pressed her hand firmer over her mouth and tried not to be sick.

"It reacts violently to ink," Sammy said blandly.

"How the hell are you calm after that, Sam?!" Norman exclaimed, so loudly that his speaker crackled with feedback.

"This is far from the first time I've lost a limb, Polk. The Angel and her allies before the Loop weren't content to stay in their territory. It's unpleasant, but it won't kill me. Audrey?"

She managed a weak nod. She was fine. She'd be okay.

"Breathe. Bendy needs you."

Bendy. Bendy. He was shaking, inky tears cascading from his eyes.

She could be sick later. She knelt down and scooped Bendy into a tight hug. He sobbed into her shoulder.

She held him as Sammy, seemingly unbothered by a missing limb, used his left hand to pick up a paintbrush, dip it in the bucket of ink, and draw a small circle full of strange symbols. Only two circles, simpler shapes. 

With the circle drawn, Sammy set the bucket in the center, and leaned over it, using his intact arm to keep himself balanced as he started chanting.

The ink swirled out of the bucket in thick rivulets, up and out, coiling itself into the space where Sammy's arm had been, somehow forming into... a new arm?

Audrey watched, wide-eyed, as Sammy stopped chanting and sat back, flexing his replacement hand.

Jack glooped over, putting a worried hand on Sammy's new arm. Sammy covered Jack's hand with one of his own, a nod of simple reassurance. There was shuffling behind them. Audrey didn't turn, but she could hear the footsteps. There were Lost Ones watching them now.

"...How?" she managed.

"Careful sigilwork and much practice. It will be pins and needles for a few hours, but it is far better than waiting for it to regrow on its own, or waiting until a trip through the ink and hoping to come out the other side with it intact again. This does, however, mean that simple removal won't work."

In Audrey's arms, Bendy shook in clear terror. Wilson... Wilson had to have somehow stuck whatever it was in Bendy's chest. He... He probably had to cut him open to do that. She couldn't make Bendy go through that again. If there was some other way. If–

Wait.

"What if I tried?" Audrey asked.

"...Say that again, little lamb?"

"What if it only does that to ink? One of my arms is still fine. So what if I tried?"

"You don't have to risk that, Auds," Norman said, though his gaze wasn't on her (from the shuffling behind her, it was on whoever had been watching them, whoever was now audibly making themselves scarce). 

"Bendy's been through enough. Whatever Wilson did to him... I won't let that happen again. If I could do it, he'd be fine, right?"

"...In theory, little lamb. But you could just as easily lose an arm, and I can't replace flesh."

Bendy looked up at her, eyes still dripping with inky tears. 

"...I don't care," Audrey decided. 

Bendy had been through enough. Been hurt. Tortured. Wilson had hurt him so badly that even the thought of what could happen to him terrified him. It... She just had to take the risk. If she thought about it, she might change her mind. She had to do it, and do it now. Before she lost the nerve.

"...Then I can hardly stop you, little lamb," Sammy said. "Polk?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"There's a cache of bacon soup in my desk. Bring two cans."

"Still can't believe that stuff works."

"Focus, Polk."

"I'll get 'em, Sam."

Norman shuffled his way out. He clanked a lot less when he moved slower.

"...Are you ready, Bendy?" she asked.

His eyes were wide and damp, but he nodded anyway.

Audrey set him down gently, holding his hand with her ink-covered one. He squeezed her hand tight and held on for dear life.

This was awful, terrible, but she would be as quick as she could, so it would only be awful and terrible for a little while.

"I'll count down," she said.

Bendy nodded and squeezed his eyes shut, inky tears still dripping down his face, but his teeth were grit in clear determination. 

Or bracing for pain.

"Three."

She put a hand to his chest.

"Two."

The ink beneath her fingers felt congealed, but still liquid. Like it wouldn't be any harder to reach through it than it would have been to put her hand in one of the many puddles she'd had to slog through.

"One."

She closed her eyes and plunged her hand into his chest.

The ink was dense, warm when her hand sank into it. Up to the wrist. But she didn't feel anything but ink.

The ink grew warmer as her arm sank deeper into the ink, quickly growing hot to the touch, like her hand was approaching an open flame. Past her wrist. To her elbow. Halfway to her shoulder.

The heat was burning. Flickers of neon light flashed bright enough she could tell the colors through her eyelids, ozone on the back of her tongue.

One of her fingers brushed something metallic and scorching hot. She grabbed it, holding it as tightly as she could.

And pulled.

It burned.

Her eyes shot open. Her arm was free. Her hand was free. But her hand was burning.

She dropped whatever she was holding. It was cylindrical. Metallic. Some kind of tube covered in coiling wire and sparking with neon colors, nearly red hot with heat.

A blur passed her. An axe blade split the tube in half. The remnants sparked, for a moment, then died, cooling from burning red to dull grey in moments.

Her hand hurt. She could see the blisters even through the ink that was coating it. Her vision swam.

"Breathe," Sammy's voice said.

Audrey breathed. She felt something cold and metal pressed against her lips.

"Drink."

She drank. She didn't even choke on the flavor of old, rancid soup.

The pain faded, the can pulled away as Audrey coughed. 

It was done. It was over.

"You did well, little lamb," Sammy said, supporting her, one arm around her to keep her upright. "Breathe."

She did. Without the pain, her vision came back into focus. Bendy had downed his own can of soup, the empty can laying on the ground beside him, his chest heaving from how hard he was breathing.

"Bendy?" Audrey managed, voice shaky.

Bendy managed a weak smile.

"How are you feeling, my Lord?"

Bendy closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths.

"I... I can hear you, my Lord. Your voice is faint, but there."

Audrey hadn't heard anything, though. Bendy didn't speak. Didn't even open his mouth.

"Do not strain yourself, my Lord. You need to rest."

Bendy shook his head. No? But–

Bendy's mouth set in a determined line. He looked up at Sammy, expression resolute.

"Sam's right," Norman said from somewhere behind Audrey. "None of us got anywhere we need to be, you can take it easy."

Bendy shook his head. He gave a grin that was very nearly mischievous, but shaky at the corners, and closed his eyes, his breathing growing steadily louder and louder, until the breathing was a growling wheeze.

Ink started to dribble down one side of his head, one horn sagging, melting, lopsided as claws poked through the ends of one of his right glove.

"Bendy!" Audrey exclaimed.

"My Lord, you need rest," Sammy insisted. 

Bendy just shook his head, gritting his teeth as ink dripped down, completely covering one of his eyes.

There was a sickening squelch as one of his arms contorted sideways suddenly twice, three times longer than it should have been, twisted halfway into a spiral.

Bendy staggered to his feet, one leg suddenly misshapen, foot turned inwards. Audrey could see his ribs, far too human for a cartoon.

A faint, inky haze surrounded him, a faint heartbeat thudding along with it. His expression contorted in pain as his other arm bubbled, but grew no larger. The ink covering Audrey's now healed arm slithered off, pooling around Bendy's feet before becoming a part of him, twisting his other leg around the opposite direction. 

A pained growl escaped him. He dug in a heel – as best he could, one foot was now no more than a misshapen lump – as his spine curled backwards, cracking and lengthening as the ink of his chest roiled.

Audrey dove forward, pulling Bendy into a hug as best she could.

"Stop," she pleaded. "Please."

He growled, the sound reverberating through her skull. The ink beneath her skin burned.

"Please, Bendy. You're hurt. I can't..."

She couldn't bear it. It hurt too much to see. He didn't... He didn't need to do this to himself.

He opened his one visible eye, staring at her.

The silence was filled only with ragged, watery breathing, and a thudding heartbeat.

Bendy sagged in Audrey's grip. The ink on his head stopped dripping, his skin settling. She reached up a hand and wiped the ink away from his eye.

The change was slow to reverse itself, the ink's movement sluggish, the cracks of bones that shouldn't have been there and grotesque sounds of squelching ink were so hard to listen to as they reversed. But Audrey held him through every snap, every change, as the inky mist abated and the sound of the heartbeat grew so soft she couldn't hear it anymore. 

Sammy put a gentle hand on Bendy's head, between his horns. He let out a small sound, not quite a growl, not quite a whine. He didn't look up at the musician.

"You don't need to apologize, Bendy," Sammy said, as if responding to words Audrey couldn't hear. "You shall some day set us free, yes, but we have waited this long. It does not need to be now, it does not need to be today."

Bendy shook his head.

"You were hurt, my Lord. You need to rest. To recover. We have survived this long, we can wait a little longer."

Bendy let out a barely audible whine, something more monstrous than fit his cartoon frame.

"It's okay, Bendy," Audrey assured him. "We're okay. You'll be okay. It's okay to rest."

Bendy didn't protest when Audrey scooped him up once the last of the strange transformation had reversed itself – minus a tail that hadn't been there before, thin with a spade tip, an adorable little demon-y addition to his design. Maybe it was some sort of side effect? 

Hadn't some of Henry's drawings included Bendy with a tail like this?

Bendy needed to rest. More food to help him heal, and then as much rest as he needed. She didn't know what else to do, but she could, at least, help him with that.

Chapter Text

Even though Bendy had agreed to rest, he didn't take to it easily.

Audrey tried to tuck him in for a nap, but he crossed his arms and refused. He accepted sitting up propped up by pillows, but nothing more relaxed than that. And some loose paper to doodle on, but he didn't seem able to really sit still.

He didn't stop sketching until Sammy brought him breakfast, though his expression was downright surly as he ate.

"Are you... feeling okay, Bendy?" Audrey asked, her own breakfast very much forgotten, her stomach still unsteady.

Bendy made a so-so gesture with the hand he was still holding a pencil with (Bendy, it turned out, was left-handed), the other hand holding a sandwich and his sketches balanced on a knee. The sandwich had a cartoonishly exaggerated bite out of it.

The gesture was more self-assured than she was used to seeing. Wider, more dynamic. It wasn't just that, his whole posture was different. More confident. He'd been so timid before. His movements were smaller unless he was getting up to a touch of mischief or he was really excited about something. He was so much more casual in his movements now, larger gestures.

He hadn't tried to seek her out for any kind of comfort either. Or Sammy. It was like he'd gone from wide-eyed and on the younger side to a grumpy teenager out of nowhere, or maybe an overworked workaholic of an adult. Like taking that thing out of his chest had done something to him, changed him.

"Are you sure? You're... acting a little different."

Bendy arched his inked on widow's peak like a raised eyebrow. He tapped his pencil to the paper he was using for a few moments before tossing the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, finishing it in a single bite (an action so cartoony that Audrey snorted involuntarily in laughter). He flipped the paper he was drawing on over (revealing, briefly, a doodle of himself, though with his older design without the vest in slacks, smashing a Keeper into a pancake with an oversized hammer) and started writing.

I feel a hell of a lot better than I have in a long time, let me tell ya.

"Really...?"

Still kinda sore and I'm pretty sure I'm still drippin' a bit, but I ain't that bad off. Think O's got any more'a those sandwiches?

"Bendy, this is serious. Wilson could have done somethi–"

Bendy shook his head, wrote a new message, and held it up.

I'm fine, toots.

Audrey raised an eyebrow at him. "Toots?"

'Auds' is Norm's thing, I ain't copyin' him, that ain't my style. Ya got any better ideas? Most'a what I got's too rude for ya. I got dame, that's about it, an' that don't feel right at all.

"You could just call me Audrey."

Ain't my style'a dialogue. We'll workshop it.

"Bendy, please. Focus. I'm worried about you."

Sheesh, alright. You really wanna know, huh?

"I do, Bendy. If there's something wrong..."

There ain't nothin' wrong with me.

"Are you sure? You're..."

His writing was similar to the scribbled messages that filled part of her sketchbook, but everything else...

Actin' different? I'm a Toon. I act like how I'm drawn and this is how I'm supposed'ta be drawn.

"Drawn...?"

Bendy had to grab another page to write on, this one filled with doodles of himself gleefully trashing what looked like the hallway of a fancy hotel.

The Ink Machine might'a spat me out off model, but Joey made me usin' one of Henry's sketches. I'm still a Toon, an' that's why I ain't actin' the way I did while that thing was stuck in me. Wilson ain't no artist, so that thing was the closest he could get, I guess. The Script ain't workin', so Joey's version ain't sticking right now, but what Wilson had goin' was like how Joey made everybody draw me. 'cept the comic team, but Joey got to 'em pretty quick once the studio shut down.

Joey Drew had...

So that thing made me inta the world's biggest punching bag. Without it, the Script was how Joey drew me 'cause he ain't got a lick'a sense an' no sense'a humor either. Sammy got enough people'ta try and draw me like some kinda god, but most'a the folks in the flock ain't artists. They made some stuff happen, but drawin' does more. 's why the Script kept winnin'.

"But the Script isn't working, so then whose...?"

Ain't got a clue. I feel like I used'ta back when Henry was the one drawin' me. Back in the day when I was still on paper.

Bendy's expression was wistful for a long moment.

Which means I'm feelin' like me again. Last time I felt like that was

He paused, running a tongue along his teeth.

was the last time I saw Henry when he broke me out'a Wilson's lab.

Another pause.

Well, that and a couple'a other times, but

He tapped his pencil to the paper a few times before grabbing a fresh one.

All those other times were when ya handed me yer sketchbook.

"My sketchbook? Why?"

Bendy shrugged.

Dunno. My best guess is that you actually get how'ta draw me, the same way Henry did.

Audrey blinked. She... did?

Bendy nodded to himself and kept writing.

Yeah, that's got'a be it. Henry always knew exactly what he wanted me'ta be, how I SHOULD be drawn. I ain't a punchin' bag, I'm a devil. I ain't supposed'ta be a bad guy the way Henry always drew me. Sure, I take folks down a peg every once in a while, but they deserve it. Plus or minus the occasional pickpocketin' or stealin' candy when people ain't lookin'.

"Mischievous, not malicious."

See? Ya GET it, Audrey. You draw me like Henry does, an' holdin' that sketchbook'a yours is as close as I can get to ya actually drawin' me. Was a big shock the first time it happened, but it was nice feelin' like I should again.

That was... such a big compliment that Audrey didn't know what to say. That she understood Bendy just as well as his creator did... Oh, she was blushing, wasn't she?

She wasn't the only one, though. Almost her entire team was on board with a more mischievous Bendy over what some of her team called the 'classic' characterization. It made for more interesting cartoons, more dynamic poses and action, more gags and better conflict and–

Audrey felt something inside her freeze.

"Bendy," she said slowly.

Bendy tilted his head at that.

"You made this world."

He nodded, his expression making it clear he was wondering where she was going with this.

"Joey was able to change it with the Script, right?"

Sure did.

His expression said exactly what he thought about it.

"But he understood you enough to draw you as a bad guy."

A scowl, but a nod.

"And Wilson can't draw. He's... not much of an artist. He understands what the end results is supposed to look like, but he doesn't know how to get there. He doesn't get you, or the show. And the city he added keeps having earthquakes, right?"

A slow nod, Bendy's scowl slowly fading into something approaching panic.

"He doesn't know you. Doesn't get you. And he definitely doesn't know how to draw you. But my team does. And he made Jason draw things. Things that sound like they stuck, if they are still there. And my team gets you. S-So..."

She almost didn't want to say it. Judging by the horrified look on Bendy's face, he'd realized it too.

"That's why he's been kidnapping my team. Because they get it. Because they can change things. That's why he needed that device, he can't change things without using something else to do it. Because you made this world, and they understand you. That's..."

Bendy's expression was just as horrified as she felt.

"That's why he threw me in here. I'm the animation director. He... Whatever he wants, he thinks that I can do it. That's why he's trying to find me."

She felt like she might be sick. Bendy was visibly shaking. 

Buddy tapped Audrey's shoulder, making her jump. She'd forgotten he was there. He held up a scribbled message.

If your team could draw things that became real here, what would happen if Henry drew something for Wilson?

"Oh god."

Buddy was right. Oh god, Buddy was right. If Audrey's team could draw entire buildings, what could she draw? And what could Henry, who had created Bendy, draw?

"Oh god. We." Audrey's stomach rolled. Her mouth felt dry. "We have to save him. If Wilson figures that out, then... He'd probably use Henry to find me. Or– Or find you, Bendy. And then everyone will be in danger."

The flock, Sammy, Norman... Everyone would be in danger. Wilson would capture Bendy again and do who knew what to him.

Buddy nodded gravely.

We have to save Henry.

Bendy held up a message in response.

That's a heckuva' tall order. Wilson's livin' in a fortress!

Buddy frowned, but wrote back.

Then we find a way in.

How? Sammy only got out cause he was willin'ta go through the ink'ta get out! We get in, we ain't gettin' out again!

Buddy considered this for a moment.

What if we had help?

And who the heck would help us?

The curtain that served as a door was pushed aside as Sammy stepped through.

Followed by Archie.

"This is private enough," Sammy said, turning to the coat-wearing man. "Speak."

"I've been sent to deliver a message," Archie stated.

"And that is?"

Archie tilted his hat back on his head, his eyes concealed by his sunglasses.

"The Resistance wants to form an alliance."

Chapter Text

Audrey blinked. Bendy and Buddy both stared with equally befuddled comical expressions.

Sammy crossed his arms.

"Then the rumors are true," the musician said. "Who's leading their efforts, then?"

"The sane Angel."

Angel? Wait... as in Allison? Or was there another one?

"Hm. You'll have to forgive me for being hesitant to agree to an alliance with the woman who slaughtered my Flock every Loop and whose wolf routinely put an axe through my head, even if the Script was responsible."

What?

Archie nodded. "No one was happy about the suggestion, but most everyone thought you and the others were insane."

