Around and Around
Characters: Henry Stein
Word Count: 4,335
Trigger Warning: N/A
Summary: Henry heads back to the studio at the behest of his old friend Joey. Once there he starts to get a creeping feeling of deja vu. Is it just from being back in the studio after so long? Or is it something else entirely? Click the read more if you’d like.
~~~
His hand shook as he held the letter; reading the signature at the bottom over and over again.
Joey Drew.
Joey Drew.
He almost couldn’t believe it. The Joey Drew; his old friend and business partner wanted to meet. It was more than a shock seeing as how they hadn’t spoken in so many years. And the way Henry had left after everything that had happened? It didn’t really make sense that Joey would even want to see him. Neither of them had even so much as spoken to one another in the last 30 years. Well, Joey wanted to show him something at least. That much was clear. Henry couldn’t let go of the possibility, the hope more like, that the man would be there too.
He said goodbye to Linda, his wife who had been his rock during those first few difficult months of unemployment, got in his car and left for the studio. It didn’t surprise him in the least that he still knew the way. He had spent years of his life making almost the exact same commute back and forth every single day. Most people didn’t work nights, weekends, and holidays but then again most people had more regular kind of jobs. But then again most people weren’t building a cartoon company from scratch like he and Joey were.
Those days were so much simpler.
There wasn’t any talk of expanding the cartoon merchandise beyond the small scale toy line. There was never any talk of amusement parks, or animatronics, or life sized replicas of the characters. It was just the two of them. Henry and Joey just simply creating together. It was just the ideas and the characters. Back then it was just pen, paper, and ink.
And Bendy, he said to himself. There was always Bendy.
Pulling up into the parking lot of the studio Henry was truly surprised to see the place was still there. He parked and got out. As he closed the driver side door he stared up at the studio. Sure enough it looked the same as the day he left. A large, three story, brown brick building with the Joey Drew Studios logo hanging above the door. The logo of the studio was something that had been irrevocably branded into his brain; three movie reels with the name across. The only other thing that Henry could see with his eyes closed, could draw in his sleep, was and always will be Bendy. Bendy the Dancing Demon.
He walked up to the door thinking about why Joey liked that idea so much. Of all things he was stuck on the demon character. Henry knew his best friend was odd but this was pretty unsettling. Cartoons were supposed to be cute, and likable. They were supposed to be something that made you laugh. Something that made you forget about your problems for a while. A demon couldn’t possibly be any of that.
Trust me, Joey had said way back when. People will love our little demon.
Looking at the letter once more Henry took a deep breath. Was he really about to do this? Was he really going to face Joey after all this time?
He gripped the handle and turned it. The door opened with a slight creak.
He most definitely was.
You were right, Joey, he said to himself as he walked through the door. All those years ago we hadn’t even started but you knew. And you were right.
Walking through the hallway Henry felt like he was just coming back to work; starting a new day at the studio. Everything had an impact of familiarity. The floor, the walls, the chairs, the tables and even the air in the stuffy building felt so familiar. The cluttered papers all over the place was such a familiar sight it felt like home. Henry almost wished he hadn’t left when and how he did.
Almost.
But he did leave and there was nothing he could do to change it. All he could do now was figure out what Joey wanted him to see and then find it.
Walking in between the tables and chairs he looked for any sort of clue. Papers, a Bendy cutout in the corner next to an empty projector, a couple trash cans, but nothing telling where Joey wanted him to go. Then he made it to his old desk. Seeing his old desk sitting in the exact same corner, in the exact same position, and in the exact same cluttered mess, gave him a bit of a comfort in the unsettling atmosphere of the abandoned studio. Looking at the drawing of Bendy that lay on the surface of his desk sent a violent wave of uneasy recollection through his whole body. It was like a punch to the gut.
He shook it off and moved on.
He had to press on and figure out what Joey wanted him to find.
Henry didn’t know why but he had to do it.
Walking through the hallway, through the studio, Henry almost aimlessly wandered around. He wasn’t really sure what he needed to find. So his best plan of attack was to look until he stumbled across something that looked, or felt, like a clue that he was on the right track. He found a room with a sign hanging above that read; “Ink Machine Room.” But the supposed Ink Machine wasn’t in the room. Standing on the balcony Henry looked down to see a large cavernous hole in the middle of the room and a series of chains that fed down into the hole. Assuming that the chains were connected to the Ink Machine he looked around for something that would help him move those chains.
He chuckled to himself as his eyes landed on the large generator standing to his immediate left.
How’d you miss that?
Much to his surprise the generator was missing a gear and one of the power cells. Looking around he quickly found the missing pieces of the generator and put them back where they belonged. After lifting the ink machine from whatever dark depths it came from he made his way back out. Once outside he followed the large pipe that ran along the walls and ceiling. It was rather clear that the pipe was from the ink machine and connected to the power source. The pipe lead him to the break room. Once inside he saw a series of empty pedestals with small pictures hanging above each pillar. At the very back of the room there was a switch for the ink machine.
