“Bendy, do you know?”īendy shook his head, looking just as uncomfortable as his creator. “What… the heck is this?” The animator hissed through his teeth, feeling the cold sense of dread from before return with a vengeance.
It looked like an altar of some sort, with candles lit, a Bendy sticker on the wall, bowls of something weird and lumpy, and the words HE WILL SET US FREE were written on the wall in ink. “Yeah…” Henry took the cartoon’s hand again, walking down the steps, before seeing a strange sight. They looked to the bottom of the stairs, seeing that a chunk of the ceiling had fallen down. “Henry, did ya ever wanna co-” A sudden, loud bang stopped Bendy mid-question. You’re meant to be happy and havin’ fun adventures, not gettin’ the short end of the stick.”īendy smiled sadly at him. “I don’t blame you, Joey had no right to change up your cartoon like that. Henry removed his hand from Bendy’s, placing it on his head to give him a gentle pat between the horns. Alice an’ Boris turned into big jerks an’ I wasn’t da li’l Devil Darlin’ much anymore.” So, he tried new things, a lot of ‘em endin’ up with me comin’ off as weak an’ getting’ hurt. Silly Vision just didn’t have da right stuff, I guess. “Said bein’ cute an’ silly wasn’t gonna get us as far as we could go, especially compared to da likes of Disney an’ his Silly Symphonies. “… Joey wanted to compete wit’ those other cartoon companies.” Bendy glared, staring at the stairs. Plus, I heard the quality went down, and when I was in the war, the only cartoons I ever got to see were Disney and Looney Tunes.” Bendy made a face at the mention of those, to which Henry smirked a little, but it died when he noticed the bothered look that crossed the demon’s face as he stopped. “So, what area of themes and ideas did Joey try? To be honest, I had trouble watchin’ the cartoons after I left, too many memories. Bendy grabbed onto an offered hand, following Henry into the next area, a stairwell. “We can try.” He picked up the axe and broke the boards that were blocking the door. “We can use dat, it should go to da music department.” “There’s a way, over there.” The demon pointed to a door near the coffins. Had Bendy placed it there? He also looked over at the door they came in from, seeing that it was blocked off by fallen debris. He glanced around, noticing that his axe was resting gently against one of the coffins. Henry frowned and moved to stand, helping Bendy up. “Ya see, after ya left… Drew decided to take the cartoon into new areas, a lot of ‘em weren’t great.” “Well…” Bendy looked at him with mix-matched eyes. “What? When did you get run over? That sounds too violent for one of your cartoons.” I mean, I survived bein’ ran over by a demonic taxi before, but I doubt you could!” “You… gonna be okay? I know you humans are more fragile than us toons. The Toon watched him, frowning as he saw the injury. He poked at his head injury, it stung, but it wasn’t deep, and the blood was dried. He noticed a small bit of blood that had dried on the floor, probably from the small gash on his head, mixed with some fresh ink. Henry didn’t like that they both had fallen on it, nor did he like that the candles were still burning. You made all these weird… sounds, like you were chokin’ on somethin’! An’ then parts of da ceilin’ started fallen, I tried to warn ya, but it was too late! An’ then I got hit an’ passed out wit’ ya on da circle.” He pointed to the inked pentagram they were both sitting on. “When ya stepped in da circle… the room really started shakin’. “Did somethin’ hit me?”īendy pointed up to where a few, small chunks of the ceiling were missing. Henry blinked, rubbing at the back of his head, looking at his hand to find specks of dry blood and ink on it. “Scared da bajezzus outta me! Yer gonna make mah ink turn white if ya do somethin’ like dat again!” “Ya stepped into da pentagram like a dang fool! Dat’s what happened!” Bendy glowered when Henry turned his attention to him. The ringing eased up enough for him to hear Bendy happily thank the stars that the human was alright. “Oh… my head… what happened?” Henry groaned, carefully rolling onto his side.
If it wasn’t for the smell of ink, and the distant-sounding, squeaky voice of Bendy, calling his name, Henry would have thought that the pain in the back of his head and the ringing in his ears meant he was back on the warfront.