"An assumption born out of our actions under the Script. Understandable. Why?"

"They want to free Wilson's prisoners, but there aren't enough in the Resistance to have a chance at breaking into the Gent Building."

"And given our greater numbers and our Lord's gift... The Angel declined to even negotiate, didn't she?"

"The person they sent was shot on sight."

Shot? The Angel that had dissected one of her team had guns?

"Wonderful. Fine."

"She wants to negotiate terms first."

"Negotiate? I can't leave my Flock. Not now. Not with my Lord in his current state. She's welcome to come here and will be unharmed."

"I told her that you wouldn't leave. She refused on the grounds that the flock would be scared of her."

"Not incorrect. Considerate of her, given the prior slaughters. She'll have to accept a stand-in."

"I'm sure she will."

"Good."

"What?" Audrey asked, Buddy nodding in befuddled agreement beside her.

"The Resistance against Wilson exists, it seems," Sammy said. "They've been a longstanding rumor since the Invader established himself here. I'm not surprised that both Angels haven't been affected by what's happening to the ink."

"And they want to help the people Wilson captured? Including Henry?"

Archie nodded. "She said that freeing him is one of their main goals. They haven't mentioned why, though."

"They were his allies in the Loop," Sammy explained. "I'm not surprised."

"I can go," Audrey said.

Buddy nodded, pointing to himself. Sammy hesitated.

"...I have no protection sigils in the city, little lamb. The longer it takes to traverse the ink, the harder it is to find a way out again, even with our Lord's voice."

"We need to help Henry. We think Wilson's been throwing people into the Machine because he can't change things like he wants to. That's... That has to be why he's been using the paint. He can't get ink to work, and this place is only supposed to be ink. I... I think it takes someone who understands how to draw Bendy to change things. Understands him. If my team can make new buildings, then Henry could do something bigger. Maybe anything Wilson asked him for."

"He is the Creator... Fine. I shall send you in my place, little lamb. Make no concessions on territory, but we are willing to part with some supplies if we need leverage. Fresh bread is a powerful bargaining chip." His cardboard gaze shifted slightly. "And you want to go with her, art department?"

Buddy nodded.

"You will have to not turn in fear."

Buddy grabbed a paper and wrote quickly.

Henry's our friend. Boris wants to help too.

"You'll need a weapon, then. More supplies. And– Yes, my Lord?"

Bendy hadn't said anything, though?

"I... suppose we could try, though I doubt it will work."

"Try what?" Audrey asked.

"Porter was able to grant you the power of Flow through our gifts from our Lord. I have a somewhat similar power, though it's not one that I've been able to pass on before. It passes matter, not distance. Our Lord dubbed it 'Phase.'"

"Phase...?"

Bendy let out a cough. Audrey turned to see him holding up a note.

Sammy can walk through walls.

"What?"

"Our Lord is correct. Not all walls, as it does poorly with metal, but the slightest crack in a wall of concrete or wood is enough to pass through. I'm not entirely certain what it would do to someone who still possesses bones." A pause, a tilt of the mask, as if listening to something. "I suppose some form of augmentation could have an effect, my Lord. It is close to your own ability, after all."

"What?"

"Our Lord says that it's possible that he may be able to work closer to his own abilities, given the nature of the ritual that granted you Banish if we were to augment the process slightly. Given that my gift was likely due to the manner in which I received His blessing, passing it to others hasn't worked until now, though passing on His ink has. Given that you are human now like I was when I was blessed... Yes, it may work. What of the modification, my Lord?"

Bendy hesitated. And, slowly, held up the end of his tail like he was holding a paintbrush.

"More of your ink, yes. What would you ask of us, my Lord?"

A pause. Sammy nodded and held a hand out. Audrey hesitated for a moment before doing the same with her ink-covered hand. 

Bendy's tail drew just like a pen, the ink only visible because it was slick and shiny. The same symbol in the center of the circle Sammy had used, the square with lines.

"The alchemical symbol for ink," Sammy explained. "This may very well work. Give me your hand, little lamb."

Audrey held out her inked hand. Sammy held it in both of his. The ink under her skin wriggled in what felt like... excitement? Like a neighbor's dog waiting at the fence for someone to reach over and scratch it behind the ears.

"Relax, little lamb. Close your eyes, calm your breathing."

Audrey closed her eyes, taking long, steady breaths. She'd done this before, it wasn't anything to be afraid of.

"Relax your hands. Breathe. Relax. Sink."

She did, willing her muscles to relax, to simply breathe, to relax. Something approximating bonelessness. Her hand felt so strange. So malleable. But so did the inky hands holding hers.

The ink under her skin spread out, spread out through her whole arm, rushing about excitedly as new heat crawled inside of her skin. It was warm, fever heat, but she focused on her breathing instead of the sensation as the ink slipped around her arm. Spread out through her shoulder.

There was a brief surge of heat through her whole body, like suddenly being tugged underwater in a scalding bath. A rumbling growl filled her head.

A gift. Phase. Use it well, Audrrrey.

An alien sense of pride flickered through her skull. 

Trust it as I trust you.

She would. Of course she would. Bendy trusted her, so of course she'd trust him.

A sharp claw like a knife, cool against the heat, drew gentle spirals around her forearm, little cool divots and lines.

And then it was gone, along with the heat.

Audrey opened her eyes.

Sammy was covered in glowing gold. His arm was covered in music staves and notes to go with it. Gentle splotches like spilled ink dotted his torso, barely concealing glowing lines.

No, glowing claw marks. In sets of three.

Bendy had been forced to hurt everyone, hadn't he?

But the claw marks were covered over in places, as if in apology. Music notes and carefully etched stars, symbols she didn't recognize, covering most of his inky skin in glowing gold.

And then it was gone, save for one of his hands. Glowing with a familiar design.

With Banish.

And Audrey's inky forearm was decorated with new marks. Banish still on the back of her hand, Flow still on her palm as Sammy moved his hands away. But her forearm was covered in new lines, music notes on a staff.

"Phase," Sammy said. "As... As I have been gifted Banish. I... Thank you, my Lord."

Bendy, from his spot on the couch, was grinning so broad his smile almost took up his entire face.

"Do the notes mean anything?" Audrey asked.

Sammy gently took her arm, rotating it to follow the notes, humming as he did. Audrey recognized the tune.

"'Lighter Side of Hell,'" Audrey realized.

"Fitting, given that our Lord helped write it."

"He did?"

"The Liar trapped him in the Machine for a time, before this world was created, confining him to the pipes. I thought I was going crazy when I heard the pipes humming, but the melody was too good to ignore. It was like having another co-writer, even if I was convinced I'd be sent to a sanitarium if anyone heard me arguing with the pipes about chord progression. I found out it had been Bendy much, much later. He won us an award, even if the Liar didn't put our names on it."

"A musician selling their soul to the devil?" Archie observed. "Not the rarest story."

Sammy's cardboard stare was, somehow, visibly annoyed.

"How are you feeling, little lamb," he asked, turning his attention back to her.

"Fine. It hurt a little, that's all."

"All love requires sacrifice, little lamb, be it time or flesh or pain. Now, let's get the both of you prepared. With extra food, just in case."

Buddy's ears perked up at that.

With Audrey's bag refilled (with more batteries, she'd run out of them the last time), along with a makeshift drawstring bag and a Gent pipe with a wrist strap for Buddy, they were as ready as they were going to get.

Audrey detoured back to Sammy's house. Bendy was flopped on his stomach on the couch, arms listlessly flopped over the arm of the chair when she walked in. He looked bored out of his mind.

"We're leaving now," Audrey said. 

Bendy nodded, a frown making its way onto his face.

"Is... everything okay?"

He fished behind him for a piece of paper and something to write with. Unable to locate a pen easily, his tail poked out from the blanket as a substitute.

I should be goin' with ya. I can't sit around here all day!

"You need to rest, Bendy. Promise me you'll take it easy at least until I get back."

Bendy frowned, but nodded. He didn't look at all happy about it.

"And... Bendy?"

He tilted his head to one side.

"Could I... ask you something?"

A nod, expression quizzical, wondering where she was going with this. 

"It's... No. It's silly. Nevermind."

Ya can't just say that and not say what yer thinkin!

A pause.

Bet I can guess what it is.

She tilted her head, mirroring him.

It's that whole wonderin' if we're related thing, ain't it?

Audrey, had she still been in color, would have flushed scarlet. With the color of the world, it was more of a grey.

"It's... silly, I know."

Bendy shrugged.

Eh, not really. You're dealin' with a lot right now. I mean, findin' out you're related to Joey Drew out'a nowhere? That'd shake anybody up. An' ya grew up with the show, I get it. But yer gonna wanna think about that before commitin'ta anything.

Audrey stared at him, but Bendy kept writing.

I ain't a good guy, Audrey. Doesn't matter how Henry drew me'ta be, I've done stuff I ain't proud of.

"Bendy!" 

She didn't mean to sound so exasperated, but she was.

"You're sorry about hurting people, right?"

A nod, an arched brow as if wondering where she was going with this.

"Then I don't care. People make mistakes. Even if they're big mistakes. If you're trying to make up for it, then I don't care."

Bendy took a long moment before writing anything.

I ain't human, ya know.

"That doesn't mean you're not a person, Bendy. It just means you're a little different, that's all."

Bendy stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide, no words being added to the page he was using.

"I... wanted to ask what you wanted, Bendy. Asking just feels... silly, that's all. We barely know each other."

Bendy visibly hesitated.

I don't know. Closest I've got to a family's Sammy, and I'm pretty sure if I told him that he'd blow a gasket.

"I don't think he would."

A raised brow.

"It's Sammy. You know he cares about you."

Yeah, but it's Sammy.

"...Good point. I don't think he'd be upset, though."

Eh, maybe. It's Sammy. But ya really wanna bother bein' related'ta me. I'd say 'ya sure don't wanna be related'ta Joey Drew if ya can help it,' but I guess ya can't.

"I don't think either of us can."

Well.

Bendy tapped the page with his tail a few times like he always seemed to do when he was thinking. They had been through quite a bit.

(Audrey knew his sins, Bendy thought. Audrey hadn't seen him at his worst, only heard about it. But she'd put herself before him in a way very few people in his life ever had. Sammy. Henry. She'd found out she was related to Joey Drew and cracked just as much as he had when he'd been grappling with the fact he was created by the Liar, even if it was using one of his Creator's sketches. No, that was a disservice to Henry, one of his drawings that he'd poured love and heart and soul into. It was the only reason he'd turned out as well as he had. It was only that little bit of Henry that the man poured into everything he drew that had kept him from turning into whatever Joey had actually wanted him to be, he was sure of it.)

(She'd looked after him. She'd made sure he was safe, that he'd had food, that he was out of danger, that he got home. And she was willing to hurt herself to help him. Family was like that, weren't they? Willing to put someone before themself, even if it hurt?)

(...It was real Henry-like of her to do that.)

Ink's a hell of a lot thicker than water anyway. I'll think about it.

A brief pause.

Ya better come back in one piece, got it?

"I will, Bendy. I promise."

Buddy was waiting for her at the dock, pacing with visible nervousness.

"It'll be okay," Audrey assured him. "If something happens, run, okay?"

Buddy nodded. He paused for a moment before taking out his notebook.

Do you think that the Resistance can really help us save Henry?

"If they can't on their own, we'll help them."

Buddy nodded, seemingly satisfied, and pocketed his journal.

Archie joined them only a few moments later. 

"You're both ready, then?" Archie asked.

Audrey and Buddy both nodded, though Audrey noticed that Buddy grip his new Gent pipe tightly.

"We'll take the Hand. Sammy insisted, and my usual way around isn't very pleasant."

That didn't sound great. What did he mean? He wasn't swimming through the sewer ink, was he?

Before Audrey could ask, Archie whistled for the Hand and it appeared, staying level with the dock so the trio could easily clamber on. Audrey patted its thumb in thanks. For as much as it had terrified her at first, the Hand was a reliable, if still intimidating, friend.

"Subway tunnels," Archie said tersely.

The Hand didn't budge.

"You... have to sing," Audrey explained.

"I can't sing."

The Hand hadn't minded Audrey's attempts at it, Archie couldn't be any worse than she was.

Buddy whistled a tune. One that Audrey couldn't place at all, but the Hand sloshed onward anyway, though with, somehow, a distinct aura of annoyance.

It seemed less annoyed when, once Buddy stopped whistling, Audrey sang the first song that popped into her head. It was on one of her mother's records, something from the war that had managed to wedge itself firmly into Audrey's memory after so many Sunday afternoons spent listening to it while her mother prepared dinner in their bright pink kitchen in their new house, all matching appliances and shiny chrome, so much a product of its era in a way that Audrey loved, even now that the colors were starting to fade and peel in places.

She hoped she'd be able to get out by Christmas, she'd been forced to stay in the city last year between the weather and her work. She hadn't seen her parents in... a while now.

"I remember that song," Archie said, Buddy nodding in agreement. "From after the war. When I came to New York. It was on the radio all the time. Do you... remember any other ones?"

"A couple. My mom had a few of their albums. Including the one with their cover of 'The Three Caballeros.' The Bendy cartoons were always my favorite, but I never could skip a Disney film."

She remembered so very clearly begging her mother to see so many cartoons that played in their local cinema, or the big one in the city that they had to take the train to go and see, and only on the weekends. She'd spent so many afternoons after school spending her allowance on the cinema, sketching her favorite cartoons by the light of the projectors.

"I tried to catch the Donald cartoons whenever I could. I'd... been in the navy. The Royal Navy, for a while."

Audrey sang the first song that popped into her head from her mother's vinyls. She was pretty sure she'd forgotten a few of the words, but it was enough for the Hand and no one commented on it.

They had slowed to a stop at one wall, metal rungs forming a ladder up to a sewer grate.

"Follow me," Archie said, starting up the ladder. "And stay close."

Audrey followed, only stopping when something rumbled, shaking everything, and she had to grip onto the metal rungs as tightly as she could. An earthquake? She'd heard them mentioned before, but... No. Clacking reached her ears, too distinct to be anything else.

A train. A subway train.

Archie didn't move until the rumbling completely stopped, but once he did he shoved aside the sewer grate and clambered through. Audrey climbed up through, emerging into near complete darkness, barely lit by emergency lights on the walls.

Audrey instinctively pressed as close to the wall as she could, Buddy doing the same as soon as he climbed up behind her. The walls were concrete as far as the eye could see, familiar in shape and sound and even the darkness. It was just familiar enough to be soothing, in some strange little way. Familiarity instead of the complete unknown.

Archie dragged the grate back into place. It was, Audrey noticed, marked with a splatter of ink.

"Stay near the walls," Archie said, "and don't touch the center rail."

Audrey and Buddy exchanged a look that made it plain that Buddy was a native New Yorker too. Everyone who grew up in or near to the city knew the rules of riding the rails, sometimes even before they were old enough to go to school. Stay behind the line, don't jump on the tracks, stay along the wall if you have to walk back if a train breaks down, and, whatever you did, never touch the third rail.

Archie led the way, though it was much less nerve-wracking to wander through subway tunnels than to be anywhere in the Studios, both new and old. Subways were familiar in a way. Safe, if you were careful. No one could sneak up on you, there was nowhere to hide. And the occasional inky graffiti on the walls proved it was safe enough to traverse, there was space enough that when trains barreled through you didn't have to worry if you paid attention.

There were even rats. 

Proper New York subway sized rats, skittering around under the tracks, though New York rats didn't hop over the third rail with that much athleticism.

One rat backflipped over the third rail, to which a trio of rat judges held up little scorecards (with chewed edges) all reading '10,' to which the rat bowed. Audrey couldn't help but laugh at the sight. Toon subway rats, who would have thought? They fit right in.

The tunnel rumbled. Audrey pressed herself flat against the wall at the same time Buddy did. Archie was noticeably slower to do the same.

The train's horn blared, the clacking and clattering quickly growing louder, the train preceded by a sweltering heat. 

The train roared past them with a gap of only inches, Audrey catching glimpses of empty train cars and scrawled graffiti through the windows.

And, in seconds, it was gone, and with it the sweltering, oppressive heat.

Audrey and Buddy peeled themselves away from the wall, Buddy looking pensive.

"How many trains are there?" Audrey asked, it had felt like a long time between the two.

"Not many," Archie answered. "The earthquakes have destroyed a lot of the tracks, most are blocked off with rubble."

Wilson should have built better trains then, Audrey thought as they resumed walking. He could have just drawn a train with a big drill on the front to handle the rubble. This world still had to run partially on the same logic that cartoons did, it wouldn't have hurt to try. It probably would have worked.

Not that Wilson was any good with gags. He never seemed to crack so much as a smile at any of their storyboards. He never seemed to have much of a sense of humor.

That was probably why the Keepers were like that. Wilson just didn't understand cartoons.

There was a crack in the wall up ahead, more than large enough to squeeze through, though it was still too small for a Keeper. Archie vanished through it, Audrey and Buddy following suit.

The ceiling here was lower, forcing them to stoop for a ways before opening into a normal sized hallway of concrete dotted with metal doors. Maintenance, Audrey guessed, or someone's idea of it.

Archie approached the third door on their left from where they entered and knocked in a pattern that Audrey knew all too well. 'Shave and a hair-cut.'

Audrey tapped a foot for the 'two bits' at the same time Buddy let out two soft 'woofs' and someone on the other side of the door answered with two knocks.

The door cracked open.

"The Prophet couldn't make it," Archie said. "He sent someone on his behalf."

The door opened, revealing a Lost One with a wrench in hand and something metal embedded in their shoulder. They glanced from Archie to Audrey to Buddy, whose ears pinned against the sides of his head.