It didn’t take him long to figure out what he needed for each pedestal.
With each item in its rightful place Henry went over to the projectionist room to turn the ink pressure back on. Then he circled back to the power room to switch the power on. After that he headed back to the Ink Machine Room to turn the machine on. Much to his surprise the room was boarded up and blocked off.
How in the hell? he asked himself as he slowly approached the boards.
Suddenly a monstrous, ink-covered, living and breathing version of Bendy jumped up from behind the boards.
Henry fell back but then quickly righted himself again and began running for the exit. With the terrifying image of Bendy on his mind, and knowing that it was right behind him, Henry ran as fast as he could. Seeing the exit sign and the door underneath he took a sigh of relief. He was almost there.
Then the floorboards underneath gave way with a loud crash and Henry fell into the floor below.
~~~
Henry woke up on the floor of a room. Coming to he realized that there was a large, black, pentagram on the floor underneath him. A series of candles surrounded the outer circle. Two identical looking coffins stood directly across from the pentagram. An axe was leaning against one of the coffins. Getting up from the floor he walked over to the axe and picked it up.
I have to find a way out of here, he said.
With the axe in hand Henry swung at a series of boards that blocked the only way out of the room in which he stood. With nowhere else to go he walked down the stairs and through utility shaft #9. Entering the utility shaft Henry saw a small shelf with a small Bendy cut out, a few candles, and a few cans of bacon soup. Underneath, on the floor, sat a bowl, and a banjo. It had all the makings of a shrine.
HE WILL SET US FREE was written on the wall just above the head of the cut out.
The writing on the walls seemed new and rather odd but Henry found himself unmoved by the writing. He turned away from the makeshift shrine and turned the corner. There he found, much to his surprise, two more coffins leaning up against the wall and a pentagram painted on the floor underneath.
Strange, he thought and turned to see what else might be near.
He turned to see a tape player sitting on a ledge, next to a few eerie looking candles. Even stranger a tape seemed to be inside. Henry pressed play on the tape and the voice of Sammy Lawrence, the music director, emerged from the speakers. Henry stood in shock at the sound of Sammy’s voice; eerie and resonating loudly in the empty studio. What Sammy spoke of spooked Henry far more than both the coffin and the pentagram. He talked about Bendy as if he were some sort of god bestowing blessings on him in return for worship.
“I said, can I get an amen?”
Sammy’s voice sounded like he was right there standing next to him. Henry knew that was impossible but he also knew he had heard that before. He knew he had. But not while he was working at the studio. He felt like had been here before in this exact moment. No. He knew he had already found this tape and played it.
That he had felt this almost constant feeling of déjà vu before.
It’s nothing, he said to himself. Just old memories from the old studio.
But he couldn’t be so sure.
He shook the feeling off and continued to walk through the room; searching for an exit. Instead he found an ink-filled hallway. With no choice but to walk through it Henry held his breath and trudged through the murky, black, ink.
Henry was about halfway through the hallway when he heard a voice whispering.
Stopping he strained to try and make out what the voice was saying.
Then at the end of the hall he saw a figure walking across the floor. The figure seemed to be wearing white overalls, a mask, and carrying a Bendy cutout. This time Henry was close enough to make out what the mysterious figure said.
“Sheep, sheep, time for sleep.”
Henry waded through the rest of the ink and stepped into the room. Turning to his left he was very surprised to only see the Bendy cutout leaning atop another pentagram. Whoever the figure was they were gone. Shaking the creeping feeling off Henry turned away from the cutout. And there in the right corner of the room he saw a closed gate. Next to the gate was a lever which would seemingly activate, and most likely raise, the gate. On the opposite side of the gate was a panel of three lights; all of which were off.
Gotta redirect the power.
He knew the switches had to be in the room somewhere. So he retraced his steps and quickly found the ones he needed. With the power restored to the gate Henry flicked the switch and the gate slowly rose.
~~~
Henry shut the door behind him and took a few shaky breaths. This was insane. The characters are alive? The ink itself was alive? He was hiding in the bathroom on the music department’s floor. Hiding from the ink monsters that were outside the door; lurking the halls with murderous intent. He turned the faucet on and held his hands underneath the running water. Cupped hands now full he splashed the cold water against his face. He let out a shaky breath and held his hands under again. And again. After the third time he shut the water off, wiped the excess from his face, and looked in the mirror.
He had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. In his dreams he could never see himself. He knew he was there but he never saw his reflection in a mirror or window or anything. He had to know if this was real.
