:: Blue Ink Suits You Best!
| Fandom : MOTM (orig.: @myth-of-the-machine) || Pairing : Mugman x Bendy ||| Warnings : minor injury
After discovering the truth about Bendy’s past, the unfortunate ‘team’ had to go through some more restricted areas of the Isles. Toontown was far, far away now and there was no going back now. Seeing old posters of him and Dandy, Bendy felt this old, eerie shiver running down from his neck, down his back all the way to the tip of his pointy tail. “This is bullshit-” Boris barked out “that traitor ain’t deserving you. Let alone be in the way of the machine.” He was right, the demon knew his brother spoke the truth, as his old stage partner was borderline traitorous – pushing him away from the spotlight to become the sole Star.
“So? Where now, Bendy?” Mugman asked, placing his bag on the ground, the impact making a very cranky cup ghost get out of the thermos in the bag and bicker with him. The scene would’ve been somewhat funny, heartwarming even if not for the fact one of them was dead, body shattered in pieces somewhere in the woods. Well... the head anyways. “Shut up for 5 minutes-” Then turns to the demon again, his porcelain head clicking slightly when it grazed with the buttons from the coat. “Talk-”
That wasn’t a question, nor a plea, nothing else than an order. Well, he’ll be damned if he takes order from the cups. “Tone it down, blue boy. Your brother obeys me, so I’d really be behaving if I were you before making him ballet step into a soul searcher!” He snapped. He rarely did so, but when he did, everyone would shut up. Even in the past, on stage; he was supossed to be the merry and cute one, but backstage when Dandy kept pushing his luck... “We split. Boris, you and Mr. Casper the Ghost stay back, you’re liabilities. Me and-” “That’s like the worst thing-! Have you never watched a horror movie, dancer? Splitting up is the worst thi-” “Shut up” And Cuphead did shut up, part from their deal and part because arguing with the shorter ink man was basically useless at the moment.
“I hate to agree with a ghost of a Collector,” the mutt jumped in, his gaze still darting from wall to wall, taking in the posters, the graffiti, the curses- “But do you believe splitting would do any good, Bens?” Even his own brother was second guessing his resolve – bullshit. All of this! He is the only one who can see the map, he’s the one who should be boss. Right? Right! Bendy had none of their shit and grabbed Mugman and just went deeper into the corridor. At least he listened, at least he didn’t fight him over his choices like some people did... or maybe it was because he was tired, blackened bags under his eyes and his head almost running empty... But he couldn’t go alone, and Cuphead was dead, and Boris was hurt too badly. Sure, he could’ve used the deal with Cuphead to shoot with magic out of his fingertips, but it burned his skin, blistering it. He wasn’t made for it and so chose not to overuse it.
“So... you used to be a dancer?” The tall collector tried to make conversation as they continued to walk, breaking the silence and monotony that only their footsteps set on the tile paved ground. With only receiving a nod, Mugman continued “Why did you stop? You could’ve secured your and your brother’s future, maybe even get better treatment for your blot-” He was rambling, not really meaning to anger the ink demon on his like choices or anything. Usual older brother behavior – Bendy knew all too well.
“My partner said there was no place for someone like me on the stage and pushed me away.” “I’m sorry” “It’s fine, it’s his loss anyway. I’ll become the best inventor in Toontown and show him I’m better off without him. And that he’s nothing.”
They continued to walk until hitting a dead end, the only thing found there being a hatch in the ground. Once they managed to open it, Mugman crouched right beside it and flashed his flashlight into the hole to check if there was anything worth going in for. The shallow tunnel that formed looked too unwelcoming with all kinds of twists and turns that blocked light – and so, blocked their vision. There were stories about catacombs in the forest, deep within the foliage; excavation sites uppon excavation sites trying to forage for a cure.
The map must be wrong at this moment, because this sites were long closed by the Health Department after some toons even lost their life trying to forage, leading to mediated scandals and small riots against the Stars. Maybe that’s why there were posters at the sites; angry rioters wanted to send a message: Dandy knows something, and doesn’t want to talk.
“Dead end,” Mugman finally turned off the flashlight and stood up, dusting himself off. “you’re insane if you think we’ll go in-” He cut himself short seeing Bendy already taking out 4 tire rope out a survival kit and tying it around his waist. “Did you not hear me? It’s dangerous, Bendy.” The words of the older Collector fell on deaf ears as the demon continued with blinded desperation.
“Listen here, Mugfreak. You aren’t the one literally melting from the inside. Either help me or fuck off.”
Desperation, anger, fear... Mug’s been there before together with his brother and so he does not judge – or tries not to judge when someone is slowly melting down and becoming more cynical with others. It wasn’t his fault; the demon was clearly in pain both physically and emotionally. Desperation, that one sleeve of hope someone might cling to makes them not realize the way the change. Wehn him and his brother first bet their souls to the Devil, 20 years ago-... He shook his head, not wanting his mind to slip there.