"They don't look like cultists," the Lost One said.

Audrey held up her inky arm, the gold marks on it glowing brighter for a brief moment, as if to prove the Lost One wrong.

The Lost One grunted and stepped out of the way. Audrey followed Archie inside, Buddy directly behind her, knees knocking in clear terror but refusing to bolt.

Inside was, to Audrey's surprise, brickwork, reminding her of photos she'd seen of old drained cisterns. There were the crates and barrels and boxes scattered around that Audrey had come to expect, since they seemed to clog the world from top to bottom as much as the ink did, but there were also several vending machines of different shapes and sizes. There were tables laden with stools and scrap, worn mattresses and makeshift beds shoved into free spaces that were out of the way of foot traffic, mostly between shelves dotted with supplies, scattered piles of scrap metal and bacon soup. It all looked rougher than what the flock had managed to set up, with no sign of a kitchen or even private rooms.

There were visibly less Lost Ones here than in Lost Harbor, but all of them were busy with something or moving with a purpose. All of them, Audrey noticed, had metal embedded in them somewhere. A shoulder, an arm, one in the side of their face. It reminded her, sickeningly, of Norman. None of them were in visible pain, at least, and no one was bleeding in neon paint.

At the very center of the space was a large table (maybe several tables shoved together) covered in what looked like hand drawn maps and diagrams alongside rulers and pencils and pens, odds and ends like loose bolts and bits of wire.

A Boris looked up from the table at her. Audrey stared. Even though it was a Boris, he and Buddy looked nothing alike. He was taller, visibly bulkier with several scars across his muzzle, and one arm made out of metal. His ears pinned back and he growled, Buddy shrinking behind Audrey with a whimper. 

Hadn't one of Henry's sketches been of a Boris with scars like that?

"The Prophet couldn't make it," Archie explained. "He sent these two instead."

The other figure at the table – Audrey had missed them entirely, so surprised by a second Boris – stood up from where they had been leaning over a sketched diagram of some sort. A figure with horns, with skin not wholly made of ink. 

With a familiar face.

"Allison?" Audrey managed, relieved that her guess had been right.

Allison stared for a brief moment before a smile spread out over her face.

"It's good to see you again, Audrey. Welcome to Resistance HQ."

Chapter Text

The profound relief of seeing Allison again was so much that Audrey found herself at a loss for words. Allison, the first bit of kindness she'd encountered in the hellish nightmare of the ink world. Allison, whose advice and explanation of the world's dangers had helped her survive, kept her alive when she otherwise would have likely stumbled headfirst into danger and died before she'd found Bendy.

Allison, with horns but no halo. Allison Pendel, the second woman to voice Alice Angel. Former movie star turned voice actress before she'd suddenly stopped appearing in movies in the late 50s.

Joey hadn't spared anyone he'd managed to get his hands on. Not even Alice Angel. (She had a sinking feeling that she knew who the other Angel was.)

"You don't know how good it is to see you," were the first words Audrey managed to come up with.

Allison's smile was bright, kind, and soft. Angelic, now that Audrey knew to look for it.

"It's good to see you too, Audrey," she said. "I was worried you weren't going to make it to the safer floors."

"I didn't. It's a long story."

The other Boris growled.

"Tom, it's fine. Audrey, this is Tom. He's not good with new people."

Audrey nodded her head in greeting anyway. Buddy poked around Audrey and gave a little timid wave. Allison's eyes went a little wider in clear surprise.

"I didn't know there were any Borises left," she said.

Left? She... didn't want to know. Not right now. "This is Buddy. He wanted to come with to help save Henry."

"You know Henry?"

Buddy nodded enthusiastically. Tom growled.

"Tom." 

Allison's tone was firm. The growling stopped, but Tom made a gesture toward Audrey. 

"He wants to know why the cult sent you."

"I volunteered. Sammy can't leave Lost Harbor right now."

Should she mention Bendy? He was the Ink Demon, and Allison had warned her how dangerous the Ink Demon was. She had no way to know how they'd take it. They already knew she was with Sammy's Flock, so... Did they know the Ink Demon actually looked after the Flock? Or did they think Sammy and the others just worshiped a monster?

"He didn't hurt you? Threaten you?"

"What?" Sammy? "No. Sammy's a little... much, sometimes, but he's not a bad person."

Tom shook his head.

"You didn't know him before the ink, Audrey. He used to steal ink to do who knows what. He was erratic. Dangerous. He's killed people."

"That wasn't his fault."

Tom leveled her with a look, teeth bared, but Audrey wasn't afraid.

"It was Joey Drew. He was using the Script to control Sammy. Bendy's the reason that he didn't kill more people."

"Bendy?"

Ah. Shoot. Audrey wasn't about to lie, though, so she nodded instead.

"Bendy. The Ink Demon. He's... He's hurt people, but he's not bad. He regrets it. Most of it was the Script."

Not all of it. Bendy had admitted that, but he'd been hurt. He'd been lashing out because he'd been hurt. Angry instead of scared, just trying to protect himself. Protect Sammy, protect the ink world hidden in the Ink Machine.

Allison looked over at Tom, his expression firmly unreadable.

"Wilson said he killed the Ink Demon," Allison said. "We were right. Nobody can kill the Ink Demon."

"He hurt him, though. He... He tortured Bendy. Cut him open and stuck some device inside him that made it so he was stuck on-model. He was in so much pain. He..." 

She shook herself. Focus. Bendy had been through a lot, but it was over now. He was recovering. He was safe, he'd be fine.

"He's recovering right now. Sammy hasn't hurt me, and Bendy hasn't either. The Flock's just people, even if they look like monsters now. Sammy makes sure everyone's okay. He makes sure everyone gets a safe place to sleep and warm meals, even the Searchers."

That seemed to leave both Allison and Tom at a loss for words, so Audrey pressed on.

"He wants to stop Wilson too. And I think I figured out why Wilson's been trying to find me, why he threw me in here in the first place. Why he's been throwing my animation team in here. Bendy created this world, not Joey Drew. Wilson can't change things in a way that sticks because he doesn't understand this place. Doesn't understand Bendy. He's been throwing my team in because we've been making Bendy cartoons. He wants me because I'm the director on Nathan Arch's 'Bendy Revival' project, making new cartoons and reanimating the old ones. I don't know why Wilson wants to change this world, but he has to use other people to do it or it doesn't work right. And Henry created Bendy. If Wilson figures that out, who knows what he'll do."

The silence that filled the room was near deafening.

"Henry's in danger," Allison said slowly, realizing dawning on her features. "Even more than we thought. Wilson's been keeping him trapped. If he realizes who Henry is..."

"We just have to get him out before that. Sammy and the Flock can help."

"We'll take all the help we can get."

Allison rounded the table and held out a hand. They shook on it, Audrey careful to use her hand that didn't hold the power of Banish, just to be safe.

"How can I help?" Audrey asked.

"We need to find a way into the Gent building."

Allison gestured at the maps covering the table. The largest was several pieces of paper taped together. A brick was being used to represent the Gent building. There were lines mapping out an entire city with sections labeled things like 'Angel Territory' and 'paint spill – AVOID.'

"There's three main entrances," Allison said, Tom pointing them out. "Each has a signal tower at it. Wilson says they keep the Ink Demon and his followers away."

"Maybe it does something to demon ink? Everyone in the Flock has some of Bendy's ink."

"Tom?" 

Tom nodded and made a series of gestures.

"Tom says that Gent designed the towers to contain the Ink Demon by weakening it, but they only ever built one working prototype. He doesn't know where Wilson found the blueprints."

Hadn't... "Do you think Joey Drew would have had them? Nathan Arch bought the entire estate."

Tom's expression was severe. He nodded. How had Wilson known what he'd found, though?

"If they affect the cultists," Allison said, "they won't be able to help us."

"Can we get rid of them? Maybe turn them off?"

"They're guarded by Keepers, so not easily. The whole place is a fortress. Alice managed to get out, from what we've heard, meaning there's another way in. Probably through the ventilation or an outflow pipe, but those pipes are pumping out contaminated ink."

"Contaminated?"

"Full of the paint that Wilson's been using. I don't know what he's been trying to do with it, but any of the Lost Ones that get near it are hostile. He's used it on Lost Ones directly too, but it just kills them."

Lost Ones bleeding ink, her staff suffering. Wilson... Wilson had to be stopped.

"We know the towers are powered by electricity, but Wilson put the lines underground, we can't get to them."

Then, maybe. "What about the rats?" 

Allison and Tom stared.

"I'm sorry, the rats?"

"The ones in the subway. They're Toons, I think. I saw one backflip and get full marks like they were in the Olympics."

The angel and wolf exchanged clearly baffled looks.

"I think it's worth a try. Sammy said that I could use bread if we needed to make some kind of deal, maybe we could use that?"

The rats probably weren't getting much food in a city that was, by the sound of it, actively falling apart. And she doubted Wilson had let anyone add pizza parlors or functioning restaurants. He always refused to go out to team dinner or lunch when he was invited.

"Bread?" Allison asked, sounding baffled.

Buddy pulled an entire loaf of sourdough out of his bag. Tom's eyes boggled. 

A cluster of Lost Ones drew closer to the table.

"How?" Allison asked.

"Water and saltines," Audrey answered.

Buddy handed off the loaf of bread. The Lost Ones were quick to scrounge up a knife and cut it into careful slices, then half slices, to pass out.

Audrey handed them one of the loaves from her bag and the entire group looked like they were going to cry.

Tom shook his head and tapped the map.

"Right," Allison said. "Even without the signal towers, there's Keepers guarding and patrolling the entire area."

There had to be a way past them, then. This wasn't like the type of plans Audrey usually made. She was an animator, a cartoonist.

...Maybe she should be thinking more like one. The rats were already a silly suggestion. Maybe silly was what they needed.

"What about a distraction? A big one. Something to get all their attention in one place."

Someone standing out front and waving wouldn't be enough, but if it was Bendy short? It would be Boris out front, drawing the Butcher Gang's attention with something silly, like trying to sell them a vacuum cleaner. Something door to door salesman. They'd need something bigger than that, though.

Allison hummed in thought. "We could organize an assault, but fighting the Keepers costs lives."

"The Flock could. Sammy should be able to set up a protection circle somewhere safe nearby. If it's close enough, we don't have to worry about anyone being in the ink too long."

It wasn't funny, but the timing was still there. She'd rather go for a simpler distraction, but Allison was the one who knew the scale of what they were dealing with.

"A what?" one of the Lost Ones asked.

"The circles with the Bendy head in the center. There's a few in the Old Studio. It's how the Flock gets out of the ink."

Allison stared for a moment, wide-eyed as if both comprehending something at a grand scale and not understanding anything at all.

"Once they're distracted, can we get inside?" Audrey asked.

"They don't lock the doors," another Lost One, hunched over in clear anxiety, "but there's patrols. And a checkpoint at every entrance. But the vents are big enough to fit through."

"So get inside, distract the checkpoint, and get into the vents. That doesn't sound too bad."

At this point in the episode, Alice would probably be distracting whoever was at the desk – Edgar, probably, Barley would have been the one to answer the door – with her 'feminine wiles.' That probably wouldn't work for them, but the idea was still there.

"A jailbreak would throw the whole place for a loop," a third Lost One commented. "The Pit'd get swarmed in minutes once the Keepers noticed."

"They don't keep the Cycle Breakers and the Pit in the same place."

"...Cycle Breakers?" Audrey asked.

"Wilson calls the Loops the Cycle. Cycle Breakers are anyone that isn't a Lost One. The Pit's connected to the same area, but the Cycle Breaker jail's got better security. With smaller vents."

"So we make sure no one notices. Or keep them distracted somewhere else. Maybe Bendy could help?"

Allison looked to Tom, who frowned before gesturing at Allison.

"Tom says if the towers were down, the Ink Demon would be able to get anywhere in the building. The Keepers would have to focus on him, but they've stopped him before."

So Bendy couldn't go in alone. If this was a cartoon... There'd be a new character, then. Someone to help Bendy. Audrey mentally sketched herself into that situation, as a cartoon sheep in a sweater and slacks, wanting revenge on the Butcher Gang for something they'd done. While Bendy drew Charley's attention, she'd run off to grab whatever it was they were trying to steal. Something prized. Maybe a film reel? Yeah, a film reel. But Bendy would need help. Maybe Boris could sneak in and join him?

"Then he'll need help. Maybe some of the resistance? Plus Sammy. Norman would probably help too."

She mentally added a ram in overalls and the projector-headed antagonist from the Bendy comics to the scene, both ready to crack some skulls after what the Butcher Gang had done. Stolen from them? Stolen from them. Sammy's banjo, Norman's favorite projector.

"Norman? Norman Polk?"

"Yeah. He's the Projectionist. But he's a lot more himself now than he was during the Loops."

A look of profound sadness overtook Allison's face.

"Bill – one of the Flock – fixed his speaker so he can talk again. Plus anyone we helped would help us, right?'

Tom nodded.

"I know the layout," a Lost One – the one that had mentioned the patrols – said, wringing his hands in nervousness. "I... I'll go with whoever's leading the jailbreak. I want to help."

Tom let out a low, growling whine.

"You don't have to, Scott," Allison said gently.

The Lost one, Scott, shook his head.

"I helped make this mess. If we hadn't tried to fix the Machine, those kids wouldn't have..." He trailed off for a moment before he shook himself. "I don't trust the Demon, but this isn't right."

"Gent's done enough," Archie said, bitterness in his voice.

Scott nodded in agreement. "I just wanted to fix machines, earn a paycheck so mom could quit her waitress job. Let me at least try and make things right. That's why I joined Wilson until I realized what he was doing. Let me help."

"Alright," Audrey said, adding a nervous, but stubborn, dog with one inside-out ear to the scene, a lackey of the Butcher Gang who regretted his actions and was willing to help in a grand heist. "Is there anything else we should know?"

"There's a wall around the entire perimeter. You'll have to find a keycard to get in, you'll set off the alarms otherwise. Wilson houses everyone who works for him in this district."

Scott leaned over, the ink from his finger smearing a circle around an area close to the Gent building. 

"You might be able to steal a keycard, Wilson doesn't bother protecting his employees when they're out of the perimeter."

Audrey nodded. That didn't sound so bad. Steal a dropped key that Edgar, in his childish clumsiness, had forgotten at a diner. It was as good of a plan as any.

"Do you want to come with, Audrey?" Allison asked.

"Of course."

Buddy nodded alongside her.

They had a plan. They would stop Wilson.

They could do this. They could do this.

Chapter Text

Audrey, knee deep in sewer ink, was once again grateful that the sewers didn't smell. The ink was too diluted for the Well of Voices to be loud, even if the faint whispering in her ears was enough to give her goosebumps.

Allison led the way, sword in hand. Audrey followed behind her, shock pipe at the ready, with Buddy and his Gent pipe behind her, and Tom armed with a gigantic wrench the size of Audrey's forearm, a crowbar tucked through the straps of his overalls on his back to hold it in place.

They had a plan to get into the city, into the area where those loyal to Wilson stayed in scattered apartment complexes and motels. Too many of the subway tunnels had collapsed to take the subway the entire way there, meaning the sewers were the only option.

"We're entering the Cult of Amok's territory now," Allison warned, indicating an inked illustration of what Audrey presumed was an Ink Widow on a wall. "We may have to fight them off."

"I could talk to them if we run into them?" Audrey offered.

"They're dangerous, Audrey. They don't negotiate."

"They did with the Flock. If we explain what we're doing, I don't think they'd mind."

They were eating Wilson's failed attempts at creating Toons, the way Sammy explained it, just to not be affected by whatever it was that the paint did to the ink that made Lost Ones bleed it, that drove them mad. If she told them they needed to get to the city to stop Wilson, there was a pretty good chance they were as mad at Wilson as they were at Joey Drew.

Allison didn't look convinced, but the group slogged onwards regardless.

The tunnels just seemed to keep going. How big was this place? Were they under the new Studio now? The city? They hadn't seen any barnacles, so maybe that was why a group would want to hole up down here. Some of the tunnels were too low for Keepers to likely fit through. Still, it couldn't be a good way to live, constantly up to your knees in ink.

She'd just talk to them. The worst they could say was 'no.' 

They trekked for a good distance before Allison held up a hand for everyone to stop. They did, but the sound of sloshing footsteps didn't. A patrol.

In addition to the sloshing of footsteps, there was arguing, though too indistinct to make out the words easily, like they were trying to keep their voices down to not be overheard, but the argument was getting too heated.

A patrol of Amok's followers rounded a bound and into sight, someone without their distinctive headwear was being frog marched between two of the five members of the patrol. The Lost One being hauled around was shorter than the others, a little squatter, with what looked like a press pass around their neck.

The leader of the patrol held up a hand to stop the group before squinting for a moment and marching forward. The entire rest of the group followed him, with timing enough that it felt like a wonder they didn't turn back around to glare at the group for following and not standing still.

Audrey stepped past Allison, even as the woman made a grab for her arm to stop her. The Lost One stopped only a handful of footsteps away.

"You're that new recruit the Prophet was dragging home,"one of the Lost One said. "What do you want?"

It was the group they'd met before! Meaning this was the captain, Audrey was sure of it between their hat and their voice. She managed to hold back a sigh of relief. They wouldn't need to fight after all.

"We just need to get to the city," she explained. Actually, maybe. "We're working on a plan to break everyone that Wilson's captured out of the Gent building."

"Audrey!" Allison whispered, audibly opposed.

"Oh yeah?" the Lost One said. "You and what army?"

"So far the Resistance and the Demon Worshipers, but we could use the extra hand."