He looked up and saw a man’s face. Seemingly his own he stared at his reflection just to be sure. Looking into the mirror he saw his tan skin, the sharp angled chin and square nose he always hated, his graying hair, the beginnings of beard he let grow, and his steely blue eyes. He also saw a few wrinkles he had been neglecting to acknowledge before. But sure enough the face that stared back was his.
“At least I’m still me.”
Once the words left his mouth he felt this pang of déjà vu. But this was different.
It wasn’t just the words that brought on that feeing. It wasn’t where he stood in or staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was the fear that ran through his body; sending shivers up his spine. It was the sense of dread and the desire to stay here for fear of the monsters on the other side of the door. It was that damn ink machine.
You should’ve paid attention.
The thought sent another shudder of fear through his body.
That didn’t make any sense. Pay attention to what? Wasn’t he doing that anyway trying to get out of here? He figured out how to turn on the machine, he found the axe, he figured out Sammy Lawerence’s little musical lock. Henry didn’t think there was anything he could have been missing if he wanted there to be.
~~~
He had just finished playing “Darling Little Errand Boy” to the corrupted combination of Alice Angel and the character’s original voice actress; Susie Campbell. The entire ordeal was like something straight out of a horror movie complete with an ending all audiences would have hated. He listened and did what she asked but it wasn’t enough. She wanted, needed, the incarnation of Boris the Wolf that had stuck by him since almost the beginning. And like an idiot he fell prey to her fool’s errand; leaving her to do her dirty work. Susie turned Boris into a hulking monstrosity just like her. Then, as if everything else wasn’t enough, she siced the corruption, her little pet project, on Henry.
Fighting his friend was the hardest thing he had to do since coming here.
Killing Boris was even worse.
Tears began to fall down his cheek.
Henry reached for the tape recorder that lay on the ground next to him and pressed the record button. He had to get this message out to whoever might be there. Whoever might be listening. Everything he was forced to endure was so horrible he just had to get it off his chest. First he talked about Boris. It was so fresh on his mind that it was almost impossible to not talk about it.
“Linda I miss you and I love you so much.”
He tried to stop himself but he still choked on the words and he recorded the short message to his wife. Linda was the best thing that ever happened to him. He hated that he couldn’t embrace her, hold her close, in that moment. He was so afraid and so helpless. He continued speaking into the tape recorder; frantically trying to get his message across.
“If anyone hears this, if you make it out, don’t ever return because the Ink Demon will find you.”
That’s one big “if” don’t you think? he said to himself.
He clicked the stop button and set the tape recorder down with shaky hands. At least he finished before the demon, or any of the others, found out. Henry knew if anyone else somehow made their way here, into the loop, they wouldn’t make it back out. Allison, Thomas, and The Lost Ones were proof enough of that. But he had to hold onto the hope. The hope that someone might find the tape. The hope that someone might come to his rescue. The hope that he would make it out somehow.
“Joey, Joey, Joey,” he said aloud instantly grateful he turned the tape off when he did. Despite everything else he had already said on the tapes his next few words seemed far more along the lines of a rambling crazy person than anything else.
“Human sacrifice is a new low; even for you. But sacrificing yourself, your soul, is something else entirely.”
Years ago a question had begun to rattle around in his brain after he dedicated a few too many years at his desk here in the studio. Being back here the old question made its rounds once again. The question was something most of the employees seemed to feel as well. Despite being a co-founder of the studio and co-creator of the characters it was one of the few things Henry Stein seemed to have in common with the others. The lower ladder employees like Thomas Connor and Wally Franks. No one under Joey felt like they had a voice in anything let alone the areas they were supposed to be in charge of. There was a part of Henry that was happy that he found the empty tape but another part of him hated it.
Being back in the studio that question rose back up in the deep corners of his mind.
How do you speak when you feel outspoken?
You do what any sane person would. Write those thoughts down in a notebook that no one would see. Keep a hidden diary or write in invisible ink. Or in Henry’s case you do both. The only difference was that Henry didn’t write in a notebook. Hell, he didn’t even write on paper.
You’re writing on the walls, old man. Just like a crazy person in the movies.
But that didn’t really matter when he knew that he was the only person who would see what he wrote.
And now, thanks to the corrupted inky soul of Allison Connor, he could see the messages some other Henry had left for him to find. With the inkified versions of Allison and Thomas at his side he made his way back through the studio.
~~~
The items from the departments used as a shrine. The coffins and pentagrams. The living demonic beast made of ink. The corrupted shell of Sammy Lawrence. The murderous, obsessive, version of Susie. The constant sense of déjà vu. It all made so much sense now. Bendy wasn’t evil and neither were any of the characters. Or even the ink machine for that matter. True evil was much more terrifying than fictional characters come to life.
And that evil was none other than Joey Drew.
