Yep, writing again. For a game about an ink demon.
Title: Joey Drew, What Did you Do.
Summary: Joey is unhinged and inked up, Henry has to deal with this. A Joey-is-Bendy AU, spoilers for chapter 2. Based on the completely amazing joeybendydrew.tumblr.com.
Sweat was pouring down Henry’s face as the sound of Sammy’s screams faded away, cut off as mercilessly as you’d splice a film reel.
He was hacking away at the boards in front of him, not caring where the hallway went as long as it was away.
Away from the circles on the floor, the creepy cutouts, the inky blobs and whatever it was that had gotten Sammy.
Then, what was not the worst thing to happen to him today but was still something altogether horrible, occurred.
His axe broke, the head snapped off the handle. Just before the final board in his way, hanging in front of his eyes.
Of course. He was an animator, not a lumberjack. He had no idea how he should be swinging an axe. He’d just been striking out forcefully at the boards and whatever came too close for comfort.
He sighed and ducked under the final board. In the semi-darkness ahead, he could make out a door surrounded, of course, by ink.
He jumped right in – his pants were ruined anyway, by all the other ink pools he’d waded through today.
Forget an ink pump, he’d bash that door in with his head if that’s what it took to get to out of here.
But that thought, grumbled in the safety of his mind, was wiped away as the ink moved in front of him.
That… thing he’d seen between the boards upstairs, that had reached for him, splotched into being before him.
“Henry,” it gurgled, it’s pitch squeaky high. What could technically be a hand reached out for him. Again.
It was happening again.
He was too petrified to scream, but contrary to his mouth his legs remembered how to work just fine. He backed up quickly, too quickly, forgetting the ink around him and ready to suck him in.
He lost his footing, fell, the ink splashing and squelching and covering more of his body in its blackness.
And still his instincts screamed to run, all four of his limbs working to backpedal away. But the squelching suction thwarted his attempts to move.
The creature lowered its now shaking hand to its side. Despite the lack of eyes, Henry felt its attention, its awareness, focus on him. A frustrated growl escaped the still smiling mouth.
“Why do you keep running away? Why do you always run away?!”
Its entire body was shaking now, its voice a screech.
“We made this place together! WHY DO YOU KEEP LEAVING?!”
Made… together…?
It couldn’t be. He’d gotten the phone call, he’d seen the body, he’d followed the letter to find what the studio contained, knowing it was all too late…
It was still too late. But the possibility couldn’t be ignored, any more than he could his reality.
“Joey…” he breathed.
And it could be. He’d seen Sammy, only recognized him by the voice. But there was nothing, not even the voice, to recognize Joey in this.
The inky hands balled into fists. “I’m Bendy now.”
Henry wasn’t trying to get up, not anymore, wasn’t trying to get away. Those 30 years stretched out in a chasm between them, and it was all too clear how unbridgeable a divide it was.