The patrol exchanged looks. The captain turned back to them.

"Huddle," they ordered.

It was a full on football huddle, save for the Lost One with the press pass who was left staring in confusion at suddenly being let go.

There was even a muttered 'break' when the huddle disbanded.

"We have to talk to Lord Amok," a second Lost One said.

"But we'll talk," the captain said, giving the other Lost One that had spoken what was probably a nasty look, though it was hard to tell. 

"Count me in," a third Lost One said. "Wilson needs to get what's comin' to him."

A fourth Lost One slapped the second upside the head, which instantly descended into an argument over offering help outside of orders. The second and fifth Lost Ones exchanged a look and rolled their eyes as best they could given their forms.

"Since you're heading up," the patrol captain said, grabbing the press pass wearing Lost One by the shoulder, "take this idiot with you. We found him trying to get into the Window Pit like an idiot."

"You didn't kill him?" Allison asked cautiously.

"We don't kill kids."

The captain shoved the Lost One forward. They stumbled, but Audrey caught them before they could end up in the ink. With that, the patrol went back the way they'd come from.

"Much appreciated," the shortish Lost One said, Audrey making sure they were back on their feet before she let go of their shoulders. "They kept arguing about if they should throw me out on the tracks or into the tunnels under the sewers, even if they weren't going through with it."

"No problem."

Up close, the press pass was obviously hand made, paper stuck to cardboard, old rope in place of a lanyard.

"Audrey, he's with Wilson," Allison warned, Tom letting out a low growl.

"What, this?" The Lost One tapped a small metal device that looked a bit like a pen stuck in the side of his head, ending in the broken base of a lightbulb. "I swiped this from some drip that picked a fight with a bunch of the Angel's goons. Cuts down on the headaches."

Was that why all of the Lost Ones in the Rebellion's headquarters had something metal in them? That would explain how Wilson had any Lost Ones working for him if the ink was affecting everyone otherwise.

"You're a new face," the Lost One said, looking Audrey up and down before holding out a hand. "The name's Brant. Brant Morris."

"Audrey," she said, shaking his hand.

Wait. Brant? She'd heard that name before. It had been... right!

"Do you know Bill?" she asked.

"Bill? Bill Chambers? You've seen him?"

Brant's tone was equal parts surprised and hopeful.

(Tom gave Allison a long, flat glance. Allison shook her head. Now wasn't the time to dredge up old memories.)

"Yes. He's..." No one really seemed to know that Sammy and the flock weren't crazy. So... "Safe. I promise. He's with the Demon Worshipers."

Brant's gaze flicked to Audrey's inky hand, the golden marks on it.

"You sure you're a reliable source on that?"

"I'm sure. Sammy can be a bit much sometimes, but he's not a bad person."

"Sammy?"

"The Prophet."

"Right..."

He didn't sound convinced.

"What were you doing down here in the first place?" Allison asked. "Everyone knows this is Amok territory."

"Just on a hunt for a scoop, as usual."

"Scoop?" Like in a newspaper? There was no way there was a newspaper actually publishing anything here, was there?

"Yep. Soon as we get out of here, I'll have enough articles for a lifetime. That, and I've been trying to get a scoop on where my friends went. You're the best lead I've gotten yet. Heard anything about anyone named Constance?"

Audrey shook her head. Bill had mentioned her too, but she wasn't with Sammy, that was all she knew.

"Well, Bill's safe, that's good news. You're really rallying people up to go against Wilson?"

"We are. We need to find a way to get past the wall he's got around the Gent building, though. We need to get to where the people who are working for Wilson have been staying."

"Which way in were you gonna take?"

"One of the subway stations."

"Only ones that aren't crawling with Keepers don't connect to anything near where Wilson's been making his staff stay. Nearest one to the outskirts is gonna be hard to get anywhere from."

"Why?"

"New buildings keep popping up. Half the alleys are filled in at this point. Getting around isn't easy anymore."

"Do you think you could help us?"

"Audrey," Allison said.

Audrey ignored her objection. This was Bill's friend. They could trust him.

"Hm. Let's make it a deal. I help you out, you take me to Bill and make sure the cultists don't bash my head in when they do."

"Deal."

Audrey hauled herself out of the sewer, finally, and into the surprisingly familiar tile of a New York City subway platform.

She held out a hand, hauling Buddy up before he offered a hand to help Brant up. Allison had been the first one out, and Tom clambered up after them, ignoring the offered hands for help. He dragged the manhole cover back into place and tromped after Allison.

Audrey turned in a low circle. It looked like a subway station, it even smelled like it, humidity and air conditioning cranked up as high as it would go to compensate. The tile was uniform, except in the places where it was old and worn and chipped, posters plastered at random and interspersed with graffiti.

If the posters hadn't all stated 'Wilson Knows Your Purpose' with pockmarks on the walls betraying there had once been barnacles there, it wouldn't have been any different from the subway back home.

"This way," Allison said.

The way forward was blocked by a padlocked door made of metal bars, secured shut with heavy chains. Audrey readied her shock pipe, but Tom was already at the gate. He raised his wrench and brought it down on the padlock, shattering it instantly. He pulled the rest of the chain out of the way and shoved the door open, taking the lead.

"Not exactly subtle," Brant commented.

"It's faster than a key," Audrey pointed out, even if it felt like a wonder that nothing immediately descended on them from the noise.

The hallway beyond sloped upwards gradually, the tile uniform but chipped in places here and there. There were sections of wall that had clearly once been plastered with posters that were subsequently torn down. All about Wilson, not a single Bendy poster to be seen.

It was empty, too. No foot traffic, no buskers, no squatters. There were ink smears on some of the walls, too large to be anything but someone being splattered all over a wall. Audrey tried not to stare at those.

A sign on the wall read 'Street Exit' with an arrow. They followed it.

The hall turned another corner, with another door, another lock that was swiftly smashed to pieces. And beyond it was–

"Woah..."

A city skyline, easily visible through the large glass window with cushioned benches beneath it (nothing like reality, none of it, it looked more like the inside of a cruise ship than a train station). 

Someone had scrawled a message on the window.

A CITY BUILT ON BROKEN DREAMS.

"This place didn't exist before Wilson came here," Allison said. "When you're looking at it from up here, it almost looks like the real thing."

"It's always dark out, though," Brant commented. "Moon's just painted on."

Almost was right, though. Audrey knew the city skyline, this wasn't anywhere close to it. None of the most distinct buildings in New York were anywhere to be seen. Lights glowed in the distance like they should have been neon, but most of the windows were dark. There were no stars, and the moon looked roughly sketched, like it had been an afterthought, and it was a little hard to look at, though she couldn't quite figure out why.

A city, though. Somewhere other than just the Studios. What was Wilson's plan here? Why design an entire city?

Another thing to worry about later. They had to focus on saving Henry.

There was a set of stairs down to one last door, one last lock that Tom had to break into pieces. Beyond it was an almost ordinary city street.

Almost. The road was too narrow with no way through, dead-ending in both directions in solid buildings. It was also a mess, littered with trash and overturned trash cans with an old broken car (was that a Model T?) in the center of the street. The buildings looked normal at a glance, though nearly all of them were dark. Almost, some of them looked... damp, for lack of a better word. One had normal barnacles clustered around its foundations.

"That building wasn't here before," Allison muttered.

Audrey followed her gaze. 'Grand Chops' the sign read, with a cartoony steak between the words, all backlit with fluorescent lights. 'Quality Meat Products.'

"It's the only one that connects to the next street over," Brant said. "Most of the east side that hasn't ended up in the sinkhole is just solid buildings, no cross streets."

Sinkhole? That didn't sound good. The entire place was at risk of falling apart, wasn't it?

"There's a back door to the next street over, but the butcher's a bit–"

A Lost One, screaming, charged out from behind a trash can.

Tom stepped forward, swinging his wrench like a baseball bat, cracking the Lost One in the head and knocking it down.

Neon green paint dribbled from the corners of its eyes.

Tom stomped the Lost One's skull in, reducing it to a puddle of ink and paint. Audrey fought down a surge of nausea. That... That hadn't been necessary. Not at all.

"Like that," Brant finished. "Maybe you should go first, big guy."

Tom growled, but stalked toward the butcher shop.

The sickening 'crack' was audible from across the street.

Allison stepped forward. Tom emerged from the shop and gave a nod and the whole group filed into the shop.

'NOT MEAT' was scrawled across one of the cold cases. Audrey kept her gaze on Allison's back after that.

The next street over was as cramped-feeling as the first, but there was a narrow alleyway through, just barely wide enough to squeeze through.

Then another street past that with nothing but buildings, forcing them through the ground floor of an apartment complex with ink splatters on the walls.

Then another street. Then another, all narrow and cramped and dirty, some with alleyways and some without, Tom leading their march forward, wrench cracking open the ink of any Lost Ones that charged them.

All with neon paint dribbling from their eyes.

The further they went, the more obvious it became that the city was nothing like New York. There were little slices that looked right – the copy of The Tower Cafe that was two blocks from ArchGate, the occasional bodega, and a handful of newspaper stands that all looked right – but the rest of it felt viscerally wrong. Wrong in the same way a nightmare of a familiar place felt.

Wilson wasn't an environmental artist. He wasn't much of an artist in general. How many of her coworkers had contributed to this?

Eventually, they made it to a street that was visually nicer than the ones they had passed through before. Just as cramped, but with no scattered trash or broken down cars laying in the street. There was no sign of any Lost Ones.

"Wilson makes everyone work for most of the day," Brant explained. "You can hear the horns all the way across the city. And we're far out enough that there's no Keeper patrols or eyeballs, so if the shift lets out we'll have time before anyone gets back."

The group stepped out into the street. One end of the street held a cinema with a marquee listing several Bendy cartoons, its visual style at odds with the other buildings around it, bolder, clearer lines, more stylized than the attempted realism around them. It had to be the one Jason had drawn, Wilson likely wouldn't have designed anything with Bendy's name or face on it.

The other buildings felt like filler, save for one. The 'Downside Motel' according to the illuminated sign. Audrey suspected that had been drawn by someone else from her team that hadn't wanted to work for Wilson.

Brant led the way to the motel, but Tom was the one who pushed open the door. The interior was barely lit and in shambles with a large hole in the ceiling. And it was audibly empty, no sound of shuffling feet or dripping ink.

The elevator was out, which wasn't surprising. The stairs were intact, though.

Tom shoved the door beside the reception desk, the wall covered in a board with hooks for keys but not a key to be seen, and tromped through.

"Tom's right," Allison said, "it'll be faster to search if we split up."

Audrey nodded, picking one of the two branching hallways at random and trying a door.

The room inside was a mess, though 'mess' might have been a bit of an understatement. Furniture was flipped over, trash littered the floor, and there was ink splattered everywhere. No signs of any Lost Ones, but there had definitely been a fight in this room at some point. Between Wilson's followers and the Angel's, maybe? If they'd been in the cinema before, they might have trashed the motel at some point.

If the other rooms were this much of a mess, Allison and Tom were right, splitting up was the only way they'd be able to search everything in a reasonable amount of time.

Digging through the mess carefully, Audrey found nothing of interest. The second room she tried was just as destroyed as the first.

The third room was in an almost identical state, save for a piece of paper partially wedged underneath an upturned ink stained mattress. It was still intact enough to read.

Audrey stared at the note for a long moment before putting it back where she found it and returning to her search.

Nothing. Nothing and more nothing in more rooms.

"Any luck?" Audrey asked Buddy as she passed him in the hall.

The wolf shook his head.

"Me either. Maybe we should try the second floor?"

A shrug, but Buddy followed her up the stairs anyway.

The second floor held a communal shower that Audrey cautiously poked her head into. The drain to the singular shower stall was choked with seaweed that had made its way most of the way up the shower's walls and was starting to encroach into the hallway. Glowing neon yellow small spheres that looked to be another kind of seaweed was growing out of the drain alongside the dull seaweed in luminous bunches.

She'd have to keep checking the rooms, then. The first door she tried was locked, as was the second, but the third opened easily. It was less of a mess than the rooms on the ground floor, at least. Less trash and ink.

Audrey rooted around with care, starting with the closet, nothing, then the bedside table, also nothing. There was a desk that hadn't been overturned yet, the drawers still slid open when Audrey tugged at one. Empty, empty, a few wooden coins, and–

"Bingo."

A key card. It looked a lot like the ones that ArchGate used to get onto the studio lot for filming, though made out of metal. She stashed it in her bag. They had their way in.

A door slammed shut.

Audrey whirled around, shock pipe at the ready. The door to the room had shut behind her.

Or someone had closed it, but there was no one in the room with her.

Audrey took a breath. In. Out. She'd be fine. She could defend herself if she had to.

She crossed the small room and tried the door. Locked.

The doorknob rattled. Someone else was trying the door from the other side.

"Buddy?"

There was a low, canine whine from the other side of the door.

"I'm okay. The door's locked. I'll try to get out, but you should go get the others."

Just in case something was going on. There was safety in numbers, and Tom was very good in a fight.

Audrey held up her hand, the soft glow of gold was reassuring. Sammy had given her a new power. Phase. Maybe she could use that to bypass the door entirely.

The knob rattled. Buddy was still trying to get the door open, letting out a low whine.

The kind of noise Boris would make when he was scared in the show.

It would be fine. Audrey took a step back, holding out her ink covered arm, unsure of how to make her new power work. 

The lights along her arm went dark.

Audrey stared at her inky hand. That had only happened once before. And the last time, she'd been in the old Studio, and– 

"Audrey! There you are."

Chapter Text

"Audrey! There you are."

Audrey turned, gripping her shock pipe in both hands, staring down Joey Drew.

How the hell had he gotten here?

On the other side of the door, Buddy whimpered.

"What do you want?" Audrey demanded.

She didn't have time for this. She had the keycard they needed. She needed to get back to the Resistance, then to Lost Harbor, and help organize their plan. They had to get Henry out. And, maybe, stop Wilson in the process, if they could get more help from Amok's followers.

"I was worried about you, Audrey," Joey Drew said with a look of concern on his face.

"I can take care of myself."

She was an adult. Sure, the ink world was dangerous, but she didn't need his concern. It was fake anyway.

"I'm not saying you can't, Audrey. Can't an uncle check in on his favorite niece?"

"No."

To his credit, the pained expression on his face looked convincing. But Audrey knew better.

"Audrey–" he began.

"No." She wasn't letting him just have this. "I don't need you checking in on me. I know you don't care. If you cared, you wouldn't have just... just disappeared like that when I was a kid."

It stung, knowing he'd just abandoned her, even if he was a horrible person. Just looking at him made her angry.

"Now, Audrey, I had to–"

"I don't care. You could have written. Or called. Or anything. Just unlock the door."

Joey Drew was silent for a long moment, expression almost comically stunned.

Then, he sighed. It was a convincingly weary sort of sigh.

"Things are a lot more complicated than you think, Audrey," he said. "There's more at work here than you know."

Then she knew? She knew enough, she knew more than enough.

"Unlock the door," Audrey repeated.

"In a minute, Audrey. I'm seeing now that I should have told you the truth the last time I saw you. The whole truth."

Right. Because Joey Drew was able to tell the truth.

"I have something I need to show you. Secrets that I shouldn't have kept."

He took a step forward, closer to her. 

Audrey held the shock pipe at the ready, the electricity audibly whining as she switched it on.

"Stay away from me," Audrey warned.

"Now, Audrey, I know this place is dangerous," Joey Drew said, taking another step forward, then another. One more would put him at arm's length. "But I'm not going to hurt you. I would never do that."

Liar, she remembered Bendy growl in her dream, all anger and hatred. 

She understood why.

Audrey moved quickly, taking a step forward and swinging her pipe directly at Joey Drew's head.

The world spun, lurching sickeningly as Audrey felt a hand on her arm. The world turned into a tunnel of light, a smear of darkness.

Boris howled before everything went quiet.

When the world solidified, Audrey's ears popping painfully, she was back in the Old Studio. In the central room with the projector in it.

And Joey Drew was standing at the projector, one chair set up beside it for clear viewing.

Audrey looked around. No cutouts. The door she'd used to get back to the music department was gone, only a solid wall where it should have been.

She was trapped.

"Take me back," Audrey demanded, her shock pipe still humming with a full charge.

"Later," Joey Drew responded, slotting a reel of film into the projector. "There's something I need to show you, Audrey. Something I should have showed you a long time ago. Have a seat."

"...If I do, will you take me back?"

"Of course, Audrey."

That meant nothing, coming from Joey Drew, but she didn't have any other options.

All she could do was switch off the shock pipe and take a seat, just like those makeshift viewings of Bendy cartoons in the old attic.

The projector's light licked on with a sound akin to a thud, illuminating the blank section of wall in front of her.

"Once upon a time, Audrey," Joey Drew said, "there was a man. A clever man, who had built an empire out of nothing with just a pencil and a dream."

A sketch of Joey Drew was projected on the wall. Realistic but sketchy. Who had actually drawn it?

"A man who lost just about everything. Joey Drew. The real Joey Drew. Whose self-made empire started crumbling around him. He tried to save it by creating a machine. A marvelous, wonderful machine, capable of bringing cartoons to life."

A sketch of the Ink Machine, far larger and grander than the squattish, squarish, generally unremarkable-looking and ink-stained thing that was sitting in a room in ArchGate Pictures.

"But something went wrong. Horribly wrong. The machine could only make monsters. Joey Drew managed to trap the monsters inside the machine itself, in a world of ink and paper. Sometimes the monsters managed to slip out, which made the last of Joey Drew's empire crumble."

Bendy. Who hadn't even been fully in control of himself, if he'd been at all, bent to the whim of the Script.

