Clock Collector
Tik tok. Tik tok. Tik-
A creature walked these halls, his ink dripping from his form, clocks embedded in him.
-tok. Tik tok. Tik tok.
He wandered these halls, patrolled them. He searched for them, the wasters. Those souls who ruined his calculations, his time.
Tik tik. Tik toͭkͦ.ͨ Tiͭkͥ-
He froze, before glancing down. The clock on his chest... it refused to tik within the medley. It was no good. The ink must've ruined it. The inky beast grabbed at the clock and wretched it out, ink splattering from the wound.
No good. Tok. Lose it. Tik-
Dropping the useless clock on the wood below, he sloughed off, looking, searching. Searching for the time wasters... and a new clock.
-tͭoͦkͨ. Tͭiͥkͨ tͭoͦkͨ. Tͭiͥkͨ tͭoͦkͨ.
The monster froze before bee lining to the sound that lined up with his own collection of clocks. Right there, in between two other identical but slightly off clocks, was a Bendy clock that ticked perfectly. Carefully, the inky being removed it from the wall and placed it in his chest, the hole that had been left behind quickly sealing the new addition in. The creature patted it between its horns before continuing on, drifting through the studio, searching for them, the wasters.
Tik tok. Tik tok. Tik-
“Help,” a creature gurgled from the right. The clock collector froze, slowly turning its head to the noise.
Help? Tok.
He lurched towards the forming ink being reaching out to him.
“Help, please,” it gurgled from it’s misshapen mouth, before its jaw dripped off, splatting to the ground.
Help wastes money. Tik.
He reached down to the creature.
Time is money. Tok.
He grabbed its throat and squeezed, his ink stabilizing for the task at hand.
Cucko! Ding dong! Ting! Whistle!
As a medley of different clocks chimed on the hour, ink dripped and splattered from the collector’s hands.
Tik tok. Tik tok. Tik-
The collector’s stability relaxed, and his form dripped. He returned to his search.
-tok. Tik tok. Tik tok.
Thump-ump. Thump-ump.
Ink tendrils licked at his form. The creature looked around, furrowing his eyes. Something was here. A waster was here.
. . .
The ink demon watched the only other creature here besides himself and Sammy. It was looking for him. After a moment, he slipped through the wall and entered the room with the other inky monster. It lurched forward and the demon let out a low breathy scream, hitting the ink creature before it could grab him. He didn’t stop and tackled the ink demon against the wall, scratching and kicking. The demon held up an arm to protect himself, focusing his tendrils on the feral being. As his kicks grew weaker, his form less stable, the ink demon took a breath and made his move, grabbing at the clock in his chest and yanking it out. Ink surged out of the opening, onto the ink demon below and the lesser ink being stumbled backwards.
Tik. Tok. Tik... Tok.
Ink splattered, clocks fell and shattered. The ink demon stood up, healing quickly from the wounds inflicted upon him. There was no body to take. It was merely a scrap of mind that could barely hold itself together even when alive.
The ink demon stared down at the clocks and ink, letting out a small whine of distress. He had really liked Grant, but the studio was just so empty with the clock collector killing everything in sight.
Thump-ump. Thump-ump.
It is better this way, he assured himself. Much better this way.