“Alright, I’ll ease ya in. Tag thrice if you need me to pull you out ok?”
At first, Bendy was surprised that the cup brother allowed- no... helped him with this insane plan. No sane person would actually go into a dark unknown place headfirst and clearly underequipped. After a couple self-men-ups and trying to convince himself that he can do this and he’s going to be alright.
With a flashlight in his tail and the rope tightly secured to his waist, Bendy slowly descended into the tunnel. Mugman was keeping the rope wrapped around his arms tightly giving in very small amounts to the demon as he got deeper, slowly losing himself in the tunnel. He didn’t want the rope to snap or if Bendy fell, the tunnel collapsing or- why did he care? Bloodshot eyes and an almost empty out of ‘soul juice’ (as his brother often put it), the Collector’s senses were greatly diminished. He wasn’t just tired, no. He nearly ran himself dead in that forest trying to kill Boris, then the searchers. He knew the mutt will never let it slide.
Mugman didn’t know how much time had passed, but the slight needle pain in his calves told him enough passed without him moving. The fact there wasn’t much rope left either made him stress over the safety of the demon. ‘He’s the only one who can read the map... No other reason’, he tried to reason with himself. And then a tug, silent. Another tug, a moment- tug tug tug tug. His body moved before his brain could register what happened, reeling Bendy in like his grandfather reeled in fishes he caught in the rivers near the old hut.
Then he heard it “Searcher nest! Searcher nest!” He wanted to run away and leave him there all alone, but he knew better than abandoning a teammate. Whether he liked it or not, now they were all going against this together. They needed to work together to find the Machine. With a storm of roars and inhuman screeches trailing behind him, Bendy emerged from the hole in the ground with multiple scratches and bruises from being pulled out and smashed against the walls of the tunnel.
Barely did the demon manage to get out that a searcher found the hatch opening and tried to close in to them. With a loud band, Mugman closed the door to the tunnel hatch “Run! Get the others! I’ll try to seal it.” “Are you insane? You can’t do it alone.” But there was no use arguing with the Collector when he put his mind to something. The searched that caught their scent was hitting it’s mangled body into the hatch with such strength that it broke the rotten wood of the hatch door. It groaned in their faces, the putrid stench of decay and sulfurs travelled to their noses in an instant.
The searcher launched forward and grabbed at Mugman’s arm, claws digging into him. The Collector could only shout out in pain trying to break free; using his powers now could be too dangerous. Way too dangerous. The searcher groaned again and-
.
.
.
Bendy grabbed a discarded wood panel and swung it into the mouth of the searcher, sending it staggering down the tunnel like a kicked puppy, giving them enough time to look at each other and ask themselves: what the fuck just happened and more importantly, how are we still alive at this point.
The demon noticed something on Mugman’s arm (the sleeve shredded by the claws of the searcher), other than blood – blue. A deep navy blue pattern on his arm that seemed too intricate to be a scar or anything really. Upon questioning it, Bendy was met only by an uninterested shrug and a small mutter from the taller man. But he could still clearly make out what he said.
“What the- you have a tattoo? Why didn’t you say anything about it?” “Huh?”
Did this mother fucker just have the audacity to huh him like in some very bad romcom movie?! A deafened sound of the searchers still lurking underneath, deep into the catacombs made the two men decide it was better to continue this conversation later, when they reunited with their younger siblings. They quickly ran out from the excavation site, blocking the entrance with fallen branches and stones; giving them the false impression it might stop the searchers from coming back up.
Going back the same oddly neat paved alley that mimicked a corridor and rejoined their siblings in useless banter.
__________________________________
With a now a makeshift bandage of longgrass and birch sap wrapped around the wound on his arm, Mugman was staying with Bendy and Cuphead into their meeting spot as Boris was gone somewhere to gather some more firewood. “So, are we gonna talk about it?” the demon started to talk first, breaking the silence
“Talk about what, demon?” “Your tattoo?”
That quirked Cuphead’s interest and made him snicker. “Dude, broski, fratello... You told him about your tat?”
Being cornered by both his brother’s taunts and Bendy’s odd interest, the elder twin cup had no choice but to tell them We were 15, and we were still running some errands for an ex boss of course, collecting different contracts of debtors to the Devil. To pass the time, and to make it more bareable between the constant death, rebirths and wounds that seeped through our porcelain, we made a bet.
Whomever got the most contracts by midnight will make the other do something as punishment
However much I tried, I managed to only score 2 contracts that day, Cuphead beating me by 2 more and some extra coin that not even Satan knew where he got it. But he won fair and square. Back then I was scared of needles so my brother thought it might be a wonderful idea to make me get a tattoo on one of my arms. He chose the pattern actually- “And it looks good-” Beside the point.
.
.
.
“Cuphead teased me for years for making it blue too” Mugman continued, not really expecting the demon to still be listening to him.
“Blue ink suits you best anyways... it’s hot” Excuse you?!