"So Joey Drew hid the machine, trying to fix it, or at least find a way to trap the monsters forever. But, one day, something amazing happened. A miracle!"

A sketch, drawn to not show the face, of a woman in a dress, her hair in a ponytail, an illustrated halo above her head.

Allison.

"Joey Drew managed to make the machine create something other than a monster. Instead, it created an angel."

"An angel?" Audrey asked, knowing full well who Joey had killed to manage that. But, if she played the part of the clueless fool Joey clearly thought she would, maybe she'd get out of here faster.

"That's right, an angel. A bright, shining beacon of hope in the darkness of the world of ink and paper. You've already met her, too."

Had he been spying on them? For how long?

"She's wonderful, isn't she?"

His tone was wistful. Audrey felt sick.

"And with that angel, Joey Drew realized that the machine could make more than monsters, if he was careful with it. So he decided to make something he'd wanted his whole life, but could never have."

A pause. The image on the wall changed to Joey Drew, around the corner and out of sight from the illustrated Allison who was talking to someone drawn indistinctly.

"A family. Not a cartoon one, a real one."

Bullshit.

The screen showed the Ink Machine again, with Joey silhouetted in front of it.

"So Joey Drew tried and tried, and there were many tries, he managed to make another miracle, something that made him happier than he could have ever imagined."

Another change in illustration. Of a faceless baby, swaddled and small.

"A wonderful, living daughter. Human in every way that mattered."

Joey Drew stepped in front of the screen.

"He created you, Audrey."

Audrey stared at him. He didn't seriously think she was going to believe him, did he?

"He wanted to keep you safe. From the monsters, from this world. So he sent you away. Sent you someplace safe, where no one would ever think to look. To his family, who he never mentioned because his brother didn't want to be in the spotlight Joey Drew had created for himself. That way, you would be safe from everything the Machine had created."

How stupid did he think she was?

"And, just in case you somehow found your way back to the machine he created you with, he made sure I would be here to look out for you, to tell you what really happened. And, if he died before he managed to trap the monsters for good, make sure there was someone here to keep the monsters at bay."

The projector clicked off.

"And you expect me to believe that?" Audrey asked, rising to her feet.

She wasn't an idiot. She was flesh and blood. She bled. If she'd been made of ink, Bendy would have told her. Wilson's contraption would have destroyed her (still human) arm. It would have been obvious if she wasn't human. Burns from touching cookie trays before they cooled, cuts and scrapes from accidents on the playground. If she hadn't been human, it would have been clear long before now.

"I know it's hard to believe, but it's true, Audrey."

He really did think she was an idiot.

"I know it's quite the story, but–"

Audrey took a step forward, flicking the power on the shock pipe back on.

There was... a doubt, one that nagged at her. Her father had always been distant. He'd taught her so much, about cars and life and the world, but there had always been what felt like an invisible brick wall between them. He never read the funny papers, let alone watched cartoons. He never went to church, never saw the stained glass windows depicting angels. Never went to the movies, never watched TV.

Never talked about Joey Drew.

To the world, Benjamin Drew was an ordinary mechanic from New Jersey whose father had owned a shoe shop that he'd sold many years ago to a large developer for a good sum of money. He'd married Lillian Lehn, who had been a telephone operator and a part time door to door makeup saleswoman when they'd met. Her mother told the story like it had been love at first sight, even if her father had been the stubborn one about going steady. Ordinary people living ordinary lives.

Who had known about Joey Drew and never told Audrey about him, kept no pictures of him, letting him fade from Audrey's life entirely.

"Tell me the truth," Audrey said, taking a step forward.

Joey Drew took a step back.

"Now, Audrey," he began.

She took another step forward. The golden ink under her skin flared to life.

For a brief moment, his face filled with genuine fear.

She took another step forward, then another, until Joey Drew's back was to the wall. He was taller than she was, but he didn't seem larger than life anymore.

The ink beneath her skin rippled, the mark of Banish flaring bright gold.

With everything he'd done, the Puddles wouldn't be kind if she sent him to it.

"Tell me," Audrey repeated, holding her shock pipe at the ready, "the truth."

She watched Joey's eyes dart around, trying to find an escape. He had no way out any more than she did. He didn't know about Flow, but she would be faster than him. Banish took time, but he was unarmed.

She remembered the swell of alien emotions from her dreams, almost a repeat of this situation. She didn't have Bendy with her, only his ink, but he was still with her in part, and he was clearly just as furious as she was.

"Okay," Joey said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Okay. I'll tell you the truth."

The glow on her arm flared, making it clear what would happen if he tried to lie.

"Joey Drew really did try to create a family from the machine," he said. "It started with trying to recreate his old business partner, but the copy wasn't what he wanted. So he tried to create a daughter instead. The perfect daughter, but it never worked. Every time he tried, something went wrong."

How many... How many people had he tried to create? Were they like Bendy? Or had they never actually been made? Had he killed them, or had he never succeeded?

Wait. He'd tried to create a copy of Henry.

Family. The world circled in her head. Sammy had been right. Joey Drew had never gotten over Henry leaving.

"He kept trying right up until the end of his life, but the Ink Machine only managed to make monsters. The closest he ever managed to get was Allison."

Who he'd murdered. But she knew the truth. She didn't need it from him. 

"And what about me?" Audrey demanded.

Joey Drew visibly hesitated.

"...You were an accident, Audrey," he said. "When the Studio started to run out of finances, Joey Drew started getting desperate. He tried to get as many investors as possible. A lot of them had daughters, and young women are a lot more likely to listen to a man if they think he cares about them, and daughters are very good at convincing fathers to get what they want."

Audrey felt sick.

"He didn't even know what had happened for months, until some very serious men in suits showed up at the Studio one day with an ultimatum. Either Joey Drew was going to make a problem disappear, or they'd go public with the affair. Which would have been devastating. Dozens of investors would have pulled their support. Now, Joey Drew didn't have the time to have a family back then, he had to keep the Studio going. So he made a call to his brother. He knew that his brother wanted children, but his wife hadn't managed it. It was the perfect solution, his brother would finally have a child, and Joey Drew would still be able to finance his business."

He had...

"His brother's wife was a very strong-willed woman. She strong-armed him into being a part of your life for years, Audrey, until the Studio shut down and he had to focus on keeping the monsters from escaping the Machine. But they all knew you'd be hurt by the truth, so they agreed not to say anything."

Her parents had lied. Her parents had lied.

...Then again, she wouldn't want to be related to Joey Drew either.

"Who was she?" Audrey asked. "My mother."

Not her real mother, no. Her mother was wonderful. She'd made sure her biological father hadn't been able to just run away from his responsibilities. At first, at least.

And her father was twice the man Joey Drew would ever be.

She flicked off the shock pipe, letting her arm fall to her side.

"I can't say I remember," Joey answered. "Other than she was likely quite pretty. He named you after her, though, I do remember that."

The sound of the smack reached her ears before Audrey realized what had happened.

She'd hit Joey drew across the face, an open-handed slap. There was already a bruise in the shape of her hand forming on his cheek. There were tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

Sammy was right.

"Take me back," she demanded.

The ink under her skin flared in warning.

Joey Drew simply nodded. The world spun and warped again and they were back in the motel.

"Audrey," Joey began.

"No," Audrey said. "I'm leaving."

The door was still closed, but she didn't care. The ink beneath her skin rippled, flaring with heat through her entire body as she simply walked forward. Ink coalesced in the space the door was and in two steps, one in complete darkness, she was on the other side.

With a teary-eyed Buddy, visibly shaking, and Brant.

"Buddy said you disappeared," Brant said. "Allison and Tom went looking for you. What happened?"

"Joey Drew happened," Audrey said bitterly, head a swirl of emotions. "Let's... Let's just go."

Buddy nodded, gently putting a hand on Audrey's shoulder. She put a hand over his and remembered to breathe.

Brant led the way, down the stairs and to the front door. Before stopping.

"Bad news," he said.

"What is it?"

"We're surrounded."

Audrey looked through the murky front window. There was a veritable army of Lost Ones outside, each with glowing white marks around their arms, on their heads, their faces. A ring.

A halo.

"The Angel's followers," Brant said. "There’s no back way out here. We can try to hide, but there's enough of them out there to turn this place upside-down."

Audrey tucked her Gent pipe away. It wouldn't be enough. Buddy let out a low whine, tail between his legs in clear fear.

The Angel, who had vivisected one of her coworkers.

The Angel, who had also been wronged by Joey Drew just like everyone else had.

They weren't getting out of this. Not easily. She felt numb, she’d learned… She’d worry about it later. She had to deal with this first.

One thing at a time.

She still had one bargaining chip left. If the Angel and her followers didn't try to kill them on sight.

Audrey pushed the door to the motel open, hands raised and weaponless. Buddy cowered behind her, Brant sticking close to her side.

The mob moved in, surrounding them.

One stepped forward.

"The Angel wants to see you," the Lost One said. 

"I'll come with you if you promise not to hurt my friends," Audrey responded.

That got an exchange of looks among the Lost Ones, most of them zeroing in on Buddy, who was doing his best to hide behind her.

The lead Lost One snorted, but gestured for the crowd to disperse enough for them to walk.

Audrey followed, numb, as the mass of Lost Ones encircled them and marched them further into the city.

Chapter Text

The Angel's forces marched them deeper into the city, taking twists and turns that felt like a maze. There were a lot of them, and every last one of them was armed.

All with glowing circles of white ink somewhere on their bodies. White, not golden. Angel ink? Or something else? It wasn't paint, that much was apparent, since no one was bleeding it. It just simply sat and glowed like the gold on Audrey's arm.

Buddy was terrified, all but clinging to Audrey as they walked. She couldn't blame him, this had to be overwhelming. For both Buddy and Boris. Audrey knew she should have been terrified. Or at least scared. She just... couldn't bring herself to be. There was too much going on in her head for that.

Joey Drew had abandoned her more than she'd thought. He claimed to want a family, but he hadn't been willing to keep her. Hadn't been willing to go back for her. (Though she doubted her mother would have given her up without a fight. Even her father probably would have had something to say about that.)

Instead he'd tried to create a life.

...Create a perfect daughter.

Bendy hadn't turned out right, and he'd been cast aside. Any 'family' Joey Drew tried to make would have turned out the same way, not right, not human, not what he wanted, and thrown away because of it.

(Even an ink-made facsimile of Henry hadn't been good enough. Joey Drew hadn't stopped until the real Henry Stein was trapped in the inky realm.)

Joey Drew didn't actually care about having a family. Joey Drew didn't care about anyone but himself.

If he'd cared, Audrey would have been calling him her father.

...What was going to happen once they managed to stop Wilson? If Joey Drew was still around, he'd...

No. She was not going to let that happen. Once Wilson was dealt with, she'd stop him. 

Somehow.

One thing at a time.

The ranks of the Angel's army closed in as the path they were taking narrowed. They were squeezed in, Audrey shoulder to shoulder with Brant and one of the Angel's followers.

As they walked down an alleyway, Audrey's head started to ache. The ache grew worse with every step. The ink under her skin writhed painfully, chilling where she was used to it feeling hot. She swayed on her feet, a hand going to her head. Brant caught her before she could lose her footing. What was happening?

The golden glow of the ink went dark.

The alleyway stopped in a wall of cobbled together metal sheets with a door in it. The door slid aside with a horrible grinding noise. The crowd marched through two at a time, a cluster of Lost Ones blocking any exit as Audrey walked through, both Brant and Buddy keeping her on her feet as her head felt like it was about to split open.

Inside was a courtyard for a fancy hotel. Several fancy hotels. They were all clustered around the central courtyard, the buildings towering high into the sky. And in the middle of the courtyard, where there had clearly once been a fountain, was some kind of machine. There was a sphere at the top, the rest of it covered in a large coil. It crackled with neon colors.

It hurt to look at. Buddy and Brant seemed fine, though. This had to be a signal tower, then. Something that would stop the Ink Demon.

Something that would stop anyone with demon ink.

Focusing was hard. Audrey put a hand to her head, hoping her vision wouldn't start blurring.

"This way," one of the Lost Ones barked.

The crowd around them thinned, reduced to one Lost One leading the way, two on either side of the group, and a few following them. To make sure they didn't try to run, but Audrey heard the door grind shut, there wasn't any getting out.

They were led through the front doors of the largest of the fancy hotels. The main lobby was... actually spotless. There was a Lost One at the reception desk, the wallpaper was fancy and the furniture was nice. It was jarring, seeing anything so intact in this world.

As they walked further from the courtyard, Audrey's headache eased a little. Not vanishing, but dulling to the point where she wasn't staggering and her eyes didn't feel like they were at risk of escaping her skull.

They were led into a grand ballroom, the kind that ended up in large photo spreads about the grandiose parties hosted during the 20s, before the Depression. The large window to the back overlooked a well manicured garden in monochrome tones. 

The second floor was filled with Lost Ones. Some of them visibly armed with tommyguns. Where had they gotten guns?

The bulk of the space was taken up by a long table lined with seats, though all the plates were empty. Music played from somewhere nearby, a record that Audrey didn't–

No. She knew this song. 

"I'm the cutest little angel, sent from above, and I know just how to swing."

There was someone seated at the far end of the table, at a chair larger and fancier than all the others. They stood as the guards stopped.

"I got a bright little halo, and I'm filled with love..."

And strode forward. They... No, she still had skin, yellowed like Allison's was. A black dress with thin straps with a white bow at the low square neckline, black boots and leggings (or were her legs just covered in ink?), black long gloves nearly to her shoulders. Long, inked black hair. Horns protruding from her head.

And a halo of metal jammed into her skull. Half her face was human, normal, but the other was grotesque, as if melted. An empty eye socket, skin melted around her mouth to reveal teeth, lumpy flesh along the side of her head where her ear should have been.

"I'm Alice Angel!"

Mangled just like the Butcher Gang. Somehow, it felt even worse.

"There you are," Alice Angel all but purred, striding toward them.

Joey Drew had done this, Audrey thought, feeling sick. The Angel was almost human. Almost. Her elbows didn't look like they had bones anymore, like Allison's arms. Half her face was still human, though the dark circles under her eyes looked inked on. The half that was injured reminded her of the burns she'd seen on some of her father's friends, chemical wounds from the first World War, the Great War, before they'd been outlawed.

"Wilson's been turning this place upside-down looking for you," Alice said, striding forward as the Lost Ones that had been guarding Audrey and her friends scattered. "Little miss head animator."

Audrey felt like a deer in the headlights under Alice's gaze. Or a mouse cornered by a cat. Alice's smirk was pure animated villainess. The queen holding all the cards, with the hero in chains in her dungeon.

"The answer to all of his prayers."

Her voice had strange layers to it. For a moment, her tone bent to one Audrey recognized instantly. Alice Angel.

The first Alice Angel.

Susie Campbell.

Anger flared through her. Joey Drew had done this to the first Alice? The original? The only voiced character in the entire show? He'd scrambled her voice, melted her face. 

She hated him.

"Tell me, little miss director," Alice said, putting a finger under Audrey's chin to tilt her head up. "Are you worthy to walk with angels?"

Audrey's brain stopped entirely.

Alice's expression turned to one of scorn.

"That's what I thought."

She dropped her hand from Audrey's face (she was taller than her, Audrey realized, by a good few inches) and took a step back.

"Just another fly wandering into my web. You even brought me a present."

Buddy whimpered and Audrey snapped back to herself.

"Leave him alone," she said, putting an arm out to make sure Buddy was at least somewhat shielded from her.

Alice laughed. The sound was two voices at once. The dainty laugh of Alice Angel. A deeper, darker sound, another voice that must have been Susie Campbell's real voice.

"You're not in any position to be making demands," the Angel reprimanded. "Besides, I recognize that Boris. Almost perfect. We're well acquainted. Maybe I'll cut him up again. For old time's sake."

Cut–

No. No one was getting hurt anymore.

"No," Audrey stated.

"No?" Alice repeated, tone mocking.

"No. You cut open one of my staff. You killed him. I'm not letting you hurt Buddy."

"'Buddy?' You named him?"

"That's his name. He worked for Joey Drew before Joey stuck him in the same body with Boris. He wasn't even eighteen."

The haughty expression on Alice's face vanished.

"Say that again," the Angel said.

"He wasn't even eighteen when Joey Drew killed him."

Alice's expression turned conflicted, a hand going to her chin.

"That would explain why his organs were undersized," she muttered. "I could have sworn he was Wally... Then..."

Fury overtook her expression. With a screech, she stepped toward a table, picked up a glass, and threw it at the wall. It exploded on impact, sending glass shards skittering all over the floor.

"I'll kill him," Alice snarled. "I'll cut him open and wear his intestines like a necklace."

Buddy whimpered.

Somehow, Audrey couldn't say the idea of Alice cutting Joey Drew apart made her feel even slightly ill.

This was her chance, though. Alice clearly hated him. This was probably her only chance.

"He's in the Machine," Audrey said.

Alice's gaze locked on her.

"Say that again," Alice stated, tone dark.

"He's in the Machine. He claims he was created by the real Joey Drew, but there's no way it's not him. He died in the real world but put himself in the Machine, somehow."

"To watch our misery firsthand. You've seen him, then."

"Yes. I..." Did she want to admit this out loud? In front of someone who so clearly hated him? "...I just saw him. He..." Deep breath. "He's my father."

All sound in the room stopped, even the record player skipped into silence.

"What?!" Brant exclaimed.

"Joey Drew is my father," Audrey repeated, bitterness leaking into her tone. "He lied to me. He said he was my uncle. Then he tried to claim he made me with the Ink Machine."

Several Lost Ones around them audibly snorted.