Joey made a pact with the devil and this time it wasn’t Bendy. This time around he wasn’t sacrificing his time, energy, and hope for a life outside his work. Joey sacrificed everyone who helped him to make his dream come true. He killed his friends and co-workers; people he had considered family at one point. Henry was certain that Sammy was the first to go. He had so many fights with Joey it was a miracle either of them got anything done. It made sense in a sick, twisted, way. The last to go was probably poor old Wally. And none of them knew what was coming for them. None of them knew what was really going on.
All except for Henry.
Henry was the only one who knew.
And Henry knew that, his once best friend, Joey knew he had figured it out. Joey’s deepest darkest secret that was hiding in the shadows of the studio. It wasn’t the ink machine like Henry had originally thought so many cycles ago and like he had initially thought at the start of this cycle as well. But Joey’s real secret was the darkness that hid inside the man himself. The real secret to his success, the method to his madness, was deep within the obscurity of his ambition. The blood, and ink stained, hands of Joey Drew would never be clean and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. That was the secret. The secret that kept the studio afloat amidst all of the obvious financial issues; the multiple shut off notices, all the past due letters, and so many threats of eviction. The secret Joey kept buried for all these years.
A secret only Henry, and Joey of course, knew.
Remember when it was just us, Joey? Before you turned your back on your love for characters, creating, art and life itself. You used to be happy, kind, and full of wonderful dreams.
I miss the old you.
Henry thought about all of this as he stared at the ceiling of Joey’s apartment. He didn’t want to get up and walk over to who would ultimately be standing in the kitchen. He shook the dread off and got up anyway.
Walking through the short hallway Henry took in the atmosphere of the place. It had a familiar feeling but by now he understood what that meant. He had been here before. How many times he was highly uncertain. He passed by a table with a few drawings on it. The drawings didn’t surprise him. He was in Joey’s place and they were Joey’s characters after all. The drawings were of the massive, nightmarish, demonic entity that was both Bendy and Joey which he had encountered countless times before. Looking closely at the drawings he realized that they were short storyboarded ideas of that entity winning. Killing and eating Henry.
Then Henry saw the man who stood at the kitchen with his back to him.
A very familiar looking wheelchair sat next to the kitchen counter behind the man. Henry walked over to him knowing that it was what he had to do. He didn’t have to see the man to know that he was a man who walked like Joey. Who talked like Joey. Who looked like Joey. Who wove words like Joey. Who spoke of dreams like Joey. But it couldn’t be him, could it? That man seemed far too like the old Joey. The one who loved his work, who cared for his friends, and who enjoyed life. The Joey Drew who was a bit of an eccentric but who didn’t have any murderous secrets to hide.
But he knew who that man was before he even turned around.
“Didn’t expect you back so soon,” he said.
That was the voice of the Joey Drew he remembered from all those years ago.
Henry Stein also remembered another Joey. In his mind’s eye, through multiple flashbacks all layered on top of one another, he saw him in the same way as this Joey he was looking at now; cooling leaning against the kitchen counter. The other Joey wasn’t anything like this one or even the real one Henry knew in life. That Joey was cold, callous, and downright evil. As evil as the living, breathing, demonic corruption of their brainchild. No matter how many times Henry would wake up back here he dreaded walking out and seeing that Joey. He much preferred the one before him. And he missed the version he knew. The one that was larger than life, always dreaming, with an infectious energy despite what or how he truly felt inside. That Joey cared. The Joey loved what he did. That Joey smiled and laughed and joked and took his time despite knowing his little cartoon would be loved by millions. That was the real life Joey Drew.
The genuine article.
Well he was before his ambitions, his dreams, corrupted him into someone he never wanted to be.
Henry turned away from this Joey, whoever he was, and walked towards the door.
Some other Henry had enough sense to hide his own secrets for the next ones to find. How? This Henry didn’t know. He wasn’t like that version of himself. He didn’t have any secrets. And he definitely wasn’t like his old pal Joey; a man made of many secrets. He sighed and thought about what could’ve driven his once good friend to do something so heinous. Keeping it a secret he understood.
A secret that was now kept by the dead. And by the aging animator held prisoner in a loop.
He pushed open the door and saw what was waiting on the other side. The inner hallway to the front of the studio and the exit right behind; forever taunting him. And just like so many times before he emerged knowing what he had to do. Knowing he had done it before. Knowing he would, and always will, ultimately fail.
Again.
And again.
And again.
A never ending cycle of which he would never escape no matter how hard, or how many times, he tried. Poor Allison Connor. She told him, time and again, that he was the only one who could escape. Of course she said all this without knowing about the loop. And Henry didn’t have the heart to tell her. If he remembered the next time he saw her. If he could make it that far into the loop before “dying” and being forced to restart.
Henry clutched the letter in his trembling hand and read, and then re-read, the signature at the bottom.
Joey Drew.