Chapter 1. “The New Neighbor.”
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the act you’ve all been waiting for—the one that brings smiles to your faces, which, by the way, are worth their weight in gold right now—please give a warm welcome to Bendi, the Dancing Demon!"
Even as the curtain opened, a roar of applause was already greeting the long-awaited act.
And so, lights, camera, music, and….
What’s dripping out of that long box next to Bendy…. wait, is that…… k????….. B.@?I$????
Silence… grayness… the slightly peeling plaster on the gray walls of the office, the dim light from the lamp, and a cartoonish doctor sitting across from me with a medical flask instead of a head.
“So… could you please tell me what you remember right now?”
The doctor asked in a monotone, poring over the report. Sitting across from him was none other than Bendy himself, not quite understanding what was going on.
“One more time, sir, I think this is some kind of misunderstanding… a—an accident! Why did they bring me here??? I’m healthy… aren’t I?”
“Unfortunately—or fortunately—in this case, it’s not up to you to decide whether you’re healthy…” the doctor replied coldly.
“If you don’t cooperate right now, it could mean an even longer stay here. Do you understand that?”
Boris: - It’s for your own good……
The next second, Bendi wakes up in a hospital room. What’s going on? Why did they lock him up here? Where’s Boris? What happened…?
The cold… the dampness… the foul smell of medicine, ointments, and the black liquid in the IV drip. All of this hit the dark-haired patient’s head like sharp flashes, as he woke up two hours after taking his latest dose.
Every time he takes it, his head spins and his body starts acting on its own… a pretty unpleasant side effect.
After regaining his composure a little, the patient looked around, still not understanding why he was here. Looking at himself, he realized he was still here… in this damned madhouse, where they’re holding him without explaining why… What had he done?
He tried once again to remember why they’d locked him up here, and most importantly… what had happened to his brother.
“The last thing I remember… is a scene… a hall… a flash from the projector… a doctor… what did I do?”
His thoughts, spoken aloud, were suddenly interrupted by the creak of a metal door. A second later, a nurse approached him. It was Tuchka, a cloud-like figure in a simple uniform, a cap, and a half-face protective mask. She came with a small clipboard to which several pieces of paper were attached, along with a pen and a small cart carrying medications and syringes.