"I made him tell me the truth. As much truth as he'd give me, at least."

"And how did you manage that, little miss animator?" Alice asked.

"I threatened him with an electrified pipe."

Alice's smirk was wicked.

"He apparently slept with women so they'd convince their families to invest in the Studio," she continued. "I was another one of his mistakes. He dumped me with his brother." Audrey squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath. "My parents are good people. I don't care that Joey Drew's my father. I hate him."

She couldn't blame her mom and dad for not telling her. Joey Drew was awful.

(Just like Bendy. Just because Joey Drew had a hand in creating her didn't mean anything. Blood meant nothing unless she wanted it to.)

She opened her eyes again. Alice was staring at her, expression unreadable.

This was her chance. She had to ask.

"We're going to stop Wilson," Audrey said. "The Resistance and the Demon Worshipers. The Cult of Amok too, maybe. They're thinking about it. After that, we can deal with Joey Drew."

Alice's face contorted in disgust before mellowing into something contemplative.

"I think," she said, "we need to talk. In private. You can bring your little friends with you."

Audrey simply nodded.

'In private' ended up being the basement of the hotel. It was a veritable laboratory, complete with a metal slab table that Buddy was pointedly avoiding looking at. 

Audrey's headache was gone, at least, though the ink on her arm hadn't started glowing again. 

The only Lost One in the laboratory was hunched over a series of beakers and bottles, mixing things together with clear deliberate intent. A canister with an ink drop sat on the counter beside them, glowing with white light.

The lock on the door clicked into place when Alice shut the door. Buddy hid behind Audrey as Allison stepped in front of them, looking Audrey up and down.

"Nothing we discuss here leaves this room," she said.

Audrey's gaze went to the Lost One hunched over the beakers.

"She understands subtlety," Alice said. "Unlike some of my followers. Most of them are only here because they're cowards who decided throwing themselves at my mercy was in their best interest."

"You do cut people up for fun," Brant pointed out.

"Fun? Please. I'm trying to achieve perfection." She brushed a hand along the injured side of her face. "I thought I had it with the humans Wilson's been throwing in here, but blood doesn't take to ink as well as I'd hoped."

Audrey wished there was something she could do to help, but Alice's injuries weren't something she could fix like she had been able to for the Butcher Gang.

"We did get good material out of it," Alice continued. "Blood was the missing ingredient to making Angel Ink permanent. Draining the paint out of my army was a waste of time, this is far more efficient."

Angel Ink. Not Alice's ink, but something created. Even if it protected people like Bendy's ink did, it didn't work the same.

"So," Alice said, perching on a stool, one leg swung over the other, "little miss head animator."

"Audrey."

"Audrey. Tell me. How did you get the lunatics from the sewers, the other angel and her pet wolf, and the Prophet to all agree on something?"

"It was Allison's idea to ask the Demon Worshipers to help the Resistance. I asked Amok's followers if they wanted to help since it sounds like Wilson's been capturing people from every group."

"And why try to make a move now?"

"Because we figured out why Wilson keeps throwing my animation team into the machine."

Alice's one good eyebrow rose quizzically.

"Bendy's the one that made this world. And Wilson doesn't really get the show. Or the characters. Even the art style. But my team has been working on the show for months. The reason Wilson's been trying to find me is that I'm the director. If anyone that understands Bendy can change things about the world, he probably thinks that I can do whatever it is that he wants."

"You'd be better staying out of his net."

"Maybe, but he's captured Henry. Bendy's real creator. And if someone who just understands the show and the characters can change this world, then–"

Alice's relaxed posture went rigid.

"The Creator could do anything he wanted to," she realized.

"Exactly. If Wilson realizes who he's captured–"

"Then anything we do isn't going to amount to much."

She hummed, chin resting on a hand contemplatively.

"We have a plan," Audrey said. "We were going to free everyone Wilson had captured, but it... might be better if we stop Wilson at the same time."

"And do you have the stomach for it, little miss animator?"

Audrey swallowed thickly. She... There was probably not going to be any chance of her managing to talk down Wilson, as there?

"...If I have to," she settled on. "We could really use the extra help."

Alice hummed, at least sounding like she was considering it.

"We can go after Joey Drew once we deal with Wilson," Audrey added.

"You've clearly been running around with the Prophet's merry little band of freaks. How did they take Wilson killing the Ink Demon?"

"Wilson didn't kill him. He hurt him, but Bendy's fine."

"'Bendy?'" Her tone was incredulous.

"Bendy," Audrey said firmly. 

"Don't let the Prophet fool you, that thing is a monster."

"Bendy is not a monster."

"The only reason that thing hasn't tried to rip your throat out is because you've been playing nice with that traitor."

Traitor? "Bendy is not a monster. He's hurt people, but monsters don't apologize."

"Apologize? To who?"

"Archie. Mike." Did she know any of these people? "Buddy. Bill Chambers."

The Lost One at the beakers went still.

"Bendy isn't a monster. He's a Toon. He's been hurt just like everyone else in here."

Alice rose from her seat.

"You've been listening to the Prophet's lies," she said, striding closer to Audrey, Buddy cowering behind her. "You can't listen to a word that man says."

"Why not?"

"Because he's a traitor. A liar just as bad as his former boss. I walked in one day to find him recording with my replacement. No notice, just him rerecording all of my lines and my songs with some younger, blonder model. He didn't even have the decency to fire me to my face after all those years."

Sammy? A liar? Wait.

"What if it was Joey Drew?" Audrey asked.

That stopped Alice in her tracks, her one good eye narrowing.

"Maybe he told Sammy you quit. Or that he was going to fire you and never did. Did you ever ask him?"

The silence said she hadn't.

"Joey Drew's the one that did this to you, right?"

Alice reached up a hand and brushed it along the boiled ridges where there should have been an ear.

"...He told me we'd bring Alice to life again," she said softly. "That I'd be beautiful. Perfect. But instead. He did this to me!" Her voice rose into a screech. "I'm hideous. He ruined me!"

Buddy whimpered.

"I'll kill him!"

"As soon as we stop Wilson, I'll help you find him," Audrey promised.

That cooled Alice's rage in an instant.

"We need as much help as we can get," Audrey continued, "but you'll have to work with Sammy. At least for a little while."

"...Fine," Alice said. "A truce. For now. But only if he promises to keep that demon away from me. I'm not going back to the puddles."

"I'll make sure he doesn't."

"Excuse me," said the Lost One, turning from the counter, "did you say Bill Chambers?"

The Lost One was a little shorter than most of the others Audrey had seen, a little bit slighter.

"Wait," said Brant. "Horse girl? Is that you?"

"Brant?!"

"The one and only."

If Brant would have had a mouth, he would have been grinning from ear to ear, Audrey was sure of it.

The Lost One tackled Brant in a hug.

"I thought Wilson got to you," the Lost One – it had to be Constance, Bill's other friend – said. "Where's Bill?"

"With the demon cult."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. Still fixing things there, sounds like. I've got a guaranteed ticket down to grab him. Where have you been, horse girl?"

"Here. The whole time, here. Miss Angel made me her lead scientist when I told her what I made with that chemistry kit."

"Safe with the Angel, huh? Smart work, horse girl."

"This is one of your friends, then," Alice commented.

"This is Brant. The newspaper one."

"Hmph. He can stay, then."

"Thank you."

Bill would be thrilled to find out his friends were all safe. 

"And you, little miss animator," Alice's attention turned. "What are you planning?"

"We're going to break into the Gent building. We'll need a few distractions, but I think the Flock can handle most of it since they can get out of the ink easier than anyone else. Once we break out everyone Wilson's been holding prisoner... I don't know. We were only planning on getting everyone out, but I don't think we'll have another chance to stop Wilson. We won't be able to use the same plan twice."

"And do you have anything for the Keepers?"

"Once Bendy's feeling better, he should be able to deal with a lot of them with some help. I'm sure Norman will help too."

"Norman Polk?"

"Yes. Bill fixed his speaker, so he can talk. He's been staying with the Flock."

"I need to see this for myself."

"Alright."

That was close enough to a 'yes' for Audrey.

Wilson wasn't going to have a clue what hit him.

Chapter Text

Brant led the way back to the train station they'd used to get into the city. Alice had agreed to come with, but she had refused to go without bodyguards, meaning the group was flanked by a pair of Lost Ones, each wielding a tommy gun with a fire axe each strapped at their hip. Alice herself had a gun slung over one shoulder, and Constance hadn't been allowed to leave the Angel's base without a weapon of her own (she'd opted for what looked like the remnants of a street sign that looked heavier than she should have been able to lift so easily). 

Any Lost Ones that dared attack were shot or bludgeoned by their escorts. The bodyguards were startlingly efficient.

Getting back into the sewers was as easy as getting out of them had been. There was one problem, though.

"No idea where to go from here," Brant admitted. "I know we're in Amok territory, but that's it. Getting lost down here's how I got caught the last time."

Buddy looked around, sniffed loudly a few times, then shook his head. Even a wolf's nose wouldn't be any good when the only thing to smell was sewer ink.

"We just need to find a patrol," Audrey said. "They'll know where to go."

The two guards flanking Alice gave Audrey a look. Audrey focused on the walls instead. There had to be some way to figure out where they were or where they needed to go. There were more drawings on one wall than the ones around it, so... maybe this way?

It was as good a guess as any. The rest of the group followed her, albeit a bit slowly.

The drawings on the walls were larger on some walls than others. Consistently so. It was the best lead they had, so Audrey followed the drawings. There were no patrols, though. How many people were actually in Amok's cult?

"We're wasting time," Alice muttered as they walked.

"We'll find someone eventually," Audrey assured her.

"We better."

Buddy whimpered. Audrey kept walking.

After a number of turns, the tunnels started to widen. And, a few turns after that, there were raised platforms, solid metal. Audrey clambered onto one and peered through an open doorway. There was a cloth draped over it with words scrawled on it, along with a stylized head with spikes poking out of it, a bit like the legs of a spider.

LORD

AMOK

RULES

The sewer tunnels gave way to what were likely meant to be maintenance hallways. Most of the doors were barricaded, leaving only one clear path through.

They made it through a whole three hallways before a trio of Lost Ones barred the way.

"Halt!" declared one. "How did you find the domain of Lord Amok?"

"I... followed the drawings?" Audrey offered.

The other two Lost Ones scrutinized her closely. Unlike the other ones she'd seen, they had spikes on the top of their heads, arranged in a row straight back along their skull.

"We're trying to get back to the subway tunnels," Audrey explained.

The trio exchanged looks. One ducked down the hallways and out of sight.

"Hurry it up," Alice demanded.

One of Alice's guards made a point of tapping the flat of their axe against their leg.

The Lost One, fortunately, returned quickly.

"Lord Amok wishes to see you," they said. "Follow me."

Audrey did, as did her group. The tunnels widened into actual rooms. The Lost Ones here were clearly making due with what they'd managed to find, though they weren't doing well. There were makeshift sleeping spots tucked into corners, the occasional crate with a meager amount of food in it, and one room that was so visibly clogged with Lost Ones there would have been no way to squeeze inside. Judging by the faint smell of coffee, that had to be where the coffee machine that Sammy had mentioned was in Amok's territory lived.

Eventually they reached what Audrey could loosely call a throne room. There was a Lost One with the most intricate hat made out of spider legs she'd seen yet, flanked by guards armed with long bits of old rebar. The 'throne' wasn't much more than a regular chair with extra metal to make it larger attached to it, the wall covered in drawings of what were likely Ink Widows behind him. The Lost One that had been leading them stepped out of the way and bowed.

"Ah, the Stranger has arrived," the Lost One that must have been Lord Amok said in a distinctly Scottish accent. "With guests. Including the Angel."

"My name is Audrey. A bunch of us are planning on trying to stop Wilson, maybe for good."

"One of my lieutenants mentioned as much. Why do you wish to topple the Invader?"

"Because he's hurting people."

"But why you?"

"...Because it's the right thing to do. No one here deserves what happened to them."

It was only her because she could help. Anyone else could have done the same. Just about everyone else was tied up with their own problems, though. Sammy had to look after the Flock. Alice was looking after her followers. Buddy was just trying to survive. Allison and Tom were trying to stop Wilson but didn't have enough people to do it on their own.

There was silence, for a long moment. And then.

"Squeak!"

Audrey looked down. A rat clambered up the side of Amok's chair and onto one of its arms. It was the largest rat Audrey had ever seen, with a crown made out of what was clearly a chewed up old bottle cap. 

"I agree," Lord Amok said, nodding to the rat before turning his gaze back to Audrey. "That's a good enough reason for the both of us. My people are tired of having to slog around through the sewers to avoid the Keepers, and the King of the Rats is tired of the subways collapsing and destroying his territory."

King of the Rats? Audrey hadn't been expecting that. 

(It was something that Carol would have designed, Audrey thought. Carol, who had been hired on to primarily work on Charley, and work as backup on Alice. But Carol was fine, unless Wilson had thrown her in while Audrey had been trapped. Maybe it was Cindy, then? Carol was nearly old enough to retire, and had proudly once been a ballerina and had, more or less taken Cindy – her primary animator for Alice – under her wing. Cindy had done ballet before, and it wouldn't have surprised Audrey if she'd picked up her mentor's affinity for her favorite ballet and her favorite antagonists from it, even if she'd gone and made them something far more cartoony. And without the multiple heads.)

"I really appreciate the help," Audrey said. "We could use some help getting back to the Resistance's HQ."

"Ah, yes, the other Angel and her Wolf passed through not too long ago. They asked one of the patrols if we could keep an eye out for you. If you'll give me a few moments to get my things together."

"...Things?"

"Why, yes. If we're going to have a war council, I can't expect anyone else to go in my stead, can I?"

"Squeak," agreed the Rat King with a nod.

War council?

"And here I thought you didn't have any teeth," Alice commented snidely.

"Oh, no, that's the Ink Widows. We borrow them. Hm. Now there's an idea."

"Squeak," said the Rat King, sounding moderately concerned.

"I'll explain later," Amok assured the rat with a wink.

The Rat King didn't look convinced in the slightest.

The walk through the subway tunnels was easy with the King of the Rats, plus a four rat honor guard, leading the way. It took what felt like barely any time at all to make it back to the hallway that held the Resistance's headquarters. Audrey knocked on the third door from the left. 'Shave and a hair-cut.'

There was a near chorus of tapping feet, squeaks, and soft 'wuffs' of 'two bits.'

And two knocks back. The door cracked open, the eye of a Lost One peering out.

"We're back," Audrey said.

The door opened a little wider before slamming shut. Audrey couldn't make out what was being shouted behind the door.

The door swung open and Tom, armed with an oversized wrench, stepped out, growling. 

Alice's guards stepped in front of her, tommy guns raised.

"It's okay!" Audrey said hurriedly. "Alice agreed to work with us."

Tom gave her a flat look.

"I'm serious. We need all the help we can to get rid of Wilson, right?"

Tom growled, but lowered his weapon. Alice's bodyguards slowly did the same.

The wolf looked around, gaze lingering for a long time on Alice before turning, gesturing for the group to step inside.

"Not the warmest welcome," Brant commented.

"You've heard the rumors," Constance said.

"What rumors?" Audrey asked.

"That the Resistance is paranoid about letting anyone join," Brant answered. "Most of the rumors were about if the Resistance even existed in the first place."

"All the rumors make it sound like it's top secret," Constance agreed.

Regardless of tensions and rumors, the group filed in. The headquarters was a flurry of activity, Lost Ones gathering up weapons and supplies. 

Tom strode up to the large table and barked once. Loudly. Drawing everyone's attention. Tom gestured back at the group.

"Audrey!"

Allison ran forward, pulling Audrey into a hug.

"We were about to send out a search party," the angel said, stepping back, her hands resting on Audrey's arms in clear concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. And we've got some extra help now."

"Squeak," said the King of the Rats, perching on Amok's shoulder.

"It would be nice to get out of the sewers," Amok agreed with a nod. "We're happy to help however we can."

Allison stared at Amok for a moment, then at the rat, brow furrowed.

"Squeak," said the King of the Rats, tapping its crown for emphasis.

"We'll need all the help we can get," Allison said, though she still looked wary. 

"You wouldn't stand a chance without us," Alice commented snidely.

Her bodyguards nodded in agreement. 

Allison stepped past Audrey, stopping in front of Alice's guards who hadn't moved from a defensive position in front of the Angel.

"You're right," Allison said.

The look of shock on Alice's face escaped being comical only because of her injuries.

"There aren't that many of us," Allison continued. "So, on behalf of the entire Resistance, thanks for agreeing to help us."

Alice huffed.

"And... sorry about the Loop," Allison said. "We never really got a chance to talk, did we? I'm Allison."

Allison extended a hand. Alice crossed her arms.

"I'm Alice Angel."

"You're the actress I replaced, aren't you?"

Alice scowled.

"He told me you quit," Allison continued.

"Of course he did. I should have killed him when I had the chance."

"I'm not sure if he was doing it to flirt with me or he thought having a movie star would get the show more attention."

Alice snorted. "He only ever flirted to get what he wanted. You were never his priority, sweetheart."

"I had a feeling it was like that when he didn't come to our wedding."

Alice raised an eyebrow. "Our?"

Allison tilted her head toward Tom, who growled. 

"Snagged yourself a regular prince charming I see."

"Tom's a good man. He's a little rough around the edges, but he's sweet."

"I suppose there's no accounting for taste."

"Everyone always said you were with Sammy, though?"

Alice covered her mouth to smother a laugh.

"Only for Broadway, the opera, and the right kinds of parties," she said, the good corner of her mouth turned up in amusement. "He was handsome, but he's always had other priorities, temperamental as he is. But we're getting off track." She put a hand on her hip, her stance very much that of a confident Alice Angel, from the comics more than the show. "Our little animator says there's a plan, but we're still a few heads short."

"We should go back to Lost Harbor," Audrey said. "We should all be working on the plan together."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Allison said.

"Sammy's not crazy. It'll be fine, I promise. Just give him a chance."

And give Bendy a chance too. And the whole Flock. If they were going to actually stop Wilson, everyone was going to have to agree to work together. Even if it was only temporary.

Tom looked at Allison, expression unreadable.

"...Alright," Allison said. "We'll go. I trust you, Audrey."

"Thank you."

Audrey meant it. Together they could do this.

They were just going to have to rework the plan, that was all. Audrey already had a few ideas.

One of which she was sure no one was going to like, but it was likely going to be their best chance.

Chapter Text

Audrey stepped onto the dock in Lost Harbor and let out a sigh of relief. They were back. 

They hadn't all been able to get to Lost Harbor at the same time. There were too many of them for the Hand to carry them all at once, meaning the Hand needed to push around paddle boats instead. It was her, Buddy, Brant, and Constance that had made it first. Tom, Allison, Amok, and the Rat King (plus his rat guards) would be in the next boat, and Alice, along with her guards, would be in the last.

Sammy was waiting for them at the end of the dock, axe in hand but not raised.

"I'm back," Audrey said, "along with... a lot of people."

"I can see that, little lamb. How many more did you find?"

"Tom and Allison from the resistance. Both of Bill's friends. The king of the subway rats. And... Alice Angel."

"I thought I heard her voice down the tunnels, they carry sound quite well. How did you manage to convince her to join you?"

"I think she wants Wilson gone that much. And Joey Drew more."

"...He elected to put in another appearance, I take it."

Audrey nodded.

"You look tired, little lamb."

"It's... been a lot."

Sammy pulled her into a hug, one arm wrapped solidly around her. She allowed herself to sag, worn out mentally more than physically, resting her head against his shoulder.

"All will be well, little lamb. You've earned yourself rest."

Someone cleared their throat.

"Where's Bill?" Constance demanded.

"Fifth house on the left. Do knock first, the Flock are a bit skittish around newcomers."

There were inky footsteps heading away. Audrey composed herself and wiggled out of Sammy's grip.

"Better?" he asked.

"A little."

There was an excited shout from a few houses down. Audrey looked over just in time to see a Lost One – clearly Bill – get tackled into a hug by both Brant and Constance and fall backwards into the house from the force of it.

"Did Bendy actually rest while I was gone?" Audrey asked.

"As best as I could get him to. He did manage an actual nap while you were out."

"Good. He needs it. How is he?"

"Better. Still clearly tired, but better."

Good. That was good. 

The next paddle boat was pushed in. Amok was the first to step onto the dock, the King of the Rats on one shoulder and a sack slung over the other.

"Prophet," Amok greeted with a polite nod.

"Amok," Sammy said with a nod in kind.

"Squeak," said the King of the Rats.

"Your Majesty," Sammy said, giving a small bow.

The Rat King nodded approvingly.

Tom and Allison stepped onto the dock after some clear hesitation. Sammy gave them both a long look.

"You're welcome here so long as you do not raise a hand to my Flock again. And do not expect them to be kind or even polite given the Loops."

"I can't blame them," Allison said, making her way down the dock and onto dry land. "We did think you were all crazy, though."

Sammy sighed. "Such was the Liar's interpretation of what my character should be. No, we're all quite sane."

"...How are you holding up?"

"Well enough, all things considered."

Tom growled.

"Tom," Allison chided.

There were steady, slow footsteps, accompanied by the occasional dull clank. Audrey turned her head to see Norman slowly tromping his way from across Lost Harbor, clearly making the effort to move slower to not clank quite as much.

Tom raised a wrench defensively.

"There will be no fighting here," Sammy said, tone leaving no room for argument. "Polk is just as sane as the rest of us."

"Since when?" Allison asked warily.

"Since Audrey hit him in the head with a few hundred volts."

Amok gave Norman a wide berth as the Projectionist's pace slowed to a stop, light sweeping across the newly assembled group before settling on Allison.

"Is that you, Miss Pendel?" he asked, speaker audibly less tinny than before (Bill must have been tinkering with it while she was gone).

Allison stared for a long moment before shaking her head. "It's Connor now."

"Well, congratulations, Miss Connor. Sorry about any of the run-ins we may have had." He rapped the side of his head with a knuckle. "Joey scrambled me pretty bad."

"It's fine, Norman. You're going to help us, right?"

Norman nodded. "Can't just sit around while Sammy goes and has all the fun now, can I?" He chuckled. "Good to have you on board, Miss Connor. Here I was thinking that you weren't gonna come down and visit us."

His tone was light. Teasing. Tom growled.

"Hello to you too, Tom. You're one lucky man."

Tom flushed and turned away, making grumbly little huffs under his breath.

"We thought Sammy was dangerous," Allison admitted.

"Fair assumption, given that it's Sammy an' all."

"Polk!"

Norman laughed.

"Who else is still comin'?"

"The Angel," Sammy answered flatly.

"Oh, Sammy Lawrence, you are not gonna start in on all that again when she's here."

"...Fine. But if she starts it–"

"I'll deal with it, Sam."

Sammy huffed, but didn't argue further.

Like an old married couple, Audrey thought. 

Speaking of Alice, the last paddle boat was being pushed in, just Alice and her bodyguards. The guards stepped out first, each offering a hand so that Alice stepped onto the dock with impeccable balance.

Her heels clacked every step she took down the dock until she was face to face with Sammy, who gently scooted Audrey out of the way.

"Prophet," she spat.

"Angel," Sammy replied evenly.

She smacked him. Hard enough to knock his mask askew.

"Understandable," Sammy said, righting his mask (he hadn't had eyes underneath, Audrey hadn't seen a nose either, only an outline to suggest he might still have a mouth). 

"Traitor," she spat.

"I wasn't the one that decided on the replacement. Henry based Alice on you, having anyone else voice her was a completely inane decision."

"You replaced me."

"...You didn't get the memo, did you?"

"Memo? What memo?"

"The memo that Drew sent around announcing your replacement 'effective immediately.'”

"I saw it cross my desk," Norman added.

Tom nodded with a clearly disapproving huff.

"That... That bastard! Of course he did."

"The Liar once again ruins everything. Truce, Angel?"

"For now. Just keep that demon of yours away from me."

"Done."

"I think you'll be surprised to see him, Miss Campbell," Norman commented.

"It's Alice!"

"It really ain't, Miss Campbell."

"Shut up! What do you kn–"

"Susie."

Norman's tone was stern. Alice visibly deflated.

"Fine," she said. "Where's Jack?"

"Half puddled in a bucket right about now. Doin' better every day, though. You're gonna help us free Hen?"

Alice flipped her hair with a flourish. "Henry was always useless without us. Where are we meeting this time?"

"Sammy's place. Gonna be a bit of a squeeze, but we'll make it work."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"I'll go grab some extra seats."

Sammy shook his head, but led the way through Lost Harbor. Curious eyes peered out from windows.

"I'll announce this to the Flock once everyone is settled," Sammy said. "Do you think you can keep the peace for a few minutes without me, little lamb?"

"I've led team meetings before, I think I can manage it on my own."

"Good. And do make sure our Lord doesn't do anything stupid."

"He's staying in bed, no matter what he says."

"You put the Ink Demon on bed rest?" Alice asked snidely.

"Wilson hurt him," Audrey said. "Really badly. He cut him open and stuck some kind of weird device in his chest."

"Hmph. I don't appreciate copycats."

Sammy shook his head, but didn't comment.

Sammy pulled the curtain that served as the door back. Audrey was the first inside, Buddy all but attached to her he was keeping so close.

Bendy looked up from his makeshift sketchbook with a broad grin. He didn't need to speak for Audrey to know exactly what I was thinking as he hastily shoved his sketchbook aside.

Audrey knelt down and pulled him into a hug before he could wiggle free of the blankets Sammy had buried him in. Bendy wasted no time in returning the hug, horns bumping against her chin.

"I'm fine, Bendy," she assured him. "I didn't get hurt this time."

He bumped his horns into one of her shoulders, meaning abundantly clear. 'Ya shouldn't have gotten hurt the last time!'

Allison cooed at the display, which startled Bendy right out of the hug. He stared at her warily, doubly so at Tom, and grabbed his sketchbook, writing several question marks.

"I brought some extra help," Audrey explained. 

Bendy raised an eyebrow at her.

"Allison, Tom, Amok, Bill's friends. The King of the Rats." Because the rats had a king, somehow. "...Alice."

The group was slowly filing into the room. Buddy stayed as close to Audrey as he could get. Alice's guards kept themselves between her and Bendy as they shuffled to the far side of the room.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen," Alice commented with a smirk.

Bendy rolled his eyes and scribbled out a message, writing big enough that it could easily be read from all the way across the room.

You ain't much of a prize yourself, angel face

"I could cut you in half right now, you little pest."

You'd have to catch me first!

He paused.

Hey, there's an idea. Got another episode idea for ya, cuz!

Cuz? As in– Oh, he... 

She had to tell him.

"Bendy?"

He was halfway through writing another message about an episode idea where Bendy did something to merit a Wile E Coyote level chase from an angry Alice, but looked up at her anyway.

"It's... about Joey."

Bendy set his sketchbook down.

Everyone in the room quieted. Sammy, who had been halfway out of the door, paused.

Audrey took a deep breath. Sammy hadn't judged her when she'd found out she was related to Joey Drew. Bendy hadn't been upset about it either.

"I'm..."

Saying it with so many people around that she knew, that she trusted, was hard.

Buddy put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"...Joey Drew is my biological father."

The silence was just as intense as it had been in the ballroom.

Allison was the first to break the silence.

"What?" she managed.

"He lied," Audrey said, "when he said that he was my uncle. He tried to lie and said he made me with the Ink Machine. I made him tell me the truth."

"How'd ya manage that?" Norman asked.

"I threatened him with the shock pipe. And Banish."

That got an approving snort from Tom.

"He... used to sleep with women so their families would invest in the studio. My biological mother didn't want me, and neither did he, so he gave me to my parents. His brother."

Buddy gently squeezed her shoulder. She appreciated it, she really did.

Allison muttered a very soft 'oh.'

"I always wondered when that was gonna come back to bite him," Norman commented. 

"Of course you knew," Alice muttered.

"Nobody ever notices us projectionists, Miss Campbell. Joey Drew got into all sorts of things to keep the company up and runnin'. It's a wonder we don't have more mafia types walkin' around in here."

Somehow, Joey Drew cutting deals with the mob didn't feel surprising.

Bendy hastily scribbled out a message.

So he helped create ya then ditched ya since you weren't what he wanted?

"...He did."

Bendy snorted and shook his head.

Figures. Real piece'a work.

He tapped the pencil to the page a few times.

Guess I can't call ya cuz, huh?

"I guess not."

Sis it is!

Audrey blinked.

"You..."

I thought about it while you were gone. I ain't ever really had a family, ya know? Closest I've got's Sammy, since Henry ain't much of a dad. Unless you call him leavin' the old "dad went out to buy milk an' never came back" gag.

Audrey, despite herself, snorted. Bendy grinned.

Joey'd hate it too.

A pause.

We could make shirts. "I got created by Joey Drew and all I got was this lousy t-shirt."

Audrey couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her. Bendy's grin only got wider.

So, whaddaya say, sis?

"If you're okay with it, little bro."

Little?

"I was born in '44."

Henry made me back in '29, I ain't the little one!

"But when did Joey make you?"

...'46.

"Then you're the little brother."

She'd have mussed his hair had he had any, so she had to settle for teasingly tapping his face where his nose would have been. 

Bendy let out an indignant huff, swatting at her hand. Audrey just laughed.

Things would be okay.

"Anyway," Audrey said, "I've got a few new ideas. And once we stop Wilson, we can stop Joey too."

Seating arrangements worked out with the addition of a few benches and chairs, Bendy relegated to being bundled in blankets and sat on Sammy's lap so he didn't try to escape his mandatory rest, with the large map Allison had brought with them covering most of the floor. The rats – the King of the Rats's guards – were happy to help by moving pieces around as Allison went over the plan as it stood.

Everyone offered adjustments and suggestions. If the signal towers were out, Sammy could bypass the doors without any trouble, so if Wilson shut down the Gent building to fortify it, it wouldn't stop them. Amok suggested they bolster their numbers by gathering more allies, though capturing feral Lost Ones and shoving Ink Window flesh into their mouths was not the easiest task. Alice suggested Angel Ink as an alternative – it was injectable, faster, and would only make anyone they injected with it throw up paint instead of who knew what side effects Widow flesh would have.

Amok also suggested using Ink Widows as a distraction. The sack he'd brought with held useful supplies, but also Ink Widow eggs, which had human teeth for some godforsaken reason. Ink Widows attacked anything that moved, so it was risky, but dumping a bag of them inside of the Gent building would definitely make for a sizable distraction.

Alice's territory covered a good area, and she agreed to let Sammy put a protection sigil inside of her territory with a number of guards. It would mean that, if Wilson's forces managed to kill one of the Flock, they'd be able to get back into the fight quickly and didn't have to risk traversing long distances inside of the Ink.

"It's mostly brute force," Sammy commented once everyone had offered their adjustments to the plan, "but reasonable. Keeping the Invader distracted puts us at an advantage."

"And Wilson himself?" Amok asked. "No one knows how he gets in or out of the Machine. If he escapes, we won't know when he'll come back."

"I have an idea," Audrey said.

Everyone's attention turned to her.

"If I could get close to him, I could use Banish," she said. 

"Which would be dangerous," Sammy pointed out. "To send him to the Puddles means you have to be within arm's reach of him. But if he was sent to the Ink, the souls there would likely not let him out again."

"And how do you plan on getting to him?" Alice inquired, arms crossed.

"I have an idea. Wilson's after me. If Lost Ones can't make changes to the world, then he won't kill me. If I pretend to help him, maybe stall by drawing something for him that would help us, he wouldn't have a reason to have any Keepers trying to find me. If he called the Keepers back, he wouldn't have any reinforcements."

She'd had a good amount of time to think on the walk and paddle boat back. Joey Drew had told her to take the subway right to Wilson. 

...Why did he know the subways would go to Wilson? He'd told her to go to Wilson.

...Joey Drew knew that Wilson knew how to get out of the Machine. Joey Drew had built an exit into the Ink Machine to begin with. And he knew that Wilson was using it.

She had the sickening feeling she knew who the note she'd found in the motel had been talking about now.

"...Joey Drew knows that Wilson knows the way out of the Machine," she said slowly. "He knows that Wilson has Keepers guarding it. And he knows the subway goes right to Wilson."

"Meaning that you're likely walking into a trap if you go," Sammy said.

"It's our best chance, though."

"It's too dangerous," Allison said. "If you go alone, you could–"

There was a knock on the door frame.

"Come in," Sammy called.

In stepped–

"Edgar?!" Audrey exclaimed. 

The Toon barreled forward and jumped into her lap, hugging her with excited squeaks. Barley and Charley swaggered in after him.

"The Butcher Gang?" Allison said, jaw very nearly dropped.

"They're friends," Audrey said, giving Edgar a tight hug (to which he squeaked in delight). "How did you find us?"

Edgar pointed to Barley. A small rat poked out of his hat and waved. Audrey waved back. The rats were going to be their strongest allies at this rate.

"I'll take the Butcher Gang with me," Audrey said. "They can hide in my bag. That way I won't be going on my own."

"And judging by the tunnel," Alice said, "I may know where Wilson's little retreat is hiding."

"Squeak," said the King of the Rats, scurrying along the map and plonking down a little wood scrap on the map close to the Gent building.

"That's what I thought. I'll take some of my followers and attack from there to split his attention."

"We'll send some of the resistance too," Allison said. "We'll need a signal."

"I'll ask Bill," Sammy offered. "He's likely to have something. I wouldn't doubt if he's made a flare gun or something similar."

"Big enough signal would get everyone's attention," Norman agreed.

Bendy scribbled a message and held it up.

One problem.

"And that is?" Amok asked.

Me. You folks are all rarin'ta go, but I'm still pint sized. And I ain't got a clue how long it's gonna take me'ta get back to bein' tall, dark, and scary.

"I do have an idea for that, my Lord."

Bendy turned his head completely around like a little owl to level Sammy with a look, one 'brow' arched.

"A ritual. If an artist can add things to our world, they may be able to change things as well."

Could Audrey... really do that?

"Our little animator has a better chance than anyone else," Alice said.

"How so?" Norman asked.

"Literary estates include cartoons." Alice's smirk was downright wicked. "I did some reading after Henry left. An estate would go to the next of kin if there wasn't a beneficiary."

"And Joey didn't leave a will," Audrey said slowly. "That's how Nathan Arch was able to get the rights."

Hers. It should have been hers. Without a will, she... She could actually sue for the rights if she could get proof that Joey Drew was her biological father.

She had the legal right to the entirety of the Bendy franchise.

...Better her than Joey Drew. She wouldn't be able to easily claim the rights in the real world, but maybe that didn't matter as much in the ink world.

"...I'll try," Audrey settled on. "What do I need to do?"

"For now? Rest. Gather your strength, little lamb, you'll need it in the morning."

Chapter Text

The ritual circle dominated most of the floor of Lost Harbor. It was massive and extraordinarily intricate. Circles within circles full of strange symbols and complex webs of lines and loops. Candles dotted the edge at regular intervals, bottles of ink placed at deliberate points inside of it.

A creation ritual, Sammy had called it.

Audrey stood at the circle's edge, her sketchbook tucked under one arm, a pen in her hand. The setup was more than a little intimidating, to say the least.

"How... does this work?" Audrey asked.

Sammy set down a candle with care. "In theory, this will replicate some semblance of the magic used in Bendy's creation. It should allow you to draw him back to his full power. I would have used a healing or energy transfer ritual, but demons are powerful. To restore one to full power in that way would require a sacrifice beyond what one soul alone could give. And unlike Drew, I don't sacrifice lives."

Bendy, standing between her and Sammy, shuddered.

"And this... won't?"

"No. The act of creation is inherently magic. The art of creation is no different. Artists pour their heart and soul into their work, freely given, freely sacrificed. From you, it should only take the same effort it takes to create a normal drawing."

That didn't sound bad at all. It didn't even sound difficult.

Bendy gave Sammy a look.

"Ah. If it doesn't work, then it won't do anything at all. About a quarter of this circle is a failsafe."

Bendy accepted this with a nod.

"Are you both ready?"

"As ready as I think I can be."

Bendy pointed to Audrey and nodded. Same as she was, then.

"Then let us begin. Bendy, walk to the center of the circle."

Bendy saluted and jumped and hopped his way to the center of the circle, all but hopscotching his way to the center to not smudge the lines. Audrey looked around. All of Lost Harbor was gathered to watch, from their allies to the whole of the Flock. Even the Searchers were out, staying a good distance from the circle but with their eyeless faces fixed on the circle nonetheless.

Norman gave her a thumbs up as she looked around the circle. Buddy held up a hand, fingers crossed. Allison simply gave a nod. Edgar waved excitedly, Charley and Barley simply standing nearby in support.

Her team had made a makeshift banner from several pieces of paper stuck together. It was of her — stylized cartoonishly — and Bendy at opposite ends, each smacking a Keeper, Audrey with a pipe and Bendy with an oversized mallet. The words 'You've Got This!' were written across it.

Her nerves felt a little less at the sight of it, of all the people supporting her.

It would be fine. They could do this. All she had to do was draw, right? Easy.

"Audrey?" Sammy said.

All she could do was swallow down her nerves and nod.

"There is a circle directly next to the one Bendy is standing in. Stand there, pen to blank page. You will know when it is time."

"Right."

She moved slowly, carefully so as not to smudge any of Sammy's hard work, until she was standing in a circle just large enough for her to stand without stepping on any lines. She flipped her sketchbook open – past her doodles, past Bendy's messages, past some of Henry's sketches still safely tucked away – and put pen to page. She didn't usually draw in ink without pencils, but she'd done it before.

"Ready?" Audrey asked.

Bendy, expression resolute, nodded.

Sammy lit the last candle surrounding the circle.

"Let us pray, my Flock," he said, voice easily carrying through the whole of the Harbor.

Some of the Lost Ones knelt, others stayed standing. Many clasped their hands together, while others bowed their heads.

The glow from the marks on near everyone's arms was soft and comforting.

"For our Lord," Sammy stated. "Lend me your strength, that we may give him strength."

The golden glow grew brighter. The ink on Audrey's arm flared like stars.

And Sammy began to chant, words steady, almost lyrical. Musical. Audrey let the sound wash over her. This would work. They could do this. She would help Bendy, help everyone.

She would fix this.

The glow of her own arm intensified.

How was she supposed to know when to draw?

Something audibly bubbled.

Audrey looked down. The circle was gone, replaced by solid ink, shimmering in the golden glow of the marks on the Flock's inky skin. It bubbled gently, like a pot of water just starting to boil.

Bendy looked down, then back up at her.

And they fell.

Audrey jolted upright in her chair. She was... This was her office. She was in her office. Everything was in color, was normal, everything was in its place, from her work in progress keyframes to her scattered assortment of decorations.

Had she... fallen asleep? No.

Audrey held up her hand. The golden marks left by Bendy's ink shone gently through her skin.

It was real. She was still in the Machine, still in the ink world. Was this... part of the ritual?

She stood up and peered through the blinds. Outside was only churning ink.

There was a knock on the door. Audrey crossed her small office in only a few steps. Who could that be?

The knocks tapped out a familiar pattern. 'Shave and a hair-cut.'

Audrey knocked back as soon as she reached the door. 'Two bits.'

She pulled the door open. Beyond, the hallway wasn't ArchGate at all. It was the familiar dull yellows and inky blacks of the ink world, of the Old Studio's first floor hallway. With no one to be seen.

Knowing her classic gags by heart, Audrey looked down.

Bendy, on model to the show, plus a tail, but without his vest and slacks, looked up at her.

"Heya, sis!" he greeted with a wave. Not in the deep rumble she'd heard in her head, in her dreams, but in the higher pitched, Toon-esque, approximately Brooklyn accent she'd always imagined him with, something reminiscent of some of the Warner Brothers' classics.

"...Bendy?" Audrey managed in disbelief.

Bendy pulled at his plain white bow tie to straighten it.

"In the flesh," he said, letting go of the tie as it audibly snapped into perfect shape. "Well, in the ink. Flesh. Eh, same thing. Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Bendy trotted into her office, looking around and letting out an impressed whistle.

"Nice setup ya got here," he complimented. "Storyboard wall, real cabinets, plenty'a ink an' paper. Heck, is that an actual ACME peg bar?"

"It is. The base rotates."

"No foolin'?"

Bendy hopped onto her chair and rotated the animation board around. It was a simple thing, letting her team work in whatever way was most comfortable for them. 

"Now that's fancy. Joey never shelled out fer stuff like this. Head'a animation after Henry left didn't even get her own office."

"Bendy?"

"Yeah, sis?" 

"What's going on? Where are we?"

"Dunno," he said with a shrug. "Your head? Or your soul. Eh, fifty-fifty. Sammy's ritual worked but I couldn't tell ya which way around it is. I ain't that kinda demon, ya know?"

"And you're... talking?"

"Yep. Handy, ain't it? Henry always thought I'd sound like this." A pause. "Ya left his stuff in yer sketchbook, didn't ya?"

"Some of it," Audrey admitted.

"Well, I ain't complanin' about it. We should start on the whole ritual-y stuff."

Audrey nodded. "Okay. What should I do?"

"Draw me, a'course! And ya better start with warm up sketches first, I ain' turnin' out lopsided again just 'cause ya didn't."

That was it?

"I think I can do that."

Bendy hopped out of her chair and Audrey sat down, grabbed a fresh piece of paper and a pencil, and started sketching. Bendy. Not the Ink Demon, Bendy. On model to the show, at first, but something felt a little... off. The little devil just didn't fit his body language, not since they'd gotten Wilson's device out. He was... pointier in personality than this. So his design should match it, shouldn't it?

So she sketched a few revisions, until she settled on something that felt right. Limbs a little more elongated, a more bean shaped body instead of a plain oval, and a little spade-tipped tail. That was much better. It let her push his poses further far easier. She touched up his face a bit too, moving up the widow's peak just a bit to give his expressions a little more room to work. The sketches came easily to her, the poses all but flying out of her pencil. She didn't have to think about what she was doing, she just drew.

She stopped to ink the best drawing in the set, a simple pose of Bendy with a confident, chip on his shoulder sort of pose, his tail emphasizing the rest of his body language. It looked fantastic.

"Hey, not bad," Bendy complimented.

Audrey looked up. Bendy had changed. He matched her sketch to a T, bean instead of oval, slightly longer limbs and a slightly more defined face. He was holding the little mirror she usually had hanging on her wall with one hand, admiring his reflection.

"Now this is a redesign!" he declared. "I like it."

"...How?" was all she could think to say.

"Ritual," Bendy answered.

"And you're... okay with this?"

"Sure am! A little less cutesy suits me."

If... If this was okay with him. It did fit him, admittedly, but having something she designed just... change his appearance felt weird. Like it was a power she shouldn't have. 

...Better her than Joey Drew, though. And only if Bendy was okay with it.

As for the design itself, there was one thing missing. Something very important.

Audrey tugged open the drawer she kept her colored inks in and pulled one out. 'Demon Crimson,' the label read, along with a drawing of a red devil face. She grabbed a clean, small brush from the drawer and carefully inked in Bendy's bow tie on her drawing. There. Perfect.

"...That's color," Bendy said softly.

She looked up. One of Bendy's hands was resting cautiously on his bright red bow tie.

"Colored ink," Audrey explained, holding up the bottle. "Nathan Arch insisted we draw and color you in ink only. Do you like it?"

Bendy set down the mirror carefully with a little sniffle.

"I love it," he said. "Yer the best, sis."

Audrey reached over and patted him between the horns. His tail wagged.

"Are you sure you like it?" she asked.

"I'm sure. Of course, I could use some new duds to go with it."

Audrey laughed, pulled out a fresh piece of paper, and got to sketching. 

Bendy took issue with everything she sketched out.

A suit and tie? 'Too formal!' Jeans and a t-shirt? 'Too casual.' Slacks with suspenders and a button-down shirt? 'Nah, that's Sammy's shtick.' A cozy sweater? 'Come on, think about my image here!' A sweater vest? 'Come on, really?'

She was halfway through sketching him in bell bottoms with a tucked in shirt simply to annoy him when he swiped the pencil right out of her hand.

"Okay, ya gotta take this seriously," he said. "We got time, but we ain't got all day."

"Okay, okay."

Fresh page, general outline sketches first. This was fashion art, more than anything, and she wasn't the best when it came to designing clothes. 

"What if we kept the vest and slacks?" she suggested.

"Those? Eh, they ain't bad. I think somebody on yer team must'a come up with 'em, Wilson would have put me in a diving suit or something. The vest's kinda loose though."

Audrey sketched a few options for vests, Bendy picking out one that was similar to his other one, though actually cut to fit him. It looked better with his adjusted proportions, less baggy. No pinstripes on the vest, but pinstripes on the slacks.

"What color do you want?" she asked.

"Eh, keep with the black pants, just gotta make sure the outline's got a line between the pants an' shoes. Don't really care what ya give me, long as it don't clash with the tie."

Audrey contemplated keeping the brown that the vest had been, before reaching for the drawer of colored inks instead. She swatched a few before making a decision. She redrew the updated outfit, Bendy drawn adjusting his bow tie, and inked everything in. Red bow tie, blue vest (a duller blue, so the red would really pop), little yellow buttons. The gloves would stay the same, they were iconic, no reason to change them.

"Better?" she asked, looking up from the drawing.

Bendy tugged on the hem of his new vest.

"Snazzy," he said approvingly. "Which means there's just one design fer little ol' me left."

The Ink Demon. Audrey remembered Henry's drawings well enough. Lopsided and half melted, legs twisted the wrong way around. She couldn't do that to him. 

...She didn't have to, did she?

Audrey carefully pinned the inked drawings to the board she'd been using to keep track of thumbnail sketches on the wall by her desk, filed away the sketches she hadn't used, and sat down, cracking her knuckles.

She knew exactly what she had to do.

Hooves, horns, claws. Symmetry, not lopsided. A tail. Spikes. Lots of spikes, but not so many that they became the only focal point of the design. An emphasis on the teeth, sharp when they needed to be but only when it made sense, triangles made the smile too different with his mouth closed. The strongest thing in the Machine with an appearance to back it up. 

The same design she'd come up with when she'd been sketching out revisions with her team, but a bit more refined, more detailed. A real demon. The only real difference from her prior design was making the spade on his tail larger and sharper so that he could fight with it if he needed to.

She sketched him from a few angles before penciling out a proper model sheet for him, just to make sure nothing looked lopsided. She'd never really worked with this kind of design before, but it still fit, was still recognizably Bendy. The trademarks of his shape language were there, just a little bit different.

All that was left to do was ink it.

"...Are you sure you're okay with this," Audrey asked, looking up from the final sketch.

"Ya know you don't have'ta keep askin' that, right?" Bendy answered. 

"I know. It's just... This is a big change."

"Yeah, and I trust ya to make it. You trust me, I trust you, ya get it?"

He leaned over to gently bonk his head into hers. (Like a cat, she thought, it was adorable.)

"Besides, look at that!" He leaned back, gesturing to the sketches she'd set aside of him in dynamic poses like stalking through a hallway on all fours and charging in for an attack (and, among them, a few casual ones, like eating a sandwich, taking a nap curled nearly into a ball and not quite able to manage it with his horns, and very carefully playing with a toy train, pushing it around with a singular claw). "I look awesome!"

"Then let's finish up."

It took a lot of black ink to fill up the entire model sheet. Bendy hopped off of her desk as she worked, but she didn't look up. She made sure to ink in his bow tie too, with a little bit of cross hatching in black to give it a bit of a worn texture. Still Bendy, but his bow tie didn't hold up so well when he went on the hunt. To protect the Flock, to help others. Just because he was terrifying didn't mean that he had to be evil. He didn't even need to be the villain.

And if he needed to be, well, villains always got the best songs and some of the best animation anyway. 

Something loomed over Audrey, a dark shadow cast from the light over her desk as she set her pen down.

A horned silhouette.

Audrey swiveled her chair around and looked up.

The Ink Demon — horns and teeth and spikes — loomed over her. He was eight feet tall, easily, she'd only drawn a relative scale sketch so she didn't have his exact height worked out. He let out a low growl.

Oh. She'd forgotten something.

She spun around in her chair and inked on a speech bubble, the words coming from the demon being 'hello,' but in the most ink dripping scrawl she could. She stood up and added a more normal speech bubble to the completed sketches of Bendy. There. 

"Done," she announced, setting her pen back in its proper place and turning to face the demon that took up most of the room. "What do you think?"

Bendy's grin said it all.

"How do you feel?"

"Better than I have in a long time," the Ink Demon said in the voice that she'd heard rumbling through her dreams."You've outdone yourself, Audreyyy."

"I'm just glad it turned out okay."

Bendy let out a low growl of agreement. He carefully lowered his head to gently bump his horns into her shoulder, mindful of their sharp ends. Still a cat, just a bigger one. A tiger instead of a house cat.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

This was all part of the ritual, right? So... what now?

Bendy stood up, horns poking holes in the ceiling, ink dripping through the holes in the plaster.

"We make our grand entrance."

His grin was just as mischievous in his large form as it was in his small one. He held out a hand, palm up. Audrey took it.

Glass shattered as the ink from outside poured in, the door to her office burst off its hinges, ink pouring into the room. Audrey closed her eyes and held her breath.

"Hold up your hands," Bendy's voice rumbled in her head.

She did. Her fingers broke the surface of the ink, not unlike breaking the surface of a swimming pool.

Hands grabbed her own and pulled.

Audrey coughed, sucking in the stale, humid air of Lost Harbor, blinking the ink out of her eyes. She was back, with Sammy's hands tight around her own as he pulled her out of the massive puddle of ink that had once been the ritual circle.

Norman grabbed Sammy around the middle and pulled. With the extra leverage, Audrey was free, feet back on dry ground. 

"I was worried for a moment, little lamb," Sammy said, slow to let go of her hands. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

Was Bendy not back yet?

...No, of course he wouldn't be. Her entrance may not have been grand, but she didn't doubt his would be.

Audrey turned to the ink in time to see it ripple. Then bubble, near to a boil, the center starting to bubble up and up and up, forming a pillar of roiling ink.

"Duck!" Audrey yelled.

The Lost Ones hit the deck. Alice threw herself to the ground behind her bodyguards. Buddy hid behind Amok, while Tom moved to stand in front of Allison

The ink exploded outward, sending ink globs flying everywhere, splattering buildings and a few hapless souls. Not one drop of it touched Audrey, though, judging by the wet splat from behind her, Sammy and Norman hadn't been so lucky.

The Ink Demon, towering in his new form, stood in the center of a smudged, dried puddle of ink, and roared. The walls of the cavern shook.

Several Lost Ones visibly cowered. From across the circle, Audrey could see Buddy's ears pin to the sides of his head.

"I return," said the Ink Demon.

His voice rumbled through Audrey's head, from the splatters of ink around them.

There was silence, but an awed silence. 

"...My Lord?" a timid-sounding Lost One called out.

"Correct."

His jaws parted enough that his teeth went sharp.

"I. Am the Ink Demonnn. And this realm will be mine once more!"

An excited whisper swept through the Lost Harbor.

Sammy stepped forward, smudging the circle with a foot (there was ink dripping from his mask, Audrey noticed) and crossing the circle until he stood in front of the Ink Demon.

Bendy knelt down to bump his face into Sammy's chest. Sammy reached up a hand to pat the space between his horns. 

The Ink Demon straightened and the Prophet turned to the assembled crowd.

"Hear me, my Flock," Sammy declared, and the Harbor fell silent. "The Ink Demon has returned to us, in a form greater and more powerful than before! Soon we shall march on the Invader's stronghold and force him from our realm, from our home!"

A cheer went up, louder than the one that Audrey had found recorded on that tape what felt like nearly a lifetime ago.

"We are stronger than his ilk, smarter than the twisted creatures he calls his creations. We stand many more strong than we ever have before, with allies from all corners of the Machine. We will face his forces, and we will win!"

Another cheer, somehow even louder, Sammy's every gesture emphasizing his words, stirring the crowd as easily as conducting a song.

"When the time is right, our Lord will lead us! Lead us unto the Invader's stronghold! Its walls will fall and we will retake what is rightfully ours!"

A still louder cheer.

"All hail the Ink Demon! Can I get an amen?"

The shout of 'amen' was almost deafening.

"I said. Can I get an AMEN?!"

The answering cacophony was joined by the Ink Demon's roar and Audrey's shout.